#second player germany

[cinematicnomad]

1, 3, and 8 for the fun things to be asked

001. what are 3 things you’d say shaped you into who you are? rather than just link you to my other answer, i will provide more (non-trauamtic) defining facets of my life: 1) my parents being almost 40 by the time they had me (38 and 39 respectively); 2) not getting my drivers license until i was 23 (follow this experience through the tag #kat learns to drive); and 3) my school in germany only having a mixed gender soccer team when i moved there in 4th grade

003. 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of? i feel like this is more difficult to just limit myself to 3. here's 3 random ones off the top of my head: eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, apollo 13, and the cutting edge.

008. any reacquiring dreams? unfortunately i don't, so i WILL be linking to my original answer here :)

ask fun questions!

[rmbaloncesto]

I am genuinely asking: any good coaches available?

[annabelle--cane]

"the magnus protocol had a whole ARG beforehand? what?"

yes! it did!

"oh so I need to have participated in this whole big thing to actually understand the podcast?"

not at all! from the official post-mortem put out by RQ, "while the ARG was not something that was necessary to participate in to understand the magnus protocol, it was designed to contain a wealth of background story and context that would enrich any player's listening experience."

"a wealth of background context that would enrich my listening experience 👀👀👀 how can I learn about this?"

SO glad you asked. sadly, many of the materials made for the arg have been taken down since the game ended 😔 (ex., the official OIAR, magnus institute, and bonzoland websites. (edit ii: I found partial wayback machine captures! see below) though @strangehauntsuk is still up!), so we're a bit low on primary sources, but in terms of learning about what happened:

for a starting point, I would really recommend this video by @pinkelotjeart

it's super accessible, it was made in real time as the game progressed and follows the solving and revelation of clues as they happened, it hits all the major points of the mystery and moments of community insanity while eliding some of the nitty gritty puzzle grinding, 10/10 would recommend.

here's the official summary put out by RQ, and I'd recommend reading through this once you've already gotten a basic handle on the flow of the story and the basic connections between major clues and events. it's got some fun behind-the-scenes info and lays out the thought process behind the puzzles in simple terms

here's the full masterdoc of all puzzles and resolutions put together in the statement remains discord server. masterdoc my absolute BELOVED, masterdoc my bethrothed, masterdoc my soul mate. I'd recommend this as a second port of call after the above video as it either contains all details about the puzzles or links to other expanded docs that do.

here's the narrative summary doc that lays out all the plot and lore discovered in three pages of plain prose. if you just want to get to the good bits as fast as you can and get blasted directly in the face by contextless lore bombs, this is the doc for you. if you don't want to start with the video, I'd say this is another good entry point.

once you've got the lay of the land, some of the game materials that I found particularly interesting include:

the in-universe east germany expat usenet forum, with all content translated into english. most of it is irrelevant space filler with occasional extremely sus lore, but I still found it fun to read through. love to soak in some fictional forum drama.

chdb.xlsx, the spreadsheet of the names of all the children the protocol 'verse magnus institute was studying/experimenting on. EDIT: here is a version of the sheet without any annotations and with all of the names in their original order, kudos to @theboombutton for catching that the commonly shared copy had the order swapped around.

klaus.xls, a (very corrupted) spreadsheet with what looks like the classifications of a bunch of old OIAR cases.

EDIT: have a few more saved materials from the game that I forgot to include.

an in-universe audio ad to apply to the OIAR that ran before archives episodes and kicked off the whole game.

an in-universe video ad to apply to the OIAR, this one is an official upload that's still up from the game itself. you can subscribe to the OIAR's official youtube channel today, if you so chose.

the robo-voicemail greeting from the OIAR's phone line.

EDIT II:

here is a wayback machine capture of the OIAR's official website.

here is a wayback machine capture of the bonzoland website.

(pretty sure both of the above captures just archived the home pages, though I haven't tried clicking all of the links. I'd say they're still worth looking at, the home pages give a good window into the vibes.)

once you start poking around in these documents, you'll find a bunch of links to others with further information, the materials I've included here just contain what I feel to be the most relevant details to getting a broad feel for the whole game. once again, huge shout out to the statement remains server, I was barely in there as the ARG was in progress and only ducked my head in every so often to find links like these. true mvps of the fandom.

[theworldgate]

I have to explain what is going on in the UK, because it is absurd.

So, this is Gary Lineker:

He's known for a fair few things over here. He was a very good (association) footballer, playing for England in the 1986 and 1990 World Cups, winning the Golden Boot in 1986, and managing to never get a single yellow card in his playing career. He played for Leicester City, Everton, Barcelona, and Tottenham, before finishing his career in Japan. But if you aren't in your mid 30s, you probably know actually know him him for a couple of other things. The first is the role of spokesman for another Leicester icon, Walkers Crisps (which are sort of equivalent to Lays, but hit different), as pictured above. Despite being a notably clean player, he used to play a cheeky serial crisp thief. I don't think he's done that for well over a decade, but his ads were on the telly a lot when I was a kid and it's a bit like learning that the hamburglar was an incredibly clean (American) football player or something.

The second thing Gary is widely known for is having presented Match of the Day, the big football program on the BBC, the sort-of state broadcaster, since 1999. He is, incidentally, very well paid for this (though with a consensus that he could get even more if he went to one of the non-free-to-view broadcasters because he is very good at the job). He also has a twitter account. And political opinions. So, the UK government has got itself dead set upon doing heinous stuff that will totally somehow work to prevent people who want to come to the UK making the perilous crossing of the Channel (between England and France). By heinous, I mean "openly advertise that they won't attempt to protect victims of modern slavery" stuff. It's very obviously using a legal hammer to victimise a marginalised group of people in order to win votes. And, uh, I should clarify that by "legal" I mean "using the passage of laws" - the policy is, in addition to all the other ways it's awful, probably incompatible with the Human Rights Act and the UK's international law obligations. Gary, top lad that he is, objected to this. On Tuesday 7th March, he made a quote Tweet of a video of the Home Secretary, Suella Braverman, bigging up the policy, he wrote "Good heavens, this is beyond awful.". This got a bunch of backlash from extremely right-wingers, and then he made the tweet that really got him in trouble (with right-wingers): "There is no huge influx. We take far fewer refugees than other major European countries. This is just an immeasurably cruel policy directed at the most vulnerable people in language that is not dissimilar to that used by Germany in the 30s, and I’m out of order?".

Now, I am not actually subjecting myself to watching a video of Suella Braverman bigging up a cruel policy to say whether the specific comparison of the language to 1930s Germany is accurate. But needless to say, Ms Braverman was amongst the many figures on the right of UK politics objecting to Gary's rhetoric. And here's the part where a fact about the BBC comes in: it is nominally neutral and impartial (and so, of course, is routinely accused of bias from all sides but particularly the right-wing), and has something of a code for its contributors to this effect. Now, that code has previously been applied to Gary Lineker, over a comment about whether governing Conservative Party would hand back donations from figures linked to the Russian regime. But it generally hasn't been applied too strongly to people like Gary, whose roles have nothing to do with politics (such as presenting a "here's what happened on the footie today" show), on the basis that, well, their roles have nothing to do with politics. However, when directly asked about whether the BBC should punish Gary Lineker for his tweets, government figures basically went "well, that's a them problem". But a couple of days passed, and it seemed like Gary's approach of "standing his ground because he did nothing wrong" was working and everything would die down. He was set to get 'a talking to' but not much more than that. The Conservative right, after all their fire and fury earlier, had gotten bored and moved onto something else. And then, on Friday 10th March, the BBC announced that he would be suspended from hosting Match of the Day this weekend. But it could still go ahead, because there are, like, other hosts! Except, well, funnily enough, when you take a beloved figure off air, for making a fairly anodyne tweet, no one wants to be the scab who actually takes up the role of replacing him. Gary's two co-hosts, Alan Shearer and Ian Wright, said that they would not appear without him. People who (co-)host Match of the Day on other days followed suit. The net result is that Match of the Day is currently set to air without hosts, BBC commentary, or global feed commentary. And the solidarity shown to Gary Lineker, over what is very flagrantly actual cancel culture and an attack on freedom of speech (the logic implied is that institutional impartiality requires that no one say anything too critical of the government ever), has continued to grow. The BBC has pretty much been unable to run pretty much any live sports content today, and has resorted to raiding the BBC Sounds archive to fill the sports radio channel. And, as of 17:30 on Saturday 11th March, the situation shows no signs of improvement, though some are calling for the Chairman Richard Sharp, who is separately facing corruption allegations, to resign (yes I linked to the BBC itself there, there is nothing, nothing, the BBC loves more than going into great detail about how much the BBC sucks).

[meazalykov]

penalty

alexia putellas x gerwnt!reader

summary: the hardest penalty save of your career

warnings: angst

the sun beats down on the pitch as you stand on the line, hands gripping your gloves tight, the leather already damp with sweat. the loudness feels distant, muffled against the pounding of your heart. 

the spanish players are lined up, one by one, their eyes fixed on you, their determination clear. they are the reigning champions of the world, the team everyone expects to dominate and take the bronze like it was a piece of cake. 

however.. you? you are a wall they will not break. no way. 

ann is out on injury, and all eyes are on you now. the weight of the bronze medal match presses against your chest, heavier than any gear you’ve ever worn. you’ve been here before, in games where the odds were stacked against you… this feels different though. this is the olympics. this is spain you are playing against.  

you adjust your stance, crouching low, eyes locked on alexia as she steps up to take the penalty. 

the world seems to shrink and expand all at once as alexia steps up to the penalty spot. the noise of the crowd surrounds you, a deafening roar, but your focus is solely on her. she adjusts the ball carefully, her fingers brushing against it as if ensuring it’s perfectly placed. 

it’s a ritual you know well. how many times have you seen this exact moment play out at barcelona? this time, it’s different.  

this time, you’re not watching from a distance. you’re not on the same team in barcelona, cheering her on as she steps up to deliver. this time, she’s your opponent. the person you’ve built your life with, the person you moved countries for, the person who sees you in ways no one else does�� she’s standing just a few feet away, preparing to beat you.  

the score is 1-0 for germany thanks to giulia.. if alexia scores.. it's equalized. its the last few minutes of the match, so your girlfriend needs this in order for the match to be saved for spain. 

alexia’s face is unreadable, her usual calm determination etched into every feature. ale’s eyes, the ones that soften when she’s with you, are now laser-focused, studying you as if you’re just another obstacle in her way. 

you’re trying, desperately, to think of her as just another opponent, another world-class player stepping up to try and break your streak.  

she’s not though.  

she’s alexia. your alexia. your ale. your home.

your mind flashes to the moments you’ve shared over the years. the conversations in the middle of the night where she confided her fears that she would’ve told nobody else, the way she smiled at you after her acl surgery back in 2022, promising she’d come back stronger. the nights you spent curled up together, her head on your chest, her soft breathing the only sound in the room.  

you remember the way she held you when germany crashed out of the world cup last year. when alexia won the world cup, you kept your disappointment away from her for a while. suddenly, it exploded a month after the loss. you were lost too, and felt like you weren’t going to recover from that exit.

at that time, your tears soaking into her shirt as she whispered, "you’ll get another chance, mi amor. when you do, you’ll prove to everyone just how incredible you are."  

this is that chance.  

you try to shake the thoughts away, grounding yourself in the present. alexia takes a few steps back, adjusting her captain's armband. she looks at you again, her gaze steady, and you wonder if she can see the turmoil in your eyes.  

the referee blows the whistle.  

time slows as she starts her approach. you’ve seen this before.. her technique, her precision, the way she always manages to disguise her intentions until the last possible second. she’s a master at it, and you’ve spent years admiring that skill.  

however, you’ve also spent years studying it.  

your instincts take over as she strikes the ball, the familiar snap of her boot against leather echoing in your mind. you dive to your right, your body moving before you fully process the decision. in less than a second, the ball connects with your gloves, the impact jolting through your arms as you push it away.  

the stadium erupts into a cacophony of cheers and groans, but all you can hear is your own breathing, ragged and heavy. 

you’re on your knees, staring at the ball as it rolls harmlessly out of bounds over the goalpost.  

you saved it.  

the weight of what you’ve done crashes down on you as your teammates rush toward you, their voices loud and jubilant, their hands patting your back, pulling you to your feet as everyone not runs onto the pitch for a group hug. 

germany won. 

you smile, nodding at them, but your eyes immediately search for alexia.  

she’s standing at the edge of the penalty area, her hands on her hips, her head tilted slightly downward. ale’s expression is unreadable, and for a moment, you wonder if she’s angry, disappointed, or simply resigned.  

you feel a pang of guilt so sharp it nearly takes your breath away. you knew this moment might come, knew that playing for your country might mean standing in the way of hers, but knowing and experiencing are two entirely different things.  

this was never supposed to happen. not like this.  

you want to run to her, to tell her it’s not personal, that it’s just football. that feels hollow, even in your own mind. how can it not be personal? how can anything between you and alexia not carry the weight of what you mean to each other?  

your teammates pull you into a huddle, their excitement screaming in the air around you, but your focus remains on her. she finally looks up, her eyes meeting yours across the pitch. for a brief second, everything else falls away. 

it’s just the two of you, connected by something unspoken, something stronger than your careers.  

the moment passes, and she turns away, jogging back to her position as aitana and laia pat her on the back, telling her that she did a nice try in catalan.  

you swallow hard, forcing yourself to focus on the bronze medal, the bronze medal you’ve won once that whistle goes off. there’s still time on the clock, two minutes, still work to be done.

germany needs you to stay sharp, to hold the line, to prove that last year’s world cup heartbreak was just a stepping stone.  

the whistle blows after those torturous two minutes– filled with laura and klara keeping the ball away from your side of the field. as take off your gloves after the match ends.. and you’re hugging many of your german teammates. 

however you can’t shake the weight of what just happened. you’ve played against friends before, against teammates, but never against alexia. never against the person who knows you better than anyone, who has seen you at your most vulnerable, who has been your rock through everything.  

you glance at her every chance you get, looking for any sign of how she’s feeling. but alexia is a professional. she doesn’t let her emotions show, not on the pitch. 

still, you can’t help but wonder if this moment, this save, will change things between you.  

no matter how much you try to separate the game from your relationship, you know it’s not that simple. it never is.  

as you push yourself away from the front of the goalpost, shaking the sting out of your hands, you can still see the disbelief in alexia’s eyes from across the pitch, only you could tell. everyone else probably thinks she is exhausted. 

the bronze medal is yours. you smile, you celebrate with your teammates, but something inside you feels hollow. you’ve done your job, you’ve saved your team, and germany has claimed the medal. 

yet, the joy feels distant, like you’re watching it all from a foggy window.  

your mind drifts, always returning to alexia. your girlfriend, your love, the woman you’ve spent years building a life with. you can’t shake the thought… what does she think? how does she feel?  

you play for barcelona, have since 2021.. and catalonia is her heart, her pride. you’ve just done what you never thought you would.. defeated spain, broken their dreams of an olympic medal.  

will your fans still love you? will they understand that you had no choice? and what about alexia?  

will she hate you for this? can she even look at you the same way after you took something so important from her, something she’s worked for her entire life?  

the thought lingers, twisting inside you, even as the team surrounds you, offering their congratulations. it doesn’t feel like a true win. not yet.  

and then, through the crowd, you see someone.  

lena.  

on crutches, her knee still in recovery from surgery, but her smile wide and her eyes filled with warmth. she approaches you, her arms opening wide as she drops her crunches, and you don’t hesitate. you step into her embrace, letting her hold you as if she can somehow take away the weight on your chest.  

you press your face into your best friend's shoulder, needing this moment of comfort more than you expected. obi’s hug feels like the one thing that isn’t tainted by the competition, the one thing that’s still pure, still good.  

lena pulls back slightly, looking you in the eye. 

“you were incredible out there,” she says in german, her voice filled with pride. 

“that save.. everyone will be talking about it for months.”  

you try to muster a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“it’s fine, obi,” you murmur, trying to downplay it.  

lena doesn’t buy it. she knows you too well. 

“you did something selfless, y/n. it wasn’t just a save. you did it against... the love of your life. that’s hard.”  

your throat tightens at her words. you nod, but the reality of what you’ve done starts to hit harder. 

how do you reconcile this? how do you keep your love for alexia intact while also celebrating the victory with your team?  

“it’s fine,” you repeat, but even you can tell it sounds empty.  

lena hesitates, then places a hand on your shoulder, her gaze softening with understanding. “things will be okay. you’ll see.” but the way she says it—so gentle, yet laced with an undercurrent of uncertainty—lets you know that even lena isn’t entirely sure. 

she’s still healing from her own injury, still grappling with what the future holds for her own life, and maybe, just maybe, that same uncertainty is creeping into her words for you too.  

afterwards, you pace the edge of the pitch, your boots scuffing against the grass as you watch the boring scene unfold around you. the crowd is long gone, the cheers and jeers now a distant echo. 

you’re searching for her.  

alexia.  

it’s been over an hour since the final whistle, and you haven’t seen her since. you’ve tried to focus, to join in the celebrations, but your mind keeps pulling you back to her. you know her too well to believe she’s fine.

alexia doesn’t lose easily, especially not like this.  

you spot her, finally, near the edge of the pitch. she’s standing with her arms crossed, her head down, and you feel an overwhelming need to go to her, to make things right, to say something.. anything.. that might ease the weight she must be carrying.  

before you can take more than a step, someone steps in front of you.  

“y/n,” jenni says softly, her hand coming up to rest on your arm. her voice is kind, but her expression is firm.  

“jenni,” you start, your tone pleading, but she shakes her head.  

“you did what you needed to do. the better team won. maybe give her some space,” she suggests, her words careful, but they still hit like a punch to the gut.  

you knew jenni from your time at psg back in 2017. she was the closest person in your life at that time, being your best friend for the one season that she was there for. in fact, she introduced you to alexia back in 2019. she knows you both.

you blink, caught off guard. 

“space?” you repeat, the word tasting bitter on your tongue. 

“jenni, i just... i need to talk to her.”  

jenni hesitates, her gaze flickering toward alexia before settling back on you. again, she’s your best friend, someone who’s seen you through highs and lows, and she knows how much alexia means to you. however, she also knows alexia.  

“it’s not you,” jenni says quickly, her tone softening as she notices the hurt flash across your face. 

“it’s not. she just... she might need a break. from everything. from everyone. she has not said a single word to anyone yet, only comforting salma for a few minutes and thats it.”  

the words sting, even though you know they’re not meant to. 

“ale thinks she let salma and the rest of them down, doesn’t she?” you ask quietly, your voice barely audible.  

jenni sighs, her hand still on your arm as if to steady you. 

“she does. she’s been carrying the weight for years, y/n. you know that. and after everything—her injury, coming back, proving herself again—she’s scared she’s not the same player she used to be.”  

you know that. 

you close your eyes for a moment, the guilt settling in your chest like a stone. you’ve spent years telling alexia she’s still the best, that she would come back stronger, that the injury didn’t define her. now, after tonight, after that save...  

“and now she thinks that penalty proved her fear,” you whisper, the words like ash in your mouth.  

jenni doesn’t respond right away, but the look on her face tells you enough. you open your eyes and glance back at alexia, your heart aching at the sight of her. she’s still standing there, alone, her head bowed as if the weight of the world is pressing down on her.  

you bite the inside of your cheek, forcing yourself to nod. 

“okay,” you say finally, your voice thick. 

“i’ll give her space.”  

jenni looks at you with something like sympathy, squeezing your arm gently. 

“just for now,” she says. 

“she’ll come to you when she’s ready. you know she will.”  

you nod again, but the ache in your chest doesn’t lessen. jenni steps away, leaving you standing there as you watch alexia, your mind racing with everything you want to say but can’t.  

the same alexia who held you when you thought your career was over after germany’s world cup exit. the alexia who told you that you were more than football, that your value wasn’t tied to wins or losses. now, when she needs to hear those same words, you’re the direct reason she’s hurting.  

you stay there a moment longer, the distance between you and alexia feeling wider than it ever has. then, with a heavy heart, you turn and walk away.  

in barcelona four days later, two days after the medal ceremony.. the door to your shared apartment clicks softly as you step inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you. tonight, it feels heavier somehow, as if the air itself is weighed down by everything unsaid between you and alexia.  

neither of you have talked since the morning before the bronze medal match, four and a half days ago. 

you slip off your shoes and place your bag by the door, your movements slow and deliberate, your heart pounding in your chest. you know she’s here. ale’s black car was parked outside, and the faint hum of her favorite playlist drifts through the apartment, almost drowned out by your own thoughts.  

walking down the foyer, you find her in the living room, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked beneath her, a blanket draped over her shoulders. ale’s hair is loose, falling in waves around her face, and her eyes are fixed on the coffee table, where a glass of wine sits untouched.  

“hey,” you say softly, your voice tentative.  

alexia glances up, her eyes meeting yours for a brief second before she looks away. 

“hey,” she murmurs, her tone flat, distant.  

you hesitate in the doorway, unsure whether to move closer or give her more space. the sight of her like this.. quiet, withdrawn, her usual spark dimmed.. twists something deep inside you.  

“i... i didn’t think you’d be home this early,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.  

“didn’t feel like staying out,” she replies, still not looking at you.  

you frown, knowing some of your non-barcelona spanish friends.. jenni for example, all went to party before the club season starts again. 

the silence that follows in the apartment is unbearable, thick with tension and words neither of you knows how to say. you take a cautious step forward, then another, until you’re standing just a few feet away.  

“alexia,” you start, your voice trembling despite your best efforts. 

“can we talk?”  

she exhales deeply, her shoulders slumping under the weight of whatever she’s carrying. 

“about what?” she asks, her tone almost defensive.  

you falter, your hands wringing together as you search for the right words. 

“about... the game. about us. about everything.”  

alexia shakes her head, pulling the blanket tighter around herself. 

“there’s nothing to talk about,” she says quietly, but the crack in her voice betrays her.  

you sink to your knees in front of her, your hands resting on the edge of the couch. “there is,” you insist, your voice breaking. 

“alexia, please. i need to know where we stand. i need to know if...” you trail off, your throat tightening with emotion.  

ale’s eyes finally meet yours, and the sadness in them is almost too much to bear. 

“if what?” she whispers, her voice barely audible.  

“if you’re going to hate me,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them away furiously. 

“because i can’t stop thinking about it, alexia. that penalty. i saved it, and it felt like i was taking something from you...”  

alexia’s eyes widen, her expression softening as she realizes the depth of your fear. she leans forward, her hand reaching out to cup your cheek. “y/n,” she says firmly, her voice steady despite the tears welling up in her own eyes. 

“don’t ever say that. don’t ever think that.”  

you shake your head, the tears spilling over now as you let out a shaky breath. 

“but it’s true. you missed, and spain didn’t get the medal, and now... now i feel like i’ve ruined everything, like i’ve ruined us.”  

ale’s grip on your cheek tightens slightly, grounding you as she speaks. 

“you didn’t ruin anything. yes, i’m upset about the penalty. yes, it hurts to lose like that. but y/n, that has nothing to do with us. i could never hate you. not for that, not for anything.”  

“but—”  

“no,” she interrupts, her voice growing stronger. 

“listen to me. football is not my whole life. it’s not your whole life. we are more than this sport. you are the love of my life, y/n. the one person who has stood by me through everything.. through my injury, my recovery, through what happened with my national team, my fears. i am not losing you over a penalty save, no matter how much it hurts right now.”  

you choke on a sob, leaning into her touch as your tears fall freely. 

“i was so scared,” you admit, your voice breaking. “scared that i’d lose you, scared that you’d resent me.”  

she shakes her head, her own tears slipping down her cheeks as she strokes your skin with her thumb. 

“never,” she says fiercely. “i could never resent you. you did your job, just like i tried to do mine. and if i’m upset, it’s at myself, not you.”  

you let out a shaky breath, the weight in your chest lifting ever so slightly as her words sink in. she shifts forward, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into her embrace.  

you bury your face in her neck, clinging to her as if she might disappear. her hands run soothingly up and down your back, her touch gentle but firm, anchoring you in the moment.  

“we’ll get through this,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. 

“we always do.”  

you nod against her, the knot in your chest loosening just a little more. because she’s right. this is just one moment in a lifetime of moments, and no matter how hard it feels now, you know you’ll find your way back to each other.  

“i love you,” you whisper, your voice muffled against her skin.  

“i love you too,” she replies, her voice steady, unwavering. “more than anything.”  

you’re still wrapped up in her embrace when alexia pulls back slightly, her hands lingering on your arms as her eyes search yours. they’re softer now, the weight they carried moments ago easing into something warmer, more familiar.  

“can i see the bronze medal?” she asks suddenly, her voice quiet but sincere.  

you blink, surprised by the question. 

“the medal?”  

she nods, her lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. 

“yes. you’ve earned it, and i want to see it.”  

you hesitate for a moment, unsure. there’s still a part of you that feels like showing her might be rubbing salt into a wound, like it might remind her of the loss instead of the victory. but the way she’s looking at you, with such genuine curiosity and care, gives you the courage to stand up and retrieve it from your bag.  

as you pull the medal out, the bronze glinting under the soft light of your apartment, you can’t help but feel a flicker of pride. not just for yourself, but for germany, for what you all accomplished together.  

you hold it out to her, the ribbon dangling from your fingers, and alexia reaches for it with delicate hands. she takes the medal, turning it over in her fingers, studying it as if it’s a priceless artifact.  

“it’s beautiful,” she murmurs, her thumb tracing the embossed lettering on the front. ale’s expression shifts, and when she looks up at you, her eyes are filled with something you can’t quite place.. pride, admiration, and maybe even a touch of awe.  

“you did this,” she says softly. 

“you brought this home for germany. after everything... after the world cup... you gave them this.”  

ale’s words hit you like a wave, washing over the lingering doubts and guilt that have been sitting heavy in your chest. you swallow hard, trying to keep your emotions in check.  

“i just... i wanted to do something for my team since ann couldn’t play,” you say quietly. 

“something to show that we’ve grown, that we’re not the same team that fell apart last year.”  

alexia smiles, and it’s small, but it’s real. 

“and you did. you gave those women something to believe in again.”  

you study her face, looking for any sign of lingering hurt or resentment, but all you see is her..the woman who has always stood by your side, who has always believed in you, even when you didn’t believe in yourself.  

“you’re really okay with this?” you ask, your voice hesitant.  

she nods, holding the medal out to you. 

“of course i’m hurt, y/n. but that doesn’t mean i’m not happy for you and for your team. you deserved this moment. your team deserved it.”  

you take the medal from her, your fingers brushing hers, and the warmth of her touch grounds you.  

“i’m proud of you,” she continues, her voice steady, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“not just for the save, but for everything. for the way you carry yourself, for the way you fight for your team. and for the way you’ve always fought for me, too.”  

ale’s  words bring fresh tears to your eyes, but this time, they’re not from fear or guilt. they’re from love, from relief, from the overwhelming realization that no medal, no match, no save could ever come between you and her.  

you step closer, wrapping your arms around her again, the medal clinking softly between you. 

“thank you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.  

she rests her chin on your shoulder, her hands rubbing gentle circles on your back. “i mean it,” she murmurs. 

“this doesn’t change us. football is just a part of our lives. you are my life, y/n.”  

you close your eyes, letting her words sink in, letting them soothe the raw edges of your heart. 

masterlist

[3rdgymbros]

━ 𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 (𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐀 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠) !

— pairing; michael kaiser x reader

— summary; he gives you a hairclip to match his tattoo ! set in the blue lock manager au.

— notes; BOOM BABY, GUESS WHO'S BACK !

❋ Even before Blue Lock, your parents have always been deeply involved in the world of professional football. Even when you were little, your weekends would be spent at gyms and stadiums, watching matches, and mingling with famous players and staff.

❋ Despite your young age, you’ve already been actively assisting your parents behind the scenes, taking on various roles like helping with administrative tasks, arranging transportation, and even fetching coffee for the coaching staff.

❋ The Bastard München football team is no stranger to you, considering their close connections to your parents. Over the years, you've seen players come and go, but one player stands out in particular ─ Michael Kaiser. Sure, he’s got a boatload of talent, but he really needs to work on that attitude of his.

❋ And, well. You’d thought he was hot for all of one second. Then he’d opened his damn mouth, and you’d been overcome with the urge to staple it shut.

❋ Your relationship with Kaiser is anything but pleasant. Kaiser's condescending attitude rubs you the wrong way, and Noel Noa and your parents often have to intervene before the two of you come to blows.

❋ You’re relieved when the football season in Germany comes to an end. This means returning home to Japan, and it means freedom from Kaiser's constant presence.

❋ As you're saying your goodbyes to the team, Kaiser approaches you with a small, delicate blue rose hairclip, mirroring the intricate blue rose tattoo stamped on his neck.

( “What is this.” “It’s a gift, of course.” “I can see that, I’m just wondering what the catch is. There’s always something up with you.” “Just think of me when you wear it, won’t you?” “Bold of you to assume I’m ever gonna wear it.” )

❋ At first, you’re taken aback by the unexpected gift. Your initial reaction is to reject it, given your tumultuous history with Kaiser. But in the end, you blow out a resigned sigh and accept his gift, unwilling to make a scene on your final day.

❋ And for all your complaints, you grudgingly have to admit that it is pretty. More than that, it’s actually useful in helping to keep your hair out of your face on particularly windy days.

❋ When Kaiser and the rest of Bastard München arrive at the Blue Lock facility for the Neo Egoist League, his smug grin is impossible to miss the moment he catches sight of that familiar bright blue glimmer in your hair. It's a moment of mortification on your part, but you absolutely refuse to let Kaiser see how much it bothers you.

( “I see you liked the gift.” “. . .” “What happened to you not wearing it, [ NAME ]?” “Oh, shut up!” )

❋ Your only regret is how your complicated relationship with Kaiser now takes center stage amidst the Neo Egoist League. What with all the hidden cameras and the way that the Blue Lock players are staring at you, you’re fairly certain that you know what the gossip topic of the week will be.

[ceesimz]

Reverie - Part 1

Autistic Reader x Barça Femení - Part 2

Hey, I have some things to say before you start reading. ASD is a very vast spectrum, no two people with it experience the same stuff on a day-to-day basis. This story is written with my knowledge from people I know, and also from my own experiences living with autism too. So don't take this as 'the' perspective, this is a drop in the ocean and this most definitely isn't a handbook on autism. If anyone has any questions or thoughts about this, or ASD in general, you are more than welcome to message me or drop something in my inbox! This is just part one, if you like this first half of the story (because I have no idea how this will go down), let me know if you wanna see the second part, it's ready to go whenever.

Big big thanks to @copper-16 for editing it and leaving such lovely comments on it, I wouldn't have the confidence to post this if it wasn't for your words. Thank you for taking a chance on this story and opening yourself up to learn more, the world needs more people like you and we're all much better off that you're here🫶🏼🫶🏼

This is my favourite thing I've ever written, and I kinda feel like I'm giving away a piece of my heart by posting this (dramatic much), let me know what you think, hope you like it :)

“Are you ready to go in?”

Are you?

Are you ready to walk into a new setting, head held high, and show your teammates you are worth it? 

Or are you going to back out? Reverse right out the parking space, speed off to the airport, and catch a flight to god knows where?

That's simply not a possibility. Even if the thought of walking through those reception doors that stare tauntingly at you from across the car park perturbs you more than anything else, there's no backing out now.

Barcelona, the pride of Catalunya, the dominants of Europe, doesn't accept quitters. And that fact glares at you, along with all of its history and values held in the iconic badge that countless legends had adorned, and with it came a legacy you weren’t sure you had the strength to bare on your back. The new number nine, born and raised in Norway but made into the player you are now in Germany.

Here you were, after five years playing for Frankfurt, where you had grown accustomed to a comfortable routine with familiar faces and the same surroundings for so long, now in a new country that held so many unknowns. For someone with so many disadvantages ever present in their life, living in three different countries is a pretty impressive achievement.

Please, let it all be worth it.

After a few frustrating years in the Frauen-Bundesliga, you had signed for the best team in Europe and, arguably, the rest of the world too. Frankfurt had been a beautiful experience, one that had changed your life, but as a result of many, many long discussions with family and friends and psychologists, you had come to the terrifying realisation that it was time for a new challenge.

Why was that absolutely petrifying? Because you and life changes did not get along. Even after 26 years of living, it just wasn’t meant to be. But, such is life, and chances had to be taken.

You'd always be thankful for Frankfurt. Moving to play there was the first time you took such a huge leap of faith, and it had worked out well, eventually. In your eyes, the first season there was a disaster, but your mother would say it was the proudest year of her life. It had been difficult for her to see at times just how much you struggled at points, sure, but you made it to the light at the end of the tunnel and, by the end of it, you were a completely different person in the most incredible way possible. From then on, you continued to grow.

Yet, that was the thing with the German side. When you joined, they were a club with a legacy most teams would envy, but they never amounted to anything more during your time there. You fell in love with the staff, your teammates, and just about everything else during your time there. The only problem, which was pretty damn big in the grand scheme of things, was that you fell out of love with the football you were playing.

You were able to grow and survive at Frankfurt. You wanted to flourish and thrive at Barcelona.

Except, in comparison to the average human, there were a lot more obstacles ahead that could prevent you from accomplishing that aspiration. Over your life, you had overcome many bumps in the road, some leaving a harsh imprint on your self-worth and others hardly affecting you. For example, talking to the girl you were roomed with at 16 at the Norway Football Team camp had turned out to be one of the best things you could have done. Yet, in the same breath, playing for the national team had left you in a broken state, and as a result, you haven't played for them in a few years. 

The back and forth travel was too much, and opting out of playing for Norway, as much as it broke your heart that you weren’t strong enough to represent your country on the international stage, it allowed you to rest and recuperate so that you were at the top of your game for your club. Did you dream of wearing your country’s crest one day? Yes, all footballers did. But you weren’t in a place to do that, and you’re not sure you ever will be again.

Signing for Barcelona could be life-changing, but it could also be world-shattering in the worst way imaginable. This was a pretty sizable leap of faith, and the only way that faith could form into something incredible is if you made that happen. You, no one else. That thought filled you with both determination and crushing anxiety. This just could not be another failed attempt. There was no way you could come back.

Ultimately, it would have been downright psychopathic to turn down such an amazing offer from Barcelona. Two years playing for a club that's won three of the last four Champion's League finals? A team that had just completed the quadruple for the first time in their history? Yeah, nonsensical.

However, like always, there were a number of doubts that spiralled from those incredible stats. Did they need you? If they had a mostly flawless season, did they really need a 26 year old woman whose mind hardly functioned like every other person? Did they really need someone who couldn't even play for the national team anymore because they were too overwhelmed with their life? Did they need someone who needed their hand held through every life event, big or small? Did they-

“Hey, you ready?” 

That voice had some kind of magic to it. It was like clock-work, this always happened when she was around; that voice in your head consuming you with unwanted thoughts was erased as soon as you tore your eyes away from the doors and looked at the woman beside you. 

Ingrid. The one person that had single-handedly convinced you to come here. To Barcelona, playing in a hot country, with people you don’t know, speaking a language you can’t understand- oh my God, what have you done?!

“I… god, I don’t know.” You breathed out in a whisper, hardly intelligible. 

The world around you honed in on this one moment here, the peak of your career so far. Apart from Ingrid and the doors to the building and what was in store behind them, there was nothing else that could grasp your attention. There could be a blazing fire behind your car, a lion running full speed towards your car door, or a thief in the back seat for all you knew. Nothing else mattered. The two sides of your mind, the devil and angel on your shoulders were battling it out again, as they always were, whilst your hands fidgeted anxiously in your lap.

“You have to go in at some point, snuppa. You can’t stay in the car forever.” Ingrid softly reminded you, moving to take hold of your hand to comfort your stimming. “It will be a really good day, I promise. My years here so far have been the best of my life, everyone is so nice and welcoming. I never thought I could enjoy training as much as I do now. You will be fine, I have no doubts.”

“I’m not sure about that one.” You laughed nervously, eyes back on the building before you, now slightly glazed over and blurred. 

“I am certain about everything I just said.” Ingrid stated definitively, squeezing your hand. “Plus, not everyone in there are complete strangers. You have me, Mapi, you know Caro and you’ve met Jonatan and some other staff members. You know Loren, the team psychologist who you can go see any time you want. We’ll get you past this part of today, and then you have the whole afternoon to do whatever you’d like.”

You nodded at her words, desperately trying to remind yourself of them over and over so that they stick, and you can get through those damn doors. 

“You know how much easier my life would be if I knew how everything was going to play out?” You blurted out a moment later, Ingrid smiling in amusement. “It would be a breeze, Ingrid.”

“It would also make your life very boring, min skatt.”

“For you, it would be. For me, I'd live freely.”

Ingrid just laughed and shook her head, squeezing your hand once more before looking at the time on her watch.

“Come on. We have to do this one way or another, and I'm not letting you go in on your own. You want to make me late to training?” She teased, targeting your weak spot. Evil.

“That's cruel, Ingrid. So cruel.” You rolled your eyes but nevertheless stepped out of the car once you'd turned it off.

You didn't make it far though. Once you had gotten your kit bag from the boot of the car, you closed it and froze. Eyes unmoving from the daunting building in front of you.

“Would you like some company after training? We can stay at home, or go out for food, or do anything you'd like.” Ingrid offered, snapping you out of your anxious trance.

Even after… god, ten years now, you were still sometimes left dumb-founded by how well Ingrid knew you. A lot of the time, you yourself are in the dark about what you need, but your fellow Norwegian just gets it, even when you don't. It's pretty safe to say that your life, your whole career, would look a hell of a lot different if you had never met Ingrid.

If you put her characteristics into a different section when it comes to your favourite things about her, the thing you love most about the defender beside you is how she treats you. Sure, the majority of people treated you with respect and kindness, but the defender's love and care was on a whole other level. Like in this scenario now, when she knows you're too overwhelmed by the situation that confronts you to be able to think clearly. But here she is, giving you clear and thought-out options that off-kilt the tunnel vision you have on this one miniscule event, and now gives you something to look forward to. 

It reminds you that the world won't end if this training session doesn't go how you want it to, that life goes on afterwards. It makes the road clearer, the journey easier, and allows solace to be found in a down-right terrifying moment.

The funny thing is, however, is that your new home is actually Ingrid's home. No, you weren't living with her, but you were indeed staying in her apartment. She basically lived at Mapi's apartment anyway, so the second she caught wind of your transfer, she immediately offered her disregarded apartment up to you. It was a huge item checked off the ‘things that need doing after uprooting your entire settled, content, perfectly routine life’ to-do list, but you couldn't quite relish in the relief yet.

That's because, though it went unsaid, another factor of Ingrid's offer of letting you stay was so that, if all went wrong and you couldn't make a life for yourself in Barcelona, there was no tenancy to rip up and ultimately it would be a lot less hassle than if you had rented an entirely new place. Ingrid's excuse of not changing your name on the tenancy for now was so that you could settle in with as little stress as possible, but you knew the underlying meaning. Basically, it was a giant get out of jail free card.

“I think I would like that a lot, actually. Thanks.” You said to the taller girl next to you, whose arm had come to wrap around your shoulders.

“Perfect! María has some things to do but I'm free all afternoon, so we can figure something out. For now though, we have to train.” 

Taking in a deep breath, you nodded once more.

“That's all it is. Just training.” You told yourself, physically shaking the anxiety off of your chest and marching forwards. You got as far as those damn doors before you froze on the spot again. “Fuck, this is so scary.”

“I know it is.” Ingrid sympathised, rubbing a hand up and down your back. “We've got this though. It's just training, right?” 

“It's just training. And a few introductions. And about a million new people.” You sighed. “Will you stick with me the whole time?”

“Like glue, søster.” Ingrid said firmly, placing a kiss on your forehead. “Let's go.”

And just like that, you did walk into the building with your head held high, disregarding the burdening nerves and replacing them with a deep-rooted determination to prove you are worth it. Maybe your teammates would think otherwise if they knew the secret you were keeping from them, but for now, you would put up a front and act just like them. Your best bet at succeeding here is to fit in, and that's what you'll do. 

Ingrid wasn't impressed with this tactic of yours, not in the slightest. Jonatan and other senior staff members knew about you, Loren the psychologist knew about you, and Mapi knew. Besides that, everyone else was in the dark. There was only so long Ingrid could last before she had to tell someone at least, like Alexia or Irene or Marta, because she wanted the best for you and the best couldn't be given if your needs weren't catered for.

Like now, as she watched your whole face change in a split second as the mask came down so fast that, had she blinked a second later, she would have missed it entirely. The tension to the way you held your shoulders was all the evidence she needed that your whole nervous system was wracked with dread, and though she should expect it by now, it didn't stop the jab of sympathy she felt for you.

Of course she knew how difficult this would be for you, she just had really high hopes. Sometimes, even after all these years, it slipped her mind how much you still struggled with things. You'd gotten a lot better at dealing with various different circumstances and that mere fact could bring tears to her eyes if she thought about how far you had come, but moments like these were a snap back to the reality you still lived.

You lived so beautifully, you were so strong now, that your struggles were hardly visible anymore. Yet, when one knows a person for so long, they come to learn the signs. Ingrid knew you like the back of her hand. It still amazed her how quick you put the mask back up, normally being so care-free and light around her. But here, outside of the room everyone was due to meet in for the morning, a feigned smile on your face and a falsity to your posture signified all that Ingrid needed to know.

Even despite your dawdling in the car park, you and Ingrid were some of the first to arrive at the meeting, only a handful of unfamiliar faces scattered around the room. Jonatan looked up at the door upon your arrival and his face lit up, immediately dropping what he was doing to come and greet you with a beaming smile. He offers a gentle handshake, also being sure to speak in clear English so that your mind wasn’t overloaded more than it already was. All of it was reassuring, especially as he kept you off to the side as the room slowly began to fill up, before guiding you to the last chair on the front row beside Ingrid so that the meeting could start. Thankfully, to your relief, he gave you a short introduction to the rest of the squad, you only briefly turning and giving the room a general wave before allowing Jonatan to move onto more pressing matters.

From then on, you were rushed off your feet with introductions and training, all of which weren’t half as bad as you’d expected. During the short walk from the meeting to the changing room, a few others came along to properly greet you, all whilst Ingrid stayed close to your side. Mapi had also come bounding along after you the second you left the first room, Ingrid wincing at the excitement her girlfriend met you with but instantly that worry was erased as soon as you turned to Mapi with a matching overjoyed smile. 

By the time you actually got onto the pitch, you had spoken to almost all of the team already. And like Ingrid said, they were just as amazing as you had hoped they would be. Every single one, in their own ways, welcomed you to the team and made small talk with you for a few moments before letting whoever next came by to have their own chance at greeting you. But, it wasn’t until you were about to join in with the warm-up that the person you’d been most nervous about meeting came along.

Your new captain, Alexia. The powerhouse of the Barcelona team, the one you had to leave the best impression on.

A few days prior, amidst a conversation in the corner of Ingrid’s favourite cafe, you had sheepishly demanded that she give you a run-down of each and every single member of the team. There had been Ona, who Ingrid described as a lightning fast defender whose jestful clapbacks were even quicker than her sprint bursts on the pitch. Then Cata, the new number one goalkeeper whose cheek was sometimes too much for even the younger members of the team. Jana, a surefire future talent who was often found beside her quieter, more reserved but equally talented counterpart, Bruna. Patri and Pina were much the same, as were Vicky and Salma. Ingrid gave you a short but detailed profile of all of them, leaving the most important for last. Alexia, who initially came across as slightly cold due to the stoic, focused expression she usually wore. But, to her teammates and those closest to her, she was a world class leader, an even better player, and most importantly, a defiantly caring person with a personality that had more sides than a kaleidoscope. 

Upon hearing the exit door slamming shut, you turned your attention to the direction of the sound, only to be met with her. Casually strolling over, squinting in the face of the sun, she came over to you with a… a smile on her face?

“Hola! You must be the novota, nice to meet you.” She beamed, inviting you into a quick, polite hug before standing back. “Happy to be here?”

As always with new people, especially someone like the woman before you, you floundered internally for a moment, so many replies flitting around your mind with so little time to react.

“Y-yeah! Really happy to be here, thank you, Alexia.” You landed on, and judging by her reaction, it was the right thing to say. 

“Good, I am glad to hear that. Sorry I was not here for the meeting, you’ve met everybody already, sí?”

“Yes, Jonatan introduced me in the briefing.” 

“Good. Bueno, let’s get started. I am excited to be working with you.” The Spaniard smiled brightly once more, before gesturing loosely for the pair of you to join the rest of the group.

The rest of the day, as they say, is history.

It honestly went by in a blur, and if Ingrid was at all surprised by the way you literally fell into your bed when you arrived home, not surfacing from the newfound safe haven until about an hour later, she didn’t show it. This was Ingrid after all, and every quirk of yours, new or old, still brought a smile to her face. Ten years later and she couldn’t help but love you more each time she saw you.

—

The first week goes a lot smoother than you could have dreamed of to be honest - it’s only the start of preseason after all. But, there is still plenty of time for cracks to show. It only takes two days for all your progress to tear at the seams.

On the first day of your second week, you’re walking into training on your own for the first time since you joined. Shouldn’t be a big deal, right? Wrong! Big fucking deal actually, because now it’s like walking blind, heading straight for what feels like danger. Unguided, no one by your side, only joined by the weight of an elephant seated right on your heart.

With the help of Ingrid of course, who else, you had established somewhat of a routine that made the transition so much easier. But it wasn’t quite clear until now, just how much easier it had made showing up to training everyday. Because, without your Norwegian counterpart who would be absent from training, you were left to show up all alone, and suddenly everything became ten times harder. 

Ingrid was more than just your friend, she was the one constant in this new life you lived that was always present. Anything you needed, one glance from you in her direction and she’d be with you in an instant. She, as stupid as it may seem, was the foundation of your routine, and now that she wasn’t here, all the hard work you’d made to settle in seemed to crumble under your feet. 

Three weeks of living in Barcelona, one week of training successfully completed, just for you to end up back at square one. And that meant you were trapped in your own body, limbs acting entirely on autopilot as your legs carried you over to those stupid doors that once again stood intimidatingly in front of you. Just like last week, except this time there was no one to coax you out of your shell, no one to mindlessly guide you over to one of the tables in the canteen, no one to walk you out onto the training pitch. You were all alone.

An unfortunate tactic hadn’t left your habits after all these years: avoidance. What better way to deal with something, then to not deal with it all, right? Right? 

Obviously, you couldn’t miss the whole day, you still had commitments and expectations you needed to live up to. If there was one thing that you couldn’t handle (apart from almost everything in this neurotypical world) it was letting people down, disappointing them.

So, if you opted out of breakfast for the day and beelined straight for the changing rooms instead, what business was it to anyone else? You were here, that’s all they could ask for. The plan was to get dressed into your training kit as fast as physically possible, before heading out onto the pitch for some time alone before everyone else came along. 

…Except, just as you were lacing up your boots, hand trembling at an embarrassing intensity as you did so, the door opened prematurely. And, really, out of everyone, did it have to be her?

“Oh. I did not expect anyone to be in here. Bon dia.” Alexia smiled at you, heading to her cubby just a few seats away from yours.

“Bon dia.” You muttered sheepishly, keeping your head down and tying your laces at a wildly uncontrolled speed. If Alexia noticed, she didn’t mention it. Thank god.

“I was just going to get some extra practice in, if you wanted to join me.” She offered, swapping her trainers for her boots since she was already in her training gear.

Great minds think alike..?

“Yeah, I was going to do the same thing. Thanks.”

“Ay, it's nothing. It's great that you're so hard working, you’re already fitting right in.” Sorry, could you say that again, or write it down even? “Ready?”

“What? Oh- sorry, yes, I’m ready.” You gave her a tight-lipped smile before slipping past where she stood in the doorway and heading towards the pitch.

“How are you feeling about your time here so far?” The captain asked kindly, the beating sound of boots clicking against the floor echoing far too long in your ears.

“Um, good. It’s an honour playing for this team, so.” You shrugged, offering an almost robotic, rehearsed answer.

“And what about how you actually feel? Not what you’re supposed to feel?” Alexia inquired lightly, an earnest and sympathetic look across her face. Slightly suspicious.

“Well… still good. It’s just different, isn’t it. Yeah.” You mumbled, cheeks flushing bright red as you crossed your arms tightly over your chest.

“Of course it is different. You were in Germany for five years, right?” You nodded affirmatively. “So it is a big, big change. I haven’t been anywhere else but here for twelve years, I cannot imagine adjusting to anywhere else.”

Oh, Ingrid. Seriously?

“I’m here though, I have to leave Germany behind.” You stated in a flat voice, honestly quite done with this topic but it’d be rude to voice so.

“If that is how you want to think, then do it like that. You have transitioned very well, we are all impressed.” Alexia shrugged with a soft smile, punching in the code for the storage cupboard and opening it soon after. “Grab the footballs, I will get some tiny goals. The others can get the rest when they’re done filling their faces.”

Thank god for that.

Alexia ended that conversation there, directing her focus on training from that moment on, much to your relief. All that you learnt from this day was that you needed to have a conversation with Ingrid. Your sixth sense was strong, even if to others it seemed like Alexia was just being an averagely kind person, you just knew. 

The good thing was, you couldn’t quite call that day a disaster. In the end, you got through it, even squeezing in a few jokes and laughs here and there throughout the day.

It’s the next day that the first incident occurred. It happened like this; Ingrid isn’t in again, you learn she’s got some kind of stomach virus, so you turn up once more on your own. This time, it wasn’t quite so scary, but like yesterday you skipped breakfast again. And just like yesterday, Alexia met you in the changing rooms to do some early practice again. Except, there was one fatal flaw to your routine this day. It came back and bit you in the ass pretty harshly.

“Ale, what are you doing after this?” Mapi wondered from your right as she stood up after Jona had ended training for the day.

“Eh, nothing.” She shrugged, going to ask you the same thing as she reached her hands out to help you up.

For all you knew, the Spanish pair you were sandwiched between could be speaking absolute gibberish, nothing was registering. As soon as you stood up, everything went hazy. And then… your vision had gone, your body felt unbelievably heavy, and had it not been for Alexia’s tight grip, you’d have fallen back there and then.

“Hey!” Alexia called out in concern, feeling you go limp in her hold. “Mapi, she’s fainting!”

“What!?” Mapi cried, immediately falling to her knees as Alexia safely guided you to the floor.

“I don’t know, she just collapsed!” 

Her voice dripped with worry as Mapi frantically looked around, only to find most people had headed inside already. Meanwhile, you were still awake, not totally out cold, but your eyes ached unbearably and you’d lost all control of your movements. Alexia’s hands flitted over your body, looking for any obvious problems but she couldn’t find any. She repeated your name over and over, only receiving somewhat of a whimper in reply.

“Mapi, go find someone, now!” Alexia demanded, the defender instantly rising to her feet and heading for the door. The captain turned back to you, her hands gently coming up to cradle your face where you lay on your side. “Hey, I need you to listen! Can you hear me?”

“Mhm.” You whined, providing the woman before you with an ounce of relief.

“What’s wrong? You need to tell me so we can help you, cariño, you just fainted on us.” She said frantically, her wide eyes boring into yours when you opened them.

Identifying the problem, even in your state, was quite simple. It was a common problem, something you were well versed with, though you rarely ever let it get this bad.

“Forgot to eat.” You mustered up your remaining strength, which really was very little, to answer her and quell her worries.

Thinking back to this moment in probably an hour’s time, you’d laugh at Alexia’s face when you said those three words, because she looked utterly perplexed.

“You forgot to eat?” Alexia repeated with a frown, but she couldn’t dwell on it much longer because Mapi came running over with the medical team hot on her tails.

“Is she awake?” The brunette woman asked desperately, opting out of kneeling back beside you so as to not overcrowd you.

“Yes, and she said she forgot to eat today?” Alexia looked up at her friend, refusing to shift out of the way and instead choosing to stick by your side. 

“Oh, that would explain it.” Mapi sighed in relief, only puzzling Alexia more. Was this… normal for you?

The medics fussed over you, asking you questions and ultimately overwhelming you way too much, something Mapi notices quickly.

“Oye, basta, slow down. Her blood sugar is low, she needs something quickly. Get her an energy gel.” Mapi commanded them, now joining you by your head and smiling her bright smile down at you, combing back some of your hair. “Hola preciosa, we'll get you back feeling better soon.” Just as she said that, a member of the medical staff pulled out one of the energy gels the team used for games. “Can you have this for me? It will make you feel better, I promise.”

With a nod, the people around you helped you to sit up as Mapi tore  open the gel packet, with Alexia still almost frozen in confusion. The defender noticed, grinning in amusement and quickly flicking her ear to bring her back down to earth.

“Ah! What's that for?” Alexia winced, watching on as Mapi shook her head and handed you the gel pack.

Your hand trembled as you raised it to your mouth, hardly possessing the strength to squeeze it enough to get anything out of it, but just as Mapi went to help you, Alexia got there first.

“It’s okay, here.” She does it for you, one hand on the packet and the other on your elbow that shakes under her hold. She seemed to be grounded now, knowing that it isn't the right moment to be wrapped up in her own thoughts when you're here in front of her, needing security and comfort whilst it takes a couple minutes to come back to yourself. “Easy with it. You'll feel better soon.”

And you did, literally no less than two minutes after having the energy gel, your nausea and dizziness and whatnot near enough disappeared. Though, your physical symptoms gave way for a barrage of anxiety, because this situation would consequently lead to an unwanted and challenging (but most likely necessary) conversation with Jonatan and the rest of the staff. They had also seen you, on the floor, near enough passed out, as a result of your own actions. You could only imagine the things they were thinking right now, and that unknown was scarier than the actual situation that had occurred beforehand.

“Feeling good now. Thanks everyone.” You said shyly, rising to your feet and avoiding everyone's gaze.

“You sure?” Alexia checked, giving you a look that tells you that you shouldn't even try to bullshit her.

“Well, a little bit… woozy, I guess. But much better than before, I swear.” You nodded, hating the feeling of everyone’s eyes on you. 

“Let’s go inside, I’ll ask the catering staff to make up some food for you, if you want?” Mapi offered as her hand hovers against your back, not touching but guiding you back inside the main building.

“Okay.” You shrugged.

Meanwhile Alexia trailed behind, trying to figure out how, as captain, she could help this situation. It’s in her best interest to care for her team, and given what she had learnt, it was now clear that there was a lot more she could do than sit back and watch. She didn’t want to come across as overbearing, something Ingrid had warned her about, but she realised it was time to step in.

“Why don’t we go to one of the office rooms rather than the canteen?” She suggested just as Mapi went to open the door heading into said room. The defender should have thought of that sooner, but she’s glad her friend mentioned it, realising it’s most definitely the better option right now for you. 

You were taken to an empty office, followed into the room by Alexia and Mapi and some of the physios, and if they weren’t overcrowding you outside, they definitely were now. In all honesty, as much as you were grateful for their care, you wanted to burrow under your duvet in bed at home and not surface for probably about a week. You wanted to grab a tray of cookies, eat them whilst seated on the edge of your bed so you didn’t get crumbs everywhere, and crawl under the sheets safe in the darkness of the four walls you had struggled to leave the past two days.

But no, you were here, stuck in a reality that in no way felt real at all. What were you doing here? Sat at a round table, surrounded by medical staff chatting between themselves, not really bothered about your blip anymore, whilst two of Spain’s greatest players stand off to the side, both pairs of eyes trained solely on you.

You, a no-name off the back of an unsuccessful run in Germany that had just collapsed after training. Them, Champion’s League winners and well-established in the sport for years already, and decades to come.

“Preciosa?” Mapi appeared beside you suddenly, speaking softly as her hand fell on your shoulder. “Is it okay if I leave now? Ingrid is still sick at home, I promised I would get back to her as fast as I could. If you need me to stay, I can. They won’t keep you here for much longer, they’re just making sure you eat before you get back home.”

She should be with Ingrid, her girlfriend who is much worse off at home. Not with you, who simply made a foolish mistake and was now wasting everyone’s time.

“Go home.” You told her as your own hands squeezed anxiously at your upper arms where they sat crossed on the table.

“Okay.” Mapi smiled pitifully down at you, giving you a light forehead kiss before backing off. She pulled Alexia to the side, giving her a warning glare. “Look after her, for me and for Ingrid. Protect her, too. Don’t let them overwhelm her, she just wants to get home.”

“Sí. Of course.” Alexia replied firmly, a solid look in her eyes that Mapi knew to trust immediately. 

The defender slipped out of the room with no further fuss, leaving you alone with Alexia and the medical staff. Not for long, though.

“Guys, could you give us a moment? And can someone go collect her food from the canteen, please.” 

They nodded and stepped out of the room, Alexia closing the door softly behind them. She turned back to you, watching as you kept your head down and focused on the shapes you traced on the wood of the table. Your shoulders were visibly tense, so uptight they’re basically touching your ears, and she noticed just how intensely your leg was bouncing up and down.

“Do you need anyth-”

“Did Ingrid tell you?” You asked bluntly, gulping back the lump in your throat that really had no place making itself known at this moment - now was not the time for a meltdown. Save it for later, in the safety of your flat.

Alexia blew out a breath, coming over to perch on the edge of the desk a few seats away from you.

“If you’re talking about what I think you are, then… yes. She did tell me.” She answered cautiously, trying to gauge your reaction but you didn’t give her much, just a single nod. “She did it with the best intentions though. It wasn’t to… purposely go behind your back. She just wants the best for you, and the more people that know, the more support you can have here.”

“I guess.” You murmured under your breath, clearing your throat after and moving to rest your chin atop your arms.

“Why… why didn’t you want anybody to know?” The midfielder wondered in a soft tone, trying hard not to scare you off or go over the top. If she wants to help you and understand you, which she desperately does, this is the pathway she has to, albeit reluctantly, go down.

“Wanted people to get to know me, not a label.” You frowned, hastily wiping the tear that slips out with the frustration slowly bubbling inside of you. “Didn’t want to be a problem for anyone. Wanted to fit in.”

Just like that, it all clicked for Alexia.

The feigned smiles, sometimes forced laughter, the troubled look on your face whenever you thought you were alone, all of it adds up. You had repressed parts of you so that things went as smooth sailing as possible, so that people didn’t think any differently of you or immediately feel drawn away like they often did. The biggest part of you, what makes you you, is the one thing you didn’t want people to see, out of nothing but complete and all-consuming fear. And Alexia would be damned if she let you go on like this.

“Can I take a seat next to you?” She said quietly, a hint of a smile on her face when you nodded again. She did exactly that; without making too much noise in the still room, she pulled up the chair next to you and sat down, her eyes raking up and down your face.

“If I told you that I don’t think any differently of you at all, would you believe me?” She began with. 

You just shrugged dismissively, not having moved a single muscle in the past few minutes apart from breathing and blinking. If you don’t move, if you don’t draw attention to yourself, perhaps this whole thing will disappear. A girl can dream.

“Because I don’t, cariño. I really don’t. You are not a problem for any of us at all. You face different struggles than us, but nobody thinks of you as anything less than a great player and an even better person. We are all glad you are here. I and others on the team will face different struggles than you, and I can bet you would never think any differently of us. Am I right?” 

Her words break through the defensive wall you’d put up to protect yourself from anything else around you. A common feature of the start of your meltdowns, except it’s quite possible that your captain had just stopped it from going any further.

Hesitantly, you sat up from your slouched position and wiped tiredly at your face.

“No, I would never.” You told her, slumping back against your chair and fiddling with the drawstring on your shorts.

“Exactly. You don’t need to worry about any of that at all, I promise. You are one of us now. A culer. We will take care of you.” She smiled brightly, you can hear it in her voice. So for the first time since you’d entered the room, you turned to look at her, only to find her eyes were filled with earnesty and kindness. And… perhaps for the first time since you’d arrived in Barcelona, you truly did feel like you belong here. Like you could make a life for yourself here, against all odds.

“Thanks.” You sniffled, feeling the remnants of your outburst fade away, only to leave overwhelming exhaustion in its wake.

“It’s okay. You can come to me anytime for anything. There will always be someone here for you to talk to, and I’ll be the first to fight for you if that’s ever necessary.” Now, you were actually smiling. A genuine one, too.

“I think Ingrid might beat you to it, actually.” You teased her, watching as she grins.

“You’re probably right.” She chuckled, before pausing. You already knew what she was about to say before she opened her mouth. Neurotypicals are just way too predictable. “How did you know Ingrid told me?”

“You can just tell when someone knows. They treat you differently.” Alexia frowned anxiously at that.

“I didn’t… did I treat you differently?” She questioned, along with a poor attempt at disguising the undertones of fear in her voice.

“You haven’t, not really, but… I don’t know, I can just tell instantly. It’s hard to explain. You haven’t treated me differently, but I could tell you knew compared to when you didn’t know. The look on your face too. But thank you for… just everything so far. You have helped a lot, so.” You shrugged. She smiled, a little in relief, but nodded nevertheless.

“You don’t need to thank me. Now, can I ask some more about what happened today? You said you forgot to eat?” 

“Yeah. It’s just because my routine was messed up, that’s all. Yesterday morning I ate before training because Ingrid had baked me some pastries, but today I had none left and then genuinely forgot. It happens sometimes, it’s just part of it.”

“Part of what?”

“Autism.” Duh.

“Oh. I did not know that.” Alexia stated simply. 

“Yeah, well, most people don’t.” You told her. Alexia nodded understandingly, a plan of action already formed in her mind.

“I’m sure you already know this, as an athlete, but it’s important for your safety that this doesn’t happen again. So I have a solution in mind that could help.” You hummed to tell her to continue. “I can ask either the catering staff here, or find a private chef, to start meal prepping for you. We can organise it on the club’s behalf so that you don’t have to pay anything. I will go with you, or for you if you’d like, to Jonatan and help sort it out for you. You can meet with a nutritionist to figure out what food you need and tell them what you do and don’t like, we can sort it all out for you. It wouldn’t be a problem.” 

Oh. You’d never thought about that before. 

“I guess that could work.” You decided after a few moments of consideration. 

That would actually be a really helpful solution. Certainly one less thing to worry about, and it could add a secure layer to your routine. An important one too.

“Would you be okay with that?” Alexia wondered, smiling when you nodded. “Good. Leave it to me, I will get it sorted for you.” 

She paused again, clearly hesitant about something. You raised an eyebrow at her, trying to coax it out of her with a look, but you couldn’t help the amused smile on your face at the sudden, faint blush that landed on her cheeks.

“What is it?” 

“Uh… there is no way to ask this without coming across as… very forward, to say the least.” She started, shaking her head at her own ridiculousness. “May I get your number? For captain’s reasons, of course.”

“Right.” You smirked, watching as she shakes her head, this time at your teasing, and grabs a pen from the stationary pot in the centre of the table. “And what shall I write it on?”

“Well… just use my hand, I guess.” She suggested, offering the back of her hand out for you. You grinned and gently took hold of it, jotting down your number for her. 

“There you go, Capi.” You smiled, clicking the pen and putting it back.

Not long after that, one of the staff members came in with the food Alexia and Mapi had organised for you. So, leaving your captain with a promise that you'll eat it the second you walked through your apartment door, you went home. It was a great meal, and if it'd be the catering staff at Barcelona that would do your meal prep, well, it'd be a great deal.

That night went just like the others; you relaxed for some time to decompress after training, until you eventually started feeling somewhat human again, and arose from bed to do one of any of your hobbies that you felt like doing that night. Reading, watching movies, drawing and painting, listening to music, or any others that pique your interest that night. 

On some occasions, you'll be so mentally exhausted from your day that none of them seem at all appealing, and it takes a lengthy period of time to feel yourself again. An hour, the rest of the evening, or sometimes even the whole week. After especially hard times, it could take weeks. Fortunately you hadn't been through such events in years, but the fear of falling into that hole ever again was always present in the back of your mind.

The thing about having this disorder is that some things never change. Most things never change. You learn to cope, you can heal from past experiences, but in the grand scheme of it all, things never change. Certain events, people, even words can still be triggers. No amount of therapy or coping mechanisms or whatever, can help. You were born this way, and you would die this way. 

You would live a life and still struggle with even the most mundane things. Washing dishes was a no-go, the sensory issues were way too intense for that one. A day without showering first thing in the morning was automatically a write off. Bad performances in matches could still lead to a meltdown on certain days. One wrong look from someone can send you spiralling.

Autism was a blessing and a curse. It made you who you are; you have no idea who you would be without it. Yet, at the same time, it could debilitate you to such extreme degrees that… at night, when you were alone under the disguise of darkness,  you can't help but wonder what you could have done with your life had you not been born with this burden.

And with the day you'd had already, well, the only way you'd learnt to get over these things were to move on from them. That's what you had to do. If you become too concentrated on them, analysed every detail that went wrong, thought about every opinion those who witnessed it could hold, you'd suffer for it more than you needed to.

You couldn't move on if others couldn't move on though.

Unknown: Did you get home safe?

There was most likely only one person it could be, but where's the fun in that?

You: Depends who I'm talking to…

Alexia: It's Alexia??

Too easy.

You: I knew it was you, dumbass. Yes I got home safe, thank you. Food was great too :)

Although, when a few minutes went by after that last text, the doubts came flooding in. Did you take it too far with her? It was a bit ballsy to say that, she's just checking in on you. Captain duties.

Then again, who was it calling you?

“Hello?” You frowned, and this was another instance where you're cursing yourself, because why was your heart racing and cheeks burning at one random phone call?

“Dumbass, huh?” Came a smug voice, and then your heart was racing for another, more light-hearted reason.

“Yeah, sorry about that… apparently I'm a bit of a keyboard warrior.” You blushed sheepishly, relieved beyond belief when the woman down the line laughed.

“Don't worry about it. You're feeling okay now, sí?” 

“Yes, fine. You know, I didn't plan for today to happen. It just did.” You mumbled, still embarrassed by it all.

“I know, no one blames you for it. I just wanted to check in with you.” 

“I'm good, thanks. I've only ever had that happen like once before, I guess training on an empty stomach isn't the greatest idea in the world.” You joked lightly, Alexia humming in agreement.

“How does it happen? You said your routine was messed up, how did that lead to you forgetting?”

“It's a long story.” You sighed, but Alexia doesn't care.

“I have a free evening.” She said simply. This woman.

“Well… every training session so far, Ingrid has met me in the morning at my apartment beforehand so we can travel in together. She normally checks in with me, asks how I'm feeling and if I've eaten and whatnot. But she was ill, which I obviously don't blame her for, by the way. So not having her with me these past two days has terrified me quite a bit. She's basically the thing that holds my whole morning routine together. I guess, because she wasn't there, everything just flew out the window.” You explained, but things still weren't quite adding up in Alexia’s mind.

“So how does that relate to you forgetting to eat? Do you not get hungry?”

“Not like normal people do. One of the things with autism is that… we're not really in tune with our bodies? Like, I don't often get hungry or thirsty, I have to force myself to remember to eat and drink. And when I don't, I only realise I haven't done either of the two when I start feeling ill, like today. But food and drink feel like a chore, which is another reason I forget too. It's different when it comes to football though, being an athlete has taught me to be in tune with my body in terms of injuries, but not for anything else. It's weird.” 

“Wow, I never knew that before. That's interesting.” She commented. She's got a lot to learn.

“I prefer… inconvenient.” You said with a shy smile, glad to hear Alexia chuckle at that.

Unexpectedly, for quite some time after that, the pair of you just… talked. A lot. Like, for an hour. About everything - from what pastries Ingrid baked you, to a few more facts about yourself and your ASD, and everything in between. 

It's unnervingly natural. Fun too, but also a little odd. Is she doing it out of pity, or..?

“I almost forgot the other reason I called you.” She said out of nowhere, the smile on her face audible once again. “We have our pre-season dinner this Friday, the whole team is going. You should come.”

A dinner? At a restaurant? Oh god.

“Oh, I… it sounds good, but I don’t know, I-”

“Hey, why not?” She questioned gently.

“Just, they’re not really my scene.”

In a split second, Alexia attempted to think back on all she knew about anxiety to combine it with the very little information she knew about autism, hoping the two overlapped somewhat. Luckily for her, they do.

“The club rents out the restaurant so it’ll just be the team and a few senior staff members. It shouldn’t be too loud. It’s more like a celebratory dinner before the season starts, so there's no partying or anything like that at all. I really hope you come, but I understand if not. There’s no pressure.”

Damn you, Alexia.

“Okay. Okay, I'll go.”

—

Normal order resumed for the rest of the week; Ingrid recovered from her short 48-hour bug and returned to training like she hadn't even had a day off. Her being back also meant your mind was a hell of a lot more at ease, even if Alexia had offered to see you every morning. 

There was one other thing you were blessed with: obliviousness. Because, during the car ride to training the day after your phone call with the captain, the smirk that Mapi greeted you with in the rearview mirror after you tell her what happened once she headed home, is definitely not confusing at all. Definitely not.

That smirk made a comeback far sooner than you'd like. 

“Say that again?” Mapi asked with a squint to her eyes, forcing down the laughter she so desperately wants to let out.

“Alexia is driving me to the team dinner.” You repeated the sentence you'd just said for her, looking to Ingrid for help. “Ingrid, tell her to behave please.”

“María, come on. Alexia is just doing her a favour, you know she's not a fan of driving.” Ingrid said whilst nudging her girlfriend, though secretly she's hiding some intense excitement levels under her very good poker-face.

“Exactly! Screw you, Mapi.” You sighed dramatically, turning back to the mirror as you put your earrings in.

“So you're sure you don't need us to drive you there?” Mapi asked suspiciously, and there was that stupid smirk again. 

“Ugh, yes! I am making friends, you should be happy!” You groaned, fixing the shorter defender with a dagger-like glare in the reflection.

“More than fr-”

“Okay! Are you ready, snuppa? When is Alexia coming?” Ingrid interjected, discreetly stomping on her girlfriend's foot.

“She's on her way, she'll be here any minute now.” You answered after checking your phone. “You know, I can't rely on you guys forever like you're my parents or something. I love you, but I don't love you that much. And I'm sure you feel the same.”

“No!” Ingrid cried out in a way that's entirely too theatrical. She came over to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “I do love you that much, it's María you need to worry about.”

“I do worry about her sometimes. You should too, Ingrid.” You murmured, Ingrid humming in agreement as you watched her Spanish counterpart… busy herself in your fridge?

“María, out of there! We are literally going for dinner right now!”

“Ingrid, princesa, you need to work on your English- we're not at dinner ‘right now’, that is why I am in the fridge.” 

“Guys! Alexia is here, let's go. I'll see you at the restaurant.” You kissed Ingrid’s cheek and flicked Mapi’s forehead as you ushered them out the door, locking it behind you and making your way down to the ground floor.

Alexia was there, waiting for you whilst leaning against her car, and a smile tugged at her lips the second she saw you. You heard some commotion behind you, most likely Mapi being scolded by Ingrid, but you shut it out as you headed over to the midfielder, fighting back a ridiculously cheesy grin.

She greeted you the same way she did on the first day she met you - enveloping you in a warm hug that really shouldn’t be as comforting as it was. Not a big deal. Regardless, you both clambered into the car and made your way to the restaurant.

Thankfully, the evening went surprisingly well. It was a very low-key evening, just like Alexia said. In fact, you might even go as far as to say you enjoyed it, that’s a welcome revelation. And it seems you weren’t the only one that had discovered something new.

“Can I ask you something?” Alexia said on the drive back to your apartment.

“Sounds like there’s no stopping you.” You replied, smiling when she teasingly rolled her eyes.

“At dinner, when Patri asked why you don’t drink, you said ‘long story short, I don’t like it’ so I was just wondering what you meant by that?” Alexia asked, before almost immediately regretting it. “I mean, you don’t have to answer, it’s your business, but… if there’s anything we should be mindful about, then let me know.”

Who needed alcohol when you had a tendency to lose your inhibitions whenever you got too exhausted?

“No, not really any problems. I don’t have any issues with people drinking around me, I just have a bit of a history with it but it’s nothing big. It’s fine.” You shrugged, trying to keep your eyes open as the streets of Barcelona passed by your window. 

“What… what happened?” Alexia pressed gently.

“Well, when I was about seventeen, I started going through a really hard time. I had just dropped out of school, I’d had some trouble with friends, I was basically struggling quite badly. I started partying and drinking a lot, way more than I should have. Then I began to rely on it too much, just to get me through really basic stuff. It made me feel normal, it got rid of the voice in my head and it made me feel like a functioning person of society because it was what everybody else did. One day I decided it was best that I don’t drink at all, and it’s easier to tell people I don’t like it but actually I’m just scared of drinking because of all it reminds me of. So, I avoid it.” You explained, rather nonchalantly. 

The mental exhaustion was hitting hard that night, it was evident in the way you spoke. There was one explanation; dissociation. Dinners were not your favourite things in the world, they were a challenge to get through even when you were in the best company. Small talk, food, the sound of people eating, the scrapes of cutlery against ceramic, and the attention on some occasions being entirely on you? Yeah, a big no go. Which is why you were so tired, so distant, because your mind was in protection mode to keep you running until you got home.

Talking about your past was difficult, you’d come a long way and it felt counter-intuitive to talk about the bad times when you’d worked so hard to come to a good place. Yet, here you were, baring your soul about a topic you normally kept to yourself. You don’t even feel at least a little bit anxious at the fact you’d just spilled that secret. Alexia takes all the concern you normally feel and keeps it for herself.

“I’m sorry you went through that, cariño. Thank you for telling me.” She smiled sadly over at you, an ache growing in her heart at your defeated demeanour where you sit in her passenger seat. “Are you feeling okay? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“Tired. So tired.” You sighed. Even just talking felt like a chore in that moment. “Wanna get home, s’all.”

“Okay, we’re almost there now.” She said, “I’m proud of you for coming today. I know you weren’t a fan of the idea initially but you came, and everybody was so glad that you did. I am really proud of you, and so are Ingrid and Mapi too.”

The woman to your left surprised you everyday with each act of kindness she was showing. She hardly knew you, she hardly knew of your struggles, but she was adamant to learn and show just how deeply she cared. You were beyond grateful for her and all she’d said and done, even if you couldn’t verbalise that just yet.

All you could do was offer a simple nod, almost entirely mute as a result of how utterly overstimulating the day had been. You had loved it, sure, but sometimes when days like today left you in such a dejected state that you could hardly talk, there were still times if you wondered if fighting for a somewhat normal life was worth it. 

From then on, the rest of the drive home was silent. Alexia dropped you off, made sure you knew to contact her or Ingrid or whoever you felt comfortable speaking to should you need them, and that was that. You got inside, were barely able to get yourself changed, before passing out as soon as you got into bed.

—

A few weeks went by and it was more of the same. After that dinner, the team really clamped down and focused on getting everybody ready for the start of the new season. Training at Barcelona was different to anything you’d ever experienced before; it was intense, but light-hearted. There was competition, but it was healthy, everybody egged each other on even if they wanted to win. Ingrid was right, you had never found training this enjoyable before. You had to put that down to the people though, if it wasn’t for them then you’d never feel as comfortable as you do now. 

There were blips, there were still obstacles, but apart from that time you fell ill after training , there hadn’t really been any meltdown-inducing moments. Just a lot of burn-out and exhaustion, but you were near enough a pro at dealing with that now. 

The environment was… perfect for you. And one factor of that outcome is definitely down to the help of the famous three you had near enough attached yourself to since your arrival.

But the main factor to how well you had settled in was down to you. At some point along the way, not that the exact date mattered or anything (at exactly 12:02 on Monday the 26th of August), you hit a milestone that you had never managed to reach before. 

It was unplanned, but once the initial shock had worn off and the anxiety left, you teared up in the arms of Ingrid at the pride you felt towards yourself. Then Mapi joined in with the hug, and so did Alexia, then… so did the whole team too. 

For the first time, you were honest with your team. For the first time, you told them that you had autism. And for the first time, you weren’t suffocated by that prospect. When they all came together to hug you, it wasn’t just a physical embrace, it was them fully accepting you even with this burden you held and championed every day of your life. Though, with the support of others, it was hard to think of it as a burden. The gravity of a secret this big had weighed you down for years, but… now, your chest had never felt so light.

They supported you when you arrived, but the extremes this Spanish team took didn’t quite register until the week before the first game of the Liga F season. Fortunately for you, the first game of the season was at your new home of football, the Estadi Johan Cruyff. So, to help settle the rising nerves you were feeling as game day got closer, the club had organised a training session for you at the stadium a few days before. The more familiar you were with your surroundings, the less you had to worry about on the day. And, as everybody knew, the only thing you needed to worry about for your debut would be how well you did on the pitch.

What you didn’t know though, was that every member of your team was waiting in the stands for you to walk out. And the second the sound of boots hitting the floor echoed from the tunnel through the empty stadium, Mapi was up on her feet to cheer and encouraged her teammates to do the same. The only person that hesitated was Ingrid, but when she saw the look on your face as your te- your friends outwardly rallied behind you so openly and so freely, she became the loudest one of them all. That was the perfect way to prepare for game day, you really couldn’t have asked for a better group of people to work with everyday.

Were you jittery and wracked with nerves as you waited on the sidelines to be substituted in at the 70 minute mark? Yes, but the second you took your first step on the grass with the crowd’s applause as your welcome, you fixated on the game and everything else was just background noise. 

From a young age, before you had even heard of the word autism, football had very obviously been your special interest, otherwise known as the one random topic out of everything in the world to take over your life. 

You would spend hours in your backyard, kicking a ball against the side of your house, driving your family crazy. The walls of your bedroom were covered, corner to corner, in posters ranging from your favourite players, to clubs from all over the world. Christmases and birthdays as a kid were, to you, all about what from your presents you could add to your collection. Kits, boots, scarves, match-day programmes, magazines, even trading cards. Back at your childhood home in Norway, all these things were stored away in the attic, still items you cherished. 

As you got older and life got a bit more difficult, football became your escape. School was exhausting, people were exhausting, but football was something you could do on your own. No one bothering you, no one expecting anything from you, it was a time you could forget the world and all its misdemeanours, and just relax. And honestly, that’s all you planned for it to be. It was hard to imagine it being anything else than just a hobby.

All it took was one game to change the whole trajectory of your life. A game of girls against boys at your school at the age of only eleven, and the next day your sports teacher had gotten you a trial at the local academy. You passed it with flying colours, and flourished in the sport from there.

…Until one random day when you were fourteen, your mother sat you down for a conversation you never could have expected. But once you'd had time to dwell on her words, everything made sense. 

You had autism spectrum disorder. 

It wasn’t made official until the assessment process was over and you received your diagnosis, but that was the day it felt like your life had been irreversibly changed. Your view of the world changed with one conversation, and it was as if everything you thought you knew was wiped completely. Like you had been thrown into the ocean with no one and nothing around to help. 

All the tantrums, the bad behaviour at home compared to being a model student at school, the fussy eating habits, and the endless list of out-of-the-norm habits you had - it added up to this one, new label. The tantrums became meltdowns, the reasoning behind your behavioural differences were from spending the whole day surrounded by people and masking to fit in which led to you being so overwhelmed and overstimulated, your mind went into overdrive and didn’t know what to do. The fussy eating turned out to be sensory issues, with the textures and tastes of certain foods making you physically ill.

There was so much to learn that some days it felt like too big a challenge to tackle. Then there would be the days where you were up all night, the light of your family laptop kept hidden under the blanket you draped over yourself, as you researched this life-changing disorder until the sun rose.

It’s funny, really, how quickly your life can change with just three words.

For years, you had been defeated by it, succumbing to the assumptions that you could never amount to anything more than the label forced upon you, but look at you now. Providing a world class through ball to the most recent Ballon D’Or recipient to tie off a 3-0 win in the first game of the season.

You had learnt at some point in the last twelve years that the only choice you had was to live with it. Make the most of it. This was your one life, you had to make it work. You were adamant to thrive for the others that couldn’t, for the 1 in 13 women that didn’t believe they were strong enough to fight back, and to prove to the world that this disorder didn't hold you back.

They wouldn’t know that your mind could be your own worst enemy, or the self-deprecating thoughts you could have whilst your face gave away no hints, or that sometimes you didn’t believe in yourself and the anxiety was so intense that you could be stuck in bed for days, even weeks, at a time. All they saw right now was your team, FC Barcelona, rushing over to celebrate you rather than the goal scorer because they knew what it meant to you. The world would only ever see your victories, because they had no business to strike you when you were already down. You were strong, you were worth it, and most importantly, you had done it. You’d made it to the exact point you dreamed of. That’s all that mattered.

Unfortunately, it only takes one bad thing to set you down an unwanted path.

Part 2

[o-sachi]

My Golden Girl ‧₊˚ ⋅ One Shot (Request)

ଳ Kaiser loves his generous golden girl, but he hates it when people take advantage of her kindness

ଳ character; michael kaiser (bllk)

ଳ tags; afab reader, no y/n, FLOOF, soft mihya

[🐟]: This takes place before the Blue Lock project, so Kaiser should still be in Germany and practicing with Bastard.

The moon can only shine at night because of the sun.

That's what your relationship is like with Kaiser.

He honestly had no idea where he'd be without you. There were days when he felt like he was slowly losing himself—drowning in the pressure to remain at the top. But as he teeters on the edge, you always come to pull him right back in.

Your sweet words at the end of his day were enough to keep him grounded. As a matter of fact, you barely needed to do much to pacify him. But knowing you—you would go over and beyond for him. Seriously. It puzzles him why someone as pure as you would mess around with someone like him.

But who was he to question you?

"Yo, your girlfriend's been here for like an hour. Have you even seen her already?" Kaiser snaps out of his daydream as the locker room door swings open. It was some guy from his team who he never really bothered to remember the name of. His gaze follows his teammate as he saunters over to his locker.

"Eh... but she's out helping the managers again." That's when his attention was truly caught. "She's what?" "Y'know... handing out bottles and stuff. You should ask her to become a manager too. She'll fit right in." Tsk.

Kaiser shakes his head and grabs the towel off of his head. He aimlessly chucks the piece of fabric to the side and gets up without another word.

His teammate watches—dumbfounded—at the lack of a response. "Hey, Kai-"

But as soon as he spoke, Kaiser was already out of the door.

He wasn't angry or annoyed that you showed up unannounced. Truthfully, he didn't know what he felt. There was a reason why he avoided bringing you or inviting you to his practices.

You were too kind for your own good and the people here aren't shy about taking advantage of you.

Kaiser was stuck between a rock and hard place. One on hand, he loved that you cared enough about him to go out of your way even help the management or even his team. He couldn't bring himself to scold anyone—especially not you. On another, he knew what they were doing to you. They pretended to be all nice and sweet when asking you favors. But don't they have any shame asking so much from you?

Just like what Mr. Forgettable Name said earlier, you were almost like a manager here. But, fuck that. You're supposed to be a guest. You're his girlfriend, so you deserve nothing but the best treatment.

Yet, here he was—watching you as you scurry around, handing water bottles to his... not teammates. What the hell were you even doing giving water to the second string players? Jesus. He wasn't even sure if they were on the second string.

The more he observed, the angrier he became. Someone better hold him back and tell him what he just witnessed wasn't what he thought because one of the players definitely handed you an empty bottle—which, of course, you threw in the trash for him.

Sure, he's probably tired from running all day and yeah, you were closer to the trash bin. But who the fuck does he think he is to ask you of something like that?

He didn't even notice that his legs moved on their own. His body wanted nothing but to walk over to you. Never mind what his heart was telling him.

"Hey."

You spun around, knowing whose voice it was that almost startled you. His bright blue eyes peered down at you and he seemed... a bit pissed.

"Sorry... I know I should've told you that I was coming today, but-" Kaiser sighs heavily, running his tattooed hand through his blonde locks. "Don't apologize. I'm not mad—I just..."

But he was—he was most definitely mad. Just not at you.

It was like the world was testing the limits of his patience today because damn was he not even able to finish his sentence without another person bothering you.

As Kaiser struggled to express himself, one of the managers taps you on your shoulder. She had on the fake smile she always wore whenever she'd ask you a favor.

"Can you go distribute the lunch for the players today? I just have some paperwork to go over. You know how it is... managers get busy~"

Before you could even respond, Kaiser steps forward—putting distance between you and the manager. "And why would she do that? Isn't that your job?"

You grabbed his arm, telling him that it's alright. In a way, his team and the people who manage it have become your friends. You appreciate them for taking care of your boyfriend while you're not there and you're grateful for their warm greetings whenever you walk past any of them.

There wasn't any issue in you helping these people... or so you thought.

The manager smiles nervously at Kaiser, but she doesn't back down. "Well... I mean... if she's willing to do it, right? What's the harm in that?"

Kaiser exhales audibly. This is why he doesn't confront this dynamic. The manager was partially right because his girlfriend was always willing to help no matter what. Now he looked like the bad guy here.

The conversation shifted to an awkward atmosphere. All three of them felt it. But she was the first to break the ice... as usual.

"Mihya, it's alright. I like helping out the team. Consider it as me helping you as well," she says, smiling warmly.

"Baby," he clicks his tongue. "Forgive me, but... how the hell does it help me when you hand out water and food to these third stringers?"

Your eyes widen. "Mihya! Tone it down; they'll hear you."

He scoffs. "So what? Let them hear it."

At this point, the manager had grown quiet, slowly distancing herself from the developing quarrel.

"I've had enough watching people like her," he says, pointing at the manager before she could escape, "take advantage of you."

"It's not your job to hand out lunch boxes to everyone nor is it your responsibility to make sure they're hydrated. Baby—you might as well wipe their sweat for them while you're at it," he adds.

As he released these pent up frustrations, he failed to notice the gradual increase in the volume of his voice. It wasn't just you and the manager hearing it—but everyone else on the field. Even those who were far away, ran over to the commotion.

Kaiser never gave up even a second for you to butt in. "Remember that time they asked you to run to the nearby convenience store to buy God-knows-what? Or that time you had to go with... with... whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is to the hospital?"

"It's Igor," a faint voice reminds him.

"Shut the fuck up!" he retorts. Kaiser sighs deeply, the realization that everyone else was listening finally dawning on him. "What I'm trying to say is that... I'm just tired of seeing you be used like that, especially since I know how pure your heart is and all that," he says, softly.

He wanted the last part to be heard only by you. After all, you were the only one that mattered to him at the moment.

You were... well... staring at him in awe. Speechless. Unmoving. Stunned.

You were clueless to how he felt. Sure, they did ask too much of you. But you didn't think Kaiser was observing you to that degree. Your heart melted at his personal show of affection right in front of everyone.

"Mihya..."

You felt stupid that you could only mutter his name despite everything he had said. But before you could do anything else, his large hand grabs on to your wrist—pulling you along with him. His strides were purposeful and his grasp was firm. You hurriedly shuffled to keep up with his pace.

After gaining some distance from the group, Kaiser halts and turns to look back at them one last time.

"If I see any of you ask a favor from her again—I'll make sure to deal with you."

A promise and a threat.

He yanks you again and continues walking away. Overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events, you try to stop him despite his strength. "Hey... slow down. Let's talk... please?"

Kaiser blatantly ignores you, only stopping once you were inside of the facility and away from prying eyes. The firm grip that once wrapped around your wrist was replaced by a gentle caress as he brought your hand to his lips.

"Sorry... I got carried away. You know I can't let them do tha-"

"It's okay. I understand. Thank you for standing up for me," you say, cutting him off.

He blinks a couple of times, surprised at how well you took it. "You're not mad?"

"Why would I be mad at my boyfriend protecting me?"

You couldn't help but giggle at him. How silly would it be for you to get angry at him right now? What he did was one of the sweetest things anyone could do for someone; not everyone is brave enough to stand up for their significant other like that.

His look of astonishment was quickly replaced with a small smile. "I guess you're right, baby."

And before you know it, you were already caged in his warm embrace.

ε( ε ˙³˙)ɜ ｡° ⚬ ｡ likes and reblogs are appreciated

pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.

o-sachi © 2024

[outsideratheart]

We Support Each Other (Aitana Bonmati x reader)

A/N: This could be read as a stand alone but it is also a sequel to Sore Loser. Based off this request.

You could ask anyone that knows you and they would say they have never seen you more determined than they have during this last month. Each game you gave it your all and left the pitch knowing that you couldn’t physically do anymore. It was that attitude that got you where you currently are and that is standing in the tunnel about to walk out to a sold out Wembley stadium for the 2022 Euros final.

As always you are the last player in the line. It was superstition of yours and whilst your team mates loved to tease you about it, they didn’t mess with you today. No, today they let you be.

The first half wasn’t bad but it didn’t go as you had planned. Nothing seemed to work and the German players were beginning to get on your nerves. You knew it was their game plan and you welcomed the extra physicality. It did nothing but drive you to do the thing you failed to do in the first half and that was get the ball in the back of the net.

When Ella scored it gave you a boost of energy which was much needed. The score line being tipped in your favour didn’t last long because Germany equalised just over 15 minutes later. 

Injury time came up on the board and the 5 minutes passed without either teams taking the lead.

Then came extra time and the second half of extra time. Both teams were on their last legs and they knew that they needed to score soon because if it went to penalties then it was anybody’s game and all the work they had done would be almost meaningless.

During a Germany corner Mary punched it out and England were on the attack with the Germans hot on their tails. Keira ran down the middle of the pitch and it was as if the ball was stuck to her feet. There was no way she was losing that ball and when you began running along side of her there was no way you were going to mess up this opportunity.

Keira played you the most pin point accurate through ball and you know now was the time. This one shot could make history, it could change everything and when you shot the ball you knew it was going it. That didn’t stop time from standing still as you watched the ball sore through the air.

You don’t know what came over you but you take your shirt off and running towards Keira.

“Bloody Brilliant” you kiss her forehead.

“Y/N!!!” Keira jumps into your arms “You did it”

“We did it”

The rest of your team piles on top of you. When the goal celebrations are over you know that another goal isn’t going to come so your attention goes to running down the clock. You do the thing you hate when other teams do and you take the ball to the corner flag and do everything you can to keep the ball. The clock isn’t in your eye view but the final whistle is definitely heard.

England were Champions of Europe and you had done it at home. That final goal made you top goal scorer of the tournament and all your hard work was rewarded by winning player of the tournament. 

You had every right to celebrate yours and the ‘ achievement and whilst you are never one to go mad after winning a game, you do with this one. You celebrate with the entire team, players and staff alike but after an hour or so in the locker room you only want to be with one person and she is upstairs in the bar where all the friends and family were.

“Aita” You bury her head in the crook of her neck. 

The last couple of days had been stressful to say the least so when your body feels the safety that Aitana’s arms give you, it relaxes for the first time since you played Sweden.

“Amor meu” Aitana held you tightly knowing that in this moment you will be feeling very overwhelmed.

When you pull away you notice that she is crying and whenever your girlfriend cried, you cried. It didn’t matter if they are happy tears or sad tears.

Both of you stood there in the middle of the room crying without a care in the world. 

For the next hour the team stays at the bar in Wembley stadium but after that people start to leave and you are told it is time to go back to the hotel. You knew the tournament rules but technically it was over now so did the rules still apply? 

Aitana recognises that look. It was one she was well accustomed to and was often followed by mischief.

“Gaffa!” You shout maybe a little too loudly but you blamed the alcohol for the slight raise in volume. 

This term wasn’t something Aitana knew.

“It means boss, baby” you turn back towards your coach who was now coming towards you. 

“Wait!” You turn back to Aitana “not boss baby. It means boss and then I was calling you my baby because you are, you’re my baby” you kiss her once, twice, three times.

“Lo se” Aitana giggles. She liked drunk Y/N, she really liked her.

By the time you turn around again, Sarina is right next to you.

“Gaffa!!!” You place your arm around her shoulder.

“Yes, Y/N” Sarina gives Aitana a look as if wishing her luck with you in your intoxicated state.

Your girlfriend watches as you take a couple of seconds to compose yourself. She could have sworn she heard you giving yourself a little pep talk.

“Sarina, we have just won the euros” the Dutch woman shakes her head but then nods her head when she sees your expression change into one of confusion “We did win, look” you hold up your medal “I have been very good and well behaved”

“You snuck out of the team hotel and didn’t return for over two hours” Sarina recalls the night when she came to talk to you only to be told several different reasons why you weren’t with the team.

“That’s because of Aitana” Without realising you throw your own girlfriend under the bus.

“Right so Aitana here is a bad influence on you, I understand”

“She is not!” You say rather protectively “Aitana is the best thing to ever happen to me. I am a much better person because of her. You should have met me before we started dating, I was a handful”

Sarina knew that it was time to leave and whilst she was enjoying seeing you react this way, she also knew that you three were some of the many few left at the bar and that the rest of the team was already on the bus. She had to get to your point quickly.

“Y/N, I have already told Aitana that she is more than welcome to come to the hotel with us”

“You have?” You ask her “She did?” you ask Aitana who at this point could contain her laughter no more.

The coach journey back the hotel was loud and rowdy but not for you and Aitana. The alcohol had began to wear off given you stopped drinking. The two of you sit there, barely talking as you hold hands looking out of the window. Your girlfriend knew you were coming down from the winner’s high.

As you enter the hotel you excuse yourself stating that you wanted some time with Aitana before rejoining the festivities. She finds that a little strange but doesn’t push you. The elevator ride up to your room is silent but once in your room Aitana notices what is happening.

“You deserve this Y/N. I’m here because I want to celebrate with you” 

You had already laid your self out on the bed. With no hesitation she curls up into your side.

“We have celebrated. You shouldn’t have to watch us celebrate when we beat you in order to get to the final” You had enjoyed celebrating with the team but it was also important to take your girlfriend’s feelings into consideration.

“Watching you win today will be one of the best days of my life. I am so so proud of you and I don’t want you to stop celebrating your achievements because of me. We were never going to win this tournament. The federation—“

You let out a dramatic sigh.

“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about what was going on” 

“I told you after the game. I am your girlfriend and some of the team are your closest friends, some even family. You wouldn’t have been able to be near Jorge and not say something”

You sat up rather quickly. Quick enough startle Aitana.

“You’re right, I would have said something. You should say something. From what you have told me, things are really bad at the minute and the way to make change is to stand up. If I come face to face with that man or any of his buddies then that is what I will be doing”

“We are going to say something but we are going to do it the right way” Aitana moved down the bed so she is closer to where you are standing.

“I will support you” you stand between her legs, cup her face with your hands and lean down to kiss her softly.

“I know you will” She returns the kiss with the same amount of softness “Right now I want to support you so let’s go celebrate you and your friends”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Wolfsburg

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You finally make it

After a few years at Barcelona, winning everything there is to win and getting married along the way, you leave the club.

It sends ripples through the community.

You got your start at Linköping, playing minimal minutes there but enough that you got Arsenal's attention. From Arsenal and your World Cup performance, you got Barcelona's attention.

A loan at Lyon and your subsequent contract extension and return, had everyone thinking you would stay at Barcelona for a lot longer. But you see out your contract, get married and decide to move again.

You and Talia were somewhat of a power couple at Barcelona. One at the front, one at the back. Barcelona was safe when the two of you were on the pitch.

But now you're leaving.

When you were younger, still a teenager, all of your contracts and the subsequent discussions went through Magda and Pernille. They had to sign off on them.

Now, they don't.

The announcement that you're leaving Barcelona happens in the winter. The club says that you aren't renewing your contract and that they thank you for your service.

Within hours, the community is in uproar from fans to players.

There was never any indication that you wanted to leave, you hadn't even told Magda and Pernille you weren't going to stay.

But you play out the rest of the season, showing everyone that Barcelona is letting you go begrudgingly. You are still leaps and bounds ahead of the second-choice keeper so clearly the club weren't the ones making the decision to let you go.

That's when the rumours start.

Practically every big club in the world has put out feelers for you.

There's a campaign on Twitter to get you to return to 'home' to Arsenal and another one saying that Linköping is attempting to get you back.

Familiar with you and your play style, Lyon tries to tempt you.

You get several lucrative offers from NWSL teams that you push away instantly. You have no ambition to play in the American league.

Lots of English teams try to snatch you up, Chelsea in particular but you reject their offer with a laugh. Manchester City and Aston Villa both send you fairly good offers and even Liverpool tries their hand to sway you.

The Bayern Munich coach is also very vocal with his plans to get you to come to Germany.

The funniest offer comes from Real Madrid as if they could tempt Barcelona's star keeper to dress in white.

Either way, there are so many rumours and so many choices that no one can quite predict where you'll be playing your football next season.

Then, on the first day of the transfer season, the video drops.

It zooms in on a picture of Pernille's Bundesliga winning team. She's holding the trophy proudly in one arm and you in the other. You're beaming at the camera in your own Wolfsburg jersey.

'Welcome Home' the caption proudly proclaims and the video cuts.

You step out from the shadows, the camera zooming in on the Wolfsburg badge proudly on your chest.

Magda keeps watching the video but Pernille sits there in shock.

You don't have to tell them anything. You don't have to tell them where you're going and what you're doing but Pernille is still blindsided as everything suddenly makes sense.

There were so many rumours and so many questions but Wolfsburg had never been apart of it.

Pernille feels stupid now that she thinks about it.

You'd told her once that you'd only consider leaving Barcelona for one team.

She feels crazy now for not knowing your plans just by the silence.

"Was it a nice surprise?" You ask, arms crossed as you lean in the doorway.

"You kept that quiet," Magda says with a laugh.

You shrug. "The clues were there if you just looked."

With so many big and small teams clamouring for you, it did look a bit suspicious now that Wolfsburg was radio silent on the idea of getting you from Barcelona.

"The jersey," Pernille says, sounding a little choked up as she stands," It looks good on you."

You smile at her, a small thing as she crosses the room to cradle your face in her hands. "Of course it does. It's Wolfsburg."

Pernille can still remember your first Wolfsburg jersey. You were tiny, still a baby and were more interested in sucking on the collar than looking at the camera Pernille was using to capture the moment.

But you'd cried when she tried to change you out of it. You cried and sobbed and screeched until Pernille put you down for your nap still wearing it.

You'd had a collection of Wolfsburg shirts as you grew up. They were without a doubt your favourite team, the only team you were willing to move away from your wife for.

You had never been anything but complimentary about Wolfsburg.

It shouldn't be a shock but still, as Pernille looks at you, she can't help but see the little baby you used to be, wandering around the Wolfsburg training centre in your shirt and shorts.

She can't quite reconcile that version of you with the version of you now, the greatest goalkeeper in the world by a mile.

You have quite the resume of great teams. You have so many medals and trophies and awards.

And now you finally get to play for the team that you've loved since you were a baby.

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 6.1  chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.  masterlist

nineteen

saturday, march 1st

"okay, ready?" ivy’s voice broke the quiet of the library, her sharp gaze narrowing as she held up the next flashcard. you nodded, settling your hands neatly in your lap, trying to shake off the tension in your shoulders.

"main causes of the american revolution?" she asked, her tone brisk but encouraging.

"taxation without representation, british military presence, proclamation of 1763, and acts like the stamp act and tea act," you rattled off, your voice low but steady. she gave a quick nod, flipping to the next card with a satisfied mutter.

"what was the significance of the monroe doctrine?"

"it stated that european powers should not interfere in the western hemisphere and established u.s. influence in the americas," you answered, nodding slightly as if to confirm your own words. ivy hummed in approval, her eyes scanning the card before moving on.

"what triggered the united states’ entry into world war one?" she asked, her voice laced with expectation.

you opened your mouth, ready to reply, but the answer danced just out of reach. blinking, you sifted through your mental notes, coming up blank. "the…" you hesitated, brows furrowing as you scrambled to connect the dots. "the sinking of the lusitania?" you ventured, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

ivy nodded, her expression urging you on.

"oh!" the memory clicked into place. "the unrestricted submarine warfare by germany and the zimmerman telegram!" you finished with a triumphant grin.

"ten out of ten," ivy whispered, punching the air subtly in celebration.

"moreee! i need to get this information printed into my brain," you pleaded, leaning forward with an exaggerated look.

ivy gave you a pointed look, crossing her arms. "we’ve been at this since one, and it’s almost six," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in a laugh. "i think we could both use a break."

“fine,” you reluctantly agree.

she stood, grabbing her bottle off the table. "i’m gonna refill this. we’ll pick it back up in five, okay?"

you sighed but nodded, watching as she walked toward the water fountain. the moment she was out of sight, you slid your notebook aside and switched over to your imessage conversation with rafe, your lips curving into a soft smile as you read over his last message.

a couple of seconds after you send your last text, your phone lights up with a facetime call from rafe. the ringing feels louder in the quiet library, and you scramble to answer before ivy—or worse, the librarian—shoots you a glare. the call connects, and the screen fills with rafe sitting in his car, the faint golden light of the setting sun casting a warm glow over his sharp features. he’s fiddling with his phone, adjusting it against the dashboard, the camera wobbling slightly before he settles it.

“—coming back?” a voice crackles faintly in the background, pulling rafe’s attention toward his window. his brow furrows, lips twitching in a mix of amusement and confusion.

“dude, you sound drunk,” rafe says with a laugh, shaking his head as he adjusts his seatbelt. his smile tugs at the corner of his lips, easy and familiar.

“i didn’t drink!” the voice protests indignantly, and rafe’s face twists with exaggerated disbelief as he glances toward the source.

“kelce,” he drawls, his tone dripping with mockery, “you had four corona lights.”

“there’s alcohol in corona lights?” kelce’s voice is so genuinely confused that you can’t help but snort quietly, covering your mouth to stifle the sound.

rafe hears it and turns to the camera, his grin widening at the sight of you laughing. his gaze lingers for a beat longer before he shakes his head and looks back at kelce. “kelce, back up. i’m about to drive off, and i actually can’t deal with you right now.”

“i thought they called it ‘light’ because there’s no alcohol in it!” kelce yells, his tone insistent, and rafe groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“you’re an idiot,” rafe mutters, throwing the car into reverse as kelce finally stumbles out of the way.

“are you sure he should be in our grade?” you tease, watching as rafe navigates out of the parking lot, the golden hour light catching in his hair and softening the edges of his jawline.

“no,” rafe deadpans, his eyes flicking toward the camera briefly. “i’m really not.”

your grin widens as you reach up to undo your claw clip, letting your hair fall loose around your shoulders. you shake it out slightly, the strands catching the soft light spilling through the windows. rafe’s gaze flickers back to the screen for a split second, his expression softening as his eyes follow the motion, but he quickly refocuses on the road ahead.

“what are you craving?” he asks casually, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other draped over the gear shift.

“what’s around?” you counter, leaning back in your chair, your voice playful as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

his eyes narrow slightly, his lips pressing into a stubborn line. “what are you craving?” he repeats, his tone insistent, though there’s a hint of amusement dancing in his expression.

“fine,” you relent with an exaggerated sigh, though a smile creeps onto your face. “chipotle? like, a bowl with rice, guac, chicken...” you lean your chin on your hand, practically drooling at the thought.

rafe hums, glancing at the GPS on his dash. “there’s one close. i could grab it and be at the library in, like, half an hour—assuming they don’t take forever.”

“perfect,” you murmur, already mentally calculating how much more studying you and ivy could squeeze in before the food arrived.

a few quiet moments pass, the hum of the car filling the space before rafe leans back in his seat at a red light. “so,” he starts, his voice casual but with a note of deliberation. “i was just with the boys, and they wanna come by mine later. my dad got this new grill, and they’re all obsessed with trying it out. my parents are gone for the weekend, and the girls are coming, too. you should come.”

the suggestion hangs in the air for a moment, and your chest tightens, a swirl of emotions tumbling through you. you hadn’t talked about the bonfire yet—the memory of him with adriana still lingered, raw and unresolved, and the image of their lips together was one you couldn’t quite shake, but you stupidly had been pushing it aside. you didn’t want to have this stupid conversation, didn’t want to risk anything breaking this beautiful little bubble you were both in. surely, there was an explanation—there had to be. so, just ask him.

maybe they used to have a thing? you honestly didn't really like to think about it all because the image alone upset you but if they did have a thing, it was probably over. right?

and the new girl every day thing had to be made up though the valentine's day letters did stir something up in you.

rafe was so gentle, so soft, so loving and caring. he could never treat girls as disposable as cora made it out to be.

“you could bring ivy,” he adds, his voice softening, his gaze hopeful. “i’ll drive her home after, and maybe you could sleep over?”

his words are casual, but the implication lingers in the space between you. you’d been waiting for the right occasion to finally have sex and his parents not being home? that seemed like the perfect time and place. your heart races. the idea of staying over—of finally taking that step—sends a rush of heat to your cheeks, but at the same time, you can’t ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head urging you to bring up the bonfire first.

you nod slowly, “can we—“

“bring me where?” ivy’s voice cuts through your words. you glance up to see her standing behind you, her curious gaze flicking between you and the phone.

“oh,” you say quickly, trying to gather your thoughts. “rafe’s hosting this small thing at his house, and he asked if you’d want to come.”

ivy slides into the seat beside you, resting her head on your shoulder so her face pops into the frame. “what kind of thing?” she asks, her question clearly directed at rafe.

"a..barbecue but it's not outside—alcohol, but you don't have to drink—ultra casual friends thing. i can drop you off at home too." rafe explains, his voice steady but warm.

ivy hesitates for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly before she relaxes with a shrug. “why not? i’ve never been to that kind of thing,” she says lightly, her tone curious.

she turns to you, raising an eyebrow. “we can go, right?”

you glance between her and rafe, feeling the weight of their gazes. finally, you nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “yeah, we can go. rafe’s bringing us chipotle first,” you add, your tone brightening.

ivy’s eyes light up as she leans toward the phone. “wait, don’t joke with me. are you really getting us food?”

rafe chuckles, his voice warm and teasing. “yeah. what do you want?”

“hold on, i need my phone!” ivy scrambles, rummaging through her bag, and you laugh, shaking your head. “she has a very specific chipotle order,” you explain, already typing it out. “it’s easier if i just text it to you.”

rafe smirks, clearly entertained, but he doesn’t argue. a few minutes later, after you send the details, you’re subjected to twenty-eight excruciating minutes of ivy glancing toward the hallway every few seconds, her anticipation palpable. yes, you counted.

when rafe finally walks in, bags in hand, ivy practically leaps out of her seat. “you’re god-sent,” she declares dramatically, clutching the food like it’s a lifeline before digging in with record speed. you can’t help but laugh, your chest warming at the sight of her excitement and rafe’s quiet amusement.

rafe strolled over to you, his hands extended, palms up. you tilted your head, curious, before slipping your hands into his. his grip was warm and steady as he pulled you to your feet, and before you could say anything, he looped your arms around his neck. his hands settled lightly on your waist, and then he dipped his head to kiss you. it was slow and gentle, the kind of kiss that left you dizzy, though you fought to keep yourself grounded, sighing softly against his lips as he pulled you deeper into the moment.

“missed you, baby.” he murmured, his voice low and warm as he pulled back just enough that your breaths mingled between you.

“i missed you,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper before you pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. his grin was soft but immediate, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as his hands slid lower to steady you.

“thanks for the food,” you said, glancing briefly toward ivy, who was blissfully absorbed in her chipotle bowl, completely oblivious to the exchange.

rafe followed your gaze, chuckling under his breath. “no need to thank me.” he stepped back and dropped into the chair you’d been sitting in, only to tug you down onto his knee.

you settled against him, adjusting slightly to get comfortable. “you always tell me not to thank you,” you said with mock exasperation, tilting your head to look at him. “that’s really rude, you know? who doesn’t say thank you?”

he pulled a bag from beside his chair and started unpacking it, his movements casual. “you don’t need to thank me for things that go without saying,” he replied simply, not looking up.

you hummed thoughtfully, the familiar spark of debate flaring in your chest. “i get what you’re saying, but i think some things do need acknowledgment. like, i agree there are certain actions that people do in relationships—whether romantic, familial, or platonic—that don’t need constant recognition. but still, a little appreciation never hurts. like when my parents put food on the table—it’s their job, sure, but i still say thank you because it shows I value their effort. it’s about gratitude, not obligation.”

rafe placed your bowl in front of you, a fork and napkin neatly folded beside it. “i get that,” he said, leaning back slightly as you dug into your food. “but i think a lot of things are just part of being in someone’s life. like, it’s not a task or a burden for me to do something for you. it’s automatic—like brushing my teeth. you don’t thank someone for brushing their teeth, do you? it’s just… normal.”

you chewed slowly, considering his point, before shifting on his knee to face him better. the bowl rested on your lap as you studied his expression. “that’s an interesting perspective,” you said finally, nodding a little. “but i’m still going to say thank you.”

his lips curved into a soft smirk as he raked his fingers through his hair. “and i’m still going to tell you not to.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. picking up the flashcards from the table, you plopped them into his hands. “fine, if you won’t accept my thanks, you can at least make yourself useful. quiz me.”

rafe huffed dramatically as he fanned through the colorful cards. “wow, i’m really just a tool to you, huh?”

from across the table, ivy piped up between bites of her food, her voice dripping with dry humor. “not just a tool, also a bank card.”

rafe’s laughter was immediate, shaking his head as he glanced at you.

“okay,” he said, flipping to the first card with a grin. “what was the purpose of the patriot act?”

you don’t linger too long at the library—just long enough for you and ivy to finish your food. once the bowls are empty and the conversation fades, rafe gathers you both and drives you home so you can drop off your bags and check in with your parents. the plan is simple: tell them you’re sleeping over at ivy’s, grab a few essentials, and head out again.

once inside, you catch a whiff of the lingering chipotle smell on your clothes, and it’s enough to make you grimace. after a quick change into fresh, comfortable clothes, and brushing your teeth to erase the last traces of cilantro-lime rice, you’re back in rafe’s car.

he’s quiet when you slide into the passenger seat, his head down as he types something on his phone. the faint glow illuminates a frown etched into his features. you buckle your seatbelt and glance at him, concern stirring. “you okay?” you ask softly.

he doesn’t look up or respond, his focus still glued to his screen.

“rafe?” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time. his head snaps up, eyes meeting yours as if pulled from deep thought.

“hmm?” he hums, blinking.

“are you okay?” you repeat, studying him closely.

he exhales, the frown softening but not entirely disappearing. “yeah,” he says quietly, slipping his phone onto the console. “just… haven’t heard much from sarah lately. i’ve been trying to get ahold of her.”

you nod, your hand brushing against his arm in a small, reassuring gesture. “i’m sure she’s fine. maybe reach out to your aunt in the morning, just to check in? but it’s probably nothing to worry about.”

his lips quirk into a faint smile as he nods. “yeah, you’re probably right. i’ll text her tomorrow.”

ivy clambers into the back seat, breaking the moment, and soon rafe is pulling out of your driveway. the car hums softly, the headlights cutting through the dark as ivy peppers rafe with questions about anything and everything that pops into her head. her curiosity is endless.

you smile faintly at their banter, but your mind drifts, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. it wasn’t fear—not exactly—but the thought of being around rafe’s friends again brought a weight to your chest. the last time had ended badly, leaving you walking home alone in the dark, tears blurring your vision.

time had passed since that night, though, and things were different now. rafe had been nothing but perfect—kind, attentive, funny, the kind of person who made your heart skip and your stomach flutter. your parents adored him, your friends approved, and he had done nothing to make you doubt his feelings. it should be fine. everything should be fine. but still, a flicker of unease clung to you.

you’d talk to him tonight, when everyone left. that was the only quiet moment you’d get.

“you okay?” ivy’s voice broke through your thoughts as you approached rafe’s front door.

you glanced at her, startled, and nodded quickly. “yeah, of course. why?”

she studied you for a moment, her brow furrowed. “you just seem a little… nervous.”

“nope, not nervous,” you said with a forced smile, shaking your head as if to convince yourself as much as her.

she didn’t press further, but the shadow of doubt lingered in her eyes as you both stepped inside behind rafe.

the faint murmur of voices floated from the living room, punctuated by occasional laughter, as you crossed the foyer. the sound made your stomach tighten, but you squared your shoulders and followed rafe’s lead, determined to make it through the evening.

"rafe! there you are, i seriously need—" kiara's voice echoed down the stairs but stopped abruptly when her eyes landed on you and ivy. her surprised expression melted into a wide, welcoming smile. "hey! you came!" she exclaimed, practically skipping down the last few steps.

jj was close behind her, bounding down the stairs like a golden retriever before leaping onto rafe’s back in a chaotic greeting. rafe stumbled forward slightly, muttering something about jj needing a leash, but you were too focused on kiara approaching you and ivy.

"hey, kiara," you said warmly, gesturing toward your friend. "this is ivy."

ivy offered a polite smile and a small wave. "hi, nice to meet you."

"i’m kiara," she said, grinning at the both of you. "so glad you came." without missing a beat, she looped an arm through yours and started tugging you forward. jj threw a quick, cheerful “hi” your way before he and rafe disappeared behind the corner.

"since you don’t drink, i got you something special!" kiara announced with an excited sparkle in her eyes. she practically beamed as she gestured toward the kitchen island, where cleo and pope were deep in the throes of concocting something that resembled a science experiment more than a drink.

pope held up a glass, swirling it like a sommelier, while cleo smirked beside him, her fingers busy mixing something else.

"look!" kiara reached for a six-pack of sleek, colorful cans and held them up like a prized trophy. you stared at them, blinking in confusion.

"they’re virgin mojitos!" she said proudly, her voice practically dripping with enthusiasm.

it clicked a moment later, and you couldn’t help but smile. "so, i can kind of pretend i’m drinking the same as you guys? how thoughtful!" you laugh and kiara nods.

"of course! no one gets left out here," she said with a grin.

pope had already grabbed one of the cans, cracking it open with a flourish and pouring its contents into a glass. he added some questionable-looking ingredients from the assortment on the counter, finishing it off with a dramatic sprinkle of sugar.

"boom!" pope declared, sliding the drink toward you. "virgin cocktails à la cleo and pope. tell me that’s not perfection."

with cautious determination, you took a small sip. immediately, your face scrunched up as the overpowering sweetness hit you. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to swallow without gagging.

"oh my god," you croaked, handing the glass to ivy, who was already laughing at your reaction.

ivy hesitated, then took a brave sip herself. the second the liquid touched her tongue, her eyes went wide, and she practically spat it back into the glass. "oh, god! what is that? did you dump an entire bag of sugar in here?"

pope and cleo were doubled over with laughter, clearly amused by your suffering.

as ivy hunted for water, muttering something about "instant diabetes," john b strolled into the kitchen, eyebrow raised. "guys, seriously? already throwing up?"

ivy, still laughing through her sputtering, waved him off as she grabbed a glass of water. "i think i just shaved ten years off my life," she mumbled dramatically, taking long gulps.

cleo crossed her arms, looking offended. "you two clearly don’t appreciate our craftsmanship."

"yeah," pope added, nodding in agreement. "this is an art form."

you glanced at kiara, who was biting her lip to hold back laughter. your shared look was enough to set both of you off.

you weave through the place, scanning for rafe in the sea of familiar faces, but he’s nowhere in sight. a few steps in, you collide with jj, his lazy grin revealing he's had more than just a few drinks. "hello," he greets, his voice light and teasing.

"hi," you reply, smiling politely, though his glassy eyes and slight sway make you wonder if he’s entirely steady on his feet.

you glance back to see him watching pope and cleo, who are hunched over the kitchen counter, laughing as they concoct a drink that looks less like a cocktail and more like a dare. jj turns back to you, ignoring your question entirely. "looking for rafe?" he asks, his tone casual.

"yeah," you nod, and his grin widens.

"i’ll take you to him." before you can protest, he drapes an arm over your shoulder, steering you toward the garden.

outside, the air is cooler, and the faint glow of string lights illuminates the yard. rafe stands by the grill with topper and cora. topper is manning the grill, flipping meat with practiced ease, while cora plates the freshly cooked food. rafe, on the other hand, leans casually against the table, contributing absolutely nothing.

"rafe! i brought you a peace offering," jj announces with exaggerated theatrics, gripping your shoulders and nudging you forward.

"peace offering?" you echo, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glance between jj and rafe.

rafe’s brows lift as he looks at you, his lips twitching into a smirk. "oh, yes. a peace offering because jackson here threw up on my carpet yesterday," he says dryly.

jj lets out an indignant noise, ducking as rafe chucks a nearby towel at his head. "dude! i cleaned it up, and you love me, so stop holding grudges and just forgive me already."

jj moves toward the table, hand reaching for a freshly grilled sausage, but cora smacks his fingers without missing a beat. "it just came off the grill, idiot. you’ll burn yourself."

"you didn’t clean it up," topper chimes in, laughing. "you wiped it. there’s a difference. he’s gonna have to get the carpet professionally cleaned."

"and who’s paying for that?" rafe asks, his tone pointed as he slides an arm around your waist.

jj shrugs, lips pressing together in mock thought. "your rich-ass parents," he answers shamelessly.

"or yours," rafe counters, raising a brow.

jj grimaces, shoving a piece of sausage into his mouth before mumbling, "my dad hasn’t given me a dime since i took his lambo for that little joyride."

"you didn’t even crash it. what’s the issue?" kelce’s voice cuts in as he steps out from the house, joining the growing group.

their conversation continues, laughter and banter spilling into the cool night air. but your focus shifts, the voices fading into the background. you can feel cora’s eyes on you, her gaze heavy and assessing. instead of meeting her stare, you focus on the comforting warmth of rafe beside you, the way his chest rumbles when he laughs, the scent of his cologne grounding you. you twist one of his fingers absently, letting the small act ease your nerves.

after a few moments, you lean closer to rafe. "i’m gonna go get a drink," you murmur softly.

his attention snaps to you, his blue eyes searching yours. "you good?" he asks, concern flickering across his face.

you nod quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. "uh-huh. you want anything?"

"whatever beer’s in the fridge," he replies, and you nod, brushing a kiss against his cheek before heading back toward the house.

as you step inside, the warmth and noise envelop you again, and your gaze lands on adriana making her entrance. she glides through with a confidence that borders on arrogance, her knowing smile is a little unsettling and when she catches your eye, her expression twists into something mocking, though she doesn’t say a word. instead, she brushes past you, heading straight for the garden—and for rafe.

you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to shake off the unease bubbling in your chest. moving toward the kitchen, you find ivy perched at the island, her laughter mingling with the chatter of kiara, cleo, pope, and john b.

you rest your chin on ivy’s shoulder, your voice soft as you ask, "you good?"

she turns to you, her smile bright and reassuring. "very good. you?"

the question is simple, but the answer feels anything but. you hesitate, searching for the right words, though none seem to fit. "yeah," you say finally, forcing a smile. it’s what you should say because nothing is wrong. but deep down, something feels off. something you can’t quite place.

the whole evening, you kept waiting for something to go wrong. you could feel it hovering like a storm cloud, an almost tangible weight pressing on your chest. but nothing happened. cora and adriana barely acknowledged you, and rafe’s friends were as welcoming and warm as the first time you’d met them. you ate, you laughed, and for a moment, you almost believed the night could stay perfect.

but then you glanced at the clock—nine p.m.—and instinctively reached for your phone, only to realize it wasn’t in your pocket. you patted the other one, frowning as the absence unsettled you. rafe, ever attentive, noticed immediately.

“do you know where my phone is?” you asked him, voice light despite the knot forming in your stomach.

he paused, thoughtful. “in your jacket? jackets are on my bed upstairs. want me to grab it?”

you shook your head quickly, forcing a smile. “no, that’s okay.” before he could respond, you were already moving, eager to retrieve it yourself.

the familiar grey door to his room was ajar, and inside, a mountain of jackets sprawled across his bed. you rifled through them, finally locating yours. slipping your phone from the pocket, you glanced at the screen. just a couple of messages—school group chats and your mom wishing you a good night.

you were still typing a reply to your mom when you turned and gasped, startled to find yourself face-to-face with adriana.

“adriana, hi.” your voice wavered as you took a step back, your heart hammering in your chest.”

“hey, teach.” she smiled and took a strand of your hair, flicking it between her fingers. “isn’t he great with his fingers?”

you frowned. “what?” the word barely escaped your lips before they continued.

“didn’t i tell you next time, it’d be you?” cora mused, from behind her, her usual saccharine smile firmly in place. "right as always."

“listen,” you started, trying to keep your voice steady as you shifted to step past them, “i don’t want any problems with either of you. if there’s a problem with rafe, you should really just talk to him.” the words felt forced, but you hoped they’d end this confrontation.

cora chuckled, the sound low and condescending. “there is no problem with rafe,” she said breezily. “that’s what we’re trying to tell you. no girl has ever had any complaints.”

“this says as much,” adriana chimed in, and your stomach dropped as you turned to see her holding a stack of letters. valentine’s day letters. rafe’s valentine’s day letters.

your chest tightened painfully. “those are just crushes,” you said quickly, your voice firmer now. “they don’t mean anything.”

“really?” cora tilted her head, her brows arching in mock curiosity. “well, i’m curious.”

you had no interest in entertaining their games, so you moved to leave, muttering, “okay, you two have fun. i’m gonna go.”

but adriana grabbed your arm, pulling you back with a laugh that grated against your nerves. “no, no, hold on, teach!” she sang, flipping open one of the letters with deliberate glee.

“this one’s good,” she began, her voice dripping with amusement. she cleared her throat. “‘rafey, the other night was so fun. i left you a little gift in your sock drawer. same time, next friday? love, lexi.’”

next friday? had he really been seeing girls while he was seeing you?

your breath caught as cora, with a sickening familiarity, moved to the dresser. she opened the drawer without hesitation, rummaging through the neatly folded socks until she produced something bright red.

“and would you look at that?” cora said, holding up a pair of red lace panties. “pretty sexy.”

“wait, those are actually cute,” adriana giggled, inspecting them like they were a trophy. “wonder where she got them.”

you stared at the fabric dangling from her fingers, the blood draining from your face. this had to be manipulation. some twisted attempt to mess with you. but then, why did he have those panties?

cora snatched another letter, her grin widening. “okay, another one! ‘remember our beach day? you said you love me. can’t stop thinking about you. happy valentine’s day. s.’”

you felt a sharp sting behind your eyes, and when cora turned to you, her expression almost pitying, the first tear slipped free. you aggressively wiped it away.

“she’s so sweet! isn’t she sweet?” she taunted, and her gaze made something inside you snap.

you clutched your jacket tightly, desperate to leave, but adriana wasn’t finished. “hold on, teach!” she laughed, grabbing yet another letter. “this one’s even better! ‘i still remember when you took my v-card in the back of your car—‘“

no no no.

no.

your heart strings pulled tightly and you stopped listening. you shoved past adriana, the world around you blurring as tears filled your vision.

you felt a hand grip your arm and tug you back. “hey?” cora’s ‘concerned’ face, “we’re just trying to help you. i’m a girl’s girl, y/n. i just don’t want to see you get hurt since clearly you aren’t smart enough to see through him yourself.”

you tugged your arm away and behind you, their laughter echoed like a cruel melody. “how sad,” adriana laughed, her voice chasing you down the hallway as your chest heaved with silent, choked sobs.

you rush down the stairs, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the pounding in your ears. tears blur your vision, and the lump in your throat feels like it’s choking you. you don’t stop, you can’t stop. your heart is in free fall, shattering with every breath. you dart past rafe's friends, kiara's concerned look, topper saying something you don't quite catch, their faces a blur, until you find ivy.

her eyes meet yours instantly, wide with concern, like she can sense the storm inside you. “i’m gonna go,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling. before you can say another word, she’s at your side, her hand brushing against your arm. “y/n?”

rafe is suddenly there too, his brows furrowed, confusion etched into his face. “y/n, baby?” his voice is soft but urgent, and when he reaches for your wrist, you yank it away, shaking your head violently.

“what's wrong, talk to me?” he pleads, moving to block your path. his blue eyes are frantic, clouded with worry, the same eyes you adored only minutes ago. now all you could think about was how you sat in his car, the same car he used to bring you to the retirement home, the one he used to pick you up and take you to school, the one where you'd laughed the most you'd ever laughed and you'd kissed him over and over. the same car you'd given him your first freaking blowjob in was the same car he used to take some girl's virginity and who knows who else's? yours was next. clearly.

“please, just let me g-go.” your voice cracks, trembling with barely-contained sobs as you try to push past him because the thoughts of 'next friday' won't leave you. the picture of him with another girl right after your seeing you or even right before. who knows?

rafe doesn’t let up. his hands find your arms, his grip firm but careful, his touch begging you to stay. “what happened? y/n, please—please talk to me,” he implores, his voice breaking as he tries to steady you, to calm you and it feels like such bullshit, it all feels like a slap in the face and it feels like being deceived and betrayed and you can’t think, don’t care about all the eyes on you, watching you cry—you can’t care because you have this ugly picture playing in your head of him sleeping with girls after touching you and kissing you and him telling a girl he loves her and that girl isn’t you. that girl is not you. it was never you. it all sort of becomes clear. this illusion, dream-like state that you refused to burst out of because of how blissful it felt was really just that, a far-fetched dream.

“don’t touch me! stop!” you cry, your voice rising, panic taking over.

adriana’s voice slices through the tension like a blade, smooth and cruel. “you should leave her alone, rafe. i think she’s had enough.”

his head snaps toward her, his body stiffening. “what? what did you say to her? what the fuck did you two do?” his voice is sharp, his tone teetering on the edge of fury as he glares at adriana and cora.

cora shrugs, her smile dripping with feigned innocence. “we? we didn’t say anything to her. your many, many conquests, though? they were a lot more talkative.”

you watch as the words register, as rafe freezes, his anger shifting to something like dread. his gaze swings back to you, wide and pleading. “you read the letters?” he whispers.

you don’t answer. the tears in your eyes say enough. they won’t stop, pouring down your cheeks as you stare at him, your chest heaving with sobs you can’t control. his momentary hesitation gives you just enough time to slip out of his grasp, to make a desperate break for the door.

“no! no, wait—” his voice is desperate, and his hand finds your wrist again, pulling you into his chest. his grip trembles as much as his voice. “it’s not true—” he stammers, then falters. “well, it’s—i swear, i promise, the moment this became real, the moment i realised you didn't just see me as a friend, i was yours. you know me,” he pleads, his words rushing together, his forehead pressing against yours in a futile attempt to anchor you. “look at me, baby. look at me. you know me.” he begs.

you don’t wipe the tears away. there’s no point. they fall faster than you can stop them, burning hot trails down your cheeks. “is that you? a new girl every couple of days? you—” your voice cracks, broken and raw, “you told a girl you love her?"” the words feel like poison on your tongue, and you pray, beg silently for him to deny it, to give you anything to make this nightmare go away.

“you took another girl’s virginity… in your car?” the words taste bitter on your tongue, your voice breaking on the last syllable. your chest is so tight it hurts to breathe.

you try to pull away from him, to rip yourself from his grasp, but his fingers cling desperately to you. the nausea rises so violently you think you might actually throw up.

rafe’s head shakes frantically, his own eyes filling with tears, the panic setting in. “i don’t—i don’t have the best track record, i know that! but you—you brought out the best in me. i know i fucked up, i know the shit i did wasn’t okay, but i’m sorry,” he pleads, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt.

you barely hear him. your pulse is roaring in your ears, your vision blurring with tears.

“do you remember her name?” you whisper. your voice is so quiet, so fragile, but it cuts through the air like a blade.

his breath catches. his whole body goes still, like he doesn’t understand the question. his blue eyes dart across your face, searching desperately for something—an out, an answer, a way to fix this.

“what…?” his voice is hoarse.

you swallow back a sob, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “you were her first,” you repeat, and your voice is deadly soft now. “do you even remember her name?”

the silence that follows is unbearable.

he doesn’t speak. doesn’t even breathe for three whole seconds.

and that’s all it takes.

your stomach lurches. a cold, sickening wave crashes over you, and suddenly his hands on you feel wrong, like they’re scorching your skin, leaving burns behind.

“no, please—please, baby, don’t—” rafe’s voice is raw, wrecked. he reaches for you again, his hands desperate, his entire body pleading, but you stumble back, chest heaving, tears slipping down your face in hot, relentless streams.

he chokes on a breath. his whole face is crumbling, his own tears spilling over now, but you can’t bear to look at him. you can’t breathe around the ache in your chest, around the betrayal weighing down your limbs like lead.

“oh, god..” you shake your head, wrenching yourself out of his arms. “no, please, please.” he tries to pull you close, tries to get you to look at him. “baby—“

“no. no, please, stop. let me go,” you beg him, your voice shaking as you push him away, desperate to escape.

“no, y/n, please—please don’t go,” he begs, his hands reaching for you again, trembling with desperation. “i’m so sorry. i swear, i swear on everything, i’m not that person anymore. i can't lose you. you know me!”

but you can’t listen. you can’t hear another word, not when your heart is breaking like this. the air feels too heavy, the walls too close, and all you know is that you need to get out of this house.

you yank the front door open, but your escape halts when you see her—sarah cameron, standing there with a suitcase in hand. even through the haze of your tears, you recognize her.

“sur…prise,” she says hesitantly, her eyes darting between you, rafe, and the onlookers scattered around the foyer. the scene before her—a girl sobbing uncontrollably, rafe pleading, their friends frozen in stunned silence—leaves her wide-eyed and unsure.

you only look at her for a fleeting moment before stepping past her, out into the cold night. rafe’s voice carries after you, cracking with disbelief. “sarah?”

ivy’s hand slips into yours as she catches up, her grip warm and grounding. you squeeze it tightly, the tears still flowing, unstoppable and endless, as you walk away.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

a.n — um ya.. what IM surprised abt is that she was gonna let him hit it when he hasnt even made it official..? girl? standardsss??

taglist — @rafeysworldim19 @my-name-is-baby @pogueprincesa @fveapplestall @chalametlover444 @slutglimreqpers @uarmyhopeworldwide @junxe3 @bakuhoethotski @kinderwh0r3 @wintercrows @magicalflowerstranger @bigjuli444 @singlethreadofivy @stylestarkey

let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist & interact with post to remain tagged <3

[alotofpockets]

In the blink of an eye | Leah Williamson x Lioness!Reader

Where Leah gets injured during a match

Woso masterlist | Words: 1.2k

-----

“Baby, have you seen my new shin guards?” You had gotten some new personalised ones that you were hoping to wear on the first match back playing for your country. Only you couldn’t for the life of you remember where you had put them.

Misplacing things was a habit you had been trying to get rid of for years, but then Leah came into your life. Leah always magically knew where everything was. When you figured out her special skill of locating whatever you needed within seconds, you gave up on fighting your habit.

Instead of tearing up the hotel room to find them, Leah returned within a five seconds with your shin guards held up. “You mean these?” A smirk played on her lips, knowing that you would always be impressed with her finding your stuff. “You’re a lifesaver. Where were they?” 

“You asked me to put them in my bag, so you wouldn’t lose them, remember?” You chuckle, “Does it look like I did?” Leah laughs with you, “Nope.” You take the shin guards from her and place a kiss onto her lips, “What would I do without you?” She kisses you back, “Lucky for you, you’ll never have to find out.”

Playing for your country always made you happy, playing with the girls that had become your family over the years. The upcoming friendlies were a great way to reconnect with them and connect with the younger players joining you for their first senior camp.

Tonight was the first match, playing against Germany meant that even though it was a friendly, both teams would fight for the win like it was the Euro 2022 final all over again. You were starting on the bench tonight, while Leah led the team onto the field.

After a penalty and another goal from Gwinn within the first fifteen minutes, you watched your team fight back hard. 

Germany was on the attack again. You watched them send the ball high and Leah jumping up. The boot of one of the players caught Leah in the head and she fell down clutching her head instantly. 

The referee blew the whistle and showed an instant red as she ran over to the scene. The German player walked off in defeat, you hadn’t even seen who it was, your eyes only on Leah. The referee called over the medical team as a few of the girls gathered around Leah. You hated not knowing what was happening while she was down. 

You watched anxiously at the sidelines, watching the huddle of medical staff and your teammates surrounding Leah. Sarina joined in next to you, herself anxious to see Leah down as well. Head injuries were no joke. When you saw the medical staff gesture for the stretcher your heart sank. Sarina put her hand on your shoulder before stepping aside, needing to talk with the team which of the players that were warming up, were going to replace Leah.

Lucy ran up to you when she saw your worried face watching the staff put a neck brace on your girlfriend. “It’s a precaution. She hit her head hard, but is conscious. She’s a little foggy and she doesn’t know what happened, they have to run some tests.” You nod your head in disbelief. She gives you a quick hug before continuing her run to Sarina and the rest of the staff.

There was no way you were going to continue sitting on the bench or play in this match when your girlfriend was getting checked out for a possible head injury. So, you turned on your heels as they put Leah onto the stretcher. “Sarina, can I-” You didn’t even have to finish your sentence, “Go. Go be with her.” You thanked her and rushed into the tunnel after them. You knew it wasn’t the most professional move to leave the match, but it was Leah.

You hurriedly followed the staff walk Leah into a room. She was squinting against the bright lights, and mumbling something you couldn’t quite hear. “Y/n, please wait outside while we run some tests. I promise you I’ll give you an update as soon as I can.” 

There were no chairs in the hall, so you just slid down against the wall, fearing for the worst. It felt like hours before you got an update, even though only about ten minutes had passed since the door closed behind them.

“Alright, so it looks like she has a concussion. We of course have to wait for the hospital scans to confirm it. But right now she’s pretty out of it. She’s having some trouble with her memory, so be aware of that when you go see her.” The door was open when he told you, and as soon as he finished, you walked into the dark room.

“Hey Lee.” You said softly, not wanting to hurt her. “Hey ehm you?” Your heart sank once more. She didn’t remember you? That was really bad. “I’m kidding, hi love.” 

“That’s not funny.” You said sternly, but the serious look on your face disappeared quickly, knowing that it wasn’t as bad as you thought. “Sorry love. Just dizzy, nauseous, and the biggest headache ever. I don’t know what happened, but they said I’d probably get those memories back soon.”

You walk the rest of the way to Leah’s side and reach for her hand. “You scared me, you know?” Leah offered a faint smile, as her fingers curled weakly around yours. “I guess you’ll have to remember where you put your stuff yourself for a bit now.” She murmured, wincing as she attempted to adjust her position.

You chuckled softly, trying to lighten the mood. "Only you would make a joke right now." She shrugged, her gaze softening. “I’m sorry, love. And I’m sorry you’re missing the game.” You shook your head instantly. “It’s okay, nowhere I’d rather be than by your side right now.”

After a visit to the hospital, it was confirmed that Leah had a concussion. Her memory should come back in the next couple of days, which was good news, but the bad news was that the knock was quite hard, so the dizziness, nausea, and the headaches would stick around for a bit.

“I’ll leave camp and come home with you.” You were set on your decision, but Leah refused. “My mom will come pick me up, get me home, and take care of me. You will finish camp and play, I am not letting you miss more because of me.” 

It took a bit of convincing, but you eventually agreed with Leah, on the condition that her or her mom would send you constant updates on how she was doing. With that deal made, you called her mom to give her an update on her daughter, while Leah got some rest. After giving her all the information the doctors had just given you, you asked her if she could come pick Leah up and stay with her for the upcoming week. 

“Can you put her on for a second?” You look over and see that she closed her eyes, and that her chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm. “I think she just fell asleep, but once she’s awake, I’ll give you another call.”

You sat back down by Leah’s side, and watched the monitor carefully. The doctors said she should be fine, but still you were worried after the scare you’ve had today.

-----

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[baeksqt]

𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐍 — lena oberdorf

lena oberdorf x dallas cowboys cheerleader!reader

(a/n: can you tell this is a british person who wrote this?? i’ve always had an odd obsession with those ladies so but anyways lena oberdorf, my shayla >_< I hope you enjoyed this one, i’m thinking of doing a two part for this, lemme know if you would like that and happy reading x)

word count: 1986

genre: fluff

summary: two different worlds, colliding in the most unexpected of places—yet somehow, it felt like they were exactly where they were meant to be.

As you adjusted your glittering blue uniform, the scorching Texas sun cast its unwavering gaze upon AT&T Stadium, making the atmosphere both electrifying and intense. The fabric of your outfit shimmered brilliantly, reflecting the light with every slight movement, and the heat enveloped you like a warm embrace. You stood tall and proud as the centrepiece of the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders, a position you had dreamt about since your earliest memories of watching those iconic routines on television, captivated by the energy and precision.

You were focused on tonight’s performance, where an international friendly match between the USWNT and Germany’s national team took place. It wasn’t every day a soccer match took over their football stadium, and you were eager to see how the crowd would react to the shift in energy.

Among the German players warming up was Lena, the star midfielder known for precision and aggression on the field. Lena was as disciplined as she was fearless—a footballer who’d grown up training in the rainy fields of Gevelsburg. She was fiercely proud of her roots, yet found herself intrigued by this massive, almost theatrical American sports culture.

The game unfolded with an intensity that crackled in the air, but amidst the thrumming excitement, Lena’s gaze was irresistibly drawn to the vibrant splashes of colour and dynamic movement spiralling down the staircases among the throngs of spectators. The cheerleaders, clad in striking uniforms that shimmered in the arena lights, led a fervent cacophony of cheers and chants that resonated through the crowd, their infectious energy sweeping over everyone present. It was unlike anything she had ever experienced back home, a captivating display of spirit and camaraderie that left her spellbound.

The halftime break arrived with a pulse of excitement rippling through the massive crowd. The game was tense, and the U.S. and German teams were locked in a fierce battle, but for the next few minutes, all eyes would be on you and the Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders.

You took a deep breath, standing tall at the edge of the field, feeling the electric energy in the air. The opening chords of AC/DC’s Thunderstruck blasted through the speakers, and the crowd erupted. This was the routine—fast, furious, and legendary. The kind of performance that could make even the toughest sceptics believe in the art of cheerleading.

From the sideline, Lena sat on the bench in the technical area, water bottle forgotten in her hand. She has seen plenty of halftime shows in her career, but nothing like this. The music thumped in her chest as you sprang to life, every movement precise and explosive. Your hair whipped around as you launched into high kicks, your blue rhinestone-studded stars sparkled under the stadium lights.

The choreography was relentless. Sharp motions that synced perfected with the pounding drumbeat, pom-poms slicing through the air with military precision. You moved with such confidence, such undeniable magnetism, that Lena found herself frozen, mesmerised.

“They’re incredible, aren’t they?” Sara murmured beside her, but Lena barely heard. Her eyes were fixed on you, whose smile radiated pure joy, body moving with an effortless grace that only came from years of dedication. As you dropped into the squad’s signature kickline, the entire stadium roared in approval. You stole a glance towards the sideline—just for a second, and caught Lena watching you intently, eyes wide with admiration. A rush of heat flooded your chest, and you pushed yourself even harder, feeding off the connection you felt from across the field.

Lena’s heart pounded, though she wasn’t sure if it was from the music or the way your energy seemed to wrap around her like a lasso. She had always thought football was the ultimate rush, but this? This was something else entirely. She watched you flip, spin, and land with flawless precision, your spirit seemingly untouchable.

As the routine built to its climactic finish with the cheerleaders launching into a gravity-defying jump split, the stadium shook with applause. Lena found herself cheering along with the crowd, a rare uninhibited smile breaking across her face. As the final notes of the music faded and you struck your last pose, breathing heavily but wearing a wide, triumphant grin, you turned your gaze toward the sideline once more. The vibrant energy around you was palpable, and your eyes locked with Lena's across the field, a connection forged amid the exhilarating chaos of the performance.

The stadium lights still burned bright long after the game had ended in a tense draw, the buzz of excitement still lingering in the air. You and your teammates lingered along the sidelines, feeling the residual adrenaline still coursing through your veins. But now, with the game over, you found yourself feeling oddly restless as you interacted with the young girls in the stands, helping them take photos with their fellow football idols.

Your eyes wandered across the field, where the German players were cooling down, stretching, and exchanging jerseys with their American counterparts. Among them was her, the striking brunette midfielder who had been impossible to ignore during the match. You had noticed Lena the moment she stepped onto the field, the fierce focus and effortless control of the ball captivating in a way that you hadn’t expected. And when she caught Lena watching the halftime performance, you felt something shift.

Lena, too, had felt it.

She was still replaying the halftime show in her head, the pounding rhythm of Thunderstruck echoing in her ears. German football culture was all about discipline and rigour, but what she witnessed was pure fire. And it fascinated her.

As Lena pulled off her sweat-drenched jersey and wiped her face with it, she spotted you standing by the tunnel, chatting with your teammates but glancing her way now and then. Summoning her courage, Lena handed her jersey off and made her way across the field.

Your stomach flipped when you realised Lena was heading your way, tall and athletic, her dark hair tousled from the game. You played it cool, offering a bright smile as Lena approached. “Nice performance,” Lena said in her slightly accented English, her lips curling into an easy, lopsided grin. “I didn't know football had…entertainment like that.”

You twirled a pom-pom absentmindedly as you laughed. “Well, soccer, not usually. But we like to put on a show here in Texas. Gotta give the fans something to cheer for, right?”

“But you were amazing out there. I’ve never seen someone control the game like you do.” You nudged her, pom-pom crinkling in hand.

Lena’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she looked down, kicking at the turf. “Thanks,” she said softly, “but I think you might have beat me in the whole crowd control department.”

“Guess we both have our talents.” You winked.

There was a moment of silence, not awkward but filled with the weight of something new and intriguing. You shifted in your boots, then glanced towards the tunnel, hearing your directors call your name as well as Lena’s teammates calling out for her.

As you glanced back at Lena, a sense of urgency reflected in her captivating gaze. “Well, Lena, it was a pleasure meeting you,” you said, your voice tinged with a mix of warmth and urgency. “I hope you had a wonderful time in Dallas. Safe travels!” There was a sparkle in your eyes as you took one last look at her, committing her features to memory before you turned and jogged off toward your waiting coworkers, the lively chatter of the group drawing you back into the moment.

Before Lena could find the words to respond, you had already turned away, your footsteps quickening as you joined your teammates. The air between you felt heavy with unspoken feelings, and she let out a soft sigh, trying to suppress the flicker of disappointment that threatened to surface. Yet, deep down, she vowed to herself that this wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

You left your locker room cladded in your Cowboys sweats, boots clicking across the vinyl floor, on the hunt for the bathroom, using it as an excuse to get away from your prying teammates who questioned what happened between you and “that German girl.”

Turning a corner, you begin to hear the chatter of the German team, playful shrieks being thrown as you saw them file out of their locker room, you stood against the wall as the players walked past you, exchanging thank yous and goodbyes. Your eyes searched for Lena as she left the room, laughing with one of her teammates.

Her eyes lit up as she met yours, standing adjacent to you on the wall to allow her team to walk in front of the two of you. A couple of the ladies patted her shoulder with knowing glances as they walked past.

She appeared vibrant and youthful, her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue that contrasted beautifully with her smooth complexion. Her hair was styled in a bun, showcasing the delicate contours of her face. “I knew you’d find me,” you teased with a smile, the words playful and light. As you both strolled side by side, each slow step felt deliberate, as if you were trying to savour every moment and stretch out the time spent together.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Lena said with a nonchalant shrug, her eyes darting momentarily away as a palpable silence settled between them. She hesitated, her fingers nervously twisting the strap of her bag, a subtle sign of her apprehension. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face, as if weighing her next words carefully in the stillness.

“So, listen,” she said with an easy smile, “we’re having a little after-party tonight. Some of the team rented out a place downtown. You should come.”

Your heart skipped a beat as you halted your steps. For a moment, idea of letting loose, spending more time with Lena, and stepping outside the tight bubble of her DCC world was intoxicating. But then reality set in like a bucket of cold water.

The Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders had strict rules about fraternisation with players, whether football or otherwise. No dating, no hanging out, no exceptions. Even though Lena wasn’t an NFL player, you knew it was a grey area that could get you in serious trouble. You had worked too hard to get here, sacrificed too much to risk it all for a night of fun—no matter how tempting Lena’s invitation was.

“I’d love to, really.” You bit your lip, as Lena’s eyes lit up. “But we have some…rules.” you said carefully, fiddling with the sleeves of your sweatshirt. “Cheerleaders and players aren’t really supposed to hang out.”

Lena raised an eyebrow, surprised. “Even when it’s not your team?”

“Even then,” you sighed. “It’s a whole image thing. They want us to be, you know, untouchable or something.” You bounced your leg anxiously.

The tall brunette frowned, leaning in slightly. “That’s ridiculous,” she said, a hint of defiance in her voice. “We’re just people. It’s not like I’m asking you to break the law.”

You let out a small chuckle. “Try telling that to my directors. They’d have me benched for the rest of the season.”

Lena studied your face for a moment, then shrugged with a playful grin. “Okay. So, what if I promise to keep my distance? I mean, we could pretend I’m just a fan. I’ll even act starstruck if it helps.”

“You? Starstruck?” You couldn’t help but laugh “I’d love to see that.”

“Then come. Just for an hour.” Lena tilted her head, eyes twinkling. “I promise no one will even know we’re there together.”

You hesitated, torn between your cautious instincts and the undeniable pull towards Lena. Breaking the rules, even bending them, could cost you everything you had worked for. But then you looked at Lena, at the way she stood there, so open, so genuine—and something inside you whispered, take the chance.

[wososcripts]

Face to Face (Part 1)

Fridolina Rolfö x reader

Summary: After months of a toxic back and forth with Frido, things reach a breaking point.

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: I know it's been forever but that's what being a full time uni student will do! I hope you all enjoy this fic as much as I do, its been a wip for a while now!

As usual this is all fiction and in good fun! Nothing is meant to represent reality. All italicized dialogue is in a language other than English, and I promise... things will get better in this fic eventually.

Warnings⚠️: unhealthy situationship lol, injury, light medical description

"Get out!" You screamed, repeating it over and over until you were alone in your bedroom.

You hated yelling. Absolutely hated it. You couldn't remember the last time before today that you had actually yelled in someone's face. Plenty of people in your sport lost their tempers and shouted on the pitch—whether at a ref or another player—but it wasn’t your style. You always managed to keep your cool. It was your sport, yes, but not your life.

You'd been yelled at too much as a child to think it had any productive effect on a situation, which may have been part of why you immediately felt horrible once Fridolina left the room. You pulled your comforter around your half-naked form, wishing you were less exposed.

This was the end. Whatever you and Fridolina had, it was over. Finally.

You'd been trying to build up the will to make this happen for weeks, and yet your heart felt like it was being strangled with every moment you sat here alone. The worst part was, you knew Fridolina didn't care. She was probably angry, sure, but she was not feeling the heartbreak you were.

You weren't sure how you were going to make it through the next few days. You had to fly to Germany tomorrow for national camp—and then on Friday you were playing Sweden in a friendly. It was hard to imagine that you had been excited to get the news about the friendly last month. It meant you got to be around Frido more, got to see a few of your old teammates from Chelsea like Magda and Zećira, and you genuinely enjoyed being around the German girls. It was still home to you, there, even if you hadn't played for a German league in nearly a decade.

Now you just wanted to stay in Barcelona while Frido left. You wanted to call Alexia, or Patri, and ask them to come over and comfort you. You wanted Patri’s jokes and Alexia’s solid presence, but you were afraid of the questions they might ask. Your eyes were red now, tears running down your face, and your room was a mess. Everything had a trace of Frido, and you hated it.

Ingrid and Mapí, who you would usually call if you wanted to get your mind off of things, weren’t an option either. Though you were fairly certain they wouldn’t ask any pressing questions, Ingrid was Frido’s best friend. And that made her off limits for now, for anything regarding this.

You just had to make it through the night, and the next morning. Then you could collapse into the familiar arms of your national teammates, your family, your language, and try to forget all about this.

—

Your mother knew something was off the second you appeared on her doorstep, Laura in tow.

She wrapped her arms firmly around you, holding you tight for a minute. It had been three months since you were home for Christmas, and you hadn’t seen each other since then. You melted into her, wanting nothing more than the comfort of her protective embrace after all that had been swimming around your head lately.

Your mother greeted Laura next, and you were instructed to bring your bags up to the guest room. You’d have to share, but it wasn’t all that big of an issue. You and Laura often shared rooms when you were at national camp anyway, so this wouldn’t be much different.

“Wie ist Barcelona? Gefällt es? ” Laura asked you quietly that night, rolling over in the bed to face you.

It was late, too late to still be up. Tomorrow you’d have to be at training bright and early.

“I love it there.”

Something about your voice must have been off, because Laura stayed silent. You knew she fretted over you. She was protective too, something you experienced first hand when people were rough with you on the field—Laura hated most of your exes too. You’d known each other since secondary school, when you were barely tall enough to reach the top of your lockers.

“I’ve always wondered if it’s difficult, fitting in with the Spanish girls…”

“And I’m shy, which doesn’t make it easier.”

Laura laughed lightly.

“Well I wasn’t going to say anything!”

You poked her side playfully, and smiled.

“They’re all very welcoming. It can be intimidating when you don’t speak Spanish at first, but I’m pretty good now so I don’t have many issues.”

Laura began playing with strands of your long hair, putting it in small braids.

“What is it, Lau?”

“I can tell something is bothering you. In your texts, the way you looked when I picked you up at the airport, something is off.”

You weren't sure what to say. Laura didn't know anything about you and Frido. Nobody did. You'd have to explain the whole thing, start to finish. You'd have to explain why you stayed even when she treated you like garbage. Why you made excuses for her, compromised things you told yourself you wouldn't.

"It's hard to explain…" you mumbled.

Laura continued to play with your hair, pushing a few wisps back from your forehead.

"You don't have to if you don't want to."

You needed an ally in this, you realized. Desperately.

"Just be prepared, it's kind of a long story."

And so you launched into how you and Frido had been attracted to each other immediately when she was playing at Bayern and you were at Frankfurt. How you had danced around each other when you were signed in Barcelona. How she kissed you one day after a game, before she was even out of her relationship, and then ignored you for weeks—a pattern you didn't realize was going to dominate your life for the next year.

By the end you were crying. You hadn't cried in so long it felt foreign. Everything had been building up for months and nobody had been there to help you carry the weight of it until that moment.

Laura pulled you into her arms, rubbing your back in soothing circles as you sobbed into her neck.

"It's okay, you're okay," she whispered.

"I feel like a fucking idiot."

"She's the idiot for treating you like that, not you. Not you at all." Laura looked at you sternly. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that all by yourself…"

You snuggled closer to her and kept quiet.

"If you need someone to accidentally slide tackle her on Monday let me know…" Laura teased.

You giggled into her hair, and she couldn't help but smile in return.

-

You were nervous. Typically friendlies didn't worry you much, but you didn't want to see Fridolina. You had been playing well in training sessions, but your teammates could tell something was on your mind.

"Hey—" Sara's voice broke you out of your thoughts. The two of you had played together at Frankfurt for a little while, and she was like an older sister to you. She placed both her hands on your cheeks and pressed her forehead to yours. "Whatever it is, put it out of your mind. Leave it here and just play. Just for a few hours."

You closed your eyes and listened to her, letting her voice ground you. You squeezed her hands and nodded. Just a few hours. Then you could avoid Frido for an entire week before you had to fly back to Barcelona.

You assumed your position on the pitch, the roar of the German fans filling your ears. That was the benefit of playing at home. You spotted a few of the Swedish girls you knew: Magda, Zećira, Stina, and Rebecca. All of whom gave you small smiles.

In the few seconds before the match began you closed your eyes, counting down from seven as you always did before a match. Then the whistle blew and you began.

It was a tough match between the two teams. Where the Germans were weak the Swedish girls pounced, and vice versa. You were constantly fighting for the ball, the defenders packed onto you. Stina was the first to score, slipping the ball into the box amidst a chaotic mess just the way she was good at.

From there on out you were determined to score. You were playing all out, more than necessary really. It was a throwaway game, but you just had to get a point on the board.

When your quick pass to Lena had the ball soaring into the back of the net you thought you might explode from joy. You jumped into her arms, letting her twirl you around, laughing. In your head you might as well have won the Olympics.

At halftime it was still 1-1. Your heart was pounding. Laura made you drink some of your water, massaging your shoulders in an effort to get you to calm down. Popp was side eyeing you, considering pulling you out. This behavior wasn't like you.

The second half was considerably more intense than the first. Both teams wanted to score, and the more physical players on both sides were pushing hard. It was a miracle nobody had been carded.

And then suddenly you had the ball at your feet. There was a golden opportunity in front of you. Eyes facing forward, you raced down the pitch, completely blindsided to the weight that slammed into from the side. Suddenly the world went sideways and you were slamming into the ground, not enough time to even think about trying to catch yourself. Your hip and shoulder took most of the initial impact, but something about how you'd been standing, or how you'd been hit, meant your head followed, hitting the ground with a resounding thud.

You came to a few seconds later. Someone was kneeling next to your head, and their hands were on your cheeks.

Fuck. Everything hurt. You kept your eyes closed, thinking maybe that would lessen the next wave of pain you knew was coming. At first you weren't sure what had happened.

"Are you okay?" You heard Zećira's voice in your ear.

"Zećira?" You mumbled. "What happened?"

"You went down and hit your head."

You had gone down near the goal, that was right. Things were a bit blurry. You figured it was a bad idea to move your neck, what with the severe headache you could feel blossoming, and opening your eyes seemed to run the 50/50 chance of you vomiting.

"Do you remember that now? Do you feel okay?"

So you gave her a weak thumbs up, hoping it was clear you needed the medics.

After a moment in which you gathered your resolve and swallowed your nausea, you opened your eyes. There was Zećira looking worriedly down at you. She glanced upwards, probably at the medical team that was surely coming.

"Fuck, fuck…" you heard another voice, those of your German teammates beginning to filter into your awareness. And further away, the sharp sound of yelling.

The medical team finally arrived, clearing the space around you. Your hand shot out, grabbing onto Zećira's you gave her a look that said it all. Fear and panic met in equal amounts as she squeezed your hand lightly.

"You're gonna be okay, älskling, everything is gonna be alright." If anything, her tone scared you even more. You knew Zećira, and she wasn't someone you would describe as warm and cuddly. For her to be using that tone with you meant something had gone wrong.

"Okay, we're gonna sit you up now." The medic warned you, and you felt two pairs of hands rest on your body, one on the back of your neck, slowly pull you upright.

Your nausea came back in full swing, and you fought to keep your breakfast in.

"Can you hear me?" You nodded.

"Can you understand what I'm saying?" You nodded again, resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

"Can you squeeze my hand?" You squeezed his hand tightly.

"Okay, I'm gonna shine this light in your eyes for a moment, can you try and follow it for me?" You did your best, but it wasn't easy.

"Okay," he put the light away and you thanked whatever God in the universe for that. "We think it's likely you have a pretty bad concussion. We'll have to run a few more tests to be sure, but she definitely has to come off."

He must've been talking to your coach at that point, because the next thing you knew Zećira and the medic were helping you up to your feet, the man supporting you heavily with your arms draped across his shoulders.

"I'll visit you after the match, okay?" You heard Zećira assure you, to which you gave another thumbs up.

You cringed slightly at the sound of the crowd cheering you off.

[pedriscroquettes]

𝐁𝐘𝐀𝐊 ✮ FLORIAN WIRTZ

summary. it’s kind of pathetic the way the two of you always come crawling back to each other.

warnings. emotional warfare. florian is down bad. light smut but heavy feelings. florian is lowkey pathetic in this. 18+

gabri speaks! unfortunately i am a florian girlie. anyways i’m back! heavily inspired by byak by alvaro diaz ft. rauw alejandro.

THE CROWD GROANS as florian hits the crossbar for the second time that night. the camera man makes sure to zoom in on him as his hands go up in frustration. florian stares at the goalkeeper in disbelief as he runs back into his position. another missed chance, another bad rating, another night of him stressing himself out. if there was one person in all of germany that night happy about his performance it was you.

your relationship with the player was controversial, what was once a promising relationship had turned sour, and quickly. the two of you had mutually decided that a committed relationship wasn’t in the cards for either of you. it had grown toxic to the point where you’d flirt with his teammates on purpose to provoke him which worked because you’d always end up in his bed and never in a foreign room. in fact you couldn’t quite remember when was the last time you had hooked up with anyone else.

meanwhile the brunette found himself staring at his phone on the ride home. chatter and music filled the team bus yet only one thing clouded his mind, did you watch the match? he was hoping a teasing message of yours would already be in his notifications, and when he saw there’s wasn’t one he sighed. as his teammates argued over their errors and mistakes he couldn’t help opening the messages between the two of you. the countless deleted messages and hidden pictures as well as the timed ones made him remember the many nights the two of you would spend on the phone.

the sound of your voice filled his head and when he saw you were online he immediately turned off his phone. was it possible you had finally gotten tired of your messed up relationship?

“bro, are you okay?” kai asked seeing the state his teammate was in. florian’s leg was bouncing and his demeanor had changed dramatically.

“i’m fine, thanks.” he offered him a curt smile before staring out the window again.

he wasn’t fine, he was far from fine, in fact he felt worse than he did after missing the goal. he’s not sure why but as soon as the team arrives back to the hotel he’s on his way to your flat. he makes a quick stop at the chinese place the two of you like beforehand making sure he doesn’t show up empty handed. it was already pathetic enough that he was showing up past midnight he could at least make up an excuse with the food.

he hopes the black hoodie he wore is enough to hide his identity from bystanders. although with all the pacing he does outside your hallway he hopes no one thinks he’s a robber. as he adjusts his hoodie he can’t help but think, why am i so nervous? after all it’s not the first time he knocks on your door at these hours.

“do you hate me?” is the first thing you hear as you open the door.

you study his frame and notice his disheveled hair and the training kit from the national team. you’ve never seen him so disorganized and upset — if that was the right word to use — you were amused. as his face grows concerned with your lack of answer you notice the takeout he has in his hands. the poor guy was either desperate or he had lost his mind. both of which could be true.

“what the fuck florian?” you look at him weird as you question him.

“you didn’t text me today.” he says as if that simple sentence answered your question.

“so what? i don’t text you every other week and you never show up at my apartment with food. what’s going on?” you’re even more confused than before.

“you always text me after a game.” he tries to explain like it’s the most logical thing ever.

you can’t help the half scoff and half laugh you let out. he couldn’t be serious right now. was he seriously at your apartment past midnight because he was freaking out over a message?

“okay seriously you need to get a girlfriend you’re starting to creep me out.” you joke.

“you say that while you’re wearing my jersey.” he l doesn’t even need you to turn around to know that you were wearing the leverkusen jersey he had gifted you months ago.

there’s a moment of silence between the two of you it’s entrancing. you stare at him and realize he’d made his way over to you immediately after the game. all because he was waiting for your message. meanwhile there’s something about you wearing his jersey for casually that makes you all more enchanting to him. there’s a mutual look between the two of you and in the blink of an eye his hands are on your waist, yours on his jaw, and his lips are on yours.

it’s poetic really the way he closes your door as he pushes you into your apartment and drops the takeout on your coffee table in the process. your hands already digging into his hair and his hold you tight as he carried you into your room. it’s all muscle memory. the darkness of your bedroom adds to the feeling of having him so close to you again.

“i think i-” he pauses not wanting to be so vulnerable in this predicament but you know what he wants to say. you freeze.

“florian you know i can’t. it didn’t work out the first time. i can’t do it again.” you grab his jaw making sure the two of you are making eye contact. his brown eyes captivate yours.

“i can’t either but i can’t live without you.” he whispers the end. “it will always be you.”

you drag his hand towards the waistband of your shorts. it would always be him too. the only person that consumed your every thoughts and the only person you were worried about getting hurt was him. always. you look into his eyes as he drags his fingers to your core and sigh as he begins to tease you. he’s also the only man you fantasize about.

“promise?” you ask him.

the moonlight barely allows you to see him fully but you catch the smirk on his face. the same one that had captivated you years ago at the bar. his fingers are so close to your needy hole. you can’t help but audibly gasp as he inserts them inside you causing an illicit groan from him. your nails dig into his shoulders as he starts fucking you with his digits. meanwhile he kisses you from your collarbone to your neck.

“i promise.” he whispers against your ear.

he pumps his fingers in and out of you slowly helping you reach your high. it was only fair you were treated right. it was small details like this that had you wondering why the two of you couldn’t just commit to each other. you’re distracted as he leaves marks on your neck and his fingers curve inside you. you can’t help the loud moans that leave your mouth as you reach your high. your hands dig into the sheets as you come around his fingers.

he continues kissing you as he begins to take his hoodie off. you’re quick to stop him before he begins undressing himself.

“do i need to remind you that you didn’t score today? you’re not getting any tonight.” you adjust your shorts.

“so you did watch the game then.” he wraps his arms around you pulling you closer to him.

“i always do.” you whisper as you cuddle into him.

that’s how you spend the rest of the night, snuggled into his body as it rains outside. it’s quite an intimate moment shared between the two of you. you’re not quite sure if you should be worried or content with the turn your relationship with florian took. you decide it’s rather late and with the way he holds you you don’t think much more. after all he promised and while you knew florian was many things he was not an oath breaker.

[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.

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