Jun 26
hello sneak peak of my morgan!reader board while i finish drafting my first fic with her👀👀👀
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hello sneak peak of my morgan!reader board while i finish drafting my first fic with her👀👀👀
Legendary 4.5 Morgan!Reader.
Being up at night is kinda your thing. It was like that even before everything.
Still, things became worse after the accident. Sometimes you lay awake in bed, feeling lost and unable to breathe. You don’t really cry, but the pain consumes you like a fire until your lungs burn. It’s then you wish with everything you are to wake up, to be in a world where she’s still there. It hasn’t happened yet.
Sometimes you wake up gasping, the remnants of a nightmare mixing with the real world in a blurry mess. The pain turns into rage, endless anger against the world. Those nights you need to walk or work out in order to avoid the downward spiral. Many times you’ve stared into the abyss, fully conscious that a bad decision can take away whatever is left from you.
Finally, there are nights like tonight. You wake up and the world is too quiet while your mind is too loud. Your phone says it’s barely past two am. You only managed a couple hours of sleep and exhaustion is still very much present. Nor a surprise really, but you won’t be able to sleep again. There’s practice in the morning so unless you find a way to rest, things don’t look particularly exciting.
“Scoot over.”
“What?”
Your head snaps up towards the voice of your best friend. You can only see her silhouette in the darkness of the room. There’s no need to see her face to know she’s rolling her eyes at you with your lack of understanding.
“Move, Morgan. I’m not gonna stand here all night.”
Apparently, your body complies before your mind can process exactly what Janice wants. You move and she slips under the covers, pulling you close to her before you can try to complain. This is something you haven’t done in a long time; a hand on your waist is enough for your shoulders to relax a bit and you sigh in contentment.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper after a second, “didn’t mean to wake you up.”
A scoff is the thing you get as an answer. Janice knows you don’t do it to bother her. There are some things you can’t control, and she has always been there to make it better one way or another. Her slight annoyance is at your need to apologize, to take the blame for things you can’t be blamed for.
Still, she holds you tighter.
Your bad sleeping habits aren’t something new, but they haven’t been this bad in a long time. So, she worries. She does so because Janice is your best friend; you’ve been attached by the hip since you were born and it’s no wonder she knows you better than anyone else.
“What’s going on, Y/n?” She asks quietly.
Right then and there it’s the two of you with no one else to judge you. You’re safe and comfortable enough to open up to her, to share what’s in your mind and the things that make your heart heavy.
“I’m trying to let go.”
At some point everything you’ve been bottling up was bound to come crashing down on you. Crying on Sonnett’s shoulder can’t fix everything, you’re aware of that. But it’s a breaking point, the realization that you can’t keep going as you were without it taking a toll on you.
You built walls to protect yourself, to not feel the pain even when you were choking on it. And instead of keeping the sorrow out, you were drowning on it.
Your team came knocking on the door then. They threw you a lifesaver and opened a window to let all of that pour out. Taking care of the aftermath is on you, to put the broken things back in place and get rid of those that simply can’t be fixed.
It’s not easy, but it’s necessary.
Trying to process your emotions during the World Cup is perhaps the worst timing. It messes up your already screwed sleeping schedule, but well, it’s not always too bad. You’re learning things about yourself you didn’t know before, and rediscover those you forgot.
You’re becoming a better you instead of the shell you were so adamant on being.
You weren’t alone after Alex died, but the place you had considered your home was nothing more than a house. Suddenly, soccer was the sport Alex loved and little more. Sure, it was an escape, but also a prison; leaving you stuck between a rock and a hard place.
You want the world to see you as more than just her daughter. At the same time, you don’t want them to forget her. Not when she did so much to inspire a revolution for equal pay, respect and overall appreciation for the sport. Not when her name is associated with the highest honors; world cups and Olympic medals, golden balls and boots and MVP’s.
Not when she means everything to you.
“You don’t have to let it all go.”
Some things might not be perfect now or ever, but they’re still worth holding onto.
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
“I know it’ll take some time still, but...you’re alright, Y/n. I promise.”
You mean to keep the conversation going, instead you yawn and rest your head on Janice’s shoulder. If her arm gets numb, she’s gonna have to shut it, or unceremoniously shove you off at seven am as you realize when you wake up abruptly.
You only open your eyes long enough to glare at her.
“Jerk,” you mutter lovingly.
“Go back to sleep, Morgan,” she retorts with a good natured laugh.
It’s a very, very, tempting offer, but you fight it off for another second.
“Thank you.”
Your words are almost silent, but you know she heard you when she pats your head. You’re already half asleep when you hear her answer.
“Got you.”
*****
“Oh my God! Is this how a fully rested Y/n is like?” Janice pants while trying to keep up.
“Yup.”
After practice ended, you stayed behind with one of the coaches for some extra work. Then Janice decided to join along with Press, Long and Krash. Before you knew it, the whole team had additional training. However, all but Janice yielded at the forty-five minute mark; too tired to keep going.
“I’m so not sleeping with you again then.”
“You could’ve left with the others,” you taunt.
“As if. Someone has to keep you in check here. Otherwise you’ll work out till tomorrow.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
You doubt anyone can last that long, but you’re one of those that would probably try. It’s not the hill you wanna die on so you smile sheepishly at Janice when she makes another remark.
“Last five minutes?” You ask.
“Yes! Thank God!”
You can’t help but laugh at Janice’s antics. She’s still her usual self, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.
You slow down in those last minutes, to get your breathing and heartbeat slowed down gradually before stopping.
“We should visit the zoo.”
“Pretty sure I’ll only be visiting my bed after this.”
“Not today, you moron.” You say rolling your eyes. “But you know, next day off?”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
Finally getting off the stationary bike, you stretch before downing the rest of your water battle.
“Come on. It’s time for the ice bath.”
“Hasn’t this been torture enough?” Janice asks dramatically.
“Hurry up, O’Hara. You’ll thank me in the morning.”
“If I don’t kill you first.”
“Oh, shut up. You love me.”
“Sadly.”
*****
“This is the most challenging match this team will face in the group stage. Germany was a tough challenge, but going against the host of this World Cup will tell us the chances to advance through the next round. Australia has grown while the USA went to less, and they’re the contenders for the title. If the USWNT wants to win it all, they have to go through this team first.”
“We must also consider the player rotation the USWNT will have on this game. That will certainly add to an already complicated game.”
Your heart beats along with the music in your earphones. It’s a way to keep your nerves at bay before you can finally make it out of the locker room. You’re on the bench for the day, but that doesn’t dwell your excitement of the game.
“Listen, guys!” Sonnet calls as you group around her and Pinoe. “We know the Aussies are good but so was Germany. So was Brazil, but we got the results we wanted. This won’t be different. We’re part of the group of death, and we’re conquering.”
All of you nod and cheer in agreement while Pinoe takes the lead.
It’s wild to say but you’re the underdog of this competition. However, this position allows you to be the dark horse.
No one expected you to win the first two games.
No one expects you to win against Australia.
No one really believes that you can win the World Cup. Not yet.
But you’re here, ready to fight to the last minute and the last breath.
“You already know what you gotta do on the field, now it’s time to do it.”
Five minutes later the team has elected Krash as the captain once again. With one last cheer, the starting lineup make their way to the tunnel while the rest of you head to the bench.
“The final fixture of the group phase is here! And what a match it is. I think we can all agree that not having Morgan in the line-up is a surprise. Even with the much needed rotation on a tournament this important, you’d expect to see their best scorer on the field.”
“If there’s nothing stopping Y/n from playing, she should be in the game. Australia is far from an easy match, and maybe this is a sign of overconfidence from the USWNT. Their group is the group of death and even when they’re practically through with a tie here, they can’t get complacent now.”
“There’s only one way to find out. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for some soccer!”
The pace of the game is fast, so fast that some players can barely keep up.
Australia is the home team, they have all the advantages here, but even when they press high and seem to have the USWNT team cornered, they can’t get anything past Harris.
The goalie proves time and time again why she’s the captain. She brings security to the back of the field, and it’s there where everything begins. The defense get their heads on the game, stand tall to every onslaught and soon enough just a few balls make it through; none of them dangerous.
Then, the midfield does the same, pressing and recovering before launching forward. The game generation starts in a moment’s notice, guided by Sonnett giving instructions from the sideline. Everyone follows the plan, and soon enough they’re playing at top level.
Australia can’t get close enough, but neither can the USA.
At some point, Megan calls you to sit next to her. You do so without a word and for a long moment neither of you say anything. You watch the game in content silence.
“You remind me a lot of her,” she suddenly says.
The unexpectedness of her words forms a knot on your throat and you have to swallow harshly. Pinoe pretends not to notice, giving you a moment to compose yourself. She rarely talks about Alex; this is hard on her too. You can see it in the way her jaw clenches.
“It’s not just how you look or how you play. I know Harris is the captain, but you’re the heart. You help your team when they need it most, and they listen to you. More than that, they believe what you say.”
You listen silently, suddenly overwhelmed by emotion, but it’s the good kind of emotion.
“Alex had this fierceness in her, not a bad bitch like Kelley,” she adds, making you chuckle. “But she had a fire about her. Sure, we all wanted to win every game. But not like her. I was there in her first World Cup and I knew, I just knew, she would be something special. And I’m sure she would have been so, so proud of you. You have that same fire, Y/n. And just like I was in her first, I am in yours. You’re also meant to do great things, something special.”
“Coach, I...”
But you have no words. You struggle not to break down in the middle of the match, but you manage. Barely.
“Don’t care about what the fucking world tells you, kid. You are every bit her daughter. But you’re also every bit yourself.”
Those two concepts are not exclusive, you can be both. You are her legacy, but that doesn’t stop you from creating your own. It starts here, with this World Cup. You have to prove, not to others, but yourself, that this is where you want to be.
No, this is where you belong.
“Whatever happens, you’ll enter at the sixtieth. After half time, you’re up to warm up right away, understood?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. Now, let’s keep pushing.”
*****
“That’s the end of the first half! It’s been a rocky game so far. Australia is a very competitive team. They have speed, agility, and a lot of talent on their ranks. But I think we’re seeing a USWNT that knows how to play each match. Even without Y/n on the field, they were able to keep the game even. I see potential on this team, but will it be enough to win it all?”
“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. They’re not losing, but they’re not winning either. There’s still forty-five minutes to go, and several matches on this World Cup if they want to do something really meaningful. There’s a long road ahead if they wanna be anything like the Golden Team.”
You take a deep breath once it’s your time to warm up.
The rest of the world fades away as you crack your neck and Janice soon joins you to start. You’ll be the first two substitutions. You wanna strengthen the midfield and push forward with absolutely everything you have.
Maybe Alex isn’t physically there, but she’s in everything that ultimately makes you, you.
You warm up and remember when you joined your first little league team, with Alex holding your hand as you jumped around in excitement. You remember your first cleats with the same colors you wear now; a Christmas gift that made your eyes shine with awe.
You remember training with her when you had an important match in highschool and going out for dinner no matter the result.
Alex always had your back and now it’s not different; her number is now yours. As yours is the responsibility to continue what she started more than two decades ago.
She gives you strength and when you finally wait by the sideline to enter the game, you let go of the fear. You let go of the anger and even most of the pain.
It becomes a dull ache that you doubt will ever go away completely. But it’s better than the overwhelming grief you’ve carried on your shoulders all this time. You let go of the doubts and accept that they’re looking at you hoping to see a bit of the magic she had.
You’re not completely sure if it’s the same even after Rapinoe words. But you have magic, not just as individual players but as a team, and you’re here to prove it.
You look at Australia and don’t see them as the host anymore.
This is the World Cup. This turf is your home. You came here to stay until the end. And it wouldn’t matter if the World Cup was in Russia, South Africa, Japan or Argentina. The World Cup is your place. Soccer is your language, and lucky for you, is universal.
“Morgan has entered the game. What can she do with limited time?”
Australia’s defense is solid like a wall.
You…you are a wrecking ball.
A fistbump is exchanged with Janice and you take your place waiting for action to resume with a corner kick in their favor.
The whistle blows and the ball soars straight into Krash hands. You exchange a look and a nod with her before rushing up.
You enjoy the rush of adrenaline, pat one of your teammate’s shoulders on your way to the midfield and they understand to follow as you run past them. It’s something simple, quick and effective that draws the entire team into action.
The best way to wreck their defense is to use their offense against them. A high speed counter attack and they have no time to react. You see Long with the ball on the far right, she sees you on the left and you know exactly what’s going to happen.
Her pass is flawless as you enter the box from the left into your mother’s favorite definition zone. You see the last defender get lost in the play while the goalkeeper tries to close the angle. And she closes it, if you were to shoot with the right foot.
However, your mother had a saying.
Practice the left.
The goalkeeper has zero chance to stop the ball as it finds its way into the net.
“That’s a goal! And what a goal it was. A magnificent shot from Morgan that could simply not be stopped.”
“She had created the space, and she didn’t waste it. It was a fantastic play from end to end that gave Australia no time to react. And I think we all saw a goal in true Morgan fashion with the first ball Y/n touches after being subbed in. With only fifteen minutes to play, I feel that this team is close to being group leaders.”
“What will this mean for them?”
“In the big picture? Little. But it’s a better chance facing the next round. They have some big names, and they got some big results. However, for a team with so much story as the USWNT, nothing but the title of Champions can be considered a Victory.”
“Do you think they have what it’s needed?”
“...Maybe.”
The team is all around you in a matter of seconds and you jump into Harry’s arms. Her assist was just sublime and you wouldn’t have had a chance otherwise. So you hug her tightly while everyone else cheers.
It’s just one goal, but in a game that has been so close and with little opportunities, it can very much mean securing the last three points.
But you keep pushing. You keep trying. There’s no way you’ll leave victory to chance when you’re close enough to grab it with both hands.
In the end, one goal is enough. The game ends and you get the win to go into the next round as group leaders. More than that, you feel like titans in a world of heroes. You’re ready for the glory, and there’s absolutely nothing and no one that can get in your way.
how does the crowd feel about morgan!(possibly lawyer)reader secret fwb early seasons spencer🫣🫣🫣
Legendary Pt. 4 Morgan!Reader.
Waiting for the next match is always the worst part. It allows people to wonder, expectations rise and the entire world is watching you like a hawk. It doesn’t matter if you’re in or out of the pitch, they’re ready to catch the wrong moment.
They’re ready to see you fail.
But you’re strong; perhaps stronger than you should be at your age.
You’re mature on the field, you know how to handle the pressure, how to shove aside the noise until it’s only you and the ball. That’s a part of what you bring to this team; temperance and resilience. You keep your head cool and your heart ignited.
No one on the team is afraid to put on the work, to stay behind to polish any and all details. Everyone is ready for one more rep, one more drill, one opportunity to show you deserve to be there. Nothing great has ever been done by giving up, and when all the odds are stacked against you, you’re ready to fight, burn, and come back from the ashes stronger than ever.
“It had to be Japan, uh?” Janice asks while you take a break.
“We can do this.”
“Confident?”
You shrug at the question. You’re confident in your team, although you don’t underestimate your rival. There’s a reason why they made it to the World Cup. Japan has always been a complicated team to play against.
They have discipline, technique and hunger.
But so do you. And you have heart; a burning passion to prove everyone wrong, including the voices lurking in the back of your head telling you to give up.
However, they’re not loud enough to silence the voice of your mom, Kelley, and Pinoe or every single member of your team, your family and friends. They’re your motivation, and you won’t let them down. You won’t let yourself down.
You’re confident this team has what it takes.
You know that you’ll leave everything you got on the pitch. You trust the rest of the team to do the same; push until the last second and until there’s nothing else to give. You’re willing to play your heart out, no matter if your every bone hurts at the end of the match.
“I’m confident, but not cocky. We have a great team, and we’re doing this right. We have to keep doing that, one pass at a time.”
“If that’s the case, then I hope you’re ready. There’s one more scrimmage to go.”
You groan when Janice pulls you back to your feet although the grin is clear on your face.
“I’m not on your team,” you mutter as you follow her back to the others.
“Picking the losing team, Y/n. I expected better from you.”
*****
Technically, you knew that playing every game wasn’t ideal or optimal for your body.
You’re happy some of your teammates are getting minutes, putting their names out there and giving their all for the same cause. Still, that doesn’t mean you enjoy the bench.
Even before the game starts, you pace the length of the bench. You keep doing so until the teams jump into the field for the National Anthems. Those minutes serve you as a pause before Pinoe finally guides you back to the bench and pushes you to take a seat.
“The final fixture of the group phase is here! And what a match it is. I think we can all agree that not having Morgan in the line-up is a surprise. We don’t know of any injuries, and that brings up the question; what’s the plan for today?”
“If there’s nothing stopping Y/n from playing, she should be on the field. Japan is not an easy match, and maybe this is a sign of overconfidence from the USWNT. Their group is close; a win will let them advance as leaders. A tie can put them in problems. Losing here might send them home despite the good results in previous matches.”
“There’s only one way to find out. Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for some soccer!”
No one enjoys watching the game from the bench, but it’s truly a different experience than seeing it in front of a tv screen or even from being in the crowd. It’s one of those odd sensations when you know you’re part of the game as a whole even if you’re not part of the starting lineup.
Pinoe talks you through the finer details of the game; she helps you grow even when you’re watching from the sideline. Sonnet and her see you as the Maverick, you can change a game with your abilities. You find the spaces that no one else does, you think with or without the ball at your feet, you’re a smart player in every sense of the world.
Sure, that might remind some people of Alex, but you’re good not because of her.
You have a passion for the sport that was born from her. After all, it’s hard not to love something your mom was so passionate about. She taught you discipline, but passion? That can’t be taught.
You listen intently to Pinoe while Sonnett guides the players on the field. Then, they switch positions and you have another world to learn from Emily’s perspective.
“Whatever happens, you’ll enter for the last twenty minutes, okay?” Emily asks patting your shoulder with the glint of a proud smile on her face.
“Yes, coach.”
Not being able to play every minute is also a part of the game. This is not just any tournament. This is the world cup; long and hard with little time to rest between matches. It’s an exhausting process, not just for your body but for your mind.
The expectations of the whole nation, hell, maybe the entire world rests on the shoulders of twenty four players. It’s a whole lot of pressure for all players; the ones that played the last World Cup, and the young ones that want to change the world.
This match, specifically, is a lesson.
You already know how to move on the field with the ball at your mercy, and you know how to move to create space for you or others. Now, Pinoe and Sonnett are teaching you how to improve your game even when you’re not playing.
They want you to be better. From being an amazing player, to being a world champion.
World Cups aren’t just won on the field. Every single moment counts, and when the first goal finally arrives, you cheer for your teammates with everything you have.
“That’s the end of the first half! It’s been a rocky game so far. Japan is a very physical game, they have speed, and a lot of talent on their ranks. But I think we’re seeing a USWNT that knows how to play each match. Even without Y/n on the field, they were able to score. I see potential on this team, but will it be enough to win it all?”
“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’s still forty-five minutes to go, and several matches on this World Cup if they want to do something really meaningful. There’s a long road ahead if they wanna be anything like the Golden Team.”
“Intense game, uh?” You ask Krash once you’re in the locker room.
“You seem awfully chirpy for someone that is on the bench.”
“Hey!” You protest. “What’s the use of being grumpy? I’d still be on the bench.”
“I heard you’re having playing time at some point.”
“See? An extra reason to avoid all kinds of grumpiness. And between us?” You ask with a mocking conspiratorial tone. “I’m confident there’ll be another match. We got the best team in the world.”
“Hell yeah, we do!” Janice shouts from behind you.
Soon the entire team goes into a bundle, and you break apart after a cheer.
You feel it then, the heart of this team. The passion within you, they all feel it. The drive for victory, the hunger for it. There’s dedication and sweat, even blood.
The USA had to wait a long time for a team like this; with big dreams, with high hopes and with steady feet to walk steadily towards the top. But this group of women raising their hands in unison, this family found through soccer, they’re ready.
And so are you.
“Go kill it out there,” you tell Krash and O’Hara.
“You know it.”
*****
Going back to the bench brings up your nervousness again, but as soon as Pinoe notices, she sends you to warm up. It’s the best use of your anxious energy, so you nod before putting on the fluorescent vest.
A switch is flipped and suddenly you’re in beast mode.
You focus on warm ups and yet are hyper aware of everything else going on around you. You hear people cheering for the team and those that are the opposite. You hear your teammates calling for the ball once the match resumes. You hear Sonnett shouting instructions behind you and when the rest of the bench comes out to join you.
You take everything in, let it fuel your passion even more.
“You got this, Y/n!”
Alex’s voice cuts through the crowd and you smile despite yourself. There, in the second row right next to the bench, your mother cheers you on. Her words give you any and all courage needed as you intensify your warm up.
The time for you to enter is closer by the second and you’re prepared to face anything Japan throws your way. The magic of playing the biggest tournament in the world is still pretty much there. Even with all the pressure and expectations, this is the best thing in the world.
“Let’s do this,” you whisper to yourself once you’re finally in.
“Morgan has entered the game. What can she do with limited time?”
The team keeps the lead, but you’re there to push the tempo. You don’t let Japan feel comfortable; they’re starting to feel tired while your legs are fresh. As impatient as you can be on the bench, you know how to wait on the field and what to wait for.
You recognize the few chances to make a move, break their defense, slip past their lines and take a long distance shot with all the technique learned from your mother. You only have one instant to get the ball through, but it’s the one you’ve been waiting for.
Right then your name isn’t what truly matters. However, your ability on the field does, it speaks for itself and leaves no doubt as to why you’re in the National Team.
Soccer is your element, your passion. You live it. You breathe it. And you make it change as needed. You have the ability to bend it to your will to benefit you and the team you represent.
Certainly, you’re one of the youngest players on the current roster, but it’s obvious there’s something different about you. There’s something in you more than talent and passion; you have dedication, discipline, hunger and more.
Of course, there’s still a lot for you to learn. Which means nothing when you learn as fast as you do.
Your energy drives the team forward, makes them try even when the score is against you. More importantly, you push them to be their best selves even when the match is won. You move around in the field and it’s almost like magic, not just of what you do with the ball at your feet either. The whole team follows your lead even when Krash wears the captain armband.
She has the experience and voice, and yet, you are the drive of the team.
At the time, 78th minute, your shot slices through the defense and can’t be stopped by anyone, not even the goalkeeper.
“That’s a goal! And what a goal it was. A magnificent shot from Morgan that could simply not be stopped.”
“She had the space, the time and she didn’t waste it. With only fifteen minutes to play, I feel that this team is a bit closer to being group leaders.”
“What will this mean for them?”
“In the big picture? Little. But it’s a better chance facing the next round. They have some big names, and they got some big results. However, for a team with so much story as the USWNT, nothing but the title of Champions can be considered a Victory.”
“Do you think they have what it’s needed?”
“...Maybe.”
The ref blows the end of the match and you hurry to celebrate with your team; hugging each other with glee. You made it further than in the last World Cup, and that deserves a little celebration.
It feels good to get some of the results you’ve been looking for although there’s still a long way ahead. Still, enjoying each victory is not really that bad as long as you keep your eyes on the ultimate goal and don’t stop moving forward.
Before you follow the team back into the tunnel, you walk towards Alex.
She waits for you with a smile and hugs you tightly once you’re within reach. It’s a bit awkward considering the barrier still in between, but you couldn’t care less about that at the moment. You hug her with as much fervor as she does and laugh breathlessly.
“We made it through, mom!” You say excitedly.
“You did a fantastic job. All of you. I couldn’t be prouder of you.”
“But you will,” you counter with a smile. “After the next game.”
“Yeah,” she agrees, returning your smile. “I will.”
That’s the thing with her, she always finds another reason to be prouder of you. It doesn’t matter if the next game doesn’t end as you wish, you’re her daughter and she will always be proud of you. She has been there through the good and the bad. She cheers through your every victory. She helps you back to your feet after a defeat. She’s the reason you won’t give up, you’ll push as hard as possible and hope that positive inertia carries you all the way to the final.
You’re pretty sure that the only thing better than playing in a World Cup is actually lifting the trophy. That moment is far beyond the limits of your imagination; something you have to live and feel.
However, the way Alex looks at you makes you wonder if watching you play is higher in her list of memorable instances. After another hug and the kiss she places on your temple, you decide it has to be up there.
*****
“Today was a great match. You managed to score a goal even with limited time on the field. Were you trying to prove a point to the coaching staff?”
It takes you a couple of seconds to truly understand what they’re asking you.
The press has a twisted perspective and won’t hesitate to bend and warp your words to fit their narrative. Dealing with them can be exhausting, but it’s not something you can’t do. Not when you’re still riding the high of that game against Japan.
“No, not at all. This is the World Cup. It’s a demanding tournament and we know everyone will get playing time. Like you said, the team did great out there not just today but we found our ground in every match. Some of us were lucky enough to have more minutes on the group phase, but there’s no point to prove. Everyone that is here deserves to be here. I just gave my everything in those few minutes because that’s what you gotta do to advance.”
“Advance you did. Congratulations. We’ll let you go back to your team now.”
With a smile to the cameras and a wave, you make your way down the tunnel and to the locker room where half the team is already changed.
“Alright, girls!” Pinoe calls for everyone’s attention. “I want all of you to take this moment in. Enjoy it for a bit but don’t let it get to your heads. Tomorrow we focus on our next goal.”
“Winning the world cup,” Janice states as she sits beside you.
“One match at a time,” you reply with a nod.
Legendary Pt. 3 Morgan!Reader
“O’Hara! Put me down!” You shriek when your best friend decides to carry you over her shoulder.
This is not the first time she does something like this, but a warning would have been deeply appreciated. You’re not that lucky, and Janice only laughs at your disgrace while carrying you all the way to breakfast.
You only have half a day of practice, and then you’re free to explore the city.
You’re excited not just because Australia has a ton of places to visit, but because your mom will be there too. Maybe hanging around their parents would have been embarrassing for most people, but when your mom is a living soccer legend, your biggest idol and the coolest mother ever? You’re glad to have her around as much as possible.
Besides, Kelley will be joining too because this is Australia; the paradise for any surfer.
You are almost vibrating with excitement during practice; much to Janice’s amusement. You’re an emotional player, and no, that doesn’t mean you cry all the time. What it means is that your game reflects your emotions, and most of the time, the team feeds from your energy. If you enjoy the game, so do they. If you’re angry, you play harder and they become a wall to back you up. When you act like a puppy; imaginary tail wagging behind you, they’re compelled to pat your head once practice is finally over.
A few minutes later, Janice and you meet with your parents, and no time is wasted before you jump into Alex’s arms. She laughs but holds you tight for an extra second.
“I’m so proud of you,” she whispers against your hair.
Moments like these make you remember that yes, Alex Morgan is your mother, and she looks at you with pure adoration. She doesn’t have to say those words for you to feel them, but doing so makes you smile a little wider.
Winning three world cups in a row is a giant accomplishment, unmatched by any other team, but when she’s asked about the most important victory of her life, you’re the first thing that comes to her mind.
Lifting the cup is something she won’t forget, or bending to accept a gold medal, but for her, nothing compares to the first time she held you.
“Thanks, mom.”
“What is this? Aren’t you going to hug your favorite aunt too?”
With a chuckle, you hug Kelley with just as much enthusiasm. She has been there since you can remember, and you wouldn’t be surprised to know she changed your diapers too.
The car ride to the beach is filled with hilarity while Kelley and Alex wonder what happened to Taylor Swift and what exactly you call music nowadays.
“You two are old,” Janice says offhandedly.
“Excuse me!?”
Alex’s outraged question makes you laugh until your belly hurts. One doesn’t call Alex Morgan old and gets away with it. Janice will pay for that once you make it to the beach, and the mere thought makes your mother smile.
Soon enough you arrive at your destination.
Being an L.A. girl has its perks, you decide with a surfboard under your arm.
Kelley taught you how to surf when you were just a kid. Living five minutes away from the beach meant you fell in love with the sea before you could even walk properly. Still, things are a little tougher here; higher waves that look unforgiving, and a permanent alert for sharks that you don’t know how seriously to take.
That’s why you stay close to Kelley; surfing waves that you can control and enjoying the afternoon with your family. There’s no need to risk an injury that could cost you the World Cup. There’s no way to know what will happen on the field; accidents happen, but not like this.
At the end, being careful pays off and you make it safely back to the shore.
Exhaustion takes over you once you’re back in the car. Kelley is the one at the wheel, and you fall asleep resing your head in Alex’s lap. She runs her fingers through your damp hair like she has done since you were a kid. It works like magic, and the tension vanishes from your shoulders.
This is your first World Cup, and you’re glad to have your family there.
The most intense, chaotic and wonderful month of your life has just begun. And you’re glad not to be alone.
One match down. The rest of the World Cup to go.
And you’re ready.
***
“I’m ready,” you mutter to yourself after tying your shoes. “Totally ready.”
A chuckle to your left makes you turn to face “Krash”. Her smile is confident and it helps you calm down. Even when you’re technically ready, the nerves refuse to go away.
“Take a deep breath, Morgan. We know these guys. We face them quite often, right?”
Your next match is against Mexico. Their team has improved greatly over the past few years, but Harris is right. They’re one of the teams you face the most. You know how they stand on the field, how they move, and more importantly, how to stop them.
“It’s the World Cup, and they’re gonna play their asses off, but so will we. We’re determined, disciplined, and hungry. But our biggest advantage is here.”
Harris taps your chest and you feel the way your heart beats; stronger than ever.
This team craves a chance to rise from the ashes; an opportunity to write their own story in a book filled with legends. There’s talent around you, but the passion is tangible beyond anything else. You’re not the only one with a known last name or number, and as such, everyone wants to prove they’re more than handy down.
You’re ready to leave everything on the field; except hope.
“We’ve got this,” Harris says once again.
“Aye aye, captain.”
Harris knows how to be a leader on the field, but also out of it. Sonnett’s trust pays off every time Krash keepers her head cool during a heated moment. It pays off when she keeps pushing you to do more; to do better, even when a game seems lost or won. Her mentality is to never give up because most of the time a match lasts more than ninety minutes.
Your job doesn’t end until the whistle is blown, and even then, there’s a lot of work to do.
You step into the field with a renewed sense of excitement and awe.
This is the second match of the World Cup for the USWNT; winning would put you closer to direct elimination. The next round is just around your corner, and so far, destiny is in your hands.
But you don’t think about that when the game starts. You can’t think about the future when this moment is so big. You don’t think about “what if’s” because the world only follows what you do right then and there. So, you move and run; touch the ball with the delicacy and precision the moment requires. You treat the ball right, and spaces open in Mexico’s defense.
You’re patient when you don’t have the ball, but explode like a firework when you do.
You follow Long’s lead, and a perfect pass turns into an assist to Press.
“The USA is on the board! Morgan with the assist and Press didn’t hesitate to convert. Only ten minutes into this game, and our triple threat proves to be a nightmare for the rival. There’s no better way to start this match. USA 1, Mexico 0.”
The roar of the stadium is felt more than heard. It makes you vibrate with adrenaline when you jump into Press’ open arms. She doesn’t know how to celebrate, so you both laugh and wait for the rest of the team to join your hug.
Somehow, that’s a good enough celebration.
“You’re next,” you tell Harry once the match resumes.
The blonde shrugs although you can see the smirk on her face.
It doesn’t really matter who scores as long as the team wins, but Long deserves a goal too. She’s always grinding, but her efforts aren’t always appreciated by the rest of the world. But you see it; the way most of your goals came from her boots, and when you have an open look is because she pulled the mark. Your numbers wouldn’t look as good as they do without her, that’s for sure. And when all eyes are on the USWNT, you want to return the favor.
Fifteen minutes after Press’ goal, the match is closed up.
You don’t find spaces, but neither does Mexico. It’s a tough battle just to retain possession of the ball, but it’s mostly fair play. Their team has improved, their league has grown and that’s obvious on their National Team as well. It doesn’t look like a team willing to receive another goal, much less five like they did so often in the past.
The world stops not long after. You see it happening; someone in a green jersey taking a shot within an inch of free space. You see it soar with crazy effect, and a moment later is already on the back of the net.
“That’s an equalizer. USA and Mexico are tied to one. They found a way to get through the dense, and boy, they didn’t look good on that one.”
There’s a general sense of frustration while Mexico celebrates, but there’s nothing you could have done better. The defense was tight as it could have been. Harris stretched as much as she could, but it was one hell of a goal; finding its home in the right corner.
However, the frustration doesn’t go away for the rest of the half, but it turns into annoyance when the public boos you all at halftime.
It’s like they don’t see Mexico playing. They don’t see what they do right, and instead focus solely on what you do wrong. It’s a fair point of view, you guess, but then again, you couldn’t have done anything better in that play. People don’t care.
Winning this game won’t matter if you don’t win the next. And whatever you do in the group stage will be in vain if you don’t win the Cup. It seems unfair, but after so many years of nothing, the entire nation has lost faith in you.
“Is this the beginning of the end for this team?”
“I think it is. After what we saw versus Germany, I feel like they don’t know what to do now. Maybe they found an accidental victory last time, but that won’t happen again. They won’t be able to top this poor performance.”
“What about the talent on this team?”
“It’s moment to reconsider if it’s actually there of if it’s what we want to see. Everybody wants the dream team back, and with two members of the golden era leading them, it was easy to believe. But let me tell you right now, this isn’t the dream team even with all those kids with big names on their backs. The USWNT won’t make it to the next round. They won’t be able to win tonight, and they won’t win against Japan. It’s over.”
“There you have it, folks. It’s time to go back to the action to see the end of this match.”
“Heads up, girls!” Harris shouts when you jump back to the field.
You have a new strategy; simple and crazy at the same time.
A position switch is made. Long will be a forward while you take her place as the right wing. The change should be enough to confuse Mexico’s defense; more so when the change is subtle at first. But finally, after what feels like forever, you get a single chance to change the game.
You can’t stop even when you see the hit coming from miles away; you’re surrounded by green shirts and they don’t appreciate what you’re trying to do. You don’t shy away from the contact nor give up an inch. If you did, then the team would have a free kick, but Mexico’s defense would have time to recover.
So, you wait until the last second possible; until Long is on the penalty spot with no mark, to nutmeg a Mexican player and fake an auto pass. It’s only natural for the same player to block your path, but it doesn’t matter.
The contact is hard but Long has the ball and plenty of space.
The hit sucked the air from your lungs, but you couldn’t care less. Hitting the turf is the last thing on your mind when Harry shoots.
The whistle goes off. The stadium breaks into cheers. Long did it.
You want to laugh, but air refuses to make it back into your lungs and pain hits you out of nowhere with a vengeance.
“Unbelievable! They scored! WIth one of the most questionable decisions we’ve seen on this World Cup, the USA retakes the lead.”
Janice makes it to you faster than anyone. She helps to bend your legs until you’re able to gasp. It hurts like the devil, but you chuckle anyway. A muttered thanks is all you can offer before the medical team reaches you.
Everything happened so fast that no one thought you were hurt until you didn’t go celebrate with Harry. You’re not seriously injured, and you thank Heavens for that, but another moment to fully catch your breath does wonders.
The game only has seven minutes left, and Pinoe decides you can catch it on the bench.
There’s no need to risk you, and you trust your team completely.
Even when the pain subsides, it’s impossible to breathe normally until the match ends.
You’ve secured three more points, but that’s not the reason you celebrate. You join your team and hug everyone that comes your way, if the crowd cheers or not, it doesn’t matter. This victory belongs to the team, and no one can take that away from you.
“I told you, you were next!” You say holding Long by the cheeks. “And you scored!”
Before you can say, or do, anything else, someone is carrying you out of the field.
“O’Hara! Oh my God, right in front of the cameras?”
She just laughs, but you accept your fate by wrapping your arms around her neck. You’ll have your payback at some point, probably once she puts you down. Damn it, everybody is watching you.
“I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Love you too, Morgan.”
You can only roll your eyes at that. Best friends, right?
Legendary 3.5 Morgan!Reader
You wake up before anyone else. The sky is still dark, and the city is silent when you get up. Your phone says is barely past five, and you wonder when was the last time you slept for eight hours.
It’s hard to do so when every time you close your eyes, a nightmare emerges. It’s always about that day; how she wouldn’t pick up the phone just as a breaking news interrupted whatever you were watching on tv. You can’t remember a lot about that day, but you remember the pain.
There’s always a memory coming to the surface ready to break your heart all over again.
It’s been three years, but somehow the pain is still fresh. It clogs your throat while you rub the sleep away from your eyes. It doesn’t matter how many times you talk about it, or how many hours you’ve spent on therapy, you still wait for her to come home.
Hope is killing you.
Maybe you latch onto it because you’d only have anger otherwise. That bittersweet mix of heartache and pain has propelled you forward instead of driving you to self-destruction. You don’t know what letting go means or how to start that process.
No one can show you the way, so you are content staying as you are.
It’s not easy or pretty, but it’s better than giving up.
You leave the bed and change for the day. It’s one of those rare day offs to recover after a match, but you’re not sure what to do if it’s not soccer.
Being extra careful not to wake up Janice, you leave the room to wander aimlessly for the better part of an hour. You leave the hotel, and the city opens its mysteries for you.
You find a deserted playground that has had better times, and next to it stands a forgotten pitch. You can imagine the kids that once played there; full of energy and with the biggest dreams. You made what they dreamed of; be professional and play in a World Cup.
You enter the pitch along with your ball; a little worn out but still with the Orlando Pride colors shining through. Taking a few shots is the way to go when you want to center your mind. It would have been easy to use the training facilities instead, but you aren’t a star or the daughter of a legend when you’re here. Right there you are just Y/n.
“I wondered where you’d end this morning.”
You turn around to find Janice by the fence; hands in the pockets of her hoodie.
She doesn’t judge, and you smile at her. She’s your best friend, and the reason your thoughts aren’t darker most of the time. O’Hara has been the source of your laughter thanks to her usually stupid, but endlessly edearing, personality.
“I have a phone, you know?”
You might enjoy being on your own, but that doesn’t mean you’re completely reckless. And you certainly don’t want to disappear without notice, much less in a foreign country.
“I like to think I know you well enough to find you without calling first.”
You’re not quite sure if that’s the case or you weren’t sneaky enough and she simply followed you. However, you don’t have enough evidence to call her out.
“And that you did. Do you need me for something?”
“I need my best friend to come surf with me.”
“Janice, I don’t…”
“We’re in Australia! Mom is waiting for us on the car, and I don’t accept no as an answer.”
You have half a mind to argue because surfing isn’t your strong suit. But it makes your best friend happy, and you’re willing to go back to the sea for her. To some degree, it’s another way to be closer to your mother.
At the end of the day, you feel lighter than you’ve done in years.
You sing along to the radio when Kelley takes you back to the hotel. She hugs you for a long moment. Kelley lost her sister, and there’s a day when she doesn’t think about Alex. Her daughter reminds her of Alex, and so do you.
In a way, you have each other, and that helps you to stay afloat.
The change you’ve experienced is noticeable; the entire team sees it. No one says a thing, but they make sure to stay close; enjoying this side of you.
You believe this team is meant to change the world in more ways than just soccer.
They’re changing you for the better, even if you can’t see that yet.
***
“Pick your captain,” Pinoe says putting a hand on your shoulder.
“Harris.”
This is something Sonnett and Rapinoe implemented. They allow the team to pick the captain on every match based on effort, leadership and partnership. There’s no hard feelings, no doubts, and what the team feels is crystal clear.
So far, Harris has been the usual choice. The team supports her, and she does the same for the team. It’s a well deserved badge, and one opportunity Krash doesn’t waste.
“O’Hara?”
“Harris.”
One by one, all of you pick your goalie as the captain. The golden badge finds its place on her arm before Pinoe goes over the strategy to face Brazil.
It isn’t too different from how you played against Germany, but it takes into account their speed. It’s one of their biggest strengths; one you’re ready for.
But you’re not ready for one of the most beautiful finishes you’ve ever seen.
The world stops and you see it happening; someone in a yellow jersey taking a shot within an inch of free space. You see it soar with crazy effect, and a moment later is already on the back of the net.
There’s a general sense of frustration while Brazil celebrates, but there’s nothing you could have done better. The defense was tight as it could have been. Harris stretched as much as she could, but it was one hell of a goal; finding its home in the top right corner.
“Brazil scores first on this match, and the game is now uphill for the USA. Can they come back? We shall see.”
USA trails by one and the atmosphere in the stadium changes completely.
People don’t believe in you or the team, that much is obvious when the cheering stops and people boo whenever you touch the ball. It’s infuriating, but the only way to shut them up is by playing better. The change you long to see starts on the field; starts with the ball on your feet.
It’s like they don’t see Brazil playing. They don’t see what they do right, and instead focus solely on what you do wrong. It’s a fair point of view, you guess, but then again, you couldn’t have done anything better in that play. People don’t care.
Winning this game won’t matter if you don’t win the next. And whatever you do in the group stage will be in vain if you don’t win the Cup. It seems unfair, but after so many years of nothing, the entire nation has lost faith in you.
In a way, this isn’t much different from the little soccer pitch forgotten in an alley.
It’s you and some friends going against the rest of the world. Brazil isn’t the enemy, not really. They’re just trying to achieve the same thing as you while wearing a different jersey. That’s the game, and more often than not, life.
The enemy is the phantom voice of the people pulling you down through the years. The people shutting your efforts down when the results aren’t exactly what you want. You’ll find the victory that no one sees coming, the victory after everyone has left the boat.
If they don’t want to believe, no one can force them. But you’ll win anyway.
You don’t react to the crowd or the words trying to break your focus. You only care about the team, and you cheer them on along Harris. The game plan hasn’t changed, so you push forward and close the lines so they can’t use their speed.
It’s another lucky shot that puts the score 2-0 in their favor just when the first half is about to end.
“Oh, come on!”
Soccer is a game of skill as much as it is of luck, and apparently, the Gods are on Brazil’s side. But you’re not one to go down without a fight. You can’t.
“Is this the beginning of the end for this team?”
The team seems defeated when they make their way to the locker room, and even Rapinoe struggles to find the right words.
“I think it is. After what we saw versus Germany, I feel like they don’t know what to do now. Maybe they found an accidental victory last time, but that won’t happen again. They won’t be able to top this poor performance.”
“We’ll win the next game,” Harris offers when it seems no one really knows what to say.
“No!” You intercede. “This isn’t over yet.”
“Y/n,” Press calls shaking her head.
“No! Come on, coach.” You look at Pinoe and then to Sonnett. “Don’t let them win. I’m not talking about Brazil; if we lose against them I know we’ll come back ten times stronger, but don’t let the crowd win. If we give up before this game is over, when how can we expect them to believe in us? They expect us to fail, and I expect more from us.”
“What about the talent on this team?”
Long is the first one to nod; trademark smirk back in place. Her silent support makes your confidence grow, and soon enough, you’re perched on a chair.
“It’s moment to reconsider if it’s actually there of if it’s what we want to see. Everybody wants the dream team back, and with two members of the golden era leading them, it was easy to believe. But let me tell you right now, this isn’t the dream team even with all those kids with big names on their backs. The USWNT won’t make it to the next round. They won’t be able to win tonight, and they won’t win against Australia. It’s over.”
“This team was built from Titans and some of us watched them play. I know we’ve heard the story of the generation that changed women’s soccer forever. But the truth is: we aren’t less than them. We can change it all again. We can make people believe in what we do; in who we are. If Pinoe went against the most tasteless cheto to ever be president and came victorious, why can’t we go against the odds? Why can’t we go back out there and do what we do best?”
“There you have it, folks. It’s time to go back to the action to see the end of this match.”
Your speech brings life back to their eyes and soon, the whole team is ready to face the challenge. Some people would call it reckless optimism, but you’ve seen what this team can do. There’s only one way to see if you have enough to win the tournament, and that’s by leaving everything but hope on the field.
Even if it kills you.
“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Sonnett says and hatches a new plan.
***
Brazil is almost impossibly fast but so is Press. She takes after Christeen; a player capable of zooming from 0 to 80 in two seconds. She’s your entrance point when she uses every bit of skill learned from Heath.
If you talk about fast, then you have to talk about Janice’s transition between defense and offense. She stops Brazil’s attack, and a second later, she joins you at the front; sharp as a knife and ready for the kill.
Long is precise as a surgeon. She follows your lead like no one else can. She’s practically reading your mind; knowing exactly what you want to do and how.
It takes the team around ten minutes to decipher Brazil’s defense before shattering it.
Janice moves with ease to pass the ball to Press. A bicycle and a nutmeg later, you have the ball. As soon as you get it, Long goes into the box, and with a flawless shoot, Harry Long scores.
“Time is USA’s enemy right now. They’ve managed to shorten the distance, but the comeback against Brazil is too far away. An equalizer could change the story, not just of this tournament, but the entire World Cup.”
Next time you have the ball, la verde amarela is ready to hold Janice back, but they can’t stop her and Long too.
Harry returns the favor with a delightful assist, and you connect it just right with your forehead. That’s the equalizer, and with fifteen minutes left; it’s a new game.
One point makes you the group leader, but you won’t settle for anything less than the victory.
“What a moment! Y/n Morgan makes honor to the great Alex Morgan with an equalizer. It’s 2-2 at the 75th. It looks like this team doesn’t give up. Whatever the coaches told them at halftime, it did the trick.”
You know what that goal means, for the team and for you personally. Your celebration is quite reserved, but you make sure to point to the sky. That’s enough for you. You’re there with her memory, but thanks to your hard work.
The team relaxes for a hot minute, but like always, they’re focused when the match resumes.
Brazil is tough on the last minutes; unwilling to go down.
The tactics you used against Germany are obsolete against them. WIth only two minutes of added time left on the clock, you don’t think there’s much left to do.
However, your dedication and effort pays off. With only a few seconds left, you earn a corner kick. It’s your last chance, and you’re ready.
A shared look with Long and PRess is more than enough to know the strategy.
Your mission is to make sure the ball makes it through. Your mark is tight, but you’re taller than your defender. A chance is all you need, and Janice grants it to you with her swerve. Long boxes out her mark, and you rise just enough to barely deflect the ball so it can reach Press.
She’s alone behind you, and the Brazilian goalie doesn’t have time to react.
The ball finds nothing but net. The whistle blows, and the match is over.
“I can’t believe it! They pulled off one of the most epic comebacks I’ve ever seen! The USA wins! These girls don’t give up, and today they go back to sleep with an unbelievable result.”
You won. The USA gets three more points and it’s a step closer to the next round. If people believe or not, it’s unimportant. The team showed them courage, pride, passion and determination. Those aren’t flashy words, but a proof of who you are and what you can do.
“Y/n, Y/n!” A reporter calls for your attention. “What do you have to say to the people thinking USA wouldn’t make it past the group stage?”
For a second, you consider how to answer that before opting for a nonchalant shrug.
“Nothing. Everyone that wants to support us is welcome. But the ones that don’t won’t affect us. We came here to play, and that’s what we’re going to do.”
You don’t wait for the next question or remark. It can be perceived as rude or even arrogant, but you want to spend time with those who believe in you rather than those who don’t. And who believes more in what you’re doing than the rest of the team?
There are no right questions about the team’s performance or if you’re following the steps of your mother. They want something juicy that sells well, but you won’t let them question what you’re doing right.
“Harris!” You call up to your captain. “Wait for me!”
“Hurry up, Morgan.”
You’re ready to fly, now the question is:
How high can you go?
Legendary pt. 2.5 Morgan!Reader
This is the angst route, it wrecked me while writing it so I hope y’all enjoy it. You’re the ones that asked for this after all.
Warnings: Grief and light swearing. Italic paragraphs is from the broadcast. R can’t hear them but I thought it was a nice touch.
Legacy, what does it truly mean?
You’ve heard that word a thousand times over the last three years, but it erupted like a volcano when you touched land in Australia. They say you’re Alex Morgan’s legacy and it’s on your shoulders to keep the legend alive.
They don’t see -or care-, the side of you still grieving after losing the most important person in your life. They don’t see the anger or the pain. And honestly, you’re not surprised.
There are things that your mother left with you. She taught you how to work hard every single day. She taught you discipline, dedication, control and perseverance. But the passion you feel while on the field is only yours.
The fire burning in your eyes and the need to prove yourself drive you forward even when the match hasn’t started yet. You’re a chess player, and by the beginning of the game, you’ve ten steps ahead.
The National Anthem is loud and clear in your ears, but you take the moment to send a prayer to the heavens above with the only hope she can hear you. You ask her to watch over you on your first match in this World Cup and the nerves you felt on the tunnel, leave when you open your eyes again.
You said it before, USWNT number thirteen is your biggest inspiration but also your shield. She’s with you; always. And you can feel her presence as you take your place for kickoff.
“Come on, team! It’s showtime!” You shout.
You meet the eyes of each member of your team and you find the same fire that fuels you burning there. It’s time to prove to the world what you’re capable of.
“Number thirteen returns to the field for the USA and I’m sure everybody is waiting to see if she follows the steps of the great Alex Morgan. Only time will tell, and it’s time for the first 90 minutes on this World Cup for the dream team.”
You’re on the Group of Death, but there’s no fear within you. Germany is a challenge; one you’ve trained to tackle one minute at a time.
The kickout starts the match; you move flawlessly in your element. Passing the ball and filling the gaps the defense doesn’t notice. You are the bridge connection Harry Long to Press, then you’re at the front; pointed spears as you launch yourself to the attack.
It’s almost impossible to crack Germany’s defensive line. Not a single ball makes it through them for the first twenty-five minutes or so, but that doesn’t stop you.
It’s a constant pick and roll with Press and Long following your silent lead. An instruction from the bench and then O’Hara is there; joining the attack with sharp passes and precise plays. In that moment you show the world why you’re the best team.
You’re unstoppable; playing harder when Germany refuses to let you through. You play better and find their goalie as a brick wall. Still, there’s no time to give up, to stop and as the first time starts to wind down; you play faster.
A terrific pass from O’Hara opens the doors and Press doesn’t disappoint when she nutmegs a defense to clear the rest of the path. You follow even your muscles hurt; your lungs burn with the exertion as you push even more.
The goalie comes out to try and block press, and that’s exactly when she passes to you. With a solid contact, you send the ball straight into the net.
“That’s a goal! Oh, what an amazing goal from Y/N Morgan to open the score! An incredible play by the USA finished with a delightful shot. Buckle your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen! Morgan is back in the building, and she brought pure magic with her.”
You never really stop running and make it to Press in no time. Jumping into her arms you fist-bump the air as some other players join your celebration.
“Let’s fucking go!” You shout over the crowd.
The first goal for your team in the World Cup is yours, but you still have a million things to prove. Not just to the crowd cheering for you, or the ones following the match through their screens. You want to prove it to yourself; you want to earn every minute you play.
In your opinion, there’s no time to stop. Even when halftime arrives, you keep thinking about how to do things better once you go back.
One goal is not enough against a team like Germany. A single mistake here can cost you an important victory, and this is the match you’ve been waiting for the last three years. This is the even you’ve dreamed of all your life.
You’re insistent; nagging every player when they have the ball. You press, and press and press. You’ve run a marathon and if you’re exhausted, the adrenaline doesn’t let you tell.
Nothing can stop you as you make it to the box...except maybe an elbow to the face.
A penalty kick is called while your team protest earnestly for a red card.
You’re nailed and you can feel your mouth fill with blood when you hit the ground. Instead of waiting for the medical team, you go back to your feet and to the sideline where you promptly ask for a towel to clean your face after spitting out the blood. A sip of water and that’s all you need.
Harry Long is your designated player to take penalty kicks, but the blonde takes the ball and shoves it into your hands. There’s a delicious glint in her eyes that you’ve seen in Allie. Like mother like daughter, you think. Both of them could be Bond villains.
“Make them pay,” she says.
“I will.”
You put the ball down on the penalty spot, then take a couple of steps back; hands on your waist while the ref talks to the German goalie.
“This is a great chance for the U.S.A to extend the lead, will Morgan be able to score?”
This is a one-on-one battle where your biggest enemy is yourself.
Eleven meters separate you from your destiny; this is your chance to make an impression. This is your opportunity to start a career with a bang and make everyone see beyond your last name. You aren’t your mother, that much is true, but you’re something special too.
You face yourself with this penalty kick and all the doubts that appear when you’re about to give up. The truth is, you’re still fighting and you earned your spot on the USWNT despite the press assuming Rapinoe made you a favor.
Your last name has weight; it keeps you grounded for another second as your eyes focus solely on the ball. Your mind is set in a sole objective when the ref blows the whistle.
Your name carries a punch like lightning and you hit the ball with a thunderous strike.
“Goal for the USA! Morgan with her second goal of the match with only a few minutes to spare on this encounter. The dream of America is more alive than ever, and I’m sure this game feels like a dream to Y/N.”
Your demons are buried on the left corner; the same one where you sent the ball.
The pain behind your fierceness comes to the surface for a second, but you refuse to cry where everyone can see you. Instead, you point to the sky and dedicate the goal to your biggest hero. Wherever she is.
This is the beginning of a long road and you know the comparisons, talks about you and your mother won’t end with this match. The press will ask the same questions after the world cup and they will follow you as your professional career progresses.
You wish Alex Morgan could be there with you; to help you paddle through a sea of skepticism. It’s hard to do this on your own, but nothing has stopped you before.
For the last three years you’ve worked yourself to the limit without taking a break. Stopping is not an option because you’re not sure you have enough strength to keep going afterwards. Bottling up you feelings; all the hurt, the pain and anger, was your strategy. It’s worked so far.
You’ve trained and fought through every day in hopes your mom is proud of you.
When the match ends, you’re confident there’s nothing else you could have done on those 90 minutes.
Leaving the pitch is bittersweet because that’s where you feel closer to Alex; wearing her number and doing everything she taught you. But when you stop running the myriad of feelings catch up to you and every time it’s harder to keep them at bay.
When you make it to the locker room is when the exhaustion finally hits, but it’s not just the aftermath of the game. You’re tired of holding it all in.
You wish your mom could be there in that moment. She always knew what to say to comfort you. She always knew what to do when the world seemed to spin a little too fast for your liking. But there’s nothing she can say right now, because she isn’t there. She can’t. She won’t. And your broken heart bleeds more than ever before.
Pretending to forget doesn’t help. How could you ever forget her?
The pain shows in your eyes as you stare blankly at your locker. You’re frozen; overwhelmed, because she won’t call you after the game to congratulate you. She won’t be there to pick you up and take you home.
Sonnett forces you to turn around, to face her, before wrapping her arms around you. She holds you so tight that the walls you’ve built crumble around you. She makes you stop to a halt and the lack of inertia moving you forward shatters your resolution.
You break even when you try your hardest not to.
And oh how much you try; you grasp Emily’s shirt desperately as you try to keep the pieces together. It’s useless.
The first gasp coming from your lips brings your feelings to the surface; no barriers to hold them back this time, and the hurt you’ve tried to deny for so long comes barreling in. A strangled sob wrecks your body, so you let Sonnett hold you while the storm hits.
“She would be so proud of you, Y/N.”
Sonnet and Rapinoe share a small fraction of your pain.
You saw their reactions to the news from the safety of your room. You watched how their gazes showed the grief when they lost a friend.
Kelley had been your rock through the funeral, and yet you were made of stone. You stood like a statue; strong but immovable. Shock didn’t let you cry but time eroded your facade and the gentle breeze of Emily’s words turned the rock to dust.
“I miss her,” you whisper against her shoulder.
It’s true that the world cup brings you closer to your mother in many ways, but it doesn’t give you a moment to forget she’s gone. Even after three years, you don’t know how to deal with the empty space she left in your life. Nobody does.
So, you cry on Sonnett’s shoulder for what feels like hours and yet the team is still there when you finally pull back. Their eyes hold no pity or shame, they look at you with the same love and pride, and that helps you find your ground again.
They pick a piece of your shattered soul each and make it part of themselves.
Ali “Krash” Harris finds your courage. Janice O’Hara takes your determination. Harriette “Harry” Long goes for the perseverance and T. Press your hunger for victory. They have you covered and when you feel like caving on your way back to the hotel, they carry you through.
Alex P. Morgan is gone, but the people around you are family too.
With them by your side you’ll bring the fucking World Cup home.
For her. For you. For a new beginning.