thewosocollective1

[thewosocollective1]

Drunk Maya

Barcelona had that rare kind of night where the sky was velvet and the air tasted like summer mischief. Maya González, usually curled up on her avocado couch with her curls in a bun and training socks halfway to her knees, stood at her bedroom mirror—eyeliner slightly uneven, lip gloss sparkly, energy borderline dangerous.

She hadn't gone out in months. Between football, early training sessions, and life with Captain Discipline (also known as Alexia Putellas), her social life was reduced to locker room chaos and kitchen karaoke. But tonight? Tonight was hers.

She’d gotten the green light after approximately seven days of negotiation with Alexia and a solid guilt performance for Olga, who finally blinked and said, “Go. But don’t return as a meme.”

Maya met up with Lamine, Héctor, and Pau, plus a handful of academy kids and a guy named Hugo whose entire purpose seemed to be holding everyone’s jackets.

At first, it was casual. Just music, rooftop lights, and soda. Maya danced, joked, and told Pau he looked like a dad on vacation. He tried to retaliate by calling her a tactical liability, but she moonwalked away mid-sentence.

Then came the drinks. Maya had never really drunk before—her idea of rebellion was putting two ketchup packets on her sandwich instead of one. But after one innocent cocktail with a glowing straw, she was gone.

Maya was leaning against the wall near the terrace, one boot off, giggling uncontrollably at Pau trying to moonwalk.

“Your feet are disrespecting gravity!” she cried. “My eyes need therapy!”

Her speech was slurred. Her cheeks, red. And at some point, she started a group chant that no one understood, in three different languages—Spanish, Catalan, and something she claimed was invented “football dialect.”

“I think I just saw seven versions of myself,” she whispered to Lamine.

“That’s the mirror, Maya.”

She nodded solemnly. “They’re judgmental.”

Two drinks later, she was attempting to teach everyone a choreography that involved dramatic finger pointing and something resembling interpretive football.

Pau filmed everything. Of course.

“OH come on boy ,Ve a meditar y déjame en paz.”

Héctor eventually pulled out his phone with a dramatic sigh. “Calling Alexia.”

“Noooo,” Maya whined. “She’s gonna make me eat spinach!”

“Come get her,” he said. “She’s in full Beyoncé-mode and she wants to eat spinach”

Alexia arrived twenty minutes later in sweatpants, hair in a bun, wearing that patented Putellas expression—95% disappointment, 5% unconditional love.

Maya spotted her and shouted, “MY LATIN MOTHER HAS ARRIVED.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” Alexia replied.

She approached Maya, who was dramatically trying to toast her juice with a potted plant. “Maya,” Alexia said. “Are you communing with botany?”

“She listens better than some defenders,” Maya said, solemnly hugging the plant.

Alexia sighed. “Okay. Time to go.”

“Nooo,” Maya whined, clinging to Hugo. “I’m emotionally invested in this foliage.”

Back home, Olga opened the door and saw Maya being half-carried, half-gliding in by Alexia.

“I have a confession,” she whispered dramatically, tripping over her own feet before plopping face-first into the avocado couch.

Alexia raised one brow. “Please don’t be about the cactus.”

“No, deeper,” Maya muttered, wiggling into a seated position. “It’s about football.”

Maya shifted under the blanket. “You know the injury I said I got during the preseason last year? That I twisted my ankle tripping over cones?”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “Yeah… the famous ‘cone betrayal incident.’ Why?”

“I wasn’t even at training that day,” Maya admitted. “I skipped it. I snuck out to go out with some friends”

Alexia looked at her disbelieving what just had heard

“I'm going to start putting a tracker on you.” she said

Maya stumbled in and collapsed dramatically on the sofa, still muttering to the plant—which Alexia had somehow allowed her to bring.

“I am the universe,” she whispered.

“Okay, star child,” Olga said, tucking a blanket around her.

Alexia sat down beside her, rubbing her temple. “You’ve got ten hours before training and I swear, if you show up hungover…”

[thewosocollective1]

Eyes On Me

Claudia Pina x reader

The locker room buzzed with the usual Barcelona spirit, but today there was something different in the air. A whirlwind had arrived — the new English signing, Y/N. Loud, cheeky, and completely magnetic. From the moment she stepped in, she lit up the place like a disco ball at a Champions League party.

Everyone was drawn to her — teammates, staff, even the press couldn’t get enough of her charm. She flirted playfully, had a joke for every occasion, and somehow made even ice baths feel like happy hour. But underneath all that extroverted energy was someone deeply private, someone who kept her inner world tucked away like a treasure chest no one could quite open.

At first, Pina kept her distance. She was focused — tactical — not easily distracted. But the problem was Y/N didn’t just distract; she dismantled defenses… off the pitch.

One afternoon in the locker room, Y/N flopped dramatically onto the bench next to Clàudia after practice. “So how do you manage to look composed while I'm dying from drills?” she said, tugging at her jersey like she’d just run a marathon.

Clàudia smirked without looking up. “I don’t complain every ten seconds.”

“Ohhh, she’s feisty,” Y/N teased, nudging her shoulder. “Bet you’ve got a soft side though. Deep, deep down.”

Aitana Bonmatí overheard and couldn’t help chiming in. “Careful, Pina, the flirt’s targeting you now.”

“Targeting?” Y/N gasped, feigning offense. “That’s so harsh. I prefer ‘charming gently.’”

The teasing continued for weeks — at lunch, on bus rides, after matches. Patri would pass by and mutter, “Still working on her, Y/N?” with a wink, and Y/N would reply, “It’s a long game. I’m good at patience.”

Clàudia, meanwhile, was slowly letting cracks show in her calm exterior. She’d find herself looking for Y/N in the training crowd. She’d smile — real, unfiltered smiles — when Y/N told dramatic stories about her family or her wild house parties back in England.

During team bonding night, Y/N dared Clàudia to sing karaoke. “Come on, Pina. I’ll duet with you. I promise not to hit the high notes.”

“You hit every note like it owes you money,” Clàudia teased.

The team lost it.

In a quieter moment that evening, as laughter echoed and players chatted on beanbags and couches, Clàudia looked at Y/N — really looked.

“You always have all the attention,” Clàudia said softly.”You just have to enter the room”

Y/N shrugged, sipping her soda. “Yeah, but I don’t always want it. Sometimes I just want one person to really see me.”

“And who is that person?”

y/n shook her head and walked away laughing in disbelief

“Hostia, tía! La chica... eres tú! Are you serious?” Cata said “debes ser estúpido”

Clàudia blinked. “Wait… me? For real?”

Cata buried her face in her hands. “Por Dios, yes, you! She's basically dedicating a Spotify playlist to you with her eyes every time you walk in!”

Clàudia still looked unconvinced. “But maybe she’s just being friendly…”

Cata grabbed her by the shoulders. “Friendly? Amiga, si eso es friendly, yo soy Messi sí! She flirts with you like she’s auditioning for a Netflix rom-com! The way she looks at you? Dios mío, it’s like you’re the Ballon d’Or and she forgot everyone else exists!”

Just then, Y/N strolled past, whistling, and casually slid her fingers across Clàudia’s arm. “Looking extra dangerous today, Pina,” she said, grinning.

Clàudia turned to Cata again. “...You think she does that to everyone?”

Cata screamed internally  and turned toward the locker room, shouting: “¡Alguien que venga a explicarle a esta niña lo que es un crush!”

From inside, Y/N popped her head out. “Everything okay?”

Clàudia, still stunned: “Yeah. Just... figuring out who wants my attention.”

Y/N winked. “Guess you'll have to pay a little more attention then.”

[thewosocollective1]

Cracks in the Silence

Alexia Putellas x reader

Caught in the Quiet Pt 2

It had been a week since Alba barged into Alexia’s apartment, armed with pastries and bombshell revelations, and turned Y/N and Alexia’s secret world upside down. Since then, things at FC Barcelona had shifted. Subtle. Suspicious. Slightly terrifying.

Ellie had recovered from the shock

Alexia and Y/N tried their best to act normal. In training, they kept their usual distance. In meetings, they spoke professionally. No flirting. No lingering glances. No accidental touches.

But the team was watching. Closely.

Mapi had turned into a detective. Jana dropped not-so-subtle comments like, “Love that chemistry you two have on the pitch… and off.” Even Irene was side-eyeing the way Alexia always gravitated toward Y/N during drills.

The tension was building. Silent. Heavy. And it all cracked open during the game against Atlético Madrid.

It was a high-stakes match. The stadium was pulsing, fans filling every seat, red and blue jerseys creating a mosaic of passion and noise. Alexia had her captain’s armband on tight, her expression cool and focused. Y/N was tense, vibrating with energy as she bounced in place during the warm-up.

Twenty minutes into the first half, things got heated. The game was aggressive, tackles flying, midfielders battling for dominance. Y/N had been frustrated all week — whispering and suspicion hanging over her like storm clouds. She was trying to keep her cool. But when the Atlético winger cut past her too quickly, something snapped.

Y/N charged.

Too fast.

Too hard.

She slid in with studs showing. The other player crumbled to the ground, clutching her ankle.

Whistle. Shouting. Yellow card.

The crowd roared, half in outrage, half in confusion.

“¿Qué hiciste?” she whispered, grabbing her arm.

“I—I didn’t mean—she cut inside, and I panicked.”

“You came in with your studs up. Y/N, this isn’t you.” But her voice wasn’t angry. It was protective. Worried.

And then their eyes met.

There it was. All the months of secrecy, of stolen glances and whispered confessions in the dark. All of it danced between them in a single look.

It lasted just a moment. But it was enough.

Everyone saw it.

Irene’s mouth dropped open. Mapi raised both brows. The referee blinked twice and awkwardly glanced away.

Even the commentators hesitated.

“Uhh… something’s happening between those two… chemistry, perhaps?”

Alexia pulled back quickly, trying to regain composure. “Just… play smarter,” she said, loud enough for the cameras. But it was too late. The unspoken truth had echoed louder than any whistle.

They pushed through the rest of the match in a haze of adrenaline and embarrassment. The tension between them was now public — buzzing through the stands, filtering into tweets and group chats like wildfire.

Then, in the 81st minute, everything changed.

Barça earned a corner kick. The score was tied: 1–1. The crowd held its breath.

Y/N positioned herself at the far post, eyes sharp, heartbeat thumping like a drum. Alexia stood outside the box, watching her like she always did — as if gravity didn’t work properly unless Y/N was nearby.

The ball soared through the air.

Y/N jumped.

Perfect timing. The header was clean. It slammed into the net.

GOOOOOOL!

The stadium exploded in sound.

But Y/N didn’t get up.

She had collided with a defender mid-air and landed horribly. Her head struck the turf — hard.

Alexia’s blood went cold.

She didn’t think. She just ran.

She dropped everything — tactics, armband, captaincy — and sprinted toward the girl she loved. Y/N lay there, eyes squeezed shut, hands barely moving.

“Y/N,” Alexia whispered, kneeling beside her. “Look at me. Say something.”

Y/N slowly opened her eyes, dazed “Tell me it was a goal”

Alexia laughed at the girl “that doesn’t matter now”

“ YES IT MATTERS A LOT!”

“Yes it was a goal y/n”

“Good because if i’m going to stay out during some time at least i scored a fucking goal “

Alexia couldn't help but laugh at her girlfriend

“You were… staring again.”

Alexia let out a breath that sounded more like a sob. “I always stare at you, idiota.”

The medic arrived. Diagnosis: concussion. Mild, but serious enough. She needed to come off. Alexia didn’t move until they lifted Y/N gently onto the stretcher.

The rest of the team gathered silently, concern etched across their faces.

Mapi broke the silence. “So… she’s your girlfriend?”

Alexia paused. Then nodded.

“She is.”

Nobody reacted badly. Not even close. Jana high-fived Vicky, Ingrid mouthed, “Finally.” Even the coach just sighed like he had won an internal bet.

As the stretcher moved toward the tunnel, Alexia walked beside it, fingers brushing against Y/N’s hand.

The crowd didn’t chant. It didn’t cheer.

It just watched — as the secret cracked open in the most painful, honest way.

Alexia wasn’t just a captain today.

She was someone in love.

And now… the whole world finally knew.

The locker room was silent after the match. Victory felt hollow. The only thing on Alexia's mind was the hospital where Y/N had just been taken. She wasn’t allowed in the ambulance — club policy — but she had followed behind in her car, running more red lights than she’d ever admit.

___

Two hours passed. Alexia waited in the hallway, tapping her foot, scrolling through messages from teammates.

Finally, the nurse came out.

“She’s stable. Mild concussion, but she’s awake. You can go in.”

Alexia didn’t wait.

Inside, Y/N lay in the hospital bed, hair messy, skin pale, a faint bruise on her temple. She smiled weakly the moment she saw her.

“You were crying,” Y/N said.

“I wasn’t,” Alexia lied.

“You always lie badly.”

Alexia sat beside her and took her hand. “You scared me.”

“I scared myself.”

A long pause hung in the air, heavy with everything they hadn’t said aloud yet.

“Everyone knows,” Y/N whispered.

“I know.”

“It feels… real now. Like we’re not hiding behind hoodies and late-night drives.”

Alexia looked at her, jaw tight. “Are we ready for that?”

“I think they are. You saw the locker room.”

Alexia nodded slowly. “It’s not the team I’m worried about.”

“The press?”

“The world.”

Y/N gently squeezed her hand. “Let them talk. They don’t get to decide what this is.”

Alexia laughed softly. “Did you rehearse that or are you just dramatic on pain meds?”

“Both.”

Alexia looked at Y/N, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead.

“I don’t care if the world knows,” she said softly. “I care if you’re okay.”

“I will be,” Y/N smiled. “As long as you’re here.”

[thewosocollective1]

Everything works out in the end

The city buzzed with electricity as the crowd filled the stadium for a crisp Champions League night at the Johan Cruyff. Maya González sat quietly on the bench, bouncing her leg like a metronome. Her name had been printed on the team sheet. Officially. FC Barcelona Femení. First team. Her debut match in the UEFA Women’s Champions League. And although she wasn’t starting, the pulse beneath her ribs ticked like thunder.

Alexia had walked past her earlier in the tunnel, leaning in with quiet confidence.

— “Escucha el partido. Siente el ritmo. Tú sabrás cuándo entrar.”

She always spoke like that. Not commanding, not coddling. Just words that carried weight and belief.

Maya glanced up at the scoreboard. Sixty minutes gone. 1–1. The coach waved her over.

“You’re on.”

The world swam for a moment, then sharpened. She threw off her bib, ran onto the pitch with her heart pounding and cleats catching the turf like it belonged to her. The game was fast—slick passes and gritty tackles—but Maya slipped into it like ink on paper. Improvisational, alive, unpredictable.

The ball came to her feet in the 81st minute. Quick one-two with Vicky López. A cut inside past a defender. A glimpse of space. Then—boom. Left foot, near post, just under the keeper’s dive.

Goal.

Her first ever goal with the senior team. In the Champions League.

The bench exploded. Teammates mobbed her near the corner flag. Vicky jumped into her arms, shrieking.

— “Tu primer gol, Maya! En la Champions!”

Maya couldn’t speak. She was laughing and sobbing and being half-crushed by Mapi and Ingrid. Lucy Bronze grabbed her head playfully.

— “Kid’s got magic.”

They saw out the match 2–1. As the final whistle blew, Maya collapsed to her knees, hands on the pitch, whispering thanks to the stars and the ghosts that once filled her orphanage room.

Then strong arms pulled her off the ground

“ Vamos chica, Mira quién te espera, ve a ellos” Alexia pointed at the 3 boys chanting in the stands 

so she ran to them screaming between tears

Lamine jogged toward her, arms open wide. “GOLAAAZO!”

“Historic night. Star girl scores like it’s playground.” Héctor hugged her and twirled her awkwardly

Pau was already filming. 

“Oh God, please no,” Maya groaned.

“I need content!” Pau grinned. “Star player shines under pressure. Give me a quote.”

Maya stuck her tongue out. “Go meditate on your triangles, Pau.”

“No peace for Pau,” Héctor said. “She’s the star now.”

Maya pointed at him. “Don’t post that unless I look hot.”

Héctor hugged her and didn’t let go. “We knew you'd do it.”

“You guys watched the whole thing?” she asked.

“Obviously,” Lamine said. “You’re our chaos captain.”

Pau grinned. “Also, we skipped homework for this.”

“Never do that again,” Maya smirked. “Unless I score twice.”

—

Alexia unlocked the car and leaned against it quietly. Maya spotted her tattoo as she reached for her keys—words Maya had read a thousand times but never heard aloud.

_ “Ad astra per aspera.”

“To the stars through difficulty.”

Maya froze for a moment. The air was still. And then Alexia added softly:

 “Tu camino nunca fue fácil. Pero mírate. Mira dónde estás.”

Maya blinked back fresh tears and nodded, head tucked against Alexia’s shoulder.”

“I’m going to get that tattooed too,” she said smilling .

“Ni siquiera sobre mi cadáver” Alexia chuckled. “But someday. When you’ve scored in a final.”

They drove home in warm silence. The city lights passed them like distant memories, but Maya wasn’t looking back.

She had arrived. And she was just getting started.

Olga waited in the living room wrapped in her pijamas , holding a bouquet of slightly wilted sunflowers.

“I didn’t have time for fresh ones,” Olga said, handing them over. “But I did cry, so that’s enough effort, And i have something better waiting for you in the kitchen”

“I love you,” Maya mumbled, leaning into her running to the kitchen already knowing what it was

“Triple Whopper. Cheese. Extra pickles.”

Alexia looked like she’d just witnessed tactical betrayal. “You have a nutrition plan.”

“Yes,” Maya said, walking toward the fridge and opening it defiantly. “And sometimes that plan includes emotional balance.”

Alexia muttered under her breath. “Emotional imbalance is a burger at midnight.”

Minutes later, Maya sat cross-legged on the sofa, unwrapping the monstrosity like it was an award trophy. Olga passed her a napkin before she’d even taken the first bite.

“You’re disgusting and beautiful,” Olga grinned.

Maya stuffed a massive bite into her mouth, speaking through it with little elegance. “The body wants what the body wants.”

Alexia plopped down beside her, arms crossed, trying her best not to look amused. “You score one goal and suddenly you think you’re Messi .”

Maya leaned her greasy cheek against Alexia’s shoulder. “Ad astra per aspera,” she mumbled with burger breath.

Alexia groaned but kissed the top of her head anyway. “To the stars through difficulty... or through fast food, apparently.”

[thewosocollective1]

Caught in the Quiet

Alexia Putellas x reader

Y/N stirred softly, sunlight sneaking through the curtains of Alexia's bedroom, warming the cozy sheets that still smelled faintly of her cologne. She stretched lazily, expecting to find Alexia beside her — but the spot was empty. A note on the pillow read: “Went for a run, be back soon. Coffee's in the kitchen. Te amo 🖤 – A.”

It had been four months of stolen glances at training, late-night drives, secret kisses behind stadium walls. They had been best friends for years — practically inseparable. Their families adored the bond they shared. But neither Ellie, Alexia’s mom, nor little Alba knew that their closeness had bloomed into something more.

Until now.

A knock? No. That was... keys. In the door.

Y/N froze. The front door opened. Familiar voices echoed down the hallway.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open. Her heart stopped. No. No. No. Alexia had gone for her usual run and said she’d be back before nine. They had four hours of secret-couple safety. That was the rule.

Apparently, the rule was broken.

“Lexiiii! We brought pastries and chaotic energy!” a voice sang from the hallway. It was Ellie. And worse… the tiny menace known as Alba was with her.

Y/N jumped out of bed, wearing Alexia’s oversized Barça hoodie. No time to run. No time to hide.

She threw open the closet, considered crawling in — ridiculous.

Y/N bolted upright, hair a disaster, eyes wide. She looked like she’d been caught hiding from the FBI — and honestly, this felt worse.

There was no time to make the bed. No time to disappear.

She tiptoed out just as Ellie and Alba strolled in, carrying a bag of pastries like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Mamá, are you sure she’s home?” “I texted. Maybe she went for a run.” “I bet she’s still asleep… or… OHHHHH.”

“Y/N?” Ellie blinked, surprised. “Didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

Alba stopped dead in her tracks as she laid eyes on Y/N in the hallway. Disheveled. Barefoot. Hoodie halfway covering her knees.

Her face lit up like she just found Messi in the kitchen.

“OH. MY. GOD.” she screamed, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “Y/N?! You slept here? In her bed? Are you two—WERE YOU CUDDLING?

Y/N tried to look casual. She failed miserably. “Uhh… Alexia had physio. I came over early. To… to water her plants?”

Alba scoffed. “Her plants are fake. Nice try.” She grabbed a croissant and took a bite. “So you’re her girlfriend now? Huh? You sleep here often? Should I start calling you sister-in-law? Do you snore? Is it weird dating someone who hogs the bathroom?”

Y/N blinked. “I— what— no— I mean— kind of?”

Ellie just stared, lips twitching like she was fighting a laugh. “Well, this is… unexpected.”

Then the front door was open again but this time by the owner of the house, Hair tied up. Joggers on. 

Alexia walked in, sweaty from her run, headphones around her neck, only to find:

Her girlfriend standing barefoot in a panic

Her sister looking like Christmas came early

Her mother halfway through a suspicious glare

“Why,” Alexia said slowly, “does it feel like I walked into an episode of Pretty Little Liars?”

“Do you even know what serie is that” Alba asked her older sister 

“I made her watch it” Y/N smiled proud of herself

Alba crossed her arms. “Don’t play dumb, Lex. Your hoodie is walking and talking. Just admit it.”

Alexia looked at Y/N, then at her mom, then back at the scene before her. She took a breath. Then shrugged.

“Okay. We’re dating.”

Ellie raised her eyebrows. “You’re… what?”

Alba screamed: “¡LO SABÍA! Mamá, págame los cinco euros. I told you at New Year’s.”

Ellie sighed and rubbed her temples. “Okay… but next time, avisadme. I almost walked in on something scarring.”

“You’re welcome mama, I told you coming would be worth it” Alba said smugly, grabbing an ensaimada. “Best morning ever.”

[thewosocollective1]

oh no , i'm falling in love

Aggie Beever-Jones

Emily Parker had always known her role—clear, strong, unwavering. As a defender for Arsenal, she’d built walls on the pitch and around her heart. But lately, those walls didn’t feel quite so solid.

It started with late-night texts. After long days training with England’s squad, she and Aggie Beever-Jones, the fiery Chelsea forward and her childhood teammate, had found comfort in each other again. Comfort, yes—but also something she couldn’t name.

Emily had driven to Aggie’s place more times than she could count. Through rain-slick streets, traffic lights blinking like doubt, thirty minutes of London congestion that somehow felt like seconds when her heart was pulling her there.

Emily sat at the edge of the booth in a quiet Japanese restaurant tucked behind Highbury Corner. The match had been exhausting. Leah was there, looking at her truing to read her The air hung heavy—not with silence, but with the kind of tension that lives in unsaid truths.

Leah looked at Emily with that piercing honesty she wore both on and off the pitch.

“You've been different lately.” Her voice was gentle, but firm. “Not bad. Just... less guarded.”

Emily looked down, pretending interest in the steam rising from her tea.

“It’s Aggie, isn’t it?” Leah asked.

Emily froze.

“I see the way you talk about her,” Leah continued. “Like she’s sunlight in a storm. Like she’s more than a teammate. More than an old friend.”

Emily chuckled nervously. “You’re imagining things.”

“No,” Leah said softly. “You are.”

Emily’s chest tightened. She had buried that possibility, wrapped it in layers of loyalty to Arsenal, of rivalry, of fear. But Leah’s words peeled it back.

“She’s Chelsea,” Emily whispered, almost pleading. “She’s off-limits.”

Leah leaned back, arms crossed. “Since when do hearts care about team colors?”

“Since i’m not falling in love with her, and Since you told me “Emily don’t you dare date a chelsea or Tottenham girl””

“Yes I do remember that”Leah rolled her eyes “ But if that girl is Aggie, I’m more than ok with it”

__

🎶 "Uh oh, I'm falling in love ,Oh no, I'm falling in love again, Oh, I'm falling in love🎶

Emily whispered the lyrics under her breath as she merged onto the street, the London skyline melting into a blur beyond the wet windshield. The song had come on shuffle, but it didn’t feel random. It felt like a mirror. Every word dug into her—softly, deliberately—like someone tracing scars she had hidden under her matchday composure.

Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel. It wasn’t a particularly dramatic message. Just three words. But it broke something open.

📱 Aggie: “Are you coming late?”

It sat on her screen like a question she wasn’t ready to answer. Was she late to arrive? Late to realize?

The lights blurred. Emily blinked hard. Her jaw clenched, but the tears came anyway—quiet, warm, unwelcome. She had promised herself, once, maybe years ago, maybe last season, that she’d never let someone in like that. Not through texts. Not through post-match hugs. Not through blue kits and rival goals.

She had built fortresses out of tactics and clean sheets. But Aggie had slipped through all of it with a smile and an extra toothbrush left at Emily’s flat “just in case.”

Now, in this car, somewhere between guilt and longing, Emily was undone.

“I promised I wouldn't feel this,” she said out loud to no one. To herself. To the stars hiding behind London’s thick clouds.

But she was feeling it. Every inch of it. And maybe—just maybe—she wanted to.

Aggie received No reply. But that wasn’t what worried her. What worried her was the thud in her chest that came every time she thought about Emily arriving. The way she couldn’t breathe properly when Emily sat beside her on the couch. The way her name felt heavier now — like something Aggie wanted to say with both reverence and recklessness.

Emily, who always drove across London like the traffic didn’t matter. Emily, who fell asleep mid-conversation with her cheek pressed against Aggie’s shoulder. Emily, who looked at Aggie like she wanted to understand her, not just tackle her.

So she whispered it into the empty room. A truth that had lived in her chest for months now.

“I think I’m falling for her.”

And the strangest part wasn’t the falling — it was the hope that maybe, just maybe, Emily was falling too.

[thewosocollective1]

Little Trouble

Today, Maya wasn’t on the first team’s Training. She was here with her Barça B teammates, many of whom had begun treating her differently. Especially Carla.

From the moment warm-ups began, Carla had been snippy. She rolled her eyes during stretches and snapped at teammates, clearly annoyed that Maya — the one who had “moved on” to train with the stars — was still captaining them.

And when Julia, one of the newest players on the squad, misplaced a pass during rondo, Carla exploded.

“For God’s sake, do you even know how to play football?” she barked, loud enough for the staff on the sidelines to wince.

Julia shrank, her face turning crimson.

Maya stopped dead in her tracks and strode across the pitch.

“Carla, that’s enough,” she said firmly. “There’s no need to humiliate anyone.”

Carla turned, sneering. “Why do you care? You’re barely one of us anymore.”

“I care because I’m your captain,” Maya snapped. “And Julia is part of this team, just like you. You don’t get to treat people like trash.”

“Oh look, here comes Queen Maya,” Carla said, arms crossed. “Training with the big girls, living with Putellas herself… Must be nice being special.”

Maya’s breath caught, but she didn’t back down.

“Being special doesn't mean stepping on people. You’ve been cruel all week, and if you want to act like a leader, start by acting like a decent human being.”

Carla stepped in closer. “Or what?”

Maya stepped forward too, unflinching, fists clenched.

The tension crackled in the air. Then another voice cut through it.

“Hey! Maya chica — enough.”

Vicky López walked over in full gear. Having just finished a first-team session, she’d come by to greet her old squad. Now, her face was serious, voice low but firm as she gently took Maya’s arm.

“¿En serio? I leave five minutes early and y’all start a novela sin avisarme.” Lamine was walking over with a water bottle in hand. He raised an eyebrow at the scene.

“What happened?” he asked Vicky, glancing at the frozen standoff.

“Carla being Carla,” Vicky muttered.

Carla rolled her eyes. “Stay out of it, Lamine.”

“No me meto… unless Maya’s about to throw hands,” he said, grinning. “Then I gotta know who I’m betting on.”

Carla laughed bitterly. “She  walks around she’s some saint. Newsflash — you’re not untouchable, Maya.”

“I never said I was, But better than you I know I am. But I sure as hell won’t let you drag others down just because you’re bitter.”

“what did you just say” Carla asked

“ you heard very well” maya  muttered

Carla stepped closer. “Say that again.”

“with pleasure”

 “Stop. Ven aquí ahora.” Vicky said pulling her away from carla 

“But she—”

“Now,” Vicky insisted

“Cool,” he said with a nod. Then, turning toward Carla: “You done yelling at kids or should I call Alexia?”

“¿Qué?” Carla blinked.

“I’ve got her number, just saying,” he shrugged, not even trying to hide the smirk. “She’d love to hear about this.”

Vicky leaned in to Maya, barely hiding her laugh. “I’m so using that next time.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Maya mumbled, but she was smiling now — just barely.

Maya allowed herself to be led away with vicky and lamine . Behind them, the pitch murmured with whispers. Carla turned and stormed off toward the water station.

Vicky guided Maya to the edge of the field and sat with her on the bench.

“You good?” Lamine asked Maya, eyebrows raised.

“Yeah,” she said, finally exhaling. “She needed to hear it,” Maya muttered, still fired up.

“She did. But not like that,” Vicky replied calmly. “Tú eres capitana, no justiciera, But there’s a line, Maya. You crossed it.”

“She was bullying Julia. If I hadn’t said something, no one would’ve.”

“I know. I remember how she used to be. But you’re not just any player. You’re someone the younger ones look up to — someone the first team notices. You lead with your voice, yes. But more importantly with your choices.”

Maya sat in silence for a long time, teeth pressed against her lip.

“I just hate seeing good people treated badly,” she said at last.

“I do too,” Vicky replied. “And that’s exactly why we need captains like you. But you’ve got to know when to speak, and how.”

Later that evening, word reached the senior staff. And from there… Alexia.

—

Maya came home after training to find Alexia in the living room, arms crossed, shoulders tense, her jaw locked in that familiar way. Olga was nearby, sensing something bad before words even started.

“So, quieres contarme lo que pasó?” Alexia asked, eyes locked on Maya.

Maya froze. “You heard?”

“I got a call. You nearly started a fight.”

“She humiliated Julia. I stood up.”

“You were about to throw punches! You screamed in her face in front of the whole team!”

“She provoked it!”

Alexia stepped forward. “And you fell for it. You let her drag you down.”

“She’s been disgusting for weeks. Nobody said anything. I did!”

“¡Sí, pero no así! You’re the captain. You’re supposed to rise above, not sink with the ship.”

“I’m not you,” Maya snapped. “I don’t handle things like a polished queen on a stage.”

Alexia’s eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”

“You think I care what people whisper? That I’m riding your shadow?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you think. That I act out because I’m emotional. Because I’m not disciplined like you.”

Alexia’s voice rose. “You were out of control, Maya. And you don’t even regret it.”

“I regret nothing. I defended someone.”

“Defender doesn’t mean detonating. You're supposed to be smart.”

Maya’s voice cracked. “So now I’m a disappointment?”

Alexia paused, something flickering in her eyes.

“I think you’re still learning. And I think you need to listen.”

“Right,” Maya said coldly. “Because all I do is yell and act without thinking.”

“Maya…”

But Maya was already walking out of the room.

—

The next morning, the silence between the two was unbearable. Olga sat between them, blinking like she’d walked into an alternate universe.

“Okay,” she said finally, “what is going on?”

Neither answered.

“Is this football drama or actual life drama? Because I live here and I’d like subtitles, please.”

both players looked at each other and started arguing  again 

"She was irresponsible and didn't know how to be a captain" the blonde woman said 

"and she's always yelling at me and trying to correct me" the girl said still in disbelief after hearing Alexia's words

“Okay. Stop. ¿Qué pasa aquí? This is not normal.”

Alexia shook her head, turning slightly away.

“She doesn't listen.”

Maya scoffed. “She doesn't understand.”

Olga raised her voice. “¡Basta ya! You two argue like you’re enemies.”

“We’re not enemies,” Alexia murmured. “Just… not aligned right now.”

Maya whispered, “Maybe I shouldn’t be here.”

Silence dropped like thunder.

“Cállate,” Olga said instantly, stepping closer. “You’re family. You don’t get to pretend you’re not just because you’re pissed.”

Neither of them spoke.

Alexia sat down on the couch, shoulders sinking, finally murmuring, “I just wanted to help her grow.”

Maya stood near the door, eyes glossy. “I just wanted someone to say I did the right thing.”

Maya chuckled under her breath.

Olga continued, turning to Alexia, “You love her like she’s yours, and you’re disappointed she acted like… a teenager? Guess what — she’s a teenager.”

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “I never said—”

“You never say it, but we all know. You worry over her more than I worry over my houseplants.”

“And Maya,” Olga said, spinning to face her, “you blew up because you care. But Alexia’s not your enemy. You two are made of the same fire.”

Maya sighed. “I just… I hate it when people act like leadership is silence. Or being passive.”

“You can be strong and kind at the same time,” Olga said. “Either you two take this outside, or I put tape on the floor and you settle it in the kitchen.”

Alexia cracked a smile. Maya rolled her eyes.

“Three goals. That’s it,” Maya said.

“First to three,” Alexia replied. “No fouls. No excuses.”

They walked to the garden with quiet steps. One pass, then another. Slowly, the rhythm returned — foot to ball, breath to air, tension releasing with each touch.

After Maya scored the winning goal, she dropped to the grass with a triumphant grin.

Alexia sat beside her, arms over knees, quiet.

“I wanted to be like you,” Maya said softly. “But maybe I’m just… me.”

“You’re you,” Alexia replied, voice warm. “And that’s exactly what makes you stronger than you think.”

“You were right,” Maya admitted after missing a shot.

Alexia raised an eyebrow. “About?”

“About choosing battles. I didn’t think. I just felt.”

“You felt for the right reasons,” Alexia said. “I just want you to grow into the captain I know you can be.”

Maya leaned back into the grass, heart at ease.

"I love you lexi "

" i also love you peque "

And from the kitchen, Olga called out, “¡Vale! Now can someone do the dishes, por favor?”

They both laughed.

Maybe they argued like thunder. But they always made peace like music.

[thewosocollective1]

The big world of Maya

Alexia putellas x Teen!

Barcelona sky was a soft shade of lavender, stretching wide over the Camp Nou facilities. Maya González, seventeen and already full of fire, stood with her curls tied back in a loose bun, her cleats hung lazily over one shoulder. She was dressed in her Barça training kit, lips curled into a smile that never seemed to fade—except on game day, of course.

She’d grown up kicking worn balls on the gravel of a small orphanage yard. It hadn’t taken long for her wild talent to catch the eyes of a nearby neighborhood coach, who nudged her toward La Masia when she was only ten. By fourteen, Maya faced a decision: leave or find a legal guardian. That’s when the unexpected happened—Alexia Putellas, the queen of Spanish football, stepped in. She signed the papers without blinking and brought Maya home.

And not just to any home. A warm, colorful house filled with music, dog hair, and the soothing voice of Olga Ríos, Alexia’s girlfriend and a rising influencer. Olga painted Maya’s room with lilacs and stars. Alexia taught her how to read the rhythm of a midfield. They became the family Maya never knew she was allowed to dream of.

At school, Maya thrived. Not academically—her mind didn’t love textbooks—but socially, she was magnetic.. She never stopped talking. Loud, funny, quick to tease, and loyal to a fault. Her closest friends had always been Lamine Yamal, Héctor Fort, and Pau Cubarsí. They played for the men’s first team now, but they still met for lunch when they could.

“Maya!” Héctor Fort called from a nearby table. “Come sit before Pau eats all the croquetas.”

Maya rolled her eyes and dropped her tray with a thud. “You say that like Pau doesn’t need three plates to survive.”

Lamine Yamal appeared from behind, ruffling her hair. “The real star has arrived. ¿Jugaste bien Ayer?”

“As always,” she said with a grin. “I made Mapi spin like a beyblade.”

“Bro, Maya, ¿cómo diablos metiste ese pase entre tres defensas?” Lamine asked, mouth full of sandwich.

“I don’t know!” she grinned. “It’s vibes. I see space, I send the ball. It’s not that deep”

“I don’t know how you can do that” Pau said 

“Se llama talento, algo que no tienes, but don’t worry friend your time will come”

Pau rolled his eyes, ignoring the girl. “You’re basically allergic to tactical structure.”

“And still score more than you,” Maya shot back with a wink. They all laughed.

“I usually close my eyes for 15 minutes before the warm-up,” Pau said. “And visualize passing angles.”

The table went silent.

Then Maya burst out laughing. “You’re visualizing triangles? Bro wtf .”

Lamine clapped his hands dramatically. “Pau, I swear you’re the only guy who thinks about geometry before kickoff.”

“Wait,” Héctor added, eyes wide with mock horror, “is that why you pass sideways 70% of the time? You’re stuck inside a hexagon?”

“I hate you all,” Pau mumbled, shoving fries into his mouth.

Maya leaned forward, poking his arm. “You love us. Admit it.”

“No,” Pau said firmly. “I’d rather meditate.”

“That’s fine,” Maya teased. “We'll just chant around you next time. Ohhhh sacred triangle, guide the Cubarsí pass to nowhere...”

Even a nearby staff member glanced over, trying not to laugh.

Eventually Pau cracked a smile. “You’re all evil.”

“But entertaining,” Lamine grinned.

“Disturbingly powerful,” Héctor added.

“And I’m the queen,” Maya declared, sticking two napkin points behind her ears like a crown.

Pau rolled his eyes and grabbed a spoon. “Fine. Your majesty. May your chaotic midfield reign last forever.”

Maya winked. “Only if Pau keeps visualizing triangles to support me.”

They erupted in laughter, drawing curious looks from other tables. It was easy between them, like the rhythm of a childhood song. They’d met years ago at La Masia—three musketeers with dirty cleats and dreams too big to fit in their backpacks.

Training at Ciutat Esportiva was another story. Maya adapted like water. She’d step into drills with senior players like Patri Guijarro or Ingrid Engen without blinking. Her improvisational flair made it look like she danced with the ball, not kicked it.

“She’s chaos,” Mapi León once whispered to Lucy Bronze. “But good chaos.”

In the locker room, Maya’s energy exploded. She was always teasing, joking, dancing—even if her phone stayed buried at the bottom of her backpack.

…

“You coming to rondo later?” Vicky asked, half-smiling.

“I should," Maya replied. "But Alexia’s probably got me doing dribbling drills that make me question my life choices.”

Vicky chuckled. “She only tortures you porque te quiere.”

And she did. Alexia Putellas had taken Maya in not just legally—but emotionally. Since the day she'd signed those guardianship papers, she’d made it her mission to guide Maya through football, life, and every mess in between.

“Hoy te toca hacer TikTok,” Vicky López told her.

“Nope,” Maya replied. “TikTok is for people who have time to be famous.”

“Says the girl sat on the looker room complaining about having nothing to do” Jana said laughing 

“Ella tiene que estudiar” Alexia said appearing from no where

“Alexia, Estudiar es dudar de mis habilidades” 

“Yes and  sit you on the bench for having bad results at school is using  my skills”

...

At home, the quiet moments were just as rich. Maya would stay up late without alexia knowing, doing stretches on the living room carpet, and Olga would join her sometimes with a face mask on. They’d talk about girls, music, the world, and how Maya kept her life offline despite everyone asking her for interviews and photos.

“I don’t need everyone to know me,” Maya would say. “I need the ball to know me. That’s enough.”

...

One day after a game Alexia entered the living room dressed in sweats and a hoodie so oversized it looked like she’d stolen it from Maya’s drawer. She spotted the girl-shaped blanket blob and raised a brow.

"Are you alive under there, or is this your new form?" she asked.

Maya groaned from somewhere in the fabric. “Leave me in peace, I’m communing with the sofa gods.”

Alexia stepped closer and poked the blanket. “This is the same sofa you spilled matcha on yesterday.”

“You don’t get to insult me and my throne.”

Alexia smiled and plopped down beside her with her legs flung over Maya’s blanketed ones. She grabbed the untouched cereal and began eating shamelessly.

“Hey!” Maya peeked out. “That’s mine.”

“You left it unattended. Five-minute rule.”

“That’s not how that rule works,” Maya protested.

“It is in this household.”

“¿Me das masajes o no me amas?” she joked.

Alexia chuckled and started kneading her calves gently.

“Yo siempre te amo, Benny. Even when you’re a pain.”

Maya looked up, eyes soft. “Sometimes I think you rescued me.”

Alexia didn’t reply right away. She kissed the top of Maya’s head. “No. You rescued yourself. I just got lucky enough to witness it.”

“Estoy orgullosa de ti,” Alexia whispered once, almost too softly to catch.

“I know,” Maya murmured. “Sometimes I feel it more than I hear it.”

Alexia smiled. “Bueno, next time I’ll shout it.”

“Please don’t,” Maya laughed, throwing a pillow at her.

Olga grinned from the kitchen. “You two are impossible.”

[thewosocollective1]

WOSO MASTERLIST

+reader

-child

*teen

If you want to make requests, I'm open to suggestions.

Alexia putellas

Whistles and Whispers + -

Caught in the quiet +

Cracks in the silence +

Aggie Beever-Jones

Oh no, I'm Falling in love

The big world of Maya Series

Introduction *

Little Trouble *

Everything works out in the end *

Drunk maya *

Claudia Pina

Eyes on me

[thewosocollective1]

“Whistles and Whispers”

Alexia putellas x reader x child!

The stadium buzzed with electric tension. It was July 3rd, 2025, and the group stage match of the UEFA Women's Euro had just ended in heartbreak — at least for one side.

Spain had crushed Portugal 5–0, with the third goal elegantly tucked in by none other than Alexia Putellas.

Among the red-clad celebrations, Alexia stood breathless, her captain’s armband damp with sweat, pride glimmering in her eyes. But beneath the surface, her thoughts weren’t on medals or headlines — they were with Y/N, her wife, her rival for ninety minutes, her other half in life for 8 years now .

Across the pitch, Y/N, the portuguese capitan hadn’t moved.

Her teammates were dispersing quietly, some lost in post-match reflection, others headed toward the tunnel.

But Y/N remained seated near the sideline, boots planted in the turf, eyes unfocused.

The sting of the scoreboard burned in her chest.

She had worn the Portuguese jersey with pride, poured her heart into the match, fought for every touch. But there was no joy now — just defeat. And the fact that it came at the hands of her own wife made it harder to swallow.

Suddenly, rapid footsteps echoed across the pitch.

“Mama!” a small voice cried.

Y/N looked up just as her daughter, four-year-old Sofia, dashed toward her from the family box with tears streaming down her cheeks and her beloved stuffed bunny bouncing in hand. Her curls were wild, her little face twisted in heartbreak.

Y/N opened her arms instinctively

“Sofia? Amor, what’s wrong?” Y/N knelt as the little girl launched into her arms.

“Mama, I don’t want Mami anymore!” Sofia sobbed, clutching her mother tightly. “She made you cry! She made you lose!”

Y/N froze, torn between comforting her daughter and processing the words.

Y/N’s eyes widened. “Sofia, Mami didn’t—”

“She hurt you!” Sofia yelled, drawing attention from nearby players and officials. “She made you lose again!"

Alexia had just appeared, ready to reunite with her family. But what she saw stopped her cold.

“Cariño…” Alexia approached slowly, arms outstretched.

“I don’t want you!” Sofia cried, tears spilling down her cheeks. “You made Mama cry! You’re mean!”

But Sofia broke away from Y/N, ran across the touchline, and ducked under the bench seats, crying harder.

“She… she doesn’t want to see me,” Alexia said quietly as she approached Y/N, heartbreak lacing her voice. “She thinks I made you sad on purpose.”

Y/N nodded, eyes full of emotion. “She doesn’t understand. She saw me crying and just… connected the dots her way.”

---

Irene Paredes — captain, defender, and longtime friend to both women — had been watching nearby.

With celebrations quieting and the stadium slowly emptying, she walked calmly toward Sofia’s hiding place.

“Sofia?” Irene said softly, crouching beside the bench. “Can I sit here?" Irene asked sitting on the ground next to the kid

“Go away,” Sofia sniffled, clutching her bunny.

“I will, if you want tia to go i will go” Irene said kindly, “but first I want to know something. Are you mad at Mami because Mama’s sad?”

Sofia nodded, tears welling up again. “She made Mama lose. Everyone cheered for her. Mama cried. It’s not fair.”

Irene smiled gently. “Do you know what football is, Sofi?”

Sofia nodded. “It’s when Mama and Mami kick the ball.”

“That’s right. And sometimes, one team wins. Sometimes, the other loses. But it’s not because they’re mean. It’s just the game.”

“But Mama was sad,” Sofia whispered.

Irene took a breath. “You know, Sofia… sometimes people we love have to play on different teams. Not because they don’t love us or each other, but because it’s their job. Like Mama and Mami.”

“But Mami smiled after Mama lost.”

"I know. But Mami didn’t want to make her sad. She loves Mama very much. Just like you do.”

Sofia looked up. “Really? but she didn't say sorry , and mami says we have to apologize when we hurt someone"

“I know,” Irene said, brushing a strand of hair off Sofia’s forehead. “But Mami was also sad. She cried when she got to the tunnel.”

Sofia blinked. “She did?”

“Because she saw that Mama was hurting. And because you ran from her.” Irene smiled gently. “She would never want to make Mama sad — or you.”

The little girl was quiet. Her chest still heaved from sobbing, but the sharp edge of her anger had softened.

“Sometimes,” Irene continued, “grown-ups feel proud and sad at the same time. Love doesn’t stop because someone loses. In fact, that’s when love matters most.”

Sofia looked down at her bunny, thoughtful. “She didn’t mean it?”

“No, amor. She was just doing her best. Just like Mama.”

"She was just playing football"

" Yes sofi, but now you have to apologize to Mami , vale ?" irene held out her hand for the little girl

"Vale"

With Irene’s hand in hers, Sofia emerged from beneath the bench and walked toward Alexia. The stadium had mostly

Alexia was sitting on the locker room , waiting. The party from the spanish girls arounf her , and her eyes lit up when she saw the door opening and irene and daughter entering the locker room

Her steps were tentative, the usual sparkle in her walk gone. She stopped just short of Alexia’s boots.

“Mami,” she said quietly, almost trembling, “I’m sorry.”

Alexia crouched down, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Why are you sorry, amor?”

“I said I didn’t want you,” Sofia whispered, her lips wobbling. “Because Mama was crying. And I got really mad. I thought you were bad. But… but you weren’t. You didn’t mean to make her cry.”

Tears welled in Alexia’s eyes. She gently opened her arms. “I love Mama. And I love you so much. Even if we play on different teams, nothing changes that.”

Sofia rushed into the embrace, her bunny dragging behind her. She clung to Alexia tightly, sobbing now—not out of anger, but relief.

“I missed you,” she whimpered.

“I missed you too,” Alexia whispered, pressing a kiss to her daughter's head

Sofia sniffled once more, then looked up, blinking innocently. “Mami…”

“Yes, princesa?”

She leaned in, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Can I still eat the candies Vicky gives me?”

Alexia blinked. “Vicky like vivi?”

Sofia nodded proudly. “She gives me squishy ones with sugar when no one’s looking. She says you don't allow to us to eat so we we usually eat in secret"

Vicky who was celebrating the victory choked on her water when she heard the litlle kid

"SOFIA! It's supposed to be a secret!" Vicky yeld

Alexia narrowed her eyes, slowly piecing it together. “Wait a second… Squishy ones? With glitter wrappers?”

Sofia nodded. “They make my tongue red!”

Alexia sat back with dawning horror. “Oh my god. That’s why you’ve had random stomach aches. I thought you were sick!”

“I swear they’re sugar-free...ish,” Vicky said with a shrug. “She’s my mini teammate. Gotta fuel her up.”

Alexia pointed at her with mock sternness. “You are officially banned from candy distribution until further notice.”

Vicky snorted. “You can’t bench me in sweets, capitana!”

Sofia raised her bunny like a gavel. “Candy court has spoken!”