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kedsandtubesocks · 9 months

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give you something to dream about

joel miller x f!reader

summary: It’s game night at the bar and you stumble upon the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY MDNI, no outbreak AU, Joel has both of his daughters, ‘strangers at a bar and maybe something more’ scenario with eventual husband!Joel, mentions of drinking, spicy making out session, Joel gets a bit handsy, gendered language / reader is addressed as “baby” & “darlin” light football discussions and terminology, lovesick and possessive!Joel

word count: 4k

a/n: this is my love letter to Joel, his love for football and maybe my own love for Texas football as well lol. To have this as my first fic of the new year and for it being for Joel means so much. To come back and write for the Pedro fandom is special and means so much. Big thank you to my babe @ahauntedcowboy for letting me scream my sports girl head off about this, and for @lowlights for giving me guidance when I needed it. And lastly - thank you for reading, you are what truly makes this so incredibly special and wonderful

A mixture of bright neon and low soft white lights bathe the bar in a cozy ambient glow. The music is barely audible, a sort of after thought. Instead commotion and the ramble of sports announcers fills the room.

You manage to squeeze through the sea of onlookers dressed in burnt orange. Maria thankfully stays close to you. Now at the bar counter relief floods you as you lean against it.

“Order me a beer, I’m gonna find our table.” Maria yells over the liveliness swirling around.

You give her a thumbs up and thankfully don’t have to wait for the bartender long.

“Like your shirt!”

The bartender’s voice catches you instantly. Bright and direct you blink towards him. He’s cute, young, maybe a grad student from UT Austin who works here.

You can’t help but glance down at what you’re wearing.

Even under your jacket the shirt is comfortably a bit larger on you. The main focus is the old cartoon type logo of Bevo, the Texas Longhorn's mascot. The burnt orange coloring is faded adding to its weathered look.

A warmth flutters through you from just seeing it.

“It’s vintage, cool as hell.” The bartender continues admiring.

“Thanks. Uh, a friend of mine gave it to me.” Thankfully the bartender nods understandingly and doesn’t press the topic more. Instead he soon asks what you’ll be having.

You order Maria’s beer and a drink for yourself.

“So, you a big Texas fan? Well okay, I mean…you gotta be if you’re here.” The bartender, grabbing a drink glass, starts up another conversation with you as his tone becomes playful.

“A lot of people I know and love are. So by default I am too.” You admit with a sleepy grin.

“Aw,” his face melts. “Now that’s sweet. Well glad to have you here cheering for Texas.”

The bartender now even winks at you. You politely laugh but then, the bar erupts silencing the conversation.

Excited yells come so loud you jump out of your skin. Quickly you turn around to view the many tvs and projectors showing the game.

From what you can tell the Texas defense managed to take down the quarterback. You even watch the replay to see what the fuss is about. It was a good tackle and the play kept the other team’s quarterback from even advancing.

The game has you memorized now. You watch as the burnt orange and white uniforms of the players scramble like chaotic ants now trying to rush after the ball was kicked, no, punted to them.

Your lips twitch. You never would’ve thought you knew this much football terminology or could at least follow the game. Yet here you are.

The bartender clears his throat and embarrassingly fast you turn back around.

Not two but three drinks sit before you on the bar counter.

One happens to be a surprise shot that makes your eyes go wide.

“Uh, so the guy at the end of the bar sent it your way.” The bartender explains lowly, trying to be discreet about it.

Your eyes instead whip up to search for the mystery man. Then your heart sprouts wings when you discover him.

Leaning against the bar rail at the very opposed end of where you are, the man seems like something out of a romance novel’s dream.

Ruggedly handsome, his distinguished aged face and striking nose glow against the mixture of neon and dim lighting. It highlights the grays in his beard and gorgeous dark hair. His chocolate eyes bore into you as if you’re the only one in this bar.

His attention on you alone has your knees weak and you wonder maybe you suddenly turned into jello.

Your mystery man lifts his beer up to you, a silent ‘cheers’ and then takes a sip.

Just watching him take a swig of his beer has you dizzy. So you readily snatch up the shot, toast it back to him and down it.

The alcohol burns, but you’re surprised it’s your favorite liquor of choice. You can’t help but cough up wildly and the bartender snickers at your reaction. It’s been too long since you’ve had a shot and you’re thankful to chase the stinging sensation down with your mixed drink.

“Hey!” Maria’s voice calls out and her bright smile greets you as she slides through the packed crowd.

“Hope you didn’t think I forgot about you.” She laughs warmly. She grabs her beer and slides a tip to the bartender.

But then her eyes notice the empty glass.

“Oh? You took a shot without me?” She teases.

You tell her someone bought it for you and her eyebrows fly up fast in eager surprise.

“Oh?” Even her tone is warmly excited. “You get a good look at who your mystery shot buyer is?”

You turn your attention towards the end of the bar, right where he should be. Except your mystery man has vanished.

A bit of disappointment trickles in.

“I did, but guess he took off.” You tell Maria a bit low.

“Well, his loss then. Come on! Let’s head back to our table-”

“S’cuse me…”

A smooth deep and accented drawl, direct and firm enough cuts through the commotion politely cutting in on Maria.

Just as fast, there’s suddenly a deep warmth behind your back. The presence is broad, warm, and smells of the beautiful hint of a sandalwood cologne.

“If you don’t mind, I think I might steal this pretty gem for myself.” The accent seems thicker now and melts off his voice like sin.

He’s talking about you.

Maria smiles wildly entertained while her eyes flicker between you and your mystery man.

Silently you stare back and with pleading eyes you mentally communicate that yes you want to stay, yes it’s okay for her to head back.

“Alrighty then, see you two later.” She says grabbing her beer and gives you one last amused look before heading back to the table.

Your heart races so loud in your ears you don’t even notice the upset yells at a bad call given by the refs.

“…Howdy…”

The voice purrs, absolutely dances against the noise of the bar and beckons to you, your personal siren’s song.

Turning around the shadow of the mystery man falls over you. He stares down with those obsidian pool eyes as his lips turn into a boyish grin.

“I’m Joel. S’nice to meet you.”

You think about all the songs that sing about Texas beauty and how they all must have actually been speaking of this man.

Joel extends his hand out to you and the simple pure southern gentleman introduction has excitement bubbling in you like you’re a champagne bottle about to pop.

Your lips fight back a disbelieved smile as you introduce yourself and shake his hand.

It’s larger than yours, warm and beautifully callous that speaks of hard work. Joel leans closer to you and you can’t help but slide more towards him as well.

“I like your shirt.” His fingers playfully tugs at the bottom edge of your shirt.

“Thanks,” you take a sip of your drink to gain more courage. “A friend of mine let me wear it.”

Joel laughs. It’s warm, touches his face and sounds like it settles in his chest.

“A friend huh?” His voice grows even more amused.

You simply hum a nod as you take another sip of your drink. Your body hums with so many wonderful emotions like a jenga tower trying to hold onto its form on a moving table.

“That friend of yours a boyfriend?” Joel asks, a dark drawl sticky as molasses and trapping you to him.

You can’t help but shake your head no. The taste of your drink momentarily settles you.

“Pretty thing like you single? Ain’t that a shame.” Joel comments with a low rumble and all the ease you had gathered floats away.

Your eyes flicker back to Joel. But your focus goes between his stunning eyes and his lips. You don’t miss the way his eyes gloss over, become hooded with a hazy desire. How much it intensifies his gorgeous features makes your stomach flutter.

The game must have quieted down or maybe you’re just this focused on this man.

He moves to whisper in your ear.

“So…Wanna find a nice quiet spot to chat? Get to know each other better?” His lips softly graze your ear and an electric current runs up your spine.

“Yeah.” You mutter back now tipsy off Joel’s presence.

The moment you agree, Joel’s hand slips towards your waist and draws you to his side. He quickly slams down plenty of bills on the counter to cover for the drinks and tip. Your poor drink and his are forgotten.

Now Joel shifts into a man focused.

Squaring up his shoulders, he stands taller as he takes the lead. His broad shoulders become a guiding force, keeping you close to him. His hand intertwines with yours while he navigates you among the crowds.

His larger hand suddenly squeezes yours, a reassuring pressure that draws you closer to him. Moving through the tables against the crowds, you arrive at the outdoor patio where the early night air clears your mind.

Joel continues guiding you to a smaller area where the bathrooms are outside by the patio. You stand before the family restroom that holds the sweet title of “cowpokes” on it. Opening the door, Joel leads you inside. You take in the slightly larger yet still small rustic bathroom that glows under the murky amber light.

The door locks behind you and you turn around to find Joel staring you down with hunger brewing in his smokey eyes.

That’s all you can focus on before you get caught up in a dizzying whirlwind.

Hastily Joel rushes forward to pin you against the wall. His body firm and large presses so deliciously against you. Before your eyes can even soak in the close sight of him, he sweeps in and kiss you with a ravenous fierceness that steals your breath.

He quickly consumes you.

Joel faintly tastes of beer and something intoxicatingly uniquely him. While his hand moves to hold your face, his tongue licks into your mouth, diving in, almost trying to get drunk off you. You can’t help but draw him closer to you as much as you can. You want your nails to dig into him the same way he’s burning under your skin and seeping into your core

His hips begin to grind against you with an eased pace and you moan into his mouth. You want more, need more.

“Oh baby.” Joel groans out and sounds like sticky delicious sin.

Suddenly the loudest cheers leak into the bathroom.

So fierce in their excitement it echos into the room and freezes you and Joel immediately.

He sighs against your lips.

“We must‘ve scored.” Joel mutters.

“Are you upset you didn’t see it?” You ask gently and kiss his lips soft as the heat begins to settle.

“Nah. I’m aimin’ to score here myself.” He grins and the line has you laughing. Your face goes to rest against his as you continue to snicker. The prickle of his beard gently scratching against your skin feels wonderful.

“Darlin’ you’re killin’ me. I wanted to sound slick.” Joel sighs again, sounding deflated now.

“You did...sort of.” You smile.

“Forgive me,” He smirks and turns to press another soft kiss against your lips. “Been outta practice for a while.”

“You aren’t too bad, cowboy. You managed to get me in here.” You hum amused while your fingers run against his jaw, through his scruffy wonderful beard.

Joel chuckles and it dances within his chest, resonating through him.

“You’re the only one I want in here.” He mutters.

You and him share a few more soft slow eased kisses that are rushed, almost shy now.

With one last kiss, a deeply melting one that now makes you ache to keep him here, Joel pulls away. You hold yourself back from pouting.

But, you’re now rewarded with the sight of Joel fully before you. The dim amber light paints him like something pulled from a sunset dream, an aged handsome man so sweet with his furrowed concentrated eyes.

You watch Joel pat around his jean pockets and suddenly your eyes go wide.

“Joel Miller if you lost them-”

“Calm down!” He huffs cutting you off while he rapidly digs into his deep jeans pocket. He yanks something out in his grasp.

He smoothly slides closer back to you and holds out his palm where two wedding rings sit waiting.

His and yours.

Your heart melts out of your chest seeing them and your ring finger itches for its missing piece. You grab Joel’s ring, leaving him yours and move to slide his back onto his hand.

In the same manner, Joel slides your wedding band back onto its rightful place. The memory of when you did this at your actual wedding faintly flutters in and settles warm in your heart’s chamber.

Joel draws your hand to his lips and kisses your knuckles.

This man, your husband - you yank him towards you again to kiss him.

It’s a kiss that’s like coming home, of sweetness and cultivated bliss reuniting together again.

“Wanna see that bartender try flirtin’ with ya now with that ring on your finger.” Your grumpy husband grumbles adorably.

You bark a laugh. “Oh please, he was being nice for the tip and you know it.”

“Uh huh.” Joel dryly huffs as he stares at you unamused.

“Hey he was nice. He even liked my shirt.” You reply back.

“My shirt.” Joel clarifies strongly. “That’s my shirt.”

You roll your eyes playful.

He is right though. The shirt is his. Your husband is a superstitious football fan. And ever since you wore his shirt and Texas won, Joel used his beautiful brown eyes as weapons to get you to wear his shirt every game since then.

“Come on, curious to see what the score is.” With one last sweet kiss, Joel leads you back out into the evening air.

Hand in hand with him, you find your way to Tommy and Maria. Both of them brighten up at the sight of you and Joel.

“Hey! Look at that! You’re a married man again!” Tommy cries happily and you laugh. Joel, after sliding your chair in for you, rolls his eyes now while you and Maria snicker to each other.

“Bet it was fun while it lasted.” Maria grins.

“Eh.” You shrug but the truth tugs at your lips amused.

A few nights ago, when you and Joel had come up with this idea of going to the bar without the rings, pretending to not know each other, you worried for a split moment that you’d enjoy the freedom.

You worried you would realize how much you missed and enjoyed the playful banter, the flirting and pull that comes with being single. But instead you simply found your way back to Joel.

The excitement of seeing him, of having that same sensation rush through you like it did when you first met him, was nostalgically addictive for a moment.

However, you instead soak in the comfort of sitting beside Joel because it feels like coming home. While being single for another moment again was fun, you want to find Joel in every lifetime, find him as your husband in every universe.

The bar suddenly breaks into wild excitement. Joel as well cheers so loud. You turn to the game and find Texas intercepted a pass.

Now you go to check your phone and find both your daughters thankfully are doing fine. Sarah even sent you a photo text of her and Ellie at the classmate’s birthday party they’re both at. There’s a lightness that settles into your bones seeing them and having their father, your husband, beside you.

Joel and Tommy, as if they’re ESPN announcers in deep analysis, dive back into how Texas needs to sharpen up their offensive line. It’s adorable. It makes you fall in love even more with him.

Maria goes to ask Tommy something about the game and Joel leans towards you.

“You happy to be married again?” His voice drops soft and low. You catch the hint of true curiosity and almost hesitation residing under his tone.

“Of course. It’s my luckiest day all over again.” You truthfully tell him with a warm grin.

“Yeah?” He mutters tenderly as his eyes flicker to your lips again. “Make sure you share some of that luck with the team alright?”

You playfully nudge his arm and Joel smirks. You love him like this, light and teasing.

Joel drops a kiss to the side of your head.

“Don’t worry baby, this is my lucky day too. Goin’ home with the most gorgeous person here and I’m married to her.”

You could say the same thing. You’re leaving with the most handsome man and knowing you’re married to him? You feel honored, proud, and grateful.

Even when he starts yelling at the quarterback as if the poor guy can hear him.

“I could throw a better pass than that!” He argues upset.

You’re not as big of a fan as Joel, but Texas holds a place in your heart forever. It intertwined you and him in its own unique way.

Back when you were dating Joel patiently explained the game, so gently spoke to you without any judgment when you asked questions you were sure would make any other seasoned fan mock you or get annoyed. But not your Joel.

The first big moment you met Ellie and Sarah it was over at his place during a Texas game.

You experienced how wildly invested Ellie got, just like Joel, and how amused Sarah got seeing her dad and sister scream at the tv. From that point - all the days, the games, laughs and moments cultivated into a path that has led you to this moment, to this bar.

And now, here you are.

You love Joel’s love for the game, for the sport. You love how it’s connected you to him.

“Honey, you okay?” The voice of your husband pulls you from your thoughts, like a call home.

You turn to find Joel intently looking at you, your sweetheart provider. You can’t help but grin and nod.

“Yup, just thinking about the handsome stranger I met earlier. Hope he asks for my number.” You tell him.

Joel breaks into a chuckle that touches his earth eyes.

“Between you and me, he’d be a fool if he didn’t.” His hand now slides to yours, his thumb even begins to twist and fiddle with your wedding ring, a sweet habit of his.

You snort amused at how effortlessly he can play along with you.

Before you can tease him again or even wander back into your thoughts, the crowd roars to life with shouts. All eyes including yours snap to the game.

Texas just intercepted the ball and the play breathes life into the bar, into your husband who claps loud and proud.

It’s a great energy to see the end of the second quarter and the start of the halftime.

Suddenly, Joel’s hand begins softly trailing against your thigh. Warm and almost eased, the slow movement ignites a blooming desire in your chest.

Joel easily laughs with Tommy about the game. His eyes stay on his brother. Yet Joel’s hand slides now confidently deeper into the inside of your thigh. Your throat tightens and heat now begins to soak between your thighs, almost daring him to touch you.

Then a collection of happy cheers burst in the bar and steals all the attention.

All the tables nearby including yours turn to find a group of ladies. One of them currently grabs the cowboy hat off a taller man who grins so warmly down at her. She laughs loudly after doing what had to have been a wild shot.

The guy orders her, and her friends, another round causing them to squeal loud and excited again. Maria leans back to talk to Tommy and so you too lean closer to your own husband.

“Maybe I should pretend to be single again.” You tell Joel. “To see if I’ll get free shots and attention like that.”

Not that you’d want any of that. You just enjoy teasing your sweet grumpy husband from time to time.

“Nope.” Joel says with an unwavering sharpness. “You ain’t going anywhere without that ring Mrs. Miller.”

His words are rather light, almost playful, but you catch the underlying possessive simmering. It ignites an even stronger warmth beneath your skin.

“And who says you don’t get free shots? I’ll buy you as many as ya want.” Joel adds and his clipped almost ruffled voice has you laughing.

But as you settle, your thoughts wander. The smell of Joel so close, the mixture of his faint cologne and the detergent you use to wash his clothes, brings back the sensation of having that smell surround you when you were in the restroom with him.

It makes you ache.

Your hand now softly wanders to rub his warm broad chest. A low rumble comes from him, an awareness of your presence as you drape against him now. Maria and Tommy thankfully have begun to make fast friends with the couple sitting beside your table.

Your face leans to rest against Joel’s and the slick honey like desire you felt earlier creeps over you once more. It urges you to be bold.

“Wanna go mess around before halftime is over?” You offer soft and low, only for his ears.

Joel peers over to you, his eyes now smoldering coals.

“You wanna?” He mutters back.

Your answer comes as a soft kiss you place against his cheek. However, your hand now begins to slide up his thigh just like he did to you earlier.

Joel loudly clears his throat and sits up fast which untangles you from him. Immediately he yanks out his wallet to slam his card on the table.

Tommy and Maria now blink back at the sudden action.

“Order anything y'all want. We gotta grab somethin’ from the truck.” Joel lies effortlessly.

But Maria knows as she grins knowingly while embarrassment instead rises in you.

And apparently her husband isn’t as easily fooled either.

“Yeah yeah! Get outta here ya horn dogs!”

Joel barks a sharp ‘hey!’ at his younger brother’s crudeness while you can only laugh against him. Tommy simply makes obnoxious kissy faces while Maria snickers besides him. Unable to endure anymore teasing Joel playfully calls Tommy a piece of shit and with that you wave a quick and thankful to Tommy and Maria.

Joel once again leads the way to the entrance.

The two of you now stay stuck together closer than earlier. An almost giddy frenzy now keeps you both hyper aware of the other. His hands keep you so firmly close to him.

The giddiness you had earlier while pretending to be single with Joel is nothing compared to this. This feeling swirling in you comes from knowing you get to sneak away with your husband. It has you floating, only tied to this world by Joel keeping you steady and protected.

Around you, small chatter about the game hangs in the air.

Texas might not win. But as you slide closer to Joel, a unique shade of triumph washes over you.

Your good man, your wonderful husband.

He is your victory and champion.

Your victory lap and your welcome home party all at once.

And when he kisses you wildly against the side of his truck…you think he might also be your sneaky devilish opponent as his hand already starts to slip under your, no his shirt.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#I blame my heartbreak over Texas and Pedro losing but it’s okay cause I got inspired LOL #thank you to anyone who reads this I love you #Joel 🤎#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader

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wearebarca · 5 months

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1. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character

Part 1 part 2 part 3

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

word count: 3,5K

18 + (eventually)

A/N: Hello, Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy.

Her fingers were hovering over the multitudes of cameras lined up in the bookcase of her small living room. The balcony doors were opened and the cool night air filtered in the little apartment, along with the chants and cheers of the sea of supporters passing in the streets below. Nights like these had quickly become her favourite since moving to the heart of Barcelona. She would usually sit on the balcony and watch as the supporters would celebrate their club's win, filling the night air with happiness and excitement but tonight was slightly different though. An important match was currently being disputed at the Johan Cruyff Estadi, one that all the Barcelona Femini fans were looking forward to all year. El Classico was always an electric night and Rosalie had decided to experience this night out in the streets, instead of the comfort of her balcony chair.

Once out in the streets, She was immediately hit by a wave of excitement. She was instantly swept in a sea of chanting people, all wearing jerseys and scarves with their team's logo. The crowd was so dense that all you could see were flashes of red and blue making the task of focusing on one subject a difficult one. She finally managed to exit the crowd and find a bench near a bus stop, high enough to have a clear view of the scene unfolding in front of her. This new vantage point allowed you to take numerous portraits of fans, capturing groups of friends in the middle of drunken laughs and barça chants. She instantly knew when the final whistle was blown and Barcelona had won the match. Excited screams could be heard all around and the ground was slightly shaking from the people jumping around in an ecstatic frenzy. Rosalie lowered her camera and took a moment to soak it all in. These were the moments that reminded her of why she had chosen sports photography as her career. This feeling of unity between fans, the shared excitement and hope as well as the solidarity displayed among the supporters even during darker times. Sports was something that brought people together, made them temporarily forget about their lives. She considered herself lucky to have a job that allowed her to capture such moments.

Once back in the safety of her apartment, she plugged her camera to her computer and while the shots she took were transferring into her laptop. She pulled out the wine bottle that was already opened and sat on her couch. Next to her was a pile of clothes that consisted of her vintage oversized brown leather jacket, a tight black t-shirt and dark brown pleated pants. She had specifically picked out this outfit for her first day in her new job. Her camera bag sat next to the pile, only her laptop missing. Everything was ready, perfectly organized, almost obsessively. The stress of this new beginning was keeping her up which led the young woman to work on the shots she had taken during the night until she fell asleep in her living room.

The drive to the training stadium wasn’t too long. She had left incredibly early to avoid traffic and ended up parking her car at the stadium and walking around the block. It wasn’t long until she stumbled upon a small cafe, not too far from the training center. The place looked cosy and inviting with all the plants and the picture frames. Upon a closer look, she noticed that they were all pictures of what she guest was regulars enjoying their coffees. The thought of so much history hanging on these walls made the French-Canadian smile as she went to stand in line to order.

Her Spanish was rather shaky which made the barista and the woman behind her chuckle lightly. But nonetheless she managed to order and pay without going completely red from embarrassment.

“Americano para Rosalie” The french name sounds so foreign when spoken in the language and Rosalie almost felt bad for the barista and made a note to herself to use her spanish nickname when ordering in the future.

She picked up her coffee and as she was turning around to exit the small shop, her body collided with a solid one, making her spill half of her own coffee on herself.

“oh Déu, ho sento, estàs bé?”

A tattooed had grabbed her elbow in an attempt to stabilize her, but the damage was done. The cup that was previously secured in her hand had spilled more than half of its content on her shirt and bag. the tattooed woman turn to her partner “ Ingrid can you grab napkins please”

She immediately took the napkins that were handed to her and started to dab at her bag in an attempt to prevent the liquid from seeping in and mess with her equipment. Busy trying to dry the coffee that had fallen on her work bag, Rosalie had failed to notice who exactly had bumped into her, but the names mentioned during her short encounter were oddly familiar. “ Are you ok? Did any get in your bag?” A tall dark haired woman was standing right in front of you with a worried smile and Rosalie could not believe her luck. She simply shook her head and smiled at the Norwegian while throwing the napkins away.

“ I’m Ingrid, we’re very sorry about this, Maria’s a little clumsy.” She laughed at her own statement, knowing very well that “ a little” was a bit of an understatement.

“ It’s ok, I can’t say that I was really looking where I was going” Rosalie said as she followed Ingrid outside the cafe to a small table near the entrance. The Spanish woman exited the shop shortly after them with a tray with four cups of coffee.

“ Asked the barista for your order, here you go.” The Spanish woman said with an apologetic smile on her lips.

“ Thank you, you didn’t have to do that”

“ It was only fair since this one can’t be bothered to be aware of the world around her” she said, giving a playful glare to her partner.

“ I’m Mapi, .” .

“Oh I know who you are,” she said with a smile on her face. She wasn’t new to the football world, having played all the way to her college years. After graduation, she had gotten herself a job as an assistant photographer in the NWSL in America. She had travelled all around the United-States and became one of the best known sports photographers. Three years into the job, Rosalie received a call that would change her career forever.

Arsenal W.F.C was desperately looking to revamp its image and put the club on the map. Management had come across some of Rosalie’s dynamic shots and had contacted her to offer her a spot in the new media team that would follow the girls around during the season. Seeing this as the opportunity of a lifetime, she moved across the ocean. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and she absolutely loved it. She had built her strongest friendships over there, had fallen even more in love with job and football, but also experienced her most gut wrenching heartbreak. After her breakup, she had stayed with the team to finish her contract and then packed her flat without knowing what she would do next. She knew that going back toArsenal would not be a good idea since she would have to see the face of the woman that had broken her trust everyday, so she gave her notice and left a month to go hiking in Andalucia. It would be during this trip that she would get the call from FC Barcelona Femini. She would accept on the spot and after a quick apartment search she would have all her belongings shipped to her new address and fly straight to Barcelona, without anyone knowing about her new beginning.

“ Sorry that came out a little strong, I’m Rosalie Marineau, Barça’s new photographer.” She shook both their hands and started the few blocks walk towards the training facility.

“ Oh it is a pleasure to meet you, we were wondering when the new photographer would start. We were all excited after seeing some of your work with Arsenal, very impressive.”

“Thank you so much but I should be the one who’s excited, it truly is an honour to work with such a strong and dedicated team Like Barça, I really can’t wait to start.” the woman said with a beaming smile. The walk back to the stadium was filled with conversation about the upcoming season, Rosalie's career and even strayed to her college football career. As the group reached the entrance of the training grounds, a voice made itself heard in the hallway.

“ustedes chicas llegan tarde” A tall blond was leaning against the wall right next to the locker room door. She was wearing the gray half zip training shirt with matching shorts and her hair loose, fanning over her shoulders. Her arms were crossed, her boots in one hand and a stern expression was plastered on her face. In her mind, there was no way that this woman was not the captain of this team and indeed, a few moments later, Rosalie was standing face to face with Alexia Putellas.

“ Quince minutos antes no significa tarde, Ale” The sigh that left the Catalonian’s lips was long and the look that came with the sound would make anyone shrink right on the spot. She propped herself up and with even sparing a glance in the direction of the photographer, she turned around and entered the locker room.

“Maria, you might want to follow her, you don’t want her getting worse.” Ingrid said, pushing her girlfriend towards the same door the blond had previously disappeared in. The Spanish woman let out a sigh of her own before also disappearing into the room. “ Come with me, I’ll show you to the management's office.”

As Rosalie had predicted, her morning was all about paperwork officializing her new position as the head of the photography department. Ingrid ended up staying the whole time and even offered to show her to her new office. The office was located on the second floor of the building, which seemed a lot calmer than the lower level. Upon entering the office, Rosalie was surprised by how spacious the place was. The space was divided into two sections. The first had all the proper equipment at her disposal to hold photoshoots. Everything was brand new and of the highest quality, with some of the equipment still wrapped in their boxes. The second was closest to the windows, which gave a perfect view of the pitch, and was half hidden behind screens to give the feeling of being in a completely different room. A desk with two large screens and a laptop launchpad, a comfortable looking chair and a small sofa occupied the space.

A big smile was playing on Rosalie’s lips as she took in the space she would now work in. “ I hope you will feel right at home here.” Jonatan Giràldez said as he came to stand beside the photographer. “ You can set up if you’d like, I’ll send someone to collect you so you can meet the team before lunch.” He said, once again extending his hand for her to shake. “ Welcome to the family, Senorita Marineau.”

After a quick hug from Ingrid and a promise to talk more later, Rosalie pulled out her laptop and took a seat at her new desk. Looking out at the pitch she found the two women she was hoping to see. During her contract with Arsenal, she was asked to follow some of the players to the Lionesses camp to capture their journey. That’s where she had met her closest friends. When she met Keira Walsh, it was like something in the universe clicked. The rest of the England squad used to joke that the two of them were the same person but in different fonts, and they might as well have been right. The two women had the same awkward sense of humour and were able to guest what the other needed or wanted with having to express anything.

Upon meeting the younger French-Canadian woman, Lucy Bronze had immediately felt a strong feeling of protectiveness. This feeling grew even more when one night the Canadian woman had shared with their small friend group that she wasn’t close to her family. Maybe it was because she knew that the girl had nobody to count on, in England or even in her home country, but the woman started to treat the younger brunette like she was part of her family. She was like a big sister to Rosalie and loved the girl fiercely. The couple had become Rosalie’s family during her years in London, but the distance made it hard for them to see each other outside of camps. Still the girls kept in touch regularly and had facetime movie nights on a weekly basis. They were in fact the first ones Rosalie had told about her move, and she would be lying if one of the big reasons why she accepted so fast was because she knew her two best friends were playing for this team.

Setting up her stuff wasn’t long. She had brought a few picture frames, mainly pictures of her, Lucy and Keira, of her, Beth, Viv, Leah and Lia, her closest Arsenal friends, that she put on her desk and plugged her camera and laptop to the screens. She still had about an hour and a half before lunch so she decided to finish editing the pictures from the night before.

She knew someone was making their way towards her office just by the sound of football boots on the hard floors. Still, too engrossed in her work, Rosalie did not lift her head until a very familiar voice spoke.

“You know, if you missed us this much, you could’ve called instead of stalking us all the way here.” She could recognize that strong northern accent anywhere. Leaning against her door frame, in the same training kit that Alexia was wearing, Lucy was smiling brightly at her friend. The smile on Rosalie’s face lit up the whole room and warmed up the English woman’s heart. It had been a while since she had seen her friend with a genuine smile on her face. She almost tumbled over trying to catch the smaller woman who had jumped in her arms.

“Shouldn’t you be training?” A quick look behind her showed the pitch empty.

“Everyone is in the gym, we figured we’d come get you to meet everyone now.” She said dragging the girl out of her office.

“Wait a minute,” she made a beeline to her office to grab the usb key containing the picture she wanted to give the media team and followed the woman out in the corridor.

“How are you settling here? You know, we feel bad about not helping you move.” Rosalie understood perfectly well why Keira and Lucy weren’t able to come give her a hand. With the away games, training and media duty, the women were swarmed and didn’t get a minute to themselves. Still, the lack of extra pairs of arms and someone to push her meant that a lot of boxes remained untouched.

“Don’t worry, I’m good.” She said with a small smile. By the look the older woman was giving her, Rosalie knew that her little lie didn’t go through. But Lucy chose to drop the subject knowing that pestering her friend was not the way to go in this situation.

“I'll show you around the training center but first, everyone is in the gym so we can start there.” She said walking ahead of the brunette. “ The trainers wanted you to know that you have access to it whenever you want and if you'd like they can help you with your training.”

“ What do you mean?” The French-Canadian was confused as she caught up with the taller woman.

“ Well… when the news of your arrival came out, people started to ask questions. They found out who you were through management and they apparently told the girls to talk to us because we knew you.” Lucy said in an apologetic tone. She knew that even though her friend was well known in her field, she liked to keep her life private. “ We didn’t say much, don't worry, but we have some grade A stalkers in this team.”

“ Oh mon dieu ,what did they find?” The brunette said, hiding her face behind her hands. She didn’t have anything crazy on her social media, but she did have a couple pictures from her college football career that looked a little weird along with some pictures of her races, triathlons and marathons that were surely not her best angles.

“ Everything darling,” Lucy said laughing, “ They especially loved the beach pictures and the triathlon ones, you made quite the impression, Frenchy.”

The girl could not be more mortified. Those pictures were not bad. In fact, she was quite proud of them, but it was the fact that the whole team had seen her in her bikini or dying during a race before actually meeting her. She simply wasn’t a fan of the fact that they knew so much already. But then, it was only fair, she thought, since their whole lives were plastered in tabloïds and discussed in social media all the time. The difference was that the photographer had never been in their position.

Lucy chose this exact moment to open the door leading to the gym and Rosalie’s ears were instantly flooded with rapid spanish banter and that freshly cut grass smell that she loved. The room was extremely bright due to the fact that it had direct access to the pitch, which meant that a slight breeze from the outside kept the gym cool and fresh. Almost every station was occupied by players, sometimes alone, but mostly in pairs. The first one to notice their arrival was none other than Mapi, who was helping a certain captain keeping her balance on a platform. She waved excitedly which caused the blond to lose balance and almost fall to her face. The look she sent the Zaragozian would have scared anyone in their right mind. When she realized that her look didn’t get the reaction it deserved she turned her gaze to the source of her training partner’s distraction, only to lock eyes with the photographer.

The contact didn’t not last long since the commotion had caught everyone’s attention. They quickly formed a half circle around the girl, seemingly waiting for her to say a few words.

“ hola,” Rosalie wasn’t a shy person but she was definitely intimidated by the women in front of her. A smile from the couple that she had met in the morning was the little push she needed to continue. “ My name is Rosalie Marineau and I am Barça’s new head photographer. I am very excited to work with all of you. " she said smiling "Don’t worry, I’ll always get your best angle.”

Smiles filled the room and everyone stepped forward to introduce themselves. The first to reach the woman was Mariona who shook her hand and welcomed her. Next were Patri and Pina who both looked like over excited children. They both gave the girl hugs and started to ask different questions only to be pulled away by Irene and Aitana. The taller woman had a warm smile and a very calm demeanor that instantly made Rosalie feel at ease with her. The smaller woman pulled her in a hug and asked her about her move and how she was settling in this new city.

A voice she knew all too well interrupted the conversation and arms wrapped around the photographer from behind. As soon as she smelled the familiar perfume, the Canadian spun around and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “ Hello Frenchy''

Keira didn’t let go of the woman and gave an apologetic smile to the two Spanish players who smiled and left, understanding that this was a private reunion. “ I had to fight Lucy to go get you but the old hag still has some spunk in her.”

The comment made Rosalie laugh and pull away without letting go completely of her friend. At this moment, Lucy arrived next to the blond and gave her a small shove. “ I heard that.”

A few other players came to introduce themselves but Keira and Lucy stayed by the brunette’s side. When the last of the girls left, the photographer turned to her friends only to see them looking over her shoulders.

“ Hola, I don’t think we have been introduced”

The photographer turned around swiftly only to freeze on the spot at the woman before her. Words seemed to escape her as her lips parted but no words came out. Alexia Putellas was a woman with a commanding presence and piercing eyes. She towered over the photographer by a few inches and even with a polite smile on her face, she held herself with a confidence that would make anyone shrink beside her. A sharp elbow in her ribs shook up the girl and prompted her to finally speak.

“ Oui, Bonjour mademoiselle,”

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