Chapter Text
Y/n was a smart kid.
She was sharp, resourceful, and quick on her feet. But the social workers at the orphanage, a quiet place run by nuns, always said she was using her intelligence the wrong way. They told her she should channel her persistence and curiosity into something more practical, something like STEM or the arts.
Honestly, Y/n knew they had a point. She could do it. She could be anyone she wanted to be if she just focused on the right path. But there was one thing she knew, deep down, more than anything else: she wanted to be a footballer. It wasn't a decision. It was just the way her heart beat.
Her love for football began the first time a social worker brought a ball into the orphanage. It was a modest thing, scuffed and old, but to Y/n, it was the most precious thing in the world. She could still remember how the other kids' faces lit up when they saw it.
They didn't need fancy equipment or a field, just a ball, and sometimes not even that. They played with whatever they could find: paper balls, socks rolled into bundles, even erasers. Anything small enough to be kicked became a football. It wasn't about rules or winning. It was about the feeling of freedom.
For Y/n, that ball was more than just a game. It was a doorway to everything she wanted to be.
Y/n couldn't contain her excitement when one of the nuns called all the children together to announce something that made her heart race. Barcelona was forming a partnership with the orphanage. A few of the kids, just a select group, would get to train at La Masia once a week.
Y/n's breath caught in her throat. Was it some charity project, a way for the club to get a tax break? Probably. But when she saw her name on the list, all of that faded into the background. Honestly, if Barça asked her to be part of some sort of corruption scheme, she would agree right away. That's how much she wanted to play in La Masia.
She didn't know much about Barça, just that it came from her hometown, from the city she rarely got to see. The orphanage didn't have a TV, no access to phones, and the nuns were their only teachers, so there was no real school either.
Her world was limited to the small walls of the orphanage and the little knowledge she could gather from the newspapers the nuns allowed her to read. It was her only window to the outside world, her only connection to a life she could only dream of.
Yeah, Y/n was pretty cut off from everything outside. But at that moment, none of that mattered. What mattered was this chance, a chance to be part of something bigger. A chance to step out of the small world that had always confined her.
On her first day at La Masia, Y/n didn't expect to impress anyone. But when she stepped onto the pitch, she gave it everything she had. Her skills spoke for themselves, and by the end of the session, she had earned a few impressed looks from the staff.
She wasn't the fastest or the most polished player, but she held her own, especially considering she didn't even own a pair of proper football boots. She was playing in shoes that were two sizes too big, but she didn't care. She was there, and that was enough.
But it wasn't all easy. Some of the girls on the team looked at her like she didn't belong. Technically, they were right. She didn't. Not with her background. She wasn't one of them.
She wasn't wealthy, well-connected, or even remotely like the girls who had grown up with football academies and proper training. Y/n felt the weight of their stares, but she pushed it aside. She wasn't there to fit in or prove anything to them. She was there for herself, for the dream, and that was all that mattered.
Despite the looks, a couple of girls made it easier for her.
Jana and Vicky were around fourteen. They were kind and quick to see that Y/n wasn't like the others, and still, they didn't try to push her away. Within minutes, they pulled her into their little group, showing her how things worked and making her feel like she wasn't invisible.
The kindness didn't stop there. During lunch, when Y/n pulled out her water bottle and realised she hadn't packed anything to eat, Jana and Vicky didn't hesitate. They shared their sandwiches without a second thought, smiling at her like she wasn't some outsider but a new friend.
At that moment, Y/n felt something shift inside her. Maybe she didn't have football boots. Maybe she wasn't from the right background. But at least for now, she had a place here, a few friends. Her only friends.
The second time Y/n showed up at La Masia, she couldn't help but frown when she saw most of the girls huddled together on the left side of the pitch, eyes fixed on something, or someone, at the far left. She couldn't make out what was going on, but the low murmur of excitement buzzed through the air.
Curious, Y/n walked over, trying to get a better view, but a few elbows shoved her back. She shifted behind the group and stood on tiptoe, trying to peer past the heads of the others.
"Hey, who's that?" she asked, her voice sharp enough to cut through the chatter.
Vicky and Jana exchanged a glance, then looked back at her like she had just asked the most ridiculous question in the world.
"Who is that? Are you kidding me?" Jana said, eyes wide with disbelief.
Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Hm… no?"
"That's Alexia Putellas. Jana added, almost reverently. "La Reina."
"Oh!" Y/n said, mouth agape in surprise. "That's the queen? What's she doing here? I've never seen her before!"
Vicky rolled her eyes playfully. "She's not really the queen. We call her La Reina because she's Barça royalty. She's the best of all time. The GOAT, you know."
"Goat? Cabra? What do you mean?" Y/n blinked, processing the words. "Why are you two talking so weird today?"
Jana's patience clearly wore thin.
"Not cabra like the animal, chica… GOAT is a word that stands for 'Greatest of all time.'" She grabbed both of their hands and pulled them through the crowd. "Come with me, I know where we can actually see her up close."
Y/n couldn't help but be intrigued. This cabra-woman or whatever seemed to be more than just a football player; she was something else entirely by the way Jana and Vicky were talking about her.
For reasons Y/n didn't fully understand yet, something seemed to pull at her. She really wanted to see this Alexia Putellas.
They ducked under the bleachers, the ground gritty beneath their feet. Something warm and sticky brushed against Y/n's cheek (probably a worm), but she didn't even flinch.
She didn't care about the dirt or the discomfort, because now she could see Alexia. And, more importantly, she could hear her too.
Alexia was standing a few meters away, her blonde hair shining in the sun. She had this calm, open expression, a kind of warmth about her that made Y/n's chest tighten in a way she couldn't quite explain.
She wasn't sure what she had expected, but Alexia was nothing like she had imagined. She seemed accessible, human even, not like the untouchable royalty that Vicky and Jana made her out to be.
She looked… kind and soft in a way the woman at the orphanage did not.
"She's like... amazing," Jana whispered, her voice full of awe. "I wanna play with her someday. I will play with her, I know it in my bones."
"She's the best," Vicky added, nodding in agreement. Her tone was reverent, almost as if she were talking about someone from a distant dream, a princess from a faraway land. "I know you are like… poor and don't have a TV or anything, but seriously, you should try and find some videos of her on YouTube so you could see her play."
Y/n looked at Vicky, wanted to ask what YouTube was, but Alexia's voice caught her attention.
Y/n watched Alexia speak with the journalist.
There was something undeniable about the way she held herself. Y/n wasn't sure if she wanted to be like Alexia or if she wanted Alexia to help her become someone who could stand at that very same level.
"I came here because of the partnership La Masia formed with the children from Santa Clara Orphanage," Alexia said, adjusting her jacket as she talked with the interviewer. "It's important to me to meet them, to show them that football isn't just a game."
The interviewer nodded, intrigued. "It must be so special to be able to offer that to kids who may not have many opportunities to begin with. So, do you have any specific hopes for them? Any wishes for their futures?"
Alexia smiled softly, her gaze thoughtful as she glanced out over the training field.
"Well, I think what I wish most for them is that they find someone who will guide them, a loving and responsible adult. Someone who's not just looking to be a saviour, but to give them the support they need to succeed."
She paused for a moment before continuing, her voice more deliberate. "And of course, I hope they all follow what's in their hearts. It doesn't matter whether that's football, music, or something else. They need to feel supported, and they need to know that their dreams are valid, no matter what those dreams are."
The interviewer smiled, clearly moved. "That's beautiful, Alexia. So, you're saying you see your role more as a guide, right? Rather than someone who swoops in to fix everything for them?"
Alexia chuckled lightly, shaking her head. "Exactly. I'm not here to fix anyone; none of the players are. Barcelona is here, creating opportunities, giving the kids the tools they need, and letting them choose their own path. They're the ones who will shape their futures at the end of the day; they just need opportunity and someone who believes in them."
'Loving and responsible adult'. That sentence echoed in Y/n's brain. 'They just need someone who believes in them.'
Alexia hoped the kids from her orphanage would find a loving and responsible adult, and well… Y/n was from Santa Clara, and Alexia appeared to be a loving and responsible adult. It all fit together perfectly, like puzzle pieces.
Y/n wasn't sure what a loving and responsible adult was like, but she knew she didn't need a parent. She had never craved that; she didn't need someone to love her, to fix her, or to give her a version of a family.
What she needed, what she truly wanted, was an opportunity. And Alexia? She had the opportunity. She was the bridge between Y/n and the future she wanted.
Becoming a footballer wasn't about being loved or cared for. It was about getting the right connections, the right guidance, the right support.
Y/n didn't care for a hug or a bedtime story. She didn't need to be told "I love you" every night. No, what she needed was someone who could get her into the right circles, someone who knew how to navigate the world she wanted to break into.
Just like all the Percy Jackson books Y/n read at the orphanage, she now felt like one of the characters. She was ready to go on a mission, ready to find that loving and responsible adult. And Alexia? She was the perfect fit.
She was a champion, the best of the best, according to the girls. If Y/n could convince Alexia to be her guardian, then maybe, just maybe, her dream could become real. She could train harder, learn more, and eventually, one day, be just like Alexia.
It was simple: Y/n needed Alexia to help her make her dream come true. That's all. She wasn't asking for a family. She just needed someone to show her the way.
The next morning, Y/n went straight to the orphanage library and got her hands on any book that mentioned Spain's adoption laws. And there it was, in the third paragraph about adoption and guardianship: any child twelve or older could be placed under guardianship by an adult willing to sign the paperwork.
It wouldn't be full adoption, no name change, but the child could live with the adult, go to school, and get medical care under their name. Kind of like a shortcut to being adopted. And since older kids were rarely chosen, this process was easier.
Y/n made her decision.
She was going to be adopted by Alexia Putellas. Whether Alexia liked it or not.
..
A few weeks later, the La Masia kids were rewarded with a tour of Barcelona's official building. That was the moment Y/n had been waiting for.
She memorised the entire guardianship clause and wrote it on her hand just to be sure. Then, during the tour, she slipped away when one of the monitors wasn't looking and headed for the second floor.
She found a room labelled Management and Contracts. It looked serious enough. She locked the door behind her, walked over to a computer, and typed in the password: ViscaElBarça. Easy.
She searched until she found Alexia Putellas' contract.
Jana had told her the star player was about to sign a new five-year deal. Y/n opened the file, converted the pdf to a word doc, scrolled to page thirteen, and inserted a paragraph in Arial size 3, a forged clause labelled 12(b) stating that:
"Ms Alexia Putellas Segura, referred to as "the guardian," consents to and accepts full legal guardianship of minor Y/n (Full name), age twelve, a ward of the Santa Clara Orphanage, in the contractual agreement between Futbol Club Barcelona and the Santa Clara Children's Welfare Foundation. This guardianship shall be recognised in accordance with applicable civil codes and is binding upon execution."
Then she turned the document back into a PDF and quietly saved it, just like Vicky had explained to her. Her plan was perfect. She was going to be adopted by the greatest footballer the world had ever seen (according to Jana), and that would make her a great footballer, too.
Everything was going according to plan.
Wink wink.
..
A week later, Y/n was the first at the front door, waiting for the paper deliveryman. One of the nuns gave her a strange look; no one ever beat the nuns to morning prayers, let alone the newspaper, but Y/n didn't care. She needed to know if Alexia had signed the guardianship contract.
She had. There it was, right on the front page: "Alexia Putellas signs new deal with Barcelona Femení."
"Yes!" Y/n whispered to herself, pumping a fist. "I'm officially out of here."
She ran back to her room, the one she shared with six other girls, all still fast asleep, grabbed her tiny backpack, and packed up the few belongings she had. A pair of pyjamas, two shirts, one pair of shoes, a toothbrush, one sock and an old photo from her childhood. That was it. That was her life in a bag.
She made her way to the main office and knocked on Sister Maria's door, but didn't bother waiting for permission to enter.
"Good morning, Sister Maria," Y/n said, standing up straight, her voice unusually serious for a twelve-year-old.
The nun didn't even look up from her desk. "What is it now, Y/n? No, you still can't keep that stray cat, how many times do I have to tell you-"
"It's not about the cat," Y/n interrupted. "I'm here to say my sincere goodbyes."
Sister Maria blinked and finally looked up. "Goodbyes? Are you eighteen already? My goodness, how time flies."
"No, Sister," Y/n said. "I've been adopted."
Silence.
"Adopted?" Sister Maria echoed. "Someone… wanted you?!"
"I know," Y/n said, unfazed. "Hard to believe. But yes… you can check the system. It's official."
If everything had gone according to plan, and Y/n was confident it had, the guardianship contract Alexia signed probably had already been processed by the Ministry of Sport and then forwarded to the Ministry of Family Affairs. Which meant it would be reflected in Y/n's file.
Sister Maria sat down at her computer, muttering prayers under her breath. A few tense minutes passed before she gasped. "Oh dear Lord. You were adopted. A legal guardianship contract, signed and approved."
"Exactly," Y/n said. "So if you'll excuse me, I have a new home to get to."
She turned toward the door, but Sister Maria reached out and gently stopped her. "Here," she said, holding out a few crumpled euro notes. "For the metro."
Y/n blinked at the money. "The metro?"
"Yes. How else are you getting to your new guardian's house? They aren't picking you up, right?"
Y/n paused. Right. She hadn't exactly figured that part out yet. Jana once mentioned that some of the players lived in an apartment complex near the training grounds… maybe she would start there.
"Thank you, Sister," Y/n said, taking the money.
"Be good," Sister Maria said gruffly. "We don't want you back."
"Don't worry," Y/n replied with a grin. "I'm not coming back."
..
Alexia had played in front of ninety thousand people.
She had captained both club and country, stood on podiums with medals heavy around her neck, and even delivered a speech in Parliament once or twice, with microphones that cut out every third word and a sea of ministers blinking up at her.
But nothing, absolutely nothing, had prepared her for walking into her apartment at seven o'clock on a Wednesday night and finding a twelve-year-old girl sitting on her sofa.
Just sitting there. Like she lived there.
Alexia froze mid-step, one boot still halfway on, the keys slipping loose from her fingers and clattering to the floor.
"…Por Dios?" she said, her voice suddenly higher than she remembered it being. "Quién eres tú!? Am- am I in the wrong apartment?! What the fuck?" [Who are you?!]
The girl turned around, perfectly calm, as if the footballer bursting into the room hadn't startled her in the slightest.
"Oh. Hi," the girl said casually, her legs tucked underneath her.
Alexia blinked, looking around. No, she was definitely in her apartment if the picture of herself and her family on the walls was any indication.
Was Alexia hallucinating? But… but the child looked so real?
Alexia took a careful step towards the girl, as if she were walking right into a dangerous animal. "Who are you?" She asked slowly.
The girl tilted her head, eyebrows raised, as if Alexia was the confusing part of this entire situation. "You're Alexia Putellas Seguras, right?"
Alexia looked at herself. "…Yes?"
"Oh… perfect!" the girl said, brightening. "Then everything's fine. I'm at the right house." She patted the cushion beside her invitingly. "Do you want to have a seat?"
Alexia physically recoiled.
What the hell was happening?!
She was trying hard not to panic, especially because the kid looked so calm.
"No, I do not want to sit. What… how did you get in here?" She looked around wildly, as if the answer might be hiding behind the kitchen island or crouched behind the bookshelf.
Maybe someone would burst in, yelling "sorpresa!" and explain this whole insane setup. Maybe she had fallen asleep in the car and was dreaming all of this. [surprise]
"The window was unlocked," the girl said simply.
"It wasn't," Alexia shook her head.
"Well," she replied, stretching her arms over the back of the sofa, "I'm very skilful like that."
Alexia's mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
"It's the third floor," she hissed, stumbling backwards until her legs hit the cofetable. She stared at the kid. "Did you scale the building?"
The girl only smiled angelically.
"Okay. No. No, absolutely not. What is happening right now?"
The girl, still nameless, reached into her worn-out backpack and pulled out a thick folder. It wasn't a school folder. It was a serious folder, one with a fake Barcelona letterhead and, horrifyingly, a red stamp across the front that read: LEGAL ADDENDUM.
She handed it over as if it explained everything.
Alexia took it with both hands, mostly because her brain had stopped functioning somewhere around the phrase "unlocked window." Inside was a single newspaper clipping, cut out so unevenly it looked like a toddler had done it, with a photo of Alexia signing her contract.
"There was a clause," the girl said matter-of-factly. "In your new contract."
Alexia stared at her, her mouth dry. "A clause."
"Yep. Clause twelve, subsection B. Guardianship exception."
Alexia blinked. "Guardianship. Exception."
"Mhm."
"For whom?"
"For me."
The girl pulled out more papers, each one worse than the last.
One had what appeared to be the signature of the 'King of Spain', in blue marker. Another was a crayon drawing of a house, two stick figures holding hands, labelled "Me and Alexia."
Alexia's eyes widened in pure horror. "Where is your mother?" she asked slowly.
The girl beamed, all of her teeth showing. "You're my mom now!"
Alexia dropped the folder as it had burned her. "I'm what?"
Alexia stared, mouth open. The girl beamed like this was the best news ever. Nope. Not happening. Absolutely not.
"Kidding," the girl said, flashing a grin. "Well…kind of. You said in that interview last month that you hoped all the orphan kids would find a loving, responsible adult."
Alexia's jaw dropped. "And what the hell does that have to do with… with this?"
"You said you adored us." The girl's voice got quiet, barely a whisper. "I figured… I adored you too. So… here I am!"
Something in Alexia's chest twitched. The girl looked up at her with the sort of fierce, casual defiance only kids had, as if the world was easy to navigate and the adults were the ones who made it all difficult.
"I'm an orphan," The kid explained. "If you didn't get that already. So you don't have to worry about, like, my real parents showing up or anything. I'm yours forever!"
"Oh my god… is this some kind of reverse kidnapping?" Alexia pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes. "I'm going to get arrested. Oh joder…"
"No, you're not," the girl said cheerfully, already lounging deeper into the cushions. "You're Alexia Putellas. Who's gonna arrest you?"
Alexia stared at her, this strange, audacious child who had just moved in like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and let out a weak, exhausted noise from the back of her throat.
"This," she muttered, "is exactly why I don't do interviews."
Her brain was racing with thoughts of calling lawyers, agents, and possibly the police, but she couldn't quite make herself move. The absurdity of the situation was almost paralysing.
The girl, this little stranger, was sitting on her sofa, hands folded in her lap, staring at the television like it was an alien object. Her brows were furrowed in concentration.
Alexia watched her for a moment, then shook her head.
This was unreal. She was going to wake up from this weird dream soon.
The silence between them stretched until the girl looked up, her expression expectant.
"So, uh," she began, her voice a little tentative, "what's for dinner?"
The question hit Alexia hard. Dinner. Right. She hadn't even thought about food yet, too distracted by the miniature crisis unfolding in her living room. She opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by the sudden growl of her own stomach.
Alexia closed her eyes in frustration.
"Well, kid, I-" She stopped herself before the words could spill out. She wasn't exactly prepared for this situation, wasn't prepared for any of it. But as she stood there, her mind raced.
She had to figure out how this was even possible. But right now? Right now, the girl needed food, and Alexia too.
With a resigned sigh, Alexia turned toward the kitchen, opening the fridge with one hand, still clutching the paperwork the girl had handed her in the other. "Alright, let's see what we've got," she muttered under her breath. "This is insane. This is fucked up. I'm hallucinating. This is not real, this is not real."
And yet… she still looked inside the fridge. Still started pulling ingredients. Like, feeding this girl, this strange, stubborn kid, somehow made sense?
She's probably hungry, Alexia thought. She broke into my apartment, but she's just a child. A very determined and terrifying child. A child of her imagination? Yes. But a hungry child nonetheless.
She sighed. God help me.
She glanced over her shoulder to find the girl still sitting there, waiting patiently.
"Have you ever had dinner like… this?" Alexia asked, unsure how to phrase it without sounding too out of place. "Like - I mean… ugh. What I want to ask iis do you like… pasta?"
"Hmm, we mostly just have soup at the orphanage." The girl looked up at her, an odd sort of quiet in her eyes. "But pasta is fine.., it's great, even!"
Alexia felt something tighten in her chest, but she didn't have time to dwell on it.
"Well, okay…" Alexia said, her voice softer than she intended. "Pasta it is."
She grabbed whatever was in reach, the pasta, a couple of eggs, and some questionable vegetables, and set to work. It wasn't much, but it was something, something she knew how to cook by heart. Something she could handle right now.
The girl didn't talk again, just watched Alexia prepare the food like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Maybe this wasn't a disaster… at least not yet. But Alexia knew she was barely holding it together. barely. And, for now, feeding this girl was the only thing she could focus on.