#feminino!

[meazalykov]

every win is not sweet

alexia putellas x realmadrid!reader

you’re still trying to catch your breath as the final whistle blows, the sound of it almost drowned out by the eruption of cheers around the away catalan stadium. bodies are collapsing onto the pitch, teammates rushing toward you with arms wide open. 

your chest heaves, the pounding of your heart matching the excitment of the away crowd that surprisingly had a good turnout. the scoreboard blares its unforgiving truth. real madrid 3, barcelona 1.

the player of the match does to caroline but it’s your name that echoes through the stadium. it was your goal in the 90+6 minute that basically told barcelona that they were not coming back from this match. this time, they fell and you were the one to do it.

your teammates engulf you, the weight of their bodies crashing into yours. laughter, cheers, even a few tears. you can barely stand. someone ruffles your hair, another smacks your back but through it all your eyes instinctively search the pitch. 

those eyes of yours past the celebrating white shirts, past the madridistas jumping in the stands. your gaze finally lands on her. alexia.

she’s still near the barcelona bench, hands on her hips, her head tilted down. that dark blonde  of hers is damp with sweat, strands clinging to her face. the captain’s armband is loose around her bicep. for a moment, she doesn’t move. then, without meeting your gaze, she turns away.

by the time the post-match formalities are over, the adrenaline has worn off. your body aches. the press interviews are a blur….you manage the usual lines, nothing too biting, nothing too cocky. 

the club media officer is relieved. they didn’t want anything inflammatory from you, not after a victory like this but your mind’s not there. it’s with alexia who does take losses like this very seriously.

later you’re barely through the front door of your apartment when you hear the distinct sound of keys jangling. you shut the door quietly, kicking off your shoes. the lights are dim, the city skyline glowing faintly through the wide windows. the hum of barcelona traffic filters in.

"alexia?"

the sound of her footsteps emerges from the kitchen. she doesn’t answer at first. instead, she stands with her back to you, the fridge door open as she retrieves a bottle of water. the tension is palpable, hanging heavy in the air. you swallow hard.

"baby?" you try again, softer this time.

she finally turns, her jaw tight. those usually warm brown eyes are distant now and you know. you know before she even says a word.

"you didn't have to celebrate like that."

the words are clipped, low. they hang between you, and you can't hide the flicker of surprise that flashes across your face.

"what?"

alexia steps closer, the water bottle gripped tightly in her hand, "the way you showed off to our crowd, y/n… you wanted to rub it into our fans faces."

"are you serious?" you ask, your voice cracking slightly, "that was our first win over you ever and i scored in stoppage time. what did you expect me to do? stand there?"

she doesn’t respond immediately. her jaw clenches, her eyes narrowing.

"i get it," she finally says, "it was a big moment for madrid  but you know what it was for us? our first loss to you. do you know how that feels?"

"of course i do," you snap, frustration bubbling to the surface. "every clasico we’ve played, we’ve been humiliated. every time, you walk off the pitch victorious, and i’m left wondering if we’ll ever catch up and today, we did. i’m sorry that hurts you, but it meant everything to my teammates.” 

alexia shakes her head, her lips pressing into a thin line, "this isn’t just about the game. it’s about how you celebrated. you could’ve… i don’t know, shown some respect."

"respect?" your voice rises, incredulous, "you think i disrespected you? alexia, i never played for barcelona therefore i don’t have any loyalty to give to that club… only just to you. i would never disrespect you but i’m allowed to be happy. i’m allowed to celebrate."

she’s silent again, and it’s unbearable. the walls of the apartment seem smaller, suffocating. your breaths are shallow, your pulse quickening.

"maybe you don’t understand because you’re always winning," you murmur, the bitterness slipping through despite your best efforts.

alexia’s eyes flash, and it stings. you’ve never fought like this before. not like this.

"so now i’m the villain for being successful? is that it?" she retorts, her voice sharp.

"that’s not what i said."

"but it’s what you meant."

the weight of the argument crashes over both of you. you see the flicker of hurt in her eyes, the way her shoulders tense. she’s always been passionate, fiery. you love that about her but right now, it’s a wall you can’t get through.

"alexia," you whisper, your voice cracking, "this doesn’t have to be like this. we’re on different teams, yeah, but we’re not against each other…. not really."

she exhales slowly, her gaze dropping to the floor. the tension lingers, but so does something else. something fragile.

"i know," she murmurs, "i just… it’s hard."

at first, it seemed like the tension from that argument had started to dissolve. she had mumbled something about how you played well, and you thanked her, adding that she had too. the words were stiff, like neither of you wanted to bring up what had happened but of course, it didn’t take long before it resurfaced.

"i'm just saying," alexia spoke, her voice laced with frustration, "if jana’s goal wasn’t called offside, the entire game would have been different."

you blinked, confused… "what? but it was offside, alexia."

she scoffed, shaking her head, "barely. it was so tight and those kinds of calls... sometimes they go the other way. we should’ve had that goal."

"but you didn’t." your voice came out sharper than you intended, "because it was offside. that’s how the game works… offside goals do not count."

"so you think that call was perfect? flawless?" her brows furrowed, her jaw tight.

you exhaled, trying to steady yourself, "i think the refs checked it and confirmed it. what else do you want, ale? they didn’t just pull that decision out of thin air.”

"right, because officiating has never been questionable," she shot back, sarcasm dripping from every word.

your patience thinned. she wasn't just upset, alexia was convincing herself of something that wasn’t true. you understood how painful a loss like this was. barcelona’s dominance over madrid had been undeniable, and now that streak was broken. the denial? that was something else.

"are you seriously going to keep this up?" you snapped, your voice rising, "are you really going to sit here and act like jana's goal wasn’t offside just to cope with losing? is that how you’re all dealing with it?"

alexia’s mouth parted slightly, as if the words stung. she held your gaze, the warmth in her brown eyes quickly replaced by something colder. 

"whatever," she muttered, pushing herself off the couch, "congratulations on your win, y/n." 

the way she said it, bitter and dismissive, made your stomach twist. you shook your head as she walked away, disappearing down the hall. 

"unbelievable," you mumbled under your breath, the weight of the night pressing down on you.

all of those hours passed, the air in the apartment thick with unresolved tension. you spent most of the evening scrolling mindlessly through your phone, trying to push down the guilt simmering inside you. 

the truth was, you didn’t like how you handled it. you had every right to stand by the victory, but snapping at alexia like that? that wasn’t fair. she had poured her heart into that match just as much as you had.

when you heard the soft creak of the bedroom door, your eyes flicked up. alexia stood there, her shoulders slightly hunched, her expression unreadable. 

"hey," you said quietly, setting your phone aside.

"hey," she echoed, her voice soft. there was a hesitance in her step as she approached you.

"look," you sighed, rubbing the back of your neck, "i shouldn’t have said that. i was frustrated at your reaction, but that doesn’t mean i should’ve approached it in that manner."

she nodded slowly, "and i shouldn't have... i shouldn’t have made excuses. it wasn’t fair to you. i’m sorry."

the weight of it all lifted slightly. you reached out, gently taking her hand in yours. her fingers curled around yours, that familiar warmth grounding you. 

"i get why you were upset," you murmured, "i would be too. it wasn’t just any game."

alexia’s lips twitched upward in the faintest smile, though her eyes still held a tinge of sadness. 

"it was a big one."

"yeah," you whispered, pulling her closer. your arms wrapped around her waist, and she melted into your embrace, "but i’m glad we’re okay… right?"

she nodded against your shoulder, her breath steady, "we are."

you pulled back just enough to press a soft kiss to her lips. alexia’s hands rested against your back, holding you firmly. the kiss was slow, unhurried.

when you pulled away, you smirked playfully, deciding to lighten the mood, "good luck against wolfsburg this weekend," you whispered, the words brushing against her ear.

alexia scoffed, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her amusement. 

"thanks," she replied, "you too, but against arsenal."

masterlist

authors note: I hate madrid so it was very hard to write this one without being snarky LMAO

[pers1st]

dancing with the devil - alexia putellas x reader

pairing: alexia x singer!reader

warnings: mentions of drugs and alcohol

Meeting Alexia hadn't been an accident. If anything, meeting anyone, for you, was an accident, because more often than not, people were screaming into your face, demanding pictures and autographs and spinning theories about your private life that you were pretty sure could be considered conspiracies.

You hadn't intended, however, to meet Alexia. And she hadn't intended to meet you. The first time you'd seen the Catalonian woman had been on Keira's instagram. Your lifelong best friend and childhood neighbor was the only reason you were interested in women's football - or sports in general. You'd never shared your father's passion, or joined the local team like your brother had. If it wasn't for Keira, you would have no ties to the sport whatsoever, and even this way, you grew annoyed every time the strawberry blonde and her insufferably confident girlfriend tried to explain the offside rules to you.

Still, you followed Keira's life everywhere she went, and although you hadn't been happy with her move to Barcelona, you had forgiven her the minute you'd spotted the Catalonian woman on the sidelines.

Keira had warned you, but really, she should've warned Alexia. You enjoyed the lifestyle that came with being a singer, relished in parties and one-night-stands and rebounds that Keira doomed forbidden. More often than not, she'd threatened to hang up on your FaceTime call when you'd phoned her from London to tell her about your latest hookup. But Keira, as different as the two of you were, was still your best friend, and so she listened to every word you said, or sung, and was your number one supporter. This wasn't missed by her new teammates, who started following your socials the second Keira had first shared the promo picture of your new album. That's when Alexia had followed you. Keira should've warned her then, but a few years down the line, you were glad she hadn't. Because what was supposed to be a bed for you to spend a night in when you next visited Keira and Lucy in Barcelona blossomed into your second home, and the woman who was supposed to be yet another hookup blossomed into your girlfriend.

You had spent the past year somewhere between London, New York and Barcelona, desperate to spend time with Alexia, Leah and your producers all at the same time. The fans had quickly taken notice of your and Alexia's relationship, although, to be honest, not one of you had tried to hide anything. Alexia was easy, Alexia was simple, and most importantly, Alexia was safe. She was the one to ground you whenever you struggled with your mental health, whenever you were overwhelmed with pressure, anxiety, or any emotion alike.

But a few months ago, with Alexia's return to the pitch, the World Cup and the crippling pressure to perform, at all time, that grasped your every cell, things had taken a turn for the worst.

You were on tour, and had witnessed the public abuse of Alexia and her teammates via FaceTime and instagram, trying your hardest to console the captain as best as you could from so many miles away. It hadn't been an easy task, and with the everlasting rehearsals, concerts and afterparties, you had neglected to take care of yourself.

Drinking was easy when you had the excuse of missing your girlfriend. Using was easy when you had the excuse of just living a little.

Nothing was easy now, as you stood in your girlfriend's flat in Barcelona, the woman halting across from you.

"I'm... home", she breathed, taking in her surroundings. There was no way to hide the bags packed behind you, the way you were still wearing your shoes despite the fact that Alexia had taken so much time to drill the habit of taking them off at the doorstep, the way you seemed to be ready to leave when you had just come home.

"What is going on?", she asked, dropping her bag with a soft thud. Alexia had expected you on the couch, with a mug of tea in your hands, in her sweatpants and fluffy socks, just the way you liked during the colder months. She had expected you to be nuzzled under a blanket, perhaps napping as she knew the jet lag robbed you of energy whenever you took the plane from the States to Spain.

"I'm leaving", you breathed, staring into her face blankly. You tried to remember. Tried to take in every dimple, every freckle, the color of her eyes and the baby hairs that were flying off her hairline. If you could have, you would have taken a picture. You had so many pictures of Alexia in your phone, ranging from ones to her sleeping, from her at training, from her during matches, from her at dates you took her on or standing in the crowd of your concerts. They were never going to be enough - realistically, you knew that. But, realistically, you could never forget Alexia either, no matter how much time you would spend away from her.

Alexia looked confused. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly as she opened her mouth and closed it again. Her lips looked like she had been picking them, the way she always did when she was stressed, but you wanted to kiss them anyways.

Her feet guided her into the kitchen, walking straight past you as she inspected the apartment. She noticed your favorite mug - one that she had given you for Christmas last year - wasn't where it usually stood next to her favorite mug. Why would you take your mug? You never took your mug when you went away from her, to concerts or recording sessions or award galas.

If she looked any closer, she might've noticed the broken handle of it laying next to the trash can. The dish had been sent to the floor when you had frantically grabbed at it, desperate to leave the flat before your girlfriend came home, and shattered into a million peace. Each one of it was tucked in a plastic bag in your suitcase, but you had forgotten the handle. Alexia didn't notice. Her eyes were back on you.

"What are you talking about?", she asked. In that moment, you were grateful more than ever that Alexia had taken the longer route to grab your favorite sushi from the one restaurant on the other side of the town, the only one you liked, because it had given you enough time to pack everything before she came home. You had almost been out the door - you had put your shoes and coat on already, leaving your favorite scarf, the pink one that she liked to wear, in the hallway.

"I'm so sorry." Your voice was barely above a whisper, and you had to tear your eyes away from her, down to your dirty sneakers, when you felt your lips wobble. If you took another glance at Alexia, you would cry.

The handle of your suitcase was cold as you gripped it tightly, bending down to pick up the bag still on the ground.

"I'm so sorry, Alexia."

It wasn't just another statement one said during a breakup without any meaning. You truly meant it. You truly were sorry. In the past months, both yours and Alexia's life had spiraled completely, and although you had been there for her as best as you could have, and lost yourself in the process. The shell of a person that was left of you was nowhere close to what Alexia deserved. You weren't sorry for leaving her, you were sorry for the person you had become, and you were sorry you couldn't be the person for Alexia anymore. You couldn't be her loving girlfriend anymore, the one that loved her endlessly, that made her laugh, that took her worries away with soft kisses and whispered nothings. You couldn't be the person to make her happy anymore. If Alexia took a closer look at you, maybe she would notice your blown pupils, the redrimmed eyes of yours, the bags beneath them. Maybe she would notice the amount of weight you lost, the leftovers of white powder beneath your nose, maybe she would've noticed how broken you were.

You didn't give her the chance, instead tearing your gaze away from her and shuffling towards the door with soft steps, desperate not to ruin her hardwood floor with the crunch of broken glass and splashes of alcohol on your dirty shoes.

You heard Alexia cry behind you, heard her pleas for you to stay, heard her questions, her yells, but you were out of the flat quicker than she could've pulled you back. The air of Barcelona hit you colder than it had before, and a part of you wished you would've worn the pink scarf, knowing it would've kept you warm and smelled of Alexia's perfume.

The black SUV was still parked right next to her driveway the way you had instructed Lois, your driver, to wait. He didn't ask a single question as you slammed the bags into the backseat, following in shortly after, tears streaming down your face. You needed to leave. You were doing the right thing. Alexia would realize it, at one point.

17th December, 2023:

Breaking news: British singer Y/N Y/L/N's summer tour cancelled after drug overdose.

notes:

there goes my first oneshot! please let me know what you think and also if you want a pt2 bc i have so much more in mind about thus story :)

[onabat11e]

ona batlle rizzing the ref

[sccpmccabe]

the medicine for a crazy person is an even crazier one. looks like renard found her medicine.

TARCIANE LIMA É O NOME DA MINHA ZAGUEIRA, PORRA!

[misettemisette]

So hot she burns you 🔥🥵

[almaalada]

[am-graphics]

• Natalie Dormer • 300x400

{Links}

🖤 & Reblog!

[brasildaily]

Corinthians wins the women's Brazilian Championship 2024 final match against São Paulo at the Neo Quimica Arena in São Paulo, Brazil, on September 22, 2024.

[sitegyals]

like if u save

[totaly-obsessed]

Boca Juniors Feminino Appreciation

Request a player | with @alotofpockets

[allfavz]

atletas brasileiras icons like/reblog if you save

credits @aIfasquad on twitter

[viperflowerdesign]

If you save any icons, please like or reblog.

[liviesicons]

• instagram + throwback

» like or reblog if you save ❤️

[sccpmccabe]

They won't shut us up, no matter how hard they try.

[tw: sexual h*rassment & ass*ult]

Last night (April 12, 2024) was marked by several protests in the Brazilian women's football community.

Teams such as Corinthians, Avaí, Cruzeiro and Palmeiras protested against Santos' decision to rehire coach Kleiton Lima, which had been reported last year by 19 Santos players for moral and sexual harassment. 14 of the nineteen players left the club at the beginning of that season, but at no point did they withdraw their complaints.

The argument used by the Santos board to hire Kleiton again was that none of the allegations had been proven to be true and that, in fact, the board had contacted some players so that they could explain the entire situation. These arguments were quickly refuted after several players took a stance on their social networks saying that such contact never happened.

At the beginning of this year, Santos had already been involved in a major controversy after inviting the former player convicted of rape in Italy and sentenced again in Brazil, Robinho, to a barbecue on the club's premises.

Situations like these only show how even the word of a large group of women is of no value to top executives, or any other man. The situation became even worse in the game between Santos vs Corinthians that took place last night.

Corinthians players and the entire coaching staff protested during the national anthem and in celebration of the goals scored by the team. The game ended with a score of 3-1 for Corinthians, but the worst detail is the goal scored by Santos.

After tying the match in the 14th minute of the first half, Santos player Ketlen ran to the edge of the field to celebrate the goal by hugging Kleiton.

As long as women like her try to silence other women, we will never evolve as a society.

If you are a victim of a situation like this, or any other, look for your rights and report it.

[misettemisette]

MASTERLIST

Starting over In Madrid

Misa Rodriguez x reader

Summary : After moving to Madrid as Real Madrid's new photographer, Nicky can’t seem to take her eyes off the pretty face Misa Rodríguez. But how will she handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her contract strictly forbids dating players?

WC: way too much TW: at some point angst, smut +18, but still a lot of fluff PS: French writer / I wrote this story last year, that explained some of the players are not in the team anymore. Anyway, it's a parallel univers so I do what I want

Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapitre 4 ➺ Hell Clasico Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and Peaks Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique Chapter 7 ➺ In the Haze

> Around 15 chapter total

MISA FIC REC

A Poorly Planned Escape by @skalfy A Reputation for Good Taste by @skalfy

You Can't Talk No Sh*t Without Penalties (Misa Rodriguez x Marta Cardona) by @copper-16

Just Let Go 1 2 3 4 5 by @girlgenius1111 To the brink by @girlgenius1111 No one speaks to you like that by @girlgenius1111

swipe, like, love, misa x reader by @starrynights-sunnyskies a clash to keep her by @starrynights-sunnyskies mine to save by @starrynights-sunnyskies mine to protect by @starrynights-sunnyskies

One night in Ibiza (Misa Rodríguez x Hermoso!Reader) by @pitchsidestories

Sleepy Cuddles by @suckerforblondeathletes

Change of heart by @inuyashaluver

Jump scare by @wileys-russo