#Jana Fernandez

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

do the injured players just sit in the middle of the stands?

well, there is a specific row(s) of seats for the players to sit that's reserved for them, but yes, that's the standard protocol for injured femení players at johan. and what you may have seen from the tenerife match. they are not on the pitch with the bench players, and this has been the process for years. see the earlier photo and video below. where alexia has been caught on camera being quite the yapper! 🤭

and it’s not unique to barça, other teams have similar set-ups!

source: barcafemenifoto on twitter

source: alexia.and.rolfo on instagram

[woso4-life]

They have some good style

[danilixouz]

Jill at the Barcelona game AND SHE DYED HER HAIR???? AM I DREAMING

[meazalykov]

first lady

barcelona femeni x uswnt!reader

summary: the girls give you a nickname for being the first american on the senior team

the day you arrive at barcelona feels like a dream. the journey from being just another girl playing in american youth leagues to standing in the famed blaugrana colors is something you never imagined happening. 

you walk into the training grounds two days after your signing was official, trying to keep your nerves in check. the weight of being the first american on barcelona femení’s senior team presses on your shoulders. 

keep in mind you’re the first american on the senior team.. there is an american at la masia, onyeka, who you’ve been in contact with– you hope to play with her someday. she has been telling you about the fun experience playing in barcelona. 

you’re humble but you can’t wait to see what onyeka is talking about. 

the first person you meet is alexia. she approaches you with a calm confidence, her presence demanding respect even though she doesn’t say much at first. 

“bienvenida,” she says simply, her smile small but warm. it’s clear she’s sizing you up, trying to see if you’re up to the challenge. there’s no coldness in her eyes though, just curiosity.

you return the smile, trying not to seem too overwhelmed. 

“gracias. it’s an honor to be here.”

“we’ll see how you do in training,” she says shortly after she gets to know you, teasing, but the underlying tone is serious. 

alexia is known for her dedication, and she’s testing you without even needing to. her acceptance means everything here.

from that moment, she takes you under her wing. she doesn’t hover or smother, but she’s there when you need her on and off of the pitch. during drills, she’s quick to offer tips, showing you the ropes of how barcelona plays—fluid, fast, and always a step ahead. 

it’s a steep learning curve, but you thrive on it. your dribbling skills, honed from years of street-style play and youth development back in the states, shine here in ways even you didn’t expect.

you notice the way some of your teammates watch you closely at first—wondering if you’ll live up to the hype. the media had already dubbed you the "american girl version of ronaldinho" for your flair and trickery with the ball, and it seems the team had caught wind of the nickname, too. 

slowly, as you start dancing past defenders in the league and champions league— leaving them in your wake.

the skepticism by the team fades, replaced by respect.

alexia seems particularly impressed by your ball control. during the first el clasico, after you nutmeg two defenders and finish with a perfect strike, she pulls you aside. 

“not bad,” she says, though her smirk tells you she’s genuinely impressed. 

“keep playing like that, and you’ll fit in here just fine.”

you start to settle in over the next few weeks. the locker room becomes a second home, the banter flowing easier as the language barrier fades.

 you’re still working on your spanish, but with every day, you pick up more phrases, understanding the jokes, and joining in on the conversations. 

the younger players, especially vicky, start warming up to you quickly. she loves your laid-back vibe, but also the intensity you bring on the field.

alexia, though, remains your closest connection. she never hesitates to correct you or push you harder in training. she also pulls you into the social side of the team. the late-night dinners, the coffee stops after practice, the little moments that build a bond off the pitch as much as on it.

two months in, you feel like you’ve found your place. the media continues to talk about your dribbling, and your presence as the first american on the team still makes headlines. 

the comparisons to ronaldinho haven’t stopped, though they’ve started to bother you less. you just want to be seen as you—not a copy of someone else, no matter how legendary.

it is after one particularly grueling training session that the idea of a new nickname starts floating around the locker room. 

you’re outside on the pitch with patri, perfecting your penalties while the rest of the team heads into the locker room. 

inside, vicky, ellie, and ewa sit around, chatting while everyone cools down.

“so, what do you think we should call her?” vicky asks, leaning back against her locker. 

“i mean, she’s amazing, but we can’t keep calling her ‘the american ronaldinho.’”

“yeah, she’s her own player,” ellie agrees. 

“we need something that fits her.”

ewa, sitting across from them, grins. 

“but it has to tie in with her being american, right? i mean, it’s a big deal. maybe not to her– but she’s the first american to play on the senior team for the women.”

ellie nods, deep in thought. 

“maybe something with ‘first’? i mean, she is the first…”

they go back and forth for a while, throwing out suggestions. nothing seems to stick, though, until ewa suddenly straightens up, her face lighting up like she’s cracked the code.

“wait, i’ve got it,” she says, snapping her fingers.

“how about ‘first lady’?”

the room goes quiet for a second as everyone processes it.

pina raises an eyebrow. 

“first lady? like... the president’s wife?”

ewa shrugs, still grinning. 

“yeah, but think about it. she’s the *first* american on the team. it’s perfect. and it’s an american term, so it’s fitting.

"plus, y/n got elegance on the ball." patri notes.

slowly, the others start to nod, the idea settling in. salma, sitting on the opposite side of the room, lets out a laugh. 

“that’s genius. she’s literally our ‘first lady.’”

before long, everyone’s onboard, laughing and testing out the nickname as they get ready to head out. 

the whole team seems to love it, and as they file out of the locker room, they’re excited to see how you’ll react.

meanwhile, you’re still out on the pitch, working through your penalties with patri. by the time you make your way back inside, you’re sweaty and tired, but satisfied with the extra work. as you step into the locker room, you immediately notice the way everyone is looking at you, a few smirking, some trying not to laugh.

salma is the first to break. 

“hey, ‘first lady,’ how’d the penalties go?”

you blink in confusion, pausing mid-step. 

“wait, what?”

salma grins wider, the rest of the team now barely holding back their laughter. 

“you know, ‘first lady,’ since you’re the first american here.”

it takes a second for it to click, but when it does, you burst out laughing, doubling over as you process the absurdity of it. 

“first lady? seriously?”

the whole room erupts into laughter with you, and suddenly, it feels right. the nickname sticks, and soon, it’s all anyone calls you. 

at first, it’s a playful joke, but after a few weeks, you realize it’s become your new identity within the team. 

even mapi starts using it, giving you a teasing smirk during passing drills.

“first lady, over here!” she calls during one session, and you can’t help but shake your head, grinning.

as the season rolls on, you know you’ll keep proving that you’re not just the first american here—you’re their first lady.

masterlist

[pitchsidestories]

fight like a girl II Ona Batlle x Reader

masterlist I moodboard I word count: 2202

pairings: Ona Batlle x Reader (romantic), Barcelona Femení x Reader (platonic)

warnings: disgusting men, mentioning of blood

“Look who has finally arrived.” Jana noticed you first when you stepped into the restaurant where the Barcelona women were having dinner. She was one of the closest friends of your girlfriend Ona in the team and you couldn’t help but to smile at her.

You might be small in height, but you always left quite an impression despite that. Even though your arm muscles were hidden underneath an oversized sweater you have stolen from your lover.  

“Hi everyone, sorry for being so late.”, you apologized, nervously redoing your ponytail.

“No worries, come here.”, Ona padded on the free chair next to her, her jaw looked tense. Something about the atmosphere was off.

You wondered why but the answer to the question in your head came promptly through a man and his male friend, you could hear the alcohol loosened their tongues in a way which made the women around the table deeply uncomfortable.   

“Oh, there’s another one.”, the taller man punched playfully into his mate's side.

“Not bad either if you know what I mean.”, the smaller but bulkier wiggled his eyebrows.

“Sorry, we asked them to leave several times now.”, Alexia sighed, she’s been clearly tired by their behaviour.  

“But they didn’t listen?”, you stood up abruptly from your seat next to her girlfriend.

“Y/n.”, Ona begun concerned, trying to stop you from doing something possible very stupid.  

“Let me deal with them.”, you asked her to, looking into her worried brown doe like eyes.

“Don’t.” she shook her head determined.

“But-.” you started.

“Just ignore them.”, your girlfriend begged gently.

“Come on you just finished training you need to drink and eat something y/n.”, Mapi changed the topic smoothly.

The older defender was right, in the box ring you forgot time and almost everything else. If you were honest with you were quite hungry at this point in the evening. Yet it was so hard to ignore the men close by.

 “Oh, she’s the baby of the group? What’s your name, beautiful?”, he cooed.

“Not your fucking business.”, you shot back grumpily.

“Oh, she’s a feisty one. You know how to make yourself interesting to men, huh?”, the smaller man grinned dirtily.

“Sorry to hurt your little ego guys but I’m not interested in men at all I’m a lesbian.”, you smiled smugly as you thanked the waitress for bringing you all the drinks before taking a big gulp of your beer waiting for their response.

It was like a dance in the boxing ring, attack, waiting for the response, defending and you wanted them to leave so you could have a nice peaceful evening with friends. But the other truth was you simply loved playing a dangerous game. Some might even say you were addicted to it.

“You just haven’t had the right one yet.“, one of the men replied with a laugh.

You almost rolled your eyes. Not even a creative insult. “How many times have I heard that sentence before? But I hate to break it to you, it’s a no.“

Instinctively you reached for Onas hand under the table.

The men remained unimpressed. The taller one flashed you a toothy grin and turned towards Jana: “Fine then. I’ll just take one of your friends.“

You wanted to laugh. None of the girls would even look at a sleazy guy like him. But you knew men like that. If women didn’t want him, he would get more aggressive until he got what he thought was his. You decided to keep your eyes fixed on him.

“No, you won’t.“, you said calmly.

He snorted: “What are you going to do about it?”

That was the moment you could feel your brain go into autopilot. Anger spread through your body like a wildfire, burning hot in your stomach and your chest. Your hands curled into fists, your nails digging into your skin as you slipped from your seat. There was nothing you hated more than being underestimated.

“You should be scared.“, you said plainly.

The tall man burst into laughter: “Of you? You’re tiny!”

His laugh was like gasoline to fire, only feeding your rage.

“And you’re tall with not a lot of brain to match your height apparently!”, you snapped at him.

He considered you for a moment before he ordered: “And you only have a big mouth so sit back down!”

With a frown, you took a step towards him: “I will. If you stop harassing my girlfriend and our friends!”

“Harassing?!”, he echoed and glared at you. “What are you on about? We’re just talking to them!”

“But they’re clearly not interested.“

You got angrier with every word out of his mouth but you also got this perverse sense of pleasure out of arguing with him.

“Amor, your food has arrived.“, Ona interrupted you. Her voice was gentle and cautious.

You waved her off: “I’m not hungry right now.“

“Please.“, she asked but your focus was back on the two men.

“I’m only asking you to leave on more time.“

The first man bent down to you like an adult would do with a young child. “Or what? You’re not scary at all, little one.“, he sneered.

That was all it needed. You swung at him and struck him right in the face. There was the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking and blood dripping on the floor. You heard the gasps from the football players behind you.

“Fuck! You fucking bitch!”, he cursed under his breath. You waited for him to lunge at you but he was too busy trying to stop the bleeding.

“I warned you.“, you said cooly and shot a warning look at his friend, signalling that you were ready to break a second nose that night.

“Time to leave, girls.”, Alexia announced in her captain voice.

“Please.”, Ona muttered.

“No, she’s got to pay for this!”, the man who you didn’t injure demanded hissing.

“What? You want your nose broken too?!”, you replied shaking your head in disbelief. Alarmed your girlfriend called your name but you couldn’t help to add. “That was no coincidence. I know how to do it.”

“Yes, but they aren’t worth it.”, she whispered into your ear.  

“Everyone harassing my friends is worth it.”, you told her fiercely while her teammates and you slowly made your way out.

“These men could’ve hurt you.”, Ona remarked. There was worry swinging through her words.

“No, they couldn’t. I’m a good boxer.”, you disagreed confidently as you wrapped protectively an arm around the brunette’s shoulder.

“I know you’re, what I’m trying to say is that you don’t need to protect us.”, she explained softly.

“He deserved that broken nose though.”, Mapi commented chuckling from behind.

“See?”, you grinned triumphantly at your lover.

“Just great, Maria.”, Ona groaned in frustration.

“Good night, girls.”, the older defender said with an innocent smile on her lips as she went for Ingrids hand to start the walk to their home.

“That’s our cue to leave too. Night.”, Jana declared.

“Goodbye, text me all when your home.”, the captain of the team hugged everyone before going her own way.

“Your captain can be such a mum, Oni.”, you smirked amused. The balmy night air felt nice against your skin, it made what happened in the bar appear like a faint memory.  

It didn’t have the same effect on your girlfriend for her the scene of you hitting that man was still replaying in her mind. Alone the thought of it made her heart sank.

“If she were more of a mum, she would’ve stopped you from doing that.”, Ona objected.

“Not that again.”, you grumbled.

Once you reached the safe walls of your home the adrenaline has worn off and your fingers started to hurt which didn’t get unnoticed by the defender even though you tried your best to hide your pain from her.

“Wait, I’ll get some ice.”, Ona noted.

“I’m fine.”, you assured her quickly. Although your sayings turned out to be useless, she was already up getting something to ease your hurt.

“No, you’re not I can tell that from the look on your face.”, the brunette sounded mad, but despite that there was a tenderness in the way she took care of you despite her furiousness.

“Ona…“, you whispered quietly, in hopes to calm her down but also because you weren’t sure what to say next. Of course, she had seen right to you even when you tried to ignore the throbbing pain in your hand. Your knuckles were still red and swollen.

“Yes?”, Ona asked. Her voice was tense as she took in the damage on your hand and gently applied some ice.

You watched her hold your injured hand in the dim light, her gaze directed downwards.

Only when she looked up with an inquiring expression on her face, you remembered to speak.

“I didn’t mean to… you know? I just never know what to do with my anger.“ You bit your lip. Nothing that came out of your mouth did your feelings justice. Nothing conveyed the message enough that you weren’t malicious, you were just an angry girl. Something that people didn’t want to see for some reason.

Onas eyes softened. She sighed quietly: “I know. And you don’t need to fight all the time. We could have handled that as a group together, not just you alone. Besides I get angry too, but only on the pitch.“

“That’s different.“ You blew out a short, hard breath of frustration. That was not even remotely comparable.

Ona nodded slowly: “Yes, you’re right… still.“

“Yes. Maybe. But I’m tired, Ona. Everyone sees my anger as something bad when it’s not!”

You regretted saying it as soon as Ona looked away again.

“You need to sleep…“, she said softly.

But you both knew it was not that kind of tiredness you were talking about.

You pulled your hand away from her: “No, you don’t get it. It helped me a lot in the past!”

“You never tell me anything about that so how am I supposed to know?”, Ona asked, frowning with her jaw set.

“I was telling you now!“, you retorted, rolling your eyes in annoyance.

Ona remained calm, unfazed by your rage: “Go on.“

To your surprise, her composure seemed to rub off on you.

“Doesn’t matter anymore. All you need to know is that I’m not ashamed of my anger.“

She shook her head determinedly, clearly not ready to let you sweep that topic under the rug: “No. I want to hear everything, the whole story. You don’t have to sugarcoat anything. Plus, I want you to teach me how to box.“

You blinked at her: “Wait. You do?”

“Yes, I do.“, she replied, leaving no room for doubt.

You studied her face. She looked so serious.

You could feel your heart beat faster thinking about Ona in a boxing, just because you loved the sport, just to get to know you better.

“How about I’ll take you boxing tomorrow?”, you suggested.

Ona finally smiled: “Sure.“

“And then we can talk.“

Ona and you went early to the gym the following day, mainly because it meant that you were completely alone. The morning light streamed through the large windows and highlighted the boxing ring which stood in the centre of the room. This was the place you felt most at ease and somewhere your anger wouldn’t be judged.

You recognized how your girlfriend struggled a bit with her boxing gloves, carefully you helped her to put them on.

Curiously she looked up to you. “When did you’ve to learn to fight for yourself?”

“When I was very young. People always made sure I knew that I was very different from them.”, you confessed alone the thought of it made you shudder.

“It must have been very painful for you especially when you were so young.”, Ona replied empathetically, the defender didn’t know she wasn’t standing right.

Gently you moved her into the right stance before continuing your story.

“Yes, and then people were surprised when I got angry for being treated differently.”

A cloud moved in front of the sun and darkened the whole room.

“And the boxing ring was a place to deal with your anger?”, the defender wanted to know genuinely interested.

“Well, when we had to flee from my home country, we were feeling so helpless and I never wanted to feel like this again. That’s a story for another time.”, you explained quickly.

With a cheeky smile on your lips, you advised her. “Hands up we want to protect your pretty face.”

While you showed her the essential boxing moves, Ona stopped your movement for a moment urging you to take her all in. “No, I want the full story.”

“Alright, but it’s going to be a long one.”, you warned the brunette.

You have circled around this topic for so long it was time to face it. And two things you were certain about, one your girlfriend was strong enough to handle what you’d tell her and second you were brave enough to speak about it.

Fight like a girl wasn’t an insult to both of you it was a compliment.

[theesasssyunicorn]

BARCELONA FEMENI SQUAD

Please do not repost w/o my permission

Wallpaper version is also available just send me a DM ❤️

[muffinpink02]

How is Jana still breathing? The face grab, the kiss, the way Alexia’s trying to meet her eyes. 🫠

[copper-16]

I am absolutely obsessed with the following photo category: when someone’s looking toward/into the camera but you KNOW they’re looking at their partner so it’s about 10838493x more intimate and sweet (Jill and Jana get a special shoutout because they simply have SO many pictures like this)

Like I actually CANNOT deal…the Jana instagram post with pictures of her and Jill’s niece Maeve together 😭 I’m in a puddle on the floor rn

[repulsiveliquidation]

I’m not crying you are 😭😭

[bellawoso]

Would’ve, Could’ve, Should’ve

Alexia Putellas x fem!reader

Read part 1 : here

Much to your Diego’s dismay, you did not end up calling Alexia, instead the jersey, adorned with a number that could change your life, was left screwed up at the back of your wardrobe.

You were going to call Alexia.

Until one of your other friends heard about it, and told you about the backlash and hate you would receive from some of Alexia’s devoted fans. In the end, you decided it wasn’t worth it, it was only a few years since you escaped your depressive cycle, you were not ever going to risk entering it again.

Truthfully, you regret ignoring Alexia, every time anyone hits on you, you always compare them to the blonde, Diego often calling you “pathetic” as you only spoke to her for 2 hours.

However, you realised that it’s too late to call her, and think of how weird the blonde would think you were if you called her a month later.

As once again you debated calling the midfielder, your door suddenly slammed open.

“¡Hola chica! Look I have tickets!”

As you inspected the tickets in Diego’s hand, your face contorted to one of disappointment;

England vs Spain tickets.

Fuck.

———————————————————————

Your England top had arrived just in time, you were going to wear a Spain one after Diego convinced you that you would be beaten up by the first Spaniard who saw you, you guess the England-Spain rivalry ran deep.

However, it felt a betrayal to your country to be clad in the red jersey, so you ordered one last minute, luckily you weren’t completely oblivious when it came to football, you knew of how Leah Williamson had captained England to a Euro’s victory.

So there you were, in blue denim shorts and your oversized Williamson Jersey almost reaching past your shorts.

It felt like you were cheating, which was stupid, you met Alexia for 2 hours, to push away the feeling of guilt you slipped on a jacket and made your way downstairs.

Diego only rolled his eyes, and sighed in disapproval at your jersey choice.

———————————————————————

Alexia was excited for her return which she had been informed of a month prior to the match, but everyone on the team had noticed a change in the captains mood.

Except only Jana knew the cause for her sudden sadness.

Alexia didn’t understand why your rejection stung so much, maybe it was because the two-time ballon d’or winner wasn’t used to it, or maybe it was because the whole two hours you were together, she had imagined a relationship with you. It felt too real, and she cursed herself for grieving something that never happened in the first place.

She pushed all of those thoughts to the side, and instead focused on the match ahead of her, it was only a friendly, but the idea of being able to hold the win over Lucy and Keira’s heads when they returned to Barcelona felt euphoric.

What she didn’t expect was to see you in the crowd, worse of all, in a Leah fucking Williamson jersey.

———————————————————————-

Spain were one nil down at half time. which was frustrating for Alexia, having to watch from the sidelines with promises of being brought on for the final 45 minutes, however as she stepped on the pitch, her attention was drawn to a white jersey, in a sea of red, only a few rows up.

You stuck out like a sore thumb, it was extremely hard to miss you. So when Alexia laid eyes on you, her heart stopped for a second, and the screams and cheers of the stadium became muffled sounds in her ears.

As you turn around to face Diego, Alexia can just make out the England captain’s last name on your back, bile rises to the Spaniard’s mouth and she quickly turns away.

A newfound determination to outdo the English Captain, to try prove to you that the only jersey you should be proud to wear should be hers.

Call it jealousy. Maybe. But whatever it was fuelled Alexia to score 2 more goals by the end of the match.

2-1 to Spain.

When you saw Alexia step out on the pitch, your breath immediately hitched in your throat, sending you into a coughing fit, which received a knowing chuckle from Diego.

“You fumbled amiga”

Honestly, you regretted teaching him some English slang, he used it against you constantly, and often laughed at himself after seeing you scowling.

When the match ended, Diego was quick to drag you to the stands, he was a big fan of Aitana Bonmati, and wanted her signature badly.

Although you were happy for him when the brunette midfielder came over to where you two were, you froze at seeing Alexia’s friend from the match, who was walking over with Aitana.

When Jana laid eyes on you, she knew what she had to do, she was quick to sprint off and get Alexia, who was talking to Lucy and Keira, and teasing them of the loss.

Alexia was no where near as nervous as you were, the blonde didn’t need to be, you rejected her, even though she was positive that you were returning her flirty comments at the past match.

The Spaniard was sure that you were in the wrong, you should feel guilty for leading her on, so she was quick to confront you when she saw you.

“You didn’t call, and I’m pretty sure I told you to wear better clothing colours”

You internally cringed at how straight to the point the blonde was, and couldn’t help but blush as she called you out for ignoring her.

“I’m sorry, I was nervous and by the time I felt ready to call, I figured it would be too late”

“I don’t know if I’m more upset about you didn’t call because you were nervous, or the fact that you have Leah Williamson’s name on your back”

“Get me a better one then” you replied, whilst looking down at her jersey and back at her with a grin.

Alexia quickly stripped off her jersey, as you took off yours too, luckily you wore a tank top under it, Alexia’s eyes quickly dropping to your exposed chest.

“Your not subtle you know?”

“Who said I was trying to be?” The blonde was quick to reply back.

You only chuckled in response, and slipped on Alexia’s jersey, doing a little spin “How do I look?”

“Beautiful, much better wearing the jersey you belong in”

You weren’t sure if Alexia truly meant that, or if her extremely forward words were due to English not being her first language, but either way your face flushed deep crimson in retaliation to her comment.

The click of a pen lid being taken off woke you from your trance, and you peered up at Alexia, who tugged you closer by your waist, and quickly scribbled down her number once again.

“Pot favor, call me this time, promise?”

“I promise Ale, I will even let you choose the colour scheme of my outfit when we go out” you quipped back with a smile.

With a smirk, the blonde midfielder threw the England jersey on the floor, and walked away to meet Jana so they could walk into the locker room together.

Diego quickly ran towards you, only to pick you up and swing you around.

“I told you she would want you amiga! Your a snack!”

“Diego please never call me that again”

“Shut up! You should be thanking me, with out me, she would have never re-given you her number”

———————————————————————

[talkingwoso]

Jana and Fletcher, long live lesbians 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

[didalexiabreakupwitholgaisback]

our honorary culer was at today's match 😅

https://x.com/awfclaurab/status/1860674078522110110?s=19

everyone's favourite culer! 😅 and thankfully, jana got to play a solid 20 minutes or so. 🙏

[meazalykov]

cry for help

jana fernandez x emotionalsupport!reader

summary: sometimes the strong one needs help too

warnings: angst, mentions of injury

it’s almost a daily routine now, early mornings and late nights. 

whenever your phone rings, it’s hardly ever a surprise—you already know it’s going to be someone from the team. you’re a solid foundation, the person everyone knows will pick up no matter what time it is.

your teammates joke about it, calling you the “rock of our team,” and they’re not wrong. 

you’re the one they lean on, whether it’s for a ride to training, advice, or just an ear to listen.

like today, you’ve been up since six am, your phone vibrating beside you as you lace up your sneakers. vicky is texting, asking for a ride to training because her car’s in the shop. 

without hesitation, you reply, “on my way,” grabbing your keys and heading out the door. you pull up in front of vicky’s place a little while later, watching her jog out of her building, bag slung over her shoulder and water bottle in hand. 

she slides into the passenger seat, already mid-sentence about some random topic that has her laughing, and you can’t help but laugh along too. these car rides have become tradition, a time to catch up on everything, from gossip to game plans, and while they’re usually light-hearted, 

you know she appreciates it more than she lets on. she’s been through some tough moments recently for a teenager, and if a ride can make her day easier, then you’re all in.

you’ve always been this way. giving, helping, always ready to step up. the team is like family, and you’d do anything for them. so when lucia calls later that week, her voice shaky over the phone, you drop everything and go. 

she’s curled up on her couch when you arrive, looking small and fragile in a way that’s so unlike her usual confident self. it doesn’t take long for her to break down, admitting that her relationship has fallen apart. it’s raw and real, and she’s hurting. 

she says something about feeling lost, like she’s somehow failed, and you’re there, holding her hand, listening without judgment. 

hours go by, the sky darkening outside, but you don’t move until she finally nods off, exhausted but calmer. you leave a note, reminding her that she’s strong, that this pain will pass, and that she’s not alone.

that’s always been your role—to be the steady one, the one people call when things get tough. and yet, you realize, it’s been a while since anyone’s asked you how you’re doing. they wouldn’t know that lately, it feels like the weight of everything is pressing down on you. 

maybe it’s because you’ve always handled things on your own, always managed to keep it together even when the pressure builds up. you don’t even go to your girlfriend of two years, jana, whenever you need help. maybe it’s because they’re so used to you being the strong one that they forget you might need a little support, too.

christmas rolls around, and you’re spending it with esmee and her girlfriend, danielle, who flew in from the netherlands. you can feel the holiday spirit in the air, the warmth and laughter filling esmee’s place as the three of you decorate, wrapping garlands around door frames and untangling strings of lights. danielle is vibrant, animated, bringing a bit of her dutch charm into the mix, and for a few hours, you find yourself relaxing. 

there’s no expectation here, no one needing anything from you but your company. as the night goes on, you end up chatting on the couch, talking about everything from football to travel plans, and esmee’s laughter is contagious, filling the room with a joy that feels so comforting. 

it’s one of those rare moments where you feel lighter, like maybe you don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders all the time.

as the season kicks back in, the demands on you only grow. it’s almost amusing how quickly your phone fills up with requests—from organizing things for alexia and olga’s event to helping ingrid after she got injured on the pitch. 

you’re coordinating outfits, setting up rides, and giving pep talks before games. nobody else seems to notice how exhausted you are, and maybe that’s partly your own fault. you don’t let on. you smile, you reassure, you show up—every time, every day.

during el claisco– you take a hard tackle before halftime. it’s bad, but you grit your teeth and force yourself to get back up, brushing it off as if it’s nothing. the last thing you want is anyone worrying about you; it’s easier that way, to be the one who doesn’t need anything. 

even as your leg throbs, a hot wave of pain radiating from your hamstrings, you push forward. you tell yourself you’re fine, that you can handle it. you’ve been through worse. and there’s a part of you that’s desperate to keep playing, to prove something, maybe to yourself, maybe to everyone else. 

you’d scored last game, but in your mind, it’s not enough. it’s never enough.

in the locker room at halftime, you pull on a fresh shirt, forcing yourself to act like the throbbing in your knee is nothing but a minor ache. the team talks tactics, voices buzzing around you, but it’s hard to focus as you keep adjusting your weight off your right leg, gritting your teeth every time you have to stand. 

you feel jana’s eyes on you from across the room, catching every wince, every small shift.

she doesn’t say anything at first, just watches. as you make your way toward the door to head back out, she steps in front of you, blocking your path. 

“you’re not fine,” she says quietly, her eyes sharp. 

“i can see it every time you put pressure on your leg.”

“i’m fine,” you say, voice firm but maybe too quick. she knows you too well, sees through every front you’ve ever put up, and today is no different.

jana shakes her head, not buying it for a second. 

“no. you’re hurt, and if you’re not going to tell the coach, then i will.”

a jolt of panic runs through you. 

“jana, please,” you say, your voice dropping. there’s a sadness there, a desperation. you don’t want to leave the game. you don’t want everyone thinking you’re weak.

her expression softens, but her tone stays resolute. 

“then tell the coach yourself that you can’t keep going. go to the medic. please, for once, let yourself be honest.”

the look in her eyes is all it takes. you nod slowly, and with a heavy heart, you walk to the coach, explaining that you can’t play the rest of the match. you can’t even look at your teammates on the way out, avoiding every concerned glance as you head toward the medic room. 

each step feels like an admission of defeat, and the sting of it burns even more than the pain in your knee.

sitting alone in the small room, it’s quiet, unbearably so. for the first time in a long time, you feel the weight of it all pressing down on you, every bit of responsibility and expectation you’ve been carrying. you’ve always been strong for everyone else, but now, when it’s your turn to be looked after, all you feel is a raw, aching sense of failure. 

the tears come before you can stop them, silent and steady, until you’re caught in a wave of emotions you’ve been holding back for far too long.

the sound of the door opening breaks through your thoughts, and you look up, surprised to see both alexia and jana standing there. they’ve been taken off the pitch, and somehow got permission to come see you. 

alexia steps forward first, her hand gentle on your shoulder. 

“do you want to talk about it?” she asks softly.

jana, ever perceptive, doesn’t leave it as a question. she moves closer, searching your face, her expression filled with understanding and a quiet determination. she knows you don’t open up easily, knows you’d rather hide behind that strength everyone admires. 

“tell us what’s really going on,” she says gently but firmly.

you take a shaky breath, looking between them. 

“it’s el clasico… i wanted to score so badly. i needed to.” your voice cracks, the weight of the words catching you off guard. 

“i don’t know why i’m pushing myself like this. i just… i feel like i have to prove that i belong here.”

alexia squeezes your shoulder, and you can tell she understands. she’s had her own battles, her own struggles with injuries and expectations. 

“you don’t need to prove anything. you just signed a renewal. the team believes in you.”

jana’s hand finds yours, her fingers threading through, grounding you. 

alexia gives your shoulder a final reassuring squeeze before stepping back. 

“i’ll go back to the bench, but… take your time. we’re here when you need us.” she leaves quietly.

you let out a shaky breath, the last of your tears finally slowing. jana’s hand is steady on your back, her presence warm and grounding, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a sliver of relief breaking through the weight.

she pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, her gaze soft but unwavering. 

“you don’t have to do this alone, you know,” she whispers. her hand reaches up, brushing a tear from your cheek with a tenderness that nearly undoes you all over again. 

“let me be strong for you, too.”

the words sink in, deeper than you could have ever expected. this strength you’ve always tried to carry for everyone else—it’s okay to let go of it sometimes. 

maybe you don’t have to be the rock every day. not when your girlfriend is here, right beside you, who’s ready to share the weight.

“okay,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. it’s a start. you let yourself lean into her embrace once more, feeling the warmth and security of her arms, and for once, you let yourself just be held.

she doesn’t let go, and neither do you.

masterlist

[pitchsidestories]

the kids are alright II Barcelona Femení x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1666

a/n: inspired by this request here, enjoy.

summary: the Barça youngsters see Lucy and you as their team mums, a game against your Spanish teammates doesn’t change the love you've for them.

pairings: Barcelona Femeni x Reader (platonic), Lucy Bronze x Reader (romantic)

Such team mums.

She had even dared to add an eye-rolling emoji to her comment.

You sighed.

This was not what you had expected when you checked your phone right after training ended.

Not even your Instagram posts were save from the Barca youngsters.

The notification saying that Esmee had commented under your post had already made you nervous, but you had not expected to be called that.

And the likes on her comment! Way too many in your humble opinion.

You scanned your post again. It was a simple photo of you and Lucy at your last game with Esmee, Vicky and Salma sandwiched between the two of you.

You shook your head slightly. Calling you and Lucy team mums had apparently become a running gag between the youngsters. And had now also made it to social media.

When you looked over, Esmee was in the motion of leaving the training pitch, looking as innocent as ever. Like she hadn’t just called you a team mum on the internet.

Lucy appeared on your side, sipping water from her water bottle. Her cheeks were still red from the training session.

Wordlessly, you thrusted your phone towards Lucy.

You watched as she studied the photo. She then turned to you with an “Is she really serious right now?“-look.

“Esmee!“

The dutch player blinked innocently at her: “Yes, Lucy?“

“I swear I will delete all your damn comments!“, the defender threatened, only the slightest quirk of her mouth revealed that she wasn’t serious.

Esmee smirked: “I don’t know why you’re so upset about that.“

“We’re not your mums!“, Lucy said with emphasis.

“No. But you behave like you are.“, Vicky sided with Esmee, smiling brightly at you.

You grimaced: “We don’t.“

“Sure.“, Salma grinned.

You and Lucy shared an annoyed look.

You decided to finally give up: “Alright, see you children on the pitch next week for the England versus Spain match. Except for Esmee.“

“We’ll beat you.“, Salma shrugged unimpressed.

Esmee rolled her eyes: “I will totally have a hard time without anyone telling me what to do.“

Mapi wrapped her arms around the young Dutch player from behind: “Don’t worry, Esmee. You’ll still have me for that.“

Esmee shot her a critical look: “You’re not a mum, Mapi. You’re more like the crazy aunt.“

“Excuse me?!“ Mapis face dropped and you had to bite back your laughter.

“Ignore the kid, Mapi.“, Lucy adviced with a dismissive hand gesture.

Mapi turned to Esmee: “Don’t you dare comment that on my posts.“

You sighed quietly. Of course, Mapi had already seen the comment too.

“I’d never.“, the Dutch player promised, her voice dripping with innocence.

You shot her an amused glance: “Lies.“

The cold temperature and the rain that just wouldn't stop made you shiver, even as a woman born in England. You had to admit to yourself that by now you were spoilt by the sun and warmth of Barcelona. How you yearned for that in this moment!

It wasn't long until the game, both teams were just surveying the pitch and you realised that the young Spanish players were not happy about the weather conditions.

“Hi children.”, Lucy was the first to greet them with a huge grin on her lips.

“Hey, mums.”, Jana chirmed.

“Ready for the game?”, the older defender asked.

“We’re.”, Salma nodded enthusiastically.

“And you’re not too cold? That’s quite a weather change from Barcelona?”, you raised an eyebrow worriedly.

“Mum mode activated.”, Vicky rolled her eyes at you.

“I was just asking!”, you protested laughing.

“We’re fine.”, the seventeen-year-old assured you.

“Good.”, you remarked.

“And we’re not even on your team.”, Salma threw in with an amused smile.

“I know.”, you told her.

“Just letting you kids know that I’ll go as hard in as I’ve to but after the game I’ll check if you’re okay.”, Lucy warned them.

“We don’t need to be looked after.”, Vicky insisted.

It would be a tough 90-minute game. The rain which kept pouring made the grass slippery underneath the players feet. Somehow Beth was able to score in the last minute of the game and the lionesses pulled the Arsenal forward into a group hug.

Afterwards your girlfriend and you walked to the defeated Spanish players, you promised them to do a jersey exchange, but you knew the small gesture wouldn’t help against the pain of their loss. 

“You weren’t bad either.”, Salma replied.

“Weren’t bad? We won.”, Lucy reminded her.

“Yeah, you did.”, Vicky muttered, shoulders shrink while she looked down to the wet grass, the watery pearls seemed like tears.

“Congrats Kei, Luce and y/n.”, Alexia hugged each of you. The captain of your club team was clearly disappointed in their performance as a whole but especially by her own. 

“Thanks. Good game, Ale.”, you responded truthfully.

“You were great too.”, she admitted, happy to have you usually in her team and not as an opponent.

Suddenly you realized that your girlfriend who didn’t leave your side since the referee had ended the game wasn’t there anymore.

“Where’s Lucy?”, you wanted to know from your teammate.

“She’s babysitting again.”, Alexia explained grinning, pointing into the direction where Lucy was handing the young Barcelona girls their jackets, making sure they’re staying warm despite the cold.

“It’s cute.”, you commented, seeing their interactions and your lover in the centre of it warmed your heart.

“Thanks for cheering them up, they need that. It wasn’t a good game.”, the midfielder said gratefully.

You trained your gaze back on Alexia and gently smiled at her: “You’re welcome. Losing is always hard, especially when you’re young and not used to it.“

“Right.“, she replied, biting her lip.

You knew that she still struggled with lost games, even as an experienced player so you quietly pulled her in for a hug.

She didn’t fight it and relaxed a bit. Enough for you to know that she had needed the hug.

Lucys voice drifted towards you as she instructed the young players: “Don’t forget your recovery, girls!“

“Sure, Lucia.“, Vicky said in a mocking tone and rolled her eyes.

At the same time Alexia let go of you, pulling out of the embrace and looked over at her teammates. With a stern expression, she watched as the younger players slowly made their way towards the dressing rooms.

“And keep your head high!“, you called after them.

Salma turned her head towards you and grimaced.

You almost laughed about her reaction. They might make fun of you, calling you team mums but they enjoyed being the children a little too much as well.

Janas face appeared next to Alexia, beaming at you and Lucy who finally joined your group now that the children were taken care of.

“You’d be such good mums one day!“, she squealed.

Alexia shrugged nonchalantly: “Agreed. But no pressure, I want to have you two as long in my team as possible.“

She raised her eyebrows with a smirk.

“So do we.“, you laughed.

Lucy grinned: “Don’t worry, we have enough children for now.“

“We do.“, you agreed.

A buzzing noise in the pocket of your jacket startled you. You carefully pulled out your phone, an Instagram notification on your screen.

You already knew what would come next.

“Oh my god, Esmee commented again!“

“Again?!“, Lucy echoed and slid closer to you so she could have a look at your phone too.

“Yes, on the lionesses latest post. See?“

Lucy released a breath: “I’m going to murder her!“

“Don’t.“, you said calmly while replying to Esmees comment with a simple heart emoji.

Maybe it was time to embrace being the team mums.

“I’ll take her phone then!“, Lucy suggested.

“Yes, that’s a good idea.“, you laughed.

Your girlfriend rolled her eyes with obvious fondness: “These children.“

“You love them though.“

“Maybe…“, she admitted slowly but with sparkling eyes. She looked lost in her own thoughts.

Playfully, you elbowed her in the side: “What are you thinking about?“

She shook her head and answered more seriously: “Nothing. Let’s go back to our team.“

“Alright.“, you said, waving goodbye to Alexia and Jana.

“Come on. The children will be alright.”, Lucy remarked softly.

“Fine.”, you agreed, hoping that in the save four walls of your hotel room the defender would be able to tell you what she was thinking about.

Later you were wrapped up in your bathrobe and noticing how unusually quiet your girlfriend was. Cautiously you sat down next to her on the bed.

“Luce, you’ve been suspiciously silent, so what’s on your mind?”

The stillness in the room became almost unbearable to you.

Slowly, the fellow footballer turned her face round to look at you.

“Maybe she’s got a point. We would be great mums.”, Lucy admitted emotionally.

“Yes, I agree.”, you nodded, feeling the significance of this conversation you were having.

“You do?”, the dark-haired woman asked in return.

“Yes, just not because they said it though.”, you emphasized.

“No, of course not.”, Lucy replied.

“Maybe we should give it a try? Not right away but soon?”, you suggested nervously.

“I’d love to have children with you actually.”, Lucy confessed in an earnest tone.

“Me too.”, you told her before she cupped your face with her hands to give you a heartfelt kiss. There was something promising in those kisses like it was the beginning of something new.

A couple of months had passed since the match against Spain. During the dinner with your Barcelona teammates at the training grounds Lucy handed Jana a little box.

The younger woman glanced at your girlfriend excitedly.

“Is this what I think it’s?”

“Find out and open it.”, the older defender smirked.

Your lover didn’t need to tell her twice, Jana unwrapped the box quickly and let out a delighted squeal once the player saw what was inside, a little pair of sneakers.

She knew immediately what the meaning behind those were and went to pull you two into a hug, while the other teammates followed suit.

[millyh23]

Bound By Trust

word count: 11.9k

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Y/N stood at the centre of the pitch, the sun setting behind the Emirates Stadium casting a warm, golden hue over the grass. Training had just wrapped up, and most of the team was heading back to the locker rooms, laughing and chatting about their plans for the evening. But Y/N lingered, stretching her legs as she replayed the day’s drills in her mind, the passing patterns, the defensive shape—everything that made Arsenal such a well-oiled machine.

As she bent down to tie her laces tighter, she heard footsteps approaching. She didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Leah Williamson’s presence was always familiar, a quiet confidence that seemed to wrap around the team like a safety net.

“You’re pushing yourself harder than usual today,” Leah said, her voice gentle but with an undertone of concern.

Y/N straightened up and turned to her, shrugging lightly. “Just trying to get better.”

Leah raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms as she stood next to Y/N. “You’re already good enough. That’s why you’re here.”

Y/N smiled but didn’t respond, shifting her gaze back to the now-empty field. She had always been hard on herself, always feeling like she needed to prove she belonged at a club as prestigious as Arsenal. The standards were high, and even though she knew she had the talent, there was always a nagging doubt at the back of her mind.

“I’ve noticed something,” Leah continued after a moment of silence. “You don’t trust yourself on the ball as much as you should.”

Y/N glanced at her, frowning slightly. “What do you mean?”

Leah sighed, stepping closer so they were facing each other. “You hesitate. When you’ve got the ball and space in front of you, you hesitate just for a split second. It’s like you’re second-guessing your instincts.”

Y/N opened her mouth to protest, but Leah cut her off with a knowing look.

“I know you,” Leah said softly. “You’re smart, and you’ve got great vision on the pitch. But if you don’t trust yourself, you’re going to hold back, and that’s going to affect the whole team. We need to know that you’re confident out there. That we can trust you.”

Y/N swallowed, her throat tightening. Trust. It was such a simple word, but it carried so much weight. She had always been the type to put immense pressure on herself, to not let anyone down. But maybe, in doing so, she was forgetting the most important part—that the team trusted her, and she needed to trust herself too.

“I’ve been working on it,” Y/N admitted quietly, her eyes dropping to the ground. “But sometimes it feels like I’m not enough.”

Leah’s expression softened, and she reached out, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder. “You are enough. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.”

The sincerity in Leah’s words sent a wave of warmth through Y/N. She had always admired Leah’s leadership, the way she could read the game and her teammates like a book. And in that moment, Y/N realized that Leah’s trust wasn’t just a given—it was earned, and it was genuine.

“Thanks, Leah,” Y/N murmured, feeling the weight in her chest ease just a little.

Leah gave her a small smile, squeezing her shoulder before stepping back. “We’re all bound by trust on this team. We have to be. Otherwise, none of this works. And you’re a part of that, Y/N. So trust yourself as much as we trust you, alright?”

Y/N nodded, a new sense of determination settling within her. She knew it wouldn’t be an overnight change, but she could start small. Trust herself with every touch, every pass, every decision. It was the only way forward.

As the two of them walked off the pitch together, the stadium lights flickered on, illuminating the path ahead. Y/N felt lighter somehow, the pressure she’d placed on herself fading in the presence of something stronger—trust. The kind that wasn’t just given but built over time, through sweat, grit, and shared goals. It was what made Arsenal more than just a club. It made them a team.

And Y/N was ready to live up to that trust, bound by it in every way.

The hum of the crowd filled Y/N’s ears as she stood in the tunnel, heart pounding in anticipation. Today was the day. A crucial league match, with Arsenal needing three points to maintain their title race. After weeks of hard work, she had started to trust herself on the pitch. Leah’s words had sunk in deep, and her confidence was growing, game by game.

She could feel it during training, during drills, and in every touch of the ball. It wasn’t perfect, but the hesitation that once plagued her was beginning to fade. She was making quicker decisions, pushing forward with more certainty, trusting her instincts. The team noticed it too, and there was an unspoken understanding between them now—a bond forged by trust.

As the whistle blew and they stepped onto the pitch, Y/N took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders to shake off the nerves. The Emirates Stadium was packed, fans chanting, banners waving. This was her stage, and she was ready to play her part.

The first few minutes of the match went by in a blur of energy and movement. Arsenal controlled possession, and Y/N, stationed in her usual role on the wing, felt alive. She darted in and out of pockets of space, always aware of her surroundings, always thinking two steps ahead. Her first few touches were crisp, and when she drove forward, she did it without hesitation, pushing the ball past defenders with newfound confidence.

But then came the 30th minute.

A sloppy pass from the midfield found Y/N in an awkward position. The ball came at her too quickly, and her first touch was heavy. She chased it, but the opposing defender was faster, sweeping the ball away with ease and launching a counterattack.

The groan from the crowd hit her ears like a wave, but Y/N shook it off. Mistakes happened. She just needed to recover.

Except, they kept happening.

Five minutes later, she found herself in space on the edge of the box. Leah played a perfect ball through, setting Y/N up for a chance to score. All she needed to do was shoot. But the hesitation she had worked so hard to shake off crept back in at the worst moment. Instead of firing, she took an extra touch, allowing the defender to close her down, and her eventual shot was blocked.

Another groan from the crowd. Louder this time.

Y/N clenched her fists, her mind racing. Focus. Get it together.

But the game seemed to spiral out of control after that. Passes she usually nailed were going astray, her positioning felt off, and she couldn’t seem to get her rhythm back. It was as if all the progress she had made in trusting herself was unraveling before her eyes.

Then, in the 60th minute, disaster struck.

Arsenal were pushing forward, trying to break down the opposition’s defense. Y/N received the ball deep in her own half with pressure mounting. The opposing forward was closing her down fast, but instead of playing the safe pass back to the keeper, she tried to dribble her way out.

It was a mistake.

She lost the ball in a dangerous area, and within seconds, the opposition capitalized, scoring on the break.

The stadium fell into a stunned silence for a moment, and then the boos started. Low at first, then rising to a deafening roar as the frustration from the fans became tangible. Y/N stood frozen, staring at the scoreboard as the opposition celebrated.

Her heart dropped into her stomach. She could feel her teammates' eyes on her, but no one said anything. The boos continued to rain down, sharp and relentless. She had never heard anything like it before, not directed at her. It was suffocating, crushing her from the inside out.

Leah was the first to come over, placing a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, but the words she said didn’t register. Y/N couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the crowd, the disappointment echoing in her mind. Every cheer from the opposition fans felt like another knife twisting in her gut.

When the final whistle blew, Arsenal had lost 2-0. And Y/N, the player who had spent weeks clawing her way toward trusting herself, walked off the pitch with her head down, drowning in shame.

The locker room was deathly quiet. The team sat in silence, the tension heavy in the air. No one wanted to talk, especially not Y/N. She sat in front of her locker, staring at the floor, replaying every mistake over and over again in her mind.

She could still hear the boos ringing in her ears. She’d never been booed before—never been the one fans turned their backs on. But today, she had been.

Leah sat beside her, not saying a word, but her presence was steady, like an anchor Y/N didn’t feel she deserved.

“I messed up,” Y/N whispered, breaking the silence.

Leah exhaled softly, tilting her head to look at her. “It wasn’t just on you. We all had a bad game.”

Y/N shook her head, frustration bubbling up inside her. “No, I cost us the game. I froze. I… I didn’t trust myself out there.”

Leah frowned, her gaze soft but serious. “One bad game doesn’t erase everything you’ve worked for. You’ve come a long way, Y/N. Don’t let today be the end of that progress.”

Y/N wanted to believe her, but the weight of the boos, the mistakes, the disappointment—it all felt like too much. Trusting herself had been hard enough. Now, it felt impossible.

“I don’t know if I can bounce back from this,” Y/N admitted quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leah leaned in, her voice steady and sure. “You can. Because we trust you. That hasn’t changed.”

Y/N didn’t respond, unsure of whether to believe her. The road to trusting herself had been rocky, and now, after a game like this, it felt like she was back at square one.

But Leah didn’t leave her side. And maybe that was the first step—trusting that even when everything fell apart, her teammates would be there to pick her back up.

Y/N jogged onto the training pitch, the cool morning air biting at her skin. It had been a few days since the disastrous match that left her confidence in tatters. The boos from the crowd still echoed in her mind, replaying whenever she found herself in a moment of stillness. But she’d promised herself she wouldn’t let that one game define her.

Today was a fresh start, a chance to rebuild.

As warm-ups began, Y/N fell into the rhythm of the routine. Simple passing drills, weaving between cones, sprinting back and forth. Everything was familiar. She kept her focus, pushing away the doubt, reminding herself that she was good enough to be here. Leah’s words—we trust you—echoed in her head.

But as training progressed, something felt off. Something small, subtle. Y/N couldn’t quite put her finger on it at first, but a creeping sense of unease began to settle in her chest.

It started with the passing drills.

Normally, she was involved in the tight passing circuits, where quick, sharp ball movement was key. But today, when the ball came her way, it felt… hesitant. Her teammates weren’t passing to her with the same confidence they usually had. They took an extra second before sending the ball her way, as if second-guessing whether she was the right option.

She brushed it off at first, telling herself it was just her imagination. But as the session wore on, she couldn’t ignore it. When she called for the ball during a 5v5 game, her teammates would glance at her and then look away, choosing to pass to someone else instead.

She saw it with Leah too, which hurt the most. Leah, who had always been her biggest supporter on the pitch, was opting for safer options, choosing to play the ball back to the defense rather than through to Y/N in midfield. It was small—barely noticeable—but once Y/N spotted it, she couldn’t unsee it.

The next time Y/N found herself in a shooting drill, McCabe lined up beside her. They were supposed to take turns firing shots on goal. Katie usually threw her arm around Y/N’s shoulder, making some cheeky joke to lighten the mood. But today, she didn’t say a word. When Y/N stepped up for her shot, she felt Katie’s eyes on her—watching, almost like she was expecting her to mess up.

Y/N’s shot went wide, skimming past the post, and Katie muttered something under her breath before quickly taking her own shot without looking at Y/N.

It was nothing obvious. No outright blame. But Y/N felt the growing distance, the subtle shift in the way her teammates interacted with her. They weren’t angry, not openly. But there was something in the way they moved around her now, a hesitation in their movements, as if they no longer fully trusted her to make the right decision on the ball.

When Y/N joined the next possession drill, Alessia caught her eye. Y/N raised a hand, signaling for the pass. She hesitated, her body language stiff, before turning and passing to Katie instead.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. There it is again, she thought. It was happening more frequently now—little moments of hesitation, like they didn’t believe she could handle the pressure. And it wasn’t just Alessia. Kim, the ever reliable captain, even showed a flicker of reluctance when Y/N was in a tight spot.

It wasn’t malicious. No one was purposefully shutting her out. It was more instinctual—an unconscious decision to avoid risk, to play it safe. And in their minds, Y/N was starting to represent that risk.

As the training session wound down, they moved into a full-pitch game. Y/N was determined to prove herself, to shake off this creeping doubt and show her teammates they could trust her again. But every time she tried to make herself available for the ball, there was an invisible wall between her and the rest of the team.

At one point, she found herself in acres of space on the left flank. She waved her arms, calling for the ball. Stina had it, and Y/N was the obvious option. But instead of playing the pass, she turned in the opposite direction, playing a shorter, safer ball back to the defense.

Y/N stopped in her tracks, feeling her chest tighten. It wasn’t just hesitation now. It was avoidance. They didn’t trust her.

The game continued, but Y/N couldn’t focus. Her mind was racing, replaying every moment from training. It was like a million tiny fractures forming around her, each subtle action another crack in the trust she had been working so hard to build.

By the end of the session, Y/N was exhausted—not from the physical exertion, but from the weight of what she had noticed. The trust her teammates had once shown her so freely was no longer there. It was fragile, slipping away with every subconscious decision they made on the pitch. And they probably didn’t even realize they were doing it.

As they walked off the pitch, Y/N lingered behind, staring at her boots, her mind swirling with doubt. She could feel the distance growing between her and the rest of the team, and she wasn’t sure how to bridge the gap.

She thought back to Leah’s words from before—we trust you—but now, those words felt hollow. The truth was staring her in the face. The team didn’t trust her anymore. And the worst part was, she wasn’t sure if she trusted herself either.

Y/N stood in front of the mirror in the Arsenal locker room, her hands gripping the edge of the sink as she stared at her reflection. Dark circles lingered beneath her eyes, a testament to sleepless nights spent agonizing over every touch, every mistake, every moment where her teammates had chosen to pass to someone else instead of her. The subtle rejections, the subconscious actions that screamed they didn’t trust her—it was all too much.

She had tried to brush it off, to tell herself it wasn’t a big deal. But the doubt festered. She had poured her heart into this team, but they had slowly started pulling away from her, treating her like she was a liability, not an asset.

Not anymore.

Today, something snapped inside her. She was done waiting for their approval, done trying to rebuild trust that had crumbled in ways she couldn’t even control. If they didn’t believe in her, she would show them exactly what she was capable of without needing their validation.

She shoved her locker closed with a loud clang, ignoring the curious glances thrown her way by a few of her teammates. Leah looked like she was about to say something, but Y/N didn’t give her a chance. She strode past her, pulling her jacket tighter as she headed out to the training pitch. There was no room for conversation today.

No room for anything but cold, ruthless focus.

From the moment the whistle blew to start the warm-up, Y/N was a different player. Gone was the hesitation, the doubt that had clung to her every movement. Instead, there was a sharpness in her eyes, an edge to her game that none of her teammates had seen before.

During possession drills, she moved with precision, cutting through defenders like they weren’t even there. When the ball came her way, she didn’t wait for approval. She didn’t care about making the safe play. Every pass was crisp, every touch was purposeful, and every shot was hit with venom.

Katie, usually quick with a joke or a snide remark, felt the sting of Y/N’s newfound intensity. During a one-on-one duel, Y/N drove past her with ease, leaving Katie stumbling in her wake. Instead of the usual banter that followed, Y/N didn’t even look back. She kept moving, eyes focused on the next target.

"Alright, Y/N, calm down," she muttered under her breath, but there was no real heat in her voice. She was unnerved, like the rest of them.

It wasn’t just Katie. In a scrimmage, Alessia found herself outmuscled by Y/N, who bulldozed past her to fire a shot into the top corner. Alessia frowned, jogging back as Y/N turned away without celebration, her expression icy.

Even Leah, who had always been Y/N’s closest ally, noticed the shift. When she tried to give a piece of tactical advice, Y/N brushed her off, barely sparing her a glance. “I’ve got it,” Y/N said flatly, cutting off any attempt at friendly instruction. Leah blinked in surprise, unsure of what to say.

Training became a battleground, and Y/N was at the center of it all—uncompromising, ruthless, and unwilling to let anyone stand in her way. She played every drill as if it were a final, every duel as if it were personal. And it worked. Her teammates, once hesitant to pass her the ball, started giving it to her again—but it wasn’t out of trust. It was out of fear.

By the end of the session, the team gathered around the coach for final instructions, but Y/N stood apart, her arms crossed, eyes distant. She could feel the unease settling in around her, could see the way her teammates exchanged glances when they thought she wasn’t looking. They were confused. They didn’t understand where this version of Y/N had come from.

The truth was, she didn’t care if they understood. They had pushed her aside, made her feel like she didn’t belong. Now, she was taking control.

As they broke for the locker room, Leah jogged up beside her. “Y/N, you alright? You were… intense out there today.”

Y/N didn’t slow down. “I’m fine,” she replied curtly, her voice lacking any warmth.

Leah frowned, clearly unsettled by the change in her demeanor. “Look, I know things have been rough, but we’re a team. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N stopped, turning to face her with a cold, hard stare. “A team?” she repeated, bitterness lacing her words. “Funny, I didn’t feel like part of the team when you all stopped passing to me. When you decided I wasn’t good enough.”

Leah opened her mouth to respond, but Y/N didn’t give her the chance.

“Save it,” Y/N said, her voice low and sharp. “I don’t need your pity, and I don’t need your trust anymore. I’m done waiting for you all to decide I’m worth it.”

Without another word, Y/N turned on her heel and walked away, leaving Leah standing there, speechless.

The next few days passed in a blur of cold stares and silence. Y/N threw herself into every training session with the same brutal intensity, shutting everyone out. The team, sensing the shift, began to tread carefully around her. The friendliness returned—Alessia tried striking up conversations, Katie offered her usual teasing remarks, and Leah went out of her way to compliment Y/N’s play. But Y/N ignored it all.

She was done playing their games.

During a team meeting, Kim passed her a bottle of water with a small smile, but Y/N took it without even acknowledging her. The tension was palpable. The more Y/N distanced herself, the more her teammates tried to reach out—but it was too late. She wasn’t interested in their sudden friendliness, not after they had shut her out when she needed them most.

On the pitch, Y/N was a force to be reckoned with. No one dared question her decisions anymore. She was playing with the kind of confidence that didn’t require validation from anyone else. But off the pitch, she was unreachable. Every attempt to joke, to lighten the mood, was met with icy indifference. She had built a wall, and she wasn’t letting anyone through.

The team, once so close-knit, was beginning to fracture, and Y/N could see it in their eyes. They wanted things to go back to normal. They wanted the old Y/N back—the one who laughed with them, joked with them, leaned on them.

But that Y/N was gone.

The next game came, and Y/N walked onto the pitch with the same cold determination she had carried into training. She didn’t hear the crowd, didn’t see the banners or feel the weight of the expectations. All she knew was that she was there to do her job, and she would do it without looking back.

She didn’t need their trust anymore. She had her own.

The stadium was buzzing with anticipation as Y/N stepped out of the tunnel, the familiar roar of the crowd hitting her like a wall. But this time, the noise wasn’t for her. It was against her.

Booing.

Loud, relentless, and piercing. The sound echoed in her ears, like a knife twisting in her gut. As Y/N walked onto the pitch, her heart pounded—not from nerves, but from the searing burn of betrayal.

It wasn’t just the boos. The fans were chanting, harsh words spilling from their mouths, voices full of venom. She could hear it all.

“OVERRATED!”

“BENCH WARMER!”

“WASTE OF MONEY!”

Her jaw tightened, but she kept walking, eyes forward, refusing to let the weight of their hatred drag her down. It wasn’t the first time she had felt like an outsider. But this time, it stung worse than ever, because these were supposed to be her fans. The ones who had cheered her name when she first arrived. The ones who had celebrated her goals. Now, they were tearing her apart.

Her teammates exchanged nervous glances, clearly feeling the tension in the air. Leah moved closer to her, like she wanted to say something, but Y/N brushed past her. There was no point in talking. Not anymore.

She didn’t need anyone’s comfort. Not from her teammates. Not from the fans.

As the match kicked off, Y/N felt the tension in every muscle, like a coiled spring ready to snap. The ball zipped across the field, but for the first few minutes, it was hard to focus. The boos still rang in her ears, cutting deep. She could feel the eyes of the crowd on her, waiting for her to slip up, waiting for her to prove them right.

But she wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.

It started with a subtle shift—a quick turn on the ball, shaking off a defender with ease. Then, a sharp pass that split the midfield open, setting up a dangerous attack. And then, when the ball came her way again, she sprinted down the wing, faster and sharper than she had in weeks.

She was done playing with doubt.

By the 30th minute, Y/N had transformed the game. She was everywhere—breaking up play, threading impossible passes, cutting through defenders like they weren’t even there. Her touch was magnetic, pulling the ball toward her with a kind of grace and aggression that no one could ignore.

The crowd’s boos had softened. She could feel it—the shift in the atmosphere as the fans started to realize what they were witnessing. But she didn’t care. She wasn’t playing for them.

With ten minutes left in the first half, Y/N found herself at the edge of the box, surrounded by defenders. The crowd held its breath as she glanced up, eyes scanning the field with laser focus. And then she made her move—one swift cut to the left, leaving two defenders trailing behind, before curling a shot around the keeper and into the far corner of the net.

The stadium erupted into cheers, the same voices that had been jeering her now roaring her name.

But Y/N didn’t react. No fist pumps. No celebratory screams. No running toward the fans like she might have done before. Instead, she stood in place, her chest rising and falling with steady breaths as the noise washed over her.

And then she turned to the crowd—slowly, deliberately.

With one hand, Y/N pressed her index finger to her lips in a quiet, commanding gesture. The "Speak Now" celebration. Silence. She was demanding their silence.

The fans, mid-cheer, faltered, the shift in her expression unmistakable. It wasn’t a celebration. It was a statement.

She had heard them. She had felt every one of their insults, their boos, their taunts. And she had answered with her performance.

But she didn’t need their approval. She didn’t need their cheers now that she was winning.

The second half began, and Y/N played with the same intensity. The crowd was fully behind her now, cheering with every touch, every pass, every sprint down the wing. But she didn’t acknowledge it.

She didn’t need their validation.

Another assist, another goal, and yet she never once lifted her head to thank the crowd. Even when her teammates tried to pull her into celebrations, she shrugged them off, cold and distant. Her focus was razor-sharp, her mind locked on the game.

The final whistle blew, and Arsenal walked away with a hard-fought victory. The crowd was on their feet, chanting her name now, the same fans who had booed her at the start of the match. They wanted her to soak it in, to smile, to give them the satisfaction of seeing her return their admiration.

But Y/N didn’t even glance their way.

She walked off the pitch as if the noise didn’t exist, her face a mask of stone. Her teammates crowded around her, full of congratulations and praise, but she barely acknowledged them.

It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate her team’s efforts or the win. It was that everything—the trust, the loyalty, the connection—felt hollow now. The boos had cut too deep, the doubt too heavy to shake. She had proven her point, but there was no satisfaction in it. Not from them.

And so, as the cheers rained down from the stands, Y/N kept walking, never once looking back.

The atmosphere in the press room was electric as journalists shuffled in, eager to catch the latest buzz about the upcoming friendly match between England and the USA. Y/N and Sarina sat at the long table, flanked by the team, but she could feel the tension in the air. The media had a way of inflating situations, and today was no different.

Emma Hayes, the newly appointed head coach of the USWNT, sat on the other end of the table Y/N, a self-assured smile on her face. Y/N had always respected Emma’s coaching prowess, but today she could feel the underlying edge in the air, especially as Emma turned her gaze toward her.

“Y/N, your recent performance against Arsenal has sparked a lot of discussions,” one journalist began. “Emma, do you think her confidence is misplaced, given how she has been booed by her own fans?”

Hayes leaned forward, her expression sharp. “Look, I think she’s a talented player, sure. But let’s not kid ourselves. Those goals she scored were lucky. Cockiness doesn’t win matches. We’ll see how she performs against a team that’s been world-class for years.”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle, her laughter echoing lightly through the room. The tension seemed to dissolve for just a moment as she leaned into the mic. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see,” she replied, a playful smirk on her lips. The journalists exchanged glances, half-amused, half-nervous at her nonchalance in the face of Emma’s sharp words.

As the day of the match arrived, the stadium was packed with fans from both sides, the buzz of excitement palpable. Y/N stood in the locker room, her heart racing—not with anxiety, but with determination. She was ready to show everyone, especially Emma, that her skill was no fluke.

The whistle blew, and the game kicked off. From the first touch, Y/N felt the rhythm of the match, moving fluidly with the ball at her feet. The USWNT players were fierce, but Y/N was more than prepared. The first half was intense, with chances flying from both sides. Y/N was quick, agile, and fierce, darting past defenders like a shadow.

Then it happened.

In the 30th minute, Y/N found herself on the edge of the box. The ball came to her, and with a quick glance at the goal, she unleashed a stunning strike that soared into the net, leaving Naeher no chance.

The crowd erupted, and Y/N didn’t just run to her teammates. Instead, she turned to face the USA bench, locking eyes with Emma. A wide smile spread across her face, and she raised her arms in a triumphant celebration, soaking in the cheers of the fans while pointedly ignoring the coach.

“Lucky shot!” Emma mouthed from the sidelines, but Y/N just waved her off, a confident grin on her face.

The game continued, and Y/N was in the zone. Her movements were precise, her decision-making sharp. She danced around defenders, threading through the tightest spaces. And soon enough, she added another goal to her tally—a beautiful header from a corner kick that flew past the keeper.

With each goal, she celebrated more emphatically in front of Emma, reveling in the chance to prove her wrong. After her second goal, she took a moment to blow a kiss toward the US bench, her laughter echoing across the pitch.

“Still lucky?” she mouthed playfully, her heart racing with adrenaline.

The score was now 3-1, and the game was slipping away from the USA. Y/N was relentless, and with fifteen minutes left, she found the ball at her feet yet again. This time, she maneuvered past two defenders before slotting the ball into the bottom corner of the net, her third goal of the match.

The crowd was deafening, a mix of cheers and chants for the England team. Y/N turned to Emma once more, her finger to her lips in that familiar “shh” gesture.

“Guess I’m just lucky,” she called out, a playful wink accompanying her taunt.

By the end of the match, Y/N had scored three goals, leading England to a convincing 4-2 victory. As the final whistle blew, she couldn’t help but beam with pride, the weight of Emma’s earlier comments now nonexistent.

Walking off the pitch, she was met with applause from teammates and fans alike. As Y/N approached the USA bench, she stopped in front of Emma, who looked slightly taken aback by the impressive performance.

“Did you see that, Emma?” Y/N asked, her voice dripping with playful confidence. “I guess my luck worked out today.”

Emma raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms but unable to hide a smirk. “Well played, Y/N. But don’t get too cocky; there’s always a rematch.”

With that, Y/N turned away, laughter bubbling up inside her as she walked toward her teammates, the thrill of victory fueling her every step. She had come to camp to show that she could rise above the doubts and criticisms, and she had done just that—proving, without a doubt, that she was a force to be reckoned with.

The training ground buzzed with excitement as the England team prepared for their next match. Y/N stood a little apart from the others, a mix of anticipation and caution swirling in her stomach. Being back in the camp meant being around her Arsenal teammates, and while she had felt the thrill of victory just days before against the USA, there was still an unspoken tension between them.

After that game, Y/N had celebrated her performance and her ability to rise above their earlier doubts, but deep down, she knew that her relationship with her teammates was still fragile. It was easy to brush off the boos from the crowd, but the weight of her teammates’ previous actions lingered like a ghost at the back of her mind.

“Y/N! Come join us!” Lucy called, her voice bright and inviting as she waved her over to a small group gathered around a table.

Y/N hesitated. Memories of their earlier interactions flooded back—how they had once seemed so united, and how quickly those bonds had frayed. She could see Leah, Alessia, and Beth chatting animatedly, laughter spilling from their lips, and for a moment, Y/N’s heart ached to be part of it. But the echoes of doubt reminded her to tread carefully.

“Hey, just grabbing some water!” Y/N called back, forcing a smile as she took a step away from the group. The last thing she wanted was to fall back into old patterns, to let herself get too close too soon.

After training, Y/N found herself lingering at the edge of the pitch, watching as her teammates shared inside jokes and playful banter. Leah caught her gaze and smiled, her expression warm and genuine. Y/N felt a flicker of longing but quickly smothered it. They had all said things—things that had hurt her—and trust was something that would take time to rebuild.

“Y/N!” Leah jogged over, her breath coming in quick bursts. “Are you joining us for lunch?”

“Maybe later,” Y/N replied, her tone light but her heart heavy. “I want to go over some drills first.”

“Come on, we’d love to have you!” Leah pressed, her eyes hopeful.

Y/N knew Leah meant well, but the offer felt suffocating. She couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite the smiles and apologies, her teammates were still subconsciously doubting her. “I just need a bit of space to clear my head,” she added, trying to soften the rejection.

Leah’s smile faltered for a moment, but she nodded. “Alright, but we miss you, Y/N. Just remember that.”

As Leah walked back to the group, Y/N felt the familiar mix of guilt and resolve. She missed them too, but keeping them at arm’s length felt like the only way to protect herself right now.

Later that evening, the team gathered for a meeting in their accommodations. The atmosphere was light, filled with laughter and chatter as the coaches outlined their strategy for the upcoming match. Y/N sat at the back, her heart racing as she tried to focus on the plans laid out before them.

When the discussion shifted to team bonding, Alessia looked around, her eyes landing on Y/N. “What about a game night later? We could all use a bit of fun!”

Y/N felt a surge of warmth at the suggestion, but she quickly reminded herself of her boundaries. “Sounds great, but I might skip out tonight,” she said, forcing a casual tone. “I have some things to catch up on.”

Tooney tilted her head, a teasing smile dancing on her lips. “You’re always ‘catching up’ on something, Y/N. Come on, just for a little while?”

It would be so easy to say yes, to slip back into the comfort of friendship and camaraderie. But Y/N felt the walls she had built around herself tighten, the need for self-preservation overshadowing her longing for connection.

“Maybe next time,” she said, her voice firm but gentle. “I just need a bit more time to get settled.”

As the night wore on, Y/N lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She felt torn—wanting to reconcile with her teammates but still needing to shield herself from further hurt.

After a while, she heard laughter and chatter in the hallway outside her room. It was her teammates, gathering for their game night. The sounds were inviting, but she remained resolute, knowing that jumping back into the fold too quickly could lead to old wounds reopening.

Yet, in that moment of solitude, she also felt a flicker of hope. Maybe there was a way to navigate this new dynamic—rebuilding trust slowly, one step at a time.

The next morning, during breakfast, Y/N made a tentative decision. She could at least acknowledge her teammates without fully immersing herself in their camaraderie just yet. As she joined the table, she greeted them with a smile, feeling the warmth of their presence.

“Hey, how was game night?” Y/N asked, her curiosity genuine.

“It was hilarious! You missed out on some epic moments,” Alessia replied, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Y/N allowed herself to laugh lightly, feeling the tension begin to ease. “I’ll catch the next one, promise.”

Leah beamed, and Beth leaned in closer. “Good! Just don’t leave us hanging next time, alright? We need our star charades player.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a flicker of warmth spread through her chest. The distance she maintained was still there, but it felt a bit softer. Perhaps she could find a balance—a way to keep her teammates at arm’s length while still allowing for the possibility of healing.

As the meal continued, Y/N remained engaged, listening to their stories and sharing light banter. She felt the barriers she had built slowly start to shift, the cracks allowing for a fragile connection to grow.

Maybe reconciliation didn’t have to mean complete vulnerability. It could be a dance, a careful waltz where trust was rebuilt step by step, and for now, that was enough.

---

The fluorescent lights of the Arsenal training facility felt harsh as Y/N entered the lounge, her mood buoyed by a solid training session. The sounds of laughter and chatter greeted her, but today, an unease settled in her chest. She had been meaning to talk to Leah, but every time she tried, the words got stuck in her throat. There was still an invisible barrier between them, one that neither seemed to know how to cross and Y/N missed her friend.

Y/N grabbed her phone, scrolling through her notifications absentmindedly. A new tweet caught her eye, and curiosity got the better of her. She clicked on it, her heart sinking as she recognized the page that had been gaining traction online. It was a cruel account that thrived on negativity, targeting players with biting insults and relentless mockery.

“Can you believe how overrated she is? Just one lucky game against the USA, and suddenly she thinks she’s the star of the team. Please.”

Y/N felt her stomach churn as she read through the comments, each one more brutal than the last. They mocked her skills, her personality, and her place in the team. It was disheartening, especially when all she wanted was to be seen and valued.

As she scrolled, something caught her attention. One tweet mentioned a moment that only one person knew about—something deeply personal she had confided in Leah during one of their late-night talks. It was a painful memory from her childhood, one that she had kept locked away, sharing only with someone she thought she could trust.

“Funny how she thinks she’s a part of this team when she can’t even handle the pressure. Remember that time she almost broke down after a practice? Guess she just can’t take the heat.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Anger surged through her, hotter than anything she had ever felt. How could someone know about that moment unless they were there? And the only person there was Leah.

“Leah?” Y/N whispered, her heart racing as realization dawned on her. The only person she had ever opened up to was Leah. A cold shiver ran down her spine. Was she behind this hate page? The betrayal felt like a sharp knife twisting in her gut.

With trembling fingers, she clicked on the profile. It was anonymous, of course, but the account had a familiar rhythm and tone, one that she recognized all too well. Her heart sank further as she began connecting the dots. Leah’s laughter, her playful teasing—it all felt different now, tainted by this newfound suspicion.

Y/N’s mind raced. Was Leah really behind this? Was she laughing at her, too?

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Y/N tried to focus during training, but every time Leah’s voice rang out, her blood boiled. She could feel Leah’s eyes on her, and it made her skin crawl. Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal looming like a dark cloud.

After training, she made her way to the locker room, determination settling in her bones. Y/N needed to confront Leah. She needed answers.

As she entered, the atmosphere was lively, with teammates joking and chatting, but Y/N felt like an outsider. Leah was at her locker, chatting animatedly with Katie, but when she noticed Y/N, her expression faltered slightly.

“Hey, Y/N! Great session today!” Leah called, forcing a smile.

Y/N felt a surge of anger at Leah’s false cheer. “We need to talk,” she said, her tone cold and flat.

Leah’s smile faded, replaced by confusion. “Uh, okay? What’s up?”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing heart. “I saw that page again.You know the won that keeps going viral with the troll tweets. And there was something in there… something I only told you.”

Leah’s brows knitted together, " I don't kn-" but before she could respond, Y/N pressed on. “You know what I’m talking about. How could someone else know that, if it wasn’t you? Either your telling someone and their writing this or your the dick behind the page. So, which one is it are you a gossip or are you just a bitch?"

The locker room fell silent, the laughter and chatter abruptly cut off as all eyes turned to them. Leah’s expression shifted from confusion to something deeper, a flicker of guilt that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Y/N, I—” Leah started, but Y/N cut her off, unable to bear the thought of excuses.

“No! You don’t get to explain. How could you? After everything we’ve been through, how could you betray me like this?”

The air was thick with tension. Y/N could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, the embarrassment of her feelings laid bare in front of their teammates.

Leah stepped closer, her voice low. “I swear I didn’t—”

“Then how? How could they know about something so personal unless you had something to do with it?” Y/N’s voice cracked, anger mixed with hurt.

“Y/N, listen. I would never do that to you,” Leah insisted, her eyes earnest. “You have to believe me. There are people out there who will twist your words, but I’m not one of them. I’ve got your back.”

But Y/N wasn’t convinced. “Do you? Because it feels like you’re just another person trying to bring me down.”

Leah’s expression shifted to frustration. “That’s not fair! You’re pushing me away, and now you’re making it seem like I’m the enemy when I’m just trying to help.”

Y/N shook her head, a mix of anger and sorrow swirling inside her. “You don’t get it, Leah. It’s hard for me to trust anyone, and especially someone I thought I could confide in.”

Silence fell heavy around them, and Y/N could see the hurt in Leah’s eyes. For a moment, the world faded away, leaving just the two of them and the pain that had grown between them.

“Y/N, I swear I didn’t say anything. Please believe me. We’re a team, and I want to be there for you,” Leah pleaded, stepping closer.

But Y/N took a step back, the distance between them feeling necessary. “I need time. Time to figure things out.”

With that, Y/N turned and walked out of the locker room, leaving behind the laughter and camaraderie that once felt like home. The weight of betrayal hung over her, and as she stepped into the cool air outside, she felt more alone than ever.

In the days that followed, Y/N struggled with the heaviness in her heart. The hate page was still active, and the words stung more than ever. Each cruel tweet felt like a dagger, but knowing that Leah could have been involved made it unbearable.

She maintained a distance from her teammates, especially Leah. While they tried to include her, Y/N kept her walls up, her trust shattered. The once-strong bonds felt like threads about to snap.

During training, Y/N poured all her anger into her performance, her determination becoming a shield against the hurt. But even as she excelled, the shadows of doubt lingered, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that Leah had betrayed her trust.

Maybe reconciliation would come with time, but for now, Y/N knew she had to protect herself, even if it meant facing the world alone because no matter what she knew she could only rely on herself.

---

The cool breeze swept through the streets of Barcelona, wrapping around Y/N as she stepped off the plane, her heart pounding with excitement and apprehension. It felt surreal to finally be here, ready to begin a new chapter of her life with FC Barcelona Femení. After months of heartache and distrust at Arsenal, she had made the easy decision to leave, believing that a fresh start was exactly what she needed.

As she arrived at the training facility, Y/N could feel the energy buzzing in the air. The place was a hive of activity—coaches shouting encouragement, players laughing and teasing each other as they prepared for the upcoming season. It was a stark contrast to the tension she had experienced at Arsenal, and Y/N felt a flicker of hope ignite within her.

“Welcome, Y/N!” a voice called out, and she turned to see the familiar face of her new coach, Pere Romeu. He approached her with a warm smile, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “We’ve been waiting for you. You’re going to love it here.”

Y/N returned the smile, feeling a sense of belonging start to settle in her chest. She had seen glimpses of the camaraderie within the team through videos and social media, but experiencing it firsthand was something entirely different.

As she entered the locker room, the atmosphere was lively. Teammates greeted her with open arms, welcoming her as if she had always been part of the squad. Each hug and friendly smile chipped away at the walls she had built around herself.

“Y/N! Finally!” said Aitana, pulling her into a tight embrace. “We’re so excited to have you here!”

“Yeah, it’s about time you joined us,” said Ingrid with a teasing grin. “Barcelona’s been waiting for your magic.”

Y/N laughed, her heart swelling with warmth. This was a team that valued her, and it felt refreshing after everything she had endured. As they settled into the day’s training session, Y/N found herself blending seamlessly into the rhythm of the squad. The drills were challenging yet invigorating, and the players pushed each other to be their best, encouraging her along the way.

During a break, Y/N sat with her new teammates, feeling the warmth of their camaraderie. The conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long while, she felt at ease.

“So, what do you think of the city so far?” asked Jana, the young winger with a vibrant smile and infectious energy.

“It’s beautiful,” Y/N replied, glancing around at the bustling atmosphere. “I can’t believe I’m finally here. It feels like a dream.”

“Just wait until you see the Camp Nou,” Jana said, her eyes lighting up with excitement. “It’s incredible. The fans are amazing. You’re going to love playing there.”

As they chatted, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Jana’s laughter made her heart race. There was something special about the way they connected, and Y/N felt a warmth bloom within her. But she quickly reminded herself to be cautious. After everything she had been through, it felt risky to let her guard down again.

The weeks rolled by, and Y/N continued to settle into life at Barcelona. The team had embraced her wholeheartedly, making her feel like an integral part of their family. She found herself laughing more, training harder, and genuinely enjoying the game again. It was a refreshing change from the suffocating atmosphere she had left behind.

Jana became a constant presence by her side, their bond growing stronger with each passing day. They shared jokes during training, worked together on drills, and celebrated each other’s successes. Y/N found herself looking forward to their moments together, her heart fluttering whenever Jana flashed her that brilliant smile.

“Hey, do you want to grab dinner after training?” Jana asked one day, her tone casual, but Y/N could see the spark of hope in her eyes.

“Sure, that sounds great,” Y/N replied, feeling a rush of excitement. “I’d love to.”

That evening, they found a cozy little restaurant tucked away in the streets of Barcelona. Over delicious tapas and laughter, Y/N felt the last of her walls crumble. Jana’s easy laughter and genuine curiosity about her life made her feel seen and valued in a way she hadn’t experienced in far too long.

“You know, I’m really glad you’re here,” Jana said, her voice softening. “You bring something special to this team.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the sincerity in Jana’s words. “I’m glad to be here too. I was nervous about starting fresh, but everyone has made it so easy.”

Their eyes locked for a moment, and Y/N felt a surge of emotions rushing to the surface. Could she really let someone in again? Could she risk the possibility of heartbreak?

“Y/N,” Jana began, her expression turning serious, “I know this might be too soon, but I feel like we have a connection. I like you, and I want to get to know you better. Would you—”

Before Jana could finish, Y/N felt a rush of warmth flood her cheeks. “I like you too,” she admitted, her heart racing. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to say it.”

A wide smile spread across Jana’s face, lighting up the dimly lit restaurant. “Really? I thought I was going to have to convince you.”

Y/N laughed, her worries dissipating. “No convincing needed. I just… I was scared. But I want to see where this goes.”

They continued to talk, the evening slipping away unnoticed as they shared stories and dreams, laughter echoing through the air. As they walked back, hand in hand, Y/N felt a sense of hope and excitement. The walls she had built around her heart were finally crumbling, replaced by something beautiful and promising.

The next day, Y/N stepped onto the pitch at Camp Nou for the first time, her heart swelling with pride and anticipation. The stadium was a sea of blue and garnet, the fans chanting in unison. The energy was electric, and as she took her place among her teammates, she felt a rush of belonging.

With every touch of the ball, Y/N felt freer than she ever had before. The love and support from her new team poured into her, fueling her performance. Each pass, each run, felt like a celebration of her new beginning.

As the game progressed, the cheers from the crowd washed over her, a stark contrast to the boos she had once faced. This time, she was embraced by love and acceptance, and it felt like coming home.

After scoring her first goal, Y/N couldn’t help but run towards the stands, raising her arms in celebration. The crowd erupted, chanting her name. In that moment, she knew she had made the right choice. She was no longer defined by her past, but by the love and trust she was building here in Barcelona.

As the final whistle blew, Y/N joined her teammates in the center of the pitch, laughter and joy filling the air. Jana wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. “I knew you’d shine here,” she said, her voice filled with pride.

Y/N smiled, feeling the warmth of friendship and love enveloping her. “Thank you for being here, for believing in me.”

They stood together, basking in the joy of the moment, surrounded by teammates and fans who had welcomed her with open arms. Y/N had finally found her place, her new family, and with Jana by her side, she was ready to embrace whatever the future held.

---

The atmosphere at the Emirates Stadium was electric as Arsenal prepared to face FC Barcelona in the UEFA Women’s Champions League. Fans filled the stands, a sea of red and white waving flags, and the air buzzed with excitement and anticipation. For Y/N, it was a match fraught with mixed emotions. On one hand, she was thrilled to be back at the stadium where she had spent so many seasons; on the other, she knew that her former team was about to face a Barcelona squad that had embraced her fully since her transfer.

As the whistle blew to start the match, Y/N took her position on the pitch, feeling the weight of expectations from both sets of fans. Arsenal’s supporters had always been a source of pride, but she could feel the tension building among her former teammates. The first half was grueling, with Barcelona quickly demonstrating their dominance. Y/N played fiercely, but it was clear that the synergy of her new team was unmatched.

With each goal that slipped past Arsenal’s defense, Y/N felt a pang of sympathy for her old teammates. The score climbed higher, reaching a staggering 10-0 by the final whistle. Y/N scored three goals herself, her joy tempered by the sheer humiliation of the scoreline. The cheers from the Barcelona fans were a stark contrast to the silence that enveloped the Arsenal supporters.

As the teams shook hands after the match, Y/N noticed Leah Williamson, her former friend, standing a few feet away, looking utterly defeated. The tension in the air was palpable. Leah’s eyes flickered over to Y/N, and for a moment, there was a mix of resentment and longing.

Y/N approached Leah, her heart racing. She had spent so long trying to rebuild her self-worth, and now, in the aftermath of such a humiliating defeat, she felt a surge of confidence. “Looks like you could use some practice on the pitch,” Y/N said, a smirk creeping onto her lips. “I mean, ten goals? Even I didn’t think you could be this generous.”

Leah’s expression shifted from surprise to anger, her fists clenching at her sides. “That was a team effort, Y/N,” she replied sharply, her tone laced with frustration. “Don’t think this is all on me.”

Y/N’s smirk widened, sensing Leah’s vulnerability. “But you were the captain, weren’t you? I guess leading your team to a double-digit loss really takes a toll on your leadership skills.”

The words stung, and Y/N saw the hurt flash across Leah’s face. For a brief moment, she regretted her harshness, but the adrenaline from the match kept her bravado intact. Leah opened her mouth to retort, but Y/N cut her off.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect much from you. But hey, at least I finally got to officially score a few goals against you,” Y/N added, the edge in her voice almost triumphant.

Leah’s eyes narrowed, her posture stiffening. “You think you’re so clever now, don’t you? Just remember, you’re not as untouchable as you think.”

“Touché,” Y/N replied, raising an eyebrow. “But I guess this proves that the grass really is greener on the other side, doesn’t it?”

With that, Y/N turned on her heel, walking away from Leah, leaving her former vice-captain standing alone amidst the chaos of post-match interviews and congratulatory shouts from her new teammates. She could hear the echo of Leah’s frustration behind her, but she didn’t turn back.

As she joined her Barcelona teammates, celebrating the victory, Y/N felt a mix of satisfaction and sadness. The rivalry was fierce, but she had finally stepped into her power, leaving the past behind her.

---

It was that time of the year again international duty and the atmosphere at England’s training camp was usually vibrant, filled with laughter and camaraderie as players prepared for their upcoming matches. However, today felt heavy, charged with unspoken words and brewing animosities. Y/N and Leah had been circling around each other all week, their past unresolved and emotions simmering beneath the surface.

During a break in training, Leah made a comment that set Y/N off. “You know, if you spent half as much time focusing on the team as you do on your Instagram following, maybe we’d actually win something,” Leah said, her tone dripping with disdain.

Y/N whipped around, eyes blazing. “Oh, please. At least I have accomplishments to celebrate. You should try winning sometimes instead of hiding behind your club legacy like a shield.”

Leah stepped forward, her frustration palpable. “You think it’s easy? Being the one everyone looks to when things go wrong? You’re just too wrapped up in your own world to see that.”

“Wrapped up? Is that what you call it? Because I call it self-preservation,” Y/N shot back, her voice rising. “I mean, let’s not pretend like you haven’t spent your fair share of time trying to tear me down behind the scenes. How’s that secret hate page working out for you, Leah? Oh wait, you wouldn’t know. It’s not like I told you about it.”

Sarina, looked over from where she was chatting with another coach. She noticed the escalating tension and approached the two players. “What’s going on here?” she asked, her voice calm yet firm.

“Nothing,” Leah snapped, crossing her arms defensively.

Y/N scoffed. “Oh, it’s definitely something, Sarina. Leah here seems to think she can criticize my focus while she’s been busy playing the victim. I mean, it must be exhausting being the team’s emotional punching bag.”

“Emotional punching bag? Really?” Leah’s voice shook with anger. “You have no idea what it’s like to carry the weight of this team on your shoulders. You think you can just waltz in, score a few goals, and suddenly you’re god?”

“Waltz in? That’s rich coming from you. How about I just return the favor for all the snide remarks and backhanded comments you’ve thrown my way? This is what you wanted, right? A little taste of your own medicine?” Y/N countered, a cruel smile on her lips.

Sarina stepped in, sensing the need to de-escalate the situation. “Both of you, enough. We’re here to prepare for our upcoming matches, not to air grievances. Y/N, Leah, take a step back. You’re both valuable players, but this isn’t helping anyone.”

Y/N folded her arms, refusing to back down. “I’m just calling it like I see it, Sarina. Leah acts like she’s so above it all, but the truth is, she’s just petty. She has no right to throw stones when she’s living in a glass house.”

Leah’s cheeks flushed with anger, but she remained silent, clearly struggling to find a response. Sarina continued, “Y/N, if you have an issue, you need to address it in a constructive way. Leah, you need to step back and consider how your words affect your teammates. This isn’t just about you anymore.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her defiance softening slightly. “Constructive? Like how Leah constructs her little narratives about me? I’m just giving her a taste of her own medicine.”

“Enough!” Sarina said sharply, drawing the attention of the other players nearby. “You both need to put this behind you. We’re a team, and right now, it seems like you’re more focused on tearing each other down than working together.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, finally stepping back. “Fine, whatever. I’ll keep my distance. Seems like that’s what you want anyway, Leah.”

Leah glared, but the fire in her eyes began to dim. “I didn’t ask for this, Y/N. You’re the one making it personal.”

“Personal? Oh, it’s definitely personal now,” Y/N said, a bitter smile crossing her lips. “But don’t worry, I won’t let your insecurities ruin my game. I’ll just make sure to keep winning while you wallow in your own self pity.”

With that, Y/N turned and walked away, the tension still thick in the air. Sarina watched her go, a frown etched on her face. The camp had enough challenges without internal conflicts tearing them apart.

As Y/N walked away, she could hear Leah muttering something under her breath, but she refused to turn back. This was her moment to stand her ground, even if it meant losing a friendship in the process.

“Good luck carrying that weight, Leah,” she called over her shoulder, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”

The atmosphere in the England camp had been tense since the blow-up between Y/N and Leah. Sarina had taken time to consider the situation, and the repercussions were about to unfold. As players prepared for the upcoming friendly against Spain, the weight of unspoken tensions lingered in the air.

Y/N was sitting in the lounge, scrolling through her phone, when Sarina entered the room with a serious expression. “Y/N, can I have a word?” she said, gesturing for Y/N to follow her to a quieter corner.

“Sure,” Y/N replied, her stomach twisting with unease.

Once they were away from prying ears, Sarina crossed her arms. “I’ve spoken with the coaching staff about your altercation with Leah,” she began, her tone firm but not unkind. “While I understand your frustrations, your behavior was unacceptable. I need to maintain a cohesive team environment, especially as we head into an important match against Spain.”

Y/N felt her heart race, the earlier argument replaying in her mind. “So what? You’re just going to punish me and let Leah walk away scot-free?”

“Leah is the captain. She was trying to keep the team united. She’s been through a lot and is trying to lead,” Sarina replied. “I’m giving you a one-match suspension. You won’t be playing against Spain.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped in disbelief. “You can’t be serious! This is ridiculous! Leah instigated it! You can’t just let her off the hook like this.”

“Y/N,” Sarina said sharply, “This is about maintaining discipline. You can choose to see this as unfair, but I need you to focus on the team. This is not just about you.”

Feeling a surge of anger and betrayal, Y/N’s voice dropped, her words laced with resentment. “Fine. If you think I’m the problem, then I’ll take my problems elsewhere.” Without waiting for a response, Y/N stormed out of the room, her heart pounding in her chest.

An hour later, as the team gathered for the pre-game meeting, Y/N made a decision that shocked even herself. She would withdraw from international duty entirely. She sent a quick message to Sarina and the coaching staff, stating her intent to leave. She packed her belongings and headed out of the hotel, her heart heavy but resolute.

As she stepped into the bright lights of the stadium, she found a spot among the crowd, far from the field where her teammates were warming up. She pulled on the Spain jersey that Jana had gifted her during one of their dates, the bright red fabric feeling both foreign and comforting. It was a bold statement, and she felt a rush of defiance as she settled into her seat.

The match kicked off, and Y/N watched with a mix of emotions. Her former teammates were battling on the field, and every time Leah made a play, Y/N felt a pang of conflict—anger mixed with a sense of longing. The fans around her cheered and jeered, the energy of the game intoxicating. Yet, she felt strangely detached, her heart pounding not just for the game but for what she had left behind.

As the game progressed, Y/N couldn’t help but cheer for Spain even though she loved playing for England, England didn't love her. But she loved Jana played for Spain and Y/N loved her and she loved Y/N. It was exhilarating to be on this side of the field, free from the pressures of being in the squad. Every goal scored by Spain felt like a release, and she found herself shouting and celebrating as if she were one of their players. The rush of adrenaline filled her as she threw her arms up with the crowd, feeling a sense of liberation wash over her.

Throughout the match, she caught glimpses of Leah on the field, the captain doing her best to rally her team. But as the minutes ticked by, Y/N felt the bitter taste of betrayal lingering in her mouth. It was not just Sarina’s decision that hurt, but the realization that Leah, who had once been a close friend, was now part of a system that had betrayed her.

By the time the final whistle blew, signaling a hard-fought victory for Spain, Y/N felt a complex mix of emotions. She had made her choice, but now she was left with the consequences. As she watched the celebration unfold on the pitch, she knew that this was a pivotal moment for her—one that might change the course of her career and friendships forever.

“Looks like I made the right choice after all,” she muttered under her breath, the vibrant red of the Spain jersey standing out against the sea of England colors around her. “Let’s see how they handle this.”

With that thought, Y/N settled back into her seat, ready to embrace whatever came next.

As the final whistle echoed through the stadium, Y/N felt a rush of exhilaration. The Spanish team was celebrating their well-deserved victory, and she was ready to join in the festivities. She spotted Jana, her girlfriend, amidst the throng players calling friends and family down to the field. The sight of her made Y/N’s heart swell with a warmth she hadn’t felt in a long time.

With a grin, Y/N pushed her way through the jubilant crowd, joining Jana and their friends. “Did you see that goal?” Jana laughed, her eyes sparkling. “I swear, I could have scored that one blindfolded!”

Y/N chuckled, playfully rolling her eyes. “You mean like Y/N did with Arsenal last season?” Salma quipped.

“Hey now, let’s not dredge up old traumas,” Y/N replied with a mock frown. “Today is a day for celebrating my favourite team, remember?”

“favourite team, huh? Is that what we’re calling it now?” Jana teased, nudging Y/N with her shoulder. “I think I like the sound of that.”

As the Spanish players began to gather for photos, Y/N felt a sense of belonging that had eluded her for so long. She joined in, posing with Jana and their friends, all laughter and smiles. The atmosphere was electric, filled with camaraderie and joy, a stark contrast to the tension she had left behind with the England team.

But just as Y/N was about to snap a group selfie, she caught sight of Leah across the pitch, flanked by a few other English players. Leah’s expression was a mix of anger and disbelief as she watched Y/N embrace her new life so freely. Y/N felt a thrill of defiance course through her.

“Hey, look who it is,” Y/N called out, raising her phone in Leah’s direction, a cheeky grin plastered on her face. “Do you want to join us for a picture? I’m sure you could use a few tips on how to have fun!”

Leah’s face flushed with irritation as she marched over, her teammates trailing behind her. “Y/N, this is pathetic,” Leah snapped, her voice rising above the celebrations. “You’re acting like you're actually on that team. You didn’t even give us a chance to explain.”

Y/N crossed her arms, maintaining her playful demeanor. “Oh, come on, Leah. You can’t be this upset over a little fun. Don’t you have your own fans to focus on?” She gestured to the scattering of England supporters still lingering near the bench.

Leah stepped closer, her frustration boiling over. “This is serious. You think it’s easy to see a teammate celebrating with the enemy? You’ve turned your back on us!”

“Teammate? Is that what we were?” Y/N shot back, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Seems more like we were just coworkers who barely knew each other.”

Just then, Alexia approached, her presence commanding. She had been watching the exchange with an amused smile. “Oh, Leah,” she interjected, her tone playful yet authoritative. “You should know by now that if a bird wants to leave the flock, you don’t chase after them. You let them fly, especially if they’ve found a better nest.”

Leah opened her mouth to retort, but Alexia continued smoothly, “Besides, you wouldn’t want to throw a tantrum in front of the fans, now would you? That’s a pretty bad look for a captain.”

A hush fell over the surrounding group, and Y/N couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “That’s right, Leah. Maybe take notes from a real captain on how to handle this gracefully,” she quipped, relishing the moment.

Leah’s expression turned to one of barely contained fury, and she took a step back, realizing she was outmatched not just by Y/N but now by Alexia too. “Whatever,” Leah finally muttered, turning on her heel and marching away with her teammates, who looked just as bewildered.

Y/N watched Leah retreat, her heart racing. There was a strange mix of triumph and sorrow in her chest. “Wow, Alexia,” she said, grinning. “That was amazing.”

Alexia shrugged with a smirk. “Just watching out for our own, right? And besides, you deserve to celebrate the win without the baggage of your old team.”

Jana squeezed Y/N’s hand, her eyes shining with admiration. “I knew you’d fit right in with us.”

With that, the group burst into laughter again, the earlier tension fading into the background. Y/N felt free, unburdened by the shadows of her past. She was ready to embrace whatever came next, knowing she had found her place among her new teammates—and in Jana’s arms. Bound by more than trust, bound by love.

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The End

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lucy holding ona's waist is cute yesyes but what did keira have to tell her that she didn't want on camera 😭 (via dazn)