#sam kerr (the scottish one)

[meazalykov]

let me in

giulia gwinn x anxiety!reader

part one - part two

summary: you try to hide it, but she already knows

warnings: diagnosed anxiety, fear, zoloft mentions, angst, split into two parts because of the word count

the second half starts, and somehow, you manage to push through. you make an assist to sydney. for a fleeting moment, there’s a spark of joy. you’re happy for her, you really are. 

then you start to think that you’ve realized something. the acknowledgment you’re used to isn’t coming. no one is rushing to congratulate you for the assist, like they normally do for anyone else who makes a great play. 

you know it’s not because they don’t care, but your mind betrays you. it starts spinning with doubt, with fear. did they notice the mistake you made earlier? do they think you’re not good enough? why is no one congratulating you?

your heart beats faster now, the panic rising again. you try to push the thoughts aside, to focus on the game, but the fear is too strong. it’s all you can think about. 

then, a familiar voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. pernille is next to you, her arms around you in a tight hug. 

“you did great,” she says, her voice warm and reassuring. 

tuva follows, giving you a pat on the back, and for a brief moment, the fog lifts. you’ve made a mistake, but they don’t hate you. they don’t blame you. they still believe in you.

your heart is still racing, too fast, too loud, pounding against your chest like it's trying to break free. calm down, calm down, you tell yourself, but it doesn’t help. 

nothing helps. it’s like a constant hum of anxiety buzzing in your ears, drowning out everything else.

when the coach calls for the substitution, you barely register it at first. you’re already so deep in your head that the words don't hit until he’s looking directly at you, a hint of concern in his eyes. you blink, startled, as he gives a quick nod towards the sideline. 

linda comes on for you, and you give her a light hug before the coach reaches out to put his hand on your shoulder.

"y/n, rest. you did great. go ahead and sit the last twenty minutes out."

it feels like the earth shifts beneath your feet. the pressure mounting in your chest. as you walk toward the benches , all you can feel is this deep sense of failure. 

I didn’t do well. I wasn’t good enough. that’s why he’s subbing me off. 

your pulse doesn’t slow down as you sit on the bench, your leg bouncing uncontrollably. you try to still it, but your body doesn’t listen. it’s as if the constant movement is the only thing you can do to release the built-up energy inside of you. 

I wasn’t good enough, you repeat, the thoughts relentless, pushing through the cracks in your mind. 

sam kerr sits beside you, and without a word, she leans her head on your shoulder. it’s a small gesture, but it’s enough. the weight of her support, her presence, pulls you out of the storm in your head, if only for a moment. 

“great job love,” you hear her say silently, and you want to believe her, want to feel proud of what you’ve done, but it’s so hard to shake the feeling of not being enough. 

you glance back at the field, watching the play unfold, but your focus isn’t there. your body feels heavy, and your mind is racing. 

I don’t belong here. I can’t even finish a game. I’m not enough for this team. 

the rest of the game moves in a blur as you try to calm your breathing, to remind yourself that it’s okay, that you’re doing your best. 

the anxiety has a grip on you, pulling you deeper. your leg keeps bouncing, faster now, each movement a desperate attempt to release the tension building inside you. it’s exhausting, and the fear is suffocating. 

when the coach comes over after the game, his words are meant to comfort you. 

“y/n, you did great out there. you’re doing everything right. you just needed a break—take it easy.” but they don’t sink in, not right away. you nod and give him a quick smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. 

I didn’t do great, you think. I was subbed out. I couldn’t finish the match.

ten minutes after the ending of the game, you’re surrounded by teammates celebrating the 5-2 victory over arsenal. it should feel like a triumph, and in some ways, it does. 

when you’re talking to lea about the win, lena—still recovering from her ACL injury—suddenly picks you up from behind, lifting you off your feet in an enthusiastic embrace.

“you did so good!!!” she shouts, her voice filled with joy.

for a split second, panic courses through you. you freeze, body rigid, terrified that somehow you’re going to hurt her. you don’t want to be the reason she gets injured again. you pull away quickly, a nervous laugh escaping your lips as you explain, 

“i don’t want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

lena laughs, shaking her head. “you’re so light. you couldn’t hurt me,” she reassures you, and for the first time all day, you feel a little bit lighter. 

the fear begins to lift, and you let out a shaky breath, finally starting to believe that maybe you’re being ridiculous, you’re not as bad as your anxiety makes you think.

lea picks you up next, and for a fleeting moment, you feel the weight of your worries start to fade. the team loves you. they don’t hate you. they’re not disappointed in you. you are enough.

later that night, when you and giulia arrive home, the house feels different. quieter. more intimate. the adrenaline of the match still buzzes in your veins, but now you’re alone with giulia. 

she sits next to you on the couch, her strong arms around you as you both begin to unwind. you talk about the game. your assist, the plays you both loved from giuli, the moments that didn’t go as planned. 

then giulia’s tone shifts. she’s quieter now, her hand resting on your knee as she watches you carefully.

“how’s therapy going?” she asks, her voice gentle but probing.

the question catches you off guard, and suddenly, you’re paralyzed with fear. you’ve been hiding the truth from her for so long. the medication. the diagnosis. the fact that things haven’t gotten better, despite what you’ve been telling everyone, including her. your chest tightens as the words struggle to leave your mouth. 

(throwback) you sit in the small, sterile office at bayern’s campus, your fingers anxiously tapping against the arms of the chair. the white walls seem to close in on you as you try to focus on the woman sitting across from you. 

the psychiatrist. 

she’s kind and patient, but everything about this situation feels foreign and uncomfortable. you’re not used to talking about your feelings. you’ve spent your whole life pushing them down, burying them behind a smile, behind the constant drive to be better, to be strong. 

today, everything feels too much. too heavy.

“y/n, you’ve been dealing with a lot of pressure lately,” she says, her voice soft but steady. 

“and it’s okay to admit that you’re struggling with it. it’s more common than you might think.”

you want to argue. i’m fine, you want to say. i don’t need help. however, the words stick in your throat. you can’t lie, not anymore. not when it feels like your entire body is suffocating under the weight of everything. 

you nod, even though a part of you still wants to shut it all down. it’s too much now. the fear. the racing thoughts. the panic attacks. it’s been months, and it’s only getting worse. so you listen as the psychiatrist continues, explaining how anxiety can feel like an endless cycle that’s hard to escape, how sometimes your mind just needs help. 

medication, she suggests, can ease the constant tension, help you regain some control. 

she mentions zoloft, a small pill to take each morning. at first, the idea of it makes you cringe. medication? you’ve never been the type to rely on pills, but deep down, you know something has to change. 

you’re tired of feeling like your chest is going to explode every time you step onto the pitch. tired of the constant weight of guilt and fear that follows you everywhere.

“it might take some time to work,” she says, as if reading your mind. “it can help. we can monitor it together with the rest of the doctors here.”

you nod again, though it feels like a distant part of you is screaming to stop. you don’t want to admit that something’s wrong, that you’re not strong enough to handle it all. but here you are, agreeing to try something new, agreeing to take that pill. 

you want to believe it’ll work, but you’re also afraid it won’t. if it doesn’t, what will that say about you?

the psychiatrist hands you the prescription, and you take it, your hands shaking slightly. the weight of the small bottle feels overwhelming, like it holds all your fears inside. this is it, you think. this is the fix. this is how it’s going to get better. the thought doesn’t make you feel better. it only makes the weight heavier. what if it doesn’t work?

that night, when you get home, you find yourself standing in front of the dresser, staring at the small, nondescript bottle in your hand. 

you want to hide it. you don’t want anyone—especially giulia—to know. you can’t let her see this side of you, not when you’ve worked so hard to keep up the facade. 

without thinking, you open the drawer of your underwear dresser. it feels like the safest place, the one place where no one would look. you tuck the bottle inside, burying it underneath your things, as if hiding it will somehow make it less real. less of a reflection of what’s wrong with you.

the next morning, you take the pill as if it’s just another routine. but the guilt hangs over you, a shadow that doesn’t leave. 

you try not to think about it, but the more you take the pill each day, the worse it feels. it doesn’t help. it doesn’t change anything.you think that you’re still broken. it only makes you feel like you’re drifting farther away from yourself like you’re numbing your emotions, but not in a good way. 

it’s like you’re fading into someone else’s skin, and you don’t know how to stop it.

you feel like you’re suffocating in your own mind, and you don’t know how to explain it to giulia. 

what if she thinks I’m not good enough for her? what if she sees me as weak? she’s always been your anchor, the one person you never want to disappoint, but telling her about this... it feels like the ultimate failure.

and so, you keep it to yourself. the pill bottle stays hidden, tucked away in that drawer. the anxious thoughts continue to spiral, unchecked, but you don’t want anyone to know. not even giulia. not even her.

back to the present– giulia’s quiet, but you can feel the weight of her gaze on you. she’s waiting, and you know she’s already figured out that something’s wrong. it’s been weeks, and the cracks in your facade are starting to show.

“therapy has been fine.” you smile, pulling a loose piece of blonde hair behind giulia’s ear. her hair wasn’t in her signature ponytail braid from the game, but in loose curls over her shoulders that the braid gave her. 

you try to focus on something, anything—anything to avoid her eyes—but it’s useless. your hands are shaking, and every thought feels like it’s running away from you. the anxiety from the match still lingers in your chest, but now it’s compounded by guilt. 

guilt for not telling her sooner. guilt for hiding the truth. you feel trapped in your own head, like you’re suffocating under the weight of your own emotions.

giulia watches you carefully, her brow furrowed. she doesn’t need to ask anymore. she knows. and that’s what scares you most.

“y/n,” giulia finally says, her voice calm but firm. 

“you know we need to talk, right?”

you swallow hard. your throat feels tight, the words stuck there. you try to smile, but it feels forced, like it won’t reach your eyes. 

“about what?”

she leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, eyes never leaving yours. 

“about you. about everything you’ve been hiding.”

the words hit like a punch to the stomach, and you flinch. hiding—the word stings. because it’s true. you’ve been hiding everything. everything that’s been eating at you for months now. 

the anxiety, the fear, the constant worry that you’re not good enough—that you’ll fail again and let everyone down. especially her. the person who’s always had your back for the last five years. the person who’s seen you at your best, at your worst, and still loved you unconditionally. 

now, you’re afraid to admit that you’ve been struggling.

“giulia, I don’t—” you begin, but she interrupts, her tone sharper now, like she’s not going to let you brush it off again.

“don’t, y/n. don’t shut me out again!” giulia’s voice is soft but serious, and her eyes search yours with a piercing intensity. 

“i’ve seen the way you’ve been. I’ve seen how you’ve been withdrawing, how you’re not talking to me or anyone else about it. I know you’re not okay. I know you’re not just tired or stressed from the game. this is something else. I want to help.”

you feel your chest tighten at her words. you want to tell her everything, want to explain what’s been going on inside your head, but the fear grips you tight. 

what if she thinks you’re weak? what if she thinks she can’t handle this part of you? what if she doesn’t understand? you thought.

giulia’s expression softens, her tone gentler now, but she doesn’t back down. 

“y/n, I know you better than anyone. and I can see it. I know what’s been going on. I know you’re struggling with anxiety. and I know you’ve been taking medication for it. you don’t have to hide it from me anymore.”

the room goes quiet. your heart skips a beat, and the blood rushes to your ears. 

how does she know? you didn’t tell her. you didn’t want to burden her with it, didn’t want her to look at you differently. 

somehow, giulia knows. she’s known all along.

“giulia, I—” you start, but she cuts you off, her voice gentle but firm.

“why didn’t you tell me, y/n?” giulia asks, her voice laced with a mix of concern and hurt. 

“why didn’t you come to me? why have you been hiding this from me?”

the words hit you like a slap, and you blink back the tears that threaten to fall. 

“i didn’t want you to think I was... weak,” you admit, your voice trembling.

 i didn’t want you to think I was... broken.”

giulia leans in, her hand reaching for yours, gently taking it in hers. her grip is steady, warm, and you feel a little bit of the weight on your chest lift. 

“y/n, you’re not broken,” she says softly. 

“you’re human. and being human means you have struggles. you have fears, and you have moments where you need help. that doesn’t make you weak. it makes you real. I’m not going anywhere. I want to help you, but you have to let me in.”

you feel the tears that you’ve been holding back finally spill over, hot and unrelenting. the sobs wrack your body as giulia pulls you into her arms, holding you close. you’ve been so terrified of letting her see you like this—vulnerable, broken, messy. 

you realize that she’s not looking at you with disappointment. she’s not seeing your anxiety as a flaw or a weakness. she’s seeing you. all of you.

“i’m sorry,” you choke out, your voice muffled against her shoulder. 

“i didn’t mean to shut you out. i thought... i thought you’d think i wasn’t strong enough to be your partner anymore.”

giulia shakes her head, her fingers soothing through your hair. 

“y/n, I never thought that. I never would. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you. and right now, that means letting me be here for you.”

“we’ll get through this together, okay?” giulia whispers into your hair, her voice filled with unwavering support. 

“you don’t have to face this alone.”

you nod against her, the sobs slowing, the tightness in your chest loosening. for the first time in months, you finally feel like you can breathe.

the morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft beams across the bedroom. the air is calm, the silence between you and giulia comfortable for once, free of the tension you’ve been carrying for weeks. luckily, you guys have the day off from anything football related so you can stay in bed for longer. 

you sit on the edge of the bed, your fingers still trembling slightly, but you’re more at ease than you’ve been in a long time. last night, you opened up to her in ways you didn’t think you could. and though your heart had pounded in your chest and the fear of being judged had nearly consumed you, giulia hadn’t wavered. 

you glance over at her, the way she’s lounging on the bed, her legs propped up under the covers, her eyes half-lidded as she smiles faintly in your direction. 

the bottle of zoloft sits on the nightstand, so small, so innocent-looking. it feels heavier than it should, but the weight is different now. 

it’s no longer just a symbol of everything that’s wrong with you. it’s a step forward. and you’re ready to take it. 

without hesitation, you pick up the bottle, twisting the cap off, feeling giulia’s gaze on you. her eyes are soft, not judgmental, just... waiting. you feel a small sense of reassurance, as if her presence alone is all you need. 

there’s no longer that nagging voice telling you to hide, to keep it to yourself. you can’t change your past, but you can change how you move forward, and you want to move forward, especially with giu. 

you take the pill, the cool surface of the tablet smooth in your fingers, and swallow it down with a sip of water. it’s such a small act, but it feels monumental.

“good morning,” giulia says, her voice light, laced with affection. her eyes soften, and she shifts slightly to make space for you on the bed. 

you settle down next to her, the pillow cool against your skin, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. giulia’s hand brushes your waist, and you lace your fingers around hers. 

“i’m proud of you, you know,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. she turns her head to look at you, her eyes warm, filled with love. there’s no judgment, just acceptance. 

you nod, trying not to let the lump in your throat get the best of you. it’s hard to believe sometimes, that she’s always going to be there, in moments like these, it feels real. it feels like you can finally breathe.

“thank you,” you reply softly, feeling a quiet sense of peace settle over you. 

“for being patient. for being so loving my love.”

giulia smiles, the softest smile you’ve ever seen. 

“you’re perfect just the way you are.” 

she brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, her touch gentle. 

life is not easy, and you’re not perfect. you don’t have to be. you have giulia, and that’s enough.

baby steps. it’s enough.

masterlist

[katelynnwrites]

too cute for words

[tresjoline]

❤️🤍

[theheaderisinforpress]

Cute 🥰

[tomorowisjustamystery]

[yeeterthek33per]

Part 2, but they weren't drunk enough the first day, so it kept going the second 🥳

[kaitlindogood]

family fc, more than 90 minutes - episode 6: twice in a row

[footballbro]

I hope Sam Kerr signs with Liverpool, that’s the kind of chaos I have been dreaming of

[woso-dreamzzz]

Bayern Munich

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first day at Bayern Munich

The low rumble of German is soothing in your ears as Momma and Morsa walk into the Bayern Munich training centre.

You still remember all of your German and more because when you moved to England, Momma made sure to get you a German tutor because she was adamant that you would end up back here at some point.

Momma kept a lot of her German too so it's only Morsa that's going to struggle.

Bayern Munich isn't Wolfsburg but it's not Not-Wolfsburg either so you can live with this. It helps that the jersey has red on it like Arsenal does so you like it even more.

You've got your favourite training bag on your back but you know it won't really be used much today.

Some more official looking people greet you all, shaking your Momma and Morsa's hands in greeting and smiling politely at you.

"The rest of the girls are in the gym," One of the official people says," There's cubbies already waiting and labelled for you all in the locker room."

"Thank you," Momma says, taking your hand and walking you all there.

What the man said was true. Momma and Morsa have their own cubbies where their training shirts are already hanging up.

But you've got one too, complete with a tiny little training shirt for you and a new pair of goalkeeper gloves waiting.

You gasp and scurry forward.

"Morsa! Momma! Look, gloves!"

"We can see that," Morsa says as she begins to change," They must have seen how much you love keeping."

"I love keeping," You confirm as Momma helps you change into your new Bayern shirt.

"We know. Come on, princesse. Let's go meet everybody."

Momma and Morsa have been here before without you so they already kind of know their way around. It doesn't take a long time to get there.

You feel a little bit shy as you go in so hide a bit behind Morsa's long legs. Momma and Morsa greet everybody and you stay where you are, your hand holding tight on Morsa's waistband.

"Princesse," Morsa says," Say hello."

"Hallo."

One of the girls - the one with number sixteen on her shirt - laughs. "She speaks German?"

You nod. "Ja."

She laughs in delight and turns to look at Georgia Stanway, who you recognise from the World Cup and vaguely from when she played for Manchester City. "The kid speaks better German than you!"

Georgia rolls her eyes. "Life's too short to learn German." She approaches you with a smile, holding her hand out for a high five. "It's nice to see you again. You look good in a Bayern shirt."

"I like red," You reply with a little smile.

"I know. I heard from Leah that you really like Arsenal too."

"You know Leah?"

"Of course I do! Me and Leah go way back."

"Leah's really cool!"

Georgia laughs and leans forward like she's going to tell you a secret. "I'm cooler."

"Really?"

"So much cooler! Everything at Bayern's cooler! We've got the cooler Sam Kerr too!"

Your crinkle appears between your brows. "But Sam's in England."

"That's the Australian Sam," A new girl says as she approaches," I'm the Scottish Sam Kerr."

"Scottish," You repeat," Like Erin? And Jen? And Kim?"

"Exactly like them," Scottish Sam says.

You nod. "That's cool."

"See?" Georgia says," Everything's cooler here."

"You don't need to get her on your side," Morsa says a bit petulantly," She'd already decided that Bayern ranked above Chelsea the moment she saw the red on the jersey."

You nod. "Bayern is better than Not-Wolfsburg."

Morsa groans and Momma shakes her head fondly at you.

Georgia grins at you. "I think we're going to enjoy having you here."

[katelynnwrites]

her falling was always bound to happen 😭😂

[tresjoline]

+3 🫂🙌🏼

[pitchsidestories]

A kiss from my enemy II Erin Cuthbert x Reader

masterlist I word count: 2811

A/N: Would you like us to write more about Chelsea's Fab 4?

A day before the CL game Chelsea against Real Madrid Erin Cuthbert found herself among her friends, drinking coffee in Sam Kerr and Kristie Mewis new home. It was a quite cozy afternoon despite the Blues knowing there was a big match ahead of them at Stamford Bridge.  

Expectantly the American midfielder sipped from her cup of coffee before looking at the Scottish woman: So, it’s true what they say, Erin? That you forget she’s your girlfriend when you two play against each other?”

“Doesn’t everyone do that?”, Erin laughed it off. Next to her sat Guro Reiten who nodded grinning: “Yeah Magda definitely said that too.” “That’s not true for Sam and me.”, Kristie announced.

Amused Millie Bright replied:” Of course not.”  “I still see her as my fiancée.”, the Westham player added beaming proudly. Smiling Erin realized: “And I’ll see her as my girlfriend before and after the game. Shit, I think she heard that we are talking about her, she’s trying to face time me right now.”

“Take the call!”, Sam advised the younger woman. Enthusiastic Millie agreed:” Yeah, let’s all say hi.” “Oh yes, hello chica!”, Guro greeted her first.

Blushing you put a loose string of your hair behind your hair:” Hola! Erin, you didn’t text me you were still with your friends otherwise I’d have tried to call you later.” “Sorry, drinking coffee with them always takes a bit longer.”, your girlfriend apologized with a sheepishly smile.

Quickly you reassured her:” That’s okay.” You paused for a moment before you turned your attention to her recently injured teammate:” How are you, Sammy?”

“I’m good. I got my girls.”, Sam waved it off, placing a hand on her fiancée’s thigh. The latter one asked curiously:” Tell me where did you get that lipstick? It’s so pretty!” “Kristie.”, Erin rolled her eyes, visibly annoyed. Innocently Kristie told her:”What?”

“I’ll send you a screenshot with it, Kristie. But back to you captain Cuthbert.”, you cleared your throat and turned the attention to your girlfriend. She furrowed her eyebrows in response:” Captain Cuthbert?” “I read you’ll captain Chelsea tomorrow.”, you snorted.  

A teasing smile played on the Scottish international lips: “Oh, you read that?” “This is going to be spice, the girlfriend’s being the captain of each of their respectable teams, I can’t wait for it.”, Sam exclaimed.

Immediately Erin tried to cool off the striker’s excitement for the roles you were about to play tomorrow: “It’s not that big of a deal, Sam.”  “Honestly.”, you underlined her message with your word. Not convinced by your reaction Sam said:” Uh huh sure.”

“The press and the fans will make a big deal out of it.“, Kristie agreed with her fiancée. Sam shrugged; “It is a big thing.“ “We’ll see but I can’t wait to see you all tomorrow.“, you subtly tried to change the topic. “Oh, we can wait.“, Sam grinned back at you. Erin shook her head; “No, I can’t. Because some of us don’t have their girlfriends living in the same city.“

She gave Sam and Kristie a jokingly accusing look. “You’re the only one she’ll get to see tomorrow anyway. And Guro. The rest of us is injured.“, Sam commented, pointing down to her knee brace. Millies who was also out with an injury announced; “But we’ll be there at the Bridge and say hi.“ “Maybe.“, the Australian added with a smirk.

Millie rolled her eyes at her teammate; “Ignore Sammy.“ “Okay, enjoy your coffee, guys. See you tomorrow.“, you waved into the camera. “See you.“, Erin answered before ending the call. Excitedly, Kristie looked at Erin; “I’ll be there tomorrow for the gay drama.“

“If West Ham doesn’t train at the same time.“, Sam reminded her. “Right.“ “But we’ll be there.“, Millie interjected. “Anyone any more coffee?“, the injured striker asked. Erin shared a smile with her friends and answered; “Absolutely.“

Champions League nights always felt even more special than normal league games. The stadium was starting to fill while both teams finished their warm-up routines. Guro was the first Chelsea player to pull you into a quick hug; “Hi.“ “Hi. Ready for the game?“, the Norwegian asked. You nodded; “Yes, I’m ready. What about you?“

She rubbed her hands with excitement; “Ready to smash Madrid.“ Unimpressed, you replied; “Oh, we will give you a good fight.“ “Like you guys did against Barcelona?“, Erins teasing voice appeared out of nowhere, immediately wiping the smile off your face. You could hear the annoyance in your own voice as you answered; “Oh shut up. You’d lose against Barcelona too.“

“But at least we managed to draw against them. Something your team hasn’t managed.“, Erin countered. “But Chelsea lost the CL final in 2021. Barca won 4:0.“, you reminded her cooly.

Your girlfriend tilted her head; “And how far did Madrid make it?“ You knew she was trying to play some mind games and that you shouldn’t react to it but you couldn’t stop yourself from snapping; “What’s your fucking problem, Cuthbert?“

She reacted with a casual shrug; “I’m just saying it as it is. You’re already out of the CL. Again.“ “Whatever you’re trying to do, this won’t work.“, you warned her before your team mate caught your attention; “Hayley?“ “Yes, we need to get in line. The game is about to start.“, Hayley Raso reminded you while adjusting the bow in her hair.

Turning into your captain mode you put your armband on:“I’m coming.”  While the CL hymn was playing the Australian forward noticed:” Did you lost your hairband?” Quickly Hayley gave you the extra hairband she had around her wrist. You mouthed a sincere thank you.

This didn’t got unnoticed by Erin who softly elbowed her Norwegian friend:” Have you seen that, Guro?” “What?”, Guro asked confused, she clearly missed the moment her teammate was referring to. Biting her lip the Scottish midfielder answered:” Doesn’t matter, let’s win this game.” “Alright.”, Guro sighed before they went to their starting positions.

The first half begun, and you were eager to prove that you’d give the team of your girlfriend a good fight. Your confidence grew as you fairly tackled Erin to get the ball. Enraged the Scottish player stood up, cursing quietly so only you could hear her words tripping with fury:” What the fuck was that?”   “Next time you got to be faster.”, you replied with a smug smile on your face.  

Under her breath she told you:” Learn to play football next time. That was a foul.” “It wasn’t.”, you shook your head.  Immediately Erin disagreed: “Of course it was.” The tension between you was almost touchable. Later your girlfriend knocked you off your feet. “Hey!”, you protested loudly.

Quickly Athenea del Castillo was at your side, shouting:” That was a foul.” “If that earlier wasn’t a foul, this isn’t either.”, the Scottish midfielder snapped. Slowly you got up, promising her:” You’ll get that back.” And you held your promise only a couple of minutes later you assisted Athenea in scoring the equalizer for Madrid.

But you couldn’t enjoy the celebration with your team as Erin whispered into your ear:” You think you’re so good, huh? You’re still losing.” She was right only a minute after Madrid scored, they did again but this time it was only an own goal, resulting in a 2:1 for the Blues.

“Yes!”, Niamh Charles cheered. Triumphantly Erin turned her head to you:” Told you, you’d lose.” “Get over yourself, Cuthbert.”, you rolled your eyes at her. Her following comment made your heart race even faster: “Don’t be such a sore loser.”  “We still have twenty plus minutes left.”, you reminded her. Confidently she remarked:” That’s not enough time for you.”  

Her words proofed to be right. From a reasonable point of view, you knew that a win wouldn’t have changed the fact that you couldn’t qualify for the next round, the loss still stung. Numbly you could hear Guro happily scream:” We’re qualified, girls!”  “Don’t you want to go over to your girlfriend?”, cautiously Hayley padded your shoulder. Stubbornly you mumbled: “No.”

Confused the Australian player furrowed her eyebrows:” Why not?” “I’m too mad at her right now.”, you replied honestly. The eyes of your teammate turned soft:” We were out anyway.” “I know.”, you sighed deeply.

Smiling Hayley tried to cheer you up:” And we did give them a tough time.” “That’s true. Sorry, I’m not being a good captain, I should comfort you and not the other way around.”, you apologized. Warmly the forward reminded you:” Sometimes even the captain needs to be comforted.”

At the same time Erin said to her teammates:” I’m back in a second.” “Don’t go away for too long!”, Niamh shouted after her grinning. The Chelsea captain of the night shook her head:” I won’t.” “Good!”, Ashley exclaimed cheerfully.

Laughing the Scottish midfielder told them:” You can start celebrating without me.”  With these words she turned to you, her kiss caught you off card, as you mumbled:” Good game, Erin.” “Sorry for what I said during the game. You know I don’t mean it.”, your girlfriend whispered into your embrace, her cheeks flushed.

Startled you looked at her:” You don’t?” “Of course I don’t.”, she answered. Confidently you glanced at her:” But I was right, we didn’t make it easy for you.” “Yeah, you were.”, the Chelsea player admitted.

 A cheeky smile appeared on your lips:” If you kiss me again, I might forgive you.” “Okay, but then I got to leave.”, Erin nodded giving you a more passionate kiss than before. “Alright.”

For a second she rested her forehead against yours: ”Come over to our dressing room when you took care of your teammates.” “I’ll be there.”, you promised her before you went to look after your teammates being back into your captain mode.

“Linda, how are you feeling?”, you asked her compassionate. The Columbian forward responded with a weak smile:” I’m okay.” “Good.”, relief ran through your veins because of the answer of the younger footballer.

Comforting hands padded your shoulder who belonged to Ivana: “Not an easy game.” “Right.”, you had to admit. Reassuringly the older woman continued:” But we’ll continue to grow.” “We’ll.”, you agreed. The defender offered:”You can go over if you want to.” “You girls will be, okay?”, you wanted to know from her. With a motherly smile Ivana waved you off:”Promise.”

You met your girlfriend in her locker room, freshly showered, her blonde hair still wet. “Hi Erin.”, you greeted her. Blushing the Scottish player put a hair string behind her ear:“Hi.” “Was that me?”, guiltily you pointed to a black eye on her body. She gave you a challenging look:” Told you, it was unfair play.” “You weren’t playing nice either!”, you reminded her. Pouting  Erin observed:” You don’t look as bad.”

“Well, I got thicker skin.“, you shrugged with a smirk. Your girlfriend quickly bridged the gap between you two and pulled you towards her. Her fingertips on your skin made you giggle; “Hey, no tickles!“

“You’re lucky it’s only tickles.“, Erin countered. Guro interrupted the two of you by throwing her shirt at you; “Behave, we have children in this room!“ You were suddenly painfully aware of the stares of Erins teammates.

Erin grimaced at Guro; “Do you mean Hannah?“ The young goalkeeper looked up in surprise; “Rude!“ “Sorry.“, Erin grinned back, obviously not even a little bit sorry. “I’m not a child!“, Hannah protested. Your girlfriend casually shrugged and pointed into the direction of her other teammates: “Maybe Guro meant Sjoeke or Aggie.“

These two protested loudly while Hannah raised her eyebrow at Erin; “I hope so!“ Ignoring the rest of her team, Erin turned back towards you; “Want to leave?“ “Please.“, you smiled back.

She quickly grabbed her bag and took your hand; “Let’s go.“ “Bye chicas!“, Guro yelled after you. Millie appeared in the door, Sam on crutches next to her; “You’re leaving already?“ “Not without a hug from you of course!“, you said and let yourself fall into the arms of the tall defender.

“Sorry, took a while to get Sam down the stairs.“, Millie apologized. The Australian striker rolled her eyes. You quickly hugged her too, careful with her knee and crutches; “And hello, Sam.“

“You two were not subtle at all after the game ended.“, she commented smugly. Erin and you shared a knowing smile while she explained; “I had to make up for something.“ “Yeah, for the things you said to each other during the match.“, Millie grinned. “Oh shut up, Millie.“

But the defenders smile only got wider; “Never.“ “How would you even know that?“, Erin asked, a slight hint of exasperation in her voice. Millie touched her fingertips to her mouth; “Lip reading.“

Your girlfriend rolled her eyes in response; “Oh, sure.“ “Now go, you two don’t have much time.“, Millie ordered, making space so you two could pass her and Sam. “You kept us here.“, Erin protested.

She took your hand in hers again; “Let’s leave.“ “Coming.“ As you moved past your friend group, your girlfriend yelled “Bye, girls!“ over her shoulder. “Bye, have fun.“, Sam replied with a smirk while Kristie appeared behind her, wrapping her arms around the strikers waist as they watched you leave; “And off they go.“

“About time. After game sex is the hottest.“, the striker laughed, turning to kiss her girlfriend. Kristie nodded; “Agreed. They wouldn’t let each other get away with anything.“ “That’s too much information!“, Millie complained, pretending that she needs to throw up.

“Sorry, not sorry.“, Kristie shrugged. “I hate that you moved here.“, the defender laughed. With big innocent eyes, Kristie suggested; “Maybe she’ll move to London to next season.“ Seeing the feigned disgust on Millies face, she added; “A girl can dream.“ “Of bringing all your girlfriends here?“

“Yes.”, the American midfielder beamed. The England defender wiggled with her eyebrows: “I see.”  “She’s unstoppable.”, Sam winked at her fiancée. Big eyed Millie looked at her close friend: “Will I have to leave?”

“No, you’re the honorary straight best friend in our squad. Let’s get Same home for no.”, Kristie told her in a friendly tone. Happy with that answer the English player clapped into her hands:” Alright. Come on, Sammy.” “On my way!”, the Australian forward announced while one of her best friends and her fiancée helped her to come home safely.

Meanwhile you had stepped out of Erins shower, wearing some comfy clothes, begging your girlfriend:” Erin, repeat that.” “What?”, she echoed. Serious you added:” What you just said.”

“Pretty sure you heard me the first time. ”, the Scottish woman answered. You bit your lip in response:  “Still.” “Well, we can just ignore it if it upsets you so much.”, the midfielder shrugged her shoulders.  

Swiftly you shook your head:” No, please, say it again.” “I want you to move in with me.”, Erin repeated. Carefully you said:” English clubs are interested in me you know that, right?” “I do.”, your girlfriend affirmed.

Slowly you revealed what you were holding black from her for quite a while now, waiting for the perfect moment to say it:” I might have an agreement with a club in the summer.” “You do?”, the Scottish player looked surprised up.  “Yes.” “So that’s a, yes?”, a hopeful shimmer appeared on her face.

Teasingly you played with her hair: “It’s a yes. I’d love to move in with you. But I won’t join your club.” “That’s okay. I love playing against you.”, Erin grinned at you. A warm laugh escaped your lips:” I knew you’d say that.” “It’s true.”, she confessed.

The smile on your face grew bigger:” Sorry but I like red more than blue.” “Arsenal!”, playfully shocked your girlfriend hit your upper arm. “Yes, bebé.” Dramatically the midfielder groaned:” Oh that’s just horrible.” “So, you take the moving offer back?”, you threw your eyebrows up.

Much softer she told you:“No, I can live with it if I get to see you more often.” “You definitely would.”, you reassured her. Beaming Erin replied: “Then you should take that offer.”  “I’ll.”

“Can’t wait to win the London derby against you.”, the excitement was written all over her face.  Confidently you countered:” Oh no Arsenal win their fair amounts of derbys do I have to remind you they just won the latest?”

“Doesn’t count. You weren’t on the team yet.“, Erin protested. You shrugged nonchalantly; “Just saying.“ “Next time we’ll win again.“, your girlfriend said, half challenge and half promise.

Smirking, you added; “Or you’ll lose.“ Stubbornly, Erin shook her head; “There’s no way.“ “But for now…“, you changed the topic, pulling your girlfriend close to you. “For now?“, she repeated so that you would continue.

“Enough talking.“ “What should we do then?“, she asked, all pretended innocence. You winked at her while you let your hands glide under her shirt; “Something equally as fun.“

[tomorowisjustamystery]

Friends or something more ???

But very cute either way

[alexbkrieger13]

syd and scottish sam kerr seem to be going strong - and I never realized the height difference like that. super cute pic. as for tuva being kissed by lea AND obi: girl, do you have any idea how many lesbians would kill to be you right now?? just hop the fence already and pick one of them… ;-)

oh yea tuva's living a lot of lesbians dreams

[newbie-woso]

When I search the Sam Kerr tag I often spend a minute staring at a photo trying to find Sam Kerr or how it relates to Sam Kerr and then I see it’s tagged ‘Sam Kerr the Scottish one’

[cwahsohnt]

thoughts on pernille and magda's initiation performance? currently my roman empire

I thought it was great! I think it says a lot about them as team players that they were so enthusiastic with their participation, too. As the veteran, marquee signings, they could have easily passed but they went all in because they clearly value being good teammates and part of the process. And Sam Kerr (the Scottish one) is clearly having the most fun ever.