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awfcspencer · 2 months

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Text or Call? || alexia putellas x reader

prompt: At the 2019 World Cup you meet Alexia, what happens at the 2023 World Cup.

warnings: uswnt!reader, instances of angst but a happy ending

“The United States look to continue their powerful regime and earn a fourth covenant star on their jerseys.”

It was the somewhat mantra of this year’s major tournament, building the pressure to perform well to the highest magnitude. There was an expectation of excellence surrounding the team months leading up to the tournament, with new eyes joining the march nearly every day, boosting the US to new heights.

The 2019 Women’s World Cup had been set and it was imperative that the United States go back-to-back World Champions, you could see the newspapers now as it seemed it was somewhat written in the stars for the United States. The pressure to play well was there, and you couldn’t let down your country on the national stage. The prevailing narrative casted an array of self-doubt and anxieties into you, and you couldn’t deny the lingering thoughts of what-ifs. What if you don’t play well? What if you don’t win?

You’d spent countless years preparing for this opportunity, moving through the USWNT age groups with ease and then battling to make the senior team roster. You’d been playing professional soccer for a couple years right out of college, playing for a few different NWSL teams throughout your career. A few international assignments scattered along the schedule leading up to the World Cup proved you were worthy of such call-up and when the roster was announced, you’d managed to escape with a spot.

The media’s outrage was uncontrollable, claiming other national team members deserved your earned spot more than you, the constant outpour of hatred flooded your social media, it was hard to ignore, just like the dark cloud that casted over you as you landed in France to begin the tournament.

The group stage had gone swimmingly, the United States proved once again why they were a threat and seemingly looked to breeze by competition. The roster was filled with the highest of talent but still you’d managed to find minutes on the pitch, only causing increased negative media. One bad pass or one bad movement made you feel each and every ruthless word that the fans spewed online, it was uneasy to escape the anxious feeling you felt each time you played.

Your national teammates tried to shield you from the hatred online, but you saw it, and throughout select moments of the tournament, you felt yourself desperately trying to prove them wrong, but your head was clouded and your mind was on overdrive, your apparent distractedness was only hurting your game.

With an upcoming knock round game versus Spain, you seeked to play your game, play the game you loved with every fiber in you, play with the seemingly carefree nature that set your game apart from your teammates. The same energy and joy you played with during the NWSL season that had initially brought your name up to Jill, you needed to return to yourself, you needed to play for yourself and not listen to what hundreds of people said behind anonymous screens.

The match against Spain in the midfield looked to be a challenge you welcomed, matched up directly across Alexia Putellas, a woman near your age who had been streamlining a new era of Spain dominance and prolonged success of Liga F’s Barcelona team.

You’d yet had the chance to meet the brunette in person, but seconds before kickoff you couldn’t deny the effortless beautifulness the midfielder had. Her fixed concentration and aura was undeniable, there was something enticing about her that you clearly didn’t have time to ponder on as the whistle blew and the game had begun.

The US managed to strike first but an untimely mistake that Jenni Hermoso quickly countered on and the score was tied 1-1.

A wave of up and downs on both sides left the match up in the air, both sides fighting desperately to move on. You’d spent most of the match marking the vital number 11 for Spain, she moved rapidly down the pitch, excelling at such rate that you questioned if she was human or not, her stamina never withering. Alex had sent you a narrow ball on the route down the right side, forcing an untimely challenge from the Spaniard you’d been eyeing all game. You’d felt every spike of her cleat in your ankle, immediate pain coursing through the bone.

“Lo sien- I am sorry.” She spoke with a clear apologetic tone, crouching down to meet your eyes. Her eyes were piercing up close, an assortment of different brown and hazel tones that fit her perfectly. “Are you okay?”

You’d sent her a swift nod, using her extended arm to help assist you up. Her breathtaking eyes peered down to you ankle, searching for any sort of extra concern. You moved your ankle in circles, the pain dwindled a bit and you were ready to compete again. Alexia let out a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding in, thankful she hadn’t hurt you for her idiotic attempt to stop your path to a goal to put the US back on top.

“All good.” You explain, sending her an appreciative smile for helping you up and jogged backwards a bit to resume play. You’d understood the tackle wasn’t malicious or targeted, she was simply trying to win the game, you couldn’t blame her efforts as you would have done nearly the same.

Throughout the rest of the match, you’d found yourself stationed within close distance of the midfielder, her feet always seemed to attract the ball from her teammates and her vision for the game sent you running yards to continue to track the ball down. She made her passes look effortless, slicing through defenders with ease and her dribbling technique to create space was incredible, you would have been in full awe of the brunette if you weren’t in the middle of a vital match.

Luckily a penalty had been awarded to the United States and the US were now ahead 2-1 and you desperately begged for the final whistle to blow. Your wish came true not much longer and the US moved on to the next stage. Spain gave a valiant effort, exposing the weak parts of the US game which you were sure the opponents were watching. After a brief celebration, your legs seemingly moved without your own account, moving until you were inches away from the Spain number 11, the midfielder that had suffocated your thoughts nearly all game. Before you could really think, your arm peered out and tapped the midfielder on the shoulder.

“Good game.” You told her when she turned to you. “Jersey swap?”

Her once focused eyes now red-rimmed as tears threaten to fall from her eyelashes. It broke your heart in an indescribable way and you’d just nearly met the girl 90 minutes ago, but there was something alluring about her, she was a future powerhouse of women’s football and there was a sort of fascination that bubbled in you about the brunette.

She nodded and quickly discarded her jersey and handed it to you, “Good game as well.”

You couldn’t deny, Alexia Putellas was built by God himself, her features chiseled and muscles defined, you couldn’t help but stare for a few seconds before she put your jersey on, the heat certainly rising to your cheeks placing a warm blush across your face.

“See you around Putellas.” You told her as you walked toward where your team stood in the middle of the pitch conversing with other members of the Spain team.

The celebrations rang through the changing room, everyone congratulating one another on a solid performance and another checked off box towards back-to-back world cup wins. The time difference in France had certainly caught up to you and the efforts of the match meant your sore limbs desperately needed relaxation, so you headed back towards the hotel, leaving your national teammates who you knew would be partying until the sun eventually came up the next day. You’d swiftly changed out of your new Spain jersey and settled for a casual grey sweatsuit combo.

Entering the hotel, you made your way towards the elevator, but something, or someone, piqued your interest. The all too familiar girl you’d spent the last 90 minutes chasing around, now sat in the hotel bar. She was dressed in similar clothes as you, nursing a small glass of wine alone. You’d recognized the back of her hair immediately, you’d constantly been behind her most of the match as her speed was unrivaled. Her hair now escaped the bun it had during the game and cascaded along her back. She was beautiful in the bun, but something about her hair down made your heart skip a beat, she was breathtaking, even from the back.

Once again, your legs drove you forward, tiredness forgotten, you were incredibly infatuated in the midfielder and you desperately wanted to know her, understand her. There was something unexplainable about her that you couldn’t pinpoint that drew you in.

“Can I sit?” You asked timidly. The position you know found yourself in was sticky, you didn’t think about the fact that your country had just knocked hers out of the World Cup and there was a high possibility that she wanted nothing to do with you, the brutal obvious thoughts now entered your mind when she didn’t immediately answer.

“I’m sorry, I’ll go.” You told her as you made your way to leave.

“No, stay. You can sit.”

You turn your head at the familiar voice, settling in next to Alexia on the barstool to the right of her.

“You don’t deserve the hate you get online you know.” She spoke, breaking the awkward silence.

“Thank you, and if it’s any consolation, you and your country did play well today.”

She simply nodded in agreeance, taking a slow slip of her red wine. You and Alexia fell into an easy conversation when you asked about her journey, and then when she asked you about yours. The talking flowed effortlessly and you slowly found the girl in front of you coming out of her shell. She was easy to talk to and even after experiencing the loss she did today, she was quite humorous. The laugh that fell from her lips was intoxicating and you slowly found yourself melting around the Spaniard with every passing second.

During one of your national teammates stories where you described an amusing event at training during the group stage, the pads of her fingers briefly stroked your shoulder and even through your sweatshirt, you could feel her electric touch, something was growing between the two of you in that dimly lit hotel bar.

Glancing down at your watch, you realized you’d spent nearly three hours in the bar, talking with Alexia. Your once tiredness completely vanished when you saw the girl, but now the weight of your activities of the day now hitting you like a truck and a small yawn escaped your lips unwillingly.

“You should probably get some sleep.” She whispered. “But here.” She tore off a piece of the napkin that held her wine glass and jotted down her number for you. “Text or call after the tournament, yeah?”

“Of course, Alexia. Thank you for tonight.” You told her as you pulled yourself off the bar stool. “Good night Alexia.”

You moved to leave the bar before you heard her voice again, “Wait.”

As you turned back to the midfielder, she placed a soft kiss on your cheek, “Good night.”

After the World Cup, you’d made good on your promise and texted Alexia, blossoming a friendship with the Spaniard, and then with time, you found yourself in a committed relationship with Alexia. A long-distance relationship that relied heavily on communication, but every chance either of you got to visit, you both did so instantly.

You watched Alexia cement her name in countless record books across Spain and she watched your game develop likewise. A powerhouse couple of sorts in women’s football, and you had fallen madly in love with the midfielder. But eventually, the hundreds of miles caught up to the two of you.

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You replay the moment in your head every single day. From the very second you wake up in the morning to the second your eyes close at night, the moment replays in your head like a broken record. Alexia’s voice on the other side of the phone, hundreds of miles away, begging you to not give up on her drilled into your brain.

Every day that passed you thought about forming a line of contact, trying to take back the obvious mistake you’d made. But you had let her down, and the last memory of the Spaniard you had was her voice buzzing in her your head, pleading to give her one more try. The distance between the two of you ultimately became too much and you couldn’t handle it any longer, and you would not let Alexia throw her whole life away to move closer to you, her home was in Barcelona and yours was in the US.

You still smell the traces of her scent on your bedsheets. You still remember her favorite songs, the way she’d sing them out loud in the shower thinking no one’s listening. You still remember the feel of her under your palms, every curve, every line. The Spaniard still infiltrated all of your thoughts, even after you thought you’d gotten over her. You still couldn’t get her out of your mind, even though you knew you were probably long gone from hers.

From then on, you’d thrown yourself full force into your game, working hours a day to perfect your game and make the 2023 World Cup roster. A numbness had settled into you some time after the breakup and it had never left. Your main focus was football, the game that had changed your entire life, and not necessarily because of the sport itself. The game in which you had the highest of highs and low lows, the game that had brought you Alexia, and the game that eventually teared you away from the girl.

You’d watched her struggle to recover from her ACL tear and watched her proudly return back to the pitch like she had never left. You’d kept up with Alexia, peaking into a Barça match every so often, watching her excel on the pitch just like she did four years ago at the World Cup, now just more people appreciated her game and you couldn’t be happier for you her.

The 2023 World Cup had the same intense feeling as the 2019 World Cup, the pressure for the United States to win another star was at a new height and it was up to the squad to win at any cost necessary. You’d cemented yourself as a valuable member of the team and now felt the weight of what was at risk for this tournament.

You knew Alexia was going to be at the tournament, but you tried to force it out of your mind and focus on the task ahead. But there was no way to avoid her, the anxiety that settled into your stomach thinking about the girl was uncontrollable. Your mind was supposed to be focused and ready, but instead you felt numb and blank. Physically you were in Australia, but your mind was elsewhere.

The group stage was all a blur, you’d been simply going through the motions for longer than you could remember, trying to just survive. The media was even more ruthless this tournament, claiming the US had lost their passion for the game and condemned each and every national team member, it was ruthless and you simply couldn’t escape it, but your mind spewed the same things, except your thoughts were focused on the girl who hadn’t left you mind since you broke her heart.

The game against Sweden was an eye-opener, a stalemate match that even after extra time was still even, forcing a penalty shoot-out. Your team swayed together uncontrollably as your heart pounded in your ears, tuning out the crowd and trying to focus on the penalties.

Next up was you. You lined the ball up and did the same penalty kick routine you’d done every single time. You took a deep breath and kicked the ball. The ball cleared the goal post, missing the net entirely, sending the ball into the stands. You had missed the penalty, and Sweden capitalized. You’d let down your country.

Unbeknownst to you, Alexia sat in hotel room watching the match. Her knee bounced anxiously as she tried not to bite her nails, a habit you desperately pleaded for the Spaniard to stop. The match had given her heart palpitations as she shakingly paced around the room when the match came down to penalties. She watched you take yours and miss terribly, and when the camera panned to you, her heart broke in a million little pieces.

Her thumb hovering over your contact, wanting to extend herself to you again, to be a shoulder to cry on, she knew this pain all too well. But luckily, she knew where you would go.

Back at the stadium, the Sweden team celebrated and the USWNT left in despair. You want to scream and cry but you can’t, every time you want to show an emotion, your body shuts down, unable to get the numbness that has surrounded you all tournament out. You needed something to let go, to get rid of this agonizing feeling and aid your despair.

You’d made quick work of packing your belongings in the changing room, and escaped out the door as quickly as you could, getting on the team bus and locking your eyes out the side window, not allowing the tears to fall.

Once back at the hotel, you fell behind your teammates and instead of turning right towards the elevator up to the hotel rooms, you took a left and entered the hotel bar. You’d asked the bartender for something strong, something to forget the last 90 minutes of football.

“I figured I’d find you here.” You knew her voice all too well, it sent a bone chilling shiver down your spine. “Can I sit?”

As you turned towards the girl, even in the softly lit bar, you knew who it was.

“Alexia.” You try to not let your voice betray your feelings because you know Alexia can read you like an open book. Being back in Alexia’s presence was more intoxicating than any drink the bartender could offer you.

“This was a bad idea. I just wanted to…” What did Alexia want to do? In truth she wanted to kiss you, hold you and tell you how special you are and apologize a thousand times for letting the distance get in the way, she wanted to do and say so many things. She noticed your eyes were tired but still had the same fire she saw four years ago.

“Please stay.” You said and reached out to grab her, not caring how desperate you sounded, you couldn’t help it. Alexia, the girl who you had tried to avoid like the plague the second you landed in Australia, stood right in front of you. Her hair was slightly longer and you met her eyes for the first time since the breakup. She sat next to you in silence, she’d never seen you so damaged, so frail.

“How are you… doing?” You asked, swallowing around another lump in your throat, trying to get your thoughts together as you look towards her nervously.

“I’m okay.” She said, sending you a soft smile with the small quirk it always had, the smile that was ingrained in the back of your mind even though you wished it wasn’t.

Your heart thuds in your chest, Alexia was mere inches away from you and you yearned to lean over and kiss her, but you knew you couldn’t. She most likely had moved on and found solace in someone else, someone who wasn’t you.

You try not to look into Alexia’s eyes for too long, because you know that if you lock eyes, Alexia will see just how much you still love her.

“It’s not your fault you know.” She said, but you couldn’t tell if she was speaking about the match or about the past relationship. But nonetheless, you saw the opportunity and took it, and the apology spilled out of you.

“I was scared. I was hurt by the distance and I couldn’t handle it any longer. I tried to get you back but I am so sorry Alexia.” You whisper brokenly, tears streaming down your cheeks gently. You choke on your own cry that builds in your throat, everything bubbling to the surface.

“I am so sorry I ever let you go.” Your voice cracks on the last word, not knowing where this conversation would go from here, but it had to be said.

Before you can say anything more through tears, you feel Alexia stand up, a hand wrapping around your waist and warms lips on your neck. Your eyes close as you cry harder, emotions from the game combining with the unsettled emotions of your breakup all those months ago. Alexia tightened her hold around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

You watch as something flashes across Alexia’s face and it takes your heart in a vice grip to see the girl so confused and hurt. It makes you think back to the phone call and if you’d been able to see Alexia’s face when you broke up with her, you didn’t think you’d be alive now.

There were two broken hearts in the room, not just one.

Alexia takes one of your hands, holding it between the two of you, “If you leave again, I will not be able to survive.”

Her words hit you like a train as the impact almost makes you fall over, but you take your combined hands and place them firmly over her heart. You close your eyes and focuses on the heartbeat under your palm.

“I never want to live without you ever again.” You tell her as you hold your breath with the last syllable as you finish. Alexia kisses the small tear rolling down your cheek, The move is gentle and genuine and you reach out and tug Alexia closer.

Alexia lifts your head up to meet her eyes that are also brimming with tears, “I never want to live without you ever again.”

Alexia is giving you the power to reach into her chest and rip her heart right out again, but she is trusting you won’t this time. She leans in once more and kisses your lips, the gesture so familiar as if no time has passed.

Alexia manages the one sentence that she knows doesn’t need much explaining for you to know the meaning, and she weighs on it heavily to anchor the two of you.

“Text or call after the tournament, yeah?” She asked as the corners of her mouth curved into a smile.

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magicfootballstuff · 1 year

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Debut (alessia russo x reader)

Summary: You’ve dreamed of making your WSL debut for years. But when the day finally arrives, it’s not how you imagined at all. The one person who should be celebrating the big moment with you, your girlfriend Alessia, won’t even look you in the eye.

———

Today should be the best day of your life. As you stand in the tunnel at Leigh Sports Village behind Katie, about to walk onto the pitch to make your Women’s Super League debut, you should be brimming with mixed excitement and nerves.

Your debut has come as a bit of a surprise. Playing as the number two to the best goalkeeper in the world, you’ve got a couple of cup games under your belt, but you’ve not yet been given any minutes in the league. In fact, today wasn’t even supposed to be your league debut, and wouldn’t have been if Mary hadn’t fallen ill at the last minute, forcing Marc to call you up to the starting lineup with just over an hour to go before kickoff.

Maybe that’s why the excitement hasn’t kicked in yet. Maybe you haven’t yet processed that this is happening.

Or maybe it’s because you had the mother of all arguments with your girlfriend last night and that’s playing on your mind instead.

You don’t even remember how the argument started. You might have left something lying around in a place it didn’t belong, or moved something of Alessia’s, or something else completely trivial, but bickering turned into fighting which turned into yelling and crying, which eventually led to Alessia storming out of your shared flat and not returning.

You assume she slept at Ella’s. You don’t care though. If Alessia wants to be childish and run away instead of working through the bumps in your relationship like grown-ups, then that’s her problem.

You should be celebrating today with her though. Your first league game for Manchester United - she knows how hard you work in training, how many hours you spend analysing world-class keepers to improve your own positioning, how much you’ve dreamed of today. Yet she hasn’t even made eye contact with you since Marc announced the starting lineup.

She’s behind you somewhere. You can hear her laughing along with Ella. Like she doesn’t care that she hurt you last night. Like she doesn’t care that you’re about to play the most important ninety minutes of your career so far.

If that’s how she wants it to be, then fuck her. You won’t let Alessia and her childish antics ruin your big day.

“You ready?” Ona’s accented voice asks, as she rests her hands encouragingly on your shoulders from behind.

In front of you, Katie turns around and gives you a reassuring smile, then says, “You’ve got this.”

You smile your thanks to Katie and briefly cover one of Ona’s hands with your own gloved one in appreciation. It should be Alessia supporting you right now, not them, but you’re glad that at least some of your teammates understand what a big moment this is and have your back.

As you follow Katie down the tunnel and onto the pitch, the reality of the situation starts to kick in, and so do the nerves. There’s a crowd of seven thousand people here, each one watching you and expecting you to represent their club. You can’t let them down. You can’t let yourself down.

In an ideal situation, you probably would’ve made your league debut against a mid-to-low table team, a confidence builder where making a mistake or two probably wouldn’t cost you the game. As it is, playing against Chelsea, you know you’re going to be tested all game and that even the tiniest slip-up could be the crucial difference between winning and losing not just the game, but the title.

Sure enough, you get your first touch of the ball less than two minutes after kick off, a tame shot from distance that you follow with your eyes all the way to you, not testing you too much as you catch it simply against your chest, before rolling it out to Maya to start the next phase of play.

It continues much like that. The game is intense at both ends of the pitch, two title rivals battling against each other, and you’re forced into a few more saves, though none of them are particularly difficult. Even so, when you head in at halftime goalless, it’s with a sense of relief that you haven’t let the team down yet.

You remove your gloves in the dressing room to take on fluids, accepting congratulations from a few of your teammates on a solid first half with a grateful smile. But when you sit down to listen to Marc’s halftime team talk, it’s only Alessia on your mind, and you zone out slightly from his words as you watch her across the dressing room.

If Alessia feels your gaze on her, then she doesn’t acknowledge it. Maybe she really is that engrossed in what Marc has to say, maybe she’s just trying to spite you. But what remains when you return to the pitch for the second half is that the one person you want to reassure you that you’re doing a good job still won’t even make eye contact with you.

The second half kicks off with heightened intensity, just as you expected. Manchester United get the first chance, a shot from Ella that ricochets off the crossbar before Leah taps the rebound wide, but Chelsea have come out with just as much intent to assert their dominance on the game. Within just five minutes, they’ve won a corner and almost all of the red shirts on the pitch are crowded into your box to help defend your goal.

The ball is launched from the corner into the box and it’s a bit of a mad scramble. A United player tries to clear but only as far as the edge of the box, where it lands at the feet of an unmarked Chelsea player. They take their chance and fire the ball through the crowd of players towards the bottom corner of your goal.

An instinctive reflex you’ve spent your entire life preparing for kicks in and you dive to the side, just barely glancing the ball past the goalpost with the tips of your fingers out for another corner.

Frustrated with the poor defending, you get to your feet as Chelsea set up for a second corner, and bellow at your teammates, “Mark your players!”

What they do on the rest of the pitch is something you have very little control over, but the box is your domain and if you have to shout at them to get them to do the bare minimum amount of defending, so be it. You assess your area as the Chelsea player sets the ball down by the corner flag, and you spot a blue shirt unmarked near the back post.

“Alessia!” you bark at your girlfriend to get her attention. Her stunning blue eyes find yours and your gesture with your gloved hand at the unmarked Chelsea player as you yell, “Stick with your fucking player!”

Yelling at each other on the pitch isn’t a complete novelty - there’s a mutual understanding between all the Manchester United players that any harsh words said on the pitch are for the benefit of the team, and though you and Alessia haven’t actually played many games together, you both know how to leave anything that happens on the pitch behind for the sake of your relationship.

Until today, you’ve never had to do the reverse. Though shouting and swearing at Alessia during a match would be fine on any other day, when you know it’ll be completely forgotten when the final whistle blows, your demand feels a hundred times more scathing when you remember the argument you had last night that still hasn’t been resolved.

There’s the briefest of glares in Alessia’s eyes, but she’s not petty enough to risk conceding a goal just because you’ve fallen out, so she does as instructed and moves closer to the other player, positioning herself between the Chelsea player and your goal.

The ball flies in and you launch yourself in the air, fist outstretched as you try to punch it away, but it’s too high and you miss it completely. As you tumble to the grass, you see the ball soar almost in slow motion towards the previously unmarked Chelsea player. It’s Sam Kerr and you know she’s going to score, you know that your chance of a clean sheet on your league debut is going to get snatched away by the most ruthless striker in the WSL.

But then you see somebody else, a hero in red, throw herself at the ball too. Alessia has spotted the danger and she uses her height to her advantage, her head hitting the ball at the same time as Kerr’s. It’s just enough to stop the ball heading towards the goal, and though you don’t know exactly what happens next as you scramble to your feet, too many bodies trying to nudge the ball in opposite directions, a Manchester United foot eventually gets a clean enough connection to smash the ball out of the box and away from immediate danger.

And just like there are things that stay on the pitch, there are things that stay at home.

“Good job, Less,” you praise her, clapping Alessia on the back with a gloved hand.

There’s stuff that needs resolving off the pitch later, but Alessia has just kept your hopes of a clean sheet alive and more than deserves your praise for that. Her eyes soften a little as you revert back to using her nickname, before she jogs away back to her normal position in United’s forward line.

Things are far from back to normal but there’s comfort in knowing that whatever has come between you and Alessia in the last twenty four hours - and to be honest, you’re struggling to remember if it was even worth the raised voices and the frosty atmosphere between you today - you can still count on her on the pitch when you need her. You mind somewhat at ease, at least until the final whistle blows and you’re free to actually talk to your girlfriend, you’re one hundred percent focused on the task of keeping a clean sheet to help your team.

But if you’d thought the back-to-back corners earlier in the second half were a problem, nothing could have prepared you for what happens in the eightieth minute.

It’s getting desperate from both sides. Legs are tiring, challenges are flying in, cards are being shown by the referee. The football is becoming sloppier, each team fighting for that singular moment of brilliance or luck that could win them the game. As United win a corner at the other end of the field, they send almost everybody up to get on the end of it, leaving just you and a singular defender in your own half. There are so many bodies in the opposition box that from your vantage point at the edge of your own area, you don’t have a clear view of what’s going on, but you watch as Katie sends the ball flying in. Desperation sets in as the United players try to knock it into the Chelsea goal, then somebody goes down and you hear cries for a penalty, but as the referee waves the claims away, a Chelsea player manages to send the ball forward and suddenly they’re on a break.

You backpedal towards your own goal, covering the net, but a feeling of dread rises in your stomach as the Chelsea player drives the ball forward. She’s a substitute who has only been on the pitch for ten minutes, fresh legs outrunning the final United defender and now you’re the only one left between her and an inevitable goal.

One-on-one with the Chelsea striker, you have just a split second to decide what to do. If you stay on your line, the player has a choice of which corner to slot it into. If you run towards her, you risk getting chipped or dribbled around. Part of being a keeper is making decisions but right now every choice feels like it might be the wrong one that costs your team the game.

Instinct takes over and you leave your line, arms held out as you rush towards the oncoming striker and try to be as much of a distraction as possible. As you get closer, you do the only thing you can and slide in for the ball, trying to smother it with your outstretched gloves.

But this is Chelsea and the striker anticipates your move, attempting to lift the ball over your grounded body. Your defenders are rushing back to help you but they’re too late, you’re the only one who can stop an otherwise inevitable goal and as you flail almost helplessly on the ground, the ball hits your forearm and changes course.

You don’t know where the ball has gone and you don’t get the chance to find out because the momentum of the Chelsea striker sends her clattering into you, a knee connecting with your ribs and she trips over you and falls to the floor too.

Suddenly, you’re overcome with pain. You know you should be more concerned with where the ball has gone - it’s your sole duty to stop it from hitting the back of the net and it could have gone anywhere off your arm - but there’s an excruciating pain in the side of your chest where you collided with your opponent.

You can’t do anything except lie there on the grass, curled onto the side that isn’t splitting in half with pain. You’re not aware of much around you, just unintelligible voices and somebody rolling you onto your back. Everything is swimming, indistinct sounds and shapes, until one piece of familiarity cuts through the blur as a hand finds yours.

You let your eyes flicker open and there are three people crouching over you, but you only have eyes for the one dressed in red, Alessia frowning down at you in concern as she clutches your hand and brings you back to your surroundings.

“Hurts,” you manage to grunt out.

“Shh, it’s okay baby,” Alessia soothes you, squeezing your hand. “I’ve got you.”

“Where does it hurt?” asks one of the physios kneeling beside you.

“Here,” you say, attempting to gesture to the side of your chest, but even that small action incites a sharp pang of pain.

The two physios start their examination of you, probing gently around the painful area, and as you become more aware of your surroundings, you remember that you’re lying in the middle of a football pitch, with twenty-one other players, a referee, and a crowd of several thousand waiting for you to get up so that the game can resume.

“Did they score?” you ask Alessia.

“No,” she tells you, shaking her head with a little smile. “You stopped it from happening. You did so good.”

“I can carry on,” you try to tell the physios. “There’s only ten minutes left. I can finish the game.”

Just as you say that, the latex glove covered fingers of the physio traces along your ribcage, and you wince as it grazes over a sore spot.

“She needs to come off,” the physio tells Alessia, before beckoning over to the bench. You see the medics start to enter the pitch with a stretcher and immediately start your protests.

“No, I’m fine,” you say, trying to push yourself up into a seated position, but there’s another stab of pain in your side and you collapse back into the grass, crushing Alessia’s hand in yours.

“You’re not fine,” Alessia tells you. “They’re right, you need to go off.”

“But…” you start, thinking of Mary, who was sent home to get better, and of the academy goalkeeper who will have to come on if you get subbed off with even less preparation than you had.

“But nothing,” Alessia interjects. “You’ve done your job. You’ve kept us in this game for eighty minutes. Trust us to take care of the rest. We’re a team, aren’t we?”

There’s a look in Alessia’s eyes, a searching glint, and you know that she’s not just talking about Manchester United and the rest of this game, but your relationship. She’s asking you to trust her, promising that she’s got your back, even if it might have seemed like she didn’t have it earlier.

And because you love her, despite all the profanities that were yelled at each other last night, you believe her.

“Yeah,” you nod, as you allow the medics to help you onto the stretcher. “We’re a team.”

———

You’re sitting up in a hospital bed a couple of hours later, eating a yoghurt that one of the nurses brought for you, when there’s a soft knock on the door.

It’s Alessia, still dressed in her Manchester United training kit that she must have changed into after the game, and you nod to show her that she’s welcome to come in.

“Hi baby,” she says, still lingering in the doorway, with a softness to her voice like you didn’t fight last night, like you haven’t spent the whole day not talking to each other. “How are you?”

“I’ve been better,” you admit, finishing the last spoonful of yoghurt and setting aside the now empty pot. “Two fractured ribs. No football for a few weeks, maybe longer, depending on how it heals.”

“I guess you’re gonna need someone to look after you at home,” Alessia jokes.

There’s still something not quite right, a wedge of awkwardness between you, and you know it’s time to settle the disagreement that has made the last twenty four hours pure hell instead of the league debut you’d always dreamed of.

“Does that mean you’re coming home again?” you ask.

Alessia laughs as if the question is ridiculous.

“Of course I’m coming home.”

“Because I’m injured and you feel sorry for me, or because you actually want to?” you can’t help but have a little jab.

“I want to,” Alessia says, fully stepping into the room and taking a seat in the chair beside your bed. She reaches for your hand and you let her toy with your fingers as she continues, “I hate how we left things last night.”

“How you left things,” you remind her. “You’re the one who left.”

“And I’m sorry for that,” Alessia apologises, and you can see the sincerity in her blue eyes. “I needed some space so I ran away, which was stupid and childish of me. And I was still fuming this morning so I decided it was best to leave it and talk after the match, but then you got called into the lineup and we still hadn’t fixed things and then you were just lying there injured and barely moving and I’ve never felt so helpless. If I could take away all the pain you’ve felt in the last twenty four hours, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

You know that Alessia’s not just talking about the physical pain of your injury, but the hurt that she caused you in your fight and its aftermath too.

If you’re being fair, you probably hurt her too. You both said things that you wouldn’t normally say in last night’s argument.

“I’m sorry too,” you say, flipping your hand palm up and letting Alessia slide her fingers in between your own. “I think we both got caught in the heat of the moment. What were we even fighting about?”

Alessia laughs as she exhales, then says, “I don’t even remember. Something stupid. Something not worth me running away. I don’t want to fight with you again.”

“Look, we’re gonna fight,” you point out. “That’s part of being in a relationship. It’s not going to be easy all the time. But we can definitely be better at communicating.”

“I know,” Alessia nods. “That’s on me. I’ll try to work on it.”

“It’s on both of us,” you reassure her. “But thank you.”

A third person enters the room and you glance up to see one of the nurses who has been looking after you, middle-aged with a kind smile and a lilting Scottish accent.

“You must be the girlfriend,” says the nurse, addressing Alessia as she takes a piece of paper out of the file she brought with her into the room and jots something down.

“That’s right.”

“Then I’ll tell you the same thing I told her,” the nurse continues, her tone motherly but with just a hint of sternness. “She needs to take it easy while her ribs heal. No physical activity.” She gives Alessia a pointed look, then adds, “Of any kind.”

Alessia’s cheeks flush slightly at the implication, but she nods and says, “I understand.”

“Make up sex is off the cards then,” you joke under your breath.

You’re clearly not quiet enough because it’s not just Alessia who hears you, but the nurse too, who sends you a look of warning that has you sinking back into your pillows in shame.

“I’ve had enough athletes come through these doors to know exactly what you lot are like. I know you hate sitting still but you need to heal.”

“I’ll make sure she behaves,” Alessia promises the nurse. She turns to you, then adds, “Anyway, the better you follow the nurse’s instructions, the sooner you’ll be back playing football.”

“Exactly,” the nurse agrees.

“Did she tell you that she kept a clean sheet today?” Alessia asks the nurse, a hint of pride in her voice.

“She did, aye. Almost makes a couple of fractured ribs worth it, doesn’t it?”

“Well, Alessia scored the winning goal, so she’s the real hero of the day,” you shrug modestly.

One of the first things you did while waiting to have your ribs x-rayed was to check the score to see how the last ten minutes of the game panned out. Your main concern, of course, had been the clean sheet that you put your body on the line to preserve, and you were relieved to see that the academy keeper who took your place didn’t let any goals past her either. But you’d almost given up hope that United would score, which made it a delightful surprise that of all people, Alessia was the one to slot a winning goal into the Chelsea net in the eighty-seventh minute.

“It sounds like you can both share the credit today,” the nurse says diplomatically, as she clears away your empty yoghurt pot. “A good partnership in more ways than one.”

You look at your hand joined with Alessia’s, then up at the adoring look in her blue eyes.

“Yeah,” you agree. “The best.”

#alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso x reader #woso imagine #established relationship

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celestie0 · 2 months

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kickoff! reader who is stalking gojos page and accidentally likes one of his oldest posts. she panics and turns off her phone, without unliking it.

kickoff!gojo who is re reading your guys instagram messages and you text him while he’s doing this. he scrambles to come up with a reason as to why he read your message instantly

kickoff! reader who tries to watch soccer games to understand what’s happening. she probably yells offsides at everything. gojo can only smile at her and offer to help her out

kickoff! gojo who takes a picture of your silhouette in front of those statues you meet up at during the sunset (without your knowledge) and makes it his lock screen. you ask him about it but he just pretends that it’s a soccer goal and the sunset behind it.

kickoff! reader who finds herself thinking of satoru way too much. will see basically anything and be reminded of him. “oh a pair of sunglasses? gojo would like those” “hm, they started selling a strawberry tea? gojo would drink that”

kickoff! gojo who loves the sims. unironically makes a sim version of him and reader. tbh he probably doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he just starts thinking about reader and starts adding her features. thinks it’s funny to make them have “fun time”

kickoff! reader who is looking through the game pictures she takes and finds herself staring at gojo. doesn’t even realize she’s doing it until mina walks in on her. think peter parker and gwen stacy

kickoff!gojo who has a full “project m’bappe” for your future kids. starts the kids off with a soccer plush and it leads to them being absolute powerhouses in toddler leagues

kickoff! reader who used to play soccer as a kid. threw a tantrum in the middle of a game because she decided she hated it. only started to like it again because of gojo

kickoff! gojo who keeps a printed out picture of the two of you in his wallet. Suguru took it at the frat party when gojo kissed you. around you is blurry and flashing lights, in the middle of the chaos is gojos lips pressed against yours. His hand is holding your waist, you’re slightly on your tippy toes to reach him. He sometimes zones off when paying because the picture catches his eye

BABE……..WHEN I TELL YOU IM BLUSHING N SQUEALING N KICKING MY FEET SM RN…..UHHH I THINK U MIGHT HAVE TO JUST TAKE OVER WRITING THE SERIES FOR ME??? bc i went thru sm emotions reading these pls 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

ok first of all tysm for thinking of these and sending them to me???? i genuinely cannot believe youve made headcanons for my fic that’s so surreal n i will forever remember this 😭😭

BUT ALSO THESE ARE SO ACCURATE PLS and all the little details omg it means sm that youve noticed all these lil thinfs throughout the fic n their relationship n i cld cry rn 😭😭

pls excuse me for addressing each n every one of these bc im so excited by them i fear this ask will be long so i’m adding a keep reading loool

sobsosbsosbsbsossbb the headcanons ab their digital fuckups LMAOO omg reader is 100% the type to be stalking him at 3am even tho she swears shes not even THAT down bad for him n then she loses all feeling in her face when she realizes she liked a post from when he was like in high school or sumn🧍🏻‍♀️there’s no coming back from that LMFAOO but i feel like gojo wldnt even notice it bc he probs gets a lot of notifs so she’s safe this time around 😭😭 BUT YOURE ALSO SO RIGHT AB HIM REREADING MESSAGES N THEN GETTING SPOOKED WHEN HE REALIZES SHE SAW THAT HE READ IT RIGHT AWAY LMAO i feel like he’d pull something like “uhhhh i was just about to trxt you, that’s why” and she’s like “🤨 this is the fifth time that’s allegedly happened”

aww reader trying to understand soccer for him 😭 thats so cute bahah also i made another headcanon recently from another anon who mentioned gojo streaming the world cup hehe it’d be so cute if reader shows up to the frat game nights in the jersey of the team that gojo’s rooting for bc she’s just trying to be a supportive girlfriend n she gets excited watching the game but she’s actually got no clue what tf is going on 💀 but gojo adores her for it so thats ok

the lockscreeennn that’s so cute 😭 also i love the idea of reader being his muse too :”) like he doesn’t know much about photography but bc of her he’s like kinda curious about it now so he’s always taking pictures of her w his phone while she’s not looking :”) i imagine his camera roll is just a bunch of candids of her while she’s dissociating off into the distance or something 🤣 n he’s like “wow so pretty im so good at this”

OK BUT READER IS ME THINKING AB GOJO EVERYWHERE I GO LMAOO no but srs that one made heart skip a beat bc how sweeettt is that 😭 i think that is a true mark of love where u think of someone everywhere you go :”) for gojo, i imagine that anytime he sees anything scenic or colorful or something like blooms of flowers or a nice sky he thinks of how she wld probably really love to take pics of it n he gets sad she’s not there to do so

okk im down for sims boyfriend gojo 🤣 and wdym by fun time omg 😭 pls dont tell me it’s possible to make people BONK on sims. ive seen a lot of tiktoks recently about how they added gojo to stardew valley n ppl have been marrying him lmfaoo i wonder if gojo wld try to marry her in sims 💀 cant tell if thats cute or creepy PLS tbh i’d probs be like “aww babe”🧍🏻‍♀️

and YES AB THE ONE WHERE SHE STARES AT GOJO’s PICS THATS PRACTICALLY CANON, also, there was supposed to be a scene exactly like that in ch8 where mina walks in on her staring at the pics she was editing for her professor 😭😭 so ur 100% right on. i just bet he looks so handsome in those photos cuz he’s concentrated n sweaty n probs looks really determined n in his element tbf i’d be starinf at those pics too LOL

YOURE SO RIGHT HAHA he’d make sure their kids are soccer prodigies 😭😭 startin them YOUNG. reader’s like “dont u think they’ve practiced enough today…they’re supposed to go to that birthday party at noon” and he’s like “THE GRIND NEVER STOPS😤🔥” 💀💀 unironically the type of dad that wakes his kids up at 5am on summer break to take em to soccer bootcamp or sumn 😭😭 ok but he knows theyre just kids n lets them have fun haha obviously but he just has high expectations for them lmaoo

im so tender to the idea of reader having played soccer in her youuuuthh how cute wld it be if she unknowingly also had a crush on gojo back when they were kids (maybe there was some sort of co-ed game they played ONCE when their elementary schools organized it n she was like omg who’s that boy over theree n it’s just 8 y/o gojo who’s got all the 2nd grade girlies swooning even back then 🤣) but in adulthood she probably doesnt rememebr that at all haha OMGGGG I NEED TO MAKE THIS CANON BC HOW ADORABLE WOULD IT BE IF GOJO’s MOM HAD TAKEN A PICTURE OF THE GAME BACK THEN N U CAN SEE LITTLE GOJO N LITTLE READER ARE IN THE SAME PHOTO im gonna sob???? im so inspired by these rn??? anon??? can i fr hug u through the screen???

omggg ok im deceased im dead ab the PICTURE IN HIS WALLET. THAT IS SO HUSBAND CODED and adorabke asf i just might melt rn 😭 him getting distarcted while paying kakskddjhd also i can imagine him having a picture in his wallet of her in her cap n gown on n stoles n everything during graduation or something bc it reminds him of their college days :”) n when he’s playing away games during national league he’s always looking at it when he’s away from home bc he misses her

also i feel like suguru might’ve taken the photo as a polaroid 🤔 now i headcanon that kickoff reader also has a polaroid camera bc why wouldnt she lmfaoo 🤣 but just imagine the polaroid relationship wall LOL its so corny but i wld want them to make one together 😩💕

screaming. crying. feeling so inspired rn. cheesing. cheeks r hurting. love u sm anon srs if you have more i will gobble them up like a turkey. LOVE YOU <333

#I MEAN JUST HOW FUCKINF SWEET ARE MY READERS I CANT RN #😭😭😭#kickoff #asks #anon

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aspiring-writer-hidden-voice · 4 months

Text

I JUST HAD A BIG IDEA!!!!!!

🧨

You watch proudly as your daughter walks across the graduation stage of UA, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks as she turns and flashes you her biggest and brightest smile. “Katsuki, look at her! Look at our little girl!”

When no answer came, your head tilts towards your husband’s direction and find him gone.

“Oh, no…”

Sure enough, the proud father and Pro Hero Dynamight himself launches himself from the crowd to stand upon the stage in front of his daughter. Once a baby girl with honey hued curls and tiny eyes that were clearly yours was now a young woman ready to take in the world by following in her father’s footsteps as she stands before him, a proud smirk on her lips as her poppy red gaze meets his ruby one.

“Hah. Look at you, ya little firecracker.” Katsuki smirks back, one of his gloved hands rising to tousle her blonde tresses much to her chagrin. No one else could tell but you clearly can see the fatherly pride within his eyes that soften ever so slightly. “You’re gonna take the damn world by storm, Mirai.”

Even now you had to give him credit for the name. “Mirai”, or “future”, had been his one and only pick once he had held his daughter for the first time. A befitting name that suited her well even now.

“Stop treating me like a little kid and hand over the agency to me already, you old fart!” Mirai toothily grins as she holds out her fist for a bump.

“In your damn dreams, firecracker!” He huffs, brows twitching as his fist rises and bumps hers.

One of your hands rises to cup around your mouth as you shout. “Get off the stage, you two! Let the rest have their moment in the spotlight!” A blinding smile raises your lips when they both respond with full faces blushes.

It’s only at the party after the ceremony do you catch the two sharing a rare, deeply emotional moment as Katsuki gently rocks her being left and right as she clings to him. You slip into the quiet room after a few minutes to give them ample time and you slowly enclose them both in your embrace. The flight that would take Mirai to Europe for her Pro Hero career kickoff was first thing in the morning and it was clear that your daughter had her brief moments of uncertainty just like her father.

“Sweetheart, why don’t you share with your dad what hero name you picked out? I think he’s waited long enough.” You gently whisper while helping to clean her face and his though he grumbled that it wasn’t necessary.

Mirai’s teary gaze rises to meet his. “It’s not near as long as yours but…I took a page from your book…”

Katsuki had never looked so proud and happy to hear those words. “Yeah, firecracker? Ya gonna tell me now or am I gonna have to blast ya for it?”

“Dynamita.”

You had to bite back a laugh when the Pro Hero crumbles and begins to sob as he clings to his daughter who is trying her best to not laugh.

#bnha #mha #mha x reader #mha fluff #bnha fluff #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #Katsuki fluff #mha katsuki #bnha katsuki x reader #katsuki x you #katsuki bakugo x reader #Suntory angel writing

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putellas14 · 10 months

Text

Winner Takes All (Caroline Graham Hansen x Reader ficlet)

"Good luck today, baby! I know you're going to win this. " You stretched your legs out on the hotel bed, looking out the window at Sydney.

"Are you going to be able to watch, at least?" Caroline asked. You could hear the disappointment in her voice that you weren't there.

"Of course, love. Training should be done by then and they're going to let us stay here and watch the game in the conference room." You'd told Caroline that the trainers at Barcelona wouldn't give you the time off to go watch the World Cup final in person. The only reason you weren't with the team playing today was because you'd injured yourself a month before the tournament began and you were only now just getting back to training.

"Okay, well, I'm glad you can at least watch."

"You know I'd be there if I could be, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Okay. Go get the girls ready, captain. I can't wait to see you lift that trophy. I love you."

"I love you. I'll call you afterwards. Bye, babe."

"Good luck." You tossed your phone on the bed next to you and scootched off. You were meeting up with Caroline's family soon and you needed to get ready. You ran a hand over the name on the jersey laying on the bed. You'd never worn a Graham jersey in public before. But today felt like the right day. Checking your watch, you cursed yourself for talking to her for so long. You were definitely going to be late. You quickly changed your clothes and rushed out of the hotel.

You were amazed by the crowd when you walked into the stadium. Almost every seat was filled. You'd met with Caroline's parents outside but decided to wait going to your seat until it was nearly game time. Caroline often stopped to wave at her parents before heading into the locker room after warm ups. And you didn't want to risk ruining the surprise.

Just before kickoff, you made your way down to Caroline's family. You hugged some of the other girls' parents you knew and took your seat. Watching her walk out with the captain's armband on filled you with pride. She had proven herself as a leader when she flew to Canada and begged Coach Nelson to come to Norway. He had made all the difference for this team. It was one reason you were extremely sad to miss this World Cup. You always missed your time playing football but being able to see Caroline lead the team to this final was a huge moment that you had missed.

You watched the game on the edge of your seat. Caroline had that look on her face when she went in for the half. She was in her head. She was likely replaying key missed opportunities from the first half, trying to figure out how to improve for the second half. You took out your phone, shooting a quick text to her. Sometimes she checked her phone, sometimes she didn’t. You knew she didn't need the text to get herself ready for the second half, but you hoped maybe it would help a little.

Not twenty minutes into the second half, Maren scored and you were on your feet, screaming your head off. Caroline looked over to catch her dad's eye and saw you. And the little girl next to you. She stumbled coming out of the team celebration. Giggling to yourself, you blew her a kiss.

When the last five minutes hit, you were clutching her mom's hand. Japan scored in the 90th minute and you groaned to yourself. But then you heard cheers and looked up. The offside flag had come up. The VAR check on it seemed to last for hours. When nothing came from it, you jumped to your feet screaming. The girls just needed to hold on through injury time and that star would be theirs.

Four minutes of injury time. Four minutes of both teams fighting like hell for a goal. Norway to solidify their win. Japan to keep themselves in the game. Neither achieving their goal.

The final whistle brought a chill straight through your entire body. They'd won the World Cup. After everything they had been through. Despite everything they had been through. You hugged everyone around you. There were more than a few tears falling in the family section. You wished you could be down there celebrating with them. But this time you had to sit back and let your girl have her moment with her team.

And they did. They excitedly danced around the field, jumping in the piles of confetti and throwing it at each other. You were busy watching Guru dance with Ingrid that you missed Maren point towards you and Caroline run towards the stands. Her dad nudged you when Caroline tried to get your attention unsuccessfully. You looked down at her.

"Pass me the kid!" she yelled.

You helped Maria climb over the wall and down to Caroline. Everyone near them heard the yelled "Mama!" that she let out when Caroline swung her around. A few heads turned to look as Caroline showered the girl's face in kisses. She set her down on the grass and whispered something in her ear. Maria nodded and smiled up at her.

Caroline got closer to the wall again. She hugged her parents and then crooked her finger at you, telling you to come down towards the railing.

"Congratulations!" you said, stopping in front of her.

"Come closer," she said. You leaned down towards her, expecting a hug or something. You were not expecting her to grab the back of your neck and kiss you. Neither of you were shy about your relationship but you also both enjoyed your privacy. The kiss was hard and salty and over before it really began. You hugged her tightly, well as tightly as you could with the wall between you. She barely pulled away from you before she grabbed you by the hips and tossed you over her shoulder. The scream you let out must have been heard around the stadium. She tapped your butt and took off running, telling Maria to keep up.

"Put me down! I'm gonna kill you!" But she didn't put you down. Not until she reached the other girls. You smacked her shoulder as soon as your feet hit the grass. "You could've just asked me to come down."

"Security," Maren said simply, shrugging. The huge grin she gave you indicated that the idea had been hers. You yanked her into a hug.

"Congratulations, vennen." Just as you went to step back, you felt a huge spray hit the center of your back and you ducked hoping to avoid more. Your Barcelona teammate, Ingrid, followed you as you ran. Screaming, you ran behind Caroline, using her as a shield.

"What are you wearing?" Caroline asked, shoving Ingrid away before she could spray the both of you with more water. "Turn around." She pushed your shoulder until you turned. "Babe," she whispered. You felt her run a hand over the letters of her last name.

"I wanted to wear something special for you," you said, turning your head to look at her over your shoulder. She melted into you, wrapping her arms tightly around your waist and burying her head in the curve of your neck.

"You look good with my name on your back," she whispered into your neck.

You felt little arms wrap around your waist and looked down to see Maria holding onto both of you. Picking her up, you moved into Caroline's space so Maria could wrap her short arm around both of your necks.

"I love you," Caroline said, kissing her cheek. "And I love you," she said to you.

"Sorry to break this up, but they're calling us," Ingrid said. "It's time for the awards."

"Go," you said. You put a hand on Caroline's cheek and kissed her softly. "We'll be here waiting when you get back." You watched her walk away, pride swelling inside you. You and Maria moved off to the side to watch the awards ceremony. Maria cheered loudly, clapping her little hands when Caroline lifted the trophy.

You patiently waited for Caroline to enjoy the celebration. A few of your teammates had spotted you and come over to give you and Maria hugs. You were talking with Guru when Maria started wiggling in your arms and trying to get down. You set her down and watched her take off across the field. Worried, you tried to keep an eye on her while Guru continued talking one hundred miles an hour.

Maria ran right to Caroline, who was talking to Ada. Ada smiled down at the girl and ran a hand through her hair. You could see her say a few words to her before turning to leave them alone. Caroline sat down on the grass and pulled Maria into her lap to show off her medal.

You excused yourself from Guru and walked over to them slowly, taking in the scene in front of you. Caroline took her medal off and put it around Maria's neck, bringing an even bigger smile to her face. You watched Maria show the medal off and Caroline take in everything she said with great interest. This was the most important moment her career, and she was choosing to spend it with your daughter. Stopping, you kneeled down next to Caroline's outstretched legs.

"Marry me," you said suddenly, putting your hand on her knee.

"What?" she gasped, looking up at you.

"Marry me," you said again. "I want your name to always be the name on my back."

"Y/N," she whispered. "Are you sure?"

"Idiot. Of course. I want you to officially be Maria's mama." You saw her arm tighten around the child. You leaned into her leg. "So? Just going to leave me hanging here?"

"No. No, I mean, yes!"

You giggled nervously. "Is that a no or a yes?"

"Yes!" She leaned forward to wrap her free arm around you. You locked your arms around her neck, holding her to you. "I love you."

"We love you, superstar."

"Mommy, look!" Maria yelled, not paying attention to anything her parents were saying. "I'm a winner!" She held out the medal around her neck.

You pulled back from Caroline enough to see Maria. "We all won today," you said smiling. Caroline kissed your cheek as you ran a hand through Maria's curls.

"We all won everything today," she said, breathing out a sigh into your neck. "I won everything today."

#Caroline Graham Hansen x reader #Caroline Graham Hansen fic #woso imagine #ficlet #wwc ficlet

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