#Olympics Barcelona

[booksinantwerp]

Issey Miyake's Lithuania Olympic uniform, 1992 The result consisted of a hooded jacket made with random pleats, T-shirt, silver pants, cap, and shoes. The jacket included a collar with the national flag and name on it, it can be turned into a hood when fastened at the neck. A patchwork pattern of the Olympics logo, flag and country name was created in a width several times larger than the desired one prior to pleating to account for the contraction in width during pleating. Picture of an editorial from ARENA No.35, 1992 follow on Instagram for more

[pitchsidestories]

golden girl II Alexia Putellas x Jenni Hermoso x Reader

masterlist I word count: 1732

a/n: as always this is just fiction, your feedback is always welcome. We saw that other people recently wrote fics with a similar topic and just wanted to clarify that we had the idea while writing one night in ibiza, so all similarities are purely coincidental.❤️

You watched from behind the camera as Alexia carried a football and set herself up to take a free kick. The ball spun through the air and landed perfectly in the top right corner of the goal.

You beamed.

This would make a nice video for the Spanish national teams social media sites.

As Alexia proudly turned towards the camera, her eyes met yours for a brief moment. She smiled, suddenly all flustered.

You held back a laugh to not ruin the video. Only once the recording stopped, you said: “Well done, babe!“

Alexias smile grew wider and you could have sworn the she even blushed.

“Ew!“, Jenni commented from somewhere behind you.

You turned to see her grimace in mock disgust.

Alexia barely glanced at her: “Shut it, Jenni.“

“No.“, the dark-haired player replied quickly and determinedly, similar to a stubborn child.

“Ignore her.“, you laughed as Alexia walked towards you and pulled you in by the waist for a kiss. Her gaze was still directed towards Jenni.

“Stop making out.“, she said and wrinkled her nose, repulsed by the showcase of affection.

Alexia only smirked at her: “I’m sorry but this point goes to me.“

“Whatever.“, Jenni rolled her eyes.

You were well acquainted with their bickering. They were both so ambitious, even when it came to you they always tried to one-up each other. This could go on forever if you didn’t put an end to it.

“Sorry, girl. But I’m not a trophy to be won.“, you said calmly and walked away without looking at them again.

Still, you could feel their eyes lingering as you walked towards the other players.

“Oh, little Miss Independent is back.“, Jenni teased, slight annoyance vibrating in her voice.

Alexia raised her eyebrows: “Also that was a lie, she clearly loves it.“

“Of course she does.“

“Just look at her.“, the Barcelona captain said, nodding in the direction where you were talking with Laia and Ona.

Another smile played on Jennis lips: “I love it when she’s acting all innocent.“

“Walking around, giving hugs to everyone. Oh, that Ona hug was extra long.“, Alexia commented your actions.

“She knows this doesn’t work, right?“

Behind all of the jokes and teasing however, was the slight sting of jealousy.

You didn’t notice the two player approaching you, you were too focused on your conversation with Ona.

“Oh my god, really, Oni?“, you laughed.

The defender went quiet: “Yes, uhm…“

“We definitely need to go on a walk with our dogs after the Olympics.“, you continued happily.

“We do.“

“Sweet.“, Alexia said cooly.

“Huh?“ You turned towards her, one eyebrow raised in expectation of a good excuse for interrupting your talk.

Jenni just smirked: “Quit flirting with Ona, you already have our attention.“

“I wasn’t flirting with her, we’re just good friends.”, you corrected her annoyed.

 “Quit rolling your eyes.”, the raven-haired woman demanded grinning.

“You know exactly what you did.”, Alexia shook her head amused.

“No.”, you answered innocently.

“See? She’s playing blameless again.”, Jenni sighed.

With a devilish grin, the blonde midfielder hugged you from behind, whispering into your ear. “You’ll confess everything tonight.” Her words send a shiver down your spine.

“Tonight?”, you repeated quietly.

“Yes.”, she affirmed.

“But we’ve our first Olympic game tomorrow!”, you protested.

“Don’t worry about it.”, the older forward assured you, while driving her hand through her dark open hair nonchalantly. The urge to touch her like she did in that moment was almost overwhelming, but you hold yourself back.

“And the beds are really small.”, you thought out loud.

“We can make a big one out of the three.”, Alexia suggested rationally.

“Easy.”, Jenni nodded enthusiastically.

“I guess we could do that.”, you admitted.

“Leave that to us, y/n.”, the oldest winked at you.

“I’ll let you do it.” A staff member called your name, reminding you that you had to do an interview for national television. To your girlfriends you explained. “Shit, I got to go, media duties.”

“Have fun.”, Alexia responded before turning her head to face the dark-haired forward.

“Great, that gives us enough time for the project bed.”, Jenni clapped excitedly into her hands. The enthusiasm reminded her of a child when it was about to open it’s present.

“Let’s go.”, the blonde told the woman who played in Mexico now.

The small cardboard beds were quickly put next to each other to form a bigger one, ready to hold the three of you.

“I think we’re ready only y/n is missing.”, Jenni announced delighted. The level of anticipation has been rising to the next level, the warmth and the near Mediterranean Sea added to it and the sun was about to set painting the sky in the prettiest colours.

“I’ll go see where she’s.”, Alexia decided, the taller woman following her immediately, in the hallway their hands were almost touching.  

Meanwhile, you were too focused on answering the questions of the journalist to realize that your girlfriends turned up behind your back.

“Oh, I can’t wait for the tournament to start, it’s so special as it’s the first time for our team to play at the Olympics.”, you raved, beaming with pride.

“Why’s she smiling like that? Y/n’s genuinely excited, huh?”, Jenni asked the blonde surprised.

“She’s.”, Alexia agreed.

“I could watch her do interviews forever.”, she declared swooning over you. Her green eyes admiring your sight, the gestures you made while talking about something you clearly loved and were passionate about.

“With whom I’d like to do a jersey swap? Definitely Marta, she’s such a big inspiration and everything she did for the women’s game is incredible. The only problem here is that Ona and Alexia want hers too, so we’ll see who gets it in the end.”, you laughed light-heartedly.

“Of course she would say that.”, Alexia scoffed.

Jenni watched on as you answered more questions: “Those young girls are such media pros.“

“I think she’s finally done.“, Alexia said, seemingly relieved that you were unable to embarrass her anymore.

You politely said goodbye to the interviewer and got up up.

“Hey! Y/n!“, Jenni called.

You heaved a sigh and gave her a death stare: “Jennifer, you don’t need to shout when we’re in the same room!“

The dark-haired player shrugged: “Wasn’t sure you saw us.“

“I’d always see you two, even in a crowded room.“, you replied, shaking your head.

“Don’t flatter us.“, Alexia said with a half-smile.

Confusion flashed across your face: “No, I mean you two, Misa and Irene are usually the tallest in every room.“

Alexias face dropped: “Seriously? I thought you were trying to be cute!“

Before you could say anything about how ridiculous that assumption was, Jenni clapped her hands: “Anyways, it’s time to take this to bed.“

You cocked your head teasingly: “Oh, is it?“

“Yes, it is.“, Alexia agreed with her teammate.

“Let’s go then.“, you shrugged.

“About time.“

“We did our waiting!“, Jenni complained and scooped you up into her arms.

You shrieked as she carried you off towards her bedroom. “Jenni, put me down!“

Alexia followed behind, closing her eyes for a second like she was fighting a headache: “Children.“

“Ale, help!“, you begged but the Barcelona captain barely gave you any attention.

“No.“

Jenni threw you down on the bed they prepared earlier: “Finally!“

“Finally?“, you echoed. The bed wobbled as she laid down beside you.

“Yes.“

“Are we sure this is stable enough to hold us three?“, you worried as Alexia climbed on your other side.

You suddenly remembered why the beds at the Olympic village were made out of cardboard. It was supposedly to prevent athletes from having sex and this might have worked for some. But apparently whoever came up with this had never met Jenni and Alexia.

“Don’t worry about it, darling.“, Jenni said while brushing a strand of hair out of your face. As she leaned over, the cardboard made the typical noise of being crushed.

You yelled in surprise: “Jenni!“

“Careful!“, Alexia laughed, trying to grab Jennis arm. Her movement made the whole bed collapse in a pile of mattresses and flat cardboard.

“Oh my god.“, you breathed out once the initial shock wore off.

“We broke the bed.“, Alexia commented unhelpfully.

“Just great, you two geniuses.“ You tried to sound mad but the ridiculousness of the situation made you grin.

Jenni instead was extremely amused by this: “I’m sure this will bring us luck.“

“Since when do broken beads do that?“, Alexia frowned at her.

“You can trust me.“, she kept smiling.

“I sure hope you’re right.”, you remarked.

“Me too.”, the Blonde stared at the forward.

“Just believe me girl.”, Jenni answered with a smug smile on her lips.

“And where are we supposed to sleep now.”, Alexia questioned while nodding to the destroyed beds.

“We still have our mattresses. Can’t be more uncomfortable than the beds.”, the older woman proposed.

“Good point.”, you said while the three of you lay down on those, you in the middle.

“I guess that’s my life as a professional athlete now.”, the midfielder hid her face behind her hands.

“You two are such pillow princesses.”, Jenni commented.

“Coming from the real pillow princess here.”, you countered, elbowing her softly.

“Lies.”, the dark-haired woman clicked her tongue.

“Truth.”, you disagreed smiling.

“Shut up.”, Jenni requested.

“Make me.”, you responded, sticking your tongue out for a second.

“Don’t worry, amor. I will.”, she hummed, pinning your arms downs, so you were unable to move, while her eyes wandered from your face to your breasts, under her gaze your cheeks turned hot.

“Go on.”, you muttered, you didn’t want to wait any longer.

With that intention Jenni got down on you to give you a feverish kiss. Taking her time to devour this one.

“Ah silence.”, Alexia sighed happily beneath you.

“Way better, right?”, Jenni looked up.

“Definitely.”, the midfielder noted, kissing both of you before her eyes were closing, sleep was calling her name.

“Is she asleep already?”, you questioned.

“Yes, good night my golden girls.”, the oldest woman chirmed.

“Golden girls?!”, you repeated.

“Quiet.” The demand coming from Alexia.

You apologized with a kiss to your cheek.

It was time to sleep, tomorrow was a big day, you were about to play your country’s first Olympic women’s football game, you three and your team were about to write history. Or should you rather say herstory.

[b14augrana]

Scrubber

The aftermath of a Champions League final masterclass

Barça Femení x teen!reader

pt. 4 masterlist

Warnings: cuteness 💝💝💝 you guys know the status on that proofreading.

A/N: i was going to use catalan translation for majority of the spanish dialogue but the translator was not cooperating which sucks 🫤 sighhhh

i hope y’all missed her because the mighty brick wall of barcelona is back and better 💪🏼

our estrella, buenaza, spain minister of defense, pequeñita, nenita, bebita, chiquita, whatever you wanna call her, shes the team’s pride and joy 😚

Everyone was talking about the final for weeks. When you got back to Barcelona, it was like the entirety of Cataluña had watched it.

Even while you were walking with Irene to Mapi’s apartment, you got stopped on the street multiple times by Barcelona natives, praising your defensive performance. You thanked them of course, but you were still not used to the attention. If you weren’t used to this, you couldn’t imagine how Aitana felt.

“Will it always be like this?” you asked Irene, and she put an arm around your shoulder as you two walked. “Sí, but you’ll get used to it,” she replied.

The club had given the players a day to recover from the plane ride and relax before you started to celebrate the win. You and Irene slept over at Mapi’s apartment and then you all went back to the club facilities together to board the bus.

While you were in Bilbao doing the lap and talking to fans, you got handed a huge Boixos Nois flag, which you took without hesitation. It was surprisingly easy to get it onto the plane and when you landed in Barcelona, you stashed it (along with a few other things) in the locker room. That’s what you so urgently needed to grab when you ran into the facility, almost missing the bus as you ran back to it with the flag beneath your arm and your waistband loaded with other festive accessories... plus the scarf tied around your head.

"Buenaza, you have enough stuff?" Mapi asked, laughing at the flag and bulkiness beneath your shirt.

"Yeah, I think. Is it not enough?" you replied, and Mapi shook her head. "Don't worry, it's enough."

The bus jolted forward as it started to move, almost making you fall over. "(Y/N)!" Aitana said, beckoning you over to her.

You loved Aitana. At first, you were a little bit intimidated by her because of how incredible she is as a player. Normally when someone is that good, there is some sort of unspoken skill hierarchy that you feel separates you two, but Aitana was different. She wasn't like a mum to you — that role belonged to Fridolina — but instead she was like a big sister. Everyone on the team was like your big sister though. Aitana just happened to be one of your favourites.

"Sit down," she urged you, basically pulling you onto the spot beside her. She too had a scarf tied around her head, which you pointed out and said, "We're matching!"

"What's under your shirt?" Aitana asked, pointing at the lumps. "Oh, just some stuff. You can have a few if you want," you replied, lifting your shirt slightly to reveal the rather large blaugrana-coloured party poppers and streamers shoved into the waistband of your pants.

Aitana laughed and took a couple party poppers and a roll of streamers, "Gracías!"

You felt the bus turn, and that's when a question came to mind. "What do we do after the parade?"

"We're going to the Plaça Sant Jaume," Aitana replied, "But let's worry about that later. Look!" She stood up and looked over the railing, and you did the same.

Below you were what looked like thousands of people dressed in blue and red, waving flags and scarves and whatever else. You could hear music being performed live, and you saw confetti and red and blue smoke.

"Mierda..." you whispered, taking it all in. You saw a sign in the crowd; '(Y/N) (Y/L/N), EL MINISTRO DE DEFENSA ESPAÑA'. You took a minute to translate it in your head and when it clicked to you, a wide grin appeared on your face.

Aitana shook you and held up her party poppers, signalling you to do the same. When you got them out, you two held them off the side of the bus and after Aitana counted down from 3, you both pulled them, sending a stream of red and blue confetti down to the people on the street below.

“Aitana, (Y/N)!” Alexia yelled from the other side of the bus, waving you two over. You walked over to her, making sure to grab your flag.

“What’s going on?” you asked, and she pointed to the camera. “Team photo! You’re in the front, since you’re la estrella de la temporada,” Alexia said, thrusting you downwards to sit in front of everyone else. You looked at her stunned, about to object and say you’d rather stand, but then the cameraman told you to look towards the camera and smile. You grumbled under your breath but obliged, and you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders. You looked up to see that they belonged to Alexia, who was smiling at you proudly.

“Nuestra estrella es la millor!” Aitana yelled, jumping at the back and blowing the last of her party poppers just as the cameraman took the photo.

You flushed red. You felt so appreciated, not only by your teammates but by the fans too. When you joined the team, you were also concerned about being taken in by the fans. The girls always said that without their support they’d be nothing, so they were extremely important to you. Seeing them wear your jersey, hearing their cheers for you, feeling their love whenever you walked into the stadium, it all meant the world to you.

“Okay, photo’s done. Let’s celebrate!” Patri yelled, and everyone agreed. You shot to your feet, grabbing your flag and running to the back of the bus. You held it by the end of the pole, waving the large flag over the railing. Aitana and Patri joined you, flinging the rest of the streamers off the back of the buss and collecting confetti from the ground to sprinkle on the crowd and in each other’s hair.

Mapi ran up to you three and starting jumping up and down, waving her flag. “Una bandera ens agermanaaaa!” she sung, grinning as she waved her bandera proudly.

The bus eventually stopped outside the city hall and you all filed off. The city hall’s architecture was classical, and you liked it very much. You didn’t immediately go inside though; you spent a good 10 minutes personally talking to fans down below, and you also took some photos and other media for the club Instagram page. You enjoyed interacting with the fans, and you were slowly warming up to the idea of it.

You admired the building as you walked inside, and you were led up the stairs and to the balcony which overlooked many more fans. A microphone was passed around between each player, giving them the chance to speak to the fans.

The girls took turns greeting the fans. Alexia croaked out a “Visca el Barça” and Frido could barely say “Hola” with her voice being so gone. Lucy spoke Catalan for the first time in forever, per Ona’s request, and then the microphone ended up with you.

“Hola,” you started off, not really sure what to say. Mapi leaned towards the mic and said, “Si no te das cuenta, está muy nerviosa,” laughing mischievously as you yanked the mic away from her.

“¡No la escuches! Todo lo que tengo que decir es que Barcelona es el mejor club del mundo!” you said into the mic, your voice cracking. You hadn’t even realised you lost your voice up until then, but you laughed it off nervously, just wanting to give the mic away. “Visca Barça y visca Cataluña!”

You hurriedly passed the mic to Mapi, breathing a sigh of relief once it was out of your grasp. You weren’t the best at speaking to such a huge crowd yet, but you could’ve done worse.

Just then, you remembered that the Euros and Olympics were only a few months away. You knew how much talking and interviews that entailed, which wasn’t really up your lane. Like you told yourself before, this lifestyle would take some getting used to.

Suddenly, your phone buzzed in your pocket, making you raise an eyebrow. You fished around for it and when you eventually pulled it out, your eyes widened in alarm. ‘Hurry! Your 813 day streak is about to end! Log in to Hay Day claim your rewards’ flashed across your screen, and you had never slapped in your password faster. On top of everything, how could you forget?

“Finally logging in?” Ale asked, and you nodded. “I thought something was seriously wrong with you when I didn’t see you checking up on Bagheera Land,” she continued. That wasn’t meant to be the name of your town, but Mapi had gotten into your phone one day, changed the name of it, and you had never changed it back.

“Come on, we’re going back to headquarters and then you have to start packing so we can leave,” she said, and you put your phone back in your pocket as you walked down the stairs of the city hall.

You had received your call up to the Spain national team not very long ago. At first you were hesitant to accept because of the movement against the Spanish football federation, and you confided in Mapi about it, telling her you wanted to protest against the federation with her, but she had convinced you to take the opportunity. She said it would help you grow closer to your Barcelona teammates and also meet the other Spain internationals, plus develop as a player. You were still hesitant, but you listened.

Then you learnt that the upcoming matches were Euro qualifiers and the matches after that would be Olympic games. That terrified you. To Aitana you were always ‘Pequeñita’, to Irene you were ‘Nenita’ and to Mapi you were ‘Bebita’ — you were basically a baby, you couldn’t play in such big tournaments!

You poured all of these feelings out to Alexia on the bus ride back to headquarters. At the end of your rant, she put her hand on your shoulder and looked at you intently. “Chiquita, you played in the final of the biggest European club competition and ended up being the player of the match. Without you, we wouldn’t have won that! You can play in the Olympics and the Euros, I believe in you.”

She wrapped her arms around you in a reassuring hug which you gratefully accepted, hugging her back tightly. “Thank you. I feel a little bit better about it now,” you giggled.

“Now, when we get back to headquarters, grab your stuff from your cubby and make sure you pack tonight. I’ll come pick you up tomorrow from Irene’s and if you’re not fully packed…”

“I will be, I promise,” you answered. “Can I take my Vidić jersey?”

“Chiquita, we’re only playing two matches. You’ll be reunited with your beloved jersey in no time,” Ale said. That wasn’t enough reassurance for you, and you looked at her with pleading eyes. The woman grumbled and shook her head, fighting back a smile. “Fine, I guess you can bring it.”

“You’re the best, Ale!”

[fleming-o]

Beneath the surface

Alexia Putellas X Teen reader

TW: sh scars, BAD family life

if this is somthing that you do not find comfortable please don’t read!

---

The sun blazed down on the training grounds, turning the afternoon air heavy and thick. You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, panting as you joined the team in a huddle for water. Alexia stood nearby, chatting with some of the other players, her laugh soft but warm, blending into the familiar sounds of the field. You kept to yourself, trying to blend into the background, as you always did.

Training had been intense, pushing everyone to their limits, and your mind felt just as strained as your body. You crouched to adjust your shin guards, pulling your socks up higher, but your kit was sticking to you from the heat. You tugged at the sleeve of your shirt, trying to get a little air. You forgot to be careful.

That’s when you noticed Alexia looking your way. Her eyes had shifted, catching sight of your arm, the faint, silvery lines tracing your skin. You froze. Time seemed to slow down, your heart hammering in your chest. You hastily pulled your sleeve down, hoping she hadn’t really seen, but it was too late. Her gaze softened instantly, shifting from confusion to concern.

You stood up quickly, trying to distract yourself, focusing on the drill starting up again. But your hands were shaking, and your stomach churned. You felt exposed.

As the team moved to resume training, Alexia stayed back for a moment, watching you from a distance. You felt her gaze, heavy but gentle, following you as you jogged into position. No words yet. Just her quiet understanding.

The drills went on, but you couldn’t focus. Your mind kept circling back to that moment, replaying the look in her eyes. You didn’t want to deal with this. Not here, not in front of everyone.

After what felt like an eternity, the coaches called for another break. You walked over to the benches, deliberately putting space between you and the others. Your hands were still trembling, and your chest felt tight, as if the air wasn’t coming in right.

Alexia approached slowly. She didn’t say anything at first, just sat down beside you, close enough to let you know she was there but far enough to give you space. The silence between you was almost unbearable.

“Hey,” she said softly after a few minutes, her voice low, just for you. “You okay?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. Your throat felt like it was closing up. You pulled your sleeve down further, fingers gripping the fabric tightly.

Alexia didn’t press, but her presence was like a weight, not in a bad way, but in the way that told you she wasn’t going anywhere. You wished she would leave, but at the same time, part of you wanted her to stay, wanted her to ask.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she added gently. “But I saw.”

Your heart sank. She really had noticed. You stared at the ground, your breath coming in shallow puffs. What could you even say? Your family’s lack of support, the isolation, the feeling of never being enough—it all knotted inside you, too painful to untangle in words.

Alexia was quiet for a long moment, waiting, letting the silence speak. She wasn’t going to rush you. When you didn’t respond, she leaned forward slightly, her voice even softer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Your hands fidgeted in your lap, fingers twisting the bottom of your shirt. “There’s... there’s not much to say,” you mumbled, your voice thick with the weight of everything unsaid.

Alexia tilted her head slightly, watching you with that same, unyielding kindness. “It doesn’t seem like nothing,” she whispered. “I just... I want you to know that I’m here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”

Her words pierced through the wall you’d built around yourself. You swallowed hard, the familiar ache rising in your chest. You couldn’t keep it all in, not now. Not when she was looking at you like that—like you mattered.

“I don’t... I don’t really have anyone,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “My family... they don’t care. They never have.”

Alexia’s face softened even more, her expression pained but understanding. She didn’t interrupt, letting you continue at your own pace.

“They just... I’ve tried so hard to make them proud, to be something they could be happy about, but nothing’s ever enough for them. I’m never enough.”

The words spilled out, one after the other, each one a small release of the pressure that had been suffocating you for so long. Your voice cracked, and you felt tears welling up in your eyes, but you fought them back, not wanting to cry in front of her.

Alexia shifted closer, her hand reaching out slowly, as if to give you a chance to pull away if you didn’t want her touch. When you didn’t, she gently placed her hand on yours, her thumb rubbing soft, reassuring circles against your skin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through that.”

Her words broke something in you. The tears you’d been holding back slipped free, one after the other, and you quickly wiped them away, embarrassed.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she murmured. “You don’t have to hide how you feel. Not from me.”

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees, burying your face in your hands. It was too much—everything you’d been holding in for years, the hurt, the loneliness, the constant fight to prove your worth. It all crashed down on you at once.

Alexia shifted closer again, her hand never leaving yours. “You’re more than enough,” she said quietly, but firmly. “You don’t need anyone’s approval to prove that. Not your family’s, not anyone’s. You’re strong, and you’re talented, and you’re important to this team.”

You didn’t respond, but you let her words sink in, feeling their weight settle into the cracks of your heart. It was hard to believe her, hard to believe that you could be worth something, but hearing it from her—hearing it from someone who didn’t have to care but did—meant something.

“I know things are tough right now,” she added, her voice gentle. “But you don’t have to go through it alone. We’re here for you. I’m here for you. Whenever you need someone.”

Her words wrapped around you like a blanket, offering a warmth you hadn’t felt in a long time. Slowly, you lifted your head, your eyes meeting hers.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “I just... I didn’t think anyone would care.”

Alexia’s expression tightened, her eyes glistening with emotion. “Of course, we care. You’re part of this team. And you matter.”

She pulled you into a soft embrace, her arms wrapping around you in a way that felt safe, like you didn’t have to be strong anymore, like it was okay to lean on someone else for a little while.

“You’re not alone,” she whispered again, holding you tightly. “You don’t have to be alone anymore.”

---

[meazalykov]

the olympics

salma paralluelo x swimmer!reader

summary: after winning gold, you wish to see your girlfriend win the same

warnings: angst, comfort

you take one last deep breath, adjusting your pink goggles as you step onto the platform. 

everything around you falls into a distant hum, the lights, the roaring crowd, the announcer's voice ringing out, calling each name to the world. this is it—the olympic final in paris, the 200-meter freestyle, the race that’s demanded everything from you for as long as you can remember. 

you glance up, and for a moment, you let yourself imagine salma, her face, her smile, the way she’d laugh and shake her head, telling you to go for it.

she’s somewhere across this sprawling city, absorbed in her own battle on the football field. there hasn’t been much time to talk with all the training, press, the heavy weight of national colors. 

you still know she’s cheering for you, just as you are for her.

the gun sounds, and you’re off, diving into the water, the world suddenly cold and quiet. you drive forward with every ounce of strength in your body, and in that silence, all you hear is the steady rhythm of your breath and heartbeat as you slice through the water. 

each stroke propels you further, your muscles aching, lungs burning, but you keep moving—pushing harder, reaching for that perfect balance between power and finesse. 

lap after lap, you fight through the pain, letting it fuel you, drive you. the turn, the flip, the push from the wall—it’s all muscle memory now, a thousand repetitions alive in every fiber of your being.

coming into the final stretch, you know you’re in the lead due to the lack of legs you’re seeing in the water. everything narrows down to this, the last few strokes, your arms and legs on fire, but you see the finish approaching. 

in a final surge, you press forward, fingers reaching out as you touch the wall with force, gasping for air. when you rise from the water, you quickly pull off your goggles, eyes darting to the scoreboard. there it is: 

your name, lit up with your speed and time in the water and shining in first place. “gold”. 

for a moment, time stops. the whole world slips away as you stare at the board, heart swelling with a deep, quiet joy. all the years, the sacrifices, the early mornings and lonely nights spent training, dreaming—all of it is worth this one moment. 

you smile to yourself, imagining salma’s face, the pride in her eyes, the way she’d tease you, joking about how she always knew you had it in you. you look around, noticing that some of the other swimmers are still finishing, and your heart swells with pride—this win is yours, every bit of it.

as you towel off and make your way back to the locker room, still catching your breath, an odd silence fills the air. a tv in your room catches your attention, and you listen, heart pounding. 

spain has lost the bronze medal match. they fought hard, but germany took it with a penalty save in the last few minutes. 

your chest tightens, a heaviness settling over the joy you felt just moments ago. 

your mind flashes to salma, her face after a tough game, the way her eyes would go blank with that fierce mix of exhaustion and heartbreak. 

she has the world cup from last year, but this—the olympics—was supposed to be her chance to bring home more glory, another piece of history. you know how much she dreamed of this, how she poured herself into each match after the scandals that the spanish federation had faced. 

you imagine her walking off the field, shoulders slumped, questioning every pass, every shot, every moment. 

the imagination didn’t have to last long. you frowned when a tv clip showed salma looking around at the crowd, moisture in her eyes as her hands rested on her hips.

you sit in the locker room, fingers gripping your phone, wanting nothing more than to reach out, to tell her you’re here, that you’d drop everything to be by her side, to hold her and remind her that she’s still everything to you. 

however, you know she needs time, space to let the hurt settle before it can pass. 

you wonder if she knows about your win, if anyone mentioned it to her, or if her mind is too clouded with the weight of her loss to even think of you right now.

that's okay, you didn’t want to feel like you’re bragging in the moment of her devastation.

back at her hotel, salma is with cata, who’s equally devastated. it’s then, almost accidentally, that salma clicks on the tv to see a recap of today’s events in the olympics. 

on the screen is you—just moments ago, gliding through the water, powerful, unstoppable. she sees the moment you touched the wall, the look on your face as you saw your name in first place. 

a soft smile finds its way to her lips, breaking through the sorrow, a spark of light. she picks up her phone and texts you, typing slowly, her words laced with both pride and sadness: 

“hola mi amor i’m so, so proud of you. i might need space right now, since i am still processing my mistakes from today– but i can’t wait to see you back in barcelona.” 

your heart leaps when you see her message. you reply instantly, reassuring her, telling her that you’ll be there to comfort her, to hold her through this loss. 

your win, as sweet as it is, feels incomplete without her here, without her by your side. you promise that you’ll wait for her, that when she’s ready, you’ll celebrate together. 

a few days later, back in barcelona, you finally make it home. as soon as you step through the door of your shared apartment, you see her sitting on the couch, gazing out the window, lost in thought. she looks up, and her face softens when she sees you. 

without a word, you cross the room, wrapping her in your arms, feeling her body sink against yours. she holds onto you, her head resting on your shoulder, quiet breaths filling the room. 

“we should be celebrating you,” she murmurs, voice tinged with a faint smile, though her eyes still hold the remnants of heartbreak.

“that can wait,” you whisper, brushing a hand through her braids, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. 

“we’ll celebrate when you’re ready. i’ll wait for you sal."

masterlist

[alexiasleftoversalmon]

“These are our first games…. I understand that people ask us for gold because we are the current world champions but we must have maximum respect for our rivals.” - Alexia Putellas

Via: Relevo

I’m sorry but this is just pure class. I admire her so much ❤️

[lucawrites11]

What the Spanish Line-Up should be if Montse's head wasn't up her ass.

The Forward Line:

Salma has been unfairly been facing a lot of criticism for her familiar to score and create chances but she is playing in the wrong position in the 9 after spending two seasons at Barcelona adapting to playing on the wing. This is why I propose playing her on the left-wing.

First of all, Salma has preferred playing down that left hand side and it's clear in her heat maps against both Japan (left) and Nigeria (right).

Furthermore, in the six shots over two games that she has taken, Salma is shooting off her left foot with three on her left, two on her right and one on her head.

Ona Batlle has been playing that left and right back role but she can partner Salma well with their speed link ups down the left wing. With the other full back options, her role is best at left back at present so playing Salma on the left wing allows the exploitation of that.

The opposite wing should be occupied by mariona caldentey. The right wing is not her preferred position but the speed of Ona and Salma should be kept on the same side of the pitch. Mariona's experience should partner nicely with the relative inexperience of Laia Aleixandri.

The centre forward role should be occupied by Jenni. She is Spain's best 9 in recent history and her ability to play that false 9 is unmatched no matter how old she is. Also the ability of Alexia and Jenni to partner on the pitch should not be underestimated. Their overlapping runs and ability to occupy the space that each other needs to occupy with no communication is invaluable to a side that is struggling to score like Spain is. Jenni's positioning in the box is more effective than Mariona or Salma. She can also help improve Spain's ability to score with her ability to hold up the ball inside the box to create chances and her ability to score from corners. It's actually absurd that Montse is not playing her.

The Defense:

At right back, Olga Carmona has been poor defensively and Oihane Hernández hasn't been an effective replacement. it's clear that fourth defensive player at full back is a problem that Montse has recognised unable to chose between Oihane and Olga but there is another option in Laia Aleixandri who has played right back before at club and country. I would go so far to say that she's just as good at right back as centre back.

In the WSL this season she has effectively played that right back role and it's evident in her season's heat map.

To replace Aleixandri at centre back Codina is there on the bench with a very impressive defensive ability when she's been given a chance to show it and is familiar partnering with Irene Paredes from playing against Barcelona. Also the match tomorrow is a good time to test the defensive partnership with little pressure.

The Midfield:

The APA (Alexia, Patri, Aitana) midfield is a no brainer. it's familiar and positive and attacking focused rather than Teresa Abelleira who clearly thought she was playing rugby and was only allowed to pass the ball backwards.

The Substitutes and the Bench:

23 players are in the team but only 18 can be in the squad on matchday. I do not believe that Montse has been effectively selecting her bench. The seven players should be:

Misa Rodríguez (GK)

Alba Redondo

Athenea del Castillo

Teresa Abelleira

Vicky López

Olga Carmona

Jana Fernández

Lucía García has been ineffective at both club and country, Alba Redondo has been a much more effective scorer and plays that more traditional 9 that can replace Jenni Hermoso. Alba Redondo should be the replacement for Jenni in the sixtieth or seventieth minute.

My preferred replacement winger would be Eva Navarro for this match. Eva Navarro should be the first choice to change the game and provide a goal scoring threat considering the hard time Athenea del Castillo has been having in front of goal and partnering with the rest of the squad effectively especially in terms of the overlapping runs. With Brazil being a low pressure game, it would be a good time for her to stretch her legs.

Teresa Abelleira and Vicky López should both sub into the midfield to give Alexia and Aitana a rest in the congested schedule no matter the score.

If there are injuries, Olga Carmona and Jana Fernández are good subs off the bench. I would like to see, however, Ona Batlle being given a break by the more versatile Jana Fernández to keep her minutes managed like Alexia and Aitana in the congested schedule.

[httpsdana]

Could you do pau x Olympic gymnast reader fluff? Could she also be Brazilian plsss

Thank you!

Gold for Gold~Pau Cubarsi

・❥・prompt list

・❥・masterlist -> part 2

・❥・who I write for

The crowd in the arena roared as y/n stood at the edge of the balance beam, her heart pounding in time with the cheers. The Brazilian flag waved in every corner, and she took a deep breath, centering herself. Out of all the faces in the audience, her eyes found Pau, sitting near the front row, his hands gripping the railing tightly, his expression a mixture of nerves and awe.

He caught her gaze and mouthed "You’ve got this"

And she believed him.

The routine felt like a dream. Every flip, leap, and landing came together in perfect harmony. As she stuck her dismount, the applause was deafening. She stood there, chest heaving, as the scoreboard updated.

15.966.

She did it.

Gold.

Her teammates swarmed her, their excitement matching her own, but her mind was elsewhere. Breaking free, she ran toward the stands, ignoring the cameras and the flashing lights. Pau was already standing, his arms wide open, and she leaped over the small barrier, landing right in his embrace.

"You did it!" he exclaimed, hugging her tightly as the crowd cheered even louder.

Tears streamed down her face as she pulled back just enough to press her lips to his, the world fading away in that moment. When she finally pulled apart, his hands cupped her face, his smile brighter than any medal.

"You’re incredible, meu amor. I’m so proud of you," he whispered.

"I couldn’t have done it without you," she replied, her fingers brushing against his jaw.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of celebrations, but as y/n fell asleep that night, Pau’s arms wrapped around her, she couldn’t stop smiling. Tomorrow, it would be his turn.

The following day, y/n sat in the stadium, nerves replacing the euphoria from her win. The Spanish flag was draped over her shoulders as she watched Pau and his teammates battle through the final match. Every pass, every shot, every save felt like a lifetime, but when the whistle blew, and the scoreboard confirmed their victory, she was on her feet, cheering louder than anyone.

Pau fell to his knees on the field, overcome with emotion, before his teammates piled on him in celebration. Her heart swelled with pride, tears gathering in her eyes as she watched him soak in the moment. But then his eyes found hers, and he broke away, running straight toward the stands.

"Pau!" she called out, leaning over the railing just as he reached her.

He jumped up, his arms wrapping around her waist as she leaned down to meet him. His lips crashed against hers, his sweat-soaked jersey and the salty tang of his tears making the moment raw and real.

"You’re a champion," she whispered against his lips, her fingers threading through his damp hair.

"And so are you," he replied, his forehead resting against her. "Gold for gold, yeah?"

She laughed softly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. "Gold for gold."

The cameras captured the moment, but neither of them cared. This was for her and him—a promise fulfilled, a dream realized, and a love that shone brighter than the medals around their necks.

[formulavroom]

🥇🇪🇸

[booksinantwerp]

Uniform of the Lithuania team at the 1992 Olympic Games in Barcelona. Designed by Issey Miyake with production done by Mizuno Corporation.

This was the first time in 64 years that Lithuania participated at the Olympic Games. From 1940 until 1990 Lithuania was part of the Sovjet Union. Dr. Edward Domanskis, the team’s official physician and spokesman, wrote a letter to Issey Miyake with the question to make a modern uniform for the Summer Olympics. The pleats were used to make a perfect fit for every sportsman body type. Photographed by Valdas Malinauskas follow on Instagram for more

[theesasssyunicorn]

🇪🇸 ❤️💙 x #WallpaperWednesday

[undercoverr]

PROUD of you Always 🐐👑

She deserves a metal, they all do. They worked so hard too get to where they are. Let’s finish this 🥉

[archivingbarca]

FCBarcelona: G🏅🏅LD

(twitter, 24/08/24)

[meazalykov]

heart of gold

aitana bonmati x WAG!reader

summary: there's a big reason why you've fallen in love with her

warnings: angst, bronze medal match

a/n: the winner of the vote was this fic, here you go <3

the roar of the crowd around you faded into the background as the final whistle blew. germany had secured the bronze medal, and spain was left with nothing. 

your stomach churned as you watched the spanish players slump to the ground, faces etched with exhaustion and disappointment. but your eyes were fixed on aitana.

there she was, the ballon d’or winner, the heart of the team, standing tall amid the wreckage. even as the loss sank in, she was comforting her younger teammates, cradling their heads against her chest as they sobbed. 

aitana wasn’t breaking — not yet, at least. that’s who she was. selfless, grounded, the strength for everyone else.

you watched as laura, laura freigang, asked aitana to swap shirts shortly after. the blonde wondered if it was too early to ask, but aitana gave her reassurance as she took the german shirt and gave laura the red spanish one. 

your hands gripped your camera, not sure if you should even take any pictures at this moment. 

your job as a sports photographer had brought you to moments like this, but this time was different. 

this time, it was personal. you’d met aitana through your work, and somewhere between the flashes of your camera and the interviews, you’d fallen in love with her. it wasn’t just her skill on the pitch that drew you in, though. it was the way she treated everyone — humble, kind, always thinking of others first.

but right now, all you wanted was for your girlfriend to think about herself, to let herself feel what she was bottling up. your chest tightened, wishing there was something you could do to take away the hurt she was surely feeling inside.

you glanced over at the germans celebrating. you’d worked with a few of them too, knew their faces, their stories. 

you were happy for them, but that happiness was muted by the pain you felt for aitana. she deserved something — something to show for the blood, sweat, and tears she’d put into this tournament.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, aitana’s gaze found yours. her eyes softened when she saw you, though she still wore that brave face for her team. 

she gave you a small nod, as if to say she was okay. but you knew better.

she finished speaking with her teammates and made her way over to you, the weight of the match clinging to her like a shadow. when she reached you, her shoulders were slumped, her walls still up.

“i’m sorry,” she said in english, voice low and strained.

“you don’t need to apologize, aitana. not for this.” you shook your head immediately, stepping closer, your hand gently brushing her arm. 

“it feels like i should,” she muttered, her voice trembling slightly. 

“i should’ve done more. i should’ve—”

“aitana, no,” you interrupted, squeezing her hand. 

“you did everything. you were incredible out there, like always. no one can take that away from you.”

“but it wasn’t enough. there is no medal.” her eyes flicked away, as if she couldn’t believe your words, as if the loss had clouded her judgment. 

“that’s not true,” you said firmly, lifting your hand to gently cradle her cheek, guiding her gaze back to yours. 

“you’ve done so much more than you realize. yes, the result sucks, but look at what you’ve accomplished. ballon d’or, you guys are the current world champions, and today, you were the one holding everyone together with alexia. you kept going, even when the team was falling apart. that’s worth more than any medal.”

aitana’s lips quirked into a small, sad smile, but the frustration was still there, simmering just below the surface. 

“i wanted something for them,” she whispered. “for the younger ones. i wanted them to have something to show for this.”

your heart ached as you saw the selflessness in her eyes. even now, she wasn’t thinking about herself. 

“they’ll have you to look up to, aitana,” you said softly. “you’re their role model. they’ll remember how you were there for them today, how you helped them through this. that’s something they’ll carry with them forever.”

finally, aitana’s shoulders slumped, the tension easing slightly as she let out a long, shaky breath. “i don’t know if that’s enough.”

“it is,” you assured her, your thumb brushing over her cheek. “you’re enough. always. not just to them, but for me.”

her eyes searched yours, and for the first time since the match ended, her walls began to crumble. 

the brave facade she’d been holding up for her teammates fell away, and you saw the hurt, the exhaustion, the vulnerability she’d been hiding.

“i just— i hate feeling like i failed,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her close, her head resting against your shoulder. 

“you didn’t fail. you’re not capable of failing. you’ve given everything to this sport, aitana, and it shows. maybe not today, but in the way you play, the way you lead, the way you care.”

she was quiet for a moment, her arms slowly wrapping around you in return. “you make it sound so easy,” she murmured, her breath warm against your neck.

“it’s not easy,” you said, running your fingers through her hair. “but it’s the truth. you are incredible, not just because of your awards. you’re incredible because you’ve got the biggest heart, aitana. you’ve always put others first, even when you didn’t have to.”

she pulled back slightly to look at you, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

“it’s okay,” you whispered, brushing your thumb across her cheek. “feel everything right now. but when you’re ready, remember what you’ve accomplished. remember how much you’ve given. and remember that, no matter what, you’re still the woman i fell in love with because of who you are, not what you’ve won.”

aitana finally let the tears fall, and you held her as she cried, her grip on you tightening. 

you didn’t care that you were still in the middle of the stadium, that people might be watching or snapping pictures. none of that mattered right now. what mattered was aitana, and being there for her the way she always was for everyone else.

“thank you,” she whispered after a while, her voice hoarse.

“always,” you replied softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “i’m so proud of you. and i always will be.”

she gave you a small, grateful smile, her eyes still red but softer now. “i don’t know what i’d do without you.”

“lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out,” you teased gently, earning a quiet laugh from her.

aitana leaned into you again. you smiled knowing that she still had a bright future ahead of her.

you’ve always admired aitana and her heart of gold, you will never stop admiring it. its a big reason why you've fallen in love with her.

my masterlist is here if you want to read more!

[alexiasleftoversalmon]

Ona’s hands….. and arms

Ok that’s it 🫡😮‍💨🥵

[star6oys]

Fermin being welcomed back with hugs and head rubs (courtesy of Pedri) 🫂