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helen-with-an-a · 29 days

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I am an adult part 5

Hiya, so this is the penultimate part of this series. It's a little angstier than what I had originally planned and I'm not entirely sure it'll get much better ahahaha. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it. And shout out to @lyak12 for helping me out with the plot a little ahahah

Barça Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4 : Part 5 : Part 6 : Part 7 : Epilogue

Word Count: 5.3k

TW: A bit of bad mental health; R is a little shitty

It wasn’t until the Pokal Final that you actually got to see Lena again. It hadn’t really been a planned visit, but you had to get away. You had to see her, feel her again. You needed her to keep the darkness at bay. It was a random Monday morning when you received a phone call from your agent.

“Hey, pet, are you free to chat?” Paul said, his Geordie accent sounding slightly thicker than usual. “Yeh, yeh. I’ve just got home – what’s up?” You asked happily, not knowing the devastation that was about to come your way. “Um, look … there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just gonna come right out and say it …” he paused, clearly psyching himself up for whatever he was about to say. You sat up from where you were slouched over the kitchen counter. This sounded important. Really important. And that scared you. “You know Barça have been having …” He searched for the right word. “Financial issues,” he settled on, hoping to give you an indication of where this conversation might be going. You did know the financial issues the club was having – it had been plastered all over various social media. You had tried not to let it worry you, but there had been a little niggle in the back of your head. “I’m so sorry, pet. They aren’t offering an extension. I’ve just received the information; they cannot afford to keep you on next season. You’re being let go. Your last match as a Barcelona Femeni player will be the 16th of June.”

Your world broke. What did they mean they could not afford to keep you? Were you not worth it to them? Of course, you weren’t worth the money. You were just a kid in their eyes. Why would they keep you instead of Alexia? A lifelong player that bled Barcelona and had multiple Ballon d'Ors to her name. Or Lucy? A multiple-time Champion League winner in her own right, with numerous individual accolades too. You were expendable. You were lucky they had even taken you on all those years ago. How naïve had you become to allow yourself to get comfortable? Was it because of the issues with the government last year? You knew you had seriously fucked up then, but everything seemed to be behind you. Nothing more had been said about the incident.

You cleared your throat, a futile attempt to dislodge the heavy lump that had formed. “Right … um …” You managed to croak out, your voice sounding foreign and weak to your own ears. “Pet, I know this is not what you wanted to hear. And I’m so, so sorry.” “It’s fine.” It was very much not fine. But you were too numb to do anything, really. The thoughts swirling dangerously across your mind were not something you wanted to process right now. “No, it’s not.” Paul's replied solemnly, his voice heavy. “I’ve tried to negotiate; I’ve just come back from a meeting with them, actually. I had hoped to have some kind of agreement made but they aren’t budging.” He paused, the silence echoing the futility of his efforts. “But you’ve got offers,” he reassured you, his words a feeble attempt to lighten the heavy disappointment. “Name the continent and you’ve got an offer. Portland, Houston, Gotham, Kansas, Tigres, Bayern, Wolfsburg, Lyon, PSG, Melbourne, Sydney, Chelsea, Man City,-”

It was too much. Information overload.

“C-can we not do this right now? I … I just need a minute.” Your voice was thick with suppressed tears. “Absolutely, of course. How about I get all the offers and whatnot up and into a document for you and I’ll email it over to you. You read over it, and I’ll schedule a meeting for, let’s say, next Monday? We can talk it all through then, yeah?” “Yeah,” you agreed absently. You didn’t want to look over offers. You wanted to stay in Barcelona. You were happy here; you had friends, and people you considered family were here. But they didn’t want you. They were more than happy to throw you to the wind without a second doubt. The phone call ended and that was that. Barça didn’t want you. You weren’t worth it.

Conflicting emotions raging a war in your mind; pain, hurt, anger, sadness, defeat, fear, anxiety, dread, disappointment, helplessness, embarrassment, shame. The first hour after the phone call you had stayed by the counter, watching each message from all of your teammates and Lena buzz. You prayed one of them would be Paul, telling you that Barça had reconsidered, that they had miraculously found the money and would offer you an extension. He never did. You knew the adult thing would be to let yourself feel … something … anything. But you didn’t want to be an adult right now. Adult, you would be sad; look over the document Paul sent over and view this as an opportunity. Adult you would phone up Ona and Alexia and ask them to come round and help you through this. Adult you would call Lena. But you weren’t an adult right now. Right now, you were scared and ashamed, and angry and in so much pain. You didn’t want to do what adults should do. You didn’t know what you wanted … but you knew being an adult was not one of them.

Eventually, you moved to the couch. The couch that you had forced Ona, Patri and Pina to help you pick out. The couch that had witnessed so many memories – you had cried on this couch, you had laughed on this couch, you had fucked on this couch, you had loved on this couch. And now you had to find a new couch. You had to leave this couch behind. Slowly, the darkness crept in. With every passing hour a new part of your house was in shadow, another memory gone. The suncatcher in the window, the candles on the coffee table, the pictures on the wall … all disappearing in the blackness and soon to be forgotten. That is what would happen to you; you were sure of it. Alexia would move on and find a new Pequeña. Ona would move in with Lucy. Patri and Pina would have dinner-and-movie dates together without you. Marta, Sandra and Irene would go back to their own lives and stop worrying about you.

What were you going to tell Lena? Sorry, Liebe, your girlfriend’s unemployed. Sorry, Liebe, your long-distance girlfriend is potentially moving further away, and you’ll never play against her again. Barcelona had witnessed so much of your first steps to a tentative relationship. Barcelona had seen your first meetings, your first date, your butterflies, your excitement when you returned home, your confusion as unknown feelings of love swirled around in your chest.

Your phone buzzed. Speak of the devil. You didn’t want to speak to her right now. You knew that talking to her would make you cry. And you were trying really hard not to cry. But all you wanted to hear was her voice, her laughter, her reassurances. Your body moved before you had even noticed. “Hey, Schatz.” “H-,” you cleared your throat. “Hey, Liebe.” “Was ist los mit dir?” You could hear the panic in her voice, the shuffling of fabric as she sat up, attentive to what was happening. Your phone beeped again.

L 💚 is requesting a switch to video call

You clicked yes without thinking about it. Her face filled your screen; even in pixels, she looked beautiful. You, on the other hand, looked like a mess. Had you been crying? You didn’t think so, but you must have been, as another tear rolled silently down your cheek. Your eyes were red, your skin splotchy, and your face swollen and puffy. “Oh, Schatz,” Lena cooed. “What’s wrong?” Her soft voice was filled with earnest. You could feel her willing you to speak to her. You shook your head as the lump grew in your throat. “Schatz … bitte.” You made eye contact through the phone. “Barça … Barça aren’t offering a new contract. I have to leave at the end of the season.” Silence. A heartbeat of pure torture. Lena didn’t know what to say. She was angry for you – how could they not want you? Talent aside, you were the most incredible human in the world. Why would they not want you? But one look at you told her you didn’t need her anger; you needed her comfort. “Oh, Schatz,” she cooed. You shook your head, trying to fight back the overwhelming force of tears. “It’s ok to cry,” she reminded you. Her permission was all you needed. Hot, wet tears streamed down your face; the sobs hurt your chest. How? How could they do this? It took a while, filled with Lena’s comforting words and gentle reassurance, for you to calm down. When you were coherent enough to see the screen properly, you could tell Lena had been crying, too. Great, now you had made your girlfriend cry. “Ha-have you spoken to your agent?” She asked quietly, humming when you nodded. There was another pause, this time not as painful but still hard to get through. “Schatz, I want to come see you. Or you to see me. Please…” she pleaded. “No, Liebe, you’re busy. You’ve,” you sniffed, wiping your nosy unattractively on your sleeve. God, you’d be lucky if she still wanted to be with you after this. “You’ve got the Pokal final in like 3 days.” You so desperately wanted to see her, though. “Then you come to me,” she implored. “I’ve got matches, too,” you whimpered. The last thing you wanted to do was play for a club that didn’t want you. “Schatz, I mean this in the nicest way possible, but fuck them.” That made you laugh … well, not laugh per se, more like a weird huff or snort. But Lena could tell it was a gesture of humour nonetheless, she couldn’t help but respond with a similar smile. “I’m being honest. You’ve basically won the league; you can skip one game. You need a break and time to get your head around everything. Tell them it’s for mental health or whatever. Just … please, Schatz. I need to see you. I need to know you’re ok,” she said more seriously. “If you don’t come to Germany, I’m coming to you.”

You mulled it over, and Lena could tell you were thinking properly. You stared off out of the camera, your teeth sinking into your lip. You had your thinking face on. You really didn’t want to see anyone at Barça for the next few days. You needed to step back and have time to process, but you couldn’t do that with training and having to face the girls again. And it was true that you had already won the league; you didn’t need to play this particular match. And a break might do you some good. With the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League finals coming up, seeing Lena again was something that would definitely help you relax a little. But you had the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League finals coming up. You couldn’t miss valuable days of training. Barça were on for the quadruple. Should you do it? “The matches …” you finally said. “Mean nothing if it’s at the expense of your mental well-being,” Lena said emphatically. That was true. Winning the Copa de la Reina and Champion’s League would mean the world to you, only … you wouldn’t, couldn’t, be able to truly enjoy the experience. Not with this sword dangling over your head.

Less than 6 hours later, you found yourself on a plane. You had booked the first available flight out of Barcelona, hastily stuffing random hoodies and comfy joggers into a bag and snatching your passport. A curt text to Jona was all it took. You had made your decision, and a sense of relief washed over you. Lena would help you make sense of everything. You would take some time, give yourself a few days away from it all and then return with a plan. At least, that's what you told yourself.

Y/F/N Y/S/N: Hi. Unfortunately, I won’t be at training this week due to personal reasons. I would also appreciate if my name taken off the match list this weekend. Thanks Y/N.

Jonatan Giráldez: Hola, Y/N. I’m so sorry to hear that. Of course, take as much time as you need and yes, your name is off the squad list. If there is anything the club can do to help, please let me know. I hope you feel better soon, J.

If there’s anything the club can do to help? After they threw you away like you were nothing? After they brought you here as a child and then washed their hands of you? Not even having the decency to tell you with more than a month until your contract expired. Why would you go to the club? And surely Jonatan would know about your agent's conversations with the club? The staff always had a say in who was staying and who wasn’t; he must have known that the meeting was happening. That you were being told that you were no longer considered a valuable squad member – or at least one that warranted the cost to keep on … right?

One thing you hadn’t really considered, or maybe you had subconsciously but didn’t care, was the rest of the team. In their eyes, you had finished the recovery session on the Sunday as happy as Larry, and then you had dropped off the face of the earth. No one had heard from you, and then suddenly, at training, Jona said that you were taking some time off due to personal reasons. And no, he genuinely didn’t know what the personal reasons were. He even went so far as to show the Captains your text message. Short and to the point, no elaboration. Patri could feel the iciness through the words. Something was wrong.

Alexia’s phone call went straight to voicemail, as did Patri’s … Sandra’s, Irene’s, and Marta’s. They had Ona try, Pina, Cata, and Lucy. Every member of the team tried phoning you, and they all received the same response: straight to voicemail. So, you had turned your phone off. “Is she at her house?” Keira asked, watching as Ona pulled up your location. Ingrid stood off to the side, watching with worry as the girls descended into chaos over your unknown whereabouts. “Ok, everyone, enough,” she shouted, drawing all attention to her. “Here’s what’s going to happen. Ona, Ale and I will go to Y/N’s and check if she’s there. If she is, we'll stay and help her out with whatever she needs. If she isn’t, we’ll come back to mine, and we think of what to do next, ok? Everyone else, you are more than welcome to come to go home with María and wait, or you can do whatever you want. I don’t really care. We’ll keep you all updated on what’s happening, yeh?”

The plan was simple, really. Everyone knew what they had to do. The anxiety in the car was high, but calm and sensible Ingrid helped break the tension. “Her cars here,” Ona pointed out, nodding her head towards your designated space. “That’s good,” Ale smiled, squeezing Ona’s shoulder, but shared a look with Ingrid. They knew that that meant little in the grand scheme of things, you often ordered an Uber to take you places instead of driving. The hallway was unusually dark as they approached your apartment door. It was shut and locked, ruling out a break-in at least. Letting themselves in, it was starkly evident that you had left in a hurry – wherever you had gone. A blanket was carelessly left on the couch, a half-drunk cold cup of tea on the counter, your wardrobe door open and hangers on the bed. You were conspicuously absent. Ona was deeply unsettled; this was not like you at all. You never left without a word. Even if you were just going to the shops, you always texted her or sent her a silly selfie – it was a habit she cherished about you. Something was seriously, truly amiss.

Seeing Lena, the stone pressing on your chest felt lifted slightly. You walked straight into her arms as you hurried through the exit. Her soft skin, cinnamon smell, warm arms, and strong heartbeat soothed the storm. “Schatz,” she cooed, not mentioning the tears she felt dropping onto her shoulder. Come on, we’ll get a taxi back to my hotel, ja?” She ushered you towards the taxi rank. It was a little awkward for you both as she kept her arm tightly around you, silently thanking the heavens that you had brought only a carry-on backpack and not an actual suitcase.

After speaking to Tommy and signing a totally unnecessary NDA, you were allowed to sit in on the Wolfsburg training. You were reluctant to leave Lena; she wanted you as close as possible. It was obvious to everyone that you were not ok as you kept your eyes trailing to the floor and a firm grip on Lena. You were always seen with your arm around her waist, her hand in yours or your head resting on her shoulder. To those who didn’t know you, it would just look like long-distance lovers finally reunited; to everyone else, though, you were clearly going through something. Jule hadn’t even said anything before pulling you into a hug, squeezing nice and tightly before passing you to Sveindís. She had just pressed a kiss to your forehead before continuing the conversation as if it was normal for you to be there. Alex and Svenja had pulled you aside as you walked into breakfast the first morning you were there. When they heard from Lena that you were watching the final, they thought it would be perfect timing for the talk. They prepared a speech and everything, promising painful retribution if you stepped a foot out of line. An hour watching you and Lena interact silently, automatically knowing what the other needed without ever speaking, made them throw their plan straight out the window.

“Hey, Y/N. Can we talk for a minute?” Alex asked, putting a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up wildly at Lena, relaxing slightly as she smiled and kissed your cheek, moving away to give you privacy. “Whose behinds do we need to kick?” Svenja jumped straight to it. “Huh?” You furrowed your brows in confusion. “We’ve seen the way you interact on the pitch. We’ve been in the room when you call Lena. You clearly are not yourself, so I’ll ask again. Whose needs a good kick up the bum?” It was something about the pair of them. You knew they were the motherly figures of the team, especially for Lena. She always sang their praises whenever she had the chance. You took a deep breath. “The whole of Barça?” You don’t know why you said it as a question. “Barça as in the city of Barcelona? Or just the team?” Alex quizzed “Um … well, they aren’t renewing my contract in the summer. They said they can’t afford it. But the first time either me or my agent heard about it was when they formally told us. I guess it just … knocked me a little.” You confessed. It was the first time you had explained what had happened since you first told Lena. Your heart clenched as you said the words, every syllable making it more and more real. “Oh, mausi. It’s ok.” Alex pulled you into a hug, gently squeezing you. “Take as much time as you need, ja? And talk to Obi, lean on her, let her be there for you.” Svenja added, rubbing your back comfortingly. You nodded, smiling gratefully at the two women.

You tried to keep a low profile, you successfully stayed out of the camera as you sat in the stands during Wolfsburg’s practices. You had spent most of the training looking over the documents your manager had sent over. A lot of the offers seemed really good. A very nice salary from most of them, some offered flats and houses, others offered cars and expenses. But there was one that stood out for you. It was no different than any of the other offers. But it lingered in your mind; it danced across your thoughts as you tried to fall asleep in Lena’s arms; it flicked as you ate breakfast; it appeared randomly as you waited for Lena to return from the showers. Should you? Logically, you knew you had to go somewhere. And you would have to move out of Barcelona and probably out of Spain too. There was one thing that this offer had that the others didn’t. Well, not a thing, but a person.

Inevitably, for all your efforts to hide yourself away, you were caught at the match. You had a black hoodie of Lena’s on and sunglasses, hoping it was enough to keep you from being recognised, but the fans were too good. You were picked up by hundreds of phones, all snapping photos of you. You knew it was kind of stupid to go to Lena’s match after withdrawing from your own, but you wanted to watch a football that didn’t impact you in any way beyond that of a fan. You were desperate to watch the game you loved as a fan again, to rediscover your love for the sport you dedicated your whole life to.

Ona was absolutely beside herself with worry. She was convinced you were dead. Or seriously injured, at the very least. “Si us plau, si us plau, Lucia. Por favor. Please,” she begged Lucy. For what, Lucy was unsure. “I don’t know what to do.” “I know, my love. I know.” Lucy ran her hands through Ona’s loose hair, twisting the strands around her fingers in a way she knew should bring her comfort. “What if she’s dead? I can’t lose her, not like this. Not without saying goodbye,” Ona sobbed. “She’s not, I promise you. She isn’t dead.” Despite her attempts, she didn’t know that. Not definitely. You could be lying in a ditch somewhere or in a hospital bed, unable to wake up and tell someone your name. Of course, she was worried for you, but she was more concerned for Ona. She was inconsolable. You had disappeared from her life without a trace.

Next to Lucy, her phone buzzed. She was going to ignore it; her girlfriend needed her more than whoever was messaging her. But when Ona’s tinged and then both started to ring, she sat up slightly. “Sí?” “She’s alive.” Ingrid breathed, sighing out in relief. That made Lucy sit up. “Hold on, let me put you on speaker, I’m with Oni.” “She’s alive. She’s in Germany. It’s on Instagram and Twitter. She’s at the Pokal final.” Mapí said, her tone a mix of relief and anger. “Què?” Ona sniffled, sitting up and leaning into Lucy more. “Some accounts have photos of her, it's all over social media. Ingrid’s trying to reach anyone from Wolfsburg. So’s Frido.” Mapí explained. “Lena,” Ona said, realisation dawning on her. If you were at a game in Germany, you would be watching Lena play.

Rumour: Y/F/N Y/S/N to transfer to Wolfsburg or Bayern Munich.

After being spotted at the DFB-Pokal Frauen 2024 Final, F.C. Barcelona midfielder Y/F/N Y/S/N is rumoured to make the intercontinental move next season. To which club is yet to be confirmed, but all signs point to the young player leaving Barcelona in the summer. With her presence at the Pokal Final, can we assume that she will be going to either Wolfsburg or Bayern?

Keep reading to find out more …..

Ona stared at her phone in shock. There was no way, no way in hell you were leaving Barça, especially not without telling her. You were happy here; you loved it here. Why would you go? You had friends here; you had your best friend here; you had your family here. She couldn’t help the tears that welled in her eyes. You weren’t leaving her, were you? It would explain why you were MIA for the past three days. Whilst she was at home, worried sick that you were lying dead in a ditch or in some ICU in a coma, your name unknown, you were off in Germany, living life and meeting your new teammates. And you had abandoned training and asked to be taken off the match squad. This couldn’t be the personal reasons you had mentioned in your text. There had to be more to it. There had to be a simple explanation. And yet, none was forthcoming. You had hopped on a plane and flew to Germany. No message, no phone call, no email. Just upped and left the country. So you could meet with your new team.

How could you do this to Ona? After all that you two had been through, after all that you had shared with each other. You were the first person she told about Lucy. You were the first person outside the Spanish national players she confessed to about what truly happened behind closed doors. You were there for her in ways no one else was or could be. And yet, you were leaving her without saying goodbye.

Leaving Lena was hard; you didn't really want to go back to Barcelona and face what was awaiting you. When you finally switched your phone back on, you were met with thousands of messages and missed calls. They started off concerned, then really worried and then they turned angry. You couldn't fault them; your behaviour was shitty. You would be just as angry if one of them had done that to you. But you needed a few days without anyone related to Barcelona. You needed the distance to clear your head and gather a game plan to present to your agent when you next spoke. You didn't even know about the article that was making its way around the internet. You weren't too big on social media unless it was to make your monthly Instagram posts. You followed the necessary people and uploaded the right things, but you didn't scroll for hours. You had been there before, been down that path and knew that only badness lay ahead. You had read the comments, seen the nastiness, heard the bitterness. So, you stayed clear, away from the world of social media trolls and online negativity. You didn't know of the absolute hell that was awaiting you.

Maybe going straight from the airport to training was a bad idea. Perhaps you should have taken the time to phone someone and let them know you were returning. Possibly, you should have spoken to Alexia and Ona first so you could explain yourself properly. Potentially you should have checked social media. But you didn’t. You didn’t do any of that.

You arrived at the training ground with your headphones in and hood up. You hurried passed reception, ignoring the glares from the receptionist and physios. You had hoped to catch Ona or Alexia before training, to pull them aside and explain everything to them (hopefully without crying).

“So, you’re transferring then?” Lucy called, her face stern and eyes blazing in anger. You hummed, confused and slightly shocked at her tone, but opted to walk straight to your cubby. “Oh, no, you don’t. Turn around.” Your headphones were still blasting music, so you never heard her. Lucy grabbed your shoulder roughly, swinging you back around to face. “What the fuck,” you flinched, pulling your headphones out and taking a step back. “You don’t get to do this. Not after I watched Ona cry herself to sleep ‘cos you were missing.” You felt your heart sink. Had she really done that? “I-” You felt guilty. You really, really felt horrible about what you had done to your … friends … ex-friends … teammates … ex-teammates. Ona especially. She was your best friend, and to see her puffy eyes and solemn expression from across the room made you feel even worse. And it bubbled up into anger. Mainly at yourself, but you couldn’t help but explode when Lucy started shouting. “Got nothing to say, have you?” She took a step closer. “We’re not good enough for you, now? You’ve found yourself a little girlfriend, and suddenly, your friends aren’t enough.” You squared up to her. “Leave Lena out of this,” you said menacingly, matching her energy. If she wanted a fight, she'd get one. “Please, you’re a fucking joke. You don’t get to waltz back in here like nothing happened. You were missing for 4 days. Not a single text to us to tell us what was going on.” “I don’t have to tell you everything.” She was right, though, and you knew it. A simple message to someone, anyone, to let them know would have solved a lot of issues. “What about Ona? Is she no longer your best friend? Or Ale, the woman who took you in when you first arrived?” She pressed. You were basically nose-to-nose at this point. “Why did you even bother coming back?” You recoiled as if she had just slapped you. It stung like she had. Why had you bothered coming back? Barça didn’t want you. And now the team didn’t want you either. “Fuck you, Bronze.” Your voice cracked slightly, your jaw clenched, and your mouth set in a harsh line. You were trying really hard not to cry. “Are you trying to burn all your bridges before you abandon us? If you are, it’s working.” She looked you up and down, the disdain in her eyes obvious. “You don’t deserve to be here anymore, let alone have us as friends.” You knew Lucy got angry when she was hurt, but hearing those words confirmed everything you already thought about yourself and this situation. Lena had spent days trying to glue your fragile mind back together, and with a single sentence, you had shattered into a thousand pieces again.

You hadn’t noticed the crowd gathering around you, the semi-circle blocking your exit and forcing you to keep up your façade. To most of the others, Lucy just echoed their hurt feelings, saying precisely what they were thinking. But Alexia and Ona could see the pain swirling behind your eyes before Lucy started the argument. The pair of them could also see your heartbreak as the words echoed around the silent changing rooms despite the mask you had on. You took a moment to gather yourself. Taking a breath, you said lowly. “You know what? If this is how you treat everyone that’s leaving, I’m glad Barça aren’t renewing my contract. I don’t want to be on a pitch with someone that thinks so little of me.”

I hope you enjoyed <3<3<3<3<3

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gothgamergaara · 2 years

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The funniest beef in the world is ppl who freak out over USAmericans calling it soccer instead of football that is so funny to me that’d be like Latinos fighting over how to say ice cream like girl is it really that deep that we call it soccer does it matter that much u don’t know our pain (have to make sure no one thinks we r talking abt American football if we call soccer football)

#I’m not rooting for soccer I just can’t be fucked to code switch all the time #and thinking of soccer as football puts my brain in Spanish mode but then i get all mixed up #so for the sake of language clarity for my poor little brain English = soccer and Spanish = fútbol #although I definitely think it’s funny how a lot of the clubs here do (officially or unofficially) incorporate ‘football club’ into their na #name*#and I will say it IS acting of Nashville to use SC instead of fc #cringe not acting*#my mistake it’s Nashville AND Orlando city #but like the Timbers are officially only the Portland Timbers but they’ve given in to being PTFC #or at least Timbers army has decided it lmao

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delfiore · 10 months

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—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (1/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you were ona’s biggest headache at man united, until you both move to barcelona.

word count: 3.7k

a/n: i’ve been watching the men’s game for years but i’ve finally sobered FINAL TODAY LET’S GO ENGLAND LET’S GO SPAIN (MOSTLY SPAIN)

PART II, PART III, PART IV, PART V

It started four years ago when Ona first signed for United. She didn’t notice at first the way you were always gunning for her, she was just doing her job.

But now, you were here in Barcelona with her. As she looked up at you, a soft smile on your face, everything she had buried in the past year all came rushing back.

Everyone was aware of the new signing from the States for her rival club just a couple of weeks before, a dragged-out saga of whether you were going to choose City or United. Unfortunately for her, you chose the Sky Blues.

If things had been different, maybe she wouldn’t have despised you as much as she did.

The first Manchester derby you played, she thought marking you would be easy until you dribbled past her several times to register a goal and assist. She must have been glowering at you when she walked back to the midfield line, because you shrugged before grinning at her, saying: “All in a day’s work.”

“Could I just ask what put Man City above all the other contenders for your signature?” “Well, I mean, it’s a great club with a great history, amazing players too. I’ve spoken at length with the new manager and he gave me a rough plan for next year’s project. So I’m really excited and confident that it’ll be a great destination for me.” “What do you say to the people who think you’ve chosen City for the money?” “People can think whatever they want to think. I’ll just play my game, and they can judge me all they want. It’s all anyone’s good for.” “You’ve just transferred from Portland, you’ve got an enormous price tag for the women’s game, tons of big clubs in Europe wanted you. There’s a mounting pressure on you, it seems. Do you think you’ll be up for the challenge of the Women’s Super League?” “It’s no fun if it’s not a challenge.”

Ona Batlle was what people considered a modern full-back, dangerous in attack just as she was solid in defense. But when playing against Man City, she usually has to stay back to avoid a dangerous winger finding their way into the box; you. It wasn’t her way of playing, and it frustrated her that that was what her role was while her team was struggling to create chances, especially when she knew she could help.

“I want you to stay back and mark Y/L/N. Whatever you do, do not let her out of your sight,” Casey had told her.

She hated you for caging her in, and the worst part was she wasn’t sure if she can stop you sometimes.

The night before her next game against you, she watched how you played the previous match, studied your movement carefully, and took notes. She liked that she had found a pattern. You liked to use your speed, but you also liked to taunt your defenders; a pace of prime Thierry Henry’s, and showboating tendencies like that of Neymar. It’s why you were so entertaining to watch, because every defender you faced ended up a sort of decoration to your parlor tricks, her included.

Ona never liked being second best to anybody, and certainly not to you.

And so when she was on the pitch, zeroing on you like a hawk, there was nothing stopping her from getting away from you. She didn’t need to resort to any risky challenges, she just needed to stick with you, keep you at arm’s length, and stay between you and the goal at all costs.

You may be a skilled player for your age, but controlling your temper is something you haven’t been able to achieve. She heard you cursing a few times, eventually earning you a yellow card when your insults were directed at the referee.

The ball had only left the City’s goalkeeper, Roebuck, yet she already felt you pushing back against her.

The game ended 3-1 for United, but she was secretly much happier that she had managed to piss you off so much, that you didn’t bother shaking hands with her afterwards.

“Congratulations, Ona. A huge victory for United. What do you think went well today?” “I think that our plans worked because we practiced and showed what we’re able to do. We didn’t have a lot of possession, but we focused on the counterattacks, and I think that definitely was a very effective tactic today.” “I have to ask you about Y/N Y/L/N. She’s been a formidable player in the league until now, and notoriously difficult to defend against, but she was practically silenced today on the left-hand side. Do you think you had something to do with that?” “I think what I’ve prepared in defense has worked out, for sure. I’ve also got my teammates to thank for covering the grounds for me. Y/L/N is a good player, and it’s always a joy to play against her.”

Her rivalry with you continued, and soon even the press was picking up on it. Manchester derbies now included Y/L/N v. Batlle, and everyone was predicting what crazy thing would happen next. It wasn’t common for defenders to make waves in the paper compared to superstar strikers or even midfielders unless they were linked with a big move. But soon Ona was reading about herself in the news, how she has defended Manchester United’s left wing with an iron grip, how they started calling her la matadora, for her ability to hold off forwards and tame them like bullfighters do.

One bull remained to be tamed though, and her conundrum continued into her second season at United.

Unlike her, you seemed to take the new breath of fame easily enough. Day in and day out, there were news of you scoring goals and bringing Man City to the top of the table by November.

You were born to be a star.

But Ona knew from shooting stars in the game that burned out too quickly; if you let what’s outside the pitch get to you, you might as well just leave it altogether. You might have been a good player, on your way to becoming a great one even, but you did have a flare for the dramatics which riled up the press quite a bit. If she was lucky, maybe the pressure would take you out of the game before she does.

International breaks were times she always look forward to, being able to represent her country. Even if they were friendly matches, she knew Spain was always being watched, as a team’s form was important on the world stage. The team would play two friendly matches, the first one being against Brazil and the other against the United States. Some friendly fixtures . . .

Brazil was a breeze, mainly because she wouldn’t have to face her biggest adversary. Naturally, you were called up to your national team, and the back-and-forth game persisted.

She had played against you many times at club level, but the way you played for your country was something else. There was more passion to the way you weave your way through defenders, more flare to your shots. It could also be the adrenaline of being called up for the first time, and wanting to prove yourself—she knew that feeling well.

It didn’t come as a surprise, then, that when a long ball was played over the defense line and Marta Cardona was on her way towards goal, you’d be there to strike her down right at the edge of the box. Her teammates appealed, and the referee paused the game, but all Ona saw was red. With a speed she didn’t know she had in her, she sprinted to you and shoved you away as you were bending down in a show of checking on Marta.

“What was that?! You could have broken her ankle, cabrona!”

“Watch it.”

You had never seen her so angry before—her jaw locked as she continued to hurl insults at you. If she wasn’t your mortal enemy maybe you could have found it attractive. So you pushed back, and soon both your teammates and hers crowded around you, trying to separate you. Kelley put her arm around your neck and walked away, telling you to “keep your cool, this is only a friendly”.

Never, you thought. Never while I’m playing against her.

You apologized to Marta eventually, and she was cool with it. “Heat of the moment”, she said, and you were grateful. You never meant to hurt anyone. Sometimes you just couldn’t control your adrenaline spike.

As expected, Ona didn’t even look at you after the match. So you went home with Marta.

The next morning at breakfast, Ona heard laughing from the girls surrounding Marta.

“How was your American late-night snack, Marta?” Leila laughed.

The girl only shook her head with a grin. “It was delicious, alright.”

Ona didn’t know what that twisted feeling in her gut was when she heard what Marta said, as she walked back to her hotel room after breakfast. She just knew that as long as she was alive, you were the most despicable person she knew.

ESPN: Y/L/N-Batlle Feud Continues, Bonmatí Controls Midfield in Spain-USWNT Clash “LOS ANGELES -- Thursday night saw a friendly match between Spain’s women's national team and the USWNT at the Snapdragon Stadium that ended in a 2-2 draw. Several debutants started for both teams, including Man City powerhouse Y/N Y/L/N. After a stunning cross into the box from the left for Mallory Pugh to tap in, a dangerous slide tackle on Marta Cardona ensured Y/L/N to be the heart of a confrontation between several players, including Ona Batlle. It seems their club rivalry persists as they were seen giving each other a very clear piece of their minds, and several clashes succeeded the Cardona tackle. It would have been a good performance for both if not for the slip of attitude. One thing is clear, though; the mentality is there, and it sure is entertaining to watch. […]”

The end of the season was fast approaching, and while you had become a thorn in her side, it came to a point in which she would not think about you until a week before a clash. This one in particular was crucial in the race for a Champions League spot that both Manchester clubs were vying for. She knew what it meant for the club to secure a UCL spot for the first time, and you were not about to ruin it for her.

Tooney and Millie invited her out for dinner the night before the derby, but she turned them down, opting for a quiet night in instead. After a few hours, however, she suddenly felt antsy, the anticipation before the game nipping at her. It was only 7pm when she checked and she decided to go for a run. She followed the familiar path she always takes to the nearby park, and she was glad she did because the sun was going down, leaving a glorious trail of orange in the sky. She loved these peaceful moments, away from adrenaline, away from the constant pressure, away from constantly having to push herself or she’d be called ‘lazy’.

A constant huffing sound appeared next to her, and when Ona looked down she saw an adorable corgi looking up at her while wagging its tail.

“Hello,” she bent down and pet the dog. Loving the attention, the little corgi jumped up in an attempt to lick her face, to which she let out a laugh.

“Bratwurst! Come back here!” She heard a voice call in the distance, which she assumed must have been the owner. “Sorry, he loves people.”

Ona looked up, and her face dropped. You did the same, standing frozen in front of her. Bratwurst was jumping up and down before you, probably excited that he received pets from someone else today.

She had never seen you in plain clothes before. You clearly knew how to dress yourself, because she might have admitted that you looked good if she didn’t hate you so much. But it was difficult to see you as anything else other than Y/N Y/L/N, Manchester City winger, and potentially Golden Boot winner this season by the looks of it.

And yet, she sat down on a nearby bench with you anyway, watching Bratwurst stick his butt in the air, attempting to catch a squirrel.

“I named him Bratwurst ‘cause he’s . . . long, you know?” You chuckled. ”Short form is Brat too, that’s kinda funny.”

In a sea of northern Englishmen, she never got to hear your American accent properly as she’d only heard you speak no more than two words to her, and most of the time they weren’t pleasant.

“How do you have time to own a dog?” She asked.

“He’s a foster. I just got him a couple of weeks ago.” You looked down at your fingers. “It’s nice to have him to come home to.”

The conversation died down, and suddenly Ona felt like this was a mistake. Maybe she should just leave, and continue her run. But she saw a different side to you—a gentler, quieter side unlike the boastful player she knew you as—and she wasn’t sure whether it was a good thing or not.

“Are you planning on adopting him permanently?”

“Maybe. I just want to make sure that I’m settled before making him move.”

You leaned back, placed your arm on the bench, and closed your eyes.

“You don’t want to stay in Manchester?”

“I don’t know yet. Why, would you be happy if I did?” You smirked, and she saw a glimpse of that player again.

Yes. “Your presence doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t bring me any joy either.”

“Just face it, Batlle.” You turned your body to her. “I get under your skin, don’t I?”

Ona blinked, her jaw clenching. “You don’t intimidate me, Y/L/N. You might be used to people bowing at your feet, but I won’t let you walk all over me. We will win tomorrow, and you might think to show some respect for others in the game.”

“Sorry, Batlle, can’t let you win. We’re playing Champions League next season.” You really enjoyed taunting her.

Ona huffed and stood up. As she walked away, she heard you call out to her. “See you on the pitch tomorrow, la matadora!”

There was nothing you could ever do to make yourself less hateful in her eyes.

It was matchday, kick-off time. Ona saw you on the other side of the midfield line. “Remember what you came here to do, and finish the job,” Marc had told them in the dressing room. He was right. She had a job to do, and she wasn’t about to let you ruin that for her.

They were to play with a high line today, which required Ona to stay near the midfield line and run back, should a forward slip through. About halfway through the first half, she had a startling realization; you were dropping back too, playing a number-10 role. It meant that she couldn’t do what she did last time you met, because there would be a gaping hole where she covers.

United was leading 1-0 by halftime, and while they had the advantage, the fight was far from over.

“Okay, ladies. Have a drink and take a seat,” Marc stood at the front of the dressing room. “We’re doing good, we’re holding them off. Keep up the pressure.”

Ona sat back to catch her breath. You were much more versatile than she thought, and maybe that was her mistake for underestimating you. It seemed too easy that you were giving her exactly what she wanted, playing high at the flank like she always does. There was more to it, but she needed to adapt.

Ona held your gaze for a moment across the field. You weren’t giving up. It seemed you were confident enough in whatever wicked plan you still had up your sleeve, that you sent her a smirk back.

It was the 70th minute of the game and they were so close to achieving it. Katie was looking for a pass, so Ona made herself available.

There was empty space near the side of the box, and she wanted to utilize it but it meant having to get past a couple of defenders.

“Vilde! 1, 2!” She called, passed the ball to her teammate, and started running. Her momentum was halted when Vilde’s ball was cut off and instantly launched forward.

The counterattack came so quickly, it must have been what you practiced. 1-1.

Suddenly, the tides have shifted. The momentum was with City. Time was running out, and the sudden goal disoriented her team. It took about five minutes for everyone to get their head back into the game, but Ona could tell City were used to having possession by then.

And then, in the 88th minute, you were given the ball from the left. Everyone except Alessia had dropped back to defend a series of dangerous balls up until now. You didn’t have anyone to pass to without getting intercepted, and you were outside of the box. So you took the shot. She watched helplessly as the ball flew past Mary into the top right corner.

1-2.

Ona’s body ran cold as she watched you celebrate with your teammates.

When the final whistle came shortly after, she collapsed on her knees.

Some of her teammates were there to console her, but she let their comfort pass through her. She needed to break something.

She needed to get away from everyone and found a spot near the bathrooms where she could catch her breath. Her boots were dangling from her hand by the laces. She slumped against a wall and began to cry, the boots clattering next to her on the floor.

It wasn’t that she was sad to have lost—she blamed herself for letting you get to her head. The interaction of the day before got her thinking what ifs. What if we didn’t meet under these circumstances? What if I could have just gotten to know you without wanting to rip your head off every time I see you?

You heard quiet sobs down the hallway and knew it was her. You had quickly gone into the tunnel when you didn’t see her anywhere on the pitch, but you certainly weren’t expecting to see her cry.

“Batlle?” You called.

She didn’t seem to notice you, sitting against the wall and wiping her face with her shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay.” That was a stupid thing to say considering you just beat her out of a Champions League spot, of course it’s not okay.

“I’m really not in the mood,” she said, looking away.

“You did good out there,” you said, watching her anxiously.

“Don’t act like you care,” she sniffled. “You got what you wanted.”

“I’m not as heartless as you think, Ona.” You quipped back. “I’m not sorry that we won, but I am sorry that you’re hurt.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” She sobbed and glared at you. It sent a chill down your bones. “I wish we had never met.”

How do you tell her that you never meant for things to go this way? That every word you had ever said to her didn’t stem from malice but from fear? You had wished to push her away so that you don’t collide with her head-on. How do you tell her that no matter how hard you tried, you still gravitated toward her?

“I’m sorry.” You repeated, like a fool.

She was hurting because of you.

You snuck a glance at the form of the girl in front of you, like you would be penalized if you were caught looking at her. You took a step back to go, but she held onto your arm and pulled your body against her.

You had been fantasizing about having your mouth against her for months, usually in absurd circumstances, like you two making out in a bed of roses or you giving her a kiss after she, a masked superhero, saved you from danger. Never like this, muscles aching, sweat coating your foreheads, wearing your respective uniforms—being so you doing this.

You wanted to enjoy it. Her lips were soft and salty, and she might have secured you by the waist against her. Your knees trembled as you sighed into her lips, pushing her against the wall gently. Your hesitancy soon turned into hunger, as you pressed your body into hers, desperate to feel her.

Murmurs in the distance snapped you out of it. “Where’s Ona?” You made out one of the voices saying.

You looked back at her, your faces just inches away. You never noticed, but she had so many beautiful freckles adorning her face.

“Ona—“ You said, but she quickly picked up her boots and left towards the voices.

Chest heaving and head spinning, you slumped against the wall with a small grin, bringing your fingers up to touch your lips where she had been.

“Where have you been?” Keira asked in the dressing room, but you just shook your head.

“Just to the bathroom.”

Sky Sports: Man City’s Talisman Y/N Y/L/N Nets Stunning Late Goal Against Man United To Secure UWCL Spot […]

a/n: this gif is so y/n and ona coded

#ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #wwc23 #spain wnt #man united women

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flemingsfreckles · 2 months

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Replacement pt. 1

Jessie Fleming x Reader (enemies to lovers)

Synopsis: Jessie transfers to your team in Portland, while everyone else seems to be thrilled about her transfer, you see the girl as a threat to your position and playing time with the team.

Warnings: cursing

WC: 2.4K (this is just set up, the other parts will be longer)

A/N: this is a LONG overdue series I started writing when Jessie first transferred to Portland, I just have had some serious writers block with it. But I’ve finally been able to get some of it down. It is enemies to lovers, so it will be rough and angsty at the start but give it some time :)

Everyone had seen the rumors flying around. You heard the whispers of your teammates at training yesterday afternoon after they had all seen the supposed transfer news. Just like any other fan or team, you all loved the speculation. Your teammates loved it even more when it surrounded bringing a big name on to your team for once instead of Gotham like everyone else. Janine and Christine spent most of their practice trying to dodge questions about their fellow Canadian teammate, not giving away any details of what they did or didn’t know.

You couldn’t lie, you often fed into the spectacle of transfer rumors, chatting with your team about where people might be headed. Something about this transfer rubbed you the wrong way. Maybe it was because you felt threatened. You were a midfielder as well. If you’re being honest with yourself, your first season in the league, fresh out of college, had not gone to plan.

Being drafted second you were expected to perform well, and the transition into the NWSL from the NCAA had been anything but smooth. You had a few minor injuries, a strain here and there, with the addition of a minor concussion. You ended up with an overall disappointing season. It wasn’t due to your lack of effort, you pushed yourself as hard if not harder than most players, it just hadn’t yet paid off.

Jessies arrival meant you’d likely be finding yourself sitting on the bench more and more often. They were bringing in someone who could actually help the team. They were bringing in your replacement in the form of an incredibly skilled and experienced midfielder.

You tried to remember that they were just rumors, she wasn’t confirmed to being transferring. What small hope you had was quickly diminished when you got the team message from staff asking that you all arrive to practice 20 minutes early for a “quick meeting”.

So when you walked into the meeting room, slouching in your seat next to Sam and Janine with a huff, they both turned to look at you. They had both taken you under their wing when you joined the team, being your first friends in Portland. They would come over when you were injured, helping take you to and from training, and helping you get acquainted with the city.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of their bed, damn.” Janine looked at you with wide eyes. It was uncharacteristic behavior being so cranky, even with how poorly your season was last year, you were typically upbeat, trying to make your teammates laugh, keeping practice lighthearted.

“Shut it Beckie.” You muttered in her direction. Sam looked at you, wide eyes before slowly turning to face forward not wanting to get on your bad side. Your coach walking in shortly after, not giving Janine the chance to respond. You’re not sure she would have even had something to say as she just stared at you, mouth open at the fact that you had just talked back to her.

“Alright, quiet down everyone,” your coach held his hands up. “I’m sure everyone has already seen the rumors floating around our club. We hadn’t planned to announce it until she was actually here to introduce herself but as of a couple hours ago, we have officially agreed to terms with and will be welcoming another Canadian,” he shoots a look at Janine and Sinc, “Jessie Fleming will be joining us.” A couple of whoops and hollers scattered across the room. “She’ll be starting with us at practice in two days. I expect, as you all have with our other transfers and signings, that you welcome her to Portland.”

While the rest of the team seemed to be thrilled at the idea of Fleming joining the team, you dodged every conversation you could about her.

Thankfully training was short, with the season just beginning you were completing fitness testing, getting both benchmarks for the season and learning how well everyone had kept up with their fitness during the off season. After warming up, everyone ran the well known and well dreaded “beep test”. It may be dreaded to most, but as a midfielder you had some of the best cardio fitness. It was days like this where your confidence rose, feeling comfortable through the test, nothing to worry about except running.

By the end of the test, you were one of the only players still running, your lungs were burning with each breath you took, the lactic acid building up in your thighs and calves. You finally dropped to your knees, unable to run any further. You found yourself kneeling next to Janine before rolling over to sit. Placing your head between your knees you breathed, listening to your teammates around you also panting, some coughing, some cursing the test for existing. You laid back fully putting up one leg straight in the air. A smile crept across your face, something about the burning of your lungs and your legs nearly cramping felt so good, a small reminder of your hard work.

“You mind helping me stretch?” Reaching out an arm you smack Janine next to you. Easily convinced, she stands up moving over to you placing herself to hold the foot in the air. She gently begins to press it toward your chest, your hamstring straining as she pushes your leg further.

“You’re fucking crazy for smiling after that test.” Janine rolling her eyes at you, a small cough coming out after as she can still feel her lungs burning. “I can’t believe I’m going to have to deal with two of you now.”

“What does that mean? Two of us?” You send her a pointed look before laying back letting your head fall back against the grass. Janine drops your leg, grabbing the other one before repeating the stretching motion.

“It means, I’ll now have to deal with you and Jessie running circles around me and the rest of this team. Literally circles.” She huffs.

“Right.” You felt the smile drop from your face, you had been able to forget about your replacement’s arrival. Janine noticed instantaneous change in your emotions at the mention of Jessie. She made a mental note to check in with you later, not while you were still on the sidelines of the pitch with the entire team.

Once everyone cooled down from the test, you stretched more, before heading into the locker room. You grab a protein bar and electrolytes from the shelf before hopping into the ice bath. Janine follows you, hopping in as well, making a comment about how cold it was as she shivers.

“Hey, I know we usually go for coffee after practice. We can still do that, it's just that I had offered to help Jessie unpack. She got in last night and didn’t really get settled. I’m supposed to meet her at her new place in about an hour, so I won't be able to stay for too long. It’ll have to be more of a grab and go kind of thing.” Janine looks at you, you both standing in the ice cold water, your shirts held up to avoid getting them wet.

Part of you is annoyed at her. You two always grabbed coffee, it was an unspoken activity, occasionally another teammate or two tagging along. You two would get coffee, you’d vent to each other, chat about the tv shows you were watching, Janine would talk about her wedding. It was something Janine started with you when you were new to the team, she was doing it to make you feel comfortable at the start and it quickly developed into a genuine friendship. Now Jessie was going to replace you at work and in Janine’s life too.

“Just go to hers, it's all good. We can skip this week.” You try not to sound upset, already feeling replaced by Jessie’s arrival in the form of losing your coffee “date”.

“Sorry, I would have said something sooner but with the transfer not public yet, I just didn’t want to get her in trouble or anything.” She pauses for a moment. “Actually, why don't you come with me to Jessie’s? I really think you two will get on well, plus it’ll be a good way to introduce you two.”

“Oh, no, I wouldn't want to just show up, I mean I don't know her and unpacking her stuff would be a little personal, it just probably isn't the best time for me to meet her.” Coming up with the best excuse you could come up with without flat out telling Janine that you don't want to meet one of her favorite people. You had heard plenty about Jessie before from Janine, only before it didn’t bother you. Before it was just hearing about one of Janine’s best friends, now it had a different sting when she was brought up. Now she was talking about the girl coming to take your spot.

“Alright, well I’m still grabbing coffee because I thought we’d be going and I promised Jessie I’d bring her one. Come with me at least then we can split?” You know Janine has zero negative intentions, she still was trying to have your usual coffee while also being an incredible friend and going to help Jessie move in.

“Fine, twist my arm.” You add sarcasm into your sentence, it wasn’t too hard to get you to go get a coffee, it was one of your favorite drinks, you spent way to much time and money on it, even having your own espresso machine at home with a bean grinder and all. Janine always joked that you could just run your own coffee shop out of your apartment for extra money.

You get to the coffee shop, when you walk in the barista gives you a wave, you and Janine were frequent visitors, the baristas all knew you and your orders.

“Are we getting the usual ladies?” The girl behind the counter asks, already starting to punch in the order on her screen.

“I am, but can we get them to-go, thank you.” You tell her. She puts in the order for your cold brew with caramel foam.

“I am, but I’m also going to add another drink, can I just get a latte with the lavender syrup please.”

On a normal day, if you weren’t in such an upset and negative mood you would’ve mocking the way Janine says syrup, but you don’t. You also mentally gag at the coffee she ordered for Jessie, lavender tasted like old lady soap. You mentally added it to the list of reasons to avoid the new transfer. It was childish what you were doing but you didn’t care.

You reach to get your card out, Janine beats you to it tapping her card on the register. “Janine, no.” It was your turn to pay, the two of you alternated.

“Please it’s the least I can do given I’m ditching you today.” She shoots you a sympathetic look.

“Alright.” You rolls your eyes at her as you hear your name called from the other end of the counter where your drink was placed.

You grab your drink and turn to walk out of the shop. The shop wasn’t too far from your apartment, a couple of blocks, and you figured you could walk so Janine didn’t have to drop you off at your house before heading to Jessie’s.

“Hey, where are you running off to, I’ll drive you.”

“Oh, no I’m good, I don’t want to make your trip longer.” You also had enough social interaction for today, a short walk alone wouldn’t be the worst thing.

“Well Jessie’s new place is just across the street from yours, so I’ll be going that way anyway.”

Of course Jessie moved in right across the street, out of all the apartment buildings in Portland of course she found herself the closest one, besides literally being in your building.

Janine grabs hers and Jessie’s drinks and you both walk back to her car. The two of you chat again, complaining about the weather and how it couldn’t make up its mind if it’s was winter or spring yet. You both coo over a dog walking down the street and for a second the conversation is light, it feels normal again. Until Janine brings up Jessie again.

“Hey, would you mind if I give Jess your number? I just figured I’d maybe be nice, you guys live across the street from each other, if she needed anything while she’s still moving in, store or food recommendations, you could help.”

You wanted to say no. But the girl was going to end up with your number anyway, you had to be teammates, you’d have to be cordial with her, you couldn’t let your own pride be a problem for the team.

“Yeah, that’s fine I guess.” Your mood deflated, the words coming out of your mouth with a heavy sigh at the end, making it obvious you weren’t thrilled about the suggestion for her to have your number.

“Are you alright? You’ve seemed weird all day. Is it because of Jessie?”

“Why would it be because of her?” You ask, knowing damn well that your behavior was exactly her fault.

“I don’t know, just when she gets brought up, you seem to get annoyed.”

“No I don’t.” Your answer is quick, you get defensive. Unfortunately your defensive behavior likely tells Janine that it is in fact Jessie who’s on your nerves.

“Oh, I know what it is!” She slaps her hand over to your thigh, giving you a small smack.

“What?”

“You’re worried I’m going to start doing things with Jessie instead of you! You’re jealous!” Her tone is playful, she’s teasing you.

“I’m not jealous.” You cross your arms in the passenger seat, pouring like a toddler.

“Good, but if you were, you have no reason to be, yes she’s my friend, but so are you, our coffee dates will still go on, we’ll still hang out, you have nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried.” You say as Janine pulls up in front of your building. You climb out of the car, thanking her for the ride.

“You’re welcome, I'll always love you, she’ll never come between us!” She yells out the window making a slightly embarrassing scene, bypassers not knowing the joke she’s making. You turn back, shaking your head at her as you laugh.

“Love ya Janine, bye.” You wave at her and enter your building.

You get inside and go about the rest of your day, laundry, cleaning, a rather mundane but somewhat relaxing evening.

It’s when you’re crawling into bed that you receive two messages from an unknown number.

Unknown: Hi, this is Jessie, Janine gave me your number. She said you lived in the area.

Unknown: Sorry, Jessie Fleming, I should’ve clarified. Don’t feel obligated to text me, just Janine insisted I reach out.

You ignore the messages, you have a quick thought of blocking her number, but you know that’s not realistic. You’d have to see her in a few days and be her teammate you can’t block her phone. At least the girl gave you the permission to ignore her.

So that’s what you did. You closed your phone, putting it on silent and snuggled into bed, putting on whatever was showing on National Geographic at this hour and falling asleep shortly after.

#jessie fleming #jflem #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso imagine #woso x reader #jessie fleming blurb

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meazalykov · 2 months

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she was the golden girl

uswnt x (romantic) aitana bonmatí x (platonic) fridolina rolfo x uswnt!reader

summary: what happened in a world where reader plays in the 2023 World Cup after winning the 2019 World Cup?

warnings: tiny bit of angst and sadness, google translated spanish.

part two (part one here)

I remembered when I stood on the french pitch, surrounded by the deafening cheers of the crowd, sometimes I can’t believe that it happened. Tears welled up in my eyes as I hugged my best friend Mallory, threatening to spill over as a whirlwind of emotions flooded my mind.

My hands trembled as I clutched the World Cup trophy tightly to my chest, feeling the weight of my team's triumph. The third goal in the world cup was scored by me, the youngest goalscorer in a Women’s World Cup final. The journey to this moment had been grueling, filled with sacrifices, sweat, and endless dedication. But looking back, all the pain and hardship were worth it.

Before the World Cup, the Champions League medal hung proudly around my neck, a testament to the skill and hard work I’ve displayed on the field. At the time, Lyon was the club of my life. I believed that I would’ve never left the french institution, extending my contract as much as I possibly could’ve. The memories of each game, each goal, each victory rushed back to me, overwhelming my senses.

And then there was the Ballon d'Or many months after both competitions, the ultimate recognition of my individual excellence. To be acknowledged as the best, only at the age of 19 years old, was a dream I had hardly dared to entertain. Yet there I was, being the second woman holding the prestigious award in my small hands, my name etched into football history forever as I stood beside Lionel Messi who received the men’s d’or.

Surrounded by my teammates, coaches, and supporters, I felt a surge of gratitude and humility. This moment wasn't just about me; it was about the collective effort of everyone who had believed in my skills along the way. I will never forget it.

Four years later, It's 2023. I am 23 years old and still impressing the fans around the World. However, the scars of my ACL injury were still fresh, a constant reminder of the hurdles I had overcome to be here after the harsh 2022 year.

Playing for Lyon had once been a dream come true. I’ll never forget that experience. When I signed to Lyon from Portland Thorns at the age of 18, I was overwhelmed in joy. I needed that new challenge, and that challenge earned me the best awards, collectively and individually. But, the fallout from my December 2021 injury had left a bitter taste in my mouth. The club I had once called home had felt more like a distant memory as I felt forced to make the difficult decision to part ways and start a new life in the sunny Spanish city.

Now, I wore the red and blue Barcelona jersey onto the pitch. The transfer left me heartbroken, at first, now I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The road to recovery after my ACL injury in France had been long and arduous, filled with doubts and setbacks. Sometimes, I believed that my prime occurred at the age of 19, instead of the predicted 24-30 years old. Yet here I am, defying the odds once again to represent my country on the world stage in two months.

Sometimes the memories of my victories with Lyon and the United States lingered in the back of my mind, serving as both motivation and a reminder of what was at stake. The Champions League trophy I had lifted with Lyon and the World Cup I had claimed with the United States were testaments to my talent and resilience. But now, I lifted the Champions League trophy with Barcelona.

After scoring the second goal of the final, with Patricia before me and Fridolina afterwards, the gold hung beautifully around my neck. It was my fourth time I've felt such a high amount of glory, but the happy tears still came as if it were the first.

A month later, I am on a fourteen hour flight from Los Angeles to Wellington, New Zealand. As The plane soared through the clouds and I sat in my business class seat, my hands gripping the armrests tightly and my heart pounded in my chest.

“Y/n?” I took out my airpods when I heard the faint sound of my name coming from outside of them. I turned to my right and saw my teammate and captain, Lindsey, looking at me with a confusing look.

“Hey.” I joked, pretending like my stress wasn’t visible for everyone to see.

“Are you okay?” Lindsey asked. In my head, I debated on if I wanted to lie and say yes, just so I didn’t have to burden her with my stress. However, she’s known me for many years, the woman would notice my lie from miles away.

“Not really. I’m just–a bit nervous.” I swallowed. The blonde girl nodded her head in understanding as she rested her arm beside mine.

“That's understandable. Is it the competition that's bothering you? I mean– we are defending champions so we have a lot to prove.” Lindsey asked. I took a deep breath as my mind shifted to a particular person from my Barcelona team.

“No– It's about–um.” I stopped speaking. I didn’t want her to cloud my head during the competition, as we both promised ourselves that we would play as rivals, not lovers.

“Aitana?” Lindsey questioned, but yet finished what I would’ve said. I noticed my head as my face was plastered with sadness.

“yeah.” I mumbled. The Lyon midfielder looked at me with a questionable look, wondering if there were problems between the Spanish girl and I.

“I mean– there's no problem between us. However we prioritize football first you know? we both agreed that during the competition, we wouldn’t talk much.. just so we can focus on this.” I ranted. I’m not stressed because of a possible match between Spain and the United States, I know that I’ll miss the shorter woman a lot. Also, what if we stop talking and a third factor might influence our relationship moving forward?

“That's good that you’re prioritizing us– You shouldn’t feel nervous about your relationship because this will give you time to miss each other– things will go back to normal once the world cup is over.” Lindsey patted my shoulder in sympathy, I smirked as my nervousness started to subside.

A month later, as I stepped up to the penalty spot, the weight of the world seemed to rest upon my shoulders. We finished the match against Sweden 0-0 and after extra time, we had to go into a penalty shootout. The stadium roared around me, a cacophony of cheers and chants from both sides echoing in my small ears. Nerves danced in my stomach, threatening to consume me with doubt and mistakes.

With a deep breath, My eyes focused on Zećira Mušović standing between me and the goal. She did great throughout the game and has the reflexes to stop my shot. Determination burned in my eyes, she saw it too.

As I approached the ball with speed, the tension in the air was palpable but I couldn’t care. Every step felt like an eternity as my foot sent the ball soaring towards the goal. Mušović dove in desperation, but my ball went directly to the middle as she dove left. The ball crashed into the back of the net, eliciting a deafening roar from the crowd and from my teammates.

My dimples on my cheeks showed as I am happy to make the penalty. Being substituted on the pitch after halftime, I tried my best to score but my shot on goal was overturned by VAR. Apparently, my body was offside.

Now, my arms wrapped the bodies of Sophia Smith and Megan Raphinoe as I looked ahead at Kelley O’hara. My heart raced as I stared at her white colored cleats. She needed to score this, or else Sweden had the opportunity to win the knockout.

She Missed. My heart dropped to my stomach as I looked at the Swedish players with rising confidence and opportunity. Hurtig took the shot and Alyssa blocked it over the line. This caused a debate among the crowd. Deep down, I knew Sweden made it. They’ve won. However, VAR was the only hope which would have proved me wrong.

Unfortunately, I was right. Sweden emerged victorious in the penalty shootout, their celebration serving as a bitter reminder of the heartbreak that awaited my teammates and I.

No, No, NO! I thought to myself as I felt the moisture in my eyes start to take place. Immediately, my mind did a flashback to the 2019 World Cup Final. Being 19 years old and happy as my small, yet muscular, arms held the heavy World Cup trophy.

With a heavy heart, I broke away from my teammates and looked among the Americans in the stands. My shaky hands clapped to the fans in the stands, my facade of strength crumbling with each step she took. Cameras could capture my weak struggle to stay strong as the Swedish crowd rightfully celebrated.

Turning around, walking back towards the Americans who were on the team, my knees collapsed on the grassy pitch, tears streamed down my tired face. This was the worst that the United States had completed in a World Cup. What went wrong?

I wanted to stand up so badly, but I didn’t. Shame and Defeat took over my body which laid in the grass. What is my family in the crowd thinking? What are the USWNT fans thinking? What are my fans thinking?... my tears cried out more when I wondered what Aitana was thinking.

After ten minutes of darkness in my eyes, covered by my hands. A comforting presence enveloped my body. I recognized the floral smell mixed with a tint of sweat. I looked up from my hands and saw Fridolina, my teammate from Barcelona and now my opponent who won the Round of 16.

“You did so good, Don’t beat yourself up over this!” Fridolina spoke to me first as her thumbs wiped over my teary eyes. I felt comfort but a small amount of envy was inside of me, I wanted to win so badly.

“Congratulations Frido.” The Swedish girl took her hands and helped me stand up as she gave me a tight hug. Aitana, Frido, and I are a trio back in Barcelona. In fact, she helped Aitana and I confess our feelings to each other.

“Thank you! Just know that I am proud of you, she is proud of you too. Even if you aren’t proud of yourself.” The 29 year old said as my eyes stained her yellow covered shoulders. I knew she meant Aitana when she said “she”. However, I didn’t know where the Spanish woman was at the moment and what she was thinking.

“Just go be-beat Japan. Okay?” I said through a crack in my voice. I found solace in the embrace of my friend. I might’ve lost but I am not a bitter person, now I want to see my club teammates have a good World Cup like I’ve once experienced.

As we exchanged jerseys, the voice in my head kept reassuring myself that I'll come back stronger than ever in 2027.

Just a week later, most of my American teammates left Australia and went back home. However, my teammate Kristie and I decided to stay back. Kristies had a girlfriend who played on a different international team like I did, so we wanted to support them as they’re advancing to the semi-finals.

Witnessing my Barcelona teammates play each other in the Spain vs Sweden match was intense. Standing beside Aitana’s parents, I wore a basic dark green t-shirt with 501 mid-thigh levi shorts. This is the first time I've met them as her girlfriend and they’re sweet people. We celebrated Spain’s win against Sweden and my heart would have exploded in happiness. My girlfriend will experience a World Cup final!

On August 20th, after an intense match and a lovely goal from Olga Carmona, Spain won the World Cup! The feeling was bittersweet for me. I am happy for my girlfriend but subconsciously, I knew I wanted it to be me with the United States. However, I brushed that feeling aside since I needed to be happy for my lover.

“Aitana ¡Estoy tan feliz por ti!” We both ran towards each other and hugged. I feel her lightly kiss the side of my head as I inhale her scent. Being able to feel her embrace after a month apart filled the small void in my heart.

“¡Esto es tan irreal, ahora sé cómo te sentiste hace tantos años!” (This is so unreal, now I know how you felt all those years ago!) Aitana smiled. The smile on my face struggled to stay as a small frown, which I tried hard to conceal, plastered on my face for a quick second. I don’t think she noticed.

“Lo siento por lo que ocurrió. En el fondo esperaba que fuéramos nosotros dos quienes nos enfrentaríamos en la final.” (I'm sorry for what happened. Deep down I hoped that it would be the two of us who would face each other in the final.) Aitana said as she understood my defeat in the Round of 16.

“Aquí también. Sólo debes saber que todavía estoy muy feliz por ti, a pesar de mi derrota.” (Here too. Just know that I am still very happy for you, despite my defeat.) I said as I admired the goal medal that sat perfectly on Aitana's chest. She gave me a sympathetic smile before hugging me again.

“¡Te amo!” Aitana whispered into my ear.

“Te quiero más” I smiled back as I relaxed into her arms.

#fc barcelona #uswnt imagine #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #aitana bonmati #salma paralluelo #uswnt x reader #sophia smith #lindsey horan #uswnt players #fridolina rolfö #sweden #wwc 2023 #barcelona femeni

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yeeterthek33per · 4 months

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Kissin' and Kickin' Charm (Glódís Perla Viggósdóttir x reader)

A/n not requested, but this woman does not get the love she deserves, so I'm making it happen.

Munich is a hell of a lot different than home.

Of course, you expected that, you aren't stupid...

Not entirely anyway.

There's a charm to the city. A much different one than the small Texan town you're used to, but it's a homely charm, if any.

A much broader, explorative city with ins and outs, beautiful buildings, and on the outskirts, something you've come to realise you feel more at home in than the city, areas with wide open flatlands and albeit manmade, forested areas.

It's definitely a big city, with many towns and a lot of diverse structuring.

It's a lot.

But it's your new home.

At least for the next three years, anyway.

You imagine yourself at home in the ranch right now.

Kicking up dirt, green grass and if you're really lucky, mud and puddles. All of that on your horse, Sweets, that you got for your tenth birthday.

In fact, you'd be there right now, at home on the ranch, if it wasn't for one teeny tiny detail.

Soccer.

For whatever reason, that was the sport your child brain picked to become your newest obsession. Except, it never stopped being that way. You lived and breathed it.

It surprised the hell out of your parents.

They'd never imagined their little, quiet, leather boots, horseback riding, ranch loving daughter kicking around a soccer ball.

But that's what you wanted.

And that's what you did in your spare time.

At first, they were adamant you didn't play it. They refused, insisting that if you wanted to get into any sport, it had to be either American football or horse riding.

But after sneaking home a ball to boot around for the umpteenth time, they relented, letting you take it on.

And take it on, you did.

It got to the point where you were severely outclassing the only all boys teams in your tiny town.

Enough so that someone visiting, who happened to have the right associations, scouted you for the youth academy in Houston.

You went up through the academy, which survived despite the rise and fall of the women's league in the US several times.

Eventually, you were contracted for the first time at eighteen.

It was a big deal.

Small town girl makes her first appearance for the big leagues and despite your parents earlier disappointment in your choice of career, they were now prouder than ever watching you take on the world.

Of course, with that growth, came your first call up to the national team at age nineteen.

That little tidbit had your Mama crying harder than the day you were born. She couldn't have been prouder to see you represent your country.

Playing amongst the likes of legends like Tobin Heath, Heather O'Reilly and even Abby Wambach for a short period, you thrived.

The immense pressure was nothing like you'd ever felt, and you loved it.

Even as reserved as you are, you love a good challenge.

With the call-up, the demand to have you increased, and eventually, at the age of twenty-four, you, rather tearfully, said goodbye to the Dash and moved to Portland to join your national teammates, Sonnett and Horan.

You've spent the past four years there, although you aren't the biggest fan of the city life. You loved the soccer fanbase.

The thorns are well loved by the people in the city and some of the greatest players you've known, to date, play for them.

Of course, playing with the greatest players of all time means you yourself catch the attention of overseas scouters.

It's not the first time it's happened.

Every year, you get calls from your manager letting you know about the offers from clubs in countries you'd never dreamed of seeing before.

That being said, you'd always turned them down, not wanting to leave your home country just yet.

Until now, that is.

When the offer from FC Bayern came through, you just knew.

You knew you had to do it, had to take that chance.

"So what do we say, Y/n?"

"... Tell I'm in if they've got a heated pitch and air-conditioning."

Had your manager chuckling at that.

Taking the time to dig into the team a bit, you end having a look at the team list.

You know the names of a few of the players there, but you'd not formally met them yet, only meeting them once or twice on the pitch.'

One name stuck out in particular though.

Of course it did, she's the captain.

Your new captain.

But there's something you admire about the Icelandic woman that immediately grabs at your soul and you end up taking the time to look up her highlights.

The perseverance, the constant drive to do better and to lift up her teammates around her.

The perfect defence with constant push and pull, defensive manoeuvres and just an overall brick wall of a woman.

The perfect captain.

So when you meet her for the first time, you're a little starstruck.

Sure, you'd done your research in advance, but actually meeting the sweetly voiced Nordic woman has you anxious in your boots beyond measure.

----

When Glódís meets the new signing, she's a little thrown off.

She knew you were American, that you were from Texas and that you most likely had a very different upbringing to the lifestyle you lived now, but the immediate southern charm that flows through your natural southern drawl has her a little flustered.

She doesn't expect the charming smile or the way you call her ma'am and warmly shake her hand, expressing, rather sheepishly, your excitement to meet her.

"It's lovely meetin' you, Ma'am. I've heard a lot about everything you've done for this club and your country. It's incredible, actually, not to sound too much like I'm kissin' up here, but really."

Your head ducks a little, cheeks reddening at your own rambling.

It's adorable, she decides.

"You talk me up a lot for someone of her own incredible skill."

Her smile widens at the way your cheeks darken further under her teasing compliment.

"Oh, I mean, that's... it's not everything I want to achieve. It feels like I've had it a little easier than a lot of the ladies I've seen and played with and known personally. I'm just excited to be here and to get to be a part of something this big. With y'all, at that."

"We're glad to have you on board with us, then. I think you'll fit right in here. The girls have been begging me to let them in the door for the past thirty minutes while you were doing the contract signing."

She gestures to the windowed door to the room, which, with a quick glance, you spot the eagerly waiting players, grinning and waving like kids at you.

It makes you feel a little more anxious now.

Such big names in German and international football and here they are, giddily waiting for you to finish your media duties and finally get to meet little old you.

It feels surreal.

When you turn back to the captain, she's already smiling warmly back at you, and after the okay from you and the management in the room, they let them in.

It's almost too much, the way they all excitedly introduce themselves despite in many cases not having to, with the way you get flustered as you know them well already, having maybe, quite possibly also looked the rest of them up in a bit more detail, purely out of nervousness.

Also, the friendliness of it all.

Normally, with new signings at Portland, it always felt super cold and competitive, definitely a lot colder in the introductions, done during training rather than in a room on the campus.

Of course, after a couple of months, the players did warm up to you, but there's always the cold air about the veterans on the team, all of them wary of you and your abilities.

Always the stress of having your position on the team ousted by the new and shiny youngins for so much as running the wrong way.

Here, in Munich, Germany, in the clubs training facility, in a meeting room, your new clubs teammates welcome you with warm open arms, an air of bubbly enthusiasm and many, many hugs rather than the cold and firm handshakes you're used to.

You recognise a few of them, particularly Magdalena, a regular opponent from Sweden and her national teammate Linda, as well as of course, the German players, the English player, Georgia and Jill Baijings, a member of the Dutch National Team you'd faced just months before at the World Cup.

Regardless of the rivalry held at the international level, they're surprisingly warm, quickly dragging you into hugs themselves.

At least, it's surprising for you.

It feels different here.

It is different here.

You find yourself leaning into it more and more, the more you chat with the team.

It goes on for an hour or so before you're dragged away for more media duties.

The girls are rather reluctant to let their new friend go, waving you goodbye with warm smiles, but small pouts as their chuckling captain ushers them from the room, leaving you with one last grin and a wink that sends heat to your cheeks and shivers down your spine.

Well.

You'll be damned.

That just happened.

----

"She's so cute! I love her accent. She's so sweet with the way she talks too."

The gushing from Giulia is quickly resounded by the other's around her.

"Right? The way she kept calling us Ma'am and Miss. It's too sweet. And her accent, it's so smooth."

"Oh my god, I know Americans aren't the most well known for being nice to listen to, but I listen to her talk all day."

"She's really good too, I've seen her highlights."

There's a few small gasps and protests from around the room.

"Oi! Syd! Why haven't you shown us yet?"

"Hold on, let me just -"

"Guys! Seriously, what the hell are you doing? I've been looking for you for ages. Put the phone away, you all have training to do."

The resounding voice in the changeroom comes from a stern looking Glódís. She's normally quite gentle toned with them, but they were taking far too long to get out on the pitch, leaving their captain wondering where the hell half her team was.

"But we want to see how good Y/n is, Syd's got the highlights here."

"No, you can see how good she is when she joins us for training after her medical assessment. Now come on, or you'll be running laps for making the rest of the team wait on you all."

There's groans of disappointment, but to their rather swift credit, they do promptly exit the changeroom and make their way to the pitch where an also stern looking Alexander Straus is waiting for them, the team's manager, followed closely by Glódís, who's small smile contradicts her rolling eyes and annoyed head shaking.

----

When you do join them, you're quickly grabbed by Glódís, the captain having unofficially ruled that any new signings get paired with her first to properly welcome them to the team, and to also get them settled into her captaincy style and to adapt them to the dynamic of the team.

It's a way to get you properly integrated into the very familial like nature of it all.

Glódís seems very much like the mother of the team. All of them best friends but very much like siblings and but a few of the other older women taking the younger one's under their wings as parental figures on their own.

You figure it as a way to keep some semblance of structure amongst the chaos of the team.

The captain, it seems, is at the head of this, ensuring all of them work well together, the team is lifted for their triumphs, and picked back up with every miscalculated cross and shot, and dragged back onto their feet after every tackle or mistimed step.

Training with Glódís is intense, a good kind of intense. You find yourself enjoying the calculated, focused nature of her defensive manoeuvring.

But it's also warm, the occasional chatter between you leaving you both laughing at the other person's jokes and small mishaps as you settle in.

Her giggles are nothing if not contagious, and you can't help the grin that grows more and more the more you spend time with her.

It doesn't go unnoticed by the others, them taking note of the way their normally much more drill oriented captain has relaxed a bit.

Of course, she's friendly, smart, smiley and very much welcoming, but she's never been this laid back during drills, especially not when she's always expecting to set precedents with the new signings.

But this was definitely different to that.

The lingering touches, hip bumps and tone of laughter are different from the ones she's always held with the rest of the team. It's a little lighter, more giggly and full of a tone they themselves hadn't heard from her.

It was startling to see, nearly.

Glódís was... flirting?

Intentional or not, they didn't know, but it was definitely a flirty tone.

Not that you could tell, bless your oblivious self. You had no idea.

You matched the tone of lightness, of course. But you weren't picking up on everything else, thinking she's just naturally like that.

A very friendly captain.

The other girls know otherwise though, and the knowing looks they share later when your cute celebration after managing to meg the brick wall of a captain has her smirking slightly at your adorableness.

One thing she notices is that the more excited you get, the more your accent comes out.

It's adorable, she realises.

----

The second training isn't much different to the first.

You don't pay it much attention outside of friendliness, but Glódís takes a quick liking to you, now having claimed you for all paired warmups and drills.

Occasionally, you get stolen away every once in a while, leaving you feeling very much like the cool kid on the block.

There's something else, though.

It's in the way the Icelander smiles at you. It's in the way she hugs you every time you score in a mini game.

You brush it off, thinking, once again, she's just being friendly.

But it's a thought that sits in the back of your mind anyway.

You feel like it's a glimmer of hope. You're not sure what for or why but it's there.

Maybe it's a sign of a great friendship blooming.

Yeah.

That's what it is.

Ever since that, it's been amazing training with the team.

Your first match is just weeks after signing.

Your first minutes come as a sub for Klara in the sixtieth minute.

And it's not too long after that that you score your first goal for the club against Leipzig.

It's a beauty too.

A long range effort after a foward pass to Pernille is rebounded back to you.

It was an accident really.

You were aiming for the head of Lea but instead it curls a little more than you intend it to and it bends into the upper right corner of the netting, far past the outstretched gloves of the Swiss keeper, Elvira Herzog.

It feels a little silly, but you can't help the blush when you feel your captain hug you super tightly and lift you up in celebration.

"Let's go, that's our girl!"

----

It's been two months with the team and two and a half living in Germany. You've got a small cottage in the outer district of Munich, with enough yard to set up small drills and other various exercises.

There's been plenty of outings for you, finding yourself socialising far more than you used to back in Portland.

You don't hate it, though.

The whole team has been nothing but sweet to you, and it seems they're already attached, each player having dragged you on outings themselves, whether it be individually or with groups of them.

You're not sure why they've taken quite such a liking, but you think it might have something to do with the fact they keep asking questions for you and you alone to answer, or just anything to get you to talk, really.

You don't mind it. Bless 'em.

They're already like family to you.

Tonight is no different when it comes to being dragged to outings and team bonding nights.

Only this time, it's to a club in central Munich, having been allowed a little freedom given they dont a match this weekend. You yourself don't drink much, but some of the other girls do, so they've let loose, of course, under the watch of their captain and a few of the older girls acting as designated drivers.

There's a small nudge to your shoulder where you're leaning against a standing table.

"Hey you."

You'd recognise that sweet voice anywhere, humming as you turn to the suddenly appeared Glódís at your side.

"Well, hello, having fun there, Sweetheart?"

Glódís' lips perk up at your words.

"Always."

She takes a glance at the cup in your hand.

"Not drinking much? You can let loose a bit tonight, I'm letting you guys off the hook for tomorrow's training. Once in a lifetime opportunity L/n."

She winks at you, and you smile at her, amused.

You shake your head when she nods towards your still half full glass of vodka and soda.

"Nah, I want to be able to get up tomorrow, training or not."

She chuckles, nodding in agreement.

"Oh, to be young and dumb enough to drink like that once upon a time."

"Don't say it like that. You're only twenty-eight."

You huff playfully.

"Please, you and I both know neither of us would make it out alive if we-"

She cuts herself off, gesturing to the very rowdy girls taking another round of shots.

"Well... you're not wrong. To being old and susceptible to hangovers."

She giggles, and you hold out your glass towards hers, meeting her in the middle with a small clink and you both take a sip, her eyes never leaving yours.

"Woah there grandma. Not too hard now."

As you go to take another sip.

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you nudge her.

Turning back towards the group, you groan watching them take another round of shots.

"Oh sweet baby Jesus, Mary and Joseph. How the hell are we gettin' them home."

She pats your head with a small chuckle.

"With a lot of herding and the good old divide and conquer, cowgirl."

Then she moves off to go find Pernille and Magda on the other side of the room.

"You know, you and Glódís would be a super adorable couple."

A pair of arms wrap around your neck as a very drunk Sarah hangs onto you for stability, hear head leaning on your shoulder, and your arm moves to hold onto her so she doesn't hit the floor.

"Sarah, little miss, it's really cute that you wanna include me, but you know I don't speak German."

"One, I'm older than you, Two, sucks to be you."

A poke to the cheek following that, as she sticks out her tongue.

"Aren't you taking German classes anyway?"

"Yeah, but doesn't mean I understand the dialect of drunken soccer player yet."

She pouts at you before grumbling and resting her head back on it's spot on your shoulder.

"What I said was, you and Glódís would make a good couple."

Your cheeks immediately flame up, and your whole body tenses, wondering if you even heard the Austrian right.

"What-"

You clear your throat softly.

"What makes you say that?"

"You're already attached at the hip like no other. I've never seen her like this with anyone else. Even her old friend, Karólína."

"She's probably just missin' her then, Sar"

"If you say so."

It's just about mumbled into your shirt and you're beginning to realise that despite the pumping music, she's starting to exhaust pretty quickly with the way she's leaning further and further into you until you have to sit her down in one of the teams half occupied booths where she settles into another teammates arms.

With a small chuckle, you leave her to it, them saying they'd be heading out soon anyways and would take her home.

As you return to your spot at the table, you can't help but think back on what she said.

Despite her inebriation, what she said held weight in your mind.

And it ends with you eyeing up the woman through the small crowd over the lip of your drink.

You catch her looking back several times, each time sheet meets your eye, you think you imagine it, but her eyes crinkle a bit, and her smile gets a little brighter.

----

"You know, if you keep looking at her like that, she might catch onto you there, Glódí."

She knows she's not being subtle, but she can't help the way her eyes drift over to you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Schülli."

"I think you do."

Glódís bites her lower lip as she watches you set the very drunk Sarah down by Sam and Linda (The Swedish one) before moving back to where you were, carefully watching over the girls on the dance floor.

It seems, with even just a few months with the team, you're already looking out for them like your own.

When you make eye contact with her for the fourth time in ten minutes, she smiles just that little bit more, which you quickly match.

Though, it seems, she doesn't expect the wink you send with it.

She raises a brow at you, ducking under the cover of her glass, hoping the purple hue of the lighting masks her slightly flushed cheeks.

"Wow, she has got you already, hasn't she?"

"Shut up."

The defender quickly turns away from your direction so the striker doesn't have get given any more fuel and gives her an annoyed but small shove to the shoulder, a slight frown marring her features.

"I think you should go for it, Glódí, she clearly has something for you."

"And what if she says no? Then what? Another friendship here ruined?"

Lea pauses for a minute, watching her, as her head ducks and her cheeks flare up at the admission.

"You mean... Ka"

Glódís swiftly nods, shushing the forward.

"Is that why she hasn't-"

She nods again.

The tips of her ears burn in shame under the taller German's gaze.

She hadn't meant to bring it up, but it just slipped out.

Karólína hadn't exactly reacted badly as such, but things between them haven't been the same since then, and with her being on loan now, they really spoken, if at all.

It still hurt, the look in her eyes as she tried her best to let her best friend down gently. Even then, months later, after the international break together, it still hurt.

After that, she'd sworn off dating teammates.

Hence, she hesitates to even think about pursuing anything with you.

She can't help the pang of hope she gets when you smile so brightly at her, though.

The sweet, charming, smooth tone you hold with her.

The way you hold her just a little bit longer and tighter than you do with the others.

But that's what she thought with Karólína, too.

And she was oh so wrong there.

So what's stopping her from being wrong now, right?

"That's why it can't happen, Lea. I'm not going through that again. I can't risk losing her or risk the team possibly being affected by it."

Lea smiles sympathetically at her captain, hand resting on her shoulder with a small squeeze.

It's silent between them for a few moments before the blonde speaks up again.

"Then don't worry about it. Now come on, I think it's time we get this rowdy lot home, it's nearing midnight."

Glódís sighs in appreciation and nods, looking over to the singing and dancing group of players followed by her gaze ultimately drifting over to you once more, returning the familiar warm smile she receives.

----

"Alright, come on, time for you to go to bed, little miss."

There's a small giggle from the drunkenly slurring blonde as you walk her up to her front door, your hands rifling her pockets for her keys.

"You're so cute."

Giulia pokes your cheek with one finger, and you roll your eyes, ignoring the flush creeping up your neck when you hear Glódís' muffled laughter behind you.

You'd turn to give her a glare but you're a bit preoccupied.

"And you are very inebriated."

Finally acquiring the keys from her back pocket, which she giggles again and wiggles her eyebrows at you for, earning herself another eyeroll as you drag her inside finally.

"You sure you got her there?"

The amused chuckle from the doorway makes you groan as she watches your stubborn self herd the blonde woman, currently letting herself lean completely on you, into her bedroom to at least encourage her to bed for the night.

"I am perfectly capable, thank you."

You're sure she doesn't believe that, but you believe it enough yourself to give up and let the now giggling woman help you as she observes on your masterpiece of drunk person wrangling.

Said drunk person now dead weight in your arms whining about not wanting to go to bed yet, to which you just plop her on the mattress finally and despite her protests, she's asleep in seconds.

Turning to Glódís triumphantly, you catch her amused smirk.

"Yeah yeah, real funny. I'd like to see you do that."

She shrugs, shaking her head.

"You're the one that insisted on bringing her in yourself, without help."

Grumbling, you make sure Giulia is fully on the bed before dropping her keys by the door and exiting and locking it on the way out.

Now, the both of you are stood in the darkness outside, with the last of the girls dropped home already, a collaborative effort thanks to Pernille, Magda, both Lindas and Jovana.

It's just you and her, now.

It's a cool winter night, nearing the end of the season but still cold enough that you're half shivering in front of the older woman.

You're both silent, your eyes drifting over her features lit up under the faint glow of the street lamp.

You swear, she gets even prettier every day.

The subtle but sharp line of her jaw, the way her hair almost glows under the moonlight, and the soft pink tint to her cheeks from the cold all have your heart beating a little quicker.

The way her eyes sparkle as they scan yours from across the porch.

The way her lips quirk up slightly under your gaze, brow raising just a bit.

"You okay?"

Her words snap you out of your assessment, and you hum softly, quickly recovering.

"Just a little tired, let's get on home then, Darlin?"

She nods and turns to head towards her car.

It doesn't surprise her when you jog ahead of her to open the driver side door for her, having done it every single time now since leaving the club.

"Such a gentlewoman."

Apparently, she hadn't grown tired of it yet, so that's a start.

It's a soft teasing tone that you poke your tongue out at her at before jumping in the passenger side.

On the drive out to your place outside of the city, her arm rests on the centre console, lined up next to yours as you hum along to the song on the radio, gazing out the window but also occasionally glancing over at her, scanning her side profile.

If she can feel your gaze on her, she doesn't really react.

It remains quiet for most of the drive, with the occasional hum or murmur along with the music.

It's not an awkward silence, but one you both need after tonight's activities.

Every so often, your pinkies brush, and every time they do, there's a small jolt of electricity that shoots up you arm from where they meet.

The moment you're in your own driveway, you bid her a soft and sweet thanks with a gentle nudge and give her a small wink and wave as she pulls way again.

She's thankful you're not there to hear her most likely audible heart beating in her chest the rest of the way home again.

----

Her heart racing at everything you do doesn't stop that night.

In fact, it gets worse.

It feels like everything you do has it beating beyond her rib cage.

It frustrates her, actually.

Every time she gets placed on something she needs full focus and attention for, she's been perfect for, but if you're there next to her?

Forget it.

Media duties?

Sitting next to you, she can feel your leg occasionally brush hers, arms brushing on the table every time you set it down from making gestures and whatnot.

Coach speeches during half time?

It's like you're doing it on purpose knowing she can't focus when you're standing behind her, hands resting on her shoulders, warmth radiating against her back with how close you are.

At one point, she's convinced you are doing it on purpose when she looks back and up at you, head tilted to make eye contact with you with a brow kinked up as you look down at her with a small smirk and a wink.

The more it goes, the less she knows how to function around you.

Individual post game interviews?

Even with you just moving around her doing various interviews with different journalists. A small brush of shoulders here, a hand gliding across her lower back as you move past her there.

At this rate, she feels like she's drowning in you and she's not even trying to move away.

Paired up interviews?

It feels like she's at her wits end with this one.

You're brought in together for a two-on-one interview for some football media page she can't remember the name of. There, seated on a couch, you're not even really doing anything. Except for the arm you have over the back of the lounge, resting just behind her head.

You aren't seated so close that you're pressed together. But you are close enough she can smell your perfume and it's making her head spin a little.

Hell, she feels like she should be used to hearing you speak by now, but it still has her feeling like she can't think properly with you around.

How she plans on surviving this, she doesn't know, but all she knows if she doesn't do something, she's going to lose her mind.

----

You know you shouldn't do it.

Really.

There's not even a guarantee she likes you back right?

Still, you can't help teasing her a little.

She doesn't confront you about it, she doesn't tell you to stop and as far as you can tell, she's not uncomfortable.

Your captain has always been verbal about how she's feeling when she's talking to people...

Mostly.

But she never leans away from you, only ever receiving a flushed face or an eye brow in response at most.

You can tell it's flustering her though.

By the way she's so quick to hide her reddened cheeks.

It's in the most adorable way that she rolls her eyes at your teasing comments when she scores a pretty good goal.

Small touches here and there, innocent touches. Nothing more than brushes and occasional times of brushing away grass from her face after particularly rough tackles.

The soft smile and drawl flowing from you asking how she's holding up makes it worth it.

Even though you may not be able to kiss her, her smile? Totally worth it.

----

Glódís feels like she's at her breaking point right about now.

When she's getting distracted during a game, a champions league game at that, that's a major problem.

You're both lined up for offence on a free kick when you're pressed in between her and an opposition player while she pressures the player in front.

It takes one brush of your hands on her waist and she's distracted long enough to miss jumping for the header on time.

Instead, you make it to the header, the ball flying into the back of the net as you take off running in celebration, having broken the deadlock in the final minute of stoppage.

Which turns into celebrations of the win the moment the whistle blows for full time and you're piled on for saving the teams chances at a spot in the quarter final over PSG.

The screams of the home crowd are drowned out as she waits impatiently for the end of her on field media duties.

Being the captain sucked sometimes, but it had to be done.

The moment she's free, she's jogging straight over to you and you're being dragged away off the field before you can even realise what's happening.

You had your own media duties, ones that you were currently shirking right now not being out there.

The moment you realise it's Glódís, the protests you had ready die in your throat, left with minor confusion the further down the obscure hallways she drags you until you're both in a secluded area and you're shoved into a broom closet with the door slammed shut behind both of you.

"What's goin-"

It takes all of a moment for her to grab you by the collar and slam you against the door leaving you a little winded and confused.

"Whatever it is you're doing, needs to stop. You're driving me crazy."

"What are you-"

"Don't play dumb with me, every time you so much as come near me, you brush past me, you so much as stand near me, I can't think and it's like you damn well know it, too."

It suddenly clears up there. You definitely didn't weren't doing it entirely on purpose.

Well, maybe.

Okay, it may have been a little on purpose, but you had no idea she was this affected.

"Look, I can stop if it's making you uncomfortable but Glódís... I... I kind of really like you and..."

----

Oh.

Well that changes things.

You actually like her?

You weren't just teasing her?

----

Before you can say much else, her hands cup your face and her lips are on yours in one movement.

Anticipating the action, your arms are around her in an instant, pulling her as close to you as possible, her body hot against yours despite the almost raging cold out on the pitch.

Her hands are firm on your face not letting you go for even a second, her lips fervent and sure as they move with yours.

It's only when you pull away for air that she finally relaxes into your hold for the first time.

Your hands are pressed into her lower back, hers now pressed into your shoulders as she looks slightly down at you, being just shorter than her by an inch.

The two of you just breathe for a moment, taking the moment in.

"You know. If you wanted to kiss me, all you had to was ask, Sweetheart."

She huffs.

"You're infuriating, you know that?"

There's a small guffaw on your face after that.

"What did I do?"

She almost believes the innocent look on your face.

The small upturn of your lips let's her know otherwise though.

"What didn't you do?"

And she kisses you again, slower and more tender this time, slowly pressing you back into the wall, slotting herself easily between your legs.

With your chest pressed to hers, you can finally feel the way her heart races, and she can finally feel yours, too.

There's always been something about you.

Guess it's just part of your charm.

----

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #woso imagine #glódís viggósdóttir x reader #glódís viggósdóttir imagine #glódís viggósdóttir imagines #glódís perla viggósdóttir x reader #glódís perla viggósdóttir imagine #glódís perla viggósdóttir imagines #fc bayern frauen x reader #fc bayern imagine #fc bayern imagines #woso oneshot #woso oneshots

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outsideratheart · 1 year

Text

Goodbye, Hello (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: Chapter 4 of The Legacy Series. Now the story can really begin.

Ajax was home, the players and staff were your family yet as you stand in the tunnel at the stadium named after your father for the first time you cannot help but think that in another world that would have been the first of many. Oh how you wished he could see you play on the field that meant so much to him. Would he proud of you? You’d like to think so.

Meanwhile the players of Barcelona have a day off in Portland between their games for the WICC cup. They had naturally split into groups much like they do on any away trip but Alexia noticed something as she bumped into a couple of her team mates wandering the unfamiliar city; two were missing, Lieke and Aitana. As far as she was aware the two of them wasn’t close enough to do something together so it sparked her curiosity. The captain convinces Jenni, Leila, Mapi and Patri to go back to hotel to get them, she didn’t want them to waste their day in the hotel room. What she didn’t expect was to see Aitana walking the hallway donning a red & white football shirt. As she get closer to the young midfielder she recognises the Ajax shirt with your last name on.

“Aitana” Alexia voice makes her jump.

“What are you doing here”

It didn’t sound like a question and her face had the same expression a young child does when they’re caught doing something they shouldn’t.

“I could ask you the sa—“

“Aitana hurry up, it’s about to kick off”

The door opens to reveal Lieke wearing an identical shirt to Aitana.

“What is? Who’s playing?” Mapi asks slightly confused as to why her team mates would rather stay in the hotel instead of exploring.

“Ajax” Lieke says with a obvious tone whilst pointing to the badge on her shirt.

“And why are we watching Ajax?” Patri added.

Aitana and Lieke shared a look. What which said ‘We know something you don’t and we don’t know if we can tell you’.

The secret they had been keeping for the past couple of days would be sure to bring a smile to their captain’s face but you had sworn them to secrecy. Lieke only found out because she had visited you in Amsterdam before going back to Barcelona and your mum let it slip. Aitana found out straight from the horses mouth when she was invited to a Cruyff foundation event in Barcelona, imagine the shock when she saw you there. Afterwards you told her about your decision and she pinky promised that she wouldn’t tell a soul.

“She’s playing for them isn’t she?” The devastation in Alexia’s voice was clear. She truly thought that you had played your last game for Ajax and after your talk in Ibiza she was almost certain you would soon be a Barcelona player but now she had doubts.

Lieke only nodded in fear that she would let it slip if she were to open her mouth.

You walked proudly out of the tunnel as you wore the captain’s armband one last time. As you line up with the rest of the team you spot your mother, two brothers, sister-in-law, niece and nephew in the crowd. It takes every ounce of strength not to break there and then. The past couple of days had taken a lot out of you, tears included and up until this moment you thought you had no tears left to cry, oh how wrong you were.

After you shook hands with the Feyenoord captain you walk to your position. You were in the zone, that is until you hear the entire stadium break out into applause. When you turn around you see that both teams have left you to walk to the middle of the pitch alone. The fans were showing their appreciation and it was killing you. The game was a farewell and the fans knew it even though nothing official had been announced. It was set up as a friendly but it was also against Feyenoord, the club’s rival and it just so happened to be your favourite fixture of the season.

You really did enjoy the next 90 minutes and scoring at John Cruyff area will be something you would never forget. Truthfully, you wasn’t sure how to feel. Should you be happy for the career you have had at the club or should you be sad for leaving, the latter hit you like a tone of bricks.

Your coach calls you over to the sidelines where you see your family waiting. There was two frames shirts resting on stands. You joined the women’s team when it was first established in 2012 and you would leave being the highest capped player as well as the clubs top goal scorer, the two shirts represented these achievements.

Alexia couldn’t believe the scene unfolding on the screen in front on her.

“She’s leaving?” Alexia asked Lieke without taking her eyes of the screen, you had her full attention.

“What does it look like?”

The TV showed you sobbing in your brother arms. You and Alexia had talked about the difficulties that came with moving to Barcelona but she never once stopped to think about what it meant for you to leave Amsterdam.

“Are you crying?”

Alexia feels a tear fall down her cheek, one that she quickly wipes as she thinks Mapi is talking to her and she isn’t ready to be teased again.

“Lieke you’re crying”

She was in the clear. The Dutch woman was the one bound to be teased.

“You wouldn’t understand. You don’t know her like I do”

But I want to. This is what Alexia thinks but doesn’t say.

“Aitana’s going to lose her number” Jenni says.

“No I’m not. She’s already told me that she doesn’t want it” Aitana only realises what she had said when it’s too late.

This is enough pull Alexia’s attention from watching you give a speech, one which she doesn’t understand but still she hangs on every word.

“What do you mean she has already told you” Alexia questions her team mate who clearly knows more than what she’s leading on.

“I didn’t say that” Aitana wishes she could take it back.

“Yes you did. Y/N told you her decision didn’t she?”

“You’ll have to wait till Monday to find out” upon realising she was digging herself a deeper hole, Aitana comes up with an excuse to leave the room knowing had broken her promise without directly breaking her promise.

“Lieke?” Alexia changes tactics. If Aitana knew something, your best friend definitely did.

“You must have said something right in Ibiza”

She didn’t confirm it but she didn’t have to. It wasn’t like you and Alexia talked about you moving to Arsenal in detail that night. She wished that she could press fast forward on her life. It was only Friday, meaning still had three days before she would find out officially that you had chosen to follow in your father’s footsteps. In three days you would be announced as a Barcelona player, the Blaugrana shirt would once again have Cruyff on the back.

When Monday came around the team entered the facility with an extra pep in their step, all eyes glued to the locker room door. Every person that entered who wasn’t you was met with a look of disappointment. It is only when Lluis walks in does the elephant in the room get discussed.

“By the way your faces dropped when you saw it was me, I assume you know what is happening today or more appropriately who is signing for us today. Given what this means to the club the announcement will be made over at Camp Nou, not here”

“But then she’ll be coming here, right?” Alexia tried her best to mask her disappointment but failed miserably.

“Not today. She has media, several photoshoots and a meet & great at the stadium store”

Alexia knew that this wasn’t what you wanted. The club was making the most of having a Cruyff back at Barcelona and they didn’t stop the think the toll that it would have on you, it was a business at the end of the day.

Several hours later, training had finished for the day. Lieke was in the shower when her phone starting to ring, a call which she obviously missed yet the person of the other line didn’t give up. After the fifth missed call Alexia grabs the phone with the intention of giving it to the Dutch but she accidentally sees who the caller was.

Danny Cruyff 5 Missed Calls.

A small panic formed in her gut. Why was your mother calling Lieke and why was she so persistent. Had something happened to you?

That panic didn’t lessen when she handed the phone to Lieke whose face must have been a mirror to her own. She immediately calls your mother back.

“Hoi” “Natuurlijk” “Ik laat haar jou bellen”

Alexia’s Dutch was practically none existing. Lieke has tried teaching her some phrases during away games but the only things she could understand was hello which didn’t answer her unasked question; were you ok?.

“Is she ok?” Alexia asked. She didn’t need to say your name for Lieke to understand who she talking about.

“Apparently the press conference got a little bit out of hand. They were asked not to ask too many questions about Johan but there was one Marca journalist who didn’t stop pushing. Now Y/N won’t answer any of Jordi, Luuk or Danny’s calls. I said I’d go round to their house after I finish here”

“Are none of her family here with her?”

“No. Y/N knows what this will bring up for them and her so she asked them not to come but promised they could be at the first home game” Lieke pauses when she sees the look of worry on her captain’s face “Would you like to come with me?”

“Where?”

“To see her”

Alexia nods her head eagerly as a grin spreads from ear to ear.

Lieke asks that Alexia not mention the visit to the rest of the team but in the end it isn’t Alexia that lets it slip. Aitana can tell what the two of them are up to when the rush to pack up their things and leave without being noticed. The small spaniard asks if she can go with them as well only she says it a little too loud. Before Lieke has the chance to answer her, several other players ask to go with them. Their argument; you were now part of the team and this team always looks out for their own.

“She is going to hate this” Lieke says but still she agrees silently hoping that your habit of wanting to being alone in these moments is no longer a thing.

“I can tell them that they can’t come” Alexia is ready to do whatever is needed.

“No, let them come. Truth is I don’t know what to say to her. Maybe one of them can cheer her up” Lieke pointed to were Leila had Patri in a chokehold whilst Mapi filmed them for some reason.

Now you wouldn’t say you hated the house in Barcelona but there was a reason why you tended to stay in a hotel whenever you visited the city. It was the home your Mother and Father built, it has their presence everywhere whilst the house in Amsterdam was more your style. You had asked your mother if you couldn’t redecorate but she said no.

You were staring aimlessly in the garden when you heard the intercom go off letting you know someone was at the gate. Now it could be one of two people, your manager and Lieke, both of them knew the code so you were a bit hesitant as you looked at the security camera. It’s safe to say you didn’t expect who you saw but you let them in anyways.

Your mother raised to be a good host so you greated them at the door before they had the chance to knock or ring the bell. Looking in the mirror that was hung above the table in the foyer you hated how obvious it was that you had been crying but when you welcomed your team mates none of them mentioned it.

It seemed that you were having some kind of team night because they had brought Pizza which you wasn’t against. You hadn’t eaten all day and you wasn’t in the mood to cook.

“Call your mother” Lieke smacked you playfully before making herself at home. She knew where everything was so you left her to get plates, glasses and whatever else they needed.

Alexia stayed behind. A photo hanging on the wall having caught her attention. It was one of the family when your dad played his last game as Barcelona manager.

“It’s one of my favourite photos” your presence made her jump.

“Lo siento”

“Don’t be. I’m pretty sure Pina and Patri are trying to take a selfie with one of his shirts” You pointed to where the young players where subtly trying and family to take a photo with one of your dad’s framed Barcelona shirts.

“I’ll tell them to stop” Alexia tries to walk off but you pull her back.

“It’s ok” Truth is you liked that they were being appreciated, you barely gave them a second look.

For the next couple of hours, you and your new team mates sat in the garden eating pizza and telling all kind of football tales. You understood what Alexia meant when she said the team was a family. You had only been a Barcelona player for a few hours yet you already felt part the family. You knew the biggest challenges were yet to come but in this moment you knew you made the right decision.

It wasn’t necessarily late but the team had been at training all day and you could see the girls were getting tired. Lieke must have picked up on it too because she suggested they head home.

“Wait! Before we go” Patri stood up, a glass of water in hand “Welcome to Barcelona, to Y/N” everyone cheers in your honour “And to having a Cruyff back in Barcelona”

This didn’t get the same response from you but you knew that Patri was coming from a good place.

Alexia surprisingly offered to stay and back clean. The reason why is was surprising is because there was nothing left to clean, everyone had tidied up after themselves.

“We better get started because as you can see this place is a mess”

“Ok so maybe I didn’t stay to clean up”

“No” you say sarcasticly. Your tone causes Alexia to chuckle but it is more so to cover up her shyness.

“I thought maybe I could show you a few places, if you’re not too tired” Alexia never forgot the conversation you two shared that night in Ibiza and she fully intended to show you what the city had to offer, she wanted to show you her Barcelona.

Truth is you were exhausted mentally which made doing anything except from laying of the sofa a chore. Then again this is Alexia, you did want to get to know her more and you knew you wouldn’t get the chance to once the season started.

“Ok but I can’t be out too long. You may or may not have heard but I’ve just signed for a new team and I’d like to impress them at training tomorrow”

“I’m already impressed” Alexia whispers to herself.

Barcelona was a different city at time. The street were emptier but the city couldn’t be more alive. You may have done everything in your power to stay away from it but you could understand why it is loved by so many. You tried to look at the sights with a fresh set of eyes, you wanted to make new memories and tonight those would be made with Alexia.

“Is there anywhere you want to go?” Alexia asks as she bumps into your shoulder.

“Can we just walk for a bit” She nods her head and guides you down her favourite streets, shows you some of her favourite buildings and points out a few restaurants that she wanted to take you to.

There were so many questions she wanted to ask you. The top of that list was are you ok but the answer was obvious. She also wanted to know what was going on in your head but then she wondered if even you had to answer to that.

“Can I ask you a question? Why isn’t your family here?” Lieke told her but she knew there was something more to it.

The way you stopped in your tracks made her instantly regret the question.

“Let’s go this way”

She doesn’t bring up the change of subject and within a few minutes she finds herself walking through the gothic quarter. She follows you through a narrow alleyway, one that she didn’t know existed.

“This is my favourite spot in Barcelona”

Alexia watches as you knock on a door that is in the centre of the wall and can be no bigger than half a meter. Then a couple of minutes later she sees a hand hold out a paper bag, one which you take in exchange for some money.

“This is the best kept secret and best cookies in Barcelona” you hold open the bag and watch as Alexia takes one. Her eyes close as she takes a bite, you knew what she was experiencing. You had been 6 when you were first brought here.

“Ay Dios Mio”

“Told you”

Alexia makes grabby hands and you give her the bag but not before taking a handful of the tiny cookies for yourself.

“Me playing here brings up a lot of emotions, not only for me but for them too”

At first the brunette doesn’t know what you’re talking about but then it hits her. You are answering her question, the one you do so subtly dodged.

“I asked them not to come”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I guess I thought if they wasn’t here then I could have a normal day where I’m just a football player signing for a football club. It was naive of me”

“How is to be a Barcelona player?”

“Honestly, it’s amazing. I can’t wait to start this chapter of my life, I just hope it can be my chapter and not a part of his”

“Why can’t it be both? You are your father’s daughter, you can’t change that but you can embrace it and what better place to do so then here in Barcelona” Alexia spins around with her arms spread wide.

“Did they come up with that or did you?” You asked referring to the club.

“That was all me” Alexia says rather proudly.

The night passes by far too quickly. You had only intended to be out for an hour, two at max but now it was close to midnight and you knew it was time to call it a night. Even though you didn’t want too, you bid Alexia farewell and told her you would see her in the morning.

8 hours later you found yourself standing in front of the home ground which was all a short walk away from the training ground. You stared up at the sign and read it out loud.

ESTADI JOHAN CRUYFF

Your mind wanders to memories with only one man, the one you wishes was here for this.

“I thought I might find you here”

Of course, she knew where you’d be.

“Buenos dias Alexia”

“Are you ready?”

“Ready”

And ready you were. It was time to start the next chapter in your life. The years to come would define your career and change your life forever.

#legacy series #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas one shot #alexia putellas imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni one shot #barcelona femeni imagine #espwnt imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt one shot

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aimeedaisies · 26 days

Text

The Princess Royal’s Official Engagements in May 2024

01/05 On behalf of The King, held an Investiture at Buckingham Palace. 🎖️

As President of the City and Guilds of London Institute, attended The Princess Royal Training Awards Alumni Skills Summit at Guildhall. 🏆

With Sir Tim As Patron of the Whitley Fund for Nature, attended the Annual Whitley Awards Ceremony at the Royal Geographical Society. 🦋

02/05 With Sir Tim Named a Great Western Railway Intercity Express Train ‘HRH The Princess Royal’ at Paddington Railway Station. 🚉

Unofficial With Sir Tim Attended day two of the Royal Windsor Horse Show. 🐎

03/05 With Sir Tim Departed the UK from Stansted Airport for Canada and arrived at Vancouver International Airport

HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Vancouver;

Attended the Commissioning Ceremony for HMCS MAX BERNAYS at North Vancouver Burrard Drydock, before attending a Reception onboard. ⛴️ 🇨🇦

Attended a Dinner onboard HMCS MAX BERNAYS at sea. 🍽️

04/05 HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Victoria;

Toured HMCS Max Bernays at sea. 🌊

Visited Esquimalt Military Family Resource Centre at the Canadian Forces Base Esquimalt. 👪🪖

As President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, visited God’s Acre Cemetery and laid a wreath at the Memorial. 🌹

Visited the Maritime Museum of British Columbia Archive. 📜⚓️

Her Royal Highness afterwards visited Fed Urban Agriculture Society Urban Farm, 395 Harbour Road. 🌾

Attended a Reception given by the Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia (the Hon Janet Austin) at Government House. 🥂

Attended a Dinner given by the Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia at Government House. 🍽️

05/05 HRH, as Commodore-in-Chief of the Royal Canadian Navy (Pacific Fleet), with Sir Tim, carried out engagements in Victoria;

Visited Government House Gardens. 🪴⛲️

Attended the Battle of the Atlantic Memorial Parade at the Parliament Building and laid a wreath at the Cenotaph before taking the salute at the march past of Canadian Armed Forces Veterans, Serving Personnel and Cadets. 🫡

Attended a Royal Victoria Yacht Club Youth Dinghy Regatta. 🛥️

As Patron of the Canadian Therapeutic Riding Association, visited Victoria Therapeutic Riding Association. 🐎

Departed Vancouver International Airport for the United Kingdom. 🇨🇦✈️🇬🇧

06/05 Arrived at Heathrow Airport from Canada 🇨🇦✈️🇬🇧

08/05 Hosted a garden party at Buckingham Palace alongside The King and Queen, The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh and The Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. 🍃☀️🪴

As Patron of the Woolf Institute, attended a Reception, followed by a Dinner, to launch the Randeree End of Life Programme. 🥂🍽️

09/05 As Patron of the Royal Navy and Royal Marines Charity, visited the Headquarters at HMS Excellent in Portsmouth. ⚓️

As Patron of the Women’s Royal Naval Service Benevolent Trust, attended the Annual Presentation and Reception at the National Museum of the Royal Navy. 🏛️

As Patron of the Association of Wrens, opened the new Headquarters Building at Lanyard House, HM Naval Base. 🫡

With Sir Tim As Patron of the National Museum of the Royal Navy, visited the HMS Victory Conservation Project at HM Naval Base ⚓️

With Sir Tim As Patron of the National Museum of the Royal Navy, attended the HMS Victory Conservation Project Dinner onboard HMS Victory at HM Naval Base. ⚓️🍽️

10/05 As Patron of Catch22, visited Greater Manchester Victims’ Services at Greater Manchester Police Headquarters. 👮

Visited the East Manchester Community Boat Project at Portland Basin Museum Marina in Ashton-Under-Lyne to mark its 30th Anniversary. 🛥️🎂

11/05 unofficial With Sir Tim Went to Badminton Horse Trials to cheer on Zara Tindall in her Cross Country stage of the three day event. 🏇🏼

13/05 Visited Stonehaven Open Air Swimming Pool to mark its 90th Anniversary. 🏊‍♀️🍾🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

As Admiral of the Sea Cadet Corps and Marine Society and Sea Cadets, opened Stonehaven and District New Headquarters. ⚓️🫡 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁳󠁣󠁴󠁿

14/05 With Sir Tim As Patron of the United Kingdom Sailing Academy held a Founders’ Club Luncheon at St James’s Palace. ⛵️

As Chancellor of the University of London, attended the King’s Centre for Military Health Research Conference. 👩‍⚕️

With Sir Tim As Patron of the Wellington Trust, attended a Dinner onboard HMS WELLINGTON (mto mark the Ship’s Ninetieth Anniversary. ⚓️🥂

15/05 As Court Member of the Fishmongers’ Company, visited Glenarm Organic Salmon Fish Farm, off Glenarm Harbour in Ballymena. 🍣🚤

As Court Member of the Fishmongers’ Company, attended a Luncheon at Glenarm Castle. 🐟🍽️🏰

16/05 As Royal Patron of the National Coastwatch Institution, visited Bembridge Station, followed by a Reception at Brading Haven Yacht Club in Ryde, Isle of Wight. 🔍🌊

As President, Royal Yachting Association, opened the Sea View Yacht Club's Training Centre in Seaview, Isle of Wight. 🛥️

17/05 With Sir Tim Hosted the annual Not Forgotten Association garden party at Buckingham Palace. 🫖🍰☀️

20/05 unofficial Departed from RAF Brize Norton for Norway and landed at Oslo Gardermoen Airport. 🇬🇧✈️🇳🇴

21/05 As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Norwegian Industrial Workers Museum in Vemork, Norway. 🔨⚙️🇳🇴

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, received a briefing on the sinking of DF Hydro at Mael Station in Telemark, Norway. 🏭🇳🇴

Attended a Reception given by His Majesty’s Ambassador to the Kingdom of Norway at the Residence in Oslo. 🥂🇳🇴🇬🇧

22/05 As President of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, visited Vestre Gravlund Cemetery and laid a wreath on the memorial. 🪦

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Linge Club and attended a Reception at Akershus Fortress, Oslo. 🇳🇴🇬🇧

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, visited the Norwegian Shipowners’ Mutual War Risks Insurance Association. 🪖🇳🇴

As Patron of the Anglo-Norwegian Resistance Commemoration Project, with The Crown Prince of Norway, visited the Norwegian Resistance Museum, Akershus Fortress. 🏰 🇳🇴

unofficial Departed from Oslo Gardermoen Airport and landed at RAF Brize Norton . 🇬🇧✈️🇳🇴

23/05 As Patron of the Hornet Services Sailing Club, visited the club for their 60th anniversary. ⛵️🎂

Opened the Army Sailing Association Offshore Centre in Gosport. ⛵️

With Sir Tim & Duke of Kent Held a Garden Party at Buckingham Palace to celebrate the Royal National Lifeboat Institution's 200th anniversary. 🛟☕️

With Sir Tim Visited the Royal Horticultural Society Chelsea Flower Show at the Royal Hospital Chelsea. 🌸🌺🌼💐

24/05 Opened the Admiral Lord Cochrane Room at the Royal United Services Institute in Whitehall, London. 🔐

Sometime in May unofficial Sir Tim, as Chair of Trustees, attended the Science Museum Groups annual dinner

Total official engagements for Anne in May: 53

2024 total so far: 224

Total official engagements accompanied by Tim in May: 23

2024 total so far: 55

FYI - due to certain royal family members being off ill/in recovery I won't be posting everyone's engagement counts out of respect, I am continuing to count them and release the totals at the end of the year.

#a very busy month!!!#i loved her visits to canada and norway!!!#very excited for june!#aimees unofficial engagement count 2024 #may 2024 #princess anne #princess royal #tim laurence #timothy laurence

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leveloneandup · 3 months

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📸: womenswayphilly

https://womensway.org/news-events/womens-way-46th-annual-celebration/

LUCRETIA MOTT HONOREES: TOBIN HEATH AND CHRISTEN PRESS

2X WORLD CUP WINNERS, PAY EQUITY TRAILBLAZERS, CO-FOUNDERS OF RE-INC

*While their soccer season commitments prevent in-person attendance, we are excited to hear from them in an exclusive virtual acceptance speech to learn more about their inspiring lives and work.

Tobin Heath is a 2x World Cup Champion for the U.S. Women’s National Soccer team, an equal pay pioneer, and the Co-Founder and Co-CEO of RE—INC. She is a 4x Olympian, with two gold medals and a bronze medal. She is known as one of the most skillful and entertaining players in the game. Throughout her club career, Heath has played for PSG, the Portland Thorns, Manchester United, and Arsenal. Tobin brings her vision, leadership, and creativity as a Co-CEO of RE—INC, a values-led brand that exists to reimagine the way women are seen and experienced in sports. This summer, RE—INC launched a media division with a critically acclaimed show: The RE—CAP Show World Cup Edition, hosted by Tobin.

Christen Press is a 2x World Cup Champion for the U.S. Women’s National Soccer team, an equal pay pioneer, and the Co-Founder and Co-CEO of RE—INC. She is one of the top 10 goalscorers ever on the USWNT and holds the scoring record at Stanford. Christen currently plays for Angel City FC. Christen led the USWNT’s historic achievement of Equal Pay and served as the leader of the USWNT Player’s Associate for 2 years. For four years, Christen has been the CEO, and now Co-CEO of RE—INC, a values-led brand that exists to reimagine the way women are seen and experienced in sports. She is a 2-year Board Member of Grassroots Soccer, a non-profit organization that uses the power of soccer to provide mentors, information, and health services to at-risk youth in Africa.

#tobin heath #christen press #lucretia mott honorees

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vyva-melinkolya · 5 months

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I have the honor of touring the west this spring with siblings Midwife and Body/Negative

Dates:

3/19 San Diego, CA - Che Cafe

3/20 Phoenix, AZ - Trunk Space

3/21 Albuquerque, NM - Longhair Records

3/22 Santa Fe, NM - Ghost.

3/24 Florence, CO - Desert Reef Hot Spring

3/25 Denver, CO - Squirm Gallery

3/26 Salt Lake City, UT - Clubhouse

3/28 Olympia, WA - The Crypt w/ RAGANA

3/29 Seattle, WA - Black Lodge w/ RAGANA

3/30 Portland, OR - High Water Mark

3/31 Eugene, OR - John Henry's

4/3 Oakland, CA - Thee Stork Club

4/5 Los Angeles, CA - Philosophical Research

Society

#me #vyva melinkolya #my music #midwife #body negative #slowcore #dreampop #shoegaze #the flenser

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theehorsepusssy · 8 months

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TheeHorsepussys Portland : Vaseline Alley aka Stark Street aka Harvey Weinstein ( I always get that mixed up) Harvey Milk Blvd

Documenting some gay-ass history for the kids

Red Arrow - 2 blocks to Touche. Not gay but spent most of the 90s in that bar. Fancy looking dining room/pool room but mostly service industry clientele. Hard to find a spot to do drugs discreetly.

Green - Everyday Music. Where to sell vinyl for dope money.

Yellow - Big BIG abandoned, scary building. Looked haunted. Was eventually renovated. But gave you the heebie-jeebies walking past it at night. Gay bashing zone

Green Arrow - The City Nightclub. Underage nightclub. Chicken Hawks(is that Gus Van Sant?), lots of drugs, good DJ downstairs, GREAT DJ upstairs

Red - The Henry Weinhard Brewery (demolished) Made the area smell really, really awful. Gagging thinking of it.

(Stark Street starts to the right here. It looks like they built some weird barrier in the intersection..probably cuz drunk gays in middle of street)

Orange - The Bathhouse. Home away from home. I would sell rip-off size bags of meth to subsidize my habit. Sucked a huge penis here. Gagging thinking of it. Gay bar downstairs was called either Flossies or Silverado or both. Male strippers. Would buy my shitty little bags of dope.

Blue Arrow - at one moment in the 90s, a sex club I think owned by Fantasy Video. Robert would meet his side piece there . The director Todd Haynes, I fuzzily recall reading, was a patron. I went once. Weird vibe. There was a plaque on the wall outside the entrance commemorating the recording of Louie, Louie.

Orange - The Eagle. Bar where it was common to have sex. I saw a guy take a foot up his butt. Cops started randomly coming in to cock block. There is a new bar called the Eagle up in NE Portland up by the Heroin Fred Meyer (I suppose they all are now)

Blue - Transient hotel above the store I hated buying cigarettes from but can't recall why. Maybe it was expensive.

Green - Greasy spoon called Roxys. Horrible breakfast food 24/7. I think it used to be down the street on Everett. Had a tiny basement bar. Moved to Vaseline Alley in 90s. Had ginormous picture of Quentin Tarantino or some shit. Very 90s

Yellow - Three Sisters (Six Titties) dive bar/gay bar. Never really went there. At some point was a male strippers bar. Robert had me escort one of his side pieces there. Kid thought the stripper was really into him. I tried to explain. I won $600 on the poker machine and drove the kid home.

Orange - Django Records. Large amounts of cheap used records. 3 for a dollar bins! I bought Eyehategod In the Name of Suffering here. Also the Cruising soundtrack...33cents!

Red - Fancy, expensive hotel. Yell really loud underneath the windows. They like that. Cops always parked along this stretch. Drunk gays got their first DUIs around here.

Mint- block of amnesia. I don't think it existed

Red - Boxes. Gay bar where you did lines of coke/mda/meth in the bathroom without hassle. TV sets with Oprah or Steel Magnolias, shit like that on. Spartacus Leather fetish store was down a couple doors. Inside Boxes, you could take a wood paneled passage through the fish restaurant kitchen ( I don't think anyone ever ate there) and end up at.....

Green - the Brig. Named because dance floor had bars around it like a jail cell. Imagine the creative dance moves as the queens grappled bars, ass out while Madonna songs played on a loop. Your meth dealer could be found here, doing a fan dance. Don't wear black. Semen stains show up under the blacklights. (or do)

Yellow - the house paint store. Eventually became the Panorama in the age of MDMA. Rave type music. Went there once to meet a dealer. Obnoxious experience.

White - Silverado. Country Western night most nights. My roommate dj'd andtaught line dancing but dance floor was like 10 sq ft so it was just the gays holding hands and boot scootin' in a little circle for eternity. Bar I could get into underage.

Orange - Ben Stark Hotel. Like outta Barton Fink. But really,really seedy. Had some weird sex in there. Now a boutique hotel owned by some Donald Trump guy Gordon Someone who did something once. Probably haunted.

Brown - Scandals. Beer /wine bar. Big windows so you can people-watch and talk shit. Used to go in there underage until I got thrown out snorting a rail of MDA off the tabletop. Had electronic darts and video poker in the 90s. Me and Robert had a domestic dispute there.

Red - row of funky vintage/antique shops. Someone used to broadcast a pirate radio station somewhere around there in the 90s

Blue - Portland Underground. Small venue had some big shows early 90s. Top floor is where I swear I saw Econochrist play. But it's an office building. Maybe confused

Yellow. OBryant Square aka Paranoid Park. Skateboarders and street drugs. I got "chased" by AF Nazis here. Probably more like I ran my fat ass up the street after this girl I knew screamed "run!" And they probably just laughed. I didn't look back. I think it's demolished now.

White arrow- up the block toward the Galleria. Second floor toilet was really cruisy. Careful of cockblocking rent-a-cops. Kiosk by cafe I think was only place downtown to buy pipe to smoke pot

#long ass post #TheeHorsepussys Portland

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redhairedwolfwitch · 2 years

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Searching For A Home (1/3) - Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: When leaving Barcelona, you say it was to grow as a player and get more playing time, but your real reason is to get over your crush. But the constant moving around and not staying with one club or league for over 2 years has led to speculation you have commitment issues. Turns out that the truth is very different to what has been assumed.

///

“You know why I have to go, right?” you whispered, staring out onto the empty pitch for one final time, glancing towards the twenty-two year old midfielder who let out a soft sigh.

“Si, I do. You want to play more. I will miss you.” Alexia whispered back, turning her head to watch as you walked back down the tunnel and away from Barcelona all together.

“Not the only reason… but I need to get over you, Alexia Putellas.” Whispering to yourself as you set off for your next adventure, your next challenge, your next club, in a completely different country.

///

Portland was nothing like Barcelona, but you threw yourself into the challenge of coming into the NWSL near the end of the season, trying to ignore how much your heart ached as the months went by and your contact with your teammates at Barcelona fluctuated. You had lost contact with Alexia all together, not hearing from her but finding out through social media how she and your teammates were doing, as transfers occurred and people started to spread their wings going into the next season of the Primera División.

You stayed with Portland for another season, developing your skills as your versatility was put to the test, stepping in for any injured players and adapting to the brutality and intensity that the NWSL had, before you were traded for the next season. Portland wasn’t home, but you’d met players that stuck with you as friends, but nobody compared to Alexia.

Portland Thorns trade with Chicago Red Stars announced

Will the versatile player be able to adapt to the cold Chicago winters?

“What the- really? My trade is announced and they focus on whether I can handle the weather?” you grumbled from where you’d been sitting on top of your suitcase, scrolling through your phone.

“Got it!” Tobin announced, revealing that she had managed to zip up your suitcase.

“Muchas gracias, Toblerone!” you grinned as Tobin rolled her eyes at the nickname you’d given her after a chocolate you’d seen at the airport once.

“I am not going to miss you.” Tobin declared but you raised an eyebrow, knowing she was lying.

“Chris! Tobin says she will not miss me!” you called out to your new teammate, who rolled her eyes at you both.

“I’ll miss you teaching everyone Spanish.” Tobin admitted, smirking slightly as you laughed.

“I still tutor online.” you pointed out as Tobin rolled her eyes, gesturing for you to stop sitting on the suitcase and help pack up the rest of your stuff you were moving to Chicago.

///

You withstood one Chicago winter before pulling as many strings as you could to get out of the clutches of the NWSL, begging your agent to send you anywhere else, just away from the league.

Portland Thorns player and Chicago Red Stars mutually agree to terminate contract after one year.

You were supposed to be in Chicago for three years, but one was enough. Chicago would never be home, but you kept in contact with your teammates there, until the media latched their claws into your image.

///

Fourth Club in over Five Years? Does this player have no club loyalty?

Bristol City sign Chicago Red Stars versatile player on free transfer

Who is this versatile player coming into the WSL?

How long will they stay at Bristol before they move on to the next club?

Fans try to predict where the player will go next and when

///

Rolling your eyes at the headlines that came up when looking at social media about you, you’d seen the bingo cards that fans were making with their predictions too, but you didn’t respond, instead reposting the photo of you signing your contract with Bristol City that the club had posted.

You’d asked your agent to send you anywhere, so going to the mid-table club in the WSL, in England, was an interesting twist that you ended up welcoming. The girls were lovely, understanding your need for change when you admitted you were not happy in Chicago and needed something more, so arriving at Bristol became more than just playing football. You continued in tutoring Spanish online like you had since leaving Barcelona, alongside helping the younger players develop as your versatility to fit in anywhere on the pitch became more than just an advantage when arriving at new clubs.

You’d known that you wouldn’t stay at Bristol long, and you knew the girls at the club knew it too, so when Bristol City finished in 6th place in the WSL, going up two spaces from the previous season, you hoped that everything you had done to help the players helped them individually, and not just at a club level. Because your transfer had just been announced, with your next club taking you closer to Spain than the US and England had, to France with Paris Saint-Germain.

No Club Loyalty: Player trades Bristol City and WSL for Paris Saint-Germain and UWCL

For the move from Chicago to Bristol, you ended up selling most of your furniture and anything that wouldn’t fit in the few suitcases you had, not wanting to risk the shipping costs or possibility of damages. This meant that in Bristol, you ended up either buying new furniture, in the case of necessities, but you didn’t bother buying a lot, this parallel happening for the move from Bristol to Paris. This meant that when your captain ended up coming over to see how you were doing, Irene was concerned, and ended up taking you shopping for a bed frame and a wardrobe so you’d stop living out of your suitcases.

Sticking close to your captain, you developed a bond with Irene, speaking in a lot of Spanish since your French was… anyway, you finally told someone the other reason you left Barcelona.

“I didn’t only leave because I wanted more playing time. I left because,” letting out a sigh, you kept your gaze on the ceiling to avoid Irene and Lucía’s confused looks, “I left because I was in love with my teammate and I didn’t think she would ever love me back.”

///

Jack of all Trades, Master of None: When Being a Versatile Player is Not That Useful

“Wow… whoever wrote that does not know Shakespeare well!” you remarked, sat in the dressing room on your phone until Irene asked about whether you had bought a bedside table yet, raising an eyebrow when you admitted to using your empty suitcase as one instead.

“Alexia asked about you.” Irene admitted, having come back from the international break with her Spanish national teammates.

“What? Why, I… I haven’t spoken to her in four years, but she looks great, from what I’ve seen…” you froze up, feeling your face burn as Irene stared at you for a moment, figuring out the same thing you had. Four years of no contact yet you weren’t over Alexia Putellas?

“Maybe message her? She misses you.” Irene suggested, before announcing she was heading home for the day and that you should too.

You hadn’t even realised how empty the dressing room had gotten after training ended, so distracted by the media slandering anything about you, and Alexia no doubt could have seen what the media had been saying about you since you left Barcelona… that almost stopped you from texting her though, but she had seen that you were typing, and then you stopped, so she texted first.

Hola extraña

Biting your lip, you stared at the text, ‘hello stranger’, eventually typing out your response.

Lo siento. Ha pasado mucho tiempo, ¿no?

Apologising to the Barcelona player, and your former teammate, you admitted it had been a long time, then watched as she began to type again.

Sí

You froze, what were you supposed to say to that one word answer? Your phone lit up, revealing she had sent a follow-up text.

¿Cómo estás?

///

Your first season at PSG ended at 2nd in the division, and reached the semifinals of the champion’s league, falling to Lyon in both cases, whilst Barcelona lost against Wolfsburg. Bristol City ended up going down to 10th in the WSL, the media taking the opportunity to try to bring up how may have ended up leaving the team to suffer by leaving, but your game time at PSG was successful enough to drown it out, plus Irene and Alexia had warned you against paying attention to the media a while ago.

You ignored how shocked the fans and media were when they found out you were sticking around with PSG for another year, keeping to your 2 year contract that you had signed. The pandemic had left you unsure whether you wanted to stay in Paris, but you didn’t have a reason to leave before your contract was up. It wasn’t like Chicago.

Staying in Paris over the off-season, you would have travelled to Spain if you could, but the pandemic made it impossible.

You’d kept in contact with Irene, your other PSG teammates, and Alexia the most, but every so often, you’d hear from your old Thorns and Red Stars teammates too, as they shuffled between clubs themselves.

Fans and the media loved to drag you for your lack of smiles in the photography before games, the intense energy you gave off something accustomed to marmite. Loved by some, hated by others who wanted you to smile. Some people had figured it out though, your smiles hadn’t met your eyes for five years, since Barcelona.

PSG were doing even better in your second year there, ending up beating Lyon for the top position in the Division 1 Féminine as well as heading through the Champion’s League, captained by Irene, beating Lyon in the quarter finals to face Barcelona in the semifinals.

The first leg of the semifinals, Barcelona came to play in France, at the Stade Municipal Georges Lefèvre. Alexia kept her face blank and intense, ready for the match as she lined up. She didn’t expect to see you and Irene walk out to line-up in the tunnel together, but she could see the intensity in your expression and the stiffness in your posture.

Your play style had changed a lot, and it wasn’t just due to PSG. Your time in the NWSL had brought a brutal energy, a raw power she’d felt before when playing against the USWNT with Spain. PSG’s utilisation of your versatility made you a pain in Barcelona’s ass.

The first leg ended in a draw, 1-1, Barcelona getting two yellow cards, whilst PSG got three, including your captain. Somehow you had managed to go cardless, which had confused some fans, but others admired your technique that had started to develop in the NWSL. Either way, Barcelona were scrambling trying to figure out how PSG would play you for the second leg, and, on a lesser known note, if you had re-signed with PSG.

The second leg was a week later, and you were in the starting XI again, standing with Irene in the tunnel of the Amsterdam ArenA, Alexia spotted you before the match again, your stern expression juxtaposed by the playful wink you sent her before your face steeled up again.

Fighting against how much your face burned at the wink you’d sent Alexia, you rolled your shoulders and pushed it all away to focus on this next match. Whoever won, was through to the finals of the champions league.

Lieke Martens managed to score twice, within 23 minutes of each other, but Katoto managed to turn the tables three minutes later with a goal, taking it to 2-1. Two of your defenders had yellow cards before Barcelona started getting carded too, you could feel the frustration on both sides. On aggregate, Barcelona would win 3-2, unless you could turn the tides. Substitutions happened on both sides, and Barcelona’s goalie was even carded as you began to walk the line, pushing yourself further and sending more shots towards goal, and your teammates when they had better shots. Ducking back when Barcelona got the ball back, you were a pain in their asses to deal with, your versatility meaning you were ducking between attacking and defending at a ridiculous rate.

It took until stoppage time for you to get a final attack going, sprinting down the field as Irene sent the ball to you. Your teammates were scrambling to catch up as Alexia scrambled after you, her tackle barely getting the ball as you ended up sprawled out on the grass, almost eating the pitch. Pushing yourself up from the pitch, you removed the blades of grass from your mouth with a grimace. A hand on your back caught your attention before you looked up, spotting the ref giving Alexia a yellow card. The Barcelona captain was lucky it wasn’t a red, but Leila had managed to catch up with you and her captain just enough before she went in for the tackle.

The whistle blowing signifying the end of the match left you glancing up at the sky with a sigh.

“Damn.”

You approached Irene first, letting out a breath as she pulled you into a hug, the two of you starting to walk around to your other teammates, and the Barcelona players approaching you both. Your eyes widened as you were met by players you hadn’t seen or spoken to much since you’d left Barcelona nearly six years ago, Jenni, Marta and Melanie pulling you into hugs.

“¿Estás bien?” Alexia enquired, feeling guilty for the tackle that sent you to the ground.

“Estoy bien, pero me comí la hierba.” You chuckled, freezing as Alexia’s hand gently cupped your cheek, removing a piece of grass stuck to your face. You did indeed eat the grass on the pitch.

///

Your final game with PSG was on June 4th against Dijon, with both you and Irene scoring a goal each. Both of your contracts were expiring, but Irene’s focus was also on Lucía and the couple’s unborn child, so she had already asked not to be called up to the Spain national squad for the 2023 World Cup Qualification due to the upcoming birth.

You’d known from the first leg match playing against Barcelona that you wanted to head back to Spain after your contract with PSG was up, speaking to your agent about any possible Spanish clubs being interested. You didn’t expect Barcelona to be interested, not telling Alexia or Irene the reasoning behind it, but when Barcelona came calling, you were donating and selling anything and everything that didn’t fit in your suitcases for the move back to Spain after six years.

Official: Barcelona confirm signing of PSG versatile player

Versatile Player Homecoming: 6 Years Later

PSG Player Returns to Barcelona Finally Smiling

“Bet fans didn’t have that on their bingo cards…” you murmured to yourself as you sat on the floor of what had been your place in Paris for the last two years, closing the football news tab without a second thought.

///

Alexia’s stomach twisted as she read over the news report, staring at the serious expression on your face from a photo that the media had used, their dig at your lack of a smile annoying her until she spotted a quote from you.

“There is no home for me like Barcelona.”

She may have let you walk away six years ago, never telling you her feelings before it was too late and you were gone, but the midfielder had kept tabs on you over the years, watching whatever footage she could find of you playing in the NWSL and WSL, before you arrived in Paris and she could ask Irene about you, plus watch your matches with PSG under the excuse that it was research for the UWCL. She’d followed social media closely, seeing the digs the fans made and how the media dragged you through the mud for having no club loyalty. She didn’t understand it at first, then again, Barcelona flowed through her veins, and your excuse at wanting more playing time didn’t make sense as you jumped from Chicago to Bristol to Paris in three years.

You never dated either, or you kept them so private that nobody on social media knew a thing, but it had been six years. The two of you had grown a lot, she was no longer the twenty two year old who let you walk away and leave for Portland, and you weren’t the same player or person you’d been six years ago either. You were a powerhouse and a pain in the ass to play against, but Alexia loved it, and you, even if she kept quiet about her feelings. Waiting for you to arrive in Barcelona for next season instead… for all she knew, you weren’t interested in her.

Oh, she had no idea.

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines

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