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helen-with-an-a · 7 days

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I am an adult pt 4

Hi. So this is pt 4 of the I am an adult. I really liked writing it and hope you enjoy it too. I definitely want to do a 5th part but I'm not sure about how many more after that I will do (if you get what I mean). Also, all of the German and Spanish is from google/google translate so if it's wrong, I apologise

Barca Femeni x Reader ; Lena Oberdorf x Reader

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4

Description: Lena gets the talk

Word Count: 4.1k

TW: Slight smut (undescribed/suggestive rather than outright)

You weren’t used to waiting at airports for people. Usually, you were the one who was walking off the plane to visit friends and family. But you couldn’t deny the excitement bubbling up – just thinking about who would be walking through the door made you smile. You didn’t quite know the protocol for meeting your long-distance girlfriend off a flight. You were nervous about it – wanting to do it right. You may have gotten into a bit of a TikTok wormhole over couples reuniting; most people went with flowers and a sign, but you were staying in an unfamiliar city for both of you, and you did have a match to play. It was something you agonised over for days before the arrival. Having consulted an unhelpful Ona, a laughing Patri and an amused Jana, you settled on asking Alexia. That was an adult thing to talk about, right?

“Um … Ale, can I … can I ask you something?” You said as you curled up on her sofa.

“Of course, pequeña. Esta todo bien?”

“Yeh, um … it’s about Lena, actually” That might have been a bad way to phrase it. Alexia’s face dropped, her gaze becoming a little icy.

“Que hizo ella?” Her voice was just as cold.

“Nothing, nothing, prometo.” You reassured her. “I wanted to ask you what to get her for the airport,” you explained quietly, a little apprehensive over her response.

“Oh, cariño.” Alexia cooed, pulling her legs up to tuck underneath her as she twisted to face you, her hand reaching along the back of the sofa to pick at the corner of the cushion. “Honestly, I don’t think she’d be expecting anything. I certainly wouldn’t if Olga and I met somewhere in the middle.” Her look softened even more as you nodded furiously, eyes locked on her patterned carpet. She could see you sag ever so slightly – clearly, you wanted to get Lena something. “I think, if you really want to get her something,” she continued, smiling as you perked up at her response. “You could do something small – like a … ugh, what’s the word …” She was so fluent in English you often forgot that it was technically her third language. “It’s small and fluffy; you give it to niñas,” she clicked frantically, clearly trying hard to remember. “Un oso de peluche,” she sighed, wracking her brain to remember the English word.

“A teddy bear?” You asked, helping her out slightly.

“Sí, sí, a teddy bear. You could get her one of those? It would be small enough for her to pack away when she travels, and it is something she can keep with her when she’s back in Germany.” You smiled at her suggestion – nodding happily at her words.

The day was finally here. You were finally seeing Lena again. Madrid airport was a little struggle to navigate but you stood, buzzing with excitement, as you waited at arrivals. You looked down at the goodies you had with you – a little bag filled with a very cute and very fluffy teddy bear, some Spanish sweets, and an iced coffee in your hand. You had also packed a few extra jumpers to sneak into Lena’s bag before she left.

L💚: Just got through passport control and stuff

L💚: I’ll be maybe 5/10 more mins

[Initial] ❤️💙: eeeeeeeeeeeeee

[Initial] ❤️💙: ok – I’m like right by the exit

[Initial] ❤️💙: turn left when u walk through it and im by the pillar post thingy

5 to 10 more minutes … you could do that. With every passing minute, your excitement and anticipation grew. It had been a long few months without Lena by your side. Yes, you texted every day; Yes, you Facetimed 5 times a week minimum; but seeing her in person, being able to hug her and hold her and kiss her and smell her and touch her and … you couldn’t be more excited.

“Hola, mi amor.” Very poorly pronounced Spanish whispered to you as strong, familiar arms wrapped around your waist.

“Lena,” you squealed, clearly having missed her walk up – far too much in your own head.

“mmmm, ich habe dich vermisst,” she sighed happily as you twisted in her grip to hug her tightly. She was warm and soft and smelt of cinnamon.

“I’ve mis- no, wait,” you cut yourself off. She tilted her head to the side, drawing back to look at you. “Ich habe dich auch so sehr vermisst,” you stumbled slightly but the big, wide grin on Lena’s face told you, you had said it right.

“Can I kiss you, Schatz?” she asked gently. You blinked slightly, not expecting her to ask you that in such a public space. “I, we, don’t have to. It’s just it’s been so long, and,” she rushed to get out, hating the fact that she had made you even the smallest bit uncomfortable.

“Liebe,” you cut her off, waiting until she looked at you before you continued. When her warm chocolate eyes met yours, you struggled not to float away in them. “Please, kiss me.” You smiled as she let out a breath of relief. You met halfway, and it was just as perfect as all the other kisses you two had shared, if not more so after such a long time apart.

“As …” she cleared her throat as she pulled away slightly. “As much as I want to continue. We should get going … but later, ich verspreche.” She vowed and picked her bag up off the floor. And extending her hand for you to take.

“No, wait, gimme that.” You gestured for her bag, forcing it from her when she hesitated to hand it over. “Also, these are for you,” you said with a proud smile, giving her the now slightly watery coffee and bag of goodies.

“Schatz, you shouldn’t have.” She began, but you shook your head, denying her the chance to complain. You stuck your tongue out at her, intertwined your fingers and pulled her towards the exit.

Taking the metro back to your hotel reminded you a lot of your first date. Lena looking slightly puzzled over the Spanish being spoken all around you. On your first date, you had shyly stood next to her, closer than two friends would be not enough to make her feel uncomfortable, and quietly translated a bit of the conversation between two girls nearby; you added the voices to differentiate between the two girls and jokingly copied any actions they did. This time, you let her lean against you, one arm sneaking around her waist to fiddle with the belt loops on her jeans and the other holding tightly onto the handrail. Her head dropped into your neck, muttering something in German.

“What was that, Liebe?” You asked softly, mindful that your mouth was quite close to her ear despite the busy train.

“Müde,” she said again into your neck. It took you a minute to sift through the German in your head. You pouted when you finally understood what she was saying. She was tired. That you could understand, travelling was difficult when you understood the language, let alone one where you landed in a country where the language was entirely different and almost no familiarity to yours. You pressed a chaste kiss to her hairline, hoping to comfort her a little.

“Naw,” you cooed. "It’s okay. We’re almost back to the hotel. We can have a nap if you want,” you pressed another kiss to her head. "But Alexia says she has to see you at some point tonight,” you reminded her.

“Forgot ‘bout Alexia,” she whined tiredly, her grip tightening on you.

“I’m sorry, Liebe. I promise she won’t be too harsh or scary. I know she can come off a bit..." you struggled for the right word. “Intense? But I promise she’s really sweet.”

You finally made it to your stop, and you filtered off the train, fingers laced together so neither of you got lost (mainly Lena, as she didn’t know a lick of Spanish). Just as you were walking up the steps outside, a flustered woman appeared next to you.

“Lamento mucho molestarte. Pero estoy intentando llegar al aeropuerto y tienes una maleta. Sabes cómo conseguirlos?” The flurry of Spanish through you off for a second as you had been conversing in English almost all day.

“No, no te preocupes en absoluto. Um, sólo necesitas …” As you explained the directions to the woman, Lena couldn’t help but watch in awe. She knew you could speak Spanish – you lived in Spain, you played for Barcelona, and she’d seen you talking in Spanish on the football pitch. Hell, the first time she had met you, you were finishing a conversation in Spanish with the film and media crews. It had done something to her then, and it was doing something to her now, too. She couldn’t understand a word of what you were saying, but the accent, the rapid words, the hand gestures, your kind smile … she suddenly wasn’t as tired as she felt on the train.

“Sorry, Liebe,” you said as you finished, waving to the woman as she sped down the steps towards the platform. She was asking about getting to the airport—she had seen your bag and guessed we had just come from there.” You explained, taking her (now slightly clammy) hand and leading her towards your hotel.

The hotel room was big and welcoming, a large bed in the centre with your things thrown haphazardly across it called to Lena as she walked through the door. She left her stuff by the wall and flopped heavily down, sighing at the softness that surrounded her. You looked at her from your vantage point by the door. Her top had ridden up, exposing her abs slightly, her biceps were on full display, and the veins in her arms rippled slightly as she twisted her fingers in the bedding underneath her. She was doing things to you – maybe it was because you hadn’t had sex a good few months (it was currently the longest you had ever gone without since you started having sex); maybe it was because she looked so at home amongst your things; perhaps it was the fact that your girlfriend was finally within touching distance. You also realised you didn’t quite care enough to figure it out.

“Incoming,” you yelled as you launched yourself at her.

“Oof,” she huffed, her breath leaving her body as your weight settled on top of her, both of you laughing quietly at your behaviour.

“Hi,” you smiled at her, arms either side of her head, legs straddling her hips.

“Hi,” she smiled back, lift her hands to stroke her thumbs across your exposed skin.

“I…” should you say it? “I’ve missed you,” you chicken out from what you really wanted to say. You knew you told her at the airport that you missed her, but you needed her to know just how much her absence affected you.

“I’m sorry.” She knew the distance was difficult for both of you. You shook your head, refusing to let her think that this was her fault.

“No, there’s nothing that can be done at the moment. I’m at Barca; you’re at Wolfsburg. It is what it is.” You shrugged, hoping it would ease her sadness a little. “But … you’re here now, we have this weekend. And that is all that matters.” You smiled, the wide, soft smile full of love and tenderness that only Lena got to see often. You felt rather than saw Lena crane her neck up to try to kiss you; your smile shifted into a cheeky grin as you pulled back just out of her reach. She stopped looking at you offendedly.

“Nuh, uh, uh,” you teased, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. “I...” You kiss her forehead. This was your chance. “Missed.” You kissed her cheek, backing out again. “You.” You kissed her other cheek.

“And I’ve missed you, Schatz.” Her hands left your waist, coming up to cradle your face, holding to exactly where she wanted. She waited a few moments, letting her eyes scan your face, trying to commit everything to memory (even though she had already done that well before you left Germany at New Year’s). “So much,” she whispered as she finally tugged you down to meet her lips.

The kiss started out slow, sweet and tender, as your love was poured into it. As you parted, her darkened eyes roamed your body, one hand cementing itself in your hair, tugging lightly as the other moved to trace along the waistband of your shorts. Your kisses weren’t a battle for dominance, but you were falling into a pattern of give and take that was uniquely yours. Your top was the first to come off, hers following not too long afterwards. Buttons were undone, drawstrings loosened and more clothing adding to the mess on the floor. Her hands grasped at any available flesh as your fingers slipped inside. Dark spots were bitten into supple skin, moans were melodies as you rediscovered each other.

“Don’t stop,” You panted into her skin as she guided you to the brink of ecstasy.

“Never,” came her reply, equally as breathless.

“What happened to being tired?” You laughed as she snuggled into your side, her once-eager fingers tracing light shapes into your skin. She groaned at your teasing, pressing more weight onto you. You fiddled with her hair as you waited for an explanation.

“Dein Spanisch. Mit dieser Dame am Bahnhof … Es hat etwas mit mir gemacht” You didn’t understand it fully. Spanish … train station? You were a little confused.

“Sorry, I got something about my Spanish and the lady at the train station. What was the last bit?” You were trying to learn German, but you had started with the most practical things – the greetings, stuff that happened in daily life, cheesy lines you could say to Lena to make her blush.

“Um … it’s a bit embarrassing, really … you were speaking Spanish to that lady at the station,” she blushed profusely. You just smiled, letting your fingers comb through the mess her hair had become. “Es war wirklich sexy.” Your grin doubled in size. So, you speaking Spanish turned her on? That was useful to know.

“Well,” you said after a moment of silence. “If me giving directions to the airport is sexy, you should hear me when I say something truly seductive,” you teased, squeezing her gently as she buried her head in your neck again.

“Mmmm, déjame pensar. Cuando llegue a casa, debo acordarme de llamar al administrador del edificio.” You laughed as you felt her blush, the new heat obvious against your skin. You also couldn’t help but notice the slight shift of Lena’s hips against your thigh. “Liebe, I just said I needed to call my building manager – that is not sexy.” She pulled away from your skin.

“Uh, everything you do is sexy,” she countered. “Say something else? Something that’s actually hot,” she begged, ignoring your teasing smile, and raised eyebrow.

“Hm, vale, vale,” you wracked your brains, trying to think of something that you actually considered sexual. “Quiero que me tengas en todas las formas que quieras. Quiero destrozarte una y otra y otra vez.” You usually weren’t that explicit about your wants, but you were reliant on Lena not really knowing what you were saying. Lena was gobsmacked. She had not a clue what you had just said but the way you had said it – the slight rasp in your voice, the rosy hue to your skin, the sticky sheen of sweat, the hickeys she had sucked into your skin. She rolled you over, balancing above you as her legs slotted between yours.

“Redonda Dos?” You asked. She knew enough Spanish for that.

Just as things were getting interesting again, your door swung up.

“Y/N? ¿Estás aquí? Ale te ha estado enviando mensajes de texto toda la tar -” Ona cut herself off with a shrill scream.

“Me arden los ojos.” She gagged dramatically. “Ew, mis ojos.”

“Oni, qué carajo en realidad?” You shouted back, dragging the duvet up to cover the both of you.

“Do you want to introduce me?” She grinned evilly.

“No, get out!” You glowered at her. When she made no effort to move, you threw a pillow at her.

“Ale says to come to her room.” You flicked your finger at her, letting her know your displeasure. Turning uour attention was fixed back on Lena, you heard her cackling outside.

“Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße. Alexia wird mich töten. Ich bin tot. Ich werde sterben. Ich hatte praktisch Sex mit ihrer kleinen Schwester. Oh, mein Gott. Ich werde sterben. Fuck.” Lena was panicking – real, genuine anxiety spread throughout her chest as she sat up against the pillows.

“Liebe, it’s ok,” you soothed, grabbing one hand in yours and swinging your other arm across her shoulders. “Liebe?” you tried again.

“Alexia is going to kill me.” Lena said, looking into your eyes for what she genuinely thought might be the final time.

“No, she won’t.” You smiled softly, not wanting to laugh at Lena’s ridiculousness. “I won’t let her,” you vowed, squeezing her hand tight in promise. “Now, we should probably get some clothes on and head to Ale’s room.”

As you reached for your hoodie, your world darkened suddenly as fabric landed on your head. You lifted it up to reveal a very familiar Adidas hoodie, turning back to see a sheepish Lena.

“How did that get there?” She asked innocently.

“I don’t know, Liebe. How did it get there?” You played along. “There’s only one Adidas athlete in this room, and it’s not me.” She shrugged, snatching your Barca hoodie out of your reach.

“I don’t know, Schatz. But it looks like it’s your only hoodie, and I want you to stay warm.” She was a terrible actor.

“If you wanted me to wear your clothes, you could have just asked,” you laughed as you slipped on the material, getting slightly lost as you tried to find the head hole. You heard a sigh and footsteps before the fabric was rearranged on you as your head burst through the top.

“Guten Tag,” you beamed at her.

“Hallo, Schatz,” she smiled at you before stealing a kiss. You hummed gently, allowing yourself to melt into her just slightly.

“Vamos, vamos.” You spun her around to face the door. “Let’s not keep Ale waiting,” you laughed and tapped her on the bum to get her moving.

Alexia’s room was exactly the same as yours – a wide, comforting bed with a mountain of pillows dominating the space. You tapped on the door, knowing that she would probably have at least 3 of the other girls in her room with her.

“Schatz, I know I said I would endure this for you … for us,” Lena said when it was clear Alexia was making you wait a little. Was she second guessing this? Was she regretting you? “And I will, I will.” She added when your head snapped back to look at her. “But I’m really freaking out here.” You softened.

“Oh, Liebe. It’s ok,” you said, pulling her into a hug. “I understand, really, I do. This isn’t exactly how I wanted you to meet Ale, but I promise you,” you squeezed her to emphasise your point. “She’s a giant softy with a tendency for affectionate bullying. If she starts speaking in Catalan, just ignore her; that’s what I do,” you joked, trying to lighten her mood a little. “She’s just like Alex and Svenja are to you. She’s just looking out for me – even though I don’t need her to and certainly not in this case,” you were rambling now, unknowingly easing Lena’s anxieties in an instant.

Someone cleared their throat behind you, cutting your talking off. Lucy. You smiled at her, pushing past as you guided Lena to sit on the edge of the bed, taking her hand in both of yours when you sat next to her – providing quiet but noticeable support. There were more people in the room than you were expecting. You knew Alexia would call on Lucy, Irene and probably Paños and Marta to give the talk, but Ingrid’s presence surprised you, as did Ona’s and Patri’s.

“Entonces, quieres presentarnos a Lena?” Alexia asked, leaning against the desk in front of you, Paños on her left, Lucy on her right. Irene and Marta stood blocking the path to the door – all of them with what they thought were tough expressions on their faces. Ingrid looked annoyed to be there, Ona was trying to look hard, and Patri had an amused smile dancing on her lips.

“In English, Alexia. It’s not fair on Lena to speak in a language she doesn’t know.” You said calmly, breathing deeply to keep your emotions in check. They had promised not to treat you like a child.

“Do you want to introduce us to Lena?” She asked again, voice artificially calm.

“Not if you’re going to treat us like children.” You raised an eyebrow, reminding all of them of their promises to treat you more adult-like.

“That was before we found out you were having sex,” Lucy started. She stood up from where she was leaning, you matching her behaviour by squaring your shoulders.

“Suficiente, vosotros dos.” Alexia ordered before you had the chance to comment. As much as she wanted to give a protective big sister talk, she realised that maybe this was what you meant when you said that you wanted to be treated more like an adult. It was silent as she studied you and Lena – sitting so close you were practically on top of each other, your thumb never wavering in its soothing motion against the back of Lena’s hand, the way Lena’s eyes kept flitting back to your face in search of any discomfort. She didn’t need to do the grandiose speech she was planning to give – she didn’t need to let every one of the older girls chime in with their threats. If Lena harmed you, Lena wouldn’t harm you – of that, Alexia was sure. “Everyone out. Not you or Lena,” she said as you shifted to leave. “Ona, quédate también por favor.” Alexia ignored the other’s protests; Lucy’s whining was heard even with the door closed. She had allowed Ona to stay in her role as your best friend – she wasn’t about to deny her this opportunity (especially since she knew you had promised Lucy you would exact a painful revenge if Ona ever came to you crying over something about their relationship).

“Lena. I am going to say this one time,” Alexia began, watching as Lena’s eyes grew wide and gulped noticeably. You just rolled your eyes at her antics. “If you hurt her,” she paused for dramatic effect. “I will hunt you down … and end you.” Alexia was quite pleased with herself – she considered that to be restrained enough to appease you whilst instilling enough fear in Lena to make her slightly nervous. Lena nodded, taking a breath to start making promises of never ever hurting you.

Ona cleared her throat from her perch on the windowsill, drawing all of your attention to her. She took a deep breath before letting out the sentence she had been practising since you first mentioned a German footballer had caught your eye, “Ich werde dir die Beine brechen.” The pronunciation was horrendous, but Lena knew what she meant. It was the worst threat Ona could think of with Lena being a footballer.

“Oni,” you whined, although you had no leg to stand on – your threat to Lucy had been so much worse.

“There, we have said what was needed to be said. Let’s go to dinner, sí?” Alexia smiled at the three of you, the polar opposite of the menacing Captain that stood in her place moments before. Ona laughed, looping her arm through Alexia’s and heading to the door.

“That wasn’t so bad,” You joked, nudging Lena. The tension was still very much in her body, however.

“I need them to know, and you need to know it too. I won’t hurt you, ever, Schatz. I promise, ich verspreche, prometo.” She looked deep into your eyes, willing you to understand how deep her vow went. She made the promise to herself in the shower after your first date; her mind kept replaying your almost-kiss, your bubbly laugh and the feel of your soft hand in hers. She had vowed that day to never let your smile fade, and she wanted … no, needed … you to know that.

“Liebe, I know that. They know that.” You reached up to cradle her face in your hands. You took a deep breath and said the words that had been playing on your mind for weeks now: “I love you.”

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

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helen-with-an-a · 8 days

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lmao for First Time Crush (if you want to do a part two), everyone on the team telling reader to get over her social anxiety and just for the love of god send Ellie a text. (maybe one of them ends up stealing her phone and messaging Ellie themselves asking to go to the movies and it’s so obviously not reader) idk if i worded that right-

ANYWAY, just an idea i had :3

Hiiiii - I absolutely loved this request - it’s a little short ahahah but

here is First Time Crush Pt2

#woso community #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #ingrid engen x reader #patri guijarro x reader

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helen-with-an-a · 8 days

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First Time Crush pt 2

Hi. So it's a little short, but I think it's quite cute. Again, if your name is Ellie, I apologise but it's a very common name for 20-24 yr olds in the UK

Barca Femeni x Reader; OC x Reader

Description: R is trying to text Ellie

Word Count: 1.5k

Part 1 : Part 2

It had been 3 days. 3 days of you sitting and staring at your phone with Ellie’s number saved in it. It’s not that you didn’t want to text her – you so desperately wanted to text her – it was more that you didn’t know how. You didn’t really do … whatever you were attempting to do. Everyone at Barca knew you didn’t really initiate hangouts or things like that. They were more than happy to sort it all for you. Your birthday meal – Alexia had texted everyone saying when and where to meet; your turn to organise team bonding – Ingrid had taken over for you, telling everyone what to bring and when to turn up at your flat; you wanted to do go exploring on your day off – Ona had created the group chat. It’s not that you didn’t want to; it’s that you just … couldn’t.

“Have you texted your uno amor verdadero yet?” Jana called across the locker room. You blushed heavily, turning your head away from the group. Their eyes fell on you, waiting for a response. Your silence spoke volumes.

“Amiga, it’s been 3 days,” Pina said exacerbated.

“I know,” you said meekly, well aware of how many days it had been

“She’s going to think you don’t like her,” Martina added.

“I know,” you replied even more dejectedly. That was something you really didn’t want to happen. You really liked Ellie. You really, really liked Ellie. You wanted to hold her hand and make her laugh. You wanted to see her smile as you handed her her morning coffee and help her with her Spanish. You wanted her to kiss you on the cheek for good luck like you saw Olga do for Alexia. You wanted her to push your sweaty hair back from your face when you went up to her in the crowd after a match like you saw Mapi do for Ingrid. You wanted her to press a sweet kiss to your lips as she drew you into a congratulatory hug like Cata’s girlfriend did with her.

“She’s probably waiting for you to text her,” Bruna added.

“I know,” you said so quietly it was barely audible. They really weren’t helping you at the moment. To them, it was simple – a pretty girl you liked gave you her number, so why weren’t you using it?

Social anxiety has plagued you since you first interacted with peers your age. At nursery, you hung behind your parent’s legs as the other children ran wild. In primary school, you were fine doing keepy-uppies by yourself all break and lunch. In secondary school, you were hardly ever there, often being taught by the academy tutors instead, so you never had to make friends. On the field, you thrived; you were cool, calm, and collected. Football was predictable; football had a routine; football had patterns to figure out and break down. People did not. People did strange things like wear your England jersey to tour club games; people broke from their patterns of wearing said jersey that threw you off; people held your hand and wrote their number on their arm; people did unexpected things.

“You have to text her,” Vicky sighed. God, even a child had more experience in this type of things than you did.

“I know,” you mouthed – the sound not coming out. You felt your eyes sting, and you willed yourself not to cry. It was so silly, crying over texting someone. Ellie had told you to text her. She was awaiting your message. Ellie wanted you to text her.

“Per la merda, give it here.” Patri said after a few too many moments of silence. She snatched your phone from your bag without waiting for a response. They had chosen their time to question you well, having waited until the older girls were out of the changing room to go for lunch so they couldn’t be scolded as they began their interrogation.

“No, Patri,” you begged. You knew exactly what she was going to do, and it was exactly what you didn’t want. You wanted to do this by yourself, not have someone take over again. You needed to step up and do this. But every time you clicked on Ellie’s contact, you froze—the paralysing fear taking over once again.

“Sí, Patri.” She smiled, running back to her little group with your phone as they typed away. You floundered; what could you do? They severely outnumbered you. And your go-to protectors – Alexia, Ingrid, Irene, Paños – were all out of the room and likely wouldn’t be coming to look for you for a good 10 to 20 minutes yet. As your mind spiralled into chaos, thinking about all the possible things that could go wrong with them texting Ellie, you missed Alexia and Ingrid slipping back into the room.

It was obvious what was happening. You were almost in tears, clutching onto the bench so tightly your knuckles were white – and a little group stood in a tight circle, eyes flicking back to you occasionally as they whispered and giggled to each other. They loved you like you were their little sister – they could annoy the shit out of you, teasing and causing small meaningless arguments like they would with their actual sisters. But if they saw anyone else doing it – this meant war.

“Qué está pasando?” Alexia shouted. It would have been comical had you not been so upset. Patri’s head snapped up; Alexia could see the colour draining despite standing by the door.

“Å kjære. Kom hit,” Ingrid rushed to your side, pulling your trembling form into her body before glaring daggers at the group in the corner.

“Patricia Guijarro,” Alexia’s voice was ominous. “Vine aquí.” Patri gulped; Alexia wasn’t supposed to back this soon. “Per què cariño pràcticament plora?” She was speaking in Catalan, so you couldn’t understand her very well, but you recognised ‘cariño’ and knew you were the topic of that conversation. Patri’s response was a flood of rapid Catalan, the two of them descending into a harsh argument. It made you even more stressed – you didn’t mean to be the cause of a rift within the team. All because you couldn’t text a girl who willingly gave you her number when you hadn’t even asked.

“Relax, Kjæreste. Everything is fine.” Ingrid soothed, sensing your increasing agitation.

The angry voices eventually died as Patri came to stand before you. She waited for you to look at her – expecting to see your watery eyes and wobbling lip. When you didn’t emerge from Ingrid’s chest, even long after the socially acceptable time limit, Patri could tell they may have fucked up a little.

“Um … lo siento, pensábamos que te estábamos ayudando,” you didn’t look like you had even heard her. She tried again, in English this time, hoping that maybe you just didn’t understand her (her English comprehension dipped considerably when she felt any extreme emotion).

“I’m … we’re … really, really sorry, chica. We thought we were helping—we don’t want this opportunity to disappear for you. I’m so, so sorry.” You heard her the first time, but it was nice to hear her say it in English, too. You lifted your head from Ingrid’s neck, straightened a little, and adjusted your top.

“It’s …” You were going to tell her that it was fine—that she hadn’t technically done anything wrong. But Alexia and Ingrid both shuffled a little, letting you know their displeasure and that everything was not fine. “Thank you,” you settled on—giving Patri a weak smile and nodding at the others, all sheepishly standing as far away from you as possible in the small room.

You were going to speak again when your phone buzzed.

Y/N: Hi. This is Y/N. I absolutely loved talking to you the other day at the match and wondered if you wanted to continue it? Maybe over coffee? I know a few places that sell good stuff and aren’t too busy.

Ellie: Nice try. Ik this isn’t Y/N – my guess is Pina, Bruna or Patri. My girl definitely can’t ask me out like that. But tell her, yes, I would like to go out for coffee with her tho. After ur next home game? xxx

Her girl? You liked the sound of that. You took a deep breath and typed your response.

Y/N: Hi

Y/N: Yes pls to the coffee

You waited a little before rushing to add,

Y/N: It’s actually me now btw

Ellie: Ik – my girl txts exactly as she talks x

You blushed, the world around you fading into obscurity as you texted. You missed the soft smiles and caring looks the others gave each other. You sighed happily, looking up to see all eyes were on you again.

“Ayyyyyy,” Patri cheered.

“Cariño tiene novia” Alexia sang happily, reaching around Ingrid to pinch at your pink cheeks.

“Ingrid, make them stop.” You muttered as you watched the younger girls dance around singing about how they got you a girlfriend.

“No chance, kjære.” She smiled, bringing you into a gentle hug. “Just wait until Maps and Lucy hear about this.”

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

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helen-with-an-a · 15 days

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Can you write Lucy bronze x reader. Reader is small but isn’t a player who lets take advantage of her on the pitch. She gets into some pushing with other team and the ref. Lucy trying to calm her down. Reader gets a yellow but is send of cause of the amount of cards. She goes to sit into the stadium next to some fans to annoy the other team and the ref.

hiiiii - I absolutely loved this request thank you so much for sending it in.

Here is Short by Mighty

#woso community #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #lucy bronze x reader #request #answered

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helen-with-an-a · 15 days

Text

Short but Mighty

Hi. So this is a request I got and I absolutely loved writing it. It's a little on the long side but I really hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Also, just imagine no one is injured in either team and it’s Arsenal not Chelsea against Barca in the UWCL this year. Another side note is that I am 5’6/5’7 so I don’t really have much of a frame of reference for being short/shorter but I hope I’ve done it justice 🩷

Lucy Bronze x Reader

Description: R is short and a little angry

Word Count: 4.8k

“She’s so angry because her attitude has been compressed into that small body”

“Have you ever noticed that in every friend group, the shortest one is usually the craziest?”

“Short girls are mean because they are closer to hell”

“If you think she’s short, you should see her patience”

“The smaller the creature, the bolder its spirit”

“Like a chihuahua”

“And though she be but little, she is fierce”

You had heard it all. Even Shakespeare had commented on it. Every comment about short and angry people ever made – you had heard it all. But the thing was, you weren’t short. You were 5 foot 3 inches. 160cm. The average height for women in the UK – you would know; you googled it to make sure. But for some reason, every person on your team was a bloody giant – towering over you, making you look even shorter. Except for Aitana – she was the only one who truly understood your pain.

At first, it bothered you. Growing up, you were constantly being leant on by your friends or patted on the head; your coaches affectionately called you ‘short stuff’. It really, really pissed you off. You saw players on the field consider you a joke of an opponent as you stepped onto the field. So, you started to build muscle, lifting heavier, adjusting your diet, and altering your lifestyle as much as possible while remaining healthy. When you made your senior debut at just 17, you could lift well over 1.5 of your body weight. You also channelled that muscle into your speed, earning a reputation for being the fastest on the pitch. On paper, a defending midfielder of your height was laughable, but when the challengers on the pitch saw your name in the Starting XI, they would quake with fear.

Despite all the comments, they were right about your supposed anger. You don’t know whether it was you being unafraid to utilise your body on the pitch or something else entirely, but you were frequently topping the table with the number of yellow cards at the end of the season. Personally, you believed the refs had a vendetta against you; your reputation preceded you, so they felt it was necessary to uphold it – often giving you cards for something that would have been just a caution for anything else. You did pride yourself on never receiving a straight red (only double-yellows) – something that Lucy frequently reminded you; it wasn’t that impressive as many people didn’t receive straight reds. You weren’t an aggressive player by any means. As soon as that whistle went, you were the first to offer a helping hand. You had never injured anyone – ever. That was something else you were proud of. Whilst you often got yellows for the tackle, you never left any lasting marks. Were you physical? Yes. Were you aggressive? No.

It was the only thing people had spoken about in weeks. Arsenal vs. Barcelona in the Champions League semi-final. Walsh vs. Williamson; Russo, Lacasse and Blackstenius vs. Leon, Bronze and Batlle; Little vs. Putellas; Codina vs her old club; Paralluelo, Pina and Caldentey vs Wubben-Moy, Catley and Fox; Y/S/N vs. McCabe. That was the big one – two of the most carded players in their leagues battling it out for a chance to snatch the other’s chance of a Champions League title. Alexia had been pestering you since the draw was made about your behaviour. She wouldn’t hesitate to bench you if you were acting out. Her tactics were based on negative reinforcement. It hadn’t worked – all her threats, lectures, and pressures were rendered null because you knew how physical these matches would be. You knew Jona would put on the most physical players, at least to start with.

Lucy, on the other hand, relied on positive reinforcement. As your girlfriend, she was always in your corner, especially on the pitch when a card was lifted above your head. But she didn’t like how often you were suspended or how often your abilities were outshone by the number of yellows next to your name. Your technical prowess was often overlooked by commentators and fans because of the cards.

“You know,” Lucy started, her fingertips brushing your neck as she pulled your hair out of her way. You were standing at the kitchen counter, looking at a recipe on your phone as you planned out your tea.

“What do I know, gorgeous?” you teased, tilting your head up to look at her. Your hands came to rest on top of hers on your waist.

“I think we should set up a sticker chart system or something. What do you think?” She mused, starting an assault on your neck.

“N-no marks, my love,” you stuttered out automatically but leaning back into her body anyway.

“I know.” You could feel the grin against your skin. “But you didn’t answer my question, lovely.” She nipped at your earlobe gently.

“Stickers … what for?” You turned around in her arms, coming to look at her. She didn’t stop her attack, her strong hands coming to angle your head so she had more access to your jaw. You let your eyes slip closed, getting lost in the feeling of her mouth on you.

“As a way to … combat?... your little card problem.” That sobered you right up. You pushed her way and raised an unamused eyebrow at her.

“My card problem?” You snarked.

“Alexia has been on my arse about getting you to … calm down … during matches,” she explained, choosing her words carefully. She moved to put her hands back on your hips, but you stopped her with a hand on her chest.

“So, you went with a sticker chart?” you asked incredulously. “I’m not a child, Lucy.” You never called her Lucy unless you were angry at her; she was always ‘gorgeous’ or ‘my love’, just like you were always ‘lovely’ or ‘pretty girl’ to her.

“I know you’re not, pretty girl.” She cupped your face with her hand. “I think I phrased myself badly. I’m sorry.” Her thumb moved methodically against your cheek, an action that has always calmed you. “How about a little reward system?” She grinned cheekily at you as you narrowed your eyes. “For every match without a card, I’ll treat you?” She proposed.

“I don’t need a-” you started, still annoyed that your girlfriend and your captain felt it necessary to set up a system to manage your behaviour.

“Alexia has been on my arse about this for weeks. She’s serious about benching you, lovely.” She interrupted. You sighed. You were well aware of what Alexia considered unacceptable in the Barca team – and the number of yellow cards you received was one of them. “So, what do you think? I think it’s a win-win situation if you ask me. Alexia will finally back off and not be a minute away from a heart attack, and you get …” she paused, thinking of the right way to phrase it. “Whatever your heart desires.” You could see her reasoning. Judging by the vein in Alexia’s forehead, she wasn’t coping too well with the idea that you would face McCabe in a few weeks. And you get weekly treats if you avoid yellow cards.

“Whatever I want?” You double-checked. Lucy could see you were already agreeing to her idea.

“Whatever. You. Want. Pretty girl.” She punctuated each word with a kiss.

“So, if I wanted a fancy date night at that place in town?” Lucy wasn’t the biggest fan of dates where you had to dress up all fancy – she thought it wasn’t an accurate and complete representation of your relationship. She loved taking you to smaller, more casual restaurants where you could relax, order something to-go, or just cook a nicer meal at home. But Mapi had shown you a place she was planning to take Ingrid for their anniversary, and you had fallen in love – begging Lucy to go on a date there with you. What you didn’t know she was saving it for when she proposed – the ring hidden with her Euro medal buried in the depths of the cupboard in your spare room.

“Whatever you want.” She smiled at your shocked expression.

“Or if I wanted a spa day at home on our day off?” you asked, checking how far she would be willing to go. She would much rather do something on your day off to keep her body moving a little, whereas you would rather lounge on the couch, catching up on your show.

“Whatever you want.” She repeated, leaning down to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Or…” you tried to think of something she would say no to. “If I asked you to put on my old United jersey? And take a photo in it? And post it on social media?” Your request was ridiculous, but you knew it was something she would never, ever say no to. You had played for United while she was at City, moving to Lyon together, where your relationship had budded into what it is now, before returning to your respective clubs. You were friends before Lyon, having played with each other on the England squad for years, but moving to the new city together had led to something magical. The rival was a constant joke between you, often tuning in to the Derby’s when your schedule allowed for it – her and Keira on one couch, you and Ona on the other – all clad in your particular colours and fighting for the right to brag.

“Whatever you want.” She sighed but loved the fact that it brought that big, wide grin of yours to your face.

“What about if I asked for control?” You wiggled your eyebrow and scanned her body appreciatively, indicating precisely what you hinted at. You could see her eyes flicker slightly, making you think you had found the thing she wouldn’t do as your reward. Lucy loved being in control, and you didn’t mind letting her do it. But occasionally, very, very occasionally, she handed over the ropes (figuratively and literally) to you.

“What. Ever. You. Want,” she said lowly, silencing any more of your questions with a passionate kiss.

This was it. The big day. The first leg of the Champions League semi-final. Arsenal vs. Barcelona. McCabe vs. Y/S/N. You had been good to your word – the reward system was working well. So far, Lucy had treated you to a day at the beach, a nice meal, a new set of lingerie, and a day trip with you to Tarragona on a day off. Four treats for your four matches without a yellow. It would have been more, but you picked up a yellow card during your match with Real Madrid. But this … this was your big test.

“Todas mantienen la cabeza,” Alexia said just before you all left the changing rooms. She said it to everyone, but you know it was aimed at you.

“What do you want your reward to be, pretty girl?” Lucy asked you as you performed your final pre-match ritual (a quick roll of deodorant, a pump of breath spray, and a spritz of perfume—you’re welcome, everyone on the field).

“Not sure, I’ve got an idea, but I might wait for the final for that one,” you winked cheekily at her, giving her an indication of what you were insinuating. She sighed, shaking her head at you.

“Later,” she promised as she guided you into the tunnel.

This match was not going to plan for you. Ona and Pina had already picked up yellows for dissent, and you were only 30 minutes into the match. You were on your best behaviour – even going so far as not to tackle Katie when you would usually have. You could see how much less stress Lucy was under with every game you played where you didn’t have your name on the card list. You weren’t behaving for yourself – you couldn’t care less if you were benched (slight exaggeration, but the sentiment remained). You were doing it for Lucy; her frown lines were easing somewhat; her muscles were less tense; she was sleeping much better. You hadn’t realised your actions added much to her plate.

And then Katie left a studs-up tackle on Lucy and didn’t get carded or even a foul. You were near her when it happened. Lucy was running down the wing with the ball at her feet, you were dropping back a little, allowing her the space to make a cross to an awaiting Patri and Aitana. Katie’s yellow boots appeared from nowhere and clipped her ankles – not even making an attempt to get the ball. It was an obvious card, yet the ref motioned to carry on whilst Lucy was on her knees, clutching at her ankle, her eyes scrunched shut at the pain.

Eventually, the whistle was blown when it was apparent that Lucy wasn’t standing up. You crouched at her side, a hand coming to rub at her back.

“Do you need the medics, my love?” You asked, the tone gentle in comparison to the fury you were filled with.

“Just … gimme a minute,” she gasped. You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, your hand resting on her lower back in silent support.

“Estás bien? Está ella bien? Necesitamos a los fisios?” Alexia gushed as she came to your side, a concerned Patri and Marta joining her.

“Ella esta bien,” you said, your words supported by Lucy’s actions as she moved to stand up. You briefly scanned her, nodding to yourself as you confirmed she was fine.

The switch in you was instant. McCabe needed to pay for that. And if the ref wasn’t going to do it, you would.

“Don’t,” Lucy said at the same time as Alexia uttered “no”. You just waved them off, smiling innocently at them as you set up for the corner kick.

The incident that got you the card was well deserved. You had only 2 minutes left of the half – not including injury time – and Katie was starting a last-minute Arsenal press. You were winning comfortably at 3 – 0, but you knew Arsenal would come out hard in the next half; they weren’t called ‘second halfsenal’ for nothing. Could you have gone for a clean tackle? Probably. Could you have just tackled her in general? Yes. But it wouldn’t have been nearly as satisfying as watching her fly to the ground. She ran full speed down the wing, not looking where her defenders were. You timed your run well, bracing your body as she slammed into you. You had bothered to stick out your leg to make it look like you were aiming for the ball, but everyone, on and off the pitch, knew you were going for revenge. She clattered to the ground in a pile of red and white, and a torrent of Irish-accented swears erupted from her.

You were immediately faced with an angry Aussie. Caitlin shoved your shoulders as she demanded retribution for you. You lifted your hands innocently.

“I was going for the ball,” you said, shrugging a little. You could see the referee approaching, Alexia looking furious at you, and Lucy shaking her head. Still, you could see her smiling – finding the situation at least somewhat amusing. “I was going for the ball,” you repeated to the ref, ignoring the shouts from the Arsenal girls. “See, she’s fine.” You gestured to a now-standing McCabe. It didn’t help your case; the yellow square was lifted above your head as you rolled your eyes.

“Fucking short-arse bitch” you heard McCabe mutter as you all walked away, ready to finish this half.

“And yet, I still put you on the ground,” you smirked at her, letting Lucy drag you away.

Halftime was full of Alexia's lecture. You looked to Jona to see if he would intervene, but he just shrugged. When he saw Lucy go down from a dodgy tackle, he expected nothing less from you.

“Prometiste que te portarías lo mejor posible.”

“She’s still walking, isn’t she?” You weren’t about to apologise for this. This was your style of play; she knew that when you joined the team; Barca knew it when they signed you.

“Qué dije de los amarillos? Te pedí que no los consiguieras. Y que haces?” She continued as if you hadn’t spoken. “Necesitas empezar a actuar de forma más adulta al respecto. No necesitas ser cardada por todo. Recibir tarjetas todo el tiempo es muy inmaduro. No tienes respeto”

“Enough, Alexia.” You interrupted. Yes, she had somewhat of a right to be angry at you, but calling you immature? Saying you had no respect? “I play my style of play. If the club didn’t like it, they wouldn’t have renewed my contract or signed me in the first place. If Jona has a problem with it, he would either speak to me or not play me. But they haven’t. I have renewed with Barca and Jona hasn’t even mentioned it in our one-to-ones. You are the only one who’s up my arse about this. And you’ve been pestering Lucy, too. Newsflash, she’s not my keeper, Alexia, and I am not a child; she’s my girlfriend.” You could see she was trying to interrupt you again, but you pushed through. “If you had maybe spoken to me in a way that suggested you valued me as a player and a person rather than lecturing me every chance you get, we could be in a different situation right now. But no, you have insulted me and the way I play my football, and now you have made me even more pissed off than I already was. So please, leave me alone at the moment.” You were seething. You hadn’t meant to explode at her like you did, but she had hurt your feelings one too many times about a bloody yellow card. You looked around the changing room, seeing the shocked expressions on people’s faces. No one spoke to their captain like that. You didn’t dare glance at Lucy, too afraid of what you might see. You would have seen the proud expression gracing her face if you had. She had been waiting for you to detonate at Alexia; she could see it in the way you grit your teeth during every lecture, the way you took longer showers after training to destress every time Alexia had called you away to talk about your behaviour, the way you were baking more and more as a method to try to quell your anger.

You pushed your way past, banging the door heavily as you stormed back out of the tunnel. You knew the Emirates well, so there were no chances of you getting lost. A few doors down, there was a seldom-used bathroom you could hide in, but you could still hear the chatter that told you the team was in the tunnel, ready to start the second half.

The changing room was silent. You could hear a mouse sneeze if you listened carefully enough.

“Bien entonces,” it was Mapi who spoke – breaking the tension-filled silence.

“Quién se cree que ella es? Todo lo que he estado tratando de hacer es ayudarla a limpiar su juego.” Alexia was incredulous. She believed you needed to clean up your act if you were going to go far at Barca. She didn’t consider the fact that you had numerous accolades to your name, coming second in the Ballon d’Or for the past 3 years and earning yourself a Sports Personality of the Year twice.

“No, Alexia. You are in the wrong.” Lucy snapped. She couldn’t allow this to go on any longer. Yes, she wanted you to stop getting yellow cards, but not at the expense of your style of play. She wanted the cards to stop being the only thing commentators spoke about when your name was mentioned. She wanted the world to see you as she did. “I know you meant well, but you basically asked her to stop playing in the way that makes her so unique. Imagine if someone did that to you, you’d be pretty pissed off too.” Alexia frowned. That wasn’t what she had meant – not at all. She wanted you to stop getting the yellow cards because she viewed something to be feared, not something that was just a part of playing football.

“Y ahora te has ido y la has hecho aún más enojada,” Patri laughed humourlessly. “No se sorprendan si hoy vemos un rojo, chicas,” she added as the team made their way back to the pitch.

You slipped silently out of the bathroom, joining the rest of the team as if you were just the last one to leave the changing room.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Lucy said, extending her hand to you as she lingered just out of sight of the cameras.

“Hey, gorgeous.” You squeezed her hand, letting her know you were ok.

“Please, try not to get a red,” she joked.

“If McCabe behaves, so will I,” you said seriously. She smirked at you – just the sort of thing she was expecting from you.

McCabe did not behave. It was remarkable how calm you had been, considering how riled you were during the half-time break. You had spent a lot of this second half on the floor, being a victim of harsh tackles from McCabe herself and a particular Aussie. You could see your English teammates wincing every time you went down. But you always gave as good as you got, leaving unforgiving shoves and exacting tackles just on the right side of nasty.

It was in the 55th minute when the second incident occurred. You were genuinely going for the ball. You both jumped up for a header – you might have jumped more sideways than up, but that was neither here nor there. The slight knock you gave her made her lose her balance, landing hard on her hands and knees rather than her feet. It didn’t help that you landed perfectly upright, either. You knew how much running into you could hurt – particularly if you braced yourself (which you had been); she had been jogging backwards, unaware of your presence behind her.

“Oh, my god. I am so sorry. Are you ok?” You were genuine this time; both your national and club teammates could see it. This time, Leah was the first one to you, pulling you away by your shoulder.

“What the fuck, Y/N?” She asked, shocked by your display of aggression.

“I’m sorry, Lee. That was a complete accident.” You looked down at McCabe rolling around on the floor, gripping at her ankle. She just sighed in response. Lucy was the first of your Barca friends to reach you.

“I’m sorry,” you said dejectedly.

“I know you are, lovely” Lucy squeezed your elbow gently. “But you know you’re going to get a card, right?”

“Yeh, I know.” You turned to face the ref, shocked to see Alexia pleading with her and arguing for you. You were unsurprised when her protests were waved away, and you were presented with the yellow and red squares before being shown that you had to leave the pitch. You took it graciously and headed off the pitch.

You were escorted to the changing room by an official but were left to your own devices. You showered quickly before changing into your clothes, grateful you had packed some ‘street clothes’ – just jeans and one of Lucy’s hoodies. As you heard the Emirates erupt with cheers, the idea was planted in your head. This was a Champions League semi-final, no way in hell were you missing that. So, you slipped your accreditation around your neck and left the changing room. The crowd were still celebrating the Arsenal goal as you emerged from the tunnel. You saw Jonas spot you, his eyes widening as he gestured to the Fourth Official. You nodded once and waved at Jona and the other Barca coaches before hopping over the barricade. You spotted a woman with a young girl sitting on her lap with a free seat next to her.

“Do you mind?” You asked as you gestured to the seat. The woman shook her head and laughed a little as you made yourself comfortable next to her. The little girl was staring at you wide-eyed. She was wearing a little Barca jersey with her hair in two plaits, looking the epitome of cute.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You said, extending your hand to her. “What’s your name?” After a second of cajoling from her mother, she piped up.

“Lucie. But with an -ie not a -y.”

“Well, Lucie with an -ie not a -y, that is a very good name.” You smiled and turned back to the pitch, watching the game resume. You could tell the cameras were on you; you could see Ingrid shaking her head from the bench every time your face was displayed on the big screen.

The rest of the match was uneventful. Barca scored another two goals, bringing the final score to 5 – 1.

“So, Lucie with an -ie. Whose number’s on the back?” You nodded to her shirt.

“Lucy Bronze,” she cheered. “She’s my favourite. And we have the same name, but we spell it differently.” Lucie said with all the seriousness of a 6-year-old with something essential to tell you.

“Can I let you into a secret?” You leant down to whisper to her conspiratorially. She nodded enthusiastically. “She’s my favourite too.” Lucie looked up wide-eyed at you. “Do you want me to try and get you her shirt?” You asked. Her eyes grew even wider; you thought her head might pop off with how aggressively she was nodding. “Ok, wait here, ok. I’ll be right back.” You smiled as you hopped the barrier again, making your way onto the pitch and headed straight to Lucy. She was standing with Keira and Leah, clearly having a bit of a catch-up.

“Hello, trouble.” Keira teased as you appeared.

“Yeh, yeh.” You lightly shoved her head. “Can I have your shirt, my love?” You asked Lucy. She cocked her head at your request. “I think I might have found your biggest fan.” You smiled as you started to take your jumper off, grateful that you had put a shirt on underneath for once. Lucy laughed as she whipped off her top, thanking you as she slipped the hoodie on to keep her covered. You hugged Leah quickly before dragging Lucy away to find your new friend.

“Alexia wants to talk to you, pretty girl,” Lucy said as you pulled her back to the stands.

“Later,” you sighed, not really in the mood for anything Alexia had to say. “I want you to meet my new friend first.” You looked at her with a wide smile as you came to a stop in front of Lucie.

“Lucie with an -ie meet Lucy with a -y. Luce, this is my new friend, Lucie.” You did the unnecessary introductions.

“Hi,” Lucy grinned at the young girl. You handed the jersey off to her mum as you left them alone for a little bit, moving to interact with some of the other fans.

A little while later, familiar strong arms wrapped around your waist, distracting you from your conversation with Alessia and Lotte.

“Nosotras tenemos que ir, lovely” Lucy whispered, kissing your shoulder lightly.

“We get it; you speak Spanish.” Alessia teased, waving goodbye to you as you sent them both a kiss.

“Vamos,” you joked as you leant back into Lucy. Although your position made it a little awkward to walk, you were too comfortable to move.

“What reward do you want this week?” Lucy whispered in your ear as you entered the tunnel.

“Reward? But I got a card, two, in fact. Or did you miss the part where McCabe ran into me twice, and you went down a player?” You looked at her, confused.

“I know, but you were so, so sexy.” She squeezed you not-too-gently. “I’ve got to treat my pretty girl when she looks that good,” she teased, but you knew by the glint in her eyes that she was deadly serious. You hummed.

“I think I might have some ideas,” you mused as you leant back on her subtly, letting your head drop back on her shoulder.

“Good,” she whispered back, littering a series of kisses to your cheek. “My short, sexy defender.” She laughed.

“Oi,” you slapped her arm. “Enough with the short jokes.”

“Never, you get so riled up by them.” She laughed at your angry expression. “And you know exactly what that does to me,” she said lowly in your ear – a lasting promise of later left unspoken in the air.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

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helen-with-an-a · 16 days

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Reblog if it's okay to befriend you, ask questions, ask for advice, rant, vent, let something off your chest, or just have a nice chat.

please, please and please.

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helen-with-an-a · 17 days

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Hi! Would you ever be up for writing something about an older teen Barca reader (like 19 or just turned 20) who all the younger la masia players (Vicky, Lamine, etc) look up to a lot but because reader was quite cheeky to Mapi when she was younger, now the younger players are cheeky to her and tease her a lot and Mapi and the senior players see it as karma? 🤣 Love your writing a lot by the way xx

Hiiiii - thank u so much for the request I loved writing it. I hope u enjoy it

Here is Karma’s a Bitch

#woso community #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #woso #aitana bonmati #alexia putellas #vicky lopez #mapi leon #ingrid engen #answered

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helen-with-an-a · 18 days

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Karma's a bitch

Hi. So this was a request from someone and I hope I did it justice. I hope you enjoy it. Also - side note: I'M SEEING THE LIONESSES AT WEMBLEY TONIGHT OMGGGGGGGGG

Barca Femeni x Reader

Description: R is a little shit and likes to play pranks

Word Count: 1.7k

To say you were a little shit growing up would be the understatement of the century. You were a terror when you first joined La Masia. A little wide-eyed 7-year-old with a talent for football and finding trouble – pranks, jokes, a never-ending streaming of consciousness as you voiced anything and everything that came to your mind. Everyone expected you to calm down as you made your way up to the first team, yet by the time you were training with the first team at least three times a week, you were still the mischievous, playful person you always had been.

-----------

You lounged on the pitch, soaking up the last of the summer sun as you watched Aitana take kick after kick at the goal. She had just broken into the first team’s regular Starting XI and was determined to keep her spot – practising well after training. Unfortunately for you, she was your lift home. You had initially joined her in her extra training, but you quickly got bored and let your mind wander. You couldn’t anger her too much – she was your only way home, after all – but you could irritate her a little. Despite being a good few years your senior, you towered over her, and when she got annoyed at you, she just looked like an adorable little chihuahua – all bark and no bite.

You came to stand just behind her – way too much into her personal space for comfort, but you didn’t care. She didn’t notice you as she stood with her hands on her hips, analysing the video she had just filmed. Quickly noticing she wouldn’t turn around any time soon, you lifted your hands,

“HEY,” you shouted as you whacked your hands down on her shoulders. She let out an almighty scream, dropping her phone and clutching her heart.

“Quina merda de veritat. Un absolut idiota. Oh, Déu meu, estàs molt molest!” You let the angry Catalan words wash over you, well aware of what she was saying. It was nothing you hadn’t heard before.

“Your face,” you cackled loudly, pointing at her as you doubled over. Her eyebrows were pinched together, and her jaw ticked.

“Oh, Déu meu. You are such a little shit. Ugh,” she batted your hands away as you moved to pinch her cheek. “You can walk home,” she said in faux anger. That sobered you right up.

“No, Aita, please.” You rushed to apologise, arms wrapping around her shoulders as you forced her into a hug. “I won’t do it again, prometo.” You gave her your best puppy eyes.

“We all know that’s a lie.” Aitana sighed, loosening slightly and accepting your hug.

“T'estimo,” you said cheekily.

“Yeh, yeh. Tens sort que jo també t'estimo.” And you were lucky that she loved you. You knew she wouldn’t put up with half the stuff you do to her if she didn’t.

--------------

Alexia had been raving about her new boots, which she was trialling. It dominated all her conversations for the past week, and you were very much over it. It was lunchtime, and you couldn’t stand it anymore. Sneaking quietly away, you found her locker and fiddled with the keypad until it popped open. Her sister’s birthday – what a sap. There they were in all their tainted glory. They did look like nice boots, to be fair, but she had ruined them with how much she had spoken about them. You took them out of their prized place and closed the locker again. Removing the laces entirely, you crossed the room to Mapi’s locker. She had been irritating you recently as well. Again, you fiddled with the controls until there was a faint click, and it swung gently open. Ingrid’s birthday - ew. You left one lace in there, making sure the signature colour of the fabric was visible from the outside before moving on. You put the boot in the bathroom between the stall wall and the toilet. The other lace was left in the gym, tied neatly in a bow around a machine part. The final boot you kept with you until you headed to the field again – leaving it at the bottom of the ball bag. You had ensured they were all easily visible, but trying to find all the parts would be annoying. You knew the trainers had seen you walking around the grounds with not-your-boots in your hands, so you were sure they could help Alexia if she asked for it. You snickered as you imagined Alexia’s face. You could see the angry expression and the harsh Catalan being shouted at you. It made you giggle immensely.

“Where are my boots?” Alexia asked when everyone re-entered the locker room after the break. You had the gym next, but most people wanted to change into looser clothing in an attempt to combat the Barcelonian heat.

“Are they not in your locker?” Marta asked, sticking her head around the door. “Huh … I don’t know then.” You tried your hardest not to laugh, but you couldn’t help the slight grin that appeared. Your fellow La Masia/almost first team friend, Pina, smirked at you. She had many times been a victim of your harmless jokes. She raised an eyebrow, and you just shrugged innocently in response. Alexia wandered around the changing rooms, looking in people’s lockers and under the bench.

“Ah ha,” she exclaimed as she saw the iconic fabric through Mapi’s locker. “María, how could you?”

“I didn’t,” Mapi put her hands up in defence.

“Then what is …” she opened the door to find just a singular lace. “this,” she finished. She sighed, looking around the room.

“Oi, where are they?” She asked when she made eye contact with you.

“Where are what?” You countered innocently.

“My boots. Where are they?” You shrugged.

“How should I know?” You had mastered the innocent façade. She huffed and restarted her search.

“Found one,” Caro called from the bathroom, emerging with Alexia’s left boot in her hand.

“Gracias, gracias.” Alexia hurried over and embraced Caro as if she had just found a missing diamond.

“Hey, Ale. Is that a lace?” Ana asked, pointing to the neatly tied material on the equipment she was about to use. It had been a good 20 minutes before Alexia was forced to give up her search for her missing boots and join the session. You had remained the picture of innocence – even going so far as to help look for them. Everyone knew it was you. Even Alexia, but you still maintained the act.

“Oh, gràcies a Déu,” Alexia sighed – closer to being reunited with her favourite possession.

It was just before the final session of the day. You were all in the locker room, grabbing your boots and refilling your water before heading outside.

“Where is it?” Irene asked her hand on her hip and an unimpressed look on her face.

“I don’t know … maybe it’ll turn up when we’re outside,” you shrugged – giving a slight hint to the location of the final boot.

“Ale, it’s outside,” Irene called, glaring at you as you snickered when Alexia ran out of the room.

As you arrived at the pitch, you saw Alexia hugging her boots, whispering to them like you would with a lost child. You crept behind her, jabbing her side and watching her squeal at the ticklish sensation.

“Eres una pequeña mierda,” she shouted as she tackled you to the ground, attacking you with her own tickle attack. You writhed and screamed, trying to escape the onslaught, but she was way older and way stronger than you, so you had no chance.

“Lo siento, lo siento, lo siento.” You gasped for air.

“You will be when I make you run laps until you collapse.” She said with fake anger. How could she stay mad at you when you laughed like that?

“Te amo?” You said hopefully

“Sí, yo también te amo. But you’re still running laps.” She said, tapping your head and getting off you, offering a hand for you.

“Fine,” you agreed as you stood up, smiling when she let you wrap your arms around her waist, and she kissed the top of your head.

-----------

You watched with quiet pride as Vicky kicked a ball at an unknowing Ona – the ball rolling to hit the back of her legs.

“Aye,” she squealed, turning to see Vicky laughing her head off. Ona stormed forward before lightly shoving Vicky away, the pair laughing at their playfight. You were legendary to the younger La Masia players. Your jokes and pranks were famous, and the fact that you didn’t let up, even after you made it into the first team and became a regular Starting XI, was something they valued highly.

“Be careful; you might have someone come to take your crown,” Lucy laughed as you looked at her offendedly.

“Oh, please. Who do you think taught her? I am an icon.” You stuck your tongue out at her as you ran off to push an unsuspected Patri, making her stumble into an unamused Cata.

-----------

You were sitting in the sunshine, arms tucked behind your head, eyes shut. It was your own mistake. You knew it – the younger girls were becoming more and more adventurous with their pranks.

Ice-cold water jolted you from your peaceful relaxation. There was a moment of silence before the team broke into hysterical laughter. You scrambled to your feet to see Vicky and Martina with the ice water bucket placed in between them.

“Oh, you fuckers. You are so dead,” you shouted as you lunged for them, only for you to be stopped by a smiling Marta.

“Dejarlas ser,” she said, offering you a towel.

“We just wanted to cool you off,” Martina shouted from her place of safety behind Alexia.

“Yeh, you looked a little warm,” Vicky added from her hiding spot behind Paños.

“Cuida tus espaldas,” you pointed a finger at them menacingly. “You have just started a war!”

“What can you say,” Mapi laughed as she passed you. “Karma’s a bitch.”

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3<3

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helen-with-an-a · 19 days

Note

Can you do a Lucy bronze x reader. Reader is a bit clumsy. Maybe some small moments of the reader being clumsy and Lucy taking care of her

Hiiiii - thank u so much for the request - i loved writing this one

Here is Clumsy

#woso community #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #lucy bronze x reader #woso fanfics #answered

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helen-with-an-a · 19 days

Text

Clumsy

Hi. So this was a request that I thought was such a cute idea. I hope you enjoy it.

Lucy Bronze x Reader

Description: Moments were Lucy helps take care of R when she's clumsy

Word Count: 2.8k

TW: Injury

You were clumsy. That had been a fact of life since you were born. In nursey, you had a designated Mr Bump ice pack that was used solely by you. In primary school, the office lady who doubled as the nurse was your best friend, often spending more of your playtime with her getting something patched up than running around with your friends. In secondary school, things didn’t get any better. You often sported random bruises that you didn’t know where they came from. You would think that being placed into a sport that required a level of coordination and skill from a young age and then becoming a professional footballer would improve your balance and dexterity, yet you were often on the ground in matches due to your own idiocy rather than a harsh shove or poorly timed tackle from the opposition.

The bruises to your ego hurt more than the ones on your skin, but you often just laughed it off, accepting the hands that came to help pick you up off the floor and wipe away the grass stains. The hand that, more often than not, belonged to Lucy. She was always the first to come to your aid with a poorly concealed laugh and a kind smile. In a match, it was followed by a raised eyebrow and a squeeze to your shoulder as she shook her head, trying to remain professional on the pitch. In training, it was a gentle kiss to the forehead and an arm around your waist as she steadied you. In your daily life outside the training ground, you could never fully fall as she often tucked you safely into her side or had a firm, supportive grip on you if that wasn’t possible. In your own home's privacy, you could hardly move without Lucy fretting over you. She had seen too many injuries occur for you to be allowed to do much without her personal supervision – not that you really minded your girlfriend’s near-permanent presence.

------------------

It was a wet and windy day as you battled it out on the pitch. It was not the most ideal conditions to play in regardless, but with your inability to stay on your feet, you were having more trouble than most. You were making a run up the wing when you tripped, stumbling over your own feet as you went flying, skidding painfully along the sodden grass. You groaned, embarrassed that you had, once again, ended up face down on the pitch. You lay there for a minute, waiting for your mind to catch up with what happened before rolling onto your back.

“You good, love?” Lucy laughed as she came to your side.

“Ow,” you groaned, but reaching for her to help pull you back to standing.

“Are you ok?” Lucy asked again, a hand coming to rest on your shoulder as you drew level with her again.

“Yeh, sweets, I’m ok,” you sighed, wiping the worst of the mud off your jersey. Her eyebrow raised, silently asking if you were being honest with her. "I might be a little sore tomorrow, but I’m okay,” you mused. You had gone down a little harder than normal and could already feel the ache in your body as a result.

“Do you need to come off, bubba?” She asked, face full of concern as she scanned you discreetly.

“No, I’m ok. My ego took more of a battering than I did,” you laughed, lifting your shoulder to trap Lucy’s hand between it and your cheek. She squeezed three times and winked at you. You stuck your tongue out in an attempt to playfully lick her hand, demonstrating to her that you were clearly fine.

“C’mon, then. Let’s try to stay vertical with your feet on the ground for the rest of the match, shall we?” Lucy teased as you moved back into your respective positions.

“I can try, but I make no promises,” you joked back, grinning widely at her as you separated.

She shook her head at you. “I love you,” you mouthed at her.

“I love you,” she mouthed back.

------------------

“Shit,” you said as you stumbled up the stairs to the training pitches.

“Careful, idiota maldestre.” Aitana called as she came to steady you.

“Mi héroe,” you thanked her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “And I’m not an idiot. I might be clumsy, but I’m not an idiot.” You slipped her into a headlock that she quickly broke out of.

You came to stand beside Lucy in the huddle before training started, her arm automatically drawing you into her side.

“No quiero ninguna herida,” Jona said as he finished his pre-training speech, his eyes lingering on you for a second longer than everyone else. You just smiled at him.

“Now, what are we going to do today, love?” Lucy asked in a serious tone, but you knew she was teasing. Her hands came to rest on your hips as the others split off into their training pairs.

“Stay upright,” you replied in an equally severe voice.

“Good.” She squeezed you lightly before glancing around and pressing a swift kiss to your cheek. You rolled your eyes at her antics and beamed anyway.

Your promise only lasted about 20 minutes. You were in a trio with Alexia and Patri; Alexia pushed against you with a yoga ball as Patri passed the ball for you to kick back. It was going well. You remained strong and firm, leaning back into the shoving and stabilising your core muscles. But you were so focused on keeping your body straight that you forgot where you planted your feet.

“Fuck,” you exclaimed as you went tumbling to the ground, Alexia and the giant blue ball following you. Patri stood, slightly stunned, as her group was no longer in front of her; instead, there was a pile of limbs on the floor. “Ay, dios mío. Estás bien?” Patri asked, recognising the grimace of pain on your face. “Ow,” you winced as you tried to wiggle it. Now standing again, Alexia left your side, heading toward your girlfriend.

“Bubba?” Lucy’s concerned voice reached you as you shifted to sitting, her hand coming to rub your back as she crouched by your side.

“I’m ok, sweets. It’s just my ankle. I put my foot down wrong.” You tried to move it again, but it didn’t hurt, though it definitely felt funny.

“Ok, let’s get you up and to the medics.” Lucy moved to help you up, taking most of your weight. You gently added more pressure to your foot, relaxing slightly as no pain radiated up your leg. “What did I ask you about injuries?” Lucy sighed dramatically as she guided you to the bench where the physio was waiting.

“I’m sorry,” you said guiltily, your cheeks flaring with an embarrassed blush.

“I know you are, love,” she said, depositing you on the seat and pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “No funny business,” she said seriously as she cupped your face. "And listen to the doctors.” You nodded, taking her hand and kissing her palm lightly.

“I love you,” you whispered.

“I love you,” she answered, equally as quiet before she returned to training.

------------------

“Anem, anem,” Aitana chanted, her excited calls encouraging everyone to increase their speed as you walked to Manuela’s. There was finally a break in the busy schedule, so naturally, you used it to your advantage. The drinks were flowing, and the carefree atmosphere helped relax you immensely.

“Oops,” you muttered under your breath as you tripped over the uneven pavement. You didn’t go very far, not with Lucy's iron grip on your hand.

“Okay?” She asked you as you shook off the jolt.

“Yeh. You saved me, sweets. My knight in shining armour.” You lifted your intertwined hands and pressed a loving kiss on the back of hers.

“Ew, ustedes dos son asquerosas,” Mapi gagging as she fell in step with you. You clicked your teeth.

“Girl, you have no leg to stand on with that. You and Ingrid are so in love, it’s hideous to witness.” You laughed at how offended she seemed.

“Es cierto,” Lucy agreed. Ingrid giggled at her girlfriend’s expression.

“Uhh, mi Princesa, no deberías estar de acuerdo con ellos.” Mapi continued, outraged at the apparent attack on her relationship.

“She just recognises the truth,” you goaded, drawing Ingrid closer as she swung her arm around your shoulders.

“Relax, min skjønnhet. She’s only teasing.” Ingrid placated her girlfriend, extending her hand out for Mapi to take. You watched as she and Mapi fell into a quiet conversation, love clear on both of their faces. You turned to look at Lucy and found her already looking at you, her own adoration clear on her face, which you were sure echoed in yours. She squeezed your hand three times, causing a blush to bloom on your cheeks. You squeezed back three times and watched as she looked down, slightly shy under your intense gaze.

The problem with alcohol for you was that it caused you to fumble even more. You had gone outside with Ona and Keira to get some air – the sweaty club was getting to all of you.

“So, yeh. I think I want to try to get a long weekend away in soon ish,” Ona finished her conversation. You weren’t really paying attention, your minds drifting between the chicken nuggets you would pester Lucy for on the way home and if you wanted another drink or not – the world spinning slightly as you sucked in the cool night air.

“You alright over there, clumsy?” Keira asked, noticing you staggering somewhat as you drifted away from the pair.

“Um? Oh, yeh. I’m a-ok,” You threw Keira the universal ‘ok’ sign – pausing slightly as you commanded your fingers to do what you desired. Your drunkenness was obvious; you blinked a little too slowly, and you were clearly not in complete control of yourself, but your speech wasn’t slurred yet.

“Sure, you are,” Ona laughed as you tried to wedge yourself between them, throwing too much weight into the action and launching yourself forward. You crashed heavily into the ground, your knee taking most of the force. You yelped a little at the pain before flopping down on the floor behind the bar. You looked down, and a slight graze on your right hand captured most of your attention until Ona gasped.

“What?” You looked around, trying to see the cause of her alarm.

“Su rodilla,” she said as she pointed to your knee. Your drunk brain didn’t know what she was referring to, but you followed her finger and came to stare at your bloodied knee. You gasped.

“My knee,” you whined, only now becoming aware of the throbbing cut.

“I’ll get Lucy; you stay with her.” Keira rushed back inside.

“Oni, I fell,” you pouted. You looked from your knee to her and back again, your frown increasing with every minute. Ona had to admit, drunk you was very adorable.

“Love?” Lucy appeared, looking around frantically for you.

“Sweets?” You perked up, looking somewhat like a meerkat.

“Hey, lovely. How are you doing?” She asked gently, taking a seat next to you.

“I fell,” you said wetly through the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks.

“Oh, Bubba. It’s ok.” She cooed, drawing you to lay your head on her collarbone. She shushed you gently, used to your drunken antics after the number of years you had dated. It was easier for her to treat every issue with just as much seriousness as you did. “It’s just a small cut. Let’s get you patched up, and we can head home, ok?” You nodded, refusing to leave the sanctuary of Lucy’s chest. “Do you want me to do it, or are you ok with Manuela’s staff doing it?” she asked, leaning back slightly to hear your answer.

“Want Mazza to do it,” Lucy sighed. You often missed your best friend when you were in Barcelona and she was back in Manchester.

“Mary’s not here, Bubba. How about Keira?” Lucy comforted you, nodding to Keira to take the first aid kit from the security guard who had joined you outside. You sniffled slightly, burring yourself further into Lucy as the alcohol wipe stung your cut.

“Can I have nuggets?” You asked, your mind still lingering on the food you craved.

“Sure, love.” Lucy laughed as you sat up straighter at her response.

“I love you,” you said, staring straight into her eyes.

“I love you,” she responded, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

------------------

You stared at your relatively empty fridge. An onion, a pepper, some leftover chicken, and 3 eggs stared back at you. It's not particularly inspiring, but it would do. You gathered the ingredients, deposited them on the chopping board, and started cutting. You should have started with the pepper to avoid having watery eyes as you chopped everything, but you weren’t thinking and now you were regretting it. The lingering sting of the onion made it harder to see what you were doing. The front door opening also distracted you even more. Lucy’s calls of arrival made you not watch where you placed the knife and try to cut the pepper.

“Fuck,” you swore loudly. The red liquid came streaming out alarmingly quickly. “Ow, ow, ow.” You blinked away the tears.

“Love, what’s wrong? Are you ok?” Lucy ran around the corner, skidding on the hard floors as she rushed into the kitchen. You were aware of how scary it must have looked, you standing wide-eyed at Lucy, blood running down your hand with a knife in the other.

“Oh, Bubba.” Lucy soothed, her gentle fingers taking the knife from your hand and manoeuvring you to stand by the sink, letting cool water wash over the cut. “What happened, lovely?” she asked her.

“I was trying to make us tea,” you said dejectedly. Why couldn’t you do anything right? All you wanted was to do one small thing for Lucy, and here you were, bleeding into her sink. You looked up to the ceiling, trying really hard not to let the tears fall. She gently patted your finger with a clean towel before holding it tightly, trying to stop the bleeding. “So stupid,” you whispered dejectedly.

“Hey, stop that. Accidents happen.” She chastised gently, pushing some hair out of your face.

“Not just this,” you waved your injured hand around. “I constantly trip and fall, and it’s just so stupid. I’m an adult. I’m an athlete. I should be less of a fucking clumsy idiot.” You had heard it your whole life – people teasing you over your clumsiness, calling you affectionate nicknames based on your inability to stay upright. You sniffed, staring hard at the floor.

“Hey, no, stop it.” She said firmly, her free hand forcing your chin up until you had to look at her. “I love that you trip all the time. It’s part of who you are,” she kissed your cheek. “And I like that I can help you,” she admitted softly. “It makes me feel important,” she whispered.

“Oh,” you said, surprised. “You are important. And not just to me. And not just because you help me when I trip.” You spoke with such conviction. She leant in to press a passionate kiss on your lips. You hummed quietly at the feeling. “I love you,” you proudly stated when she drew away.

“I love you,” she said declared back.

------------------

You weren’t really paying attention as Leah moaned about something someone had done to her. It was very trivial, but she took it as a personal attack. You spotted Lucy walking down the path to the field with two water bottles. You saw her spot you and speed up slightly, smiling at the thought of her hurrying to get to you. She was practically speed walking down the gentle slope, her movements slowly becoming less controlled. You saw her foot catch the uneven pavement from a tree root. Before you knew it, you had abandoned your conversation with Leah and rushed to Lucy’s side, getting her just in time to stop her from falling painfully onto the concrete.

“Easy, sweets,” you teased, leaning your body into her to help steady the both of you. “You ok?” you asked her, scanning her features for any discomfort.

“I’m all good, bubba. You caught me.” She smiled broadly at you.

“You always catch me. I thought it was only fair.” You pressed a kiss to the underneath of her jaw.

“I love you,” she said happily.

“I love you,” you replied, equally as joyful.

I hope you enjoyed it <3<3<3<3

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helen-with-an-a · 21 days

Note

Hiiiiiii, I was wondering if you would write a Barça femini x teen (16?) fic where reader gets jumped by opposing fans and gets a nasty black eye and doesn’t want the girls to find out especially Alexia because they will freak. So she lies and says she is sick and calls out of training begrudgingly. But Alexia and a bunch of the other girls all show up at her club provided apartment to check on her and freak out and confront her and stuff angsty then fluffy if you can.

You def don’t need to write this just wanted to send a request to my fav writer🫶

Hi - thank you so much; your support means a lot to me. I have aged up R for this (18/19) but i think it could be read for any age and they don't really get angry per say, but I hope you enjoyed it

And to the anon who wanted Lucy content in Black eyes - yessssss (but I deleted your ask by accident i'm sorry)

Here is black eyes

#woso community #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #woso fanfics #lucy bronze x reader #alexia putellas x reader #answered

26 notes · View notes

helen-with-an-a · 21 days

Text

Black Eyes

Hi. So this was a request that I got for a teen!R getting jumped by a fan and the team looking out for them. So here it is - again, I have aged R up a little bit (18/19 rather than 15/16) but I hope you enjoy it.

Barca Femeni x Reader

Description: R gets attacked on her way home and the team come to her aid.

Word Count: 1.6k

TW: Injury, violence

You hurt. That was the first thing that you noticed as you woke up. Everything ached. Your toes, your legs, your hips, your waist, your chest, your face, even your hair hurt. You knew you shouldn’t have walked through the alleyway on the way home. How many times had Lucy and Alexia drilled it into you? ‘Don’t walk where there are no streetlights’. You had initially dismissed them as the overprotective worriers that they were, but now you really wished you had listened to them.

It was a rare rainy day in Barcelona, and you were trying to rush home. You hadn’t brought an umbrella with you, because why would you? You live in warm and sunny Barcelona now, not wet and windy London. You had your doubts about going down the alley, but it would cut your walk home in half, and you were already starting to shiver.

You hadn’t seen the man hiding at the end; otherwise, you wouldn’t have gone down it. But by the time you realised someone was there, you were basically at the end, and it would’ve been more awkward to stop and turn around.

“Oops, lo siento. Gracias.” You smiled weakly as you hurried past him.

You could feel his eyes on you as you continued your walk home.

You could hear his footsteps as you picked up your pace.

You could smell the alcohol on him as he drew nearer.

You could see the large Real Madrid tattoo on his bicep.

You could taste the blood in your mouth as your head hit the ground.

You knew you should move. You needed to get up and go to training. You needed to assess the damage done to you. You needed to do a lot of things. But you just couldn’t. It hurt to blink, so the thought of the pain that would consume your body if you tried to sit up, move off the bed and walk was unfathomable.

You don’t know when you feel back asleep – somewhere in between hoping someone could take away this pain for you and trying to work out what to say to people, probably. But your phone startled you. The loud, shrill noise made you twist painfully away from the sound. You just let it ring out; whoever it was and whatever they needed from you would not be worth the pain that it would answer it. The silence was almost just as painful as the ringing – your ears buzzing in the quiet.

LUCY (5 missed calls)

ALEXIA (3 missed calls)

KEIRA (1 missed call)

The herculean effort it took to open your eyes – well, one eye; the other refused to open – was not a good sign. The buzzing started again.

JONA

“Hello?” You answered. You almost didn’t recognise your own voice for how scratchy it was.

“Hola, solo queria ver donde estabas,” Jona explained, clearly anxious over the sound of your greeting. “Son casi las 10.30 y aún no te has registrado.” You didn’t understand what was happening; your head hurt too much for Spanish.

“In English, please,” you begged. There was some shuffling on his side before a different voice answered.

“Pollito?” That bloody nickname—Lucy had christened you ‘Chick’ (short for Chicken) when you first arrived at national camp; your gangly arms and legs, too long for your body, and your timid nature suited the nickname well. And it had followed you to Barcelona. “Where are you? It’s 10.30, and you’re not here.” Ona seemed calm, if a little stressed.

“Oni?” You sounded horrific.

“Are you sick? Oh, Déu meu, you sound awful, no offence.” The stress levels in her voice sounded more intense now and did little to help the pounding in your head.

“Ow,” you croaked out.

“What? Are you ok?” You could easily imagine her face pinched with worry and concern as she tried to find someone who could help. The sound you let out did not help her calm down—you think it was supposed to be another complaint about your pain, but it was definitely an indiscernible high-pitched squeak instead.

“Vale, vale, vale. Just … just stay there, sí?” like you could move, even if you wanted to. “I’m going to get Lucy … and Keira … and Alexia,” she started listing the names of people that would be helpful in this situation. Lucy and Keira were your national teammates; you had known them for most of your professional career. You often looked to them for guidance and reassurance. Alexia was your captain; she wouldn’t take kindly to Ona leaving her out of this - she also considered you a little sister, maybe even more so than Alba. You think she ended the call, but you were slipping back into dreamland before you could be sure.

The knocking at the door was what next woke you up. It was loud and incessant. You groaned, wishing they would stop and go away. You were out of luck, however, when you heard the tell-tale signs of a key being placed in the lock and your door opening. Only one person had a key.

“Chick,” Lucy called out. You groaned even louder and pulled the blanket over your head, trying to hide yourself from the world. You hadn’t seen what you looked like, but the right side of your face hurt more than the other, as did your hands and knees, so you assumed they took the brunt of the damage.

“Chick, you in here?” Keira shouted, her voice sounding like it was coming from the kitchen.

“Pollita?” Alexia sounded closer, too close to be in any other room besides your bedroom. You moaned in response. “Ella esta aqui,” she shouted to the others, the thundering footsteps echoing painfully as they barged into your room. You felt the blanket being tugged down, and you tried to resist it, holding onto it fractionally tighter.

“Hey, no, Chick. C’mon, lemme see you,” Lucy said softly, slowly working her magic as she rubbed your shoulder, thinking you were ill and didn't want her to see you like that. You let her pull the duvet down, not liking the loud gasp she let out when she caught a look at your face.

“What happened?” she asked tightly. You mistook her firmness for anger and couldn’t help the tears as they broke free. “Hey, no, no, no. Don’t cry,” she looked like she wanted to hug you but didn’t know where or what would bring you comfort or just more pain—her arms flapped helplessly mid-air.

“¿Qué sucede? Vas a estar enferma? Necesitamos ir al hospital? Qué está pasando?” You had never heard Alexia so panicked. Keira was quiet—too quiet. She didn’t like Lucy's look of fear or the tension in her voice.

“Chick?” Lucy asked again.

“I fell,” you lied. You don’t know why you lied, but you did. You couldn’t tell her that you ignored her concerns for your safety just because of some stupid rain. You were English – you dealt with rain all the time.

“Lucía, què està passant?” Alexia marched over, gasping loudly when she saw you. “Oh, honey.” The switch was dizzying. One moment, she was angry that no one was telling her what was wrong with you, and the next, she was as soft as a feather, gently coming to kneel by the side of your bed.

“Te caíste, sí?” She didn’t believe you; no one got this amount of bruising just from a fall. And there was something about how you avoided eye contact and scratched at your nails—your go-to trait when lying. “No creo que lo hicieras, pollita. Tell me what happened.” The gentleness was unlike anything you had ever heard from Alexia—she often provided solutions, playful aggression, and (brutal) honesty. Something must have really scared her to make her behave like this. You must have really scared her.

“I—I went through the alleyway,” you said weakly. You expected her and Lucy to look at you in a disappointed way, but no such thing was shown your way—just faces full of concern and worry. “There was a guy … I don’t really know what happened.” You weren’t intentionally vague; you genuinely did not know what had happened to you.

“Ok, Chick. That was very brave of you to tell us.” Lucy rubbed a soft finger over your cheek, wiping away the tears whilst avoiding the most apparent bruising. “We’re going to help sit you up, ok? I’m on your right, and Alexia’s on your left. We’ll get you to the bathroom and we’ll have a look at you properly, ok? Keira’s in the kitchen and will get you some food and drink.” She explained what would happen before she did it, helping to guide you to sit on the toilet.

Getting up with their help wasn’t as painful as you had expected, but maybe it was because you had rested your entire body weight on them. They held a mirror up for you as you began to examine yourself. Your eye was swollen, and a deep dark bruise was beginning to appear, and your cheek had a nasty red mark on it, but the rest of your face seemed unharmed. Your hands were cut, and so were your knees. You don’t know whether it was the pain or the tiredness or the events of the last 24 hours catching up with you as you slumped forward, your brain quietening as Lucy’s soft smell encased you and Alexia’s warm Spanish flooded your senses. You could her Keira’s hushed tones as she made her way around your kitchen, clearly on the phone to someone.

“Chick, it’s okay. We’ve got you,” Lucy said, smoothing your hair down as you rested your head on her shoulder.

“Nadie te va a hacer daño, lo prometemos.” Alexia added.

And you believed them. They would definitely keep you safe.

I wasn't quite sure about the ending, but I hope you liked it <3

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helen-with-an-a · 22 days

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Hi do you take request, may I make one ? Can I request a fic of teen barca x reader and it's just a fluffy one , like the barca teen getting her first crush on a girl from the stands .her teammates notices that she always go to that part of the stand after the matches and always stays there for a long period of time. Teen reader doesn't know what she is feeling and ask the younger ones and they try to help her. The older girls are very protective at first but joins on the teasing. It's just a fluffy fic where the team teases the reader a lot and she is just blushing or hiding in ingrids arm. Thanks

Hi - thank you so much for the request. - sorry it took me a little bit of time to get to it. I also made R 18/19 rather than 15/16 if that makes sense but I think it can be read either way.

Here is First Time Crush

#woso community #woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #woso fanfics #answered

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helen-with-an-a · 22 days

Text

First Time Crush

Hi. This is from a request that I received a little bit ago - sorry it took a while to get to. I know you asked for a teen!R but I don't feel too comfortable writing for 15/16 yr old teen (especially if it has a romantic component to the story), so just imagine R is 18/19 (adult but still teenager iykwim). I also have tried to be as vague as possible with the description of R's crush so you can tailor it/imagine whoever you want. If your name is Ellie I apologise but I wanted OC to be English and it is literally one of the most common names here. Anyways I hope you like it

Barcelona Femeni x Reader; OC x Reader

Description: R has her first crush

Word Count: 2.1k

Part 1 | Part 2

It was something that had never really bothered you before. No guys or girls had ever caught your eye in that way. But there she was, with high cheekbones and pouty lips, laughing with a few other girls. She looked about your age, and even more importantly, she wore your England jersey. You hadn't been staring at her – that would be weird – but if your gaze just happened to linger on that part of the stands, you couldn't help it, right?

"Oi, earth to Y/N! Get on with it," Lucy nudged you forward, pulling your attention away from the crowd. "What are you looking at, anyway?" she asked, slinging an arm around your shoulders. You cleared your throat and shook your head, trying to banish the pretty girl from your mind. "Nothing, nothing. Just … nothing," you tried to hide your blushing cheeks. Lucy thought she might have an idea about what – or who – had captured your interest so intently, but she let it be. You did have a game to play, after all.

It happened again the next home game you had. She was sitting with your England jersey on, and her hair was twisted into an effortless, messy pile on her head. She caught you staring – not staring per se, just … looking for a bit too long – and she smiled, a shy smirk that stretched into a wide grin, and your eyes widened. Yet, you were unable to look away. You had just won a tough match; it was a 3 – 0 win, with your name on the score sheet, but still – they had put up a fight for you. "Let's go and say hi, shall we?" Pina said, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards where the girl was waiting. "No, Clau, no." You tried to resist, eventually, you managed to break free of her grasp and turned right into Bruna's open arms. "Aw, thanks for the hug, chica. But let's go and see who you've been staring at, yeh," she laughed as you tried to wiggle against her, but it was useless – her arms tightened and guided you towards the stands.

"Hola," Pina said to the group of girls waiting for you. "Soy Claudia," smiled politely at them. "y yo soy Bruna," there was an awkward pause, clearly meant for you to introduce yourself to them. You couldn't move, let alone introduce yourself to this beautiful stranger. "Esta es Y/N." Claudia took pity on you and spoke slowly like you would when encouraging a small child to speak. "Um, hold on, En-encantada de con-conocerte?" One of the girls tried to reply in Spanish. "Do you want us to speak in English?" Pina asked. "Please," she replied gratefully. It was subtle, but they eventually moved a little further away, leaving you standing helplessly on the pitch with the Beautiful Girl in front of you. "Hi, I'm Ellie," She reached her hand out for you to take. You blinked, looking down at her outstretched hand before back to those warm, soft eyes. "H-hi," you managed to squeak out. Clearly, you weren't going to shake her hand, so she awkwardly let it fall. "Great game out there. You played really well," she smiled at you. Your heart spluttered, and your breath hitched. You were going to die because a pretty girl smiled at you. You looked down at your boots, a very obvious blush blooming across your cheeks. The very awkward, one-sided conversation lasted only a few more painful minutes before your coaches called you inside. "It was really nice meeting you, Y/N. Hopefully, I'll see you at the next home game, yeh?" Ellie said before moving off to her friends.

"Oof, that was painful to watch, amiga," Bruna laughed, shoving you lightly and breaking you out of your trance. "Sí, I've never seen anything so … awful," Pina added, dragging you towards the tunnel. Just as you slipped out of sight, you looked back, hoping to catch a final glimpse of Ellie. To your surprise, she was already staring at you. She lifted her hand and waved gently as she caught your eyes before turning back to walk up the steps. "I don't even know what happened. It was like I couldn't breathe, or move, or … do anything!" You looked between the 2 of them. "You, mi amiga, have a crush," Claudia explained at precisely the wrong time. Alexia, Marta, Lucy, Ingrid, Mapi and Patri had just emerged from the physio rooms.

"Estás enamorada?" Mapi asked, slightly too gleefully. Ingrid – recognising the signs of Mapi's excitement – tapped her not-too-gently on the head. "Aye," Mapi exclaimed as she ducked out of the way of any more 'loving taps'. "Pequeña, estás enamorada?" she asked again, an unrecognisable emotion in her voice. "I … I don't know." You were genuinely perplexed. You had never felt like this before "What do you mean, 'you don't know'?" Patri asked exasperatedly. "I don't know," you said again with slightly more anger in your voice. "Well, do you like her or not?" Patri put her hands on her hips and stood in front of you as you sat in your cubby. "I – I don't know. I don't know what I feel." Patri huffed, her arms flinging out in exacerbation. You didn't know what you had done wrong. "Well, cariño, what do you feel when you see her? I'm assuming it's a her." Ingrid asked gently, coming to sit beside you on the bench. "I … I don't know that either," you whispered, ashamed that you didn't understand your own emotions. You were an adult—why couldn't you recognise simple feelings? "That's ok," Alexia said kindly, coming to sit on your other side. "When I first started seeing Olga, I couldn't stop blushing and smiling whenever I thought about her," she paused, allowing you to think about Ellie – you didn't smile, but you definitely felt your cheeks heat up. "And I could hardly function around Ingrid," Mapi said, coming to stand next to Ingrid and caressing her hand across her shoulder. “It's like I didn't know how to be human when she was around me." Ingrid looked up at her, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Not me," Lucy chimed in. "I was cool as a cucumber," that eased the emotion in the room slightly, making everyone laugh. "No, you weren't," Keira and Ona said simultaneously, giving each other a knowing look. "It's ok to not know how you feel," Frido smiled at you from across the room. "About someone or anything else. Not knowing is also an emotion." She winked at you. You nodded sombrely.

Ellie had been dancing through your mind for the past 2 weeks. It was finally another home game, and you were quietly hopeful that you might be able to see her. You couldn't stop thinking about her smile, her warm eyes, her caramel voice. As soon as you stepped onto the pitch, your eyes scanned the crowd, trying to catch sight of the familiar England jersey. Your heart sank a little when you couldn't find her. "Trying to find chica amante, amiga?" Jana asked, smirking at your embarrassed blush—but you didn't stop looking. You really hoped Ellie was here; you wanted to get your name on the score sheet again to impress her. "Cállate," You brushed her off, jogging away to join the older girls for warm-ups.

You still hadn't found Ellie before kick-off, and it was starting to dampen your mood a little. You were no longer quietly radiating excitement, and everyone could tell. "Está bien, penqueña, just because you can't find her doesn't mean she's not here." Irene rubbed your arms as you waited in the tunnel. "Does – does everyone on the team know?" You asked a little dejectedly. "Sí, cariño, todos en el equipo lo saben. Even Jona and the coaching staff." That really didn't help your mood. All of your closest friends knew about your crush; even your boss knew. You wished the ground would swallow you whole.

To say you played poorly would be mean. But you didn't play to your usual standard. You made silly mistakes you never usually made, giving the ball away when your usual passes were precise and accurate. You were unsurprised when your number flashed on the screen, indicating you were being subbed off. You sat down with a huff, Esmee's hand coming to hold yours tightly in hopes of comforting you. Today was most definitely not your day.

When the final whistle went, you tried to bolt straight to the changing rooms, but an immovable Alexia stood in your way. "Ale, por favor. I just want to go have a shower and go to bed. Please." You really were not in the mood to interact with anyone, let alone fans or be anywhere near a camera. "No, penqueña. Vamos a dar una vuelta al estadio, sí?" Her tone left no room for argument. You begrudgingly agreed and let her drag you around, fake smiling and signing things for fans, but it was obvious you didn't really want to be there.

"Vamos, pequeña. Hay alguien que creo que quizás quieras ver." Alexia said as she came to a stop near Ellie's usually stand. "Ale, please. I don't want to-" You started to turn around. "That's a shame" That sweet, silky, soft voice you had memorised cut through your pleas. You spun back around, quickly spotting Ellie, not wearing your England jersey. You felt a slight pang of hurt. That was stupid. It's just a shirt. She doesn't have to wear it. "Do you like my shirt?" Ellie asked, a playful smile teasing her lips. The Barca home jersey was slightly oversized and styled immaculately, tucked into her bra to crop it slightly, exposing a sliver of skin on her torso. You nodded profusely, but no answer was leaving your lips. "De quién es el número que obtuviste?" Alexia stepped in, obviously taking pity on you. "Um … número? Oh, um, number 3." You wore number 3. You blinked and blushed intensely. Alexia nudged you slightly. She sighed and left you alone with Ellie. "You played well," She started. You scoffed. "No, I didn't," You fiddled with your fingers, avoiding her gaze. "Yes, you did. You got an assist. I saw it." She smirked, twisting a loose piece of hair around her fingers and tilting her head. "I let the ball go so many times. I couldn't concentrate." You whispered, wishing the conversation was about anything else. "But you got it back every time, right? It was very impressive," she chuckled quietly at your awkwardness. "Gra-graci, uh, thanks," you stumbled over your words. "You don't do this very often, do you?' Ellie took sympathy on you. You clearly were out of your depth. "Do what?" You finally made eye contact with her. Your breath hitched, and you couldn't decide whether you never wanted to stop looking at them or turn away. "Flirt," she said as if it were obvious. “I've been flirting with you for weeks now," she explained. She was flirting with you? You blinked owlishly at her. "Here," she took the pen out of your hand, reaching for your arm and scrawling on it. It tickled a little, but you couldn't deny you liked having her this close to you … and holding your hand. You studied her as she wrote; her tongue stuck out slightly, and her eyes narrowed as she focused. "That is my number. You better use it. Otherwise, I will be very sad." She grinned cheekily at you. You nodded, cheeks crimson and unable to move. "Good," she said softly. "Now, you better go," she gently squeezed your chin. "Alexia and Ingrid look like they're waiting for you," she nodded behind you. You wanted to turn but couldn't. Not when she was so close to you. She wiggled her eyebrows, pointed at her number on your arm and shouted, "Use it," as she sauntered away.

"El bebe tiene novia," Alexia sang out as you joined them, her hands coming to ruffle your hair and pinch your bright red cheeks. "Ingrid," you whined, burying your face against her arm. "Make her stop." She laughed brightly. "Kjæreste, this is nothing compared to what is waiting for you with the others," Ingrid laughed as you pushed yourself further into her chest, dreading what awaited you in the changing rooms. But the more you thought about it, the less bothered you were.

Because you got the beautiful stranger's number.

I hope you liked it <3<3<3

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helen-with-an-a · 23 days

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Hello, I don't know if your requests are open but I have an idea for a fourth part of "I am an adult"

Here is my idea: Alex Popp and Lena Oberdorf are pretty simular to YN and Alexia

Alex and Svenja Huth are very close with Lena like in a siblimg way

They are the first one to know from the Wolfsburg Team. So they also prepare a spech for YN. Which they want to give her at the same game as Alexia.

The second idea is about the Wolfsburg Team finding out because Lena is smiling to the phone to much and taking secret phonecalls when she is having people over. The first Person to notice could maybe be Svendis.

If you don't like my idea you don't have to usw it and you can always change something and only use parts of it.

Please remember you only should write what you like and whats fun for you.

Don't let this preasure you into writing this

Thank you for sharing your amazing work

Hi - thank you so muchhhhhhhhh <3<3<3<3

This definitely inspired me to write a little sub-chapter thing from Lena's perspective - I changed it a little bit and I do have to admit I don't really know much about Wolfsburg but I hope u enjoy it

I'm an adult pt3.5

#woso community #woso #barca femeni x reader #woso x reader #lena oberdorf x reader #vfl wolfsburg women #answered

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helen-with-an-a · 23 days

Text

I am an Adult pt 3.5

Hi. So I wanted to a sub-chapter kinda thing about Lena's side of the relationship/first few months etc. So here it is. Also shout out to the anons who gave me some inspo for this - u really helped. Also, I would like to preface this by saying I don't really know much about the Wolfsburg team as a whole, so if anything's wrong please let me know.

In this fic - the bold text is meant to be in German (but I didn't want bascially the whole thing to be unreadable for people) so just imagine it's in German

Barca Femeni x Reader / Lena Oberdorf x Reader / VfL Wolfsburg x Lena Oberdorf

Description: R and Lena's relationship from Lena's perspective

Word Count: 2.7k

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 3.5 : Part 4

Lena was too smiley. That was the first thing Jule noticed after the Barca match. The hotel they were staying in was nice, the weather was very warm compared to Wolfsburg, and the day off was well deserved.

“What’s up with you?” She asked her best friend, eyeing her suspiciously.

“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Lena dismissed her as she fell onto her bed, phone in her hand.

“Speaking English now, are we?” Jule teased, studying Lena. She had a slight flush to her skin that wasn’t there this morning. She seemed too happy for someone who had just been ��exploring’ all day. “What did you do today?”

“Nothing … uh, nothing much; I just wandered ‘round a bit,” Lena said distractedly. Jule hummed in false agreement. Something was going on.

A gasp pulled Jule from her inspection. It was Lena, staring joyfully at her phone before hurriedly typing away. Ok, something was most definitely going on, and Jule was going to find out what and soon.

“I’m going …” Lena cleared her throat and shook her head as if to shake away the English. “I’m going to go shower … uh … yeh.” She gathered up her stuff and headed to the attached bathroom, leaving her phone on the bed. Perfect, it was time to snoop; Jule congratulated the universe on its opportunistic timing.

[Initial]💙❤️: SPOTIFY LINK – One Direction, ‘I Should Have Kissed You’: https://www.spotify......

L💚: SPOTIFY LINK – Odeal, ‘Next Time’: https://www.spotify.......

Who was ‘[Initial]💙❤️’ ? And why were they sending Lena a link to old One Direction songs? Specifically, ‘I Should Have Kissed You’? And why was Lena sending a song back telling them ‘next time’? The bathroom door opened a little.

“Jule, did I leave my phone?”

“Uhhhhhh, yeh, you did. Here,” Jule quickly locked Lena’s phone and rushed to hand it to her.

“Gracias,” Lena said absentmindedly, closing the door again. Spanish? Since when did Lena speak Spanish?

Slowly, the pieces slid into place for Jule. Lena had been out all day. Lena came back too happy and constantly looking at her phone. Lena replied in English and Spanish. Lena had received a text telling her that someone should have kissed her. Lena responded with the promise of next time. Lena was definitely on a date.

It wasn’t confirmed for Jule until the return leg. Much like in Barcelona, Lena disappeared all day and reappeared, looking far too happy the day after. She definitely went on another date.

“So,” Jule said as she cornered Lena in the locker room during recovery. “How was your date?”

“Oh, it was great. We went-” Lena froze. How did Jule know about her date? “W-what date?” Lena tried to cover slip up. Jule grinned devilishly, refusing to let Lena weasel her way out of this questioning.

“You know, your date with the Barca player,” she laughed at Lena’s horrified expression.

“I didn’t … What … me? No … I don’t,” Lena rubbed the back of her neck, trying to hide the dark blush adorning her cheeks.

“Don’t lie to me, Lena Sophie! I am your best friend. You went on a date, 2 dates, and didn’t tell me,” Jule said, slightly hurt that Lena didn’t trust her with this. It was well known that Lena didn’t do dates; she didn’t do the emotional side of romance. She flirted, she charmed, and she took people home – only to have them leave the next morning, often not quite remembering their name when the sun rose. To see her friend finally consider a date, multiple dates - and maybe something more – Christmas had come early for Jule Brand.

“What d-” Lena started to deny, but after seeing Jule’s face, she knew she was caught. She sighed before spilling her happiest secret, “She asked me after the Barca match if I wanted to see some stuff in Barcelona. It was such a good time. We went to breakfast, and she made me try all these Spanish and Catalonian pastries. Then, she showed me all the tourist spots. She took me to lunch and stuff and then showed me all the quieter places she likes to go. Then, we ended with dinner, and it was just, ugh. So, so perfect.” Jule smiled, liking this side of Lena she hadn’t seen before. “And then, we so nearly kissed when she walked me back to the hotel and then she sent me a song telling me she wanted to kiss me and,” Lena sighed dreamily. “And we’ve been texted and phoning and whatnot, but I asked her out after our match on Sunday, and we went to the Christmas Market, even though it’s only November because she mentioned she’d never been to one before, and we ate far too much and then …” Lena paused, the romantic gushing so uncharacteristic of her. “She kissed me. She kissed me, Jule. And it was so perfect, and, ugh…” she trailed off again. “I’ve never felt like this before,” she whispered, grinning to herself as she confessed.

“She sounds wonderful, Lena. But who is ‘she’?” Jule teased lightly, nudging her best friend.

“Um … Y/N. The number 17 put 2 past us on Sunday,” Lena smiled as she said your name, a lovesick expression taking over. “She’s got this smile and, god, her laugh. It’s like angels or something. She so, so beautiful, Jule.” Lena gushed. Jule hadn’t seen Lena like this, ever, but she wasn’t opposed to the in-love ramblings. She liked this side of Lena and hoped she would stay for a long while. “But she’s also funny, and kind, and sweet, and just … she’s already picking up German for me. I didn’t even ask her to; she just turned up here, and at the Market, she went to ask a seller about this piece of jewellery, and it was in pretty decent German. She was so cute, she got all blushy and shy afterwards and…” she sighed again. Her fingers coming to fiddle with the woven bracelet on her wrist – a gift from you to remember you by. Like she could ever forget you.

“Wow, Lena. When can I meet the girl that’s got you so lovesick?” Jule teased gently, bumping her shoulder against Lena’s.

“Not for a while, sorry, Jule. It’s just, it’s all so new, and we haven’t really discussed what we are yet, and we won’t be able to see each other for a while because of our schedules and, um…” Lena had the decency to look slightly embarrassed at her response, but she loved the idea of being able to keep you all to herself for a little while.

“No, I get it, no worries,” Jule smiled understandingly. “I can see that she makes you happy, and that’s all that matters,” she added, squeezing Lena’s hand at her words. “But I will require regular updates from you about how things are going, ok? ‘Cos … my best friends in loooove,” she sang out, laughing at Lena’s bright blush.

“Yeh, yeh, let’s go to recovery, c’mon,” Lena said, shoving her friend out of the empty changing room.

--------------------------------

[Initial]💙❤️: I want to tell them about u x

L💚: Tell em

L💚: Can I tell my team?

[Initial]💙❤️: Omg yesssss xxxxxxxxxxxx

Lena had permission from you to tell the team, and she was so, so happy about it. Telling Jule made everything feel so much more real; she couldn’t imagine how telling the team would go. She figured she’d start with the girls she was closest with.

Jule, Ewa, and Sveindis all gathered in her living room as Lena stood nervously in front of the TV.

“Um, so … I have something I need to tell you guys,” Lena said, fidgeting with the hem of her t-shirt. Why was she so nervous? She loved the idea of being able to take you out on dates without hiding anything; she wanted to be in the crowd when watching your matches; she wanted to kiss you in front of the whole world … and yet she was nervous about this. If she had to guess, she would say it’s because she hasn’t done this before. She doesn’t date, and she’s never had to introduce her teammates to a partner before, but here she was, about to burst your little bubble of private joy. You had told her you’d done it already – or at least, you didn’t discourage the team when they snooped and didn’t stop them from guessing.

“Oh, my god. Are you leaving?” Sveindis asked.

“What? No!” Not yet, anyway. Lena replied.

“Are you dying?” Ewa countered. Lena was slightly shocked at her question.

“Ewa!” Lena gasped.

“Are you pregnant then? Did something happen? Are you ok?” Sveindis sat up, full of concern for her friend.

“No, good God, no. No, I’m fine.” Lena looked horrified that that was what her best friend’s brain jumped to.“I … I just needed to tell you that I have a girlfriend…” There was a split second of silence before Sveindis and Ewa burst into hysterical laughter. Lena looked towards Jule, unsure of the scene in front of her.

“Yeh, right. Good one, L.” Sveindis joked between peals of laughter.

“A girlfriend, nice one, Lena” Ewa wheezed.

“Guys,” Jule tried. She could see Lena’s face fall. When Lena had invited them to come over this afternoon, she had been so excited—she could finally share with her friends, her family, that she had a girlfriend—an actual, real girlfriend who treated her well and made her oh-so-happy. And now they were laughing at her. Was the idea of her being in a relationship so comedic that it brought tears to their eyes?

“You know what, fuck you. Get out, get out now.” Lena shouted, causing an immediate cease to the laughter.

“Lena, c’mon. That was a good joke -” Ewa started.

“It wasn’t a joke. I have a girlfriend. And I wanted to tell you today, but you think it’s basically impossible for me to have one. So, Get. Out!”

“Are you serious?” Sveindis asked.

“Get the fuck. Out. Of my House.” Lena replied, moving to open the door for them.

“Not about that, about having a girlfriend?” She ignored the open door, a clear sign that she was unwelcome at the moment.

“Yes. And I was really excited to tell you, but you guys find it so hilarious that I could have a relationship.” Lena said, hurt that her friends were so disbelieving of her.

“No, it’s just … you’ve told us so many times that you don’t date. You are … were … so adamant over it.”

“And when you stopped mentioning your one-night stands and stuff, we figured you were going through a dry spell or something,” Ewa added.

“We’re sorry for not believing you,” they both hung their heads, embarrassed that they hurt a close friend. Lena closed the door gently and returned to the living room.

“Does this mean I can finally meet her?” Jule asked after a moment of awkward silence.

“You know who she is? That’s not fair; how come Jule gets to know first?” Ewa moaned.

“Not yet, Jule. I still need to tell the rest of the girls first,” Lena sighed, sitting down on the armchair by the window. “And Jule knows first because she figured it out.” She explained to Eva.

“You should have seen her after the Barca match. She was so giddy, all blushy, and staring at her phone. Ugh, it was so cute. And then, after the home leg, she came into the changing room and couldn’t stop smiling. I’m surprised you haven’t caught on sooner; she’s not very subtle.” Jule gushed.

“So, it’s a Barca player? Who is it?” Sveindis asked.

“No, wait, let me guess,” Ewa shouted. “Ba-Batlle? Is that how you say it?” Lena giggled as Ewa bounced excitedly on the sofa.

“No, she has that maybe-thing with Bronze. Coll?” Sveindis countered.

“No, she’s definitely in a relationship; they did a lock screen video thing, and she was her girlfriend” Ewa and Sveindis pushed their heads together, coming up with ideas of who might have stolen their best friend's heart.

“What about Y/S/N? Y/N? Is that her name?” They looked to Lena for an answer. Whilst a verbal one wasn’t given, it wasn’t needed. The beaming smile was all that was required.

“Awww, she’s a cutie.” Ewa came over to hug Lena

“Real sweet, too. She came to check on Camilla when Pina did that tackle.” Sviendis agreed. “Now, tell us all about it. I want all the details!” They all got themselves comfy as Lena spilt all the information about the best few months of her life.

L💚: I told some of them

[Initial]💙❤️: Omg really??

[Initial]💙❤️: What did they say?????

L💚: They didn’t believe me at first ahahahaha

L💚: They thought u may have been Ona or Cata !!!!

[Initial]💙❤️: ahahahahahahhahahhahahahhahahaha

L💚: But then they said ur a cutie and real sweet

L💚: Which u r, obviously xxx

[Initial]💙❤️: Stoppppppp

[Initial]💙❤️: Ur gonna make me cry xx

[Initial]💙❤️: R u gonna tell the rest ?????

[Initial]💙❤️: No rush or anything xxx

L💚: Yeh I am xxx

L💚: I wanna tell the world ur mine xx

[Initial]💙❤️: now I’m actually crying wtf

[Initial]💙❤️: 1 photo image attached

[Initial]💙❤️: I wanna tell the world ur mine xxxxx

L💚: Schatzzzzzzz xxxx

[Initial]💙❤️: A nickname now?

L💚: Shut uppppp

[Initial]💙❤️: never

[Initial]💙❤️: Meine Liebeeeeeeee

L💚: 🩷🩷🩷🩷

--------------------------------

“Obi,” Alex called as the training ended for the day. “I need to talk to you.” Fuck! Lena tried to remember what she might have done to piss Alex off. She had behaved all training session – for the most part; the thing with the water was Riola’s fault, not hers. She was guided into an empty media room and was met with Svenja sitting on the table. Fuckkkkk! What had she done? Two players she saw as maternal figures had their Angry Faces on.

“Before you say anything. It wasn’t me,” Lena rushed to cover her back.

“What wasn’t you?” Svenja asked.

“Whatever you think I’ve done,” Lena answered cryptically. She wasn’t admitting to anything.

“So, you don’t have a girlfriend then?” Alex asked. “Sveindis was lying to Vivi?”

“Um … my answer depends on how mad you will be.” Lena ducked her head to avoid Alex’s gaze.

“We’re not mad that you have a girlfriend, Lena.” Svenja pushed herself from the table and took Lena’s hand.

“We’re mildly irritated we found out from changing room gossip,” Alex added, coming over to squeeze Lena’s shoulders. “Look at me,” she instructed when Lena still refused to look her in the eye.

“Your girlfriend is Y/F/N Y/S/N, yes? Barca’s number 17.”

“Yeh,” Lena couldn’t help the small smile that spread across her face at the mention of you.

“Does she treat you well, Obi?” Svenja asked.

“Yes, she treats me very well.”

“And you treat her well?” Alex added.

“I like to think so. She said I make her happy.”

“Good. When will she next be in Wolfsburg? Or at a match?” Svenja asked

“I’m going to see her at her away game in Madrid when we have the free weekend, but our schedules don’t line up for a while after that. They match up again just after the international break, so she’s coming here.” Lena explained.

“Good, gives us longer to prepare a speech.” Alex said to Svenja

“Speech?” Lena asked, slightly weary of what might happen – she knew that the 2 women could be very intimidating, especially if you weren’t German or didn’t know them very well.

“Yes, a speech—the ‘do not mess with Obi’ speech. I don’t doubt you will get one from Putellas and maybe Bronze and Paños, too. They seem very protective of her.” Svenja pulled Lena into a hug as Alex ruffled her hair.

L💚: Whose speech will be worse? Alexia’s or Alex and Svenja’s?

[Initial]💙❤️: Hmm, scary Germans or scary Spaniards???

L💚: I will endure it

L💚: Just for u Schatz

[Initial]💙❤️: As will I

[Initial]💙❤️: Only 4 u meine Leibe

I hope you enjoyed this little sub-chapter thing. I'm on my uni holidays atm so hopefully I can write the next chapter fairly soon but I do have deadlines etc <3

Also thank you to all the love from the anons ahaha - it means a lot to me <3<3<3<3<3<3

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