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b14augrana · 5 months ago

Text

Scrubber

Your make your debut in a La Roja jersey

Barça Femení x teen!reader

pt. 7 masterlist

Warnings: mentions of injury / blood

A/N: bebita is back by popular demand!! i wrote this pretty late at night so excuse any grammar mistakes but on the bright side i included lots of vidić references. enjoy! 💝

‘Time goes by too fast,’ you thought, as you stood in the tunnel, sandwiched between Salma and Alexia. Only a couple days ago you were struggling to decide what you wanted for breakfast, and now you were minutes away from playing in a Euro qualifying match against Denmark.

The officials gestured to both teams, beckoning them out of the tunnel and onto the pitch, and Irene led the way.

Your nerves normally subsided when you played for Barcelona, but this was different. This was a place and team you weren’t used to, it wasn’t Barcelona.

As your team lined up and prepared to sing the national anthem of Spain, you could only think about one thing; how were you supposed to play?

That was another thing that made you miss Barcelona all over again. Back in Barça, you had Lucy, Mapi, Ona, Patri and Pina to encourage your advanced tackles. You weren’t very hopeful about the other Spain girls being so supportive.

You were deep in thought as the national anthem rung through the stadium, and the words erupted from your mouth mindlessly. After the song concluded, you followed Alexia off the pitch and shook your jacket off your shoulders.

Over the speakers in the stadium, you barely make out what the commentators were saying. It was something about you, that’s all you could tell.

“…making her international debut tonight at just 16 years old. She’s been pivotal for FC Barcelona this season, scoring a last minute goal in the Champions–” The rest was lost in the sea of roars coming from the crowd.

There was barely enough time for your coach to give her last word, and before you knew it, you were stood in the back with Irene, awaiting the whistle.

You quickly learned that today, Denmark had chosen to take a more passive approach to attacking. You were naturally aggressive in defence, so taking on this more patient style of offensive play wasn’t too much of a challenge.

It was different playing without Mapi. You knew she should’ve been there, playing in your spot because she deserves to represent her national team and enjoy it. It made you sad that the old management failed her and she couldn’t do that.

You missed her. A lot.

“(Y/N), mira la pelota!” Irene yelled, dropping back into the box. Your attention averted to the Danish strikers running towards you, and the midfielder preparing to put a ball through.

Pernille Harder blistered past you as soon as the ball had been kicked. It took you barely a second before you went after her, your legs drilling into the ground with every long stride until you were right beside her going shoulder-to-shoulder for the ball.

Irene was there, you knew that, but you didn’t want to get beaten and let Irene clean up your mess.

Pernille was getting closer and closer to the box with every touch she took, and though you knew she was a world class attacker, you would rather die than let anyone advance on goal.

You lurched, your foot making contact with the ball and cutting it out of her path, sending it somewhere to the sidelines. You slid across the ground on your hip, and it was like everything was in slow motion as Pernille stumbled over your outstretched leg and lunged forwards. The ball found its way to the right back, Oihane Hernandez, who was quick to clear it down the line for Athenea.

When there was too much proximity between a player and the goal, the decision to make was extremely straightforward for you; your body gets hit before the back of the net.

A quick look at the ‘NV15’ written on your wrist gave you all the motivation you needed to power through the first half and continue to produce tackles. When you walked off the pitch for halftime and retreated into the locker room, you slumped beside Irene and took a large sip of water.

“Dios mío (Y/N), fue increíble defender. ¡Tenemos suerte de que juegues para nosotras!” Leila said, smiling fondly at you.

You had properly met her a couple days prior, and immediately liked her. She was a defender, just like you, which meant you got to grow your circle of defender friends.

You returned her smile and mumbled a shy ‘gracías’ while Irene gave you a side hug, “Esa es mi nenita.”

Half time flew by. You were lost in a train of empty thought, too eager to get back on the pitch to concentrate on anything else. You practically jumped to your feet when your coach gave the last word and players started filing out of the locker room.

The second half did not start off much like the first one. Denmark ditched the passiveness for a more fierce approach, which showed from the minute they received the ball. Spain was only up by one goal and the 90 minutes was coming to an end.

Snerle ploughed through the midfield with the ball at her feet and sent a sharp through ball towards the flank. The pass was too quick for Leila to intercept, and the right wing charged past her, leaving Leila behind.

There was an obvious pass to make from the wing; a cross into the box for Pernille to touch and score.

Pernille realised this. Thomsen realised this. You realised this as well.

Pernille came sprinting from behind you into the box and the ball flew over the heads of Spanish and Danish players alike, almost about to land right at the captain’s feet.

The decision to make was extremely straightforward for you.

You can fix a broken nose, but if you let someone score a goal, your pride cannot be fixed.

There was Cata on the near post, and you knew there was no chance she could save a shot from such short distance.

You can fix a broken nose, but if you let someone score a goal, your pride cannot be fixed.

It was hard to not be acutely aware of Pernille right behind you, practically breathing down your neck, extremely desperate for a goal that could change the entire game.

You can fix a broken nose, but if you let someone score a goal, your pride cannot be fixed.

The ball was descending to the ground again, right in front of the goal, threatening to change the momentum of the game entirely.

You can fix a broken nose, but if you let someone score a goal, your pride cannot be fixed.

All it could’ve taken was one big step for Pernille to knock it in the back of the net. You threw yourself forwards and plummeted towards the moist grass as your head blocked the ball from meeting anyone in the box. It ricocheted off your head and bounced away as you fully fell onto your chest, and once again you felt Pernille lose her footing after tripping over your leg.

The last thing you felt before you were overwhelmed with pain in your face was a body landing on top of your head, forcing your face to collide with the ground. There was a barely audible crack, and then the searing pain came into effect. Nonetheless, you scrambled to your feet, clutching your face with your hands as you hunted for the ball and cleared it away from your box completely, which became near impossible as the pain became intolerable.

Liquid trickled down your arm, and the source wasn’t a mystery. You clamped your eyes shut for a moment and when you finally opened them, Alexia and Irene were in front of you with looks of horror on their faces.

There was a swarm of many other teammates, plus a worried looking Pernille standing beside you with a hand on your shoulder, apologising profusely.

You smiled at her, though it must’ve been a horribly bloody one. “It’s ‘kay, not your fault,” you mumbled, shaking your head.

“Árbitro, necesita ayuda de inmediato. ¡Mírala! Está sangrando por todas partes, está herida–” Alexia yelled, flailing her hands in the air. The referee was on the sidelines, sending the medical team onto the pitch.

“I’m fine, just m’nose..” you said, but nobody looked convinced. You wiggled past the bunch of women and made your own way off the pitch, heading for the bench.

As soon as you sat down, you were about to go to the locker room and claim your Hay Day login when multiple medics ran towards you, inspecting your nose and figuring out what to do.

To you, it was all worth it, because the last few minutes of the game were approaching and your broken nose had prevented a possible equaliser.

“You can fix a broken nose, but if you let someone score a goal, your pride cannot be fixed,” you told the medics when they asked you what happened, “…in the words of Nemanja Vidić.”

Spain came away with a win against Denmark, thanks to your little accident-causing header. Alexia almost sprinted over to you after the game to bombard you with a million questions, such as ‘How are you?’, ‘How long are you out for?’ and, ‘Are you even out? Will you get one of those special masks?’

When you had answered all her questions, you made your way over to the Danish side, where Pernille was standing. You nervously tapped her on the shoulder, and her expression was one of surprise when she spun around and saw you.

“Hi, Miss Harder, I’m (Y/N),” you said.

“I know you, don’t worry. Please, call me Pernille,” she responded.

“I was wondering if.. you’d want to, maybe, trade shirts?” you asked shyly, “I made sure my jersey didn’t get any blood on it, just for this.”

Your comment incited a laugh from Pernille and then, to your relief, a nod. “I’d love to trade jerseys.”

After you had swapped jerseys and you slipped the Denmark jersey over your head, you smiled at the woman. “Thank you so much, Pernille! I really loved playing with you, even the broken nose part. Thank you!”

You returned to Alexia as you were in the process of zipping up your jacket. “You have a quick press conference to go to, and then we can go back to the hotel,” she informed, and you nodded.

Post-match interviews weren’t your favourite. You normally just wanted to go home, have some dinner, and have the deepest sleep of your life. Today was a little different because Alexia was accompanying you.

“(Y/N), what can you tell us about the medical incident that occurred earlier? Is that a lesson for you?” a reporter asked, and you shuffled about in your seat.

“Not necessarily a lesson, because I will break my nose again if I have to, but definitely an experience,”you responded with a small smile.

“Alexia,” the next reporter spoke, “What are your thoughts about the incident?”

She was in the process of taking a sip of water when the question was asked, so her answer didn’t come immediately. When she placed the bottle back down onto the table and leaned closer towards the mic, she began to speak.

“Que… it is a testament to (Y/N)’s selflessness and dedication to football, no matter if it’s club or country. It shouldn’t be looked at as a bad accident, because it wasn’t an accident — it was a sacrifice.”

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yeeterthek33per · 1 year ago

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Please Don't Go (Caitlin Foord x Reader)

A/n requested. (Kind of, the request was a little less intense 😅)

Warning: This shii about to be angsty, so fair warning. Blood. Near death experience.

Oooh, she's a doozy. Strap in y'all. She's a long one. Hope y'all enjoy.

---------

Everyone in the stadium could tell frustration was starting to set in amongst the players. Frustration for the Spanish at being down 2-0.

Frustration for the Matildas at the resounding physicality that the Spanish were now presenting.

With Caitlin sporting her head wrap, after a nasty collision with Andres, you were fuming. Despite winning, you still felt helpless watching her go down every two seconds. It didn't help your feet were taken out from under you constantly, either.

Apparently, when you score on one of the best teams in the world, they tend to take it personally. The one-two combo between you and the striker had become deadly twice this game. One each for you and your girlfriend.

That left La Roja scrambling, and no matter how hard they tried, even Hermoso's football IQ couldn't get them through your backline.

With scrambling came desparation, and with desparation, came dangerous tackles and stupid challenges.

Caitlin was infuriated the moment you went down after a studs up tackle, that was one you'd barely managed to brush off, hopping up to avoid being taken off with just ten minutes of the game to go.

Her protests to the ref were ignored when she did nothing to punish the offending player.

Your heart was racing, eyes flickering constantly between your own teammates and the fast footed midfielders of the opposing team and where the ball was situated.

Constantly on the lookout, you were playing decently otherwise. Your head on a swivel as you passed the ball back and forth between you and Kyra on the left side rank, occasionally dipping back to Steph. You knew you were just wasting time at this point, keeping the ball away from Spain.

It's when the Matildas manage a third dangerous breakthrough in twenty minutes that you manage to get into the box, awaiting delivery from Steph, standing beside Cata Coll in hopes to steal the ball.

What your keen eyes don't see is the challenge that Bonmati makes when you go up for the ball.

Her shoulder digs into your waist, and you're sent away from the ball midair. Coll catches the ball in her gloves, and that's the last thing you notice before a searing white pain rocks your head as you collide with the metal goalpost and a fast fading black takes over.

Caitlin nearly loses her mind from her position just a few feet behind you, having seen Bonmati make the challenge. In fact, she's so mad as she turns to the ref that she almost doesn't see your body hit the turf like a sack of rocks, unmoving.

It takes the umpire merely seconds to notice your crumpled form before blowing the whistle furiously, signalling the medics onto the field.

A silence hushes over the crowd, a feat of magnitude, especially amongst the majority Australian audience.

When Caitlin turns fully to you after the fall, her face pales, there's blood trickling down your temple, which is just barely visible under the mess of hair, and your arms splayed out in front of you. There's a lot of it, too.

Both her and Sam fly over to you, panic stricken looks. The medics finally get to you, shoving both players away from your head.

Sam's hand rests on your stomach, eyes flicking over your closed eye stone cold expression.

"Hey, kiddo, come on, time to get up now. Like you always do."

The Australian captain can barely breathe as she watches the medics frantic hands try to stabilise you.

Caitlin shoves her way back beside you again, letting the medics try to stop the bleeding, your hand held tightly in hers.

"C'mon baby, you can wake up, please..."

There's a desperation in her voice that makes tears spring to Sam's eyes as she kneels on the other side of you.

It only gets worse as they signal for a stretcher and for an ambulance.

Tony stands on the sideline, pacing back and forth frantically with his hands on the back of his head.

Everything's moving so fast, Caitlin doesn't even realise she's left the field with you, signalling for a sub from the coach without thought.

The rest of the players on the pitch are all shock ridden. Play doesn't continue. A few players have to take moments to process what the hell just happened.

At that point, the players all concede that the game can end a few minutes early and the referee blows the whistle for full time, declaring an end to the game as the crowd, allbeit hesitantly, celebrates.

Bonmati looks like she wants to throw up, guilt stricken as she moves off the pitch as well to sit. She'd been your teammate once. You'd been close friends, and she'd gone and done that in a game.

The rest of the Aussies are silent, unable to formulate words or actions as they watched you get carried off frantically.

One question silently radiates in each of their minds. "Will she be okay?"

---------

The moment the ambulance arrives, you're on a gurney and lifted into the vehicle, Caitlin right beside you, telling the paramedics she's going with you.

Her hand is still clasped in yours. Tears are welling up in her eyes, and her knee bounces on her seat as the paramedic bandages your head, which is now also in a neck brace.

You were out completely, and there was no sign of life other than your slow and unsteady heart beat. It made the blood in her body run cold. She could only squeeze your hand to reassure herself as the ambulance screamed down the highway.

As soon as you're in the hospital, she's pushed to the side and told to wait as you're wheeled into the ED. Her hands run over her face as she takes a seat, and a nurse hands her a patient sign in form to fill out while she waits.

She can hardly focus on filling it out, though. Everything in her body is tensed, and her heart is racing as she shakily fills everything in.

Thoughts are firing through her mind.

Will you be okay? How much blood had you lost?

There was so much blood.

You were so still on that pitch.

She swallows as she writes on the clipboard, hands still trembling as she hands the board back to the front desk.

She carefully rubs at her own bandaged head, knowing she'd need to be seen herself soon to make sure there's no residual concussion and she tucks back the loose hair.

It takes an hour or so, of her pacing, unable to sit still while waiting before a nurse comes to find her, letting her know you've gone into surgery and you should be out in a few hours and that she recommends having someone to come wait with her while they contact your family.

"She doesn't have anyone, not here, at least. I'm her listed emergency contact."

After providing an ID, the nurse nods and tells her to let whoever she needs to tell know about your condition. She also tells her it could be tomorrow yet before she'll be let in to see her, but there's a small chance she'll be let in early.

She calls Tony first, telling him you're in surgery and asks if Sam had left yet. Sam was like an older sister to you, so it wouldn't surprise her if she'd left the stadium early.

Fifa had suspended the award ceremony until further notice. The winner wasn't something they could crown right now, not after the abrupt end to the game and also not with the winning team not even being there for it, they'd all left immediately to go to the hospital.

There'd been tears amongst the fans, having witnessed one of their own go down like that on the field.

The team had been forceful in finding rides to the hospital, which they found out which one from the medics after being cornered.

---------

The doors to the emergency room fly open as Sam, Steph, Alanna, and Mackenzie all fly in, looking around for the forward, who signals to them as she sits around the corner.

"Oh god, Cait, how is she? Have they said anything yet?"

She shakes her head.

"She's in surgery, but it'll be a few hours before we can even go see her. They haven't said anything about her condition yet, though. Could be a while before we can see her"

She rests her head in her hands, leaning her head on her knees. Sam moves to sit beside the girl, hand resting on Caitlin's back, running her other through her own hair.

"She'll be okay, Cait."

Alanna moves to stand in front of the winger, hands resting on her shoulders. There's tears flowing down her cheeks when she looks up, and the defender quickly wraps her up in a hug.

"Hey, she'll be alright, she's in good hands, she always comes back to us. She's got a hard head." The last part is said mildly jokingly, and Caitlin manages a huff of a laugh, but it doesn't completely calm her.

There's silence for a few moments as they all sit and wait.

"She was just so still, god, she's never been that still, not even in her sleep."

A silent moment of agreement passes over the five of them.

It was true. You tended to be a bit of a sleepwalker, as well as tossing and turning every hour or so. Luckily, Caitlin has always been a deep sleeper, practically dead to the world.

Dead.

It's not something she wants to think about right now.

But the thought still crosses her mind. She can't get the image of you bleeding profusely out of her head.

That's when she looks down at her hands properly. There was blood soaked into the beds of her fingernails, and there was a large stain at the bottom of her jersey. Apparently, it got a little messy when she'd turned you over onto your back.

Another thought crosses her mind. Why the hell did she turn you over? It's the number one rule of first aid to never move someone with a head injury without proper support. It was in case the injured person had a neck injury, so they didn't make it worse.

Suddenly, she'd forgotten all of her emergency first aid training in her panic to get to you. What if she'd made the injury worse?

What if-

She's cut off by Steph crouching in front of her, a bag in her hands. When had she gotten that?

"Hey, Tony dropped this off and told us to keep him updated. I messaged him. Figured you might want to change as well as the rest of us."

Caitlin looks down at the clean white shirts and sweats that most of them are now donning. The look on Steph's face is knowing, obviously having spotted her predicament too.

She looks at the clock above them on the wall.

It was about one in the morning. The other's had drifted off in their chairs, exhausted from the previous days events. She felt a little sorry for their spines.

She nods at Steph, grabbing the duffle bag. She hadn't even noticed they'd all gotten up to get changed at all.

"Thanks."

Not that she could eat right now. The nausea was settled deep into her gut, and she didn't think she could keep anything down if she'd tried.

Steph nods back, hand caressing the side of her arm.

She moves to go to the bathroom in the waiting room. Stripping down, she swaps out the clothing, thankful for the staff having given them fresh clothing entirely with some deodorant and what looks to be a few protein bars, a water bottle, and some small bags of lollies.

After changing, she moves to the sink that's settled outside the bathroom to try and wash her hands.

Without even realising it, she drifts off in her head, back to you, head facing the sky, limp in her arms as she holds you. She'd felt so helpless, watching you get checked over by the medics. In her head, she looks down at her own blood-soaked hands.

She'd given them a contemporary rinse earlier, but there was still lingering red in the creases.

Another pair of hands steadying her own over the sink breaks her out of it. She hadn't even realised she'd been standing there for way too long, scrubbing harshly at her digits. They were starting to turn their own shade of red under the harsh ministrations, and there were tears running down her cheeks.

Steph gently pulls her hands away from the faucet, turning the tap off. The blood was visibly gone, having disappeared within the first few seconds of washing, but it was like it was still there in her head.

Paper towels dry away the water, which was running as clear as ever despite the images that were playing over and over.

There's a concerned look in her eyes.

"Hey, look at me."

Caitlin can't bring her neck to lift her gaze up again.

"Look at me, Caitlin."

She lets out a shaky breath, still refusing to meet her eye.

Fingers on her chin tilt her head up. She meets her gaze, and there are still unshed tears in the striker's eyes.

"What's going on? Talk to me."

"I..." She's shaking now.

The tears start to flow and fast.

"I just can't get it out, I can't stop seeing it. Over and over. Watching her collide with the bloody post, she just crumpled. And then just. The. Blood."

She's cut off by own silent sob as Steph pulls her into her body tightly, Caitlin's arms wrapping around her friends neck in an attempt to muffle the noise so as to not wake the others.

"It was fucking everywhere. Steph, I'm so fucking scared."

Her sobs are heavier but small enough to let the words fall from her mouth.

"There was so much of it."

The defender feels helpless here. She wasn't sure what could comfort her Arsenal teammate at this point. She'd seen the same thing. You were her buddy, her confidant, her best mate. Seeing you collapse like that was terrifying in its own right.

"I know, Cait, I know. She's gonna be okay, alright? I know it's hard, but I need you to believe that for me, for the rest of them. It's okay to feel like this, but you need to believe she's gonna be okay. Be strong for her. Believe for Y/n."

Her hands rub soothingly over Caitlin's back, her voice a quiet whisper amongst her soft cries.

A few minutes pass of them both standing there, Caitlin eventually managing to calm herself enough.

Her breathing evens out, and exhaustion starts to show itself, her weight starting to lean on Steph a little more.

"You wanna try and get some sleep? I'll wake you if one of the nurses comes back."

She huffs a little laugh.

"Sorry, yeah, we should probably try and rest a little. Eugh, sorry, your shirt's all gross again."

Steph just huffs a laugh of her own.

"Don't be silly. My duty as your best woman is to sacrifice my clothing to be covered in tears and snot when it comes down to it."

Caitlin cringes, shoving her shoulder lightly with a chuckle.

"You're so gross."

A cheeky smirk crosses Steph's lips.

"You love me."

Caitlin bumps shoulders with her as they walk back to their seats.

"I wonder why."

A playful gasp leaves the defender as she settles in next to her.

"Rude."

Caitlin just smiles gently, settling into her own seat, head lulling back as her eyes drift shut.

---------

Caitlin's jolted awake by a soft hand on her shoulder. She panics for a moment until she realises it's just Steph and Sam, awake on either side of her. One glance at the clock tells her it's about 4am.

"Hey, sleepyhead. They're moving her to the ICU now, we've asked for a private room for her and some seats so we can stay with her. They're gonna let us in in about an hour or so. They said there'd be a doctor to come in and brief us in the morning. She's gonna be okay."

The other two are still dead asleep, Alanna now laying across Mackenzie's lap, the goalkeeper's head propped up against a watercooler beside the seats.

She nods, now wide awake at the prospect of seeing you and in utter relief from hearing the words come from Sam's mouth.

Her muscles protest at her moving to stand to stretch them out, a yawn leaving her as she looks around at the now almost empty emergency room.

She was grateful the staff hadn't told them to leave for taking up valuable space in the waiting room.

"Have they said how long until she wakes up?"

Her face falls slightly as she receives a head shake in the negative.

"They said they put her in an induced coma. The doctor will tell us more in the morning."

Caitlin swallows slightly, nodding, and takes a deep breath.

You'll be okay. You're gonna be fine. It's just protocol, making sure you're healing. She'll see you soon.

She sits down again, resting her still tired legs. She looks around the girls, feeling a little guilty that they're all stuck sleeping uncomfortably.

But she knows better than to ask them if they want to go back to the hotel. She'd probably get slapped for it, too.

---------

It's about 8 a.m., that she's awoken again, the nurse moving around the room quietly, checking your vitals, changing the bags on the IV drip.

The others are fully passed out in their chairs now. Except for Sam, who's not in the room.

The nurse gives her a sympathetic smile when she sees she's awake.

"The doctor should be about another ten minutes with the results."

"Thanks."

The nurse nods and cleans up before exiting the room. Sam returns not long after that.

"Hey."

"Nurse says the doc'll be about another ten. Should we wake the girls up?"

"Let Steph sleep a little longer. She was up the whole time. The other two can bloody wake up, though."

Caitlin has to muffle a laugh.

"Let em sleep. We all played the same game."

"Exactly."

She shakes her head at the striker, giving her a playful nudge. She knows she's only joking. The skipper isn't totally cruel.

Right on time, the doctor steps in the door ten minutes later.

"Friends and Family for Miss L/n?"

Caitlin perks up immediately.

"Yes."

He's carrying a clipboard with a stack of about ten pages on it.

"So, we've got some good news. She's in a stable condition. We managed to patch the bleeding. Her skull suffered a major breakage, and it put a little pressure on her brain, but we've put it back together with some glue and a few staples, so she's all clear in the physical department. There were no neck injuries, so she won't need surgery or therapy for that either. But, saying that, we do have a little bad news. Nothing major, though, but she may be a little more out of it than most if we wake her up too early. We want the surgery to heal a bit more before we try and pull her out of the coma. She suffered a massive brain contusion, and we want to wait for the swelling to go down a little more. There's a chance there may be some memory loss, particularly of the incident itself and of the time surrounding it, but we won't know the full extent for a bit until we can wake her up."

They both nod along, Caitlin's relieved that you aren't in major danger at the moment.

"Given that, the next twenty-four to fourty-eight hours are critical. She's still at risk of further injury due to the swelling so we'll keep a close eye on her, it's best not to disturb her too much but as long as you keep it relatively quiet, she should be alright. It could be a couple of weeks before we can safely wake her up, so keep that in mind."

"Okay." It comes out as a soft breath.

"Do you understand all of that? Do you have any questions for me?"

"Will she be okay?" It comes out as a meek whisper, but he does hear it. He gives a soft, empathetic smile.

"We don't know yet. But we'll do our best to make sure she has the best chance at recovering. Until then, you can trust us to do what we can."

Caitlin nods and looks at Sam, who's still processing his words.

"Does she have any family we need to notify?"

"Uh, no, parents died years ago, and she doesn't have any siblings or aunts or uncles that we know about."

"Alright, thank you for telling us. I'll be back in about 10 or so hours to check back in. In the meantime, I suggest you and your friends go home and find some rest. It'll be a while before we can update you any further."

She nods slowly.

She knows they won't want to leave. Not with you still in the ICU. Judging by the look on Sam's face, she's right.

The other three are still asleep, having exhausted themselves into sleeping longer than they normally would. Though, judging by the bags under Steph's eyes, she hasn't been asleep too long.

Still, she walks over to the defender, nudging her knee gently, and the girl rouses with a soft groan.

"Hey, Stephy, the doctor just stopped by."

Steph shoots up, now wide awake.

"Oh, shit. What did they say?"

"He says she's gonna be alright, as far as they can tell."

She sits in the chair next to her, rubbing her hands together.

"But..."

"But.." the defender prompts.

"She suffered a massive brain contusion, and some of her skull was crushed in the hit. They won't wake her for a couple of weeks in order to let the swelling go down and that she's on watch for the next few days in case it may get worse. He said she may have some memory issues, especially around the accident itself, but could also affect the time around the day too. He said they weren't sure, but it could be better, it could be worse, and they won't find out until she's awake."

Steph nods along as she talks, relief finding her features for a fleeting second.

"He also recommended we all head back to the hotel to get some rest since he won't be back to update us for another ten hours, at least."

She can see the hesitation on the defenders face, and she doesn't blame her.

"I know, I don't want to leave her either, but.." Caitlin gestures to Mackenzie and Alanna, who are practically sleeping on top of each other at this point.

"But we need it. We still have to do recovery, and I have to go see the med staff, too. I'd be lucky not to be concussed myself."

Steph's face falls at that.

"Shit, Cait, we should've done that sooner. And to think I let you sleep and-"

Caitlin quickly waves her off.

"It's alright, I'm fine, clearly, it's just a precaution. We can all head back, get showered, and sleep a little bit. Maybe find something to eat. I don't know if I'm gonna have the appetite, but we need to eat something. And do some recovery stuff as well, we did still play a full ninety yesterday. I'll drive us all back over if you guys want, but you guys need to sleep, especially you. You stayed up the longest out of all of us."

She sighs softly, and she hears Sam agree from behind her.

"Yeah, we need to head back, I'm definitely coming back later with you, but we need to get checked out. All of us. We all kind of copped it last night. I hate to say it, but my calf is killing me."

With that, Steph moves to wake the two sleeping defenders, updating them on your condition, and Caitlin packs up their stuff, notifying staff they'll be back later.

Mackenzie and Alanna both protest mildly at leaving you but are convinced to at least go back to the hotel for some much needed recovery. They'd be back soon.

Caitlin can only hope everything goes smoothly over the next weeks or so.

---------

Everything goes as smoothly as it can. It's just two weeks later when the doctor finally tells her he's going to wean you off the anaesthetic and wake you up, hoping you'll stay stable enough to be up and functioning.

They'd all used their time off to visit you. Most of the team had stopped by at some point. Steph, Caitlin, and Sam were all consistent in their visits, though. The other's had to return to their clubs for duties but asked that they be kept in the loop. Katrina, Courtnee, and Tameka are the ones who stayed to keep visiting. Katrina because she has plenty of time before Vjatsko wants her back and Courtnee and Tameka don't play for a while yet.

Sam, the cheeky shit, refused to even message Emma Hayes back about when she'd be returning at first, eventually telling her she needed the time off, and Steph and Caitlin told Jonas Eidevall that they couldn't return without you awake and functioning with them. To which he'd completely understood and told them to update him on how you were too and when things turned better.

The other two, Mackenzie and Alanna, both put in with their clubs as well to stay. Mackenzie had her back up keeper, and Alanna was injured anyway, happy to find a rehabilitation centre to work with while she stayed.

The arsenal girls all stopped by at some point just after the World Cup ended. Including Beth and Viv, who'd flown over to see you. They did have to return after a few days, right before you were due to be woken up. Leah stayed the longest out of them all, though. Her recovery still wasn't fully ready for field time and probably wouldn't be for a couple of months yet, so Jonas was the most lenient with her.

So, Leah, Caitlin, Steph, Sam, Mackenzie, and Alanna all stuck with you for most of your unconscious stage.

They were all sitting outside the room, waiting for the okay from the doctor, Caitlin being the only one who was allowed to stay with you.

Her hand was clasped in yours, eyes locked on your unconscious form, hoping for any sign, twitch, or movement that meant you were waking up.

It takes about twenty minutes or so. When she's looking down at her phone, scrolling through instagram for updates on the outside world, considering she hadn't really been keeping up with anything but you and the Arsenal team.

The overwhelming support from the fans had made her tear up at one point. The Matildas media had been updating them slowly. Keeping things vague but letting them know you were okay and would update them when you were awake.

She's reading a post from the Spanish Federation about the coach being fired when she feels it.

Your hand squeezes hers softly. It's subtle, but she shoves her phone away immediately.

"Y/n?"

It's a soft whisper, so not as to startle you and not too loud to alert the girls if you weren't awake yet.

There's a soft groan that leaves your lips as your eyes crack open slowly. The gunk that'd accumulated there annoyed you to no end, and you reached up to wipe it away lazily.

Everything feels fuzzy as you come to, blearily looking around at the far too white walls of the hospital room. When you go to move your other hand, you find it's being held by one you recognize immediately.

"Babe, why does everything hurt? And why am I strapped to a bed?" Your voice cracks every so often, and your mouth feels so dry. It could be considered a desert.

Her relieved laugh startles you a little.

"Hey, Baby, take it easy, don't move around too much. You don't want to jostle your head at all, I'm gonna call in the doctor, and we can go from there, okay?"

You're confused but when she goes to stand, you grip her hand tighter.

"Please don't go."

Your words make her heart break a little and tears well up in her eyes.

"Hey, I'm not going anywhere, okay? I just need to get the doctor, and I'll be back before you know it." With that, she presses a small kiss to the outside of the bandage. You can see the remnants of a purple mark over her eye, too. When had that happened?

Why couldn't you remember anything happening that would land you here?

That's when it hits you. The final. Had you even played it? Oh god, what if you'd missed it?

The moment she comes back in the room, you bombard her with questions that she just tells you to calm a bit with and that she'll answer soon enough.

"Hello, Miss L/n. Nice see you awake, we'll get you some water in a bit, see how you hold down food, and we'll go from there. For now, we'll get into why you're here. I'm under the impression you don't remember that?"

You try to strain to remember something, but nothing comes up, and your head only hurts a little more because of it.

"I... no, nothing."

"Okay, that's okay, that was to be expected. You took quite the nasty hit. You've been in a coma for two weeks. You hit your head on a metal post, and it's given you a heavy brain contusion and most likely a little memory loss. I trust your partner can explain the details a bit better if you wish to know. But basically, we've had you on full bed rest and want to continue so over the next couple of months. It could take months to fully heal, and we don't want to risk further brain injury."

Oh. Had you... did you get injured playing?

You ask as such, head turning to your girlfriend, who's sat quietly, hand still holding yours. The doctor steps out to let you both talk and also notify the other's outside you were awake and they could see you after some further assessment.

She seems hesitant, and you can see she's fighting back tears a little.

"You uh. You got shoved into the goalpost midair. I doubt it was intentional, but you just hit the ground like a sack of rocks. Sam and I both flew over to you as soon as we noticed, but jesus. It was a little bit gruesome."

She wipes away stray tears with her other hand.

"Was that the final?"

She nods.

"Did we win at least?"

She laughs at that and you smile. Mission accomplished.

"You're in the hospital after having nearly died, and that's your first thought. Oh my god, you're such a dork."

She eventually nods, though.

"Yes, we won, but the game was called off with five minutes of reg time to go. Nobody wanted to play after seeing that. Poor Bonmati, I don't think she'll recover after that one."

Aitana? Was she the one that made the challenge?

It starts to come back to you in pieces. You remember the crowd. The roughness. Faintly, though.

"Has she tried to call at all? Was she the one to push me?"

Caitlin swallows. She knows the midfielder never meant to hurt you, especially considering you were friends, but she can't help the minor twinge of anger that swells up in her chest. Which you seem to sense because you just squeeze her hand softly.

"Yes, she did push you, I know it wasn't intentional, though. She's probably feeling terrible. Barca wanted her back straight away after the final recovery period, so she couldn't stay if she wanted to. She did message me to apologise and said if you wanted to call her at some point when you recovered, she'd be all too happy to grovel over the phone to you instead."

You smile softly.

"I hate that she's feeling guilty about it, but I'll let her apologise. She probably needs the closure, if anything."

She nods in agreement.

"What about the others? I assume they've gone back to their clubs?

She chuckles.

"You underestimate their stubbornness. They all refused to return to club duties. Most of them fought their clubs for a few days but eventually did go home again. The Arsenal girl's on the lionesses and swedish sides came to see you. Most of them left. Beth and Viv flew over for a bit. Mainly to mother Steph and myself, making sure we were eating."

You chuckle, of course they did.

"Leah's stayed for the whole time, though. Well, most of it. So, I've got Leah, Steph, Sammy, Macca, and Lans all waiting outside at the moment."

"Oh god, you guys have club duties, though."

You pout softly.

"It's alright, Jonas was the one to tell us to stay until we could bring you back with us fully fit to start recovery. Of course, we were going to stay anyway, but he's adamant he doesn't want us back without you, babe."

You smile, looking down at your lap, but then flick back up to her.

"What about Sammy? I know Emma would be pissed if she didn't go back to start recovery after..."

Caitlin looms at you. Do you remember what happened that game?

"Her calf injury, do you.. remember that?"

"I remember it happened, maybe not it happening so much as that it just happened."

She nods in understanding.

"Sam refused to message Emma back about whether or not she'd be returning. It took a week for her to say she wasn't until you were better."

You shake your head. Sam's really stubborn at times. Now, being one of them, apparently.

"Can they come in yet?"

"Not til the doctor looks at you a bit more. He doesn't want you getting too overwhelmed."

You huff softly.

She smiles and moves to invite the doctor back in, who's now prepared the tests.

After about an hour or so, he's satisfied you're doing alright and allows the girls to come in.

Steph and Sam are the first ones at your side.

They both nearly smother you in kisses and hugs, but after a throat clear and a scolding tone from both Leah and Caitlin, they calm a bit.

Mackenzie and Alanna stand either side by your legs, hands resting there, and Leah stands at the foot of the bed, hand resting on your ankle.

Caitlin is in the chair by your head, hand still holding yours.

It's in that moment, as you chat with all of them, they shed some tears, a few laughs and quiet chatter, that you realise how loved you really are.

And also how much you hate nearly dying. Given all of their tearful reactions and Caitlin's faraway look, you know it was bad. Really bad.

And you'd all spend the time dealing with it slowly, healing mentally and emotionally.

Particularly you and Caitlin. Caitlin was still dealing with the thoughts of seeing you broken like that. Steph and Sam were too, but they managed in their own ways. You were grateful they had people to help them that loved them as much as Caitlin loved you.

It's not an easy journey. The nights are rough, and once you're out of hospital, you get more and more restless, wanting to return home desperately, and you're only allowed to fly after six months. Caitlin stays with you the whole time. Steph flies back and forth with Leah. Sam tries to stay but knows she has a duty to Chelsea and the rest of the Matildas team.

You both drive out to Perth to see the girls play in the qualifiers. Caitlin does get the call up to play. And the looming olympics frustrate you as you know you won't be called up to the squad for it, but you're just happy to return to England once your doctor clears you for flight.

Your recovery period in England is a little frustrating again. Jonas won't let you take the field until you're one hundred percent ready for a full game, not wanting to risk any further incidents. Caitlin is fully inclined to agree with him, too.

You do get in touch with Aitana, she flys over from Barcelona on her off long weekend. She does apologise to you, but you just smack her shoulder, hug her, and tell her never to apologise again.

In the time it takes to recover, Caitlin sticks by you the whole time, kissing you silly every time you even question whether or not you'll be able to return, reasurring you that you're one of the strongest people she knows, and that if she'd been allowed to, you would've copped a slap upside the head for it as well.

You chuckle at that, kiss her back, and thank her for being there. For all of it. She just kisses you again.

You'll never forget the crowds applause to you as you take the field in the gold medal match against England. It's your first ever start since the World Cup final. And it surprised the fuck out of you when you did get called up. It brings tears to your eyes as you run on for the warmups, the crowd whistling, screaming, and cheering as you look back on what is now just a scarred memory.

And when you celebrate winning again, this time, being able to fully celebrate, you make sure to hold your fiancee a little tighter, knowing what you all had to go through to get here.

Caitlin just kisses your head and whispers in your ear.

"I'm not going anywhere, Baby. You're stuck with me forever."

You just kiss her in response.

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#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #fifa wwc #caitlin foord imagine #caitlin foord imagines #caitlin foord x reader #steph catley #sam kerr #alanna kennedy #mackenzie arnold

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