#lyon women x reader

[gunnerfc]

Daniëlle van de Donk NSFW Alphabet (18+, minors DNI!)

A: Aftercare

She’s so caring after sex, she always has a bottle of water ready to go and won’t let you fall asleep until you’ve cleaned up

B: Body Part (their favorite body part of themselves and their partner)

Daan’s favorite body part is her hands because she has very skilled fingers and she can make cum quickly with them

Her favorite body part of yours is your thighs, she loves having them wrapped around her as she goes down on you

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

She’ll make you cum multiple times in a row before letting up and then she’ll either kiss you hard or have you clean her fingers

D: Dirty Secret 

She thinks the idea of someone watching the two of you is exciting

E: Experience (Are they experienced? Do they know what they are doing?) 

She’s experienced and it showed from the very first time you slept together

F: Favorite Position 

Loves being between your legs so whichever position allows her to do that is her favorite

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

Her teasing can make her seem a bit goofy but Daan is mostly solely focused on you in the moment

I: Intimacy (How intimate are they during the moment?)

She knows how to read you so well and knows exactly what you need from her and how you need her to fuck you

J: Jack off (Masturbation HC) 

Doesn’t really care for it, if she needs to get off she will but she prefers when you are the one making her cum

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks) 

Exhibitionism!

L: Location (Favorite place to have sex)

Doesn’t have a favorite place, as long as she can make you cum and you both are comfortable, she’ll take the opportunity

M: Motivation (What turns them on?) 

Anytime you kiss her, sometimes she has to remember where you are and that she can’t make out with you right there because anytime you kiss her, it drives her crazy

N: No (Something they wouldn't do)

Daan might not care about someone walking in on the two of you, but she hates the idea of sharing you with someone

O: Oral (Preference on giving or receiving)

She doesn’t have a preference but is usually the one giving first because she wants you to have a good time before you reciprocate

P: Pace (Fast & Rough? Slow & Sensual?) 

It changes, but for the most part, it’s slow and sensual

Q: Quickie (Thoughts on quickies) 

Daan doesn’t mind them when you’re at a club with the team or on a long flight but normally prefers being able to have time to do more things

R: Risk (Are they open to experimenting) 

The most risk she is willing to take is semi-public sex in a club or airplane bathroom

S: Stamina (How many rounds) 

You two can go for pretty long rounds

T: Toys 

Two different straps are used here and there but Daan prefers using her fingers or mouth

U: Unfair (Do they like the tease)

Both of you tease each other 24/7 but Daan definitely does it more in the bedroom

V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make) 

She can be a bit loud but nothing that could be considered “too loud”

W: Wild Card (Random HC)

The first time the two of you had sex in a club bathroom during a teammate night out was one of the best experiences because the thought of someone accidentally seeing the two of you was a big turn-on

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s pretty normal, you have more sex during breaks though when you have more time and don’t have to be up super early in the morning for games or training

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

You both fall asleep soon after you’ve cleaned up but Daan is up for a bit on other nights

[wosowrites]

Saving the Game (Erin Cuthbert x Reader)

warnings: ⚠️injury, swearing, throwing up⚠️

a/n: I had to reimagine the the second leg of the quarter final so let’s pretend erin wasn’t injured and that the game didnt go to penalties. based off this request:

prompt: in which saving the game means injuring yourself during the champions league quarterfinal and erin takes care of you through your injury.

The champions league quarterfinal was a scary time. Emma had made it extremely clear that we could not concede. No ball should be behind Berger. And Chelsea thought they had it, until they didn't. A goal was scored by Vanessa Gilles in the 76 minute, equalizing the game on aggregate. It was a stressful ten minutes, and then out of nowhere, the ball was in Lyon's half.

Guro ran up the wing, speeding through the Lyon centerbacks. She switched the ball to Lauren James who outskilled Wendy Renard, leaving her Gilles and the keeper. LJ spotted Erin, making a run down the middle. The British woman cut the ball back into the space, Erin struck the ball, and it was behind Endler, and into the net.

You let out a scream, full of excitement as you jumped onto Erins back and kissed the top of her head. The fans has suspicions about a possible relationship between the both of you, but it wasn't confirmed.

The celebrations died down, 2-1, agrogate. 4 minutes left on the clock.

Thats where things went wrong. Lyon got hungry, and worried. They needed a goal more than anything. And that's when Chelsea panicked. As Lyon started their counter attack, you tracked back, positioning yourself in the midfield. You almost got the ball from Lindsey, but she faked you out. Magda and Kadeisha were alone. You tried to get back but Magda had no choice. She slid, clipping the corner of Lindsey's foot.

The American went flying, it wasn't a bad tackle, but she needed to sell it. Magda argued, but a penalty was awarded right away. You cursed yourself, wishing you would have gotten the ball.

"Hey. I know what you're thinking. Don't. Do not think anything bad about yourself. Ann-Kat's got this." Erin told you, discreetly putting her hand on the small of your back and giving you a closed lip smile.

Lindsey Horan put the ball down on the penalty spot and breathed in deeply. You positioned yourself in between Magda and Guro, ready to run into the box and clear the ball.

The referee blew her whistle, and the American ran towards the ball. Except she missed. The ball bounced off the crossbar and went flying back into play. You were quick to run into the box, Ann Kat yelling at you to position yourself on the far post. And thats what you did. Except suddenly, you were a bit in front the goal line, and the ball was coming flying in your direction. If you didn't move, it would slip into the night right between you and the post. So, as any footballer would do, you moved.

There was a three meter distance between yourself and the post, and you realized as you were already mid air that your jump to block the shot would end in only one way. Your head colliding with the post.

But it was too late, and you honestly didn't care. All you wanted was for your team to win this. So you took it. The feeling of the ball hitting your stomach and bouncing off hurt, but it was nothing compared to your head smashing into the lower part of the post.

Your screams filled the stadium and even though the ball was technically still in play, everyone had forgotten about it. Lyon and Chelsea players alike crowded around you. You saw double, no, triple as you lay on the floor. Blood clouded your vision as you groaned. You saw people being pushed to the side and then a face so familiar you could have smiled. Erin.

And then everything went black.

You woke up due to cold water falling on your face. You would have jumped up if it wasn’t for Erin’s hands on your chest pushing you down into the turf. "Don’t move. You probably have a serious concussion." she said, gently brushing strands of bloody hair off your forehead. "Why the water?" you groaned. "Sorry, couldn’t do anything with you passed out." the medic told you. "You saved the game y/n. It was incredible. Horrifying to watch by the way, when they showed the replay on the screen Jessie looked like she was gonna throw up." Erin laughed, trying to lighten the mood. You just smiled gently. "Okay, let’s get you off this field." the medic said.

A stretcher was now at your side and both men gently lifted you onto it, telling another medic to hold your head steady. You laid on the stretcher, looking up at the sky through the open stadium roof. You were a little confused when the stretcher lifted up and heard no kind of applause whatsoever. You looked around to see everyone shaking their hands in the air instead of clapping. Honestly, you were relived, you didn’t think your head would be able to take the loud noise. "Our fans are pretty amazing." you said gently. "Tell me about it." Erin laughed.

As they carried you off, you felt your eyes fluttering. You were struggling to stay awake, your body hurt, and you didn’t feel good. It was only when you got carried into the tunnel and when Erin left you as she couldn’t walk off the field that you told the medic to stop.

"Mark. Mark stop walking. I think i’m gonna-" you didn’t finish your sentence as you sat up and leaned over the edge, throwing up.

Throwing up was your biggest fear. You hated it. Hated the feeling, the taste, everything about it. It made you cry, and shake and just want to pass out every time you threw up. Your team didn’t know about this fear, and you wanted to keep it that way.

Your chest heaved up and down as you cried, whispering 'oh my god' multiple times. "Hey, hey. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it." Mark said, calmly. "I’ll get the janitor, bring her to the medical examiners room." He ordered.

You had always liked the medics, they were nice to you.

You laid down on your side, weeping silently. You were scared.

There was a moment in time that was a blur. You got transferred to a bed, another medic gave you a bucket and changed the bandages on your head. He stabilized your neck and then had to do a few examinations on you. It was clear off the bat that you were seriously concussed.

You ended up falling asleep on the bed, tears had made your cheeks wet, and you were so tired your heart hurt.

You woke up an hour later, disoriented, in pain, and wanting your girlfriend by your side. And surely enough, that’s where she was. You noticed her as you turned your head gently, her eyes were closed and she was leaning back on the chair. Well, she was the one you noticed first, it was only a few seconds later that you saw everybody else. Magda, P, Keish and Jessie were squeezed onto the sofa, all of them asleep. Some girls were on the floor, others on stools, and all of them were there with you.

An hour earlier.

The Chelsea girls were extatic about their win, but the fear and worry they felt for you overtook the joy. The second the whistle blew, Erin jogged into the tunnel, followed by Emma Hayes and a few of the girls who were on the bench.

She headed to the medical examiners room and knocked gently on the door. Mark opened it to see Emma, Emily and Erin. "She’s asleep." he said, walking out of the room and closing the door. "And her head?" Emma said, worried. "She’s seriously concussed. Out for about a month I’d say."

Emma groaned loudly, the sound of her frustration filling the room along with the sound of the Chelsea girls coming into the tunnel. "Ill tell the girls, Erin. Go sit with her." Emma told the scottish midfielder.

Erin nodded and thanked Emma, opening the door to the room and seeing your figure on the bed in the corner. She pulled up a chair and sat next to you, noticing the wetness of your cheeks. She gently wiped the cold tears away with her palm, kissing your forehead and then sitting down.

Only ten minutes later, Erin heard the door open and quietly, the team poured in. "You guys don’t need to be here, it’s okay." Erin whispered. "She’s our teammate, and we would still be out there playing if it wasn’t for her." Magda said, earning quiet agreements from the team. "And you’re our teammate, and we’re not going anywhere until she wakes up." Sam added.

The girls settled into the room, all looking at you, who looked oddly peaceful.

Current time.

"Erin," you whispered, sitting up and shaking her gently.

She jumped up quickly, suddenly on her feet as you gave her wide eyes. "It’s okay. It’s all good, I’m good. Sit down." you said, smiling at her lightly.

She didn’t though, not yet. Instead she brought you in for a tight hug and didn’t let go. "Your head… the way it bent. It’s not- it was terrifying." she said to you, burying her head in your hair. "Shh, I’m okay baby," you said to her, rubbing circles on her back.

People were starting to wake up and stand up, but you kept your attention on Erin. She pulled away and cupped your jaw, kissing you a few times before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"Never do that again," Ann- Kat said to you. "It’s my job to do crazy dives." she added, making you laugh. "And we would have won in a PK shootout. This is is us…" Sam said.

"This is Chelsea." The whole room said softly.

[suckerforblondeathletes]

Head Injuries and kisses - Alexia Putellas

Alexia Putellas x Fem!Reader

Part 1 of 2

Summary: During the championships you go down with a head injury, worrying Alexia, her family, and everyone in the stadium.

Warnings: MENTIONS OF BLOOD AND INJURY!!!

Authors Note: Another championship fic guys, I hope you enjoy part 1!

You had nerves before being subbed on the pitch. Not scared about the game, well kind of. But mostly scared to play bad in front of Alexias family.

Alexia the night before said they would be in attendance, and would like to meet you in the end, making your nerves and fear of not being enough go insanely high.

She reassured you that they had watched you play multiple time on barcelona, telling you how they complemented your goals and skills.

The nerves followed you to now, being subbed on at 34 minute mark.

The crowd when your face was on the subsitution board. Everyone cheering to watch their favorite player do what she does best.

Running on the pitch, you take your position, you glance over at Alexia and she gives you a reassuring smile. One that eases your nerves for a split second.

Now at 48 minutes, you have been running back and forth, getting more frustrated when you notice how the opposing team are being very aggressive.

You spot an open position near the goal, running full force, waiting for a ball to be kicked your way. When it comes, so does a player, crashing into like a brick wall.

Sending you down, moving to clutch your forehead when you feel a sharp sting of a football boot collide with your head on your way down.

Without your knowledge, two player were running at you. When the first one took you down, the other was running too fast and trying to slow down she put her foot out in front of her, which wasn't grass, but your head.

You sit there for a couple seconds until you feel the warm hands of your girlfriend touch your back. Coming around to wonder why you haven't gotten up yet.

You feel warm liquid pool in your hand quickly, running down your face and covering your hand and neck. But from your position, on your knees with you head towards the ground and in your hands, the blood was unseen.

You feel Alexia slowly pull you up from your position, and the look on her face when she sees the blood is gut wrenching. She looked scared and worried at the same time, not knowing what happened completely, but the amount of blood which is now seen by everyone in the stadium is not healthy.

You see the medics run over immediately, you being close to the side lines when you collided helping them get there quicker.

"Alexia what's going on?" You have a shake in your voice as her hands come up to your forehead, trying to lessen the amount of blood spilling from your head, coating her hands as well.

"Shh bebita the medics are coming, you just cut your head, it will be okay." She did seem sure in her sentence, trying to keep calm for you. Patri behind her, rubbing her back which helped her keep her composure.

When the medics arrive they lay you down on your back, and usher your teammates and the opposing teammate who collided with you away to give them space.

Alexia stared daggers into the Lyons head, silently telling them that they fucked up, and if there weren't hundreds if not thousands of people here right now, they would be in a bigger situation then just a stare.

Pina noticing that, walked over, handing her a wet towel to wash the blood off her hand and pulling her away from the opposing woman.

The medics go and grab more bandages, leaving you lying on the pitch with two other medics, they just sit there making sure you don't pass out or walk away.

You start to look around, still feeling blood coating your face which isn't a good feeling but what can you do at the moment?

You heart drops out of your ass and runs away to score a goal when you make eye contact with two women in the sidelines who look like copies of Alexia 100%.

They have worry etched on their face, when you make eye contact with Alba, she waves at you. Well this is just wonderful.

You smile at the sweet women and and lightly lift your hand, feeling too tired to do anything else.

It was a sweet moment, you felt like everything else just shut out, and it was a bonding moment between the two of you, as awkward as it sounds.

The medics come back over and finish up their process. When they tell you that you shouldn't come back on the pitch, you feel overwhelmed.

You worked so hard to get here, and can't even play. You feel tears prickle your eyes as they help you stand up, earning you a round of cheering and claps through out the stadium.

You start crying when you notice you can walk, you lost too much blood, and are too tired to walk.

Your sure the two women can see you crying. But your so overwhelmed that you cancel the thought out.

They medics lay you back down, earning confused faces from everyone.

"We need to carry you off okay-"

"I want Alexia to carry me off" You don't let the man finish before interrupting, you not wanting anyone else in that moment.

They nod before one of them signals to a worried Alexia who was already close and watching while biting her nails.

She runs over full speed and crouches down, listening to them talk while she brushes hair from your tear coated face.

"She has lost too much blood and is unable to walk off, would you carry her?" They ask and worry fills her eyes even more hearing that you cant walk.

Nodding, she kisses the crown of your head before picking you up bridal style.

She carries you with ease, making eye contact with her mother and sister before exiting the pitch entirely.

She walks into the medical room, laying your down on a bed making sure your comfortable.

"Okay amor, I have to go back out and play okay? Te amo mucho." (I love you so much). You nod with tears in your eyes, kissing her on the lips before she walks out.

You look up, trying to keep your tears in but failing, breaking down in the room, full of devastation and disappointment.

Likes and Reblogs are appreciated!

[adascore]

The Winner Takes It All

pairings: alexia putellas x england!reader / engwnt x captain!reader / aitana bonmati x england!reader / jenni hermoso x alexia putellas

warnings: swearing. angst. jealousy. world cup loss for england. crying. strong language.

author’s note: right when everything seems to finally fall into place, the world is witness to the fall of an all-time great.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | masterlist

August, 2023 - Sydney, Australia

''And Y/N Y/L puts England into the World Cup final for the first time in their history! Captain Fantastic!''

Even 4 days later, the echoes of their semifinal win against the Australian team continued to send shivers down her spine. The heartbreak of the previous World Cup defeats was still present within her, but the captain felt empowered and ready to face anyone that would be sent her way.

The looks on the girls' faces as she had put another ball into the back of the net were ingrained in her mind, the sheer happiness with which they ran to her is something she will not forget any time soon.

They would play the final against Spain, a final they must absolutely win- not only for the title, but for the dignity and integrity of the game.

Y/N had been supportive of the 15 Spanish players that had taken a stance against the treatment the team had received from their coach and federation. She didn't know any of them on a personal level, but the England player has always been one of the biggest advocates of the women's game, so she wanted everyone to know on which side she stood.

Some of the girls had reached out, thanking her for lifting them up and shedding more light on the situation. However, none of those girls would be playing against her in the final as they did not receive a call-up.

She found it difficult to decipher whether most of the Spanish players liked her or not. A lot of them were from the Barcelona team and well… she did not have the best history with them when she wore the Lyon shirt.

There wasn't any hostility, but the striker had stopped them from winning several more trophies, so she figured they would gladly maximize any chance to take one away from her as well.

Unlike last year's Champions League final, this one wasn't being dubbed as ''Putellas vs. Y/L'', instead Alexia's name had been replaced with Aitana's.

''What's it going to take to win against a very in-form Spain tomorrow?'' One of the reporters asked the England captain.

''Goals.'' Y/N answered, matter-of-fact, having the media room chuckling.

She had been relieved to not have to share the press conference with the Spanish team, having to act cordially with Vilda was not on her agenda.

It was the morning of the final when she first encountered the Spaniards, both squads being allowed to do their pitch inspections. Their opponents were already spread out on the pitch when the English side entered the stadium, decked in black suits while the Lionesses wore their light blue tracksuits. 

Keira and Lucy clung to their Barcelona teammates, delighted to see them. Alessia, Ella and Mary walked over to Ona, while the remaining Brits stayed in their own smaller groups.

Y/N was the last player to make her way onto the grass, clearly not in any hurry whatsoever. She entered with Arjan, in an engaged conversation with the Dutchman about something that had happened during training.

As if there was an AirTag on the England captain, Alexia's eyes immediately found her from where she was standing with Lucy, Jenni and Laia. She immediately noted the confidence and aura that was radiating off of the younger woman, seemingly not bothered about the major final that would be happening that night.

Alexia observed how she gave the assistant coach a pat on the arm before inspecting the stadium on her own, walking on the sidelines without anyone by her side.

The Catalan's attention was solely on the Brit, long forgotten that she was in the middle of a conversation with her teammates.

Should I? No, I shouldn't bother her, she seems content on her own. I kinda want to talk to her, though. Alexia's thoughts were clouded with the dilemma on whether to approach Y/N or not, finding it a great opportunity to see where they currently stood with one another.

She knew there was a chance it could lead to an awkward encounter again, but she couldn't shake the feeling that she at least needed to try. However, another part of her held back, afraid of rejection.

Taking a deep breath, she moved her feet towards the striker. ''Sorry, just one minute.'' Alexia excused herself from their small huddle, biting the bullet.

Lucy, before anyone else, noticed where she was headed. ''Ale, I wouldn't do that- oh, she can't hear me, anyway.'' The defender brushed her own warning off, realizing it had no use as the skipper was already too far.

''Why shouldn't she talk to her?'' Laia inquired, confused about Lucy's attempt to stop her friend.

''Y/N has this thing where she likes to be on her own while doing the pitch inspections, I don't know where it came from, but she doesn't like to be bothered.'' The Brit explained to them.

The trio, lacking any subtlety, stared as Alexia walked to the sidelines, the unaware England captain clearly her target. ''For an introvert she sure likes to put herself in uncomfortable situations.'' Jenni bluntly remarked, soliciting chuckles from Laia and Lucy.

''Nah, she'll be fine.'' The Spanish defender said, choosing to be optimistic about it.

On the other side of the pitch, Alexia was feeling anything but fine as she got closer to Y/N with each step she took. She'd faintly heard Lucy calling out for her, but she'd pressed on, determined to make this work.

''Hey,'' Alexia greeted Y/N, her voice coming out smaller than she would have wanted.

The striker turned to her, caught by surprise at her sudden appearance. ''Oh, hey.'' She replied, her tone cautious yet not unfriendly.

''How are you?'' The midfielder asked, internally cursing at herself for startling her.

Y/N nodded, a hint of a smile on her face. ''Good, how are you?''

''Me too, thanks,'' Alexia's voice was steadier now, feeling the tension slightly dissipate between them, ''I'm excited for tonight.''

The younger woman nodded in understanding, her expression softening. ''Same, will be tough.''

There was a moment of awkward silence, neither quite sure how to proceed further. Y/N expectantly looked at Alexia, wishing for the midfielder to either extend the conversation or go back to her original conversation on the other side of the field.

''Uh, that was a nice goal against Australia, by the way. Really good.'' Alexia quickly offered, breaking the silence.

Y/n chuckled at the mention of her goal, her eyes twinkling. ''Thank you,'' she said, ''it's great to see you back with Spain.'' The sincerity was evident in her voice, almost catching the Spanish skipper off guard.

''Thank you, it's nice to be here with the team.'' 

''How's your knee doing?'' Y/N briefly glanced down to her competitor's leg, curious about the status. 

Alexia hesitantly nodded. ''A lot better. Not a total 100%, but the recovery is going well.'' 

''That's great, I'm happy for you.'' 

The Spaniard smiled, a warm feeling embracing her. ''Thank you.'' 

A silence fell over them again, though it might have been the least awkward one so far out of all the interactions they've had. 

''Uh, I have to get back to my, uh, thing,'' Y/N held up her earphones that were connected to her phone, ''but, uh, good luck tonight.'' 

''Yeah, sorry, uh, you too.'' Alexia stumbled, nervously taking a step back and giving the Brit an uneasy smile. 

Y/N gave her a quick nod before turning away, slipping her earphones back in and walking on the sidelines of the pitch. She was the only person on the pitch who was actually taking the inspection in ''pitch inspection'' seriously as she observed the grass while strolling around the stadium. 

Alexia stood there for a moment, watching her go, a mixture of emotions swirling inside her. She felt a strange sense of satisfaction mixed with a twinge of something she couldn't quite place. Shaking her head, she turned and headed back to her teammates.

Lucy raised an eyebrow as her club captain rejoined the group. ''You seemed to get more out of her than I usually do.'' 

Alexia shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. ''Just catching up.'' 

''Catching up… nice.'' Jenni recited her words, a skeptical look in her eyes. 

''Yes, very nice,'' the Barcelona captain dropped her smile, ''anyway- where were we?'' 

So the winner takes it all, the loser has to fall

It's simple and it's plain, why should I complain? 

The stadium was alive with cheers and celebrations, but for Y/N, the echoes of disappointment drowned out the jubilant sounds. She stood on the pitch, staring blankly at the sea of happy faces, her mind replaying the moments that led to England's defeat against the Spanish.

In the midst of the celebrations for the opposing team, Y/N's gaze lingered on the blue jerseys scattered around the pitch, a lot of them on the ground now.

Her feet were nailed to the ground, unable to move herself towards her team and help them up like the leader she is.

However, she could do nothing but stare at their agony.

She failed.

She had fucking failed.

There had been many opportunities for her to equalize the score, yet she hadn't been clinical enough. Shots that usually would find the back of the net, went wide or were blocked by a defender or by Coll. 

A few minutes passed as she finally managed to force herself towards the other players, almost walking in shame to her teammates.

Ella and Alessia were the first two she encountered, both girls with tears in their eyes, a drastic contrast to their usual demeanor.

''Come here, my girls.'' Y/N motioned for them to walk into her arms, which they immediately did, seeking comfort in their captain.

Their heads rested on either sides of her shoulders, both sniffling in her neck as she felt their tears staining her kit. She caressed their backs, while observing how their other teammates were being consoled.

Y/N was the one to pull away first, silently signaling she would go up to the remaining members of their squad.

She passed Lucy, who was embraced by Mariona. The striker briefly ruffled the defender's head, while muttering a congratulations to the Barcelona player.

A bit further down the pitch, she saw Mary being helped up by a bunch of teammates, the Manchester United goalkeeper in complete despair.

But before she could take another step, a hand wrapped around her wrist, halting her in her tracks.

''Hey, Y/N.''

Sarina appeared in front of her, her expression somber yet supportive.

She gave the coach a sad smile as the Dutchwoman wrapped her arms around her player. ''You did very well.''

''I'm sorry.'' Y/N whispered back, the disappointment audible.

''Don't apologize, I'm very proud of you,'' the older woman reassured, giving her a gentle squeeze.

The coach pulled her back, her hands resting on her shoulders. ''You can let go, you know? The match is done, don't keep everything inside.'' Sarina softly mumbled, lightly concerned over the captain's stoic face and the visible tremor in her hands.

Y/N simply nodded, not saying anything further. Despite the encouragement, she remained outwardly composed. Though, Sarina could see the raw emotion simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to spill over at any moment.

With a final squeeze of her shoulder, Sarina offered one last glimmer of solace before reluctantly stepping back, leaving the captain to herself.

Y/N's original destination had been Mary, though by the time her conversation with her coach had finished, the goalkeeper was nowhere in sight.

''Good match, you still give me trouble after all these years.'' Irene interjected her thoughts, her stuck-out hand appearing before her.

The Brit chuckled at her words, shaking her hand. ''Thanks, and congrats. You've had a good tournament.''

''Thank you, Y/L. You too.''

They shared a quick hug before going their own ways again, the respect from their Lyon-PSG days never having withered away.

As she traversed the pitch, she encountered various teammates, each bearing the weight of defeat in their own way. With a comforting touch on the shoulder, a shared look of understanding or a warm embrace, she conveyed her support without needing to utter a single word.

Among the Spanish players, there were nods of acknowledgment and brief exchanges of congratulations.

While she wasn't particularly close with any of them compared to her teammates, her facial expression and overall posture didn't invite further interaction. She managed to convey her respect and acknowledgment of their achievement without seeking deeper engagement.

She also made her way to the three officials in the center of the pitch, extending her hand towards them.

Meanwhile, the other captain on the pitch observed her from afar, her eyes tracing the familiar figure moving through the post-match formalities.

Alexia made note of the way Y/N's shoulders were tense, and how her movements were almost robotic.

As she further analyzed her, a strange and unfamiliar feeling settled inside her. It was a sensation she couldn't quite put into words, a mixture of empathy, sadness, and a strange sense of connection.

She had never experienced such intense empathy for an opponent, especially not in the aftermath of a major final victory. Typically, her focus would be on celebrating with her teammates and reveling in the joy of winning. But now, she found herself feeling more sorrow for Y/N's defeat than happiness for her own success.

Memories of the previous year's Champions League final flooded Alexia's mind, where she had been in her position, grappling with the crushing weight of failure as the leader of her team. She saw a reflection of herself in the English striker, recognizing the familiar struggle of trying to mask one's emotions in the aftermath of defeat.

Recalling the moment when Y/N had offered her comfort and admiration after that match, Alexia felt a sudden urge to reciprocate. The Brit's words had given her a lot of strength when she lost, and now, she wanted to do the same. With the image of Y/N's arm wrapped around her from the previous year firmly etched in her mind, Alexia took a deep breath and approached the England captain. Each step felt weighted with uncertainty, yet she was driven by an inexplicable urge to offer her support.

With the image of Y/N's arm wrapped around her from the previous year firmly etched in her mind, Alexia took a deep breath and approached the England captain. Each step felt weighted with uncertainty, yet she was driven by an inexplicable urge to offer her support.

Alexia's expression softened with sympathy and understanding as she made it to the center of the field. ''Y/N,'' she said gently, her arm instinctively reaching out to wrap around the Brit's shoulders, ''I know it's not the result you wanted, but you should be incredibly proud of yourself. You were one of the best this World Cup.''

Y/N managed a tight-lipped smile, though her eyes betrayed the lingering disappointment. ''Thanks,'' she replied, her tone tinged with bitterness, ''it's good to see you back on the field. Even if it's only for 10 minutes.''

The Spaniard chose to ignore the passive-aggressive comment, recognizing it as a product of frustration rather than genuine malice. ''Thank you,'' she replied calmly, ''it was a great battle today.''

The England captain gave a curt nod, subtly attempting to shrug off Alexia's comforting embrace. But the Catalan held tight, refusing to let her go.

''Seriously, Y/N, you were amazing these few weeks,'' Alexia persisted, her voice gentle yet firm, ''you led your team to this moment.'' She attempted again to console her rival, or former rival… friend? It wasn't clear. It had never been clear. 

''I appreciate it,'' Y/N responded, her tone softening slightly, ''you guys worked hard, considering the circumstances. Congrats, enjoy it.''

With a gentle yet deliberate movement, Y/N extricated herself from the embrace, offering a half-hearted smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She was acutely aware of the cameras capturing every moment of their interaction, and the potential backlash she might face for her indifference. But in that moment, consumed by the sting of defeat, she couldn't bring herself to care one bit.

Alexia watched her for a few seconds, feeling something that felt equivalent to a slap in the face. She perfectly understood Y/N's pain, and could imagine what the England captain was thinking in her head. But she'd only meant well by her words, and affection.

She didn't stare too long at her departing figure, knowing how miserable it might look to other people. The midfielder resumed her small tour of shaking hands with all the opponents, while also congratulating her own teammates.

It irritated her how effortlessly the striker's indifference had dampened her spirits. Alexia couldn't help but feel a twinge of bitterness, resentful of the power Y/N seemed to hold over the Spanish captain's emotions without even remotely trying.

Why is she allowing it to sour her mood?

''Y/N.'' She heard her name being called somewhere in the dressing room, turning around without knowing who to even look for.

Keira appeared in front of her, already showered and changed into something clean. ''Hey, don't feel obligated to do this, but I kinda need a favor from you…'' The Barcelona midfielder looked a bit flushed speaking to the captain.

Y/N slowly nodded, not sure where this was heading.

''Uh, Aitana- you know Aitana, right?'' She quickly asked, suddenly feeling insecure about the player's knowledge of her teammate.

The captain snorted, finding the question a bit ridiculous considering they just played a final against her. ''Yeah, I know her.''

Keira nodded, cringing at herself for even asking. ''Right, so you're kind of like, one of her idols, and she would really love for you two to swap kits.''

Y/N softly smiled at the sweet gesture, while also feeling immensely honored by the fact that Aitana considers her somewhat of a role model. ''Uh, yeah, that's fine. Do you know where she is?''

''She's standing outside the dressing room right now.'' Keira sheepishly grinned.

''Of course she is,'' the older player sighed with affection, ''uh, I'm gonna shower first, and then I'll go outside, okay? I want to wash this entire day away.'' She grimaced.

''Alright, I'll tell her,'' Keira said before briefly stopping the striker from walking to the shower area, ''thank you.'' She sincerely said, her eyes filled with gratitude.

''Ah, don't mention it.'' Y/N brushed it off, squeezing the midfielder's arm.

It took her about 20 minutes to actually make it outside the changing room. Had she wasted time on purpose to keep the person who had just robbed her of a World Cup title waiting for her? No one could tell.

''Hey, congrats again.'' Y/N greeted the Spaniard, who looked incredibly nervous.

Aitana smiled brightly, carefully holding her own shirt in her hands. ''Thank you. Congrats on your tournament, you played great the entire time.''

''Thanks. Here you go.'' The England captain handed her shirt over, the Barcelona player doing the same.

''Gracias,'' Aitana thanked her, looking like a kid at Christmas, ''you've been my idol for a long time, and it's amazing to play these kinds of matches against you. You're an amazing player.'' She continued her complimenting, not able to stop herself from praising her.

Y/N awkwardly accepted her words, she'd never been the best at accepting such loving compliments, especially when they came from fellow players. ''That means a lot, thank you. But you're like the best player in the world right now, I'm much more honored, believe me,'' Y/N chuckled, making Aitana blush, ''also congrats on the Champions League, you were seriously one of the best players the entire tournament, and also in the Spanish League. I've been a big fan of you since Budapest.''

Aitana looked overwhelmed to say the least. The Champions League final in Budapest had taken place in 2019, meaning the Lyon striker had been a fan of hers for over 4 years.

''No, thank you so much, but you're the best, always.'' The Spaniard brushed it off, genuinely not believing there was a better player than Y/N in women's football.

The Brit grinned at the reply. ''Well, I can't wait to see you lift the Ballon d'Or this year.'' She winked.

''I- I don't know about that.'' Aitana stammered, her cheeks warm with embarrassment.

Y/N laughed softly, a warmth in her face that made the midfielder flustered. ''Trust me, you should pick out an outfit already,'' she teased, ''but, seriously, keep doing what you're doing right now, players like you are really rare, and all of us are so blessed to watch you play right now.'' She encouraged, her tone genuine.

''Thank you, that is very kind.'' Aitana responded, her voice barely above a whisper. She was still in disbelief that this conversation was actually taking place.

''You're very welcome.''

''Did you get it?'' Ona asked Aitana as soon as the midfielder entered the dressing room.

The Catalan held up the shirt to her friend, proudly showing off the emblazoned ''Y/L'' on the back of it. ''I had to wait 20 minutes.'' She sighed, sitting down in her cubby.

''She probably made you wait on purpose.'' Mariona remarked, taking a sip of her water.

''No, she was very kind.'' Aitana brushed the comment off with a shake of her head. The Barcelona star neatly folded the jersey on her lap, delicately brushing away the remaining stains of grass and dirt.

''Ale, you're not listening to me.'' Jenni nudged the captain, an offended look on her face as her friend didn't seem to be paying much attention to her rambling.

''Huh, what?'' Alexia stuttered, caught off guard, looking to her side.

A playful eye roll accompanied a light slap on the arm. ''Am I boring you?''

''No, no, please continue,'' the captain insisted, realizing she had drifted off again. She forced herself to listen attentively, though her mind kept drifting back to the jersey exchange between Aitana and Y/N.

''Okay, what is it? You're clearly not focused on me right now.'' The midfielder sighed, observing her friend's distracted gaze.

Shaking her head, Alexia tried to dismiss her thoughts. ''No, continue, I'm sorry- nothing on my mind.''

Jenni's eyes followed the captain's gaze to the blue England jersey on Aitana's lap. She looked back at her teammate, noticing her fixated expression. ''You're not telling me that even a damn shirt with her name on it bothers you.''

''What do you mean?'' Alexia asked, embarrassed as she was called out.

Jenni's eyes shot up in judgment. ''I get that the comparisons weren't nice while they were happening, but letting her bother you this much is crazy, Ale.''

''She doesn't bother me.'' Alexia retorted immediately.

A snicker followed. ''Yeah, and I'm Jesus.'' She responded, sarcastically.

''Just forget about it.'' Alexia started, but Jenni interjected.

''Hey, I'm sorry, okay? You don't want to talk about it?'' The Spaniard apologized, realizing her friend wasn't enjoying the teasing.

''No, I do. Just… not here, I don't need the whole room to know about it.'' Alexia whispered, eyes darting around. 

Jenni nodded, sending her friend's discomfort with the others. ''Alright, should we go to the bathroom?'' She suggested, trying to make it seem as subtle as possible.

The captain nodded, a grateful look in her eyes. ''Yeah,'' she smiled, ''thanks.'' She softly muttered as they made their way outside.

As they stepped into the quiet solitude of the bathroom, Alexia let out a sigh of relief, feeling grateful for Jenni's understanding. Leaning against the sink, she ran a hand through her hair, trying to collect her thoughts.

Jenni stood beside her, offering a reassuring smile. ''You okay?''

The Ballon d'Or winner hesitated for a moment before responding. ''Yeah, just… and this is gonna sound stupid, but the shirt does make me upset.''

The Tigres player slowly nodded, trying to understand her point. ''Okay… and do you know why?''

She remained silent for a few moments, almost too full of shame over the answer- the true answer to that question. ''I think- you know, we've never exchanged shirts… and she does it with so many other people on our team.''

Jenni reached out, gently squeezing her friend's shoulder. ''It's not just the shirt, is it?''

She knew her friend too well to think this was all about a stupid football jersey- there was more, and Jenni wanted to know what that entailed.

Alexia remained quiet, glancing down at the floor.

''Ale, I'm not dumb. I see what she does to you.''

''She doesn't do anything-''

''Shut up,'' Jenni shook her head, cutting her off, ''I want to listen to you, and help you, but you have to start being honest to yourself, Putellas.''

Alexia's facade crumbled under Jenni's persistent gaze, her defenses weakening with each passing moment. She let out a resigned sigh, knowing she couldn't hide from the truth any longer.

"She… she is so freaking annoying. You have no idea, Jenni. She makes my blood boil. Every single time we're on the pitch together, it's like she knows exactly how to get under my skin. It's the way she plays, the way she talks, the way she looks at me like she's already won. And I know it's all part of the game, but fuck, it's so fucking annoying,"

Jenni leaned against the wall, crossing her arms, and nodded for her to continue.

''But then, the match is over, and all I want is for her to come up to me and ask me for a freaking shirt swap. It's so ridiculous, I know. But it's always someone else that she goes to. First it was Patri, in Turin. Then, at the friendly last year, I thought she was going to ask me, but no, she asked me to give my jersey to a fucking teammate of hers. And now Aitana has one as well? It's so fucking stupid. She can exchange with Aitana, but not with me?'' 

Alexia's frustration was palpable as she continued to vent. "And the worst part is, I don't even know where we fucking stand with each other. Like, in Turin, she was so nice and she comforted me when the match was done, and she was, yeah, just so nice. But today, it was like she wanted nothing to do with me, and I get it, it's a big final to lose, but still! I can't stand it. I want to be mad at her, but she makes it impossible.'' 

Jenni watched her with a mixture of sympathy and amusement. "Ale, maybe she doesn't realize how much it bothers you." 

Alexia threw her hands up, a bitter laugh escaping. ''She knows exactly what she's doing. She does this on purpose, it's like she gets some kind of twisted pleasure out of it.'' 

Her friend raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. ''Or maybe she doesn't know either. You're giving her too much power, Ale.'' 

The captain shook her head. ''It doesn't feel like that.'' 

''What does it feel like?'' Jenni asked. 

''Like she's playing mind games with me.'' 

Jenni remained silent, having Alexia almost hanging her head in shame. ''It's fucking stupid.'' She cursed under her breath. 

The older woman placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. ''First off, it's not stupid, your feelings are valid,'' Jenni reassured her, ''and secondly… I have never seen you like this, and it kind of worries me, Ale.'' 

Alexia let out a heavy sigh. ''Sorry, you don't need to worry. I just- I don't know what to think anymore. I feel like an idiot for caring this much about a shirt.'' 

''You're not an idiot,'' Jenni denied with a smile, ''you want her to acknowledge you. It's not a crime, she's a great player, it's normal.'' 

Her younger teammate nodded, though not convinced. 

Jenni sighed, stepping closer to her friend. ''Why don't you take the first step? Ask her for a swap yourself.'' 

''Ask her myself?'' Alexia laughed mockingly. 

''What's the worst that can happen? She says no? At least you'd have your answer.'' She pointed out. 

''I don't think I can…'' Alexia muttered in response, looking down at the bathroom floor.

''Why not?'' Jenni pressed gently.

Alexia hesitated, her words coming out in a rush. ''Wha- what if she, you know, enjoys that I want her- her shirt,'' she quickly corrected herself, ''I honestly think she would enjoy rejecting me.''

''Ale,'' Jenni broke the silence in the room, ''do you… do you like her?''

Alexia's eyes shot to Jenni's before darting away again. ''What?'' She stammered, caught off guard by the question. 

''I know how you act when you like someone,'' Jenni raised an eyebrow.

She adamantly shook her head in response. ''No. What the hell.''

Jenni held up her hands, a faint smile playing on her lips.. ''Hey, I wouldn't judge you. She's good-looking, she plays amazing football, has a nice accent.'' 

''No, I don't like her.'' She insisted, though her conviction sounded shaky, even to her own ears.

The older midfielder snickered at the weak reply, her amusement evident. 

''Jenni, I don't like her. That's insane.'' Alexia continued protesting. 

''Ale, you're kinda obsessed with her.'' Her friend pointed out. 

'' I am not obsessed wi-''

''How many hours of footage have you dedicated to studying her before every match you play against her?'' Jenni interrupted her, a knowing smirk playing on her lips. 

Alexia rolled her eyes, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck, but she stayed silent. 

''See. Absolutely obsessed. You probably know her stats better than she does.'' Her fellow midfielder continued, her teasing tone relentless. 

''I am not crazy. I'm just strategically analyzing the opponent.'' Alexia defended herself, though her words faltered slightly. 

Jenni raised an eyebrow. ''You know there are 10 other players on the pitch, right?''

Alexia huffed in exasperation. ''Oh, come on. There is nothing to like about her.'' She reacted defensively.

Jenni smirked at her words. ''Not her good looks, her intelligence, her advocacy, her football skills, her sexy accent, her knowing all those different languages, her-''

''Shut up.'' Alexia interjected Jenni's teasing, her cheeks completely burned up. 

Jenni chuckled, knowing she had hit a nerve. ''Okay, okay, I'll stop. You're obviously still in the denial stage.''

Alexia huffed loudly. ''You're delusional.'' 

''Yeah,'' the older woman sarcastically said, ''after we've had this whole conversation, I am the delusional one, Ale.'' Jenni rolled her eyes. 

The Barcelona captain crossed her arms, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks again. "You're making this much bigger than it actually is.'' 

"Because it is a big deal," Jenni immediately retorted, ''you're clearly affected by this, and this goes way beyond whatever rivalry you two have going on.'' 

Alexia sighed, realizing her mask was slipping and her friend had her completely figured out. 

Jenni silently stared at her friend for a few moments, wondering how long these thoughts had been brewing inside her mind. She pulled the younger woman into an embrace, gently caressing her back. 

''It's okay to have these feelings, Ale. It really is. But don't bottle them up the way you have been doing, don't ignore them. That's not healthy.'' 

Alexia let her head rest on Jenni's shoulder, the truth of her words sinking in. ''I just hate feeling like this,'' she admitted, ''I don't even know what I want from her.'' 

Jenni nodded sympathetically, continuing her caressing. ''I understand that,'' she kissed the side of her head, ''I don't know when you'll see her again, but maybe, like, ask her for a shirt swap yourself? I know you think it's stupid, but you'll get a better understanding of where you stand with her.'' 

Alexia shook her head. "I don't know if I can do that."

''You can,'' her teammate assured her, ''I really believe you've got it all wrong. I think she'd happily exchange kits with you.'' 

''Maybe… yeah, maybe you're right.'' She mumbled in response. 

Jenni pulled her back, not looking into her eyes. ''Just try, please. And if she doesn't want to? Guess what? There are thousands of other people who would gladly receive your shirt.'' 

Her friend's encouragement caused a smile to finally appear on Alexia's face, something Jenni was happy to see. ''Thanks, I really appreciate it.'' 

"Anytime," Jenni replied, giving her a supportive pat on the back, ''now let's get out of here, and fucking celebrate, alright?'' 

Alexia nodded, feeling much lighter than when they'd first walked into the bathroom. ''Yeah, let's go.'' 

''Let's go, chica!'' 

suggestions/ideas/opinions for or about the series are always welcome in my inbox!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Award

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Zećira Mušović x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Zećira gives you an award

When you were little, you didn't attend award ceremonies.

You watched them on tv, sure, if they were being televised but you were much too little to actually attend. If it was early enough, you would wait by the phone with whoever was babysitting you so you could talk to Morsa and Momma. If it was too late in the evening, you stayed up to watch and then went straight to bed.

So, this is the first time you've attended an awards ceremony with your mothers.

But it's not one of theirs.

It's yours.

You don't quite know what to expect for your FIFA awards show so you're not quite sure if this is living up to your expectations or not.

Everything just seems to be kind of happening around you as you sit there listening to the hosts talk about last year's season and all the work that's being done on and off the pitch.

It's only when Zećira appears on stage with an award and an envelope that you start paying attention.

Magda also sits up next to you. She'd been slouching previously but she sits upright fully and stares hard at her old teammate.

"Calm down," Pernille hisses from your other side as Magda stares, unblinking," You look crazy."

"I'm just paying attention!" Magda hisses back as the nominees are announced again.

You've come off of a very successful last season at Arsenal and the high of winning the World Cup but you still don't feel too confident.

You're up against the keeper from Lyon in France and the keeper from Juventus in Italy. Both had amazing seasons as well, both with and without their national teams.

It's a difficult one to call and, while Morsa and Momma seem confident, you don't allow yourself to hope.

If you don't get your hopes up then you can't be disappointed.

But Pernille's holding your hand and you can see Magda crossing her fingers.

Zećira clears her throat, opening the envelope.

"And FIFA's women's goalkeeper of the year award goes to..."

You suck in a breath, realising with a jolt that you actually will be disappointed if you don't win. You didn't dare hope but now you're sitting there, the hope creeps in a little.

You think it would be pretty embarrassing to lose now after everyone parading you around as a once in a lifetime keeper.

You catch Zećira's eyes as she pauses.

You can't really remember being interested in being a keeper until Zećira. For as long as you can remember, you've wanted her approval. You think that you wouldn't be half the keeper you are now without Zećira fostering it in you a young age.

"Sweden's Y/N!"

You're stuck in your seat, unable to move.

Magda hugs you first then Pernille and you're still frozen.

You're not entirely sure how you get up on stage.

You suppose you must have walked but you don't remember any of it. To you, it was like you blinked and suddenly you were climbing the stairs.

Zećira is in front of you and suddenly you are taken back to when you were little, when you weren't as tall as you are now and had to crane your head back to look at her.

She had seemed so out of reach when you were little, so big and strong that you couldn't even hope to compete with her.

But now, you can look at her eye to eye.

It doesn't seem to matter though as she pulls you into a hug.

You still feel like that little girl that followed her around on the pitch and had her practice with you in the park. You followed her around at camp too, eager to learn everything you could. You always want to impress her when she comes to your games.

You want to impress her now and you think you've done that because she hugs you for longer than she would have hugged anyone else on stage on live tv.

"I'm proud of you," She whispers as the crowd claps.

(You're pretty sure you can hear Magda cheering and you don't have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about that right now).

"Thank you," You say back, still awestruck as Zećira pulls away.

"You can smile, you know," She teases," You just won an award. Best keeper in the world."

"Only for the year," You remind her and she laughs.

The award is heavier than you thought it would be, the sudden weight in your hand feeling strange.

You look down at it.

This is your first goalkeeper of the year award.

But one day, it'll be just one of many.

[onlyhereforthestories]

Chica Medica - Part 7 (Alexia Putellas x Reader)

I know this isn't the final in question but I can't find a gif of it. So have this one instead. Plus who wants to see sad Ale anyway 👀 This is the final part. this journey has been crazy and long but I can't thank you all enough. I'm glad this one got finished even if it took me like 2 years! Enjoy!

The atmosphere in the stadium was thick with tension. It was the day of the women’s champions league final, Barcelona vs Lyon. The anticipation had been building for the last few weeks, now it was her and both teams were toeing the line on another historic moment. It was a weight that you could feel even though you weren’t a player.

The teams had already started their warmups, which meant the stadium already had that buzz of energy ringing round it. Fans were filling into the seats, drinks and snacks in hand, chants falling from their lips and filling the arena. In the middle of all that excitement, was the nervous energy surrounding the players, you could sort of feel it coursing through you as you did some final checks on players. A lot of the players had been involved in the 2019 game with the same teams, the day when Lyon crushed Barcelona dreams of champions league glory with that brutal 4-1 win. The memory of that loss still lingered, and it hung over today’s match like a dark cloud.

From your position on the sideline, you could see it in the way the players moved. Some were more focused than usual, pushing themselves harder in the warm-up drills, while others seemed distracted, their minds already on the game to come. Even Alexia, who was usually so composed and steady, seemed a little off.

As warm-ups wrapped up and the team headed back toward the locker room for final preparations, you felt a familiar presence beside you. Alexia had broken off from the group and was making her way toward you, her expression tight but unreadable.

"Can you tape my ankle?" she asked, her voice steady, but you could hear the tension underneath, the underlying nerves that no one else but you and her would know about, even if it was never acknowledged. To the outside world she looked like the normal fearless captain ready to lead her side the best she can and always does.

You nodded and motioned for her to lead the way down the tunnel and past the locker rooms to the medical space. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked you to tape her ankle, it had actually become something of a pre-game ritual for the two of you, but today felt different and was different. The air between you was thick with the weight of the upcoming fixture, and you could sense that there was more to this than just a simple request.

As you gathered the tape and began to wrap her ankle, you kept your movements slow and precise, giving her time to speak if she wanted to. You could feel her eyes on you, her leg resting gently on your knee as you worked.

After a long pause, Alexia finally broke the silence. “I’m nervous.” It was barely said above a whisper as if she was in a room full of people and she didn’t want anyone of them to hear her.

The admission caught you off guard. The Alexia Putellas, mighty captain of Barcelona Femani, worldwide superstar, role model for many little girls around the globe, was nervous and admitting it verbally to you. In the quiet moment before the biggest game of the season, she was opening up and letting her guard down for you.

You glanced up at her, offering a soft smile. "That’s normal. It’s a big game. And it important to you."

She nodded, her eyes focused on the way your hands were delicately wrapping tape round her ankles. "I keep thinking about 2019," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper still. "How we weren’t ready, how they tore us apart. I don’t want that to happen again. I don’t want to let the team down. I don’t want to let the fans down."

You paused for a moment, your hands gently holding her ankle as you looked up at her. The weight of her words hung in the air between you, and you could see the vulnerability in her eyes along with the fear of failure, of history repeating itself.

"You won’t," you said softly, your voice steady. "This isn’t 2019, Ale. You’re not that same player, and this isn’t that same team. You’ve led them through everything this season. Whatever happens out there, they’re ready because of you. They are ready to fight with you."

Alexia exhaled slowly, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as she absorbed your words. You could tell she was still battling the nerves, but something in her posture shifted. It was like a quiet resolve starting to settle in and the confident captain was stepping back in.

"You’ve always been there," she said after a moment, her voice soft. That little glint she gets in her eyes when she’s just scored a goal present. "Since the start of the season, through all the ups and downs. I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much that’s meant to me."

You smiled, finishing the last few wraps of the tape around her ankle. "You don’t have to. I’m always here, no matter what."

The noise of the stadium, the weight of the final, the memories of what happened in 2019 were pushed to the back of both your minds in that second. For this one little moment it was just the two of you, in this quiet shared space.

She reached down, her hand gently brushing yours as you finished securing the tape. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "For everything."

You squeezed her hand gently, offering her the reassurance you knew she needed. "You’ve got this, Ale."

With a final nod, she stood up, testing her ankle and giving it a small flex before looking back at you. The tension in her eyes had eased, replaced with a quiet determination.

As she walked back toward the locker room, you watched her go, your heart swelling with pride. This was Alexia, the player who carried the weight of the team on her shoulders, but in moments like these, she was just a woman who needed support too. and you would happily always be that support.

The stadium lights grew brighter as the time for kick off approached, and you knew that no matter what happened on the pitch tonight, Alexia would give it everything she had. And so would the rest of the team.

You sat in awe as you watched all the pre-match stuff happen around you. Your eyes found it hard to leave the Barcelona captain once she had led the teams out, and as the songs were playing out, you noticed her glance your way. It was barely a second look but she caught the small smile and little thumbs up you gave her and it gave her that boost she needed to get her head focused, or so she thought.

The opening whistle rang through the stadium, but instead of the usual surge of excitement, there was a quiet undercurrent of nerves rippling through the team and the crowd. The air around the stadium thick with anticipation and nerves around what was to come. Lyon, experienced and relentless, were not a team to underestimate. And within ten minutes, they made sure to remind everyone of that.

You watched from the bench, your heart sinking as Alexia was tackled. Henry standing up from the slide with the ball and driving in field, she took a couple of touches before unleashing a strike you knew Alexia herself would have been proud of and you could only watch on as it nestled into the net. 1-0 to Lyon.

The stadium erupted with cheers from the Lyon supporters, but for Barcelona, the shock hit hard. You could see it in the way the players slowed for just a moment, the disbelief written across their faces. A few glanced toward the bench, their expressions filled with frustration and a rising sense of panic. This wasn’t something they were used to.

But none of them showed it more than Alexia. Her eyes were focused, but there was an edge to her movements that you recognized all too well, the tension, the pressure weighing down on her.

As the minutes ticked on, you could feel the anxiety building. Barcelona was chasing the game, trying to press forward, but Lyon was everywhere, cutting off every pass, intercepting every run.

Jenni had a chance or two to put Barcelona level but couldn’t quite do anything with the changes, the keeper of defenders dealing with her presence or shots well.

And then it happened again.

A quick one two down the left-hand side, a looping cross to the back post that Panos couldn’t quite intercept and a well-timed run from Lyons striker meant they doubled their lead. 2-0 Lyon.

You saw the anguish in the players’ faces, the disbelief starting to set in. The memory of 2019 was no longer just lingering in the background, it was happening all over again. The stadium felt heavier, the chants of the Lyon fans growing louder, the Barcelona ones dying out a little, and the Barcelona players seemed to feel the weight of every step they took.

Then, in the 35th minute, Lyon struck again. A mistake at the back gifted a tap-in to one of their players. 3-0 Lyon.

The sound of the ball hitting the back of the net was deafening, but all you could focus on was Alexia. She stood frozen for a moment, her hands resting on her knees as she took in the damage. Her expression was unreadable, but you could see the pain in her eyes, the mounting pressure of the game slipping away. She was fighting against the memories of the past, but they were catching up with her.

From the bench, you felt helpless, watching as Barcelona tried to regain some control, but the first half had been brutal. Lyon was dominating, and the damage seemed almost irreversible. The team’s confidence, which had been so strong coming into the final, was visibly shaken.

Then, just before halftime, Barcelona found a glimmer of hope.

In the 41st minute, a well-timed run from Alexia finally broke through Lyon’s defence. She latched onto a lovely cross from Caro and struck the ball with precision, sending it into the net passed the diving keeper. 3-1.

There was a brief moment of celebration, a flicker of joy in the stands and on the pitch. But it was muted, more relief than anything else. The team knew the damage had been done. As Alexia jogged back to her position with the ball tucked under her arm to hurry the game along, she glanced toward the bench, and for the briefest moment, your eyes met. You saw the anguish behind her focused gaze, the weight of the scoreline still heavy on her shoulders despite the goal.

It was a moment of hope, but it felt small in the shadow of everything that had already happened.

Halftime was tense. The locker room was filled with an oppressive silence, the usual chatter and tactical talk nowhere to be found. Everyone knew what had to be done, but the path ahead felt impossibly steep. You could see it in their faces, the frustration, the doubt.

Alexia sat quietly, her head bowed slightly as she caught her breath. She didn’t say anything, but her presence was commanding. The team took their cues from her, waiting, watching. There were no outbursts, no speeches. Just the weight of the moment settling into every player’s shoulders.

When it was time to head back out for the second half, they rose with quiet determination. No one needed to say anything. They all knew what was at stake, and they knew how difficult it would be to turn things around.

You stood near the tunnel as the team filed out, catching Alexia’s eye as she passed. She didn’t say a word, but there was a flicker of something in her gaze, a steely resolve, a promise to keep fighting, no matter what. Not that you would ever think she could give up.

The second half was a battle, but the damage from the first half was too much. Barcelona fought hard, pressing Lyon, creating chances, but the goals just wouldn’t come. Time ticked away, and with each passing minute, the weight of the scoreline became heavier.

Lyon defended with everything they had, and despite Barcelona’s best efforts, they couldn’t break through again. Alexia pushed herself to the limit, running harder, tackling fiercer, willing the team forward, but it wasn’t enough.

The final whistle echoed in your ears, the high-pitched sound sending your heart into your stomach. Lyon had won, again. Barcelona had fought so hard to get here again, had overcome challenges but had fallen short yet again, and the heart break was evident. The stadium was alive with the cheers of Lyon’s fans, but all you could focus on was the devastation unfolding around you.

Your players, your friends stood frozen, the weight of the loss settling in. Some dropped to their knees, others stared at the ground, their faces etched with disbelief. The pain in the air was unmistakable, and you could feel it in your own chest, a dull ache that mirrored theirs.

Then your eyes fell on Alexia.

She was on her knees in the centre of the pitch, her hands covering her face as she tried to contain the overwhelming flood of emotions. The captain, the leader, the one who carried the weight of this team on her shoulders, was breaking right in front of you.

You could see her shoulders shaking, her body trembling with silent sobs, and it was too much. The sight of her like that, so utterly heartbroken, tore at you. Every instinct in you wanted to go to her, to hold her, to tell her it would be okay. But the truth was, you weren’t sure it would be.

The overwhelming loss was too much for you to bear in that moment. You couldn’t handle watching Alexia break down like this, not after everything that had happened between you, not when your own emotions were threatening to pull you under. You could see her lying on her back sobbing even when your eyes were closed.

So, you turned away.

Without a word, you headed toward the tunnel, your heart racing and your chest tightening with every step you took. You could barely see through the blur of tears forming in your eyes as you hurried into the medical room, seeking the solitude you needed to process what had just happened. You couldn’t stay out there, not with Alexia on the floor, not with the agony of defeat surrounding you.

Once inside the medical room, you leaned against the wall, taking deep, shaky breaths. You tried to block out the sounds of the celebration from Lyon, it was just another punch in your already beat up heart. But it was hard. All you could think about was Alexia, how broken she had looked, how much this loss meant to her, and how helpless you felt to not be able to comfort her.

On the pitch, Alexia wiped her eyes, the tears still flowing as she tried to gather herself. The pain of losing the Champions League final was unbearable, but it wasn’t just that. It was everything combined, the pressure, the expectations, the weight she has carried for so long. And now, the crushing defeat that brought back memories of 2019, a nightmare she thought she’d escaped, had returned and god did it hurt.

But amid the chaos, something was missing. Or rather someone was missing.

Alexia looked up, her eyes scanning the sidelines, searching for you. She needed you now more than ever. You had always been there for her, a steady presence in the chaos. And in this moment, all she wanted was to find you, to feel that connection again. To feel good again.

But you weren’t there.

Her heart clenched, a new wave of panic washing over her. She searched the faces around her again, but she still didn’t see you. The celebrations, the commiserations of her teammates, none of it mattered. She needed to find you.

Without thinking, Alexia got to her feet, her body aching but her mind focused on one thing: you. She moved quickly towards the tunnel, ignoring the flashes of cameras, and the questions from some of the staff still by the bench. None of it mattered now.

When she was inside, her eyes darted around, searching for any sign of you. Then, she caught a glimpse of the medical room door slightly ajar. Her heart pounded in her chest as she made her way toward it, hoping, no praying, that you were there. That she could feel something other than defeat.

You were so in your head that you didn’t hear the soft creak of the door as it opened. You were seated on the edge of one of the treatment tables with your head in your hands, trying not to fully breakdown. You couldn’t face the team right now and you certainly couldn’t face Alexia after everything. You felt like you were betraying her in a way by not being out there, but it was just too much.

The you heard it, her soft voice coming from the doorway.

“Y/N?” it was tentative, nervous a little, but it was unmistakably her.

You lifted your head, your breath catching slightly in your throat when you saw Alexia standing in the doorway. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying, her face still etched with the raw emotion of the loss. But there was something else in her gaze, something intense, something you couldn’t quite place.

She stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and for a moment, the two of you just stared at each other. The weight of the game, of everything that had been left unsaid between you, sat poised in the air, heavy and unwavering.

"Why did you leave?" Alexia asked, her voice barely above a whisper. There was no anger in her tone, just a quiet pain and confusion.

"I couldn’t..." you started, but your voice faltered. "I couldn’t watch you like that. It was too much."

Alexia’s eyes softened a fraction, and she took a few steps closer to you. "You think it wasn’t too much for me?" she asked, her voice shaking. You couldn’t tell if it was from the sadness still surrounding the day or the hurt you have now caused her. "You think losing this, after everything... was something I could just handle on my own?"

You looked away, the guilt rising in your chest, making it harder to keep your emotions in check. "I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know how to help you. I didn’t know if I was allowed to help you."

"I don’t need you to say anything," Alexia said, her voice thick with emotion. "I just need you there. With me. I’ve already lost one important thing tonight. I’m not losing you, too."

Her words hit you like a sucker punch to the gut, the intensity of them taking your breath away momentarily. You looked up at her, your heart beating out of your cheat as the weight of it all settled between you. The loss, the heartbreak, the months and months of tension between you, it all lead to this moment.

You watched as Alexia took a step closer, her hands shaking as she reached out for your own. “I can’t lose you,” she whispered. “Not after everything, I know I’ve pushed you away, I know I’ve made mistakes, but … I want you. No, I need you. I need you with me, and not just because you are a part of this team. As more, with me.”

Her confession hung in the air, raw and vulnerable. You could see the slight fear in her eyes behind the determination, the fear you knew of losing something else, someone else, important.

"I’m here," you whispered, your voice barely audible as you stood up, closing the distance between you. "I’m here, Ale. I want and need you too."

And that was all she needed.

Without another word, Alexia closed the gap between you, her lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was filled with all the emotions she had been holding back for so long. It was desperate, intense, and slightly hurried but it was everything. Everything she hadn’t been able to say, everything she had felt but hadn’t been able to express, was in that kiss.

You kissed her back, your hands sliding up to cup her face, feeling the warmth of her skin still slightly damp from a mix of tears and sweat, and the familiar softness of her lips. The weight of the loss, of the heartbreak, melted away in that moment, and all that remained was the two of you. It was always the two of you.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and wide-eyed, Alexia rested her forehead against yours, her breathing ragged as she whispered, "I’m not losing you."

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with emotion. "You’re not losing me. Not now, not ever."

The kiss lingered between you, as did the warmth of being pressed against the woman you loved, there was a mixture of unspoken emotions still on the tip of your tongues but now wasn’t the moment. The reality of where you were crept back in when the roar of the crowd could be heard outside, the faint celebrations of the Lyon players. As much as you wanted to stay in this quiet, life altering moment with alexia, you knew she would need to return to the pitch.

A soft knock interrupted the peaceful silence.

"Alexia?" It was Leila’s voice, quiet but insistent. "We need to be back on the pitch for the medals."

Alexia exhaled heavily, her forehead still resting against yours, her eyes closed as if she wasn’t ready to face the world outside just yet. But she nodded, knowing there was no escaping this part. You gently placed your hand on her arm, offering a small, supportive smile.

"You need to go," you said softly. "They’re waiting for you."

Alexia pulled back, her eyes still red from earlier, but the strength in them was returning. "Come with me?"

“Always.” You nodded, squeezing her hand before leading her toward the door.

Leila gave you both a knowing look when she saw the two of you walk out together with your hands connected, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, she offered a small smile and gestured toward the tunnel.

Once you all made it back onto the pitch, Alexia and Leila went off to join the rest of the team in the line for the silver medals. The atmosphere was heavy around them, the weight of the crushing loss still taking its time to sink in. but behind that upset and sadness you could feel the determination in the air. Even if they were defeated this year, you knew they would go again next year, and as always, together.

As Alexia stood with her teammates lined up with her, waiting for her medals to be placed around her neck, she glanced at you. Standing off to the side but there, ever present you. There was something softer in her gaze now, gone was the torment of the first goal conceded, gone was the full weight of the loss, replacing it was something that you hadn’t seen before.

When the medal ceremony final started and Alexia walked to get hers, she accepted it with a quiet nod, her fingers barely brushing over it before she let it hang loosely around her neck. The team all stood together for the photo they all knew they had to take but all didn’t want to. The photo that would remind them of how close they had come. A bittersweet memory captures in a flash.

Once the photo was done everyone started to part ways. Some going to find their loved ones in the crowd, others taking a few steps away to give themselves a quiet moment. Alexia though had one more thing left to collect before she could join the rest of them.

The Golden Boot.

She had been the top scorer of the tournament, her performances throughout the campaign nothing short of extraordinary. But now, standing with the silver medal hanging loosely around her neck, Alexia looked anything but ready to celebrate her individual achievement. You knew she wouldn’t have cared for it that much even if they had won the whole thing, but it felt cruel to get it without the win.

As her name was called to receive the Golden Boot, she hesitated, her eyes dark with exhaustion and sadness. She glanced at you, standing off to the side, and you could see it. You could see the reluctance, the pain etched into her tear-streaked face. It broke your heart slightly, even though you knew that pain would fade.

You took a step forward, offering her a gentle smile, but you could feel her hesitation, her body still rooted in place. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to stand there in front of the cameras, holding a trophy when her heart was shattered by the team’s loss. She didn’t want to accept a single award when her team didn’t get what she thinks they should have together.

But you knew how important this was, even if she couldn’t feel it right now.

So, with that thought you walked up to her, you placed a hand on her arm, your voice soft but full of conviction. "Ale, I know it’s hard to think about right now, but even on the worst day, you achieved the best."

She looked at you, her brow furrowed in confusion, the weight of her emotions pressing down on her.

"You won the Golden Boot," you continued, your eyes never leaving hers. "It might be hard to take in at this moment, but this is a major achievement. You don’t want to forget it. And I certainly don’t want to."

Alexia’s eyes softened, her shoulders relaxing just slightly as she took in your words. There was still pain there, still heartbreak from the loss, but you could see a flicker of recognition. Something in her eyes that showed that she understood that even in the midst of defeat, she had achieved something remarkable. Something that in a month or two she would want to acknowledge and celebrate with her team and loved ones, just not now.

She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly as she nodded. "I just... I don’t feel like I deserve it right now. Not after this."

You stepped closer, your voice steady and reassuring. "You deserve it more than anyone. You’ve worked harder than I have seen from any other player, and no one can take that from you, not even Lyon. This is your moment, Ale. Your incredible achievement. Own it."

For a moment, she just stared at you, her eyes searching yours for reassurance. Then, slowly, she nodded again, a soft, appreciative smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She couldn’t appreciate this now, but she knew you were right, and she would later, when the sting of the loss faded.

With a gentle push from you, Alexia stepped forward and made her way towards the podium. The cameras flashed as the Golden Boot was handed to her, and she accepted it with grace, even if her heart wasn’t fully in it.

She held the trophy in her hands, but her eyes were still tinged with sadness, her tear-stained face a reminder of the battle she had just lost. But even as the pain lingered, there was a quiet strength in her, an acknowledgment that this achievement mattered, well would matter just like you said. That it was something to be proud of, no matter how bittersweet the moment.

As she was asked by the photographers to pose with the trophy, her mind ran back to the loss. The sadness in her eyes captured forever for people to see. She caught your gaze, saw the pride and quiet admiration in your eyes and that gave her the strength to square her shoulders and smile slightly.

With a deep breathe she held the Golden Boot in front of her, ignored the flashing of the cameras that were capturing the moment forever. And although the smile on her face was faint, it was there, a small demonstration to everyone that despite the heartbreak of the day, she had achieved something worth smiling for.

When she made her way back to you after the photos, you could see the sadness was still the major emotion clinging to her, but alongside it was gratitude.

“Thank you,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “For being here with me. For reminding me.”

You smiled, reaching up to gently brush a stray tear from her cheek. “Always.”

The flight back to Barcelona was going to be quiet, the exhaustion from the match and the emotions of the night weighing heavily on everyone. The plane hummed softly as the team settled into their seats, some player lost in their own thoughts, some chatting quietly about the match and what they could have done to change it.  

You had planned to sit quietly somewhere near the back, giving the team space to process the loss. But as you made your way down the aisle, Alexia’s hand gently caught yours, stopping you in your tracks.

"Sit with me?" she asked, her voice soft but sure. “Please.”

You hesitated for just a moment, glancing around the plane. The team was scattered in their seats, most of them already focused on their phones or staring out the windows. No one was really paying attention, but this felt... different. Public, in a way that you and Alexia hadn’t been before. Even if it as only the team you both knew and cared for so much.

But Alexia didn’t seem to care. Her eyes were soft, vulnerable in a way you hadn’t seen around the team. She was letting her guard down, and this time, she wasn’t trying to hide it.

With a small smile, you nodded and slid into the seat beside her. As the plane took off, you felt Alexia’s hand slip into yours, her fingers lacing together with yours in a quiet, intimate gesture. She leaned her head against your shoulder, the weight of the day finally catching up with her. You rested your head on top of hers, letting her know you had her.

For a while, you just sat there in comfortable silence, the hum of the plane a soft backdrop to the steady rhythm of her breathing. You could feel the tension slowly melting away as she relaxed into you, her body finally giving in to the exhaustion that had been building all night.

At some point, Alexia’s breathing became deeper, more rhythmic. She had fallen asleep on your shoulder, her head nestled against you in a way that felt so natural, so right. You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection as you carefully adjusted your position to make sure she was comfortable. Letting her head tuck further into you and away from the prying eyes you knew were to come.

And you were right, the peace didn’t last long.

From across the aisle, you spotted Mapi grinning mischievously, her phone in hand. She was clearly taking a photo of Alexia asleep on your shoulder, her eyes glinting with amusement. You rolled your eyes playfully and stuck your tongue out at her, quickly raising your hand to cover the part of Alexia’s face that was visible.

Mapi chuckled quietly, snapping the photo anyway before mouthing, "Too late!" She gave you a cheeky wink before turning back to her seat, clearly pleased with herself. Ingrid obviously smacking the woman upside her head that just tore more chuckles from the blonde.

You shook your head, but the moment was too sweet to be annoyed. Instead, you glanced down at Alexia, still peacefully asleep, and let the warmth of the moment settle over you. It didn’t matter if the team was starting to notice, Alexia had made it clear that she didn’t care they would notice. She wasn’t hiding this, and neither were you.

The flight continued, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a quiet sense of contentment. The pain of the loss still lingered, but in this small moment, with Alexia resting beside you, it felt like everything was falling into place. Maybe just maybe you could stay as Alexia Chica Medica.

[meazalykov]

the critic

lena oberdorf x commentator!reader

summary: when lena gets tagged in a video clip, she approaches you

before the cameras, before the viral clips, before the edits, before your voice became synonymous with women’s soccer commentary, there was your games itself.

you used to play, back in the day. soccer was your life—practices in the morning, matches on weekends, hours spent refining your craft, the feel of the ball at your feet something almost sacred. 

you had dreams, big ones, of playing at the highest level, maybe even for the national team. but that all came crashing down when a spinal injury took you out of the game. 

one bad fall, a rough tackle by three players at once in a crucial match, and suddenly, everything you had worked for was gone. 

the doctors said you were lucky to be walking and running again, but for a long time, it didn’t feel like luck. 

it felt like a curse, like soccer was ripped away from you when you were just starting to get your footing in the world of professional sports. 

lyon was close to signing you from your childhood club. however, that changed. the deal had to fail and so did your dream.

so you had to shift gears. you couldn’t play anymore, but you could talk about the game, share your insights, your passion, your love for it with the world. 

and, as it turned out, people loved listening to you. your analysis was sharp, your delivery honest, your humor was sweet, and soon enough, you became a well-known voice in women’s soccer commentary. 

you poured everything you couldn’t put on the pitch into your work, and it paid off.

now, here you are—2023, world cup, germany vs colombia. the stadium is electric, fans buzzing with anticipation. 

it’s your job to capture all of it, to bring the game to life for those watching at home. 

alongside you in the commentator’s booth is tyrell, your close friend and co-host for one of the biggest sports streaming sites in the world. 

you adjust your headset, eyes scanning the field as the camera pans over the players. 

"alright, tyrell, we’ve got quite the matchup today," you say, your voice carrying across the broadcast. 

"germany is looking to bounce back after their last game, and colombia has been on fire in their latest matches with caicedo. it’s anyone’s game today."

"no doubt," tyrell agrees. 

“but you know i’ve got my eye on germany’s midfield. lena oberdorf, she’s got a lot of weight on her shoulders in this one. one of the best defensive midfielders in the world is on the pitch tonight." he finishes. 

you nod, your gaze locking onto oberdorf as she moves across the pitch. 

she’s been a standout for years—strong, composed, a true force in the midfield. 

you’ve always admired the way she plays, the way she commands respect on the field as she will roughly stop any opponent attack. 

but today, something feels off. you’ve been watching her closely during the first half, and you can’t help but feel like she’s holding back.

"honestly," you start, pausing to gather your thoughts, "i expected more from oberdorf during that first half."

there’s a brief silence as tyrell turns to look at you, his eyebrows raised in surprise. 

it’s not often that you call out a player like that, especially someone as highly regarded as oberdorf. 

"really?" he asks, curious. "what do you think’s going on with her?"

you lean forward slightly, watching as the replay of germany’s midfield play rolls across your monitor. 

"she’s not playing with her usual aggression. oberdorf is known for her ability to dominate the midfield, to break up play and transition quickly. but today, she’s been hesitant. this can’t continue if they don’t want someone like caicedo to get in their box. oberdorf needs to press harder, get more involved in the attack. if she steps it up in the second half, she can make the difference that germany needs."

your words hang in the air for a moment before tyrell responds, and the conversation shifts back to the overall match. 

but you can’t shake the feeling that your comment will stir something up. 

sure enough, by the time the game is over—colombia managing to scrape by with a fantastic win—your phone is buzzing nonstop. 

social media is ablaze with the clip of you critiquing oberdorf, the internet having latched onto the rare moment where you offered up something negative about a player you so clearly admired.

fans of both you and lena are eating it up, dissecting your analysis, making memes, and some even suggesting you had ulterior motives. 

it doesn’t help that you’ve been vocal in the past about your respect for oberdorf’s game. 

and maybe, if you’re being totally honest, there’s more to it than just respect. 

you’ve followed her career closely, always a little more interested in her games than others. not that you’d ever admit to having a bit of a crush on her—not publicly, anyway.

across the city, at the team hotel, lena oberdorf is stretched out on her bed, headphones in, trying to decompress after the match. 

her body is exhausted, germany didn’t get the result they needed. her phone buzzes with notifications, but she ignores it for now, lost in her thoughts.

that is, until laura freigang walks in, a mischievous grin on her face and her phone in hand. 

"lena," she says, her voice sings, "it looks like someone’s got their eye on you."

lena sits up, raising an eyebrow. "what are you talking about?"

laura tosses her phone onto the bed, and lena catches it, her eyes narrowing as she watches the video that’s already queued up. 

it’s you, sitting in the commentator’s booth, talking about her. her. 

"honestly, i expected more from oberdorf during that first half."

lena blinks, her mind processing the words. she’s used to hearing praise, especially from someone like you, who’s usually more positive in your analysis. 

but this? it feels different. not harsh, but… honest. like you know she could do better, and that, in a weird way, feels almost flattering.

"see?" laura says, flopping onto the bed next to her. 

"she noticed you. she expects more from you, lena."

lena rolls her eyes, but she can’t hide the faint smile tugging at her lips. 

it’s no secret, at least among her teammates, that she’s always found you attractive. she’s mentioned it once or twice—half-joking, half-serious—how she watches your broadcasts not just for the analysis but because, well, you’re easy on the eyes. 

but she never thought it would go beyond that. you were based in new york city, worlds away from her, and probably didn’t even know she existed outside of your job.

but now? maybe things have changed.

"i don’t want to get your hopes up because it could’ve been a simple analysis but maybe this is your shot," laura adds, nudging lena with her elbow. 

"go for it. what’s the worst that could happen?"

lena hesitates, the idea forming in her mind. it’s bold, sure, but she’s never been one to shy away from taking risks. "yeah… maybe i will."

later that night, you’re sitting in the hotel bar, winding down after a long day of commentary in australia. 

the buzz from the viral clip still lingers in the back of your mind, and you’re half-expecting to get some flak for it. but instead, it seems like people are more entertained by the whole thing than anything else. 

you take a sip of your drink, eyes scanning the room, when you hear a voice behind you.

"hey y/n-- I'm sorry, uh I hope i’m not interrupting."

you turn, and your breath catches in your throat for just a second. it’s lena oberdorf, standing right in front of you, looking a little nervous but still carrying that air of confidence she always has on the pitch.

how did she find you? maybe the german national team stayed nearby? i mean, you were told this was a popular bar in sydney.

however, why would lena go to a bar if she has to prepare for the important match against south korea?

"not at all," you manage, trying to keep your cool despite the sudden rush of nerves.

"what’s up?"

"i, uh, saw the clip," she says, rubbing the back of her neck. "the one where you talked about me."

you chuckle softly, feeling a slight flush in your cheeks. "yeah… i didn’t mean to come off too harsh. just being honest, you know?"

you didn’t know how to react, so you smile. no player has confronted you about your comments before. this is a first.

"no, i get it," she smiles, her eyes locking onto yours. 

"honesty’s good. i just… wanted to ask if you’d like to grab dinner sometime. maybe when you’re in germany next? i’d love to take you out." lena speaks in perfect english. 

you blink, surprised by the offer. of all the things you expected tonight, this wasn’t one of them. but looking at her now, her smile genuine and her eyes soft with hope, you can’t help but smile back.

"yeah," you say, heart racing just a little. "i’d like that."

you were a little older than her, older by two years, but she carried herself in a way that pulled you to her.

the world feels a little smaller, the distance between you and lena shrinking with a single conversation. 

you think that maybe you should critic her more often, kidding— of course.

my masterlist is here if you want to read more fics <3

[baeksqt]

𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐄 - aitana bonmatí

aitana bonmatí x fem!lyon!reader

(a/n: had this sitting in my drafts since she won the ballon d'or, and I finally have a small break so enjoy luvvies (*^‿^*))

word count: 1243

genre: fluff

summary: an adorable aitana meetcute

On a breezy spring afternoon in Barcelona, the cosy bookshop cafe Letras Vivas buzzed with its usual charm. Tucked away on a quiet side street, a haven for readers and coffee lovers alike. The warm aroma of roasted beans mingled with the soft rustle of pages being turned and the occasional tinkling of laughter from patrons. The cafe was the kind of place where time seemed to slow, where strangers might strike up conversations over dog-eared novels or debate the best way to make a cortado.

You step inside, grateful for the reprieve from the city’s lively streets. The team had arrived in Barcelona a few days early to acclimate before the upcoming Champions League final. The pressure was immense – two giants of women’s football going head-to-head – but you had sought this little sanctuary for some peace. As much as you thrive on competition, moments like these were a way to offer clarity amidst the chaos.

Clad in a casual, well-worn shirt and a pair of faded jeans, you seemed a world away from the electrifying football star celebrated in the vibrant match posters that adorned the streets of Lyon. As you moved through the dimly lit bookstore, your fingers delicately glided over the spines of countless books lining the shelves near the entrance, occasionally pausing to absorb the titles that beckoned softly. Your gaze eventually landed on a novel, its cover a breathtaking watercolour that captured the charm of a seaside town, an irresistible pull urging you to pull it from the shelf and delve into its world.

At the counter, Aitana Bonmatí, FC Barcelona’s fiery midfielder, was already ordering her cappuccino. The barista seemed charmed by Aitana’s easy banter, her quick wit and warm laugh lighting up the space. She exuded the kind of confidence that came from knowing you were exactly where you belonged. The distinctive red-and-blue hoodie with Barça’s crest proudly displayed was casually slung over her shoulders, and drew occasional glances, but most were too polite to approach her.

As you approached the counter, Aitana turned, her grin wide and inviting, her hazel eyes bright with recognition. It took you a heartbeat to place her–you had seen that grin a hundred times before, from game footage to interviews to across the pitch. The face of Barcelona’s squad and one the most formidable centres in the game. And in just three days, your opponent. Once again. 

Aitana didn’t miss the split second of hesitation that flickered across your face, and she seized the opportunity to break the ice with a playful energy. “Hey,” she said, her voice warm and laced with just a hint of mischief. “Nice to see you off the pitch.”

You blinked, caught slightly off guard but managing a smile. “Oh, uh, hi. Didn’t expect to run into you here.” Your Andalusian accent was unmistakable, and Aitana’s grin grew wider.

“You Lyon players just can’t resist the good spots, huh?” Aitana quipped, leaning casually against the counter. Her eyes flicked to the book in your hand. “Good choice. That’s one of my favourites.”

You raised an eyebrow, holding up the book. “Really? You’ve read it?”

Aitana’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm as she nodded, her ponytail swaying rhythmically with her head. “You won’t believe how captivating it is! It unfolds in this charming little fishing village—teeming with intense drama, sweeping love stories, and heart-wrenching heartbreak… it’s absolutely everything you could want! Imagine it like football, but infused with much more romance and way fewer tackles!”

A smile crept across your face as you placed the book on the counter, the rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. “I’ll take your word for it, but relying on my opponent’s taste in literature? That feels like a risky move!”

“Oh, come on! Today, we’re not opponents at all!” The mischievous glint in Aitana’s eyes mirrored her playful smirk. “We’re just two enthusiasts who appreciate fine coffee and extraordinary tales.”

The barista expertly crafted Aitana’s cappuccino, the velvety foam adorned with an artful heart-shaped swirl that seemed to float above the cup. Instead of making a beeline for the door, Aitana lingered, her presence radiating warmth and curiosity as she patiently waited for you to finish your order, the air around you charged with an electric sense of connection. When you joined her at a nearby table, your conversation flowed with surprising ease.

Listening intently, as Aitana, ever the local, effortlessly wove stories about her childhood in Vilanova. Her voice softened as she talked about watching games at Camp Nou as a kid, her dreams of one day playing on the same pitch now a reality. She pointed out a few must-visit spots within Barcelona, her favourite tapas bar tucked away in El Born and a rooftop terrace with breathtaking views of the city at sunset.

It was your turn to share, Aitana leaned in, intrigued as you painted a picture of life in France. Your voice gained a quiet pride as you described Lyon’s relentless training culture—the way it pushed everyone to their limits and brought out the best in them. The early morning drills in the pouring rain, late-night strategy sessions, and the camaraderie that came from working with some of the best players in the game.

“So you’re telling me you actually enjoy those gruelling training sessions? Compared to the easiness of Madrid?” The brunette questioned.

“It’s not about enjoying them, exactly.” You shrugged, your smile softening. “It’s about knowing they make me better. And there’s something fun about the discipline, the way it transforms you. Being at Real Madrid, I never had that.” You finished.

Aitana nodded thoughtfully, her playful demeanour giving way to a moment of genuine admiration. “I get that,” she said. “I think that’s why I love playing here—Barcelona’s always pushed me to be more, too.”

Her words hung between the two of you, a shared understanding unspoken but felt. Despite the teams they represented and the rivalry that defined them season after season. They were, at their core, not so different. For a moment, the looming match disappeared, replaced by the quiet connection of two people who understood what it meant to give everything to the sport they loved.

“So,” Aitana began, cradling her cup, her tone suddenly teasing, “how’s Lyon feeling about Saturday? Ready to lose?”

You leaned forward, a playful spark in your eyes. “Confident enough to say you’ll be the one losing.” you shot back. Your laughter mingled, drawing a few curious glances from other patrons, but neither of you seemed to care, bantering for what felt like hours.

As the sun began to dip, casting the cafe in a warm golden glow, you both reluctantly stood to leave. Outside, the streets buzzed with life, the distant hum of a guitar echoing from a nearby plaza. 

At the door, Aitana paused, turning to you with a smile softer than her usual confident smirk. “You know,” she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “maybe after the match, we should grab a coffee again. No rivalries—just books and good company.”

You tilted your head, cheeks dimpling into a grin. “Deal. But only if Lyon wins.”

Aitana laughed, backing away towards the bustling street, her voice carrying over the noise. “We’ll see about that!”

As you walked in opposite directions, you felt a strange lightness—a fleeting connection sparked by chance, lingering even as you prepared to face her on one of the biggest stages in football.

[bellawoso]

I Know Places

Ona Batlle x fem!reader

You and Ona had always been rivals, whether it was national rivals, or club rivals, you always seemed to end up on opposing sides in women’s rival teams.

England vs Spain. Barcelona vs Lyon. And now Manchester United vs Manchester City. With both you and the Spaniard playing for Manchester teams in the WSL, it allowed for you two to see more of each other and eventually extended your rival status to being friends ever since a bad tackle from the brunette, and a follow on instagram from her later that night.

After some casual chatting and the occasional comment on each other’s instagram posts, the defender soon asked you on a date, you were nervous to say the least, but the date went well and after a few more you were quick to start dating.

Being together for over a year now, and being able to live with each other, your relationship was going well. Escaping the prying eyes of fans and photographers was hard, but you and Ona managed. Together.

Until at the end of the season, over dinner Ona told you about Barcelona’s offer for her, it was no surprise the team wanted her back, Ona was well known for her amazing defending in the WSL, so obviously Barça had their eyes on her.

Although you were happy for her, it still hurt, knowing that there would be a sea keeping you two apart, but the both of you were sure that you could do it.

After she left for Spain, you watched every single one of her matches, and she did the same for you. Even after moving teams, she would still never say the dreaded words of ‘Manchester being blue’, which never failed to make you laugh.

Until a few months later, you recieved a call from your manager wanting to discuss potential transfers, you brushed him off quickly saying how you wanted to stay at Manchester City, until you received an email later that night, with a list of all club offers.

One caught your eye, the club offering you the most money was ironic. Real Madrid.

Barcelona’s biggest rival, Camp Nou selling out every time a Barcelona vs Real Madrid match was scheduled.

You immediately called your manager, telling him to accept Real Madrid’s offer, it was a great team, and you had met a few of their players before.

After speaking to your manager, you wondered how exactly you were going to tell Ona about your transfer in the January window, and settled on a simple phone call to break the news to her.

———

Ona was currently at a team bonding night, which were now currently just an excuse to crash at Alexia’s, watch movies and eat all night.

However, recently the brunette had been missing you more than usual, she longed to hold you tight again, and missed the privilege of living with you instead of in a different country.

So when her phone rang, she couldn’t resist waiting until getting home to answer it.

Unbeknown to you, the team already knew about your two’s relationship, after Patri catching Ona watching edits of you, but Ona cut of her teasing by saying ‘She has a right to’, which gave away the fact that you were dating.

“Hola amor” Ona greeted you.

“Hola baby, I have something I need to tell you” you said, your voice sounding serious made Ona sit up straight in her seat, catching the attention of her teammates, who mouthed ‘Que?’ (what?) at her in confusion.

“What’s wrong amor, is everything okay?” Ona asked, worried about your clear state of nervousness.

“No, no nothings wrong Oni, I just thought I would tell you that I’m moving clubs.”

“That’s great, where to amor?” Ona was excited now, the thought of you moving to Barcelona to be with her, like before except this time on the same side for once.

Her teammates had caught on now, excited at the prospect of you joining the team, you were a great central midfielder, Ona offer insisted on watching your games at movie nights if they were live, so many of her teammates were aware of how useful you would be on the team.

“Uh, that’s the thing, promise you wont be mad?”

“Why would I be mad amor? I would never mind wherever you go.” Ona and her teammates were confused now, and Ona was trying to think of the possible clubs you would go to that she would be mad at, however she didn’t realise she was kidding the most obvious one.

Lucy mouthed ‘Lyon’ at her from across the sofa, and most of the girls nodded in agreement.

“Real Madrid.”

“Que?! Real Madrid! Joder!” (What?! Real Madrid! Fuck!)

This caused an outburst amongst her teammates, who were also in just as much shock as Ona about your news.

You let out a laugh at your girlfriend’s antics “Guess we’re rivals again babe”

Your girlfriend only scoffed in response, and you could just imagine the pout on her face as her teammates chatted around her.

“Guess what?” You asked once again.

“Do I really want to know? Is it better news than what I’ve just heard cariño?”

“The first match I play is against you at Camp Nou!” You said excitedly.

Ona only groaned in response.

“I can’t wait to put a few goals past you as well” you said cheekily, as you heard Ona chuckle.

“You wish amor, at least being with me will soothe the sting of your loss against us”

“I’m sure being with you will just be a bonus when we win babe” you replied whilst yawning.

“Are you tired? Go to sleep amor.” Ona said.

“Mhm, I will speak to you in the morning?”

“Sí, buenes noches cariño.”

“Night Oni” you said before hanging up the call.

———

Your signing to Real Madrid was successful, although you were sad to leave your City teammates behind, you were looking forward to playing against your girlfriend again.

As much as your girlfriend hated any colour on you apart from red and blue, she had to admit that the white and gold looked good on you, Alexia had given her a firm warning to not let your relationship affect the game, but Ona didn’t need to hear it. There was no way she was letting you win.

———

The game was intense and Barcelona were already 2 goals up thanks to Aitana and Caro, you came on in the 60th minute, returning from a minor muscle injury, ready to make a difference.

The first goal for Real Madrid came from you after only a few minutes on the pitch. Barcelona’s defence were playing high, leaving you able to get past Ona and Ingrid, and then shoot from just outside the box into the top left corner of the net.

Whilst celebrating with your teammates, you caught eyes of your girlfriend, sending her a subtle wink and a smirk, and she returned with a scoff and a shake of her head.

She could not let you past her again.

In the 80th minute, Olga passed the ball to you allowing you to begin running up the wing, however as you were about to send a cross into the box, your legs were swept from under you, your head hitting the ground leaving a ringing in your ears.

Your ankle ached, and the harsh shrill of the whistle only worsened your growing headache.

“Come on amor, get up for me por favor.” You rolled onto your back to reveal Ona stood above you, worry evident all over her face, until in contorted to one of guilt for hurting you.

However at seeing your girlfriend you forgot all about the foul she just committed on you, and instead sent her a toothy grin, which she chuckled at, before helping you up and whispering a quick apology into your ear.

Ona accepted her yellow-card graciously, and you were awarded with a free kick, which you stepped up to take.

The free kick went just where you wanted it, and immediately found the head of Caicedo, to which she slotted it into the bottom corner, running straight to you to celebrate.

With Barcelona’s recent winnings, the evened out score was unexpected, and it was obvious that many Barça players were getting annoyed, resulting in more dirtier challenges, mainly directed at you.

The game went on into extra time, the referee choosing to give 13 minutes, however it didn’t take long for you to help your team find the back of Barcelona’s net once again, nutmegging your fellow English teammate Lucy, and passing it to Raso, who was able to tap the ball into the goal to put Real Madrid in the lead.

After 4 more minutes of defending from your team, the final whistle blew.

3-2 to Real Madrid, in a sold out Camp Nou stadium.

The win was unexpected after the long list of defeats Madrid has had from Barça, as your teammates went to celebrate with fans, you instead sprinted to your girlfriend who was stood with a defeated look on her face whilst talking to Aitana, Lucy and Keira.

As much as you wanted to hug and pepper your girlfriend in kisses, the fans and cameras would catch it, so instead you settled on shaking her hand and politely asking for a jersey swap with her.

When you successfully retrieved your girlfriend’s jersey, you told her and the others ‘good game’ and told Ona you would meet her at her car, before running off to celebrate with fans.

After signing what seemed like the hundredth jersey, and taking the thousandth picture, you retreated back to the locker room, and got a quick shower before getting dressed.

Your teammates asked you to go to a bar in Barcelona with the Barça team, it was sweet how they all still wanted to celebrate with each other no matter the outcome of the game.

———

You got ready at Ona’s house after she drove the two of you there with a hand on your thigh the entire journey home.

After the two of you were ready, and after you had to push your girlfriend off you for the 8th time she tried to keep you home by attempting to persuade you with repeatedly shoving her tongue down your throat, you eventually got to the bar, only an hour late.

The adrenaline still coursing through your veins combined with the shots and drinks you had drank with your teammates, supplied you with the confidence to saunter over to your girlfriend, and sit down in her lap.

Most of the Barça team had chosen to lay of the drinks, they hadn’t won and so didn’t really feel like celebrating too heavily.

This meant that your sober girlfriend quickly noticed your tipsy state and laughed as you sent her a toothy grin, finding her lap very comfortable.

However, as your sweet pecks on her cheeks turned to you trying to now shove your tongue down her throat, the Spaniard was fast to push you back, leaving you pouting whilst waiting for her reason.

“Amor, people could see, remember?”

You replied with a huff and a simple “I don’t care!” And the continued your assault on her neck, to which she pulled you off her lap completely, leaving you whining at the loss of contact.

“Amor, not here!” Ona scolded playfully.

“I know places baby, no one would see!”

Ona only shook her head at your statement, she was not going to go any further than kissing whilst you weren’t 100% sober.

“We should probably get back, I want you to spend your last day tomorrow with me instead of hungover in bed amor”

As drunk as you were, you registered Ona’s words and agreed with her, so you let the brunette defender lead you to her car, as she took you back to hers.

———

You did not remember much from last night, your splitting headache and sore limbs only an indication of how much you had to drink last night before Ona took you home.

You reached for your phone, and were shocked to see thousands of notifications from instagram.

Opening the app, you only laughed in response to what you saw, the candid photo someone had taken was beautiful and captured the love both you and Ona felt for each other.

———

barcafanupdates

y/n yl/n and ona batlle spotted at bar in barcelona last night.

liked by user1, user2 and 68,783 others.

comments:

user1: they’re so cute together

user2: rivals?! I want this now!

user3: stop this is so funny- the fact they’ve only ever been on rival teams.

———

yourusername

although it was nice hidden, i guess it’s now time for the world to know your mine

tagged: onabatlle

comments:

onabatlle: amor, te amo ❤️

mapileon: I guess I can tolerate a *gag* Madrid player for Ona.

-> ingridengen: Mapi! Be nice.

user4: and they were rivals…

user5: them casually making out in a bar after Madrid defeated Barça is my Roman Empire 😭

———

[mead-iocre]

Our New Normal | Leah Williamson x Reader

Our New Normal (1/4)

“Okay girls. We’re starting in a bit. Everyone ready? 

You force your eyes away from the grinning blonde beside you, trying to smother your grin underneath your palm. It was media day and you were currently sat beside your teammate, best mate, and girlfriend– Leah. That was your new normal. These days, the social media team often choose to partner the both of you together for content because of the “natural chemistry” you both have; plus, the fans seem to echo the same thoughts– the proof lies in the large amount of views the videos of you two would get on the team’s Youtube channel. To those outside of the team, and your friends and family, most people only know the two of you to be really (really) good friends who happen to play for the same team. Those close to you know that the two of you have been dating for a little over a year now. 

You and Leah had first met playing for the England U17 team, instantly clicking and forming a friendship that was tested when you both ended up signing for different clubs. Leah signed her first senior contract with Arsenal; meanwhile, you had chosen to stick with the club that had offered you the best contract as a promising young talent– Manchester United. This meant that for a while, the only chance to meet up with the Arsenal defender was during match days where your teams played against each other, or during England camp. Memories of swapping roommate arrangements so you could room together, and early morning walks to catch the sunrise are some of your most treasured memories till this day. It was hard to say goodbye to the blonde after international break was over, but as they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. 

And that was very true in this case. 

In between late night conversations and good morning texts, and the frequent weekend getaways from Manchester to London whenever either of you had time to spare outside of football, it was hard not to fall for her.

You always knew athletes were your type– your childhood crushes were David Beckham and Marta– but it still surprised you when you came to the glaring realisation that you were in love with your best friend. There was a lot to love about her– from her calm and collected demeanour, her ability to make you laugh, the way she seems so wise beyond her years, her passion for the sport, and the way that she just gets you. Hand on your heart, you could wholeheartedly swear that no one else in this world understands you better than Leah.

That was why when your agent told you that Arsenal had put in an offer for your transfer last season, you did not hesitate to express your own interest in joining the club. Not only was Arsenal a dream club for a lot of other players considering it’s rich history in success in women’s footballl, but Leah was there too.

And speaking of Leah, you were adamant that Leah was not to know about your potential transfer to Arsenal. You did not want to risk disappointing the blonde if things did not work out the way you wanted them to. After all, football is unpredictable. 

A few weeks into the transfer window and you were already patting yourself on the back for how tight-lipped you’ve been about your next club– with offers coming from Chelsea and Lyon coming in and creating buzz on social media amongst fans and football journalists. Leah knew that your contract was up this summer, and being the nosy person that she is, she has been pestering and trying to get you to spill where you’ll be heading next. Not a day goes by where Leah isn’t slyly bringing up your transfer into one of your conversations.  

——————————————

“Twitter says you’ll be going to Lyon” You roll your eyes at the blonde in front of you. As usual, you had decided to spend your pre-season break in London, mainly to see Leah, but also so you and your agent can meet with a couple of people at Arsenal to further negotiate your potential transfer in person– which Leah obviously does not know about. 

You bring your mug up to your lips, hoping to hide the grin that was forming on your lips. Leah has recently started bringing up the transfer rumours that were making their rounds on social media, and every time you tried to brush them off, the blonde would grumble and moan about how you rude it was that you were keeping her in the dark. 

You came into town late last night and slept over in the guest room at Leah’s flat. She proudly pointed out the new dresser she bought a few weeks ago and told you that you can start leaving some of your clothes and stuff inside so that when you come over next time, you won’t have to bring so much. 

For a moment, you were worried she knew about the transfer. But then again, that was just Leah– thoughtful, sweet Leah. 

“Didn’t know Twitter was my agent now” You send her a cheeky smile over the rim of your coffee mug. Leah narrowed her eyes at you at your obvious attempt to ignore the real question. She reached up to adjust the grey beanie warming her head from the slight chill outside, fidgeting around to make sure her freshly cut bangs were still neatly tucked underneath the beanie. 

“So where are these rumours coming from then?” You watched her scowl down at her mug, avoiding your eyes, and instead picking at the brown napkin sitting by her saucer. She scrunched the napkin in her fist tightly, before smoothing it out again on the table with both her palms. She was nervous, you can tell. You wouldn’t have heard the next bit if she had said it any quieter. “Lyon is too far. don’t want you to be so far”

You put your mug down back and place your palm on top of Leah’s. It’s moments like this where you want to share the news of your potential transfer to her club, but you would hate to break her heart if it doesn't even up going through. You didn’t want to get her hopes up for nothing. You notice her palm is a bit cold so you inch forward in your seat, closer to the blonde in front of you, and hold her hand in both of yours. You rub and squeeze her hand, playfully bending down to blow warm air onto them, hoping to share some warmth with her. She gives you a small grin in return, keeping her hand snug in yours. 

“I can promise you, Lee, I’m not going to Lyon. I want to stay in the WSL” 

“I don’t understand why you won’t just tell me” Leah was stubborn, you knew this, but sometimes it astounds you just how determined she is to get her way.

“Because there is nothing to tell yet, Lee” You give her hands another rub, your thumb tracing the lines of her palm. Her hands were a lot warmer now thanks to them being cocooned in your own. “Louis said we are getting offers but we want to take our time and make the right choice– you know how he is about the transfer business.”

Maybe it’s the way she’s looking at you, or maybe it’s the way her hand fits nicely in yours, but you want to give her something that can ease her mind a bit. “I heard a few London clubs are interested and have put offers down…“ 

You were obviously talking about Arsenal, but the blonde didn’t know that. 

“Oh fuck off. It’s true then– Chelsea?” You wince slightly at the sudden increase in volume in her voice. From the corner of your eye you see a few customers turn their heads towards your table, probably cursing you both for ruining the peace and quiet inside the coffee shop. Leah attempts to tug her hand free from your grasp, but you don’t let her. “Shush, Lee. You’re being too bloody loud–” 

“Yeah well sorry about that, I just heard my best mate might be going to our biggest club rival”

You squeeze her hand in warning again when her voice continues to go beyond what was sociably acceptable on an early Sunday morning in a quiet cafe. Pretty blue eyes meet yours, eyebrows furrowed, lips slightly parted, ready to argue back against whatever comes next; the slight wrinkle in the middle of her forehead just begging to be smoothed out by your thumb, so you do exactly that. “stop frowning, Lee. Your whole face will get wrinkly” 

She moves her face away from your touch, annoyance clearly written all over her face. You can tell she was up to her limit with how secretive you were being because it’s never been like this between the two of you– you usually tell each other everything.

“Nah think ‘bout what I’d look like if you signed for Chelsea then! I wouldn’t even want to look at you anymore”

You frown at that. Ouch. You snatch your wrist out from her hold. “You don’t mean that–“

She must’ve seen the hurt on your face, because her gaze immediately softens and she shifts forward in her seat. “No, no of course not, baby”  

That was normal.

Leah was the kind of person who had nicknames for everyone close to her. It wasn’t unusual for her to slip in a term of endearment here and there, although you were certain it was purely platonic. That doesn’t stop your heart from skipping a beat every time you hear it directed at you.

Leah reaches out, grabs one of your hands and intertwines your fingers together. Her hands aren’t as cold anymore and they feel nice against your own. This is normal too. Leah might not seem like it to others, but she can be incredibly affectionate– or least with you she is. She loves to randomly grab your hand and hold it in hers during walks, she always wants to share your blanket during movie nights even if there are other blankets, she’ll tug you over so you can sit on her lap– saying something about “so there’s space for others to sit, baby”– and she’ll always kiss your cheek hello and goodbye. 

With the hand that’s not currently occupied with your own, she reaches out and gently nudges your chin up so your eyes meet. “Hey. I always want to see you. I was only jokin” 

She grins and winks at you before she continues with a sight pout on her lips. “I just really don’t want to see you in blue”

“Oi! I’d look good in blue, Williamson” You proclaim a little too loudly, jolting in your seat. You were far too caught up in your conversation with Leah to realise that this time it was you who was disrupting the quiet, even almost spilling your mug of coffee over from where it sits by your arm in the process. Leah notices and immediately goes to move your mug further away from you– just in case. 

“I know you already look good in blue, baby. Any shade of blue really. Just not Chelsea Blue”

——————————————

It’s weeks later, and the deal has finally been made. You were going to be a Gunner. Just like Leah. You had made another trip down to London, this time without seeing Leah, so you can shoot and film content for the announcement to go up on social media. Although there were a few reports online that listed Arsenal as a potential club for your next move, it was always overshadowed by fans and journalists wholeheartedly believing that you were off to Lyon all thanks to your agent’s cheeky media “leaks”. Once Leah caught wind of Arsenal’s interest in you, she apparently started pestering Jonas if there was any truth behind it. Luckily, you managed to convince him to play along with your secret and keep her in the dark. But that will all change soon. 

You spent a few hours at the Emirates taking photos with your new red and white kit, filming your first interview as a Gunner, and filming a few shorter videos for tiktok. Now that it’s official, the only thing going through your head was how you will tell your best friend. Obviously, you wanted to tell her before the rest of the world found out, but you didn’t know how. Eventually you decided that the simpler, the better. Although it’s a special occasion– the mere idea of being in the same team with Leah for both club and country is exciting– but it’s not a proposal or anything, so you don’t know why you were overthinking this. 

It only has to be you and Leah. That would be enough. 

(Pt. 2 coming soon!)

Our New Normal Pt. 2

my first fic on this site. pls be nice :)

-- kisses, butter.

*This work is my original creation. Please don’t copy, share, or translate it without asking for my permission first. Thanks for respecting that!

[gunnerfc]

Ellie Carpenter NSFW Alphabet (18+, Minors DNI!)

A: Aftercare

Ellie is usually the one who requires more aftercare after sex, but the times that she’s been the more dominant one, she’s so focused on how to help you calm down

B: Body Part (their favorite body part of themselves and their partner)

Ellie’s favorite body part is her actually her whole body, because no matter what she does, she’ll some sort of reaction from you

Her favorite of yours is your mouth (specifically your tongue)

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

There will be an intense makeout after one of you goes down on the other

D: Dirty Secret 

Would be open to a threesome depending on the person

E: Experience (Are they experienced? Do they know what they are doing?) 

Yes and no, she’s experienced but her previous partners weren’t as in tune with her and her body like you are so it feels like a brand-new experience

F: Favorite Position 

Your head between her legs with her legs wrapped tightly around your head/shoulders

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

It changes each time, but most times she’ll start a bit giggly and then get more serious as you go on

I: Intimacy (How intimate are they during the moment?)

Ellie’s intimacy is normally before sex because during sex she’s so focused on what you’re doing she sometimes forgets to be intimate unless you’ve been apart

J: Jack off (Masturbation HC)

Ellie doesn’t care, if either of needs to get off and the other isnt around then go for it!

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks) 

Temperature play with ice, it drives her crazy

L: Location (Favorite place to have sex)

Ellie is a big fan of shower sex so any shower is fine with her (but she also doesn’t care about the place if it means you pleasuring her)

M: Motivation (What turns them on?) 

Seeing you all sweaty after a game or training which almost always leads to shower sex

N: No (Something they wouldn't do)

Ellie doesn’t like having her body tied up, she wants to always be able to touch you

O: Oral (Preference on giving or receiving)

Receiving!

P: Pace (Fast & Rough? Slow & Sensual?) 

Depends on the mood, most times it’s fast and rough but sometimes if you’ve been apart for a long period of time it’s slower and more intimate

Q: Quickie (Thoughts on quickies) 

Enjoys them! Mostly happens right before you leave the house or after a game/training in the shower

R: Risk (Are they open to experimenting) 

Yes and no, Ellie is open to some ideas but not everything but as long as you two talk about it then she may consider something she didnt before

S: Stamina (How many rounds) 

Many rounds, She has so much energy and sex is a good way to tire her out

T: Toys 

You have some but they don’t get used super often because Ellie prefers you using your mouth/fingers to make her cum

U: Unfair (Do they like the tease)

She doesn’t really tease you, she does outside of the bedroom but in the bedroom, she’s on the receiving end of the teasing

V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make) 

Ellie is very loud, you have gotten a noise complaint before which made her embarrassed and a little turned on at the thought that she was that loud

W: Wild Card (Random HC)

After you received the noise complaint from a neighbor, Ellie was less embarrassed than you were and the next time you two had sex she made a comment about “trying for two” which didn’t happen but she obviously still enjoyed herself that night

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

It’s pretty high, will defiantly have a lot of sex whenever you can

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

If she’s been on the receiving end for most of the night, she’ll fall asleep pretty quickly

[slytherinn-xo]

Swim Tryouts at 7:30- Danielle Van De Donk

Danielle Van De Donk X USWNT Player! Lyon Player! Reader

Synopsis: When Daan has football at 7:00 and swimming practice at 7:30, while at the world cup.

851 words

Being a US player that plays outside of the US is rare, like extremely rare, but being the only one to have never played in the NWSL, now that's rare. 

I was born in the USA, raised in Memphis Tennessee, but when I was 14, I moved away to Germany as that's my father's home country. When I spent the next three years before I started off my career in the German Women's top League.

I've played for four leagues, now, starting off my career in the German League with Bayern Munich in 2017 for just one season. Getting to play with the greats over there, learning so much from Frido, Sara Dabritz, Jill Roord, Leupolz, and Leah Galton.

Before I signed with Arsenal in 2018, for the next three seasons, until 2021. Where we won the WSL title once, in my first season.

Which was where I met Daan, I fell in love to say the least. But she was already in love, with Beth Mead, so I watched on from the side lines, like I was waiting to be subbed on now.

But she was my best friend, it was her, me, Viv and Jill when she finally came and joined us. The Dutchies and the American.

But they were my family.  

And then I moved to play for Barcelona for just one season after they won the Champions League in 2021 til 2022. Before I moved, and I got the chance to be with the girl I was in love with. 

Daan. 

So I joined in 2022, which was where we reconnected, and to say we both fell in love was the truth. We've been dating now for 10 months, and we do hide it, but we don't at the same time. 

We're private people but not a secret.

So facing here now in the group stages of the Women's World Cup, it was hard. 

But with less than 3 minutes to go of extra time was on the clock, and I turned back after the whistle was blown. 

I just saw an orange shirt on the floor. "Who is it?" I asked Lindsay, my Lyon teammate, as I couldn't read from that far away. Well that and I'm dyslexic and can barely read myself.  

"Daan." She muttered before I ran over to my girlfriend. I couldn't hide all of this, I was scared, my girlfriend is on the floor not bloody well moving. 

"Schatje." I told Daan standing by her as she was led on the floor not moving, crouching by her as I had my hand on her shoulder. 

"Poepie." Daan muttered back to me. 

"Not that name." I told her with a smile, that was one good sign she could still understand me and knew who we were around her. 

When the Dutch medics made their way over to Daan you saw the first showings of blood slowly coming out of her hair, but you had no idea how much there would be under there. 

I wasn't given a choice but to move away from her as the Dutch staff moved me out of their way, pushing me back away from my girlfriend. 

"No, stay!" Daan told me as she locked eyes with me, trying to reach her hands out to grasp onto me. 

"I'm right here." I told her as I kept eyes with her. 

I watched as they placed some gauze over her wound, before just placing a swimming cap over it. 

I laughed at her. 

"Not a word!" Daan told me, pointing that finger at me, wagging it at my face. 

"You look like you've got swimming practice in half an hour." I told her with a smile. 

"Oh shut up." Daan told me as she stood up. 

"Make me!" I told her walking away from her backwards as she was escorted of the pitch before she could return to play. 

~~

"Are you two doing okay, it looked rough on the pitch?" The interviewer switched to English seeing me walk up to Daan, and I stood a bit behind my small gal. 

"The best players are always the most competitive." I told the interviewer as I interrupted Daan's interview. 

"Best friends?" The interviewer asked us both, as my arm was around Daan's shoulders but Daan's was holding onto my waist. 

"The best." Daan answered like clockwork for us, squeezing my waist twice, doing our code, for when we wish we could say our feelings. 

"Go get that checked out properly." I told Daan raising one eyebrow up at her, as she nodded, looking deep into my eyes. 

"I will, ik houd van je." Daan told me, trying to politely kick me out of the interview. 

"Ik houd van je." I told her back quickly kissing her before walking off to Lindsay who was gasping at my actions, before I froze. 

"You didn't mean to do that?" Daan asked me. 

"No I didn't!" I said shaking my head, before running back to kiss Daan one last time before running away back to Lindsay as we were both bright red in the face now. 

[evagaetinosgirl]

red looks good on you [e.de almeida x reader]

prompt: you find it hot when elisa gets angry on the pitch

author notes: been missing writing for my babygirl elisa 🥳 she's injured right now, so this is me trying to get over the fact she isn't playing with psg right now. enjoy it!

word of the fic: "anger" chosen by the loml @moonystoes

there are mainly two types of players. some are more clean and try their best not to foul anyone. while others are more aggressive. finding joy in not only fouling, but tackling and even obviously yellow card offenses on the pitch. elisa was definitely the second. the french woman had no problem pushing, colliding hard into, or taking the legs right under from her opponent. it was a part of the fun of the game and a way for her to be over competitive.

you didn't mind seeing elisa act like this on the pitch. it's entertaining, that's why she has so many fans. you often tag along with the paris saint germain feminines team when you weren't in classes. living the wag life was fun and you have gotten close to almost all of the girls on the team expect for a certain blonde.

however, sometimes elisa went too far. she would get so angry, her play would get aggressive enough that it showed she obviously didn't care if a red card was put up by the ref directed at her. you knew in the back of your mind when you see elisa starting to push a player a little too much you should disapprove; knowing damn well that if some other player was doing that to elisa, you would not like it. at the same time, can you really be blamed for finding it attractive when her aggressiveness is ramped up.

it's not your fault you have double standards. blame the attractive woman you call your girlfriend.

it's around the 71st minute in the match against lyon. the game has been intense since the first minute with the two clubs being huge rivals in the french women league. players on either side were getting desperate to break the 2-2 deadlock that was going on. sakina has been working particularly hard, but she just keep losing the ball. you remind yourself to buy her some cookies after the match for her efforts.

all the psg players on the pitch are trying to absolute hardest to beat the other french soccer giant. your eyes are glued to elisa as she passes the ball to chawinga who almost gets the ball into the back of the net, but one of lyon's players come in at the last minute. kicking the ball and causing it to fly away from the net. you can tell that elisa is getting more frustrated as the minutes passed. lyon was letting up and she didn't plan to either. putting on the hardest defense she could manage. the expression on her face along with how tense she looked already told you everything you need to know; elisa was about to snap if something happened.

and something did. as elisa was running to stop a ball coming near the psg's goal, she collides with danielle. sending both her and the smaller woman to the ground. danielle is able to stand up quicker than elisa, already ready to shout.

"watch where you're going!" the dutch player shouts out after elisa stands and comes close. elisa looks down at danielle, just narrowing her eyes. the ref quickly comes over to defuse the situation, but the moment danielle pushes elisa, it all goes to hell.

elisa is quick to push her back, sending danielle to the ground. her lyon teammates rush over to defend their teammate. ellie helping danielle up and pulling away from the small crowd of players. it only takes two minutes for sakina to reach elisa from where she was on the pitch. holding onto her as the french player glares over at danielle.

the ref doesn't even lecture elisa before holding up a yellow card. pointing at danielle before pointing at elisa; neither of them were about to walk off scoot free. then the game is allowed to continue on.

it seemed like the situation was put behind everyone as the players put more attention towards trying to score in the last ten minutes of the game. however, you can tell from a far that elisa wasn't over it. this is confirmed when elisa takes selma's feet right from up under her after selma tried to foul eva. was elisa's action out of self defense of her teammate or just her trying to get out some annoyance? we'll never know.

when the ref comes over to hold up a yellow card then a red, elisa acts clueless. throwing her hands up as if she's confused on why the ref is going after her. the rest of the psg players run over to elisa's defense, but it's no use. she walks off of the pitch and into the tunnel so she could go straight to the locker room; ignoring the psg coach who was trying to offer her water.

you just sit back and sip on your drink, watching the rest of the match unfold.

lyon wins with a late goal in the 87th minute, making the score 3-2. the fans in the crowd were not happy and you couldn't agree anymore, but nonetheless lyon came out on top.

you wait for the fans in the stadium to clear out before making your way into the tunnel. not even having to go into the psg locker room as elisa is standing right next to the door. she's leaning against the wall, her usual taper fade is slightly wet. after being sent off, elisa must have showered to cool off her anger.

"i know what you're going to say," she says, leaning off of the wall to pull you close. nuzzling her face into your neck.

"what?"

"that i should control my anger and that i costed my team the game?" she mumbles into your neck. you chuckle before kissing the side of her head.

"i'm your girlfriend not a soccer critic, babes," you say. your words make elisa giggle. she pulls away slightly to look at you. a smug smile on her lips.

"so..?" she says. you roll your eyes at how quickly her emotions can flip; finding that smile on her lips annoying but very attractive.

"so?" you say back to her

"so.. what do you think about it?"

"i thought it was pretty hot," you pull her closer by the collar of her shirt. giggling once you two's noses bump against each other. "yeah?" she says. you don't reply, just pulling her into a kiss.

the kiss only lasts for so long when sakina pops her head out of the locker room. scrunching her nose once she sees what you two are doing.

"have some public decency," she says before rolling her eyes, "elisa come get your cleats off my bag."

elisa pouts at having to stop kissing you, but still what sakina says goes so she pulls away. dragging you along with her into the locker room after sakina.

© thinkingaboutjaedyn

[adascore]

The Golden War

pairings: alexia putellas x lyonnais!reader

warnings: swearing. for culers the ‘22 uwcl final ig. jona is kinda mean in this.

author’s note: this is the same reader from my ‘one for the money, two for the show’ fic of the lionesses!captain. reader is basically ada hegerberg lolsies :) will be turned into a series.

masterlist

•••••

Turin, Italy - May, 2022

''The final has been dubbed as a duel between you and Alexia Putellas, do you experience it as that?''

The Lyon captain fought the urge to roll her eyes at the question, despite having expected it. ''It is a final between Barcelona and Lyon, nothing more than that.'' She answered, diplomatically- the way they had rehearsed it.

''Lyon is the underdog coming into this final- FC Barcelona has been unbeatable so far. What do you need to do in order to beat them tomorrow?'' Another reporter asked, a pen ready in his hand to take notes.

There was a slight change in her expression as the question left his lips, the man succeeding in poking through her stoic expression. ''Well, we have never lost to Barcelona- I don't know if you remember 3 years ago or even last year,''

Lyon had comfortably beaten the Spanish club in 2019. In that Champions League Final, Y/N had become the first player to score a hattrick in a UWCL final. Their last meeting had been in 2021, in the pre-season, where Lyon had won 3-2, the Lyon captain again putting one in the net.

''We have won this competition many times. There was football before Barcelona, and it was being played by us.''

Her last sentence of the quote had struck a nerve with the Barça captain.

''She acts like she has already won the whole thing.'' Alexia remarked as she read a transcript of the press conference.

Patri and Mapi glanced at one another, a knowing look in their eyes. ''Technically, there is nothing wrong about what she said, Ale. How many times has she won this competition now? 6? 7?'' The defender said, not having a problem with the opposition's words.

''She's just pissed that everyone is talking about us now.'' She ignored Mapi, continuing berating her opponent.

The rivalry between the captains of the two top teams had been something made up by the media, seeking a female counterpart to the famed Ronaldo-Messi rivalry. Both Alexia and Y/N led Europe's premier clubs, won the Champions League, captained their national teams, and earned the Ballon d'Or. This fueled incessant comparisons.

Alexia and Y/N hadn't given it much thought at first. There were also many differences between them; Alexia is a midfielder, while Y/N is a striker. Despite their similar ages, their careers took diverse paths. Alexia remained in the Spanish league, while Y/N gained experience across various countries.

Over time, an unexpected shift occurred. They began caring about each other's achievements. Yet, they knew the comparison wasn't fair.

Despite being younger, Y/N dominated women's football for longer, winning the Champions League seven times – twice with Wolfsburg and five times with Lyon. In contrast, Alexia secured one with Barcelona. Neither had won anything major with their national teams, though she had come close with England a few times. Furthermore, on the accolades side of things, Y/N led with a repertoire that most players could only dream of.

For a long time, it hadn't bothered Alexia. She had watched in admiration as the younger player became the first recipient of the Ballon d'Or, a huge step in women's football. Y/N's advocacy for the sport also didn't escape the Spanish player.

However, her admiration had turned into envy.

The turning point came in the 2019 final against Lyon. She had observed the way the English striker had celebrated with her entire team- how the Lyon squad immediately ran to her once the whistle blew and how Y/N bathed in all the (rightly deserved) glory. Alexia wanted that for herself. For years, Y/N had been the nail in Barcelona's coffin, scoring the goals that made sure they couldn't continue in the competition- in the captain's opinion, the striker had made a joke of her team for years, even if she didn't meant to do that.

Their interactions over the years were limited to polite handshakes before or after matches. Occasional encounters outside the pitch were rare and brief, seldom extending beyond a few sentences.

Alexia's surprise peaked when Y/N congratulated her on winning the Ballon d'Or through both private and public Instagram messages. Despite her reservations about comparisons and rivalry, receiving praise from someone she admired as one of the best in the game left Alexia with a positive feeling.

''No, I think she's just not a fan of being referred to as an underdog.'' Patri defended the Lyon striker.

This explanation didn't sit well with Alexia, evident from the displeasure on her face. ''Whatever,'' she retorted, looking forward to settling matters on the field that Saturday.

Saturday, May 21, 2022

Excitement, adrenaline, nerves, and tension permeated the tunnel of Juventus Stadium as Alexia, tightly gripping her pennant, stood at the front of her lined-up team, awaiting the opposing captain.

The sudden hush among the Barcelona team signaled the arrival of their counterpart. Turning around, Alexia frowned at her teammates' fascination with the approaching striker.

This is not the time to be fangirling, she thought to herself, as she saw most of her players' eyes following the striker's figure.

As the two top players faced each other, uncertainty lingered about whether they should exchange greetings. Y/N broke the silence, deciding to offer some acknowledgment. ''Hey, you alright?'' Her charming English accent filled the air.

''Yeah, and you?'' Alexia almost cringed at her own quick response, not giving her brain time to think.

''I‘ll see in about 90 minutes.'' The younger one grinned.

I'll wipe that smirk off your fucking face, Alexia said in her mind, not a fan of the confidence the striker was oozing.

Ten minutes later, the referee blew the whistle, signaling the start of the highly-anticipated final.

Lyon applied intense pressure right from the start, managing to create two goal-scoring opportunities within the first three minutes of the match.

However, the audience were offered their first initial glimpse of the rivalry in the 6th minute of the game.

Y/N positioned herself strategically, eyes fixed on her teammate readying a precise pass to her. The ball zipped across the pitch, and in a heartbeat, both Y/N and Alexia were locked onto winning it for themselves.

The striker, a master of timing, surged forward. Simultaneously, the midfielder closed in on the target. The collision was inevitable.

Both players fell with a thud, groaning at the contact with the ground. Despite the force of the clash, they both showed resilience as they wanted to use the momentum to their advantage.

They were momentarily entangled, fighting for control of the ball. It was a brief display of the rivalry that had brewed between them.

Y/N rose swiftly from the turf, eyes filled with determination. The collision had only fueled her competitive fire. With the ball firmly at her feet, she accelerated away from the mess, leaving Alexia behind.

The crowd erupted in gasps and cheers as Y/N, now in open space, scanned the field. Seizing the opportunity, she unleashed a powerful strike from well outside the box.

Time seemed to slow as the ball sailed towards the goal. Panos's desperate dive was in vain as the ball found the back of the net. The roar of the crowd echoed through the stadium, a symphony of cheers and applause for a goal that showcased the skills and spirit of the Lyon captain.

A fleeting scowl crossed Alexia's face, frustrated at the missed opportunity.

Y/N turned on her heels as the net rippled, ready to embrace her teammates who were rushing to her.

''Vamos!'' She roared, the Spanish word escaping her lips like a battle cry.

Yet, she found herself face-to-face not with the familiar sight of Lyon jerseys but with the intensity of Alexia's determined gaze.

Her expression froze for a quick second, confusion adorning her features. Y/N's eyes widened in realization, and for a brief instant, the two captains locked eyes in an unspoken exchange.

The celebration continued around them, teammates engulfing Y/N as they screamed with delight at their captain's prolific opener. The air was filled with jubilation, but within the chaos, the tension lingered between the two captains, adding an intriguing layer to the unfolding drama on the pitch.

The match unfolded further, Barcelona grabbing a few opportunities of their own, but not being clinical enough to score an equalizer. The Spanish squad remained calm, showing no signs of panic in their play, despite being behind.

Selma and Melvine played a great one-two with each other, and the young defender shot a beautiful cross towards the box. Anticipating the trajectory of the ball, Y/N skillfully pulled away from Leon, who undoubtedly had the impossible task of marking the striker.

The ball connected with Y/N's forehead, falling perfectly into the mesh. The scoreboard illuminated with Lyon 2, Barcelona 0. The narrative had shifted as the favorites stomped the ground in frustration, while the ''underdogs'' celebrated another goal from their captain.

The first half flew by. Y/N managed to assist Catarina to make it 3-0, but Alexia found the back of the net to get one back.

3-1.

The second half saw more scoring opportunities for Barcelona, but no one managed to finish the job.

After contact with Martens, Griedge cited experiencing a cramp and asked for treatment- a request that the Barcelona side was not having. Y/N, understanding the frustration of time-wasting, especially when behind in a match, stood aside.

However, the Lyon captain didn't appreciate the scolding she received from the opposition's coach. ''Tell your player to stop the comedy, what a shit job!'' Jonatan exclaimed to the English captain, who observed the scene from the sideline.

Y/N didn't budge, paying him no attention, knowing it was all tactics. She gave an unimpressed look toward the referee, who had been observing the one-sided interaction.

The official ran up to them, pulling a yellow card from her pocket and holding it in front of the manager. ''Step back, please. Don't talk to the opposition.'' she instructed him.

The match eventually resumed. In extra time, Paredes almost managed to pull off a header, but it went flying over the post.

In the last minute of the game, Y/N teamed up with Eugénie to score a last-minute beauty, but the volley slammed against the post.

The piercing sound of the referee's whistle resonated through the stadium, marking the conclusion of the final. Lyon emerged triumphant for a record-extending 8th time.

Overwhelmed by her own emotions, Y/N fell to the ground as the whistle echoed in her ears. It didn't take too long for her teammates to rush up to her, colliding in a chaos of hugs, kisses, and jubilant shouts.

They had done it again, proving once more why all the records were tied to their name.

''Y/N, you're a fucking legend!'' Lindsey yelled in her ear, kissing her cheek multiple times.

As her teammates slowly got up from their celebratory cuddle with the ground, they formed a protective circle around their captain. Hands reached out to help her rise from the grass, and she found herself enveloped in a symphony of gratitude.

Eventually, she shook off her glorious daze, a wide grin etched on her face.

Y/N turned her attention to the defeated Barcelona players, spread out across the field with tears and disappointment staining their cheeks. She approached them, offering a helping hand to those still on the ground and sharing comforting words. Acknowledging the effort they had brought, she assured them that they gave her team a greater fight than the scoreline implied.

Before the Lyon squad embarked on their victory lap to greet the traveling supporters, Y/N's gaze fell on a heartbreaking scene. Across the field, the Spanish captain, Alexia, was cradled in a comforting embrace by a Barcelona staff member as tears streamed down her face.

Y/N hesitated, caught in a ''should I or shouldn't I'' moment with herself.

She chose to make an attempt to resolve whatever tension had built up between them.

Tears glistened on Alexia's cheeks, a testament to the intensity of the match and the dreams left unfulfilled. The Barcelona staff member, offering solace in the face of defeat, glanced up as Y/N approached, and let go of her.

''Alexia,'' Y/N greeted her softly, putting her arm around the Spaniard, ''thank you for the great battle.'' She hadn't prepared what to say, because what do you say against someone you feel like you are supposed to hate? What do you say against someone you've been constantly compared to for over a year?

To the striker's surprise, Alexia reciprocated, feeling an arm on her lower-back. ''Congratulations, you deserved the win. You played phenomenal.'' The midfielder told her, a forced yet genuine small smile making a way onto her face.

''Don't let this hurt you. You are literally one of the best players I have played against- your team is amazing. Use this, like in 2019.'' Y/N advised her, not particularly caring if the opposing player would take it or not.

''We will. I hope we can play many more finals. You make me- you make us grow.'' Alexia stuttered.

Y/N nodded. ''I hope so too. It's been fascinating to see the growth you guys have made these last years.''

The stadium now bore witness to a quieter exchange between the two captains. Almost every camera lens and watchful eye fixated on them.

As Y/N and Alexia exchanged words of mutual respect, their moment of shared understanding was abruptly disrupted by the Barcelona coach.

''Congratulations on the win, Y/N.'' He acknowledged briskly, his gaze quickly turning toward Alexia. His extended hand to her seemed more like a formality, but Y/N accepted it.

Almost forcibly, he placed a hand on Alexia's shoulder, a non-verbal cue that spoke volumes. ''Come on.'' He declared, his tone leaving little room for negotiation and they were off to wherever he needed her to be.

Alexia casted an immediate glance back at Y/N, a mix of emotions played across her face- gratitude for the moment, and frustration at its abrupt end. She hadn't responded to her words yet.

As the Spaniard was led away, Y/N's eyes lingered on the departing figure, a tinge of melancholy in her gaze.

The brief encounter had sparked a momentary connection- a bridge attempting to break through the perceived rivalry and show praise for a strong opponent. However, Jonatan's swift intervention acted like a pair of scissors, cutting through the threads that held that connection.

In Y/N's mind, Alexia had seemed appreciative of the opportunity to have a genuine conversation. She figured there must have been a good reason for her to have been pulled away like that, especially by the head coach.

The Barcelona captain had reacted with a hint of irritation when her coach suggested to the Lyon player to remove her arm from Alexia's shoulder. She tried asking Jonatan why he had coaxed her away, but she didn't receive a proper answer.

The whole thing had left a bitter taste in her mouth. The potential for a more extended, sincere exchange was cut short, leaving Alexia with lingering frustration. There was a desire to understand Y/N beyond the competition, but it was cut short.

She hoped her last glance had worked as a silent acknowledgment of what could have been.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Award II

Alexia Putellas x Hardersson!Reader

Aitana Bonmatí x Hardersson!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You are finally rewarded for being the best

You don't play football for the fame.

You've never played football for fame or money or awards.

You play football because you love it.

It's been apart of your life for as long as you can remember. Your parents still have your first Wolfsburg kit, back when you were a baby and couldn't do anything but cry.

The fame, the money, the trophies all just came along with the sport you love.

The responsibility of carrying your country and your club doesn't weigh on you much, not when you have such passion for the game and your teams.

The first time you felt such responsibility was on your youth team, captaining them to a successful Under-17 Euros. Then, the responsibility was back at Barcelona. You were made the third captain after half a season back from your loan to Lyon.

When you left, the responsibility stayed, being made the sole captain for your country. You've spent a year at Wolfsburg now, the club of your childhood, and the band for your club wraps around your arm in preparation for next season.

Denmark Youth Captain.

Barcelona Third Captain.

Sweden Senior Captain.

Wolfsburg First Captain.

You didn't play football to become a leader but somehow you've become one, moving from yelling orders from your defence to yelling orders at the whole team.

You are an expert keeper. You always have been.

People around you say you've made your mark on the game and you haven't even retired yet. People look at you for what a keeper should be, for how a leader should act.

(People whisper that all keepers coming up the ranks now try to mimic your style, your natural instinct and abilities).

It's only inevitable that you have the trophy cabinet to back up your skill.

Two World Cups sit in your cabinet. Two Golden Gloves as well.

Multiple Keeper of the Year trophies.

An Olympic medal.

A Euros medal.

And then awards for at club level too.

Liga F, Copa de la Reina and Supercopa sit in the apartment you used to share with Natalia with a Première Ligue and Coupe de France medal too.

Your Champion's League medals sit with Natalia's on the wall.

Everything you won at Linköping and Arsenal are at home in Sweden whilst your most recent Bundesliga and DFB-Pokal medals are at your apartment in Germany.

You are the greatest goalkeeper playing in the women's leagues at the moment and, while you cannot see it, everyone else knows it.

You've come to the ceremony to eat some of the bar food and maybe see some of your old Lyon teammates.

Talia has come to the ceremony to see you make history.

Alexia and Aitana are the ones presenting the award and just from the way they're smiling, Talia knows the result.

You've been ranked highly ever since your first nomination. That time, you'd ranked eleventh. Every time after that, you've finished in the top ten.

Your name is called and the world stops.

You suck in a breath, frozen in your seat like you're in the Champion's League final with only a one goal lead and the other team advancing on your goal with lethal efficiency.

You don't know what to do. You don't know what to say.

Your wife allows your tuck your head into her neck, not flinching as your tears drip down onto her suit blazer.

"It's okay, baby," Talia says to you," You deserve this so much."

She helps you to your feet, hiding your face as you wipe your tears where cameras can't see.

You force yourself to walk up the stairs to the stage without stumbling. You suck in a breath.

There it is.

The most prestigious award in football.

It was a few years ago now that Talia won hers. She'd had a standout season during her first as Barcelona's captain. She was lethal on goal for club and country.

There was never any doubt it would be here.

That's the way it always is.

Everyone always expects a striker or a midfielder. Sometimes, it's a defender. It's never been a keeper though, at least for the women's.

Second goalkeeper in history.

First female goalkeeper in history.

Aitana is the one nearest to you.

You're taller than her by a lot, towering over her but she still hugs you like you were little, like you were still the little girl she met when hunting down Pernille's shirt.

One of her hands comes up to cup your cheek.

"You've grown up," She says and you force yourself not to cry," You're so big now."

Alexia is next. You last saw her a few weeks ago when you came back to Spain for the weekend and attended one of Talia's games. Alexia made you come down from the stands and asked about Wolfsburg and how your season was going.

She was all business then and you'd been as vague as possible, in case she remembered something that could be used against you during the next rounds of the Champion's League.

But now, there's no hint of professionalism in her eyes as she pulls you into a hug.

"I told you," She whispers," I told you that you'd get this one day. Remember this feeling, okay? There's nothing better in the world. There's no one better in the world."

She pulls away and hands you the award.

You turn to the cameras, to the audience all on their feet clapping you.

You lift up your Ballon D'or for all to see.

[mrs-weasley-reid]

BUBBLEGUM BAIT

Aaron Hotchner x undercoveragent!reader

Sypnosis: Aaron goes undercover to rescue you. Turns out, you were already planning your escape. WARNING: curse words, violence, sexual advances, and innuendos (and more, tell me if you spot them) A/N: this is my first Aaron Hotchner post, have mercy lol.

Derek whistled, a mischievous grin plastered on his face. "Old money, hot daddy."

Emily burst out laughing, throwing her head back against her seat. David gave his best—he really didn't—to fight the chuckle threatening to rattle out of him, settling for a tight-lipped smirk.

"I was going to say that!" Penelope argued, turning to Hotch with a huge grin on her face. "Them ladies are 'bout to get an extremely Hotch meal."

Aaron depressingly placed a hand over his forehead, weighing all his options and regretting all his decisions. His ears glowed bright pink.

It wasn't like he had never worn a suit before, but this suit wasn't particularly the same as the ones he wore every day. This one smelled strong and titillating, radiating opulence and grandeur.

His hair was out of control as if he was a rabid man. The cologne that laced on the sides of his neck was reminiscent of asshole and arrogance. It would've been fine if he was still in college, but he was four decades into his lifetime, for Pete's sake.

He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder, turning to find the culprit of his demise. "You don't have to do this, Agent Hotchner." The woman with salt and pepper hair gave him an apologetic look.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"We're still working on identifying the victim. It's like she never lived here." Penelope stated as she pressed a button on the remote control.

"That's because she didn't." They all turned to find a woman in her sixties, accompanied by a younger man half her age. She stepped inside the conference room, "Jeanne Renaud, chief of the Lyon Interpol Headquarters."

Aaron stood up, offering a hand. "Aaron Hotchner." He gave her a curt nod. "I didn't get any notice about your arrival. We're unfortunately about to work on a case."

A tight-lipped smile ran along her lips, motioning for the man behind her.

The man began to distribute folders around the table just as she started to speak once more.

"The victim is Liliane Zairsev. She's from Paris and a suspected victim of sex trafficking. A month ago, we found out that this organization was moving here to America. One of us was tasked to work undercover. We haven't heard from that agent in a week. Three days later, we heard the news about dead women who had the same victimology as the ones in the file Liam handed out." She breathed deeply, crossing her arms close to her chest.

"Thirty-two victims?" David raised an eyebrow. If three was a horrifying sign in their line of jobs, he couldn't imagine the terror of the number he just mentioned.

"We need our agent back, Agent Hotchner. We need your help." Jeanne pleaded, worry flickering in her eyes.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"The night starts with auctions. There are two types of categories, dine in or take out. We're not sure which one she's in. We don't even know if she really is there. No matter what, once you find her, fight for her worth." Liam explained, checking the wires that hung like vines around Aaron's body.

Aaron kept silent, running every possible outcome in his head. He wasn't new to auction events, but how would he show eagerness rather than desperation? How was he going to save you without everyone figuring out that he was a federal agent and possibly risking both of your lives?

Liam straightened himself, signaling to Aaron that he was done. "Dine in or take out. As long as you choose an exclusive package deal, they will grant you a private room. That's where they would possibly prepare her for—" He paused, clenching his jaw.

As your close friend, he wasn't comfortable talking about you in such disrespectful ways. But Liam knew how vital every single piece of information he gave Aaron was.

"—your pleasure... She will likely be sedated, but she fights like a lion. Just calm her down and get her out of that hell hole."

It didn't take a whole team of profilers to know that Jeanne and Liam didn't merely take this mission as part of their job. It was personal. It was family. You were their family, and they wanted you back.

"I'll get her back." Aaron promised, earning a nod from the younger man. He plugged the earbud that Liam handed him.

Everyone waited for Aaron in front of the building. Some of them, Penelope and Derek, have yet to fade their teasing smiles.

But JJ was the one who had an encouraging smile, "You look good." She said as she dusted the lapel over his shoulders. "Take her back home to her family."

David threw a set of keys in his direction, "Don't hurt her. She's the only wife that stayed for more than ten years."

Aaron let out a small chuckle, eyeing a 1984 black Cadillac Eldorado Biarritz convertible. "I'll bring her back by midnight." He got in the driver's seat, feeling the texture of the wheel.

If only David had the kindness to whip his vintage cars out every case, Aaron would've loosened up the lines on his forehead.

"Always remember, we're inside your head." Emily pointed at her ear, creepily grinning at him

"We'll be following you too, of course. We're going to surround the place, so don't hesitate to call us in." Derek added, chuckling at Emily's words.

Aaron nodded, taking a deep breath. Now or never.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

"Struggling will only make it hurt more." The man with sculpted arms growled, glowering at your smaller body compared to him.

Cuffs bit the skin around your wrists and ankles. Cold hovered all over your exposed skin. With the little amount of coverage on your body, naked was the closest you could describe yourself.

The man held you by the neck, treating you like an animal for exhibition. He was getting off your winces. How a small whimper would shiver out of your lips when he dragged you too fast. He thought he could do them to you just because you were sedated.

If he only knew how much you wanted to smash his face on the wall. But you had to keep an act.

Besides, that was all he could do. Watch. Because you were for other people to ogle at. For disgusting, cowardly men who couldn't make their wives cum, much less you, even if you tried.

You were a new addition to their attraction. Tonight was your first night. And you planned for it to be the last.

A woman who was trying her best to avoid eye contact with you walked the opposite way of where you were headed. She carried a tray, where a small letter knife sat seductively.

Half of her face was lined by a scar, dragging diagonally across her left temple down to her right cheek. Although the scar was visible, you couldn't help but notice how beautiful her eyes were. They were of bright grey-blue.

Without missing your chance, you purposely bumped into her, falling on your feet. "Sorry," You weakly smirked, swiping the knife in a blink of an eye.

"You fucking bitch! Look where you're going, you ugly shit!" The man shouted at the woman, kicking the tray in the middle of her picking it up.

You drilled in your head how many times you would apologize to her when you managed to escape the place and watch it crumble down during your arrest.

"It was my fault," You defended timidly. Despite the mental promise of keeping an act of being sedated, you couldn't just stand there and let her take all the blame.

The man glared at you and swung his arm. You prepared for the harsh impact, but another guy called out his name.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing? Are you fucking stupid?!" The other man yelled; he had blonde hair and an awful beard.

You took that chance to slip the knife on your back, strapped under your bra's band, hiding it beneath the cascade of your hair. You bit your bottom lip, your movement causing a slight sting to shoot down your spine. At least you were certain that the knife was sharp.

The blonde man yanked you to his side protectively, as if what he was about to do was going to be a god-like behavior. "She's a new attraction. No one would pay if she's damaged. A bruise would lose us thousands of dollars, you stupid fuck." He lectured the other, nudging you to move.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Aaron immediately felt dirty just by standing amongst the men that impatiently waited for some tits to jiggle or ass to bounce across the one-way mirror.

Each of them either held wads of cash or a glass of their chosen drinks. Most of them were wealthy nobodies, but Aaron recognized a few politicians from distant cities.

He lifted a glass close to his lips. Aaron has been catering the drink for a good two hours now, sipping little drops to keep himself sober and alert.

So far, he hasn't seen you. There just might be hope that you were simply in hiding but safe regardless. He has seen fifteen women being shown off like antiques, the men screaming for their high prices. If he could only buy all of them to safety, he would. But Aaron was there for you and you only.

"Gentlemen! Here's our special and last beauty of the night! She's new! Fresh! And untouched! She is available for dine in to the highest bidder!"

Aaron's grip on his glass tightened.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Jeanne slid a picture of you toward Aaron. "She's a brave one." Her breath hitched, fighting the urge to cry in front of profilers.

Your hair was tied up away from your face, revealing all your beautiful facial features. You were no doubt a gorgeous woman.

But besides your attractive face, Aaron's eyes were drawn to the gold necklace that sat on your chest. It was a gladiolus flower. A hidden smile spread over his lips.

It symbolizes strength and power. He immediately knew you were someone who always put up a fight.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Your hair almost hid the beauty of your face, but Aaron recognized the necklace around your neck even from afar. It was you.

"$20,000!"

"$50,000!"

"50! Anyone want to top that? What? I heard $80,000!"

"100,000 dollars!"

Aaron stared at your dagger, glaring eyes. He let a smirk twitch his lips.

You knew.

You knew where you were. You knew men were fighting for you. You knew. Which meant, you weren't sedated at all.

"Smart girl," He mumbled to himself before announcing, "Five billion."

The crowd went quiet. And if Aaron had been honest, he would've paid more because you were worth more.

Sadly, the bureau had a budget. He had to limit himself to 500 thousand and could move to 1 million if needed, but he'd explain his actions in the privacy of his office later on.

In that moment, he only needed to rescue you.

The announcer grinned maniacally, hitting the gavel against the sounding block. "One night dine in with this beauty, sold!"

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

You weren't sure what type of man was unlucky enough to buy your time tonight. You bet he wouldn't expect a violent woman like you.

In spite of your display earlier, you were now clothed with more fabric. Lace to be specific.

They made you change into a black lace set. The bra pushed up every tits you could offer. A cheeky underwear that made your ass rounder. A garter around your waist that hooked on your black stockings that hugged your thighs deliciously.

You moved the letter knife on your right thigh. Easy access under the short black satin nightgown. You were prepared for battle.

The door swung open and came in the blonde man who seemed to keep his eyes on you. "Sit on the chair." He demanded.

You internally protested but obliged. He placed back your handcuffs, bringing your wrists together. In his mind, there was no other way for you to escape but the door.

"This guy paid a lot for your time. Don't mess up. Or I'm going to make you regret it." He threatened before leaving the room.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

The payment process was crucial. Money was an immediate factor, and Aaron mentally apologized to David for using his card and for memorizing his bank account information.

They led him down a hall filled with private rooms. Pornographic noises echoed as they passed each door. Most were from men. And if the voice of a woman managed to vibrate across the walls, they were a plea to be let go.

Aaron swore his ears were bleeding with disgust.

"This will be your room, Sir. Enjoy." The man excitedly said. He leaned a little, placing a hand on the side of his mouth to hide the words he was about to say, "I say you get the best out of this one. Everyone's dying to get a taste."

He managed to hold his fists back, urging a smug smirk to roll over his lips. "Then, I suggest you don't disturb us," Aaron stated before watching the man nod and walk away.

Aaron held the knob with hesitation. He wasn't sure of what he was going to be met with. He took a deep breath and twisted the knob, pushing the door open.

There you were, sat on a chair, patiently waiting for him.

The image was to be treasured, but Aaron had to remind himself that he wasn't any similar to the men who frequented that place.

A spark flickered in your eyes. Your lips slowly curved onto a smirk. "Hey, old man." You started in a teasing tone. "You can't just stand there and keep the door open."

Aaron's eyebrows knitted, but closed the door nonetheless after checking that the coast was clear from listening ears. "I'm Aaron Hotchner—" You cut him off.

"Strip." You casually ordered, taking him by surprise.

He studied you for a moment, keeping his mouth from any type of noise. Were you sober? Was his first question.

"What are you? A cop? Fed? It's fine. It doesn't matter. Now, Aaron, strip. They're watching." Your head motioned towards the direction of the camera in the corner of the ceiling.

He took off his jacket and then began to undo his tie. "Fed. How did you know? We were thorough on my... disguise." Aaron couldn't believe he was referring to his appearance as a disguise.

You rolled your eyes, "A fine-looking man like you doesn't look the type to wear a wrinkly shirt. You're obviously wired." Your voice echoed in a matter-of-fact tone. "You took your first step with your left foot when you got inside the room, but it's clear to me that your dominant is your right. You have a gun. Which I think is pretty impractical. Come closer, you're here to fuck me, remember?" Your brows were raised, impatient for him to move.

Aaron would be lying if he said your words weren't affecting him. "You have a good eye." He stood before you, glowering down your face.

"Or you're just a bad undercover." You smirked, "What are you waiting for? Kiss me."

A silent huff escaped your lips when he froze. You stood up and began unbuttoning his shirt. "You're very quick to have cold feet, Agent Hotchner." The way his name rolled off your tongue was distracting.

"Hold my waist—" You swiftly grabbed his hands and placed them on your sides, "—once you have a character to play, you embody it. Because it'll get us both killed if you don't." You kissed a little of his exposed chest and looked up at him with a hairpin stuck between your lips. "Now, kiss me." You repeated in a muffled sound.

Aaron finally caught up with your plans. He leaned down and owned your lips, kissing the pin from you. With one hand, he took the pin and reattached your lips together as he began to unlock your cuffs from between your bodies.

You pulled him closer, tugging his belt loops. You led the two of you on the corner of the room, under the vision of the camera. And just as your back made contact with the wall, you felt your hands free.

You pulled away with a gasp of relief, "Thank god, I thought I had to fuck your brains out before you could even understand." You heaved, rotating your wrist to let the blood circulate once again.

Aaron looked away, "Sorry." He couldn't help but notice your closeness.

"Mhm, must be that old-fashioned you've been sipping like coffee."

His gaze shifted back to you. The taste might've been lingering on his lips, but the action he took? How did you know he was taking his time with his drink? Aaron would think that you're a profiler if he didn't know any better.

"You owe me a bubblegum," You exclaimed, pulling him back from his trance. "I prefer a proper old fashioned. Whoever made your drink was pitiful."

Aaron raised a brow, "I'll pay you a box of bubblegum just for that statement." His eyes were drawn to your purple wrists. "Did they hurt you?" He asked, fanning his breath on your skin.

"They wouldn't even if they wanted to. My beauty has never failed to save my ass." You chuckled, getting a whiff of his scent. Your nose crinkled, "Who made you wear that nasty cologne?"

He chuckled at your expression, "Jeanne."

Your face softened, nodding. "Makes sense. She has bad taste in men."

Aaron was having too much fun, when a voice echoed in his head.

"Hotch, are you there? If you don't answer, we're going to barge in."

He pressed the microphone, "We're fine."

"We?" Derek questioned from the other line.

Aaron told the team that he'd found you, using your first name with such gentleness in his voice. "We're about to make our way out." He announced, still flushed against you, caging you in his build.

"[Earlier, she was just 'the victim,' but now, you're on a first-name basis?" Emily teased, which Aaron rolled his eyes on.

Your brows knitted, confused by his expressions. While he busied himself chatting with whoever was speaking in his ear, you began climbing on him like he was a ladder.

You fished your knife and cut the wire of the camera. Aaron's height was a huge help for you to reach such a high place.

He helped you get down, gently holding your waist to guide you. "Don't tell me you were already planning to escape?" Aaron was filled with amusement.

"I was going to kill you if you weren't a fed." You shrugged, walking out of his body cage. You picked up his jacket from the floor, "Mind if I borrow this?"

"It doesn't suit me anyways," Aaron kidded, earning a soft smile from your still plumped lips.

"[Oh, really?]" Derek taunted in his ear. Snickers rang through the speaker, and Aaron was thankful that you couldn't hear anything.

You glanced back at him, "Tell your friends we're on our way out. They should meet us halfway. The guys outside are not skilled in combat, but they have guns. We'd be dead before they can even shout 'hallelujah' if they don't move now." You slipped your arms inside the sleeves of the jacket.

The jacket could almost swallow your whole body. You rolled the sleeves up a little, allowing yourself some movement. Aaron couldn't take his eyes off you. He loved the way his clothes looked way better on you, even if it wasn't his in the first place.

"Did you get that?" Aaron spoke to his ear, nodding when he got a confirmation. He glanced at you with a stern look, and you two would never admit the small tug on his lips. "Let's get you out of here."

You scoffed, "Your help is just a bonus. I'm saving myself out of this hell."

With silent agreement, you opened the door, immediately greeted by two men who were about to check on your state.

"Hey—"

You didn't give one of them a chance to finish shouting when you kicked the protrusion on his neck straight into the center of his throat.

Aaron's eyes widened. Did France Interpol really need the BAU's help? You definitely didn't look like you did.

You took the two men all by yourself, stepping on someone's back as you placed a hand on your hip. You stared at Aaron with disbelief. "You just gonna stand there?"

Before he could even respond, Aaron saw a man about to attack you from behind. He pulled you by the waist with one hand and punched the man with the other.

"You okay?" Aaron twisted his neck in your direction, hand still on your waist.

A wide grin swiped over your lips, adrenaline pumping through your veins. And your body moved like it was dancing to upbeat music.

The two of you fought your way out of the hallway. It made every second of waiting to escape worth it.

By the time the team met you, you and Aaron had beaten up about half of the men in the place, minus those who were merely guests.

— ✦ — ✦ ✦ — ✦ ✦ ✦

Jeanne attacked you with a tight embrace, cutting your air supply. "I'm so glad you're safe! Oh, mon dieu!"

Next came Liam, punching your arm. He offered a welcoming smile. "I told you to always keep your tracker with you." He scolded lightly.

"I did!" You reasoned, a playful smile over your face. "I swallowed it, but I didn't expect to shit it out and flush it down the toilet." If you were lying it would've been way easier, but you weren't.

The BAU team introduced themselves one by one. You flashed them the same sweet smile you had on your picture.

"Behavioral analysis unit..." You nodded in thought. "Sounds real." You added with a teasing smile.

Their eyes couldn't help but notice how Aaron's jacket still sat around your shoulders. They weren't so slick as they thought, "It's collateral." You lifted your shoulders.

They looked at you with narrowed eyes. A chuckle coming out of your lips, you motioned your head in Aaron's direction where he was talking to Jeanne and a short-haired, dirty blonde woman.

"He owes me," You announced playfully.

Spencer was the first to furrow his brows closer than it already was. Why would their boss owe you? Aaron saved you. If anything, you owe his unit chief.

"I can hear you judging me, Dr. Reid." You said without moving your gaze onto his. "Is that a side effect of being a genius?"

Emily's mouth flung open, "How'd you know he's a genius? He looks like one, right? Right?" She was friendlier than you had concluded.

You smiled, glancing at Spencer. "I've been an undercover for sixteen years. Reading someone became my second nature. I suspect it's the same for all of you since you can't stop knitting your brows as if you're reading a difficult textbook."

"Sixteen? How old are you?" Derek had a great estimation of your age; everyone did.

"She's thirty-six. So old, right?" Liam wrapped an arm around you, grinning.

"You started when you were twenty?" Spencer curiously asked. An underlying question in his mind. How?

You pursed your lips, a small pop echoing between all of you. "You know those movies where the character was raised to her parents' trophy?" They nodded simultaneously, like children eager for their mother's story. "My life was kind of like that." You explained carefully.

The others joined you, making short eye contact with Aaron. Jeanne stood next to you. "And we're sad that she's retiring." She announced lightly.

JJ looked at you in awe. You were only a few years older than her. It was inspiring to hear your story. "What are you gonna do after you retire?"

"Find a job that's less undercover work, but still occupies most of my days. Old habits die hard." In short, you didn't have a plan. All you knew was that after the case, you didn't want to work as undercover anymore.

"Come work with us!" Penelope blurted, earning everyone's attention. She glanced at Aaron, "We have an opening. Right, Hotch?" A sly smile decorated her cheery face.

Aaron raised his eyebrows, then met your gaze. He still owed you a box of bubblegum if he remembers clearly. And seeing your gorgeous face and watching you take down unsub more often didn't sound like such a horrible idea.

He bit the threatening smirk on his lips. "Yeah, I think we do."