#catalan numbers

[ibemused]

Solutions to 3rd, 4th, (and even 5th) degree polynomials created using truncation of (algebraic) power series to derive approximate solutions. By Professor Norman Wildberger from University of New South Wales, who "rejects" irrational (e.g., pi, e, i), and radical (e.g., roots) numbers

The new array of numbers: "Geodes" "extend these Catalan numbers from a one-dimensional to multi-dimensional array based on the number of ways a polygon can be divided using non-intersecting lines"

BTW, the nth Catalan number (Cn) represents the number of ways to triangulate a polygon with n+2 sides. Catalan numbers count recursive objects

[useless-catalanfacts]

Just found out there's a rugby team in France named Catalans Dragons.. 😳

It's the rugby team from Perpinyà, the capital city of Northern Catalonia. The team's colours are the colour of the Catalan flag and the team's anthem is Els segadors, the anthem of Catalonia.

Northern Catalonia has suffered a very strong ethnocide at the hands of France. The French public school system, media, government, etc has been discriminating them and repressing them for over a century in a very psychological way as well as beating children for speaking Catalan. This results in a population that has to fight with extreme amounts of self-hatred, and where many families have stopped passing down Catalan to their children because they are so ashamed of it, that they think their children will have a better future if they're not tainted by this "inferior" language. In this context, Dragons Catalans and USAP are a place to express Catalanity and come together as a community (like Barça was for Southern Catalans during the Franco dictatorship).

[nadhie]

teaching myself basic sign language for my retail job wasn't on my 2025 bingo cart but I'm glad I'm here ngl

[factoidfactory]

Random Fact #6,552

How different Romance languages say ninety eight when translated back to English:

Portuguese: Ninety and eight

Galician: Ninety and eight

Romanian: Ninety and eight

Spanish/Castilian: Ninety and eight

Catalan: Ninety-eight

Corsican: Ninety eight

Italian: Ninetyeight

French: Forty-twenty-ten-eight

[spacespheal]

Funny how my mom was surprised I read 5 manga volumes in one sitting when she has read whole books in a day or two, and I'm talking thick ass books. Aside from the fact that everybody in our family reads awfully fast and has a tendency to binge books

[silver-grasp]

Tricky to say whether I know more Mandarin or more Catalan. I have much higher Catalan comprehension, but probably better ability to construct a sentence in Mandarin bc if I try to speak Catalan it kind of tends to come out as Spanish. Hard to say which counts as L3 vs L4

[aroaceofthesea]

I had the great idea today to put the numbers 16 and 17 in the examples today in a programming class in spanish 💀💀💀

[what-even-is-thiss]

Free or Cheap General Language Resources Because idk I Just Wanna Help

All resources either have a free tier or have a low ($10 USD/month or less) subscription fee or a one time purchase option below $100 USD. All prices I give are in USD because I live in the US and this list was already hard to put together okay I'm not also doing conversions

Find language specific lists here.

I have given the links in text format because tumblr has a link limit. Copy and paste into your browser to look at them.

These are generalized. Not for your specific language.

LinQ, a website for reading: https://www.lingq.com/en/

You can click on words you don't know and get a definition and save a flashcard. They provide readings for all levels from beginner to advanced and you can upload your own texts and podcast or video transcripts and there's stuff uploaded by other users to browse through. The website also has some texts with audio included. You can also purchase books through the website. This is all included in the free tier. The paid tier allows you to save an unlimited number of flashcards and includes some forum and tutoring options. It's either $15 a month or $120 for a full year.

Languages available in full: Arabic, Simplified Chinese, Dutch, English, Esperanto, Finnish, French, German, Greek, Hebrew, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Latin, Norwegian, Polish, Portuguese, Romanian, Russian, Slovak, Spanish, Swedish, Ukrainian

Languages partially supported or with incomplete beginner courses: Afrikaans, Armenian, Belarusian, Bulgarian, Cantonese, Catalan, Traditional Chinese, Croatian, Czech, Danish, Georgian, Gujarati, Hindi, Hungarian, Icelandic, Indonesian, Irish, Khmer, Macedonian, Malay, Persian, Punjabi, Serbian, Slovenian, Swahili, Tagalog, Turkish, Vietnamese

Migaku, a web extension and app: https://migaku.com/

Paid service at $10 a month. It has beginner courses and allows for dual language subtitles on things like netflix or youtube. It also allows users to save flashcards from subtitles or articles and sync flashcards between devices

Supported languages: Cantonese, Mandarin, English, French, German, Japanese, Korean, Portuguese, Spanish, Vietnamese

Storylearning Books: https://storylearning.com/books

These are short story, dialogue, or history books by Olly Richards written for beginner to intermediate learners that in my experience at least are written to not be boring for adults. Each chapter of a book includes a key vocabulary list and comprehension questions. Storylearning also has online courses available but they're too expensive for what you get in my opinion. The books are way cheaper, though depending on the language you may have more or less books to buy. The books are usually in the $15-$20 range new but they're often available at used bookstores both online and irl for much cheaper.

Books available in: Spanish, French, Italian, Russian, Arabic (MSA), Brazillian Portuguese, Danish, Dutch, Icelandic, Korean, Norwegian, Swedish, Turkish, Irish

Mango Languages, a pretty standard language app: https://mangolanguages.com/

This is actually a pretty pricey one at like $20 a month but the reason I bring it up is that a lot of people can get it free through their local library and it has a large selection of languages.

Languages supported: Armenian, Azerbaijani, Egyptian Arabic, Iraqi Arabic, Levantine Arabic, Modern Standard Arabic (MSA), Bengali, Cantonese, chaldean Aramaic. Cherokee, Mandarin, Croatian, Czech, Danish, Dari, Dutch, Dzongkha, English, Tagalog, Finnish, French (European and Canadian), German, Greek (modern, ancient, and kione), Hatian Creole, Hawaiian, Hebrew (modern and biblical), Hindi, Hungarian, Icelandic, Igbo, Indonesian, Irish, Italian, Japanese, Javanese, Kazakh, Korean, Latin, Malay, Malayalam, Norwegian, Farsi, Polish, Potawatomi, Punjabi, Romanian, Russian, Scottish Gaelic, Serbian, Shanghainese, Slovak, Spanish (castillian and latin american), Swahili, Swedish, Tamil, Telugu, Thai, Turkish, Tuvan, Ukrainian, Urdu, Uzbek, Vietnamese, Yiddish

Comprehensible Input Wiki, a website for finding language specific comprehensible input resources: https://comprehensibleinputwiki.org/wiki/Main_Page

Comprehensible input is input in a language you understand the message of, not necessarily input you understand every word of. It's good for you to get a lot of it from day one. This website gathers resources like podcasts, kid's shows, youtube channels, books, etc. that are perfect for this sort of thing.

Languages currently on the website as I am writing this: American Sign Language, Arabic (MSA), Armenian, Basque, Biblical Greek, Biblical Hebrew, Bulgarian, Cantonese, Catalan, Chinese, Czech, Danish, Dutch, English, Esperanto, Estonian, Finnish, French, German, Greek, Haitian creole, Hakka, Hebrew, Hindi, Hungarian, Indonesian, Italian, Irish, Japanese, Korean, Latin, Lithuanian, Norwegian, Occitan, Polish, Portuguese, Russian, Romanian, Sanskrit, Sardinian, Serbo-Croatian, Sicilian, Slovak, Spanish, Swahili, Swedish, Tagalog, Thai, Toki Pona, Tunisian Arabic, Turkish, Ukranian, Vietnamese, Welsh, Yoruba, Zulu

Drops, a vocab app: https://languagedrops.com/

Drops teaches vocab through pictures and matching and spelling games, though you can also customize your settings to show translations and different alphabets or not. The free tier has ads and a daily time limit. The lifetime subscription is technically against my personal rule for this post because it's $160 but it often goes on sale for half off or $80. There's also a monthly or yearly payment option. At the paid tier you can practice for an unlimited time without ads and choose which types of vocabulary words you want to learn.

Supported Languages: Ainu, English (American and British), Arabic (MSA), Bosnian, Portuguese (Brazilian and European), Cantonese, Spanish, (Castilian and Mexican), Catalan, Croatian, Danish, Dutch, Esperanto, Estonian, Finnish, French, Galacian, German, Greek, Hawaiian, Hebrew, Hindi, Hungarian, Icelandic, Igbo, Indonesian, Irish, Italian, Japanese, Korean, Mandarin, Maori, Norwegian, Persian, Polish, Romanian, Russian, Samoan, Sanskrit for yoga, Serbian, Swahili, Swedish, Tagalog, Thai, Turkish, Ukrainian, Vietnamese, Yoruba

Anki, a general flashcard app: https://apps.ankiweb.net/

You can make your own flashcards on Anki or download flashcard packs that other users have made. It also allows for importing of audio and visual aids. It has a spaced repetition system that a lot of people swear by. Some companies like Refold also sell premade flashcard packs specifically for Anki. Free on desktop, I believe about a $20 one time purchase on iOS.

Muzzy In GondoLand (1986): https://archive.org/details/muzzy-in-gondoland-level-i-1986

No, really! The old Muzzy movies from the 80s made to teach kids foreign languages are fairly easy to find for free on archive.org or on youtube. The new Muzzy with workbooks and an app and whatnot requires a paid subscription to the BBC but the older ones are much easier to find. They're available in English, Spanish, French, Italian, German, Chinese, Korean, Esperanto, and Welsh.

Easy Languages, a connected group of Youtube channels: https://www.easy-languages.org/

Easy Language channels are channels where people interview speakers of the language on the street about everyday topics like dating, tourism, and shopping for example. They have dual language subtitles in their videos in the target language and English. Many of them also have series about useful phrases for beginners and intermediate podcasts. Most also have bonus worksheets and other learning materials on their patreons but the free content available is already a lot.

Current active channels: Arabic, Catalan, Czech, Dutch, English, French, German, Greek, Italian, Polish, Portuguese, Russian, Spanish, Turkish

wordreference.com

A website that lets you look up words in another language. It's better than google translate. It has pronunciation in multiple dialects and in depth explanations that some other websites don't have.

Supported Languages: Spanish, French, Italian, Portuguese, German, Dutch, Swedish, Icelandic, Russian, Polish, Romanian, Czech, Greek, Turkish, Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Arabic

edX, a website for taking college courses, often for free: https://www.edx.org/learn/language

I can't tell you precisely what's available because it changes year to year but they usually offer a wide variety of courses. You can also often get real college credit through these if that's something you're interested in. Programming languages are often mixed in with spoken or signed languages though so you may have to do some digging through the lists to fins what you want.

[no-passaran]

Spain lied about not selling weapons to Israel.

Even after October 7th, Spain has sold more than 1 million € of weapons to Israel. Norway and Finland make it possible.

In January, Spain made headlines word-wide when the government's Minister of Exteriors, José Manuel Albares (PSOE), claimed in Congress and later again in a radio interview that Spain had stopped selling weapons to Israel ever since October 7th. Israel's intensification of violence in Gaza following October 7th meant that, on top of decades of apartheid and ethnic cleansing, between October 7th and January 23rd Israel had already killed 28,000 people and forced 2 million out of their home. In this context, many people were demanding their governments stop arming and funding the genocide of the Palestinian people, and here on Tumblr and other social media sites like Twitter I think we all saw the many posts praising the Spanish government for this.

Well, it turns out it was a lie.

According to Albares, "Since October 7th there are no more weapons exportations [from Spain] to Israel". But in November alone, Spain exported weapons to Israel for 987,000€, as was published on the Spanish Government's official website dedicated to exterior commerce (Comex). A researcher from Centre Delàs (an independent centre for peace studies) found it and published it, and it has also been verified by newspapers such as elDiario.es.

This 987,000€ worth of weapons in November was not the only ammunition that Spain has sent to Israel in 2023. In 2023, Spain exported a total of 1.48 million € in war material to Israel.

All of the weapons sent in November come from the factory of Nammo Palencia (Castilla y León), a corporation that is 50% property of the Government of Norway and 50% owned by a public Finnish business. However, even if the owners are foreigners, the ammunition was sent from Spain and thus it had to be authorized by the an organism of the Spanish Government named Junta Interministerial de Defensa y Doble Uso, whose deliberations on whether a weapons exportation is accepted or denied are kept secret. The only cases where they have denied exporting weapons to Israel have been when they thought that Israel would re-sell these weapons to the Philippines.

Spain has had a close relation with Israel for years. As published by the Spanish Government, Spain has sold 20 million € of weapons to Israel between 2012 and 2022. Spain also buys weapons and military software from Israel (for example, the Spanish Intelligence Service has been using the Israeli software Pegasus to illegally spy on Catalan activists, journalists, politicians and civil society members and their relatives to attack the Catalan independence movement), and Spain has continued buying from Israel and allocating defense contracts to Israel even after the October 7th attacks. It is very difficult to track the concessions of public contracts such as buying weapons, but some contracts have been known. For example, on November 24th 2023, Spain bought 287.5 million € of missiles from Israel. This is not unusual: between 2011 and 2021, it is publicly known that Spain bought war material from Israel for at least 268 million €, but experts say that the real number could be two or three times as much.

Spain has also continued allocating concessions to Israel. For example, on December 15th 2023 Spain allocated a contract worth over 576 million € to Israel for a rocket launcher programme. On November 22nd, Spain allocated another another Israeli company to provide missiles for 237 million € at the same time as the Spanish army bought Israeli inhibitors for 1.4 million €. The very next day, November 23rd, Spain signed another military allocation to Israel for 82,600€. The following week, Spain signed yet another allocation with a different Israeli military corporation for 3.7 million €.

Spain also allows Israeli weapon manufacturing companies to produce weapons through their branches located in Spain. This way, Israeli weapons make their way to markets with which Israel doesn't have diplomatic ties but Spain does, like Saudi Arabia. And since Spain is a member of NATO, Israeli weapons produced in Spain are approved according to NATO standards and access it easily. In the same way, these Israeli weapons manufacturers also access European Union defense funds through their branches in Spain. (source).

As I said, I saw a lot of positive posts around when Albares said Spain was going to embargo, but I haven't seen any post about how they didn't do it. I also (personally) haven't seen anything on international media, and barely anything on Spanish media, which is already busy with the PSOE covid material corruption scandal. So I share this in the hope of helping put pressure on Spain to cut all ties with Israel immediately.

SHAME ON EVERYONE WHO GIVES ISRAEL THE MATERIAL AND MONEY THAT WILL BE USED TO MASSACRE THE PALESTINIAN PEOPLE. SHAME ON SPAIN, NORWAY, AND FINLAND.

[onsomenewsht]

Silencio en la biblioteca, los ángeles también pecan

About when people slide in Alexia's DMs, she forgets about it, and you find it way too funny

》 Alexia Putellas x Reader

》 words count: 2k

》 to slide into someone DMs [Internet slang]: to confidently send a direct message to someone via social media, mostly with romantic or sexual intentions

“Most famous person on your phone?”

Alexia’s cheeks redden slightly under the studio’s lights and the playful tone of the host’s voice.

It’s predictable enough, part of the game of rapid-fire questions. It’s innocent enough, intended to tease the interview on social media later on. It’s not bad, but she is.

She thinks of you immediately, her heart skipping a beat.

It’s not strange for her, you crossing her mind unprompted at the most inappropriate times. But Alexia can blame Vicky for this one.

The younger girl sent her a TikTok edit yesterday.

Footage of you with a sparkling toy microphone, dressed in a princess gown as a kid, or you writing and recording in a tiny studio, meeting people and doing press tours. A voice-over, some dude on a podcast, saying that you will never make it, that singers like you don’t fill stadiums. The video cuts, with impressive editing skills, to clips of your last tour.

A tour that sold out the Bernabeu.

Twice.

She blocks Vicky after the third teasing text, and if the video gets saved in a dedicated gallery is just for her to know.

“I don’t know, probably some other athlete”, Alexia lies, more worried of saying your name out of instinct than giving a proper answer.

“Messi? The Queen of Spain, maybe?”

“The Queen? Do they even have a phone?”

“You could probably have their number if they do”, he says with a grin.

“I don’t think so”

Moving on to the next question turns out to be nothing more than wishful thinking, as the host decides this is a topic interesting enough to keep exploring.

“I bet you’ve got big names in there somewhere”

“I really don’t”, Alexia dismisses, trying to downplay the whole thing, “It mostly happens on Instagram nowadays, doesn’t it?”

“You mean people slide on your DMs”

“That’s not what I said”, she retorts, her cheeks turning a shade of red that could rival the flush she gets after an exhausting game.

There’s not a real reason for her to be so embarrassed. She faced way more uncomfortable conversation and way better than this.

It’s your fault, actually.

The Catalan can’t stop thinking about the way you smoothly added your contact on her phone after you had met just a handful of times.

Your first encounter was at a Barça’s victory party. You’d been invited to sing, genuinely excited to celebrate yet another award with the women’s team. Jana had dragged her captain along to congratulate you on the album you’d released just a couple of weeks earlier. The blonde didn’t say much, but when she did, her words were always spot-on, carefully considered.

The second time was at a charity event for her foundation. Alexia made sure to thank you for your generous donation, and you joked that it was for a good cause – helping young girls and adding an invaluable piece to your wardrobe. But Alexia saw the sincerity in your eyes and knew you meant every word.

The third time was the lucky one. You both talked for what felt like hours, ignoring the demands of others, hidden away in a secluded corner of the obnoxious rooftop terrace, crowded with music and laughter, that a mutual friend had rented for their birthday party. Just before leaving, far later than you both had intended, you asked for her phone to save your number under a silly nickname. That same night, the footballer texted you as soon as she got home.

The rest, as they say, is history.

Three years later, your contact’s still saved under the same nickname.

“So, no A-list celeb likes your old pics?”

Apparently, the host isn’t going to save her from herself. Alexia realizes she has to dig herself out of this hole without making it worse.

“I mean we all comment people’s posts or text on Instagram now, you know, it’s just easier”

“Nice save”, he remarks, clearly amused, finally moving on to the next question.

~

The weeks after the interview pass in such an erratic blur that Alexia forgets about it entirely.

You are in London to co-produce an album and her schedule is getting a bit more intense now that the Champions League is in full swing. It’s not easy juggling the endless work trips, media days, and the demanding commitments that clutter your shared calendar, but it’s worth it.

The nights hidden in a studio are worth the way you alway get inspired when talking the days away, curled into the footballer’s side. The dates you take each other on, planned in advantage of months or improvised last minute, are worth every single time you have to delay your reunion. The long video calls, the flowers sent from different countries, the red-eye flights, the supportive texts that never quite compare to a comforting hug. It’s all worth it.

After a month apart, you finally have a couple of quiet days to spend together, free from distractions. Alexia doesn’t think about that interview, and that’s a mistake.

She has a session with the team’s physio when they release it, a session that Vicky interrupts abruptly. As soon as the younger girl storms into the room, with a shit-eating smirk on her face, the blonde knows it is not going to be pleasant for her.

“Oh, you’re so done”, she teases, her grin widening as she waves the phone in front of Alexia’s face, “You’re not going to like this”

She doesn’t show her a clip from the damn interview.

Oh, no. It’s much worse.

Vicky’s already saved dozens of video edits, all of them capturing the awkward moment when Alexia tries, and fails miserably, to dodge the question about her phonebook.

“What was I supposed to say?”, the midfielder complains, dropping her head onto the massage bed, while even the physio can’t hold back a smile.

“Anything else? You basically bragged about people sliding in your DMs, you idiot”

“I didn’t say that– and I wasn’t bragging!”

Vicky raises an eyebrow at the older woman’s defense, always surprised by the genuine self-consciousness of a two-time Ballon d’Or winner, “Sometimes I wonder if you know they call you Reina for more than just your football skills”

“What does that have to do with anything?”, Alexia asks, her voice dripping with resignation.

The physio pats her shoulder, offering support and signaling she can go home. Tomorrow is a day off and, suddenly, the idea of spending it rotting in bed sounds so appealing.

“Just wait until your girlfriend sees this”, Vicky murmurs, her grin widening as she bolts from the pissed captain.

~

You have seen the interview.

Of course you have.

Alexia may not keep up with her media appearances, but you do. First and foremost because you truly love her, and second, because you adore that dorky side of her that shows up in the most unexpected moments

Like in her latest commercial. She’s posing for the camera, drenched in water to look badass, but blushing, almost embarrassed, as a list of her career accomplishments is given to her. Or in that sponsored video, where she’s in the background, annoyed and teased by her younger teammates for her most listened songs of the year to be all by the same artist.

Barcelona’s media team had to cut most of it out, but you know the whole story. And you absolutely love it.

The loudest sign of her coming home is the soft thud of her kit bag hitting the floor as soon as the door opens. You’ve given her endless shit for leaving her sport gear all over the shared apartment.

Her big hands and warm arms wrapping you from behind come second, “What are you doing here?”

Alexia kisses your shoulder, burying her face in the crook of your neck. Wet hair drips down your shirt, almost enough to annoy you into pushing her away. Almost.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you too”, you reply, smiling as you stir the sauce you've been working on for the past hour.

“Idiot”, she giggles, not moving an inch, “You had dinner with that producer tonight, no?”

“Yeah, but he had an ‘enlightening revelation’ about a track he’s working on, so he’s stuck in studio and couldn’t make it”

“You artists are wired”

“You missed a date once ‘cus you lost track of time working on a drill you ‘absolutely had to master’ that day”

The older woman doesn’t argue, knowing she wouldn’t win this one, so she just turns you around to gently, but firmly, kiss you.

It feels like the comfort of a safe space, like the certainty of a kept promise.

It may be too soon for other kinds of promises, you know that, but the future ahead looks a lot like an older, even more in-love version of the two of you. If a carefully picked ring is tucked away in an otherwise-empty guitar case, she doesn’t need to know. Not yet, at least.

“What?”, she asks, taking in your wandering gaze.

“Just thinking”

“About?”

You hesitate, just for a moment, “That I love you”

“I love you too”

“And you better clean the mess you left at the doorway before dinner’s ready”

Alexia laughs, playfully rolling her eyes, but retreating her steps back to do exactly that.

She knows something is flipping back and forth in your mind, but she also knows when to press and when to let you tidy up your own thoughts before opening up.

The sauce cooks perfectly, creamy and spiced up enough to make the footballer forget the planned dish for the day consisted of plain rice and vegetables. When the pasta is presented on the table and you sit in front of her, it truly looks like a perfect dinner.

You two talk between bites, forgetting manners as the story of a songwriter arriving at the studio with too-personal lyrics about cheating hits its peak. She’s not above good gossip, you know that, and teasing about not revealing names of the people involved is too much fun.

“Speaking of cheating”, you grin as Alexia nearly chokes on the food, shaking your head, “Your football-daughter send me a video”

“Which one?”

“Which daughter, or which video?”

She can’t hide a smile, heading to the kitchen with the empty dishes. You follow, sitting on the counter to keep enjoying each other’s company and the playful banter while she cleans up.

“Vicky sent–”

“I told you to block her”

“Don’t be mean, the videos she share are cute”, you retort, “Most of the times, at least”

“Amor–”

“You have to worry about Jana, actually. She’s ruthless”

“What does that even mean?”

The pure disbelief in her eyes almost makes you second-guess the teasing.

Almost.

“Let’s get back to the point”

“Is there a point?”

“Yes, this video of you– wait, no! Alexia!”

Before you can even finish the sentence, the midfielder decides the dishes can wait. She lifts you off the counter, cutting your words short as she tosses you onto the couch with ease.

The unexpected display of strength overshadows how her soapy hands soak your shirt. It’s an old oversized tee she used to train in, not really something that will be irremediably ruined by the gesture, but it’s the principle of it.

“You watched the interview”, she states, towering above without weighing on you.

“What interview?”

Alexia raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips quirking up. One of her hands moving under your shirt. It’s a warning, her fingers trailing across your hip.

“I watch all you interviews”, you admit, shifting slightly to caress her cheek, “It was a good video, you’re cute when you get embarrassed”

“I panicked!”, she complains, dropping her body on top of yours to hide her face.

“I bet, with all those people sliding in your DMs–”

The room fills with laughter as she starts tickling you, and your chuckles become too infectious to hold back herself.

[amateurvoltaire]

I feel that one of the most overlooked aspects of studying the French Revolution is that, in 18th-century France, most people did not speak French. Yes, you read that correctly.

On 26 Prairial, Year II (14 June 1794), Abbé Henri Grégoire (1) stood before the Convention and delivered a report called The Report on the Necessity and Means of Annihilating Dialects and Universalising the Use of the French Language(2). This report, the culmination of a survey initiated four years earlier, sought to assess the state of languages in France. In 1790, Grégoire sent a 43-question survey to 49 informants across the departments, asking questions like: "Is the use of the French language universal in your area?" "Are one or more dialects spoken here?" and "What would be the religious and political impact of completely eradicating this dialect?"

The results were staggering. According to Grégoire's report:

“One can state without exaggeration that at least six million French people, especially in rural areas, do not know the national language; an equal number are more or less incapable of holding a sustained conversation; and, in the final analysis, those who speak it purely do not exceed three million; likely, even fewer write it correctly.” (3)

Considering that France’s population at the time was around 27 million, Grégoire’s assertion that 12 million people could barely hold a conversation in French is astonishing. This effectively meant that about 40% of the population couldn't communicate with the remaining 60%.

Now, it’s worth noting that Grégoire’s survey was heavily biased. His 49 informants (4) were educated men—clergy, lawyers, and doctors—likely sympathetic to his political views. Plus, the survey barely covered regions where dialects were close to standard French (the langue d’oïl areas) and focused heavily on the south and peripheral areas like Brittany, Flanders, and Alsace, where linguistic diversity was high.

Still, even if the numbers were inflated, the takeaway stands: a massive portion of France did not speak Standard French. “But surely,” you might ask, “they could understand each other somewhat, right? How different could those dialects really be?” Well, let’s put it this way: if Barère and Robespierre went to lunch and spoke in their regional dialects—Gascon and Picard, respectively—it wouldn’t be much of a conversation.

The linguistic make-up of France in 1790

The notion that barely anyone spoke French wasn’t new in the 1790s. The Ancien Régime had wrestled with it for centuries. The Ordinance of Villers-Cotterêts, issued in 1539, mandated the use of French in legal proceedings, banning Latin and various dialects. In the 17th and 18th centuries, numerous royal edicts enforced French in newly conquered provinces. The founding of the Académie Française in 1634 furthered this control, as the Académie aimed to standardise French, cementing its status as the kingdom's official language.

Despite these efforts, Grégoire tells us that 40% of the population could barely speak a word of French. So, if they didn’t speak French, what did they speak? Let’s take a look.

In 1790, the old provinces of the Ancien Régime were disbanded, and 83 departments named after mountains and rivers took their place. These 83 departments provide a good illustration of the incredibly diverse linguistic make-up of France.

Langue d’oïl dialects dominated the north and centre, spoken in 44 out of the 83 departments (53%). These included Picard, Norman, Champenois, Burgundian, and others—dialects sharing roots in Old French. In the south, however, the Occitan language group took over, with dialects like Languedocien, Provençal, Gascon, Limousin, and Auvergnat, making up 28 departments (34%).

Beyond these main groups, three departments in Brittany spoke Breton, a Celtic language (4%), while Alsatian and German dialects were prevalent along the eastern border (another 4%). Basque was spoken in Basses-Pyrénées, Catalan in Pyrénées-Orientales, and Corsican in the Corse department.

From a government’s perspective, this was a bit of a nightmare.

Why is linguistic diversity a governmental nightmare?

In one word: communication—or the lack of it. Try running a country when half of it doesn’t know what you’re saying.

Now, in more academic terms...

Standardising a language usually serves two main purposes: functional efficiency and national identity. Functional efficiency is self-evident. Just as with the adoption of the metric system, suppressing linguistic variation was supposed to make communication easier, reducing costly misunderstandings.

That being said, the Revolution, at first, tried to embrace linguistic diversity. After all, Standard French was, frankly, “the King’s French” and thus intrinsically elitist—available only to those who had the money to learn it. In January 1790, the deputy François-Joseph Bouchette proposed that the National Assembly publish decrees in every language spoken across France. His reasoning? “Thus, everyone will be free to read and write in the language they prefer.”

A lovely idea, but it didn’t last long. While they made some headway in translating important decrees, they soon realised that translating everything into every dialect was expensive. On top of that, finding translators for obscure dialects was its own nightmare. And so, the Republic’s brief flirtation with multilingualism was shut down rather unceremoniously.

Now, on to the more fascinating reason for linguistic standardisation: national identity.

Language and Nation

One of the major shifts during the French Revolution was in the concept of nationhood. Today, there are many ideas about what a nation is (personally, I lean towards Benedict Anderson’s definition of a nation as an “imagined community”), but definitions aside, what’s clear is that the Revolution brought a seismic change in the notion of French identity. Under the Ancien Régime, the French nation was defined as a collective that owed allegiance to the king: “One faith, one law, one king.” But after 1789, a nation became something you were meant to want to belong to. That was problematic.

Now, imagine being a peasant in the newly-created department of Vendée. (Hello, Jacques!) Between tending crops and trying to avoid trouble, Jacques hasn’t spent much time pondering his national identity. Vendéen? Well, that’s just a random name some guy in Paris gave his region. French? Unlikely—he has as much in common with Gascons as he does with the English. A subject of the King? He probably couldn’t name which king.

So, what’s left? Jacques is probably thinking about what is around him: family ties and language. It's no coincidence that the ‘brigands’ in the Vendée organised around their parishes— that’s where their identity lay.

The Revolutionary Government knew this. The monarchy had understood it too and managed to use Catholicism to legitimise their rule. The Republic didn't have such a luxury. As such, the revolutionary government found itself with the impossible task of convincing Jacques he was, in fact, French.

How to do that? Step one: ensure Jacques can actually understand them. How to accomplish that? Naturally, by teaching him.

Language Education during the Revolution

Under the Ancien Régime, education varied wildly by class, and literacy rates were abysmal. Most commoners received basic literacy from parish and Jesuit schools, while the wealthy enjoyed private tutors. In 1791, Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand (5) presented a report on education to the Constituent Assembly (6), remarking:

“A striking peculiarity of the state from which we have freed ourselves is undoubtedly that the national language, which daily extends its conquests beyond France’s borders, remains inaccessible to so many of its inhabitants." (7)

He then proposed a solution:

“Primary schools will end this inequality: the language of the Constitution and laws will be taught to all; this multitude of corrupt dialects, the last vestige of feudalism, will be compelled to disappear: circumstances demand it." (8)

A sensible plan in theory, and it garnered support from various Assembly members, Condorcet chief among them (which is always a good sign).

But, France went to war with most of Europe in 1792, making linguistic diversity both inconvenient and dangerous. Paranoia grew daily, and ensuring the government’s communications were understood by every citizen became essential. The reverse, ensuring they could understand every citizen, was equally pressing. Since education required time and money—two things the First Republic didn’t have—repression quickly became Plan B.

The War on Patois

This repression of regional languages was driven by more than abstract notions of nation-building; it was a matter of survival. After all, if Jacques the peasant didn’t see himself as French and wasn’t loyal to those shadowy figures in Paris, who would he turn to? The local lord, who spoke his dialect and whose land his family had worked for generations.

Faced with internal and external threats, the revolutionary government viewed linguistic unity as essential to the Republic’s survival. From 1793 onwards, language policy became increasingly repressive, targeting regional dialects as symbols of counter-revolution and federalist resistance. Bertrand Barère spearheaded this campaign, famously saying:

“Federalism and superstition speak Breton; emigration and hatred of the Republic speak German; counter-revolution speaks Italian, and fanaticism speaks Basque. Let us break these instruments of harm and error... Among a free people, the language must be one and the same for all.”

This, combined with Grégoire’s report, led to the Décret du 8 Pluviôse 1794, which mandated French-speaking teachers in every rural commune of departments where Breton, Italian, Basque, and German were the main languages.

Did it work? Hardly. The idea of linguistic standardisation through education was sound in principle, but France was broke, and schools cost money. Spoiler alert: France wouldn’t have a free, secular, and compulsory education system until the 1880s.

What it did accomplish, however, was two centuries of stigmatising patois and their speakers...

Notes

(1) Abbe Henri Grégoire was a French Catholic priest, revolutionary, and politician who championed linguistic and social reforms, notably advocating for the eradication of regional dialects to establish French as the national language during the French Revolution.

(2) "Sur la nécessité et les moyens d’anéantir les patois et d’universaliser l’usage de la langue francaise”

(3)On peut assurer sans exagération qu’au moins six millions de Français, sur-tout dans les campagnes, ignorent la langue nationale ; qu’un nombre égal est à-peu-près incapable de soutenir une conversation suivie ; qu’en dernier résultat, le nombre de ceux qui la parlent purement n’excède pas trois millions ; & probablement le nombre de ceux qui l’écrivent correctement est encore moindre.

(4) And, as someone who has done A LOT of statistics in my lifetime, 49 is not an appropriate sample size for a population of 27 million. At a confidence level of 95% and with a margin of error of 5%, he would need a sample size of 384 people. If he wanted to lower the margin of error at 3%, he would need 1,067. In this case, his margin of error is 14%.

That being said, this is a moot point anyway because the sampled population was not reflective of France, so the confidence level of the sample is much lower than 95%, which means the margin of error is much lower because we implicitly accept that his sample does not reflect the actual population.

(5) Yes. That Charles-Maurice de Talleyrand. It’s always him. He’s everywhere. If he hadn’t died in 1838, he’d probably still be part of Macron’s cabinet. Honestly, he’s probably haunting the Élysée as we speak — clearly the man cannot stay away from politics.

(6) For those new to the French Revolution and the First Republic, we usually refer to two legislative bodies, each with unique roles. The National Assembly (1789): formed by the Third Estate to tackle immediate social and economic issues. It later became the Constituent Assembly, drafting the 1791 Constitution and establishing a constitutional monarchy.

(7) Une singularité frappante de l'état dont nous sommes affranchis est sans doute que la langue nationale, qui chaque jour étendait ses conquêtes au-delà des limites de la France, soit restée au milieu de nous inaccessible à un si grand nombre de ses habitants.

(8) Les écoles primaires mettront fin à cette étrange inégalité : la langue de la Constitution et des lois y sera enseignée à tous ; et cette foule de dialectes corrompus, dernier reste de la féodalité, sera contraint de disparaître : la force des choses le commande

(9) Le fédéralisme et la superstition parlent bas-breton; l’émigration et la haine de la République parlent allemand; la contre révolution parle italien et le fanatisme parle basque. Brisons ces instruments de dommage et d’erreur. .. . La monarchie avait des raisons de ressembler a la tour de Babel; dans la démocratie, laisser les citoyens ignorants de la langue nationale, incapables de contréler le pouvoir, cest trahir la patrie, c'est méconnaitre les bienfaits de l'imprimerie, chaque imprimeur étant un instituteur de langue et de législation. . . . Chez un peuple libre la langue doit étre une et la méme pour tous.

(10) Patois means regional dialect in French.

[randombush3]

the winner takes it all

alexia putellas x reader

summary: an unexpected invitation throws your world off-kilter

words: 6276

content warnings: it's a bit unfaithful

notes: in this universe real madrid is a proper opponent and rival to barcelona, in the sense that funding and history is relatively equal (so it's basically more like the men's rivalry)

idk where this came from tbh

Amb gran alegria, 

Alexia i Olga

T’invitem a celebrar la nostra unió matrimonial. 

10 d’agost de 2025

Gran Hotel Mas d’en Bruno

You haven’t read Catalan in years. You squint at the details. 

You wish you had forgotten it. 

Only Alexia would do this to you, twisting the knife as though it’s a favour, a compliment. Make it seem psychotic for not wanting to go, make it seem like it’s not a big deal. 

The invitation isn’t personalised. You are not special in her eyes. You have been allowed onto the guest list, you have no mark in her life. Surely Olga would have objected if she’d known, if she’d been told. Maybe Alexia doesn’t talk about it. Maybe she has heard your name on match reports and team sheets, announcements for captaincy, interviews with Las 16 who called you traidora then and call you traidora now. 

As if she knew it was coming, your phone begins to light up with messages from Alba. Apologies, perhaps, in her own Alba way. Stuff like ‘are you coming’ and ‘you don’t have to’ and then more buzzing, vibrating the shitstorm into a phone call. 

You don’t speak often. Why would you? But you answer it, listless, really, and unsure what the correct approach to this even is. 

“Hola, traidorita,” she says with a nervous giggle, reclaiming your nickname in Barcelona but reminding you of how you are perceived nevertheless. “I don’t know why you are on the guest list.” 

Alba is like this: straight to the point, unafraid of her sister and unafraid to tell you what she thinks. They are very different, which is why she is the only one who has your current number in her contacts. 

“You told her where I live,” you respond. Your shock makes no room for manners. “Because no one there has my Madrid address, Albi.” 

“No one here has it, yeah. But she asked around. Well, Olga did.” She laughs again. Her nervousness is high-pitched and easily detected. “Told Ale that she has to have her childhood best friend at her wedding.” 

“Childhood best friend?” 

“Estranged childhood best friend?” she tries, and you can hear the smile and the teasing fucking smugness in it. You wonder if anyone else knows you have been invited. Alba because your address was squeezed out of her, sure, but… “And my mother thought it was a good idea too, before you try to murder a woman you have never met.” 

“I’ve met Olga before,” you say without thinking, because that’s far easier to focus on than the idea of Eli getting involved in this completely undesired reunion that is about two centuries too early. “When I was going out with, eh, I don’t remember her name. A model. You know what they’re like. Olga’s the one who works for… thingie.” 

There’s a sigh from the other end. “So many models yet not one name has been retained. Do you even ask them?” 

“We’re not usually doing much talking.” 

“Zorra.”

“Coming from you…” You smirk at the thought of all the little secrets Alba’s had you keep, a tradition that started young and became increasingly frequent when you removed yourself from everyone else’s lives. It’s like a journal, only you judge her. “You’re doing a good job of distracting me until I agree to go.” 

She hesitates, then. You’re not an idiot and you know why she called. Alba is supportive but she has her own agenda most of the time, and no one else knows the exact time you get back from training aside from your fellow teammates. Even then, most are too intimidated to contact you in general, let alone to ask about being invited to Alexia Putellas’ fucking wedding. 

Alba is also very manipulative, a professional puppeteer. And she knows exactly what to say. “It’s been fifteen years. Are you going to let her win?” It’s an infuriating provocation but it hits its target with ease. 

…

The first step of preparing for this wedding takes place in the form of the Euros: you’re going to win it and be happy enough to ignore the impending doom hanging over your off-season plans. Going into the competition with heavy medals round your necks makes cockiness the slippiest of slopes, and it is safe to say that most of your teammates are prepared to cruise through at least the group stages. 

An unexpected injury rips Jenni’s opportunity to play from her grasp (an echo of her ex-girlfriend, you briefly think), and she is flying back to Mexico before the tournament begins. Montse is a captain down – of course only this kind of disaster could happen to her – and before Patri can even open her mouth to volunteer for the role, you are dragged into a leadership meeting.

You’ve worn the armband before, though it seared and burned and blistered until you threw it in Jorge’s face and demanded someone else absorb the hatred it brought. He went ballistic as you’d said it, you remember, his face going red in the soft glow of your hotel room the night before the World Cup final. He’d leaned forwards, fist clenched, knuckles white and wanting to choke the life out of you.

“You have no respect!” he’d roared, voice splitting like thunder against the thin walls of your hotel room. “Not for me, not for your country, not for anything!” His breath was coming out in sharp ragged gasps. He spat. You’d wiped it off your body. “I thought you had scraped all the Catalan out of you, but here it is!” he’d screamed, loud enough to be heard but so comfortable in his power that it did not seem to frighten him. “Selfish and arrogant. You should have made it Seventeen.” 

He’d left in his rage, slamming his door. 

You regretted smiling in pictures with him, shaking his hand, kissing his cheek. You regretted the press conferences and interviews, the shaky defence you had constructed, the words of faith and trust you had professed and tried to believe. It had changed you, just a little bit, that incident. Made you think about who you are, where you come from. Made you remember someone you’d tried to forget. 

But Irene and Alexia, staring at you with both contempt and confusion as you take a seat at the conference table, don’t know any of this. Why would they? To them, this is the traidora. 

“Y/n is going to take Jenni’s place as third captain,” says Montse firmly, if she even knows how to do that. Irene and Alexia share a glance. Their roles have been restored for this competition and they are not prepared for an intruder to take that from them, although Irene will later remind Alexia that it is not your fault Jenni got injured. “I trust you three will come up with a suitable management plan. If you need me, you know where to find me.” 

None of you really do know where she lurks, but she is walking off before you can clarify. 

“We already have a strategy.” And she says it in Catalan, looking falsely apologetic when she is kicked underneath the table. 

“Good job, Alexia,” you tell her, so nauseatingly saccharine that you almost think of the nearest route to a toilet. She’s surprised you’ve granted her a reply though, which is satisfying enough. About to spit out another remark to divide yourselves further, you shift in your chair, stretching out your legs underneath the table. 

It is then that her ring catches your eye.

It’s delicate, shiny. A neatly cut diamond set in platinum with slight details that tell you someone thought about Alexia when they had this made and got it all wrong. Or maybe this is what she likes now. It’s not what you’d have given her.

She sees your eyes fall to her fingers, watching carefully as your gaze heats the metal and makes it almost too hot for her to keep on. You don’t really want her to know that you’ve seen it but you’ve made it bleeding obvious and so the predicament spirals and Irene wants, desperately, to leave you two alone – she knows shouldn’t, she’s aware of the health and safety risk. 

There is something about the way Alexia clenches her jaw, posture stiffening as she allows herself one flicker from your face to the ring, that tells you she is bracing herself for a bullet. She always did have an uncanny ability to read you, however unwanted it was. 

You lean back in your chair, aware of how the bystander is holding her breath, and decide to swallow the words burning on your tongue. You’ve accepted her invitation, and bitter manners are still manners. “Congratulations,” you say, words clipped and brittle, each syllable more venomous than the last. 

The chair makes a screeching sound as you stand. Irene flinches but Alexia does not move. She refuses to watch as you walk out of the room. 

…

Three hours later, Alexia is off the phone with Olga and knocking on Irene’s door with an embarrassed suppression of urgency. Shoulders hunched and lips downturned, the sight is enough for her to be ushered inside with only the quiet flap of Irene’s arms to beckon her forwards. With this part of the training camp being not quite tunnel-vision yet, Irene’s room is littered with toys and toddler stuff. Usually Alexia would be looking at them in quiet excitement. Right now, she is not so sure. 

“Second thoughts?” Irene asks, and Alexia half-jumps backwards in shock, about to furiously shake her head and profess her love for Olga– “I think the plan is good. I don’t think we need to worry about Y/n in the centre, seeing how she’s been playing there this season.” 

It slowly dawns on Alexia that Irene has assumed this is pre-tournament nerves, and that she is being shown such a vulnerable side of her co-captain because, well, who else can be? No one wants to see their commander gulp at the sight of the battlefield. 

“She still favours her left,” Alexia gets out. “She might drift, leaving a big gap for you to cover.” 

“She’s got offers from PSG, Chelsea, and Washington Spirit. It’s in her interest not to drift.” 

“She’s good at drifting.” 

Irene doesn’t respond to that. 

“Since when did you wear your ring to training?” is what she chooses to say instead, asking the question with a healthy fear of getting her head bitten off, taking a small step backwards to put her at a safer distance. 

Alexia doesn’t reply immediately, her fingers grazing the ring as she thinks. The weight of it seems heavier now, almost suffocating in the sterile air of the hotel room, as though this is everything she’s been trying to avoid. Her heart thuds against her ribcage. It feels like everyone is starting to notice. 

“I didn’t think it was an issue.” Her voice is tight, defensive, but with a subtle, betraying crack. She pulls her hand back from the air, letting it fall to her side. “We hardly did much more than pass the ball today so I kept it on.” 

It’s a poor excuse. It comes off for the cameras, not the contact of the game. Irene knows that. But, to her credit, she doesn’t push. She just watches Alexia, eyes narrowed slightly in an unreadable expression. “I just thought you guys were keeping it a bit more… private.” 

Alexia turns her gaze to the floor, staring at the scattered toys and items around the room. The simplicity of it all, the domestic innocence, makes her feel even more tangled. She feels an urge to lie, to say that Olga asked her to, worried that you’d misinterpret its absence, but Olga doesn’t even know she has reason to lose sleep. She hasn’t found the courage to explain. She hasn’t felt the need to. 

And, really, the truth is right here, echoing between them. Irene would have pieced together the story, as many of Alexia’s teammates have, hearing drunken retellings on nights out from whoever has known the two of you the longest that time. Maybe Alba has spoken to her, revealing everything after a round of tequila shots, as she tends to do. There are a few suggestions the older woman could make to her teammate, wounds she could open and then nurse, but she doesn’t and so she waits. 

Until, finally, Alexia admits, “it’s complicated. She has caught me off-guard.” It could mean many things, but it is either your captaincy or the acceptance of her wedding invitation that has done Alexia in. She wonders whether this feeling of dread and uncertainty is the game – or the life waiting for her after she comes back from Switzerland. “Look,” she says abruptly, “I’m not here for advice, Irene.”

“Then why are you in my room?” She doesn’t have an answer for that. Irene sweeps her outside, gently but firmly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do,” she treads lightly, “but when was the last time you had a conversation with her?” 

…

The training pitch in Switzerland is unseasonably hot, the kind of heat that clings to the air and makes tempers run shorter than usual. It’s almost a cure to homesickness but then the team look at each other and are back to hating every minute of this. There’s an undeniable divide. Montse either does not care or has not caught on. 

It’s about your twentieth rondo this session, the ball zipping across the wilting grass as it touches Barça foot to Barça foot, the girls obviously enjoying this. You’re only holding back because too much investment will lead to another injury, and you are getting somewhat tired of being called a traitor. The players surround you with a ruthless efficiency that is starting to fray your nerves, and you make a note to talk to your coach about training, knowing that it will be easy to manipulate her into following something akin to what the girls at Madrid are more accustomed to. 

Alexia is one of your taunters. Of course she is. 

“Just three more interceptions,” she calls out, false strain, false support, false encouragement. 

You bite back a retort, instead standing still as Aitana rolls a ball right past you. You wipe the sweat from your brow, feigning exhaustion, but the pretense is only that in name. Everyone knows you are one of the best defenders, the Barça girls especially, with their insane pride for La Masia. 

“Lazy,” Alexia mutters. 

You don’t respond, focusing instead on the fire in your chest as you forcibly break the circle and march towards Montse. She looks up from her clipboard as you approach. 

“We should split training.” She pauses and then nods. “Attack and defence, at least. And don’t let the press hear this, but, my god, Montse, I do not like how they’re all back.” 

“We’re a stronger team,” she says, but she’s smiling and you are definitely her favourite. Another deep breath and she is calling a water break. 

The girls retreat to the sidelines for ice and hydration, and you reunite with the people you like. Your club teammates prefer you at national camp, because there is something less reclusive about you. It’s as though you’re trying to prove that you get on. 

Olga hands you a water bottle, the contents of which you guzzle down in one go. She begins to comment on the absurdity of Alexia’s mandated rondos (“why do they have to keep reminding themselves how to pass a ball?”) and while you agree, your attention is diverted. Alexia is standing a few meters away with Mariona Caldentey. She’s listening to something the forward is telling her, face focused, finger twisting her ring around in circles. 

That fucking ring. 

You look away before you are caught in such a compromising position, wiping your forehead with your damp training shirt. 

“Oye,” Misa’s voice pulls you back, “are you paying attention?” You’re not even sure when she joined the conversation. Your relationship with the goalkeeper has always been overly complicated. You work very closely, what with you commanding the backline and her… also commanding the backline. But she’s friends with people who must have at least once wished you dead, so it’s hard to tell where you stand. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you lie, screwing the cap back onto the water bottle and placing it in Olga’s held-out palm. 

“You’re never this spacey. You’ve been off since the meeting,” she presses, her voice gentle but insistent. “If this is about the captaincy–” 

“It’s not,” you snap, harsher than what was meant. Her eyes widen slightly and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sorry. It’s not about that. I’m fine.” 

Misa doesn’t look convinced but she nods, letting it drop. Gratitude relaxes your shoulders but the uneasy silence that follows is punishing enough for you to be eager for training to resume. 

Now that the rondos have been left behind until tomorrow, you divide into teams for a scrimmage. The squad is split into four and you throw yourself into the exercise. Every touch, every pass, every run is perfect, and you are unrecognisable from your lackadaisical lull only ten minutes ago. You’re pushing your body and it flicks onto autopilot, driven by muscle memory and determination. 

Your head’s not in it. You can’t outrun her shadow. You can’t think when your teams are against each other. 

The ring must have come off now, and she is getting stuck in. She’s relentless and irritating, evading your teammates’ tackles and drawing you into her. It’s almost transportative: back you go to gardens after school or being barefoot on the beach, forced out of your relaxation and into an endless game of ‘tackle me like you mean it’. She has that same glint in her eye, that same goading gleam. You consider it, but crutches at a wedding is a low blow. 

And so you lay off. Just on her, and only just enough so that she knows you are not trying. You do not care for petty squabbles. You are not willing to go back to those memories, to that time. 

Or at least, that’s the message you hope she gets. 

The games slowly wind down, prompted by Montse’s whistle to signal the end of the session. You stay on the pitch longer than anyone else, taking you time to collect the stray balls scattered across the grass. It’s partly an excuse to delay walking into the locker room, where the tension will be thick (you were not the right choice for third captain in the eyes of your teammates), and partly because you need a moment to breathe. 

The others slowly disperse, peeling off to the showers or collapsing onto benches. Alexia lingers longer than most, wiping away her sweat with her shirt, abs exposed and tensed. She watches you as you move across the pitch, and though her gaze is subtle, you can feel it blazing hotter than the sun lashing down on you. But, despite her staring, she too is eventually coaxed away. You’re unsure whether she is thankful for the interruption. 

When you finally make your way to the changing rooms, most of your teammates are in the showers, and the sound of running water mingled with laughter echoes. You take a seat at the locker you were assigned and let out a slow breath, peeling off sweat-soaked socks with mild disgust. You turn to fling them into your laundry bag, but their flight path is blocked by a blonde who has clearly delayed her own shower to talk to you. 

She’s looking oddly pensive. You don’t like it. 

“We need to talk.” It’s uncomfortable for Alexia to say and it’s worse for you to hear. You’re not sure you’re okay with her decision to become reasonable and mature. It’s quite the compliment to always be the cause for stoic, rational Alexia Putellas going absolutely batshit crazy. 

Driving her up the wall is fun. 

“I’ll send you an invitation. No need to tell me which room is yours.” You give her a smile. And, like you always do, you walk away. 

…

There’s a charge to the air that is choking you by dinner time. The upgrade to captain allowed for your own room, and it is easy to blow off teammates who want to have plans with you with the simple excuse of needing to talk to your agent. You technically do, since you are going to leave Madrid during the transfer window, but you have no intention of dialling his number until he confirms the best and furthest team wants you. 

You’ve spent the evening avoiding the majority of the players, which Montse took advantage of, encouraging you to spend dinner discussing tactics with her and her staff. You feel like the teacher’s pet. You know how angry it is making Alexia.

Collapsing on the bed when you back into your room, you let out a loud groan, sinking into the mattress. Your phone buzzes on the bedside table and for a moment, you think it might be Alba, allowing you no peace and quiet despite her distance. Instead, it’s a message on the team group chat from the strength and conditioning coach about tomorrow’s gym session. A wave of relief washes over you; anything but her. 

Still, as you scroll, you catch yourself lingering on the names in the group chat, your thumb hovering near Alexia’s. Your stomach tightens and the memory of her tone, her expression, pulls at you like a tether. 

She’s not going to drop this. 

It’s no longer a matter of avoidance in the camp. You’ve said you will be present. She must want to ensure you will not make a scene. 

A knock at the door, so quiet you are almost convinced it was imagined, breaks you out of your brooding. Your eyes watch the wood as though it will be splintered in a moment, but when you make no move to get up, a more insistent knock sounds. You sigh as you pull yourself off your bed, dragging your feet towards the door. Opening it, you find Alexia standing there, arms crossed and wearing an expression you can’t quite decipher. It lacks her usual burning hatred. She looks exhausted. 

You struggle to feel any sympathy. 

“What?” you snap. It’s a bit harsher than intended but you don’t let on that that’s the case. 

“Can I come in?” You guess that she didn’t pick up the hint when you gave her no invitation. You do not want to talk. You don’t do that to people much anymore. 

She expects the door to slam in her face – and you consider it – but it’s your hesitation that tells her she can, and so she slowly moves inside, shoulder brushing yours because you refuse to move out of the way. And then she raises a deliberate hand towards the door, pushing it shut. You ignore the ring. 

You lean against the door once it’s shut, arms folded as she wanders further into your room. She looks out of place somewhere so personal to you, standing awkwardly in the centre and trying not to look at the explosion of clothes and books that has been detonated on the floor. 

She reads the titles of a few – classics that look dense and boring. Something hungry inside her dulls a bit, because you have not changed in this respect. 

“You’re quiet for someone who wants to talk,” you prompt, mostly because the silence is unbearable. 

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her arms drop to her sides, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves. She tries to meet your eyes, but falters when she sees the cold indifference staring back. You’re looking at her like she’s a stranger. It stings more than it should.

“I didn’t invite you to the wedding,” she says finally. “Olga doesn’t know about us.” 

“There’s no ‘us’,” you snap, sharper this time.

Her jaw tightens and for a second, she looks as though she’s been struck. “Don’t lie.” 

“There is no ‘us’,” you repeat, your tone icy now. “That disappeared the minute I–” 

“Left,” comes her interruption, her voice trembling just enough for you to notice. She steps closer, her shadow crossing yours, and her eyes narrow. “Which was your decision, not mine.”

You scoff, a bitter laugh escaping you. “Don’t act like you didn’t have a say in it.” 

“I didn’t!” she fires back, her voice rising. There is something raw beneath it – something fractured. “You didn’t give me one. You walked out, and you shut me out like I was nothing. Like we were nothing.” 

Her words hang in the air and for a moment, you don’t know whether to shoot or turn away. But her gaze pins you in place, fierce and unrelenting, as though daring you to deny it. 

You hold her stare, your throat tightening. “And you didn’t try to stop me.” 

The silence that follows feels deafening. Neither of you moves. Neither of you blinks. You’re both standing on landmines and have nowhere to go. 

Her jaw clenches, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Her voice, though low, crackles with the heat of restrained anger. 

“You didn’t give me a chance to stop you.” And she steps closer, ready to bite. The door presses against your back as you instinctively move away. “You made up your mind before I even knew what was happening.” 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see it coming.” You shake your head. “I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to leave, Alexia.”

Her expression darkens, something in her eyes flickering dangerously. “That’s not the point. You didn’t just leave the club. You didn’t just leave me. You left everything. Our family. Our life. Do you have any idea what that felt like? Watching you walk away as if none of it mattered?” 

Your chest tightens but you refuse to let her words land. “You don’t get to make me the villain here.” 

“I don’t have to,” she snaps, her voice rising now, accent thickening with her anger. “You were part of my family, part of me. You were at every Christmas, every birthday. My mother adored you. Alba still loves you like you are her own sister! And you just disappeared like none of it meant anything. Like we didn’t mean anything.”

You flinch at the weight of her words but force yourself into steadiness. “I didn’t belong there. It wasn’t mine, it was yours.” 

Her face twists in disbelief, voice trembling as it rises again. “That’s bullshit and you know it! You were my family. My first everything. My first kiss. My first…” She pauses, her voice cracking. You swallow hard – you don’t want the fucking itemised list. “My first time. You think I just gave that to anyone? You think that it was just fun and games?” 

Your stomach churns as she stokes a fire you’ve tried to smother for years. “It wasn’t nothing,” you agree, although it sounds like you are contradicting her in a way that causes her to falter on her drive forwards. “It was everything. That’s why I left. Because I couldn’t be what was needed anymore. Because I knew if I stayed, I’d only–” 

“Only what?” 

You gulp. 

She’s back in your face, voice laced with venom. “Hurt me? Ruin me? Let us all done? Guess what, you did that anyway. Leaving made it easier? Made it hurt less?” 

“I didn’t know what else to do!” you shout, voice splitting. 

“You stay!” It echoes and it bruises your skin. Her eyes are blazing now, tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. “You stay, because that is what you do when you love someone. When you love a family. You don’t just walk away from them. You fight.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat, caught somewhere between guilt and pride. She sees it and it only seems to enrage her further. 

Her voice drops, anger so torrid she has to purposely cool her tone. “You know, I thought that my world was ending then. I thought you’d done your worst. But I was wrong. Because your betrayal wasn’t just personal, it was… political. To not see someone you love except for when they are sitting at the feet of this. Corruption’s pet. Pandering to an organisation you hated, while the rest of us fought for scraps.” 

Heat rises in your chest. How dare she– “I don’t pander to anyone.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” she spits. She’s too close. She’s too inescapable. And her anger is no longer fiery but icy, piercing through your skin. “I’ve seen the way you act around them, bowing your head and playing the loyal soldier while they tear us apart. You think I didn’t notice how he favoured you? Or how Montse magically replaces an irreplaceable member of–” 

“It’s not like that,” you counter, but the words feel hollow even to you.

“Then what is it?” she demands. “What is it that makes you stand there and let them walk all over us? Let them divide us? And don’t you dare say it is for the good of the team. The team hates you for it. We all do. You’ve earned every bit of it, traidora.” 

The word hits you like a whip, lacerating and making you bleed. Your hands curl into fists so tightly your nails dig into your palms, the sting barely enough to contain the fury surging through you. “Don’t you dare call me that!” The sentence tears out of your throat, rough and jagged. You take a step forwards, the air between you crackling with tension, your voice breaking as you spit, “you don’t get to say that to me. Not you.”

“Why not?” she challenges. “It’s what you are. You left, you betrayed everything we stood for, and then you came back just to make things worse. You made your choices.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her, the anger and heartbreak in her eyes, eviscerating and leaving you hollow. But then, something shifts in the air between you, and you find your voice again, souring from before.

“Is that why you’re here, Alexia? To throw all of this in my face? To let out fifteen years of harboured emotion? Or is it something else?” 

Her brow furrows in confusion. Surprise. And then her expression twists into anger. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You take a step forward now, and she is forced to retreat. “Do you not want to marry Olga, Alexia? Is that it? Is that why you’re here? Because you think you can come into my room, dredge all of this up, and make me the reason you’re unhappy?” 

Her face pales as she takes a deep breath, hands trembling at her sides. “Don’t,” she warns, firmly enough to signal you need to push.

So you do. 

“You came here because you’re scared.” She shakes her head but it’s rigid and forced. “Because you’re not sure you can go through with it and you want me to give you a reason to back out. Well, I’m not going to do that for you. This isn’t my mess. It’s yours.”

She says nothing and you feel sick. Her chest rises and falls with each gasping breath. She opens her mouth but again, you are left with silence, and the expression in her eyes flickers between defiance, confusion, and vulnerability. For a long moment, it feels like everything that could be said has been. 

The air between you is charged, but neither of you know which way it will go. 

You stare at her watching her waver. And it hits you: she doesn’t know what to do. 

All of this, all the anger and the pain, all the accusations and betrayals, has led her here, to this moment. She thought she had an answer, she thought she would be able to end this, but now? Now, Alexia is lost. There is too much here, too much to lose. And for the first time in a long while, you are feeling the same thing. You are both no longer sure if you want to fight. 

She takes a hesitant step closer and you freeze. But then, just as quickly, her hand moves – not to strike, not to harm, but to touch you. Her fingers brush lightly over the fabric of your sleeve, almost tenderly, before they fall away, and you don’t know if the motion was meant for comfort or something else.

Her breath is ragged, coming in slow, uneven gasps. Her eyes never leave yours. You don’t want them to. 

“I don’t know what to do with all of this,” she murmurs, the rawness in her tone shattering any remaining wall between you. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

How do you respond to that? You want her to leave but the thought is unbearable. You want space but she is not close enough. Something inside you stirs, something you can’t fight; a need to understand her and make her understand you. To make her see how tangled this, how impossible it has always been. 

Before you can form the word, before you can even think, she moves in closer, and there is no longer distance. She doesn’t ask for permission. She doesn’t hesitate. And then, without warning, her lips are on yours. 

It’s soft, tentative at first, as though testing the waters of something neither of you is sure of anymore. But then it shifts. Her body leans into yours, and the kiss deepens, more urgent now, as if this is everything that has not been said and has been at the same time. Your heart races, a million conflicting emotions crashing through you. Anger, betrayal, love – it is all here, you can taste it on her lips. It’s fierce, desperate, and it feels like an endless cycle of need and regret, pulling you both back to something raw, something irretrievable. 

Her hands find your waist, gripping tightly as though anchoring herself to something that could pull her under. You instinctively respond, pulling her closer, drawing in the heat of her touch, the scent of her skin, the pressure of her body against yours. For a fleeting second, everything else fades away. There’s no past, no future, only here and now. 

And then the fog clears. 

You pull back, breathless and worse off. You’ve fucked up again. Alexia is crying. 

“I’m not the person you think I am anymore,” you say, but it’s hard to meet her gaze. “I can’t be that person for you.”

Her eyes search yours desperately for lies, for deceit. She wants it to be wrong. She doesn’t know why. And she replies, “I don’t care what you think you’ve become,” because she doesn’t. It doesn’t matter to her.

You stare at her, heart pounding, and you want to feel like this will be worth it, but nothing comes except cold emptiness. You force yourself to stay upright. “I think the wedding will be good.” She swallows. “You’ll be happy with Olga. I’m sure of it.” 

It’s a death sentence. 

This time, it is Alexia who leaves. 

…

The wedding is beautiful. Blissful sunlight makes the venue seem to glow and it is hard not to be impressed with how they have set this up. 

The model at your side is also beautiful, but you remind yourself it is not a competition. You focus on the whispers of anticipation from the guests, the rustle of the dresses as people pass in merry groups, clinking their glasses and finishing their champagne as they take their seats. Everything looks perfect, plucked from magazines and tasteful brochures. This must be what Alexia wanted. 

Your date is occupying herself in conversation with the man seated next to you, who might be hitting on her, though you don’t care. She slides a hand over your thigh anyway. 

The ceremony begins, although you’re not really concentrating on it. You try to focus, listening as the officiant speaks, but the words have become a dull hum. It’s all so rehearsed, so expected, and it’s boring. You won’t be getting married anytime soon, that’s for sure. 

You know the flow of these things: the vows, the promises, the kiss, and the crowd’s applause. It’s a performance, though it’s not quite a farce. 

And then, it comes. The moment. The one that feels like a trap. 

The officiant pauses, glancing out over the gathering. “Si algú s'hi oposa, que parli ara o calli per sempre.”

For a heartbeat, time slows. The air thickens. Every muscle in your body tenses and the world around you goes still. You catch yourself holding your breath, gaze instinctively shifting to the woman standing at the front of the altar. 

Alexia. 

Her eyes flicker briefly in your direction – just a flicker, but it’s there, unmistakable. It’s her moment of hesitation, well masked but clear as day to you. But before you can make sense of it, she’s looking away, eyes fixed back onto Olga. Her expression hardens, more composed now, and you know that you are not going to break this silence. 

The officiant, oblivious to the storm passing between you both, waits for a beat longer before continuing, his voice echoing in the silence. 

And she’s married. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s over now. You’ve let her win. 

[alexiabae]

2024; fc barcelona femení x fem!reader

Summary: the 25/26 campaign for barcelona's squad was the most disastrous until the date. so after the players asked for a new head coach, natalia arroyo brings a new fresh air and new staff team.

Warnings: delicate topics, fluff, very long, a mysterious fb!player x fem!reader romance, slow burn.

Note: I don't know why I wrote this.

ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

Alexia never thought to use her name for something, and specially to bring someone out of the team. She had many conversations with her teammates, where all of them have her back and support the idea. After discussing it with them, she discussed it in the office to communicate that they aren't happy with the result of this past season. The number of matches they lost made Alexia blush, they lost the league for the first time in a long time, remaining third behind Atlético de Madrid and for the first time in their history, Real Madrid won. It didn't finish there, in the Champions League they almost were out on the group stage, staying second and because Frankfurt's team lost their game. They fell on the quarter final against Bayern Munich, the worst performance that Barcelona's squad played in a long time, the amount of mistakes they have, failing easy passes, miscalculating and not talking about the goals. They didn't score, just received. The players waited for indications that never came, and all they did was remain on the pitch and wait for it to end, apologising later for their performance.

National tournaments were the same, they lost the Supercopa semifinal and at least in La Copa de la Reina they fell in the final, still it hurt.

A team like this fell and no one made a move to prevent it from falling. It angered them, to the point where in one of the last bond nights of the season —over for them from months— they decided to speak up, again. They did it, Alexia alongside Marta and Patri the three captains of the Catalan club, talk about it with the people in charge of their section. They only promised to hold and wait, and keep working hard, like if they stopped from doing it. With their jaws clenched, the three players communicated to the rest the result and after many discussions, they did exactly that.

But not anymore.

That night they explode and decide to write in a paper everything they want to explain to them, starting with the resignation of the head coach of the club. They have enough, it showed in his first season but still they manage to win the league and reach the final of the Champions League, but they all suffer that season. What they didn't know was the start of a decline on the next one.

So after many hours and days of discussion, the three captains come back to the offices and on the heat of the argument, Alexia tiredly, but firm announce that if the situation is keeping like that, she is out of the club.

Marta and Patri look at her surprise, that offer never showed up. Alexia's chest is going wildly, but she made a decision. A risky one, but she can't anymore with the situation, why does she or they need to intervene to change when it's obvious they need it?

She crossed her arms on her chest with a fierce look, a leg moving uncontrollably under the table, her posture on the chair is challenging but she is feeling the opposite.

"Tomorrow I'll give an answer."

Nodding with her head, it's the most they can afford. Alexia isn't waiting for an okay, I'll do it or a dismissal for their part, she wants for them to realise that if they didn't pay attention to the players, there are consequences.

Out of there, Patri smack Alexia's arm repeatedly with an alarming face. Marta asked her for an explanation, but Alexia shrugged and kept walking to the changing room, saying she would explain everything there.

•••

After many reunions, even the president of the club's intervention on their negotiations to make Alexia change her mind and stay at the club, offering a raise of the salary and an extension to prolong her contract, she only put a condition to stay.

Bring a new head coach and I'll stay.

She is firm, the Catalan doesn't want any of their offers, maybe the prolonging of her contract, but what she cares about right now is if she leaves, the club needs to be like before.

So they listen to them, to her and bring a new head coach. They didn't know who would be, but there is a massive step here, they are free from the people who didn't care about them.

The day of the announcement, Claudia sent a link to the group chat;

🚨 FC BARCELONA FEMENÍ

New head coach announcement!

We are delighted to announce to you all who the new head coach is!

Natalia Arroyo is the new in charge of the Condal club, assuming the responsibility to take our girls back to the top again!

The Catalan coach couldn't reject the offer. Natalia has been without training any club since the start of this year, when Aston Villa rescinded the contract. We are very happy to announce this new agreement between the club and Natalia Arroyo, who shows her emotion to come back to coach another Spanish team, the last one was Real Sociedad.

Read more ↓

The group chat was burning, all of them very pleased with the new change and who is. They heard in the past her name being linked with the club.

Sighing relief, they spend their holidays without worry and wanting to come back to training with other expectations.

•••

With other energy on the ambient, Barcelona's players started to approach for the first day of training for the upcoming preseason.

Natalia approaches the changing room after knocking on the door. With a kind smile on her face, she greets them happily. The older players went to greet her with a hug, knowing the woman for a long time and because they coincided with her in the Catalan team. After exchanging some words, the coach instructed them to go to the meeting room.

Alexia is one of the first to walk there, Mapi and Aitana flying behind her. They are commenting on some anecdotes through their summer, their tan skin showing up on the new summer kit training. The hazel eyes of the captain look around once she goes inside, greeting their coach again. She could see a few new faces behind Natalia, sharing the same Barça clothes as them. However someone else catches Alexia's attention, the one a little apart from the small group, behind the desk typing something in a laptop and Natalia is sitting there maintaining a friendly chat with her. It surprised her a little about the appearance of this woman, looking young and another circumstance Alexia would think she is a new player.

Mapi soon points her out in a whisper to them, the defender sits down next to her captain in the first row, Aitana chooses to sit on the second row just behind them.

Soon, the meeting room was getting full and when the players were seated, Natalia closed the door and clapped calling their attention and coming back to learn on the desk looking at them.

"Well, firstly hello!" She leaves a small laugh waving a hand in the air, the players greet her back with cheer on her voice. "I know the major part of this team knows who I am, but I'm going to introduce myself to the ones who didn't. I'm Natalia and like you see, I'm going to be your new head coach. That small group is my staff team, and the second coach is this one," Natalia points with her thumb to the person behind her, who greets them shyly with a soft wave of her hand still standing behind the desk. "I know what you are thinking, she looks around your age after all. Her name is Y/N and very shy, but once she trust you would be your worst nightmare," Natalia gives you a knowing smirk, hearing how some of the players leaves out a chuckle by her comment and your reaction. The coach cleared her throat and again clapped with her hands, her expression turning serious. "Before we start to explain what we want for what's coming, I heard what you did and I'm very proud of you all. This team didn't deserve to be treated the way they treat you, so hopefully we can help to bring some happiness and win things, right?" Some of them have a playful expression on their faces, others join Natalia to tease a little about the last comment, making the room laugh. Then, they proceeded to explain what would happen in the next few weeks, the upcoming friendly matches and the Champions Leagues' ones.

"No need to be ashamed of it, girls. Sometimes things like that happen and you still have the opportunity to be classified and I'm sure this team would be in the Champions League this season. So please, leave out the negative thoughts and let's go to training!" Natalia walked out from the desk, going to open the door and remained there while the players started to go out.

That first day feels the best in a long time. The training is fluid, laughs filled the pitch and the competitiveness is showing up. Alexia notices you taking notes in a small notebook behind Natalia, eyes on them and scribbling there in a concentrated face, she feels a little curious. On the break to have lunch, your name approaches between them, curiosity showing their tones and trying to guess your personality, not always you have someone young to be a coach or this case, second in charge.

Ingrid is the first one who approached you, the Norwegian coincidence with you when she was to pick her food, you are standing there picking food for yourself. Friendly, Ingrid compliments your hair and gives you a small smile when you thank her shyly, moving aside to leave her some space. Once the tall brunette goes to the table where Mapi is awaiting her after the wave with a hand for her to go there, she shrugs with a smile the moment her girlfriend asks her about what you talked about.

However, the next day they would find you a little more involved with them. After they warm up, Natalia announces they will play a small match between them, she and you would choose two teams.

With their curiosity on, Natalia says Alexia's name first. They all look at you, gripping your notebook between your hands, you muttered Jana's name. A small surprise is showing on their faces, even the own player walking to your side, usually when they pick, the defenders are left out until the end, at least you are very good in that position. Natalia chose Salma, you choose Ingrid. They give their six names to form their teams, the ones who have not been named walked to the shadow and commented on what would happen.

You walked towards the team you form picking up the bib and passing it to them to put it on. Once they are ready, you put yourself in front of them.

"The only thing I want from you, is to keep the ball." You say simple, ignoring the weird looks they are giving you. "I don't want you to score and I don't mind if they score you, just try to keep the ball the most you can." You inform them, they nod slowly. "And Jana, you are the captain." You give her a lipped smile and walk out of the pitch, indicating that everything is said and they walk to their positions.

Unsure, they were positioned in their natural positions since you didn't say anything to them about how they should be lined up. Under the goal is Ellie, in the defensive line are Ona, Ingrid, Jana and Esmee, Aitana in the midfield and Kika up alone. Natalia walked next to you and asked if everyone was ready, then she whistled and the little match started.

Your team is struggling for the command you made, it's not like they are doing it on purpose it's just after two touches, they have someone behind and kicks the ball out of their feet. Two goals after, Jana thinks she is understanding what is happening, so she passed the ball to Ingrid and this one passed it to her again. She passed it to Ellie and once again the ball landed on her feet, good three touches and the ball is still on their side. Risking, she passes the ball to Esmee who is to her right. The Dutch pass it quickly to Aitana when Alexia chases her, the brunette grazes her booth enough to pass it to Ona. They are like that for a while, the game is getting heated by the moment but they are with the ball.

Then, Aitana lost the ball and again they entered the spiral from the start. Alexia's team scored again, her face shows confusion for the strategy your team has but remains quiet, seeing you and Natalia share some words with hands on your mouths.

It worsened because every time they passed the ball to Aitana, this one lost it. The frustration is showing on the midfielder, who soon scowled in your direction but didn't say anything. Jana had enough and approached her teammate, saying with a firm tone what she needs to do. She saw how Aitana clenched her jaw but nodded in her direction, going to chase the opponent.

When Aitana snatched the ball from Ewa, she passed it to Kika, feeling a little better with herself. They are keeping the ball for the second time with long passes, the ball going out when it collides with Salma's foot.

"I'm going to change the line!" You raise your voice from your position, making the teams look at you while you keep looking at your notebook while you keep scribbling. "The defensive line up! Kika in the midfield and Aitana defending."

They all look at you stunned, searching Natalia's eyes for an explanation after a few seconds, but the coach shrugged and kept her arms crossed. Biting the inside of her cheek, Aitana wipes the sweat off her forehead with the bib and walks near the box while the defenders jog up.

Surprisingly, the defensive line keeps the ball between them good. Aitana's senses are high, focusing on every pass and going to help Kika. However the moment the other team has the ball, she is struggling with Salma, who is winning her every battle they are having. Aitana is fuming at that point, still she remains quiet.

The next time Salma scored, you indicate for Esmee to accompany Aitana, leaving the defensive line with three defenders.

Jana started to yell command to her team, giving encouraging words to Aitana every time she failed. It's been awhile since she understood the strategy you gave them, but it seems Aitana still couldn't figure it out. It's mostly for the defensive line exercise, that's why you choose mostly those players. However Kika is not struggling like Aitana, she seems very focused and barely has any mistakes to keep the ball between her feet.

"A break!" Natalia whistles, the rest of the players approach to give them bottles to hydrate. "Now, we are changing sides and this team is with me now." She points to the team you made, Aitana almost leaves a content sigh when she hears her, Mapi elbowed her side but the brunette rolled her eyes and kept sipping from the bottle.

Ten minutes later, you ignore the frown in Alexia's face and give the strategy. "I want you all to hold this." You approached them and gave Claudia a rugby ball. "Every time you give a pass, you need to throw it to the person you passed." You instructed, looking at them briefly. "Ah, I would like to change the captain, if that's okay with you." She looks at Alexia, who slowly nods with her head with a look that says everything. "I want Cata to be the captain."

Now, it's the other team who take the lead. Aitana seems more comfortable and it's playing like herself, finding Kika, Ona and Esmee easily. Alexia flinches with every minute passing, throwing at your way an annoying look when they lose the ball. The only ones comfortable are Salma, Claudia and Cata. Irene, Alexia and Frido are struggling.

"Why do we need to do it?" Alexia snapped throwing the rugby ball to the ground, stepping towards you for an explanation.

Irene puts a hand on her shoulder, whispering her name.

"I like this." Claudia comments, the small smile on her face washing out when Alexia gives her a look.

You look at her impassive, playing with the pen in your fingers. "Because I said it." You say softly, a hint of firmness in your voice.

Alexia's frown deepened, not liking your answer. Claudia paints a smirk, winking in your direction before she walks to pick a bottle to drink. The blonde looks at Natalia, but she remains quiet and gives a lipped smile to the midfielder. Irene brings her back to the pitch, not having the same problem with the rugby ball even if she is struggling like her.

Mapi and Patri make a bet for how long it would take Alexia to snap again.

•••

The next day Alexia and Aitana give you a frown when they see you, the contrary that Ingrid, who approaches you with a content face and makes conversation with you.

When Natalia announces to them that you would be in charge of the next exercise, the midfielders are relieved when they aren't chosen for this one.

"I want you to play the ball in short." She says shortly, looking at Mapi and Irene. They nod, seeing how you call for Kika and Ewa to attack them. "It's the only thing I want, okay? If some of them touch the ball, you start again until you make it."

Nodding, Cata gives the ball to Mapi to put it in play. There is a mannequin pretending to be the player who would receive the ball, Mapi and Irene need to find the right pass to do. But it isn't happening, Kika and Ewa are blocking Mapi perfectly when she tries to play. You can see the frustration forming on Mapi's face, so you stop the exercise.

"Kika and Ewa, leave her to come out." You instruct when you put the mannequin in another position. Then, you approach the two forwards and whisper what they are going to do. Nodding with their heads, they put themselves in the midfield.

With expectation, you indicate to Mapi to start. The Aragonese jog with the ball, Irene staying behind to defend. Kika is letting Mapi approach the midfield area, frowning a little the defender keeps her eyes on the players and thinks fast to give the pass. Out of nowhere, you yell to Frido to put like full back and help Mapi to create a play. Then, the moment Mapi gives a pass to the Swedish player Kika throws herself to the pitch and cuts the pass, running for the ball and passing it to Ewa.

They are like that for a few minutes, until Mapi yells angrily at herself. You stopped the exercise and put yourself next to the Portuguese forward, who has the ball under her foot. You patted her shoulder and whispered a good job only for her to hear, Kika nods with a small smile, content to hear the compliment.

"Don't you see it?" You ask calmly while you step towards Mapi, whose breath becomes agitated by the previous exercise. The defender has a frown, with an irritated gaze she looks down briefly, her eyes half closed for the sun shining on her face. "You don't know how to keep the ball when they do that." You look at Frido too, the Swedish has both hands on the sides of her waist and biting her lower lip. Your voice didn't sound mad, it's calm. "It's where you failed more last season."

Mapi clenched her jaw, her breathing becoming normal. She sees you how you ask Kika for the ball and then, you walk towards her with it in your hands.

"It's weird to see something you know to do and fail constantly." You point to Mapi to follow you and walk to the box, leaving the ball there. "You two are the weak side of the team when you play in short." Mapi bites the inside of the cheek, flinching when she hears you. Frido lowered her head, weakly nodding towards your words. "And they knew it. Come here Mapi."

The defender walks towards you with heavy steps, behind the ball. "They are letting you play while covering the pass you would give to the midfielders, so the only pass you would give is the wings back or move the ball back. It's what they want and then, they press in both ways." You pause, the attention of the whole team on your explanation. "They want you to forget the strong side for them. How many times Graham is alone and you didn't see her?" At this mention, Mapi plays with her tongue and doesn't say anything, just shrug. "They don't want you to play to that side and they are successful. So will start to work, okay? You need to know where your players are, they always will be there. Put it." You tend to Mapi a black blindfold, the defender picks it up from your hands, doubting about it.

When Mapi has the blindfold on, you instruct her what to do. You walk to the sidelines and ask for some of them to go to the pitch. Once everything is settled, you put behind Alexia and you whistle, seeing Mapi kick the ball in your direction but fail for a few meters to her right. When you whistle again, this time Mapi gives a good pass, Alexia catching the ball easily with her foot. You clap at her and indicate she made it, Mapi shouts at you if she can do it again.

A few minutes like that, you order at Mapi to pull off the blindfold and do it with the exercise before.

You jog towards Mapi and raise her head to the level you wanted. "Focus on your teammates, when they pressed you to give large passes or when they leave you jogging with the ball, you need to know where your teammates are."

Mapi nods, with a different restore inside of her, she is determined to learn the mistake and perfection it. You whistle and Mapi jog with the ball, quickly taking a look at her teammates in time when Claudia comes to attack her, she passes the ball to the other side, to Esmee. The Aragonese started to be motivated and asked to do it again and again and again until Natalia indicates that it is enough, making Mapi pouts a little in her direction.

Taking their breath, you sit down on the ball in front of them. This action called their interest, turning their bodies to pay you their full attention. "I want to have a little chat about something I think is important." You start, hands intertwining while you take a look at them. "It's about Turin," you name it carefully, noticing the change on some faces when they hear you. "We need to work on that, it's not possible until today you still have struggled with it and when you lose, the first thing in your mind is “like Turin”, because it's not." You say firm, but there is gentleness in your voice. "You need to take away the expectation, the favouritism, the things that make you all don't believe. The fear of making people support you wastes their money on you." The last comment hurts more than they want to admit, you can feel it on their faces. "They support your team and support you, no one is asking them to travel or come to every match, they care about you, keep that in mind." You finished, standing up with the silence formed for your words. "And Natalia wants to remind you that we have a vacancy for the third captain, Aitana and Mapi are the chosen ones. Good luck choosing." This comment brings back the calm and teasing laugh, a different perspective where the air felt lighter.

That day Alexia has more respect for you, even if she still couldn't understand the exercise you put on the last day.

•••

The third day, the team gathered in the meeting room. Natalia is giving indications of the opposing team they will face next week. While the coach was talking, you approached them with books in your arms, giving one to every player.

"There is everything about the rival team, I add the opponents in the Champions League too. Please, what I gave save it for the next ones. The pages are recycled, for if you want to know..." You explain when Natalia stopped talking, walking back next to her.

Alexia opened the black cover, a photocopy with a neat letter very detailed, greeting her. Soft whispers start to be heard when they open it too, the midfielder sees small tips about the rival, a column with different colours with their own names, and a lot more that leave Alexia very perplexed.

"Alexia made you do this?" Mapi asks loudly, making some of them laugh while Alexia blushes and hiss her name, giving her friend a look.

You chuckle softly, blushing too. You shake your head, commenting that you like the details that nobody pays attention to.

"You need to study every page about this team." You add, pointing to Mapi with her finger in a teasing way.

"I wish it was like this when I needed to study in high school..." Mapi comments, going through the pages and seeing photos, underlined lines in different colours, links and many more.

"Agree." Claudia mutters next to her, some humming agreeing with both of them.

Natalia winks in your direction, patting your arm friendly.

"Did you write it?" Ingrid asks, raising a hand in the air. You nod, making her look at you impressed. She didn't know how to feel, but she felt appreciated by your efforts. "Thank you."

You give her a small smile.

Natalia cleared her throat and brought the attention towards her again, starting to explain what they would do after the meeting was over.

After training, Natalia suggests doing a little game that you would explain. They gathered around you two, some of them with bottles on their hands or with their arms crossed waiting for you to explain.

"It's simple, you are going to put on a blindfold," you show it in the air for them to watch. "and your teammate would help you to shoot the ball to the goal. Like you could see, we put obstacles for the one who has this on." You point with a hand the places where the obstacles are scattered. "Alexia, you are first." You give a quick look to your notebook, giving a lipped smile to the captain.

Alexia steps towards you and picks the blindfold, a small frown on her features. You call Jana, instructing her that she would be the one in charge to guide her blinded teammate. Once Alexia covers her eyes, she waits for you to start. However, she couldn't hide her surprise expression when she felt a warm touch wrapping her left hand.

They need to do it like that.

They jogged together, the soft indication in Jana's voice came two seconds later. Alexia turns to the right with the ball glued on her foot, Natalia's voice indicating that they need to do it faster. In a strong grip, Alexia does what Jana is telling her, leading the way. After sorting the penultimate obstacle, Jana guides her to the left and yells at her to shoot the ball. Alexia could hear how it hit the crossbar, but a soft palm on her shoulder and the victorious voices of her teammates tell her that she scored.

The Catalan pulls the blindfold off and high five with Jana, who gives her a wide smile. She sees how the ball ran out of the goal, still Alexia scored and didn't trip on her way there.

The next ones are Patri and Vicky.

"I put you with her because you wouldn't be mad." You explain shyly to Alexia when she approaches the group, making her laugh quietly while shaking her head slowly.

"And you are right. You put me with someone else and if I fail, it's for their fault." Alexia comments back, a teasing smile remaining on her lips watching how Patri trips with the mannequin because Vicky pushes her softly, the whole group starts to laugh and Patri protests to do it again and with someone else, giving a bad look to the young player who didn't see guilty for what she did.

•••

"Euskal Herritik?" Irene asks loudly after the last meeting, she is sitting on the chair with her arms crossed.

You turn to look at her. "Guipuzkoa." You say, mirroring her smile.

"Finally someone from the same place." Irene comments, making some of them chuckle. She raised her hand in the air, you step towards her way and accept the gesture. "I'm tired of the Catalan surrounding this team..." She smirked widely when the Catalans complained, rolling her eyes when Claudia tells her that she is in a Catalan team and what she is waiting to be the players there.

They have the last training before the friendly match they have tomorrow. Natalia makes them gather around her while she tells her first line up for the upcoming match.

"And Aitana will be the third captain, Mapi let me know that she prefers Aitana to be the captain." Natalia finishes, dismissing them.

What they didn't know is that, later you give Natalia your own line up. A line up that makes Natalia smile reading the small comments you put under their names to be starting tomorrow. She comments on you to give her earlier, but congratulate you for having a different line up.

If Alexia needs to explain who they see themselves in that friendly match, it's wonderful. She feels like they are coming back to their roots, to where they belong and it inspired her confidence. Natalia took her out in the second half to give the youngest players minutes, she sees you sitting writing furiously in your inseparable notebook, sometimes standing up and walking to Natalia to share a comment. It's been awhile since Alexia saw someone with that emotion for what they are doing, and watching you doing them, makes Alexia feel proud. She barely knows you, but she senses that you care about what you are doing.

They won by three goals.

The next day after recovery time, Natalia ordered them to accompany her to the pitch. When they are approaching, they see you there sitting in a ball waiting for them.

"We are practicing penalties." Natalia says when they gather around you. "Y/N is in charge of this exercise, so when you want. They all are yours." She smiled, stepping aside and walking behind the group.

Clearing your throat, you instructed them to step out of the box. With the ball in your hands, you call Alexia's name.

"I'm sorry to always start with you." You say when she steps towards you.

Alexia dismissed it, reassuring you that she prefers it that way.

"Okay. Please Cata, go to the goal." You ask gently, putting the ball on the white dot. "Don't shoot until I tell you." You see how Alexia nods, unaware of what you have in mind.

You walk towards Natalia and grab her wrist, stepping a few centimetres away from Alexia. You lean and whisper only for Natalia to hear what you are going to do, when she nods, you cross your arms and fix your eyes on the player.

"Do you think she can score?" You comment in a low voice, but enough for Alexia to hear. After seeing Alexia's eyebrow twitch, you look at Natalia. "What if she misses it?"

Alexia bites the inside of her cheek, removing her gaze from you. The hands on her hip tighten, hearing Natalia comments back at you.

"We can change the one to shoot the penalty." Natalia says back, shrugging.

Alexia could feel you approaching, only looking at you when she notices her eyes on her. She raises an eyebrow, her jaw very tight for what she heard. The midfielder is getting annoyed by the seconds you keep looking at her, the whisper behind her didn't help.

"Shoot." You simply say, stepping aside.

Cata puts on position, eyes focusing on her teammate and tries to guess the possibilities she has to stop the ball. However, she didn't need to move from the spot because Alexia missed it.

Biting her lip hard, Alexia lowered her head. She didn't want to look at you, not after what happened. You bring a hand briefly on her shoulder to bring her attention towards you, but she didn't look at you, still you know you have her attention.

"What bothers you more? The comments or that I stayed looking at you?" Her hazel eyes were raised from her shoes and fixed in you. Alexia processed what you questioned her, and after meditating she whispered the truth.

"Both, mainly the staring part." Alexia whispered, licking her lips.

You nod, putting in front of Alexia. "Close your eyes." You gently whisper. The captain thinks of paying you attention, but she does it. "Now, think in your family. Your friends, your mother..." Alexia is not understanding the sense of this, but once again she obligated herself and scratched her mind for moments with them. "Think on the dumbest but meaningful detail that brings you happiness, that every moment it shows in your head, you smile." In her mind came immediately one, the one she treasured for herself on her lowest moments or when she values what she archived. Blinking weakly, Alexia's eyes become watery and nod with her head towards you. "Got it? Okay, take another try." You give her a lipped smile and quickly, you step towards Cata to whisper something and pick the ball up on your way back, positioning it for Alexia.

If the occasion was different, the Catalan would put the ball like she wanted, but not now. She closed her eyes again and took a deep breath, opening them with the memory in her mind. Alexia makes a run and shoots the ball hard to the right corner, smiling proudly when the sound of the net resounds around them.

No one says anything, maybe because you told them to make any sound. You ask her if she wants to try again and Alexia nods, doing the exact same thing you instructed, this time her teammates cheer loudly when she scores.

You pat her shoulder friendly and tell her to come back with them. With the ball under your foot, you see how Alexia is being cuddled by them. "Before we continue with this, I want to clarify some things." You start when they bring their attention to you again. "I'm going to bring up some topics that I think would hurt you or it stings. I'm not a psychologist, so please, you are free to not answer me or tell me that you don't prefer to share it here with us, but keep it in mind. We want to help you, and we have a phenomenal psychologist that would gladly help you."

After a pause, you keep talking. "I'm going to bring topics from clubs like national teams too. What I did with your teammate is what I think she struggles when she needs to take a penalty, I try my best to help you to take penalties without your mind interfering. Salma, you are next sorry."

Some of them chuckle, Salma stepping towards you with a lipped smile and positioning next to you. She put both hands behind her back, brown eyes focusing on you.

"Do you feel like you are the best of the team?" You ask, not in a provoking tone or trying to mock her, it's just a calm question.

Salma frowns and shakes her head. "No." She answers you immediately.

Licking your lips, you nod with your head for the answer. "Well, I do think that you are one of the best. A player that —collectively— won almost everything. How old are you?"

You see how the striker blushes. "I'm 22." She clears her throat, tilting her head in your direction.

"It's not bad if you believe you are a good player, Salma. You archived a lot for a young age and it's so admirable." You comment, your voice sounding sincere. Salma keeps smiling, muttering a thank you to your way. "Do you feel pressed against Brazil's match?"

That question takes her off-guard, the air changes around them with that one. Salma looks briefly behind her shoulder and sees some of her teammates uncomfortable. Looking at you back, the brunette nods.

"I did." Salma confess. It isn't necessary for you to explain which match you are recalling, they vividly remember that fateful match.

"Even if there were ten more players, you felt alone?" You questioned, Salma below her head and nod. "They leave a young player to save them." Your comment makes Salma bite the inside of her cheek hard. "If you score, you were an amazing player and the saviour but if you lose..." You trailed off, walking slowly in circles. "Do you want to take the penalty?" You ask casually, leaving the conversation aside and like nothing suggesting that.

Salma raised her head and alternated her gaze between you and the ball. She nods, but she is afraid it looks like an unsure gesture. Taking a breath, she waits for you. You whistle and Salma takes a run, missing massively the shot. She feels embarrassed, the ball didn't reach the goal and got lost to the other empty pitch.

There is silence, and somehow Salma feels it is worse than any fun comment.

"No need to be embarrassed about it." You approach Salma, squeezing her shoulder gently. "Once again, I'm not a psychologist, I'm going to repeat it many times because it's the truth. Do you know because I chose Alexia first?" You ask her, Salma shakes her head. "Because I know what she fears or I least, an intuition about what it is. Alexia feels uncomfortable when people fix their eyes on her, I only spent one minute looking at her and I'm sure she felt like an eternity, maybe that same people would say that she would be used to this type of thing, and the truth is that she is human. About the comments... They wouldn't hurt more than what you tell yourself." You pause, looking through the group. "Why did she score when I calm her? Because she holds onto a memory that makes her happy. She has been criticized for the recent penalties she took in charge and I know she practiced them, and I know that after this training Alexia would practice them but in a different manner that maybe make it work when in a match, she takes a penalty." You explain the best you could, eyes only on Salma. "Close your eyes."

Salma does what you said, feeling a shadow in front of her. After a pause, you talk again. "Sea or mountain?"

"Sea." Salma says immediately, not understanding why you ask but didn't question anything.

"Of course, my bad." You see how Salma relaxes her features, a soft small smile on her lips. You type something in your phone and curse yourself when a spot approaches when you press on the relaxing sound. "Okay, listen to it." You put the phone close to her ear, the soft sound of the waves is the only noise around you. You are like that for a few minutes until another spot show and some snort were heard. "I want you to pretend that you are on the shoreline, and your problems stay there. You would resolve them at the right time, you would fall and stand up or just keep walking because you are strong. If you miss a penalty, that's okay. You would come back. You know how long it takes when the referee whistles for it, in that time your mind puts you in the worse place sometimes. When it happens, you close your eyes and think about anything that calms you. Your family, friends, your teammates, when Patri trips because she is awkward..." A soft hey was heard behind Salma, you see how the tall brunette slipped a wide smile. "Think about the exercise I put in the other day, when you were blindfolded and your teammate guided you. They have your back, Salma. Remember that always." You finished saying, not removing the phone from her ear. She keeps her eyes closed and maintained like that until she feels ready, there are emotions in her eyes when she opens them.

When she nods, you save your phone in your pocket and nod towards Cata, smiling when Salma shoots the ball inside of the goal in an unstoppable way.

Clapping, Salma repeats the penalty and comes back with the group.

You decide to light the mood a little, Natalia winking in your direction when you meet her eyes. Walking towards them, you put a hand above Claudia's head and start to make a sound with your mouth, walking slowly while you keep your hand up and pass their heads. You decide to stop between Kika and Vicky, the sound you are making intensifying between these two until you leave your hand above Kika's head.

Kika pushes Vicky jokingly when this one mocks her, the Portuguese stepping towards the box.

"Don't worry, Cata. You are going to do it too, but another day." You point towards the goal, seeing a smirk from the Balear towards your direction with a thumbs up. "Can I call you Kikinha?" You ask her, your Basque accent showing up. Kika giggles but nods with her head. "How are you?"

"I'm good. And you?" Kika asks back, her smile never fading.

"I'm good, thanks." You sit down on the ball and write something in the paper, looking up to see Kika looking down at you from where she is standing. "How many times do you smile when you say you are good, but in reality you aren't feeling good?" With that, Kika changes her gesture, the smile going out slowly. She clears her throat and shrugs, but never removes her eyes from you. "And when your injury removed you from the pitch out of the season and made you lose the Euros?"

It's there when Kika moves on the spot uncomfortable, hands behind her back and eyes looking behind you. "Many times." She says after a few minutes, the voice sounds small and hurt.

"Do you think you deserve that injury?" Ask that make you feel a little uncomfortable, but you promised yourself to give her a big hug and an apology. Kika shakes her head, tilting her head when she looks at you again. "I think you deserve it." Kika's eyes look at you very hurt, even if you aren't looking at the rest of the team, you feel how they are holding their breath and the death glares you are receiving from some of them. "It makes you stronger, a reason to come back and show us what you are capable of doing. To win with them the Champions League while you are playing and not watching from the stands, to be grateful to them for being there in your lowest moments, for the anecdotes created and for many other reasons. I know there are many tears for that injury, it's the worst for a player. I wish you didn't go through it, but embrace that experience and learn. You can do that and many more, Kika. I'm sure you are going to win everything you propose, you would go to the Euros, win the Champions League, go to the World Cup, win the league —again— and be the top scorer. I know you would do it. But embrace that scar, forgive it and move on. You are a player that could handle that and more. Keep fighting."

Some tears slipped from her eyes, Kika took both hands to her cheeks and wiped them. You stand up and walk towards her, giving a hug to reassure her that it's okay. You whisper an apology, Kika smiles again and shakes her head dismissing it, hugging you back.

"You know what to do?" You ask her when you are separated, pointing to the ball.

Kika nods and after taking a breath, you whistle when you see she is ready and Kika hides the ball inside of the goal, letting out a scream for that. You laugh quietly when she jumps on your back, throwing her fist in the air looking at their teammates.

"There are two left... And I'm selfishly right now and I'm going to call Ingrid." You let them know when Kika joins them, the Norwegian walks next to you with some surprise on her face. Mapi comments loudly to you to be careful, you give her a thumbs up while Ingrid gives a warning look. "Do you want to know what I said to Natalia about you?" Ingrid nods her head unsure, sharing a look with the coach and looking you back. "If you aren't going to count on her, do us a favour and transfer her." You know what those words sound out loud, the change in her facial expression is enough for you to clarify. "Because it would piss me off if this player didn't play what she deserves." You add, now seeing how Ingrid leaves out a nervous laugh, a soft blush on her cheeks. "It's true Ingrid, you are a good player and you are benched. You show us what you are capable of for a long time... Still, it amazes me that you remain here. I don't judge your reasons... but you deserve to be playing and not being bench, like other teammates you have."

Ingrid is speechless, not finding words to say out loud. She looks at her hands, it's been awhile —not counting her teammates or family— that someone reassures her potential.

"Personally I like it more when you play like a defender, what a discovery." You comment, not wasting time to let her know. "The team that has you, would gain an amazing and kind player, who cares about the people around her, make them feel be seen and don't let anyone alone. Want to try it?" You finished.

The tall brunette nods a few seconds later, recovering from the words you say. After she scores, she approaches you and kindly gives you a hug, squeezing your arm when she separated.

"And the last one... Who wants to be treated badly for me?" You ask loudly, making them laugh but no one makes a move. You wandered through them and walked straight towards Irene, the veteran player rolled her eyes but followed you. "I know you want to kick my ass."

Irene smirks, not denying your comment. You felt her gaze on you the entire time you shared with the young players.

"How angry you get at me when I tell those things?" You ask, tilting your head.

The defender snorts quietly, hands behind her back. "You resolved it very well, but I almost jumped up a few times." She honestly says, her answer makes you nod with your head and smile.

You don't wait for another reaction from her.

"How old were you when they didn't count anymore with Veronica Boquete?" You ask carefully, witnessing the surprise approaching on her face. The tall defender doesn't seem uncomfortable, maybe because the last thing she waited for was for you to ask that. "You can't answer me if you think it's personal." You let her know, reminding that it's not obligatory.

Irene swallows, looking at some of her teammates and shaking her head, she tells you that it's okay.

"It happened in 2017... I was 26 years old." Irene thinks loudly.

You make a pause, thinking what you would say next. You throw the paper alongside the pen to the pitch and step in front of her, you can see she finds some relief when you hide part of the sun hitting her figure.

"It surprised me that you live every scandal that happens in the national team... And it makes me realise that you have always been taking care of the youngest players." When you start, you try your best to be careful with your tone of voice, after all it's a hard and delicate topic. "You were that young but neither was that old... But you stay and people like Alexia —sorry!—" you interrupt yourself to bring Alexia's name again, the captain shakes her head softly, features relaxing when she meets your face. "like many other younger players, you don't want to leave them because you know what happened there. Then, —I'm not going to name him— once again it's happening, different things but still it is a strong situation that makes you stay to fight for, but mainly to protect the younger players. Because you know you couldn't live with you if you stop going to the national team and leave them around bad people. So when everything explodes, before the World Cup, you decide to receive every hit coming your way and letting them call you a niñata and many more bad words for speak up and ask for your right. You risked not going to the —possible— your last World Cup."

The tall defender shifted her posture, her jaw is clenched when you finished speaking. You guess she is someone who hides very well her feelings, but one looks to her eyes and you notice the pain on them.

"What happens if..." You take a look to see a young player to name. "Jana for example, experienced everything you lived with her age? She is younger than you when the first scandal happened. Imagine that there is no one who cares, then someone like Vero comes and they stop convocating her because she raised her voice. Jana is alone. What is the first thing that came to your mind?"

You see how Irene turns her hands into a fist, now both arms falling to her sides. She takes a long look behind her, you didn't look but assume she is looking at Jana.

Then, Irene turns to look at you slowly. "Then, they ruined someone innocent and kind." Her voice is lower, but everyone there could hear her clearly.

You leave the silence envelope for a few minutes.

"I'm glad they have you, Irene. Someone who cares about them, no matter the age they are, you would always check on them. They have you. But... Who cares about you? Who looks for you like you do with them?"

Your last two questions make her remain quiet, her breath stuck on her throat and she gives a weak shrug. She knows that she has people who look for her, but right now she feels lost.

"I do." Alexia breaks the silence, voice firm.

You smile. It's what you are waiting for. You wanted Irene to hear it from the people she trusts.

"Me too." Aitana and Mapi say at the same time.

It is followed by the rest of them.

Irene smiles weakly, an appreciative one.

"Jana, can you come here please?" The young player walks towards you, not without giving Irene a short hug, who chuckles quietly and rubs her head affectionately. You guide Jana in front of Irene and put both hands on her shoulders, your head showing behind her. "Imagine she is your young version. What would you tell yourself?" After saying that, you remove yourself from there and give them some space.

"A shorty version!" Claudia interjects, making them laugh, gaining herself a mock reply from Jana.

After a moment, Irene takes a breath and closes her eyes. Opening them, Irene cleared her throat and started to speak. "I'm not good at this, but I'll try." She pauses. "I want to tell you that the journey is beautiful, but also hard. You would love everything that happens in your career, every person you will meet, every friend that until today they are supporting you... You are strong, but it didn't mean that it wouldn't hurt you. Sometimes you will wish to change things, things that you innocently would fight for and they wouldn't listen to you. But then, you wouldn't look so crazy when someone else joined you. They will help you, just like you will help them. Win didn't mean you will be unharmed. Still, me and you know that we wouldn't change our journey and live all of this over again if it means changes. Changes for your teammates, for the ones who would come in the future, for the one who is watching us and be a referent because now, they have a female football player to watch and be like us... I'm proud of you."

You blink a few times and start to clap, the others following you and joining on the hug when Jana throws to Irene's arms.

"I thought you would teach them how to take penalties." Natalia came to your side, laughing quietly next to you. You shake your head, smiling for her teasing comment. She is aware of what would happen here, you comment in a reunion with her and she agrees. You didn't know why. "Okay! You all can leave now, see you tomorrow!"

•••

The first match of the Champions League was in the city's rival, the atmosphere was charged with new energy and hopes.

After what happened with the penalties session, the players brought it to comment on what happened there. They all agree on something, you are someone very different from all the coaches they had. Aitana listened to them in silence in the changing room, the loud voices giving their opinion on you. She listens to Kika say happily that she likes you, some of them agreeing with the Portuguese. Alexia was like her, changing her training clothes and listening to them quietly. Aitana could have a few different opinions, but she agrees that your words have a meaning, and maybe the method is what she didn't like too much, but the result? It's amazing. She saw herself hiding behind her teammates every moment you chose someone to... Heal? She didn't know how to classify that session, but somehow listened to how you cared, it's impressive.

After that, they didn't have another exercise where you led them. They focused on the opposing team, studying the pages you put effort making them. The players seem very interested in sharing the tips you gave, the comment below to the name's player, some tactics that would work with a possible connection. However, during the training you approached Frido and remained by her side, sometimes they found out you were keeping training after Natalia put an end.

They won the match by seven goals, and even mathematically they are going to pass, they didn't take for granted and keep their minds that everything could happen and they are going to do all the possible to win on the second leg.

Ingrid seems very excited to go training, the start of this preseason feels very different and welcoming. She played the last game the whole second half and felt very happy for how she played. The day of recovery after that match, you approached the group in the meeting room when you gave them the new pages to study. Natalia clapped her hands to call their attention and ask to have their attention on you, who wanted to explain something.

"I have been thinking about doing this and after commenting on it with Natalia, I would like to communicate with you mostly because if you all agree, I need to prepare it with time." You start, walking to the desk. You throw the pen there and walk to be in the middle. "Since this weekend we are free of playing matches, I thought to do a gincana. Would you like it?"

There is an immediate reply, they all cheered and yelled an affirmative. Well, all of them no. Alexia seems content by it but it's not buzzing like the major part of the team, Aitana for once her loudness is quiet but the idea sounds good to her and then, Caro seems chill about it like Ewa and Esmee.

"There would be a reward at the end. I will explain everything there, okay?" You inform them, when they hear the reward word, the room becomes wild.

Irene seems very happy to do the obstacle course when the day arrives. She makes a bet with Patri and Mapi on who will win from all of them. Alexia seems excited too, her competitive side showing on the bus ride to the place.

The morning went like total chaos, but it was filled with laughs. The moment they do the teams, the staff members leave it to you and Natalia. So you decided to write their names and chose the one you read out loud. The competitiveness is getting high with every new obstacle, when some of them win they show it on their faces.

When it is over, you call for their attention. "I asked them to hide letters around this place. So in pairs, we will search for them. Hear me out, please! You only need to pick a letter, then you come here and wait for the rest. Don't worry, you all have a letter. The red ones are for us! I need a difference between the players and the staff team." You explain. "Before you start to choose, I'll do it first! I'm going with Aitana." You give a lipped smile to the Catalan midfielder. You barely have contact today with her, since the brunette was on the opposite team.

"I wanted to be paired with you!" Patri whined, making you blush but laughed a little at her reaction.

Once they are all paired, you parted ways from them. The silence wrapping around you and Aitana, who walk next to you but leave a distance. You can hear some of them who are close, their chat and laugh floating around.

"That bad I am?" You joke, when there aren't more sounds than the birds chirping around you and your steps the branches under your feet. Aitana seems taken aback by your question, letting out a nervous chuckle seconds later. "I'm kidding, but I noticed that you aren't that content with my job since the first day when I put you alone to defend... Sorry about that, I just want to study some movements with the defensive line." You explain while you keep walking, stepping up to start a steep way.

Aitana nods to herself because she realises you can't see her. Jana and Ingrid explained it to her when she let out her frustration when the exercise was over, still she felt some remorse towards you the next few days after that happened.

"It's okay, you have your reasons..." Aitana muttered behind you, looking carefully at the steep. "I'm sorry too." She didn't give an explanation of why she feels sorry, simply Aitana wanted to do it for her behaviour that day. And because she has been avoiding you since then, looking at you in the shadows and having her own judgement watching you those days.

You stop briefly to look at her and give a small smile, keeping walking when Aitana awkwardly reciprocates that gesture. The brunette could feel how her phone was buzzing on her shorts pocket, probably some of them found the letter and are letting them know or maybe they are wanting to be annoying, both options work for the midfielder.

Then, when once again they are walking in silence, their little peace seems interrupted by Kika's squeal. It makes the pair look at each other and before they choose what to do, Kika and Esmee approach at the end of the steep laughing at something they only know.

"Well, well, well... The grandmothers are joining us." Kika teases them, still she extends a hand in your way to help you. Her laugh floats around you when Aitana tells her to not call her like that with a deep frown. "That's all the help you are going to obtain from us, see you down losers." Then, she winks at your way and locks her arm with Esmee's and walks out of your sight.

Aitana muttered something under her breath and put a hand in your lower back momentarily while telling you to keep going, now taking the lead.

They are looking everywhere in search of the letters, a distinct colour from the green and brown from that place. A small scowl installed in Aitana's face when time passed and they didn't see anything, she is sure that they would be the last ones to obtain a letter, if magically there is at least one at the top of this area. Sighing, Aitana feels small taps on her arm and when she turns to look at you, you are pointing with a finger to the big trunk in front of you, looking carefully Aitana could see a yellow tone in one of some cracks it has. Her features softened and shared a glare with you accompanied by a grin, stepping towards the big tree and picking it up, putting the piece of paper in your hands.

To Aitana's surprise, the moment they stepped down to join the people who found the letter, there were half of the team there, there other half are missing and scattered over there to find the letter. She finds herself waiting for them not far away from you, after all you are her partner for this exercise. While you are talking enthusiastically with Claudia and Ona, Aitana sees how Alexia comes with an annoying face with Patri behind her, Natalia and Irene sharing a laugh between them. Aitana guesses that Alexia didn't like this activity so much.

Soon the rest of the team came and you walked up, Natalia following you with the rest of the staff team.

"Please, give me the red letters and I'll give the yellow ones for you." You ask, sharing the red ones with her fellow team when they handed them to her. "Okay, first of all no one knows what it is. So if you need to blame someone, it's me." You say, seeing some faces not agreeing with what you are implying. "You are the first Natalia, open the letter."

Natalia carefully opened the letter and brought out what it was hiding, her curiosity going out the moment she read it. "Absolutely no!" She comments looking at you, a small shadow of red on her cheeks. "I'm not going to do it." She states firmly, pointing a finger in your direction.

You giggle by her reaction, the whisper of the players getting loud and questioning their coach what it is.

"Dancing Queen by ABBA." Natalia read out loud, shaking her head to emphasise that she is not going to do that.

The group burst out laughing, some letting out some teasing comments and cheering for Natalia to do it.

"Can I open mine?" Kika asks like a child, face with hope to find out what it is inside. You nod and watch how Kika read out loud jumping on her spot very happy. "Black by Pearl Jam!"

Then, they proceeded to open their letters with your confirmation. There are different reactions to it, some not agreeing with the song and others with their open mouth for what they read, still they seem very glad when you comment that they can change the song of joining someone else to sing.

"I'm not going to sing." Alexia breaks the enthusiasm of her teammates, making some of them groan for her comment. Her hazel eyes come back to read what she has on her hands. "I'm not doing this." She says more firm this time, a soft blush approaching on her cheeks but her gaze is letting you know that she is not going to do it.

Some boo are heard after, Alexia didn't seem bothered by that.

"Everyone is going to sing. I'm singing too, Alexia. And believe me when I tell you that I'm drowning only thinking about it." You speak up, interrupting the small reactions.

Alexia shakes her head. "I'm not going to sing." She repeats.

You stay looking at her, an idea forming in your head. "If you don't laugh any time that day when we sing, you include, I let you choose the exercise and without complaining we all will do it." You suggest, hiding your smile when you see how Alexia is thinking about your words longer than you think.

"Deal." Alexia muttered, extending her hand towards you to seal the deal.

Smiling, you stretch her hand.

You come back next to Natalia to convince her to sing, telling that you would sing together.

Alexia looks dreadful about what she needs to sing, Nero Gotico by Clara.

She didn't even know how this person was.

•••

Letting out the hundredth sigh that day, Alexia sits down on the chair in the backyard where the improvised scenario is in front of her. They all are wearing casual clothes, a different change of what usually they wear on their daily day. They haven't seen any trace of you since they came to Natalia's house, who offered to host the small karaoke.

"You look beautiful tonight, capi." Ona approaches in front of the Catalan midfielder, a knowing smirk on her lips.

Alexia rolls her eyes, ignoring the small laugh around her from some of them. Patri shows behind the full back player, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Ready?" Patri asks, sitting a row up from her.

"Yes." Alexia says shortly.

Fortunately for her, she could change the song with Giulia since the song is in Italian. Truth be told, Alexia blushed a lot when she put the videoclip on YouTube and saw the singer.

Aitana walks towards them with a drink on her hand, sipping from it the moment she sits down next to Mapi. She didn't know why she was here and why she would sing, but something inside her wanted to know what would happen tonight. Ignoring the conversation that the defender is having with Marta, who gladly came to cheer for her chill girlfriend, and her eyes wandered around until she saw you walking in with Natalia and Hector by your side, her hand stayed in mid air holding the glass while she fixed her eyes on you.

Blinking, Aitana heard how some of them start to whistle when they see you. Claudia makes a comment about she being single, only for you to shake your head smiling after hugging her. They are seeing you with different clothes and it's making Aitana very difficult to pay attention to.

You greet all of them when you approach the small stage, you start to explain that you and Natalia would start the show and then, since it's her idea you would mark the order.

They have an idea of why you two aren't singers, still Aitana feels looking at you with tenderness. To her eyes, you look cute with your red cheeks and when you misspell some words. Some of them are standing up and dancing together, cheering and loudly joining the song.

Alexia is trying hard to not show a smile with the show you two are making. Kika, Jana, Vicky, Salma and Bruna are dancing in the empty space in the backyard, some of them are recording.

Once it is over, you bend down briefly and side hug Natalia, thanking them while chanting your names. You call Ona to go to the stage, the Catalan accepts the microphone you tend at her.

The evening went smoothly, the majority of them were giving everything in every song, a chorus that no one asked but they accompanied the ones who are on the stage. Ingrid and Mapi are the last ones, the Aragonese with sunglasses pretending to be a real singer, making a dance that Ingrid joined in some parts shyly.

Then, they cover the empty space with a large table and sit down to have dinner. Alexia is more relaxed, the deal she made with you broke the moment Claudia sang a Spice Girl's song, including a choreography that made Alexia fail to not laugh. Patri records her reaction to have proof and show you, internally sighing relief because they would be free from the exercise Alexia would put on them.

They see a new version of you tonight, a goofy and calmer side. The days that you share with them make you open and relax around them, joining the teasing with Cata and Claudia or answering some uncomfortable questions that Mapi and some more are doing and being stopped by Alexia and Natalia.

"Why did you make this?" Alexia asked you once the party started, sitting in the empty chair next to you.

You paint a tiny smirk, watching the improvised dance that some of them are doing.

"To have fun." You reply, shrugging casually.

Alexia stays looking at you suspiciously, studying you while you give a sip to your drink. "The real reason." She says in a tone of voice where she didn't believe you.

You remained quiet for a moment, then turned to look at her. "To spend a good time, to loosen up a bit and know you all a little more. For you all to know me a little too, in a different environment than football..." You say, trailing off.

She believes you this time, and your explanation makes her smile genuinely. You are trying to connect with them, even if it means to put yourself in ridiculous. She is aware of your introverted side, she is one of that type too and knows how hard it is with new people.

Alexia has more respect for you.

•••

A month passed.

They are classified to be back in the Champions League and they are started well in the league, winning their two games.

The training becomes hard, but at the end of the day they have different exercises coming from you. They all seem waiting for this moment.

However, what they didn't know is to see you angry. You seem very calm and difficult to be angry or mad. The moment it happened was when Natalia was giving the starting line for the next day in their third match of the league. You were standing next to the coach and your frown deepened when Natalia told the defensive line.

"Can we talk for a moment?" You interrupt her, a hand on her arm. You don't leave her to reply to you, just walking away from the group of players.

Natalia frowned too and excused herself, she walked towards your side.

The players shared a look between them, a confused one. Alexia and Aitana keep their attention on you, they try to read on your face what happened.

"Really? Aren't you going to put her? She shows that she deserves to be in the starting line." You start to say, tightening the hold in your notebook. You see how Natalia relaxed her frown, opening her mouth to talk but you don't leave her. "Jana deserves to be in the starting line, Natalia. She proves to you during training and the matches you put her coming from the bench! Just... Keep that in mind." You say without realising that you raised your voice enough for them to listen to what you said. "If you want to reprimand me, okay. I'll understand." It's the last thing you said before you stormed out from there.

Natalia watches you go out and disappear in the building. Taking a breath, the coach steps towards the group and clearing her throat, resuming the starting line for tomorrow.

When Natalia dissolved the group, Alexia turned to check on Jana. She didn't say anything, just moved an eyebrow asking if she was okay. The defender nods, walking by her side to the changing room. Jana's mind replays the moment where you defended her to be starting for tomorrow's game and a small smile approaches on her face. Ingrid walks to her side and hangs an arm around her shoulders, a calm smile in her direction. Maybe it's a coincidence, but since you came they both feel very sure of themselves, with more conviction.

So before she leaves, Jana walks towards the head coach office and Natalia communicates with her before she asks that you are in the cafeteria. Nodding and saying goodbye, Jana walks towards the place and holds the strap of her gym bag, she steps inside when she sees you.

You leave the pen on top of the table, next to your —almost finished�� notebook. Jana pulls off her gym bag and takes a seat next to you, giving you a lipped shy smile.

"Sorry..." You apologised, sighing.

Jana frowns, not letting you finish. "Why? You don't need to apologise." She cuts you, her smile widening. "Maybe it's not the place to say it. Still, I want to say thank you..." She says shyly, playing with her fingers on the top of the table. Her gaze didn't leave your surprise expression. "It motivates me to keep working hard because at the end of the day, there is someone who believes in me and could give me the chance to show what I'm capable of."

You soften your features, and remove a strand of your hair away from your face before you speak. "There are people who believe in you, Jana. Like many other of your teammates. The only thing I can tell you is to keep working hard and fight to gain a spot in the starting line." You say firmly, trying not to give her many hopes because after all, it doesn't depend on you. But letting her know that she has many possibilities of entering if she keeps playing like that.

The brunette nods with her head enthusiastically, surprising you when she throws her arms and wraps them on your neck, giving you a friendly hug. You hug her back awkwardly.

"I think I need to apologise with the coach..." You whisper when you see Natalia walk to the bar after she gives a knowing look.

Jana separated and nudged your side playfully, wishing you luck with a smirk when she stood up and walked away.

•••

Aitana passes her tongue for her teeth while her eyes are on you. You are saving the training things into the room where it belongs, Hector and Victor —the other two staff members— helping you save them inside. The Catalan midfielder starts to walk with Ona to the changing room, but her mind is in you. She didn't know why but felt the urge to turn and walk towards you. However, Aitana shakes her head briefly and paints a smile to whatever Ona is telling her.

Once inside of the changing room, Aitana's movements become slower and without any rush, taking her time until there are only a few of them. She hides a strand of her wet hair behind her ear and stands up, putting on Barcelona's training jersey because outside is doing a cold breeze at this hour. She says goodbye to the ones who remained there and takes a different route when she goes out, her steps taking her to the coach's office.

Before Aitana could retreat herself and turn around, the door opened and you came out, stopping in the entry when you saw her.

"Aitana! Do you want to talk with Natalia? She is still inside...-" you start to say, removing yourself from the entry.

The midfielder shakes her head immediately, muttering that she didn't want to see Natalia. It makes you a little confused, not knowing what Aitana actually wants.

Clearing her throat, Aitana decides to be brave. "I came to talk to you..." She mutters, scratching the back of her neck nervously.

You open your eyes, not waiting to hear that.

"Everything okay?" You ask carefully, stepping a few centimetres towards her.

Aitana nods quickly, wanting the small frown on your face to disappear. "Everything okay, don't worry. I just came to... ask you if you want to hang out sometime...?" Her voice showed her nervousness, mentally cursed herself and wished to have the boldness of some of her teammates.

You opened your eyes briefly, lowering them to the floor processing what Aitana asked you. When you look at her back, she is biting her lip waiting for an answer, her brown eyes move around avoiding you.

It's weird for you to see this side of hers, someone who always sees confidence in herself.

"With the team...?" You ask unsure, putting your bag on one shoulder and closing the door behind you.

"No, with me." Aitana explained. "I would like to know you a little more outside of here..."

In your face showed a small smile, seeing the red welcoming on Aitana's cheeks. "Okay. When?" You say softly, her brown eyes opening.

Once again Aitana clears her throat, recovering from the surprise of your confirmation. "If you want I can invite you now and go to a cafeteria."

Shrugging, you nod. "And I thought you didn't like me..." You comment, starting to walk by her side.

Aitana blushes but frowns.

•••

Taking a breath, you close your eyes while you hold the paper in your hands. Opening them, you see their faces looking at you with a small teasing expression.

You look at Natalia, who rolled her eyes and made a move with head for you to start.

"Okay. First of all, I'm sorry. If it is for me, I would put you all...-" You hear how Natalia snorts by your side, interrupting you.

"Do you girls feel it's her first starting line, do you?" Natalia asks loudly, only for them to share a small laugh.

You roll your eyes, but look at your paper and read the names in your mind.

"Alright! Formation the same, 4-3-3 contention. The players who are going to start tomorrow are: Cata, Ona, Jana, Ingrid and Esmee in the defensive line, midfielders: Alexia, Dragoni and pivot Patri. The three lined up are: Graham, Kika and Frido." You read the names, raising your eyes once you are finished.

They are silent, some are speaking with their eyes between them but soon smiles are approaching on their faces. You look at Aitana, who is biting her lip and lightly nod with her head.

You know how competitive they are, especially Aitana and Alexia. You are afraid of the brunette because you left her out of the starting line.

You would lead them to the next game because Natalia received a red card in the last match, making you assume the bench in the next one. And literally. She asks you to choose the starting line, reassuring you when you give her a panic expression.

So you made it, you barely slept last night studying who to put in this match. You take care of the details, leaving some of them to rest and play in the second half, knowing that three days later there is the first match of the Champions League.

The next day Natalia gives you a calm speech, reassuring you that everything is going to be okay. Before the game starts, you explain the strategy again and nervously but firmly, you give them encouraging words and stay in the entry when they come out, giving a pat on their backs.

There was no goal in the first half, but probably it is the best game they played in a long time. The style Natalia has implemented since she came, shows up entirely in these 45th minutes.

You applauded and screams encouragement words when Jana was alone and stopped the rival forward in a clean entry when she threw down, sending the ball to Patri. With Frido you didn't know how she still didn't score, the Swedish is destabilising the opponent easily, the only fail she had is not to send the ball into the goal. The rest of the team showed them how much they cared about the ball, the connection on their passes creating magnificent plays.

But the goal comes at the start of the second half, Giulia Dragoni sending the ball inside in a beautiful head goal when Graham puts the ball from the corner.

When you approach Aitana and Vicky from giving them instructions, you see how the ball came out and fall to your box and when you are going to grab it to give to the player from the other team to put on in game, the rival pushes you hard and makes you fall, your head hitting the cool-box.

What you miss is when Aitana runs and pushes the opponent, a scowl on her face while challenging her to do it again. Or when the major part of the players came to her and started to yell at the opponent, Jana, Kika and Ingrid were the loudest. Alexia is the only one who tries to calm them, even if her jaw is clenched and wanted to push her too, she acts like the captain she is and pushes her teammates away.

Irene helps you to stand up, the medical team coming to your rescue and asking you to sit down because you have a small cut in your eyebrow.

When you stand up with their help, you see how the referee shows a yellow card to Aitana after showing it to the other player, the Catalan nods with her head without caring too much, her head turns in your direction and her features soften. You muttered to them you need to give the last indications to the players who could go out and after they press a small bandage for you to hold, you walk towards Aitana and Vicky.

Aitana puts a hand in your lower back briefly, nodding with her head what you are indicating to do and telling their teammates new strategies. You remained there until Esmee and Patri went in, both players asking you how you are. You mutter quickly I'm good and congratulate them for their performance, both players sharing a look and a nod in your direction, soft smiles on their faces. They shake hands with the rest sitting there and take a seat, you walk to the corner and raise your head to Natalia to hear what she is telling you from the stands.

Your eyes focus on the pitch when you approach the medical team again, seeing the new change in formation. Now Frido is playing like the left back, letting the position she was playing to Alexia and there isn't a pivot anymore, choosing to put Vicky like a central attacking midfielder, Aitana and Dragoni like midfielders.

With the cut clean and hiding in a new bandage, you stood up with your arms crossed watching the game develop, shouting things at them to fix small mistakes. You see how Frido steals the ball from the opponents' feet near the corner of her own side, in a brilliant auto pass the Swedish player ran with the ball the whole band, passing it to Alexia. The Catalan raised her head enough to give an intelligent pass through the defenders when she sees Aitana run out of her mark, the brunette shoots the ball in the first touch and sends the ball inside of the goal.

Raising your hands up, you call for Salma, Mapi and Bruna. You decided to make your last three changes now, a perfect time to let them play and the other to have some rest. Giving the three players indications, the three players go out when the referee indicates after a play where the ball runs to the sideline. Alexia, Graham and Ona came in, stretching your hand briefly. You see how Alexia has a neutral expression, you know that she wanted to keep playing because they are in the perfect moment to score more, but hopefully you wish she sees what you did for her own good in the future.

When the match is over, you read on the screen of the stadium how Barcelona won the match with three goals and any in con.

You leave out a relief sigh that you didn't know you were holding.

•••

"Are you mad at me?" You questioned in a small voice, watching how the stadium is getting empty slowly.

Aitana turns with the bottle in her hand, hiding a smirk. She takes a long sip, shaking the hand of a player when she approaches, you do it too.

"Why? For you to care about us?" She asks rhetorically, giving another sip from her bottle. Now she leaves a small laugh for your face. "You have your reasons for choosing that starting line, you don't need to give me any explanation." Aitana says softly, stepping closer to you. "It worked." She whispered.

You shrug, feeling a little better. "What a goal." You say, tilting your head with a soft smile. You don't need to explain too much, it's obvious what goal you are referring to.

"I pushed the ball, it's mainly Alexia's." She shrugs too, bumping her shoulder with yours copying your smile. "Better now it's over?" Her voice is gentle like the gaze she is giving you.

You chuckle, but nod with your head.

"Do you want to go have lunch together?" Aitana asks you, biting her lower lip. Her voice is a whisper, a bold impulse hoping you agree with her proposal.

You notice how close you are from her, the small freckles on the bridge of her nose like on her cheeks, small constellations from the corner of her mouth to her chin and near of her left ear. You decided to stop scanning her face, and slowly you nod with your head, seeing how her smile got wide.

"Wait for me?" When you nod with your head, she excused herself to take a quick shower and run inside, making you laugh quietly for her behaviour.

***

The next day feels awkward for you during training. Fortunately for you Natalia takes full charge of the exercises that day and you only remain behind and comment quietly to her or some of them, but not exchanging any word with any player.

You could feel her gaze, but you don't dare to look in her direction. You know she didn't have any fault, still she is the reason why you question many things.

Too deep in your mind when the training is over, you don't notice the people approaching you, only the light tap on your shoulder that makes you jump.

"Everything okay?" Ona asks, raising an eyebrow.

You nod, stammering you are good.

"We came to ask you if you want to come to bond night with us." Jana informs you, her usual smile showing up.

You frown confused. "Really? It's not only for players?" You ask unsure, pressuring your new notebook against your stomach.

They shared a laugh, explaining briefly that it is but sometimes there are exceptions if for example they have a young staff member in the team. You roll your eyes when they give you teasing stares.

You look behind their backs and see how Aitana is sneaking glances towards your way, moving her head to the side when your eyes collide.

"Okay." You agree, making them jump on you and ignoring your awkward hug.

Later that day, Alexia is who offered to pick you up. Her expression turned into a surprise one when she saw you, you asked if you looked bad while taking a look at yourself.

"You look great! It's weird seeing you like... This." Alexia explains quickly, a small blush on her cheeks for her reaction.

You smirk and pinch her red cheek, laughing when Alexia pushes your hand away and muttered under her breath that you spend too much time with the youngest of the team. The ride to Ona's flat is with small conversations with the radio in the background, you can feel how her gaze is softer every time she looks at you and you ask yourself if she notices the reason behind.

Once in Ona's flat, there are a few of them already there. The defender greets you happily and makes a comment about your outfit, eyes going up and down only for you to smack her hand on her arm playfully. It didn't end there because the ones there whistle when they see you, Salma taking your hand with hers and making you swirl in the spot.

Alexia came to your rescue and pushed Patri away, making you sit down next to her at the exact moment Aitana got inside of the living room. Like a magnet, her brown eyes find yours while she keeps talking to someone else. Kika puts herself in front of you and breaks the eye contact with the midfielder.

"Do you want to go on a date with me?" The Portuguese ask in a charming tone, sitting next to you.

Alexia scolds her gently while Jana shares a laugh with Claudia, making fun of their friend. You blush but chuckle when the forward wraps an arm around your shoulders, pouting in Alexia's direction. Frido approached you and offered a snack, complimenting you with a wink when she walked to another part.

"When are we gonna take penalties again?" Kika asks, pinching your cheek softly.

Some of them agree with her, very interested in your answer.

"Do you want to do it again?" You tease her, chuckling.

"No, but I want to watch these ones cry." She teases back playfully, giving them a look.

They give her a sarcastic smile, Jana pushes her softly and Kika dramatically leaves her body falling into you. Friendly, you wrap an arm around her shoulders and laugh when she pretends to be enchanted by it.

Then, your eyes meet Aitana's again and slowly you remove your arm from Kika's shoulders. It's interrupted again when Mapi leaves a squeal and puts herself in front of you, whistling suggestive while her eyes scan you.

The rest of the evening is plagued with laughter and games board. You are paired with Jana when this one grabs your arm and pulls you towards her, smiling innocently to your way. You are surprised to see Alexia discuss with some because she thinks they cheat and that's the reason Alexia and Irene lost, frowning she threatened them to play one last time with the new change of game. Patri tries to be a barista and make them drinks, pushing Jana away and sitting in her place giving you a drink, smiling charmingly.

"You don't need to be so nice to me, Patri. You are my favourite player already, I thought I made it clear in training." You say, holding your laugh.

Snorts mixed with protests were heard behind Patri, the midfielder gives them a satisfying smirk while learning her back on the couch, arm spreading out behind you.

At some point when you are out on the balcony with Ingrid and Esmee, Alexia calls you and takes you to an empty area.

"What happened with Aitana?"

Her direct question makes you nervous, advertising your gaze from her. You heard how she sighed, putting a hand in your arm carefully.

"I noticed that there is tension between you two. Not to mention that you acted weird today during training. Something happened?" Alexia explains briefly.

You think if you tell her or no. Letting out a sigh, you move your face to look at her.

"I don't know what happened... It's complicated." You start to say, playing with your fingers. "I think I like her... And it is freaking me out a little. Because I came here to work, in my plans there is nothing other than to help the team, so it's weird." You open up, rubbing your forehead. "We hang out a few times out of the pitch, like friends... But something tells me that what we have is something else."

There is silence, but Alexia started to rub your back gently.

"Sometimes the plan you made didn't turn out like you wanted." Alexia says softly. She didn't say anything more, because she didn't want to overstep.

***

The next day in the changing room, when she entered there Alexia walked directly towards Aitana and took a seat next to her, making the brunette look with expectation at her.

"You seem different this season..." Alexia comments casually, pulling off the training kit and wiping the sweat of her face with it.

Aitana raised an eyebrow, snorting. "And what makes you think like that?"

Alexia smiles knowingly. "You are calmer. Don't look at me like that, you are one of the loudest people of this team." After you communicate to Alexia what happened with her teammate, she stays thinking about Aitana's behaviour and to her mind comes small details.

The midfielder scoffs, standing up. "Maybe I'm matured, you're welcome." She says sarcastically, picking up her things.

Alexia rolled her eyes and grabbed her wrist to stop her. She knows her very well to know that if Aitana didn't deny it, it's because she is right.

"Give her time. She is confused." Alexia lowered her voice.

Aitana looks at her frowning, swallowing hard and she sits down again. Her gaze gets lost on the floor, wondering how Alexia found out.

"I noticed that something happened with you two yesterday and when I asked her last night, she confessed to me that she likes you," Alexia admitted, seeing how Aitana turns her head quickly towards her the moment she confesses that you like her. "Don't tell her anything or I'll kill you." She threatened Aitana. "She is confused, that's all." Saying that, Alexia patted her back gently and walked away.

The days pass and they keep winning, and Aitana gives all the time you need. She didn't approach you, just muttering a greeting to your way and a nod when you instructed her in some drills and exercises. Her gaze remained on you in the distance when you are distracted, in her mind having some answers that maybe she didn't have before.

But today Aitana feels the necessity of being close to you. Looking at you save the things, Aitana tells Patri that she is staying to help you, picking up a bag with balls in a hand and in the other the cones. She walks inside of the room and sees the surprise in your face.

"I want to help you." Aitana rasped out, giving you a tiny smile.

You point out the place where it belongs, scribbling something in the paper in your hand. Aitana leaves the things there and comes out to pick the sticks. Once again you point out the place and Aitana leaves the sticks there, slowly stepping near you while seeing how you sign below.

Raising your head, you feel how close to her you are. The movement of your head makes her copy you, your eyes betray you and look at her parted lips. Your eyes move back to her eyes and something pulls you towards her and leans to press your lips on her.

You separated quickly, opening your mouth to apologise and storm away from there. However, Aitana reacted in time and grabbed your wrist in a soft hold. She cups your cheek with her other hand, leaning slowly towards you and delicately puts her lips on you again. It's a soft pressure against your lips, not rushed, trying to show you how much she wanted this, how much she wants you.

Aitana breaks the kiss but remains close, leaning her forehead on yours. Her thumb started to caress your cheek, she can feel the band hanging on her neck because you started to play with it the moment you encircled your arms on her neck. Her chest is going up and down in a nervous but pleasant way, her eyes fixed on yours when you opened them and an involuntary smile approaches on her face.

"Can I do it again?" Aitana asks in a whisper in your mouth, her other hand flies to your waist.

Retreating your arms from her neck, you put them about her chest and softly nod with your head, meeting her half way when she leaned. You can taste the salty on her lips for the sweat from training, but away from disgusting you, your grip her training kit with your hands and put her closer. Aitana gives some steps making your back hit with the shelves from behind, now both of her hands are gripping your hip firmly while a muffled sound escapes from her mouth where it gets lost on yours.

"I like you too..." Aitana whispers when the kiss is over, smiling widely when she sees your red cheeks and inevitably spreads kisses on them.

•••

"Who's waiting for this? I thought to finish this before the year it's over... So, good luck to the ones who were left in the second round..." You announced, making the ones who did it to share a chuckle. You walk in front of them a few times and try to cheat who you are choosing to start, until you stop and turn to look at her with an innocent smile. "Janaaa... I think I'm starting with you." The young Catalan makes a dramatic expression but follows you, her teammates giving her encouragement words.

December's cold makes you shiver a little and zip up the jacket, your hands are covered by gloves. Fortunately it's a sunny day, so you hopefully will be warm soon.

"I'm not going to say hurtful words to you because I'm afraid of half of the team chasing me after..." You comment making Jana laugh quietly, Natalia snort behind you. "Are you happy?"

Jana nods, a soft smile on her mouth while she keeps watching you.

"I'm glad to know that... I fear what would happen with the team if your happiness turns off..." You start, looking at them briefly before looking back at her. "Do you think that they missed you when you suffered your ACL?"

Your question makes her change her expression, turning into a serious one. "Hopefully..." She tries to light the mood.

"Who helped you the most?"

"Everyone helped me, but if I needed to say a name it would be Bruna and Alexia." Jana mutters, hiding her chin on her sweatshirt.

You nod with your head, deciding to not take too long with her.

"Look Jana, I'm going to be sincere with you." You walk to put yourself in front of her. "I think at this point you don't need to share anything with us because you already share it everyday. You brighten us with your energy, with your constant encouragement and I'm truly glad to meet you. All yours." You move and point to the ball, smiling when Jana side hugs you.

You point towards Patri when Jana scored, the Balear high five with the defender and put herself next to you.

"What would make the best player in the world nervous?" You ask with a hint of teasing, making the group for your confession protest. Patri leaves out a smirk, winking at you. "I have an idea." You start to pace out, playing with the ball between your hands. "Imagine we are in a match, losing it. It's a big stage, one where it didn't matter, you will remember forever. The match is almost over, but then, Ewa tied up and prolongs to extra time. Your team is as tired as you, but this is a hint of hope for you to reach the trophy. It's not your best performance but the coach still believes in you. The extra time is over and it's sent to penalties. It's your turn and you can make a difference here, you are in or out." You specified, watching how Patri nods while hearing you. Clearing your throat, you opted to change your voice and pretend that you are a sport commentator. "And now it's the turn of Patri Guijarro! The best in her position at this moment, the intelligence playing against the physical. Right now she has the power on her feet, if she scored there would be a hope to brush that trophy but if she misses, the team is out. There is no pressure when you have this player, you always count on her! Who is Alexia Putellas? Who is Aitana Bonmatí? I don't know them, I only know the best pivot. I said her name before and I will say it again. Patri Guijarro is getting ready to take the shot of her life!" You are moving around making emphasis with your hands, truly living the moment. You make a gesture for them to create cheering sounds, pretending they are the public. Then, you move your hands to make them stop and the silence installed.

"Take it." You say, moving aside.

You see her doubt, her usual confident demeanor disappearing with every second. She nods, taking a run before her foot connects with the ball and makes it go out. Patri grimace, looking away briefly.

Tilting your head, you approach her. Patri leaves out a sigh, rubbing her face with a hand. "What happened?" You ask in a soft voice.

The Balear shrug, shaking her head. "I don't know... Pressure?" She tries to guess, shrugging again.

"Try again." You say, the warmth of the sun hitting your cold cheeks.

Her eyebrows approach each other, confused. You can see how she is thinking hard, slowly some realisation shows her confused features.

"Is it pressure?" You try to confirm what she said before. Patri moves a hand to the level of her waist, indicating that it is more or less like that. "What else?"

"Comparison." She said in a low voice, crossing her arms on her chest. Her jaw clenched lightly, her gaze on you.

You nod with your head in a thinking manner. "To who?"

There is silence for a few seconds. Patri shifts her posture, eyes lowering briefly before she speaks up; "Aitana and Alexia." She slowly says, looking at you back.

Stepping towards her, you nod again. "It affects you or you don't think too much about it?"

Patri shrugged. "Sometimes... But it's something that I don't mind too much." She admitted.

"Until you think about it properly..." You add carefully. You see how her shoulders got down, hands intertwining behind her back and you are sure she is pocking her skin. "It's okay, Patri. I'm not judging you and I never would do that. I think it's even normal that you feel a little... out of place with them. But I want to remind you that they wouldn't win anything without you, keep that in mind. You are their compass, to them and the rest of the team. Maybe they are the ones who people see more, but people who truly watch, they know about you. Actually, I can't stop hearing how smart and creative you are, one of these people is Alexia. I know you know, but sometimes this one," you tap your forehead. "can be cruel and cheat you. I'm not ashamed to admit loudly that you are one of my favourite players and I have the opportunity to watch you in every training and match. You maybe don't have a Ballon d'or, but you definitely would have one. Vicky Losada said it first, not me!" You finished, making her laugh quietly for your last comment. You see how her usual demeanor is coming back, the serious expression going away and her mischievous one showing up.

With an impressive goal, Patri side hugs you and joins the group.

"Mapiiiii...." You hummed, smirking teasingly to the Aragonese.

The group leaves out a laugh, Mapi walks towards you with the same mischievous personality. She sang your name too, giving you an innocent look.

"What would I mention to make you crack?" You think loudly, watching her smirk in your direction. "What about the national team?" Your voice is teasing, but your gaze softens.

Mapi rolls her eyes, tilting her head aside while her eyes fix on you. "Mismamente." She mutters, her smirk washes out.

The last time you mentioned the national team was for Irene and Caro, you know the topic you are going to touch now is delicate, so you repeat to the defender that it's okay if she didn't want to talk about it.

"I'll be short, promise." You promised when Mapi told you it's okay to talk about it. "Do you think there is a real change inside of the federation?"

"No." Mapi answers you quickly, snorting at the end. "And before you ask why, the changes they made are smaller and maybe it's a step, but for me it's not enough to come back." Her voice sounded firm when she finished, determination on her face.

"You are right." You muttered, you can feel the tension in the air. It didn't surprise you, many of them are in the Spanish national team and they are better than you to know what is happening. "And I am proud of you for keeping fighting for what you believe. You are firm in your position and thank you. Still, it didn't mean that I'm not supporting your teammates because there have many reasons and it is respectable. Come back when you are comfortable and we will enjoy you when it happens, for now: we will enjoy you here."

Mapi gives you a real smile, an appreciative one. She was waiting to hear another thing differently, but she truly appreciates your words.

She takes the penalty with a different sense, feeling lighter. Mapi high fives you when she scored, winking to Aitana when their gazes met.

Sighing, Aitana steps slowly next to you while hearing her teammates chant her name. You give her a sheepish smile, zipping off your jacket because you are feeling a little hot.

Chilling, Aitana crossed her arms. Her eyes become soft the moment they land on you, feeling less nervous. To her mind came the moment when she asked you what would you ask her when this moment would happen, but you just shrug and sat on her lap to kiss her.

"What do you want to talk about?" You ask, stepping next to her.

Aitana shrugs, following with her eyes. The truth is that she can talk about anything with you.

"What about the pressure?"

The brunette bit the inside of her cheek, her heartbeat accelerating. Well, maybe not about everything. Somehow, she didn't like it too much when you read people, because you usually get right.

"When was the last time you felt your chest without heaviness?" You ask directly, witnessing how her features hardened. "Are you afraid to leave people down?"

"That are two questions." Aitana points out in a small voice, the corner of her lips turning up a little. "Which one do I answer first?"

You shrug, muttering at her whatever she wanted to do.

"I'm not afraid to let them down, I'm learning that it's not my fault for the expectation they have on me." Aitana decides to answer your second question, the words her psychologist told her on past meetings coming to her mind. "And... It's hard not to feel pressured, especially if you belong to this team. I'm sure I am not the only one feeling it." Aitana muttered, answering honestly.

You nod, hiding your hands in your pockets. "What impact has on you when the press speaks about your performance or if you are on a good level to play?"

Aitana passes her tongue through her teeth with her mouth closed, the times she read about the lines or heard comments about herself showing on her mind like a trick. She hates how people referred to her like the winner of the Ballon d'Or and not like Aitana, yeah she understands but it didn't mean that she also liked it to hear every time.

"A considerable one." The brunette admitted lowly, pretending that she didn't care too much, when in reality it is the opposite. Aitana is good at taking any type of their opinions, but it is getting hard with the time passing. Somehow, she understands them. "But I try to focus on me and my team, to be better everyday and..." She pauses, thinking the right words. "keep learning. It's all I care about."

You pick up her right hand gently, hoping this gesture could calm her because even if she is hiding perfectly in a neutral expression, you can see how her brown dark eyes become vulnerable.

Aitana leaves out a sigh, not complaining to feel the warmth of your hand on hers. It's an innocent gesture, not showing to the rest what it truly means for you two.

"I can't tell you what to do to handle that pressure," you start to say. "but I can propose to you to think about what good things it brings you. Like how many people you inspire, mainly kids. How you are imbued with your name in football history, how you are breaking statistics and when you retire from this sport and someone named this club, they would remember you like someone who belongs here. I can keep naming things, but what I'm trying to say is you are human, Aitana. And you learn from the winning and when you don't, and keep promoting your law because people like you should be an inspiration, whatever they want to be when they grow up or even if they are an adult." You finished, a fond smile on your face.

The Catalan midfielder pulls from your hand and wraps her strong arms around your body, hiding her crystal eyes from the rest and the urge she feels to thank you with a kiss. She hides her face on your shoulder, trying to think in a good memory like you said to some of them. She was lucky to say that she has many of them, but the best ones are with the team no matter if the club or national teams, they mark her in different ways and the winnings are significant.

Separating from the hug, Aitana squeezed your arm affectionately before she took the penalty with the most lighter sensation she felt in a long time.

You turned to all of them when they gathered together, clapping your gloves hands together.

"The next time we practice penalties it's like you all practiced them. Hopefully this little session helped you in some way and before we close this chapter, I'm going to be the last one to cry." You make at them the peace sign, some chuckle by them were heard.

•••

Tears are streaming down on their faces, not believing what happened. There are a lot of reactions but one is the same, tears.

Natalia pats your shoulder when separated from the hug, grabbing your face between her hands and muttering that you all make it. She kissed your forehead and passed to hug the rest of the staff team before she went to speak with the rival head coach.

Wiping your own tears, you hug the friends you made on this team. Victor lifts you from the ground, making you chuckle by his happiness words while Hector and Vega join you. The moment your feet hit the green grass, you are surprised to feel someone else lifting you —again— from behind. Looking through your shoulder, you see Alexia with her cheek on your back.

"I needed to come here first." Alexia tells you the moment she puts you down, turning around and after giving you a bear hug. You hear the emotion in her shaky voice, you only could hug her back and appreciate her gesture. She chooses to come here first and you valour that a lot.

When her face shows in your vision, her eyes are red and both hands are now wiping her cheeks, but a radiant smile is on her red lips.

"Your weird method worked and I need to thank you for that, even if we are on the other side of the coin, thank you." Alexia said in a rush.

You can't reply when you feel more arms around you, making Alexia laugh freely and join the group hug. Somehow, you know who is hugging you from behind, you know all too well that grip on your waist and the level of her head on your back.

"They need you." The social staff member breaks the moment with a guilty smile, calling Alexia's attention.

The captain nods and kisses your forehead before she goes away, going to the pitch to see the rival's players and then, go to speak with the press people.

Jana and Ingrid are now in front of you, their stained cheeks with their wide smiles make you wrap your arms around their necks, telling how proud you are. Between them in the hug, you see how Patri approaches you and tap your nose, leaning on their teammates and joining the hug.

"We won." Someone muttered in the group hug, you believe is Claudia. She said it like it didn't happen before or she couldn't believe it actually happened. "Someone tied her up with us!" She yells, some laughter was heard for her dramatic comment.

Slowly, the group hug faded not without one by one, they hugged you and exchanged another display of affection. Aitana is the last one to hug you, she kisses your forehead fondly and whispers a thank you, giving you the strongest hug she gave you. When you are separated, she gives you a brilliant smile with a glint on her gaze.

"Go." You muttered, pushing her shoulder teasingly. Aitana pokes her tongue out but goes towards the pitch again, missing when someone puts you something on your shoulders, Jana coming once again to your vision when she puts herself in front of you to tie the flag about your neck. "Really?" You leave out a giggle, watching how Jana nods proudly.

"You need to show the world you belong here." The brunette commented, grabbing with a hand a part of the flag to show you the blaugrana colours. Her voice is scratchy from the match, her red cheeks becoming her usual shade.

"How possessive." You muttered, smirking.

Jana smirks back at you, throwing an arm on your shoulders and bringing you towards the pitch. "We need to take care of you, just like you made with us."

Kika came with a Portuguese flag in a hand, a wide smile on her tan face. She throws her arm on your free side, joining the soft banter with Jana against you. The Catalan defender leaves your sides when they require her presence to give an interview, her place being replaced by Ona.

"MVP?" The full back asks loudly, keeping an eye on her friend.

"I'm between her and Fridolina." You comment, to your coming some good plays from these players or from others ones too. "Also Kika made a great performance." You turn to look at the mentioned one, watching how Kika dismisses it with humble, muttering that she is with Ona on who should be the player of the match.

You three witnesses how they give the small trophy to Jana, winking in her direction when she briefly meets your gazes. Then, slowly you go with them to shake hands with the opposite team, they decide to accompany you while you do it.

Cata lifts you from the ground once you finish shaking their hands, the goalkeeper going far and starts to jump on the spot. Irene came and in a mother's voice told her to put you down, the defender wink at you when she put you La Ikurriña flag where the Barça's flag is. You don't mind and give her a big hug, Irene helps you through the whole season and even if she is a helper with everyone, maybe the bond you share for your birthplace helped. The moment the team gathers at the sides for the opposite team to receive the silver medal, Aitana is right in front of you, bright brown eyes mainly on you but making space to shake some hands. Alexia is on your left side, it seems like they didn't want to leave you alone.

The moment it's Barcelona walk, you step quickly next to Vega feeling how Alexia pushes you softly chuckling. With both flags around your neck, you walk between Natalia and Vega, giving a small hug to the club's president and bumping your fist with the little girl before you receive the gold medal. You witness the trophy on your way to the walkway, making a face to the head coach when your gazes meet, the old woman chuckling and bringing you next to her, side hugging you.

One by one, they are approaching and gathering, waiting for Alexia to bring what they missed for two whole years. The Captain received the trophy in her hands, walking with it giving them an anticipated smile. The white smoke flies behind you, the confetti falling gracefully on yours and joining the happiness the team is irradiating while Alexia raises the trophy up, all of you jumping with the noise of the fans, showing them what they deserve to support them.

Then, the trophy from hand to hand until Ingrid comes and puts it in your hands, inciting you with a movement of head. You pick it up while you look at Natalia, you mutter to her if you raise it together or if not, you would pass it to someone else. Rolling her eyes, Natalia held the trophy and with your help raised it up, the whole team cheered like it was the first time.

When the whole team lifted the trophy, Alexia and Aitana yelled at them to give a walk around the stadium, clapping with their hands and celebrating it with the fans and family. Claudia grip your hand on hers, smiling like a kid watching everything with a marvellous face. Patri put herself to your other side, an arm on your shoulder and keeping a conversation with you. A phone showed on your faces, making you smile awkwardly. You promised the rest to take a picture with them, you walked next to Hector when the players joined their families.

Once it is over, Aitana picks and pulls from your hand to walk inside of the tunnel. She leads the way to the big and quiet changing room, closing the door behind her. Her hands went immediately to your waist, caressing your hip bone with her thumb.

"You don't know how much I want to kiss you..." Aitana muttered, leaning on your lips and frowning when you stop her with your hands on her chest. "What?"

"What if they catch us?" You ask, signalling with your head the closed door.

"Then, hopefully they keep us the secret." Aitana comments. "I don't mind if they catch us, at least I could kiss you in front of them."

You snort, putting now your hands on her face. "Would they find it weird?" You ask unsure, tracing her chin with your finger.

"Do you think it's the first time that a player and a coach have a relationship?" Aitana asks rhetorically, raising an eyebrow. "Amor, we aren't the first and definitely not the last." She added, pecking your thumb.

So hearing her words, you nod with your head slowly. Soon her lips are on yours, her hands bring you closer. At first it was soft, until it became deep and slow, showing in the kiss the emotion of the moment. Aitana's lips chased yours when the air became a problem, not letting you have time to breathe properly and starting a new dance.

The door opens abruptly making you break the kiss and look in that direction, the voices shutting up when they witness what is happening inside.

Alexia starts to smirk slowly, laughing for your faces. Mapi squeals behind her and soon pushes them to come inside, making her room and putting herself between you two, arms on both of your shoulders and Ona whistles wiggling her eyebrows, a small astonishing expression.

Jana and Claudia walk quickly inside, big smirks on their faces while they gushes demanding how it started. Frido comes and mutters how cute you two look while giving you a hug, pushing Mapi out in the process.

"They seem happy." Aitana whispers in your ear once they all say something to you two, the loud voices surrounding you.

You just lean and capture her lips, ignoring the cheerful voices of the new champions of Europe.

[yamumsyadadd]

the forgotten girl (1)

posted this originally on my old account. will be posting twice weekly :)

Emily Scott, sister of legendary lionesses Jill Scott, has died at the age of 21. Wife Amelia Scott-Higgins in intensive care. 

Police have confirmed that Emily Scott was murdered in her family home over the weekend, her wife, Matilda’s star Amelia Scott-Higgins is in intensive care after sustaining life threatening injuries. 

Waking up in a hospital bed, wrapped in bandages and in heaps of pain was not exactly how I expected my day to go but here we are. I don’t remember much. I remember going home after training, I stopped to get dinner, chicken carbonara and garlic bread from our favourite Italian restaurant and then flowers from the corner stand that Emily was obsessed with. I was already late so who cares if I was a little extra late. 

I remember the front gate being open, which is never normally the case, I remember the front door being unlocked but closed, again not normal but sometimes Em is in a rush when she gets home. As I took my shoes and coat off and wandered down the hallway, I didn’t notice the guy standing behind the door, or the guy on the couch, or Emily in the back room tied to a chair. I didn’t notice any of it. The only thing I noticed before it went black was the two wine glasses, one tipped over and smashed, the other full. 

Chelsea FC superstar, Amelia Scott-Higgins has QUIT mid season. 

CLICK TO READ MORE….

Where is football superstar Amelia Scott-Higgins?

Moving to Barcelona was the best thing I could’ve done. No one knows me,no one knows what happened or who Emily was. I am invisible. As soon as I could, I quit, left England, deleted all my social media and changed my number. 

The rehab was incredibly hard. That’s to be expected considering I have multiple stab wounds to my stomach, my leg cut up, bruises covering every part of my body. I was still me though. Maybe not on the surface but deep down I was. I missed Emily everyday, I missed our life together, I miss the little things. 

My apartment was empty. Nothing on the walls, plain furniture, it looked more like a show house than something someone would actually lived in. It didn’t bother me, it made my brain have to work less. All I did was rehab, surf and doom scroll. I came across the Manuelas instagram page, a gay bar in Barcelona. From what I’ve heard it’s incredibly popular but I’ve never been. They had a shirt available, “lesbian services”, after inquiring they allowed for me to pick it up. 

I was meeting someone called Olga, slightly worried as I had no idea who she was, I let it play out. 

“Hola! Are you Amelia?” 

“Hola, yes I am.” 

“Perfect! I’m Olga! Let me take you inside and you can get whatever you want. They said you’ve paid so you can get anything.” 

Stickers, hats, shirts, they had it all. I grabbed one of everything and then had a chat with Olga. 

“You’re not around here are you? Your Catalan and Spanish is good but the accent is a bit weird.” 

“Oh nah. I’m Australian. Lived in London for a few years but I’m here now.” 

“Oh wow! How long have you lived here?”

“3 years now. It’s beautiful. I don’t get out much but I’m trying to get out more.”

“What do you do for work? If you don’t mind me asking?” 

“Uh um, I used to play -“ 

“Amelia? Is that you?” Keira Walsh and Lucy Bronze. Right in front of me. I haven’t seen them for 3 years, purposely ignoring all of them and essentially falling off the face of the earth. 

“Amelia! What are you doing here? Give me a hug!” 

“Hey guys. Long time so see.” This is not what I wanted. More and more people started surrounding us. 

“Holy shit. That’s Amelia Scott-Higgins! She’s been MIA for so long. I miss watching her” the short one with dimples tried to whisper, it didn’t work. 

“Dude she used to be so good. What happened?” Her taller companion asked next. 

“That’s enough you two. She has ears and can hear you idiots.” Alexia Putellas. 2 time Ballon d’or and 2 time pain in my ass. “Hola Amelia. How are you?” 

“Fine thanks Alexia. And you?” 

“How do you all know each other? I am very confused here.” Olga spoke up. 

“Mil used to play for-“ Alexia started to say

“We are old friends!” This is why I don’t leave my house. 

“I need to go. I have things to do. Olga thank you so much for all this. If I owe any money let me know. Alexia, girls, it was nice to see you. Good luck this season.” Turning as quickly as I could to escape. 

“Milly, wait.”

“Kei, don’t. I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

“Please can I have your number or something? It’s been 3 years and you disappeared.” 

“Give me your phone and I’ll put it in. I’m not good at replying. Bye Kei.” 

3 years since I stepped foot in England, 3 years since I buried my wife. 3 years since I’d spoken to my friends. 4 years since Emily died. 4 years since I played football, 4 years since I felt normal. 

[yiddishknights]

you seem like the right person to ask about jewish knights and judaism in general in arthurian legend

Hello! Apologies for how long it has taken me to respond to this! Throughout the Middle Ages and the early modern period, there were a number of Arthurian texts written by and for Jewish people in Jewish languages. The one I specialize in is an Old Yiddish text called Vidvilt, which is part of the Fair Unknown tradition and based off an earlier German text called Wigalois. This text was super popular in the Yiddish-speaking world for about three centuries or so and was reworked and reprinted a number of times. I already discussed some of those adaptations a while ago in response to this ask.

Predating Vidvilt, there was a Hebrew Arthurian text written in the 13th century which is now commonly known as Melekh Artus. This was based on Old French sources and tells the story of Arthur's birth and Lancelot's affair with Guinevere before breaking off unfinished. The most common edition of the text used today is the one by Curt Leviant, though I just read a fascinating article in the latest issue of the Journal of the International Arthurian Society calling into question some of his transcription choices and the conclusions he draws in his analysis of the text.

I also recently read that a fragment of an Arthurian text in Judeo-Catalan was recently discovered, but I'm afraid I don't know much about it as yet other than that it's apparently a late medieval adaptation of Jaufre.

Chivalric romances of both Christian and Jewish origin were extremely popular among medieval and early modern Jews in general. There were a number of non-Arthurian knight stories that were very popular as well; for example, the most famous and influential work of early Yiddish literature was a chivalric epic called Bovo d'Antona, and a survey I read of the literature in Jewish households in early modern Italy shows that the most popular non-religious work among Jews at that time was Orlando Furioso.

It is worth noting that, even though some of these texts were written by and for Jews, that doesn't necessarily mean that the characters in them were Jewish. Jewish writers generally tended to modify their Christian source materials by gliding over or obscuring references to religion, rather than depicting Judaism directly (the reasons for this are complex and could constitute a whole paper, so I won't get into it here). That being said, medieval Jewish knights did exist in real life, too! There are a few medieval historians who do research into exactly when, where, and under what circumstances Jews were allowed to bear arms, but it definitely wasn't exclusively a literary thing.

[totaly-obsessed]

A Lesson in Accepting

Barcelona Femení x reader

-> Despite reader's best efforts to hide her illness and join in training, a she learns the importance of listening to her body and her teammates

-> Wordcount: ≈ 1.770

-> The happiest birthday to @sleekswosobession - love you!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"Oye! No chiqui - off!”

Hmmpf.

Out of all the older players, Lucy was usually the fun one. But today she didn’t want you climbing on her and she had gotten annoyed when you tried to steal her shoes. Maybe a new victim was needed for your shenanigans. But who?

Just as you started to look around for Vicky, the arm of Marta found its way onto your shoulder, Caroline now at the other side as they dragged you into the changing rooms. “Don’t even think about it.”

Music blasted through the room, with Salma by the speakers as her phone was connected to it, getting ready while swaying to her music. A quick look around made it obvious that your cubby for the day was between Frido and Ingrid.

Great.

You missed the days were you were at your rightful place between Patri and Cata, Claudia joining you after quickly changing into her kit. Those were the fun days when you had just joined the team. Fresh from Australia and full of energy and nerves Patri and Claudia had taken you under their wing.

Just two weeks later Alexia fell over her tied-together laces, just to see you laughing in a corner, hiding behind your new friends. The room had fallen quiet, everyone scared of what their captain would do.

Laugh.

Alexia Putellas, their strong and serious captain, started laughing at being tricked by a sixteen-year-old Australian rookie. Hesitantly the other players started to laugh, watching the blonde from the corner of their eyes, just to make sure that she wouldn’t get pissy at them laughing.

But now you were stuck between different adults every week, your number never hanging in the same spot, and for today's game, it was the space between two tall scandis. While they were incredibly nice, neither of them had a fable for letting you run wild - but they let you yap as much as you want. A win is a win. And at this point, you’d take anything.

Rainy games were your favorite games. You loved sliding around on the drenched pitch, tackling an opponent whenever you could, and getting your kit as dirty as possible. And that game was no different.

Sliding here - sliding there.

Mapi thought it was hilarious how you sprinted across the waterlogged pitch, stealing the ball of one opponent after the other.

“Chiqui come here and let me dry your hair, you’ll get sick.”

Irene was in mother mode, fussing over you and Vicky, who looked like the two happiest girls on the planet. Both of you had been in the starting eleven, something that didn’t happen as often. But with the weather conditions and the not-as-competitive opponent, Jona caved to your synchronized begging.

“I won’t. Promise!”

And with that, you were off again. Running outside, leaving the changing room early. Jona had been quick with his talk and the girls were just warming up and getting something to eat or massaged. But you run out to play on the field with the girls sitting on the bench.

Bruna and Jana made it a fun game, sending the ball just slightly wide every time, so that you had to be quick, falling over more than once during it.

Alexia just shook her head in amusement when she came back to the pitch, the other girls following in their captain's stride.

“Chiquitita wear a jacket for me please?” The Catalan’s English was great, even if she was too shy to speak it most of the time. Her hands held out a jacket to you, an eyebrow raised in question.

“I’ll be okay, thank you, Ale!”

And you would be okay, at least for the rest of the night - giving it your all on the pitch and giving it your all when you were the entertainment of the following movie night. Mapi had given you one of those cheap Karaoke microphones and with that, you kept narrating the movies much to everyone else's annoyance.

Mapi thought you were hilarious though. And with everyone smiling at you even if they acted annoyed, you kept going all the way until Lucy and Ona dropped you off at the apartment Barcelona gave you.

In the beginning, the Team members had been worried about you living there, all alone at only sixteen. But Vicky had been fine - she was an angel as opposed to the whirlwind of an Australian that had been added to the team with you. You would be at training most days anyway and doing stuff with the girls even on days off, so you’d be fine. Right?

Well usually you would be fine, but waking up with an itchy throat, annoying cough, and a runny nose topped by a fever, was not a funny thing.

Just like that, all your plans with Vicky for the day had been canceled. The two of you wanted to explore the city and then visit the library closest to the Sagrada Familia, but all of that went to waste now as you were trying to get rid of this cold as fast as possible.

But it turns out it wasn’t that easy. A day later you were still sick, your voice so hoarse that it was hard to understand. You had debated calling Jona and letting him know, but then Alexia and Irene would have been right when it came to you getting sick. You just needed to power through. Tomorrow you will be all good again.

After oversleeping you practically raced to the training center for gym day. Well raced as fast as you can with public transport - a mask secure on your face. You looked sick enough that strangers raised a brow at your sweaty forehead.

To your luck the changing rooms were empty, all of the girls were already in the gym, so you could change in peace, trying to take deep breaths as well as you could. Man, you hated having a stuffy nose.

The bright lights and the loud music made you wince when you entered the big space, with everyone on different equipment. You quickly explained to Jona that your bus had been late, and just by his facial expression you could see that he didn’t believe a word out of your mouth.

He knew. Fuck. But he didn’t do or say anything, just going over the plan for today with you.

The other girls tried to get a good look at you, whispering to themselves. This wasn’t the first time you had been late. Sometimes the bus really didn’t come, and sometimes you overslept. But the training staff was never too mad at you - you were a growing girl after all, and needed your sleep.

But usually, when you came in, you would go around greeting the girls one by one, telling them the crazy stories of your bus driver. Today, however, you picked out an empty corner, starting to stretch all by yourself.

When one of the trainers called for partner exercises you were quick to kidnap Vicky, who didn’t even react as she was used to your antics by now. But then she looked at you.

“You’re sick!”

“Shhh!”

With, what you thought, quick reflexes you pushed her head down so that she would lower her voice. “Don’t tell on me! Or I’ll tell Sandra.”

The young Spaniard was caught in an odd situation - realistically she knew she should tell Alexia, or at least someone - but she was terrified of the goalkeeper finding out. With a solemn nod, she gave in.

You didn’t believe her, holding onto her right hand as tightly as you could “No! "Promise me!”

“Fine. I promise. Now get your clammy hands off me please.”

Now it wasn’t just you who ran around like a headless chicken, stumbling over nothing and barely strong enough to lift any weight at all, but also Vicky, who desperately tried to avoid eye contact with someone else, whispering hushed annoyances in your ear.

“They’re weird, no?” Aitana had made her way to Alexia, who was watching the whole thing unfold in front of her. “Very weird..", she nodded.

When a break was called, you hurried off to the bathrooms, while Vicky tried to avoid anything and everyone.

But that didn’t hold on for too long, as she was cornered by Alexia, Irene, Aitana, and Ingrid. The other girls watched from a distance, knowing what was happening.

“I don’t know anything!”

“We didn’t say anything.” Irene was trying really hard not to let an amused smile crack through and instead keep up the intimidating frown.

One eyebrow went up. Then the other.

“Okay, fine!”

Alexia relaxed her face again, knowing that had been enough for Vicky to spill everything she knew.

“She’s sick.”

“Chiquitita!”

Ingrid didn’t get an answer and started looking around the facilities as quickly as she could while Aitana tried to console a guilt-ridden Vicky, telling her that she had done the right thing, emphasizing how dangerous it was that you were exercising.

They could hear you coughing before they even saw you, as Ingrid dragged you to the gym as gently as she could, nearly just carrying you.

“Ai Chiqui. What are you doing here, you’re sick amor, you need to rest.”

Alexia's soft mothering tone gave you the rest, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m sorry… Just didn’t want to miss out.” Sobs wrecked your tired body as some of your letters got swallowed.

“Shhh, let’s get you home.” Your captain dried tears after tears as she helped you out of the room and into the showers.

Jona looked happy with how everything turned out, he knew that Alexia would take care of it - her heart was soft for the youngsters on the team, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.

On your way out your eyes met Vicky's. “You promised not to tell Vic!”.

“Oye, keep walking, or we’ll call Catley. I’m sure she would love to hear about your situation.” It was Mapi that nudged you, a teasing smile on her face.

Hmmpf.

"Sandra Vicky put shaving cream in your gloves!"

And with that you let your captain drag you out of the room, smiling at the chaos that exploded behind you.

After getting washed up and changed, Ale helped you to her car and started driving to her home, not listening to the whines that you wanted to go to your apartment.

“You can say it now, Ale.”

She could see you were close to falling asleep, head resting on your seatbelt.

“I told you so. Now let’s get you healthy again.”