Rearrange My World | Stargirl

I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar

Alexia Putellas x Explorer!R

8.5k Fluff, Fun, Minor Angst

Hi Guys,

This is pt4. in the 'I Would Climb Every Mountain With You" otherwise known as Explorer!R Universe. TW: description of killing an animal.

Highly recommend you read those 3 first, as this is entrenched in lore. Pt 1 can be found here.

It's developed from an ask I received from @karsonromanoff so thank you so much for the idea! I hope I did it justice and I'm sorry for the delay and the words. ha.

This is the first time I've written since my dad died. I'm not being emo or heavy about it but I am asking to please, be kind. I know there's nice people out there but often they're drowned out by the loud haters.

So throw us a comment, like or reblog if you enjoyed. I'm just trying to get back into something that brought me joy. I know I enjoyed writing it.

Also, may be weird for a fic about a spanish gay footballer, but you probably need a good working knowledge of Bear Grylls to understand 80% of this. ha.

As has become tradition, here's the song running though my head when writing! Yes, my music taste remains to be that of someone born in 1962. God love Helen Reddy.

“Vamos Ale! I don’t like to make Miguel wait…” you shout from the kitchen, bag resting on the countertop as you try to fix your bracelet with your left hand,

“Deja de preocuparte, a él no le importa, I will be one minute…” you head called back from the bedroom where your wife had been getting dressed for 2 hours now.

Yes.

Your wife.

Sometimes you couldn’t believe it.

Sometimes the weight of the band on your finger catches you by surprise and you’d remember.

Sometimes Alexia would place her hand on your bare thigh and you could feel the cool metal on your skin and you’d remember.

Sometimes you’d get called “Mrs Putellas” at a school talk, or at the Doctors, and you’d remember.

It felt so natural that sometimes you’d forget that you weren’t always Alexia's wife.

But now you are. And had been for almost 6 months. And married life couldn’t have suited you more.

Your wedding ring was your new favourite accessory, you never took it off.

In a fire you would save Alexia and your ring.

Maybe even your ring first.

It was embossed with the imprint of grass that Alexia has been collecting from each pitch of each game she had played in since you had met. The intricate design brought tears to your eyes as soon as you saw it. Made even worse by the inscription “’cause you are my goal”. 

You would be embarrassed if Alexia hadn’t cried like a toddler when you presented her with the ring you had made for her, which had rock from each of the 7 peaks you had scaled, as well as a granule of sand from the Dead Sea set within it. Integrated into the metal, visible but smooth to the touch. 

The inscription 'every mountain high, every valley low' on the inside of the band.

You knew you’d done good and you knew your Ale well enough to anticipate the absolute mess she would be when presented with it, ensuring you had a pocket full of tissues for the inevitable waterfall.

You weren’t wrong.

You had to assure a passing couple on the trail you had chosen that she was fine, not having a medical incident and you were definitely not mid break-up but in fact exchanging wedding bands early because you knew your fiance well enough she didn’t need her teammates to witness this much of her soft side.

Though you tried, they still saw enough on your wedding day to tease her for the last 6 months with no sign of slowing down.

Though right now your wife's behaviour was nothing but unexpected. You had agreed to attend one of Alexia's events this evening. Since getting married you had felt more of a duty to attend and make up for the years you’d left her carrying her own handbag whilst you trotted over mountains on the other side of the world. 

She insisted that you didn’t have to. Like she always did. You weren’t one for the fancy dresses and the flashing cameras. But you saw the gleam of hope in her eyes as she insisted she would be fine on her own.

You couldn’t let that sparkle dim.

Also you had to set off for a camp in a few days and you had gotten seriously stuck in the honeymoon phase meaning that an evening without your wife by your side wasn’t something you could stomach.

Not that you would admit to being so clingy.

But it wasn’t like Ale to take so long to get ready, neither of you being particularly fussy, usually she would throw on some light makeup, smack your bum whilst you ate nutella off a knife under the hob light, procrastinating getting ready until she dragged you and dropped you into the ensuite, steal a kiss and a spray of perfume, and wait for you whilst watching old football clips in the living room.

But now, as you still struggled to attach the clasp of your bracelet and you had one eye on the poor Barca driver, Miguel, waiting in your driveway, you started to grow frustrated at your wife's sudden vanity.

You smelt her perfume invading your senses as you felt her arms envelope you from behind, moving your uncoordinated left hand away and easily attaching the clasp of your bracelet for you, pressing a kiss to your neck as she did so.

“Finalmente… Let’s g-...” you spoke as you turned in her embrace, finally taking in her attire which stopped you in your tracks.

“Boobs”

You had suddenly turned into a 14 year old boy and you couldn’t explain it.

You had seen your wife naked hundreds of times.

Hundreds of fantastic times.

But here she stood looking, regal. Her hair falling lightly over her face, her dark sparkly dress with wide shoulders and only what you could describe as a boob portal you had been rendered speechless. Mouth gaping open like a fish.

“...Amor?...” you heard the delight in her voice. “Are you listening to me… my eyes are up here.” she jokingly clicked her fingers in front of your face which took you out of your breast-inspired trance.

“Ale you are so beautiful” you looked deeply into her eyes but you didn’t miss the blush rising from her neck. And you meant it. She was. Wow. 

“Do you like it?” she asked, shyly, “You don’t think it’s too much? It’s just the first event we’ve gone to together since we got married and I wanted to…”

You interrupt her but pressing a kiss to her lips, and, well, if you slipped a little tongue in there then fine. She was your wife after all.

“What? Show the world what they're missing out on? I am so proud to stand by your side, my love.” you whispered into her lips, as you toyed with her wedding band. 

You couldn’t help yourself…”and your boobs are fantastic.” 

She barked out a laugh as you leaned back into where you left off, but she took a step back, her heel clicking against the tile floor, to which you let out an annoyed grumble.

“Oi Oi, Mi Amor. What about poor Miguel, he is waiting, Si?” she teased.

“He doesn’t care… Cálla y bésame.”

—---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You took a deep breath and leaned back on your chair at the round table you found yourself at. Alexia had been pulled from your side which she had stuck to like glue all evening,  to go and present the final award of the evening which she had just done, very sexily if you do say so yourself. All confident and boob-y.

You smiled, imagining her now making small talk backstage, eyes bored but a smile plastered on her face as she tried to make her way back to your table.

Your other table-mates seemed to take the opportunity of the break in the ceremony to raid the free bar put on by the charity. Which seemed very uncharitable of them. But, as you toyed with the rim of your glass, who were you to judge?

Stomach full from a mediocre-mass produced meal and head happily fuzzy from the bubbles you had consumed you found yourself oddly satisfied as you sat here. In this conference room-turned auditorium in the middle of Barcelona, here, loudly and proudly as Alexia's wife.

Mrs Putellas.

You couldn’t help but smile to yourself, you felt weirdly grown-up. With your wife, your house, and your business. You blinked and missed yourself becoming so settled and for once in your life you weren’t terrified of the idea.

You saw the glint in Alexia's eye. When Irene and her wife would come round for dinner and bring their kid. She’d surrender all hostess duties and sit on the living room floor, crawling around at the beck and call of whatever imaginary game the 5 year old insisted on. You’d seen her perfect her lion roar in that very spot. It probably matched the glint in yours when you were grocery shopping and a child being pushed in a trolley would go past shoving cookies into the trolley without their Mother seeing.

Maybe, you thought, maybe it was time…

“It is you! I am so sorry to interrupt. I had to come over to introduce myself. I am such a fan…”

You glanced around, expecting Alexia to be standing over your shoulder and smiling politely at the person who had approached your table to meet her… but you were met with blank space and then you engaged your silly brain and realised the person was speaking English and looking at you and…

Oh My God.

It’s Bear Grylls.

“Oh My God. You’re Bear Grylls.” 

You let out. 

Stupidly.

Standing and thrusting your hand out like an idiot to your legitimate childhood hero.

You and your brother would watch his series for hours as children. Sat cross-legged 2 inches from the TV on your living room floor, eating up every second of his adventures. Your mum had to stop you from eating a woodlouse once in your garden because you’d seen him eat a cricket in the Amazon the evening before. Your brother smacked upside the head for trying to drink a cup of his own wee for the same reason.

Now you were a well-seasoned adventurer yourself you knew that all of that was for theatricks. 

You had spent more than 7 weeks wandering the Amazon yourself once, and not one drop of urine passed your lips. Not one 8 legged insect had you gulped down in one.

But still.

Hero.

He took your hand graciously, as you both sat back down you prepared to barrage him with questions but before you could he jumped right in…

“I have been wanting to meet you for years. But my team said you had disappeared off to Spain and couldn’t be tracked down. Please, I've been desperate to know. .. Tell me all about summiting Orjas del Salado…”

So you told him, and you asked him about his adventures, and you chatted for what could have been hours, sharing stories and advice with Bear-fucking-Grylls.

He blushed as you pointed out his for-TV tricks and you thanked him for being a portal into the wider world from your living room.

At some point you felt Alexia return, a strong hand on your shoulder. You paused your monologue about Patagonia and giddily took her hand in yours, introducing them to each other. 

Polite pleasantries exchanged you could tell she had legitimately no idea what was going on or who this middle-aged English guy at your table was, but judging from your excited eyes, she didn’t need to interrupt.

It didn’t take too long for someone from his team to pull him away for an interview with the charity. But as you stood to say your goodbyes he made an offer, “You know, me and the production company are making a special about survival in the Alps… I would love for you to be a guest star.”

You stood there like a gaping fish for a moment. “Really?” you asked, in wonder, your 7 year old self spinning around in glee in your chest. Alexia smiling up at you from her chair at the joy in your voice.

“Of course! I would be honored, it’s especially about how to survive in an Avalanche situation. Obviously, with what happened in Nepal…you are an expert in that fie…”

At that point, Alexia stopped her polite silence she had been maintaining whilst you had your moment with your childhood hero. And abruptly stood, clutching your hand hard in both of hers, stern look on her face.

“No.”

From the look on his face you gathered that this successful upper-middle class white English man had not been told no too often, and a beat of silence followed which Alexia was more than happy to fill.

“Sorry Señor Oso. She doesn’t do snow now. Thank you for the offer though.”

She said it with such finality that even you didn’t think to question it. Her mis-translation brought a smile to your face. Her hands still encompassed yours, her eyes didn’t leave his face. As though daring him to rebuff her.

He looked at you as though to confirm she could answer for you. Of course she could. But you knew this refusal wasn’t just about you, but about her also. You knew the anxiety it would cause her for you to put yourself in that situation wasn’t worth anything on this planet.

Nevermind the trauma it would dredge up for you. So obviously, you agreed.

“Sorry Mr Grylls. Not my rodeo anymore. I’ve got some contacts though who you could work with” you politely confirmed your refusal and felt Alexias hands lessen their grip on yours in relief.

“No, no, of course. Sorry. But no. I would really love for you to be involved in the series. We have an episode about promoting women in outdoor pursuits. It's still on the drawing board, but if you are interested I’ll get our people to liaise with each other!”

“That sounds amazing but… I don’t have any people for you to…”

“Don’t be silly Mi Amor” Alexia interrupts again, hand still in yours and the other expertly reaching into her clutch and pushing a card into his outstretched hand… “We have people. Please, Oso, be in touch.”

Smiling vaguely and confusedly at your wife, still clearly mildly terrified of her, he takes the card as he's dragged away by his handler. He's probably still in hearing distance as you squeal in glee and throw yourself into your wife's arms, making her spin with the momentum.

“Ale, Ale, Ale!!! Do you know who that was….” you exclaim.

She can’t help but laugh aloud at your antics, soft look on her face as she lifts you lightly off the ground to stop your spin.

“Si Mi Amor, ese era el hombre oso de la televisión. Tu favorito.” she replies with a smile on her face, speaking softly, somehow, in the middle of this event where she was the guest star, making you feel as though you were the only person in the universe.

“No.” you corrected “..eres mi favorito.” You sealed your words with a light kiss to her lips, chaste but warm.

“Ah, Si. And you have had some wine. You always get soft after wine.” she lightly rolls her eyes with affection at your gushing over her.

It’s your turn to roll your eyes as you pull her into a soft sway, your childhood hero quickly forgotten now you’re in the company of your wife.

Though the giddiness in your bones from your encounter remains.

“Si the wine.” you agree moving your lips close to her ear as you whisper, breath dancing against her cheek, your hand moves to her chest and you feel her breath falter at your closeness,

“but also your boobs.” and you quickly poke her exposed chest between her breasts before she can stop you, and you move away from her pulling her behind you as you rush off to the bar.

“Amor!” she cackles.

“Vamos Ale! A La Barra!”

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Estoy Muerta.”

You grumble in complaint into the chest of the warm and moving pillow that you had clearly settled on in the night.

“Shh Ale.”

“Me estoy muriendo y a mi esposa no le importa.”

“You are not dying Ale. You are hungover and over 30”, you mumble in reply, moving away from resting on her chest, the heat becoming too much for your own fuzzy brain.

“Explain to me how that is different.” she doesn’t take kindly to your light chuckle in reply, as you move your hand to cover your eyes from the sunlight starting to bleed through the curtains.

You peek an eye open and see the remnants of your previous night strewn across the bedroom floor.

You take in the glorious dress of your wifes thrown across your chest of drawers. You recall unzipping it with your mouth after making very good use of the boob portal. Much to Alexia's delight.

You had probably taken it a little bit too far at the bar. Your giddiness let your binge-drinking brit out a little too much.

You had a flash of memory at dancing on a table at a dive bar in the town centre, before being brought down by Alba who you had called and demanded come and dance the night away.

Meanwhile Alexia had been in the corner trying to drunkenly explain to Mapi a set of complicated tactics that they should try out at an additional training session in the morning.

“I thought you had scheduled extra training today Ale” you teased after taking in her pasty complexion as you rolled over and settled back down onto your, cooler, side of the bed.

“I hate you.” she replied, quite seriously, as she moulded herself against your back, taking your hand in hers and burying her face into the back of your neck.

“Of course you do, dear, it feels like it.” you tease again, wiggling yourself and making her grumble again.

You rest there for a few moments, before you’re dragged onto your back again and pulled into Alexia's embrace as she moves you around like her own personal teddy bear.

You go with the flow, quite used to your wife's clingy nature, especially when she didn't feel well.

But your silence doesn’t last two minutes before she rolls you over again, now onto your back, “Oh bloody hell, where are we going now.” you mumble, as she rests her head on your chest this time, nuzzling into your breasts.

“me estoy poniendo cómodo.” she mutters into your bosom, “allá. ahora estoy cómodo”. You run your hands through her hair, smiling down at your wife who is practically purring at the attention.

“Bebé…”, you make a noise of affirmation.

“Will you…” you know what she wants, and you know she must be feeling bad if she’s asking for attention.

“Si, my love. voy a trenzar tu cabello. One big plait or lots of little ones?”. 

“The tingly ones por favor” she mumbles into your chest. Your heart expands at her adorableness, never quite learning the English for ‘french plait’ they became known as the ‘tingly ones’ in your household, because of the feeling she would get as you plaited her wet hair after a game, hands working through her scalp. 

It brings a smile to your face and you can see the lovesick smile on hers where it is squished against your chest.

You start to section out her hair as she lies still, your ministrations slowly putting her to sleep, working methodically in the quiet morning.

Moving strand over strand in intricate braids, lightly tugging her scalp and undoing when it's not perfect and redoing, giving her an extra scratch to the soft skin behind her ear when you get there, knowing it's her most sensitive spot. Receiving a sleepy purr in satisfaction as your reward.

You hear the animals from the national park outside, feel the sun starting to warm the room around you. Her chest rising and falling against yours hypnotising you further into the moment. You’ve got grand plans, brunch and a walk along the beach in your mind, maybe a lazy afternoon swim, hold on no. Maybe a lazy afternoon skinny dip. Yeah.

That sounds good.

You’ve almost finished tying off the last plait when you are startled back into the moment by the buzzing of your wifes phone on the bedslide table.

You fight back a smile at the groan that is emitted from your fully grown-pro-athlete-wife.  It resembled that of a teenager who’d been asked to clean their room or no dessert. When she doesn’t go to make a move you nudge her shoulder.

“Ale. Ale, your phone."

“No.”

“Yes."

“No."

“C'mon Ale.” you reach across and pick the phone up. “It could be important. It could be your secret wife wondering where you are.”

She rolls off you at your tease, throwing you a glare that resembles more of an angry kitten than anything, “It could not be, she knows where I am. I snuck out whilst you were dancing on the tables in that last bar to make plans for dinner.”

“Ah, Si of course. My mistake.”

She surges up and gives you a completely unnecessary chaste kiss, as though even the joke is too much and she has to confirm she’s kidding. The phone has stopped vibrating against the bedside table and the silence that settles over you both is welcome.

“How are you so okay? I feel like I have been run over by a truck.” she states as she rubs her face, finally sitting up to start the day.

“You are old.

“I am 2 months older than you.”

“Two, very long, months my darling.” you tap her cheek lightly as you move to get out of bed, throwing on one of her oversized t-shirts you find on the floor.

“Seria, how?” she asks again, now sprawling across the space you have vacated.

“I am English. I once did a vodka shot through my eyeball in the park. I was 14.” you state, plainley, eyebrow raised in challenge as she just looks at you, open mouthed.

“Ojalá no hubiera preguntado.” she mutters, as her phone starts to ring again.

“Ale, phone.” you say, just to annoy her.

“¡lo sé!” you hear thrown at you, as you head downstairs to set some food out for Billy-the-Goat, and make a coffee for your dying wife.

Soon after, you feel her presence behind you as you stir her coffee, turning as you feel her hands wrap around your waist and presenting her coffee and she takes it from you as though it's a ballon d’or. She takes a sip before she presses a kiss to your head.

“That was my agent.”

Your heart drops, and you can’t help the petulant whine that leaves your lips.

“No, Ale! I wanted to spend the day together. Try that new brunch place Alba told us about. Have a swim, just be together. Whatever brand needs you can wait. Tell them no, please” you finish your little monologue with a pout, and you feel a childish frustration rise as a laugh teases against her lips.  You don’t get very far when a kiss is pressed against your lips.

“Well that sounds like the perfect hangover cure Mi Amor. Do you not want me to tell you what it is before I tell them no though?” there's something in her taunt, a glint in the eye that makes you think twice as your mouth already wraps around the refusal.

You take a moment too long apparently, and she takes things into her own hands as she clutches her coffee happily and spins around, “I’ll tell them no! Don’t worry Mi Amor…” teasing lilt in her tone. Whatever the news is, it has pulled her from her hangover.

You wait a beat

Another.

“Fine, What is it!” you groan out in defeat, hands raised to the sky, Alexias t-shirt riding high on your thighs as you raise your arms.

Your wife turns and is distracted momentarily by the flesh on display. Before you cough and she remembers what she's supposed to be doing. Coy smile on her face returning.

“That was my agent…” you huff out at her drawing out the anticipation. “Or should I say our agent.” your brow furrows in confusion as she continues… “she has been contacted by a muy interesado oso.”

Realisation starts to dawn on you, memories of the previous night flashing in your mind and you can’t help the grin that forms.

“Si, Mi Amor. It turns out he really meant it. She said they were willing to offer anything to get you on. She’s getting the details now and will contact us again after our day together today to see if you are interested”.

“I am interested!” you exclaim with glee, Alexia throwing her head back in laughter.

“I know Amor, but let's let them sell it to you. You need the details. Though… I am sure it is no more dangerous than ojos de vodka.”

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Hola, love!” you shout into your empty hallway, hands full of groceries, you shuck off your trainers, hearing them thump against the wall as you struggle into the kitchen.

Tonight was the premiere of “Man Vs Woman” , the special episode of your and Bear's adventure. After the offer was made you met with the TV production company via Zoom to go through ideas.

You pretended you didn’t know Alexia was standing just outside the door to your study, listening and clearly deciding if she thought it was too dangerous or not. At least that's what you deduced from her interrupting with a cup of tea every time a particularly hairy idea was mentioned.  

When you brought this up with her you pretended you didn't see her blush creeping up from her neck. Because you’re her wife and it was the wifely thing to do.

The concept was a really cool one. You were excited from the start. The idea was that you and Bear would both be dropped in an inhospitable environment with a map and a knife and nothing else. Neither of you would be told what type of environment but you had assurances in your contract that it wouldn’t involve snow. You had 28 days to get to the muster point. Whoever got there first won.

Simple.

Convincing Alexia it was really cool. Less simple.

“Amor what if there are animals!”

“I know how to avoid dangerous animals. And there will be a medical team on standby,”

“What if you fall and cut yourself on your knife."

“What if you get tackled and break your leg?”

“That's different. What if you lose your map and can’t find your way out and you have to live out there forever”

“I will always find my way back to you.”

“What If-”

“Ale.”

You stopped her rambling with a kiss and when you pulled away you looked deeply in her eyes.

“Que pasa I miss you too much?” eyes wide and vulnerable.

There we go. Her real source of anxiety.

You had spent more time apart than most couples but since you scaled down your travels you had fallen into a sweet domesticity you could admit was a struggle to pull yourself from. 28 days plus the week before to get to the location is longer than you’d like. But it was an adventure of a lifetime. Maybe… maybe your last adventure? The thoughts had been creeping in more and more recently.

Of early mornings chasing more than sunrises, maybe rising due to a baby's babble instead?

You’d made sure that Alexia really knew how much you’d miss her the night before you flew out. On reflection maybe you should have rested your muscles a little more before such a physically demanding month but. Be serious. Look who your wife was. 

You are not God's strongest soldier.

So, off you had gone. Competing against your childhood hero for all of womanhood. And you couldn’t lie. You loved it.

Being blindfolded and dropped in an unknown location was exhilarating. Learning the land as you went, with only a map and a knife in hand it was one of the biggest challenges of your life.

The team had made good on their promise and the tropical rainforest you were in couldn’t be further from a snowy mountain range.

You’d refused to let anything slip to Alexia in the 3 months you’d been back. Lips tightly sealed no matter what she tried. You wanted her to be surprised and watch it in real time with you. In all the games you'd attended since you had to deal with an injured Mapi yapping your ear off whilst you tried to concentrate on the game, probing for hints about if you won, what you won, where you were, if you wrestled a snake, how big was the snake you’d wrestled.

“Maria stop with the snake!” you’d finally snapped during the tense quarter final of the Queen's cup.

Which had worked.

For all of two seconds.

“What did the snake taste like?”

You’d originally planned to go home to England with Alexia to watch the premier with your family. But then a schedule mess-up in the league had meant that Ale had to play in a rescheduled game the day after the premier. It just didn’t work for her to come to England.

She insisted you still go, but you refused. You wanted to watch her game. And you knew she’d need you when the show was on. Even if she didn’t know that yet.

You started to unpack your groceries mindlessly, you’d picked some great snacks for the evenings viewing, you suddenly were hit with how suspiciously peaceful your house was, though, you were sure you’d seen Alexia's car in the drive.

“Ale! Love!, ¡Estoy en casa! Come help me unpack!” You shouted into your empty kitchen, back turned to your living room, you had a few hours before the show was on air, “I got that ice-cream you like! I know it gives you a tummy ache sometimes but don’t worry, I'll rub your tummy how you like afte…”

“Amor!”

You turned around at the panic in her voice, “Wha–”

“SURPRISE!”

Ale stood in your living area, face reddening, surrounded by her closest Barca teammates as well as Mario, his ever pregnant wife and his kids, your mum and brother as well as Eli and Alba. Everyone comically in paper party hats and some lop-sided bunting was up above your couch,

“HOPE YOU BEAT THE BEAR SNAKE!” it read, and you immediately knew who was on the decoration committee.

You jumped in surprise, dropping the ice cream and immediately ran into your mum's open arms, “Mum! You’re here!” you squealed into her neck, hiding the tears that had appeared in her presence.

“I am, love. Alexia literally wouldn’t let us refuse the flight. She pretended she didn’t understand English when we tried to at least pay for it. And you know I have a 265 day streak on duolingo but my accent must need work because she didn’t understand my Spanish.”

You pulled yourself from her neck with a wet laugh and transferred yourself into your wifes open and familiar strong arms. “Aleeee” you whined. She knew you meant thank you. And I love you. And you mean the world to me. But you were too British to do that infront of people.

“You need to stop pretending you don’t speak English when you don’t like what you hear.” you muttered without malice after placing a kiss below her ear.

“I know amor. I love you too. And your family needed to be here for your big moment! You couldn’t miss this with them because of me. And then also. Mapi happened and now we’re having a viewing party! There's a cake!”

“And Ice Cream Ale! Don’t worry, I’ve saved it! Though we don’t want your barriga to hu-” Mapi stands the space you'd just vacated holding up the abandoned and slightly battered carton of ice cream. She's stopped from her gleeful teasing by Ingrid covering her entire face with one big palm.

“We wanted to be here to support you.” Ingrid interrupted her girlfriend, addressing you kindly.

“We all did!” you hear from Alba in the back, already tucking into the buffet set up on the coffee table, paper hat skew-whiff on her head. You have never felt so loved. It was perfect.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So, when are you going to tell her you’re ready for them?”

You are brought out of your daydream by Ingrid sidling up to you and addressing you with her familiar soft lilt.

“Huh?”

She doesn’t reply vocally, just nods her head towards your wife, who is currently having a very intense game of 2v2 in your garden with 2 of Marios youngest and Mapi.

The kids little legs making them toddle around after the small ball adorably, Mapi and Ale giving soft touches they would easily catch up with.

You can’t help but laugh out loud as Ale takes Mapi by surprise and takes a shot against her hard, the ball catching her bare thigh in a manner which must have left a sting much to the small Spaniard's disdain.

Her and the two kids start to chase Alexia around the garden, dramatically tackling her as she suddenly becomes some sort of football monster, rolling around and blowing raspberries on their stomachs as Mapi cheers her toddler army on from the sidelines.

You feel another knock against your arm, dislodging your hand which is supporting your head as you lean over the breakfast bar facing the garden. Lovesick looks clearly on your face, going off Ingrid's coy smile.

“You know, barn. Kids. Munchkins…”

“Yeah, Yeah I get it Ingrid…” you steal another look outside at your more-often-than-not-stern wife getting grass stains on her comfy shorts for the entertainment of your best friends' kids, suddenly you feel like being really really honest. You turn to Ingrid with a shy smile of your own, “soon.”

Her face lights up, teeth on display unable to disguise her smile. “Yeah?” she asks, before turning to look towards the garden, “Me too.”

You smile to yourself and drop your head onto the dark haired girl's shoulder, you both taking a moment to watch your partners play with the kids. The moment is ruined by your mum mussing up your hair on her way past,

“Come on Love, we need to wrangle these last-minute spaniards, it starts in 10 minutes!”

She had a point to be fair. A very chaotic 8 minutes later you practically push Eli into her seat on the couch after she tries to get another plate full of food for Mario’s wife, “¡Está llena de Eli! ella esta embarazada no tiene hambre!” you cheekily remind her, your wife looking up at you from her place on the floor with tender eyes.

“And you…” you turn your attention towards her as you make your way to your seat, “get up here.” you demand, patting the empty space next to you.

“I’m bueno down here Mi Amor, me and Bruno can watch from down here.” she insists. the 4 year old of Marios nestled on her stomach, her arms wrapped around his sleeping form where he attached himself to her after being forced back inside.

You hesitate for a moment, not watching to make a scene or be too needy in front of all your closest family and friends, but you knew that Ale would need to be within touching distance of you in the next hour. 

You’re about to make your peace with it when Mario glaces your way. You and Mario have worked together for years. Years before you met Ale and the girls.

You’ve battled more than just bears together. Weeks spent isolated in the mountains. And a bond like that means that you can communicate with just a look.

With just that glance he’s up and pulling his toddler into his own burley arms. Bruno remaining in his deep sleep through the change.

“I’ve got el monstruo Ale. Go sit with your wife."

She doesn’t need any more direction, the small interaction is subtle and missed by everyone, except your brother who sends you an exaggerated puppy dog look.

“Fuck off” you throw at him, finger in the air, quickly grabbed by Alexia, “Hey, I thought you wanted me to sit here!” she teases, sending your brother a wink.

“Stop ganging up on me…!” you’re about to protest further before you’re shushed by Mapi, of all people, sitting on the floor between Ingrid's legs who sits on the couch above her. “It's about to start!”

She has a point, a familiar British accent fills the living room, Spanish subtitles appearing on the bottom of the screen for the Spanish contingent. Bear’s voice is as dramatic as ever, long sweeping scenes fill the screen of intense jungle, a crocodile and an action shot of a snake thrown in for good measure.

“Serpiente!” Mapi shouts, pointing at the screen, before Ingrid hushes her and pulls her back against her legs. 

           “We all know by now that humans are masters of the jungle. But the unanswered question remains. Is it the King, or Queen of the Jungle? Find out tonight in Man V Woman.”

The title fills the screen with a dramatic crescendo of music. Your friends and family whooping as though it's the champions league final. Alexia barely contains her excitement next to you. You had been steadfast in your refusal to tell anyone the outcome.

The next shot is a recognisable one, the sound of trees being hacked with a machete accompanies a close up of a muddy puddle set deep in the jungle, until the water is disturbed by a ever-familiar battered boot stomping in the puddle, blaugrana laces pulled tight, as proudly as ever.

This prompts another wild round of jeering from the crowd around you as the camera pans out and reveals your full profile as Alexia places a loving kiss onto your shoulder, “That's my wife!” she shouts, proudly, making you laugh. 

Bear's voice over continues as you pull Alexia's hand into yours, half pulling her on top of you, she gives you a peculiar look, this being more PDA than you would usually allow in front of your English family, but she goes with it, too full of pride to be worried otherwise.

As the voiceover continues, highlights of your career flash across the screen to introduce you to the audience.

Mountains in Peru, Arctic Explorations, Treks across Siberia, all flash across the screen, mixed in with childhood pictures your mum must have supplied painting a picture of your career so far and your expertise in your career.

The music turns more dramatic as you shift uncomfortably, being the only one to realise in the room what's about to happen.

A picture of you smiling with Arjan at the peak of Everest, ice picks raised proudly in the air. You feel Alexia stiffen on your lap, ever so subtly. Stock footage of snow hurling down a mountain as Bear describes the avalanche you got trapped in.

He gives out stats and figures to heighten the drama… “your chance of survival drops 3% every minute you are trapped after the first 15 minutes… being trapped for 2 days… our guest star did the unthinkable…”

The room is bathed in a white light as the screen changes. Camera shaky and audio changing to the shouts and heavy breaths of whoever the body worn camera is strapped too. “Yahām̐, Yahām̐, she is here!”

The camera catches Arjan digging desperately, it's clear now the camera is strapped to a rescuer on the slopes of Everest, the TV production company having access to the footage through a sister company who were filming a documentary about altitude rescue at the time.

It shakes as the man helps dig, grunts of exertion as the spade digs desperately. A flash of colour and your snow suit is revealed, face pressed up against the rock you had found shelter near.

Arjan clears snow from your face desperately and puts his head close to yours, “She’s breathing!” he pulls you up and your hand, satellite phone frozen in place, falls from the side of your ghostly white face as the camera fades out.

The whole segment couldn’t have lasted more than 32 seconds. But it had felt like time had slowed. You could feel from her placement on you that Alexia hadn’t taken a breath. Her eyes remained wide as she stared at the screen.

There was a heaviness in the room around you. 

The voiceover continued, explaining the challenge to the audience but the silence continued. Eli glances at her daughter worriedly, every few seconds.

Just as you thought the tension couldn’t get any more intense… “That's what Alexia looks like when she visits England for Christmas and mum won’t let us put the heating on.” your brother jokes, awkwardly, a crooked smile on his boyish face. 

The room is silent, your mum hiding a smile behind a hand only you notice. He goes to speak again, probably to apologise when-

Alexias' laugh shocks even you, bubbling up from deep within her chest. She closes her eyes, a stray tear escaping at the pressure. Laugh still rumbling deep in her chest, slowly the room joins in, as though they’ve been given permission, and soon your in a choir of laughing spectators, your brother blushing deep red at the attention.

“Thank you” you mouth to him across the room, as you wrap your hands around your wife, whos body still shakes with the odd giggle.

He tips an imaginary hat at you in return.

Because he is an idiot.

The challenge begins, unhelpfully, with you throwing yourself out of a helicopter into the rainforest, “Oh Dios Mio” she mumbles, heard subtly under Mapis, “Cool!”.

You press your lips against her shoulder again and mutter into her skin; “I am here, I am warm, I am Safe.” Like a mantra, you feel her nod and grip your hand tighter.

The thing about being in the environment completely opposite to an avalanche inducing mountain range, was that it was hot. Hot and wet. The camera follows both you and Bear as you struggle through the elements seperatly, deciding when to camp down and preserve energy and when to try to gain more miles.

Bear goes hard, and Mapi looks up at you aghast as you decide to build a shelter and bunker down for seven days straight. The heat zapping any energy you had.

“What are you doing! It's a race!” she exclaims, to which you laugh and zip your mouth closed with your fingers, cocking an eyebrow at her as she eagerly looks back towards the TV like a small child.

You spend two days collecting water and, seemingly, according to Mapi, wasting time cutting palm leaves and collecting bark to make twine. Meanwhile Bear is hacking down trees, making spears out of sticks and rock and throwing himself at seemingly anything that would give him a bit of protein on the move.

You’ve ridden yourself of most of your clothing due to the heat. Smothering yourself in mud from the riverbank you were camped next to, you explain to the camera its sun-cream qualities and how it’s safer than clothing as it also protects you from dehydration. 

All the while you weave and weave and weave your leaves together, quietly, assuredly.

You explain to the camera; “I am a master weaver. My wife likes it when I plait her hair. Alot. She’s cute. Sorry Ale.” you wink at the camera as your wife groans on your lap and  her teammates start to tease her, “Amor! Why!”

“Now. Let's see how this works!”  you grin and pull up a large basket to the camera.

The screen shows you scantily dressed, boots safely on a rock in the background, in the river, moving twigs into position to make a run for the fish to swim directly into your basket.

You explain the contraception, set some bait and say your goodnights to the camera, crossing your fingers for a full basket in the morning.

Cheerful music begins as the camera fades back into your campfire, fish on a stick roasting and cooking heavenly, your muddied but smiling face coming into view.

“Bear can eat his roaches and drink his wee. I’ll be here with my fish buffet!” You joke, under your shelter, camera panning to tens of fish in your basket waiting to be smoked.

The next scene shows Bear explaining the protein benefits and the unusual flavours of a witchetty grub as he struggles against the rainstorm. 

The music begins to ramp up. Graphics on the screen showing both of your progress. Bear has made much more progress than you. But struggling physically. He’s developed a terrible case of trench foot but was still making steady progress with his machete.

You chose to travel up the river. Walking along its bed you are able to make more direct progress, but it’s more energy draining wading through water. You have, however, had a relatively strong diet over the last 3 weeks.

You’re sitting on the river bed, tending to your basket of smoked fish you’re carrying with you for energy when you suddenly remain completely stock still. Dramatic music begins. Your head raises subtly and then out of nowhere.

“Serpentine!”

A snake strikes at you from the shallows, clearly after your basket, or you, or whatever it can get its fangs in. You react quickly, crouching down to your knees, keeping a low centre of gravity to keep your balance as your right hand reaches into the shallows.

You and the snake strike at the same time, and you throw yourself to the side as you bash a jagged rock against its head.

The next scene shows you taking a mouthful of grilled snake; “Tastes like chicken!” you joke at the camera. Before popping a piece of charred snake skin into your mouth.

You feel Alexia shudder in your arms.

"I'm never kissing you again" she lies.

Mapi slowly turns around, mouth agape, gobsmacked look on her face. “Snake!” she whispers, in disbelief. “You beat a snake!” You can’t help but laugh and lean over to turn her head back to the TV.

“Told you you’d find everything out tonta.”

The map on screen shows the last day of the challenge, Bear's voice over explaining distances to the muster points, as well as geographical challenges. The screen swaps quickly between the two of you, running, climbing and swimming to where you both believed the finish line to be.

You were making good progress, as was Bear.

A close up of a Brazilian flag on the edge of a waterfall.

A close up of you throwing yourself into the river.

Bear gripping a cliff edge and heaving himself up. The camera shows the bottom of the flag pole as he pulls himself up. The camera pans up. And the flagpole is bare.

The screen changes to you.

Standing, still relatively scantily clad in your battered boots, your hiking shorts cut down to short-shorts and thin vest muddied and holey, fish blood staining your arms,holding the flag proudly up in one arm.

The room around you erupts. “She did it!” “¡Jefe de la Jungla!!!!” “I always knew!”, “She killed a snake!”. You find yourself at the bottom of a pile of bodies as Alexia's teammates celebrate in the way they know how. Which is apparently to throw themselves at you in a pile up.

“That's my wife!” Alexia chants proudly from within the pile, laughing gleefully, all earlier angst forgotten.

The screen goes blank, and the image shows you and Bear embracing, laughing as the voiceover continues; “... at least this time. It's a Queen of the jungle… or should I say. La Reina de la Jungla.” Bear quips, as Alexia groans, forever hating her nickname, and the screen cuts to black.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It’s hours later, many more plates of food, celebration toasts and questions from Mapi about the snake later. That you're finally in the quiet of your bedroom in your wife's arms.

Your mum and brother are set up in the spare rooms and you have all got plans to meet up with the Alexias family at the game tomorrow before going out for a meal.

Your head is settled on her chest as she plays on her phone above you, struggling to calm down from the evening's events, and as usual, struggling to sleep before a game.  You play with her wedding ring on her spare hand. Feeling the cool metal beneath against her warm skin.

You feel her swipe furiously through her phone, getting more agitated as time passes, grumbles that are not-quite words emitting from her chest.

“Hey. Love.” you sit up and pull her phone away. “What's the matter?”

“Nothing.” she replies, bottom lip out in a pout, pulling her phone back into her hand.

“It’s not nothing. Tell me.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Alexia.” you sigh, “We aren't doing this.. What's got you so…” you look down onto her phone and see. Yourself? It's her tiktok open and you see an edit of the show being played over… “Hot Stuff? Ale. What's this?” you glance at the comments section and see a selection from seemingly anon accounts;  

‘I have never understood Alexia more’, ‘I wonder who calls who capi.’ ,‘Capi, your wife's thighs are bigger than yours’.

“Nothing!” she grabs her phone back from your grip… you arch an eyebrow at her which crumbles her resolve in 3…2…

“Fine! It's all over my TikTok.  The comments about you. The fans have made these edits. Of you! All, wet and… muscley and… nearly undressed.”

“And you…don’t… like me wet, and muscled and… naked? Cause, love, I have evidenced otherwis…”

“Shut up! Of course I do but you're mine!”

Oh. Realisation dawns on you and you can’t help but smile.

“Don’t laugh!” she grumbles. “You’re jealous….” you tease in a sing-song voice. “I am not jealous!” she insists, “It's just… tu eres mio! And these people are all looking at you”.

“I am,” you agree, with a smile. “But, love. Try being married to Alexia Putellas. Maybe you’ll keep your shirt on at games now.” you tease, making her smile and roll her eyes.

Eyes softening as you pull her phone from her grip and plug it in for her. Settling back into her chest, nuzzling against the warm skin you find there.

“I am so proud of you.” she whispers into the now dark room, placing a kiss on your head. The moment became more serious and tender.

“I love you” you reply, softly, the moment feels weighted, and you’re not sure what makes you do it. Maybe it's the adrenaline of the evening, having completed your life's ambition, or maybe it's the wine you drank.

Though, really, you know it's because of the images of your lanky wife curling herself onto the rug in the living room because Bruno had decided she was the world's best pillow again. But you can’t stop yourself.

“Ale. I want to have kids with you.”

Her hand stops its movement in your hair and she rushes over to turn the bedside lamp back on.

“Que?” she breathes out. Hands finding their place softly on your cheeks, a look of urgency in her eyes.

“I want us to have kids. Me and you. I want that with you. Is that something you’re ready for?” you whisper, eyes looking deeply into hers.

“En serio?” she asks, as though she's afraid of the answer.

You nod in response. Moving your hand to wipe away the tears that have appeared on her cheeks.

“Sí, Mi Amor. Quiero eso contigo. Mucho.”

You're both smiling too much to kiss, but you make a good go of it anyway. And as you bury yourself into your wife's arms. Hands roaming and adrenaline of a decision made rushing through your body you can't help but think.

This is the beginning of the biggest adventure of your life. 

Capi Mami - Alexia Putellas x barcelona femini

Summary: Alexia swears she’s not the team mom… and yet she’s the one confiscating phones, doling out granola bars, and keeping this locker room from imploding.

Word count: 1.5k

This is part of my 1k commemoration blurb! <3

a/n: a single mama who works two jobs

Masterlist

..

The locker room was a mess. Water bottles were scattered across the floor, shoes were everywhere, and a few jerseys had been tossed carelessly on the benches.

The younger girls were in full gossip mode, laughing and talking over each other, completely oblivious to the chaos they had created.

Vicky was sitting on one of the benches, animatedly chatting about some TikTok challenge, while Salma and Jana were having a loud conversation about the training session they had just finished.

Pina’s laughter echoed through the room as Esmee said something dry and hilarious.

Y/n and Sydney were livestreaming on Instagram–very much against team rules–talking about their training routine and casually throwing shade at the referee from their last match.

Marta walked in first. Her eyes widened as she surveyed the scene. She shook her head with a sigh and muttered, “What is this, girls?”

She took one step and nearly tripped over a bag lying in the middle of the floor.

“Okay,” Marta said angrily, lifting the bag into the air. “Whose bag is this—and why do I have a bunch of stickers glued on my locker?”

“Do you like it?” Vicky asked brightly, the only one acknowledging Marta’s presence.

“I hate it,” Marta replied flatly. “Take it off.”

Vicky rolled her eyes and continued chatting. The others kept pretending Marta didn’t exist.

“You might want to clean this up before Alexia gets here,” Marta warned, but the girls barely looked up.

Marta rolled her eyes and muttered something under her breath before walking out.

She walked down the hall to find Alexia stretching on a bench, prepping for another round of training. Marta couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Tus nenas están causando problemas,” [Your girls are causing problems], she said with a teasing smile.

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Qué?” [what?]

"They’re making a mess in the locker room again. And I’m pretty sure I saw Y/n going live on Instagram ranting about the ref being bought."

Alexia sighed, her expression shifting from confused to fondly exasperated. "You know what they’re like," she muttered, standing up. "I’ll handle them, and then I’m confiscating Y/n’s phone."

The moment Alexia stepped into the locker room, her gaze swept across the chaos. Water bottles, jerseys, shin guards, and random clothes covered the floor. Not a single head turned.

Alexia didn’t speak at first. 

She simply stood there in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable. After a long pause, her voice finally cut through the room.

"Nenas, qué es esto?" [Girls, what is this?]

Y/n jumped to her feet, face paling at the tone. The room fell silent in an instant.

Vicky, Salma, and Pina all sat up straighter. Y/n very discreetly hid her phone behind her back while nudging Sydney to sit properly and kick a rogue boot under the bench.

“Hi, Ale!” Vicky greeted sweetly, putting on her most innocent baby voice.

“Mi reina!” Pina chimed in, springing up and reaching for a hug.

Alexia sidestepped her without missing a beat. “What is all of this?” she asked, gesturing at the chaos with one unimpressed sweep of her hand.

“Nothing! We were just… talking,” Jana said quickly, voice shrinking. “It, uh… got a little out of hand?”

Alexia’s eyes scanned the room like a laser. Her lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line.

“Is this how we treat a shared space?” she asked. Her voice didn’t rise, but the warning in it was sharp.

“No,” they chorused, voices barely above a whisper.

“Is the locker room where we throw our stuff around like toddlers?”

“No.”

“Should I start labelling your bottles and jerseys like you’re in daycare? Or can we act like professionals?”

“We can act like professionals,” they muttered in unison, chastened.

Alexia took one slow step forward. The shift in the room was immediate–every breath held, every eye on her.

“I don’t like doing this,” she said quietly, the calm in her voice somehow worse than yelling. “But this? This is not okay. I expect better from all of you.”

Y/n shifted awkwardly, guilt written all over her face. “Are you mad at us?”

“I’m not mad,” Alexia said, her pause deliberate. “I’m disappointed.”

The words hit harder than anything else could have. The silence that followed was thick.

“We’re sorry, Capi,” Y/n said, her head ducked. “We didn’t mean to mess up. We just got carried away.”

Alexia’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “You should’ve known better. I trust you girls. Don’t make me regret that.”

“We’re really sorry, Alexia,” Salma added quickly, voice sincere.

“Sorry isn’t enough,” Alexia replied, crossing her arms. “I better not hear another complaint. Understood?”

“Yes,” they all said, truly meaning it this time.

“Clean it up,” Alexia ordered, turning to walk out. “And next time? Think before you act.”

As soon as the door shut behind Alexia, Sydney let out a dramatic exhale. “I really thought she was gonna make us run laps again.”

“My feet still hurt from last time,” Y/n groaned, flopping back onto the bench.

“Obviously,” Pina snorted. “It was yesterday, genius.”

“We are never doing this again,” Vicky said, voice solemn like she was making a blood pact.

“Nope,” Jana chimed in, hand raised like she was swearing an oath. “From now on, we will clean up before she walks in.”

“We should actually stop throwing stuff the second we get here,” Salma added thoughtfully.

Y/n suddenly sat up, panic dawning on her face. “Wait. Do you think she saw me go live?”

“Yes,” everyone said in eerie unison.

Y/n groaned and buried her face in her hands. “I’m so screwed.”

“You two are a disaster,” Jana muttered, nudging Sydney.

“We are not,” Sydney defended. “The world just needed to know how rigged that ref was.”

“You need to stop,” Esmee said, already starting to clean up the bottles.

Sydney shot her a look. “You’re just mad you didn’t join the live.”

“No,” Esmee said dryly. “I just don’t enjoy being yelled at. Call me crazy.”

Their chatter continued as they cleaned, a little more subdued now. Just outside, Alexia leaned against the wall, listening. 

A soft smile tugged at her lips.

Y/n leaned back on the bench, phone in hand, muttering just loud enough for the others to hear, “One day, I swear, I’m gonna figure out how to get away with this. Maybe I’ll just block the older girls on Instagram and on Twitter–problem solved.”

A few of the girls snorted in laughter.

But then…

A voice, calm and deadly precise, cut through the moment.

“You think I’m gonna let that happen?”

Silence.

Alexia had stepped into the room like a shadow. Everyone froze. Y/n especially.

"Phone. Now."  Her palm was out, her stance unyielding.

Y/n clutched her phone like a lifeline. “Ale… come on. Please.”

Alexia didn’t budge. “Now. You’ll get it back after training–if you survive it.”

A dramatic sigh escaped Y/n, but she reluctantly handed it over, placing it in Alexia’s open palm like a guilty child surrendering contraband.

Alexia smirked, tucking it safely into her jacket pocket. “You really think I don’t hear everything? I’m always watching.”

As she turned and walked off, Vicky whispered, “She’s got ears like a hawk.”

“No,” Jana said with a grin, “she’s got mom-radar.”

From across the room, Alexia called out, “I heard that, too.”

As soon as she left, Vicky whispered, "Okay… maybe we should behave."

"Maybe," Jana said. "But I doubt it’ll last."

After cleaning everything, the door opened again. Alexia stepped back in and surveyed the room.

"Well done," she said. "Now get ready. Training’s going to be tough."

As they moved, Alexia pulled a small bag from her backpack and began tossing sandwiches and granola bars at them.

“Eat,” she ordered, hands on her hips. “No one’s stepping onto that pitch with an empty stomach.”

“But we already had lunch,” Y/n mumbled, catching hers mid-air.

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “And?”

“You’re serious?” Vicky asked, halfway through peeling the wrapper.

“Sí,” Alexia replied, voice firm but laced with affection. “You need it. You’ve all been dragging your feet since drills this morning.”

Y/n took a bite and sighed. “Okay, you’re right. I was kind of sluggish.”

“You always try to avoid eating before training,” Jana chimed in, smirking. “No more excuses.”

“I’m eating, aren’t I?” Y/n grumbled around a mouthful.

Alexia gave her a knowing smile. “Good. You need the energy to keep up with the rest of them.”

“Okay, mamí,” Y/n teased, raising an eyebrow.

Alexia paused mid-step. “What did you just say?”

“Mamí,” Y/n repeated, grinning now. “You act like a mom. You scold us, you take our phones, you pack our snacks. You’re literally parenting us.”

“I am not,” Alexia scoffed.

“You are,” Vicky said through a mouthful of granola. “This is full-on mom behaviour.”

“Keep calling me that and I’ll ground you,” Alexia warned, but her lips twitched, threatening a smile.

“See?!” Y/n pointed dramatically. “Mom threat.”

Alexia rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, she watched them finish the bars and sandwiches, making sure every last bite was gone.

Once the wrappers were tossed and silence settled back in, she straightened, captain mode back on.

“Alright. Let’s go. Hydrate, boots on, and meet me in five. We’ve got work to do.”

She turned, but not before one last glance over her shoulder at the girls–her girls. 

Their chaos, their charm, their energy. They might not be hers, not really, but her love for them was unmistakable.

Strict? Always.

Soft? Only when they weren’t looking.

..

a/n: Just really wanted to write something platonic haha

❤️❤️

Apart of Perfect Shot Series

You and Alexia tell your family and friends

Another evening, as you changed into one of Alexia’s oversized hoodies to head out for a casual dinner with some of her teammates, she stood in the doorway watching you yet again

You caught her smirk in the mirror. “What?”

Alexia’s grin grew. “You think no one’s going to notice if you keep dressing like that?”

You tugged at the hoodie, making a face. “It’s comfortable.”

She walked forward, arms slipping around your waist, hands immediately finding your bump. “It’s obvious,” she murmured, her thumbs brushing the curve. “You’re getting rounder.”

You groaned dramatically. “That’s what you want to say to your pregnant wife?”

She laughed, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I love it,” she murmured.

You sighed, melting into her touch. “It’s getting harder to hide.”

“Why are we hiding it?” she teased. “We should get you a shirt that says, ‘Pregnant with a footballing legend.’”

You rolled your eyes. “No one is finding out until the all ok on the next scan. That’s the rule.”

Alexia huffed. “Fine. But after that, I’m buying you all the tightest maternity shirts.”

You smirked. “I’d like to see you try.”

—

It starts off slowly—small things.  

Burt, your gentle giant, begins following you more closely than usual, shadowing you from room to room like your fluffy, silent bodyguard. Ernie, your little stubby-legged sidekick, starts curling up right at your feet every time you sit, instead of his usual spot squished up next to Burt or on his throne of pillows.  

At first, you think it’s just them reacting to how unwell you’ve been. You’re barely eating, you nap constantly, and your movements are slower, cautious. They’re just being protective.  

But then, one morning, it becomes obvious.  

You’re stretched out on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket with a mug of cold ginger tea resting on the coffee table. Alexia is in the kitchen, fussing with toast and muttering to herself in Catalan about how plain crackers shouldn’t be this hard to make appealing.  

Burt ambles over first, lumbering with his usual lazy grace, and without hesitation, lowers his head and rests it gently—delicately—on your stomach.  

You blink, freezing for a second.  

“Hi, buddy,” you murmur, scratching his ear. “You comfy there?”  

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t nudge. Just… rests.  

And then Ernie trots over, climbs halfway onto your lap like he’s always done, and nudges his little head just under Burt’s, resting it right against your belly.  

You stare down at them, a lump forming in your throat.  

They know.  

Somehow, without being told, without a single ultrasound photo or whispered secret, they know.  

They know there’s someone new in there.  

Alexia walks in and stops mid-step, eyes softening instantly at the sight of all three of you. “Mira’t,” she says gently, smiling so wide it makes your chest ache.  

“They know,” you whisper, your hand resting on Burt’s big, warm head. “They know I’m pregnant.”  

Alexia comes to kneel by the sofa, brushing a hand across Ernie’s back and then resting the other gently on top of yours. “Of course they do,” she says softly. “They’re family.”  

You glance down at the two of them—Ernie snoring softly, Burt’s eyes watching you like he’s guarding something sacred.  

“They’re going to be so good with the baby,” you whisper.  

Alexia kisses your temple, her hand still over yours, over your belly, over everything the four of you are now protecting.  

“They already are.”

—

It was already one of those days where everything felt like it was moving too fast.  

The crucial scan was scheduled for 5:30pm—a big one. The kind where you’d finally be far enough along to see real definition, measure growth, maybe even hear more than just the rapid-fire thump of a heartbeat.  

You were nervous. So nervous.  

And Alexia was still at training.  

She’d promised—sworn—she’d be done by 4:30, back home by 5:00, and the two of you would go together, hand in hand like you always did.  

But 4:45 came. Then 5:00.  

And you were still standing in the hallway, dressed, holding your water bottle and your folder of notes and appointment letters, watching the front door like it might open on its own.  

Your phone buzzed.  

Alexia 🖤  

Training ran over. I’m trying to leave now. Don’t wait. I’ll meet you there. I’m sorry, mi amor. I’m coming as fast as I can.

You stared at the message, heart sinking slightly. You understood—God, you did. It wasn’t her fault. She’d been pulled for media, and then a short team talk had somehow turned into a full breakdown of the last three matches.

But still.  

You wanted her there.  

Especially today.  

---

By the time you made it to the clinic, your hands were shaking slightly, your nerves setting in. You checked in, sat down, and texted her.  

You: In the waiting room. Room 4. I’ll stall them if I can.  

No reply.  

You assumed she was driving.  

The nurse called your name at 5:37. You stood, hesitating—wanting to beg for just five more minutes—but the words wouldn’t come.  

You followed her in, lying down on the exam table, the same room where you’d been told there was no heartbeat. You hoped it wasn’t an omen.

Your eyes fluttered shut. Please, please let this be different.

Just as the nurse rolled the machine closer, the door burst open.  

Alexia.  

Out of breath, flushed from sprinting, her Barça hoodie half-zipped, boots clomping awkwardly against the linoleum floor.  

“Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento,” she panted, holding up a hand to the nurse as she crossed the room in two long strides. “I ran from the car park. I’m here. I’m here.”  

You let out a shaky breath that turned into a laugh, and the nurse gave you both a soft smile. “Perfect timing. Let’s take a look, shall we?”  

Alexia immediately took your hand, her forehead resting against yours for a second. “Never again,” she whispered. “I swear, I’ll walk out mid-training next time if I have to.”  

You squeezed her fingers. “You’re here. That’s what matters.”  

And then—  

The sound.  

That perfect, powerful heartbeat, stronger than last time.  

And on the screen a tiny, clear shape. Arms. Legs. Movement.  

Your baby.  

You felt Alexia's hand tremble in yours as the two of you stared, breathless, overwhelmed, absolutely undone.  

She whispered, voice cracking, “That’s our baby.”  

And this time, you were both exactly where you were meant to be.

—

The soft whoosh-whoosh-whoosh of the heartbeat fills the room like music. You can feel Alexia’s grip on your hand tighten, not painfully—just grounding, like she needs to hold onto something before her heart floats right out of her chest.

The nurse smiles at both of you, adjusting the angle of the probe slightly. “Your baby is measuring beautifully,” she says kindly, her voice warm and calm. “Let me show you a few things.”

You both lean closer to the screen, eyes wide as the grainy black and white image pulses with life.

“Here’s the head,” she says, pointing gently with her cursor. “You can see the curve of the skull here, and this shadow is the brain starting to form. Strong and symmetrical.”

You gasp quietly, heart stuttering. “That’s their head?”

Alexia’s face is soft with awe, her eyes fixed to the monitor like it holds the entire universe. “Dios mío…”

“And right here,” the nurse continues, shifting the view slightly, “are the arms—little hands starting to form at the end.” She chuckles softly. “Look at those fingers.”

You actually see them. Tiny, wiggling, real fingers.

“They’re moving,” you whisper, voice caught in your throat. “They’re really moving.”

“They’re practicing already,” the nurse grins. “Busy little one.”

You look over at Alexia, whose eyes are completely glassy, her lips parted in stunned wonder. She hasn’t blinked once.

She clears her throat, voice slightly hoarse. “Our baby has hands.”

“And feet,” the nurse adds, tilting the probe again. “Look at those toes.”

You both laugh, and you feel a tear finally slip free, tracing a warm path down your cheek. Alexia catches it with her thumb before it can fall further.

The nurse takes a few more measurements before clicking a button. “Would you like a printout of the scan?” she asks gently.

You nod immediately. “Yes, please.”

Alexia, still slightly in shock, lifts her hand. “Can we—uh, can we get more? Like, the extras? Whatever you have.”

The nurse raises an eyebrow, amused. “Photos, USB, key rings, digital files?”

“All of it,” Alexia says without missing a beat, reaching into her jacket for her wallet. “We want everything.”

You snort a laugh, your heart swelling. “Are you buying out the baby merch stand?”

“If I could frame the heartbeat and hang it in the hallway, I would,” she says without a hint of irony.

The nurse chuckles, handing you a warm set of glossy scan prints. “Here’s your first photo album, then.”

You take them in trembling fingers, staring down at the blurry but perfect image of your baby, your heart thudding in time with theirs.

Alexia wraps an arm around you as you sit up slowly, careful not to smudge the prints with your fingertips.

You lean into her shoulder and whisper, “We’re really doing this, aren’t we?”

She presses a kiss into your hair, her voice low and steady. “Yeah, mi amor. We are. And they already have the best nose I’ve ever seen.”

You laugh into her shoulder, holding the scan to your chest. And for the first time, in a long time, your joy doesn’t feel careful.

It just feels real.

—

The car is quiet. The kind of quiet that feels sacred.  

You're parked just outside the clinic, the soft hum of Barcelona’s evening settling around you, people passing by unaware that in the small, private world of your car, something extraordinary has just happened.  

Alexia sits in the driver’s seat, keys still in the ignition but engine off, her body angled toward you, legs tucked slightly beneath her as she holds the envelope of scan photos like it’s made of glass.  

You’re beside her, curled slightly sideways in your seat, seatbelt off, one leg folded under the other, eyes still fixed on the black and white print in your hands.  

The baby is small, but there’s no denying they’re there. A shape. A form. Arms. Legs. Fingers. A heartbeat.  

“Look,” Alexia says softly, holding one of the scans up to the light as if it’ll help her memorise every single detail. “That’s their little hand. You can see it.”  

You nod, eyes welling again. “I know. I still can’t believe it’s real.”  

Alexia gently slides one of the scans into your lap, her voice reverent. “This one’s my favourite. The profile… they have your nose.”  

You let out a wet laugh, dabbing at your cheeks with your sleeve. “Alexia that’s biologically impossible.”  

“It does” she says firmly, grinning even as her voice shakes with emotion.  

The grin fades slowly as she stares down at the photo again, her expression softening. “They’re ours.”  

You glance at her. Her eyes are glassy again, lashes damp, and she’s not trying to hide it.  

“I was so scared to go to this appointment,” you admit quietly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about last time. What it felt like to walk out of there empty.”  

Alexia reaches across the centre console, slipping her hand into yours, weaving your fingers together. “I know. I felt it too. Like I was holding my breath the whole time.”  

“But we walked out with this.” You hold up the scan, your thumb gently brushing over the shape of your tiny baby. “We walked out with them.”  

She squeezes your hand. “We walked out as parents.”  

The word hits you like a soft thunderclap.  

Parents.  

You sit in silence for a moment, just feeling it.  

The responsibility. The beauty. The miracle of it all.  

You gently turn to her and whisper, “Do you think Burt and Ernie will be jealous?”  

Alexia snorts, blinking through her tears. “They’re going to be obsessed. Burt’s going to be a bodyguard, and Ernie’s going to teach them how to sneak food off plates.”  

You laugh, wiping at your eyes. “We’re going to have a baby. In a few months, we’re going to be waking up to cries, and diapers, and chaos… and it’s going to be the best thing we’ve ever done.”  

Alexia leans over, her forehead resting gently against yours, her other hand still clutching the envelope of scan photos to her chest.  

“I’ve never been so scared in my life,” she admits, her voice barely a breath. “But I’ve also never loved anyone the way I love you. Or wanted anything more than this with you.”  

You smile, brushing your nose against hers. “We’re doing this together. Every second of it.”  

She kisses you softly—slow and full of promise—then pulls back just enough to whisper:  

“Let’s go home, mamá.”  

And just like that, everything feels right.

—

Eli’s home always felt warm.

It was the kind of place where love was stitched into the very walls, where the smell of home-cooked meals clung to the furniture, where laughter echoed through the hallways even on the quietest nights.

And tonight, it was no different.

Alba was already nursing a glass of wine, chatting animatedly about something ridiculous that happened in her life, while Eli busied herself serving up far too much food for just the four of you.

But you were struggling. The smells of everything—the garlic, the roasted meat, even the faint scent of wine—had been assaulting your senses since you walked in the door.

Alexia had noticed immediately. And so had Eli. Her sharp eyes flicked toward you as she placed a bowl of food in front of you, her brow furrowing slightly when she saw how pale you looked. “Mi amor,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Are you still sick?.”

You forced a smile, pushing your food around with your fork. “I’m fine.”

Eli narrowed her eyes slightly, unconvinced. “You haven’t touched your food.”

“I’m just not too hungry,” you tried again.

That made everyone go silent.

Alba blinked dramatically, looking between you and Alexia. “Since when are you not hungry?”

Alexia let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “Mami, I think we have something to tell you.”

Eli froze.

Her eyes widened slightly, her hands stilling over the napkin she had been adjusting. “Tell me what?”

You exhaled, setting down your fork. Your hands trembled slightly as you stood up from your chair, suddenly feeling so many emotions at once. Then, slowly, you reached for the hem of your hoodie and lifted it—just enough to reveal the small but undeniable bump that had begun to form.

Eli gasped.

Alba nearly choked on her wine.

“I get morning sickness in the mornings and the evenings,” you murmured, a soft but certain smile on your lips. “because, I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, no one moved.

Eli’s hand came up to her mouth, eyes wide, her entire body still as she stared at your stomach.

Alba’s chair scraped against the floor as she pushed back from the table, standing so suddenly she nearly knocked over her glass. “Wait, WHAT?!”

You laughed softly, pulling your hoodie back down as Alexia reached for your hand, her warmth grounding you.

“You—” Eli blinked rapidly, looking at you, then at Alexia, then back at you. “You’re pregnant?”

You nodded, feeling tears sting your eyes at the sheer emotion in her voice.

Eli let out a soft sob and immediately wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into a warm, desperate embrace. “Mi niña…” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

You melted into her, feeling the weight of the moment settle deep in your chest.

Alba, on the other hand, was still staring at you both like you had just told her the world was ending.

“You—” She pointed wildly between the two of you. “You’re pregnant?!”

Alexia smirked. “Yes, Alba.”

Alba blinked. “Like, for real?”

You let out a breathy laugh, wiping at your eyes. “For real.”

Her eyes widened further. “But you—” She frowned slightly. “I didn’t even know you were trying yet?”

You swallowed hard, glancing at Alexia before turning back to them. “We kept it private. We, um—” You hesitated before inhaling deeply. “We’ve actually been trying for a while.”

Eli pulled back slightly, concern flickering in her gaze. “Cuánto tiempo?”

You squeezed Alexia’s hand, finding strength in her touch. “This is our fourth attempt.”

Eli’s breath caught. “Four?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “The first two times didn’t work. The third time… we got a positive, but we lost the baby.”

Alba let out a soft oh under her breath, her expression instantly shifting to something more serious. Eli’s hands gripped yours tightly, her eyes shining with pain and understanding. “Mi amor,” she whispered.

You offered her a small, grateful smile. “But now, this time… we feel so lucky.”

Eli wiped at her eyes, sniffling before letting out a watery laugh. “I can’t believe this.”

The moment wraps around all of you like a warm blanket—arms tangled, breath hitching, emotions hanging heavy in the air.  

Eli’s still clutching you tightly, murmuring soft blessings against your hair, one hand now splayed protectively over your bump like she already considers herself a guardian of the little life growing inside you.  

Alexia leans into your side, her eyes locked on yours like she’s still trying to absorb the reality of what’s happening—her wife, her mother, her sister, and your baby all woven together in a moment you never knew your heart needed so badly.  

And then, you notice it.  

Alba.  

She hasn’t said anything since her initial outburst. She’s stepped back from the hug, standing slightly off to the side now, hands wrapped around herself. Her face is unreadable for a moment, her jaw tight, her eyes glassy.  

Alexia turns her head, still holding you close. “Alba?” she says gently. “You okay? We’ve just told the most incredible thing is happening to us and you look like you couldn’t care any less”  

Alba blinks, like she’s only just noticed the attention shifting to her. Her lips press together, her throat bobbing once. “Yeah,” she says quickly, but her voice cracks halfway through.   She tries to brush it off with a shaky laugh. “I’m—God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”  

And then it happens.  

Her voice breaks completely, and she brings a hand to her face, trying to stop it, but the tears are already slipping down her cheeks.  

You and Alexia freeze.  

“Alba…” Alexia says softly, stepping toward her. “Hey, hey, what is it?”  

Alba tries to speak but chokes on the first word. She lets out a sob, frustrated and emotional and completely unguarded—so unlike her usual chaotic, firecracker self.  

“I’m just—” She laughs and cries at the same time, wiping at her face. “I’m so happy. I’m so happy you’re pregnant and I—” She stops, breath catching. “I didn’t know how much I wanted this for you both until you said it out loud.”  

Alexia pulls her into a hug immediately, arms wrapping around her younger sister with such force that you feel it in your chest.  

Alba clings to her, burying her face into Alexia’s shoulder like she did when they were kids, when things were overwhelming, when she needed someone to hold her while she felt.

Eli stands beside you, eyes still damp, her hand sliding back into yours with a squeeze.  

You watch Alexia whisper something into Alba’s ear, soothing, loving, and Alba nods through her tears, pressing her forehead to her sister’s chest.  

“I thought she was sick,” Alba murmurs. “I thought something was awfully wrong, I’d convinced myself we-you’d loose her and i didn’t know how we’d handle that, you were so sick that night, you looked so sick and it looked like you’d lost weight, it scared me”  

Alexia huffs a small, tearful laugh. “You idiot”

You walk over quietly and slide your hand into Alba’s. She looks at you, still tear-streaked, and lets out a breathy, disbelieving laugh. “I’m fine, i speak to my doctor all the time” you showed your bump again, “It’s just morning sickness, i promise, i’m doing everything the doctor tells me to, to make sure the baby and I are healthy through this little bit”

“I’m going to be a Tía.”  

“You’re going to be the most chaotic Tía ever,” you say with a grin.  

“I’m going to buy them the loudest toys known to man.”  

“Absolutely not,” Alexia says immediately.  

All three of you laugh through the tears. And standing there, wrapped up in love, in emotion, in family—you know it more than ever.  

This baby is already surrounded by a world so full of love, they’ll never go a day without feeling it.

You gently tug your hand free from Alba’s and slip it into your coat pocket where, carefully folded and protected like a sacred treasure, the scan photo has been tucked away since the clinic visit.  

Your fingers tremble a little as you unfold the paper, the soft crinkle drawing Eli’s and Alba’s attention immediately.  

“I have…” you begin, voice still thick with emotion, “…something I want to show you.”  

Alexia, still standing with one arm around her sister’s shoulder, glances over at you with that soft, knowing look—the one that says I know how much this means.  

You hold the photo out toward them, your thumb brushing over the image like you can’t quite believe it’s real, even now.  

“From our last scan,” you say gently. “We saw everything. Their head, their hands… we even heard the heartbeat again.”  

Eli gasps softly and moves in close, her hand coming to rest over her heart the second her eyes land on the image. Her lips part, and her breath catches. “Ay, míralo…”  

Alba steps beside her, peeking over her mother’s shoulder. At first she’s quiet, her eyes scanning the blurry but unmistakable shape of the baby—so small, curled like a comma, but there.  

“Is that their…?” she starts, pointing clumsily to the head.  

Alexia steps in, smirking. “Yes. That’s the head. Not a potato, like you’re probably thinking.”  

Alba laughs through a sniffle, nudging her playfully. “I wasn’t going to say potato!” A beat. “...But it does kind of look like one.”  

Eli swats her gently, but she’s still crying, her thumb now tracing the edge of the photo like it’s the most precious thing she’s ever held.  

“They’re perfect,” she whispers. “Already perfect.”  

You step closer to Alexia, letting her wrap an arm around your waist, her hand automatically resting against your bump.  

“I’ve stared at this photo a hundred times already,” you admit, resting your head on her shoulder. “And every time I do, it hits me all over again—they’re real. They’re ours.”  

Alba reaches for the photo, asking softly, “Can I hold it?”  

You nod, and she takes it gently, like she’s afraid she’ll break it. She stares at it for a long moment, then looks up at you and Alexia, her expression open and vulnerable in a way you rarely see.  

“I’m going to love them so much,” she says quietly. “You don’t even know.”  

Alexia smiles, her own eyes misty again. “We do know. We’ve discussed it at length”  

The four of you stand there in Eli’s kitchen—food forgotten, hearts wide open, surrounded by the smell of roasted garlic and the sound of quiet sniffles.  

And in that moment, with your scan photo passing from hand to hand, something settles in the room.  

This baby is already home.  Already loved. Already theirs, too. You step back from the circle of warmth in Eli’s kitchen, cheeks still flushed from all the tears and laughter, your heart full but pounding with a new kind of anticipation. You’d been waiting for the right moment to do this. And now, watching Alba cradling the scan photo like it’s made of stardust and Eli still dabbing at her cheeks with a napkin, you know maybe you were ready to reach out to your own family. 

Alexia reaches for your hand, pulling you gently into her side, her voice soft and low against your ear. “I love you.”  

You smile into her shoulder, tears prickling your eyes again. Eli steps forward, pulling you into a hug again, whispering, “This baby is already so lucky. So loved.”  

And in that moment, wrapped in her arms, Alexia’s hand on your back, Alba quietly swearing she’s going to be the “cool emotional aunt,” you feel it again—  

That this little life growing inside you has already built a family bigger than blood.  

They’ve built a home.

Alba is still standing there in the kitchen, one hand clutched to her chest and the other holding the framed scan at arm’s length like she’s trying to mentally zoom in. Her eyes are narrowed, tongue poking out slightly as she inspects the grainy image with ridiculous focus.  

Then, she says it.  

Totally serious.  

“I’m telling you… they have your nose.”  

You blink. “What?”  

Alexia perks up instantly, standing straighter beside you like a lightbulb just went off. “Thank you!” she exclaims, pointing at her sister. “I said the same thing when we left the clinic!”  

You gape at them both. “How—how can you possibly tell that from a grainy black and white scan that looks like it was taken with a potato?”  

Alba smirks, triumphant. “You can totally tell. Look at this little bump on the bridge! That’s you.”  

Alexia crosses her arms with a smug grin. “Exacte. I said they had your nose, and you told me I was being ridiculous.”  

You throw your hands up, exasperated but laughing. “Because it is ridiculous! You do remember it was your egg, right? Your DNA? I’m just the deluxe human incubator in this equation.”  

Alba gasps. “Did you just call yourself a deluxe human incubator?”  

Alexia bites her lip, trying not to laugh. “That’s going on a T-shirt.”  

You groan dramatically, dropping into the chair. “You two are unbelievable. The baby is genetically yours, Alexia. Your egg.”  

Alexia shrugs, still staring at the scan like she’s searching for clues. “Maybe. But they’re growing inside you. And if they’re already getting your attitude—”  

“—they’re definitely getting your nose,” Alba finishes.  

You cover your face with your hands. “I regret telling you anything.”  

But you don’t, not really. Because when you peek through your fingers, they’re both grinning at the scan like it’s a masterpiece, like this blurry photo has already revealed an entire person.  

Your person.  

Alexia catches your gaze, her teasing fading just enough for something softer to settle into her expression. She kneels beside your chair and places a hand on your belly, gentle and sure.  

“Regardless of whose nose they have,” she murmurs, “they’re ours. Every little bit.”  

You smile through the warmth rising in your chest, brushing your fingers through her hair.  

“Yeah,” you whisper. “They really are.”  

And just like that, even with all the bickering and chaos, the room is full of peace again. A quiet knowing. A family already falling in love with someone they’ve never met.

—

Something shifted as the second trimester arrived.

It wasn’t dramatic—there wasn’t a switch flipped overnight—but it was definitely noticeable. Your nausea, while not entirely gone, began to give you some grace. You could finally keep food down, you started sleeping better, and the fatigue that had made your limbs feel like lead slowly began to fade. You started to feel more like yourself.

Except… not quite.

Because this version of you? This new, radiant, glowing, tingling version of you? She was insatiable.

At first, you thought it was just a fluke—a flurry of hormones shifting as your body adjusted, a couple of blush-inducing dreams that left you tangled in sheets and aching in a way you hadn’t felt for weeks. But then it kept happening.

A lingering glance from Alexia while she dried her hair. The way her hand would rest lazily on your thigh as you lay on the sofa. The sight of her in her training gear, all strength and casual swagger, or standing at the kitchen counter in a hoodie and nothing else, humming softly to herself.

It did things to you.

You tried to play it cool at first. A few stolen kisses while she made breakfast. Your hands wandering a little lower than usual as you cuddled in bed. Her hand cradling your bump during a sleepy embrace would have you biting your lip, trying not to press into her palm.

But Alexia, of course, noticed.

She always did.

And she definitely wasn’t complaining. One night, lying on the couch with your head in her lap while she mindlessly scrolled through Netflix options, your fingers were tracing slow, lazy circles on her knee. You weren’t really paying attention to the screen. You were watching her. The curve of her jaw, the way her lips curled in thought, the subtle flex of her thigh under your head. You shifted slightly, pressing a little closer.

Her eyes flicked down. “You okay?”

You nodded, eyes hooded. “Yeah. Just…”

She tilted her head, smirking. “Just what?”

You hesitated, then whispered, “I really want you right now.”

She blinked, caught off guard—but only for a second. That knowing smirk deepened as she leaned down and brushed a slow kiss against your lips. “You’re glowing,” she murmured, her hand smoothing down over your bump. “And kind of dangerous right now.”

You grinned against her mouth. “Dangerous?”

“You’ve been giving me that look for a week. I’ve been trying to behave.”

You shifted again, this time straddling her lap slowly, wrapping your arms around her neck. “Don’t.”

Alexia’s hands slid to your hips instinctively, her breath catching. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

You leaned in, pressing your forehead to hers. “You won’t. I feel good, Lex. Really good. Better than I have in months.”

She kissed you then—deep and slow, the kind of kiss that said she’d been waiting for you to feel like this again, the kind of kiss that didn’t just ignite your skin but centred you. That night was soft and careful and full of laughter and breathy sighs, full of the quietest kind of fire. Alexia’s hands cradling your body like she was holding something precious. Her lips mapping your skin slowly, reverently, like she’d missed every inch of you and wasn’t going to waste a second more.

She didn’t rush you. She didn’t push. She followed your pace, your need, your rhythm. And God, you needed her. Not just the closeness, not just the aching low in your belly. You needed her—the warmth of her breath on your shoulder, the press of her lips to your bump as if thanking it for giving you back to her like this.

After, she held you with one arm wrapped around your waist, the other hand resting on your belly, her thumb brushing soft strokes over the curve of it.

“I missed us,” she murmured into your hair.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Me too.”

And she smiled against your skin, whispering, “Let’s make up for lost time.” You laughed—soft and satisfied—already knowing that with her, you had all the time in the world.

—

You were standing in front of the mirror, tugging gently at the hem of the flowy black top you’d chosen for the night. It draped comfortably over your bump—still not obvious to the untrained eye, but enough that you’d started reaching for looser fits out of instinct.

Behind you, Alexia was sitting on the edge of the bed, slipping on her trainers, one eyebrow arched in focused determination.

You turned slightly, smoothing your shirt again. “Hey, Lex?”  

She grunted in response, still battling her shoes.

“I think… I want to tell Carla tonight.”  

She paused, looking up like you’d just said you were moving to the moon. “Tell Carla what?”  

You gave her a look. “About the baby.”  

Alexia blinked. “Wait—you haven’t told her yet?”  

You shrugged a little, avoiding her eyes in the mirror. “No, I mean… I kind of assumed you had?”  

She stood slowly, eyes narrowing. “No, I figured you would. She’s your best friend.”  

“I know, but I thought maybe with all the training, and the away games, and how close you two have gotten, it would’ve just… slipped out.”  

Alexia stepped behind you now, her hands resting lightly on your shoulders. “Mi amor, Carla thinks your ‘stomach bug’ is the longest-running flu case in Europe.”  

You winced. “Okay, yeah. Fair point.”  

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I just assumed you told her ages ago. She’s going to lose her mind.”  

You turned to face her fully, nervous energy fluttering in your chest. “Do you think she’ll be upset we waited this long?”  

Alexia shook her head immediately. “Not for a second. She’ll probably cry, and then call you dramatic, and then demand she gets to be godmother without even asking.”  

You laughed, because it was so Carla.  

“She just means so much to me,” you said softly. “I think part of me wanted to tell her when it felt safe. When it felt real. And now that it does… I want her to know.”  

Alexia cupped your face, her thumbs brushing your cheeks gently. “Then tell her. Tonight. I’ll make sure everyone’s distracted so you two can have your moment.”  

You smiled up at her, heart swelling. “You’re good at this whole supportive wife thing, you know.” 

She smirked, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I’m practicing. I hear pregnant women can get needy.”  

You pulled back with a playful glare. “Excuse me?”  

“Emotionally needy. Physically clingy. Obsessed with their gorgeous footballer wives.”  

You rolled your eyes, grabbing your bag and swatting her with it lightly. “You wish.”  

She caught your hand and kissed your knuckles, then rested it gently against the curve of your stomach.  

“Carla’s going to be so happy,” she said softly. “She loves you. And she’s going to love them too.”  

You nodded, heart full, nerves buzzing just a little.  

It was time.  

And tonight, you were finally going to share your biggest joy with one of the people who’d loved you through everything.

The restaurant was loud in that comforting way—ambient, warm, filled with clinking glasses and voices layered over upbeat music. The team had already taken over a long table at the back, some players halfway through their first round of drinks, laughter echoing as Mapi recounted something dramatic with hand gestures big enough to nearly take out a waiter.

You and Alexia walked in hand-in-hand, her thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles, grounding you the way she always did when you were buzzing with nerves. She leaned in as you neared the table, voice low and teasing against your ear.

“You’re going to cry when you tell her, aren’t you?”

You scoffed. “Please. I’m perfectly composed.”

Alexia smirked. “You got misty-eyed at a baby socks display last week.”

“That was different. They were tiny and knitted.”

She laughed, gently squeezing your hand one last time before breaking away to greet her teammates. “I’ll buy you ten pairs if it helps you breathe right now.”

You scanned the table, and there she was—Carla, sitting on the end, already waving when she spotted you, her grin wide and chaotic as always. She made a space instantly, scooting over with a dramatic “Finally! Took you long enough!” and motioning for you to sit beside her.

You sat, nerves rolling like thunder in your chest.

“Hey, stranger,” she said, bumping your shoulder. “You look…” Her eyes narrowed, studying you for half a second too long. “…a little tired. Still fighting that virus?”

You smiled carefully. “Sort of.”

Carla turned her body toward you slightly, sipping from her drink. “You okay though? You’ve been kind of… I don’t know. Not off, just… low profile.”

Now or never.

You wet your lips and set your bag down beside your chair, shifting slightly so your knee touched hers. “Actually… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. For a while. I just—wasn’t ready before.”

Her brows lifted immediately, and the playful energy dimmed into something more focused. “Okay. What’s going on?”

You swallowed thickly, glancing down at your lap for a second before looking back at her. “I’m pregnant.”

Carla stared.

You waited.

For once in her life, she said nothing.

“I know,” you said gently, watching the shock ripple across her features. “It’s been a long road, and we weren’t sure it was going to happen, but… we’re in the second trimester now. It’s really happening.”

Her hand came to her mouth, eyes already glassy. “Wait. Wait—shut up.”

You laughed softly. “Carla—”

“You’re pregnant?!” she whispered fiercely, smacking your arm before launching herself across the small space to throw her arms around you. “You’re—oh my God, you’re—why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you held onto her. “I wanted to. We just… had a few scares. I needed to feel like it was real before I could share it.”

Carla nodded against your shoulder, still gripping you like she might not let go. “God, I’m so happy. I’m so—like, I don’t even know what to say. You’re going to be the best mama.” When she finally pulled back, she sniffled and immediately tried to laugh it off. “Ugh, I hate you for making me cry in public.”  

You wiped at your own eyes. “It had to be you tonight. I couldn’t keep it from you anymore.”

“Wait—does everyone else know?”

You shook your head. “Just family. You’re the first person from the team.”  

Her eyes went huge. “I’m honoured. I’m actually—Oh my God, does this mean I get to be the fun godmother?”  

You laughed. “You kind of already are.”  

She wiped under her eyes again, then glanced over your shoulder, and her expression shifted to mock-serious. “Tell Alexia if she doesn’t give me godmother rights, I’m stealing the baby.”  

Alexia, returning to the table with two glasses of water, slid into the seat next to you and arched an eyebrow. “Stealing our baby?” she asked dryly, handing you one glass.  

Carla grinned through her drying tears. “You heard me.”  

Alexia glanced at you, then at Carla, then smiled softly. “You can be the godmother. But only if you agree to babysit when we haven’t slept for three nights in a row.”  

Carla lifted her glass dramatically. “Done. I’ll even bring snacks.”  

The three of you clinked glasses quietly while chaos bubbled around the rest of the table. But in that little corner, with laughter and tears and secrets finally spoken, everything felt a little more real. A little more whole.  

The night hums on around you—dishes clinking, conversations overlapping, laughter rising every so often from one end of the table or the other. Carla’s still next to you, now proudly pointing out baby items on her phone she thinks are essential, including, for some reason, a bassinet shaped like a race car.

You’re in the middle of politely telling her the baby doesn’t need its own pit crew when someone stops beside the table.

“Ingrid!” you say brightly, your smile wide and honest.

She returns it, but it’s soft—slightly tight around the edges. Her eyes drift over your face, studying you in that careful way people do when they’ve been worried.

“Hey,” she says quietly, resting a hand on your shoulder. “Can I… just check in for a second?”

You nod immediately, and Carla wordlessly scoots over to give her space.

Ingrid crouches slightly to be more level with you, her eyes kind. “I didn’t want to crowd you, but I’ve been meaning to ask if you’re okay. Alexia said you’ve been unwell for a while… and when you didn’t really talk to Carla the other day, I—” she hesitates, her brow furrowing, “—I just got a bit worried.”

Your heart tugs, the genuine concern in her voice making your chest ache in a surprisingly tender way.

You glance sideways, toward Alexia, who’s been watching the exchange quietly from the other side of you. Her eyes flick to yours, and you see it there—the guilt, the unspoken truth she’s been holding onto.

She hadn’t told them because it wasn’t just her story to tell. But maybe it was time. Maybe it was time to let everyone in.

You rest your hand over Alexia’s on your knee, giving it a light squeeze.

“Lex?” you say softly. She meets your gaze, and you offer her a small, reassuring nod. “I think you should tell them now. While we’re all here.”

Her brows lift slightly. “You’re sure?”

You nod again, heart pounding in your chest, but the relief already washing over you like sunlight breaking through a long winter cloud. “I’m ready,” you whisper. “We’re ready.”

Alexia leans over and presses a soft kiss to your cheek, then turns, reaching gently for Ingrid’s hand to pull her upright.

Ingrid looks confused for a moment, eyes darting between you both, before Alexia clears her throat—just loud enough to catch the attention of those closest.

It doesn’t take long. One person notices, then another, and within seconds, the whole table begins to quiet. Heads turn. Conversations pause.

Alexia stands slowly, still holding your hand. Her voice is calm, but her eyes are lit with something electric, something trembling but proud.

“I know a few of you have been wondering why this one here,” she says, nudging you gently, “has been a little MIA lately.”

The girls around the table start murmuring—some smiling already, some just curious.

“She’s been dealing with a lot,” Alexia continues, looking down at you with soft adoration, “but not because of a bug. Or stress. Or anything of the other lies I’ve told you.”

You stand now too, the nerves bubbling under your skin like champagne, but Alexia steadies you with her hand in yours.

“She’s pregnant,” Alexia says simply.

A stunned beat.

Then—

“WHAT?!” Mapi shrieks.

“No jodas—”

“OH MY GOD—”

Chaos erupts.

Voices raise, chairs scrape as half the table jumps up in excitement. Mapi launches herself over the table like she’s diving for a trophy, nearly knocking over a candle in the process. Aitana’s mouth is hanging open in disbelief. Ingrid’s hands are covering her heart, her face softening with every second.

Carla is grinning like the cat that got the cream, proudly taking credit like she was the one who made the announcement.

And in the middle of it all, Alexia has her arm around you, her head bent to yours as you both soak in the sound of pure, unfiltered joy.

When Ingrid finally reaches you again, she doesn’t say anything right away. She just wraps you in the warmest, most genuine hug.

“I’m so happy for you,” she says into your shoulder. “You’re going to be incredible.”

You close your eyes, heart full. For the first time, you feel it completely. Now they all know. And they already love your baby like they’ve been waiting for them too.

The noise eventually settles—if only slightly.

There’s still laughter and excited voices bouncing around the room, a few players wiping away surprised tears (Aitana’s pretending not to, but her red nose gives her away), and the waitstaff bringing over more drinks and desserts with cautious smiles, clearly clocking that something big just happened.

Alexia hasn’t let go of your hand since the announcement, and you don’t want her to.

Carla’s still beaming, whispering something about how she’s going to ‘crash every family photo’ and ‘bring a suitcase to the hospital,’ while Ingrid quietly rests a hand on your back like she’s still anchoring you to the moment.

And then—of course—Mapi stands on her chair.

She clears her throat dramatically, raising a glass of something sparkly that definitely wasn’t what she originally ordered. “Everyone. Please. Shut up and give me the floor. For once in your lives.”

A few groans, some cheers, and at least one “don’t fall, Mapi” echo from across the table, but the room does fall quiet—albeit with amused, expectant grins.

She turns, facing you and Alexia directly now, her gaze more focused than usual, her smirk softening into something almost reverent.

“I make a lot of noise,” she begins, eliciting a collective “¡sí!” from the table. She ignores it with a wave. “But tonight I want to make noise for them.”

She nods at you. Then at Alexia.  

“You two have been through a lot. We all know that. And you’ve built something together that’s… unbreakable. Something strong. Something soft. Something that all of us admire more than we probably say.”

Alexia shifts beside you, clearly trying not to get misty-eyed already. You squeeze her hand tighter.  

“And now,” Mapi continues, lifting her glass higher, “you’re bringing someone new into that love. A tiny person who’s going to be ridiculously lucky from the very first breath they take. Lucky to have two mamis who already love them more than anything. Lucky to grow up with warmth and safety and laughter—and the best damn football education in the world.”  

Laughter breaks across the table, but it’s gentle, affectionate.  

Mapi’s voice softens, but her words ring clear.  

“To the little one—who doesn’t even know yet how loved they already are. Who’s going to be raised in a world full of strength, softness, and chaos. We can’t wait to meet you. We’ve got your back already.” She pauses, then adds with a wink, “And if you come out with great hair and questionable jokes, we’ll know exactly who to blame.”  

You and Alexia both burst out laughing as everyone lifts their glasses, the entire table echoing in chorus:  

“To the baby!”

The clinking of glasses surrounds you, a symphony of celebration.  

And as you press your forehead to Alexia’s, both of you laughing, a little teary, you whisper, “They’re going to have so many people in their corner.”  

Alexia nods, eyes shining. “The best team we could ever ask for.”  

And in that moment, with love wrapped around you in every direction, you feel it in your bones—this baby isn’t just coming into a family.  

They’re coming into a legacy.

Okay so I was thinking of a blurb with Mapi and Ingrid where reader takes a nap everyday after training or a game but she’s forced to go to team bonding at Alexias place by Mapi and Ingrid and is grumpy since she can’t take her nap and everyone is like what’s up with her when they see the grumpy look on her face and Mapi’s just like ‘oh she didn’t take her nap’ so the whole time reader is falling asleep on the couch either on someone’s shoulder or lap but she can’t because of the noise and when everyone’s finally gone and it’s just them and Alexia she finally falls asleep on Ingrid’s lap

as someone who absolutely thrives off naps, this was felt team bonding II m.león & i.engen

you could have said it was partially your fault, and maybe you would have had the situation been any different. however today you were much less willing to accept any sort of blame, rather pointing the finger at anyone and everyone else.

it had started as you'd all come back into the change rooms after a particularly brutal training session, the sun glaring down on you the entire time had meant your normally tanned and sun kissed skin was mildly burnt and coated with a thin sheen of sweat.

the first session of the day hitting the gym wasn't as bad, the team partially sheltered from the sweltering heat of the barcelona sun. thursdays were always a double session given it was the middle of the week and friday was a rest day, so the second session was of course out on the pitch and it would have been understated to say you struggled.

you'd lived in spain now for nearly three years however born and raised in dreary drizzly england had meant it had been nothing short of a huge adjustment to get used to the change in lifestyle, weather and climate.

especially when it came to running around, training and playing matches on days that sometimes peaked well above thirty degrees, you were often grateful for the drop in temperature when blessed with late afternoon and early evening games.

growing up you'd never been someone who could sit still, always itching to be running around, keeping your hands busy or kicking some sort of sports ball. you'd played almost every sport you could growing up, both of your siblings the same.

you'd felt sorry for your mother, a single mum trying to wrangle three incredibly active kids and dash them from school to practice and home with three different schedules. you would always be grateful to her, and to your grandparents who basically drove you every afternoon to some sort of extra curricular.

football had been what had stuck through the ages, your sister sticking with tennis and your brother abandoning everything to pursue law, though he played a friendly five a side with his colleagues of a monday night.

however despite your insanely high energy levels, work ethic and stamina, all of that exerted force had meant you'd crashed hard and very rarely had a healthy or consistent sleep schedule throughout your youth.

this had meant some days the best rest you got was naps. wether it be a quick twenty minute power nap on the way from school to football or a three hour doze on the sofa of a sunday afternoon after you'd played, you became incredibly dependent on the brief moments of rest and bliss that came with them.

so skipping ahead to present days, that hadn't changed. despite your professional career meaning you should have a consistent, healthy and reliable sleeping pattern, the majority of your rest and recharge came from your naps.

despite consistent scalding from the training staff about the importance of a solid eight hour minimum rest, most nights you were lucky if you slept five to six hours, which of course everyone reminded was due to the frequent naps you took throughout the day.

however old habits die hard and it wasn't anything that you felt affected your playing ability, so who was it really harming? or at least that was the case, most days.

today was no exception, if anything after such a tiresome day of running about in the heat you were extra exhausted and looked forward to nothing more than returning home. the safe little haven you'd created with your girlfriends would greet you with its sun soaked little loveseat you'd often curl up in to get a quick thirty minute power nap in.

or the end of your ever so cozy L shaped couch where you'd stretch out for a longer doze, often with your head in ingrids lap as she read a book and mapi would play video games beside you, headphones on as to not disturb you, both your girlfriends well equipped to your routine.

early on in the relationship they'd of course tried their hand to coax you into a much more stable sleeping routine. but rapidly learning all it would lead to was a night of you tossing and turning and fidgeting in between them, the constant movement and small huffs of frustration in turn keeping them awake as well, they quickly gave up on that battle.

but back to the locker room you'd busied yourself quickly showering and changing, too busied with your head in the clouds to overhear the team making plans for a bonding night at alexia's house. tomorrow being a rest day meant it was perfect to do something tonight, and had you tuned in and overheard you might have had some more time to plan.

however buried deep in your own thoughts and quickly sinking further and further into your bodies screaming demands for a nap you'd zoned out entirely. you'd snapped back to it at a jingle of keys by your ear, glancing up to find mapi staring down at you with an amused smile.

you were quick to your feet, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder, waving your goodbyes as the three of you headed out of the building down to the carpark.

again you zoned out, head a fuzzy mess and skin still crawling from the thick humidity which plagued the air around you. had you been paying attention you might have overheard ingrid and frido or patri and pina behind you, all discussing who was needing to take what to alexia's.

mapi sliding into the drivers seat you kissed ingrids cheek in appreciation as she offered you the front, dumping your bags in the boot and settling into the warm leather you grimaced slightly but sighed, glad to at least finally be off your feet.

you smiled for a few photos as fans hung by the front gate, all keening to get pictures with their favourite players, though all three of you exhausted from the heat you kept it brief. finally on the road and heading home you joined into the initial conversation, though quickly found your eyes growing heavy.

"hey bebita no, we're almost home." mapi chuckled, hand moving to gently squeeze your thigh to stop you dozing off. both her and ingrid were more than capable of carrying your sleeping form inside as had been done plenty of times before, though exhausted from training if it was something that could be avoided then they would do their best to do so.

you busied yourself discussing training with the two of them, as well as the upcoming game against athletico on the weekend. your mother was coming to visit for a few days and you spent time going over what she wanted to do and see while she was here, the three of you grabbing your bags finally home.

in the elevator up to your shared apartment your struggle increased, eyes heavy once again as your head fell to mapi's shoulder, leaning a little more into her body making her smile and kiss the side of your head affectionately.

you heard her ask you something in spanish but half asleep you only hummed, agreeing to whatever she'd said as the doors opened on your floor. ingrid unlocking your front door you stumbled inside, scowling at the blonde haired spaniard beside you who'd stuck her foot out to trip you.

ingrid scolding her in norweigein you threw your bag at her and she chuckled, moving to put them away. you squatted down to fondly rub bagheera's head, picking him up and making a beeline for the sofa, your usual spot calling your name as you sighed grateful for the air con blasting around the apartment.

"siesta time handsome." you mumbled, collapsing tiredly onto the sofa and moving a cushion behind your head, bagheera curling up on your stomach. you sighed contendly, one hand stroking his warm fur as your eyes slammed shut and you started to drift off.

though your brief slumber was halted by something poking at your cheek. "go away!" you huffed, cracking one eye open to see mapi stretched out on the other end of the sofa, poking you with her toe as you shoved her legs away.

"what are you doing elskling?" once again you began to drift until a new voice spoke up, now opening both eyes you looked up to see a pair of green orbs looking down at you curiously.

"what does it look like i'm doing?" you mumbled back tiredly, flinching as the older girl pinched your leg for the comment. "takin a nap." you sighed, eyes closing again as you felt bagheera's weight move off of you, jumping to instead settle in between mapi's tattooed legs which still stretched along the sofa.

"why? we need to get ready to go to alexia's." at that your eyes shot wide open and a frown knitted deep into your eyebrows, pushing yourself up to rest on your elbows.

"why are we going to ale's?" you questioned, confused at the odd break in your usual post training routine. "see amor i told you she was not listening." mapi tutted, shaking her head at you as you shot her a tired glare.

"did you not hear anything we spoke about after training? or in the car? or in the elevator?" ingrid questioned, an annoyed frown settling into her features as she folded her arms and stared pointedly down at you. "no i did not. i'm tired and i need a nap." you grumbled, annoyance growing the longer you were forced to stay awake.

with that you rolled over onto your side, back showing to the tall norweigein who scoffed. "hey! wakey wakey." mapi's feet dug into your back as she cooed at you, shaking your body as you inhaled deeply.

a string of spanish curses dropping from your lips you turned and smacked her legs, a little harder than intended before getting to your feet, thumping off to the bedroom ignoring their calls after you.

"nope!" you groaned loudly as arms wrapped around your torso before you could throw back the covers and slip into bed. "i'm tired." you whined, head leaning back onto mapi's shoulder, pouting up at your girlfriend who smiled in amusement.

"too bad, we have team bonding cariño and we promised we'd go, all of us." mapi tilted your head back a little further, hand gently gripping your chin as she placed a somewhat apologetic kiss to your lips, thumb running over your bottom lip as she pulled away.

"i'm not going. suddenly im sick!" you fake coughed pushing away from her, feeling another pair of eyes burn into you as you flopped backwards onto the bed, covering your face with your hands.

"you are going. get up and changed!" you peeked through your fingers to see ingrid staring firmly down at you, mapi whisting knowingly and ducking out of the room not wanting to get involved.

"no." you replied just as firmly, face still buried in your hands. "you are twenty four stop acting like a child. get up, now." her tone shifted into one you knew all too well, and looking up the fire which simmered just behind her eyes you knew you had about two minutes to do as she asked or you'd pay for it later.

"can i nap for a half hour baby, please?" you switched approach, hands moving to fall at your sides as you looked up pleadingly, her features softening a little but her arms remained crossed.

"no kjære , we need to be there in an hour and it's a twenty minute drive."

at her words you groaned even louder than before, hauling your body up and storming off to the bathroom, making a point to slam the door after you. "pain in the ass every day." ingrid mumbled under her breath with a roll of her eyes.

"no amor you asked for that, you know how she gets when she's tired." mapi held her hands up in defense at the withering look shot at her, backing out of the room again mumbling under her breath in spanish, all too used to mediating between the two of you knowing just how stubborn you could both be when in disagreement over something.

"come on niña bonita, smile. stop being grumpy!" you shifted at mapi's words, the slightly taller girl hugging you from behind and kissing your cheek a few times.

"we'll stay for a few hours and then you can go home and sleep, okay?" ingrid spoke softly, running a hand through your hair as you sighed tiredly but nodded none the less as mapi pressed the buzzer. within seconds the door was opening and you winced at the sudden change of volume, most of the girls seemingly already having arrived.

"ay chica why do you look so down hm?" alexia smiled, bringing you into a hug as she closed the door, the older girl like a sister to you as you sighed and grumbled about being tired.

"you sleep more than a newborn amiga, how are you always so tired?" her body vibrated with laughed as she kissed your cheek teasingly and let you go. "she does not sleep, like a vampire!" patri teased pulling a face at you as pina joined in and you rolled your eyes pushing past them, ignoring their offended calls after you that you'd blanked their hug.

you made a beeline to collapse next to lucy, head immediately falling to your national teammates shoulder. "oh did the little baby not get its nap?" she cooed harshly pinching your cheeks, having known you for years she immediately recognized the signs of exhaustion present in your features.

"no!" you huffed, pushing her hands off as she grinned. "tough luck kid, hard life being an adult." she sighed, patting your cheek and moving so her arm stretched over the back of you and you could settle a little more into her side as mapi took the vacant seat next to you.

normally if you were curled into anyone elses sides both her and ingrid would be green with envy, but lucy having had a heavy hand in the three of you even getting together in the first place they knew she was just as fiercely protective of you as they were.

you felt your girlfriends tattooed hand rest on your leg, fingers tracing shapes absentmindedly on your thigh as she engaged in conversation with the team.

you remained quiet as an hour dragged by and alexia tried her best to organise a food delivery, struggling heavily to decipher orders as no one seemed to be able to answer her without speaking over the top of someone else.

you jolted up awake as alexia snapped, captain mode slipping in effortlessly as she shouted a loud and stern string of catalan, everyone pausing before quietly relaying their preferences one by one.

food ordered everyones focus switched to games, an assortment of different board and card games from all different nations littering the floor. you opted out of playing, shooting poor esmee a murderous look as she attempted to drag you to your feet to be her partner.

"england why are you so moody today?" you looked up to meet oshoala's amused grin as mapi stood from beside her to help alexia get the food delivery from downstairs, the warmth of her hand on your leg instantly missed.

"baby didn't get its nap!" you grunted as two bodies landed on top of you, patri wrangling you into a headlock as claudia sat on your chest, both girls poking and jabbing at you.

something not uncommon for the three of you, known to rough house around quite often given your close ages but today you were not in the mood. you swore and cursed at them in spanish, a few of the older girls in the room shooting you disapproving looks for your language as the games continued.

"i would leave her be unless you want to lose a finger patri, she is a biter." mapi warned with a suggestive grin, returning as most of the girls hurried to their feet at the promise of food. claudia gagged at the insinuation and punched you halfheartedly in the stomach, scurrying away as patri was quick to follow before you could retaliate.

"i want to go home." you huffed, sitting up and running a hand through your tousled hair, fixing your clothes with a glare over the spaniards shoulder at the culprits who were too busy stuffing their faces to care.

"well we aren't." mapi chuckled, hands on your knees as she leant down and moved in closer. "if you're a good girl bebita i promise to reward you when we do get home, in any way you want." the older girl murmured in your ear, teeth gently tugging on your earlobe leaving your cheeks flushed red.

"any way?" you clarified as the defender nodded with a smile. "but only if you behave and lighten up a little, we are here to bond with the team." your girlfriend warned as you nodded.

"otherwise i will just let ingrid have her way with you for the snappy comments earlier, and we both know she does not forget hermosa." mapi smiled knowingly as you sighed, your girlfriend leaning in and pecking your lips a few times until they curled into a smile.

speaking of, ingrid took lucys seat beside you, placing a plate of food in your lap as mapi disappeared to get her own, the rest of the girls settling themselves around the living room as chatter and laughter filled the air.

the taller girl smiled in surprise as you thanked her in norweigen, leaning up to kiss her softly before starting to eat. "don't need to be hand fed do we grumpy?" keira teased, gesturing for your girlfriend to feed you as you flipped her off, ingrid knocking your hand down as your english team mate grinned and took a seat on the floor beside aitana.

mapi settling in on your other side with her own food you tried to make more of an effort, not contributing much to conversation but actively listening. you grinned as you stole some of your girlfriends food, mapi flicking your ear affectionately before kissing your cheek, happy to see you were a little more engaged.

food finished and games back in commencement you found yourself still wedged between your girlfriends, your legs draped over mapi's lap as ingrid held you from behind, chin resting atop your head.

slowly as the night grew later the girls began to drop off, and as the chatter and laughter died down your exhaustion was quick to resurface, blinking drowsily as you tried to stay awake.

but eventually you could fight no more and sleep won, your body suddenly becoming a lot more heavy which didn't go unnoticed by your girlfriends. the last of your team mates leaving alexia returned to the living room to see ingrid hoist your dead asleep form into her lap properly, scoffing with an amused shake of her head.

alexia's girlfriend olga due home from work soon and you seemingly passed out cold your girlfriends agreed to stay and watch a movie, grateful both for your lack of complaining and that you were finally getting some much needed rest.

"you know we are going to get home and she will be wide awake again now, yes?" mapi sighed with a smile, moving your hair out of your face and leaning down to press a tender kiss to your forehead. "i'm counting on that." ingrid smiled though a little less sweetly as mapi caught on, knowing smirk curling into her lips as alexia shot to her feet hearing a knock at the door.

"well, i did promise her a reward." "you're too soft with her." "i am not, you are just too bossy." "neither of you seem to mind that." "you do not give us a choice amor." "is that so? well maybe i need to remind both of you-"

"too loud." you mumbled up tiredly, hands coming to rest over their mouths still half asleep, mapi pressing a kiss to your palm before they dropped limply back to your sides.

"well eskling, guess we'll see who is right when we get home then."

alexia said it best here in her post-match comments:

"it's difficult to make an analysis straight out of the game, but in the end we weren't accurate. even though we've won by big scores before, real madrid is a good team. we're fucked. a defeat always leaves you feeling affected, but this is part of sport, and that's why we never take victory for granted.

it was a move i was convinced wasn't offside because caro was the one who gave me the pass before i played it in. the referee said it was offside on her part, so it was impossible. that was in the 80th minute; it would have certainly been a determining factor, but there are 80 minutes before then to improve and see what we did well to enhance them and what we did poorly to correct them.

we did something wrong, and the opponent did something right. we're now 4 points ahead, but we have to get back to picking up 3 points next week."

this might take the CROWN 👑 of all fics

Apart of Perfect Shot Series

Baby Girl Putellas-Segura is here

It started quietly—so quietly—you weren’t even sure at first.

You woke up before the sun, the room still cloaked in the deep grey of early morning. The house was silent, peaceful, the only sound the rhythmic breath of Alexia beside you, her arm draped protectively over your bump like it had been for months now.

But something felt… off.

Not painful, not at first. Just pressure. A strange, deep ache that rolled low in your belly and made you shift beneath the covers.

You lay still, blinking up at the ceiling, one hand drifting to your bump. You whispered softly, barely a breath, “Are you getting ready, little one?”

Another wave hit—not sharp, not dramatic, but undeniable.

You pressed your lips together, your heart picking up its pace.

Could this be it?

You reached for your phone and checked the time. 4:17 a.m.

For the next hour, you lay there quietly, timing each wave of pressure—growing a little stronger, a little longer, a little closer.

At 5:04, one came that made you really grip the edge of the mattress. You sucked in a breath and exhaled slowly, biting back a sound. 

That one felt real.

That one woke Alexia.

She stirred beside you, murmuring groggily, “You okay?” as she blinked herself awake.

You turned your head toward her, your face calm but your eyes glassy.

“I think I’m in labour.”

Alexia was up instantly. There was no slow waking. No sleepy blinking. Just full alertness, all hands and care, her voice suddenly clear and serious. “Are you sure?” she asked, already climbing out of bed and throwing on the first hoodie she could find.

You nodded, voice soft and shaking. “They’ve been getting stronger for the last hour.”

She was at your side in a second, kneeling beside the bed, her hands already on you, grounding you. “Okay. Alright. We’ve trained for this. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

You laughed softly, even through the rising tension. “You sound like you’re going into a final.”

She kissed your knee. “This is a final.”

The next contraction came while you were brushing your teeth. You doubled over the sink, gripping the edge as Alexia rubbed firm, soothing circles into your back.

The hospital bag was already packed—she made sure of that weeks ago. She loaded the car while you paced in the living room, stopping every few minutes to breathe through a contraction, her voice constantly in your ear: “Inhale. Exhale. That’s it. You’re doing so good, mi amor.”

By the time you reached the hospital, the contractions were five minutes apart and sharp enough to take your breath away. But every time you looked at Alexia—her jaw tight with focus, her hand never leaving yours, her thumb brushing your skin in quiet reassurance—you felt stronger.

Admitted. Monitored. Settled.

The nurse smiled kindly as she checked your progress. “You’re definitely in labour,” she said, almost amused by your calm. “And you’re already four centimetres. You’re doing amazing.”

Alexia leaned down, her forehead resting against yours. “Four down,” she whispered. “We’ve got this.”

The day stretched ahead of you—filled with movement, breath, heat, pain, love. The waiting room slowly filled with people: Eli. Alba. Carla. All pacing, texting Alexia’s phone for updates, barely holding back their excitement. But inside that room, it was just you and Alexia and the slow, powerful rhythm of a life arriving. And deep down, with every breath, with every grip of her hand and her steady voice in your ear—you knew:

Your daughter was coming.

And you were ready.

The hours blurred into each other—slow and sharp, quiet and chaotic, all wrapped in the strange timelessness of labour.

Contractions came harder now, stronger. You gripped the side of the hospital bed, the cool metal grounding you as your body swayed forward through another wave. Your forehead pressed against Alexia’s chest, and her arms were around you, steady and solid, her voice whispering low in Catalan, words of encouragement, love, anchoring you.

“You’re doing so well, mi vida,” she breathed, kissing the crown of your head. “She’s almost here. Just keep going. I’ve got you.”

You wanted to believe her. And you did. You really did. Even when you cried. Even when your breath came out in sobs. Even when you clutched her hand so tightly you were sure it would bruise. She never flinched. Never let go. There was a moment—maybe hour six or seven—where it got hard. The kind of hard no one could’ve warned you about. The part where your body felt like it was made of lightning and stone, and everything inside you wanted to scream: I can’t do this.

You whispered it once, barely audible: “Lex… I can’t do this.”

She was crouched in front of you, her forehead pressed to yours, her eyes full of tears but her voice unwavering. “You can. You are. She’s coming. Just a little more.”

You held onto her voice like it was the last light in a storm. And then—finally—the shift. The nurse came in, checked again, and this time her face lit up.

“Alright, mamá,” she said gently, her hand on your knee. “You’re fully dilated. It’s time.”

Everything went very still. Alexia looked at you, her hand still in yours. “This is it.”

You nodded, tears running down your cheeks. “She’s really coming.” The room filled quickly—lights adjusted, nurses moving, voices giving instructions—but all of it faded behind the hum of adrenaline in your blood and the absolute focus in Alexia’s eyes as she stood at your side, her fingers gripping yours tightly.

You pushed. Again. And again.

And with each cry, each push, each burning second of effort, Alexia stayed with you—her forehead pressed to yours, her voice in your ear “Push, amor, you’re almost there. She’s so close. You’re so strong. Just one more—come on. Just one more for her.”

Then—The cry. Sharp, piercing, perfect. A sound that tore through the air and shattered every ounce of pain like sunlight breaking through rain.

You sobbed, gasped, cried out as they lifted her—tiny, slippery, wailing—and laid her on your chest, her little limbs trembling with life.

Alexia’s hand covered hers, and her face broke wide open, crumpling with tears.

“She’s here,” she choked out, laughing and crying all at once. “She’s here, mi amor.”

You looked down at your daughter, your hands trembling as you cradled her, her cries slowly quieting as your skin met hers.

She was everything.

The weight of her, the warmth of her, the reality of her.

“I love you,” you whispered to her, your tears falling into her soft, damp hair. “I love you so much.”

Alexia leaned in, kissing your temple, then your cheek, then the tiny bundle on your chest.

You turned to her, eyes soaked, cheeks flushed. “We did it”

Alexia’s breath caught. “We’re parents.”

Alexia leant down to look more closely at her daughter. The second their eyes met, something in Alexia broke in the most beautiful way. She clutched her tiny arm gently, her lips pressed to her tiny forehead, and whispered:

“Hola, mi vida. I’m your mami.”

And for the first time since it all began— The world was still. Just the three of you. Exactly as you were meant to be.

The room had settled into that rare kind of quiet—soft and sacred—the kind that only comes after something life-changing.

Your daughter lay bundled against your chest, her tiny body rising and falling in rhythm with yours, still so new to the world, so delicate and impossibly real. Alexia hadn’t stopped touching—her hand brushing your hair back, her fingers gently stroking the baby’s wrinkled little feet poking from the blanket. You’d both fallen silent, completely wrapped up in her: her smell, her warmth, her being.

A knock on the door broke through the stillness. A nurse peeked in gently, her smile warm but professional. “Hi, mamas,” she said softly. “Just checking in. How are you both feeling?”

Alexia glanced at you and smiled, exhausted but glowing. “Tired. Happy. Like we’ve just been run over by a miracle.”

The nurse chuckled and stepped closer, eyes dropping to the baby. “She’s beautiful. Has she fed yet?”

You shook your head. “Not yet. We’ve just been… holding her.”

“That’s okay,” she said kindly. “Would you like to try now?”

You nodded, your throat a little tight. “Yeah. Yeah, I think we should.”

Alexia shifted beside you, brushing your hand as the nurse helped guide you through the process—showing you how to position her, how to angle her head, how to wait for that instinctive little open mouth movement. You followed every step. Your hands trembled slightly as you brought her close, your breath catching as you tried to help her latch. She didn’t.

Instead, she squirmed, fussed, turned her head away. You tried again. And again. She cried—a soft, pitiful whimper that shattered you.

The nurse leaned over with gentle encouragement, whispering tips, guiding your hands, but nothing worked. You could feel your chest tightening, frustration building. You were doing everything right—why wasn’t it working?

You looked up, eyes brimming. “Why won’t she latch?”

“She’s just learning,” the nurse said softly. “You both are. It’s completely normal.” But the tears were already slipping down your cheeks.

“She needs me and I can’t even do this—” you choked, voice shaking. “This is the one thing I’m supposed to be able to do, and she’s… she’s hungry and she’s crying and—”

“Hey, hey,” Alexia was beside you in an instant, her arms wrapping around you and the baby, holding all three of you close like she could carry the weight of it. “Stop. You’re doing so well. You’re not failing. Look at me—look at me.” You did. Barely. Her eyes were already glassy too. “You just gave birth to her. She’s brand new. You’re both brand new. You’re allowed to learn together.”

You sniffled, pressing your forehead to hers. “I just… I want her to feel safe. To know she’s okay.”

“She does.” Alexia’s voice cracked. “She’s here. On your chest. Listening to your heartbeat. You’re home to her already.”

The nurse gave you a few minutes, then gently smiled again. “We can try again later, or I can help express some colostrum and feed her that. You don’t have to do this alone.”

You nodded slowly. “Okay. Thank you.”

Before the nurse left, she paused and smiled down at your daughter. “Has she got a name yet?”

You and Alexia looked at each other, then at the baby nestled against you. Both of you shook your heads.

“Still choosing,” you murmured. “Nothing’s felt… quite right yet.”

“That’s okay,” she said kindly, touching your shoulder. “You’ll know when it does.”

When the door closed again, the silence returned. Alexia gently rested her chin on your shoulder, her eyes still locked on your daughter.“She’s strong,” you whispered. “She knew how to fight her way into the world. She’ll figure this out.”

“She gets that from you,” Alexia said.

You kissed the top of your daughter’s head, whispering, “We’ll get it right, little one. I promise.” Even without a name, she was already the centre of your universe. And soon… the name would come. The one that was hers.

—

Alexia hesitated near the doorway, one hand still clinging to the edge of the frame, her body halfway turned back toward you and your daughter—clearly torn between going and staying. Her brows were pulled slightly together, that quiet worry she always carried when it came to you sitting just beneath her surface.

You smiled through your exhaustion, still cradling your baby girl against your chest. “Go, Lex. They’re waiting.”

“But—”

“I’ll be fine,” you interrupted softly, your voice thin but firm. “I promise. We’re just going to cuddle and keep trying. I’ll call if anything changes.”

Alexia stepped back toward the bed one more time, leaned down, and kissed your forehead. Then her hand swept gently over your daughter’s back, a whispered “I love you both” falling from her lips before she finally turned and slipped out the door.

The family room wasn’t far. It was a quiet space off the maternity ward, outfitted with vending machines, tired-looking couches, and warm lighting that was trying very hard to disguise how clinical the hospital still felt.

Inside, Eli stood pacing, her eyes flicking between the hallway and her phone, while Alba sat perched on the windowsill like a nervous cat. Carla was sprawled on a couch, clearly trying to act chill but bouncing her leg like she was seconds from exploding. A few of Alexia’s closest teammates were there too—Mapi, Ingrid, Irene—each of them chatting quietly but watching the door with the kind of tension usually reserved for extra time in a final.

The moment Alexia walked in, every head turned.

“Well?!” Alba practically shouted, leaping to her feet.

Alexia couldn’t help the smile that overtook her face. It was tired and emotional and completely soaked in awe. “She’s here,” she said softly.

A chorus of gasps and cheers rang out, and everyone rushed closer. “She’s okay?” Eli asked instantly, her eyes sharp with maternal urgency. “They’re okay?”

“They’re both perfect,” Alexia nodded, her voice cracking slightly. “Tired, but safe. She did so well.”

Eli exhaled like she’d been holding her breath for hours. Alexia stepped toward her and took her hand gently, squeezing it. “She’s okay, mamí. I promise. She’s exhausted and overwhelmed and trying so hard, but she’s okay.”

Eli blinked quickly, nodding, her throat bobbing with emotion. “I just… I needed to hear it from you. I was so worried.”

“She’s stronger than she thinks,” Alexia said softly, and the words came out so full of pride you could feel the love in the room shift.

“Can we see her?” Carla asked, already halfway out of her seat.

Alexia shook her head gently. “Not yet. The nurses want the baby to feed and be checked by the doctor first before any visitors go in.”

A collective sigh filled the room—some disappointed, but no one argued. Alexia smiled again, digging into the pocket of her hoodie.“But…” she said, pulling out her phone, “I can show you this.”

She held it out, and they all crowded close. The photo on the screen was simple: you, propped up against the pillows in your hospital bed, your hair a little wild, your face pale and damp with tears, but your expression so full of love it could stop time. And nestled on your chest—tiny, pink, blinking up at the world like it was all too bright already—was her.

Your baby girl.

There were gasps. Quiet sniffles. A few stunned, whispered “wow”s.

“She’s beautiful,” Mapi said softly, her hand over her mouth.

“She’s real,” Alba whispered, wide-eyed.

“She has your nose,” Ingrid added, nudging Alexia gently.

Alexia smiled, eyes misting again as she took her phone back. “We’re still deciding her name. But she’s everything already.”

Eli stepped forward, cupping Alexia’s face in her hands. “You’re everything,” she said. “The both of you. And she’s going to be surrounded by so much love.”

Alexia nodded, her voice low. “She already is.”

They sat together after that, the group of them huddled in that quiet family room—some laughing, some wiping away tears, all waiting for the moment they’d get to meet the little girl who had just arrived and already taken over all their hearts. And back in your room, holding her close against your chest, you whispered softly into the curve of your daughter’s ear:

“They’re ready for you, baby girl. Whenever you are.”

The door opened softly, and Alexia slipped back into the room, careful not to let it click shut behind her too loudly. The family had calmed—Eli had cried, Alba had nearly passed out from pacing, and everyone had promised to be patient for their turn to meet the baby her teammates promising to return tomorrow since it was late and they had an early training.

She expected to find you resting, maybe dozing off with your daughter nestled against your chest.

What she found instead was you, wide awake, eyes red and glossy, bottom lip trembling as you stared down at the tiny bundle of pink swaddling nestled between your legs on the hospital bed. Her chest tightened instantly.

“Mi amor…?” she said softly, crossing the room in two strides. “What’s wrong?”

You didn’t look at her at first. Just kept staring down, blinking too fast, your breaths uneven.

Alexia perched on the edge of the bed, worry creeping into every line of her body. “Hey… talk to me. Are you in pain?”

You shook your head quickly and then, after a beat, your voice came, fragile and quiet. “She looks like him.”

Alexia frowned, confused. “Who—?”

You lifted your eyes to meet hers, and they were shining with tears. “Your dad.”

Alexia froze, her breath catching like it had been yanked from her lungs.

You glanced down at the baby again, gently running your thumb across her soft cheek, your hand trembling slightly. “Her nose. Her jaw. Even the way her little eyebrows sit. Lex… she looks like your dad.”

Alexia didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

You looked up at her again, tears slipping down your cheeks now. “I didn’t see it before, but now that she’s asleep—her face relaxed like that—I just… it hit me all at once. She’s his double.” Your voice cracked on the word. “I never got to meet him. But I feel like I’m holding a piece of him right now.”

Alexia's throat bobbed. Her eyes were wide, glassy, lips parted in stunned silence as she slowly turned her gaze to your daughter. She reached out with a trembling hand and gently brushed her finger along the baby’s tiny brow, her touch reverent.

And there it was. The shape of her eyes. The slight downward curve at the corners of her mouth. The arch of her nose—familiar in a way that felt almost impossible. “Oh my God,” she whispered, her voice breaking completely. “She does.”

You nodded, barely holding it together. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to upset you. But I kept looking at her and I just—Lex, I wish he could see her. I wish he was here.”

Alexia let out a quiet sob, biting her lip hard as tears slipped down her cheeks. She leaned forward, one hand on your leg, the other gently cradling her daughter’s head as if she could feel him in her bones now—like somehow, through all the heartbreak and loss, he had made his way back to her, to you, through her. “I see him,” she whispered, her forehead resting lightly on your shoulder. “I see him so clearly.”

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her as tightly as you could with the baby curled between you both. Neither of you said anything for a while. The silence didn’t need filling. It was sacred. It was him.

Eventually, you leaned back just slightly, your voice a whisper. “Tell me she doesn’t look just like him.”

Alexia laughed softly through her tears, brushing her nose against yours, her eyes never leaving your daughter’s face. “She does,” she murmured. “But she also looks like us. And she’s going to grow up knowing exactly who he was.”

You nodded, reaching down to gently squeeze Alexia’s hand over your baby’s chest. “She already feels like she’s carrying his strength,” you said. “And your heart.”

Alexia looked down at her daughter, her voice catching as she whispered, “Papá would’ve loved her.”

And in that quiet, tear-soaked moment, the three of you sat in a tangle of love and memory—Alexia’s past meeting your future in the form of one tiny, sleeping girl who had unknowingly brought someone home.

The room was dim again, late afternoon light filtering through the half-drawn blinds, casting golden lines across the hospital bed. The noise from the corridor outside was distant now, muffled behind the closed door—just the occasional shuffle of feet or soft call from a nurse.

Inside your little cocoon, it was peaceful. Still.

You were exhausted, but a different kind of exhaustion now. The kind that came with hope, and softness, and the weight of a miracle lying warm in your arms. Your daughter stirred gently against your chest, her lips brushing your skin in that searching, instinctive way. You held your breath, your hand supporting the back of her tiny head, and guided her closer, just as the nurse had shown you hours earlier.

This time—finally—she latched.

Your body stiffened with the surprise of it. Then relaxed, like a wave had passed over you. No fussing. No turning away. No crying. Just her, finally feeding, like she’d known how all along and had simply needed the right moment.

Your eyes instantly filled with tears—this time not from frustration or fear, but from relief so deep it hit your bones. Alexia had been perched quietly beside you in the chair, one leg tucked under her, watching every second with bated breath. When she realised what had happened, her whole body jolted with joy—but she caught herself, clamping a hand over her mouth to stop from cheering aloud.

Instead, she did a silent fist pump.

Then another.

Then leaned forward and gently buried her face against your shoulder, her whole body trembling with relief and pride. Her voice came in a whisper, thick with emotion. “She’s doing it. You’re doing it.”

You nodded, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I didn’t think I’d cry over this, but—God, Lex—it feels like everything.”

Alexia kissed your temple, then your cheek, then the side of your mouth, her hand cupping the back of your head like she needed to hold you in place, ground herself to this exact second. “She’s incredible,” she whispered.

“She is,” you murmured. Then, a beat. “And I think… I know her name.”

Alexia pulled back just slightly, her eyes wide, searching your face. “Yeah?”

You nodded, your fingers tracing gentle circles on the back of your daughter’s tiny neck. “I keep thinking about what your Mamí said months ago… when we were first talking about names. Sofía. I couldn’t stop hearing it in my head today. And now that I’ve seen her, now that I’ve felt her… I can’t picture her as anything else.”

Alexia blinked, her lips parting in soft surprise. “Sofía.”

You nodded again. “And… I thought we could give her your dad’s name, too. As her second. Juame. It’s soft. Strong. Timeless. And neutral. It belongs to her as much as it belonged to him.”

Alexia just stared at you, eyes glistening, lips trembling like she was trying not to fall apart completely. “Sofía Juame,” she whispered, the name barely audible, like a prayer. She said it again, a little firmer. “Sofía Juame.”

You watched her fall in love with the name in real time.

“She’s going to carry that name,” Alexia said, her hand resting over your daughter’s back. “She’s going to make it mean something. Just like he did.”

“She already does,” you said softly.

Alexia nodded, swallowing hard. Then leaned down, pressing a kiss to the top of your daughter’s head. “Hola, Sofía,” she whispered. “Welcome to our little family, your furry brothers will love you.” And Sofía, as if she knew, let out the smallest, softest sigh against your skin—completely content.

“You like the name? Don’t just agree because I’ve just birthed her, please be honest”

Alexia gave you the softest smile, “I love her name, and I love that mami picked it and papa is involved to” You kissed before both staring down at the little girl feeding contently.

The room had grown quiet again.

Your daughter slept peacefully in your arms, her tiny chest rising and falling in slow, steady rhythm, one hand curled into the neckline of your hospital gown like she was already claiming you. You were completely wrapped in the moment, your body still sore but your heart so full it was hard to breathe.

A gentle knock came at the door and one of the nurses stepped in, her smile kind.

“Everything okay?” she asked, moving to check on the monitors with quiet efficiency.

You nodded, adjusting Sofía slightly in your arms. “She’s finally sleeping after feeding,” you whispered, pride and relief laced through your voice.

The nurse smiled wider, then looked to Alexia, who was perched on the edge of the armchair near the window, watching the two of you like she’d never blink again.

“Would you like to do some skin-to-skin time with her?” the nurse asked gently, directing it to Alexia.

Alexia blinked. “Me?”

“Of course,” the nurse said. “It’s not just for the birthing parent. It’s a great way for babies to start bonding with Mami, too.”

You watched Alexia’s face shift—surprise first, then something softer, something so deep it nearly cracked her open.

You nodded at her, smiling. “Do it. She’ll love it.”

Alexia hesitated only a second before standing, rubbing her hands together nervously as the nurse helped adjust the chair and handed her a fresh blanket.

She slipped off her hoodie, then her T-shirt, folding them carefully before sitting back down, now bare-chested and visibly emotional. Her skin was golden in the soft light, her breath uneven.

You carefully rose from the bed and walked the few steps to her, your arms wrapped tightly around Sofía. As you lowered her into Alexia’s waiting arms, something in your chest caught.  

Because the moment her skin touched Alexia’s, Sofía stirred.  

Just slightly. Her little head shifted, and a tiny sigh left her lips. Her cheek rested against her mami’s chest like it belonged there. Like she knew exactly who this was.  

Alexia froze.  

Her eyes welled instantly, her lips parting as she stared down at the impossibly tiny life pressed against her heart. One hand cradled Sofía’s head, the other instinctively resting across her back, holding her as gently as if she were made of glass.

“Hola.” she whispered, voice trembling. “Hola, mi pequeña.”

You sat on the bed, watching it all unfold—Alexia blinking rapidly as tears streamed down her cheeks, her breath catching in her throat.

“She’s so small,” she whispered, more to herself. “And she’s… ours. She’s really ours.”

You reached out, brushing your fingers over Alexia’s arm as Sofia settled deeper into Alexia’s chest.

“She knows you,” you said softly. “She’s known you since before she got here.”

Alexia looked at you then, her eyes full of something ancient and powerful and brand new all at once.

“I didn’t think I could love you more than I already did,” she whispered, “and then I saw you become her mamá.”  

Your hand slid into hers, holding her tightly as your daughter slept, skin to skin, heart to heart, between the two people who loved her more than anything in the world.

And for the first time since the moment she arrived—there was only peace.

The family room was quieter than it had been yesterday—less buzzing, more soft murmurs and tired smiles. It had the comforting stillness of early morning, when everything feels calmer, like the world’s holding its breath in reverence for something sacred. Alexia’s teammates long going home having to prepare for practice today leaving behind Eli and Alba.

Eli and Alba were seated side by side on the couch, deep in quiet conversation. Alba had her legs tucked under her, hair thrown in a messy bun, flipping through a baby magazine someone had left behind. Eli was staring absently at her phone, eyes tired but kind, tapping out a message that she clearly wasn’t in a hurry to send.

The door creaked open.

Eli looked up first—and stilled.

You stood just inside the threshold, one arm lightly gripping the nurse for support, the other resting protectively on your belly, even though the bump was now an empty cradle. You were pale, your hair loose around your shoulders, cheeks flushed from the effort of walking, but your eyes were shining. Raw. Brighter than they’d ever seen them.

Eli rose first. Slowly. Like she couldn’t quite believe you were real. Like seeing you there, on your feet, in the same clothes from yesterday and somehow more powerful than ever, was too much.

And then she moved—quickly, wordlessly—and before you could breathe, you were wrapped in her arms.

Tight. Warm. Solid.

You exhaled shakily into her shoulder, and it all came out. The tears. The ache. The overwhelming swell in your chest that had been building since the moment Sofía had been placed on your chest.

You sobbed. Not loud, not frantic—just helpless, soul-deep crying, the kind that came when you’d been brave for too long.

“I did it,” you whispered, your voice breaking open like a flood. “I really did it.”

Eli held you tighter, one hand cradling the back of your head like she used to do with Alexia. “Of course you did,” she whispered. “You brought her here. You made her. She’s here because of you.”

You shook in her arms, overwhelmed by the weight of it all—of being a mother now, of the pain, the joy, the immensity of what you’d just done.

Behind you, the nurse stepped out, gently closing the door to give you the moment.

Alba was on her feet now too, watching quietly. And for once, she didn’t interrupt, didn’t fill the space with jokes or quips. She stepped closer slowly, her expression softer than you’d ever seen it.

She brushed your arm lightly. “You look like a woman who just performed a miracle,” she said gently.

You gave a breathy laugh through your tears. “I feel like one. A sore, emotional miracle.”

“You’re allowed,” Alba said. “You earned it.”

Eli eventually eased back, her hands still on your arms, her eyes glassy now too. “How are you feeling? Really?”

You sniffled, wiping your face, voice fragile but sure. “Like I’ve been cracked open. But like… like I’d do it again. In a heartbeat. For her.”

Alba smiled, her voice unusually soft. “She’s got no idea how lucky she is.”

You nodded slowly. “She will. I’ll make sure she does.”

Eli took your hand in both of hers and kissed it. “And we’ll make sure you know how proud we are. Of you. Always.”

You stood there with them, in a quiet pocket of the hospital, heart wide open and full of everything—grief and love and power and softness.

And down the hallway, you knew, Alexia was still holding your daughter to her chest, whispering the world into her ear.

And now you were ready to walk back to them.

Back to your girls. You looked up at them now, your voice soft.

“Do you… want to come meet her?”

Alba’s eyes lit up immediately, but she didn’t jump from her seat like she normally would have. Instead, she blinked fast, the smile she wore a little shaky.

“Are you sure?” Eli asked gently, as though she’d been waiting for your permission, even though her hands twitched like she wanted to run down the hallway.

You nodded. “She’s eaten. She’s sleeping. And I… I want you to see her. I know you want to have a cuddle with her desperately to”

Eli placed her hand over yours and squeezed it once, firmly. “We’d be honoured.”

You walked slower this time, without the nurse, but with your arms looped gently around theirs. The hall was quiet, and each step made your heart thrum with something that felt sacred.

When you turned the corner to your room, you noticed the door was already cracked open, soft light spilling out into the hallway.

You paused in the doorway first— and there she was.

Alexia stood near the window, bathed in the early morning light. One arm cradled against her chest, the other supporting your baby girl—Sofía Juame, wrapped in her pale pink blanket. She was rocking slowly, back and forth in that instinctive, natural rhythm you hadn’t even known Alexia had in her. Her head was bent low, her mouth close to the baby's ear.

And she was singing. A gentle, low lullaby in Catalan, the words soft and imperfect—half spoken, half hummed—but the melody was unmistakably familiar. You’d heard her hum it once before. The night you first talked about having a baby. You didn’t recognise it then, but when you’d asked, Alexia had told you with a quiet smile: “It’s what my dad used to sing to me when I couldn’t sleep.”

She hadn’t sung it since. Until now.

You watched in silence, overwhelmed. Eli, standing just behind you, brought a hand to her mouth and froze. The breath she took was shaky, sharp. You turned and wrapped your arms around her, gently guiding her into the hug she clearly needed but hadn’t wanted to ask for.

She folded into you, completely, her face pressed into your shoulder, her whole body trembling with the emotion of seeing her daughter sing to hers. “I can’t believe this moment exists,” she whispered.

You nodded, your own tears already brimming again. “She’s everything, Eli. She’s everything he would’ve loved.”

She nodded against you, unable to speak for a second, just holding you like a mother would hold a daughter, grateful and grieving all at once. Alba wiped at her face quickly behind you, then whispered, “You have to interrupt her eventually or I’m going to sob in the hallway forever.”

You gave a teary laugh, pulled back from Eli, and knocked gently on the doorframe. Alexia turned slowly, and the look on her face—that look—was almost too much to take. Her eyes were wet, but her expression was completely calm, a kind of stillness only love could bring.

“You’ve got visitors,” you said gently.

She smiled, her lips brushing Sofía’s temple before she stepped back from the window. “Come meet her.”

Eli stepped forward first, still holding your hand, as if she needed to hold onto something solid as she approached the newest member of her family. And when she reached them—her daughter and her granddaughter—she didn’t speak at first.

She just reached out, cupped Sofía’s tiny head, and kissed her softly, whispering something private in Catalan that made Alexia close her eyes, swallowing hard.

Alba finally stepped in too, slower than usual, her voice quiet and cracked. “Okay,” she said, brushing a tear from her cheek as she peered down at her niece. “I get it now. She really is perfect.”

And in that room, wrapped in light and music and history, your little girl rested—held by the arms that would never let her fall.

Alba hovered near the edge of the hospital bed, her hands clasped tightly behind her back like she was physically restraining herself from scooping Sofía up into her arms. Her eyes were glued to the baby, wide and shining, a permanent smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

Then she blinked, as if realising something far too important had yet to be said.

“Wait,” she whispered, her gaze flicking between you and Alexia. “Did you name her yet? What’s her name? Don’t tell me I’ve just been staring at her like she’s a work of art and she’s still called ‘baby girl Putellas’ on the charts.”

You and Alexia shared a look—soft, quiet, full of everything you’d both been feeling since you whispered her name aloud for the first time the night before. Alexia gently rocked her daughter in her arms, her hand brushing over the tiny pink hat covering her soft tufts of hair.

You sat up straighter, eyes never leaving the small, sleepy face in Alexia’s arms. “She has a name,” you said quietly. “We wanted to be sure before we told anyone. We wanted to see her first. Feel who she was.”

Alba leaned in a little. “Well? Don’t leave me hanging, I’m emotionally unstable already.”

You took a breath, your voice trembling with emotion. “Her name is… Sofía.”

There was a beat of silence—then Alba’s brows lifted, a smile tugging at her lips. “Sofía,” she said, testing it out.

At your nod, Alba let out a soft laugh. “She actually looks like a Sofía.”

You laughed too, quietly—but it was Eli who hadn’t said anything.

“Her middle name is Juame” You spoke carefully, Alba snapped her head to you, “So I’d like you to officially meet Sofía Juame Putellas Segura”

She stepped forward slowly, her eyes locked on her granddaughter, and then flicked to you, her lip trembling. “Juame…” she whispered. The name barely made it out of her mouth. “You gave her his name.”

You nodded again, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “I hope that's ok. We wanted her to have something of him. Something strong. Timeless. Something that… carries him forward.”

Eli’s eyes welled instantly. She brought her hand to her chest, staggered slightly like the moment had taken the breath right from her lungs. “I can’t believe…” she murmured, shaking her head gently, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I suggested Sofía and you… you used Juame. You gave your precious little girl our names.”

You reached for her hand, squeezing it tightly. “She looks like him, Eli. And she’s going to grow up with stories about him, and you, and this family. She’s going to know exactly who she came from. It only felt right when she is that much like him that she has his name”

Alexia’s voice was soft, broken with emotion as she gazed down at Sofía. “We wanted her to carry his name, have his part in her. And we wanted her to carry yours too, in a way. You’re the reason I’m the woman I am. You’re the reason she has this family to be born into.”

Eli couldn’t speak anymore. She just stepped forward and pressed her lips to Sofía’s forehead, her tears falling gently onto the soft pink fabric of her hat. “Sofía Juame,” she whispered again. “He would’ve loved her so much.”

And you knew, in that still, sacred moment—that your daughter had already brought a piece of him back into the world. And that in naming her, you hadn’t just honoured the past. You’d woven it into the future.

Alexia looked down at her daughter for another long moment, then slowly turned toward her mother. “Mami,” she said softly, her voice as delicate as the moment itself. “Do you want to hold her?”

Eli looked up, startled, like she hadn’t dared to ask. Her lips parted, trembling, eyes red-rimmed and watery. She nodded once, unable to speak.

Alexia moved gently, as if she were handing over a piece of the universe itself. She shifted Sofía with careful hands, cradling her like something sacred, then stepped forward and placed her into Eli’s waiting arms.

The moment Sofía settled against her grandmother’s chest, Eli let out a sound that was half a breath, half a sob. “Oh…” she whispered, eyes fixed on the baby’s face. “Oh, mi amor.”

She brought one hand up to Sofía’s cheek, brushing a fingertip ever so lightly down the soft curve of her tiny jaw. Her thumb paused under the baby’s chin, trembling, and then she inhaled sharply.

“She looks like him,” she whispered, voice cracked. “My Juame. She looks just like him, I couldn’t see properly before but I can see him now.” Eli sat slowly, never once breaking her gaze from the baby in her arms. Tears rolled freely down her cheeks now, one after another, no shame, no restraint—just raw, overwhelmed emotion. “She has his eyes,” Eli murmured. “His mouth, too. And that crease between the brows, even while she sleeps—that’s him. I used to tease him about it.” She laughed quietly, brokenly. “He’d furrow his brow when he read, and now she’s doing it in her sleep…”

You felt it in your throat before you even saw it—Alba, standing silently at the foot of the bed, eyes shining and glassy, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “She does,” Alba whispered. “She really does.”

You reached out without thinking, pulling her gently down beside you on the edge of the bed. She didn’t fight it—she just crumpled into your side, burying her face against your shoulder, her quiet sobs muffled but deep. You held her tightly, one arm wrapped around her back, your cheek resting on top of her head as she cried.

“She’s a part of him,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your own tears slipping freely now. “He’s still here because of her. Because of all of you.”

Alexia knelt beside her mother’s chair, one hand resting on Eli’s knee, the other gently stroking Sofía’s back. Her eyes never left them—her mother and daughter, bound now in something eternal. Eli bent her head, pressing her lips to Sofía’s forehead and lingering there. “Mi pequeña,” she whispered, “you are more than we ever dared to hope for.” And the room—filled with three generations of love, grief, legacy, and new beginnings—went quiet, except for the steady breathing of one small girl, who had no idea yet the kind of love she had been born into. But she would. You’d make sure of it.

The hours passed in a kind of dreamlike haze—a slow stretch of time that didn’t quite feel real, as though the whole day had been wrapped in cotton and warmth and the scent of your newborn daughter’s skin.

Eli and Alba never left. Not once.  

Eli sat comfortably in the armchair by the window, Sofía in her arms or resting in the bassinet beside her, her gaze never straying far from her granddaughter’s peaceful face. She was the picture of quiet awe, whispering soft Catalan lullabies and sharing little stories about Alexia’s own baby days that made your heart swell.

Alba, meanwhile, had appointed herself “gatekeeper,” posted proudly at the door like some overexcited security detail—only she wasn’t turning anyone away. She was ushering them in.

One by one, players from Alexia’s team began to filter in, each with shy smiles, quiet laughter, and hands filled with snacks, balloons, or tiny baby gifts they ‘definitely didn’t plan’ but somehow all brought.

The first to arrive was Ingrid and Mapi, Ingrid walked gently into the room with a bouquet of wildflowers and a tiny crocheted elephant tucked into her elbow.

“Oh my God,” she whispered when she saw Sofía. “She’s so small. You made that?”

Alexia grinned, her hand wrapped around your waist. “Perfect isn’t she.”

Ingrid pressed a kiss to your cheek and then Alexia’s, before quietly crouching down beside the bassinet. “She already has your eyebrows,” she whispered. “Poor thing.”

That set off another round of gentle laughter. Mapi however showed up with a pair of pink baby sunglasses and a pacifier that looked suspiciously like a miniature Barça ball.

“She’s got to be on brand,” she said proudly. “And I’m calling dibs on being the godmother who teaches her to swear in at least three languages.”

“She’s not even a day old, Mapi,” you groaned, but your smile was wide and warm.

Later, Irene arrived with a box of pastries and a letter she’d written for Sofía to read when she turned 18, sealed and wrapped in ribbon. You stared at it, speechless.

“I wanted her to know what kind of world she was born into,” Irene said, a little sheepish. “And how lucky she is to have you two as her mamís.”

Alba, already teary again, dramatically shoved tissues at everyone without being asked.

The visits continued all day—sometimes one player, sometimes two. Some stayed only for five minutes, others sat with you a while, cooing over the baby, asking you how you felt, hugging Alexia tightly like they could see how cracked open and glowing she was.

And through it all, Eli stayed. Quietly watching her daughter move around the room, introducing her daughter to her teammates—her sisters. She watched Alexia beam with pride each time someone commented on Sofía’s name, or her full head of hair, or her perfect little pout.

She leaned toward you at one point, her voice low.

“I’ve never seen her look so... full,” she said softly, eyes wet. “She’s always been strong. But this—this love—it’s made her whole.”

You nodded, unable to speak, watching your wife across the room as she gently held Sofía in her arms while Mapi adjusted the baby sunglasses over the blanket.

“She’s never going to remember today,” Eli added, looking at Sofía now. “But I will. Every second.”

And you would too.

Every smile, every cry, every soft “hola, pequeña” spoken from one loving voice to another.  

Your daughter had been born into more than a family. She’d been born into a team. One that would never let her fall.

It was early evening by the time Carla finally burst through the door, as subtle as a marching band and exactly as dramatic as you needed her to be.

“Move,” she barked playfully at Alba, who was still guarding the doorway like a loyal hound with a mild caffeine problem. “I’ve got a medical emergency.”

You blinked up from your spot in the hospital bed, where you were nestled under the covers, your daughter sleeping peacefully in the bassinet beside you, your legs stretched out and aching in that oddly satisfying I-just-made-a-human way.

Carla marched in, sunglasses still perched on top of her head despite the fact that the sun had dipped hours ago, and she was holding—no, presenting—a large brown paper bag like it contained the cure to all earthly suffering.

“I come bearing the only thing that matters right now.”

The smell hit you before anything else—greasy, salty, divine.

You sat up a little straighter, your body instinctively reacting before your brain even processed.

“Is that—?”

Carla grinned, slipping the bag into your lap like she’d just handed over a sacred text. “Double cheeseburger. Large fries. And because I’m the best friend you’ll ever have: large chocolate milkshake. And extra sweet curry sauces. You’re welcome.”

Your mouth opened but no words came out—just a small, awed sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh.

You looked at her with teary, desperate gratitude. “Carla… I’ve never loved you more in my life.”

Alexia laughed quietly as she peaked at the baby in her bassinet when she made a little noise. “I was literally present for the birth of our child.”

“And yet,” you said, already unwrapping the burger with shaking hands, “Carla brought me cheese.”

Eli chuckled from the armchair, watching you bite into the burger like it was the first food you’d ever tasted. “She’s earned a few points, I’ll give her that.”

Carla dropped dramatically into the empty chair beside your bed, smug. “I’m not saying I’m your real soulmate, but I did time this delivery for maximum emotional impact.”

You chewed slowly, eyes closed, groaning in utter bliss, “You did,” you mumbled around a mouthful of cheeseburger. “You so did.”

Alexia rolled her eyes but smiled, settling beside you on the bed as you reached blindly for a fry like someone starved in a desert.

“She couldn’t eat anything the whole labour,” she explained to Carla, one hand on your thigh. “She was running on adrenaline and ice chips. I offered a banana. She nearly threw it at me.”

“I told you,” Carla said proudly. “When in doubt—grease and dairy.” She leaned forward slightly, peeking at the sleeping baby in the bassinet. “She’s perfect, by the way. Absolutely worth every second of starvation. But I’m not above bribing her into loving me most. I already have a baby-sized hoodie that says ‘Team Carla.’”

You laughed mid-chew, almost choking on your fry, and reached out to squeeze her wrist. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re radiant. And hormonal. So I’ll take my compliments now, please.”

You grinned, wiping your mouth with a napkin. “You’re the best. Seriously. I love you.”

Carla softened, brushing your knuckles. “I love you too. Always. Even when you’ve got milkshake on your chin and hormones in your throat.”

“Charming,” Alexia muttered.

“Truthful,” Carla shot back, winking.

And in that room—full of fries, soft laughter, a sleeping baby girl, and the warm scent of cheeseburgers—you realised that love really did come in many forms.

Some in lullabies.  

Some in family names.  

And some in a greasy paper bag handed over at exactly the right moment.

Your first blind date with Alexia, feels like a whole other world away now, but it was the most perfect shot you ever took.

she's not wroooong 😂 also ✨LESBIANS✨

LMAO Christen 😂

it gets better, and better ✨

You're a highly successful basketball player who has just been transferred to Barcelona's women's team. The number 11 holds deep personal significance for you. Among the spectators is none other than football superstar Alexia Putellas, synonymous with the number 11 in Barça history, watching from the sidelines. What starts as mutual admiration quickly turns into something more, fuelled by weeks of playful yet intense online flirting. The chemistry between you and Alexia becomes undeniable.

So when you woke up the next morning, stretched, and instinctively reached for your phone she had already made her next move.

Alexia had posted on Instagram. Not a story. Not just a casual like. A full post. And the second you saw it, your stomach dropped. It was a photo from your game. Taken from court-side. A clean, professional shot of you mid-air, finishing a layup. And her caption?

Didn’t see me there, huh? 😏

You froze. Because holy shit. She really did that. You scrolled to the comments. Of course, people were losing their minds.

Comment: OH SHE’S CALLING YOU OUTTTT LMAOOOO

Comment: Alexia woke up and chose violence. Comment: You really thought you could ignore HER? Rookie mistake. Maya: Burying yourself deeper and deeper, I love this for you. Liv: You gotta respond. There’s no way you let her get away with this.

Your pulse pounded. You could ignore a lot of things. But this? No chance. You weren’t going to let her have the last word. So you went straight to your own Instagram story. And posted a response. A different angle of the same shot Alexia had posted, this time, taken from behind, where your jersey number 11 was clearly visible.

Enjoying the view?

No tags. No direct mention of her name. But everyone knew exactly who it was for. The second you posted it, your phone exploded.

Maya: OH MY GOD. Liv: Noooo you’re actually insane for this.

Your coach: Why is half the media room talking about this? Should I be concerned?

And then a new notification popped up.

Alexia: Very much so.

Your stomach flipped.

Tonight was a vibrant celebration of the remarkable beginning to the season for Barcelona women's basketball. The atmosphere was alive with the sounds of clinking glasses and hearty laughter echoing through the venue. Well-dressed guests, a mix of influential figures and renowned personalities from Barcelona, mingled gracefully, their conversations weaving a tapestry of excitement and admiration. The air was charged with a sense of triumph and camaraderie, as the city's elite gathered to honor the team's outstanding achievements.

Maya nudged you gently, her eyes wide with a mix of excitement and trepidation. "Uh… we’ve got company," she murmured, barely containing her disbelief. You turned to look, and there she was—Alexia Putellas. She stood confidently on the other side of the expansive function room, her arms crossed casually over her chest, watching you with a knowing smirk that seemed to hold a thousand secrets. Her presence was magnetic, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. She wasn't alone, either. A few of her Barcelona teammates flanked her, their posture relaxed yet exuding the unmistakable aura of elite athletes. You should have anticipated their attendance; it was only natural they’d be invited and feel obliged to make an appearance at such an event.

Liv took your hand oblivious, “I need the toilet, come with me” Your eyes widened ever so slightly that would take you directly past Alexia, you looked over your shoulder to your team mates all amused and none stepping forward to offer any help. You’d fought fire with fire many times with Alexia, now you were coming face to face and you were on your own. The confidence you had behind your phone screen dissipating the nearer you got with every step.

As if guided by some strange destiny, your shoulder unexpectedly collided with Alexia's. She turned to face you, and the reassuring squeeze Liv gave your hand propelled you into that realm of sassy confidence you usually only felt online. “My bad,” you said, pausing momentarily, “didn’t see you there.”

Alexia’s lips curled into a playful grin. “Thought I’d make it a bit more challenging for you to overlook me this time.”

You were not going to give her the satisfaction. Not after all this. Not after the social media games, the press conference questions, the showing up at your game like she owned the place. No. You were going to act completely unbothered. Like her presence meant nothing. Like her smirk didn’t make your skin heat. Like you didn’t feel her watching you every time you moved.

And at first? It worked. You stayed locked in, making polite small talk, laughing at unfunny jokes, ignoring the way your teammates kept giggling like this was the most entertaining thing they’d ever witnessed. But Alexia? Alexia Putellas? She wasn’t going to let you win that easily.

She Gets Bold. It started small. Little things. A comment here. A lingering look there. You moved by. “Nice outfit” Alexia called from her position on a stool surrounded by her teammates, just loud enough for everyone to hear. You ignored it.Because that was the game. She pushed. You didn’t react. She wanted to see how far she could go before you cracked and damn it, you weren’t going to give her that. But then she went for the kill.

You were leaning on the polished wooden bar, waiting patiently for your turn to be served. The murmur of conversations and clinking glasses surrounded you, but it was her voice that pierced through your solitude. “Do you always play that hard when someone’s watching?” she asked, her tone playful and teasing, referring to the impressive performance you had delivered at the game she attended.

You swallowed hard, a mixture of surprise and amusement swirling within you, yet you kept your eyes forward, steadfastly refusing to turn toward her. "I always play that hard," you replied, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance.

"Mhm." Her voice dripped with a teasing smirk that you could almost see. "Good to know."

And that’s when it happened. That’s when you finally let the walls crumble. You turned your gaze slowly to meet hers, and there she was, closer than you had anticipated. Her arms were crossed confidently over her chest, that infuriating yet captivating smirk still etched on her lips, as if she had all the time in the world to wait for your reaction.

Pushing yourself up from the bar, you turned fully to face her. She remained rooted to the spot, unfazed by your scrutiny.

"Why are you here, Alexia?" you asked, your voice carrying a mixture of curiosity and exasperation.

"Told you," she replied with a casual shrug. "Didn’t want you to miss me again."

You exhaled sharply, a frustrated puff of air escaping your lips. "You’re impossible."

"And you like it." Her words hung in the air, thick and charged with an electric tension. Around you, your teammates were watching with keen interest, while your coach let out a resigned sigh, knowing that your focus should have been on charming the bigwigs, not engaging with Barcelona’s leading female football star. Yet Alexia, as always, was winning this unspoken game. Again.

You took a breath, you smiled. Not the tight, forced kind. Not the annoyed, I’m trying to keep my cool kind. No. A slow, deliberate, challenging kind. And that? That made Alexia’s smirk falter. Just for a second.

You stepped closer, just enough to make her feel the heat of the moment. "You think I want this?" you asked, tilting your head.

Alexia’s confidence flickered, just barely. "I think—" she started, but you cut her off.

"I think you came over here because you wanted to see how far you could push me."

A small, amused scoff left her lips. "And?"

"And now you’re realising you might not be ready for what happens when I start pushing back."

Her jaw tensed. You saw it, the shift, the way she wasn’t in control anymore.

You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice. "So tell me, Alexia… are you?" She swallowed. And for the first time since this entire game started, she had no response. You could feel it. The shift. The way Alexia’s confidence flickered just enough for you to see the crack. She wasn’t expecting this. Wasn’t expecting you to push back. And that? That was your in. "Tell me, Alexia… are you?"

Her jaw tensed. A brief hesitation. It was subtle—so subtle that anyone else might’ve missed it. But you didn’t. You knew the signs. She was thinking. Calculating. Trying to decide her next move.

So you made it for her. "No Comeback?" you murmured, tilting your head. "I was expecting more from you." you succeeded in using her own written words against her and it felt good

Her lips parted slightly, as if she had something to say but you stepped back. Cool. Collected. In control.

You turned "See you around, Alexia." And walked away. You didn’t look back. You refused to. But you could feel her watching you. Your teammates definitely did.

"Holy shit," Maya whispered. "You just flipped the entire game on her."

"That was so unfair," someone else muttered, grinning.

"She came here to mess with you, and now she’s the one caught off guard."

You just smirked. Because they were right. You’d flipped the script. And now? Now it was her turn to react. You felt her eyes on you as you made your way across the room, each step measured and unhurried. The thrill of having finally unsettled Alexia Putellas—Barcelona's golden girl, La Reina herself—coursed through your veins like liquid fire. You'd finally managed to crack that infuriating composure of hers, and the victory felt sweeter than any buzzer-beater. Your teammates clustered around you like excited birds, their whispers a flurry of amazement and speculation.

"Did you see her face?" Claudia hissed, barely containing her glee. "I've never seen Alexia Putellas speechless. Ever."

"You literally walked away from her mid-conversation," Jordan added, shaking her head in disbelief. "Nobody does that."

You maintained your composure, though inside, your heart raced with a strange cocktail of triumph and anticipation. "It's just a game," you said with a casual shrug that belied the electricity still coursing through your veins.

"A game you're winning," Marta observed, glancing over your shoulder. "And one she's not used to losing."

"You realize she's not going to let this go, right? You just challenged the most competitive woman in Barcelona."

"Good," you replied, your voice low and steady. "I'm counting on it." You downed your drink, holding it in your mouth before swallowing, you sure needed it.

You refused to look back, refused to give her the satisfaction. Instead, you accepted a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and took a deliberate sip, letting the bubbles dance on your tongue. The party continued around you—executives laughing too loudly at each other's jokes, photographers circling like sharks, capturing Barcelona's elite in their natural habitat.

For twenty minutes, you maintained your distance, engaging in conversation with sponsors and club officials, smiling for photos, being the perfect representative of Barcelona basketball. But always, always, you felt her presence like a magnetic field, disrupting your focus just enough to keep you aware.

Your phone vibrated in your clutch.

A text message from 

Alexia: Running away so soon?

Your lips curved into a small smile. So predictable. You slipped your phone back into your bag without responding. Let her wait.

Another ten minutes passed before you felt a presence at your elbow. You turned, expecting another teammate, but instead found yourself face to face with one of Alexia's football teammates and good friend—Mapi Leon, the defender with eyes that missed nothing.

"She sent you to do her dirty work?" you asked, not bothering to hide your amusement.

Mapi laughed, the sound genuine and warm. "Actually, I came to collect you at request. The president wants a photo with both Barcelona teams number 11's. PR opportunity." She gestured toward where the club president stood chatting with photographers and Alexia.

"Of course he does," you murmured, but followed Mapi across the room.

Alexia's eyes found yours immediately, that familiar half-smirk playing at her lips, though something had shifted. There was a new awareness there, a respect that hadn't been present before. As you approached, she straightened slightly from where she'd been leaning against a high table.

"There she is," the president beamed, gesturing for you to join the group. "Our basketball star! Come, come—we want a photo of our number elevens together."

Of course they did.

You moved to stand beside Alexia, the space between you charged with unspoken tension as photographers positioned themselves, their cameras poised to capture what was quickly becoming Barcelona's most compelling narrative. Standing beside Alexia, you could feel the subtle shift in her energy—she wasn't completely recovered from your earlier departure, but her composure had returned, wrapped around her like armor.

"You surprised me," she murmured, her voice pitched low enough that only you could hear it over the ambient noise of the party. Her gaze remained fixed forward, her smile perfectly calibrated for the cameras.

"That was the point," you replied just as quietly, your own media smile firmly in place.

The club president beamed, oblivious to the undercurrent between you. "Our number elevens! The faces of Barcelona excellence!" he proclaimed, gesturing expansively. "Closer together, please—show the unity of our club! Barcelona's queens of eleven," he announced proudly, gesturing to the photographer. "Two sports, one number, one club. Perfect symbolism!"

"Quite the narrative they're building," Alexia murmured, her voice just low enough for only you to hear. Her perfume drifted toward you something expensive and subtle, with notes of sandalwood and vanilla.

"Good for publicity," you responded coolly, lips barely moving as you maintained your smile for the camera.

The photographer directed you to move closer together. "Shoulders touching, please. Show the unity!"

With deliberate slowness, Alexia shifted toward you, her arm brushing against your back her hand finding a resting place on the exposed skin of the small of your back. The contact sent an electric current rippling across your skin. You refused to react, keeping your expression neutral despite the way your pulse quickened.

"Smile!" the photographer called.

You did, brilliantly and professionally. Alexia did the same, though you caught the slight tension in her jaw.

"Wonderful!" the president exclaimed. "Now, perhaps a toast to our champions?"

Champagne flutes appeared, and the moment stretched into minutes of carefully choreographed PR. Through it all, Alexia remained close, her presence a constant challenge to your composure. When the official photos were complete and the group began to disperse, she leaned in once more.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Alexia finally said, turning slightly to face you.

You met her gaze steadily. "I've survived worse."

The corner of her mouth twitched. "Like walking away from conversations?"

"Like having my personal space invaded by football players who can't handle being ignored," you countered, keeping your voice light despite the challenge in your words.

Alexia tilted her head, studying you with newfound interest. "You're different than I expected."

"How so?"

"More..." She paused, searching for the right word. "Defiant."

You couldn't help the small smile that formed. "Disappointed?"

"Intrigued," she corrected, her eyes never leaving yours. "Most people don't push back."

"I'm not most people."

"Clearly." She took a deliberate sip of her champagne, her eyes still fixed on you

"You think walking away from me changes anything?" she spoke, her breath warm against your ear.

You turned slightly to meet her gaze directly, close enough to notice the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. "I think it changed everything," you replied. "Your move, La Reina."

Before she could respond, your coach called you over to meet an important sponsor. You stepped away, but not before catching the flash of something in Alexia's eyes—determination, perhaps, or frustration. Or something else entirely.

The evening continued its elegant march toward conclusion. You circulated dutifully, charm on full display as you discussed the season's prospects with investors and posed for selfies with admirers. All the while, you remained acutely aware of Alexia's movements around the room, tracking her without seeming to.

As the party began to wind down, you slipped away to the balcony for a moment of quiet. The Barcelona night spread before you, the city lights twinkling like fallen stars against the darkness. The cool evening air was a welcome relief after the heated atmosphere inside.

"Hiding?” The voice startled you, though you'd half-expected it. Alexia stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the warm light from inside. She stepped forward, the soft glow of the outdoor lighting revealing her features—sharp, intelligent eyes and that ever-present hint of a smile playing at her lips.

You didn't turn fully, just angled your head slightly in acknowledgment, maintaining your position at the balcony's edge. The city lights of Barcelona stretched before you like a constellation of earthbound stars.

"Getting some air," you corrected, your voice steady despite the quickening of your pulse. "There's only so much small talk one can endure."

Alexia moved beside you, her forearms resting on the railing, mirroring your stance. The space between you felt charged, alive with possibility. "And yet you excel at it," she observed. "I watched you charm every sponsor in that room."

You allowed yourself a small smile.

"Part of the job i usually despise”

"Is that what this is?" you asked, gesturing vaguely between you. "Part of the job?"

The question hung in the air, weighted with meaning. She took her time answering, letting the night sounds of Barcelona fill the silence—distant traffic, music from a nearby restaurant, the gentle rustle of wind through potted palms.

"This?" she finally said, turning to face her fully. "No. This is something else entirely."

Your eyes met hers, searching. "And what exactly is 'this'?"

"I don't know yet," she admitted, surprising herself with her honesty. "But I'm curious to find out." A slow smile spread across Alexia's face not the practiced, media-ready smile she wore for cameras, but something more genuine, almost vulnerable.

"So am I."

The confession shifted the air between you, transforming the playful antagonism into something deeper, more complex. For a moment, neither of you spoke, content to exist in this new understanding.

"You know," Alexia finally said, breaking the silence, "when I first saw you play, I was impressed. Not just by your skill, though that was evident, but by your confidence. The way you owned that court like you'd been playing on it your whole life."

"I've never lacked confidence," you replied.

"No," she agreed, her voice softening. "It's one of the things we have in common."

You turned slightly, studying her profile against the backdrop of the night sky. "What else do we have in common, Alexia?"

She considered this, her fingers tracing invisible patterns on the balcony railing. "We both understand what it means to carry a number with history. To wear it not just as a jersey designation, but as an identity."

You nodded, recognizing the truth in her words. Number 11 wasn't just digits on fabric—it was a legacy, a promise, a statement of intent.

"And we both," she continued, her voice dropping lower, "enjoy a challenge."

The air between you seemed to thicken with unspoken possibilities. You were acutely aware of her proximity, of the subtle scent of her perfume mingling with the night air.

"Is that what I am to you?" you asked, your voice steadier than you felt. "A challenge?"

Alexia turned fully toward you, the city lights casting half her face in shadow, the other half illuminated in a soft glow that accentuated every perfect angle. Her eyes held yours with an intensity that made your breath catch. "At first," she admitted, the honesty in her voice disarming. "When I saw how quickly everyone took to you—the new star, Barcelona's basketball sensation... I was curious. Then our little social media game started, and yes, it became a challenge." She paused, her fingers drumming lightly against the railing. "But now..."

"Now?" you prompted when she didn't continue.

"Now I'm not sure what this is," she confessed, gesturing between you. "Except that I find myself thinking about you more than I should. And that..." She hesitated, vulnerability flashing across her features. "That hasn't happened to me in a long time."

The admission hung in the air between you, weightier than all the playful banter that had preceded it. Your heart stuttered in your chest, thrown by this glimpse of the woman beneath the legend. "I thought La Reina never showed her cards," you said softly, a gentle tease to mask how deeply her words had affected you.

Alexia's laugh was quiet, almost self-deprecating. "Perhaps that's another thing we have in common, we both know when to change the game."

The moment stretched between you, taut with possibility. The sounds of the party inside seemed distant, muffled by the intensity of this shared moment. You were aware of everything the slight breeze ruffling her hair, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the warmth of her hand now covering yours.

"You know everyone's watching us," you murmured, nodding slightly toward the glass doors where curious eyes occasionally flicked in your direction.

"Let them," Alexia replied, echoing her earlier message with a confidence that made your pulse race. "I'm more interested in what happens next."

Before you could respond, the balcony door opened, flooding the space with light and sound. Your team captain appeared, her expression apologetic.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, not looking sorry at all, "but the coach is gathering everyone for a picture before we leave."

You nodded, reluctantly shifting away from Alexia, the spell broken but not forgotten. As you moved toward the door, Alexia caught your wrist, her touch gentle but insistent "I'd like to see you again," she said, her voice low and certain. "Away from all this." She gestured vaguely toward the party inside.

The warmth of her fingers against your skin sent a current of electricity up your arm. You met her gaze steadily, allowing yourself a small smile. "Are you asking me on a date, Alexia Putellas?"

Her answering smile was slow and deliberate, confidence returning to replace the brief vulnerability she'd shown. "Yes. I am."

"Bold of you to assume I'd say yes," you replied, though the teasing lilt in your voice betrayed your interest.

Alexia's eyes sparkled with amusement. "You haven't said no."

Your captain cleared her throat pointedly from the doorway. "Coach is waiting," she reminded you, though her expression suggested she was enjoying the scene unfolding before her.

"We'll continue this conversation," Alexia said, releasing your wrist with a gentle squeeze.

"Will we?" you asked, unable to resist one final challenge.

"Definitely," she replied with such certainty that your breath caught. "After all, I need to show you that Barcelona has more to offer than just basketball courts."

With that promise hanging between you, you followed your captain back inside, feeling Alexia's gaze on you like a physical touch. The final toast passed in a blur of raised glasses and enthusiastic cheers, your mind still on the balcony, still caught in the gravity of Alexia's confession.

Your captain cleared her throat pointedly from the doorway.You turned back to her, aware of your captain's curious gaze still lingering at the doorway. "The team is waiting," you spoke in acknowledgment, though you made no move to pull away from Alexia's gaze.

As you followed your captain back inside, you could feel Alexia's gaze on your back, burning like a physical touch. The air around you seemed charged with electricity, alive with possibility.

"So," your captain whispered once you were out of earshot, "care to explain what that was about?"

You shrugged, affecting nonchalance despite the way your heart continued to race. "Just getting to know a fellow Barcelona athlete."

Your captain snorted. "Right. And I'm just casually friends with Lionel Messi."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, the tension of the moment dissipating slightly. "It's complicated."

"Clearly," she replied dryly. "Just... be careful. Alexia Putellas isn't just anyone. When she steps onto a field, or apparently, onto a balcony with you the whole world watches."

You nodded, knowing she was right. This wasn't just about two athletes flirting anymore. This was about two number 11s from Barcelona's premier teams, two women whose every move was scrutinized by fans and media alike. Whatever was happening between you and Alexia had implications that extended far beyond personal interest.

And yet, as you rejoined your team for the final toast of the evening, your eyes inevitably sought her out across the room. She stood with her teammates, glass raised, but her attention was fixed on you. When your gazes locked, she offered the smallest of smiles, private, genuine, a promise of what was to come.

😭❤️‍🩹

learning curve part 5

alexia putellas x reader [& r's nephew] after a hectic and rushed morning, will gets sick. r and alexia take care of him. later in the week, r and alexia lose to real madrid, and will tries to help. fluff + hurt comfort 🙂

—

It seemed as though for every obstacle overcome, another one almost immediately presented itself. Every time you were able to push some doubt you had about yourself out of your head, another one replaced it. And every time, Alexia was there to ground you back to reality. She had enough confidence in you that it was okay when you didn’t really feel it in yourself. 

And as time passed, your own confidence grew, and it seemed like Alexia’s did too. Until it was shaken. 

Mornings in your household were pretty routine. Alexia got up, giving you time to sleep in as she got Will up and ready for the day. At first, you’d felt bad that she was taking the morning with him and you weren’t doing anything. But, as Alexia argued, you did almost the entirety of his bedtime with him, while Alexia pretended not to fall asleep on the sofa. And Ale liked having time with him in the morning, and she was awake anyway. 

The two of them had their own special little morning routine, which included a walk around the neighborhood and Will spending 10 minutes picking his outfit out. It was practiced, at this point; Will and Alexia moved through the morning with purpose while you moved through the morning practically half conscious until your coffee kicked in, normally just as you were leaving the house to drop Will at school and head to training. 

This morning, however, was neither routine nor practiced. You and Alexia had been up later than you’d intended. Normally, her internal clock woke her up without fail. It seemed that not getting her 9 hours had messed with her internal alarm, and she was roughly shaking you awake just 20 minutes before you had to leave. 

“Amor. Amor. We overslept, levántante!” Alexia was almost frantic. 

You groaned, batting her hand away from your shoulder. She was usually much nicer when she woke you up, though the circumstances obviously wouldn’t allow for the few minutes she normally spent stroking your hair and kissing your face. 

“If you do not get up right now, we won’t have time for coffee.” Alexia called over her shoulder, heading down the hall to get Will up. 

And with that, you were scrambling out of bed and stumbling into the bathroom. What followed was a very chaotic and very rushed 20 minutes, but you managed to make it out of the house in time, travel mug of coffee in hand. Will was eating his breakfast quietly in the backseat on the way to his school, Alexia driving calmly like she hadn’t acted like a maniac to get everyone out of the house on time, and you were trying to make your hair look less like Alexia had very clearly had you on your back the night before. 

Alexia pulled into the dropoff line, and you reached back to undo Will’s car seat buckles. 

“Have a good day, buddy. We’ll see you later.” You told him, ruffling his hair as he gave you a small smile. 

“Love you Tia, love you Ale,” he called, opening the door and carefully climbing down out of the car. 

You only really had time to think once you were driving towards training, half your coffee already gone. It was more than a little odd that you and Alexia had been allowed to oversleep. Will woke up at roughly the same time everyday, and in the rare event Alexia didn’t get him up, he got her up. Today, though, he’d still been sleeping when she’d gone in to wake him, almost an hour and a half later than normal. It hadn’t struck you as odd until you’d thought about it for more than 5 seconds, but once you had… you were retroactively trying to analyze your nephew’s behavior in the short time you’d been with him that morning. 

“Did something seem off to you? With Will this morning?” 

Alexia hummed, thinking. “No. A little quiet, I guess. Maybe he didn’t sleep well.” 

You nodded, going over Wil’s behavior that morning. Quiet felt like it was only part of it, but Alexia was always more observant than you. 

“You’re right. He’s fine.” 

“He’s fine.” Alexia echoed, reaching over to grab your hand and lace your fingers with hers. She glanced over with a reassuring smile. “You’re overthinking. He’s okay.” 

You returned her smile, trying to convince yourself. There was just this nagging feeling in the back of your head, one you couldn’t get rid of. Will’s face as you dropped him off this morning  kept popping into your head, and maybe you were imagining things, but it seemed different than his usual smile. His goodbye had been quieter, and you could have sworn he walked slower into the building than normal. 

You shook your head, squeezing Alexia’s hand and trying to focus on her next to you before you began to freak out over nothing. Will was fine. 

—

Will was not fine. He’d woken up feeling positively awful, like everything in his body wasn’t working right. His head felt cloudy and his brain felt slower than normal. He’d barely been able to eat even a few bites of his breakfast before he had to give up, his stomach turning. He was warm when he woke up, his dinosaur comforter and matching sheets pushed to the bottom of his bed, but so cold his teeth were chattering in the car on the way to school, even wrapped in his new Barcelona sweatshirt. [Alexia had brought it home for him two days ago, despite you telling her he didn’t need anymore clothes. Alexia was always bringing him home little things she saw that made her think of him, and those were his most favorite things. The brontosaurus ornament from the christmas shop she’d gone to with you, the glow-in-the-dark shoes she’d brought home from a nike photo shoot, the spiderman keychain to attach to his backpack she’d gotten in the airport on the way home from an away game.]

Will wanted nothing more than to go home and burrow under the knit blanket you kept on the couch. He didn’t even care if you didn't let him watch the TV, as long as the icky feeling that filled his entire body went away soon. He thought about saying something, telling you he didn’t feel well. 

But then he’d remembered what Alexia had said the night before, about today being an important training session before you played Madrid over the weekend. Will wasn’t quite sure how long training was, but he assumed it was like school, and you’d be gone all day. And Will knew that football was your and Alexia’s job, and his Dad had always told him how important jobs were. When Will still lived with his Dad, he hadn’t been allowed to stay home sick, because his Dad couldn’t miss work. 

If anything, your and Alexia’s job seemed even bigger and more important than his Dad’s job. If Will said he was sick, one of you might have to stay home with him and miss training. That would be making way too much trouble, Will had decided. So, he’d put on a brave face and gone to school. 

Maybe, when he got home, he could say he was extra tired, and take a nap on the couch with one of you. Maybe you’d lay with him on the couch and scratch his back like you did when he had a bad dream. He had to get through the school day first, a task that was feeling more and more impossible with every passing second. 

—

The call came after the gym session. You always kept your phone on you now, as the adult responsible for a small child. It was a beautiful day, the kind that you pictured when you’d signed with Barcelona. Sun shining, warm on your skin. Your muscles ached in the best way, and though your worry for your nephew persisted somewhat, Alexia had been very reassuring. You walked with her now, from the gym out to the pitch, chatting easily about some gossip her sister had told her on the phone. It was funny, how you spent practically all your time together but you never ran out of things to talk about. Your teammates teased you for it, how you were constantly together, attached at the hip. 

Your phone rang, but Alexia kept going on about Alba’s horrible co-worker, assuming it wasn’t a call you’d need to take in the middle of training. Yet when you pulled it out of your pocket and saw it was Will’s school calling, and Alexia caught a glimpse of the caller ID over your shoulder, she cut herself off abruptly. 

“Hello?” You answered, stopping just off the pitch. You motioned for Alexia to go ahead without you, as Pere was calling everyone to gather around him, but she just rolled her eyes, leaning her head closer to try to listen. 

“Hello, is this Will’s guardian?” 

“Yes. Is everything okay?”

“Well, we have Will here in the nurse’s office, and…” 

You listened intently, as did Alexia, though there was something heavy now weighing on her mind. You’d told her that something wasn’t right with Will that morning. And she hadn’t listened. She’d been more focused on reassuring you and calming your anxiety, not pausing to think whether you might be worrying for a good reason. 

The nurse explained that Will had gotten sick in class, and needed to be picked up right away. Alexia was telling one of the assistant coaches who had wandered over that there was a family emergency and you both had to go before you’d even hung up the phone. As soon as you did, though, you turned to Alexia, face pinched with concern. 

“Ale, you can stay–”

“No.” Alexia said assuredly, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the building. “We will both go get him.” 

Through your concern, your heart felt like it grew in size. Alexia never missed training voluntarily. Never. But now, she was rushing out with barely any notice to go with you to get Will, and you were reminded of how lucky you were to have her with you in this. 

Even if she wasn’t thinking the same thing about herself in that moment. 

—

The two of you rushed into the nurse’s office, panicked to a level that the nurse was not unfamiliar with. It was always the same with first time parents, when they had to come get their sick kid from school for the first time. The panic was always the same, you and Alexia practically breaking down her door in your haste to get to your nephew. 

“Will,” you sighed, some of the stress and anxiety leaving your body at the sight of him in front of you. He was curled up on his side, tears still falling, pale and shaky, yet you were with him now, and that made it a little better.

“I’m sorry.” Will whimpered, sitting up shakily and wiping at his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

“It’s okay, mi amor, don’t be sorry.” Alexia cooed, crouching down in front of the small cot and leaning in to kiss Will’s temple. She followed up with her hand right after, pressing it to his forehead and feeling the heat of his skin. He had a fever. How had she missed this? 

Carefully, you pulled Will into your arms, lifting him easily. 

“Please don’t be sorry, Will. I’m sorry we didn’t realize you weren’t feeling well.” You told him, slowly rubbing his back as he cried. 

“I threw up in class and everyone saw.” He sobbed, burying his face in your neck. Your heart broke, and one look at Alexia told you hers was doing the same. 

“I’ll sign him out.” Alexia murmured, resting one hand on Will’s back for a moment before heading to the desk, Will’s dinosaur backpack comically slung over her shoulder. You began to walk with your nephew out of the building and to the car, hearing his cries begin to slow. 

When you finally got him buckled into his seat, after some convincing required to get him to let go of you, you felt his forehead just as Alexia had. 

“Oh, buddy, you’re burning up.” You murmured. 

Will’s lip was still trembling, but he tried to smile at you. “I’m… I’m okay.” 

You could have laughed at how visibly untrue that statement was, but nothing about this was funny. Not even Alexia wearing Will’s backpack out to the car, much too small on her back. 

You just kissed the top of his head, shut his door and headed around to the passenger seat. The car was quiet for a minute as Alexia backed out of the parking lot, only just noticing how poorly she had parked in her haste to get to Will. 

“Are we going to football?” Will piped up quietly from the backseat. He’d come a few times, when he hadn’t had school, and he was hoping you and Ale would just bring him there so you wouldn’t miss work. 

You and your girlfriend exchanged confused glances, Alexia studying him in the rearview mirror. 

“No, bud, we’re going home. You’re sick, you need to rest.” You replied. 

You weren’t expecting Will to start crying again, but the sound of his sniffling soon filled the car. 

“But… but work is important. You can’t miss just for me!” 

You twisted around in your seat to look at him, reaching out a hand to rest on his knee. His little face was flushed red, from sickness or emotion you weren’t sure. It shattered your heart that he would ever presume that football was more important than him. 

“Will, you are much more important than work. So much more important.” You told him, tilting your head slightly to make eye contact with him.

“Cariño, did you feel ill this morning and not tell us because we had training?” Alexia cut in, the question practically burning on the way out. 

A moment passed before your nephew nodded slightly. You half wanted to tell Alexia to stop the car so you could get into the backseat and pull Will into your arms, and half wanted Alexia to just run you over. You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the idea to lie about being sick, but it felt like a massive failure on your part. 

“If you’re sick, baby, you have to tell us so we can take care of you. You don’t need to worry about football or training or anything; you come first, okay?” 

“Will, you are the most important to us. More than football, do you understand?” Alexia asked, her voice shaking slightly with emotion. 

Will nodded, his brown hair flopping into his eyes as he did so. “Okay.” 

—

Alexia felt like the guilt could crush her. She never never wanted you or Will to think that football was more important to her. Yet here Will was, so sick his little body was shaking, but he’d tried to power through so he wouldn’t interrupt training. 

It was with this guilt in her mind that she hovered uncertainly over the sofa, watching as you tucked Will under her favorite knit blanket, the one she preferred when she was sick, too. Alexia assumed neither you nor Will would want her around in that moment. You, because she’d talked you out of being rightfully worried for your nephew. And Will, for making him feel like he came second to her. 

She was minutes away from offering to go to the grocery store and get the ingredients to make soup, just so she could have an excuse to call her Mami in the car and tell her how badly she messed up. 

Well, how badly she thought she messed up.

“Okay, buddy. What can I get you? A snack? Soup? Anything?” You wondered, brushing his hair out of his face. 

Alexia’s thoughts were still racing as Will’s gaze flicked over to her. 

“Pancakes?” He wondered quietly, giving you a half smile. You chuckled, not sure why you thought he’d ask for anything else.

“Of course. I’ll go make them.” You stood, freezing when Alexia cleared her throat and spoke shakily. 

“No, I can. You stay here with him.” She said quietly. 

You raised your eyebrows, something about your girlfriend’s demeanor throwing you off. She seemed miserable and close to tears, somehow. Frowning, you opened your mouth, ready to ask her to join you in the kitchen for a minute so you could figure out what was wrong. 

Will beat you to it, though. “Tia, sit with me?” 

Will wasn’t looking at you, though. He was looking at Alexia. Her gaze flickered between yours and Will’s for a moment, completely dumbstruck. 

“M-me?” Alexia asked, wringing her hands together. It had been a while since you’d seen her like this, so visibly upset when she was normally the picture of composure. 

It didn’t seem to push Will off, though, because he just nodded. “Tia Ale sit with me. Tia go make pancakes.” 

Will had called Alexia… Alexia the entire few months he’d been here. Sometimes Ale, but never anything else. You were Tia, and Alexia was Alexia. Until now, apparently. 

Alexia could have sobbed, truly. Just when she’d been thoroughly convinced she was a horrible.. guardian or whatever she was, Will had innocently asked for her to sit with him, and fixed every doubt that was gripping her heart. 

And you… you were looking at her with tears in your own eyes, a smile on your face. There was no annoyance on your face, no blame in your eyes. You just looked happy. 

Maybe she hadn’t messed up as bad as she thought. 

Without another word, Alexia sat on the couch, sliding under the blanket with Will and tucking him into her side. He snuggled right against her, his face still slightly pinched with discomfort, but seeming a lot more comfortable now. 

After a minute of silence, Alexia now beaming at you from the couch, Will looked away from the TV back to where you were standing, watching the two of them fondly. 

“Tia? Pancakes? Please?” He reminded you. 

You nodded with a small laugh, leaning down to kiss his temple, and Alexia’s before heading into the kitchen. 

You really loved your little family. 

—

Will admittedly didn’t know much about football. He knew that you and Alexia were very good, knew that you both worked very hard. He knew Barcelona wore the blue and red colors, and he’d learned the numbers that appeared on the back of your kits. Though he’d yet to attend a match, he’d watched most of them from Eli’s couch while she gave him all the snacks he could ever want. 

Will was watching when you and Alexia lost to Real Madrid, and Eli tried to explain to him the significance. All he really took away from that conversation, though, was that you and Ale would be sad, and he should probably give you hugs to make it better. 

He’d done so when you picked him up from Eli’s, allowing Alexia time to head home and decompress. Will hugged you tight, Alexia even tighter once he got home and saw the frown on her face. It was late in the evening, already past his bedtime, and the two of you were very quiet. 

Will thought he sort of knew how you felt, because he didn’t like losing the games at recess, either. There wasn’t much he could think to do, though. He’d barely been home 10 minutes before you were asking him to go get his pajamas out, so he could start getting ready for bed. You and Alexia walked in a few minutes later, after having a tense whispered conversation in the hall, one that Will did not miss. 

He could tell you were both upset, but you tried your best not to let it show that you were somewhat upset with each other. It always happened after a loss, especially one like this. You and Alexia would be tense, snap at each other. It was a different situation entirely now that Will was here, his little face gazing up at the two of you, wide eyed, where he sat tucked under his covers. 

He’d put his pajamas on himself, and both you and Alexia cracked smiles when you noticed his shirt was on backwards. He smiled back, wordlessly holding out his favorite book for one of you to read. 

You took it, perching on the edge of his bed while Alexia leaned in the doorway, exhaustion causing her eyes to droop. Will looked between the two of you as you opened the book. 

“Are you fighting?” 

Alexia’s eyes were on you, you could tell, waiting for you to take the lead. You didn’t quite feel like looking at her, so you smiled softly at your nephew, running a hand through his brown curls. 

“No, bud. We’ve just had a long day.” 

Will looked dubious, even as Alexia nodded along. 

“It sounded like you were fighting. In the hall. When you said Alexia was being mean and Alexia said you didn’t care about her feelings.” 

You froze at that, not quite sure what your response was supposed to be. You were so tired, too tired to figure out how to explain that you and Alexia were just having a small argument to Will. Every part of your body ached from the physical match that had been played, and you swore you still felt as cold as if you’d stepped out of the rain just a minute ago and not several hours ago. 

Just before you were about to stumble your way through some explanation, Alexia cleared her throat. 

“We aren’t fighting, cariño. Your Tia and I just care a lot about football, and when we lose, it makes us sad.” 

“That’s what Eli said, that you would be sad, and I should give you a really big hug.” 

Alexia smiled softly, stepping further into the room, but not quite approaching you. You still wouldn’t look at her. 

“She’s right, your hug made me feel so much better. Your Tia and I hate losing, and sometimes we aren’t very nice to each other after we lose. But we aren’t fighting, just… disagreeing.” 

Will thought for a moment, his fingers fiddling with his navy blue spiderman pajama top.

“You should be better at losing.” He said finally. 

You snorted, and Alexia laughed. Will smiled proudly, even as you shook your head in mock disbelief. 

“Says the little boy who flipped the board over when he lost at checkers yesterday!” 

Will giggled, and the tension was broken. Mostly. 

Neither of you wanted him to carry the weight you were feeling, feel sad just because you both were. You kept his nighttime routine as normal as possible, reading his book and tucking him in, both of you kissing his forehead before heading out. 

Alexia didn’t say anything as you headed to your shared bedroom, but to be fair, neither did you. It was a bit early for the two of you to head to bed, but after the day you’d had, both of you knew sleep would be the best thing. 

Pajamas on, you and Alexia slid into bed, the room still silent. It only took a minute after you flicked the light off for the bed to shift, Alexia’s warm body sliding closer until she was pressed up against you. 

Tired of being mad, you turned into her, resting your head against her chest as her arms encircled you. A deep sigh escaped you, and you felt like it was the first real breath you’d had since the full time whistle had blown. 

“I’m sorry. I was harsh, and I shouldn’t have been. I love you.” Alexia murmured, lips pressing a kiss to your hair. 

You snuggled closer, inhaling again the scent of her. “I’m sorry too. You’re allowed to be upset, I shouldn’t have tried to fix it when you just needed to feel it.” 

“And we both need to get better at losing.” Alexia replied. You could hear the small grin in her voice, feel her chest shake slightly as she chuckled. 

“Apparently.” You agreed. 

“Goodnight, mi amor.” 

“Goodnight my Ale.” 

And just like that, everything was fine again. Everything was fixed. 

—

Will woke early the next morning. As was his routine, he got up and headed for your room to wake Alexia up. She was an early riser, didn’t mind getting up with him and letting you sleep in. Most of the time, she was already kind of awake, scrolling on her phone. 

This morning, though, when Will pushed the door open and peaked his head in, Alexia wasn’t awake. She was out cold, head practically shoved under her pillow, while you slept completely on the other side of the bed, one arm hanging off the side of the bed. You both looked very comfy, and Will remembered last night, how tired Alexia had seemed. She’d practically fallen asleep in his doorway standing up. 

Thinking for a moment, Will turned around and headed back to his room. He grabbed his ipad out from his backpack, the one he took with him for the car trip to Eli’s. He wasn’t technically supposed to have it now, but he figured that you wouldn’t mind if he let you sleep. He grabbed his headphones, too, his favorite blanket and his most favorite dino, Robert. As quietly as he could, he crept back down the hall and into your room. Climbing up on the bed, he took advantage of the ample space between the two of you, settling back against the pillows under his blankie. He plugged his headphones in, tucked his dino under one arm, and pressed play on his favorite dinosaur show.

This way, you both could keep sleeping, and he didn’t have to play alone somewhere by himself. 

—

You awoke to small, insistent hands pulling at the comforter so it covered more of you. Before you could open your eyes, little hands pushing into the blanket, tucking it in nice and tight around you. Groggily, you cracked an eye, finding Will’s face just a few inches away. He looked… guilty, like he’d looked when he broke the vase on the coffee table, and you were immediately alert. 

“What’s up bud?” You whispered, conscious that Ale was still asleep on the other side of your nephew. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean t’wake you.” Will whispered back. “You looked cold.” 

“What are you doing in here, hm? You should be in your bed.” 

Will pulled a face, tugging his headphones off his head. “But it’s late and I was bored.” 

You clocked the sun peaking in between the curtains, startled to realize it was much higher in the sky than it should have been. It was at least 10, and Will always got up before 7:30. 

“Oh, buddy, it is late. I’m so sorry, why didn’t you wake one of us up?” 

By one of us, you meant Alexia. 

Will just shrugged, shyly smiling at you. “You were sad last night. And when I’m sad, you tell me it makes my body tired and that’s why I’m more sleepy. So you needed more sleep too, you and Tia Ale.” 

Your heart melted and you pulled the small boy down into your arms, squeezing tight. 

“You are the sweetest boy.” You told him. 

Will beamed, squeezing you back. “I got my ipad even though I wasn’t supposed to.” 

Leaning back, you brushed his messy hair off his forehead. That was what the guilty look was for. As if you’d be upset with him for wanting to let you both sleep, but also not wanting to be by himself. As if you’d be mad he brought his ipad in here and put on his Dino show and wore his headphones and tucked the blankets around you because you looked cold. 

“That’s okay, buddy.” You replied. “You are so thoughtful to let us sleep in.”

“Tia Ale says it’s important to be thoughtful and kind.” Will said, echoing something you knew Alexia told him every morning before he left for school. It was something her Mami had always said to her, Alexia had told you once. 

“Alexia is right.” You nodded, settling back into the pillows with Will now laid in your arms. Next to him, the mattress shifted, and a raspy voice piped up. 

“Alexia is always right.” Ale said sleepily, not even opening her eyes as she blindly reached to pat Will on the head. Will laughed, a sound that was quickly becoming one of your favorites in the world. 

For a few minutes, the room stayed silent, Will laid between the two of you, for the moment content to sit still. You were still waking up, and Alexia could probably barely be considered awake.

“Hey, Tia?” Will murmured, breaking the quiet peacefulness of the morning. You hummed for him to continue. “Can I call my Daddy?” 

Sometimes you forgot. You shouldn’t forget, but you did, and you knew Ale did too. Sometimes things just went so well, Will fit so perfectly into your family that you forgot the circumstances under which he was here. And when you remembered, you were instantly filled with guilt. Like you were stealing something from your brother. You should be talking more about Leo, calling Leo more often. 

Will wasn’t yours, but he was. It was a difficult line to walk, a difficult thing to balance. Will wasn’t your son but you felt like a parent. Alexia felt like a parent, had taken to being one so easily. But Will wasn’t your son. He was your nephew, and the last thing you wanted was to try to take the place of Leo. 

As you pulled your phone out, dialling the number for the prison, you wondered if you’d ever figure out how to fit into Will’s life without feeling like you weren’t doing enough, were doing too much. You wondered if you’d ever feel like you were doing right by your brother, and right by Will. 

You were torn from your spiral when the call connected. Instead of the usual robotic voice stating you would soon be connected through to Leo, it was the same robotic voice, telling you the call had not been accepted. There were plenty of reasons for Leo not to pick up the phone, plenty of real, valid reasons. For some reason you couldn’t explain, though, your stomach had dropped. Something about it felt wrong, especially knowing that Leo knew Will liked to call Sunday mornings. 

You glanced over to where Will was poking at Alexia’s face, where she was pretending to be going back to sleep. He was laughing, and you could see Ale fighting a small smile herself. With a deep sigh, you forced a tense smile onto your face. 

“Will?” The boy turned towards you, face lit up with excitement as he reached for the phone. “I’m sorry, baby, your Dad couldn’t pick up. He’s… he’s busy.”

The smile fell from Will’s face, the room suddenly feeling a few degrees colder. Alexia’s eyes flew open, fixed on Will’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment. 

“Oh. Okay.” He whispered, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. 

It was like the life had been sucked out of him. You thought hard, trying to think of anything you could offer him or promise him that would lift his mood again. Alexia beat you to it. 

“Hey, cariño? Do you want to go out for pancakes?” She suggested, resting a hand on Will’s back. 

Still staring at his hands tightly clasped in his lap, Will slowly shook his head, much to your astonishment. Will never turned down pancakes, especially at his favorite breakfast place. You didn’t go often because it was a ways away, and normally, the suggestion would have had him skipping around the room with joy. 

“No thank you.” He mumbled, sniffling. His small fist came up to rub at his face and your heart broke even more. Alexia looked like she was in physical pain, fighting the urge to pull Will into a bone crushing hug. 

Carefully, you shifted back down in the bed, opening your arms for your nephew. He practically lunged forward, wrapping his arms tight around your neck and shoving his face into your shoulder. 

“Oh, buddy.” You murmured, wishing there was something you could say to make it better. 

There wasn’t. 

Alexia ran a hand through her disheveled hair and moved closer, wrapping her arms around you both as she kissed the top of Will’s head. One of Will’s hands unwrapped itself from around your neck, moving to grab a fistful of Alexia’s sweatshirt. Like he was trying to be as close to the two of you as possible, as if you could protect him from what he was feeling. You wished you could, more than anything. 

The three of you sat there in silence, all deep in thought, and you knew neither you nor Alexia would move until Will moved. 

What you didn’t know, though, was that this was the first of many unexplained declined calls from Leo. Just the beginning of a sudden complete silence you couldn’t begin to explain to yourself or to Will. 

—

:) cranked this out in between studying. hope you enjoyed ❤️‍🩹

dumb and dumber: babysitting | blue stars

pairings: alexia putellas x teen!reader, olga rios x teen!reader

summary: against her better judgement, olga leaves you and azulita to babysit valerie

notes: in estrella’s pov this time!!

“Okay, now remember that Val needs to be in bed by 7:00. 7:30 at the latest. Sometimes, just sometimes we go on to 8:00, but only if she’s had a nap, and you have to make sure she’s had the nap first, don’t just assume. And no, rubbing her eyes isn’t enough, she has to actually close them, because she fake-naps sometimes. She’s sneaky like that.”

You’re sitting cross-legged on the living room rug, Valerie tucked between your knees and currently trying to fit her entire fist into her mouth. Across from you, Azulita’s letting the baby stack squishy blocks on her head. Neither of you are listening. Not even a little bit.

Olga’s pacing back and forth behind you with the binder. The sacred, terrifying, overly annotated Baby Binder of Doom. Color-coded tabs. Page protectors. Laminated bedtime routine chart. You swear it has footnotes.

“She gets her bottle at 6:30, but not too hot! Shake it and test it first, on your wrist, not your tongue, because that’s not sanitary. Bath starts at 6:45, but only if she didn’t eat too slow. If she eats too slow, you can adjust the bath to 6:50, but no later than 7:05 or the whole schedule gets thrown off. I swear to God, if you throw off the schedule—”

Valerie lets out a shriek of joy as Azulita sticks out her tongue and pretends to sneeze. You grin and toss a stuffed giraffe at Azulita’s face. It bounces off and hits Val in the arm. She’s delighted. She kicks your thigh and drools in victory.

“She needs the bunny,” Olga continues, flipping a page like she’s briefing you for combat. “The bunny, not the bear, not the raccoon, not that weird dog Estrella got her from that random shop in Portugal. She needs the bunny or she won’t sleep. If the bunny is missing, I swear—”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, offering Valerie a crinkly octopus. She throws it at Azulita’s head.

“Storytime must be one book. No more. She will manipulate you. Don’t fall for the pouty face. That’s how we ended up reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear six times in a row last week. We all suffered.”

“Totally,” Azulita says, balancing a plush cow on her forehead. “You’re doing amazing, sweetie.”

Olga doesn’t even pause. “No TV before bed. She only has 30 minutes left of screen time anyway. No fruit after six. And don’t let her near the remote. She knows how to change the channel now and she keeps turning on Spanish soap operas and mimicking the crying.”

You clap once. “Iconic.”

Then comes The Silence. You glance up. Olga is no longer talking. She is staring.

You and Azulita both look up slowly, like maybe if you don’t move too fast she won’t attack. She’s standing there, binder to her chest, face pure exasperation. She looks like a woman who is desperately trying not to scream.

That’s when Alexia walks down the stairs. She looks stunning, hair done, blazer over a fitted shirt, matching slacks. If Olga looks like she’s on the verge of a breakdown, Alexia looks like she wants the breakdown to happen so she can laugh at it.

“Everything alright?” Alexia asks, sauntering up behind the couch.

Olga doesn’t answer. She just continues to glare at the two of you. You start sweating. Azulita stops breathing. Valerie throws a block and says, “Taaa!”

Alexia leans forward, taps the back of both your heads like she’s knocking on a door. “Hey. Idiots. Pay attention.”

“Hey,” you say with offense. “I am a professional athlete.”

“You drooled on her sock ten minutes ago.”

You scowl.

Olga takes a deep breath. She sets the binder down with a finality that shakes you to your core. Then, she steps around the couch, stands over you, and says in a tone you’ve never heard before:

“Listen to me very closely. I am ten months postpartum. I have not left my baby alone for more than two hours since she was born. And tonight— tonight I am trusting you two, Dumb and freaking Dumber, to take care of the child I carried for nine months and pushed out of my vagina.”

You flinch. Azulita flinches. Valerie freezes mid-foot chew.

“You are all I have,” Olga says. “And if anything, and I mean anything, happens to my child, you will not be able to hide. I will find you. I will ruin you. You will wish for death. And then, after you wish for death, I will hit you with the binder.”

You nod. Azulita nods. You nod again. You can feel sweat sliding down your back. Your mouth is dry. Val blinks up at Olga and goes, “Ma?”

Then Olga brightens like none of that just happened. “Okay!” she chirps. “Love you girls.”

She kisses you on the forehead. Azulita too. Then Val.

Alexia’s dying. You can see it. She’s holding in laughter with her whole body. She kisses each of you like it’s a funeral, whispering “Good luck,” in your ear like you’re about to go to war. Then the door closes behind them.

You and Azulita just sit there in complete silence.

“…Did she say vagina?” Azulita whispers.

“Yup,” you reply, staring into the void. “She did.”

Valerie, unfazed, claps her hands and lets out a fart noise with her mouth.

You sigh. “Alright. Let’s not die tonight.”

Azulita picks up the bunny and nods solemnly. “For Val.”

You’re lying on the carpet, half-propped up by a pillow you stole from the couch, scrolling through the comments of the live chat with one hand while trying to pick a decent filter with the other. Azulita’s sitting cross-legged beside you, hair in a messy bun, hoodie halfway on, vibing hard as Lil Baby blasts in the background. You can’t lie, Valerie has taste. Kid’s been bouncing in her little baby bouncer for a solid ten minutes like she’s at a festival.

“She’s got rhythm,” Azulita notes, nodding with pride as Val bounces up and down on beat, plastic keys in one fist, sock in the other.

“She got it from me,” you say without missing a beat.

“She got it from her mother’s.”

“Semantics.”

The comments are coming in fast:

"Why are y'all babysitting?? Where is Olga??"

"Alexia left two teenagers with a baby I'm scared."

"IS THAT LIL BABY IN THE BACKGROUND."

"Please show Valerie dancing again I'm begging."

You ignore the comment asking to show Valerie, but take a peek at her, bouncing away like she’s been possessed by the spirit of the beat, drool flying, hair in her eyes, sock now hanging from her mouth like a cigar.

“She’s busy,” you narrate. “She’s got moves. Don’t worry about her.”

And then, mid-bounce, mid-glory, tragedy strikes. Her toy falls. There’s a two-second pause. You make the fatal mistake of thinking she’ll let it go. And then, WAILING.

“OH MY GOD,” you flinch so hard your phone nearly flies out of your hand. The chat immediately blows up.

“LMAOOOOO”

“HELP HER????”

“THE SCREAM??????”

Azulita launches up like she’s on a mission in a spy movie. “I GOT HER,” she shouts, diving for the bouncer.

You remain frozen on live like a deer in headlights, Val screaming bloody murder off camera while Azulita picks her up and starts doing the panicked baby rock. “Shhhh shhhh shhhh,” Azulita mutters. “We got the toy. It’s okay. Life is pain. Let it out.”

“Chat SOS,” you beg into the phone. “How do we get a baby to stop crying?”

"Did y'all feed her????"

"She hungry girl what time is it??"

"Why is Lil Baby still playing turn that OFF and give her a bottle."

"Y’all are literally the worst babysitters l've ever seen and I love it."

You glance at the clock. Your heart drops. “…It’s 6:30.”

Azulita gasps behind you. “FEED THE BABY.”

You end the live so fast. Phone down. Panic mode engaged. “Why didn’t you check the time?!” you shout, sprinting for the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you check the time?!” Azulita shouts back, still holding Valerie who is now actively trying to scream her way out of Azulita’s arms.

“I thought you were on top of it!”

“I’m on top of her! That’s enough!”

You yank the bottle out of the sterilizer and start pouring boiling water into it like your life depends on it. Which it might.

“Do you even know how to mix formula right?” Azulita accuses, hovering near your elbow like the world’s most chaotic nanny.

“Do you?” you shoot back. “I watched Olga do it once. That makes me basically qualified.”

“She was measuring things!”

“I measure with vibes.”

“That’s why I don’t trust you!”

You shake the bottle aggressively, cap it, and turn around to give it to Valerie, but Azulita steps back like you’re holding a weapon.

“Did you check the temperature?” she asks, eyebrows raised.

You glare. “She’s screaming!”

“She’ll scream harder if you give her lava.”

With the most dramatic eye roll in history, you tip the bottle and splash a few drops on your wrist. It’s fire. You scream like you’ve been shot in the arm.

Valerie goes completely silent. And then bursts into laughter. Like real, belly-deep baby giggles.

You stare at her in disbelief. “You enjoyed that?!”

“Iconic,” Azulita grins, rocking her gently. “She laughed at your pain. She’s one of us.”

You mumble something under your breath and start all over again, this time making sure the water is cooled, the formula is right, and no one ends up with second-degree burns. Finally, finally, you hand the bottle to Azulita and she slides it into Val’s tiny hands.

She drinks like she’s been stranded in a desert for days. Ten minutes later, she’s full, burped, and looking at you with those big, innocent eyes like she didn’t just try to rupture both your eardrums.

You and Azulita are collapsed on the couch in exhausted silence.

“…So, bath time?” you say weakly.

Azulita groans. “Binder says yes.”

You scoop up Val, who immediately tries to headbutt your chin, and take her to the bathroom. Setting her on the bath mat, you begin the struggle of undressing a baby who thinks everything is a game and nothing is real.

By the time she’s in the tub, the floor is a crime scene— clothes, toys, a lone sock, a giraffe for some reason.

Valerie, on the other hand, is having the time of her life.

She slaps the water like it insulted her. You are soaked within seconds. Azulita is trying to save her jeans. You’re trying to figure out how a rubber duck made its way into your hoodie.

“Why is she stronger in water?” you demand.

“She’s evolving,” Azulita whispers.

There are bubbles. There is chaos. You are playing with the little stacking cups and suddenly realize Valerie has abandoned her toys to splash the two of you mercilessly.

“She’s targeting us on purpose,” you say, blinking through water.

“She’s smart,” Azulita agrees, shielding her face with a frog toy.

Valerie grins. You’re both doomed. Soaked, exhausted, and humbled, you glance at the clock. It’s only 7:05.

You look at Azulita. “We follow the binder now.”

“Binder is law.”

Val slaps the water in approval. You salute and let the night continue.

Bedtime. It should be easy. That’s what you told yourself. You survived feeding. You survived bath time. You survived the Binder (capital B). Surely putting Valerie to bed is the victory lap. Spoiler: it’s not.

You’re standing in front of the dresser, holding a plain white onesie like it’s a gift from hell itself. “This is boring,” you declare. “She’s not a tax accountant. She’s a baby.”

“It’s soft,” Azulita argues, holding it up to your face. “Feel it. It’s got little clouds.”

“She deserves better.”

“She’s literally going to sleep.”

“She deserves better while she sleeps.”

And that’s how the two of you spend 12 full minutes rifling through her baby clothes like you’re styling her for New York Fashion Week. At one point Azulita tries to convince you to let her wear just a diaper and a cape “so she dreams she’s a superhero.” You tell her to shut up.

Eventually, you both gasp at the same time when you pull out a fuzzy cat onesie in Barcelona colors— dark blue and garnet, complete with little ears on the hood and a tail.

“Look at this masterpiece,” you whisper.

“She’s going to look like a tiny feline queen.” You high-five.

Valerie, for her part, squeals when you show her the onesie and kicks her feet. She knows style. You wrestle her into it with the grace of two people who clearly don’t know how baby limbs bend, and then immediately start a full-blown photo shoot like she’s Baby Beyoncé.

“You’re serving,” you tell her, snapping a photo.

“She is giving feline fashion excellence,” Azulita agrees, angling the light just right.

You post nothing because Olga would actually murder you if her baby ended up on your story without approval, but still, those pics are going in the archives. You send one to the youngsters group chat and Pina sends back seventeen heart emojis while Patri send an odd voice note of her making a cat sound.

Once the fashion show is over, you carry Val to her crib, carefully swaddled, looking like a sleepy little purring Culer. You sit down beside her and look at Azulita.

“Want to tell her a story?” you ask.

Azulita raises an eyebrow. “We don’t know any stories.”

“We make one up.”

“What kind?”

You think for a second. “The Three Little Pigs. But it’s us.”

She grins. “And the big bad wolf is Alexia.”

“Obviously.”

You lean over the crib dramatically, dropping your voice into a narrator tone. “Once upon a time, there were three little pigs. One was Estrella Pig— gorgeous, talented, the favorite.”

“Excuse me?” Azulita interrupts.

“Second was Azulita Pig—cranky, loud, and wore too much attitude.”

“You’re gonna catch hands.”

“And the third was Patri Pig, who was probably just chilling somewhere eating fruit.”

“Valid.”

“And then came the big bad wolf,” you growl, voice low. “ALEEEXIAAAA.”

Valerie is staring up at you both with eyes the size of dinner plates.

“She huffed!” Azulita says, getting into it. “And she puffed! And she told them to get up and go to training!”

“And the little pigs said NOOOO,” you wail dramatically.

Valerie blinks. You blink back. She blinks. Then she claps her hands.

You and Azulita beam. “She loved it!” you whisper.

“Maybe we should just read the Binder to her. It’s got chapters.”

You start flipping through the pages, trying to find the section on babies not sleeping, and find a line that says: If baby is struggling to fall asleep, try singing ‘Rock-a-bye Baby’ softly.

You and Azulita exchange a look. You try it.

“Rock-a-bye baaabyyy…”

“On the treeee tooooppp…”

Valerie screams like you just stepped on her dreams.

“ABORT,” Azulita yells, rocking the crib back and forth.

You panic and lift her out of the crib. “Okay okay okay! You hate lullabies! Noted!”

The three of you migrate to the couch like refugees of bedtime failure. You’re bouncing her gently. Azulita’s rubbing her back. Valerie is still sniffly and grumbling. You’re losing hope.

“Fuck it,” you mutter. “Alexa, play something.”

“Now playing: Not Like Us by Kendrick Lamar,” the Echo says.

You and Azulita freeze. But then… Valerie quiets. Like, completely. She blinks. Looks around and listens. Very intently.

You and Azulita exchange another look.

“Is this her song?” Azulita whispers.

“She’s unbothered. She’s vibing.”

By the second verse, her eyelids are drooping. Her grip on your hoodie loosens. By the third verse, she’s snuggled into your chest, breathing soft and even. You don’t dare move.

“Don’t move,” you whisper.

“I know,” Azulita says. “I think she booby trapped me with her foot.”

Eventually, you feel your eyes getting heavy too. The couch is warm. Valerie’s head is heavy on your shoulder. Azulita’s arm is pressed against yours. Kendrick is still going. You drift off.

When Alexia and Olga come home, it’s quiet. Too quiet for two teens and a baby in the house.

Alexia steps into the living room first, heels clicking softly. Her hand goes to her mouth when she sees the sight:

You, Azulita, and Valerie all passed out on the couch. The baby is still in her cat onesie, curled on your chest. Kendrick Lamar is playing Not Like Us on repeat.

Alexia is so amused. Olga comes in next, expecting disaster. When she sees you all asleep, her mouth opens.

“I don’t want to know,” she mutters.

Alexia shrugs. “They kept her alive. That’s all I asked for.”

Olga sighs, takes the fuzzy blanket off the back of the couch, and carefully drapes it over all three of you. She kisses Valerie’s forehead, then Azulita’s, then yours. Alexia does the same, grinning the whole time.

“Idiots,” Olga whispers fondly.

The lights are dimmed. The door to the hallway closes quietly.

And in the background, Kendrick keeps rapping softly into the night.