#there are these little moments that alba does
Text
like she used to (II)
alexia putellas x sister.
chapter I
~~~~~~
My fingers are dancing on the piano keys, the soft melody leaving my mouth in a quiet hum when Alba walks into my room that night. My mouth closes as the door opens, but my fingers are unstoppable, continuing to abuse the keys as I continue to play the song.
My hands rest on the last keys I pressed when I am done and I think Alba is crying, unless she suddenly has allergies. It is quiet for a few moments before she speaks.
"If you weren't so good at football I would try and convince you to do this forever."
She sighs, standing up and motioning for me to follow her as she laid on my bed. I move beside her, my head now resting on her shoulder.
"I remember when you first played the piano." She smiles, reminiscing on the fond memory. "You were three, you couldn't reach the pedals but you insisted that Papi taught you something. You made us all squish onto the sofa in his office so we could listen to you play and you gave us a very slow and broken version of La Vaca Lechera. It was terrible but Papi was so proud because you had only been playing for a month and could already play with both hands. He picked you up and claimed that you would be the greatest piano player to ever walk the planet. He would be so proud of his pequena superestrella."
"I wish I knew him." They're the only words I can bring myself to say.
"He was a very good man, I miss him a lot. He would have been so proud of Ale with all her football and so proud of you with it too. And your piano. Mami sometimes says to me that you are a mini him."
I realise she is avoiding herself, a habit she got herself into a few years ago, when I followed in Alexia's footsteps by securing my spot in La Masia. She used to be upset, it was unfair. Why had the football gene just skipped her?
"He would be proud of you as well, Alba."
She shrugs, I think she tries to blinks away tears but doesn't succeed because one lands on my head
"I hope so..." she pauses. "It is harder for me to imagine because I am not outstanding at anything like you and Alexia. I am just Alba which is ok but I just don't know what he would be proud of me for."
"There is no such thing as 'just Alba' because you are the best person I know. You don't need to play football for him to be proud of you. Do you realise you are the person we all go to when we need anything? When I am sad, Alba, when I am happy, Alba, when I want to laugh, Alba, when I want to cry, Alba. You are my answer for everything, hermana. That is better than any song on the piano or the biggest trophy there is to be won."
"You are so cute, I love you." She giggles quietly and wraps her arms around me. "Aitana called me earlier and I wanted to come over and make sure you are ok."
"What did she say?"
"Not much, she just asked if everything was ok between you and me and Ale. I didn't tell her the truth, if you were wondering."
"What did you say?"
"I just said that Alexia is struggling with her injuries and that you both are very busy. I don't think she really believed me. Either that or she knows there is something else going on."
I groaned. "She kept giving me looks as we were driving home and it was annoying."
"It's sweet, she's looking out for you." Alba smiles and ruffles my hair. "You are only a little baby to them. 15 is young, pequena!"
"Yeah, well it'd be nice if my own sister did that, wouldn't it." I snap back at her and she recoils slightly.
"You won't let me do anything about it, Elena, so don't get feisty with me! Alexia is complicated and I can't even get anything out of her." She rolls her eyes. Alba is sick of all of the tension. She has been for a while.
"I don't know what to say to her anymore. Does she even know that I was called up?"
"Mami said that she wasn't going to tell her because she wanted her to hear it from you."
"She had no problem telling me when Alexia got a new girlfriend." I'm petty about it, but sometimes I think I deserve to be.
"I cannot believe you still have not met Olga." Alba sighs, flopping back down onto my mattress. "She is very nice, I think you would like her."
"I am good at getting out of things." I shrug my shoulders and Alba rolls her eyes again. "I don't want to meet her."
"You liked Jenni so much, maybe this could be the same?"
"I still talk to Jenni, on the phone. Maybe we should start an anti- Alexia Putellas club."
Alba groans and sits up, causing me to grunt in annoyance as my head is knocked onto the mattress.
"You know I don't like all of this venom between you two, so please just leave me out of it. I've had enough of you not telling me what the problem is, I am so, so sick of it. You used to be so close that I was jealous of your relationship and now all you do is complain about each other to me." She flops back onto my mattress in frustration.
"You don't understand, Alb, you don't understand what it is like for someone you idolise to practically forget your existence. She used to come to all my games and now she doesn't even know I was called up." She rolls her eyes as I move back to the piano stall, ignoring the way my voice cracked and my eyes sting with tears.
"Mierda, Elena! How many times do I have to tell you? She has been so busy. I'm sure she has tried to get to them." Even Alba can't explain Alexia's absence.
"Si, si, you have said that before but you can't understand because she never forgot about you. You didn't used to have an older sister who used to drive you to all of your trainings and games before she decided she was too busy for you and shoved you on the Barcelona busses at the age of 11!" My fingers begin to ghost the keys. Like I said to Aitana, the piano is a good outlet for my emotions. I am glad Mami let me put Papi's old piano into my room. I don't think she is glad when I wake her up in the dark hours of the morning playing loud songs.
"I have an older sister and a younger sister who used to be close and then fell out. I have a father who is dead and a busy mother. We were indestructible, Elena, but look at us now."
My left hand finds a chord and presses down on the four keys, calming my brain down.
"I am sorry that you are hurt by what has happened between Alexia and I, but I am so upset and I don't know what to do."
Alba's eyes softened but I looked down at the keys in front of me, sighing softly as she sat next to me.
"I'm sorry I can't help you more. I don't truly know what happened, but I just want things to go back to the way they were."
"I want that too." A tear found it's way from the back of my eyes but I wiped it away before it had a chance to fall down my cheek.
My fingers picked up another tune, familiarity gracing through my fingertips, the sounds floating around the room. Alba's head rests on my shoulder again and we both tell ourselves it will be ok. Alba likes when I play the piano because if she closes her eyes she can pretend it is our father.
"He was never as good as you are, hermanita."
~~~~~~
The rest of the training week went well. Better than well, but I was mainly just relieved that I wasn't a big disappointment.
The negative of my good performance is that I will be put on the team list. Jonatan pulled me aside after training today and told me I am on it and I thanked him with a smile, hiding my emotions.
I knew my sister was going to find out sooner or later. I'm honestly surprised it has taken her this long, it is not like she has been completely absent from the training grounds. Aitana seems to be the only one who has noticed that me and Alexia have not spoken, but she still has not got anything out of me.
I tell Mami to lock the doors and windows when the team list comes out because I don't want to face Alexia when she inevitably comes over and asks about it. She tells me to stop being ridiculous.
I manage to lock myself in my room when I hear her car coming up the driveway. As soon as she is in the house I climb out the window and walk to the bus stop. I don't want to deal with her tonight. I don't want to deal with her ever, to be honest.
The bus driver smiles at me as I tap on, heading to the back of the bus, no destination in mind. I am happy to just sit there as it drives through my home. My phone is unsurprisingly buzzing of the hook, full of congratulatory messages from friends and family and strangers and fans.
Aitana: *attachment: 1 file* very very proud of you! congrats little lena.
She had screenshotted the team list and put a big heart around my name and I think that might be what started to tears.
But before I knew i could see tears tracking down my face in my reflection as I stared out the window, my mind just wishing that things were normal. Wishing that I was at home celebrating with my family, excited to finally be on the same team as my older sister. I wish I wasn't crying on a bus trying to escape confrontation with my sister who I know will be disappointed that I am on her team.
But this is how it is.
I find myself getting off the bus outside the park near the training grounds, still not sure where I am going. I was considering heading in, practicing my shooting or going to the gym, although I expect they will be closed.
What I don't expect is to hear someone calling out to me.
"Pequena Putellas!" The voice is familiar and I recognise it almost immediately. "What is my little replacement doing out so late in the middle of Barcelona?"
Mapi reached me quickly despite the crutches that she doesn't seem to be relying on too heavily.
"Congratulations, replacement! First team sheet-" she stops when she sees my face. "oh."
"Hola Mapi." I put on a smile but it is a weak effort. "I'm just heading home."
"Si, this is about you and Ale, no?" I look at her curiously and she rolls her eyes. "You don't think I wouldn't have noticed? She is my best friend!"
"And that is why I can't talk to you! I have to go home because they will be looking for me." She rolls her eyes again.
"You are coming over to my house and we are talking about this like grown-ups because you are now a professional athlete. You are not a grown up but you have grown up since I saw you last pequena!" She smiles lightly and uses one arm to pull me into a hug. It is awkward with her crutches. "I have missed you so much." Her words are mumbled quietly into my hair, her arms warming me with comfort and nostalgia.
Apparently, the new apartment Mapi has moved into with Ingrid is right across the road from the park so we walk back, Mapi getting increasingly frustrated as I become more and more reluctant.
"Maria, please just let me go home?"
She was adamant that she wanted to talk. I just think she wants to know what happened between me and Alexia but I can't tell her. She wouldn't understand. Nobody would understand because everyone would just think I'm being childish and petty. Maybe that's just what I am.
We stand in silence as the elevator takes us up the levels to the apartment.
"Ingrid is not home, she is out with Frido tonight so you do not have to talk to her."
I let out a quiet exhale in relief. Ingrid is nice enough from what I know of her in training but I don't want to have this unwanted conversation in front of anyone else.
Mapi and I used to be close. She was never my favourite but that is mainly because I saw her so often that the novelty of her had worn off quickly and I found myself gravitating away from her at trainings because, like Alexia, she was just always around.
But Mapi loved me like I was her little sister because she never had any of her own. She did a lot for me as a child and tried to pretend that she wasn't offended by my blatant favouritism of other players.
She sat down on the sofa in her living room as soon as she opened the door and I grabbed her crutches that she had thrown on the floor and stood them up against the wall.
"Thankyou, now sit here." She patted the seat beside her and I sat down, my arms crossed. "Do you want to tell me why you were crying alone in the middle of Barcelona, 45 minutes away from home?"
I shook my head.
"Will Mami be mad?" I hate the wobble in my voice.
"No, I texted her and told her you were with me and she said it is ok. She is not mad at you, pequena."
"I don't like being called that anymore." I slumped down in my seat.
"What do you want to be called?" I am surprised that she didn't ask why. I suppose it might be obvious.
"I usually just get called my name." I pause. "Elena."
She smiles lightly, though I can see the water in her eyes.
"I know your name. I know you very well, Lena, I have for a long time but I also know your sister very well and I know that there have been problems for a while now and I know that she is trying her very best to not make it obvious that it is ripping her up and you are doing a very bad job of hiding your sadness. Why did you not tell her you had been called up into the first team?"
I roll my eyes but choose not to respond.
"No, don't roll your eyes at me, peque- Elena. I understand something must have happened but it is big news that you neglected to tell her!"
"What is bigger news? Breaking up with your girlfriend or being called up as a replacement in a football team?"
She hesitated and I continued.
"Getting a new girlfriend or being called up as a replacement? Buying a dog or being called up as a replacement? Being told you are about to win the Ballon d'Or or being called up as a replacement? She told me nothing for so long so don't you dare try and tell me that I should tell her about my life when she does not care to tell me about hers!"
Mapi recoiled and I immediately felt guilty.
"Sorry."
"No, don't be sorry. What else has she done to make you upset?"
"No, Mapi, we're not doing this because you don't need to know about what my sister has done to me. I don't need a psychologist, I just need to grow out of being the pathetic and weak baby Putellas. The younger sister of La Reina who has not had to work hard because her pathway has already been paved and everything has been handed to her on a silver platter." My voice is bored, like I am in front of a class, presenting a boring speech that I have practiced in my bedroom for weeks.
"Why do you say that? Where is this all coming from?" Her voice raises slightly and her arms wave about as she speaks.
"Because it is true, Maria, why else would things be the way they are? I don't deserve this, it's only been given to me because of my surname." My voice is clearly becoming more urgent and I try to calm myself down. It doesn't work.
"Where are you getting this from? You need to stop making this stuff up in your head and telling it to yourself because it could not be further from the tr-" Mapi's voice was raised, only slightly, but I could hear the wobble in her voice.
"I am not telling myself this stuff, Alexia did! And Alexia is right, she always has been and she always will be. She is a football geek she knows everything."
Mapi pauses, her mouth opening like a goldfish and her eyes staring straight into mine for any hint of exaggeration or lies. She found none. I have never been a liar.
"She... she said that? To you?" Mapi was surprised. How could her best friend have said something like that to the little girl that meant the world to her? "Alexia said that to you?"
I regret my small outburst immediately; I didn't want to tell Mapi. My fingers begin to get restless, my heart racing, my gum held firmly between my teeth. It is in these moments that I would move to the piano and prepare myself to play a song. My fingers ghost imaginary keys by my side as I take a deep breath, preparing myself to beg and plead; to do whatever I need for Mapi to forget everything I just said.
"No, you cannot say anything, Maria, this is all a lie, I am dramatic, I am making it all up. Please, just forget I said anything. Please." Tears began to slip out of my eyelids and the expression on my face can only be described as desperation.
"calma, calma. vale. I will forget everything and I will not tell anybody, as long as you don't want me to. But pequenita, it is not true, not true at all and you don't deserve for anybody at all to speak to you like that. You are talented, so talented that I am jealous of you, not your natural talents but your work ethic, Elena, your work ethic is admirable. You are so strong and you have worked for every single opportunity you have been offered and do not ever-" I look away from her.
"Look at me, Elena, look." I look towards her again and notice the water in her eyes.
"Do not ever let anybody tell you otherwise and if you do you call me up immediately and they will get a piece of my mind, si?"
I slump into Mapi's familiar arms and let out a small cry and she just squeezes me harder. I haven't ever told anyone that much of the conversation I had with Alexia - not even Alba - and to hear her best friend attempt to squash any of the worries I had about myself was refreshing. My fingers begin to ghost imaginary piano keys, preparing to begin playing a piece.
"Was this before or after you transferred to La Masia? That is around when she stopped going to your games, no?" Her voice was soft and I felt the need to answer.
"It was during the party that Mami held, when my spot at the academy was accepted. That was the reason why I started crying when I was talking to you. You probably don't even remember that, it was so long ago." I let out a dry chuckle and she rubbed her hand down my back.
"I remember. I remember thinking you were not telling me the truth but I had no idea what was wrong. You have been suffering in silence ever since?"
I don't want to nod my head because it feels dramatic to say that.
"I told Alba only a little bit of it but nobody else knows. Please, please, please don't tell anybody. Not Mami, not Alexia, not anyone. Please." I looked up at her and she stared at me wordlessly for a few moments before exhaling softly.
"Elena..." She pauses again. "As much as I want to go and give your stupid sister a piece of my mind I will not but on the condition that you talk to Alba or your Mami or me or anyone about it, si? Even Alexia. Maybe she has forgotten. But she misses you, that much I can tell."
I nod, wordlessly making a promise that I know I can not keep. She seems to be satisfied though and changes the topic.
"vale, buena. It is too late to drive you home so you will stay here tonight and Ingrid and I will drive you to Johan tomorrow, si?"
I nod, I do not have a choice.
"Is there a piano in this apartment?"
~~~~~~
Mapi saying she had a piano is an overstatement, it is a keyboard with Norwegian inscriptions that was shoved into the corner of the unused study. Apparently Ingrid does not play the piano but has always wanted to learn.
But, I take the equipment for what it is and sit on the stall, flicking through the different sounds for a while before I find something I like. The office chair behind me squeaks as Mapi sits down but I ignore her presence as I place my fingers on the keyboard.
She would have noticed the release of tension in my shoulders when I sat down. She would have noticed the sigh of relief that I released as my fingers placed themselves on the keyboard.
The song starts out slow. Ludovico Einaudi is one of my favourite composers. His notes sing out from the keyboard speakers and soon they become faster and more intense. Nuvole Bianche is a pretty song, in my opinion, and I like to make up stories as I play it whenever I do. Sometimes I relate to the stories and other times I do not.
But the song builds and builds until a brief pause in the middle in which I hear Mapi sniffling and there is shuffling downstairs. Ingrid must have arrived home. The song picks back up quickly and before I know it the last few chords are ringing out through the room and Mapi has come to stand behind me and is rubbing her hand down my back.
"The last song you played me was un elefante se balanceaba and now you are playing this. You made us sing along and you went all the way to 50, we were in there for a long time. But now you have grown up. You are still so young but you have grown up now I am so proud of you."
I can hear the tears in her eyes so I stand up and pull her into a hug. I feel guilty, she is Alexia's best friend and I accidentally slipped what Alexia said which could potentially drive them apart. But I can't help but feel relieved, I feel comfort which is something I have been looking for for such a long time. Mapi used to be like a sister to me. I don't think I even realised how much I have missed her.
"That song was so hard!"
She chuckles into the hug and I do too.
Maybe I deserve to feel like this every once in a while.
~~~~~~
hope you enjoyed x
chapter III
#woso fanfics#woso#woso imagine#woso one shot#alexia putellas#alexia x reader#barcelona femeni#fcb femení#putellas!reader
305 notes
·
View notes
Text
Warrior Nun 1x08 | Proverbs 14:1
#warriornunedit#warrior nun#ava silva#sister beatrice#lilith villaumbrosia#shotgun mary#*#warrior nun per ep#there are these little moments that alba does#and you can see it in gif 4 and 7#it's like idk how to explain it but its like throat acting#it makes the scene/dialogue/literally all of it 87% better#bc she is taking a beat to say her line and its just a+#anyway yeah
236 notes
·
View notes
Text
filling the void (6) II a.putellas x sister!reader
prequel one two three four five
filling the void (6) II a.putellas x sister!reader
"i love you alexia."
your sisters body tensed in your hold at that as you worried you'd said the wrong thing, letting go and taking a step back as the blonde looked at you in bewilderment.
"what?" alexia forced out, head spinning and certain she'd misheard you. "i love you alexia." you repeated, softer this time but now your sister knew what you said she launched at you, taking you a little off guard as she trapped you in a bone crushing hug.
"can't breathe." you mumbled into her shoulder, patting her back a couple times as she loosened her grip slightly but refused to let go. you knew she clearly needed this so you also made no move to back away, though suddenly you felt her own body vibrate slightly.
"...are you crying?" you asked with a slight frown, feeling her shake her head. "no." she sniffled, the crack in her voice betraying her words as you cracked the smallest of smiles, squeezing her just a fraction harder for it.
you weren't sure how long you stayed there for, admittedly the hug did make you feel better as much as you'd initiated it for your sister, but eventually her grip loosened and you let go, taking a step away and avoiding eye contact.
"hola fresa?" you glanced upward at her voice, her hands settling on your cheeks. "i love you too. you know that, sí?" she frowned down at you as you nodded, unable to deny the fact that no matter what was going on or how her actions made you feel, your sister did love you.
"lo siento i have not been very good at showing you hermanita, i will fix this. but...at your pace, when you are ready." the blonde promised softly, leaning in to press her lips against your forehead before letting go.
there was a brief pause of silence as you let her words sink in, appreciating the fact she'd stepped back to give you some space. but before you could say another word footsteps sounded behind you, cutting the moment short.
"ay dios mio why didn't either of you tell me you were here!? i have been running around the hospital looking for you for ten minutes!" alba huffed as she arrived, hands on hips and eyebrows furrowed into a scowl.
you watched as alexia only chuckled, moving to wrap your older sister in a hug which clearly caught her a little off guard. "i love you alba." alexia patted her on the back and you had to bite back a slight smile at the frown of confusion on the brunettes face.
"i love you too?" alba spoke slowly, patting alexias shoulder before she let her go. "ale...have you been crying?" alba squinted, leaning in a little closer as alexia's cheeks flushed red and she scoffed.
"no. vamos!" she cleared her throat, jingling her keys and striding away, both you and alba exchanging a brief look before hurrying after her.
~
"so...nurse huh?" you looked up from your plate with a slight frown, shrinking a little at the way both your sisters were eyeballing you across the table, alexia having lived up to her promise of sushi.
"maybe, i have to get in first. " you answered with a slight shrug. "how does that work? getting in." alba asked next, seeming genuinely interested as you put down your chopsticks.
"well i have to have enough credit points, which means i have to pass all of my subjects in the intro course i'm doing now." you explained, your sisters nodding along.
"you do that and work?" alba asked bluntly, wincing at the elbow alexia rammed into her side with a look, a very slight smile gracing your face at their behavior which hadn't changed over the years.
"sí. i get ten hours of training time a week where i sit in the office and do my course while on the clock, and everyone i work with is really helpful to ask for help if i need it. its self paced i just have to hand the assignments in by the end of each semester, and they have teachers you can email if you need assistance with understanding something." you continued to explain.
"thats very impressive fresa, we're really proud of you." alexia smiled softly and you bowed your head. "very proud hermanita." alba confirmed, your cheeks reddening a little from the compliment as you shoved a piece of sushi in your mouth with a small nod.
you managed to get through the rest of lunch unscathed, your sisters asking questions but not in the same rapid fire manner as the first time, also taking time to speak about their own lives as conversation flowed much less awkwardly the more time passed.
"bye fres." you looked up from your phone which your head had been buried in, catching up on the days worth of messages you'd missed from friends, meeting alba's smile from the front seat.
you hadn't even clocked alexia pull up in your sisters driveway, alba hovering with her hand on the door handle as she and alexia murmered something to one another, exchanging a tight hug.
"wait, alba?" you spoke up as she half opened the door, the older girl raising an eyebrow curiously as you paused. "do you want to get breakfast on sunday? before ale's game." you asked, forcing your words out as alba opened and closed her mouth in shock.
"she would love to. sí alba?" alexia smiled softly, alba only able to nod her head enthusiastically, hesitating like she wanted to say more but clearly not wanting to push her luck she settled for a beaming grin and another goodbye, hurrying out of the car.
"are you going to move to the front or make me drive you around like an uber?" your eyes only darted back down to your phone for a moment before alexia spoke, amusement in her tone as you caught her eye.
unbuckling you moved to the front, clipping back in as she backed out of the driveway, alba waving you off before her front door closed and barcelona was passing by in a blur.
you recognised where alexia was taking you, knowing the way all too well as she turned the final left and you made your move. "ale?" you asked, music having been filling the pointed silence between the two of you until then as your sister hummed, eyes on the road.
"can i stay at your place tonight?" you asked quietly, fiddling with the sleeves of your hoodie and staring out of the window, though you could feel her surprised gaze flicker to you momentarily.
your mamis words rang through your mind as you spoke, knowing olga was away for tonight and that your sister deserved someone there to look after her for once, having always deemed herself the protector.
"por supuesto fresa, you are always welcome." you both knew there was more meaning to those last few words than either of you were willing to discuss right now, but still you felt the sincere meaning behind the all the same.
"did you want to stop at mamis to grab anything? we will go past anyway." alexia quickly changed topics as you nodded, a few more streets sped down before alexia was pulling up in the driveway.
you half expected her to stay in the car, but you glanced over your shoulder to see her locking it up and following after you. you unlocked the front door with your keys and left it open for alexia to follow, heading for your room as she did the same.
you grabbed a change of clothes and shoved them into a bag alongside a text book and your laptop, your eyes lingering on the small bear on your bed, quickly packing him in as well but tucking him well under so there wasn't a chance anyone would see.
grabbing a few other little things and changing your shoes you poked your head out and frowned unable to see your sister, calling out her name as you adjusted your bag on your shoulder and wandered room to room.
a particularly sharp pang sounded in your chest as you stepped a singular foot into eli's room, not having been in here since everything happened. you exhaled shakily and placed your bag down, her bed half made and clothes on the floor from where she'd changed after her shower before everything happened.
with a small frown you hurried over and made her bed, tucking the corners in tight and chopping at the copious amount of throw pillows the woman insisted on having so they all sat just right.
you then moved her clothes to the laundry hamper in her room, making a mental note to do a load next time you were back and moving her slippers to sit in there correct position by the door.
"i do not understand how she fits in the bed with all cushions." alexia chuckled from the doorway, having come back inside after loading a few things into her car from her old room.
"olga is the same. why do you need them? you only need two pillows. the ones that you sleep on!" alexia rolled her eyes making you crack a smile, your sister stepping back as you exited the room, closing eli's door behind you as if wanting to preserve its privacy.
"hey nena." you looked up at that, alexia giving you a small frown of concern. "she is going to be fine. you know that, sí?" alexia questioned as you nodded. "i know."
there wasn't anymore words exchanged between the two of you as you locked up and returned to her car, alexia flicking on music again to occupy the ride home, a glance to her left and you were clearly zoned out in another world.
you were indeed caught up in your thoughts, only locking back into reality as alexia gently tapped your shoulder, parked in her complex as you both made your way out of the car.
~
"can i ask you something hermana?" you felt your body tense up a little, having known this would be coming eventually but the last few hours watching a mindless reality show on the sofa while alexia studied for her match had kept it from happening.
"the hospital, sí?" you wiggled a little to get comfortable as your sister joined you on the sofa with a nod. "what i can't tell you i love you and give you a hug?" you joked lamely, rewarded with a polite smile but you could see the curiosity burning in her eyes.
"vale. well i was talking to mami, about...everything." you paused, alexia nodding knowing what you meant. "she was telling me about her regrets in life, and that the biggest one is how much responsibility she put on you as a teenager." you continued quietly, alexias eyebrows knitting into a frown.
"about how she and papi needed to work nights so they would leave you home and in charge, running the house, cooking and looking after me and alba. then after papi passed away you took on everyones grief, you made it your job to protect everyone and push aside your own feelings to do so." you glanced up but were unable to catch her eye, your sister looking off over your shoulder but still very much listening.
"alexia you were there for everyone, but no one was there for you." you nearly whispered, her eyes now darting to meet yours which softened.
"and-and well it made me think a lot about how much you were there for me, and how much you did for me and looked after me and gave up for me. it was you who took me to school and picked me up everyday, you who would stay up for hours helping me with projects and essays and family trees. you who would let me sneak into bed with you, you who taught me how to ride a bike and bandaged up my knees and sang those ridiculous songs when i was sad because you knew it would make me laugh." you continued, having to tear your gaze away as your sisters remained trained on you.
"you who held me when i cried and explained to me over and over why we couldn't go visit papi in heaven. you never missed a single awards ceremony, tennis match, school concert, cross country, graduation." you listed off, caught up in your own thoughts and missing the emotional turmoil evident on your sisters face as you spoke.
"it was you who taught me to stand up for myself, you who always showed me what real work ethic was and how when you're passionate about something you don't give up on it. you were, are...the best possible role model for young girls and i've always known that and taken it for granted, taken you for granted." you sighed shakily, not even knowing what was coming next as you word vomited what had been playing on your mind for hours.
"ale...you might not be mami. but to me you were like one growing up, and you shouldn't have needed to be. you did so much more than a sister would or should, and i should have-" you stopped as she cut you off, making a noise and shaking her head.
"don't fresa." you looked at her with confusion, the girl hurrying to wipe a stray tear which lingered in the corner of her eye. "don't apologise. por favor pequeña, you are not the one who needs to be sorry for anything." alexia promised, scooting a little closer as you continued to frown with confusion.
"but-"
"no, just give me a second." alexia asked softly as you nodded, closing your mouth and fidgeting with your rings, twisting them around your fingers.
"fresita, i did all of that because i love you hermana. i love you and i wanted to protect you, i wanted to be there for you, i wanted to look after you. there was maybe some parts of me which wished certain things could have been different but i would never ever blame you, or mami, or alba, or papi, nobody." she promised firmly.
"i am the one who needs to be sorry pequeña. mami might be right and maybe a lot of my teenage years were not me being a teenager, but that does not mean i resent them, or her, or you." alexia continued softly, reaching out to take your hands.
"with how i looked after you and alba as a teenager, fresa i never wanted you to feel responsible for anyone else like that. i wanted you to enjoy your life, see your friends, go out and be a teenager and be normal, and not feel smothered by me." alexia explained with a sigh.
"but hermana i think in doing that, in giving you that space and...and not checking in anymore, being blind and thinking i knew best and not noticing that taking a step back wasn't what you wanted. it meant you had to grow up even faster to try and catch up with alba and i." alexia admitted, letting go of your hands and rubbing her face with hers with a deep exhale.
"but i am so proud of you and the woman you are growing up to be fresa, so so proud. and i am so sorry for not being there when you needed me nena, that is my biggest regret and i am trying not to push you but i just want to fix this, to fix you and make all of the pain go away." alexia shook her head and held up a hand as you opened your mouth to speak.
"but you are right chiqui you are not a little kid anymore, you do not need me to fix things for you or decide what you need, and i am so sorry it took me this long to see that fresa." your sisters hands fell either side of your face with a pained smile.
"but i still need you alexia, and alba. i don't want you to take a step back, i want to see you and hang out with you and for things to be normal again. i don't want it to hurt anymore!" you managed out, overwhelmed with the emotions flooding your body at the admission.
"oh mi fresa, ven aquí." alexia murmured, pulling you into a tight hug which you reciprocated, squeezing her as the two of you sat there in silence, alexias hand cradling the back of your head just like when your little, your hands fisting at the back of her shirt.
"i have something i want to show you pequeña, vale?" alexia spoke softly, letting go of you as you nodded, clearing your throat and taking a moment to collect yourself as she disappeared into her bedroom.
"your...boots?" you questioned with a frown as your sister returned with a large faded nike box, settling it down on the coffee table which she dragged a little closer and took her seat beside you.
"no idiota, not my boots." alexia chuckled, carefully taking the lid off as you craned your neck to see inside. "this is my fresa box." alexia stated, pushing it a little closer to you as you frowned and began to rifle through its contents.
"wait. your fresa box?" you paused, looking up at her as she sighed and nodded. "sí hermanita. over the years i have kept things from you, and they are all in here so i do not lose them." alexia admitted, ears going slightly red as you bit back the teasing comment sitting on your tongue.
"this is..." you pulled something out with wide eyes as alexia smiled, taking it from you. "the little rose you made me in kindergarten, for sant jordi." alexia confirmed as you continued to pull things out in disbelief.
"this is my cross country ribbons, my attendance awards, my winning debate speech from high school, my hero essay, all the pictures i drew you...you kept these?" your shoulders sagged a little in shock as your sister nodded.
"sí, but i had to steal some of these from mami so don't tell her." the blonde warned as you nodded, resuming your rummaging as alexia did the same, fondly looking over things you pulled out as a comfortable silence fell between the two of you.
"oh, i thought i lost this." you exhaled, pulling something out of the bottom of the box, the cold metal sitting in your hand as you locked eyes onto it. "i forgot i had that, you gave it to me-" alexia started with a soft smile.
"-before your first game for the senior team." you finished, remembering the very day you'd given the tiny matchbox car to your sister. "you should take it pequeña, it was always your favourite." alexia pushed.
"i don't need it, you keep it." you shook your head, placing it carefully back in the box. "you do not want it?" alexia frowned, a little confused as you hesitated for a moment, turning to face her better.
"i am going to show you something, and you're not going to get mad ale. vale?" you started as your sister nodded slowly. with a sigh you stood up, lifting up your hoodie and t-shirt and tugging down the waistband of your shorts slightly.
"is that-" alexia's eyes widened as you nodded. "sí, its real." you confirmed before recounting the story before your sister could even ask.
you thanked your uber and stepped outside, hurrying across the road to mapi's place while there were no cars, shooting the girl a text you'd arrived and making your way toward the front door.
you didn't even need to knock, barely making it up the stairs before the door swung open and the tattooed defender was giving you a wild grin. "hola mi diablillo!" she greeted, opening her arms for a hug as you rolled your eyes but gave in none the less.
"i'm never growing out of that am i?" you sighed knowingly as the girl laughed, patted your back and invited you in, explaining ingrid was out shopping which you'd assumed she not be home given this was even happening.
though she'd joked about doing it for years it had taken you months of wearing mapi down before she'd come close to agreeing to tattooing you, especially given it was behind alexia's back and before you turned 18.
despite the two being best friends and incredibly close mapi knew that would mean nothing if alexia ever found out this was happening, you came first to alexia and mapi often teased the older girl that she acted as if she had given birth to you herself.
but admittedly you knew exactly how to get what you wanted and whipping out the dead papi card and giving mapi the full sob story on why this tattoo meant so much to you, that you just wanted a way to connect with him and remember him, had worked a charm.
it was all true of course, the meaning and the sentiment behind the tattoo you'd been bugging her for months to put on you, but once you really laid it on thick the zaragozan couldn't help but give in and finally agree.
though it came with a strict promise that it stayed between the two of you and nobody, especially alexia, was to find out anytime soon.
but it seemed despite ingrids absence that you and mapi weren't entirely alone, mapi measuring out where you wanted the tattoo and how big when a girl who looked around your age started to make her way downstairs, head buried in her phone.
"oh, solstråle!" her head snapped up at that and you frowned, she looked both familiar and unfamiliar now you had a chance to properly look, her watercolour eyes taking you in with a somewhat fearful expression as she halted.
"this is ingrids hermana, solstråle." mapi introduced as you gave the taller girl a smile which wasn't returned as she looked at you like a deer in headlights. "solstråle, this is alexia's sister fresa." mapi introduced again, sighing quietly at the silence.
"you can say hi sol she does not bite! actually you-" but the defenders words fell short as with a mumbled greeting the norweigan hurried back the way she came, door heard swinging shut with a small bang as mapi sighed again.
"she means well she can just be...a little skittish around new people. she only moved here a little while ago from norway, its been an adjustment." mapi winced, rubbing the back of her neck as you hummed.
"well i do not blame her. it cannot be easy living with you and your big mouth which runs twenty four seven maría!" you teased with a grin as the girl clicked her tongue at you and smacked the back of your head.
"do you want a tattoo or a beat down diablillo?" mapi warned as you followed after her toward the living room where she had everything set up.
"you do know fres, getting it here is going to hurt sí?" mapi winced at the placement which was just above your hip and below your rib cage, not somewhere she'd recommend anyone for a first tattoo but she knew first hand there were a million things easier than winning an argument with a putellas woman.
"i know. but it is the easiest place to hide and i have a high pain tolerance, está bien!" you rolled your eyes dismissively as mapi held up two gloved hands, again not prepared to argue with you and well aware she only had a small bubble of time to get this done in before ingrid got home and blew her cover.
"if your sister finds out-" mapi started, preparing her gun as you settled yourself on the makeshift bench she'd created from the backyard coffee table.
"she won't, she barely knows i exist anyway." you mumbled, resting your chin on your arm as mapi frowned, poking your cheek as a small smile formed and you pushed her finger away. "you still have not spoken directly to her then?" the girl questioned as you shook your head.
"no point, they do not care." you quipped bluntly with a small shrug. "pequeña you know i could-" mapi started as you turned your head to face her, giving her the same look she'd seen anytime she'd offered to help you mend the void which was rapidly growing between you and your sisters.
"vale vale, i will keep my nose out of it. but your hermana's love you fresa, i have seen it first hand." mapi promised as you heard the buzz of the gun as she flicked it on and dipped the tip of the needle into the ink.
"yeah like when alexia almost gave you a black eye for teaching me how to ride your dirtbike." you grinned at the memory as mapi instead winced, having truly learned her lesson that time.
"you were on it with me for like five minutes! she overreacted." the defender scoffed, telling you to prepare yourself as a more serious air settled and the needle first made contact with your skin.
"oye maldito mierda hijo de puta!"
"oye watch your mouth, i warned you this would hurt!"
"so...maría did this?" alexia asked carefully, a small flinch happening as she gently traced her finger along the design, face unreadable. "sí but please do not be upset with her ale, i really pushed and pushed until she said yes." you assured, biting your bottom lip nervously.
"it is beautiful, almost an exact match pequeña." alexia finally smiled, grabbing the matchbox car and holding it up beside the one which lay on your skin in ink.
"almost, there are a few small changes." you shuffled a little closer so she could see. "the number plate, aafej07." you started, pointing it out as your sister nodded.
"alexia, alba, fresa, eli, juame and 07 for the year i was born." you explained, alexias face once again unreadable. "then the number on the side of the car, that one has 17-" you pointed to the small matchbox car sitting on the coffee table.
"-but this one is 11." your sister exhaled in realization as you nodded. "even if i was really mad at you when i got it and we weren't really talking and i was hurt, familia is still familia and-" you didn't even have a chance to finish your sentence before strong arms wrapped around you and lifted you off your feet.
"por favor alexia we just had a nice moment and you are already making it weird hermana!" you groaned as your sister squeezed you so tight you nearly wheezed.
"...ale, are you crying again?" you sighed, the silence in return all you needed as you shook your head and properly hugged your sister back, knowing as much as she needed this, so did you.
"te quiero mucho mi fresa, tanto tanto tanto hermana."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thought after mourning the loss of a chaotic wsl season today we could all use something a little softer than my usual gut punch angst of FTV
#woso community#woso#woso x reader#woso fanfics#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#alexia putellas imagine#woso imagine#woso blurbs#🍓☀️
799 notes
·
View notes
Text
Leaving II
Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader
Summary: Your Career Grand Slam
Alexia didn't leave Spain a lot.
Apart from matches, she doesn't travel much.
Her life is simple. Practice, home, watch football, sleep. Repeat.
It takes a lot to get Alexia to break her routine but she happily does it for you.
She's curled up on her sofa under a blanket, eyes staring up at her tv as she watches the tennis. She's never found it interesting. She'd never enjoyed watching it but she put that aside for you.
On days when Mami couldn't and Alba was busy, she was left with the job of trekking halfway across the city with you to take you to your lessons.
You were so young back then, practically tiny with your little pigtails and a racket that was almost double the size of your head.
Loathe as she is to admit it, going to Poland has done you some good. You were always amazing at tennis but you've gained confidence that Alexia isn't used to seeing from you.
You're working harder than you ever have before and it shows.
You'd won the Australian Open in January. A win at the French Open rounded off your June. Most recently, you had won Wimbledon by the skin of your teeth and now you were at the US Open.
Alexia could practically see the beads of sweat dripping down your face as you served again, your shoulders rising and falling as you skidded across the court to hit the ball back at your opponent.
She winces every time, unable to keep her thoughts away from what would happen if you planted your leg wrong or if you slipped. The thought of you tearing your acl too haunts her.
You don't deserve that.
You don't deserve any injuries like that, her little sister who used to cry when Alexia got bumps and bruises and made sure to kiss them all for magic healing.
You stumble a little, just managing to volley the ball back over the net.
Alexia can see the hit to your confidence it gave you before you snap out of it and get back into the zone.
This is a semifinal and she knows that you want to win.
Tennis is a little more brutal than football, Alexia thinks.
There's no team to back you up. There's no other people to help you when you make a bad hit.
It's just you and your opponent and the ball you're hitting between you.
It's when you win that the anger bubbles up in your sister. She hadn't been expecting it. Honestly, she had been screaming at her screen in celebration as you finally take the set and win your place in the final.
Her fist was pumped in the air and the next moment she wishes it was punched against this girl's nose.
You'd just finished shaking your opponent's hand, a woman nearly double your age who congratulates you warmly, when you take off to the stands.
Your coach is sitting in his box and he fists bumps you, something you do back only in passing before you're crushing a girl into a hug.
Alexia freezes, ice spreading across her body as she stares.
You're not the most physically affectionate person. You're quite touch averse despite growing up with Mami and Alba willing to lather you in affection at a moment's notice.
For years, Alexia has been the only one whose touch you enjoyed. You had always curled into her like a little kitten. She was the only one that got to touch you like that, even way back when you were only six and getting skinned knees from tennis practice.
Watching you and this random girl on her tv screen fills Alexia with anger. She doesn't know why. She knows that it's wrong but she can't help it.
For years, she's been your rock, the one you came to when you needed a hug. This random girl hasn't known you nearly long enough to be touching you with such familiarity.
It's all Alexia can think about even as she sits on the plane journey from Barcelona to New York. She can't help but stew.
Nothing looked like it had changed when you last called her from Poland, a week before you flew out for the US Open. You hadn't mentioned sharing hugs with anyone else. You hadn't mentioned using anyone else as your substitute Alexia.
You don't mention anyone now as you practically tackle her into a hug, rapid Catalan spilling from your lips like every time you speak to her.
Alexia catches the girl from the semi-finals hovering over your shoulder and she frowns, brows drawing together as she watches the girl awkwardly shift on the balls of her feet.
"Who is your friend?"
You say her name but, truthfully, Alexia couldn't care less. Her eyes focus on the way you reach for this girl and lace your fingers together tightly.
She's never seen you do that with someone else before.
"-My girlfriend and-"
"What?"
Suddenly, her mouth is dry and her head is filled with cotton. Alexia prays she misheard.
"My girlfriend, Ale," You repeat before continuing on with your story," And we were running right down the street because those old dudes kept yelling at us. It's not my fault that they couldn't understand my accent."
You and your girlfriend start giggling like you've said something funny and Alexia gets the feeling that she should have been listening to the start of your story rather than glaring daggers at this stupid girl.
She smiles though, just so you don't realise that she hasn't been listening before she laces your fingers with hers and pulls you into her side again.
"I'm so proud of you," She says, brushing back your hair softly and cupping your face.
You lean into her with a smile, eyes sliding closed for a moment as you suck up her affection.
"Are you feeling ready?" She asks," This is a final. Do you feel in the right mindset?" Alexia cuts her eyes towards your girlfriend. You're still so young and you seem to want this so bad. She doesn't want any distractions for you.
"Can you help me get ready?" You ask softly and Alexia grins.
"Of course." A kiss is laid on your forehead and Alexia is brought back to your first game when you were still very little.
It was just a few kids playing and was hardly a tournament of any kind but Alexia had treated it like one for you. She'd done your hair that morning and helped you get dressed. She'd laced up your shoes and given you your racket.
It was something you did at every final now - a superstition that you both adhered to strictly.
It was strange to do this with an audience.
The girl - your girlfriend, Alexia sneers in her mind - is at home with herself in your changing room. She's in control of the music, something that you didn't even let Alexia do.
She tries to shake it off, this interloper in your space as Alexia stands behind you and does your hair.
Gone are the days where you would have it up in two pigtails. Now it's replaced with a braid and tied back with a headband to keep flyaways out of your eyes.
"I love you," She says as she ties off your braid.
"I love you too, Ale."
She kneels down in front of you before helping you slip on your shoes, lacing them both up tightly.
"I love you," She says after each of them.
"I love you too, Ale."
She cups your face and looks into your eyes.
"You're so talented," She says to you," You deserve this so much. You go out there and you try your very best, okay? It's just you on the court."
"Yes, Ale."
Her lips brush against your forehead and she teasingly tugs on your braid, laughing at the way your cheeks puff up just like when she used to do it to your pigtails.
You stand and grab your bag.
Alexia expects you to walk straight out onto the court but you stop in front of your girlfriend instead.
Your foreheads are pressed together and her hands are on your waist. You're whispering to each other. It's not the familiar Catalan that Alexia is so used to hearing from you but Polish instead.
It sounds strange in her ears as you murmur to this interloper, your lips brushing hers every so often before she pats your side and sends you on your way.
Alexia tries to avoid her as much as possible, quietly distraught that she has ruined the superstition that had won you so many finals before. This is your last big hurdle of the year, Alexia doesn't want to see you lose.
Somehow, though, Alexia ends up wedged between her Mami and this interloper. It would have been easier if she was between your girlfriend and Alba because any snide comment she made wouldn't be picked up but Mami had always been able to concentrate on watching you play tennis and lecture her other two daughters at the same time.
It was a scary talent which was why Alexia kept her mouth firmly shut.
She pretended this girl didn't even exist, this girl that had clearly taken advantage of the fact that you had no Alexia affection in Poland and latched onto you like a parasite.
Alexia plays her no mind, silently cursing her in her head as she watches you step onto the court.
This woman is older than you by at least ten years, maybe more but you hold up against her well, trading hits across the net.
The first set is perhaps the longest one that Alexia has ever sat through and it's enough to have everyone sitting up straight in awe.
Even Alexia, who will admit she knows next to nothing about tennis, will admit that it's clear both you and your opponent are giving it your all but, ultimately, you come out on top in the first set.
You look exhausted though as you take your break, wiping the sweat off your face and practically caning your water bottle when Alexia knows you should sip.
Your shoulders rise and fall and Alexia knows that you're fatiguing.
She knows that it's because of this killer first set and the blazing of the sun on your back but she blames your girlfriend.
If she hadn't interrupted your usual pre-game routine than none of this would have ever happened.
This idea is only solidified in your sisters mind when you drop the second set.
You look frustrated as you hydrate again, knee bouncing.
The women only go to best of three and you and your opponent are tired. There can only be one winner and, with the way that you're fatiguing, Alexia puts all the blame on your girlfriend.
Your girlfriend who you've turned to look at with a little furrow in your brow. Your girlfriend who's smiling at you with an encouraging nod and a thumbs up that makes you produce the dopiest smile Alexia has ever seen.
You don't even look at her or Alba or Mami, just your girlfriend as you make your way back onto the court, bouncing up and down to ready yourself.
Alexia has no idea where all this energy has suddenly come from but you return the ball with vicious intensity that catches everyone off guard.
It's beautiful to watch, even more beautiful when she realises that you haven't conceded a point at all.
It's a beautiful moment as you fall onto your back when the umpire proclaims the match won.
You just lay there, arms splayed out on the court as your chest rises and falls in a pant. You've abandoned your racket next to you even as the box and crowd erupt into cheers.
You're crying, Alexia notices when you sit up and finally pull yourself to your feet, leaning over the net to shake your opponent's hand.
Tears streak down your face and you keep trying to wipe them away but more come. You make your way over to the box, reaching up to lace your fingers with your girlfriend's.
She's saying something to you, screaming really over the crowd but Alexia can't understand what she's saying.
You can though because a bubble of laughter forces its way through your tears and you nod.
Your other hand reaches up for Alexia's and she grabs it instantly, squeezing it like she did when you were little and just won your first game.
"Ale!" You say," I won!"
"Si, hermanita," She says," You did. I'm so proud of you."
"Go get your trophy," You girlfriend says with a beaming smile," We can put it next to all your others."
You look at her now and drop your sister's hand.
Alexia finds that she doesn't mind as much as your girlfriend leans down from the box and fists the front of your shirt, pulling you in for a kiss.
Though, she could have done without a front row seat to that.
#woso x reader#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#woso community#woso imagine#woso fanfics#woso
706 notes
·
View notes
Text
dies irae
alexia putellas x reader
part one, part two, part three
words: 12425 (sorry not sorry)
summary: part four, the part that made me realise another part was necessary
warnings: drugs, alcohol, cheating, (a lot of???) vomiting, general angst tbh
notes: in all honesty, i started this with the intention of finishing the series, but it hit 12k and i thought maybe not x
weird little comment, but the last section was originally written in spanish (hear me out: i was on the plane and i didn’t want the people beside me to read it over my shoulder) and i’m still feeling a little iffy about my translation of my og version but oh well!
i hope you enjoy this and are content w waiting another five years for me to churn out the new FINAL part
The sand is warm beneath your feet, each grain rubbing against your bare soles as you sprint. The ground under such surfaces often hardens, proven by the sweat trickling past the thin string of fabric that holds your bikini together. If the beach were not so private, you would be worried about wandering camera lenses.
However, there is no one else here but your favourite people. Well, maybe Nico has dropped to the bottom of the list now that your energy has been worn down while his does not seem to waver.
“I give up,” you pant as he continues to tumble down the shoreline, changing his tactics and swerving into the water, comfortable in his sea. The same sea he looks at each morning from your bedroom window. The one he learnt to swim in. (That and a variety of hotel pools.) “You win, you win!”
The small figure, around twenty metres away, comes to an abrupt halt, wobbling on little legs for a moment. Then he begins to run again, but this time towards the towels and constructed shade you had set up earlier. Unwillingly, you race him back to base camp.
“He ganado,” he declares as he taps Alexia’s shining back as though she is the signpost signifying the finish line. Your hand caresses the divots of muscle soon after, brushing sand across smooth, tanned skin. Nico peers at you strangely, but understands, thanks to Tia Alba, that the beach outfits are special to his mothers.
“Mi ganador,” comes a tired murmur of praise.
“Did you see, Mami? I was so far ahead.” She nods, craning her neck upwards to talk to him. You gladly sprawl out on the vacant towel, passing on the baton to your wife, fortunate that Elena has been asleep in her buggy for the past twenty minutes. “Can I play with Lela now? Is nap time over?”
“No, sweetheart, naptime has just begun.” He looks up at you with pleading, bored eyes. The one unfortunate consequence of going to a private beach is that, unless you bring along your babysitter, there is no one else for Nico to play with. Alexia and you are both exhausted, and today is supposed to be about relaxation. Three-year-olds don’t understand that concept. “If you don’t want to sleep, how about burying Mami?”
“In the sand?”
“Sí, in the sand.”
He leans close to your ear. “Mami says I’m not allowed to do that,” he whispers, though he has not quite mastered the volume of such a tone yet. Alexia pretends not to be listening, but you can feel her foot prodding your shin in protest.
“Rules are sometimes made to be broken,” you tell him. “And if you do bury her, the only way to make her happy again is to get ice-cream. Which means you can also get ice-cream.”
“You are so annoying,” grumbles Alexia.
“This morning, I believe the word you used was ‘sexy’,” you retort. With the Euros on the horizon, it seems that the two of you are using up what little time you have to spend together. Though Alexia sometimes feels like there are hands wrapped around her neck after she failed to win the Champions League once more, she is more than happy to take advantage of the time off before she tries to make amends internationally.
“Mm. You are magically both.”
You tug your sunglasses – Prada, brand-new from a modelling campaign – down slightly, so that they sit lower on your nose. The sun is warm and doing its best to wear Nico down as he finds his discarded spade and begins to dig, and Elena is still fast asleep.
A mischievous grin forms on your lips, one that Alexia knows well. Topless, she flips over onto her back, excusing herself with a muttered comment about an ‘even tan’, and that is invitation enough for you to cup her cheek, your touch as fiery as the surface of the sun that blankets the beach. The gentle breeze ruffles your hair as you lower yourself down to her level.
“The phrase is ‘annoyingly sexy’ in English, darling,” you murmur, your eyes locked onto hers. Even now, after six years, the proximity ignites desire over every inch of your skin, and you cannot wait to kiss. Alexia’s initial grumble turns into a soft chuckle, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and something more. Impatiently, you kiss her, aware that the moment will soon be ruined by a spray of sand as Nico pursues his mission.
She is just as eager to kiss you back, craving the way you seem to hold the solution to every problem. Part of Alexia’s mind has not yet been able to comprehend the way in which you love her. It is hidden by the other, much larger compartment: the one that reminds her every day that she should never, ever tell you, because it would break your heart. To you, Alexia is making up for lost time. To her, she is secretly begging for forgiveness that you don’t even know she is due.
She knows the minute your phone rings that everything is about to go wrong. No one is supposed to call you today; you have been emphatic about it. You blindly reach for the ringing device, ready to lob it into the ocean, but Alexia grabs your wrist. “It must be something important,” she says, and it feels like she is telling you she understands; you are busy, and she understands.
“I’ll be quick, I promise.” With a quick jog up the steps and onto the concrete of the promenade, you perch on the stone wall separating the beach from the carpark, bare feet swinging over the edge. The rough surface of the wall presses uncomfortably into the exposed flesh of your bum, but you remind yourself that you will soon be lying back down on the beach towels. “Hi? I thought we agreed that pretty much everything could wait until tomorrow. I don’t care about any photos taken of me, and you know that my automatic position is simply to ensure that the children’s faces are blurred out before they get spread around.”
“Y/n!” Your publicist sounds nervous. It’s a stressful job, you guess. Between organising interviews and brand deals and the like, she has to stamp down on unwanted rumours and be on the look-out for any perceived cracks in your very public person. Naturally, you are not perfect.
“Yeah, I’m here. Hi.”
“I’m afraid that it’s not a picture of you this time.” Alexia is now famous in her own right, as she always should have been. With a Ballon d’Or under her belt, you have been promoted to a ‘celebrity couple’.
“She has her own team, you know.”
“I’m sure she will be firing them soon.” The joke fails to land, instead crashing and burning and… You freeze.
“Why?”
“I am sure that you are aware we have feelers out for anything that could potentially harm your reputation.” You nod foolishly, caught up in the undisclosed severity of the phone call, forgetting that she cannot see you. “An hour ago, we were contacted by a photographer; one of the usual ones we get in when you’re in need of a bit of a press-boost. He’s based in Barcelona, has lots of friends in the area and such. I have the terrible job of telling you.”
Your heart quickens as the confession hangs in the air, leaving a heavy silence on the other end of the line. The anticipation builds, and you can almost feel the impending storm swirling just off the coast, waves beginning to thrash against rocks, nature beginning to tear the world down.
“He claims to have some photos, ones that could potentially damage your image,” she says, tone measured and professional. “I haven’t seen them yet, but he described them as… intimate, to say the least.”
“Of Alexia?” you question carefully, forcing the words onto your tongue. “Intimate? What do you mean?”
“Well, they are of her and someone else. Someone who isn’t you.”
“Who?” Dread sets in, and the wall is suddenly not the most uncomfortable thing about your position. You feel too exposed, unsafe in what you are wearing. Taken advantage of, perhaps.
Cheated.
“I have not seen the photos yet, babe. I don’t know what else to tell you.” He would have attached them in his email. Paparazzos don’t have time to harass you digitally as well as in real-life. She must have avoided opening them. Or. Or she is lying.
“I need to see those pictures,” you assert, your need for clarity driving the sentence forwards.
“Are you sure?” You nod again, unable to speak past the lump in your throat, knowing that she cannot see you but feeling helpless to do anything else. She takes your silence as confirmation. There is a brief click of a mouse, and the animated swoosh of an email. “They should come through in a moment.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you… alright?”
She quickly takes the hint from the lack of response and hangs up.
You rest your phone on your thigh as your arms grip onto the ledge of the wall, pulling yourself backwards so that you do not fling yourself off it. You shake as you reach safety, and your fingers feel numb as they tap the screen, accessing your emails robotically until a pinwheel is all that separates you from the photos.
Intimate, huh.
They are practically snogging.
There are eleven images, and each one delivers a blow more painful than the last.
The beach feels confined, like an elaborate cage that you cannot escape. The shoreline creeps towards you, and you seem to be pressed against the hot metal of the car in the carpark. You struggle to recognise the scenes captured as ones where you were present, and the unfortunate date in the bottom right-hand corner evidences the photos as a time when you were not in Barcelona at all: 2021.
The realisation hits hard and you find that everything you have ever believed to be true has simply been a cruel joke that you were excluded from.
What you have been sent is more than just proof; it is a betrayal etched in pixels, an undeniable record of a moment that shatters the foundation of your relationship. Your heart races as your scroll through the images, cruelly reminded of a reality you desperately wish were not true. One you had no idea existed. One that had been kept secret from you.
The lump in your throat grows, and your eyes blur with unshed tears. You are overwhelmed by sharp pain coursing through your veins, and it is as if you have been injected with a poison that burns through your cell tissue, disintegrating every block of your body. It scorches the things you know to be true.
Love goes up in flames before your eyes.
And then a voice that you really do not want to hear speaks, and, just like that, the ashes of what has disappeared are suddenly ablaze once more.
“Nico y yo vamos a tomar helado. ¿Quieres algo?” Sandals, sunglasses, a loose linen shirt. Nico holds her hand, proud of himself. You cannot bear to look at either of them, so you stare at the towels a few metres beneath you.
“Where is Lena?”
“Dormida, aún.”
Shaking, you stand up, enjoying the sharp rocks that pierce into your skin, reminding you that you are yet to die. “Take Nico. I’ll go back down and sit with her.”
“Vale. Te quiero.”
You don’t reply. You wouldn’t have known what to say anyway.
Every step feels as though the world is cracking open and you are going to fall to your death, yet, in the midst of the impending doom, you feel as calm as can be. Numb, perhaps.
Elena stirs as you adjust the parasol providing her the necessary shade. A hand reaches out, prepared to grab onto you, searching for your body like you are her lifeline. You are her lifeline; you are her mother. And so is Alexia.
A tear rolls down your cheek as you let her pull your fingers to her mouth, nails brushing her lips as she whines with the headache of waking up from a nap. “What are we going to do?”
…
The car journey home is silent on your part. You stew in your nothingness, unwilling to engage in the light conversation Alexia creates to keep Nico awake before his sleep schedule is ruined. Barcelona flashes past you, and the city that you once admired feels like the scene of a crime. Looking out the window is almost as sickening as if your eyes were to land on the woman beside you. Almost.
You withhold your grief for the evening, going through the motions of nightly chores; putting the kids to bed, finishing the remainder of your packing, drying the dishes without throwing them at the blonde hair that sails past as she sorts her own suitcases out. A few texts are exchanged between you and your publicist, in which you graciously decide that those pictures will not come from you. Though if her team fails to catch them before they reach Twitter, that is not your problem.
Under the soft glow of the bedside lamp and the comforting blanket of darkness, you clear your throat.
It has been six hours since you found out.
Every second that has passed has done so with excruciating pain, yet you cannot determine whether it has sunk in at all yet. You wonder if, given the chance, you would crumple into yourself and weep as though she has died.
When you look at Alexia, readying herself for bed, you decide that the whole situation is laughable.
You are so stupid. You thought she loved you more than that, and you were embarrassingly incorrect.
“I want you to leave now,” you say firmly, only the bed between you. Alexia pauses, pyjama shorts halfway up her muscular legs as she peers at you curiously. Her confusion is infuriating. “I want you to… go to your mother’s or something. You’re not sleeping here.”
“Why? What have I done?”
She speaks as though this is a normal argument, or as though you are hormonal and unreasonable. You clench your fists and remind yourself not to wake the children up. “I am surprised you didn’t follow her to Mexico.”
It is then that Alexia Putellas realises three things. The first: she hasn’t spoken about Jenni since she left for Pachuca, and she barely pays attention when Nico persuades her to find the stream for the striker’s matches. The second: it has been six months since Jenni called whatever they were doing quits. And the third… the third is how well and truly fucked she is.
She should have confessed her crime the minute she first slept with her; the night after they were knocked out of the World Cup. Elena wasn’t even a concept, then. You took her back though you were unaware you had ever lost her.
Last year, when it was Alexia all alone, she should have confessed her second betrayal. A longer, more hurtful betrayal. Something fuelled by meaningfulness, not passion and heightened adrenaline. If she were in your position, the physicality would not be what obliterated her heart; the emotion behind the entire affair would.
She wipes her eyes, aware that she has started to cry. It is all the confirmation you need. “I’m so sorry,” is the only thing she can think to say, but ‘sorry’ does not amount to the pain she knows she has caused. ‘Sorry’ won’t heal a wound that has cut deep, cut through years of love and happiness and supposed loyalty. ‘Sorry’ does not change the fact that Alexia lent herself to Jenni, let Jenni take her in any capacity she wished, and then returned to you as though it had never even happened.
In all honesty, part of Alexia is very curious about how you have found her out. Mapi would not risk being caught up in such a storm, and Jenni would gain only suffering from telling you because she knows that Alexia would never choose her. Though she has spent night after night with her finger hovering over her sister’s contact, she resolved never to tell Alba either, for fear that her sister would see her for the monster she is and side with you. Selfishly, Alexia does not want anyone to side with you, but even she finds it easy to hate herself.
“Is that all you can offer me?” you croak, and it is clear to Alexia that you are this calm because you are putting your children before yourself. They do not need to hear their parents’ marriage implode; not tonight, not ever. She cannot bear to meet your eyes as you pierce through her bowed head. “Alexia.” She pulls her shorts up fully, forehead parallel to the floor. “Alexia!” you snap.
“I’m sorry,” she repeats.
Alexia Putellas is regarded by most as intimidating, yet, here, she is anything but. She is meek. Pathetic.
She is a woman who continued to make a stupid mistake although she was given so many opportunities to fix it.
And, when Alexia finally grows the balls to look into your piercing eyes, she sees, reflected in your hardened, dark pupils, weakness and idiocy, rimmed with the most stinging of betrayals. It kills her to see you fight your own tears, and it is worse when you have to break eye contact because you are afraid you will vomit if it goes on any longer.
“You are packed, so you can leave tonight. Sort yourself out while I get the children up.”
Everything is ruined because of her.
It is the last night Alexia lives under the same roof as you. It is a horrible way to end a golden age, and the worst possible confirmation of the fleetingness of all things that exist. You hate the world, you hate Jennifer Hermoso, and you hate that you can’t bring yourself to hate your wife.
Alexia says goodbye to a sleepy Nico and a clingy Elena. Your daughter refuses to let her mother go the minute she is passed to her, and all four of you try your best not to cry, whether it be from confusion, regret, or heartbreak.
Nico, inquisitive as one is at his age, does not let the door open without questions. ‘Why now?’ is what causes Alexia to freeze, searching on your face for permission to have one more second with him. You cup the back of Elena’s head, fingers splaying out against her soft hair, soothing her back to sleep. And you nod.
She crouches to his level, dwarfed by her suitcases. In her pocket, her phone buzzes; her taxi has arrived. “¿Te acuerdas cuando te hablé sobre la responsabilidad? Soy la capitana, cariño, y tengo que cuidar a mi equipo, así que ‘ahora’ es lo mejor para ellas.” You are grateful for the lie.
“¿Ahora yo mando? ¿Como me dijiste?”
“Sí. Tienes que cuidar a Mama y Lela, y protegerlas como yo os protejo a vosotros. Y nos veremos prontito, petit. Te lo prometo.”
He is fighting his tears, stiff like a toy soldier marching off to an imaginary battle. You half expect Nico to salute with his chubby, unpractised fingers, but he simply stands there, between Alexia and you. Though Elena is safe in your arms, Nico is caught in the crossfire, two feet innocently leading him into no man’s land.
You take a deep breath as Alexia closes the door behind her. She has been driven out – her own doing – and she knows, because she knows you, that there will be no space in your life for her until your gaping wound dulls in pain. The journey to her mother’s house is the second time she ever considers killing herself, with the first being the night her father died.
But this is how it goes.
You fly to England the next day, holding it together until Elena and Nico are safely in the hands of Anya, but you do not give her a reason for her much-needed babysitting abilities.
It is a small secret. You keep it because on top of being in agony, you are so fucking embarrassed. You. You got cheated on. You weren’t enough for her. (And Jenni was?) It’s really easy to pretend you’re stressed for Alexia, knowing she is heading into a tournament that Spain could win but won’t.
The first official step you take – the very first – is with a nanny. You meet her the day after landing at London Stansted, and she seems to be the perfect choice for the interim period of your life that you have unexpectedly entered; she speaks Spanish, she is discreet, and she reassures you that she is there to enhance family life, not destroy it. And possibly another alluring factor: she is quick to sign an NDA and promise that no photos of your children will make it into any dogshit magazine.
Her first interaction with your children is two hours before your lunch with your publicist, manager, producer, and lawyer. They have agreed to congregate – they have seen the pictures (an exclusive peek, as the deliciously world-destroying surprise photoshoot has not yet been picked up by anyone with ganas to publish it). Each one has a purpose, each one wants to profit off your heartbreak, and, though they’d never admit it for fear of breaking their hard exteriors, each invitee would also like to see if you’re okay.
“Do you… like her?” you sheepishly ask your son while Isabela, the nanny, supervises Elena’s lunch. You’re not entirely sure your daughter understands that the hummus is supposed to go into her mouth, not redecorate the highchair table from white to beige, but Isabela does her best to instruct her, the familiar tinkle of Alexia’s language making your daughter’s eyes light up.
He looks a little puzzled. “Is she a babysitter?”
“Sort of.” You sigh, “it’s just that I have a lot to do, and Mami is playing football now. Isabela is going to help us, but I want to make sure that you want that.”
Nico shrugs. “Don’t care.”
“And she’s going to speak in Spanish, just like Mami does.” In anticipation of a worse reaction, you wince at the slight insinuation that you’re replacing Alexia. He doesn’t pick up on it.
“She sounds funny.”
“That’s because she’s from Colombia,” you answer him, and he nods, storing that information for later. Probably for when Alexia calls to speak to him (a moment you are dreading).
“Is Colombia near Mexico?” He perks up; you know what’s coming next. “Does Isabela know Jenni?”
You have to remind yourself that Nico has not done anything wrong. The fault of the mother is not the son’s, and, briefly, you pray he has inherited your fidelity for the sake of his future partners.
You pretend that the name that just fell from his lips does not fill you with the overwhelming urge to strangle someone. And, calmly, you reply, “probably not, but you can always ask her.”
…
Alexia does not know what to do.
She wishes, she really does, that someone would pass her a clock… and she knows she has trained and worked hard enough to wrestle the hands of time back a year and change her decisions in every situation. Alas, that is impossible.
She tells Mapi, as the team touches down in England, what has happened. The defender is unimpressed – angry, even, at her best friend – but nothing warrants what is to come.
The morning feels eerily normal. Breakfast is difficult, especially when all Alexia can think while she eats is that every morsel in her mouth fuels the monster she has become. Every bite, every sip of coffee, leads her to live another day. She is not particularly certain that she deserves that.
Mapi does not look at her, swerves her request to be partners when training begins. Head down, eyes slowly filling with tears, Alexia takes the punishment. She says nothing when Pina pinches her side, “Patri’s being annoying”, and drags her into the drill.
She runs, she passes the ball, Pina turns and shoots it into the mini-net.
Pina runs, she passes the ball, Alexia turns.
Something goes wrong.
Maybe it is that the pitch is uneven, cut up from whoever had trained before. Maybe it’s the pass, slightly off-target. Maybe she is at that point in her menstrual cycle where the risk of injury is higher – that’s being looked into, isn’t it?
Maybe it’s that her body can no longer stay so robust when everything else in her life is hurtling towards the ground in the most epic downhill slope possible.
Maybe.
The pop is unmistakable, and the pain searing. She can’t help the scream she lets out, barely registering whoever has rushed to her side while she presses her face into the dirt, tears watering the grass.
“I’ve done my ACL,” Alexia gasps, lifting her head up slightly. She catches sight of the blue sky, the green grass. The bright sun shining down on her, hot against her neck but nothing in comparison to the agony in her knee.
She blinks, thinking her eyes are blurring from her tears.
A second later, she is unconscious.
When Alexia wakes up, she is glad to have passed out. She has no memory of being hauled off the pitch or brought into the medical room. Her head aches and her knee throbs, but she knows that there is someone beside her so she does her best to hold in the immediate wave of sobs that seem to take over her.
A calloused hand reaches for hers, unclenching her fist, urging her to squeeze the pain away, pass off some of it to her companion. They have given her pain medication. She can tell because the white walls dance around her and the only word she can manage to get out is your name.
She whispers it over and over again.
“I know,” comes a soothing voice, poorly concealing the worry that cracks the tone. “Shh, I know, I know. You’re okay, Ale. She’s… she’s on her way.”
…
The call is unexpected.
Mapi never has much reason to talk to you on your own, unless you share a concern for your wife’s wellbeing. You suppose that’s a bit of a redundant commonality now. Your lawyers have drawn up a custody agreement and, upon meek request, divorce papers: a gift for after the Euros.
“Dime, Mapi. Estoy trabajando,” you say curtly, signalling from inside the booth that the phone call is nothing to worry about and you can resume the recording session in a moment.
Mapi’s news makes you even more resentful than you were already feeling, because you can’t help but sprint to your car the minute the address is given.
…
Pain becomes part of everyday life.
Crutches, too.
Alba and Eli already existed as frequent visitors, but the former increases her appearances so that she has moved in the day before Alexia’s surgery.
It spills out, the night of the surgery, that Alexia and you are no longer together. That you left her, with good reason. It’s a surprise, considering you had stayed by her side during the twelve hours in England between the medical room, the hospital, and the airport.
When Alexia reluctantly tells Alba why, Alba decides that you are a saint and her sister, a sinner. She holds her hands behind her back to keep herself from slapping Alexia across the face, but little does she know, Alexia longs for the anger, wishing she wasn’t being pitied for her injury. She wishes there was no injury to be pitied for, but, then again, she tells herself that she deserves it and accepts the agony as one would hold a blade to their wrists and slit them.
This behaviour, this quiet ideology that she has been punished for her mistake, is what leads Alba to ensure the keys to the balcony are hidden and the kitchen knives are tucked away in a cupboard, out of sight. Or perhaps it is what she hears her sister telling herself in the mirror. Worthless. Degenerate. Evil, cruel, horrible. Selfish!
She has two children with you, for God’s sake!
“I have ruined my own life.” Her words burn, the intensity of her anger enough to make Alba flinch, hands gripping the steering wheel harder, forcing her way forwards. The hospital comes into view and Alexia cries out in anguish. “I have ruined it, Alba! I have ruined everything!”
Alexia, The Ruiner.
She bears the new name with something more than disappointment. She lets the nurses examine her knee, compliment Alba for her care-taking, and reassure her about the surgery. She lets them talk her through possible complications, secretly hoping one will occur and she will wither away; no longer a footballer, no longer a mother, no longer your wife. Just Alexia, The Ruiner.
Alba and her argue, Alexia lying back in the cot, hospital gown patterned against clinically white sheets, light fabric against her paling skin. “You wanting to die is not you wanting to kill yourself. It’s your regret, and it’s your cowardice at not being able to face the consequences of your actions.” Alexia had been hot-headed enough to voice how she did not want to make it through the surgery. She is in excruciating pain, and is convinced they need to investigate it. “It’s your knee, not your heart. Your heart hurts because you cheated on her and she rightfully left you! Don’t you ever say something so fucking stupid again.”
“Alba!” Eli’s entrance is neither good nor bad. “Alba, leave her.” Alexia’s tears run down the sides of her face, hitting the sheets like little bullets. The soft caress of her mother’s hand across her cheek is no comfort, and Alexia only sobs harder. “You are going to be fine, mi cielo. The surgery is going to go well and you will come back even stronger.”
Alexia knows that, once you have torn your ACL, you are more likely to tear it again, so she mentally disputes her mother’s claim. She has no energy to voice the thought, however.
“Mamá, she’s convinced she’s going to have a heart attack.” Alba points to her sister’s chest, as if to disagree by showing their mother that nothing seems to be out of the ordinary. They begin to argue, and Alexia watches her family implode, deeming herself once more, Alexia, The Ruiner.
It’s not a heart attack, it turns out. She falls victim to a severe panic attack just as they begin to wheel her away. They increase her dosage of anaesthetic.
Unfortunately, the next morning Alexia comes to after a successful surgery and remembers nothing. That is until she looks to her bedside and finds only her mother there (Alba having gone to the big, empty apartment to adjust it to her sister’s newly-disabled lifestyle).
She relives the kisses Jenni used to press to her neck, the marks sucked into her skin though Jenni knew she was not hers to brand. She relives your expression when you told her you knew, the grimace you had worn, the way your eyes flicked to the ensuite as though you were going to throw up at any point.
She hears her knee pop again, sees the trophy slip from her grasp, sees it float into the realm of possibility along with the Champions League cup.
“You’re awake,” Eli says with surprise, offering a warm but sympathetic smile. She reaches out to touch Alexia, but Alexia jerks her body backwards, instantly regretting it when her knee begins to ache unbearably. “They said you’ll be in a lot of pain at first, but it will subside and, soon, you can start recovery. Your physiotherapist is going to visit in an hour or so, and I cannot count how many well-wishes you have received.” Weirdly, Eli thinks to herself, Jenni has said nothing.
Alexia shakes her head, trying to dispel the fog in her mind. “Do the… Do the children know I am hurt?”
“I believe so,” Eli replies with a nod. “Y/n broke the news to them, but we haven’t heard from her since you went into the operating theatre. I have no idea whether she’s going to come here. I assume she will.”
“She won’t,” mutters Alexia, refusing to look at her mother.
“Oh, don’t be so gloomy. She’s your wife, of course she is going to come.” A dark storm brews in the cagey hospital room, but Eli remains an oblivious ray of sunshine. “I know you don’t want Nico and Lela to see you like this, but they miss you. They must have been so excited for the Euros!”
All of it is the wrong thing to say. If Eli had known, she would have approached the uncertainty differently.
If Alexia were not so angry at herself, so guilty, so destructive, she would have calmly explained that your absence is both warranted and understandable.
Instead.
Well, instead, this comes out of her: “She is not going to come because I had a fucking affair and she has left me and taken the children to fucking England where they are probably never going to be allowed to see me ever, and I will live out the rest of my days as a fucking coach because I am useless and I am never going to play football again!”
Eli sits back in her chair, shocked.
“What have you done?”
Neither knows if it is a question or a damnation, but Alexia chooses to answer her mother regardless; “I have ruined everything, and now I am paying the price for it.”
…
Your friends gloat a little bit, calling it Karma. Anya and Gio are first in disbelief, but they soon progress onto the stage of hatred – something you have not yet been able to access.
For now, life feels as though it is on auto-pilot. Your children are happy and safe, your country is going to do well in the Euros, and time does not stop ticking no matter how hard you wish it would.
Alexia’s surgery is successful. You see the update on Twitter, not wanting to contact Alba or Eli in case Alexia thinks you have forgiven her. You haven’t. Perhaps you never will.
“There are two ways you can go about this,” Gio says with a smirk, holding out a thong to you as you stand in your bedroom in just a towel. “You’re hot and rich and famous… and now single, too.” You are not completely sure of that, but you nod, following along. You slip into the lace and then point to the England shirt folded on top of your pillow. It gets thrown at your face. “You can wallow in it and weep like a damsel in distress, giving her the satisfaction of breaking your heart…”
“I don’t think she wanted to–”
“She cheated on you,” Gio cuts you off bluntly. After a moment, your shoulders drop and you resign to hearing her plan. “As said earlier, hot, rich, famous… Babe, just get with someone else. Get with everyone else! Your babies are looked after 24/7 and this is London, my dear. The pond is really an ocean and you are a catch. As your bestest friend, I know what’s best for you. You’ve got an album coming out in September, a tour to hop on in November, and about three thousand dildos you can hop on after that!”
You cringe. “Don’t be crass.”
“Don’t be a prude.” She gestures to herself. “Look at me; Mia’s fine and healthy, doesn’t legally have to see her arsehole of a father, and I get a good shag every fortnight.”
“No, I’ve drawn up the custody agreement already. I’ll go back to Barcelona when the school year starts, and we can swap every two weekends. But I’m keeping our home – she can find somewhere else to live, seeing as all of this is her fault.”
“And the tour?” Gio asks as you pull on your England jersey and a pair of shorts. Good weather has blessed the start of the tournament, and you have been invited to the first match at Old Trafford by Manchester United themselves. Gio and Anya are coming, and you think they have put you in with a few of their players and executives. Your father has his own ticket, planning to meet you there and convince you to pay your grandmother a visit (she doesn’t like that you are lesbian and therefore you don’t like her).
“I don’t know,” you sigh, “because I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to make the children’s lives even more unstable. Maybe it’s best to give them a few months to adjust to the idea of us not being together.”
Gio hums in agreement, knowing she had it easy with her own co-parenting adjustment because her daughter was a baby with no recollection of her parents being a couple, much less in-love. “You’re a good mum.” She kisses your cheek and wraps you in a very needed hug. “You’ll get through this because you are stronger than a pathetic affair.”
You swear.
“What time’s our train leaving?!”
The match is a good one, and the atmosphere is enough to make you feel the slightest bit alive. Spain plays in two days, and though you have good reason to believe Alexia is going to be there, you are booking a family trip to Legoland to delay the first hand-off of many.
England win with one goal to nil, courtesy of Beth Mead’s chip. You are on your feet, cheering the entire match. One of the United executives tells you that he loves your passion and asks you if you’d take his ticket to the post-match drinks as he wants to head home for a nap. You laugh, the old Mancunian reminding you of your father, and accept. It’s just the one ticket, so you bid Gio and Anya goodbye, book a hotel for the night (comfortable with the idea that Isabela has safe hands to care for your children), and give your father a valid reason to pass up on the visit to Didsbury.
The only person at this event that you really know is Alessia Russo, after exchanging a few DMs last Christmas to wrangle a signed Manchester United jersey for Nico’s Christmas present (a gift Alexia had refused to say was from her as well).
“No kids today?” she asks with a grin, pulling you into a friendly hug.
“Didn’t manage to get them tickets,” you reply. “But now I get to drink, and you get to watch me and wish you weren’t on a nutrition plan.”
She shakes her head. “We’ve actually been instructed to celebrate the wins. Sarina Wiegman says it’s a key part of tournament success.” You look around the room, noticing every Lioness here, hair still wet from the showers and donning team-issued tracksuits, has a can of beer in their hands. Jorge Vilda could never. “Glad to see you haven’t yet become a Spain and Barcelona fan. Feeling patriotic enough to be introduced to our captain?”
Leah Williamson bears the same concentrated eyes gifted to Alexia; determination, victory, leadership.
You’re unsure if you have ever formally met her, perhaps at the Brits once. “I go with Alex? Alex Scott,” she says, as though she is trying to impress you. She takes the briefest of looks down to your hands that hang near your waist with no glass to hold (the bar has cut you off for half an hour).
You wear one ring. It is not the one with which Alexia promised you her total devotion, but it is from her all the same. An old gift – maybe from your first anniversary?
Leah doesn’t ask whether you are still married.
“I heard your son loves football?” He is obsessed with his mother, he wishes to follow her in every single thing she does. “You should bring him to our next match. I’ll get him one of those passes, and– Hey, you know what? I bet there’s a way I can get him a place as a mascot for one of the matches! Both our next ones are down south.”
You smile. “Really?”
“Yeah, course. He might be a bit young but I’m always glad to help out our little fans, and it might throw Spain off their game.” She winks, offering no further explanation, and is suddenly called away before you can request more information.
You have to admit, the idea of Nico walking (toddling) out with England makes you feel both proud and satisfied. It will be a tiny jab towards Alexia, which, honestly, is a privilege considering how she has stabbed you in the back repeatedly with a machete.
When your son’s first time on a proper football pitch is with Alessia Russo, holding her hand with wide eyes and a wider smile, you are sure Alexia has smashed the screen of whatever TV she has been studying her opponents with.
…
Spain playing England in the quarter-final feels intensely political within your family.
Alexia is in Brighton for the first time in her life, and she hates more than anything that she is not preparing herself for a match. She won’t be going through her pre-game rituals for another seven months, at least.
You tell Isabela to take the children to Alexia’s hotel, unable to put yourself in front of the wheel. Your hands have not stopped shaking since your manager texted you a screenshot of their conversation (seeing as you refuse to talk to her, not for pettiness but for fear of breaking yourself in two), and Isabela poured you a glass of wine before she left to calm your nerves.
You feel sick, and the toilet water turns red as your body rejects the rioja. Once you have wiped your mouth, you laugh at the notion that even Spanish wine is unwelcome inside of you.
“Who are you?” Alexia demands as the revolving doors of the lobby reveal her two babies with a stranger. She is quick to remove Elena from the arms of this new woman, although she is disgruntled by how comfortable her daughter seems. One of her crutches falls to the ground, Alexia not having been able to master childcare and post-surgery impairments because she has not seen the children she is supposed to care for, but she does not find it in herself to care.
“Hola, Sra. Putellas. Encantada.” Isabela holds out her hand but Alexia does not shake it, jaw clenched at the way you have gotten a Spanish-speaking nanny as though to completely erase her babies’ Catalan accents and memory of their other mother! “Me contrataron para ayudar a Y/n con los niños. Me dijeron que usted se encargaría de ellos hoy.”
“Sí, lo estoy haciendo, porque son MIS hijos.” She looks at Nico, who has been hiding shyly behind his nanny’s leg, afraid of his mother’s fierceness. Alexia softens, hoping to welcome him into her embrace, but her stupid knee won’t bend and she can’t get onto his level. Isabela reaches out to help her, or to at least steady her so that she doesn’t drop the squirming toddler she is holding, but the help is unwanted and, quite frankly, embarrassing.
Alexia’s frustration brings tears to her eyes.
She quickly blinks them back.
“¿Le gustaría que la ayudara, Sra. Putellas? Me han pagado por trabajar hoy, así que no es un proble–”
“¡No!” Alexia snaps. Silently, she curses how condescending and petty you have become. Paying the nanny in advance to taunt her for her injuries! “No. Estaré bien. Soy su madre.”
“Por supuesto, pero también está herida.” Isabela looks around the lobby for a moment. “¿Está sola?”
Alexia knows that Mapi’s parents are going to be arriving any minute now, kindly offering to help out with Nico and Elena. “Oh, we do not mind! We’d love for María to have children of her own,” they had said.
“Soy perfectamente capaz de manejarlo–”
“Isabela,” Isabela supplies.
“Isabela,” Alexia repeats. “Ahora, si ha terminado, vaya a disfrutar su día libre.”
She waits on the sofa just left of the door for Mapi’s parents, silently begging them to arrive as soon as possible. Nico is bored and would like to run around, upset that Alexia denies him his fun whenever he whines to play. Elena is tired, grumpily napping in Alexia’s lap, but that means she can’t position her knee the way the surgeons had asked her to. Isabela hadn’t meant to, but she had dumped two rucksacks of toys, snacks, and clothes onto Alexia, who still hasn’t been able to retrieve her crutch from the floor.
Close to tears and very overwhelmed, the arrival of the couple comes as a great relief. “Oh, you poor thing,” coos Mapi’s mother, a caring woman from whom her friend inherited the same quality. She kisses Alexia’s forehead and instantly takes the weight from her lap, hushing the soft whimpers Elena lets out. “Let us look after the babies. You make sure you have the tickets sorted. Have you taken your pain medication? Oh, let me take care of it for you.”
The fuss is something she has had to get used to, but she is thankful for the assistance. They wrestle Nico into his red Spain jersey, something he was not delivered in, and they ensure all three of their wards are comfortable before the stadium appears in the windshield of the taxi.
Alexia begins to get nervous.
Spain has more talent than England – always has – but they don’t have the same funding nor support. Their manager is a dickhead and the federation corrupt, and Alexia’s teammates suffer daily in a way no Lioness would be able to comprehend. She fears for their reputation, for their progression.
Her nerves increase when she sees you in the stands, in your own box of course. It seems that you see her too, but your only acknowledgement of her presence is the wave you give to your children. Alexia has to remind them sharply in Catalan that they are Spanish.
Afterwards, when Spain lost and Alexia is blaming herself for the defeat, you walk through the tunnel, following Leah’s directions that she had sent over text. You’d added her to your contacts yesterday, growing tired of Instagram DMs.
The odd thing about this area is that to your left, nothing is heard and the air hangs its head in shame, but to your right, a nation celebrates its victory. Sadly, you know you have to fetch your children from the Spain changing room before you say goodbye to the English heroines.
You knock on the door, politely. You have never been more glad that a player has not been selected for a squad. Jenni has missed the Euros due to injury, much like her partner-in-crime.
A solemn Ona Batlle, a Manchester United player who serves as a bridge between worlds in your household, opens the door, making no attempt to force a smile when she sees that it is you. You are (were) their captain’s wife; you are like family.
“Hi,” you breathe, not wanting to be the one to pierce through the silence.
Ona stands to one side and you pass.
Most of the girls are tearful, sniffling into their jerseys, heads in their hands, but no one is as distraught as Mapi. Her sobs take the fun out of winning, her devastation crushing and contagious and impossibly hard to ignore. She buries her face into Alexia’s shoulder, but it does nothing to muffle her cries.
You gulp, catching hazel eyes, understanding the plea to not make this feel worse.
You are heartbroken, and so is Mapi. For different reasons, yes, but both organs are shattered in the same way.
Alexia mutters something very quietly, secretly wishing Mapi does not let her go because this is the first time the defender has actually spoken to her since Alexia did what she did, but the blonde hair stops itching her face soon enough.
Rooted to the spot, you search the room for two smaller Spaniards, finding them both taking after Alexia, comforting the players.
“Nico, Lela, come on,” you croak, finding tears in your own eyes. “Say bye-bye to Mami.”
Their hugs and kisses are missed the moment Alexia leaves the country, and the absence of them makes Alexia crumble completely when she finds the letter from your lawyer that Alba has been hiding from her.
…
September rolls around with school, the start of your custody agreement, and the release of your new album.
Judgement Day.
For many, it confirms the split from your wife. Those pictures were never picked up by a magazine, so you have had them deleted with a baseless threat to sue for defamation.
Alexia no longer has to communicate with you through one of your employees, but any texts exchanged are few and far between. She tells you that she is renting a flat near the training centre. It has three bedrooms, but Nico and Elena share one because her mother is living with her while she recovers from her ACL. She also partially tore her meniscus, though she had hesitated to pass that news on, but everything seems to be in order and she is ahead of schedule.
You reluctantly text her whenever you leave the country, whether that is because you are flying to London for work (and to visit Leah, who you are now good friends with) or because a club opening has called and you have answered. It’s not as messy as the media makes it seem, but you agree with the articles that say you seem to drink as though it is what keeps you alive. The word ‘addict’ gets thrown around, but you are sitting in an armchair in front of your therapist before that escalates, if not for yourself then for the sake of your children.
They themselves do not understand. Nico frequently asks when Alexia will come home, though he has usually just visited her when this question pops out, and Elena throws big tantrums during the swaps. Those are done at a neutral location: the park near you. You hope the playground takes the edge off the palpable tension between you and Alexia as you sit on opposite sides of the same bench, exchanging brief updates about your shared duty until whoever is a mother for the next two weekends makes up an excuse to go.
Just before Christmas, once you have calculated that it’s technically Alexia’s turn with their children until January, you go on your biggest night-out since the days when all you were was a 2010s pop star in a girl-group. With no one to go home to and an empty house in Highgate awaiting your return, you get the closest to sleeping with someone else since before meeting Alexia. Her lips trail down your neck, the white powder on her nose rubbing onto your skin as she presses herself into you. You grope her body desperately, painfully dissatisfied by the bones and creamy skin your hands find. You are used to muscle, to strength, to power.
Not some anorexic model who calls you a MILF and hasn’t had a sober day in years.
In the end, you don’t end up sleeping with her, but it makes the headlines nonetheless. Your publicist lets them. “The world needs to see you move on, even if you aren’t,” she says. Your slight disagreement is not voiced, and social media explodes with further confirmation that you are single. A group of football fans are quick to attack you, calling you cruel for leaving Alexia when she is injured, but the thousand-person army doesn’t particularly bother you. You are doing your ex a favour by not opening up about the reason for the split, and you are both aware of that.
You spend Christmas with your parents, who are not pleased to have you moping about their house. Your father tells you that success is the best revenge. You tell him that your album has topped the charts in December, winning its battle against Christmas music.
“But that hasn’t mended a broken heart,” he is unkind enough to point out. “And neither will models, drugs, or alcohol.”
At this point in the day, you have made it through a bottle and a half of wine and a pack of Marlboro Golds. Voice hoarse from smoking and sobbing the entirety of Christmas Eve, you tell him to “fuck off” and call a taxi for yourself.
You don’t remember the destination you had typed in, but you end up at Leah Williamson’s house.
Leah is home, having returned from Milton Keynes half an hour ago, and is not really surprised by the state you are in. She supposes that she has gotten to know you well enough to realise that you are far from stable. This is the first time the English captain has seen you heartbroken, but she is unsure whether it will be the last.
…
Your tour commences the following month, with January being a fresh start to a new year. You tell Leah, who invites you out with her on NYE, that this year you won't be cheated on. It is not the comment that makes her laugh, but rather the way it slurs out of your mouth.
Barcelona feels suffocating when you arrive at the park to say goodbye to Nico and Elena. You’ll be in the States for the entire month and maybe some of February. Alexia is sure it will be fine, especially since the team has taken it upon themselves to look after the two children and help where they can. Additionally, Alexia is growing closer to one of her friends, Olga, who loves children and wanted to be a teacher before she decided on something much cooler.
Alexia has the courtesy to send Mapi and Ingrid in her place, knowing that you do not want to talk to her. You haven’t yet heard her explanation, but that does not matter. Nothing excuses what she did, and nothing will. (And with Jenni, who is no longer the godmother to Elena, the title being revoked instantly.)
“Will you miss us?” Nico asks as you kiss his soft hair, hugging him tightly. “Mami said that we have to swap every three findes so why no now?”
“Why not now?” you gently correct him. “Because I have to work. I’m going to sing in front of lots and lots of people and, maybe, write some new songs!” Your attempt to excite him crashes and burns, but you are not going to give up. “This is a secret so you can’t tell anyone, but some really, really special people want to make songs with me.”
“Who?” he pouts.
“Well, one of Mami’s favourites, Karol G. She is very nice, and she told me she has an idea for a collaboration.” Petty, yes, but also a career move. Nico’s innocence and lack of understanding about the meaning of separation means that he sees your plans as a very nice gift for Alexia. “And, let me think. Ooh, Bad Bunny – you know him, don’t you? I’m sure Pina or Patri or–”
He pulls away from your embrace, taking a step back. “Sí,” he says, sounding exactly like Alexia, “but to Mami, she no like because he says rude things.”
“Adults are allowed to say rude things,” you reply with a cheeky smile, winking at him. “Your mami says rude things all the time, but not in front of you.”��
“Really?”
“Yep, but you’ll have to ask her about that.”
Alexia has hobbled through the nighttime routines, aided by Olga, who has halved the job by picking Elena and Nico up from nursery and school and watching them until Alexia’s day at the training ground had ended. Her and Olga haven’t kissed yet, but Alba has advised her sister to be quick about it if she ever intends to. Alexia is not sure she does want that, because your absence has only made how much she loves you (and how much she fucked up) even more obvious.
Their beds are on opposite sides of the room, which is technically the master bedroom – only fair, Alexia thinks, because they are having to share here but not when staying with you – and Elena is fast asleep by the time Nico is tired of the bedtime stories he has relentlessly requested. She brushes off the slight sting of his dismissal of her acting and helps him settle underneath the covers.
As usual, she presses a kiss to both cheeks and the tip of his nose, and tells him to have nice dreams and a good rest. The weekend starts tomorrow, which means he gets to join Alexia at the training centre and sit in on the sessions. Alexia is slightly jealous because she is still stuck in the gym, but as long as he is entertained, she will get over it.
“Mami, how long is a month?” asks Nico, voice small and groggy and… is that a hint of an accent? Maybe the two and a half months of Isabela’s Spanish has affected him. She will look into it.
He tugs on her jumper when she spaces out. “Sorry,” Alexia whispers. “A month is thirty days. Maybe you need to pay attention at school.” She pokes his cheek playfully, and he giggles.
“I do pay attention, I do. Thirty days is long.”
Alexia dreams of the football pitch, of the grass she has been promised she will play on before April. “It can be very long,” comes her agreement, picturing where in her recovery she will be come February. “It can also be very short.”
“I miss Mama.”
His statement, unbeknownst to him, is uncomfortably relatable.
“Thirty days will be very short. You’ll see her again soon, and, you know what? She made me promise to give you goodnight kisses from her every night! She is going to send them to me from America, and I’ll pass them onto you.”
“Really?”
“Sí,” says Alexia with pursed lips, raising her eyebrows to invite him to doubt her. He looks up at her with adoration, as if her word is law. She can only be thankful that you are merciful enough to have not turned her own children against her. You have expressed your wish to keep them from being collateral damage, and Alexia respects you for that.
“Mama said that she makes songs in LA with Karol G!”
Then again, there are other ways to be petty.
…
Touring has always exhausted you. Eat, sleep, travel, sing, in varying orders; the schedule grows repetitive and tight after the first week.
After the first show in LA, you bring a blurry face to your hotel room. You kiss her, you can’t bear to do anything more, and you let her sleep off her drugs in your bed while you take the sofa in your suite.
High on adrenaline half the time and utterly knocked-out when not, you zombie your way through the travelling, grouchily rehearsing new songs on the road, signing merchandise for your screaming fans. You get asked about your private life in a few interviews initially, but the journalists soon learn that the topic is to be avoided if they wish for you to talk to them at all.
The headlines continue to tear apart images captured of you at clubs, and magazines never seem to find the pictures of you with your children when you visit them while you make your way around Europe.
There comes a point where you look at a woman and she becomes, in the eyes of the media, your latest plaything.
Alexia is seething by the time your two-night show in Barcelona rolls around.
One day, when Nico and Elena understand the concepts of affairs and heartbreak, they will see the articles written about their mothers; the hate Alexia gets, the times she has been called a whore by fans of the same sport she devotes her life to, the stark inequality between her and her male counterparts. With these horrors of the world, they’ll see the pictures of you, pupils blown out, eyes red. Women clinging onto you that perhaps faintly resemble Alexia.
Because Alexia knows you, because she loves you, she can see that what has been labelled your ‘slay’ era is really fuelled by devastation. A disaster that she caused. It riddles her with guilt, but she doesn't know how to expel that emotion from her head without reverting to the early days of her loneliness where she ate nothing and made her sister seriously worry whether she was going to find her bleeding out in the bathtub one day. And so, with a lack of command over such a strong feeling, she decides to rage. She is furious with your irresponsibility.
“Where should we eat?” your guitarist asks with a grin as you touchdown in Barcelona. The soft murmur of Spanish and Catalan is unexpectedly comforting, the familiarity grounding. Maybe Barcelona has become your home. Maybe it never stopped being that, because home is where the heart is and, frustratingly, yours still belongs to the woman who tore it out of your chest and didn’t even have the guts to tell you about it.
“I can’t,” you reply quickly, wiping the sweat from travel off your brow with the sleeve of your turtleneck. “I promised my son I’d tuck him in while I’m in the country, and my daughter has been drawing at nursery so I’d like to collect some of the pictures and see if I can get them blown up onto canvases.”
Laughing, your crew make their way off the jet. “You know, most celebrities would pay thousands for abstract art but you get yours from a toddler.”
“She’s talented.” Mapi draws with her, you’ve been told. Elena is what makes Ingrid yearn for a ring to appear in their relationship sooner rather than later. “And take the piss all you want, but if you had had to put my kids through what I have, you’d feel the same.”
The sofa in the Putellas household (the apartment no longer inhabited by Eli, who was very glad to escape the intense atmosphere as soon as Alexia was cleared to live by herself) houses three unsettled humans of varying sizes. The biggest, Alexia, shifts on the soft, new cushions, awaiting your arrival with gulps of brewing tears and the latest set of paparazzi photos of you fresh in her mind. The boy, Nico, practically vibrates with excitement, promising himself that he will drag out this bedtime as long as possible to make up for all the others you have missed. The smallest is upset because she hasn’t fallen asleep yet, kept awake by her older brother who shakes her whenever she starts to drift off, hastily scolding her with a ‘no, Lela! Mama is coming home’.
With no key to this flat, you are forced to be buzzed up.
The anticipation builds. Nico and Alexia try to remember what you smell like, testing themselves to see if they can recall it scent for scent. Have you changed your shampoo? Alexia wonders, Do you still use the same moisturiser?
“Hi, my darlings!” you squeal as the door flies open and Nico comes hurtling into your crouched form, closely followed by his unsteady little sister. “Oh, how I’ve missed you!” You squeeze them as though you are never going to let go, and only release them from the hug when Elena begins to whine, adrenaline rush dying and tiredness overcoming her once more.
“Mama, home,” Nico says with an inaccurate finality. You spare Alexia a glance as he pulls you through the bare walls and grey decor until you reach a door with stickers up and down the white-washed wood. “Mami made me change, but you can read! Lela wants this one.” He rumages through the box of books near the children’s whiteboard (on it, the odd x’s and o’s of football tactics), pulling out a few to stack into his own pile before thrusting something you recognise very well.
“Mami reads to us in English sometimes,” he says matter-of-factly, though Alexia silently curses him from where she is standing in the doorway. “Important to know.”
You chuckle. “Mm, very important. How else would you talk to me?” Elena quietly crawls into your lap, happy to take over Nico’s bed, where you are sitting. You stroke her hair, holding her close. “Mami reads you ‘The Very Hungry Caterpillar’?”
He is too young to know what scepticism looks like.
“Es que hay ‘La Pequeña Oruga Glotona’.”
You refuse to look at the voice which speaks, but you nod.
“Alright, why don’t you get into bed, and then I’ll start to make my way through the mountain of books. I am absolutely all yours for tonight, my loves.”
…
Alexia’s hands slam down on the dining table, slapping against the wood with a loud bang. “Enough!” she exclaims, her voice slicing through the tense air like a knife. Her eyes blaze in fury and you shrivel, not quite sure what you have done to her. You grant her the silence she needs to continue, though her shout echoes through the shattered tranquillity like a bomb that continues to explode. “It is enough.”
“What, Alexia?”
You sound kind of… bored once you have regained your composure. Your shock is now replaced with a blank expression, and you run your eyes over your nails, examining your cuticles so that you don’t risk making eye contact with her.
“You think you can just waltz in here as if you haven’t offered yourself to the entire world and expect everything to be okay?” Her voice trembles with indignation, venom dripping from each word she spits out. “You can’t go from common slut to mother in one day!”
Nails forgotten, you square your shoulders and set your jaw. “I hadn’t realised you were the jealous type, Ale.” The nickname slips out like a poisonous dart, taunting her, wounding her. It rattles her, and you intend to shake her more. “It’s none of your business, not anymore. Deal with it – or don’t, I don’t care.”
“What kind of example are you setting for our children?” she continues, lips curling into a scornful sneer. “Kissing anything with a mouth! Like some, some hormonal teenager. And to have it all over the papers? It’s trashy! It’s embarrassing for me, because my wife has her hands down the pants of every woman she meets, pumped full of alcohol and drugs and… You, you go to these events, paid to get yourself on the front pages so that they can be mentioned in the location of the incident, and… and that’s like prostitution! Making money from your body, from sex!”
Her fists clench and she storms towards you, footsteps harsher than her bad knee can probably take, but you make no move to back down. You lift your chin up; “I don’t have to resort to prostitution for money. I have more than enough.”
“Then you do it for attention,” Alexia reasons with herself, albeit very loudly. “That is what you are, aren’t you? A slut for the cameras and the glitz and glamour of it all. So quick to jet off on tour, leaving me with our children–”
“I may be a ‘slut’ for attention, but at least I am not a whore for a woman who is not my fucking wife!” You press your hand to her chest roughly, pushing her away from you. “I’m not the one who had an affair, I’m not the one who ruined everything!”
Alexia recoils at your words, freeing herself from your searing touch before she melts. She forces her fury to its boiling point. “How dare you,” she seethes, voice cracking at the ferocity in which she forces the sentence out. “You think you can just throw my mistakes in my face?” You hold your ground. She will not intimidate you. “You think you’re so righteous, but you’re not as innocent as you pretend to be.”
It is a baseless accusation. You both know it.
“The only fact we have here is that you fucked Jenni. Our daughter’s godmother. Your ‘best friend’, my friend too! I trusted her, and I trusted you, and you took that trust and obliterated it by sleeping with her!”
Alexia wants to cut you deep, wants to give you the gory details of it all, but she hears the croak of your voice and knows you will not make it to your hotel if she tells you.
“I slept with Jenni, sure, but you have passed yourself around enough to make us even.”
“Nothing will make us ‘even’, Alexia,” you cry, meaning to sound scarier than you do. You can’t help the tears from streaming down your face, nor the hoarseness of your throat. “And I would never ever do to you what you did to me!”
You have to go on vocal rest the next day, otherwise the concert would be called off.
Alexia refuses to attend, even though most of her teammates will, instead pawning Nico and Elena off to your backstage staff and dangerously driving herself to Alba’s place.
It is one of those nights where Alba cannot leave her side for fear Alexia will choke herself to death on her tears. When the elder of the two can longer hold it all in, Alba ties her hair back with an old hair bobble so that the blonde strands don’t get in the way of her sister’s vomit.
("I don't want to live like this," Alexia says, her eyes wide and alert. Her little sister looks at her with empathy, searching, with a broken heart, for a version of a woman from the past she's not sure she knows. This Alexia is not the same.
"Of course you don’t." It's obvious. Obvious by the way she forces her existence without happiness, without company, without a smile. It's like there is no sun in Alexia's world, nor a blue sky, nor an end.
It never ends.
So, she says, "I don't want to live like this, without her, without the family I dream of every night, every waking moment. I don’t want to live, Alba. I didn’t want to live in August, and I haven’t since, and I… I do it because people rely on me." She takes in a deep, acidic breath, grimacing at the taste of bile on her tongue. “If it were just me, just Alexia”--The Ruiner, she silently adds–“I wouldn’t be here. Alba, Alba, I don’t want to live like this.”
She carries on repeating it because Alba has to understand. There can't be a possibility that Alba thinks her sister is insincere. What a lie that would be! To Alexia, she prefers death over continuing like this, with her head in the toilet and vomiting, vomiting, vomiting.
"If I had the chance, I would go back to August 2021 and never sleep with Jenni. I’d not let her kiss me, not give into it. I'm exhausted from it; from my loneliness, from the kids' questions, asking when their mother will come back home. Do you know that Nico asked me if we still loved him? If she still loves him? And why his friends have two parents and he seems to have a shell of a woman for one, and a vacant space in the king-sized bed for the other?"
"She might not want you again, however, and your imagined future may be false – it is the opposite of reality, no? If I were her, I wouldn't. You cheated on her when she only gave you love and patience and… Well, Alexia, I swear I really want to see you happy, but I just don't think she'll forgive you."
"And why not?"
Alba sighs. She places her hand on Alexia's back, moving it in circles to calm her sister down. When they were little, it was always Alexia who helped Alba. With school, with her problems, with new lovers or ones from the past. It was her responsibility to take care of her little sister, and when their father died and there were only three of them, Alexia felt that responsibility even more.
Here, roles reversed, Alba can only apply that which she has learnt from the heaving lump of flesh slumped on the chequered tiles.
"Alba," repeats Alexia, lowering her voice, relenting. "She loves me."
The younger of the two can’t help the tears that brim in her eyes, distressed in her own right. "She loves you despite your other girlfriend because she's a saint. She's a saint but, if you want her to be happy, you cannot take advantage of her," Alba warns gravely, sincerely, and correctly. Alexia lifts her head and looks at the clock on the bathroom wall. Alba's apartment is clean and trendy, just like the woman, and she has dirtied it with her presence. She remains, for the foreseeable future, Alexia, The Ruiner.
"Smartass."
"It's just the truth."
"Well, if that's the truth, I'd rather you be a liar."
Alba sighs again, more heavily, and asks Alexia to get up from the floor. If Alexia's knee hurts, she says nothing and jumps up and down. "Ay, your knee," Alba grumbles but Alexia keeps going. She keeps going and going until she can't breathe and her lungs hurt. She keeps going because she believes it will rid her of her sadness, or at least hopes so. She hasn't stopped when Alba asks her to. A loud voice breaks the silence. "What are you doing?"
"Destroying everything. If I can't be with her, I don't want to play football. I don't want to walk, or see, or talk. I just don't want to live."
To Alba, this tells her two things. One is that her sister has gone batshit crazy. The other? Well, that is the solution. It's simple, really; one sentence, and Alexia will know what she has to do.
"You need to fix this.")
Heartbreak is ugly, but Alexia’s guilt is uglier.
#woso x reader#woso#woso fanfics#barca femeni#woso imagines#fc barcelona#mapi leon#ona batlle#alexia#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#alexia putellas imagine#randombush3
431 notes
·
View notes
Text
First Impressions (Alexia Putellas x reader)
A/N: Chapter 1 of the Legacy Series.
For most people the wave of Spanish air they feel when they step off the plane is warm and welcoming but for you it feels like thick smoke and every breathe you take makes it harder to breathe. The last time you came to Barcelona lead to the worse day of your life and since then the place your parents called home was nothing than a reminder of what you have lost. It is because of this that you hadn’t stepped foot in Catalonian city since.
Upon entering arrivals you are met with your driver holding a board with only your first name on it.
“Miss Y/N” the driver extended his hand.
“Just the one name, I feel like Adele” you joked.
The drive only took thirty minutes which you found impressive considering it was game day for a women’s football team of Barcelona. You looked anywhere but outside the window as you pulled up to the stadium. You could hear the fans before you opened the door, the sound and sight of them made you overwhelmed.
“Here, I thought you might want this” the man in the driver’s seat passes you a cap “your mother said you would forget to bring one”
You hated being predictable, you much preferred to keep people on their toes but in that moment you are grateful that your mother knew you so well.
“Do you want me to do a lap of the car park?”
“No, I just need a minute”
It’s just a football game. You’re here a fan, it doesn’t have to be anything more.
Following the signs to the family section you are sure to dip your head as people pass by. Sure it would have been easier to get private seats but then you would have to had let the club know you were coming and no way could you have gotten away without having a meeting with them, especially with the news your manager had given them a couple of weeks ago.
Once in your seat you notice a girl sitting next to you, she looked weirdly familiar but you know that you had never met her before. It is only when you watch the player’s come out for their warm ups to put 2 and 2 together. The girl had a striking resemblance to the player whose name was on the back of most fan’s shirts.
“Hola” The girl next to you says “I haven’t seen you at a game before. Are you here supporting a family member?”
“Hi. No, I’m not. I’m a friend of Lieke Martens”
“Are you a Barcelona fan?”
You could tell the girl was being polite but you just wanted to watch the game. You didn’t want anyone to know you were in the city and the more you talk to her, the more likely she is to recognise you.
“They’re a family team”
“You’re from here?” The brunette wouldn’t have guessed. You’re dutch accent wasn’t overly strong but you definitely didn’t have a Spanish tone.
“The Netherlands”
“You’re Dutch. That makes sense if you know Lieke”
Ok so she didn’t recognise you, maybe she didn’t watch any football games other than her sisters.
“I’m Alba. Alexia’s sister”
“Y/N. It’s a pleasure to meet you Alba”
“Just Y/N”
You only hum in response. She may not know you’re a football player but there’s no way she wouldn’t know your last name.
The younger Putellas lets you watch the game in peace. It is only when you react badly to one of the ref’s calls does she begin to pay attention to what you are saying and the way you are saying it. You hear her say your name followed by a tap on the shoulder but when you turn to face her you see that she is joined by an older woman. The way the look in her eyes changes let you know that she knows more about football than her youngest daughter does.
“Is this your first time here?” To anyone else it might be a weird first question to ask. Not what is your name, not how are you.
You can feel your palms get sweaty as a lump forms in your throat, one that you are quickly to swallow. When words fail you, you can only nod in response.
“Mama, this is Y/N. She is a friend of Lieke’s”
“A friend of Lieke’s” it’s the way the woman phrases her sentence that makes you feel a little bit guilty.
You shrug your shoulders slightly, a small smirk tugs at your lips.
“That’s what I said. She does know a lot about football though, she acts like Ale does when she watches a game at home”
You can tell that Eli want’s to say ‘that’s because she is considered football royalty’ but she bites her tongue.
The rest of the game goes in favour of the home side with them going on to win 5-1. A result which doesn’t come as a shock to anyone, yourself included but you don’t hang around for the final whistle. When the 4 minutes injury time gets announced you figure it the perfect time to make your exit.
“You’re leaving?” Alba says at you stand up.
“It’s easier to beat traffic this way. It really was nice to meet you Alba and—“
“Mama you never introduced yourself. This is Eli. Mama this is—“
“I know who she is” her words earn a look from both you and Alba although both for a different reason “Will we be seeing you back here soon?”
The older woman wasn’t stupid.
“I’m not sure” it was an honest answer. You has a decision to make this summer, one which could lead to you to calling the city your father loved home just as he once did.
“Well I hope I do and I know Alexia does too”
“Mama she hasn’t met Alexia”
You can see that Alba has questions but you couldn’t stay to answer them, you wasn’t ready yet.
Once again you say your goodbyes but just as you leave to turn back.
“If you happen to see Lieke tell her I’ll meet her at 9”
“I will” Eli says.
Alba looks back and forth between you and her mother wondering what she is missing.
The two of them wait in the car park for Alexia to come out and sure enough the dutch woman is by her side. What you wasn’t aware of is that you had been recognised by the team as the walked back into the locker room at halftime. They had heard the rumours but up until this moment that’s all they had been. Now though they wondered what the true nature of your visit was and if it meant something big was coming.
“So it was Y/N in stands with Alba?” Alexia asks Lieke.
“Alexia” the dutch woman warned her “She came here as a friend nothing more”
“But it could be more. You’ve heard what they’re saying”
They approach their cars which are parked next to each other. The captain hugs her mother and sister, both of them congratulating her on a good game and an excellent season as this was the last game.
“Lieke, Y/N asked me to tell you she’ll meet you at 9” as promised Eli passes on your message.
“She’s staying in the city but she hasn’t been back si—“
“She is leaving tonight but we are going for dinner. I’ll text you the address ss and if you happen to be close then I’ll introduce you”
“Vale”
“Alexia” Lieke turns to her captain “don’t bring up the rumours. As you said it’s been a while since she’s been here and she doesn’t want to talk about football”
You and Lieke have known each other for years as joining the senior Netherlands team at the same time. She knew that her captain was a big fan of yours and the prospect of you joining Barcelona was very exciting but you were very private and she could only hope her friend would respect that.
She would find out a couple of hours later that once Alexia has something on her mind then she had to voice her opinion no matter how many times she was warned otherwise. It is why when she arrived at the restaurant with a couple of the girls, albeit half an hour later than she was told, Alexia eyes search for you the moment she walks through the door but settles when she sees Lieke knowing that you won’t be far away.
Lieke watches as Alexia fidgets in her seat and cannot help it as small chuckle escapes her lips. Her captain was nervous and you weren’t even in eyesight.
“Not that I don’t like your company but where’s Y/N?” Alexia asks your national team mate.
“First of all you’re late Y/N is settling the bill although according to her she went to the bathroom”
“You said 9”
“and it’s 9:30. The Spanish may have a habit of being late but the Dutch are punctual”
Alexia turns around as she hears your voice get closer and closer. When you take a seat opposite her she is a loss for words.
“This a such a coincidence” you turn your attention to Lieke who you can tell feels a little bit guilty.
“Yours definitely wasn’t a face I expected to see in the stands today”
It was small talk and you hated small talk especially now because you could tell what it was leading up to.
“What can I say, I have a few days off so I thought I would come see Lieke before I fly to England”
“England?” Lieke asks. As far as she was aware you were flying back to Amsterdam.
“Viv invited me to an arsenal game”
“So you’re checking out potential teams”
There is was and it took less than ten minutes. You gave Lieke a look and in turn she mouthed an apology. She truly believed that Alexia would at least wait a bit before bringing it up.
Your move, your future, anything than included you moving away from home made you anxious and even though you had met these girls on the pitch you didn’t know them off it and this wasn’t a topic you discussed with strangers. It also didn’t help that Joan Laporta had been pestering you for the past couple of weeks and hearing Alexia try to pry you for information made you feel like they were in on it together.
“I’m visiting friends Alexia and I don’t talk business with people I don’t know”
Your response changed the energy at the table but still Alexia’s eyes never left you.
“C’mon Y/N, playing for Barcelona is your birth right. You belong here and the team would be lucky to have you. Imagine the fans, how happy they would be to wear a Barcelona shirt with —“
“Alexia, can’t you see you’re making her feel uncomfortable” Aitana whispers to her captain.
The young Catalonian was the only one at the table apart from Lieke that you would consider a friend. She has worked with the foundation for years, even coming to Amsterdam to do a few workshops there. In this time she never asked you about your father and you would never be able to thank her enough for that.
“Aitana it’s fine. She’s like most people I meet, she just wants me for my last name”
It was a sentence you said with a heavy heart and although you tried to play it off, everyone could hear the waver in your tone.
“Y/N I—“ Alexia instantly regrets what she has said.
“Listen Alexia, I like you up and until now you haven’t given me a reason not to. When Lieke first joined Barcelona she was nervous but she told me you welcomed her into the club and made her feel at home so I know you’re a good person. I don’t want to argue with you so let’s start fresh”
The brunette thanks the higher powers that she hasn’t put an end to this friendship before it even had the chance to begin.
“Start fresh, ok. I’m Alexia Putellas”
The table sniffles back laughter at the formality of their captain.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Y/N Cruyff”
#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas one shot#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso one shot#Barcelona femeni one shot#barcelona femeni imagine#barcelona femeni x reader#espwnt one shot#espwnt imagine#espwnt x reader
715 notes
·
View notes
Note
This question just came up randomly from my dyslexia, but I'll ask it anyway.
Why did you name the characters exactly what they are called now? Like, what gave rise to giving them such a name? Especially a question for Neill.
(By the way, I pronounce his name as “Nail” (nail and hammer) due to dyslexia and only now realized that Neill is correct)
It took me like 3 hours looking for the names for each children (on the original post were i introduce them), 'cause i was really trying to get details both for the original critters and the children own personality in said name.
Let me use Google to explain the meaning part, and then i explain my own work with it. long post guys, Nova is gonna talk a lot
First with Nell
As i said before, Nell's name was fitting for him 'cause the ''Shinning light'' goes fine with Dogday character, but on the other side, the ''hard as a horn'' was the part that, for me, work with the experiment one: Nell's can be emotionally weak, but his temple and spirit is the strongest in the gang, specially if it mean to protect those how he care, he's the shining light of the killer team, their boss but most important, the one that is ready to give his life for his loved ones.
Now, Callem (here it show Callum, but is another way of write it, it mean the same)
Just, is a simple meaning, and yeah the bird side was for Kickin, BUT the meaning of said animal is was Callem's character really is about
Callem is the free spirit of the gang, a soul that is only trapped in the physical way, but that doesn't care about anything else, he isn't afraid of cry, of scream, of love. Yup, maybe he doesn't take the iniciative with Nell, but not 'cause he's afraid, but 'cause he care for Nell's feelings, he never liked to be force to do something, why would he force Nell out of his comfort zone? He's ready to fly when needed, that's Callem for you.
Now, Charlie
What does this had anything to be with Bubba? Well, this was a inside joke with my lil' cousin, that when we read the name Charlotte whe remember the spider, AND then we remember the game song (in spanish, idk if there's a version in english) ''Un elefante se columpiaba sobre la tela de una araña'', it was a silly moment, but she ask me to name him Charlie, 'cause she liked the name and, in her words, ''Tiene cara de charlie'' (he had a charlie face). So yeah, Charlie doesn't have a strong meaning in his name, but hey, the ''Warrior'' part was what make me put him in the Killer team, and it a choice 'm really happy about.
Now Alba
The ''white'' meaning is for literally Crafty's fur, and also the name is kinda relate to a colour palette, so it fit in her side. Now, with the experiment, is basically a mirror of Nell, but in a more ''bright'' way; Nell and Alba had always been mirrors of the other during their time working in the playcare, but Alba has something that Nell doesn't: A mind without attachment. Alba never had something to care about in her past life more that herself, something that make her miss her past life, so when she learn the true, she was angry 'cause she was used, no 'cause she wasn't a children in playcare anymore. Nell since day one has been emotionally ''in a eternal night'', there's something that give weight to his actions, something that make him worry. Alba was able to pursue Nicole, she was able to become the second in charge of the heretics, she was able to make a community with the little they have, 'cause her mind was already past the night, unlike Nell, that shine in the dark.
Now, Nicole
Obviously more close in meaning with the cartoon side that with the experiment side due the deatils of ''victory'' related to competitions, BUT in Nicole theres also some true: She has always been a fighter, maybe not in the physical way, but in her past life she refuse to let the employees experiment with her using the Poppy serum, doesn't caring if she could die without it, she wasn't a lab rat, and even after getting turn in Hoppy, she show them that she still was able to win over them, by been the most hard to tame, to the point of breaking the scientists's patience with a literal jumpscare (this gonna be show in her VHS)
Now, Samina
The name, as i read in another place, also mean a ''well feeded child'' that goes to the side of Picky, but the rest is for the experiment, 'cause yeah, the bitchiest, most intense and meany member of the gang is actually a generous soul, but a soul that had been breaked over and over again, and even after that still have a lil' piece of that kind soul to give to her friends.
And then, we have Amara
why i had to scroll so much to get this meaning? But yeah, 'm using the latin/spanish meaning of this name for her, that is basically ''to love'', something that work both for Bobby and for Amara herself, 'cause both were means to be a character full of love to give, full of emotions and ready to ''love'' those she care about.
Also! Funfact!
Do you know what Theo's name mean?
An interesing choice considering all his relation with the prototype, good on that Mob game.
And here ends my tedtalk, good night everybody!
94 notes
·
View notes
Text
Mi Hermana • Alexia Putellas
I really hope you guys like this! I’m super happy about how well the first part did and thank you to the anon that requested it!
Requests: To ‘Alexia Jr’: Awesome… possible part 2 with alexia ripping into the team about how they’ve been acting?
can we please have more of Alexia jr 😫
I love alexia jr is it possible to do a part 2? Thanks ❤🦄
Part 1 Alexia Jr
Word count: 2,8k
Since that night on the pitch with your sisters, Alexia paid more attention to the team’s interactions with you, or sometimes the lack of it. Now that she has been cleared to start working with a ball again she is around the team more often and though she still has training separate from you, she’s also a lot closer and can hear how the girls talk to you. To say she’s baffled would be an understatement and it’s only been two days since your admission about the situation.
Although she wants nothing more than to give them an earful when it happens, you had made her promise to handle it in a mature way. You didn’t want to mess up the team dynamics even more.
Barca’s game that following week, your sister watches you play from next to the benched players and the proud smile is hard to miss. However, cameras that were supposed to be on you at this moment as you dive down the length of the field with the ball at your feet, are on Alexia instead who’s wearing that pleased look. It’s wrong of them to focus on her when you’re in the midst of showing exactly why you’re in Barca’s first team.
She cheers loudly with the rest of the girls as the ball is chipped over the goalkeeper and you nod towards the fans, your hand above your eyes as if you were shielding them from the sun, almost like you were saluting the crowd. Your signature celebration.
That prideful glint in Alexia’s eyes turns into disappointment when she notices that none of your teammates celebrate with you or congratulate you. She does however feel a slight sense of relief when she sees Mapi clapping in her position, far back on your side of the field. The brunette’s jaw clenches at the lack of support you’re receiving from your team after each and every good pass or chance on goal, she is beyond saddened.
It’s only moments later when just as you receive the ball from Patri the defender on the other team comes in fast and takes your legs out. The air time you get before harshly landing on your side is something Alba would joke about but when you don’t immediately get up your sister realizes this could be serious. While you lay there for a bit, gripping the grass for a second to take your mind off the searing pain in your ankle, the defender gets her yellow card.
Still, Mapi is the only one coming to check on you near the left side of the pitch.
Once again, Alexia is grateful that her best friend is looking out for her little sister but she feels like the rest of the girls have let you and her down at the same time, she expected more of them. She shot up to her feet the instant you were tackled and she had leant forward wanting to see more and make sure you were okay. You slowly get up though, thankfully, assuring Mapi and the referee that you’re good to continue playing. Your sister plops back in her seat with a long exhale of worry and Marta, who’s sat next to her sends her a reassuring smile.
Eventually the match comes to an end and you wander off the field with a 5-1 victory, shaking the hands of the opposition as you do. Most of the girls have already ran off towards the bench, no doubt wanting to see your sister and your thoughts are proved to be true when you look in the direction. Alexia’s eyes connect with your own and though she holds a bright expression, happy for the team, there’s a look in her eyes that you don’t quite recognize.
Paula swings an arm over your shoulders, the Levante player a good friend of yours from the national team. You look over at her, noticing the way she purses her lips in thought and you nudge her to start talking.
“Do they always just leave you like that?” she voices her thoughts as she watches your teammates interact with your sister. Not one of them had clapped your back after the final whistle was blown even though they’ve done it to each other. You shrug at her.
“Most of them.” the sympathetic look she gives you is one that makes you regret answering the question and you bid her goodbye as your team starts their way towards the changing room.
You’re rather surprised to find Alexia waiting for you in front of the door and you give her a questioning look before she pulls you into a hug.
“You were so good out there hermana, I’m so proud of you” she tells you sincerely as she rubs a hand over your back and you sink further into her embrace.
“Gracias Ale” your voice is muffled by her shoulder but she presses a kiss to your forehead nonetheless. “Are we gonna go in or..?”
“Sí, but I’m going to talk to them and-”
“Ale, no” you plead with her, shaking your head rapidly. “Not now please, we just won I don’t want them to be upset because of me”
She stares at you for a second, her eyebrows furrowing and her signature frown on her face, but she gives in with a sigh. Even in times like this when you were so deeply hurt you put others’ feelings above your own.
“Vale, not today, but I will and you won’t get to stop me then” she holds the back of your head as she explains, bringing you into another quick hug. “They need to know what they’re doing is cruel”
You roll your eyes at her wording, but nod along as you open the door and walk in with your sister behind you.
“Good game chicas” you clap your hands only to be met with silence until one of them looks up and squeals at Alexia’s arrival.
You thought most of them already had their fair share of time with her outside but even now they surround her, turning a blind eye to your presence.
With another huff you get changed quickly and shove the last of your things into your backpack. Alexia tries but fails at hiding her annoyance at the team’s behavior and when she sees you about to exit she shrugs off the rest of the girls lingering around and with a half-sincere apology she’s out the door.
Patri stares at the now closed door in confusion. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know, but nice goal you scored today” Aitana shrugs as she praises the brunette. Patri looks at her.
“I didn’t score a goal.”
“Yes you did.” Some of the girls turn to the two as they continue.
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did, the 40th minute! Don’t you remember?” Aitana looks to the others for confirmation but they shrug.
“That wasn’t Patri, it was Y/N’s goal” Mapi corrects the two, angrily gritting through her teeth.
“Oh”
“Yeah, oh” the blonde bites back.
“Mapi-” Ingrid tries but is cut off by Nuria.
“What about the one after half time?”
“That was also Y/N” Irene joins, wondering just how blind the girls have been. Nothing more is said as the girls go back to changing, sensing the obvious tension in the air.
The next day you have recovery day with the team and as you finish up the last of it you enter the locker room to find most of the team there already. They pay you no mind as you take a seat, though as the minutes tick by Pina finally looks up from her phone.
“Y/N!” you’d be stupid to think she’s happy because she’s noticed you. “Alexia is coming today, right?”
“Yeah, she said she would!” Bruna adds excitedly and more of the girls turn to you, waiting for an answer.
“Yep, a bit later though” you confirm, not meeting any of their eyes as you change your socks.
“She must be here already then, no?” you glance up at that, sighing at the eager expressions you’re met with. “Could you get her? You know she will come in earlier if it’s her sister asking.” Jana’s words are accompanied with nods from around the room and as you stand with an annoyed huff you only hear one voice thanking you.
You wander down the corridors towards where your sister was just finishing her rehab session but as you walk the hallways you can’t help but get lost in your thoughts again.
You didn’t understand what more you had to prove to the team to be accepted by them, to not be as transparent. It seemed that no matter what you did they were only interested in you when it was about your sister. Alexia this, Alexia that. Will we get to see Alexia today? Is Alexia going to be at the game? It’s never, hey Y/N how are you? Or a simple bon dia. Nothing.
You did worry less about your performance however.
Before, you had compared your every touch of the ball to the way your sister would have done it, wondering if the way you were playing would be even close to her excellence. But the number of times your name has appeared on the scoresheets assures you that you were definitely doing something right, you weren’t only here because of who your sister is.
You patiently wait outside the gray door after knocking and soon one of the physios greets you with a smile.
“Hola, is Alexia here?” you ask, politely smiling at him. He nods as he lets you into the room, having recognized you.
“Someone’s genes are strong” he lowly whistles as you approach your sister but the two of you only send him another nod, eyebrows raised.
“Estás bien, pequeña? Why are you looking for me?” the brunette looks down at you with a tilt of her head.
“The girls told me to come get you, they wanna see you” you inform her as you lean into her side, needing some comfort from your older sister. Her nails graze the skin of your arm as she lightly moves her hand up and down.
“But I would’ve come anyway” she furrows her eyebrows, sighing at the way her team was behaving. You shrug at her, not saying more. Thankfully her session did just end and so the two of you walk back the way you’ve come and you tell her about how recovery has been before you get to the entrance of the locker room. Alexia abruptly stops in front of the door, effectively stopping you from reaching for the handle as she holds onto your shoulders.
“Why don’t you get that ankle of yours checked out, have it strapped.” she gestures to the ankle you’ve hurt during yesterday’s game. You study her for a second before agreeing and with a kiss on her cheek you leave towards the physios. She didn’t want you hearing what she would come next. Alexia exhales as you round the corner and disappear out of her sight before pushing the door in and entering.
Enthusiastic yells are soon silenced by the look on her face. She’s wearing a hard scowl, her jaw set and fists clenched. Her eyes are sharp as she looks over the people in front of her, Mapi watching her with her own arms crossed over her chest. She has been waiting for this moment, wondering just how long your sister would wait before going off on the team.
The team holds their breath as Alexia takes a ragged breath, they’ve never seen her so angry.
“What the fuck is wrong with all of you!” she explodes, and suddenly she’s forgotten all about you asking her to handle it maturely, but how could she do that when they’ve been hurting her baby sister? Her pent up aggression comes out as she starts, many of the girls’ eyes widening at her tone.
“What you’ve been doing to my sister is unacceptable! The way you’ve been behaving makes me question if we are a team!” She rages on, making sure to hold eye contact with each and every person as she catches her breath. A second later multiple voices ring out as they try to argue her words but she’s having none of it.
“Enough!” she shouts, a slap echoing throughout the room as she smacks the surface of the door with a spare shirt. They stand, like soldiers waiting for what would come next, beyond frightened by their captain’s rage. “I have seen enough. I have heard enough. You guys, all of you treat Y/N like she’s nothing! Not an ounce of respect in you for her, any of you!” her eyes connect with Mapi, assuring her that she’s not included in this. She had, after all, been the only one to treat you like a person.
“What does someone have to do to prove their worth? To be included? You all throw her away like she’s some useless rag and I will not have that, especially not when it’s my little sister.” she takes a breath to calm down, her head pounding from all the frustration she just let out and the remaining still in her. The girls cower back into their seats as they realize how they’ve been acting towards you.
“I am beyond disappointed in this team for making a teammate, you hear that? A teammate feels worthless, because you’ve neglected her even when she’s doing everything in her power to satisfy you all.”
“I agree, she’s done nothing but show how good she is on the field.” Irene adds that though Alexia is not looking for anyone’s approval, far beyond the point of caring, nevertheless, she does give the woman a nod for backing her up.
“She is insanely talented, without question better than I was at her age. She’s got the passing accuracy down to the millimeters, she shoots goals like no one else on this team and dios mío, she can dribble past all ten players and then finish perfectly!” Alexia throws her hands up in exasperation.
“She does get us a lot of goals.” Claudia admits quietly.
“And she’s super good at outsmarting defenders” Jana agrees, having experienced your skills firsthand.
“Yes she's a great player, but she's also a person with feelings and all of you have been ignoring that part.” Your sister concludes as the girls look down shamefully.
“That part too.” Mapi nods, angrily chewing on a piece of gum. The team stays quiet, each of them replaying their interactions with you and chastising themselves for how harsh they’ve been, how uncaring they were.
“We’re really sorry” a chorus of voices say and Alexia nods at that in understanding, finally unclenching her fists.
“I’m not the one you need to apologize to” she shakes her head, flashing the team another disappointed look. “Tomorrow, one by one -I'll make sure, you will all apologize to her. I want actual sorrys not half-assed ones because I asked you to.” she points through the girls who eagerly nod at her, many of them already thinking of ways to show you how much they regret their behavior.
The midfielder does not say goodbye as she slams the door behind her to punctuate all she’s said, though she did make sure to let Mapi know she doesn’t blame her too.
By the time Alexia gets to the physios room you’re already putting your shoe back on, animatedly conversing with the physio who’s sharing his own stories just as enthusiastically. She smiles at the interaction, happy to see you content even after a day of people ignoring you, people who were supposed to be your friends.
You jump in your seat in surprise when her hand squeezes your shoulder, but you hop off the table with another beaming smile. You wave goodbye to the physio before holding onto Alexia’s waist as you exit the training facility, herself pressing a kiss into your hair.
“Alba and I are taking you out for sushi tonight.” she informs you with a smile as you sit in the driver’s seat of her car. You were still adamant on not letting her drive, you didn’t want her to hurt her knee in any way.
“How come?”
“We’ve just missed you and besides, sushi is always good” she chuckles when you nod.
“Yeah and I’m always hungry” you cast a glance her way as you pull out of the parking lot of the Estadi Johan Cruyff.
“And I’ve missed you guys too” you admit, a confession that warms your sister's heart. Of course the three of you have seen each other almost everyday, especially you and Alexia, but you missed hanging out with them. You missed how peaceful your mind was when you were with your family.
Alexia stares ahead at the road as you drive the two of you home, forever grateful to have sisters like you and Alba. And you’re forever grateful for your big sisters, both who’d protect and love you no matter what.
It was now only your team’s job to recognize just how much they’ve hurt you and try to rebuild their relationships with you. No one was going to cross you again, not if Alexia could have a say in it.
534 notes
·
View notes
Note
When you watched Warrior Nun for the first time, when did you initially fall in love with with Ava? Was it the beach run?
it was a slow build throughout the whole first episode, not one singular moment
like as soon as we saw her and found out she was dead and mistreated and clearly murdered by frances, i was intrigued
then as she wakes up and starts to experience the world, you just see more and more of how good she is and how much she wants to be alive in the world, the little things alba does, like touching the wall after stumbling out into the city is so good - she captures so much in her expression and body language, i was hooked from that moment on
the part that gets me the most tho, the one instance where i was hooked came before the beach (which is an amazing scene and alba deserves a damn award for her performance) is when she goes back to the orphanage and sees diego
after everything she went through, after being paralyzed, mistreated and murdered, she's still this soft hearted? i was done for
ava/alba is the centerpiece of this world, it doesn't work without her
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
THE DANGERS OF OVER-SELLING
The new Medium article and the one about the split…
We just got a new article by Medium about Chris titled: "Meeting your heroes..." I wrote my thoughts about the previous Medium article that made quite the splash, if you want to check it out... https://www.tumblr.com/justenjoythegossip/742890431073992704/will-albas-immaturity-racism-and-alleged?source=share
But this new one takes the cake. Here is the link, if you want to check it out… https://medium.com/@elijaheros/meeting-your-heroes-b14db09791a4
Of course, the article starts by saying that, as a general rule, "you should never meet your hero". However, they paint Chris as the perfect exception to the rule as he "stands out as a shining example of integrity, compassion, and genuine kindness". The article ends with this: "sometimes, meeting your hero can be an experience that exceeds all expectations!"
Well, well, well... I am going to try be as kind and diplomatic as I can about this "article".
I suspected the article detailing their split was a work of his PR/crisis Management team but that they tried to pass it as the work of a fan. The main goal was to give as much hype as possible to his appearance at the Con in Seattle which will be broadcasted live on YouTube. It seems all the clearer now after this piece that basically paints him as a saint...
The issues with that new Medium article…
I will say that Chris and his team seem totally oblivious to the issues they are facing at the moment and it looks like one more provocation. One too many in my opinion. If one thing has appeared clear in the last couple of years, it is that Chris lacks basic integrity. You don't kind of marry a fat-shaming, racist, anti-Semitic, Nazi sympathizing teenage looking woman for real or for PR purposes if you value morals and principles. You just don't. Of course, mods will tell you that Abba is pulling the strings, that he is blackmailed into doing this… They will come up with any excuse to make him look like a poor innocent victim, when it couldn’t be further from the truth.
As for the picture that is painted here, it's very similar to the previous article about the split, it has little to no credibility. Why? Because it is SO over-the-top, it is absolutely ridiculous. Christopher’s Haven is making a comeback by the way. I was waiting for the line that said that Chris reads to the kids with cancer as they get their chemo but the "author" didn't cross that line. I wonder why they didn't, it would not look any more fake as it currently stands...
There are two main issues here. First of all, his team seems to fail to understand why Chris has received such a severe backlash from his fans. The reason for it is that the disconnect is far too great between the brand/persona he was selling to the public and his true self. Because, and I am sorry to write this, this man has lied to the public for the past decades about who he is. Whether he is in a purely PR relationship with Abba or whether they are really married, he is not who he has portrayed himself to be. He has lied! The second issue here is that the article over-sells Chris, holding him to an impossible standard. How can he live up to that? He can’t. Especially not now…Nobody could.
The dangers of “over-selling”…
Over-selling tends to do more harm than good and it can have a negative impact, especially in the long run. It can raise serious doubts in the mind of fans who will no longer be able to trust the actor’s brand, especially when it is currently in crisis. When the trust is broken, it’s almost always impossible to get it back. Obviously false expectations can never be met.
Why publish such an article even if it is passed as a work of fiction by an adoring fan? It does way more harm than good. And since his Con is allegedly sold-out, if it is supposed to help him get more views on Youtube, It seems desperate as hell. But this whole stunt has looked desperate. Ridiculous, lame, cringe, tedious, unimaginative, corrupt and desperate.
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
Birthday Party (Alexia Putellas x reader)
⚠️smut⚠️
You can’t help but watch Alexia as she sways her hips to the beat of the music. She’s celebrating her 29th birthday and her girlfriend Olga planned a surprise party.
You don’t really get why you were invited, Alexia and you used to be very close, always having a flirty relationship and a few make out sessions, until she suddenly got a girlfriend.
Since then you only saw each other when your sister Ona forced you to go out with them. Your conversations with Alexia were cut short and you can’t help the ache in your heart, every time you saw her.
When you first met you’d truly thought that you two were made for each other. To be honest, everyone thought so, even Eli, Alexia’s mother.
“You know, you can’t kill Olga with your eyes”. Alba sights next to you. “I can at least try” You both chuckle and you accept the shot she gives you. “I’m truly sorry Y/N, I honestly don’t know why she choose her over you. It’s obvious that she loves you too” The younger Putellas gives you a look, filled with pity. “It’s okay, I’m slowly moving on”. You lie to her easily.
With that you leave Alba alone and get on the crowded dance floor. You knew that Alexia hated that many people in one single place, so you’re asking yourself why the fuck it’s so full. Olga must at least know Alexia a tiny bit.
“hola cariño” You turn around at Alexia’s voice and rise an eyebrow. “You have a girlfriend who would love to get called like that”. Alexia start to grab your waist to dance with you. You simply accept the touch. “It’s not the same with her”.
You decide not to push Alexia and just dance to the music with her. “Let’s grab something to drink” She says and leads you to the kitchen counter which is used as a bar at the moment. “I will just take a vodka shot please”. The captain nods and pours two of them.
You rise your eyebrow at her, “Since when does the la reina drink alcohol?” Alexia can hear your smirk even without looking at you. “You only turn 29 once” She drowns the shot and you copy her, quickly getting more refills.
You somehow get into a conversation, which doesn’t seem to stop. To get more privacy, you decide to move it to the terrace. “God, when did I loose you?” Alexia turns you around so that you can only look at her. Her words make you feel something, you thought you’d never get to experience again.
“When you choose Olga over me Alexia”. You decide to tell the truth. She sighs and takes your hands in hers. “I am truly sorry. You just never made a move, so I thought that you didn’t like me” She breaths out. Due to the fact that you’re so close to each other, you can feel her breath against your lips. It sends shivers down your spine, which makes Alexia smile.
“I am sorry, I was just too shy to ask you out. Do I still have a chance?” You look up to her and try not to get lost in her hazel eyes. Alexia starts to smirk at your question and pulls you close by your waist. “Hm, maybe. But maybe I should show you what I was always thinking about when I touched Olga or she touched me. I couldn’t help it but always think about you cariño”.
By now your lips a nearly touching but a caught from behind you interrupts you. Your heart drops at the sight of Olga looking shocked at you. “Oh hey Olga, can you get me another Martini?” Alexia asks her sweetly and much to your surprise Olga nods and goes back inside. You look shocked at her.
“Don’t look at me like that amore and let me give you a little preview of tonight”. Alexia smirks and captures your lips in a bruising kiss. You can taste the alcohol on her lips. You try to pull her even closer to you, causing her to moan. “Easy, I’m the boss my love”. She breathes against your lips.
“Mhm, I think your little girlfriend is waiting for you”. Alexia rolls her eyes at your comment and you get back inside, parting your ways when she goes to the bar and you return to the dance floor.
Slowly but surely, you feel the alcohol kicking in and you start to get loose. “I see that you’re enjoying yourself cariño”. Alexia breathes out after watching you from far. “Would be more fun with you”. You smirk at her and she bites her lip, trying to stop herself from making out with you in front of everyone.
“Then come, let’s go to yours” Alexia takes your hand and leads you outside.
“Uhm well, have you ordered an uber?” You chuckle at both of your clumsinesses. “Oh” Alexia facepalms herself. “I guess we’ll walk then”. You love night walks and Alexia knows it too.
You walk about twenty minutes to your apartment and catch up on everything you’ve missed. Eventually there is some heavy teasing from both sides, also leaving both very aroused
When you arrive, Alexia pushes you directly against the wall, kissing your lips harshly. “I wanted to fuck you since we met” Alexia breathes against your lip and you kiss her again.
Both of you explore each others body with your hands, drawing moans from the other one. “Let’s go into my bedroom”. You smirk and Alexia follows you.
“Oh we’re gonna have so much fun” Alexia chuckles out as she sees the huge mirror wall in front of your bed. You turn around to her and see her beautiful brown eyes darken, looking nearly black. “Bet”
You start to make out again, until Alexia pushes you on the bed. Holding your wrists in her one hand and her other hand is quickly removing your beautiful dress. “God you look so beautiful, just for me”. Her words make you blush heavily.
Her lips leave marks and bites all over your neck and boobs, marking you as hers. You’re a moaning mess under her and try to somehow get any friction. “Be patient amore”.
“Please Alexia, I need you” You start to beg, the burning desire slowly getting too much. Alexia removes her clothing shortly after, leaving the both of you in just your underwear. “Hmh I still feel like we have too many clothes on, don’t you think?” Her teasing turns you even more on, if possible.
She takes both of your bras off and starts to leave wet kisses all over your body. She stops at your pantie, quietly asking for permission. With your nod, she starts to remove it with her teeth, making you moan loudly.
She pulls her underwear also down and repositions her pussy above yours. Teasingly slow, she leans down, your clits colliding with each other.The friction makes you and Alexia moan at the same time. She starts to move, grinding your pussies against each other.
You push Alexia down by her neck, capturing her lips and letting her tongue explore your mouth. “Y/N you’re so perfect. Look how your body is made just for me”. She smirks and you moan.
“Alexia I’m, I’m coming” You pant out. “Awe, I know cariño. You’re already shaking babygirl”. Instead of slowing down, Alexia increases the speed, making you come hard. She quickly follows and collide next to you.
“That was wow” You turn to her and she moves you closer to her. “I know”
#woso imagines#woso smut#woso x reader#woso imagine#woso one shot#alexia putellas imagine#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas
273 notes
·
View notes
Text
you make loving fun. | frankie morales x ofc
three. everywhere
content (for this chapter): swearing (in multiple languages), chaotic siblings dynamic, insecurities, references to a past (bad) relationship, fluff, one black eye, a landlord being a landlord (derogatory), frankie being a little bit of an idiot, symbolism if you squint
word count: 6.2k
a/n: for santi's girl please refer to @lcvenderblues (i feel like i'm throwing you to the wolves), and also thank her because it's the main reason why camila and frankie came to be. i wanna thank you all once again for the response to the previous chapters, makes me cry a bit and ily all
reblogs and feedback are always greatly appreciated. you can send it here, too
series masterlist | masterlist
previous
“Frankie has always been the least impulsive of us. When we worked together, it was the two of us bringing down the rashness of the group–I think that’s why we went along in the first place. I looked at him and saw a wise, level-headed, considerate man–and then Camila happened. Sorry, I’m sorry, just a joke! But, truly, ever since she came into his life, Frankie became different–it took me a while to realize it was a good different, that it was, for lack of a better word, his healing. And I liked Camila, since the first day we met: she was funny, kind, smart, beautiful too–most of all, I’d never seen Frankie like that. None of us had. It was odd, I think, and she knew that. I’ve never met anybody as understanding as Camila, as able to read other people as she does, and I’ll admit it was a little scary, in the beginning. But I’ll never forget–and, Fish, you don’t know this–one night, we were out for drinks, and Camila pulled me aside; it was just a few weeks after we’d first met, she looked me straight in the eyes and told me William–swear to God, the first person to call me William in years–, I could never hurt him. She said it like she couldn’t even fathom the idea of doing so, and it was so easy to believe her. It became even easier as time went by, and she stuck not only with Frankie, but the rest of us. So Fish, thank you for bringing her into our lives–I know I don’t have to tell you how lucky both of you are.”
The three men at the door looked at the woman in front of them with a dumbfounded gaze, looking between her and the young girl giggling in her arms. Alba wriggled in her hold, reaching her arms over towards the closest of the three of them.
“Does it take three people to deliver pizza now?” she wondered, her eyes flickering with amusement as she tilted her head to the side, loose strands of her braided hair falling across her face. Alba, turning her head towards her, squealed and imitated her as she looked back at the men, headbutting Camila gently in the cheek with a babble. “I know, baby–they don’t even have the pizza!” she hummed with a grin.
“Sorry,” the tallest of them managed to pull himself back from his haze, leaning forward slightly, “who are you?”
“Camila,” she readjusted Alba on her hip, her gaze wandering across them one more time.
“Mila, do you need–” Frankie called, walking towards the entrance. At the sight of the three men, he stopped in his tracks for a moment. “Carajo,” he muttered under his breath, then reached her side–his hand rose to the small of her back right away, a gentle caress up across her spine as one of Alba’s arms pushed out in his direction. “What are you doing here?”
“Interrupting somethin’, clearly,” the one at the front said, looking at Camila and Alba, then back towards Frankie, dark eyebrows arched. “Surprise?”
“Is this Morales?” a voice called from behind them, and all five turned. “Pizzas for Morales?” the delivery guy offered, tentatively.
“Yeah, sorry,” Frankie sighed, fishing the money from Camila’s cardigan pocket before pushing between the men to retrieve the boxes and pay him. He turned back towards her, his gaze darting between the three before settling on her–she shrugged lightly, her eyebrows arching a little, to which he tilted his head to the side, and only then she nodded. It happened so fast, the others simply stood staring, all equally perplexed, until Frankie sighed again. “So, are you guys staying for dinner?”
“Don’t mind if I do,” the boxes were quickly removed from Frankie’s hands as one of the men walked inside, lingering a moment at the threshold with a little smile on his boyish face. “Hi,” Alba babbled the word back, and his eyes shimmered slightly before he looked at Camila again. “I’m Benny.”
“I know, dear,” she said gently, her smile soft and incredibly warm. Benny tripped on the step to get fully inside, gripping the boxes a little tighter in his hands as he walked past with her free hand brushing his shoulder–he turned to the others, his eyes a little wide. “You’re Will,” she added, looking towards the taller of them–he nodded, his lips pressed a little tighter than before–and then turned to the last of them. “Which means you’re Santiago.”
“Christ, nobody’s called me Santiago in ages apart from my mother,” he muttered, and Frankie elbowed him in the ribs. “Ya basta, pendejo,” he complained, pushing the man aside before stepping forward. “Sorry, chiquitita,” he murmured towards a smiling Alba. “Yes, hi.”
“Ma’am,” Will nodded his head as he walked in, and Camila’s eyes widened a little before she snorted, sending the child in another fit of giggles. Will frowned slightly, his steps faltering as he turned to look over his shoulder at Frankie, right after him.
“Sorry, just–Camila is just fine, Will,” she said, shifting to close the door. Frankie moved at her side, his hand again reaching up her back before he had to grab Alba, her whole body tipping forward to reach for her father. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called ma’am in my life.”
“Get in here and make yourself useful, Miller!” Santi called out from the kitchen, and Will cleared his throat with one last glance in Camila’s direction before walking away.
Frankie bumped his shoulder gently with Camila’s, turning his gaze towards her and mouthing a quiet sorry to which she smiled, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
“It’ll be fine, don’t worry,” she reassured softly, interlocking her arm with his and walking with him towards the kitchen, where plates and glasses clattered, quick and nervous chattering filling the space. “Besides, you did mention us meeting.”
“Yeah, just–” he took a slow breath in, exhaled when her chin brushed his shoulder. “I think I was hoping it’d happen as late as possible,” she laughed softly, placing yet another kiss on his stubbled cheek.
“Well, at least one of them likes me for sure,” she whispered, glancing at the three bumping into each other in the kitchen, and smiled. “I can work with that. I’ll be right back.”
He let Alba back down to toddle by herself in the kitchen, followed by him shortly–the three men stopped their chat and movements as soon as they saw him, Benny crouching down with his arms wide open to welcome the child.
“If we crashed date night you could just say it,” Santi said, eyebrows arched as he looked at Frankie leaning on the counter.
“She just came over after work, Pope,” he muttered in return, head hanging a little lower. “My place’s closer than hers and neither of us wanted to cook, that’s all.”
“That’s all,” he scoffed, mockingly, before mimicking the other man’s position–elbows on the counter, head slightly tilted to look at him. “You don’t want us here. You wanted to keep hiding her from us.”
“Pope,” Will chided, clear eyes hardening a little with the reproach.
“Hiding her?” Frankie frowned, pushing himself up. “You’ve all known about her for months, what are you talking about?”
“Yeah, six months,” Santi’s eyes darted towards the door and then back to his friend. “You do realize it’s been six fucking months since you first went out with her, right?”
“Don’t listen to your uncle, he can’t watch his mouth,” Benny told Alba, who sat on his bent arm and giggled whenever he looked back up at her.
“Sorry,” Santi muttered, but quickly turned back towards Frankie. “All I’m saying is, you’re hiding her from us–or us from her, maybe.”
“I’m not hiding anybody, Pope,” Frankie sighed heavily, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “But if you must know, this is why I hadn’t introduced you yet–you’re blowing this whole thing out of proportion.”
“This whole thing? You mean your girlfriend, Fish?” Santi snorted, to which Frankie frowned again.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” he mumbled, flinching when Benny, suddenly at his side, hit him in the arm. “What?”
“Dude, come on,” the younger Miller said, with a wide grin and his head tilted–Alba imitated him, too, tipping herself to the side. Benny’s hand reached up to balance her.
“What?” he repeated, shrugging lightly.
“You’ve been spending all your time with her–we gotta start ambushing you to remember what you look like,” Frankie rolled his eyes, stepping back to fold his arms across his chest.
“I don’t spend all–I’m not having this conversation,” he exclaimed at last, shaking his head. “You’re here now, you’re meeting her, that’s it.”
“Still sounds like you don’t want to,” Santi retorted, to which Frankie threw his hands up in the air, head tipped back.
“Dios–you’re unbelievable,” he muttered. His position shifted almost immediately after, shoulders sagging a little as if in relief before he turned his head, just a moment before Camila stepped into the kitchen–she’d undone her hair, washed her face of any residual make-up, barefooted, and looked right at home. “Hungry?”
The three of them glanced at each other as a bubble seemed to form around Frankie and Camila, his eyes crinkling at the corners while she reached his side, nodding with her eyebrows arched. Frankie’s hand sought her arm, trailing down the large sleeve until it brushed her hand, fingers hooking almost as an afterthought. She leaned in, and brushed a quick kiss to Frankie’s lips. The others looked away quickly–it felt like something too homely to be witnessing. Too intimate.
“Starving,” she replied, bumping into his side gently, a smile grazing her lips.
“Mi-a!” Alba called, loudly, rocking herself in Benny’s hold. The woman’s eyes shimmered slightly, and she circled around Frankie to reach for the child–she all but fell in her embrace, with a giggle as soon as her face was buried in the waves of her hair, tugging slightly on the closest lock she could grab.
“Hey, how come you call for her but not your uncle?” Santi protested, reaching for both of them. “Ya pues, digas tío, chiquitita,” he leaned so that his face was a little closer to Camila’s shoulder, where Alba rested her chin and gave a toothy grin. “¿Puedes llamar a tu tío Santi?” the woman chuckled at his sweetened voice, looking towards him from above her shoulder.
“Sorry, Pope,” Frankie exclaimed, his hand coming down onto the man’s back in a mockingly reassuring pat. “Think she has a favorite Garcia now.”
“Yeah, yeah, must run in the family,” he scoffed, then reached over to poke Alba’s cheek. “Pequeña traidora,” he whispered, making the child squeal and hide her face into Camila’s shoulder. “Alright then–I’ll just have to win you back.”
“Oh, you’re making it into a competition?” Camila chuckled, stepping aside and towards the living room–Santi followed shortly after, bringing Alba’s high chair with him.
“Of course I am,” he declared, puffing his chest out a little. “For both Morales,” he added, and Camila’s laughter rang crystalline and loud.
Frankie’s gaze stayed trained on them, blindly reaching for the pizza boxes until another hit against his shoulder from Benny made him groan and rub against the offended spot, looking back at the younger Miller with a frown.
“Will you quit that?” he grumbled, to which Benny snickered.
“Not your girlfriend my ass, Fish,” he took the pizzas from him, walking backwards to the living room with a slightly wilder grin. “You’re not fooling anybody!”
Will, quiet until that moment, tilted his head as Frankie’s gaze moved from his younger brother to Camila–she was crouched down with Alba in front of her and Santi to the side, her hair falling like a curtain across her side profile until she reached up, tucking it behind her ear to reveal a smile. A quick one broke on Frankie’s lips, too, and Will cleared his throat.
“Looks pretty serious,” he commented, level-voiced, and Frankie looked back at him.
“Still figuring it out,” he admitted, occupying his hands by gathering the glasses one of them had already pulled from the pantry. “It’s–you know how it is. Better safe than sorry.”
Will wondered if Frankie was truly unaware there was no safe anymore–not with the way he seemed to be lured by her, eyes and body seeking her even though she was just a few steps away. Not with the way her gaze softened when she looked at him, too, her hand trapped in Alba’s ones.
“How much does she know?” Will asked softly–careful, always calculated Will.
Frankie shrugged, lowering his gaze before turning it to his friend once more.
“All of it.”
“The pilot license?” he nodded, tapping his index against the side of the glass he was holding. “Colombia?”
“All of it, Will,” he sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, brows pinched together. “She’s known for a while, and she’s still here, and things are good. Actually good.”
“Alright,” Will said quickly, stepping towards him and reaching to squeeze his shoulder. Frankie exhaled heavily, face relaxing. “Alright, Frankie, I’m sorry,” he added, and sighed before taking the glasses from Frankie. “She does seem nice. I’ll tone it down.”
“Thank you,” he nodded once, and turned his gaze to meet hers across the room–a quick smile pulled at his mouth once more, instinctual and soft. “She really, really is. She’s good.”
Camila’s fingers gently scratched across his scalp, the images on the TV screen blurring with each passing moment–the movie played softly, sound muffled by one of his ears pressed against her thighs, one hand brushing small and slow circles over her knee from above the hem of her skirt.
Alba was asleep in her room, a reprieve from her ever growing vocabulary and the quickness of her steps that had left them both exhausted–Frankie knew that if neither of them made a move to get up and go to bed, they’d probably spend the night right there on the couch.
“Whose idea was it to go out today?” he mumbled, cheek squished against her leg that turned his words into a light slur. Camila chuckled, trailing the hand that was in his hair down to the nape of his neck, making him sigh softly.
“Yours,” he gave a gentle squeeze to her knee and groaned.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured, pressing himself against her a little harder–Camila chuckled again. “The park, too?”
“It’s such a nice day,” she responded, deepening her voice in a mock imitation of him. “The sun’s out, it’ll do Alba some good to be outside. Oh, let’s also invite the others!”
“That is not how I speak,” he protested, pinching her inner thigh–she snorted, wriggling a little underneath him. In response, he draped his whole arm over her legs, locking her in place. “Besides, you’re the one who brought that cake–the sugar high is on you.”
“Your mom gave me the recipe! I had to try it,” she retorted with an offended gasp, poking his shoulder with her finger. A buzz came from the coffee table in front of them–the nth of the evening–and the laughter in her words left space to a heavy sigh as she waved towards her own phone, its screen lit. “Could you turn that off?”
“Sure,” he murmured, holding onto her legs to reach for it. “Do you want to see what it is?” he asked, lifting it over his head to offer it to her–she made an annoyed noise from the back of her throat, and he twisted his neck a little to look back at her.
“No need, it’s just my landlord again,” she muttered, taking the phone from him with a grimace twisting her lips. He watched her as she pressed on the shut off button before throwing the phone aside, pulling her glasses over her head.
“Everything alright?” he asked, once more softly, moving his hand over the top of her legs.
“Yeah, he’s just–breathing down my neck,” she sighed, sinking a little against the backrest. “Next rent payment is coming up–a few months ago work didn’t pay me on time, so I couldn’t pay him on time, and he started being an ass about it,” she scoffed, fingertips brushing through his locks again. “Texts me every single time, even though I’ve been punctual ever since.”
“Maybe you could not pay him,” the words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, and he tried to play it off with a shrug that reverberated across her body, too.
“I still need the apartment, Frankie,” she chuckled softly, rolling the tip of a lock between her fingertips. “I can’t just decide to–” when his body tensed, Camila stopped and he felt her shift in her seat, leaning slightly forward. “Wait, what do you mean?”
Frankie’s ears started to burn as he felt her gaze on the side of his face, and he quickly cleared his throat to try and clear the knot that had formed.
“I mean, you’re here most of the time,” he murmured, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. “Half your stuff’s here already, and you’re closer to work, so I just thought–” he closed his eyes, drawing a slow breath in.
Silence wrapped around them, the only sound that of the now forgotten movie and his own heart thundering, blood rushing to his ears. There it was, he thought, the reckoning–he’d fucked up truly this time, had let himself run away with the comfort of their situation, but it had been too much, too soon, too–
“Frankie,” she tapped against his shoulder, voice and touch equally soft as she shifted on the couch and tried to slide from under him. Reluctantly, he pulled himself up, keeping his gaze lowered to where she was crossing her legs and turning towards him. “I need to be sure you’re asking what I think you’re asking,” her hand searched for his across the cushion. “Do you–are you asking me to move in? Here, with you and Alba?”
“God knows she wouldn’t be thrilled to have you here every day,” he scoffed softly, then slowly lifted his eyes. Her glasses were a little askew over her head, eyes wide and eyebrows arched as she let her gaze dart across his form. “I would too, and I know–” he locked his index around her small finger, pulling her hand up and towards his lap, “it’s soon, and quick, and maybe too much, I just thought–it’s convenient, is it not?”
“You’re not asking me just because it’s convenient,” he shifted his hand until they were palm to palm, her eyes moving from the point they were joined back towards his face, a flicker of doubt crossing her eyes. “Are you?”
“No, of course not,” he shook his head, and she moved closer across the couch, leaning in a little–he caught her side with his free hand, thumb rubbing at her waist, right underneath her ribcage. “You wouldn’t have to worry about rent–that apartment is awful, anyway,” he added with a quick, nervous laugh.
“Frankie, honey,” her free hand reached up to cup his jaw, and in doing so he met her gaze fully, drawing a quick breath in before melting towards her touch. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I am,” trailing up her side and arm, he wrapped his hand around hers right against his face, pressing his cheek into her palm. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“It’s a big change, Frankie,” she kept her voice low, yet he still could catch the nervous edge on the tip of her tongue. “For you, for Alba–do you really want me here all the time? It’s–” she must’ve noticed the shift in his expression, the slow retreating of his expectant gaze as his lips dropped into a half-pout. Too much, too soon, too eager, too– “I need to know you’re actually sure. Because waking up next to you is the happiest I’ve been in almost two years–a little more, if I’m being honest–and I can’t get my hopes up if it’s just, I don’t know, a spur-of-the-moment thing.”
He had realized early on that Camila rarely held back–over the course of the months they’d kept seeing each other, he’d pieced together the messiness of her last relationship, the sorrys and moments of silence she carried after it, the uncertainties that still manifested in her sometimes-gazes towards him. A work in progress, she called it, trying to smile it off–but Frankie could see the frustration when she thought she’d done something wrong, and caught herself seizing up for it, searching his gaze for reassurance.
It nearly broke his heart.
Yet it made him understand why doubt was clinging to her like a second skin, why she sought more and more of him as they talked about it.
“This is it for me, Mila,” letting go of her hands, he reached for her waist and pulled her close–as close as he could before she had to move onto his lap. Her hands fell to his chest, gripping the collar of his shirt. “It is a big change, but I don’t mind it–and I can assure you, Alba won’t either. I do think she likes you more than me,” she chuckled softly, bottom lip trembling slightly. “And I’m absolutely sure–if you don’t want to now, then someday else,” he shrugged, squeezing her waist once in reassurance before smiling. “But, even now, I wouldn’t mind coming home to you every night–although actually, it’s you coming home to me, but still–” his sentence was cut off by her lips pressing to his, quick and a little messy in her hastiness.
Frankie’s arms wrapped around her, one hand shifting up across her spine as she almost toppled over to get closer and closer and closer still–he could feel her hands moving from his chest to his shoulders, up his neck, in his hair, shuddering breaths across his lips as she pressed herself into his front, moving onto her knees and straddling him.
“Is that a yes?” he slurred through the kisses, leaning against the backrest of the couch and bringing her with him–her lips trailed down across his cheek, his jaw, and he squeezed her hips once, twice, chuckling. “Mila–”
“Yes,” she mumbled, arms wrapping around his shoulders before she buried her head in the curve of his neck–all the tension left her body, and he blindly reached up to take the glasses from her head, the frame pushing a little into his jaw until he placed them aside. “Frankie?”
“Yes, baby?” he asked softly, brushing through her hair, nape of her neck and down her back. It was easier to confess while hiding against his collar, thumb brushing the side of his neck–his pulse jumped towards her touch, eyes closing as he sighed in response to her words.
“You’re it for me, too.”
And although he had been terrified in the beginning, Frankie knew there was no timeline where, as they kept seeing each other, he wouldn’t fall deeply, deeply for her. He’d known it, deep down, from the day he’d woken up with her in his arms for the first time; from the first time he’d seen her with Alba, and his heart had skipped a beat; even before, he’d known it when they were in his car, and her voice, loud, louder, had brought back to life a part of him he hadn’t realized he was missing.
“Should I see the other guy?” Camila took Benny’s face in her hands as soon as he walked out in the backyard, angling his head down towards her to get a better view of his left eye–bruised and slightly swollen, it made his eyelid droop a little. “Thought you were done with boxing,” she sighed, frowning ever so slightly.
“MMA,” he corrected, and she arched her eyebrows at him, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Sorry–it’s nothing, wasn’t a fight.”
“Sure looks like one,” she let go of him, stepping back toward the table set behind her shoulders–between more food than all of them could ever consume and drinks, was a bucket of ice she fished from, dropping some of the ice-cubes in a dishcloth that was resting at the corner of the table.
“I mean it, it’s nothing, it’s–” he hissed when she gently placed the ice against the corner of his eye, ducking his head. She held him still by the chin, keeping him so that he was looking down at her. “It’s stupid, really. Don’t worry.”
“A dude was being an asshole to some girl at the market and he stepped in,” Will called from behind his brother, and Camila’s eyebrows arched up again, gaze wandering from one Miller to the other–Benny’s expression was twisted, somewhere between guilt and coyness.
“I see,” she nodded, her head tilted again. “You were being a knight in shining armor, then,” color crept along Benny’s cheeks, warming his face up a little. “Did you get her number?”
“That’s not–” he tried to argue, but bit his tongue the moment he met Camila’s gaze again, holding his breath for a beat before exhaling. “Yeah.”
She broke into a grin, shifting on her tiptoes to plant a kiss over his still bent head.
“Good boy,” she hummed before patting his shoulder. “Keep the ice on, and eat something–both of you,” she said then, stepping back.
“Yes, ma’am,” Will nodded, already half-way towards the laid out table. Camila scoffed, the back of her hand smacking against his shoulder before he could turn with a wide grin, his head bent towards her.
“Knock the ma’am off, Miller,” she pointed a finger at him, accusingly, and he quickly wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight before he lifted her off the ground, making her squeal with laughter despite her best effort. “This is the last time I’m warning you!” she exclaimed, ruffling his slicked back hair.
“Heard that before,” he chuckled, having now to tip his head back. She scoffed, a mock eye-roll before the smile took over again and she leaned her head down with a noisy kiss to his cheek.
“Where’s Santiago? Is he late again?” she asked, resting her arms over his shoulders, legs still dangling in the air. Will shrugged lightly.
“He’s inside with Frankie and his girl,” the moment the words left his mouth, Camila’s posture shifted, straightening her back as her gaze snapped towards the sliding door.
Frankie had gone to open the door while she finished setting the table for the impromptu almost-fully-moved-in celebration, as they called it, and in that moment she could almost catch a glimpse of his shoulders by the kitchen counter, his back turned on them.
“I’m sorry, did you just say his girl?” Will chuckled, and before she could even start wriggling out of his hold, he set her down and watched her sprint towards the kitchen.
“Pope’s not gonna like that,” Benny told his brother, words slightly muffled by the olive pit turning in his mouth and the ice pressing down his cheek.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” was his only reprimand.
Inside, Camila all but fell against Frankie, leaning forward as he was mid-sentence while holding onto his shoulders–he smiled right away, hands coming up to brush her arms before tilting his head to rest a kiss against her temple. In front of them, Santi held Alba with her arms tightly wound around his neck, and at his side a woman shuffled on the spot, lowering her gaze a little.
“Hi,” Camila said, interlocking her hands with Frankie’s.
“And this is the lady of the house,” Santi all but sighed, tilting his head to look at the woman by his side. “Although there’s not much on the lady part.”
“Cállate, cabrón,” she muttered in response, and Alba wriggled in Santi’s arms.
“Tío!” she called, enthusiastically–Santi’s eyes shimmered, his smile widening.
“You’re right, sweetie–it’s tío cabrón,” she nodded, her voice slightly lowered as she grinned. Frankie chuckled as she shook his head, while Santi’s face dropped in a deep frown that made the woman at his side hide her smile behind her hand.
“Hey, don’t take her side already,” he protested, looking at the woman from over Alba’s head.
“Oh, no–do take my side,” Camila detangled herself from Frankie–much to his dismay, his hand catching the ends of her hair as she brushed past him to reach the other woman’s side. “It’s nice to have some respite from all the testosterone going around in this house,” she added, leaning in almost conspiratorially. She chuckled, gaze darting from Santi–his expression turned in mock-offense–back to Camila.
“Glad to be of service,” she said, sweet-voiced. “And contrary to what he’s letting on now, Santi’s only ever spoken nicely of you–so it’s nice to meet you.”
“Betrayer,” the aforementioned man mumbled, making Frankie snort. Camila turned to look over her shoulder at him, sticking her tongue out and consequently sending Alba in a fit of giggles. “Camila, I’m warning you–”
“Yes, yes,” she waved her hand dismissively, locking her arm with the woman’s to lead her towards the sliding door, their steps matching–the woman looked back just once, a half-apologetic look in her eyes that was accompanied by a smile nevertheless. Santi sighed, defeated, watching the two head outside, back to the Millers.
“Fish, I swear that if your girlfriend does anything–”
“Not my girlfriend,” he interrupted, his gaze still turned towards Camila. With a roll of his eyes, Santi hit the man on the shoulder with the back of his free hand, regaining his attention with a flinch.
“Seriously? You literally live together,” he scoffed, as Frankie shrugged and reached for his daughter instead. The child all but launched herself into her father’s embrace, still giggling.
“We haven’t discussed it, is all,” at that, Santi rolled his eyes again. “So what? We lived together. Should I call you my ex boyfriend?”
“Very mature,” he tsked, shaking his head. “Don’t you think maybe it’s time you do talk about it? What’s the worst that could happen, she says no and moves back out?” he snorted at Frankie’s growing worried gaze, resting one hand over his shoulder. “I doubt that’s how it’ll go, man. Seriously.”
“So you’re gonna finally do the same?” he retorted, letting go of Alba as she squirmed out of his grip and called for Mila. “Be careful, nena–she’s right outside.”
“What are you talking about?” although he tried playing it off quickly, still an edge remained to Santi’s words–he cleared his throat when Frankie looked back towards him, his eyebrows arched. “I told you a million times, we’re just–”
“Friends, sure thing,” it was Frankie’s turn to clasp his hand over Santi’s shoulder. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Pope.”
Santiago hung back as the man made his way outside, and watched when, as soon as she saw him, Camila’s face broke into a smile, quick to welcome him in her embrace once again. Frankie kissed her cheek, her jaw, murmuring something in her ear with a grin that made her laugh, so loud Alba had to join in from her post on the grass.
At their side, lowering her gaze towards the tip of her shoes, was the other woman, hands falling down her sides with a shy smile before she stepped back slightly–and looked up. Their eyes met through the open door, her smile widening and his own returning quickly, instinctively, and something pulled at his chest–hooked underneath his ribs, brushing the edges of his heart, he felt it tug him forward and outside, unrelenting until he reached her.
“Are you sure about the couch?” Frankie called from the living room, his head turned towards the kitchen where he could hear Camila.
“You already have a couch, honey,” she walked in with the nth box in her arms over the course of how many days, weeks, the branches of the rosemary plant poking out from above the edge, purple flowers decorating some of its extremities. “A bigger, way more comfortable one, actually.”
“But it’s practically new,” he protested, placing his hands on one of the cushions, right by half-asleep Alba. “It’s just a pity,” Camila chuckled, placing the box on the ground and walking up to him. “We could put it in storage.”
“It’ll just collect dust in storage, Frankie,” she said softly, wrapping her arms around him and leaning against his back–he straightened himself as she did, her cheek pressing against his shoulder before shifting onto her tiptoes, hooking her chin over the bent of his neck. “We don’t need it–I got everything I had to. I have everything.”
He sighed, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he rested his hands on top of hers–he could feel Camila’s breathy chuckle against his skin before she lowered her lips to his neck, peppering soft kisses along the edge of the collar of his shirt, side to nape in a delicate brush.
“It’s a really nice couch,” he murmured, and she smiled against his skin.
“I know, it’s the first thing I bought,” she said softly, moving then to his side–she went under his arm, and he wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her in as she took his hand, locking herself into his embrace. “It looks better here, anyway.”
“Is it too late to ask you if you’re sure about this?” he asked, their fingers interlocking.
“Yes,” she turned her head with a light smile, cheek pressed to his shoulder. “You’re not having second doubts, are you?” she asked then, voice softer.
“Of course not,” his response was immediate, turning as well to look at her–her smile widened at his words, shifting their intertwined hands towards her chest. “Just–making sure you don’t have any, either.”
Camila’s gaze softened, carefully unknotting them to move in front of him–still close enough she had to tilt her head slightly back to keep looking at him, pressing his hand to her chest a moment longer before lifting it to her lips. His free hand rose towards her side, brushing his fingers along her hip as she left a gentle kiss across his knuckles and then all but pressed herself to his front. He smiled when she bumped the tip of her nose with his, half-chasing her.
“No doubt whatsoever,” she hummed before their lips met once, twice, soft kisses that crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I never planned on staying here long, I just had to get away from that house, and him,” she shrugged, Frankie’s brows knitting slightly.
I spent so much time during that relationship staying quiet, staying still–he remembered the words clearly from their first morning together, and she’d reconstructed it piece by piece during the following months. Camila counted herself among the lucky ones–her body had never taken the brunt of his boredom, or annoyance. And still she carried some marks.
Still she’d practically ran.
“I would’ve moved in with you on the first night,” she admitted then, grinning.
“Because you liked the house,” he scoffed with mock-offense, and she turned her lips in a half-pout, tipping her chin up.
“Of course. Why else?” he saw her lips quiver with the attempt to hold back a smile, and leaned in to kiss her a little more harshly, making her laugh against his mouth as she brought her hand to his cheek. When he pulled back, she sighed. “Right–maybe for that. And the house.”
“I’ll take it,” he relented with a shrug, followed by an almost sheepish smile–she kissed it off his lips, once and twice and once more, a quiet laughter that she interrupted quickly, slipping out of his grasp before he could even protest it.
“Nena, don’t eat those directly from the plant,” she called softly, walking a bee-line towards the box left behind and Alba, sitting by the rosemary and trying to chew the flowers off the branches. “Here, look,” Camila said, kneeling at her side and plucking some of the small, purple flowers, placing them one by one on Alba’s palm. “My yaya would make candies out of these, but I think they taste nice on their own, too.”
“Can-y,” Alba tried to speak and put the flower in her mouth at the same time, butchering the word–still, with a smile, Camila nodded and mimicked her, placing the flower on the tip of her tongue.
“Yes, can-y,” Alba giggled at the slightly muffled mispronunciation, reaching with her hands towards Camila’s–she gave her another one of the flowers. “You know, if the plant sticks properly in the garden, next year we’re gonna have so many of these,” she added, saying it like a secret.
Frankie’s heart stuttered at her words–next year, we, given as a certainty.
He walked to them both, crouching by them–Camila offered him a flower, which he ate directly from her fingertips, making her scrunch up her nose in mock-disgust while looking at Alba, the kid laughing again and grasping Frankie’s pant leg.
“You sure you want to move it to the garden?” he asked carefully, hand coming down Alba’s head to ruffle her soft curls. The child lifted her arms to wrap them around her dad’s wrist, pulling his hand to her.
“I want it to take root,” Camila nodded, brushing her fingertips along the leaves of the plant. “I found its perfect home already–a great sunny corner. It’ll grow nicely,” she added, meeting his gaze with her voice a little lower. Again Frankie’s heart swelled, and he nodded as he leaned in, nose brushing her hair as he kissed her temple–the rosemary smell clung to her skin, welcoming him home.
next
#redahlia#you make loving fun#frankie morales#frankie morales fic#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie morales x ofc#frankie morales x oc#frankie morales x original female character#frankie morales x f!reader#frankie morales x you#frankie morales x reader#francisco morales fanfiction#francisco morales x ofc#francisco morales x reader#francisco morales fic#francisco morales x original female character#francisco morales x you#frankie catfish morales#frankie 'catfish' morales x ofc#frankie 'catfish' morales x reader#frankie 'catfish' morales x you#frankie 'catfish' morales#catfish morales x you#francisco catfish morales#catfish morales x reader
76 notes
·
View notes
Text
off limits (5) II a.putellas x león!reader
part one part two part three part four
off limits (5) II a.putellas x león!reader
"-so ale just, left?" alba clarified and you nodded. "i mean i thought i knew my sister but it is not like her to run away from a problem." alba winced and you hummed, twirling around the straw in your empty glass.
"i'm sorry amiga. i really did not know that is what happened, i assumed you both had a fight or she just said something stupid. alexia can be so stubborn sometimes but she is not one to just give up." alba sighed, moving her arm around your shoulders.
"thats what i thought too, but she has made it clear now that it meant more to me than it did to her." you shrugged, sighing deeply. "look amiga i don't mean to dismiss your feelings at all and please if i am overstepping, tell me." alba started as you looked at her curiously but nodded for her to continue.
"the way she looked at you as you were leaving, the way i watched her breakdown in that bathroom was unlike i have seen her before. my sister is someone to wear her heart on her sleeve around those she trusts, she is incredibly passionate and loving but she is not one to show weakness to many." alba started, your head falling to her shoulder as you hummed for her to continue.
"ale has never brought a partner home, never been public about a relationship, never spoke very much about anyone she's seen, she is a very private person chica even with me. but i promise you that she cares about you, i know her well enough to see that. but i think she is afraid of how much, so when something threatened that she thought it would be easier to pretend not to care, to protect herself and to protect you." alba continued as you frowned a little at her words.
"how is leaving me when i needed her, protecting me?" you argued, pulling your head back up and turning your body. "you and mapi have always been very very close, like alexia and i si?" you nodded in agreeance.
"we were, but i cannot look at her the same way since everything happened. i blame both of them for how things turned out, in different ways." you admitted, alba nodding that she understood.
"well if alexia did not like a partner i had, i would listen to her about why. because i know she cares about me and she wants me to be happy, so if i was happy and she still did not like my partner, i would want to know why." alba started, holding up a hand as you opened your mouth to interrupt.
"which i know is not the same situation and not to defend alexia because i could slap her for how she has handled this mi amiga. but maybe she did not want to be the cause of any issues with you and mapi, because she knows how special that bond is with your hermana'." alba suggested as you sighed deeply, taking a moment to collect your thoughts.
"then why would she not tell me that so we could have talked about it and worked through it? she just left alba, she left me like i was nothing and nobody to her. and that hurt! she does not understand how much that hurt." you whispered, facade breaking for a moment as you angrily wiped away a loose tear.
"okay hey hey carino we don't have to talk about it anymore. i'm sorry if i overstepped." alba pulled you into a tight hug as you sighed deeply into her shoulder.
"but you know...i would have loved to have you as my sister if you and ale got married."
"alba!"
"sorry! just trying to lighten the mood amiga."
"are you coming to malta next week then?" alba pulled away, finishing the last mouthful of her drink and nodding for the two of you to leave.
with international break coming and spain not having any fixtures it meant you all had a few days off, so a few of the barcelona girls and their partners had organised to go to malta as a getaway from everything.
"no." you shook your head firmly, having been invited but you knew through the team that alexia was also going. "wrong. you are coming! and you can hang out with me." alba grinned, pinching your cheek as the two of you walked toward her car.
"why are you going? do you have a secret girlfriend on the team you are not telling me about?" you teased her, not missing the way her face changed for just a fleeting moment. "you do! tell me." you demanded, smacking her shoulder.
"i don't, i promise ale invited me and that's it. but there is something you should probably know." alba started, unlocking her car as the two of you slid inside and you gestured eagerly for her to continue. "so when mapi first joined barca and she and alexia started getting very close-" alba started, car engine roaring to life.
"-me and your sister..." alba trailed off giving you a look as your jaw dropped. "you slept with maria?!" you gasped, albas eyes widening.
"mierda no! we went on a few dates, kissed a few times then decided we were better off as friends and that was that, nothing else ever happened." alba dismissed quickly, pulling out of the parking lot as you shook your head in disbelief.
"does alexia know?"
"who do you think encouraged it?"
"oh i wish you had not told me that albs. that is so weird!" you groaned, struggling to wrap your head around it. "why is it weird! its not like anything happened, and her and ingrid are the most well suited couple to each other i have ever seen, soul mates." alba shook her head, speeding down the freeway.
"because she's my sister and you're-well you!" you huffed, cringing at the thought. "hey! there is a line of hot women waiting to get a chance with alba putellas thank you." the older girl hit you with her free hand.
"you know chica in another universe you and i..." she trailed off at a red light sending you a wink as you grimaced in mock disgust.
"hey i know you have a thing for putellas women, why not the younger better looking model amiga?" she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively with a toothy grin as you shoved her, both of you knowing it was all light hearted.
if anything you viewed alba as a sister of sorts in the same way you did ingrid, she was always around long before you and alexia got together and given you were barely a year apart in age you'd always been close.
"well i didn't think you had something for the león women alba but here we are."
"i am swearing you to secrecy with that nobody else knows about it, you take it to the grave or i put you in an early one!"
~
alexia glanced up with a frown at the insistent buzzing from the security box by her door. quickly standing to make her way over there she rolled her eyes seeing her sister waiting downstairs on the small camera screen, buzzing her apartment number again and again.
she shouldn't have been surprised given that she knew alba had spent the afternoon with you, but still she was slightly taken aback by the way the younger girl forcefully shouldered past her the moment alexia opened the front door to let her in.
"so she told you."
"of course she told me alexia! you-" alba struggled to get her words out as her older sister sat back down on the sofa, nala curling up into her side. "explain, now." was all the girl could get out, pointing at her firmly.
"explain what?"
"why you left her alexia."
"alba-"
"don't alba me. first you hide the relationship from me, then you are dishonest about why you broke up and then accuse me of trying to flirt with her at lunch! explain alexia."
the older putellas sighed, gently moving nala off of her as the small ball of fur curled up in her own bed on the floor, alexia running her hands down her face as she leant forward on her knees and alba took a seat.
"i don't know why. in the moment-in the moment i just heard the way mapi was speaking, the anger and the betrayal in her voice. selfishly my first thought was the team, if mapi was angry at both of us it would affect our overall chemistry on the pitch." alexia started, alba scoffing quietly at her words but remaining otherwise silent.
"so then i panicked and i just....i shut down. i didn't know how to process what i was feeling so i didn't know how to comfort her through what she was feeling. i knew i should have just held her, or hugged her but i was terrified that if i did then mapi would never speak to either of us again, and i couldn't be the cause of that." alexia continued, closing her eyes as guilt again flooded her body in waves.
"then that next morning all i wanted to do was go and see her, to apologise and check on her and try to talk. but i couldn't get the image out of my head of mapi screaming in her face, i have seen them fight before but never ever like that. or the way her voice broke as she begged me not to leave alba. she begged me and i did not even turn around!" alexia whispered, pinching the bridge of her nose and hanging her head in her hands.
"mapi did not deserve a best friend who lied to her, so i iced her out. and she did not deserve a girlfriend who does not stand up for her, does not protect her, who walked away like a coward and did not own up to her mistakes." alexia finished, glancing to look at her younger sister whose features were curled into a frown, though alexia was unable to decipher what she was thinking.
"so you just...left it. did not apologise, did not try to explain yourself. do you know how much she is hurting ale? how confused she is? she thinks you do not care for her, and that you never did." alba spoke quietly and firmly, though not unkindly seeing how much the older girl was clearly struggling.
"of course i care about her!"
"well how is she to know that hermana? have you told her?"
"no."
"exactly. then imagine how much more confused she is when suddenly you try to play hero at the club the other night as if you cared for her after icing her out, after leaving her without an explanation, ignoring what happened and not making any attempts to fix it. you do not get to treat her like that alexia and then be confused as to why she did not allow you to take her home and be her saviour, that is cruel."
"i know." alexia muttered, having spent the time since doing nothing but reflecting on all the things she wished she'd done differently, and plaguing herself deeper and deeper into a self inflicted pity party that the cage she was in was one of her own creation.
"good. because she is coming to malta and you are going to fix things before we go!" alba announced, alexias head shooting up and her eyebrows furrowing. "since when?" alexia questioned, having checked in multiple times with her team mates and friends about the guest list for this little getaway.
"since i told her i would be kicking her door in and kidnapping her if she was not ready when i pick her up to go to the airport."
"mierda alba! you had no right to get involved!"
"you have no right to be upset if she chooses to go away with her team and her friends, and you are going too. so you have six days to start fixing things with her if you do not want to lose her for good hermana."
~
your plan to avoid alexia was going well, as cruel as it sounded her knee had been giving her some trouble which meant she wasn't training with the group, rather focusing on media duties, physio visits and individual sessions.
there was only one more game until international break and alexia already knew she was not going to be on the roster. she had done her best to make peace with it, as much as it terrified her anytime something felt a little off.
so you continued to avoid any and all interaction with the captain, and in turn you'd also been avoiding your sister, still struggling with how to forgive her after the domino effect of her actions.
but with ingrid in her ear about giving you the space you clearly needed she was doing her best to try and respect that, but it killed her to shoot you a smile across the locker room and see you have to force one back before you'd hurry away.
back when things were normal you'd eat at her house at least twice a week, come over when you were bored, spend weekends curled up on her sofa with bagheera. it used to annoy her sometimes the way you would just show up, sometimes even letting yourself in and eating the food from her fridge like you lived there.
she'd scold you and scowl at you asking if you had suddenly moved in, and you'd simply grin at her like annoying younger siblings do, wandering off to watch a movie on her tv which was bigger than yours, flicking through her extensive novel collection or stealing clothes from her closet when she wasn't looking.
they were right when they say you don't know what you miss until its gone, and mapi would sometimes find herself staring at her front door wishing you would barge in uninvited again.
when you would come to her for advice or just to rant angrily about something that had riled you up that day, even something as simple as your neighbors taking your parking spot meaning you had to park a three minute walk away from your building.
despite your sisterly arguments the two of you had always been close, always told one another everything, especially as you grew up and matured and followed in her footsteps.
some would have been frustrated at their younger sister seemingly copying their every move, but mapi could not bring herself to feel anything but pride when she watched you play and progress through the years, adoring the thought that she had played a heavy hand in your love of football.
but the one thing you'd kept from her, was the one thing that had ruined everything, and mapi truly had no one to blame but herself. she wanted her baby sister back, but as ingrid had explained she needed to let you come to her now, and that the tighter she held on the more you would just pull away.
things shifted one afternoon when you were returning from a meeting with jonatan after your last training session for the week, assuming most of the team and staff had left for the day given it was nearing the early evening.
you were exhausted both physically and mentally, everything had begun to take a toll on you and you were noticing it finally start to affect your football, something you'd tried hard as you could to avoid happening since all of this started in the first place.
but it appeared you weren't the only one who was feeling the effects of everything. your eyes flickered to the right as you passed one of the physios offices, noticing a body sat on the benches which of course you recognized right away.
you paused for just a fleeting moment, and all it took was that milisecond for her eyes to meet yours, red and puffy a clear indicator she'd been crying. uncomfortable with the sudden invasive vulnerability you'd hurried away, though felt something pulling you back as you stopped after a few steps.
your body fell into turmoil and you froze on the spot, head sent into a dizzying back and forth argument about how you should continue. eventually the little voice in the back of your head won out, and ignoring the thoughts creeping in about how bad of an idea this was.
"hola capi." you greeted her quietly, knocking on the door gently as again she looked up, even more startled than before that you'd returned and directly addressed her. "hola." she forced a small smile back as you lingered in the doorway.
"estás bien?" you checked in with a slight raise of your eyebrow, nodding to the ice pack strapped to her knee. "fine, gracias." she spoke through tight lips with a curt nod of your head, taken aback by how this was the most the two of you had spoke in days.
"no you're not alexia." you remanded softly, moving into the room and pulling yourself up to sit on the bench opposite her. a thick silence brewed between the pair of you, the tension almost suffocating as you sat together unmoving.
"i have to go get some scans on my knee tomorrow, maybe an mri. they are worried something has potentially torn, we are hoping for the best and it is just a minor setback and needs some rest, but preparing for the worst just in case." alexia confessed, eyes dropping back down to the floor as you winced at her words.
"you do not need to say anything please, i just needed to tell someone." alexia was quick to clarify before you could speak, unsure what you would have even said as you nodded wordlessly respecting her wishes, the thick silence again growing between the two of you as you contemplated how to leave after her confession.
"for two minutes, can you please pretend you do not hate me?" alexia finally broke, glancing up at you through hooded eyes, hazel orbs shining even more prominently through the thin sheen of tears she'd swallowed back.
"i don't hate you alexia." you forced out after a moment. "i would not blame you. i have been selfish, a coward, treated you worse than you would ever deserve. i would not blame you for hating me, i would hate me." alexia spoke up, glancing toward you as your brows furrowed and you stared at your hands in your lap, thinking of your next words carefully.
"alexia of course i do not hate you. I miss nothing more than just laying with you in silence with just you being there, being with me.” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper as alexia's knuckles turned white from how hard she gripped the edge of the bench she was sat on.
"you miss me?" was all the catalan could manage out, and you felt her eyes bore into you from across the room. "what? of course i miss you alexia. i never even got a chance to speak to you about any of it we just...broke up and i never even got a say in that, it just happened." you managed to get out, emotions starting to bubble over as the control you had over them started to slip away.
"and now all of a sudden I have thousands of pictures of you in my phone that I cannot bring myself to delete, months worth of memories shared with you that i cannot shake from my head. my finger hovers over your contact sometimes just wanting to hear your voice and i think constantly about what you're doing. wondering if you miss me, if you regret what happened and how different things might be if you didn't leave." the control slipped away completely as you started to get off your chest the insecurities that had eaten away at you for weeks now.
"if you called i would have picked up." alexia forced out, eyes locking with yours and her stomach churning at the obvious pain leaking from them as you spoke.
"would you? because the worst part about all of this is that i can't stop overthinking about why you left me and why you never even explained yourself or even tried to apologised. so of course I’m not going to call you and tell you I still love you and I miss-"
"you still love me?" alexia's eyes widened as yours squeezed shut, heart clenching. "i do. but i know now that you don't because if you loved me you wouldn’t have left me like that. you wouldn’t have waited weeks to finally grow a spine and apologise which you still haven't done! you wouldn’t have made up with my sister before making any sort of effort with me knowing that it’s partly her fault we even broke up in the first place!" your temper flared now, jumping down from the bench with your fists balled by your side.
"mi amor please i can't even begin to-" she regretted the word the moment it left her mouth, watching your face fall and your heart shatter all over again causing her stomach to heave.
"don't call me that. please!" your voice cracked and you paused, collecting yourself as alexia fell silent again, face burning red at her mistake.
"the only thing i hate alexia is that I can’t hate you. I can’t get you out of my mind and I can’t escape you even when i'm alone in a room miles away from you. you’re always there with me in the back of my head, or there’s a photo of you on my fridge or on the wall, or there’s a magnet or a keyring or some sort of trinket you bought me that I cannot find the motivation to get rid of but every time I look at them and think of you it just breaks me all over again!" your fist thumped down on the padded material of the medical bench in frustration.
"i am so so sorry, i've wanted to say it but i do not know how to say how sorry i am, for how much i've hurt you and how unfair it was for me to leave you." alexia forced out, arms shaking lightly from the strength in which she squeezed the bench in her hands, a miracle it hadn't broken at her desperate grip.
at her hurried apology a suffocating silence brewed once more, wrapping its hands around your throat as the anger suddenly melted from your body and you could have crumpled to the floor. instead you pulled yourself to once again sit on the medical bench across from your ex lover.
"i never thought that you were capable of hurting me like this alexia. not the girl who held me for days as i sobbed when i withdrew from the national team and would no longer play for my country because of him. who wrote me dozens of love letters and organised for flowers to arrive at my door every week she was away on international duty." you paused for a second to swallow the lump which was building up in your throat as you forced back the hot tears which threatened to fall at any second.
it was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop.
"the girl who I thought was just as much in love with me as I am with her." you broke at that sentence, unable to hold back the dry sob which ripped from your throat, your eyes falling to the floor unable to hold hers anymore.
"the same girl who left me when I needed her. who wouldn’t even hug me or look me in the eyes as I sobbed and begged like an idiota for her to change her mind." your chest heaved with silent cries as you struggled to catch your breath.
"no, alexia don't!" you tried to push her away, not having heard her even get up off the chair as she slotted between your legs and gently cradled your face in her hands.
"please if i could go back and undo it i would but i cannot and i don't know how to apologize enough for that, i cannot ever say i am sorry and sorry will never ever be enough. but i am still that same girl hermosa." you flinched at the term of enderament but alexia had already gone too far to stop.
"i know to have the seat heater on when i pick you up for an early training, i know to always have a spare jacket in my car because you always forget one, i know to order extra food when you say you are not hungry because i know you are. i am still that same girl and i am still so in love with you. but flowers and words will never be enough to fix this, how can i fix this mi amor? please!" the older girl begged, pressing her forehead to yours as you gave up trying to push her away, body wracking with sobs as hot tears carved their way down her own rosy cheeks.
"i am so tired alexia. i am so tired of hurting and wondering and overthinking. i am so tired of walking on eggshells and being angry and upset, it is so draining and i am exhausted." you whispered out, throat raw and aching as your chest heaved and you tried desperately to steady your breathing.
"but i don't know how to fix this ale. i don't know how to go back and pretend like it never happened because it did. i cannot risk hurting myself all over again if i let you back in, i am so sorry ale but i do not trust you anymore, not with my heart or with me." your own hands gently clasped her cheeks, using your thumbs to wipe away the tears which pooled in the corner of her eyes.
once you had you moved to grab her wrists, gently wrenching her hands from your face as they hung limply by her sides, her body sagging in defeat at your words and you ignored the way your mind was screaming at you to take them back and to reach out to comfort her.
"i am exhausted of avoiding you and being angry at you, it is killing me and clearly you have other things you need to be focusing yourself on." you forced out, nodding to her knee as she rested her body against the bench.
"we will never be as we were alexia, and i think we both need some time to make peace with that." you started, knowing that your next words were going to deliver a fatal and final blow.
"my contract is up this year with barca ale, and i will not be renewing it."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
part six
um....i'm sorry? this is not the end though besties do not fret, things aren’t always as they seem, or maybe they are who knows (I do since I’ve half written the next chapter already) xx
#alexia putellas x reader#woso x reader#woso#woso imagine#mapi leon x reader#mapi leon#alexia putellas#woso blurbs#fcb femeni#espwnt
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
Injured
Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader
Summary: Mami gets hurt
When Mami hurts herself at camp, you aren't there.
She doesn't like you coming to camp with her. She says it's because it's much too big a place for a tiny little girl like you but you overheard Abuela telling Tia Alba it's really because Mami doesn't want you anywhere near the management staff.
Either way, you're not at camp. You don't even know what's going on when Abuela wakes you from your nap and brings you to the hospital.
Mami is there though, lying on a hospital bed with her leg in a brace as she stares up at the ceiling blankly.
You shift on your feet, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Mami," You say finally, voice small and weak," You hurted yourself?"
"Si," Mami replies softly," I hurt myself."
Boldly, you take a step forward and then another and then another until you're completely detached from Abuela and are standing at the side of Mami's bed.
"But...But you get better?"
"I'll get better," Mami promises but even she doesn't sound too sure.
"So you can play with the ball and win in England?"
Tears shine in Mami's eyes as she shakes her head. "Not in England, no. But later. I'll have to miss the Euros this year."
You frown for a moment, glancing at her knee. "But you'll be better?"
"I'll be better. We just have to wait a little bit longer."
Your brow wrinkles but you nod anyway and Mami turns to pick you up.
"Alexia," Abuela says in warning, stepping forward to take you.
"Leave her!" Mami snaps as she lifts you up and onto the bed," I'm not injured enough that I can't pick up my own daughter!"
You almost flinch at her tone. Mami doesn't yell like that often and it's a bit frightening but she's got you tucked firmly into her and it doesn't seem like she'll be letting you go anytime soon.
Her fingers card through your hair.
"Mami..."
"Si?"
"Are...Is...Erm...Is your knee hurted bad?"
"Mami needs to have surgery," Abuela says from the door," She's going to have it very soon. Why don't we head out to get some food while we wait?"
Mami glares at Abuela, tugging you ever closer. "She can stay here," She says firmly," Until I really have to go."
"Alexia," Abuela says," She'll aggravate your knee. Let me take her."
"I said no," Mami replies," She'll stay here with me. Why don't you step outside and call Olga?"
Abuela gives her a look but Mami holds firm in her decision.
"I'm sorry that you hurted your leg," You say after a long while of silence.
"It's okay," Mami says but her tone tells you that it's anything but," It just means that we have to take it easy for a bit, alright? It means that I get to spend a lot more time with you, huh? Won't that be nice?"
Your bottom lip wobbles. "Not if you're hurted. It's a big ouchy."
"It is a big ouchy but I'm going to have surgery, probably walk around on some crutches for a bit but it'll all be good again."
You hum in answer, still staring at her leg. "Why does Abuela need to call Miss Olga?"
"Well..." Mami moves you so you're lying on top of her, your head pillowed on her chest like when you were much littler. "Do you remember when Tia Jenni used to come around a lot? When you were a lot younger?"
You nod, careful to remain perfectly still so you don't hurt Mami's leg like Abuela said you would.
Tia Jenni used to come over a lot. She would always play with you and hang out with Mami and sometimes they would touch lips when they thought you weren't looking.
"And now Miss Olga comes round a lot instead?"
"Uh-huh."
"Well, Mami and Miss Olga are seeing if we like each other like Mami and Tia Jenni used to like each other. So, I think that she should be told what's going on so she can work out if she wants to stay with me."
You frown. "Why wouldn't she want to stay with you? You're the best, Mami!"
Mami laughs slightly though it's tinged with bitterness. "I'm injured, bambi, and I won't be able to walk properly for a while. Miss Olga might decide that she can't cope with that."
"That's silly. You're the bestest even if you can't walk, Mami."
"Thank you, bambi. At least I know we're going to be good on our own."
"I'll help you!" You promise," Because you're the bestest on the pitch and you just need a little bit of rest before you can go back." You peer up at her, watching as her hand cups your chubby cheeks. "I'll walk Nala and-and I'll help you walk too...Er...And if you tell me what to do, I can make dinner!"
Mami laughs again, raining kisses on top of your head just as the doctors and Abuela - who's still on the phone - come in.
"Alright, y/n," She says softly, setting you back down on the floor," I have to go now. Maybe, while you wait, you can talk to Miss Olga on the phone? Would that be nice?"
You nod firmly. "I'll tell her how great you are!"
"You do that, bambi."
#woso x reader#alexia putellas x reader#alexia putellas#woso community#woso fanfics#woso imagine#woso
893 notes
·
View notes
Note
I understand that fans are jealous of the relationship of Chris and Alba. But how has Alba flaunted her relationship with him? At this time, Chris has been the only one to post pictures of them; which he can! I’m generally confused by this narrative of her being with him for money too. She’s a beautiful woman who happened to fall in love with a handsome man who just happens to be famous. She’s living every woman’s dream that read imagines of Chris here on Tumblr.
If they were to divorce it would only be because of how rude the fans are to her and their relationship. When she gives birth to their child, which I feel she is pregnant based on the new pictures what narrative will his fans say about her and their relationship? I’m not trying to be rude, but it’s frustrating to see the hate this woman gets for falling in love. We don’t know anything about them because we are not apart of their lives. For all you know, Chris probably fell in love with her the moment he saw her. They are both of legal age and can make their own decisions. So, why are people focusing on his supposed FS? Alba is probably the woman Chris has been searching for his entire life.
We can’t help who we fall in love with, so why is everyone trying to make him feel bad about it? I have never seen or read anything about Alba being rude to fans, making rude comments, or posting pictures that taunt fans about her relationship! Do you guys really think she wants to see thousands of messages and comments from people she doesn’t know saying how rude and ugly she? No!
Did y’all ever think that the reason Chris doesn’t talk about their relationship or post hundreds of pictures is because when he was dating Jenny Slate the fans were terrible. Like I said, you can’t help who you fall in love with. I don’t wish them any hate; only love and the strength that their relationship lasts. As should everyone else, because why would you wish heartbreak on anyone.
Dear An🫶n, you sweet soul...
I'm sorry and glad that you approached me with this ask. I'll answer this in a way that is as nice and gentle as your question is.
The Fans that spew hate isn't because of jealousy. Never in a thousand years is it about their relationship. It is about the fact that Chris seems to have, in your words, "fallen for" a racist, anti-semitic, without any self respect. Something that our favorite Chris has fought against for years...
I refer you to the links below that prove her racist and anti-semitic ways.
EXHIBIT A
EXHIBIT B
Not to mention, Chris' own mother was caught liking a comment, THREE TAPS DEEP, calling Alba a racist
MAMA LISA'S LIKE
So, if your supposed mother-in-law publicly, albeit subtly, agreed to someone calling you like that. Wouldn't that be a little concerning?
Especially if your supposed husband is publicly known to be a "Mama's boy"? We're talking about the actor that told the whole world, that he told his mother the second he got home after losing his virginity...
I'm sorry that's seriously a red flag on your relationship, if his closest confidant, his mother, HATES YOU.
On to the discussion of them loving each other, and being happy... Please open your eyes, and tell me Chris looks happy.
The guy isn't. Even during their first "outing" as a couple. Pap Walk 1.0 through Central Park. With paparazzi lining the walkway, and our two "lovebirds" not showing affection, and Chris wanting to leave as soon as possible.
He didn't even want to hold this girl's hand, when the thing they're selling... Is literally them being IN LOVE
DOES THIS LOOK LIKE LOVE AND AFFECTION TO YOU?!
And if you have any doubts about them as a couple. What kind of woman, who's in a committed relationship, and means to be fully devoted, basically engaged. Strips for the entire world, bearing her body for random men on Facebook, and for the world.
Receipts of her Lack of Love
When you truly love someone, you wouldn't betray them by displaying your parts for the world to see. It's sacred and a thing between the two of you.
So, if the issue is heartbreak, Chris is suffering so much heartbreak, his hair is dull, his face is sunken, and he's literally lost the ability to look not a day over 40 (I mean he looks like an old man next to her). She doesn't love him. Not for a second. She's in this for the attention.
Supported by the fact, Warrior Nun Trailer dropped the same day they announced their "relationship". And the most recent release of pics, coincides with her horror movie trailer release.
Chris gets nothing from this. He gets shit from everyone. Including the Fans still hanging on to hope. We want him to be happy. With a woman that makes him happy.
Not a woman like Alba, who goes off with other men, spends her days with friends and an important holiday for family in a whole sea away from their newlyweded husband, and gets their hand crushed because he seriously doesn't want to be seen, with you, any longer than he has to. Who also doesn't share the same values you claim to have.
They aren't private if they keep calling paps everytime they're out and about. And if the conflicting info of their wedding (Cape Cod vs. his Boston home, which people in Boston that live in the area have debunked), and the several thousand articles over the littlest of things, means that they're FAR from private.
And I'm not even talking about how she seems to edit every photo she's posted since this whole thing started. That's for another time.
In conclusion, we wish Chris every happiness,but not with this woman who's totally and 1000% wrong. Not just for him, but as a whole. As for baby rumors, they've been floating around since this started. And he'd have to stand her long enough to have one, and the way he cringes, and sinks everytime he's with or talking about her, vs. talking about Dodger/East, his beloved dogs.
Chris and his dogs are true love, whatever he has with Alba isn't. And pics show it.
I hope this cleared things up for you, Sweet An🫶n. Thank you for reaching out. I've been waiting for someone to talk nicely about their end, about how they see this. I'm seriously tired of people just screaming "YOU'RE JEALOUS BECAUSE BLA BLA BLA BLA BLA..." So, it's really a nice change. And you'll get a lot of different perspective and reactions, some more volatile and neurotic than others, but, pick some good ones, and you'll be fine 🤗
So much love and hugs,
Booky❤️
#An🫶n asks#Sweet An🫶n#booky reacts#booky answers#chris evans#chris evans fandom#alba baptista#did I miss anything?#seriously though I'm drained#this actually helped me get sleepy so thanks#☺️🤗
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
jt (finally) watches warrior nun - s1 e1
So yeah I confess: I actually haven't sat down and properly watched the series yet! But with the mystery continuation coming, I figured I finally should do it (plus my life right now is about doing things that I've been meaning to do so here we are).
Anyway it's a weird experience, watching Warrior Nun because 1) I've not sat down to watch a show in a long ass time and 2) I already know the major beats and arcs and have characterizations and head canons formed. Still, it's a credit to the whole team that it's still rather compelling.
One of the biggest things that surprised me was how the camera lingers on Ava, giving us a chance to experience things alongside her. (There's some beautiful wide shots - it's interesting to see it all in context after watching so many fanvids lol) Again, I haven't watched a lot of shows in the past, oh, decade, but I'm assuming it's not common now for there to be this kind of breathing room, an opportunity for the actor to yknow, act (which Alba Baptista does brilliantly, not just in her facial expressions but really her whole body gosh). And it's a fantastic device to create sympathy for her, to connect with her emotionally.
I also didn't realize just how central Mary is at the start - and goddamn, does Toya Turner give us everything from the jump. Additionally fascinating is seeing how Vincent's betrayal is also set up from the start - it's kinda fun to know what's going to happen and see the clues. For example, how he deliberately manipulates Mary when she - rightfully - calls him out on choosing her to do the dirty work. The way he puts pressure on Mary by making it seem like she (already emotionally compromised) is the only one he can trust in a seemingly helpless situation made me want to punch him and that's brilliant writing.
Last and mostly, I have to of course talk about Beatrice. The thing that stuck out to me is how much leadership she shows in the small things she does. We see her both in action/in a stressful situation (which I'll talk more about in a sec) and in the aftermath - it's layers that I've only seen in experienced leaders when I was in the military. We see her both as a strategist (leaving Shannon and making Lilith stay) and an emotionally competent leader (reassuring Camila post-battle), but the thing that fascinated me the most is that we also see her as someone capable of doing a hard thing: potentially taking down Mary.
The moment I'm referring to is when they're going to take the halo out of Shannon and Mary refuses, pointing her shotgun at the surgeon.
Look at Beatrice here: She has immediately reached for what looks like a side arm. She glances only once at the surgeon but during the whole exchange, she is focused solely on Mary. There was no hesitation, just a steady at-the-ready the whole time. Would she have threatened Mary if Shannon not spoken up? We'll never know, but it's fascinating all the same, all these little hints of what she's capable of all here in just the first episode.
Also can I just mention just how amazing that "she's right" exchange was between Beatrice and Mary?
Idk if it was the lighting or the makeup or just Kristina Tonteri-Young's brilliant choices (or just all of the above), but the heartbreak in both of their faces is just damn, really freaking good.
In any case, we'll see how long it takes to get through both seasons lol
15 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
dokidobe
yellow.dr.monv
nicoscloset
Nico's Closet
superfitwithree
Super Fit With Ree Cosplay
timeless-hollywood-classics
Timeless Hollywood Classics