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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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pers1st · 11 days
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when every door closes
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pairing: leah williamson x reader
notes: mentions of ed, mentions of j*rge vilda (also the title will make sense with the second part)
Traveling to whichever tournament it may be with the Spanish national team had so far, for you, been a pleasant experience. You were still young, and despite the fact that you weren't granted many opportunities to prove yourself on the field, you took every camp as a chance to learn from players such as María Leon, or Alexia Putellas, or Irene Paredes.
Of course, it was a difficult environment to enjoy. The brutal coaching methods had not yet reached you, but you felt it in the atmosphere in which the team operated- the fact that most, if not all players, were negatively affected by every training session, every match, every team talk.
You had simply been lucky enough not to experience the worst of it. Not yet, anyways.
But all of this was due to change when you arrived in England in preparation for the Euros. This tournament, you had been particularly excited about. Playing an international competition in your girlfriend's home country, with both her and your parents vowing to support you, had had you buzzing from the second Spain had qualified. You had no idea things would take a turn for the worst the second you arrived for the first training session, but you were granted a first thought about it when Jorge pulled you aside just as you were about to warm up.
"Y/N, I know you haven't played much for Spain yet, but I want this tournament to be your opportunity. You've grown a lot at Arsenal, and I'm sure we can profit off of your talents, no? Don't let me down", he smiled as he raised his eyebrows expectantly. You, of course, nodded. You weren't going to let him down, you were going to do everything you could to prove yourself, to prove the world, that you were a good center back.
Only you couldn't have known that Jorge would do everything he could to keep you from doing exactly that. Or so, at least, it seemed.
The next day, you and Ona were sitting in the hotel's cafeteria for breakfast ahead of training when he slipped you a note, patting your shoulder as he breezed past you. Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion, you turned the paper to inspect it, and found glaringly red letters written across it.
Meal Plan, Y/N Y/L/N, updated
You swallowed thickly, scanning across the rest of the note, your stomach turning at the sight. He had decreased your caloric intake. He had added a goal weight for you to reach by the beginning of the tournament.
"What is it?", Ona asked as she chewed her food, glancing at you worriedly. You didn't notice the way the table across from you had turned towards you as well.
"Oh, just my meal plan", you smiled briefly as you folded the note and stuffed it into your back pocket, continuing to poke your food around the plate as you listened to Ona's debrief of her season with Manchester United.
You weren't really listening, though. Instead, your mind had gone into overdrive, whirring with thoughts as you failed to understand any of the reasons behind your manager's action.
Were you too heavy?
Surely not. You hadn't noticed any weight gain, and despite the fact that you were unable to put an exact number to your weight, you knew that Arsenal monitored both your eating habits and your measurements closely, ever since you'd come forward about your eating disorder. Jorge knew of it as well.
Were you too heavy?
It was those thoughts that kept you from showing off your talents in training, and that kept you from sleeping at night. Everything you did was calculated- almost forced, and to any of your older teammates, it was clear as day that you were trying so hard to be perfect, you failed to even be average.
The meal plan was soon followed by extra cardio sessions, nasty whispers in passing and an intense amount of pressure as you neared the beginning of the tournament.
You missed Leah more than ever, then. Although she wasn't far away, you felt as though worlds divided you, you felt as though you couldn't get enough of her. Every night, you spoke to her on the phone, although you never mentioned the weight of what was happening. She could sense that something was wrong, could sense that you were pressuring yourself far more than what was healthy, but she decided to keep quiet about it, instead distracting you, and having Beth yap your ear off multiple teams when the girl noticed the two of you were speaking on the phone. Every time you saw Leah appear on your screen, a smile appeared on your face. It was as if she could lift every weight off your shoulders with just a single word, even if just for the time being.
By the time your last training session started, you were close to either throwing up from nerves or collapsing due to exhaustion, but you didn't allow for either of those options, instead pushing yourself through every minute of it, until Alexia went down with an injury and the training was stopped. You watched somberly as your captain was guided off the pitch with both Mapi and Vilda by her side, and as cruel as it sounded, it finally gave you a moment to breathe. Clutching your water bottle tightly, you swayed from right to left as you walked over to a bench by the side of the pitch, dropping yourself down slightly imbalanced.
"Come on, chica. You need a break", Marta whispered as she put her hand on your shoulder, rubbing back and forth slightly.
"Is it too hot?", she asked, to which you shook your head. The heat wasn't as big of a problem as was the lack of food in your system.
"No, just need to catch my breath", you reassured her with a forced smile as you finished what was left of your electrolyte drink.
"Go back to the hotel with Ona and sleep, okay? You need some rest, sí?"
The aftermath of Alexia leaving the camp only hit you when you read the news of her ACL tear, cradled underneath the protection of your blanket, your phone tightly in your hands.
Alexia, along with María, had been the ones to slightly reassure you, without allowing for questions, with every chance they got. A soft comment here, a smile there, it was never much, but it was enough to keep you grounded, if only in the moment. Now, though, you were panicking, only grasping the magnitude of your captain's departure now that it was announced she'd be flying back to Spain to have surgery.
As if your situation couldn't worsen, the door flew open as Ona entered your shared room, her eyes immediately fixating on your slightly shaky frame in a bed that seemed far too big for you. You could tell by her face that she wasn't just confused or worried- she was hiding something.
"What is it?", you asked, your voice heavy with the events of today as Ona quietly shuffled closer.
"It's nothing, chica. Just, Jorge..."
"What? What did he say?"
You sat up straight in your bed, shifting the blanket back as your hands tightened into fists.
"He said that because training ended early, you should do another cardio session."
The room was quiet for a second, neither of you daring to move. Then, you nodded.
"Okay, I'll-"
"You really don't need to, chica. It's bullshit- what he's forcing you to do, I don't get what he-"
"No, no. It's fine. Thanks for letting me know", you forced yourself to smile, gripping your phone even tighter before slipping on your shoes and exiting the hotel room, still in your pajamas, tears dwelling in your eyes.
Were you really that bad?
Before you could think more about where your mind was leading you, you dialed the only number that made sense, pressing the phone to your ear as you opened the door to the gym, sliding down against one of the walls.
"Hey, love. How are you?", Leah asked. "I wanna see you." You could hear the smile on her face as you reluctantly accepted her FaceTime request, grateful that the lights were off as Leah wasn't able to make out your tearstained cheeks.
"Chicaaa", you could hear Beth in the background, laughing softly.
"Is that the girlfriend?!", another person asked as you realized Leah was most likely surrounded by her teammates, having a good time. How could the same tournament be so different for the two of you?
"Sorry, Lee, I can call back", you mumbled, your breath hitching as your girlfriend's eyebrows furrowed, and the other end of the line suddenly fell silent.
"No, let me just go somewhere more private", she mumbled before exiting whatever room she had occupied before.
"What's going on?"
Leah had, so far, been updated regularly about your own camp, and although you had mentioned your meal plan to her, you had kept silent about all of the brutal comments, the pressure, all of it. Now, however, you didn't know how to hide it anymore.
"He's so horrible, Lee. Everything he does, it's just- I can't ever do it right", you cried, your words a mumbled mess under the tears that were washing down your face. There was a pain spreading throughout your body that was glooming from more than just the extremely difficult training session today, it was more than just the exhaustion of the preparation for the Euros, it was indescribable. You choked on a sob as your girlfriend's worry-filled eyes narrowed in anger.
"Hey, baby, it's okay. I mean, it's not okay, and I wish I could kill him, but you're okay, love."
You could tell she didn't really believe herself and was merely attempting to calm you down, but she succeeded, anyways. Usually, you craved her presence, craved her arms around you, pressing your body tightly, whenever you felt even the slightest dip in your mood. Now, after spending multiple weeks apart from her, under such impossible conditions, her soft voice was enough to lower your heart rate, to silence the thoughts in your head, to make everything even the slightest bit better.
"He's just- This is the only chance to prove myself, you know? He's finally given me a chance, but it's like he doesn't want me to be good, you know? He's doing everything to tear me down", you mumbled, wiping the remaining tears out of your eyes.
"So, do it out of spite. He wants you to fail, wants you to crumble under the pressure. Don't prove him right. Show him what you can do in spite of everything he's doing, prove him that you're better than he could ever understand. Love, you are such an incredible player, and this is your chance to prove it to the world. You're gonna be insane on that pitch, I know it. Honestly, I'm scared we'll have to play against you, there's no coming through your backline", she chuckled softly, smiling at you reassuringly. You nodded, ever so slightly.
"Yeah, don't speak it into existence", you mumbled back.
But your girlfriend had, of course, spoke it into existence. Not just the fact that you finally seemed to find your footing, with the support of all of the senior players stepping in to protect you in the best way they could, but also the fact that after breezing through the group stage, you were coming up against England for the quarter finals.
Despite the fact that Esther managed to put your team ahead relatively early on, England put up an exceptional front, and you and Mapi were working relentlessly to keep a clean sheet. For quite some time, it worked well, and your team seemed to progress onto the semi-final. When Ella Toone scored in the eighty-fourth minute, a bitter taste washed through your mouth as you bit your tongue hard enough to draw blood.
Every single one of Jorge's comments rang right through you, even through the loud crowd that had formed to cheer on the English. Mapi noticed as well, and patted your shoulder comfortingly after you first conceded, but it was no use.
During the added time, you conceded again, and the dream of winning the Euros slipped away with every failed attempt of your offense.
When the whistle finally rang, you were unable to hold your body up anymore, and although tears glistened on your cheeks as you sat on the grass, watching as your girlfriend's team celebrated, you couldn't help but feel another emotion with that of disappointment- relief. It was over. The team would leave, likely tomorrow or the day after, and you would watch Jorge Vilda fly back to Spain and finally be free of his judgement.
Still, your shoulders shook with sobs. You had failed. Not only to prove yourself, but to prove him wrong. Leah had told you to play your best football out of spite, but you hadn't. You had allowed for England to score twice. You had not only let yourself, but the whole team down.
Before you could dwell on your thoughts any longer, you felt two hands land on your shoulders, softly rubbing the fabric as you hid your face behind your own hands.
"Love, look at me", Leah asked of you, and you slowly complied, pulling your shirt up instead to wipe over your wet cheeks.
"You did so well, Y/N. I'm so proud of you", she smiled softly, but when another sob shook your body, she gently pressed your face into the crook of her neck, allowing for you to let your emotions out for the time being.
"I'm proud of you. You did so, so well. You made everyone proud, today", she kept reminding you as you sobbed into her skin, finally feeling her arms around your body, finally breathing in her scent, finally feeling her presence again.
This time, it took a while for you to calm down. Pain ran through you deeply, but you allowed yourself to move on slowly, knowing that crying now wasn't going to help your case, not at all. The Euros were over for you, and all that was left to do was support your girlfriend and Arsenal teammates as they progressed through the semifinals. The thoughts of wearing your girlfriend's jersey, while being seated between her and your own parents, cheering her on from the sidelines as she captained her team through the rest of the tournament filled you with pride.
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fanfics-posts · 1 month
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Oops | Alexia Putellas x Reader
warnings: 18+. Total smut.
based on an old request.
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“Wha…what are you doing?”
Of all the beautiful things you had witnessed in your life, there was nothing quite like this one. Alexia had her head buried into the pillows at the top of your bed, her back arched so that her shoulders were taking her weight, and her right hand was clasped around your wrist in an attempt to force it even deeper into her.
“Do you trust me?”
She opened her mouth to answer you, but the groan that came from the back of her throat was something even she hadn’t expected. She nodded frantically, her grip on your wrist tightening as her toes curled in a way she hadn’t experienced before.
“Relax, Ale. Relax, baby.”
She couldn’t. She never could. There was something about your fingers being buried inside of her, your eyes locked on her core as it stretched for you, and the way your moans filled the room just from pleasuring her, that made it impossible.
She panted. She squirmed. She groaned.
You weren’t one for dominance, you never had been. Something inside of you changed that night, though.
Maybe it was because you knew what was about to happen and she was none the wiser, or maybe it was jealousy after watching people swoon over her for the entire match, either way, that night she was yours to do whatever you wanted with, and you took that role seriously.
“I…fuck!”
She began to thrust her hips with your movements, there was no rhyme nor rhythm to them; they just frantically waved through the air in front of your face.
That’s when you knew she was ready.
Fingers as deep as they could go, you found that spongy spot inside of her. It was swollen, you could feel how it contracted against your fingertips and begged for your touch.
“That!” Alexia groaned.
“Yeah? Does that feel good?”
You knew it did. I mean, look at her. Her forehead was covered in beads of sweat, her eyes closed tight and her mouth open.
“Harder. More. God!”
You took your free hand and laid it across her pubic bone, thumb moving to her clit as you stroked it back and forth.
Then you felt it.
Her legs tried to slam closed, giving up on that when your fingers continued to move inside her. It felt like her body was trying to force you out of her as the first splash of liquid hit the inside of your palm. It wasn’t much, but enough to create a tiny little puddle of pride between the lines of your hand. You kept going, another splash going a little further this time and landing on your wrist.
“Fuck, Ale. Yes, baby!”
The sight of her crumbling underneath you made your own body react frantically. Your fingers found themselves practically begging her to squirt for you again, your eyes stuck on her pussy and your ears taking in every squelch as she finally rewarded you with a show. The once grey bedsheets now had a large, dark patch right in the centre of them and you knew when you eventually moved, the spot you were sitting on would show visible signs of just how wet you were too.
That one night left you cocky and Alexia hated it. From bathroom stalls to hotels rooms, your control over her knew no bounds.
Tonight was no different.
Alexia stood before you, eyes locked on yours with that dozy smile that she gave you every time she had just one sip of wine. There were so many reasons for you to love tipsy Alexia: from the way she cuddled into your side, to the way she would place herself on your lap like a loyal puppy, to the overly passionate declarations of love she would make for you to her friends. You loved her like no other, and she loved you like you were the very make up of her heart.
There were many reasons for Alexia to love tipsy you, too. From the way you would proudly hold her by your side, to the way your fingers always managed to find a way to interlock with hers no matter how many people stood around you, to the way you wouldn’t care about the pda you normally hated.
But sometimes, just sometimes, she found herself love-hating you.
It was close to midnight when you reached beneath the table to draw circles on the material of her trousers that covered her thighs. She didn’t mind at first, finding the sensation rather comforting as she chatted with her teammates.
To everyone else in the room, your hand could’ve been anywhere, but Alexia knew it was making its way higher and higher up her leg. As your slender fingers met the thickest part of her thigh, Alexia felt the first tingle in her core. She slammed her legs closed, trapping your hand beneath them and widening her eyes when you silently pushed them open again.
You let your baby finger run along the creases between her thigh and her core, feeling some kind of pride when her hips moved ever so slightly upwards. Letting your hand stay in place, you let your pinky finger move delicately over the crotch of her trousers, you knew the light feeling of almost no contact would drive her insane.
Alexia knew she was at the point of no return when your ring finger joined your pinky. You let your two fingers run over her clothed clit, smiling to yourself as her boobs pushed out a little more with each breath.
You continued for a few minutes, knowing by now she would do anything to feel some proper contact. You waited patiently for a moment when she was in the middle of a sentence before pressing your fingers down harder and rubbing circles around her clit which you knew would now be swollen enough to feel every last sensation that came from your movements.
She stuttered, coughed slightly and took a sip of her drink before continuing with the rest of your sentence like she wasn’t silently wondering if she could cum like this.
It had been half an hour of torture when the girls finally suggested trying to get some sleep. Living too far away from each other, Ingrid had kindly invited everyone to take up refuge in the living room that night.
You managed to claim the makeshift bed on the floor for the two of you, a method to your madness. Alexia joined you, slipping beneath the covers and giving you a look that told you she would ruin you tomorrow for teasing her all night.
“What’s that look for?” You whispered.
“You know what.”
“Stay awake.”
You placed a kiss on her lips before turning away from her, inviting her to cuddle into your back. She hoped you hadn’t just said that in an attempt to have her pathetically waiting for something that wasn’t going to come, but despite your actions earlier, she really wasn’t sure you were the type to risk actually fucking her in a room full of your friends.
But then your hand wrapped around her wrist, guiding it down your toned stomach and slipping it underneath your underwear. You gently lifted your leg forward to give her some form of access without looking suspicious. Before she had even reached below your pubic bone, Alexia could feel the heat radiating towards her fingers.
You placed your fingers on top of hers, guiding them towards your entrance and pushing the tips in and out and she was sure she had never experienced anything so hot. You could feel her breaths hitting your shoulder, her teeth biting into your top as you slowly, gently and silently fucked yourself with Alexia’s hand.
Just when she was sure she couldn’t be anymore turned on, you slid her hand to your clit. It was swollen, waiting on her touch with more eagerness than she remembered it to be before.
You weren’t going to last long, and Alexia was excited to watch you crumble in a room full of people, but before she could get you over the edge, you popped your head up and gazed around the room.
“Does anyone hear that?” You asked, voice loud but not loud enough to wake anyone.
“No? Just me?” You asked again.
When no one stirred, you took Alexia’s hand out of your underwear and turned to face her, quietly pushing her fingers into her mouth.
“Taste me.”
You moved your lips without making a single sound and Alexia thought she might die right there. She took her time, letting her tongue move slowly in order to savour the feeling of your juices on it.
“You look hot when you do that.”
It was nothing more than a whisper into her ear, your words not forming properly for fear someone else would hear them.
By now, Alexia was a mess. The feeling between her legs could only be described as a heartbeat, a constant pulsation that was making it hard for her to think about anything else. She lifted her legs slightly, hands falling to your left leg as she moved it to the gap she had created. You obliged, knowing if there anything you loved to watch, it was her getting herself worked up on the muscles of your thigh. That night was different, though, that night, she couldn’t cry out your name or let her moans fall free, she had to be silent.
Totally, completely silent.
With her first gentle thrust forward, Alexia slammed her eyes shut and pressed her lips together. It wasn’t going to cut it for you, you needed to watch her, to see how her pupils dilated in moments like this.
“Eyes open.”
You watched as she sighed, knowing that if anything was going to make her fail at holding back the sounds of pleasure, it was seeing how much you enjoyed watching. Still, she followed your instructions, eyes locking on yours and mouth falling open at the sound of your breathing.
She could only move slowly, it had to be slow enough for the covers over the two of you not to rustle. Quickly, she realised that if she wanted to feel some kind of release, she needed to really clench around your thigh, press down on it as hard as she could, and even move her hips from side to side instead of back and forth.
What you could feel was heaven. Alexia was so wet that her entire clothing on her bottom half had indented to the outline of her folds. You could feel how they moved slightly with her movements, and how her clit was so filled with desperation, you were surprised it wasn’t painful for her. The wet patch that started at the top of your thigh was now trailed down the entirety of it, the cool air from the living room floor drying it quickly.
When you tensed your leg slightly, Alexia couldn’t prevent the deep grunt that left her throat. She panicked, head shooting up to check everyone was still asleep. You had other ideas though, with her head still scanning the room, you removed your thigh, and in one swift movement your fingers slid under the waistband of her shorts and straight into her pussy.
She grabbed your wrist to stop you, she swears she was going to stop you. She really would’ve. If you hadn’t bent your fingers upwards and brushed against her gspot, she swears she would’ve stopped you.
But it just felt too good. So good.
You knew it was important that you didn’t forget where you were. In the back of your mind, you had to remember that your teammates lay sleeping just a few feet away, and that with Alexia this wet, any harsh movements would smack loud enough to wake the entire room.
You continued gently moving the tips of your fingers back and forth, feeling how that spongy spot inside her grew in size to meet your ministrations.
But then you had to stop.
You knew all the signs. You knew that her fingernails digging into your wrists told she was going to reach her peek. You knew that her rapid breaths into your ear meant she building to a guttural groan. Most importantly, you knew from that tiny pool of liquid that had gathered in the palm of your hand that Alexia was about to squirt.
You quickly pulled your fingers out of her, trying to replace the loss with circular movements on her clit. You were much too turned on to leave her a wanting mess tonight, you would bring her to orgasm in whatever way you could… you just couldn’t do that.
Or so you thought.
“No. Keep fucking me. I need it. It’s right there.”
No sooner had she uttered those words into your ear had her hand on your wrist shoved your fingers back to her entrance. Her pussy was begging for you so much that it was wide open, clenching around thin air and sucking your fingers back inside with more force than it had ever done on the strap.
Alexia bunched the collar of her hoodie into her mouth, slamming her teeth around it. You continued looking into her eyes, watching as beads of sweat formed on her forehead and her eyelids fought to close.
“Keep looking at me.” You mouthed at her.
She nodded back at you frantically, worried that if she didn’t obey your orders you might stop again. You teased at her hole with a third finger, watching her eyes for some form of consent. Instead, another frantic nod of her head and a heavy breath out of her nose told you yes in more ways than one.
It was probably only a millisecond after your third finger entered her that her body threatened to force it back out. The first surge of liquid came in a much larger quantity than you had expected, pooling onto the makeshift bed underneath her and soaking the cuff of your sleeve. You didn’t mind that she closed her eyes that time, simply thankful that she didn’t let out the piercing sounds she reserved for your bedroom.
But now you had really lost control.
Now your fingers were slamming into her at a pace you weren’t sure you’d used before. You had completely forgotten the need to be quiet, not caring for the squelching sounds echoing throughout the room. Her hand left your wrist and moved to her clit, not even following a rhythm as she flicked her fingers over it desperately.
A second, third, and fourth splash came quickly. Your fingers coming to a stop inside her gradually and her own movements halting.
She buried her face into the crook of your neck, laughing silently at the desperation of herself just moments before. You pulled her closer, placing a kiss to her temple and having a final glance around the room to make sure everyone was still asleep.
Alexia’s lips moved from your neck to your ear, breathing beginning to steady and allowing her to speak.
“I’m a fucking mess for you. I just let you do whatever you want to me.” She whispered.
You smirked and let out a low chuckle, turning your head to face her and noticing how pink her cheeks were.
Tomorrow morning would be a different story. Somehow, the two of you would have to think of a reason that the sheets needed to go in the bin, but for now you lay wrapped in the arms of one another, that wet patch of memories just to the right of Alexia’s body.
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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.
383 notes · View notes
summer-princess · 2 months
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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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sunshine-theseus · 3 months
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That One Cat Meme | Ona Batlle x Reader
Words: 1.6k Summary: Ona gets angry when you randomly disappear but it’s hard not to find her adorable Warnings: idk overstimulation? Hints of being neurodivergent – based on my experiences as someone who gets very overstimulated and loves routine/thinks they’re ND but isn’t diagnosed with anything. Requested by - @dandelionlibrary - i really hope you like it!
It was a mistake. A very, very big mistake. There was so much noise and light, and people were basically stuck together like glue. It was hot too. How is anyone supposed to survive in this place?
The team had begged me to join them, just once, for a celebratory drink at a club in the heart of Barcelona. After months of refusing, always coming up with excuses and waiting for Ona to arrive home in the sunless hours of the morning, I finally caved. I regretted it the moment the uber turned onto the street. Lights were flashing through the windows and the music could be heard down the block. People were lined up as far as the eye could see. There was no way I was going to have fun.
But I went.
In the beginning it wasn’t so bad. Ona was with me at all times, and we spent a lot of time in our reserved, spacious corner of the club. Until Lucy and Keira grabbed us both by our hands and dragged us onto the dance floor. I tried to wriggle free, but their determination was enough to overpower a tipsy Ona and a vulnerable me.
“Isn’t this fun!?” Ona yells into my ear. I try not to flinch at the additional noise as I nod my head.
A lie.
“Muy divertido!” (very fun)
There was a small moment where I managed to slip away into the bathroom. By some miracle it was empty and seemed rather clean for a night club, so I locked myself in a stall and just sat on top of a toilet lid. I tried to monitor my breathing and block out the bass that travelled through the floor. I couldn’t survive much longer. I needed to come up with an excuse to leave.
I slowly emerge from the bathroom and go find the group of girls huddled in the corner. I had an excuse fully prepared but as I’m making my way, someone grabs me by the waist and starts kissing my neck. I’m about to turn around and wack them with my purse when they begin to talk.
“Mi vida! Where did you go?” the familiar deep voice of my girlfriend echoes from behind me and I relax.
I stop my shaking hands by placing them over her own that rest on my hips.
“Just the bathroom. I think I’m going to head home.” I turn and give her a smile that clearly doesn’t reach my eyes.
She says something else to me, but I can’t focus on anything specific, everything was too overwhelming. Eventually Ona walks off and I’m left in the middle of a crowd again. I can feel every place on my skin where someone makes contact with me, my clothes aren’t sitting well anymore, there are too many sounds, the lights hurt my eyes. I had to get out.
-
That’s how I found myself curled up in a ball on the rather small balcony of Ona and my apartment. My noise cancelling headphones were securely on my head and I’d successfully rid myself of the horrendously tight and itchy club clothes, switching into one of Ona’s oversized jumpers and some shorts. My phone was turned off and I was just embracing the small bouts of wind and the barely visible stars in the dark night sky.
I don’t expect my girlfriend to be home until much later, so I eventually tuck myself in under the blankets. I loved our bed; it was a lot less overstimulating than a club and usually had the girl of my dreams to hold me tight. Despite the missing final aspect, I drift off to sleep.
I wake up late, Ona by my side as expected. The day off means that my schedule is simply pushed back a few hours and I have spare time to fill.
9:30am – wake up
9:36am – have breakfast + talk to Ona
10:05am – shower and get ready for the day
The middle of the day’s schedule on days off changes depending on who I’m meeting or what I plan on doing. Most of the time it involves Ona.
But Ona didn’t emerge from the room at 9:40am like she usually does, instead showing her face at almost 10. I decide I can push back my day just once to still fit our morning talk. She doesn’t greet me first. Perhaps it’s the hangover, they often mess with our order. She also doesn’t kiss me on the cheek or offer me the glass of orange juice she does every morning, despite always already having a glass in front of me.
“What’s wrong bebé?” the older girl says nothing as she sits down at the table with a bowl to fruit and a glass of water. Odd. Not her normal hangover cure.
“I don’t have anything planned for today so we can just turn the lights off and watch a movie? If your head’s hurting.” I can see her lips twitch at the suggestion, but her face remains stoic.
“Okay, I’m going to have a shower. Maybe we can talk about what’s bothering you afterward?” once again, no reply.
-
I do just as I tell Ona. The shower is set to the correct temperature and my clothes don’t make me feel like I’m suffocating once I get out. I grab some pillows and blankets to lay out on the couch and turn off the lights, settling for the small lamps on either side of the living room. The curtains help block out the sunlight that would be streaming through the windows.
Ona is still sat at the table, fruit and water finished, scrolling on her phone.
“Coriño? Con qué película quieres empezar?” (Honey? What movie do you want to start with).
Usually, I would avoid encroaching on someone’s personal space when they are upset without them asking, but Ona made it very clear physical touch was something she embraced at all times. That’s what lead me to wrap my arms around her shoulders and press kisses to her cheek gently. Hoping for some reaction.
The only thing I get in return is her arms stubbornly crossing over her chest and her lips forming a pout.
Adorable.
“Are you mad at me coriño?” another kiss is placed at the curve of her jaw.
Her lips pull taut and her cheeks flush pink. It’s hard to be intimidated by someone so cute.
“Sí.” She stands abruptly and the sound of the chair scraping against our wood floor makes me feel sick.
“You disappeared last night without telling anyone. And then you didn’t answer any of my texts! Or the girl’s! Yes, I am angry because I was worried mi vida!” Ona’s arms once again cross over her chest and her foot stamps against the ground.
Despite the sight, I begin to feel bad.
“Ona… I didn’t mean to make you worry. I got overstimulated. Everything was just too much. But I told you I was going to go when we talked outside the bathroom.” A look of confusion is clear on her face, and I sigh, approaching her again.
“You asked me where I had been, I told you I went to the bathroom and that I think I needed to go home. I don’t blame you for forgetting, you’d had a few drinks, no thanks to Mapi.”
“Yo soy estúpida. I am sorry for being angry and ignoring you. And I’m sorry I forced you to go somewhere I knew would probably make you overstimulated.” (I am stupid). Ona’s head dramatically falls forward onto my chest as she groans.
“It’s okay. You’re very adorable when you’re angry.” I press a kiss to the crown of her head.
“No I am not!”
“Sí! Yes you are! You pout and cross your arms and you even stamp your foot. Tu tambien eres muy pequeña.” (you’re also very small). I pull away from Ona and smile at the blush that still radiates from her cheeks.
“You remind me of that little kitten meme.”
“What?” I pull out my phone and search for the photo I have in mind.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Just that you look very cute.” Another groan falls from her lips, and I laugh as I drag her to the couch.
She falls on top of me and I wrap my arms tightly around her, pressing kisses all around her face.
“You have to watch that silly adventure man movie with me.”
“Indiana Jones? You know I hate that guy. He’s so stupid.”
“But I like him, and you caused me great distress!” her laugh slips past her lips and I can’t help but smile and oblige with her request.
“You can only milk that so many times.”
“Mmmhmm.” Her head props up by her chin resting on my chest, and I lean down, pressing a kiss to her lips.
“Te amo coriño.” I smile brightly down at her as the opening music plays.
“Te amo mi vida.”
Ona turns her head to watch the silly movie, but I can’t look away from her. Her freckles seem to shine brighter despite the lack of light and the slope of her nose is so delicate. The way her eyelashes kiss her cheeks and lines appear by her lips when she laughs at some stupid joke. Her hair is in a messy bun, yet she still looks put together.
I can’t help but fall in love with her all over again.
@Y/N_L/N
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@Y/N_L/N do you guys see the resemblance?
ona.batlle there is literally no resembilence stop marialeonn16 i see it
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pitchsidestories · 3 months
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New Year's Eve Party (3) II Alexia Putellas x Reader
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New Year's Eve Party Masterlist (all previous parts can be found here) I Word count: 2193
On this last day of the year, Alexia sat on her side of your bed, deep in thought. The past year hasn’t been what she expected after her severe knee injury. The recovery was hard, her knee still bothered her and her latest surgery had been only a couple of days ago. All she wanted to do was get back on the pitch and show them that she still was the greatest of all time.
A small voice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Mami, why are you so sad?“, her daughter asked, struggling to climb onto the bed. With a helping hand, Alexia made sure that Victoria was safely seated next to her.
“Oh, it’s nothing, love.“, she forced a smile. The toddler let her head drop down on her mums lap, whispering; “Mama said it’s your knee.“ Carefully, she bent forward to blow the softest kiss on Alexias knee, barely touching the surgery scar. A genuine smile spread on Alexias face; “You’re the sweetest.“ She gently brushed over her daughters hair.
“Nala, come here!“, Victoria called suddenly, patting the sheets next to her. Alexias dog jumped up without hesitation, looking expectantly at the two. “What are you doing?“, Alexia laughed while her daughter pulled the dog closer to her.
You were watching the scene from the bathroom where you were getting ready for the New Years Eve party. “She made it her mission to cheer you up.“, you explained. Your wife shook your head; “I’m okay. I don’t need cheering up.“
You knew this wasn’t true but before you could protest, Victoria watched you with big eyes; “Mama, tell Mami.“ “What?“, your eyebrows knotted together in confusion. Alexia mirrored your puzzled expression; “What are you talking about?“ Instead of an answer, Victoria just stared at you stubbornly.
When you realized she wouldn’t continue talking, you turned back to your wife; “Elisabet will soon be here. We should get you ready for the party.“ “You’re right. We can’t be late.“, she nodded and slowly got up from the bed. “Exactly. Do you want to help her get ready?“, you asked your toddler. She stood up immediately, bouncing up and down on the bed, her tiny ponytail swaying; „Yes!" Alexia scrunched her nose playfully; “Can’t I go in sweats? I bet the girls wouldn’t mind.“
“To a party?“, Victoria asked bewildered. “No, you’re right, love. I can’t go out like this when your Mama looks that stunning.“, Alexia winked at you. You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. “No, you can’t! You both have to look like princesses!“, your daughter decided. Your wife let out a soft laugh; “Agreed.“ “What are you going to wear?“, Victoria asked, bouncing with excitement.
After a moment of consideration, Alexia pulled out a forest green dress from her closet; “What about this dress? It matches your Mamas.“ Victorias answer came out as a yell; “Yes!“
“It’s perfect.”, you admitted chuckling. Your daughter was completely enchanted by the midfielder’s transformation which reminded her of the fairytale her Abuela told her about an ordinary girl becoming a princess through a fairy godmother:” You look so beautiful together.”
“Thank you.”, you kissed her cheek and hoped that kiss transported the deep love you felt for her, before you reacted to the ringing doorbell adding, this must be your Abuela.” “Oh, already?”, Victoria looked up surprised, she did not feel ready to let you two go just yet.
“Hello, anybody home?”, Elisabet asked giggling. Quickly your daughter ran to her grandmother beaming at the sight of her:”Abuela!” “Mi Estrella.”, the older woman exclaimed happily, before kneeling down, so her arms caught the running toddler.   “I think you two will have a good night.”, Alexia observed.
A warm smile was playing on your lips: “I think so too.” “Hello Mama.”, your wife greeted her mum with a welcoming hug.  For a moment Elisabet closed her eyes, enjoying the moment between her older daughter:  “Hello Ale.”
Afterwards your mother-in-law went immediately to you, her whisper was filled with curiosity:” Did you told her already?” “No, not yet. I wanted to wait with that after her surgery”, you slowly shook your head. A hint of disappointment showed up in the older woman’s face, but you tried to tell yourself that you had good reasons for being quiet about this until now.
The quiet talk between you both made Alexia show her impatient side, she was eager to know what you had exchanged: “What? What have you two been scheming again?”
Ignoring her daughter, Elisabet said to you:” I mean she’s done with that now.” Truthfully you answered: “Eli, I didn’t find the right time for it yet.” “Maybe you find it tonight.”, she suggested in a hopeful tone. You could feel her gaze cutting through the fabric of your dress which did a good job at hiding the small bump.
Meanwhile Victoria drew Alexia’s attention with an innocent wish:” Mami will you show Tia Mapi that I’m wearing her jersey tonight?” “Of course, I will. Let me take a photo of you for her.”, the midfielder nodded grinning. Excited the little girl confessed:” I love it so much.” “I will tell her.”, Alexia promised who knew that the defender’s injury and hers was saddening her daughter more than she wanted to admit.
Clearing her throat Elisabet decided loudly: “But for now, go and enjoy your party. She needs to get out after her surgery.”
“You’re right. Ale, we got to go.“, you reminded your wife. Alexia looked up from the photos she had just taken of Victoria in her jersey. With pleading eyes, your little daughter looked up to you, her arms outstretched so you could pick her up; “Can you tuck me in first?“ In a swift movement, you lifted her up and carried her into the bedroom; “Of course, love.“ “Thanks.“
While she got herself comfortable in her sheets, you picked out a book to read to her. You knew she loved the story of a young football playing girl, so Alexia and you had started to replace the name with Victorias.
“And that’s when Victoria realized, she could achieve anything she wanted with her friends and with her football team.“, you ended the story. Victoria tiredly blinked up at you; “I like that.“ “It’s a great story, right?“, you smiled softly. With a yawn, the toddler buried herself deeper into her blanket; “Yes.“
She was already asleep when you leaned forward to gently kiss her forehead; “Good night, love.“ “I’ll take over now. You two really shouldn’t be late for your party.“, Elisabet smiled from the door at you. You got up from the side of Victorias bed, while Alexia pressed a kiss on her mums cheek; “Thank you, mum.“
“Go and have fun.“, she replied while swatting at her daughters arm. You winked at her with a laugh; “Oh, we’ll.“ “Come on, we got to go.“, Alexia echoed what you have been saying for the past thirty minutes once again and took your hand in hers.
Still, to your surprise, you were the first ones to arrive at the party. Fridolina and her girlfriend were just finished with decorating their house. Alexia promptly handed you a glass of champagne as the other guests began to arrive. You politely took it, carrying it around with you but not drinking from it.
During her smalltalk with her team mates, Alexia realized that the level of your champagne hadn’t change over the course of the evening. You could tell from the glance she gave you that she was worried; “What’s wrong, mi amor? Don’t you feel good?“
“No, I feel much better than the past weeks to be honest.“, you admitted, swallowing hard. “You do?“ “I…“, you started, but Mapi tugged at both of your arms at the same time. “Girls, get ready for the group photo!“
“Yes?“, Alexia prompted you to continue, ignoring her team mate completely. “You had so much going on, so I didn’t know how to tell you…“, you admitted. Mapis voice interrupted you again; “Hurry up, you two.“ But you could see in your wifes’ face that she understood; “One second, Mapi. Are you saying you’re…?“
You nodded slowly but delighted; “That it worked? Yes.“ “Wow.“, Alexia breathed. You both were finally pulled into the group photo. “Alexia, always the latest.“, Mapi commented amused like she already had few too many drinks. Alexia replied quietly; “We’re here now.“ “Finally!“ “Let’s just take the photo.“
After they took the annual group photo, Aitana was satisfied with the result:” I think it’s the first time I saw Ale really smiling tonight.” “At least we have proof of it.”, Patri mocked the team’s captain lovingly. This comment made Alexia roll her eyes while defending herself at the same time:”  Let me smile I just heard the best news in a while.”
Before she could explain her reply any further the midfielder answered a video call from your daughter:” Hi love, shouldn’t you be asleep already?” “I woke up again. Abuela said I could call you.”, Victoria pouted.
Immediately Mapi spotted the jersey the toddler was wearing which made her grin even harder: “Love the shirt you’re wearing!” “Thanks.”, the pout on your daughter’s face was replaced with a sincere smile. The alcohol loosened the defender’s tongue as she blurted out in a genuine tone: “I’m obsessed.” “Me too. It’s my favourite.”, Victoria confirmed proudly.
With a playful pained gesture Alexia commented:” Sadly. Hopefully the next one knows which position on the field is the best.” “The next one?”, Mapi looked interested between you and your wife. Your heart warmed up when Alexia explained her sentence prior:” She will be a big sister in 2024.” “I will?”, Victoria asked visibly touched by the news. “Yes.”, you told her, while your heart sank a bit as you couldn’t hug her in this very moment.
But it didn’t seem to matter too much to her as she was running up to her grandmother:” Abuela!”  “Yes, mi amor?”, Elisabeth looked expectantly at the little girl. Your daughter jumped up and down excitedly:” I’ll be a big sister soon!” “Oh, that’s amazing.”, the older woman cried out delighted.
Amused Alexia shook her head:” You knew the whole time, didn’t you?” “Yes, do you know how hard it was for me to keep my lips sealed?!” , her mother groaned. “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”
Apologetically you put a hand on your wife’s arm: “I told her to wait until your knee issue was solved.” “My knee won’t stop me from being a mum.”, Alexia protested with a crooked smile on her lips. Guiltily you bit your lip: “Sorry.” “That’s okay. Maybe I just needed this news today.”, the midfielder reassured you, pressing a heartfelt kiss on the top of your head. 
Meanwhile Mapi declared:” I think it’s time for the first toast?” “Is it?”, Alexia turned surprised to one of her oldest friends in the team. Giddy with excitement the defender rose her glass: “Yes.”  “Alright then.”, she shrugged.
Mapi cleared her throat and announced with a solemn voice; “To Alexia and her family. May 2024 treat you well.“ You all clinked your glasses together. Alexia put a hand on Mapis arm; “Thank you, Mapi.“ “Yes, that was really sweet of you. Especially because 2023 had so many ups and downs.“, you nodded, glancing over to your wife.
The defender gave you a smile full of sympathy; “That’s why I hope this year will be better for you.“ “Thanks.“, you answered, grateful for the friendships in this team. Alexia put her arm around you, tipping her glass towards Mapi; “We appreciate it.“ “You’re welcome.“, her team mate smiled back happily.
The whole display and the thought of your family growing made you slightly emotional. “Love you girls.“, you whispered. Alexia pressed a kiss against your hair and replied; “I love you too.“ “I love you too, Mama and Mami.“, a tired voice added and your attention was immediately drawn back to Alexias phone.
Her screen showed a very tilted angle of your daughter with her eyes almost closed again as if she had fallen asleep with her abuelas phone in her tiny hand. “Sleep well, mi amor.“, your wife smiled before saying goodbye to her mother and ending the call.
Mapis eyes went soft; “She’s so cute. I just want to steal her when you two aren’t watching.“ “There’s no way you will get her!“, Alexia shook her head determinedly. “Damn it.“ Your wife laughed; “She loves you. But she wont leave us.“ “Exactly.“, you agreed. Mapi just shrugged; “I can live with that because I’m her favourite on the pitch.“
Alexia responded by punching Mapi against the upper arm to which the defender feigned a wounded look; “Ouch, that hurts, Ale.“ “That’s definitely a lie.“, your wife replied with an amused eye roll. “It’s not!“, Mapi protested.
You couldn’t stop yourself from grinning. Seeing Alexia smile and joke with her team mates again, made your heart flutter. “She loves you both.“, you interrupted them but silently you loved the bickering. Seeing your wife that happy again might have made your year.
Feel free to let us know if you're enjoying our little series so far 🩷
407 notes · View notes
delfiore · 7 months
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—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (1/5)
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pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader
synopsis: you were ona’s biggest headache at man united, until you both move to barcelona.
word count: 3.7k
a/n: i’ve been watching the men’s game for years but i’ve finally sobered FINAL TODAY LET’S GO ENGLAND LET’S GO SPAIN (MOSTLY SPAIN)
PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V
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It started four years ago when Ona first signed for United. She didn’t notice at first the way you were always gunning for her, she was just doing her job.
But now, you were here in Barcelona with her. As she looked up at you, a soft smile on your face, everything she had buried in the past year all came rushing back.
Everyone was aware of the new signing from the States for her rival club just a couple of weeks before, a dragged-out saga of whether you were going to choose City or United. Unfortunately for her, you chose the Sky Blues.
If things had been different, maybe she wouldn’t have despised you as much as she did.
The first Manchester derby you played, she thought marking you would be easy until you dribbled past her several times to register a goal and assist. She must have been glowering at you when she walked back to the midfield line, because you shrugged before grinning at her, saying: “All in a day’s work.”
“Could I just ask what put Man City above all the other contenders for your signature?” “Well, I mean, it’s a great club with a great history, amazing players too. I’ve spoken at length with the new manager and he gave me a rough plan for next year’s project. So I’m really excited and confident that it’ll be a great destination for me.” “What do you say to the people who think you’ve chosen City for the money?” “People can think whatever they want to think. I’ll just play my game, and they can judge me all they want. It’s all anyone’s good for.” “You’ve just transferred from Portland, you’ve got an enormous price tag for the women’s game, tons of big clubs in Europe wanted you. There’s a mounting pressure on you, it seems. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge of the Women’s Super League?” “It’s no fun if it’s not a challenge.”
Ona Batlle was what people considered a modern full-back, dangerous in attack just as she was solid in defense. But when playing against Man City, she usually has to stay back to avoid a dangerous winger finding their way into the box; you. It wasn’t her way of playing, and it frustrated her that that was what her role was while her team was struggling to create chances, especially when she knew she could help.
“I want you to stay back and mark Y/L/N. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Casey had told her.
She hated you for caging her in, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure if she can stop you sometimes.
The night before her next game against you, she watched how you played the previous match, studied your movement carefully, and took notes. She liked that she had found a pattern. You liked to use your speed, but you also liked to taunt your defenders; a pace of prime Thierry Henry’s, and showboating tendencies like that of Neymar. It’s why you were so entertaining to watch, because every defender you faced ended up a sort of decoration to your parlor tricks, her included.
Ona never liked being second best to anybody, and certainly not to you.
And so when she was on the pitch, zeroing on you like a hawk, there was nothing stopping her from getting away from you. She didn’t need to resort to any risky challenges, she just needed to stick with you, keep you at arm’s length, and stay between you and the goal at all costs.
You may be a skilled player for your age, but controlling your temper is something you haven’t been able to achieve. She heard you cursing a few times, eventually earning you a yellow card when your insults were directed at the referee.
The ball had only left the City’s goalkeeper, Roebuck, yet she already felt you pushing back against her.
The game ended 3-1 for United, but she was secretly much happier that she had managed to piss you off so much, that you didn’t bother shaking hands with her afterwards.
“Congratulations, Ona. A huge victory for United. What do you think went well today?” “I think that our plans worked because we practiced and showed what we’re able to do. We didn’t have a lot of possession, but we focused on the counterattacks, and I think that definitely was a very effective tactic today.” “I have to ask you about Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been a formidable player in the league until now, and notoriously difficult to defend against, but she was practically silenced today on the left-hand side. Do you think you had something to do with that?” “I think what I’ve prepared in defense has worked out, for sure. I’ve also got my teammates to thank for covering the grounds for me. Y/L/N is a good player, and it’s always a joy to play against her.”
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Her rivalry with you continued, and soon even the press was picking up on it. Manchester derbies now included Y/L/N v. Batlle, and everyone was predicting what crazy thing would happen next. It wasn’t common for defenders to make waves in the paper compared to superstar strikers or even midfielders unless they were linked with a big move. But soon Ona was reading about herself in the news, how she has defended Manchester United’s left wing with an iron grip, how they started calling her la matadora, for her ability to hold off forwards and tame them like bullfighters do.
One bull remained to be tamed though, and her conundrum continued into her second season at United.
Unlike her, you seemed to take the new breath of fame easily enough. Day in and day out, there were news of you scoring goals and bringing Man City to the top of the table by November.
You were born to be a star.
But Ona knew from shooting stars in the game that burned out too quickly; if you let what’s outside the pitch get to you, you might as well just leave it altogether. You might have been a good player, on your way to becoming a great one even, but you did have a flare for the dramatics which riled up the press quite a bit. If she was lucky, maybe the pressure would take you out of the game before she does.
International breaks were times she always look forward to, being able to represent her country. Even if they were friendly matches, she knew Spain was always being watched, as a team’s form was important on the world stage. The team would play two friendly matches, the first one being against Brazil and the other against the United States. Some friendly fixtures . . .
Brazil was a breeze, mainly because she wouldn’t have to face her biggest adversary. Naturally, you were called up to your national team, and the back-and-forth game persisted.
She had played against you many times at club level, but the way you played for your country was something else. There was more passion to the way you weave your way through defenders, more flare to your shots. It could also be the adrenaline of being called up for the first time, and wanting to prove yourself—she knew that feeling well.
It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that when a long ball was played over the defense line and Marta Cardona was on her way towards goal, you’d be there to strike her down right at the edge of the box. Her teammates appealed, and the referee paused the game, but all Ona saw was red. With a speed she didn’t know she had in her, she sprinted to you and shoved you away as you were bending down in a show of checking on Marta.
“What was that?! You could have broken her ankle, cabrona!”
“Watch it.”
You had never seen her so angry before—her jaw locked as she continued to hurl insults at you. If she wasn’t your mortal enemy maybe you could have found it attractive. So you pushed back, and soon both your teammates and hers crowded around you, trying to separate you. Kelley put her arm around your neck and walked away, telling you to “keep your cool, this is only a friendly”.
Never, you thought. Never while I’m playing against her.
You apologized to Marta eventually, and she was cool with it. “Heat of the moment”, she said, and you were grateful. You never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes you just couldn’t control your adrenaline spike.
As expected, Ona didn’t even look at you after the match. So you went home with Marta.
The next morning at breakfast, Ona heard laughing from the girls surrounding Marta.
“How was your American late-night snack, Marta?” Leila laughed.
The girl only shook her head with a grin. “It was delicious, alright.”
Ona didn’t know what that twisted feeling in her gut was when she heard what Marta said, as she walked back to her hotel room after breakfast. She just knew that as long as she was alive, you were the most despicable person she knew.
ESPN: Y/L/N-Batlle Feud Continues, Bonmatí Controls Midfield in Spain-USWNT Clash “LOS ANGELES -- Thursday night saw a friendly match between Spain’s women's national team and the USWNT at the Snapdragon Stadium that ended in a 2-2 draw. Several debutants started for both teams, including Man City powerhouse Y/N Y/L/N. After a stunning cross into the box from the left for Mallory Pugh to tap in, a dangerous slide tackle on Marta Cardona ensured Y/L/N to be the heart of a confrontation between several players, including Ona Batlle. It seems their club rivalry persists as they were seen giving each other a very clear piece of their minds, and several clashes succeeded the Cardona tackle. It would have been a good performance for both if not for the slip of attitude. One thing is clear, though; the mentality is there, and it sure is entertaining to watch. […]”
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The end of the season was fast approaching, and while you had become a thorn in her side, it came to a point in which she would not think about you until a week before a clash. This one in particular was crucial in the race for a Champions League spot that both Manchester clubs were vying for. She knew what it meant for the club to secure a UCL spot for the first time, and you were not about to ruin it for her.
Tooney and Millie invited her out for dinner the night before the derby, but she turned them down, opting for a quiet night in instead. After a few hours, however, she suddenly felt antsy, the anticipation before the game nipping at her. It was only 7pm when she checked and she decided to go for a run. She followed the familiar path she always takes to the nearby park, and she was glad she did because the sun was going down, leaving a glorious trail of orange in the sky. She loved these peaceful moments, away from adrenaline, away from the constant pressure, away from constantly having to push herself or she’d be called ‘lazy’.
A constant huffing sound appeared next to her, and when Ona looked down she saw an adorable corgi looking up at her while wagging its tail.
“Hello,” she bent down and pet the dog. Loving the attention, the little corgi jumped up in an attempt to lick her face, to which she let out a laugh.
“Bratwurst! Come back here!” She heard a voice call in the distance, which she assumed must have been the owner. “Sorry, he loves people.”
Ona looked up, and her face dropped. You did the same, standing frozen in front of her. Bratwurst was jumping up and down before you, probably excited that he received pets from someone else today.
She had never seen you in plain clothes before. You clearly knew how to dress yourself, because she might have admitted that you looked good if she didn’t hate you so much. But it was difficult to see you as anything else other than Y/N Y/L/N, Manchester City winger, and potentially Golden Boot winner this season by the looks of it.
And yet, she sat down on a nearby bench with you anyway, watching Bratwurst stick his butt in the air, attempting to catch a squirrel.
“I named him Bratwurst ‘cause he’s . . . long, you know?” You chuckled. ”Short form is Brat too, that’s kinda funny.”
In a sea of northern Englishmen, she never got to hear your American accent properly as she’d only heard you speak no more than two words to her, and most of the time they weren’t pleasant.
“How do you have time to own a dog?” She asked.
“He’s a foster. I just got him a couple of weeks ago.” You looked down at your fingers. “It’s nice to have him to come home to.”
The conversation died down, and suddenly Ona felt like this was a mistake. Maybe she should just leave, and continue her run. But she saw a different side to you—a gentler, quieter side unlike the boastful player she knew you as—and she wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not.
“Are you planning on adopting him permanently?”
“Maybe. I just want to make sure that I’m settled before making him move.”
You leaned back, placed your arm on the bench, and closed your eyes.
“You don’t want to stay in Manchester?”
“I don’t know yet. Why, would you be happy if I did?” You smirked, and she saw a glimpse of that player again.
Yes. “Your presence doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bring me any joy either.”
“Just face it, Batlle.” You turned your body to her. “I get under your skin, don’t I?”
Ona blinked, her jaw clenching. “You don’t intimidate me, Y/L/N. You might be used to people bowing at your feet, but I won’t let you walk all over me. We will win tomorrow, and you might think to show some respect for others in the game.”
“Sorry, Batlle, can’t let you win. We’re playing Champions League next season.” You really enjoyed taunting her.
Ona huffed and stood up. As she walked away, she heard you call out to her. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, la matadora!”
There was nothing you could ever do to make yourself less hateful in her eyes.
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It was matchday, kick-off time. Ona saw you on the other side of the midfield line. “Remember what you came here to do, and finish the job,” Marc had told them in the dressing room. He was right. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let you ruin that for her.
They were to play with a high line today, which required Ona to stay near the midfield line and run back, should a forward slip through. About halfway through the first half, she had a startling realization; you were dropping back too, playing a number-10 role. It meant that she couldn’t do what she did last time you met, because there would be a gaping hole where she covers.
United was leading 1-0 by halftime, and while they had the advantage, the fight was far from over.
“Okay, ladies. Have a drink and take a seat,” Marc stood at the front of the dressing room. “We’re doing good, we’re holding them off. Keep up the pressure.”
Ona sat back to catch her breath. You were much more versatile than she thought, and maybe that was her mistake for underestimating you. It seemed too easy that you were giving her exactly what she wanted, playing high at the flank like she always does. There was more to it, but she needed to adapt.
Ona held your gaze for a moment across the field. You weren’t giving up. It seemed you were confident enough in whatever wicked plan you still had up your sleeve, that you sent her a smirk back.
It was the 70th minute of the game and they were so close to achieving it. Katie was looking for a pass, so Ona made herself available.
There was empty space near the side of the box, and she wanted to utilize it but it meant having to get past a couple of defenders.
“Vilde! 1, 2!” She called, passed the ball to her teammate, and started running. Her momentum was halted when Vilde’s ball was cut off and instantly launched forward.
The counterattack came so quickly, it must have been what you practiced. 1-1.
Suddenly, the tides have shifted. The momentum was with City. Time was running out, and the sudden goal disoriented her team. It took about five minutes for everyone to get their head back into the game, but Ona could tell City were used to having possession by then.
And then, in the 88th minute, you were given the ball from the left. Everyone except Alessia had dropped back to defend a series of dangerous balls up until now. You didn’t have anyone to pass to without getting intercepted, and you were outside of the box. So you took the shot. She watched helplessly as the ball flew past Mary into the top right corner.
1-2.
Ona’s body ran cold as she watched you celebrate with your teammates.
When the final whistle came shortly after, she collapsed on her knees.
Some of her teammates were there to console her, but she let their comfort pass through her. She needed to break something.
She needed to get away from everyone and found a spot near the bathrooms where she could catch her breath. Her boots were dangling from her hand by the laces. She slumped against a wall and began to cry, the boots clattering next to her on the floor.
It wasn’t that she was sad to have lost—she blamed herself for letting you get to her head. The interaction of the day before got her thinking what ifs. What if we didn’t meet under these circumstances? What if I could have just gotten to know you without wanting to rip your head off every time I see you?
You heard quiet sobs down the hallway and knew it was her. You had quickly gone into the tunnel when you didn’t see her anywhere on the pitch, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see her cry.
“Batlle?” You called.
She didn’t seem to notice you, sitting against the wall and wiping her face with her shirt.
“Hey, it’s okay.” That was a stupid thing to say considering you just beat her out of a Champions League spot, of course it’s not okay.
“I’m really not in the mood,” she said, looking away.
“You did good out there,” you said, watching her anxiously.
“Don’t act like you care,” she sniffled. “You got what you wanted.”
“I’m not as heartless as you think, Ona.” You quipped back. “I’m not sorry that we won, but I am sorry that you’re hurt.”
“Why are you doing this to me?” She sobbed and glared at you. It sent a chill down your bones. “I wish we had never met.”
How do you tell her that you never meant for things to go this way? That every word you had ever said to her didn’t stem from malice but from fear? You had wished to push her away so that you don’t collide with her head-on. How do you tell her that no matter how hard you tried, you still gravitated toward her?
“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a fool.
She was hurting because of you.
You snuck a glance at the form of the girl in front of you, like you would be penalized if you were caught looking at her. You took a step back to go, but she held onto your arm and pulled your body against her.
You had been fantasizing about having your mouth against her for months, usually in absurd circumstances, like you two making out in a bed of roses or you giving her a kiss after she, a masked superhero, saved you from danger. Never like this, muscles aching, sweat coating your foreheads, wearing your respective uniforms—being so you doing this.
You wanted to enjoy it. Her lips were soft and salty, and she might have secured you by the waist against her. Your knees trembled as you sighed into her lips, pushing her against the wall gently. Your hesitancy soon turned into hunger, as you pressed your body into hers, desperate to feel her.
Murmurs in the distance snapped you out of it. “Where’s Ona?” You made out one of the voices saying.
You looked back at her, your faces just inches away. You never noticed, but she had so many beautiful freckles adorning her face.
“Ona—“ You said, but she quickly picked up her boots and left towards the voices.
Chest heaving and head spinning, you slumped against the wall with a small grin, bringing your fingers up to touch your lips where she had been.
“Where have you been?” Keira asked in the dressing room, but you just shook your head.
“Just to the bathroom.”
Sky Sports: Man City’s Talisman Y/N Y/L/N Nets Stunning Late Goal Against Man United To Secure UWCL Spot […]
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a/n: this gif is so y/n and ona coded
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totaly-obsessed · 27 days
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Jennifer Hermoso Appreciation
woso appreciation masterlist | with @alotofpockets
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retrocesosdestacion · 6 months
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SOCIALIZING PROBLEMS. | mapi león
mapi león x reader
genre: not fluff at all, accidental confession, teenager love.
warnings: a bit of headcanon, reader being a stupid curious, mapi confessing unintentionally, also mapi being an assertive/passive person.
notes: i had this prompt when i was cooking an egg. dios im really sorry for making u guys wait too long, also i feel like this is the worst writing I've ever done in my life.
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: You are secretly Mapi's love and you have negative impressions about her.
But that ended when Maria accidentally left her sketchbook on the bench at the locker room.
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“ If I had a flower for every time I thought of you... I could walk through my garden forever. ”
Tennyson.
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❝ Damn. Mapi, you should become an artist. ❞ From the other side of the locker room, you could hear Pina's lips praising the spanish's drawings once again.
It was already the fifth time that day that someone had praised the scribbles in that notebook. And you too, but only in your head. You didn't even have the courage to go there and see the drawings.
Two years ago you were transferred to Barcelona. Everything was normal, you made friends, adapted to the Spain style, adapted to new rules.
But you didn't adapt to Maria León. You didn't have the slightest ability to go up to her and have a chat lasting more than two minutes.
Normally you just greet her, that's when you don't even look at her face. Anyone who saw the two of you together would pinky swear that hated each other.
This was all because in your little mind, Mapi had the greatest disinterest in you. After all, you came to this conclusion when you noticed that the defender always ran away from the conversation when you arrives.
However, over time, you accepted this treatment from the spanish woman, even if you were curious to understand the player. You even told this whole situation to Ona, your best friend.
But it was always the same dilemma: “Relax, she’s shy. “ or “ Mapi has difficulty meeting new people. “
Yet that never made sense, after all, Mapi is anything but bashful.
It became a huge snowball since you never bothered to go talk to her. Therefore, currently your relationship with Mapi is completely lacking affection.
And it was just with you.
Claudia, for example, was one of the lucky ones. She was glued to the blonde's side, attentively observing each page of the spanish woman's small notebook with the greatest freedom and comfort.
At that moment, the defender had both feet on the bench, so she could rest the notebook on her knees. Mapi slowly leafed through the drawings for her friend once again.
❝ Yo ya te dije, who knows in a few years. ❞ (I already told you.) León reply to the other spanish woman's compliment with a very hopeful tone, as part of her dream was to be a tattoo artist.
As always, you just looked at the two girls talking, as you sat, untying your boots.
❝ If you look for longer, you will have bad luck. ❞ Ona mocked your indeterminate stare. ❝ If you’re so interested, go there. ❞ She states while taking off her training uniform.
❝ Madness. She doesn't like me and you want me to suddenly get there? ❞ You threw those words into the air so quickly that Ona took a while to formulate something.
❝ Why do you think she hates you? ❞ Your friend countered.
❝ I've told you thousands of times, Ona. She looks at me dirty, ignores me, she doesn't even want to talk to me even though I'm her training partner! ❞ You justify while gesturing nervously.
❝ Stop being fucking neurotic. ❞ The spanish woman rolled her eyes, finishing putting on her post-workout clothes. ❝ Ve allí, siéntate a su lado y descubrirás por qué te trata así. ❞ (Go there, sit next to her and you will find out why she treats you like that.) Ona stated.
You only knew the basics of spanish, deciphering what the defender had said would take a while. ❝ Huh, what? Find out what? ❞
Ona didn't respond, just giving you a stupid smile and a wink.
Slowly, the oldest left your side and walked towards Mapi and Claudia. The moment she got there, Batlle poked Pina's shoulder and approached, murmuring something in her ear.
❝ What the fuck are you doing?! ❞ You whispered to yourself, automatically standing up; scared and surprised.
Suddenly, you felt the greatest penetration of looking in your direction: Claudia Pina looked at you as if she knew all your secrets, giving you chills.
She smiled a huge and mischievous smile, raised her arm and waved it, calling you over.
Before you went, the only thing you observed was Mapi's embarrassed and awkward manner, grumbling at the two spanish women for calling you.
You thought for seconds before taking the step to go there. A whirlwind of thoughts ran through your mind, like a river heading straight for the waterfall.
What if you are a nuisance to her? What if she leaves the moment you get there?
You were very worried about the relationship with someone you don't even are intimate with.
You worry about the image you give to a person that don't even want to be your friend.
Thus, your heart began to run a marathon from the moment you started your very slow steps towards Mapi León.
Maybe you were afraid of hurting her, but at the same time yourself. As if your feelings were bubbling for the defender and you didn't want to ruin everything.
In your peripheral vision, the only notable details were María closing her notebook as quickly as a middle school student after the last bell, Claudia and Ona smiling goofily and pointing at the defender.
❝ What was it? ❞ Those were your first words when you reached the other side of the locker room, completely looking away from Mapi and just focusing on the other two.
❝ You're the only one on the team who hasn't seen Mapi's drawings, right? ❞ Claudia gave the first word, pushing León's shoulder with her elbow.
You didn't even bother to answer correctly, just opening a painful smile.
❝ Yes, I think so. ❞
After you responded, Mapi frowned, rolling her eyes. This only made you more certain that León actually hated you.
❝ But there's no need to show it. I mean, I'm not interested. ❞ They were the stupidest words that came out of your mouth.
The shine in Mapi's eyes slowly faded with each word that left your lips, the spanish woman's fingers ran to the back of her neck, uncomfortable. At this point, you should be sure that you almost hurt the girl.
❝ Don't be like that. Come on Mapi, show it. ❞ Ona finally said something in the midst of the discomfort of that conversation, lightly patting the other spanish woman on the head.
❝ I'll show you later, I need to pack my things. ❞ Maria came up with the most false excuse possible, since her things were almost one hundred percent ready. León's fingers rested on the slap, giving Ona a dirty look.
Your eyes fell on Claudia and Ona, indignant at all of this.
But you didn't know why. It wasn't as if the lack of communication between two companions would cause such great discomfort.
There was something more, you could feel it. Such something else that even Ona hides from you.
❝ Dios mío, esto es horrible. You two look like children who don't know how to talk to each other. ❞ (Oh my god, this is horrible.) Claudia gave her opinion amidst the silence.
❝ Son como dos chicas enojadas. ❞ (They're like two stupid girls. ) Batlle added.
Mapi stood up delicately, pulling the bag that was previously on the floor to the bench and opening it. ❝ Could you two shut up and get out of here, wouldn't you? ❞
The spontaneous rudeness really took you by surprise, mainly because the defender was staring at the other two, but not at you.
Pina raised her hands in defense, expressing a mere comical sadness on her face. ❝ Right. ❞
The same thing for Ona, who reached for the strap of her sports bag and put it on her left shoulder. ❝ Come on, Claudia. And don't be stupid with [reader]. ❞
❝ Que se jodan ustedes dos. ❞ (Fuck you two.) Mapi grumbled as she mock-rifled through her clothes.
Ona grabbed Claudia's arm and pulled her tightly to her feet, slowly dispersing herself from you and Mapi over time, killing the last few minutes. ❝ See you later, [reader]. ❞
Your eyes screamed for help to leave together, following the two girls until they left the main door.
Okay, now you were alone with the girl you were most afraid of.
Gradually, some people and groups would leave within minutes. Silence now, which had previously been scattered conversations, was prevailing, and that was delicious on the one hand.
After all, you loved being alone at times like this. But not with Maria.
You continued standing until Mapi offered you the bench next to her, and you did so. When you laid eyes on the spanish woman, you noticed her fingers pressing against her own temples, circling fingerprints there.
❝ I'm sorry about them. They are two idiots. ❞ León murmured as she took her fingers back to the bag, closing the zipper.
❝ Alright, no problem. I'm used to it. ❞ You responded with a typical defensive tone, unaccustomed to this type of conversation with her.
Your fingers tapped upper thigh, nervous and anxious, waiting for some miracle.
Momentarily, the spanish woman's brown globes rested on you, followed by a big sigh.
❝ I'm sorry if I'm stupid with you. And it's also bad if I didn't show you the drawings, it's just that— ❞ The defender was interrupted when Patri shouted her name.
❝ Hey, Mapi! ❞ The spanish woman appeared through the door of the main hallway. ❝ Can you check for me if my boots are dropped on the field? ❞
Maria looked at you with a roll of her optics, also accompanied by a tiny and shy smile. ❝ I'll be right back. ❞
The spanish woman slowly went to the gate that connected the changing room and the field, leaving you there freely in the area.
A dead silence remained there, there was no one else but the two of you inside that locker room, and now, only you.
Your body was still warm from training, but it could be for countless reasons, maybe because of your sudden meeting with Mapi, because of the fear of everything that happens in other conversations, happening now.
Eyes slowly took in every detail of the locker room: the ceiling, the floor, all the other stalls and even your bag on the other side.
But your orbs left for your side, where Mapi's unopened bag accidentally was. And of course, the damn sketchbook.
No, no. This is terrible, a lack of privacy. Your desire to leaf through that notebook was greater, but you should be aware.
It was only a matter of time before Mapi came back and finally opened that notebook, there was no point in leafing through it before then.
But despite everything, you were a very, very curious person.
❝ Damn. ❞ You muttered to yourself, intertwining your fingers so that you unconsciously wouldn't reach for the notebook.
But, well... Your eyes darted from side to side, making sure Maria wasn't there.
Your hand rested on the notebook, at the same time your heart accelerated so quickly as a result of your comportment. You should go back.
Slowly, you opened it enough so you could peek at the drawings. Incredibly, they were drawings of outlooks and Mapi's cats.
Despite everything, it wasn't that bad. ❝ Damn. ❞ You mumbled.
Suddenly, a folded sheet of paper fell from the middle of the pages of the notebook, falling to the floor. Your face produced a confused expression until the moment you reached the sheet.
At the same time that you were almost putting the sheet back from where it had fallen, you unfolded it.
Your heartbeat increased from the moment you caught sight of your name written there, along with a drawing of yourself and several doodles in the surrounding area.
Initials together, stick drawings of the two of you together that you were sure Claudia and Ona had scribbled, your name was written in every color there was.
There, maybe you realized why Mapi never showed you the notebook. Why Mapi hated being by your side when she was with the girls.
You could feel your face burn, turning red little by little, until it was like a pepper.
Immediately, you threw your hands up to your face, along with the sheet. You breathed once, twice and three times until you understood the situation.
❝ Shit. ❞ You mumbled to yourself with a muffled tone, still with your face hidden in your hands.
Your body slowly slid down the cabin wall, rethinking all the impressions you always had of Mapi.
You folded the sheet back and hid it in the notebook again.
Suddenly, Maria's figure slowly appeared in the locker room, mainly due to the sound of her footsteps.
Your torso rose, you became so desperate that you completely forgot to let go of the notebook in your hand.
Mapi slowly stopped walking and stopped in the middle of the locker room the moment her eyes fell on your hand with the notebook.
Slowly, her lips opened ready to say something. However, the spanish's internal desperation probably prevented this.
❝ I didn't see anything, I swear. ❞ Was the only thing you could say before throwing the notebook back onto the bench and waving your hands in defense.
Maria completely changed her route, walking quickly towards you. The moment she reached you, the player grabbed your hands and squeezed.
❝ Puedo explicarlo, en serio. ❞ (I can explain it, seriously.) Mapi stuttered between words and even forgot to say them in english.
The spanish woman's face didn't even bother to hide her embarrassment. You could feel the player's fingers trembling and of course, the strong desire to cry.
❝ I thought it was cute. ❞ In the midst of all the tension, these were your stupid words. Giving a short smile, which perhaps calmed León.
❝ What? ❞ Mapi asked, raising one of her eyebrows.
❝ The drawing. ❞
❝ But you said you didn't see anything. ❞ Maybe you didn't expect her to be so naive.
❝ I'm not going to lie, I saw everything. ❞ You answer with a defensive intonation, after all, you had no idea what would happen from now on. ❝ Even those scribbles on the sid— ❞
❝ That was the girls idea. ❞ Mapi justified it so quickly, was probably true.
It was at that moment that you realized that María León was not angry or disgusted with you. Mapi was actually in love with you and was ashamed to admit it.
This all explained the insults and scandals she made whenever the girls played with her. You were the concern of all the jokes.
❝ Right. First breathe. ❞ You advised the spanish girl to calm down, after all, she was shaking more than anything.
❝ Let me explain, please. I don't want you to get it wrong. ❞ Mapi begged to hold an explaination.
❝ Go ahead. ❞
❝ I'm not some kind of stalker, okay? I only drew you because, well… Because I like you and I thought you were pretty. ❞ The defender gets confused in her own words.
You were sure that wasn't what she wanted, Mapi didn't want to confess like that stupid way.
❝ But I completely understand if you think I'm crazy like that... ❞ Mapi slowly closed her eyes, trying to throw all the despair inside. ❝ Dios mío, ¿qué carajo estoy diciendo? ❞ (Oh my god, what the fuck am I saying?)
❝ Hey, it's okay... I guess. ❞ You tried to calm down from the moment you felt León's fingers slowly slip from your hands.
Your mind enfolded the sight of Mapi in front of you, it was the only thing you could pay attention to.
Heart felling affliction, a feeling full of pity for the whole situation that Maria went through made you think a lot.
While you had the wrong impression of her, Mapi couldn't control own feelings.
❝ I don't know what to say about all this. ❞ You produced a sentence where you could try to be understandable with it. ❝ I thought you hated me. ❞
❝ What? Why?! ❞ León was really shocked.
❝ Huh… You always sounded or looked ignorant to me. But it wasn't bad, I had the wrong impression. ❞ Your lips moved automatically, everything you kept about her these two years finally escaped.
Mapi gave a short smile, perhaps your words sounded funny. ❝ Yo nunca debí contarles a Ona y Claudia sobre ti. ❞ (I should never have told Ona and Claudia about you.) The spanish woman muttered to herself, but you still understood.
❝ And now knowing that you like me was such a turning point. ❞ You explained yourself without letting go of Mapi's hands for a second. ❝ By the way, about that… ❞
❝ No need to explain yourself, I'll understand if you don't reply— ❞
❝ No. I want it. I mean, I think you won my heart after seeing your drawings. ❞ Your typical comedic tone caused few laughs between the two of you.
❝ And also, it really hurt me to get the impression that you hated me. I've been making you a fool all this time. ❞ You continued.
Mapi León paid attention to every word that left your lips. There, you noticed how the player stopped shaking and stuttering, finally taking comfort.
❝ No. I understand, I would have that impression too if I saw all of this. ❞
❝ But I hope we can go back and start over from scratch. ❞ You looked for the solution.
Despite everything, Mapi was very understandable with words, she just needed time to express herself.
Suddenly, León's brown orbs looked to the side, perhaps worried about something. ❝ I think we better go, I need to tell Patri about the boots. ❞
Mapi let go of your hands, and for a moment you didn't like that feeling. The spanish woman's fingerprints grabbed the famous intriguing notebook, putting it back in her bag.
Initially she carried the bag on her shoulder, waiting for you to do the same. Your feet lifted and strained toward your own bag, but immediately returned to Mapi's side.
❝ If you want to start from scratch, come with me. I'll stop at a coffee shop before heading home. ❞ León opened a genuine smile, extending her right hand towards you.
You got the signal, and you did it. Your long fingerprints met Mapi's, intertwining them.
❝ Yes, please. ❞
Maybe you should leave everything in the hands of time and, gingerly, the two of you would transform disagreements into affection.
Gradually, your relationship with Mapi stopped being lack of love and became the fruit of devotion. Walking alongside her was the best opportunity for that.
❝ ¡Quiero un frappuccino, por favor! ❞ (I'd like a frappuccino, please!) You used the spanish words that you knew, asking with a great enthusiasm. After all, from now you would use that dialect a lot more.
Really more.
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katelynnwrites · 8 months
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It Hits Different (‘Cause It’s You) | Ona Batlle
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warnings: none
word count: 815
summary: ona’s fingers are cold, like really really cold
a/n: a short something in honor of ona’s first world cup game where she probably froze while playing and i definitely froze at melbourne’s fifa fan festival while watching her play
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New Zealand is cold. New Zealand in winter is cold and rainy.
Those are the first few thoughts you had as soon as your plane landed and you stepped out onto the pitch for your first training session in the host country itself.
Now, as you walk onto the pitch Spain would be playing their first World Cup game on, those thoughts are not gone but rather pushed to the back of your mind in favour of one other thought. You are going to be playing in your first World Cup game.
A hand slips into yours, bringing you out of your head.
‘Hola mi amor.’ You murmur.
‘Hi.’ Ona smiles at you, bringing your joined hands up to her lips so that she can press a kiss onto the back of your hand.
You give your girlfriend a kiss on her cheek in return.
‘Ready?’ She asks.
‘I was born ready.’ You answer, eliciting a giggle from the brunette.
Holding her hand in yours even as you move towards the gathering group of Spanish players, you realise how cold it is beginning to feel.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to put a pair of gloves on Oni? It’s 9 degrees and you’re definitely going to be freezing.’
Ona shakes her head, mumbling about how she doesn’t like the feel of gloves.
You sigh and let it go.
******
Your girlfriend pushes her hands into your lap, silently pleading with wide brown eyes for you to warm them up for her.
You do so immediately, blowing on them before rubbing each of her hands between yours. Your own hands that are warm thanks to the gloves you had worn during the warm up.
‘Ona mi amor, put a pair of gloves on before the game.’
‘I don’t need gloves, I have you.’ The fullback cheekily answers.
You roll your eyes and turn your attention back to Vilda who is going through some last minute tactics for the upcoming game against Costa Rica.
******
At half time, Ona doesn’t have to ask you to warm her hands up for her.
You do so immediately, pulling her shivering form into your side and covering her hands with yours. Her hands are white with how cold they are and you press a discreet kiss onto the shell of her ear.
Subtly, you push a pair of gloves towards her but your girl is far too distracted by how cold she is feeling.
‘Stupid rain.’ Ona complains and Aitana laughs from where she’s sitting, next to the both of you.
******
‘Ona!’ You gasp.
You don’t push her away only because you know that it’s your girlfriend’s touch.
When you turn around, you’re met with Ona’s grin.
It seems that despite having been subbed off a few minutes before the whistle had blown, your girlfriend hadn’t quite been able to warm up on the bench.
She slips her too cold hands up a little further under your soaked jersey with a soft laugh.
‘Mi amor. Your hands are f-freezing.’
‘I know.’ Ona giggles.
‘I really should have worn gloves.’ She adds.
‘Mhm.’
You’re barely able to fight the urge to wriggle away from your girlfriend and her frozen hands as she takes advantage of your body’s warmth.
‘I love you.’ She says, her voice quiet but filled with adoration when she realises that despite how cold her hands are, you are willing to let her warm them up with your body heat.
‘I love you too. But I can love you while you warm up in the shower.’
Gently, you tug her into the showers and away from Vilda’s prying eyes, where you press a flurry of kisses onto your girlfriend’s face.
Ona hums, stroking the skin on your waist with her thumb.
Wholeheartedly, you tell her, ‘You played so well today. Bagged an assist too, superstar.’
‘I’m not so sure about superstar, I was just trying my best for this team.’ Ona murmurs, a bright pink blush colouring her cheeks.
She’s too cute you think.
‘Ona.’
‘Yes?’
‘You’re a superstar.’ Your tone leaves no room for argument, making even the tips of Ona’s ears flush as she hears your praise.
‘Okay.’ She accepts shyly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
‘Maybe my superstar can wear gloves for the next game? So that she wouldn’t need to use me as her personal heater?’
‘But I really like having you as my personal heater.’ Your girlfriend pouts.
‘You can always use me as your personal heater but please mi amor, wear a pair of gloves okay?’
‘Okay.’ She concedes and you smile.
‘Thank you love.’
Leaving her with an affectionate and grateful kiss pressed onto the corner of her mouth, you back out of the shower stall before any staff member can catch you.
Further PDA with your favourite person can wait till you’re both back at the hotel.
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Spanish Translation:
hola mi amor - hello my love
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lasllani-m · 7 months
Text
𝗣𝗢𝗪𝗘𝗥𝗙𝗨𝗟 ∙ 𝗠𝗔𝗣𝗜 𝗟𝗘𝗢́𝗡 𝗫 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥
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Powerful.
That was one word you could describe your girlfriend.
Mapi was a loving, kind, gentle person off the pitch however on the pitch she was completely different. She had a strong hold over her opponent, clearing the ball off the line, dirty tackles you name it.
The spanish women was especially protective over her teammates, people she loved you being one of them.
Tonight was Denmark versus Spain, the last game in the group stage to get to the quarter finals of the euros, “You ready mi vida?”
“Sí, i born ready.” You replied looking up from your phone.
Alexia was messaging you checking up on you, Mapi and the team as she was out with a nasty knee injury and couldn’t participate in the tournament.
You and the team piled out of the bus and into the away changing rooms. Jorge announced who would be starting, you and Mapi both made it which you were both pleased about.
You had an eerie feeling in your bones if something bad was going to happen during the match, “Hey hey, Y/N.” Mapi noticed you twisting your rings.
It was a thing she picked up, she knew when ever you had pre match jitters or something was up you would start twisting the rings on your fingers.
“I’m fine, just feel a bit jittery.” You half smiled waking out together to warm up.
“Tell me if it’s anything else okay.” She narrowed her eyebrows at you.
“I will.” You lied, you hated lying to her but you didn’t want to worry her as well.
Once you’d warmed up, the bad feeling washed over you and you felt fine when you were in the tunnel holding the little mascots hand. The national anthems were sung and the pennants were traded, you were ready for kick off.
Ona had sent you a good ball, you were on side dribbling with the ball down the wing. You were just about to shoot but the Danish player purposely jogged backwards so you were offside when the ball went in the back of the net.
“Joder.” You cursed.
You asked for the ball off the Patri which she passed it to you with the right amount of force. You got ready for the cross to Aitana when you felt your legs go out from under you.
Staying down in pain clutching your ankles, you looked at the Danish player who got up from the floor and stomped on your lower back.
Tears streamed from your eyes the feeling of the studs piercing through your skin, blood leaking out. Ona and Leila approached your side, “Y/N, are you okay.”
“No no, i need medic.” You managed to say, Ona nodding signalling for the spain medics.
You could hear Mapi’s distinctive voice shouting and pushing the player that did this to you on the floor repeatedly. You just about saw the referee pull out a yellow card, “Tell her to stop, Mapi stop she get red.”
“Mapi please stop!” You choked out, the medics telling you not to speak.
The staff asked you if the could lift your bulky blood stained shirt to look at the damage. They loaded you onto a stretcher taking you off the pitch, you blew a kiss the stands indicating you were okay which they cheered and clapped for.
You were cleaned and patched up by the medical staff, the stud marks leaving little holes in your lower back.
Half time came around and you heard Mapi outside the medical room, “Is she okay, let me see her.”
“Maps.” You croaked as she opened the door.
“Hey mi chica, how are you doing.” Her face softened at the sight of you.
“Well i know now that i won’t be participating in the rest of the euros.” You sighed.
“She deserved that red then.” Mapi told you.
“Sí but you got yourself a yellow.”
“Lo siento, i couldn’t do nothing about it they purposely hurt the woman i love, i obviously going to bite back.” She explained rubbing her thumb over your knuckles.
“Gracias i appreciate it, i appreciate you but i will be watching you from the sidelines with Alexia now.” You half smiled kissing the back of her hand.
“That is only if we get through.”
“What is score?” You asked.
“0-0 so far.” Mapi said quietly.
“Well you better get out there and kick their Danish asses then.” Both of you laughed, “I’ll see you after the game.”
Mapi pressed a kiss into your temple and then your lips before running out of the medical room back out to the pitch.
“Can i go outside?” You asked one of the medics.
“Only if you stay warm and use your crutches at all times.” The doctor informed.
“Okay, gracias doctor.”
You put your tracksuit on with a little help from Lola and Misa, heading out sitting in the Spanish dugout.
“Hey soldier, how are you.” Esther sat beside you after warming up.
“Let’s say i’ll have a boot on my back for the rest of my life.” You sighed.
“Seriously it was that deep?” She seemed shocked.
“Sí, and i won’t be participating in the rest of the tournament.”
“No Y/N we need you!” Esther pulled a face.
“You’ll be fine, i think Jorge is putting you on now.”
“Okay, thanks.” She got up to go to the sidelines.
The match finished 0-1 to Spain meaning the team would be going to the quarterfinals of the euros. You managed to get out of your seat, hobbling over to Mapi on your crutches, “You did it baby!”
“Te amo mucho.” She carefully hugged you.
“Now let’s celebrate!”
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pers1st · 2 days
Text
remembered
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pairing: alexia putellas x reader
notes: this is so short ugh i hate this tbh but oh well, little angsty, mentions of injuries
You remembered every single trophy, every single victory, every loss, every draw, every team, every teammate, as you sat on the countertop of your kitchen, watching your girlfriend hum along to the Rosalía song playing over your speaker system as she stirred the pasta you had been cooking for a while now. Alexia was still wearing the sweats she’d worn on the plane back from the most recent champions league match, one that you had, once again, sat out for. With an ACL injury over two years ago and not a single minute back on the pitch due to the never ending list of injuries added to your knee since, you had sat out for a lot of matches. Every one of your teammates knew that it took a toll on you, but more than anyone, Alexia knew. She had seen you the very night of your injury, although it had happened during an international break. She had seen you cry and thrash in her arms, she had seen you when you’d gone into surgery and when you’d come out of it, she had seen every step of your recovery, had been present for every moment another doctor shattered your heart, she had picked up every broken piece of it and attempted her best to hold you together when you couldn’t. Still, you felt nervous to tell her. Still, you didn’t know how she’d react- whether she’d understand.
Alexia bled for football in a way few did - it was her whole life. 
“What’s on your mind?”, she hummed, lifting her gaze from the stove as she looked over at you fiddling with the hem of her sweatshirt that hung over your body.
You shook your head.
“Not now, Ale”, you sighed. You had a plan for this. You had laid out every step of telling her how you’d announce the end of your career soon. However, one thing you hadn’t taken into account were your emotions, and how easily your girlfriend of five years could read them.
“You’re scaring me, amor. What’s wrong?”, she asked, her tone filled with worry and her eyebrows furrowed as she let the wooden spoon simmer in the pot, instead taking a hold of your hands, immediately stopping your fidgeting.
“It has nothing to do with you, Ale. Promise”, you murmured, taking a deep breath in to avoid your tears from falling, knowing that your girlfriend would abandon the food within seconds and force the words out of your mouth before you suffocated on them. But you had prepared Alexia’s favorite pasta with so much effort, wanting to welcome her back with something to make up for your lack of presence with the team recently, that you didn’t know whether you could take it.
“I don’t know why, but that’s making me feel worse”, she chuckled, squeezing your hands as she tried to find your gaze.
“I’ll tell you when we eat, okay?”, you asked, wanting to find a common ground with her and immediately, she nodded. That seemed to calm you, as you breathed a sigh of relief. Alexia understood that it was a serious matter, yet she didn’t push you. Maybe she’d understand that your knee had simply had enough. Maybe she’d understand that you had had enough.
The cartilage in your knee had, at one point, been down to only twenty percent, and through two very painful surgeries, the doctors of your club had been sure you’d be able to be integrated into the sport again. Yet, you had sought another conversation with one of the doctors who’d stayed behind in Barcelona, in the hopes of having some clearance on whether you actually would, at one point, play football again. The man had been insistent that this was a conversation to be held while more people, most importantly, your girlfriend was present, yet you had insisted on answers and had been told the one thing no athlete ever wanted to hear. 
It’s very unlikely. If I were you, I wouldn’t push for it.
“All done, no?”, Alexia asked as she lifted one of the noodles from the pot for you to taste, gently placing it in your open mouth. You hissed at the heat in your mouth, yet you nodded. 
“Sí”, you agreed, hopping from the countertop as best as you could, to take the plates from the table you’d already sat when she’d texted you she was on her way home.
After plating up the food, you took Alexia’s phone, shushing the woman’s protests as you changed the music to Taylor Swift.
“My monologue, my music”, you smiled, filling your girlfriend’s glass with water as you sat down across from her, taking a deep breath.
“Mi amor, you’re scaring me”, Alexia huffed, but you shook your head no, poking at your food for a second.
“I’m going to retire, Ale”, you started, missing how Alexia’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as she searched for words. Your gaze was fixated on your plate, not knowing whether you could look at her right now, whether you could take her disappointment. You had been through so much in the past few months (really, it had been years), your girlfriend’s disappointment wasn’t something you were particularly searching for. Still, you knew you would have to accept it as she remained silent.
“I saw the doctor yesterday. He said if he was me, he wouldn’t push it.”
At that, you looked up at her, practically seeing her wires spin.
“Screw him, bebita. He’s not you, he’s not an athlete, he’s not-”
“Ale, I’m tired”, you interrupted her, a single tear rolling down your cheek. You knew she wouldn’t understand.
“I can’t do this anymore. It’s too much. Every time I go again, it ends in pain and more time out and- it’s too much. I’m done, Ale. I’m done fighting”, you said in one breath, dropping your fork onto your plate as you pushed your chair back.
“Wait, amor!”, she exclaimed, and made her way over to you within seconds. You didn’t know whether she was going to yell at you, silently disapprove or try to change your mind, but you didn’t have the energy to fight her embrace as she tightened her arms around you, letting your head fall into the crook of her neck as more tears escaped your eyes.
“It's okay, mi vida. You’re okay, I’ve got you.”
Well, you certainly hadn’t expected that- her words in your ear only encouraged you to cry harder, to finally let go of all the weight on your shoulders as you sobbed into her shoulder. You didn’t have any way to fight the tears anymore, completely letting your guard down as you cried and cried. It seemed like hours, and if you were any more stable emotionally, you might’ve cursed yourself for letting the food get calmed, but if your girlfriend minded, she didn’t say as she wordlessly led you to the couch after what seemed like hours.
“Are you sure, bebita? I just- I don’t want you to regret it”, Alexia sighed, your hands in hers as she gently stroked your thumb.
“Sí, Ale. I’m sure. It’s going to suck, but I can’t cling onto nothing anymore. I need something to do other than wait for a potential comeback”, you spoke, your voice hoarse from all of the crying.
“Have you thought about this? Like, for long enough to be sure?”
You nodded. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about since the follow up appointment of my surgery”, you huffed in an answer. 
“Amor, why didn’t you tell me?”, Alexia asked, her eyebrows furrowed as she held your hands, still intertwined with hers, closer to her heart. You could feel it beat through her hoodie.
“I didn’t think you would understand”, you mumbled, suddenly insecure about what you had been so confident in before. Alexia was one of the most empathetic, most understanding people you’d ever met- and although it had taken her a while to get the gist of your knee problems, and hours to research every surgery in detail, you doubted yourself now- if anyone understood the toll this has taken on you, it’d be the person who had been there for you through it all.
“Mi vida, I don’t know what it’s like, for you. But I’ve seen you in pain for such a long time. I just want you to be happy, and I thought that you would be happy once you were back on the pitch. That’s why I pushed you. But if that’s not what you want, I understand. After everything that you’ve been through, I will respect whatever you want to do. And if you don’t want to play anymore, we’ll figure something else out”, she spoke, her voice firm yet gentle at the same time. You couldn’t help but lean into her at her words, the weight being lifted off your chest at once.
“Thank you, Ale. Thank you so, so much”, you whispered into her shoulder, letting her hug you once more.
“Of course, bebita. I’ll always have your back. You’ve had an amazing career, and you’ll be remembered for that, forever. No matter what you do next, I know it’ll be great.”
After a short amount of contentment, Alexia spoke again.
“Although, you might give Jana and Bruna a heart attack”, she laughed.
“I know. I don’t know how the team will take it, in general”, you gave back. This was another thing that had been cursing your mind for a while now. After a great time with Lyon, you had finally come to Barcelona three years ago, wanting nothing more than to finally close the distance between you and Alexia. With that, however, you had found a new family, and people who meant more to you than you could ever explain. Despite your foreignness, and your teammates from the US constantly making fun of you whenever they could find a video of you attempting to speak Spanish, this group of women had taken you in and transformed this city into what you hoped to be your forever home. Even when for the better part of your stay in Barcelona, you had been sidelined, on the injury bench or in an operating room.
“Well, it’s not like you’ll be gone, no? You’ll stay here, with Barça.”
“Sí, I will. But I won’t be at training, won’t be at every match. It will be different”, you huffed. You had no clue what you would do after your career- an after-football never having existed in your mind, but you knew that you wanted it to have something to do with the sport.
“They'll still support you. They all love you, especially the younger ones. They look up to you so much, mi vida. It will be okay.”
You believed Alexia. Because if your girlfriend was anything other than caring, gentle, and empathetic, she was also honest. If she said it would be okay, it would be okay. Despite the fact that you had no idea what you were going to do with your life, you knew that as long as you had Alexia, it would be okay.
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fanfics-posts · 6 months
Text
One Night Stands | Mapi León x Reader
warnings: heavy smut, mentions of casual sex, choking. 18+. word count: 2253 based off this request, didn't want to take it too far in one chapter but if you want a part 2, I'm happy to do it! Enjoy!
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“Thanks for tonight.” You smiled, pulling your trousers up and fastening the button.
“Are you sure you can’t stay?”
“No, I have things to do today. You were great, Emily.” You reassured the naked blonde who was giving you those eyes.
“Ellie. My name is Ellie.”
“Sorry. What did I say? I’m so sleepy.”
Yet another save after yet another passionate night.
“You should go. My parents will be home soon.” You panted.
“Your parents live with you?” The brunette raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah, didn’t I mention that?”
“No, but I should go in that case. Can I get your number?”
“Sorry, I’m not looking for another serious right now.”
“It’s just last night you said…”
“Yeah, but I feel like you deserve so much more than what I can offer right now. I know where to find you if I ever feel like I’m in a better place.” You smiled, irritated at her persistence.
Yet another regret after another passionate night.
“Where are you going?” The voice beside you croaked.
“I’ve got to go. Family emergency.”
“Oh, is everything okay? Do you need anything?”
“No, I’m good. Thanks for last night.”
“I really hope you’ll be okay.”
“Should be fine.”
Another excuse after another passionate night.
You were an expert at this by now. Perhaps it wasn’t fair to these women, and sometimes you genuinely hated yourself for it. Some of them had been looking for the same thing as you—just a one-night type of setup—but some of them had been so hopeful that you wouldn’t walk away the following morning. 
Maybe it was a little narcissism in you, but you didn’t blame yourself for being so emotionally unavailable. No, you blamed no one but your ex.
You’d been together just over a year, and you were sickeningly in love with every aspect of her being. The two of you just couldn’t stop arguing, though, and one day she vanished. Well, from your life, not completely. You spent months trying to work out what her motive was, only to be dealt a devastating blow one night at a crowded house party when a friend of a friend told you that she had already begun another relationship before she left you. 
So, rather than telling her what you thought of her or being the mature adult you thought were and attending therapy, you decided to prove that nothing could hurt you… because you simply didn’t care enough about people.
Your friends came to terms with the new you pretty quickly, wanting to support you in anything that prevented you from going back to your ex.
The only time they had ever intervened in your night-time rendezvous was when you attempted to sweet talk one of their boyfriend's cousins into coming home with you. They had immediately halted your actions, not wanting you to cross the line between it being none of their business and your actions having a direct impact on your friendships.
Holidays were the worst. They went the same way every year: you’d all travel to the destination together, and you’d spend your daytimes being your old self with them, but come the evenings, you’d head to the local clubs, and you’d disappear until they covered their ears heard you that evening or they witnessed you coming back to the apartment after doing the walk of shame pride the next morning.
This holiday in Ibiza had been no different. Having arrived just three days ago, you’d spent two nights elsewhere and one night causing them to have to put their pillows over their heads in an effort to not get a running commentary on your love life.
But you’d promised them at least one girls night.
Girls night was essentially code for you not fucking off at some point of the night and ignoring their existence in an attempt to up your body count further.
As much as you pretended to enjoy the life you lived, you didn’t really. You craved some kind of affection that didn’t come in the form of a hand on your shoulder to steady themselves or something deeper than an awkward conversation the next morning.
That was on the inside, though, and that didn’t count. That’s what you told yourself anyway.
As usual, your presence in the room attracted attention when you entered the club. You batted it off, though, knowing that if anything in your life had your undivided commitment, it was your friendship with the group of girls that had helped you through everything you had ever faced.
You spent the night laughing and dancing with your friends, sharing genuine smiles with them, and feeling the sense of freedom that came with being able to be your true self for one night.
Until you went to the bar for refills.
A brunette you wished you’d set eyes on during any other night than girls night came flying into your back. You noticed the tattoos first, particularly the one spread across her neck. Then muscular legs. Then the fashion sense. And then… the voice.
“Sorry about that.”
She wasn’t sorry at all.
“It’s fine.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
Kinda.
“Can I buy you a drink to make it up to you?”
And then take you home.
“It’s fine.” You smiled.
“Your eyes are beautiful. I’ve never seen eyes so bright.”
She used that line on everyone.
“How many people have you said that to?” You chuckled.
“Just you.”
She was lying but tonight wasn’t about that.
“Well, I’m flattered but we’re having a girls night so no such luck for you.”
She pulled a sad face, still following through on her offer of buying you a drink anyway, before turning to walk away and leaving your eyes to follow her across the room.
You shook your head in disbelief that you seemed to have met your match and then returned to your friends, who were standing with their mouths agape.
“What? I told her it was girls night. I swear!” You protested.
“Do you know who that was?” One of your group practically screamed.
“No?”
“Mapi fucking León!”
“I’m not following?” You chuckled.
“Spanish player? Barcelona? Literally took the biggest stand against the Spanish federation and refused to go to the World Cup? How have you not seen this?!”
You continued handing out the drinks around the group, your eyes trailing over to the brunette in the corner discreetly as she made no secret of the fact she was looking right back at you.
“Oh my god, she’s staring at you. Why did you fob her off?!” Your friend groaned.
“It’s girls night.” You shrugged.
“Exactly. And we are your girls. If you think we’re going to stand in the way of you and Mapi, queen of Spain, you have seriously underestimated how much we love you.”
“Is this a test?” You chuckled.
“No!” They shouted collectively.
You sighed, confused at the logic they had. They had reminded you all week that tonight was the one night you were forbidden from doing this, yet here they were pushing you into the arms of someone who looked to be just as much of a player as you were.
“Look, for the last few years we’ve watched you leave clubs with people like Taylor who works in finance. Forgive us if we want to have a person to be excited about for once.” Your best friend rolled her eyes.
“What was wrong with Taylor who worked in finance?” You raised an eyebrow.
“Apart from the fact that she spoke about tax brackets and interest rates as some kind of foreplay on the dance floor?”
“Yeah. That was weird, I guess.”
You continued with your night, this time not batting away the attention of Mapi when it came again. She wasn't pushy, which you liked. She just made no secret that she still thought you were the one she wanted to take home from this club tonight. You knew you had to invite her to make a second attempt with you, heading to the bar for another drink when you saw she was standing there too.
"I can get that for you, no strings. Just a drink for the most beautiful person here." She smiled.
“You really think I’m falling for your charm, don’t you?” You laughed sarcastically.
“My charm? I mean every word.” She looked at you through hooded eyelids, the same look you gave people who questioned your authenticity.
“And let me guess… you can’t wait to cook me breakfast in the morning? We don’t even have to do anything because you just want to spend time with me alone? You feel this instant attraction to me and you don’t know why but it’s giving you butterflies and you really want to explore it?”
You’d caught her. She could maybe salvage this, though.
“You sound like someone who thinks they’re the best at that.” She smirked.
“That? You can’t even say the word but you think you might be better than me, yeah?”
“I can say the word.” She protested.
“Doesn’t seem that way.”
“Fucking. Fucking fucking fucking.”
Your hand snapped towards her mouth to silence her, shushing sounds leaving your own lips.
“Are you embarrassed? Don’t you want them to know I’ll be fucking you soon?”
God, you hated that you probably sounded like her when you interacted with women.
“Who said you would be?” You scrunched your nose up.
“That’s okay. I guess that settles it, I’m obviously the better of us. I don’t blame you for not wanting to embarrass yourself, though.”
She was good.
“I didn’t say no.” You answered sternly.
“I can’t leave with you. It’s too risky. I’ll give you my address?”
You scoffed at her assumption that not saying no meant yes but realistically, in this instance, it did. This would be okay, right? You could just give your friends the address before you left so they’d know where you were?
“Okay fine, if you’re that desperate to have me.” You chuckled.
“Oh, babe. We don’t even have to do that, I just want to fall in love with you.” She replied playfully.
She wrote her address in your phone before turning away, like she didn’t even know you. She made no urgent move to leave, instead just enjoying the end of her drink with her friends at an agonising pace. You slyly gave the address to your friends; better safe than sorry.
When she did exit the club, your own stubbornness kicked in. You ordered another drink, requested a song from the DJ, and pulled your friends up to dance. You didn’t know exactly how long you had dragged this out, but you were sure it had been at least half an hour. You finally headed for a taxi, your friends telling you to give the performance of a lifetime.
You intended to.
The taxi took you to a secluded house a few miles outside of the town centre. Had it not been for the celebrity status she clearly held, you might've feared for your safety being somewhere so remote with a stranger. The house was big—not flashy—but not smaller than you expected either. You paid the driver, stepping out of the cab and noticing as the front door opened slowly before the brunette appeared in shorts and a sports bra.
You knew then not to expect any small talk.
And you were right. No sooner were you through the front door before she had crashed her lips against yours and was making quick work of pulling your top upwards and your trousers downwards. You pushed her shorts off her hips, listening as the fabric hit the floor with a gentle thud, and she stepped out of them.
You fully intended to take control, but before you could even think, Mapi had pushed you into the downstairs bedroom and had you pressed against the wall, feet dangling off the floor.
“We need a safe word.” She husked.
You were caught unaware with that one; she had come across as such a dick that the idea that she took time to think about you both feeling safe was unfathomable to you. Pleasantly surprised.
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
“Should we just use…” Her eyes searched around the room.
“Medal?” You cut in, noticing the various medals on her walls.
“Okay, medal. We stop immediately if one of us uses it. Anything you don’t want?”
“I’ll tell you if there is.” You smiled, feeling a little more like towards this girl.
“Okay. Me too.”
The undeniable desire that was simmering between the two of you was on the verge of igniting into a fully-fledged blaze. The overwhelming bubbling of your body’s need for her became increasingly impossible to hide with each passing second. Your dilated pupils met hers, both mirroring the attraction. The heat from your body radiated towards her; she could almost taste the pent-up frustration you felt, and she knew she would taste it soon enough. You were certain that, with all the will in the world, the second she removed your underwear, the visible signs of excitement would dismantle any claims of not being bothered you made.
“You’re really beautiful, by the way. I’m not sure I’ve told you that yet.” You smiled.
She broke character for a minute at your sweet reassurance, giving you a chance to regain control as you pressed your lips forcefully against yours. You licked into her mouth, and she moaned before regaining her dominant mindset and shoving her tongue past yours. You grabbed hold of her hands, leading them to the places that were begging for that touch that you were sure would be intoxicating.
Once placed on your body, her hands moved slowly (painfully slowly) across each part of you. She brought them from your neck to your back, around to your stomach, teasingly skipping out where you assumed would be the next destination and instead moving to your thighs.
“You seem a little frantic there, everything okay?” She whispered against your lips.
“Stop stalling.” You rolled your eyes.
“Do I need to shut you up, beautiful?” She teased.
Before you had a chance to respond, her hand came to your neck. Your heart fluttered slightly at the gentle caress she seemed to be giving you before she exerted an unannounced pressure that sent shivers down your spine. You knew you shouldn’t, but you wanted more.
“Harder?” She panted, bringing her lower lip between her teeth.
You nodded, worried your voice would betray you. It was exhausting trying to focus on making your face align with the level of dissatisfaction you were attempting to fake. She squeezed harder, and you sensed her subtle attempt to gently part your legs with her knee, and you willingly obliged, allowing her to come closer this time. A soft whimper escaped your lips as her thigh delicately brushed against your most sensitive area, sending a shiver of anticipation through your body.
You craved more, your desire insatiable, as you pressed against her, feeling the power of her quad flex against you. The prominent bulge of her muscle heightened the friction between you, causing a surge of pleasure to escape your lips and your hips to thrust like they had a mind of their own.
“You’ve soaked right through your underwear.” She husked.
"I'll be soaking more than my underwear if you stay still."
She emitted a low, seductive hum at your words as she pressed her forehead against yours. The delicate symphony of your own soft moans filled the room, the two of you sharing air as your shallow, quick breaths enveloped the limited space between your faces. You smirked, satisfied that this was just as delightful for her as it was for you. You found yourself desperately holding onto her strong shoulders, your fingers digging into her pressure points with such force that she felt she might crumble at some point.
“Think you can come like this?” She grunted, throat betraying her.
“Yes. Yes! Stay like that, please, please don’t move.” You begged embarrassingly, orgasm impending.
She moved her free hand to your shoulder, pinning your upper body more securely against the wall to let you move your hips more freely without the fear of falling. The dampness between your core and her leg made the glide across her skin even more enticing. With each deliberate grind, the tension intensified, leaving your jaw hanging open in anticipation. The noises leaving your mouth became louder, and each thrust of your hips angled to allow more focus on your clit as you waited for the imminent release of your orgasm.
The profanities that left your mouth when you came were some of the most aggressive words in the dictionary. Had you been at all cognisant, you probably would’ve been a little disgusted with yourself. You were responsive enough to feel Mapi’s touch turn more delicate as you came down from your orgasm. She pressed soft kisses across your collarbone, a far cry from how she had been just seconds before.
“You still with me?” She murmured, forehead against your bare shoulder and lips brushing over your skin.
“Just about.” You laughed quietly.
“Do you need anything? Water? A break?” She asked attentively.
“Me? I need you to set me down so I can return the favour.” You leered.
She complied with your request, gently placing you on the floor, her touch lingering as she stood close to you until the jelly-like unsteadiness in your legs had subsided. You began to guide her backwards towards the bed, letting her flop onto the mattress with a gentle spring upwards. She used your hands to pull you on top of her, reconnecting your lips as if she had gone months without them.
Your hands sensually slid up her thighs, not needing much effort to spread them apart. You thought carefully about your next move, deciding that the best way to ensure she let you wear the strap you were sure she possessed later was to show her what you would do with it.
You could see her impatience growing as you settled yourself between her legs. She reached her hands to the back of your thighs in an attempt to pull you closer, but you dug your knees further into the mattress and tensed your muscles to keep yourself exactly where you were.
“You don’t call the shots. Got it?” You added a small smile at the end incase this kind of talk wasn’t her cup of tea.
“Say it again.”
“I'll move when I'm ready, got it?” You repeated with a little more firmness.
“Got it, I’m sorry.”
You could see the shock in her own face that she had enjoyed that. You knew she had likely spent her previous endeavours playing the role of a dominant expert, and here she was melting underneath you.
Deciding not to hold off any longer, you swung your hips back, eagerly colliding yourself against her centre. You were sure she could feel the wetness of your previous orgasm intertwining with the wetness that witnessing that orgasm had given her. You also knew that the intense rubbing and teasing of both your bodies being covered by the thin materials of your underwear would drive her wild with desire, making her even more desperate for pleasure.
You continued with the action for a while, her body in such a state of arousal that it was unable to make noises. Instead, her head was arched backward, her neck almost bent in two, her legs had wrapped themselves around you, and her mouth was wide open. The crinkles around the edges of her eyes when she squeezed them shut drove you crazy.
“You feel so good beneath me.” You panted into her ear.
“I know.” She managed just the faintest sound of cockiness.
You chuckled as you moved off her just long enough to pull her underwear down her legs. She licked her lips as she watched your gaze fall to her centre, which was glistening so much that you were tempted to just dive into it with your tongue. But no, you had to make her fall apart like she had done with you.
She stopped you as you began to reposition yourself between her legs, hooking her fingers inside your underwear and sliding them down your thighs. You made quick work of lifting your legs up to remove them from your lower legs before feeling your cheeks go red at the sight of your own juices dripping onto the bedsheets.
She reached out to you, keeping the fingers of her left hand together and sliding them between your legs. She didn’t attempt to do anything, really; she just let her flat fingers glide across the pool of wetness in between your folds. She let out a satisfied groan, her face contorting in pleasure as if she had never felt anything like this before. As her hand glided upwards, her middle finger made a little too much contact with your sensitive nub, causing you to jolt and tense your glutes in an attempt to dismiss her touch.
“You’re sensitive, aren’t you? You thought you were so…” She began, face smirking at you.
Knowing you were quickly turning to jelly again at her touch, you made the snap decision to plunge two fingers inside her without warning. The noise that came from her mouth was nothing compared to the wet, slapping sounds that were coming from further south.
“Oh fuck!” She screamed, voice croaky.
“Who’s sensitive now?” You jeered.
You slowed your fingers down, letting them almost come to a halt inside her as you searched around for that spot of treasure. You knew you’d found it when she tensed her stomach, a shriek of excitement leaving the back of her throat.
“Here?” You wanted confirmation, not wanting to waste energy on the wrong place.
“Yes, but I can’t do that. Many have tried.” She chuckled.
“Many have told me they cant do that.” You smirked cockily.
You let your wrist lock in position, moving your hand slowly up and down at first. You knew that the key to this was to take things slow, build her up to orgasm, and then hold off. Of course, you worried that you’d implied you would be the first to make her squirt, and perhaps she was part of the percentage that genuinely couldn’t achieve that.
“Yes.” She whispered faintly, hand coming to wrap around the side of your neck.
It didn’t take many repetitive strokes before you felt her clenching around your hand. You stopped your movements, drawing your fingers out of her and pushing them back in. You had never witnessed someone so overcome with pleasure before. It wasn’t the usual loud noises with her; she honestly seemed to just live for the feeling of sex. She didn’t need to vocalise it; her face told you everything you needed to know. It was mesmerising.
Once she had calmed down, you pushed your fingers deeper inside her again. You located that spot much quicker this time, letting the tips of your fingers glide gently back and forth. Again, you switched to just sliding in and out of her when you felt she was getting too close.
The third time you pushed your fingers in deep, you attacked her with such strength and urgency that you were more focused on listening out for the safe word than you were on her face. She brought her hand to your wrist, and when you misread her intention and came to an abrupt stop, she had given you a resounding keep fucking going. That’s when you knew you had succeeded; she was going to explode over your fingers, and you were about to witness it from directly above her.
“I think…” She breathed out, hips now rocking relentlessly with your thrusts.
“You aren’t going to wet yourself. Just go with it.” You chuckled gently, giving her a reassuring and heartfelt smile.
Within seconds of your promise to her, she finally let herself go enough for her body to live the mesmerising experience of that kind of orgasm. You continued to fuck her through it, being rewarded with another surge of liquid spilling from between her legs for your troubles.
She was spent, and you were thrilled. Her body lay almost lifeless beneath you, her chest rising and falling in laboured but deep breaths. You could see the beads of sweat on her forehead and the way her hands trembled as she brought them to her face to slick her hair back.
“I can’t feel my body.” She tremble and for a second you felt somewhat concerned.
“Are you okay?” You asked softly.
You weren’t sure where it came from, but your hand came up to cup her cheek, your thumb grazing over her cheekbone. She closed her eyes at the feeling, letting out a content sigh.
“I thought you didn’t do affection.” She chuckled, eyes still closed.
“You looked like you needed it.”
She relished the feeling of someone actually caring for her afterwards, even if she was always the one to prevent that happening. You relished the undeniable comfort of some form of non-sexual physical touch. Her breathing slowed gradually, her eyes finally prising open as that cheekiness appeared again in her eyes.
“You’ve used a strap before, right?” She stuck her tongue out at you playfully.
“I have, and I was so hoping you had one.”
That surge of heat between your legs was back again, hand snapping back from her face and body rolling off her in hopes she would move with urgency to pull it from whatever drawer it was stuffed inside. You watched as she roamed her room completely naked—no insecurity in sight. She reached into a drawer on the opposite side of the room, laughing to herself as she dug through it.
“What?” You asked, feeling slightly attacked by her laughter.
“I was going to ask if we needed this but I don’t think we do.” She held up a bottle of lube.
You moved your hand between your legs, biting your lip seductively as you touched herself for her viewing.
“No, I don’t think so.” You smirked.
Suddenly, she was fumbling with the straps, unable to do anything as quickly as she wanted to.
“Take your hand away and lie the fuck down.” She demanded.
You were in for the ride of your life… literally.
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codiemarin · 4 months
Text
Eating Out - Jenni Hermoso x Reader
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Summary: Jenni had just returned to Barcelona post the ESP - ITA (1-0) match during the international break, all Y/N wanted was to have her home for a quiet night in but Jenni wanted to socialise. Y/N tries to convince her to go home. Special guest appearance of Mapi and Ingrid.
A/N: As a WOSO reader, I´ve always wanted to have more Jenni content. Today, I decided to be the change I want to see in the fandom. Enjoy this lil thing, ya´ll. Also for story purposes, Jenni never left Barça and broke my heart. xo.
T/W: married couple, eating out, fingering, public bathroom sex, getting caught (kinda)
The cosy bistro buzzed with a lively mix of clinking glasses, laughter, and the aromatic embrace of sizzling delights. Tucked away in a corner, two couples gathered at a small booth adorned with tea lights enjoying the night together.
“Joder tía, vaya partidazo no?” (Damn girl, what a game that was, huh?) María chuckled . “Jajaja si, pero casi perdimos (Hahaha, for sure, but we almost lost,), thank god I managed to slot that in at the last minute. I didn't realise that Italy has gotten better with time.” Jenni said with a grin as she sipped on her wine. 
Dining with María and Ingrid would normally be Y/N´s idea of a good time, the couples being very close from working together on the field and spending time out of it. However, Jenni had just returned from International Break and it's been a week since they have seen each other. Being the Spanish Selection´s star midfielder, Y/N should've been called up as well, but due to some bruising in her knee, Montse decided that she needed to take some time to recover. 
Y/N missed Jenni terribly during her absence and all she wanted to do when she returned was take her home and spend some quality time with her. Sure, a week wasn't too long, but Y/N was feeling extra clingy and needed some attention. Which is why she didn't understand why her wife asked to have dinner with the other couple mere hours after she arrived from Italy. Surely this could´ve waited until the next day, but of course, Jenni had asked her to come, and Y/N, unable to deny her, was sitting across from Ingrid in deep discussion as well. 
The dinner had been lovely as always, the conversation flowed effortlessly as they shared their stories, laughter, and tapas. Even if she did enjoy the company and banter, Y/N felt that she had behaved well enough for the past 3 hours, and thought that she finally deserved to have Jenni all to herself. Enough was enough. Plus, even if Jenni didn’t want to admit it, Y/N could see she was getting a little tired too. With that, she decided that it's time to implement her plan of escape.
Obscured by the table, Y/N reached out and danced her fingers on Jenni’s thigh, a light caress that promised more. At the contact, Jenni stuttered in the middle of her sentence and Y/N couldn’t help but smirk, satisfied with the effect she was having. She went on with her ministrations for a few more minutes, seeing how hard Jenni´s hands started to grip the edge of the table, hearing her breath hitch every time Y/N dared to slide her fingers a little higher. Luckily, María´s story about Bagheera´s latest misadventure was enough to distract Ingrid. Otherwise, Jenni's barely suppressed gasp when Y/N finally touched her centre would have been noted. Even through her jeans, Y/N could feel how wet she had gotten.
A strong, tattooed hand gripped Y/N’s wrist. Jenni canted her hips forward, grinding on Y/N’s palm, not at all as subtle as her wife intended to be. Y/N’s smirk grew wider as Jenni glared at her and sat back on her chair as she released her hold on her hand but didn't push her away. The faint blush on Jenni’s cheeks were adorable, only growing stronger when Y/N started rubbing her through her pants.
It barely took another few minutes of this, Y/N keeping a too slow rhythm knowing that it wouldn't take long for Jenni to break. Another well placed rub on her centre made Jenni choke on her wine, “Argh, that went through the wrong hole!” Jenni spluttered as she rose, grabbing Y/N´s hand. “Lo siento, chicas but I need Y/N to help me clean up this stain, she's the one who has the wipes.” Jenni knew that it was a ridiculous excuse when she looked up to María´s knowing grin as she dragged Y/N to the ladies room.
Jenni pushed the door open, looking around to see if it was empty. Once satisfied they were alone, she turned around, crashing her lips against Y/N’s. Her mouth was hot and demanding, and Y/N was happy to answer in kind, her fingers tangling in the ebony tresses. Distracted as she was, it was a surprise when she felt her back hitting the door, Jenni’s front pressed to her own. Soft, warm hands crept under Y/N’s shirt, one raking blunt nails over her abs until it reached her chest, the other trying to get the button of her pants to open.
Y/N broke their kiss, moaning low while Jenni palmed one of her breasts over her bra. Jenni’s other hand finally opening the button and getting into her pants got a whimper. Teasing her wife was just too fun, and being able to smell how wet it made her, had Y/N just as affected. Jenni’s long fingers slid easily through Y/N’s soaking folds.
Jenni applied just enough pressure to make Y/N moan again, but not enough for more. She kissed down Y/N´s jawline and neck, occasionally biting the spots she knew would drive her mad. It was a delicious form of torture, only made better when Jenni started sucking an impressive hickey just above Y/N’s collarbone. She knew that Jenni wouldn't do more until she begged for it, and usually, she loved to make her wait. But not tonight, it seems.
“Amor, te necesito.. (My love, I need you..)” Y/N was prepared to be teased more, but Jenni´s soft whimper against her throat and her hips pressing against Y/N´s knee said otherwise. It was good her wife was very much preoccupied with making that hickey. Otherwise, the satisfied smirk brought by Jenni´s desperation to Y/N’s face would have made her wait longer.
Well, Y/N didn´have to worry about that for long as Jenni sliding a finger inside her opening made the smirk disappear. In its place, a long satisfied growl tore out of Y/N’s throat. It only took a few rough thrusts and Jenni’s palm rubbing against her clit for Y/N to cum, biting roughly down on Jenni´s shoulder to stop herself from screaming her pleasure. 
“Missed me, bebe?” Jenni chuckled at how fast she came as she gently stroked Y/N through the aftershocks, kissing and licking her jaw softly.
“Callate, I wouldn't have had to resort to this if we just went home straight from the airport.” Y/N muttered trying to recover. 
“No te preocupes cariño, (don´t worry, love) you can enjoy these fingers all night and even my tongue if you´re good.” Jenni teased cockily as she took her hand out of Y/N’s pants and licked her fingers clean while Y/N’s eyes locked on the motion. Jenni’s hips bucked against Y/N´s knee and brought her out of her trance. Moving quickly, she inverted their positions, pressing Jenni against the door. Jenni gasped softly at the sudden change, grasping roughly at Y/N’s shoulders.
“Let me take care of you baby.” Y/N kneeled and pulled Jenni’s jeans and underwear down, helping her wife step out of them. Running her hands up the back of Jenni’s toned legs, Y/N placed open-mouthed kisses on her stomach, enjoying the way Jenni’s breath caught at her ministrations. She could have spent days marking Jenn’s abs, hips and chest, but one of Jenni’s hands on her hair pushed lower. Y/N obeyed, only stopping to kiss the ticklish spot just under Jenni’s ribs, making her giggle.
Kissing her way down Jenni’s tall frame, Y/N didn't waste any time. She licked her core from her entrance to her clit, eyes closing at both the taste and Jenni´s barely contained groan at her name. Sucking the small bundle of nerves into her mouth, Y/N lashed it quickly with her tongue, making Jenni buck her hips and keen at the pleasurable sensation. Y/N used both of her hands to hold Jenni's hips down, looking up at her with lust. What a view her wife was, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, and her neck muscles tense from the effort of keeping herself quiet.
Beautiful, that was the only word running through Y/N’s mind.
It didn’t take long for Jenni either, the moment she opened her eyes and locked gazes with Y/N´s lustful ones had her careening over the edge. Y/N didn’t stop, licking into Jenni’s entrance and using her fingers to rub tighter circles around Jenni’s clit. Barely a few moments later, Jenni felt herself cum a second time, one of her hands flying to her mouth to try and smother her scream of Y/N’s name, the other taking a hold of Y/N’s hand at her hip, interlacing their fingers. 
“Oye chicas, it´s been 20 minutes, either one of you got stuck in that toilet or you´re fucking in public again.” María entered the room loudly in search of her friends. Jenni panicked and dug her fingers into Y/N´s scalp, begging her to stop in fear of getting caught in their activities. 
Y/N, getting into one of her stupid frisky moods, decided that this was a great time to fuck with her wife and make her pay for getting them in this situation. She smirked at the tall brunette and didn’t ease up, instead taking Jenni’s clit back into her mouth, and easily pushing two fingers inside her core.
“Jo-joder (F-fuck), Y/N/N!” Jenni couldn't help but cum with a choked sob this time, fluttering around Y/N’s fingers. She pulled on Y/N’s hair roughly, trying to keep from losing her balance on her shaky legs. 
“Que cerdas!” Mapi cackled loudly, “I knew you guys have been wanting to fuck, but you couldn´t keep it in your pants for a few hours?”  
“Shut up María, don't act like Jenni and I haven't caught you and Ingrid going at it like rabbits in the recovery pool. God, that image is burnt in my mind every time we have to go there, que puto asco. (fucking disgusting).” Y/N groaned as she helped an unstable Jenni redress herself, her wife quietly panting as she tried to catch her breath. 
“Ah, but you forget that the only reason you saw us was because you were both about to do the same thing. Pot, meet kettle.” María laughed at her own joke. 
“Also, you say disgusting now, don't think I didn´t see the way you and Jenni were staring at me while Ingrid was taking me from behind, if you girls want a turn with little old me, you just have to ask nicely, you know how Ingrid loves to watch.” 
“Cute how you think you´ll be able to take both of us at the same time, Mapi.. I remember distinctly how you´d tap out after the first round with me, imagine how it´ll be with Y/N too.” Jenni mocked her ex with a laugh as she opened the stall door for both her and Y/N to get out.
As Y/N made her way out of the stall to wash her hands, Jenni pulled her into a kiss, hugging her close. She sighed, hiding her face into Y/N’s neck, body going soft now that the tension of arousal and shock at the interruption seeped out. María made gagging noises in the background.
“Okay chicas, you´ve had your fun. Let's go back and settle the bill so Ingrid and I can have ours in the safety of our bedroom, because we have self-control.” María made her way out of the bathroom and the couple followed shortly.
Y/N wrapped her arm around Jenni as she kissed her temple, she knew that three orgasms in a row were a bit much for her already exhausted wife and wanted to pamper her after her hard work during the match.“Let's go home amor.”
“Have we really been here for too long?” It wasn’t the first time this kind of situation happened. They had a time limit that both agreed could be passed off as just an usual bathroom visit.
Y/N snorted. “You could say so.”
Jenni raised her head to look at Y/N. “I don’t think they’ve even noticed we’re gone, plus they´re pretty much the same way and we don´t care.”
As they made their way back to their booth, they saw María and Ingrid paying for their dinner. “Gracias amigas, we´ll take care of the next one.” Jenni said. “Any time darlings, always a delight spending time with our favourite couple.” Ingrid smiled sweetly. 
“Maybe next time, we can just have dinner at the tapas place close to our house. The food is amazing and their bathroom is big enough to fit 4 people.” María teased the couple with a grin. 
“Control your girlfriend Ingrid!” Y/N and Jenni said at the same time.
Ingrid just laughed and rolled her eyes, “Oh, I will tonight.”
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