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meazalykov · 13 days ago

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after the storm is when the flowers bloom

lauren james x uswnt!reader

summary: you were proven wrong about her

warnings: "enemies" to lovers, angst, swearing, long chapter (4.7k words), happy ending of course

in 2022, the hum of wembley stadium rang in your ears, the cheers of over 70,000 fans vibrating through your chest.

you could feel the weight of the moment—the united states women’s national team facing england in a friendly that felt anything but friendly due to many things. political history being one of them.

this carried the intensity of a world cup match.

you’d been playing as a defensive midfielder for years, your positioning and timing honed to perfection. you’ve been at gotham for a couple of years now, joining when covid stopped the world for a period of time.

in the game against england, the 54th minute ticked onto the scoreboard, and england were pressing hard. their midfield was relentless, georgia stanway was orchestrating their attack with precision.

she was dangerous, but you knew her style. aggressive yet predictable. she wasn’t going to break through you easily.

georgia picked up the ball and drove toward the edge of the box. you tracked her movements, your instincts kicking in. the moment her touch was slightly heavy, you seized the opportunity. you lunged forward, sliding into a perfectly timed tackle.

the ball ricocheted off your boot, rolling cleanly toward lindsey, who was already pivoting to start the counterattack.

at the same time, georgia crumpled to the ground, clutching her ankle as if you’d taken a crowbar to it. the crowd roared, some booing, some gasping. you stood up, your face a mix of frustration and disbelief.

it was clean, you knew it was clean. you’d felt the ball, not her.

the referee hesitated, her whistle hanging loosely in her hand. from the corner of your eye, you saw georgia writhing on the ground, her teammates gesturing angrily toward the official.

“you’ve got to be kidding me,” you muttered under your breath. shaking your head, you turned to jog back to your position.

that’s when it happened.

you barely had time to register the harsh push before you were airborne. a force like a freight train barreled into your back, sending you sprawling face-first onto the pitch. the impact knocked the wind out of you, your chest and elbows scraping against the rough grass. your head spun, your heart pounding as you lay there for a moment, stunned.

“what the hell?” you thought, pushing yourself onto your elbows. your vision cleared, and standing above you was lauren james. she looked very nonchalant, as if she didn’t care about what she did.

“what’s your problem?” lindsey’s voice sliced through the noise as the ref whistled for the game to pause. the blonde lyon player was sharp and furious. she stormed toward lauren, her usual calm completely shattered.

“you can’t just shove someone like that!”

trinity rodman wasn’t far behind, her fiery temper ignited due to seeing her bestfriend being shoved onto the cold grass.

“are you out of your fucking mind? she didn’t even touch her for you to do all of that!” trinity’s voice was practically a roar, her hands gesturing wildly as she got in lauren’s face.

lauren didn’t back down. “whatever!” she tried to walk away, her voice low but venomous.

you pushed yourself to your knees, still catching your breath. your elbows burned from the scrape, and your back ached from the impact of the shove. the adrenaline coursing through your veins made everything sharper—the noise of the crowd, the shouts of your teammates, the pounding of your heart.

“she hit the ball, not georgia!” lindsey shot back, stepping closer to lauren.

“don’t worry about her, she's just pissed because they’re having a bad game!” you suddenly heard alex whisper into your ear.

“enough!” leah, england’s captain, shoved her way into the chaos, trying to diffuse the situation.

“back off! let the ref handle it!”

the referee’s whistle pierced through the noise, sharp and commanding. she ran into the middle of the commotion, her arms outstretched as she tried to separate the players.

you stayed on the ground for a moment longer, your mind racing. the shove wasn’t just aggressive; it was intentional. lauren had lashed out, and you couldn’t wrap your head around it.

sure, the game was heated, but this was something else entirely.

as you stood, trinity and lindsey turned their attention to you. “are you okay?” lindsey asked, her voice softer now, concern etched across her face.

you nodded, brushing the grass off your navy blue kit. “i’m fine,” you muttered, though your back throbbed where you’d hit the ground.

trinity wasn’t having it. “fine? she shoved you like a damn linebacker! you’re not just letting this go, right?”

you glanced at lauren, who was still being held back by her teammates. she looked carelees, but beneath that, you saw something else. frustration. embarrassment, maybe. it clicked in your mind—she was lashing out because she was struggling.

her touches had been off all game, her passes misdirected. england was losing, and she was frustrated.

“drop it,” you said quietly, making a subtle hand signal to trinity. she frowned, clearly unhappy with your decision, but she stepped back. lindsey hesitated, her eyes searching yours, but eventually she relented too.

you turned and walked away from the commotion, your focus shifting back to the game. the referee called for the match to resume, and you shook off the lingering frustration, burying it deep. there was no time to dwell.

england were still pressing, and you had a job to do.

the minutes ticked by, england growing more desperate with every passing second. they managed to pull one back in the 78th minute, but the united states held firm. the score sat at 4-2 as the clock hit 90 minutes, and the fourth official signaled five minutes of added time.

in the 92nd minute, you found yourself in a pocket of space 35 yards from goal. the ball rolled toward you, and instinct took over. you didn’t think, you just struck it cleanly with the inside of your boot. the ball sailed through the air, curving just enough to beat the keeper’s outstretched hands and slam into the back of the net.

the stadium erupted, the noise deafening as your teammates swarmed you. you jogged toward the corner, a grin spreading across your face.

reaching the edge of the pitch, you threw your arms out in your signature shrug, a gesture so casual it almost felt out of place in the chaos of celebration.

as you turned back toward midfield, you caught the cameras lingering on you, the commentators speculating. you could already imagine the headlines, the social media takes. they’d frame your celebration as a dig at lauren, a retaliation for the shove. they didn’t understand—it was just your thing. it wasn’t about her. it was never about her.

still, as you lined up for the restart, you couldn’t help but glance at lauren. her expression was unreadable, her eyes fixed on the ground. you wondered if she saw it differently. wondered if she thought it was personal. but you pushed the thought away.

the game was yours, and nothing could change that.

however, you were right about the media speculation.

the morning after the game, your notifications were flooded with articles, tweets, and videos dissecting the moment between you and lauren. headlines framed the shove as a grudge match, with some going as far as painting you as a victim of lauren’s frustration.

at first, you ignored it, thinking the talk would die down quickly, but it didn’t.

what started as a niche topic among women’s soccer fans spread further. people who rarely followed woso casually chimed in, turning it into a viral talking point. microaggressive comments about lauren’s maturity and emotional control flooded the conversation.

at first, you tried to rationalize it. you told yourself it wasn’t your problem, that you couldn’t control what people said online. as the vitriol against lauren escalated, it started to disgust you. you didn’t hate her—not even close. she was a competitor, and in the heat of the game, players sometimes did things they regretted. you understood that.

later that night, as you tried to get some rest, your mind wouldn’t quiet. eventually, you drifted off, only to wake up around 2 a.m., your phone buzzing with yet another notification. this time, it was a text from lauren through instagram.

lj10: hey, i just wanted to say sorry for what happened in the game. i was frustrated with how we were playing and took it out on you. it wasn’t fair. i’ll do better with controlling my emotions.

you stared at the message for a moment, caught off guard. most players didn’t reach out like this, especially not after something so small in the grand scheme of things.

you typed back quickly, not wanting to leave her hanging.

y/n.l/n: thanks for saying that. i get it. tough games can bring out the worst in all of us. I appreciate the apology.

her response came almost instantly.

lj10: still, it wasn’t okay. i respect you as a player, and i shouldn’t have let my frustration get the better of me.

you smiled faintly, shaking your head. “respect you as a player” sounded oddly formal, but it was clear she meant it. the conversation lingered for a bit, with her reiterating how sorry she was and you assuring her that you held no grudges.

what surprised you, though, was that lauren kept texting you even after the apologies were over. her messages were lighthearted and casual—a meme about players pretending to be fine after getting tackled, a question about how you stayed so composed on the pitch, even a random message asking if you liked english things.

you replied when you could, but life got busy. the club season with gotham was in full swing, and between training, games, and travel, you barely had time to check your personal messages.

still, you and lauren both issued public apologies, hoping to calm the online storm. hers was gracious, taking full responsibility for her actions, and yours was a simple statement reminding everyone that these things happen in the heat of the moment.

for a while, it seemed like that was the end of it. then, in the middle of the 2023 season, things with gotham started to fall apart. your contract was nearing its end, and negotiations for a renewal weren’t going well.

promises had been made about the direction of the club, but none of them had been kept. it became clear that staying wasn’t an option.

chelsea were one of the first clubs to reach out. their offer was incredible—competitive wages, a clear vision for your role on the team, and the chance to play alongside some of the best players in the world. you couldn’t say no.

when you arrived at chelsea’s training center for your first day of training, the nerves hit you hard. the new colors on your training gear felt surreal, and the sight of players you’d admired for years made your stomach flutter.

among them was lauren.

she was standing off to the side, tying her cleats, but her gaze flicked to you the moment you stepped onto the pitch. her posture stiffened slightly, and she gave you a small, hesitant smile. it was the first time you’d seen her in person since that infamous game.

you smiled back, unsure of what to say. the entire situation felt oddly surreal, and you weren’t sure if she was as nervous as you were or if you were just imagining things.

“hey hey heyyyy,” a familiar voice pulled you out of your thoughts. mia jogged over, her face lighting up with a grin.

“finally! another american on the team besides cat. i thought i was gonna have to keep the whole country on my back.”

you laughed, grateful for her presence. mia was someone you knew from the national team, and her easygoing nature was exactly what you needed to calm your nerves.

training was intense, the pace faster than what you were used to, but you managed to hold your own. still, you stuck close to mia and occasionally sam kerr, who you’d met through her fianc��e, kristie.

it wasn’t that you didn’t want to get to know the others, but your nerves were still getting the better of you.

during a water break, lauren approached you cautiously. she held her water bottle in one hand, her other fidgeting with the hem of her training shirt.

“hey,” she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the chatter around you.

“hey,” you replied, giving her a small smile.

she hesitated, then added, “it’s, um, good to see you here. i mean, on the team.”

“thanks,” you said, unsure of how to navigate the conversation. “it’s… good to be here.”

an awkward silence hung between you for a moment before she nodded and walked away, leaving you to wonder if the tension was real or just in your head.

over the next few weeks, you settled into life at chelsea. the team was welcoming, the facilities top-notch, and the football was everything you’d hoped for. lauren, however, remained somewhat distant.

she wasn’t unfriendly, but she wasn’t as chatty as she’d been over text either.

one day after training, as you were packing up your things, she approached you again. this time, she seemed more confident.

“i’ve been meaning to ask,” she said, her tone casual, “are you as good at fifa as you are on the pitch? because some of the girls want to start a tournament, and i’m not going easy on you just because you’re new.”

you raised an eyebrow, smirking. “you don’t go easy on anyone, do you?”

she laughed, the sound light and genuine. “not really. but it keeps things interesting.”

“i’ll take you on,” you said, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “but don’t throw a fit when i win.”

“we’ll see about that,” she shot back, her confidence shining through for the first time since you’d joined.

overtime, beneath the surface, something about lauren james’s attention to you began to feel... different. at first, you thought it was just her being friendly. she was always the first to help you out during training, pairing up with you for drills before anyone else could.

she’d linger near you during team bonding moments at the bar, her gaze sometimes lingering a beat too long.

you’d catch her watching you during warm-ups or across the locker room, her expression unreadable. at first, you brushed it off as coincidence. but then there were the small things—her eagerness to volunteer when you needed something, her insistence on being your partner during tactical sessions, her quick smile whenever your eyes met.

you did not hate it, in fact, you looked towards her a lot to see if she was watching what you were doing.

the moment everything shifted for you came when your car broke down, leaving you stranded. you showed up at training that day after catching a ride with mia, lamenting to your teammates in the locker room about how inconvenient it was.

“you don’t have a car?” lauren asked, her tone casual, though her eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place.

“not until it gets out of the shop,” you said, pulling your navy colored boots on.

“hopefully, it’s just a day or two.”

“i can pick you up,” she offered quickly, her voice steady but almost too quick. “and drop you off. it’s no trouble.”

“really? i don’t want to bother you.” you hesitated, glancing around at the others.

“cat already said she could do it.”

“yeah, i can,” catarina added, leaning back in her seat.

“you’re literally on the way to here for me.”

lauren shrugged, a hint of a smirk on her lips.

“i’m closer. plus, i don’t mind. i need the extra excuse to get out of bed early anyway.”

you raised an eyebrow.

“an excuse? what am i, your alarm clock?”

“something like that,” she said lightly, and though her words were playful, her eyes stayed on you, searching.

you finally relented, smiling.

“okay, if you’re sure. just don’t oversleep and leave me stranded.”

“promise,” she said, grinning, and you could feel the attention of the room shift as sam kerr’s sharp eyes flicked between you and lauren.

it didn’t take long for sam to figure things out. during another training session a few days later, she pulled lauren aside, her expression tinged with amusement.

“so,” sam began, her australian accent playful,

“you’ve got a little crush, don’t you?”

lauren’s face reddened instantly.

“what are you talking about?”

“oh, come on.” sam rolled her eyes.

“you’re not exactly subtle. always volunteering to help y/n, staring at her during drills while moisturizing your lips. i’ve seen it.”

lauren sighed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“fine. yeah, i think she’s… i mean, she’s gorgeous, sam. how couldn’t i?”

sam’s grin widened. “well, no one’s arguing that. but seriously, what’s stopping you? she doesn’t seem like she’s holding a grudge or anything.”

“the friendly,” lauren muttered, her gaze dropping to the ground.

“i shoved her. it was stupid, and she probably remembers.”

“laur,” sam said gently, “she’s not holding onto that. my kristie was on the pitch that day, and even she said y/n let it go. you should too.”

you, meanwhile, were grappling with feelings you didn’t fully understand. after a few weeks of lauren driving you to and from training, you noticed something had shifted within you.

it wasn’t just her kindness or her easy humor—it was the way you missed her when she wasn’t around. even after she dropped you off, you’d find yourself wanting to text her, to hear her voice again.

one night, you couldn’t keep it to yourself any longer. you called catarina, needing her perspective.

“so, what’s going on?” cat asked after you’d explained everything.

you hesitated, chewing on your lip. “i don’t know. i just… i feel like i want to be around her all the time. it’s weird.”

cat laughed softly. “that doesn’t sound weird. that sounds like a crush.”

“no,” you said quickly, shaking your head even though she couldn’t see you. “it’s not that. i mean, it can’t be. i just saw her a few hours ago, and—” you sighed, cutting yourself off.

“i miss her.”

“y/n.” her tone was teasing now, but there was an underlying fondness.

“that’s literally the definition of a crush.”

you groaned. “don’t tell her. if you tell her, i swear you’ll regret it.”

“i won’t say anything,” cat promised, though you could hear her smirk through the phone.

“but you should think about why you’re so scared of her knowing.”

the next day, chelsea faced arsenal in a tense league match. the score was locked at 1-1 late in the second half when your team won a corner kick. the atmosphere in the stadium was high, the fans roaring as lauren positioned herself to take the kick.

you stood near the penalty spot, ready to make your move.

lauren raised her hand, signaling the play. her brown eyes flicked toward you briefly before she delivered the ball with pinpoint accuracy.

you surged forward, timing your jump perfectly. the header was clean, the ball soaring past arsenal’s goalkeeper and into the back of the net.

the stadium erupted in cheers, your teammates rushing to you in celebration. the energy was overwhelming, the roar of the crowd and the adrenaline coursing through your veins making everything feel surreal.

amid the chaos, lauren was the last to reach you. as your teammates peeled away, she stepped closer, her arms wrapping around you in a hug that felt… different.

the english woman’s strong hands rested lightly on your waist, her grip firm but gentle.

“great header,” she murmured in your ear, her voice barely audible over the noise.

“perfect cross,” you replied, your breath catching as you realized how close she was.

the moment stretched longer than it should have, the world fading around you as the two of you lingered in the embrace. your heart pounded, the realization hitting you like a freight train.

whatever this was between you and lauren, it wasn’t just in your head.

after the game and the post-match interviews were done, the adrenaline was fading, and all you wanted was a hot shower and some quiet.

before you could even step into the tunnel, sam pulled you aside, her expression unreadable, though there was a mischievous glint in her eye.

“so,” she started, crossing her arms as she leaned casually against the wall, “what was that?”

you blinked at her, confused. “what was what?”

“don’t play dumb,” she said, her lips curling into a smirk. “that moment between you and lauren after the goal. everyone saw it.”

heat rushed to your face as you quickly shook your head. “it was nothing,” you said, trying to sound convincing.

“just teammates celebrating a goal.”

sam raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your answer. “uh-huh. you’re really gonna stick with that?”

“because it’s the truth,” you replied, avoiding her gaze.

“right.” she dragged out the word, clearly not believing you.

“you’re coming to my place after this. kristie and i are gonna have a little chat with you.”

you frowned, trying to protest. “sam, it’s not—”

“don’t care,” she interrupted, her tone cheerful but firm. “see you there.”

you couldn’t wiggle your way out of it. after a quick post-match meeting with the team, you found yourself standing in sam and kristie’s living room. kristie had just finished setting out a plate of snacks, and sam was already sitting cross-legged on the couch, her arms folded as she watched you like a hawk.

“all right,” kristie said, sitting down beside sam. “let’s hear it.”

“hear what?” you asked, feigning ignorance.

“don’t play dumb,” sam said, echoing her earlier words.

“we’re talking about you and lauren. what’s going on?”

you sighed, sitting down in the armchair across from them.

“nothing’s going on. i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

kristie tilted her head, her expression soft but probing.

“y/n, come on. we’re not blind. everyone has seen how you two look at each other.”

“and that hug after the goal,” sam added.

“i’m pretty sure the crowd thought you were about to propose to eachother.”

“it’s not like that,” you said, shaking your head.

“i just… i don’t know. it feels too early to think about it like that.”

sam snorted. “too early? the first time you seriously talked to lauren was what, a year ago?”

the words hit you like a ton of bricks. “wait, that friendly was… a year ago?”

“yep,” kristie confirmed.

“almost to the day. so, don’t tell us it’s too early.”

“fine,” you muttered, slumping back in your seat.

“but what if i’m reading this wrong? what if she’s just being friendly?”

sam let out a dramatic groan.

“you’re not reading it wrong, y/n. trust me. your feelings are not one-sided.”

you opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, your phone buzzed in your pocket. pulling it out, you saw lauren’s name flash on the screen. your heart skipped a beat.

“well, speak of the devil,” sam teased.

“go on, answer it.”

“i—okay,” you stammered, getting up and retreating to the bathroom for some privacy.

closing the door behind you, you took a deep breath before answering.

“hey, lauren.”

“hey,” she said, her voice warm but slightly nervous.

“i just wanted to ask– uh, are you free later?”

“yeah, i should be. why?”

“there’s this italian place in the city i thought we could go to,” she said.

“if you’re up for it. i heard it’s really good.”

your stomach flipped. it was one of your favorite spots in london, though you’d never mentioned that to her.

“yeah, i’d love to. what time?”

“seven? i can pick you up if you want.”

“sure, that works.”

“great,” she said, and you could hear the smile in her voice.

“see you then.”

after hanging up, you stayed in the bathroom for a moment, trying to process what had just happened. when you finally emerged, sam and kristie were waiting expectantly.

“well?” sam prompted.

“she invited me to dinner,” you said, sitting back down.

“at my favorite italian place.”

“your favorite?” kristie asked, eyebrows raising.

“did you tell her that?”

you shook your head.

“no, never. do you think… did you say something, sam?”

sam held her hands up defensively. “wasn’t me. maybe cat or mia?”

“maybe,” you muttered, though the thought made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

“so,” kristie said, leaning forward,

“you’re gonna tell her how you feel, right?”

you hesitated. “i don’t know. what if it’s too soon?”

“if you don’t tell her tonight,” sam interjected, her tone playful but firm, “i will tell her at training tomorrow morning.”

you groaned, running a hand down your face. “fine. but if this blows up in my face, i’m blaming you both.”

kristie smiled, her expression softening. “it won’t blow up. trust me.”

“just be honest,” sam added. “she likes you, y/n. you’ll see.”

at 6:55, lauren pulled up outside your apartment, her car idling as you stepped out the door wearing one of your favorite casual outfits. the drive to the restaurant was surprisingly easy, the conversation flowing naturally as you talked about the morning game against arsenal.

by the time you arrived, the tension you’d felt earlier had mostly dissipated.

the restaurant was cozy, with dim lighting and the warm scent of garlic and fresh bread wafting through the air. lauren held the door open for you, her hand lingering on the small of your back as you stepped inside.

the gesture sent a shiver down your spine.

“this place is amazing,” lauren said as you were seated.

“i’ve heard so many good things about it.”

“yeah, it’s one of my favorites,” you admitted, smiling.

the meal was perfect—delicious food, easy conversation, and the kind of laughter that made your cheeks ache. lauren was more relaxed than you’d ever seen her, her usual shyness replaced by a quiet confidence that made you feel at ease.

as the night wore on, though, the weight of what sam and kristie had said lingered in the back of your mind. you kept waiting for the right moment to bring it up, but every time, the words caught in your throat.

finally, as dessert arrived, lauren broke the comfortable silence.

“can i ask you something?”

your heart skipped a beat. “of course.”

instead of speaking right away, lauren reached across the table, her fingers brushing against yours before gently taking your hand in hers. her touch was warm, her grip firm but careful, as though she was afraid you might pull away.

your breath caught in your throat as she softly ran her thumb over the back of your hand, the gesture so intimate it made your cheeks burn.

you glanced down, feeling a sudden wave of shyness, but you didn’t pull your hand away.

your breath caught.

“after your goal earlier, did you feel something in that moment between us?”

“i… yeah, i did,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

she smiled, a soft, almost shy expression that made your chest ache.

“good. because i’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

you leaned forward slightly, your pulse racing as she kept a light grip on your hands.

“what is it?”

she hesitated for a moment, “i like you, y/n. i have for a while now. and i know things didn’t start off great between us, but… i really like being around you.”

her words hung in the air, your mind racing as you tried to process them. “lauren, i—” you paused, taking a deep breath.

“i like you too. i’ve been trying to figure out what to say, but… i just didn’t want to ruin anything.”

lauren’s bright smile widened, and she gave a light squeeze to your hand.

“you’re not ruining anything. trust me.”

“good, because i’ve wanted to be your girlfriend for a while now.” you boldly admited.

“oh really?” lauren smirked, teasing you as she gave a light kiss on your knuckles.

“yes, really.”

“so, am i your girlfriend now?” lauren teases.

“yes, am I yours?”

“you are, my sweetheart.”

masterlist

#lauren james #chelsea fcw #chelsea women #sam kerr #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #catarina macario #woso soccer #woso appreciation #kristie mewis #cat macario #mia fishel