#lea schüller | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

meazalykov · 2 months ago

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open goals

lena oberdorf x bayern!reader

part one here - part two - part three here

summary: love wins at bayern munich

warnings: angst, one mention of childhood neglect, this part is very long too, enemies to lovers.

after some time, in february 2024, everything changed.

you get home after training one evening, still feeling the unease that you can’t quite place. you try to shake it off as you walk through the front door, tossing your bag to the side, and head straight for the kitchen to grab a glass of water.

your mind is still spinning with all the weird little moments from today, but you can’t quite put your finger on what’s bothering you.

everyone being so nice, so... attentive. well, your european teammates have always been the sweetest– sometimes clingy– but today feels different. your intuition tells you so.

your fingers drum against the counter as you stare off at nothing, you try to brush it off as paranoia. it was probably nothing, they’re being the best teammates that they are.

the pink iphone of yours buzzes just as you take a sip of water, and you glance down to see your national teammate’s name flashing on the screen.

relief floods you; it’s been a minute since you last talked to her, and you need some normalcy right now, something that feels comfortable and familiar. you quickly swipe to answer.

“heyyyy!” you greet, trying to sound casual as you lean back against the counter.

“hey girl,” she laughs, her voice bright and cheerful.

“god, it’s been forever since we last talked. i got bored and saw your contact so i figured i’d call you. i hope i am not interrupting?”

“you aren’t. i just got home.” you smile.

“okay cool! how are things? how’s training?”

“oh, you know, same old,” you say, forcing a smile even though she can’t see you.

“just finished up for the day like i said. bayern’s... good. how’s everything with you? i know you just transferred from lyon to chelsea last month. how is everything? you’ve been at lyon since forever.”

“forever as in a few years? ha i am doing good. the girls here are sweet.” your teammate says, you can hear the comfort in her voice.

“thats great! jess mentioned that you were getting comfortable.”

“yeah, yeah. honestly, the problem is getting used to a new routine,” she groans dramatically, and you laugh, feeling yourself relax a little.

“can’t wait to catch up with you when we’re back together at the national camp. what about you? how’s georgia doing? and the others?” your national teammate continues.

you feel a little warmth spread through your chest at the mention of your bayern teammates.

“oh, they’re great. georgia’s, well, being georgia as always. sydney’s loud and chaotic. nothing’s really changed, y’know? just the usual chaos.”

“sounds about right,” she says, chuckling.

“but hey, speaking of georgia... she told me that you were getting a new tattoo soon by her? something about matching with some of the bayern crew?”

“yeah, actually, later tonight,” you reply, glancing at the clock.

“heading over to georgia’s shop in a bit. i’m not getting one today, though—sam is. but... yeah, we’ll all be there.”

“oh, nice,” she says, and you can hear her moving around on the other end, probably putting dishes away or something.

“what’s sam getting?”

“not sure,” you admit with a shrug, even though she can’t see it.

“i think it’s a symbol or something. you know sam—always something meaningful.”

“classic sam,” she says with a fond chuckle, and for a moment, everything feels light and easy. just a normal catch-up between friends.

but then her tone shifts a bit, a hesitant edge creeping in.

“hey, uh... you’ve been good, right? like, with... everything going on?”

you blink, confused by the sudden change in topic.

“yeah, i mean... yeah, everything’s fine. why?”

she hesitates, and you can hear the hesitation in her voice.

“i just... i don’t know. i thought you might be, um, worried. about... well, about the rumors and stuff.”

“rumors?” you repeat, furrowing your brow. “what rumors?”

“about lena,” she says softly, like she’s not sure how you’re going to take it.

the smile on your face drops from the sound of her name.

“you know... her possibly transferring to bayern.”

you freeze, the air catching in your throat. “what?” you say, your voice coming out sharper than you intended.

“what do you mean… transferring? lena’s at wolfsburg. she’s been there forever and i remember lea mentioning something about her signing a renewal with them.”

there’s a pause, and you hear her take a deep breath.

“yeah, i know, but... haven’t you seen the news on social media? like, there’s a bunch of talk that she might be coming to bayern. i mean, it’s all just rumors right now, but... i figured someone would’ve mentioned it to you. i thought... i thought you knew.”

you shake your head even though she can’t see you, trying to process what she’s saying, but it feels like she’s speaking another language.

“no, no, i didn’t know. why would... why would lena come to bayern? that... that doesn’t make sense.”

“i mean, she’s one of the best players in germany,” your teammate points out, her voice still soft and cautious.

“it kinda makes sense for her to move to a big club like bayern... i’m sorry– i know you hate me for saying that–but i didn’t think you’d be finding out like this. shit shit shit, i’m sorry, y/n. i honestly thought you knew.”

“no,” you say quickly, trying to keep your voice steady even as your mind is racing. “no, i... i had no idea. i mean... lena and bayern, that’s... that’s not possible. it can’t be real.”

“it’s all just talk right now,” she reassures you, but you can hear the uncertainty in her voice.

“look, maybe it’s just rumors, you know how these things go. people are always saying players are going here and there. remember when the news said that you were leaving munich to go to new york?? that never happened! but... i dunno, i’ve been seeing it all over my timeline.”

you feel your heart pounding in your chest, and there’s a dull ringing in your ears as you try to make sense of everything.

“you’re... you’re joking, right?” you force out a laugh, but it sounds shaky.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i wish i was,” she says, and your stomach drops. “i can send you the links if you want to see for yourself.”

“fine,” you say, feeling like you’re on autopilot now, the panic starting to build in your chest.

“send them over.”

the moment the call ends, the links start coming through—one after the other, headlines that make your eyes blur with disbelief.

“wolfsburg star rumored to be signing with bayern…”

“lena oberdorf could be on the move…”

“bayern munich set to sign germany’s young talent…”

it’s like the words swim in front of your eyes, and your breath catches in your throat.

you stare at your phone, feeling the world shift beneath your feet. it feels like everything is closing in, like the room is getting smaller and smaller, and all you can do is sit there, trying to remember how to breathe.

lena. at bayern. in the same locker room as you. wearing the same crest as you. doing the same cheers and learning the handshakes. it feels like a nightmare, but you’re wide awake.

she’d never come here. she’d never... never follow you to bayern. not after everything. you told yourself.

but then again, lena was always one step ahead, always getting to you when you least expected it.

what if it’s true? what if she really is coming here?

you shakily text your teammate back—hey, i’ll call you later,—but you know you won’t. not now. not while your head is spinning like this.

you make it to georgia’s tattoo place, just about two minutes late but munich traffic during rush hour was busy. the bell above the door chimes as you step in, and the familiar smell of ink and antiseptic fills the air.

georgia’s setting up her tattoo gun for sam, who’s chatting animatedly with ana, lea, and sydney on the side. usually, you’d be joking around with them, too, but today you’re barely holding it together.

georgia looks up, smiling as you walk in. “hey, you made it! ready to watch the magic happen while sam panics the whole time?”

“shut up!” sam protests.

you force a smile, but it feels fake, plastered on. you can’t focus on anything but the whirlwind of thoughts spinning in your head.

“yeah... yeah, sure,” you mumble, feeling like your voice is coming from someone else’s mouth.

sydney notices the look on your face and frowns.

“y/n? what’s up? you have the same face you made when we got knocked out of the champions league last month.”

you swallow hard, your voice wavering as you ask the question that’s been clawing at your mind the entire way over.

“did... did you guys know about lena? that she’s... coming to bayern?”

the room goes quiet, and you see the way georgia’s shoulders tense, the way sydney exchanges a look with ana.

no one speaks for a moment, and the silence feels like it’s crushing you.

lea is the one to break it, stepping forward and reaching out to touch your arm gently.

“y/n, we didn’t want to tell you until we knew for sure. it’s all rumors right now—lena hasn’t told me anything about that yet. nothing is confirmed, okay?”

“yeah,” sydney adds quickly, crossing her arms, her voice firm.

“look, lena’s a good player. if she’s coming to bayern, it’s not to make your life harder. she probably wants to be close to her friends, her family... you should know that this isn’t about you.”

“but it feels like it’s about me,” you admit, hating the tremor in your voice. “it’s like she’s... she’s invading my space, and i... i don’t know what to do about it. what if she comes here and makes everything... worse?”

you tell yourself you’re a professional, and lena is too. you tell yourself that maybe things will be okay. but the past still grips your chest tightly, reminding you of every moment of anger, every tackle, every taunt. and deep down, you know you’re not ready to let that go. not yet.

when lena confirms to the public that she will join bayern after this season ends, with the bayern pages itself posting pictures of lena signing the contract beside bianca-- you feel dread.

“what if she takes my spot? what if she bullies me in the locker room when you guys aren’t around?” you found yourself blurting out to pernille, magda, and tuva in the lounge room the following morning.

“what if she… i don’t know, what if she ruins everything and i’d have to move clubs?”

“süße erbse,” tuva said gently, placing a hand on your shoulder. “you really think we’d let that happen? lena’s good, but you’re y/n l/n. we love you here.”

“yeah,” pernille added with a grin, “you think lena can come in here and take away our süße erbse? not a chance.”

you wanted to believe them, but there was still a knot in your stomach. it wasn’t just about your spot on the team.

it was everything—years of being belittled by her, the way she made you feel like you were always playing catch-up. and now she was going to be…here. in your everyday life.

when july rolled around, the first day lena officially joins bayern, you’re tense before you even get to the training ground.

everyone– aka the girls from the german national team–have been buzzing about her arrival for weeks, and the news has followed you around like a shadow—reminding you every day that your former rival, the person who pushed you to your lowest, was now going to be your teammate.

it doesn't sit right, and as you step into the locker room that morning, you can’t shake the discomfort in your chest.

there she is, standing by her locker, looking...different. softer than the lena you’re used to seeing in the green and white of wolfsburg.

now, she’s wearing the same red bayern training kit as you, and it makes something twist inside your stomach. wrong. that’s what it feels like—just wrong.

you want to turn around and leave, just pretend you forgot something in the parking lot and stall for time, but she spots you before you can move.

her eyes light up, that familiar spark dancing in them—but it’s not taunting like before. it’s... welcoming. she gives you this big smile, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle at the edges, and suddenly it feels like the room is too hot, too small, like the walls are closing in on you.

“y/n, hey,” lena says, and her voice sounds...kind. friendly. nothing like the voice you remember yelling at you on the pitch, taunting you with every mistake.

she walks toward you, like she’s genuinely excited to see you, and you want to flinch away.

“i’m really glad to be here. i know we’ve had a past, but i hope we can leave all that behind and be teammates. put the rivalry aside, yeah?”

you force a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. “hi,” you manage to say, your voice cracking slightly.

you can barely meet her eyes, your gaze dropping to the floor because looking at her feels like staring straight into the past—the tackles, the taunts, the years of feeling like you were always playing catch-up.

“it’s nice to finally be on the same side, don’t you think?” she continues, still smiling, as if she’s trying to ease the tension.

“i’m looking forward to working with you. i’ve... always admired how you play.”

the words are so dissonant, so out of place coming from her, that you can’t help but scoff quietly.

admired you? this is the same woman who spent years making you feel like you were never enough, who relished in getting under your skin every chance she got. and now she was just going to act like that history never existed? like she never made you a joke, like you’re supposed to be grateful for her kindness now?

“right,” you say flatly, unable to keep the sarcasm from your voice. “well... welcome, then.”

you turn to walk away, unable to deal with the tightness in your chest, but the moment you take a step, lena calls after you, her voice softening.

“y/n, wait—I really mean it. i don’t want there to be... any bad blood between us. i want to start fresh.”

you pause, but don’t turn back to look at her. every muscle in your body feels tense, like you’re coiled to spring away, and your mind is racing with every bitter memory.

“yeah, well... some things aren’t that easy to forget,” you mutter before walking off, feeling like you’re practically running away towards the training grounds.

your heart hammers in your chest as you make your way to the pitch, trying to shake the feeling of discomfort that lingers.

you hate how your voice sounded, how nervous you were—like a little kid facing down a bully.

get it together, you're a twenty-one year old adult. you tell yourself, trying to block out the way she looked at you, like you were someone she actually cared about.

you don’t know this lena, and you’re not sure you want to.

as you head out to the pitch, you see sydney standing by the goalpost, and you practically breathe a sigh of relief.

your best friend on the team, your fiercest defender when it comes to lena, sydney notices immediately that something’s up when she sees your face.

“she talked to you, didn’t she?” sydney asks, her voice sharp. she’s always had your back when it comes to lena, never liked the way she treated you.

all of the other girls at bayern hated how lena treated you, but sydney was more vocal about it.

“what’d she say?”

“just... some bullshit about wanting to start over,” you say, shaking your head, your voice dripping with disbelief.

“like she thinks we’re just going to be best friends now or something. like all of the shit she put me through doesn’t matter.”

sydney’s expression hardens, and she glares over at lena, who’s standing off to the side of the pitch, looking a little lost and unsure as lea talks to tuva.

“what did she expect? that she’d walk in and everything would be fine and dandy?” she scoffs, rolling her eyes.

“she’s got a nerve, acting like you’re just supposed to forgive her instantly.”

“yeah, well, i’m not,” you say, your jaw tightening. “not yet. maybe not ever.”

training starts, and as the drills go on, you feel lena’s eyes on you a few times—quick glances, like she’s gauging whether to approach you again.

but every time she makes a move, sydney is there, blocking her path or shooting her a look that says, not now. eventually, lena seems to get the hint, and she keeps her distance, sticking close to lea.

after training, as you’re cooling down, you see lena approach sydney, her expression uncertain but determined.

“hey, um... is y/n okay?” you hear her ask, her voice low. “i didn’t mean to... i don’t know, make her uncomfortable.”

sydney, to her credit, doesn’t sugarcoat anything. “look, lena,” she says firmly, crossing her arms.

“you know what happened between you two. you know what you did. don’t expect her to like you immediately just because you’re being nice now. give her space. she’s not... ready for this.”

lena nods slowly, looking over at you from across the pitch, her face falling slightly. “yeah... yeah, i get it. thanks.”

you don’t know how much she means it—you don’t know if she really understands how much damage she did, how much she’s hurt you over the years. and you’re not ready to find out, either. all you know is that seeing her in the same kit, wearing your club’s crest, feels like a betrayal. and it’s going to take a lot more than nice words and pretty smiles to change that.

throughout the preseason she tried to engage with you more, but every time, you shied away. it wasn’t that you couldn’t talk to her—it was that you didn’t want to.

not after how she made you feel.

lena, for her part, noticed. she wasn’t stupid. she saw how you avoided her, how you never quite met her eyes. so one day, after a particularly awkward training session, she turned to her best friend lea for advice.

“why does y/n hate me so much?” lena asked, frowning as they sat together after practice.

lea glanced at her, “obi, are you serious?”

lena sighed,

then lea sighed. “well, it’s pretty obvious, lena. you’ve been pushing her around and treating her like shit for years.”

lena blinked, clearly taken aback. “what do you mean?”

“i mean, you’ve made her life miserable on the pitch,” lea explained patiently, even though lena pretends like the last three years didn’t exist.

“people have been making jokes about her because of you, and you…you’ve entertained it. you’ve never let up, even when it wasn’t necessary. of course she’s going to resent you. you made her feel small.”

lena was quiet for a long moment, her brow furrowing. she hadn’t thought about it that way before.

she’d just always seen it as competition, as banter. but now… now it made sense. “i didn’t mean to,” she murmured.

“yeah, well,” lea said, “that doesn’t change how she feels.”

then, as if things couldn’t get more complicated, lena tore her acl before the olympics in the summer. it was brutal, seeing her go down like that. and even though you resented her, a part of you—deep down—felt sorry for her.

you knew what it was like to be sidelined for months due to the same injury, to watch everything you’ve worked for slip away.

so, you did something you didn’t think you’d ever do: you texted her through instagram.

*hey. i’m sorry to hear about your injury. i hope you have a smooth recovery.*

you stared at your phone for a long time after hitting send, unsure if you’d regret it. lena responded quickly, thanking you, and trying to start a conversation. but you didn’t give her much, keeping your replies short, not really engaging.

you weren’t ready to let your guard down yet, even if she is on the same team with your teammates protecting you.

over the next two months, lena tried again and again to reach out, but you kept her at arm’s length.

it wasn’t until one day, after a particularly long rehab session, that she finally cornered you, her eyes soft but determined.

“can we talk?” she asked, her voice gentler than you’d ever heard it.

you sighed but nodded, deciding it was time to hear her out. the two of you found a quiet spot in the training center, and she looked at you with something almost like regret in her eyes.

“i didn’t realize…how much i hurt you,” lena began.

“i thought it was just part of the game, you know? but lea explained it to me. and i finally get it now. i’m so sorry.”

you crossed your arms, looking down at your shoes.

“you made me a joke, lena. you acted like it was nothing, but i had to hear it from everyone. people comparing us, praising you, and making me feel like…like i wasn’t good enough. and you encouraged it. you made me feel small.”

lena’s face softened, and she stepped closer.

“that was never my intention. i never meant to make you feel like that. i admired you. you’re…goodness, y/n, you’re incredible on the pitch. you’re so fast, and the way you move with the ball—it’s like art. and off the pitch, you’re…you’re kind. you’re good to people. i didn’t realize how much that meant until lea pointed it out.”

you blinked, taken aback by her words. “what?”

lena sighed, running a hand through her hair.

“i’m saying i like you. i’ve liked you for a while now. i just didn’t know how to show it, so i acted like an idiot. i get it if you hate me. i probably deserve that.”

you stared at her, completely caught off guard.

“you’re joking, right? are you serious? you can’t just say something like that after everything. how can you feel that way after everything you’ve said and done to me?”

“i’m not joking,” lena said softly, her eyes meeting yours. “i like you, y/n. and i’m sorry. i really am. i know i hurt you, but if you give me a chance, i’d like to make it up to you.”

you swallowed hard, trying to process everything. part of you wanted to stay angry, to hold onto the grudge you’d built up over the years. but another part of you—one that you didn’t want to admit existed—was intrigued.

was it possible that lena oberdorf, the girl who had made your life hell on the pitch, actually had feelings for you?

“i don’t know,” you said slowly, your voice tight. “you hurt me, lena. you pushed me around for years. you made me feel like i was less. i’m not just going to forget that because you have a crush.”

lena nodded, her expression serious. “i understand. i’m not asking you to forget. i’m just asking for a chance to prove that i’m not that person anymore.”

you hesitated, your walls still firmly in place. “if i even consider this,” you said carefully, “you need to apologize. really apologize, not just say it because you think it’s what i want to hear.”

lena met your eyes, her voice steady. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m sorry for the way i treated you, for making you feel like you weren’t enough. you’re more than enough. you’ve always been.”

you felt something shift in your chest, a soft crack in the armor you’d built up over the years. maybe, just maybe, lena meant it.

“okay,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “we’ll see.”

after months of unease, things start to shift. lena is at bayern now, and even though you’re not thrilled about it, you’ve accepted that she’s not going anywhere.

she’s on the sidelines for every training session, every game, with that same determined look in her eyes, even though her acl injury keeps her off the pitch.

despite the resentment that still lingers, you can’t help but feel like you’re softening toward her, little by little.

you've been bayern’s top scorer so far this season. after every game, lena comes onto the pitch to congratulate everyone. she goes around, hugging your teammates, and when she gets to you, her arms open, but you freeze.

“um– can we do a handshake?” you suggest awkwardly, offering your hand instead of leaning in for the hug. lena hesitates but nods with a small smile, shaking your hand.

“good game,” she says quietly, eyes lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary.

“thanks,” you mumble, trying not to meet her gaze for too long.

it goes on like that for a while. lena is kind, trying to talk to you, but you keep your distance. until one night in the champions league group stage against brann.

you’re in form, dominating the game. after the final whistle, you feel unstoppable, and for once, when lena comes up to you, the usual wall you’ve put up doesn’t feel as necessary.

“that was an incredible performance,” lena says, her voice softer than you expected. “that goal of yours was fucking amazing!.”

something in her tone feels different, more genuine. you swallow, feeling a strange warmth in your chest.

“thank youu!” you say, and before you realize it, you’re leaning into her for a hug. it’s quick, but enough to catch lena off guard. when you pull back, you notice her slight smile, surprised but pleased.

lea sees it, of course. she catches your eye from across the pitch and raises an eyebrow, smirking as if to say, finally. you roll your eyes at her but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

the next game, however, things take a turn. you go down with a minor ankle injury—nothing serious, but enough to keep you out for a week. you’re frustrated, but during that time off, lena reaches out again.

"hey, do you wanna grab lunch?" she asks one afternoon after recovery workouts, catching you as you’re leaving the facility.

you hesitate, unsure.

“maybe... georgia can come too?” you suggest, hoping for a buffer.

lena raises an eyebrow, but she nods.

“sure, if that makes you more comfortable.”

later, georgia tells you, “sorry, luv, i can’t make it. i have some appointments at the tattoo shop today. you’ll be fine without me though.”

you groan, realizing you’re stuck going alone.

the lunch ends up going better than expected, despite your initial reluctance.

lena is... different. she talks about her recovery, how tough it’s been not being able to play, and how strange it’s been being around you in this new context.

“i just want to say i’m sorry again,” lena says halfway through the meal, catching you off guard. she’s picking at her food, avoiding your gaze. “i know i’ve apologized before, but... i was really awful to you for a long time.”

you blink, surprised at the sincerity in her voice. “yeah, you were,” you admit quietly, not really looking at her either. “but... i guess it’s not as bad now. you’re trying, at least.”

lena smiles at that, small but genuine. “i am. i mean it, y/n. i really... i really do like you.”

you stare at her, the words hanging in the air. “you’re serious about that? you’re not joking? you actually... like me?”

lena’s eyes flick up to meet yours, and she nods. “i do. i know i haven’t given you many reasons to believe me, but... it’s not a joke. not anymore.”

you don’t say anything for a moment, processing her words. later, you find yourself going to lea about it.

“is she serious?” you ask her, sitting on the edge of your bed one night after training. “like, does lena really have a crush on me or is she just... messing with me again?”

lea tilts her head, looking at you carefully. “she’s serious, y/n. i’ve known lena for years, and she’s not the same person you faced on the pitch. she’s not as bad as you think.”

“really?” you furrow your brow. “because all i’ve seen is her making my life hell.”

lea sighs, shaking her head. “yes, she’s my bestfriend y/n. you only saw her bad side because you were rivals. but back when we were at essen, or even with the national team, she’s... she’s kind. she was always the first one to help out, the one who looked out for the younger players. she just got competitive with you.”

“you’re saying she’s always been kind? because i’ve literally never seen it.”

lea nods, crossing her arms. “i’ve seen it. she’s not just this tough girl who wants to win everything. she’s actually really thoughtful. she’d always bring coffee to the team early in the morning. she once helped a teammate get to the airport when she missed her train... little things like that.”

you’re quiet for a moment, trying to imagine this version of lena. “huh. i never knew that.”

“you weren’t supposed to,” lea shrugs. “you guys were always butting heads, but that doesn’t mean she didn’t care. i think... i think she just didn’t know how to show it. especially around you.”

you chew on that for a while.

in november– it hits you suddenly one evening after training before the uwcl match against arsenal.

as you’re sitting on the edge of your bed, wearing comfy pajamas, your heart is pounding for no reason that you can explain.

it’s like a creeping realization that crawls up your spine and won’t let go: you’re developing feelings for lena.

you bury your face in your hands, groaning softly.

“god, i’m so stupid,” you mutter to yourself. you can't believe it—lena, the girl who made you feel like absolute shit for years, the one who seemed to thrive on making you look bad on the pitch, the one who’d taunted and tackled you like you were nothing.

how could you possibly like her? how could you feel anything for someone who made you feel so stupid and worthless?

but now, things are different. ever since lena joined bayern, she’s been... well, kind. showing you this softer, gentler side that you never saw before. helping you during training, throwing out compliments here and there, catching you off guard with that stupid smile that makes you blush. and the more you see of this side of her, the more it eats away at you.

lena is genuinely sweet. she’s... attractive. and that scares you.

you need to talk to someone—someone who understands, someone who won’t judge you. so, you go to madga and pernille, the two adult players you trust most on the team.

they're like your mentors, the big sisters you never had, and when you knock on their door late that night, you’re practically shaking with nerves.

“y/n?” madga’s voice is gentle as she opens the door, concern immediately clouding her features.

“what’s wrong?”

“can... can i come in?” you ask, your voice wavering.

“of course,” pernille says, stepping aside to let you into their shared apartment. the space is cozy, a few blankets draped over the sofa, the faint smell of tea lingering in the air.

you sit down heavily on the couch, madga and pernille sitting on either side of you, giving you their full attention. “it’s about... lena,” you begin, hesitating, feeling your hands tremble in your lap.

madga and pernille exchange a look—one that you can’t read, but they don’t interrupt. they just nod, encouraging you to continue.

“i—i think i might... like her,” you finally confess, your voice cracking on the last words. “and i can’t believe it, because for so long i hated her. she made my life miserable on the pitch, and now she’s being all... nice, and i’m... i’m starting to see how... god, how attractive she is, and it’s terrifying.”

pernille reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “it’s okay, y/n. it’s okay to feel conflicted.”

“i’m just... i’m so angry at myself,” you admit, tears threatening to spill over. “she used to be so awful to me, you know? every time we played each other, she’d do whatever she could to make me feel like i was nothing, just... trash-talking, tackling me, all of it. and now... now i’m supposed to believe she’s this sweet, thoughtful person, like she’s always been? and the worst part is... i do believe it. and it’s like i’m losing control of how i feel.”

madga lets out a small sigh, nodding as she processes your words. “people are complicated, y/n. we all have different sides to us. it sounds like... maybe lena was just showing you one side back then—the competitor, the rival, someone who was tasked to throw you off of the game. but maybe that’s not all she is. you’re getting to see the real lena now.”

you shake your head, staring down at your hands. “but why now? why show me this side now? why couldn’t she have done it before? when i—when i actually hated her?”

“because it’s hard to show your softer side when you’re up against someone who you see as your biggest challenge,” pernille says softly.

“maybe she didn’t know how to show you who she really was. but that doesn’t mean it’s not real now.”

“i just don’t know what to do,” you whisper, feeling so lost.

“i don’t know how to feel about her. some days i want to push her away, pretend like she’s still that girl who used to treat me like crap. and then other days... i can’t stop thinking about her. about the way she smiles, how she looks at me. i stare at her arms too sometimes– gosh why am i saying that UGHH i don’t know if i can trust it. trust... her.”

madga wraps her arm around you, pulling you close in a gentle side hug. “it’s okay to be scared. it’s okay to feel all of this. but you don’t have to figure it out all at once. let it happen, y/n. let yourself feel what you feel.”

“but what if she hurts me again?” you say, your voice light.

“what if this is all just... a game to her? what if i’m just going to be a joke again?”

“noo way. if so, we will stop that,” pernille says, smiling softly. “whatever happens, we’ve got your back. but you have to let yourself feel it, even if it’s scary. if you’re really seeing a different side to lena, maybe that’s worth seeing. or... maybe not. but you won’t know unless you let yourself try.”

you nod slowly, letting their words wash over you. maybe they’re right—maybe you’re overthinking it. but the fear is still there, lingering, because falling for someone like lena means trusting her, and you’re not sure you’re ready for that.

but as you sit there, sandwiched between madga and pernille, you take a deep breath and let yourself relax. maybe, just maybe, it’ll be okay. maybe this could be something real. and if it’s not... at least you know you won’t be alone.

by now it’s december, and it’s nearing christmas. the bayern locker room is filled with excitement. everyone’s talking about their plans for the holidays—family gatherings, trips abroad, dinners with loved ones.

you sit in the corner, pulling off your ivory colored cleats slowly, hoping no one will ask you. you’ve always been good at hiding it, but this time it feels harder.

there’s no family waiting for you, no friends flying in from home. just you.

sam kerr is the first to bring it up, naturally. she’s sitting across from you, leaning back with her phone in hand, already talking about her plans.

“so, y/n,” she starts, her tone casual, but there’s a glint of curiosity in her eyes.

“what are you doing for christmas? heading home, or what?”

you freeze for a second, then plaster on your usual smile. “uh, yeah. i’ve got a friend visiting,” you lie, trying to keep your voice light, like it’s no big deal.

the entire locker room listens.

"oh?" georgia raises an eyebrow. “which friend? anyone we know?”

you laugh awkwardly, shaking your head. "nah, just an old friend from back home. you wouldn’t know her."

"that’s nice," ana chimes in from the other side of the room, clearly not sensing the tension behind your smile.

“i’m jealous. all my friends are still stuck at their parents’ houses in colombia. it's family overload." ana continues.

you nod along, trying to seem as normal as possible. “yeah, well, it’ll be nice to catch up.”

but then, tuva joins in, her usual sharp instincts picking up something. she looks at you, her eyes narrowing slightly. "you’ve never mentioned this friend before. how come?"

you feel your stomach tighten. "we... we don’t talk much. they’re in university. we are just, you know, catching up for the holidays."

tuva tilts her head, still studying you, but thankfully, she doesn’t push further. instead, the conversation shifts as the others talk about their own plans again. but you can feel the tightness in your chest, the weight of the lie sitting uncomfortably on your shoulders.

you can’t help but wonder if any of them can tell.

as you finish changing and start heading out, georgia catches up to you.

“hey, y/n,” she says softly, her voice just a bit quieter, as if sensing something’s off. “you good? you seemed... i don’t know, distracted earlier.”

you force a smile again. “yeah, just tired. it’s been a long week.”

georgia doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go, offering you a soft smile. “well, if you need anything over christmas, let me know, alright? we can always meet up if your plans fall through.”

“thank you,” you mumble, appreciating her kindness but knowing you’ll never take her up on that offer.

you’ve gotten used to spending the holidays alone, and this year will be no different.

christmas day arrives, and true to your word, you’re alone.

you walk to your favorite café, the one where the baristas know your order without you even having to ask.

the streets are quiet, the festive buzz from days prior now fading into a peaceful stillness. you’ve got your true crime book tucked under your arm, planning to spend the afternoon reading, just like every year.

as you step inside the café, you smile at the baristas, leaving a generous tip in their jar.

"merry christmas," you say, offering them a small nod before settling into your usual spot by the window.

outside of the team, outside of football, you consider yourself to be a loner. due to childhood trauma involving neglect, you don’t talk to your family. in fact, football was your escape from them.

you never made an effort to have friends outside of the clubs you played for. the hobbies you have never involved meeting other people. you’re aware that you shouldn’t have your life surrounded by football, but it was the thing that saved you.

even “she” couldn’t break you from playing football for those three years.

you’re halfway through the first chapter of your book when the door swings open. at first, you don’t pay much attention, too focused on the pages in front of you. but then you hear familiar footsteps, and out of habit, you glance up. your heart drops when you see who it is.

lena.

you immediately duck your head, trying to hide behind your book, but it’s too late. lena stops mid-step, her eyes widening in surprise as she spots you.

she pauses for a moment, clearly taken aback, before heading straight toward your table.

“y/n?” she asks, her voice carrying a mix of confusion and curiosity.

“what are you doing here?”

you swallow hard, forcing yourself to look up. “uh... just grabbing a coffee,” you reply, your voice stiff.

lena’s eyes flicker with suspicion as she pulls out the chair across from you and sits down backwards on the chair, her arms resting on top of the wood..

“where’s your friend? the one who was supposed to visit?”

your pulse quickens, and for a split second, you consider keeping up the lie.

but something about the way she’s looking at you, her brow furrowed with genuine concern, makes you crumble.

“they... they couldn’t make it,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “something came up.”

lena studies you for a moment, her gaze softening. “you’re lying,” she says gently, but there’s no malice in her voice.

“there was never a friend. you’re spending christmas alone, aren’t you?”

you sigh, dropping your gaze to the table. “yeah,” you finally admit, feeling the weight of the truth settle around you.

“i’ve always spent it alone. it’s... just how it is.”

lena’s expression softens even more, and she leans forward slightly, her voice quiet but firm.

“you don’t have to spend it alone, y/n. come with me. i’m not doing anything either, my parents are visiting my brother.”

you blink, surprised by the offer. “lena, you don’t have to—”

“i’m not letting you spend christmas in a cold café by yourself,” she interrupts, her tone leaving no room for argument.

“come on. i’ve got rookie at home, we’ll cook something, and i can put on some disney christmas movies. it’ll be fun.”

you hesitate, glancing around the empty café before looking back at her. “i don’t know, lena...”

“please,” she insists, her eyes searching yours. “it’s christmas. no one should be alone.”

after a long pause, you finally nod. “okay. but only because you said disney movies.”

lena grins, standing up and grabbing her coat. “deal.”

“also, what’s a rookie? you said you’ve got a rookie at home.” you question as lena holds the door open for you.

“you’ll see.” lena smirks.

in her apartment, the atmosphere is warm and cozy. rookie, her dog, greets you excitedly at the door, his tail wagging as he sniffs at your legs.

“awe who’s this?” you smile, going on your knees as you scratch the dog’s ears.

“this is rookie!” lena says, admiring you and rookie interacting.

“this is the rookie!!!” you squeak.

“he likes you,” lena says, smiling as she watches rookie lay in front of me.

“i’m a dog person, and a cat person too but rookie is so cute!!” you bend down to give rookie a scratch behind the ears.

as the afternoon goes on, you and lena fall into an easy rhythm.

you help her prepare dinner, chopping vegetables while she stirs the sauce on the stove.

it’s quiet, but not awkward—just peaceful. every now and then, she glances at you, and you catch her staring, but you pretend not to notice.

later, you’re both curled up on the couch, a disney movie playing in the background while rookie lies at your feet. you’re comfortable, your shoulder brushing against hers, and for the first time in a while, you feel... content.

“thanks for today,” you mumble, your head resting on the back of the couch as you glance over at her.

lena looks at you, her expression soft. “i’m just glad you didn’t have to be alone,” she says quietly.

“you don’t deserve that.”

you swallow, feeling a lump form in your throat. “i’ve been alone for so long, i guess i just got used to it.”

the taller german woman starts to feel an ache in her stomach. everyday she wishes that she could go back and treat you normally on the pitch instead of being a bully. if she knew that you went through this outside of football, she would’ve left you alone.

lena’s gaze lingers on you as she thinks, something unspoken passing between you.

“you don’t have to be,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

and in that moment, you realize it. the feelings you’ve been trying to push away for months, the ones you tried to convince yourself weren’t real—they’re there.

but you still have to ask her something, to find closure to the past.

still curled up on her couch with a blanket over your legs, rookie still sprawled out happily at your feet. you never thought you’d be spending christmas with the one person who used to make you burn with anger every time you saw her.

lena is relaxed, and you’re getting there, too, bit by bit. you’re comfortable now—actually comfortable—and you can feel her warmth beside you, feel the weight of how things have changed between you two. the silence is easy, broken only by the soft sound of the movie playing and rookie’s gentle snores.

“can i ask you something?” you say softly, turning to look at her. your voice is careful, not wanting to ruin the moment but needing to know.

lena glances at you, her eyes curious, a small smile playing on her lips. “of course.”

you take a breath, trying to find the right words.

“why... why did you hate me so much before? back when we were... rivals, i guess. you were so... aggressive, and it always felt like you had something against me. but now you’re... different. so what changed?”

lena looks away, biting her lip like she’s trying to decide how much to say. the tension of the moment makes your chest tighten, but you wait, giving her time.

after a long pause, she finally speaks.

“i never hated you like i said,” she admits quietly, her eyes focused on the christmas lights twinkling across the room.

“i know it felt like that, but... it wasn’t hate. it was... god, it was the opposite, really. i talked to lea and jill a lot back then, when i was at wolfsburg, and... i didn’t know how to deal with how i felt about you.”

you tilt your head, furrowing your brow in confusion. “what do you mean?”

lena sighs, running a hand through her hair. “i... asked lea and jill for help. i didn’t know how to get your attention. it sounds stupid now, but... the only way i knew how was... being that way on the pitch. the aggression, the pushing—it was the only way i felt like i could have a piece of you.”

you blink, trying to process her words, the way they seem to pull back the curtain on everything you thought you knew.

“so, what... you acted like that just to get me to pay attention to you?”

“yeah,” lena says, her voice softening as she looks back at you, meeting your eyes.

“i was so focused on... being seen by you, even if it was just you being mad at me. it was selfish, and i’m sorry for all of it. it’s not fair that i treated you like that. i feel terrible about it actually”

you’re silent for a moment, and then you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “you know... we could’ve been friends from the start. we had so many mutual friends, lena. it’s not like you couldn’t have just... talked to me.”

lena’s smile turns sad, almost regretful. “but i never wanted to be just friends with you,” she says quietly, the words hanging in the air between you.

“i always wanted more. that’s why... i couldn’t just be nice and friendly like everyone else. it didn’t feel like enough.”

you nod slowly, her words settling into you like the last piece of a puzzle finally clicking into place.

it’s like understanding something you’ve been grappling with for so long. “i get that,” you whisper. “it was... a lot, though. for a long time, i didn’t know what to make of it. of you.”

“i know,” lena says, and she reaches out, her fingers brushing against your cheek as she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “but... i’m not that person anymore. i’ve changed. and i want to be better for you.”

you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the past start to lift from your shoulders, piece by piece. you realize, in this quiet, cozy moment, that you’re ready to let it go.

“i finally feel like... like i’ve gotten over the past,” you say softly, your voice steady as you look into her eyes. “and... i forgive you, lena.”

the words are like a release, freeing both of you from everything that came before. lena’s eyes soften, and without thinking, you lean in, pressing your lips to hers in a gentle, tentative kiss.

it’s soft and sweet, like the world has slowed down around you. she holds your waist and lets you lay down on hers after you pull away. now you’re cuddling as rookie adjusted himself to sit on the other side of lena.

“i think...” you whisper, smiling as you finally let yourself say it out loud. “i think i’m catching feelings for you, too.”

lena’s eyes light up, and she pulls you closer, her lips finding yours again, this time deeper, more certain.

"merry christmas," lena whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple after you pulled away again.

"merry christmas," you reply, snuggling into her warmth, knowing that things have totally changed for the better.

part three

#lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson #lea schüller #sydney lohmann #georgia stanway

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meazalykov · 2 months ago

Text

unexpected plays

lena oberdorf x bayern!reader

part one - part two here - part three here

summary: how can she feel this way after she turned you into a joke?

warnings: angst, swearing, enemies to lovers, lena and reader are horrible towards each other in this part so beware, long fic I had to split into two parts.

the rivalry with lena oberdorf was something that always hung over your head, a weight you couldn’t shake, even when you were off the pitch.

it started years ago, back when lena was just a kid at essen, and it seemed to follow you both as she moved to wolfsburg. she was always there—looming, challenging, dominating.

you didn’t mind the competition, at first. you liked to win, you liked the push. but over time, it became something more. it became a joke, a running commentary that the world loved to poke at.

you are known as one of the best dribblers in the league. you’d always been that way—fast feet, perfect touch, always able to weave through defenders like they were cones. no matter who you faced, whether it was a world-class fullback or a physical center-back, you’d find a way through.

it was almost instinctual, the way you’d glide past them, the ball glued to your feet. defenders would throw everything at you—shoulder-to-shoulder challenges, slide tackles, grabbing at your jersey.. none of it could stop you.

it felt like the ball was a part of you, like every movement you made was deliberate, one step ahead of everyone else on the pitch.

but then there was lena. somehow, she was different. she wasn’t just a defensive midfielder; she was a wall.

whenever you came up against her, it was like hitting something immovable. she was strong, fast, and relentless, always anticipating your next move before you even made it. and it didn’t matter how many tricks you pulled, how many feints or step-overs you threw her way—lena was right there, closing the gap, pressing you so close that you couldn’t breathe.

and it wasn’t just her physicality. lena knew how to get under your skin in a way that no one else did.

even when you managed to get around her, there was this feeling, like she was right behind you, ready to pounce. you hated that she was always there, a shadow on your back, reading every turn, every faint gesture of your body as if you were an open book.

one time, you thought you had her beat for sure. it was a pokal match against wolfsburg, and you were charging down the left wing, the pitch wide open in front of you.

you saw lena coming in fast from the side, so you dropped your shoulder, pretending to cut inside, only to dart back outside. normally, that would leave any defender on their heels, but lena didn't bite.

she didn’t fall for the trick, staying tight, her eyes locked on the ball. the moment you tried to accelerate past her, she stepped in, her hip bumping you just enough to throw you off balance, and suddenly the ball was gone, at her feet.

she didn’t just defend against you; she dismantled you, piece by piece.

"nice try," she had called out, laughing lightly as she played the ball away to jule, that made your blood boil.

she didn’t just win the duel—she made sure you knew she won. she taunted you, poked at every weakness, like she enjoyed getting that rise out of you.

you hated how she made you feel like you were never good enough, how she seemed to live for every time you stumbled or lost possession.

it wasn’t like that with anyone else.

you could beat the best defenders, slide past the toughest midfields, but when it came to lena, it felt like you were always running into a brick wall. and it wasn’t that she was necessarily better—just different.

no matter how fast you were, no matter how clever your dribbles, she would always find a way to be there, blocking your path. and worse than that, she got to your head.

every match you had against wolfsburg, every one-on-one battle felt like a war you couldn’t win, not just because of her skill, but because of how she seemed to know exactly what to say to unravel you.

you’d try to ignore her, to play your game, but it was like she thrived on your frustration. the more you pushed, the more she pushed back, until all you could think about was her—how to get past her, how to prove to yourself and everyone else that you could beat her.

but no matter how many times you tried, no matter how many games you faced each other, lena always found a way to stop you. you’d leave the pitch fuming, hands clenched into fists, replaying every missed chance, every time you felt her body knock you off balance, or heard her voice in your ear.

and that’s what made it worse—you were used to beating everyone else. but with lena, it wasn’t just about the game. it was about pride, about proving yourself, and somehow, she always seemed to have the upper hand.

your teammates would notice it immediately in training sessions leading up to the matches against wolfsburg. there was this quiet intensity about you.

the sessions were faster, sharper, and it wasn't lost on your teammates that the real target on your mind wasn't just winning against wolfsburg—it was beating lena.

they rallied behind you, trying to boost your spirits, teasing you about how this time you'd "get her," but even they knew there was more to it than just friendly banter.

sometimes they saw the frustration, too—the way you'd take out your anger on a stray pass or how a mistimed tackle would make your jaw clench. the pressure wasn't just on you to score, but to prove yourself in those one-on-one duels against lena.

the team felt it, and it added a layer of tension to the matches. they were backing you, yes, but there was always that lingering fear of what would happen if lena got the best of you again—how it would affect your mood, your performance.

at wolfsburg, it was similar but different.

they knew exactly how to press your buttons, and lena thrived in that environment. every time you faced off, her teammates would encourage her to go harder, get tighter on you, make it as difficult as possible.

"she’s faster, but not stronger than you, lena," they'd say during training, pushing her to be more aggressive, more relentless.

you were a threat, but a threat that lena can handle.

there were times that your dislike for lena hurted the team dynamic—whenever you got too caught up in trying to beat lena one-on-one and lost sight of the bigger picture.

your coaches would sometimes call you out, telling you to play simpler, to let the ball do the work, but the rivalry made it hard to think rationally. you wanted that win against lena almost more than you wanted the win against wolfsburg.

and the same went for lena. she’d get caught up in marking you so tightly, so aggressively, that it sometimes left gaps in wolfsburg’s defense.

she'd go into challenges recklessly, earning yellow cards just for the sake of making sure you didn’t get past her. her teammates, as much as they backed her, would sometimes groan when they saw her chasing you out of position, knowing she was willing to risk everything to shut you down.

it was like this invisible pull between you, one that neither team could fully control.

the commentators always zeroed in on the rivalry whenever bayern faced wolfsburg. they’d sense the tension before the whistle even blew, knowing your one-on-ones with lena were the heartbeat of the match.

“the first minute is set and here we go again—bayern vs wolfsburg. or should we say—y/n vs. lena.” the commentator says when you receive the ball from pernille. lena chased you but stops when you pass back to giulia.

“you can see it everytime this matchup happens. y/n beats almost anyone, but lena? she’s a different animal. she doesn’t just play the ball; she plays y/n,” they’d analyze each time after lena blocked your path or went in for a rough tackle.

whenever you’d get past her, they’d erupt in excitement. “l/n breaks through down the middle! you can see the light excitement on her face as she passes over to buhl—she needed that.”

and when the tension would boil over, the commentators would almost lean in, voices rising as you and lena squared up, faces inches apart.

“it’s more than just football with these two. look at that—you can feel the rivalry. it’s like they’re always one wrong move away from an explosion.”

there was a moment where lena pushed you on the grass after halftime. you didn’t react at first, hoping that you’d look up to see that poppi was the one to push you instead and apologize like she always did– but it was lena. you gave her dirty look as she looked at you from over her shoulder.

"lena’s in y/n’s head," the commentators say, half-laughing. and then it was lena herself, always taking it a step further on the pitch.

“what’s wrong, süße erbse?” she’d taunt in that cocky voice, smirking since she knocked you off the ball yet again.

your teammates at bayern call you sweet pea, due to your kind and caring nature, so of course lena used that nickname to come at you with.

“can’t keep up?” she snarks, laughing to herself and walking away– leaving you to watch her with an offended look.

“bitch.” you mumble to yourself every time.

you hated that she made you feel like this, cornered, small. and worst of all, you hated that the public loved it.

people praised lena, and you were the punchline. every match between bayern and wolfsburg had that undertone. same if she was against you and your national team.

it was lena’s game, and you were there to be humbled.

in the locker room after the game lena is sitting beside with jill, both of them cooling down after the draw with bayern.

jill and lena have a normal bond for teammates who have been together for two seasons—friends, yes, but friends who can cut through each other’s bullshit without a second thought.

the dutch is stretching out her hamstring as she looks over at lena staring at the ground. lena is relaxed but jill is observant.

"you were going hard today, huh?" jill says casually, raising an eyebrow as she side-eyes lena.

“you play like you’re at war sometimes. especially with y/n.”

lena chuckles, shrugging it off. "yeah, well... you know how it is," she says, grabbing her water bottle and taking a long sip, as if the answer is just that simple.

but the truth is, it’s not. she’s never been able to figure out what it is about you that drives her to push harder, be sharper, and more aggressive whenever she faces you on the pitch. there's something different about how you get under her skin—different, but not necessarily in a bad way.

jill doesn’t let it go, her gaze still pinned on lena. “no, i mean it,” she presses. “you’re different around her. the way you play, the way you talk... like, i get being aggressive, but with y/n, you’re... it’s more than just trying to win. do you hate her or something?”

lena lets out a breath, rolling her eyes a little, but she knows jill’s not going to drop it. “i don’t know, okay? maybe... maybe it’s just fun to get that reaction out of her. y/n’s always so... perfect on the pitch. so controlled. and when i’m in her face, it’s like... i don’t know, i like seeing her flustered.”

“flustered, huh?” jill’s tone is teasing, her eyes lighting up with amusement. she knows lena better than most, and she can hear the waver in her voice.

“so... you like getting her attention? is that what this is? sounds like someone’s got a weird little thing going on.”

“no, that’s not what i meant,” lena snaps quickly, but the defensiveness in her tone is all the confirmation jill needs. “i’m just... i don’t know why i do it. she’s just easy to rile up, that’s all.”

“right,” jill says, stretching the word out, a grin spreading across her face.

“it’s totally just about the bayern and wolfsburg rivalry. it’s not like you enjoy it when she gets all up in your space and starts yelling at you, right? not like you love it when she’s all fire and intensity.”

“jill, i swear to god—” lena starts, cutting her off sharply, but jill’s laughing now, clearly finding the whole thing more amusing than lena intended. lena looks away, her jaw tight as she fiddles with the tape on her wrist.

she can’t explain it, not even to herself. there’s this feeling she gets when you’re close, whether you’re shoving her off the ball or staring her down with that heated glare of yours. it’s like electricity, and it’s addicting, even if she doesn’t want to admit it.

“okay, okay, i’ll stop,” jill says, raising her hands in mock surrender, though the playful glint is still there in her eyes.

“but seriously, lena... i’m just saying, maybe take a second to figure out why y/n gets to you so much. ‘cause from where i’m sitting, it’s kinda obvious.”

lena doesn’t respond, refusing to meet jill’s eyes, and the silence hangs between them. it’s obvious to everyone except her, apparently. but all lena knows is that every time she faces you, it feels like more than just a game. and that scares her more than she’d ever admit out loud—even to jill.

three months later-- it’s the world cup group stage, your country was paired with germany, and tensions are already running high. the stakes are huge—your national team needs a win to secure a spot in the knockout rounds, and germany is standing in your way.

however, germany needs to win in order to move on. all your country needs is a draw or a win. this gave your team the advantage.

seeing lena knocked out of the world cup while you moved on would make your year. forget everything that happened in the bundesliga afterwards.

this is the world cup, and the rivalry between you two has never felt more personal.

from the first whistle, the match is physical. germany presses hard, lena especially. she’s everywhere—intercepting passes, throwing her body into challenges with your teammates, and making it clear that she’s not here to play nice.

you try to stay focused, but every time you’re near her, you feel the heat of her presence, her energy almost daring you to engage.

about 30 minutes in, you receive a pass and turn quickly, dribbling down the wing. you see lena charging at you, and before you can even brace yourself, she comes in with a late, reckless tackle. her cleats scrape down the back of your ankle, and you stumble forward, barely managing to stay on your feet.

the ref blows the whistle immediately, but it doesn’t matter. the pain and frustration build inside you, and before you know it, you’re spinning around, glaring at lena.

“what the fuck was that?” you shout, your voice rising with anger.

lena doesn’t back down, stepping closer with a cold smirk.

“don't play if you have a low pain tolerance sweetheart” her tone is mocking, taunting you.

your blood boils, and before you can stop yourself, you clap your hands in sarcastic applause, the sound sharp in the tense air.

one of your teammates, the right winger, presses their hand softly on your shoulder– encouraging you to not go any further with your words.

you don’t take the hint.

“bravo, oberdorf! is that how you play now? just go in reckless because you can’t do anything else?”

lena’s smirk falters for a second, her eyes narrowing as she steps even closer.

“you think you’re so special, don’t you? that everyone’s just supposed to move out of your way because you’re the fucking golden girl now?”

your eyebrows knitted together as your fist clenched together. is she mocking you? after winning golden girl in 2022, you surpassing her wolfsburg teammate and best friend jule in the votes, she's going to mock you now for it?

“at least i don’t need to injure and belittle people to stay relevant,” you snap back, your voice dripping with venom.

before either of you can escalate further, the ref is between you. the ref warns to not go any further.

“watch yourself!” lena threatens.

“fuck off!” you say back, madder than you’ve ever been.

the ref blows the whistle, now most of the players on both sides surround her.

she holds up a yellow card in each hand. one for you, one for lena. you barely register it, your heart pounding as you lock eyes with her, the fury between you practically crackling in the air.

as you walk away, still fuming, one of your teammates– your best friend who plays at a club in a different league, jogs up beside you.

“y/n, what’s going on? what was that?”

she didn’t understand the beef between you and the german defensive midfielder. you shake your head, trying to calm down, but the anger is still simmering under your skin.

“lena... she’s just a mean, aggressive person. always has been. she does stuff like this all the time. don’t ever trust her.”

your teammate frowns, clearly taken aback. they’ve never seen you this angry before, not like this. you’re usually the calm, composed one, the one who keeps her head in tough situations.

“are you sure? she seems... intense, but i didn’t think she was that bad.”

your teammate’s club team mate, who is on the german team as well, described lena as a caring person– just like y/n. she is confused.

you scoff, still glaring in lena’s direction as she walks away with her own teammates.

“trust me. i’ve dealt with her for years. she’ll do anything to get under your skin, to take you down. i’m done giving her the benefit of the doubt.”

the rest of your teammates exchange glances, clearly believing you. they’ve never seen this side of you, so if you’re this worked up, lena must’ve crossed a serious line.

as the match wears on, things between you and lena don’t get any better. every time she’s near you, you can feel the tension, the unspoken rage.

it’s like the rivalry between you two has exploded into something much more volatile, and neither of you is backing down. people are reacting to your outburst at lena, continuing on with the jokes.

late in the second half, you both go up for a header, and lena elbows you just a little too hard in the ribs.

you win the ball, but you’re winded, your breath coming in sharp gasps. you land awkwardly, stumbling, and when you look up, lena’s watching you with that same smirk, like she knows exactly what she’s doing.

“still think i’m not relevant?” she mutters under her breath, kneeling down just loud enough for you to hear.

you grit your teeth, your fists clenching at your sides as you get back to your feet.

“you’re pathetic,” you hiss. “imagine making yourself happy by intentionally hurting people.”

lena’s eyes flash, but she doesn’t say anything else. you can see it in her expression, though—the rivalry, the competition, it’s consumed her. and for the first time, you realize just how far she’s willing to go to win.

after another half–the final whistle blows, and the stadium erupts in cheers.

your country just pulled off a massive win, eliminating germany from the world cup. adrenaline surges through your veins, and you can’t help but feel a rush of excitement.

you did it—you scored the only goal in the match. the one that sent germany home.

as you celebrate with your teammates, the conflicting emotions swirl in your chest. you know what this win means. it’s monumental, historic. but it also means something a little more personal—something just between you and lena.

you’ve always had a complicated relationship with her. you can’t wait to see the look on her face. it’s payback for all the times she’s pushed you too far, crossed that line on the pitch, and made you feel like you weren’t good enough by making everyone in the community tease you.

you glance over to the other side of the pitch, and that’s when you spot her. lena.

she’s standing there with her hands on her hips, staring at the ground in disbelief, the disappointment written all over her face.

she’s not just upset—she’s devastated. the weight of germany’s elimination is heavy on her shoulders, and you can see the heartbreak etched into every line of her body.

a small smirk curls on your lips, and you can’t help it. payback. it feels good to see her like this, knowing that your goal, your performance, is what sent them packing.

it’s petty, but you’ve never been able to shake the resentment, the rivalry that’s built between you two. she has hurt you more times than you have hurt her. you were never the first person to start a fight between the two of you. lena brought this upon herself.

as the german players start shaking hands with your teammates, lena finally looks up. her eyes lock onto yours from across the field. she’s still, her gaze piercing. you feel a rush of satisfaction, knowing that you’ve gotten the last word, in the most important match yet.

you lift your hand and give her a little wave, mocking in its casualness. you mouth the word goodbye, and you can see the flicker of emotion on her face.

she’s hurting, more than you expected. and for a split second, the victory doesn’t feel quite as sweet. not when you see the sadness in her eyes.

lena’s lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, she looks like she wants to say something—maybe fight back, throw another snide comment your way like she always does, maybe even tackle you like she does on the pitch.

but she doesn’t. instead, she just watches you, her expression defeated.

you turn away, but there’s a weird feeling in your chest now. as you turn to look at your teammate, the same one you talked to earlier, she shakes her head at you.

you should be thrilled. your team’s through to the next round, and germany’s out. it’s everything you wanted. but why does it feel... strange? why is your teammate telling you that she doesn’t like what you did?

later that night, when you check your phone, you see social media tagging you in many photos and clips. your name is everywhere, with people talking about the match and your goal.

there’s another narrative starting to form too—one that puts lena at the center of the jokes instead of you–for once.

look who’s going home now, one tweet reads, with a picture of lena looking dejected after the match.

it’s not just fans of your team—people all over are picking up on the tension between you two, turning it into a story.

suddenly, lena’s not just dealing with the loss—she’s becoming a joke online. your moment of victory is becoming her moment of shame. the spots have turned.

a part of you feels vindicated, but another part... isn’t sure. you scroll through more posts, watching as people laugh at her expense, and it starts to feel wrong.

what you did was immature, you realized. however, it is just one thing you’ve done in comparison to the multiple things lena has done to you.

yeah, lena’s been rough with you in the past. yeah, she’s made you angry. yeah, she made you into a joke for three years, but watching people tear her down like this—it doesn’t sit right.

but all you can think about is the way lena looked at you, the way she pushed and pushed until you snapped.

that night you’re in a hotel room with your national teammate, fresh off the high of winning the world cup group stage and advancing to the knockouts.

still, you’re suffering from exhaustion from the past few weeks of relentless games, travel, and pressure. the both of you are winding down, going over the moments from the match that brought you to where you are now.

but your mind keeps wandering back to one thing—the match against germany, and how lena was all over you, again. all she does is piss you off. it gets to a point where you wonder what you did to her in the first place.

your teammate is sitting cross-legged on her bed, scrolling through her phone. she looks up at you with a soft smile.

“so... are we going to talk about what happened with you and lena on the pitch today?” she asks casually, but you know there’s more to it.

you flop yourself onto your bed, getting under the covers before you respond.

“what about it?” you shrug, pulling your knees up to your chest as you lay.

“you saw it. she was just... herself. aggressive, pushy. nothing new.”

your teammate raises an eyebrow, still looking at you like she’s dissecting every word.

“you say that, but it’s not ‘nothing new’ to me. i know i play in england but i still watch your gams in germany– especially the ones against wolfsburg. its like.. every single time you two play i’m like watching some kind of... soap opera or something. it feels like– i don’t know.”

you let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head.

“yeah, well, that’s lena. always has been. she just... hates me or something. she’s always gotta be the one to win, to prove something. especially when it's me. shit, her best friend lea plays at bayern and she is nowhere near rude with her or her german national teammates.”

your teammate is quiet for a moment, and you glance over at her to see her biting her lip, like she’s thinking carefully before she speaks.

“but... do you think she really hates you?”

she has the same thoughts jill had with lena in the locker room that one time.

you look at her, confused. “what do you mean? of course she does. she’s been like that with me since I came from chelsea. it’s like she lives to make my life hell on the pitch.”

your teammate leans back, clearly unconvinced.

“i dunno. i know you blew up at her earlier but it doesn’t seem like she hates you. it might be something else.”

you blink at her, not following. “something else? like what?”

“like... maybe she doesn’t actually hate you. maybe she’s... trying to get your attention,” she says, almost hesitantly, but her eyes are on yours, searching for a reaction.

you laugh out loud this time, the sound bitter, echoing off the walls of the room as you roll underneath the covers.

“what, you think she’s, like, obsessed with me? that’s ridiculous. no way. she’s just... competitive. in the most annoying way.”

“no, not obsessed. not like that,” she says, and you can see the wheels turning in her head as she tries to find the right words.

“i just mean... i don’t know, it’s like she always makes it about you. every time i see you two play, it’s like... all of her attention is on you. even when she doesn’t have to be marking you, she’s there. like today, she was way too rough, yeah, but... maybe it’s not just about beating you. maybe it’s about... having you see her.”

you shake your head, the thought twisting in your mind like a bad joke.

“no, that’s... you’re reading too much into it. she’s just a bitch, plain and simple. she wants to win, she likes to make me look like crap, and it works because shes one of the best midfielders in the world– that’s it.”

“you sure about that?” your teammate presses, leaning forward slightly.

“because it kinda looks like she’s doing all of this on purpose to make sure you’re paying attention to her. like, lena’s the center of your world when you two are on the pitch.”

you roll your eyes, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. “you’re making it sound like she’s got some kind of... weird attraction to me or something. trust me, she doesn’t. she hates me, i know that for sure.”

your teammate shrugs, her expression thoughtful. “or maybe... she just doesn’t know how to deal with whatever she feels when it comes to you. maybe being aggressive is her way of, like... i don’t know, being close to you?”

the idea makes you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. “yeah, right. lena doesn’t want to be close to me. she just wants to tear me down.”

your teammate is quiet for a moment, as if letting the words hang in the air between you, but she’s clearly not ready to drop it yet. “i disagree.”

“nah,” you say firmly, but the words feel unsteady in your mouth, like they’re cracking at the edges. “lena and i... it’s just football. she’s always hated me, and... i guess that’s never going to change.”

your teammate lets it go after that, switching the conversation to something lighter, and you’re relieved.

but the thought stays with you, staying at the back of your mind. you can’t shake it, even though you laugh it off to her. because as much as you don’t want to believe it, some small, uncomfortable part of you wonders... what if your teammate is right?

what if lena's aggression wasn’t just about beating you? what if it was something else entirely? and that thought terrifies you more than anything.

one thing is for certain.. you will go back to being the joke to everyone– not lena. she will be okay for the few days that she gets teased, you’ve been suffering it for three years.

a month later– its the start of the 23/24 season, and the energy is exciting. you didn’t win the world cup, losing the semi final to england, but that is okay. the match feels like any other—until you realize it’s not.

you're back on the pitch against wolfsburg.. and lena, and something feels off. ever since the world cup, the tension between the two of you has been thicker than ever.

but this time, she’s different—angrier, harsher– if that's possible.

you notice it in her body language early on—lena's more aggressive than usual, throwing herself into tackles harder than necessary, her movements sharp and unyielding.

she’s usually tough, but today it feels personal, and you can feel her eyes on you constantly, her focus not just on the game, but on you.

then, it happens. lena comes charging at you, shoulder slamming into your ribs harder than it needed to.

you stumble, barely keeping your balance as the ball rolls away. a foul is called, but the referee only gives a warning.

the sting of impact radiates through your side, but you shake it off, biting back the urge to clap back at her.

sending her home from the world cup was all you needed to say.. and do.

as you walk past lena, her voice cuts through the noise, low and biting.

"enjoying that wave moment of yours?" she sneers in german, her words dripping with venom.

"you got what you wanted at the world cup, right? well, don’t think i’ve forgotten."

your chest tightens, a flash of anger surging through you, but before you can respond, you catch something out of the corner of your eye—lea.

she's on the sideline, shaking her head, silently telling you no. she knows you, knows how quick you can be to snap back when lena gets under your skin.

and this time, it’s clear lena’s trying to bait you. trying to make you lose your cool.

she wants you to become the joke again.

you take a deep breath, exhaling slowly. it’s not easy, but you let lena’s words slide off you, deciding it’s not worth it. not this time. not at the start of the season.

you brush past her, ignoring the sharpness in her eyes.

"whatever, lena," you mutter, just loud enough for her to hear.

"it’s just football."

lena scoffs, clearly annoyed that you’re not rising to the bait.

"yeah, keep telling yourself that."

she stays on you for the rest of the match, every tackle a little too rough, every push a little too forceful. but you don't react. you can feel her frustration growing, the way she’s trying to get into your head, but you refuse to give her the satisfaction.

every time she goes in for a hard challenge, you spot lea in the corner of your vision, that same look of silent encouragement, reminding you to stay calm and not react to her bestfriend’s aggression.

and you do. you keep your focus, reminding yourself that this is just the beginning of the season. whatever happened at the world cup is in the past, and you’re not going to let lena drag you into another fight.

by the time the final whistle blows, you’re exhausted—mentally and physically—but you feel a small sense of pride for not letting lena get the best of you.

the game tied. as you head off the pitch, you glance over at her, and for a moment, she looks like she wants to say something.

but then she turns away, her jaw clenched, still holding onto whatever grudge she has against you.

lea catches up to you, bumping your shoulder gently as you walk toward the locker room.

"you did good out there," she says, a small smile on her face as she wraps her arms around you.

you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. "thanks," you reply.

“i wanted to snap at her, but... i didn’t want to give her that satisfaction. sorry, i know this is awkward to talk about because she’s your best friend."

lea nods, her expression soft. "its fine. she’s just pissed about the world cup. give her time. she’ll come around."

part two

#lena oberdorf #lena oberdorf x reader #woso fanfics #woso community #woso x reader #gerwnt #bayern frauen #lea schüller

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