#second leg of uwcl

[pernillecfcw]

MAREN, NAT AND MILLIE BACK IN THE SQUAD😍

[ceesimz]

Wilted

Autistic Reader x Barça Femení

Another (13k wc) one shot, read the main story here!

Statistically, in your sport, you were one of the lucky ones. You had made it to 27 without spending more than two weeks at once out with an injury. Nothing too extreme, or painful. Just knocks here and there, a few minor muscle injuries, and the likes. 

Unfortunately, in this line of work, a bad injury was inevitable. In just one movement, it felt like your Champion's League dream was over.

Should you have signalled that you needed to come off earlier, when you took your first knock just halfway through the second half, maybe the game wouldn’t have ended the way it had. Maybe if you weren’t so naively determined, you wouldn’t have ended up face down on the grass hours away from home in Munich, writhing in pain.

The first leg of the Champion’s League quarter-final was bound to be a tough game, especially playing away at such a dominant Bayern team. None of your teammates could have expected it to be so physical though, it was uncharacteristically abnormal for both teams. The tussle you had found yourself in when you had received a sharp, fast knee from side-on against your thigh really should have been the end of your game. But you weren’t one to give up, especially when the score was still 0-0, the tension had to come to an eventual end for one team at some point and you wanted to be there to make that happen. You ignored the dull ache in your muscle and continued playing.

You were too eager though, playing with too much pent-up frustration to just get a goal, that you were involving yourself in unnecessary battles and making unrealistic runs. One of those occasions had to go wrong at some point, and it absolutely did.

With a long ball thrown over the top of the Bayern defence by Patri, you managed to outpace Eriksson and were comfortably at least half a metre in front. The ball was yours, you’d shrugged off the defender that had been on your tail relentlessly for eighty minutes so far, and this could be the deciding play of the first leg. This was your moment.

You wanted to show you were giving it your all, wanted to show how badly you needed this UWCL trophy after years of failure with another team in a different German town. You wanted to prove that you could do it all, leave nothing on the pitch, and come out on top with the iconic gold medal to show for it after getting your team to the final.

Except, with the harsh cold rain battering down, the ball glided after its first bounce out of your reach, causing you to overstretch. After that, you clattered heavily against the wet grass as a searing pain ripped through your leg. The excruciating cry you let out could be heard throughout the stadium, a grimace on everyone’s faces as it didn’t take a professional to know that the injury was a bad one. One of your hands fell to the epicentre of the pain on the back of your thigh, the other hand grabbing a fistful of grass as you sobbed in agony.

The ball was out of play anyway, allowing the referee to appropriately halt the game as players from both your team and Bayern came over. There were hands on your back and words uttered your way, but the panic rising through your chest and the ringing in your ears paired with the pain still running rife through you were too much to comprehend at once. The world felt so big and overwhelming, all you could do was squeeze your eyes shut and pray it all went away. The pain, the people around you, the fans watching with their eyes and their phones, the implications of what this injury meant. You couldn’t do this. 

“Hey, it’s me, it’s Ingrid, come back to me.” 

That voice broke through the brick wall of your thoughts, one gentle hand rubbing up and down your back as the other brushed a few damp wisps of hair out of your face. Vaguely, in the background, you registered an authoritative voice ushering everyone away before the brightness of the stadium floodlights dimmed behind your eyelids. Unbeknownst to you in that moment, your teammates had formed somewhat of a wall to save you from the view of the fans.

Another figure kneeled beside you, murmuring quietly with the person next to them before a soft, familiar hand took yours from the back of your leg and squeezed it comfortingly. It's quite clear to any player that you've got a hamstring injury, and the extent to which the discomfort you're feeling is concerning for everybody on the pitch. The hearts of the two people that love you most break for you.

“Cariño, we know you're in pain, but we need you to come back to us. We want to help.” It's Alexia speaking now; she's got your hand in hers and the touch brings you back down a little. “The physios will be here soon.”

You reply with a minute nod as that's all you can manage, your cries slowing not out of choice, but exhaustion. The adrenaline had kept you running all game, especially after the clash earlier, but now you had hit a wall, or the ground rather, and everything had come crashing down on top of you. 

Alexia and Ingrid notice your lack of noise and take it as a good sign, both of them shooting a glance at each other before the Norwegian takes the reins.

“Hey.” Ingrid said, her hand sliding from your back to your shoulder in an effort to roll you over, even just a little, so she could properly see your face. “What’s hurting? Something in your leg?”

You gave a pitiful nod, allowing the defender to lay you on your back, but you pulled the collar of your jersey over your eyes in a last attempt to hide away from it all. 

“Is it your hamstring?” Alexia asked, her free hand falling to your hip and stroking the skin available with her thumb where your shirt had been lifted. A final nod from you confirmed Alexia’s worst fears; you had most likely torn your hamstring. The severity of it would determine how long you could be out for, but it wasn’t looking good.

Before she could say anything else, she was surrounded by not only the Barça physios, but the medical team at the ground too, a stretcher placed down just in case behind her. She knew, realistically, you would end up having to use it, but she also knew the mental repercussions it would have for you.

There was a certain way you processed things, and it was obviously different to the majority of the world. In this moment, where you lay in agony on a football pitch, you knew you were injured. But you hadn’t accepted that fact yet, hadn’t processed it or allowed it to be the truth. You could still reject that fate for yourself - hide behind your shirt, try to ignore the medical staff all around you, the concerned looks on everyone’s face, and shut everything out. The second you were transferred to the stretcher, you would have no choice but to come to terms with what had happened to you. 

Alexia knew what you’re feeling now would pale in comparison to how you would certainly feel later that evening. In a hotel room in a different country from home, crutches by your bedside, a compression sleeve tight around your thigh, and ice atop that. Words of condolences fired your way, sorrow present in all the eyes that landed upon you, nevermind the throbbing pain that would persist. Constant reminders you couldn’t escape from would surely ruin you.

You still had time to reject it, pretend it wasn’t your reality. 

“It-it’s not that b-bad.” You tried to argue, abruptly sitting up and wiping your tears before prying people’s hands off of you. “Let me up.”

“No, you can’t get up. Let the doctors do their job first, you don’t want to make anything worse, okay?” Ingrid lightly pushes you to lay back down, only for you to shove her hands away.

“No! I’m fine, I can walk it off. Lea-”

“Cariño, listen to me.” Alexia shuffled up closer, softly holding your face in her hands so that you had no choice but to listen to her. “You are injured. You have torn your hamstring, and it is very dangerous for you to do anything on that leg now. You will make it worse. Listen to us, to the doctors, and let us help. We are all here for you and we are not going anywhere. Please.”

To some, Alexia’s words might come across as blunt and harsh, rather than caring with your best intentions in mind. But she did have your best intentions; the moment required some tough love, if she sugar-coated anything then it would only cause more damage in the long-run.

“It hurts, Ale.” You whimpered, clutching at her forearm as you cried into your other hand.

“I know, lay back and they will give you something for it.” You found comfort in her voice and touch, making you feel safe and secure enough to follow her words and allow the medics to do what they needed.

In the blink of an eye, it seems, you’re in the away team physio room. There’s a lot of hustle and bustle around you, but at the same time you’re alone. No one is holding your hand, no one is reeling off words of reassurance, there’s not a soul at your side. It’s just doctors wanting to get their job done for the day. You had no idea how much of the game was left, so you didn’t even know when you could get a reprieve. 

That horrible feeling of panic was rising through you like a tsunami wave. You felt trapped, claustrophobic, and to top it all off you couldn’t even see a light at the end of the tunnel, whose walls were quickly closing on you. 

Alexia had lied to you. She had said that her and Ingrid were there for you and weren't going anywhere. But nobody was here with you right now. You were alone.

Anytime one of the doctors tried to talk to you, their words weren’t registering. Anytime they tried to put their hands on you, you flinched, only causing you more mental and physical pain. None of them could bridge the gap to help you. And, considering they were doctors, not a single one could see the severity of your emotional distress. It only led to tensions rising as they got antsy and irritated, and you got more and more worked up.

Alone. Trapped. Hurting. Alone.

That mantra circled dangerously around your mind. Alone: nobody was here with you. Trapped: you physically couldn't walk, you didn't know the stadium, and you wouldn't know where to go if you did. Hurting: the doctors hadn't given you any pain relief, Alexia had lied once more. Alone.

Alone, trapped, hurting, a-

Alone only until some time later, the door slammed open, and this time someone in the room did have the right to be angry.

“What is going on in here? Why is no one helping her!?” Mapi cried out, rushing over to where you were borderline hyperventilating into your hands and everybody else stood, watching. “Preciosa, it’s Mapi, I…”

She didn’t know what to do with the state you were in, it wasn’t something she had ever come across before. How could she help you if qualified doctors couldn't? 

You seemed inconsolable and the panic running riot through you slowly began to seep into her, which wouldn’t help either of you. Mapi had no experience with anything of this severity, she'd seen Ingrid have panic attacks before but that was years ago, she hadn't had any in a long time. This didn't seem like a panic attack, and if it was a meltdown, she certainly had never dealt with one of those before. She'd only seen the aftermath of one, and it wasn't even her that had dealt with it.

It felt like all she could do was bide her time and hope that Alexia or Ingrid came in ASAP, but she knew she had to act sooner. By doing what, she wasn't sure. But she had to start somewhere.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” Her eyes looked frantically around the room, noting that all the people that should be helping you were only staring with exasperated looks on their faces. “Hey, everyone out! Get out!”

They shook their heads as they left, filing out one by one and murmuring between themselves. Meanwhile, your state of mind hadn’t changed and Mapi’s concerns only grew. Cautiously, she tried to take your hands away from your face but somehow your strength was too much for her and they didn’t budge an inch. The worry Mapi felt grew tenfold and soon there was a tremor to her own hands. She felt like time was running out, as if you would implode the longer you spent in this detrimental state.

So, she decided on a different approach.

“Hey, sit up for me, preciosa. Come on, I need you to sit up.” 

To her relief, you followed her instructions easily this time, and she moved you to sit up and swing your legs carefully over the edge of the bed whilst being mindful of your injury. Once in position, Mapi clambered onto the bed and sat behind you, her arms coming up to wrap around your chest and hug you tightly. She had learnt once, from Ingrid, that pressure helped to ease anxiety, and if her assumptions were correct, that was the primary emotion screwing you up right now. 

“There you go, I’m here. Take some breaths now, in and out, it is just me and you.” She kept her embrace tight, baring her weight behind it and rubbing up and down your upper arms in a repetitive, reassuring motion. “We need to slow down, cariño, slow down that breathing. I’ll do it with you, hm?”

For the next minute or so, Mapi took exaggerated breaths behind you in an attempt to ground you, and it worked. At some point along the way, one of your hands had dropped from your face to Mapi’s on your left arm, covering it in a silent gesture of gratitude in a moment where you couldn’t verbalise it. It didn’t take long at all for you to come back to the room, but neither of you moved and instead opted to stay still. This was comforting, it was easy, and it was familiar. 

Even after five minutes had passed by, Mapi didn’t leave. Her next approach was to distract you from all that had happened, and luckily for her she was blessed with a skill that for the first time in her life actually came in handy. Mapi could talk forever, so that’s what she did. She spoke about what she’d gotten up to recently, the newest coffee shop that had opened near the training ground, and somehow she even started relaying memories from her childhood. She spoke about anything and everything, and it worked. 

Finally, you had removed both hands from your face and the tears had finally dried up. You were leaning back against Mapi, head resting on her shoulder as she showed off the many tattoos that were scattered across her hands and up her arms. Your physical pain had taken a backseat for all the mental torment you were going through earlier, but now it was returning in full force. You didn't feel able to talk just yet though, so failed to bring it up.

“You feeling okay now?” Mapi hummed quietly, you nodding somewhat uncertainly a few moments later. She gave a tight-lipped smile and kissed your cheek, tucking her chin over your shoulder and delving the pair of you into silence. There wasn't much else to be said or done.

Not so long after, commotion could be heard down the corridor outside the door and it didn't take a genius to figure out who it was.

“-should be in there, helping her!” The door swung open, revealing a confused Alexia. “Mapi, what's going on?”

“Come in and close the door. Leave them out there for now.” Mapi said calmly, squeezing your hand after sensing you tense up a little.

Alexia did as asked - she closed the door and came over to the pair of you. Her eyes roved all over you, noticing the way Mapi is holding you and how your eyes are red and puffy. She reached a hand out to land comfortingly on your uninjured knee, her thumb stroking the skin there in concern.

“What happened, cariño?” She wondered quietly, frowning at the slight shake of the head you give her.

“I think she had some kind of meltdown or panic attack thing. None of the physios or doctors were helping, they were just stood watching and making her feel worse. I kicked them out and calmed her down, we're okay now.” Mapi explained simply, looking at you as you kept your eyes averted from the woman in front of you and instead fidgeted with your hands.

Alexia blew out sharply, cursing in Catalan under her breath. Mapi can sense she's about to go off on an outraged tangent, so the defender stops her with just a look. The captain deflated immediately, shaking herself out of her frustration and taking a calming deep breath before focusing back on you.

“I'm sorry. I tried to come off with you but they wouldn't let me. I am so sorry.” Alexia said softly, raising a hand to wipe away the lingering tear tracks on your cheek.

“You weren’t here when I needed you.” You mumbled, a deep-set frown on your face that filled Alexia with guilt.

The pair of them share a glance over your shoulder. The captain looks hurt, really hurt, and Mapi can’t quite blame her for that. They understood your discontent, but they didn’t know how deep it ran. They thought it was possibly somewhat misplaced, and your judgement was just a little clouded by the day’s events.

Except, it wasn't.

When you trust someone, and you hand your heart over to them, what may seem to be the slightest mistreatment can lead to the biggest blowouts.

After years and years of discrimination, prejudice, and hatred all directed at your whole being, it's hard to trust people. Hell, only eight months ago did you tell your colleagues about your true self after being a footballer for what, thirteen years? Other people's foul behaviour in the past was not your fault, yet it's only you left facing the repercussions. And the current situation was a perfect example of exactly what that meant for you.

“Cariño, I…” Alexia started, but she quickly trailed off. She didn’t know what to say, where to go from here. She hadn’t really found herself in this scenario before, she was always the first person you came to for comfort, and not only had you had found it from someone else, you were annoyed with her too.

Her hands pulled away from you like she'd been burnt, a notion not lost on you or Mapi.

“Ale really did try, I promise. Jona wouldn't let her sub off.” Mapi tried to tell you, but you stayed silent. She tried to suppress her sigh behind you, but you heard it. Loud and clear.

“You can leave if you want to, Mapi. Thank you for helping me, I really appreciate it.”

You didn't mean for it to sound so apathetic and ungrateful. But that's how it came out. You couldn't change it now.

Mapi instantly pulled away with nothing but a nod, squeezing your hand before getting up and leaving. She gave Alexia an uncertain glance as she walked past her, the taller woman just nodding at her before the defender left. 

It meant the pair of you were left alone now. There was a hushed voice from behind the door, no doubt Mapi lecturing the doctors. That wasn't at the forefront of your mind now, in fact there wasn't really anything you could focus on apart from the way you were acting. You'd treated two of the people dearest to you in an unkind way, yet you couldn't stop.

“I don't get why you weren't here. I don't get how Mapi was the first one to come to me.” You stated, eyebrows raised up in an attempt to act unphased by everything that had gone on. The tremble to your hands and the quiver to your lower lip told Alexia exactly how you were feeling.

“I tried. I really did.” Still, she didn't know what to say. 

“Not hard enough, Alexia.” You looked up at her in what you thought was a disappointed glare, but really it looked forced with layers upon layers of hurt behind it. The use of Alexia’s full name too shouldn't have hurt her as much as it did. “You're the captain. You can bend the rules and get away with it. I mean, if it was the other way around, I'd be there for you in a heartbeat no matter the consequences. So why wasn't it the same for me? I really needed you.”

Despite your best attempts, you couldn't fend off the frown or the tears that forced themselves upon you. Regardless of how you'd acted towards her, Alexia instantly forgave you for it all. She knew, in this second, you were overwhelmed and assigning your anger onto everything in the world because of what it had done to you today. She'd take all the blame if it gave you a release. 

“I didn't want to let anyone down.” Alexia whispered, holding back her own emotions.

“Well, you let me down. In the end.” 

The words just kept tumbling out of you uncontrollably. Of course you knew it wasn't Alexia's fault, she most likely would have been sanctioned after all, but that didn't stop the dam from breaking and unleashing waves of frustration onto everyone. All Alexia could do was nod and take it, and hope that once you had returned to your normal mindset, this would just be water under the bridge. And it would, you already knew you were being quite irrational, but you were too far gone to stop now.

Hastily, the midfielder blinked back the tears in her eyes and reached a hand out to put on your shoulder. That one gesture was what cracked your demeanour; you leaned forward then, resting your forehead against Alexia's stomach and, for the second time that day, letting the tears flow freely from your eyes. Her arms immediately wrapped around your back as she ducked down slightly to place a kiss on your head. She squeezed her own eyes shut, trying once more to keep her cries at bay so she could help you through your own emotions.

Only the sounds of your sniffling could be heard in the otherwise silent room, your tears dampening Alexia’s jersey as she doesn’t move a muscle so she can uphold your peace. Every so often she’ll run her hand up and down your back as a sign that she’s still with you in the moment, even if her words didn’t convey as such. She waits patiently for you to feel able again, knowing that your mental health is so much more important right now than whatever was going on with your leg. In the back of her mind she could guess the physical pain was still high, and the fact that you hadn’t mentioned it once since she walked in was enough cause for concern in itself.

“I want to go home.” You muttered tiredly some minutes later, leaning back to wipe your face with the inside of your shirt.

“I know. The doctors need to check you out first though, and I’ll be right here beside you. I won’t let them do anything you don’t want them to do.” She reassured you.

“But what can they do? Nothing right now. We already know it’s a torn hamstring, so let me get back to the hotel. I know it needs, what, ice and compression? We can sort that easily. I’m tired. And I don’t feel comfortable here. Please, Ale, I need to get out.” You pleaded, looking up at her with bloodshot, teary eyes that near enough split her heart in two. 

She pursed her lips and nodded reluctantly, kissing your temple this time before whispering, “Let me see what I can do.”

—

Turns out, there wasn’t much she could do. The Barcelona staff wouldn’t let you leave without being looked over, so after a minor disagreement and some amendments being made to the staff who would do so, you finally gave in and let them do their job. Just as you expected though, they really didn’t do much but confirm your thoughts. Ice, compression, and rest, before getting scans for it done when you landed back in Spain. 

They were hopeful that it wasn't a full tear and it wouldn't require surgery, but you weren't going to give that hope a home in your heart. Your expectations were the lowest of low, it was the only way to prevent yourself from getting hurt more. After all, it is the hope that kills you.

And now, as you lay on your hotel bed, completely and thoroughly exhausted by everything, you feel helpless. Alexia is going around the room and tidying, her attempt at gaining back control of just something because she feels helpless too, and you're just there watching her. Sleep keeps trying to take over you, but you refuse to let it happen, instead focusing on anything that doesn't involve succumbing to your exhaustion. Because, really, you just want your Ale. But she can't keep still.

“Amor, I can see your eyes drooping, please try to get some sleep.” She comes around to your side of the bed and leans down to kiss your cheek, looking at you both pointedly yet softly.

“Don't want to.” You shook your head, hearing her sigh. “Only if you come to bed.” 

You're itching to comfort her - you were well aware of the emotional discourse you had caused earlier and were desperate to make up for it. 

“You promise? You really need some rest.” You nodded, suppressing a yawn, and saw her smile before giving in.

She had already helped you through a somewhat disjointed night routine before setting you up in bed. There weren't really any comfortable ways for you to sleep tonight apart from on your back, which really wasn't too comfy at all. The compression sleeve was uncomfortably tight and the painkillers you'd taken hadn't really done a thing, nor had the ice earlier. 

So, after quickly getting changed, Alexia slid under the covers and flicked the lights off with the switch by the bed, before moving onto her side and shuffling closer to you. From then on, the room was still and serene. It was the kind of quiet that was audible, it had weight to it that meant it could be felt in the way it settled in the bones of everyone experiencing it, and perhaps that was the catalyst for you. It wasn’t empty, no. Instead, the muffled hum of the world outside the window collided with the combined breaths of you both to make it feel a little too alive. 

To you, the silence was stifling and alarming. For Alexia, she was none the wiser to the sensory torment that was making you feel inexplicably worse. Every essence of the day - your injury, the aftermath, the future, the silence, your guilt - was hammering down on you now. Just like earlier, there was no escape. No reprieve. This was your present, though it didn’t quite feel like a gift, and there was no stopping it. 

There was enough of a gap between you and Alexia to allow the emotions to build. You could feel the warmth from her, but you felt separated by all the words that had gone unsaid by you. They lingered, taunting and menacing, as if you didn’t have enough on your plate already. 

But you didn’t give your girlfriend the credit she deserved. 

When your breaths became slightly stuttered, and your eyes clamped shut a hair too tightly, Alexia sensed it all.

“Cariño?” She whispered, gently cradling your cheek and turning your head towards her. “What's wrong?”

You tried to talk, you really did, but all that came out was yet more stuttered breaths and tears from your aching eyes. Withholding a saddened sigh, Alexia leaned forward to rest her forehead against yours. Her hand on your cheek wiped away any tears that fell and rubbed soothing circles on the wet skin. 

“I'm s-sorry, Ale. I r-really a-am.” You raised a hand to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle the cries on their way out, but Alexia only shook her head and carefully pulled it away.

“No, cariño, don't apologise. You don't need to say sorry for anything.” Her lips pressed kisses against your nose, cheeks, chin, the corner of your mouth and your temple. She didn't need you to apologise, all she needed was for you to know she would love you no matter the circumstances.

“But I was so, so horrible a-” 

“Shh.” She cut you off gently, leaning your foreheads back together to calm you. Throughout all of this, she still managed to maintain the quietness of the room, somehow making it peaceful and serene like it should have been the first time around. “I understand. You do not need to be sorry, I know how you were feeling earlier and neither me nor Mapi are upset about what you were saying. Just shh, relax.”

You nodded and took in a deep, shuddery breath, clutching her forearm and doing your best to do as she said. Both of you let a few minutes pass by, giving you all the time in the world necessary to calm down, the close proximity and her comforting touch helping you to reach a stable state of mind.

“I just wanted you to know.” You told her in an insecure voice some time later. She smiled and tilted her head up to kiss your forehead once more, holding herself there for a couple seconds to emphasise her adoration. Then she went back to her previous position and looked into your eyes with care and love in her own.

“I do know, I promise.” She stated with such conviction that it didn't leave you with much else choice apart from trusting her wholeheartedly. “I wasn't nice to people around me when I first did my ACL. Mapi was there to see it all, I had to do a lot of grovelling afterwards. When I could move about properly again, she made me clean her whole apartment.” 

At that, you let out a wet laugh, only to suppress another yawn afterwards. Alexia smiled even more, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“You won't make me do that, will you?” It was her turn to laugh now and the sound of it brings a genuine smile to your face. 

“Never.” She hummed. “I know how it feels to get a bad injury and I will never blame you for being upset. I will be here for you every step of the way until you're back on the pitch again, we all will. You're allowed to feel angry, sad, frustrated with the world, or however else you're feeling. It is unfair, but we will get you back.”

“You're sure?” You mumbled a few moments later. With her eyes gazing into yours and her thumb stroking your cheekbone lightly, she nodded. Then, to confirm her affirmation, she leaned forwards that bit more to softly leave a kiss to your lips.

“I am certain.” She murmured when she pulled back, lips brushing against yours. “We will get you there. The team will take us to the final, and you will be walking out onto the grass in Lisbon with not only the club, but the fans behind you too. I swear it.”

Her words were all the motivation you needed. 

They echoed around your mind as you tried to sleep that night, and throughout the whole of the next day. It was tough to cope with, this (albeit temporary) new normal, and you loathed the sympathetic looks on everybody’s faces as they watched you slowly hobble from place to place on crutches. The flight home was a whole other story; for the life of you, you couldn’t get comfy, and in the end you had to sit sideways in your seat to give you the space to rest your leg across the empty middle seat whilst your feet ended up in Alexia’s lap. 

Alexia tried to keep her face composed, knowing the effect everyone else was having on you, but it tore her apart to see the down-trodden frown on your lips and the constant furrow to your brow that conveyed exactly how you were feeling. For the duration of the flight, her eyes hardly left you, constantly checking to see how you were doing without trying to be too overbearing. This wasn’t even the trickiest part of the day, yet it was already proving to be a tough mental challenge.

However, there was one silver lining that came to light. Possibly, it was the best outcome of them all. It wasn’t even Alexia’s injury, but she felt like crying upon hearing the news. Even when she walked you into your apartment later in the evening, there was still an overjoyed smile on her face as the sentence played over and over in her head.

“It’s only a grade two tear, meaning the rehabilitation process will be easier, especially considering you don’t need surgery.” 

On the other hand, you weren’t so positive. No matter the result of the scan, you still had to deal with weeks off from the one constant thing that never failed you. Except, it had failed you this time, to the highest degree so far. It didn’t matter that your comeback might be sooner than you initially thought, time off was still time off. From now on, there would be physio sessions, lonely days in the gym, matches missed, and even with the hard work you would put in, you might still miss the possible Champion’s League final, should your team get there. There was no doubt in your mind that they would get there. To miss a game like that at the peak of your career would irrevocably ruin you in any and all aspects.

Yet, again, Alexia of all people understood this. And the moment that you fully broke down, was the time she understood you the most.

“What if I don’t come back? What if I don’t play the same as I did? There’s no guarantee for anything, Alexia, and I just-”

The anxieties poured out thick and fast, but the captain was there to catch all of them and secure each one in the back of her mind, for when you were ready to tackle each one. She was seated behind you on the sofa, the sky a midnight blue out the window and the only light in your home being the warm white of the lamp in the corner of the room. Her arms were tight around your torso, her chin hooked over your shoulder with her cheek pressing against yours. Each time another sob ripped through you, her hand would be there in an instant to swipe away each individual teardrop and the quiet reassurances in your ear never seemed to end. 

Your emotions subsided eventually, but the strength and security of the blonde behind you never faltered. With your head resting back on her shoulder and your sniffles sounding through the room periodically, she was running through every problem and solution that could come about in the upcoming weeks. Not a single possibility scared her away. She would get you through rehab and to Lisbon if it killed her.

Doubting you and your will-power was something Alexia would never do. In reality, she thought most people underestimated you. There wasn’t a single worry in her mind that you would work harder than anyone to be back for that one match you had dreamed of all your career. And if the team didn’t get there, well… for Alexia, she had never had a bigger motivation than the one in her arms right now.

And when she thought you had exhausted yourself once your sniffles had stopped and your breathing was even again, she voiced all that was on her mind. Just like the night before, her words were everything you could ever need. It was hard to be discouraged about getting your life back on track when such a prominent figure, who had been in a worse situation than you in terms of injuries, was so certain that you were going to get through this blip.

“We will get you back, I’ll make sure of it.” She began in the quietest whisper she could manage, though when her mouth was right beside your ear it wasn’t hard to hear her. “I will not leave your side, min engel, not for one moment. You are the strongest person I know, I’ve told you that before, but it’s true. I thought I knew what it meant to be strong, but you show me a new meaning of it every day I’m with you. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you, but how could I not?” She smiled to herself, flashes of all her favourite memories from the past eight months passing through her mind. “You give me everything I ever dreamed of. Being your girlfriend is the greatest honour of my entire life. Jeg elsker deg, cariño. Siempre.” 

You heard it all. You couldn’t ignore her.

“Since when did you know bits of Norwegian?” You asked her. She stiffened under you, feeling like she had been caught red handed. With a giggle, you sat up and turned the upper half of your body to face her, careful not to jolt your leg. When you looked at her, there was a pink tinge to her cheeks and a small, sheepish smile tugging at her lips. All it took was one teasing grin from you for her to groan and throw her head back against the sofa cushions in embarrassment. 

“I thought you were asleep.” She mumbled from behind her hands that had covered her face, only for you to laugh at her more. “Stoooop.”

Pushing through the pain, you gently flipped to lie on your stomach and, once comfortable, rested your chin on her chest. You gazed up at her almost in awe; it hit you, sometimes, that her love for you ran so much deeper than you’d ever realise. It ran through her veins, it had seeped deep into her bones, and filled her from head to toe. What she showed you on a daily basis was so much more than you could have dreamed of, but if you asked Alexia, she’d say it was only the tip of the iceberg.

“Why did you want to say it when I was sleeping?” You wondered quietly. She took her hands away from her face and looked down at you, her arms moving to rest atop your back.

“I just thought the moment was right.” She shrugged, her sheepish smile from earlier replaced by a soft one.

“You meant all of it?” You asked in a barely intelligible voice. 

“All of it. All of it and more, cariño.” The blonde replied with zero hesitation. “These upcoming weeks, we will just take it step by step, okay?”

“I know. It just worries me.” You sighed, dropping your forehead to her chest. “So much to do. So much I don’t know. I might get re-injured straight after. I don’t want to do it.”

“I understand.” Alexia murmured, ducking her chin down awkwardly to kiss the top of your head. “It will be worth it though. When you come back, you will fall in love with football all over again. You will find joy in the basic things, like just running or doing kick-ups. It changes your perspective on a lot of things. Sometimes these things come our way, no matter how much we don’t want them to, and they change us for the better. You will see.”

—

With this injury, you literally did have to take things step by step. The next day was a recovery day for the rest of the team, and you had to tag along so that you could meet with Jona and the staff about creating a provisional rehab plan for you. Week one was just rest. Nothing else. You were ordered to sit at home all day, waiting for Alexia to come home like a sad puppy. Honestly, that was probably the hardest part to get through.

You were an active person, not a day went by without you doing some kind of exercise or physical activity. Being stuck on the sofa or in bed twenty-four hours of the day was not appealing at all. Rather embarrassingly, when Alexia left for the first day of proper training since the Bayern game, you had watched her leave with tears in your eyes. She would only be gone for a few hours, but knowing your team was working hard for the second leg at the weekend was killing you. 

What you didn’t know though, was that Alexia had already planned the week out for you. 

Ten minutes after she had left on day one, Alba showed up with bags upon bags of stuff. Snacks, face masks, gifts, flowers, your favourite candle, the right equipment for her to give you a manicure, and more. It was hard for your thoughts to be clouded by negativity when the brunette was there to meet each millisecond of a frown with something to take your mind off of it. Whether that was with words or a hug or something else, by the time Alexia got home, you’d had a pretty good day. Upon stepping into your apartment, she dropped her kit bag and slipped off her shoes before joining two of her favourite people on the sofa to watch whatever movie was playing on the TV. Alba tried to push her away to shower, but the blonde just grinned before scooching closer to her sister and wrapping her arm tightly around her. The scene on display before you then was much more interesting than the film, the two bickering for what seemed like forever until Alba eventually had to leave.

On day two, Alba came to visit again, this time bringing her little dog and one of Eli’s home cooked meals for lunch. The day played out much the same as the one before it, but it was still just what you needed to get through this first rough week of recovery. When Alexia got home, her cheeks ached with the smile that grew after spotting you asleep on the sofa with the chihuahua in your arms. Alba rolled her eyes at the lovesick gaze her sister gave, only for Alexia to flick her forehead before carefully laying beside you and wrapping herself around your sleeping body. It took a matter of minutes for her to drift off, and she was less than pleased when she woke up to a plethora of… inappropriate drawings on her face whilst you were left untouched.

The rest of the week went pretty much the same way, until you’d finally gotten through it and, before you knew it, you were seated in the Johan watching the second round of the match-up that had taken you out in the first place. Fortunately for you, the team seemed hungry, and you were treated to a great game of the sport you loved. Even if you were a player for one of the clubs watching, it was thrilling to see both teams fight it out like they did. But ultimately, there was no stopping your blaugrana teammates that day. And Alexia, she seemed reinvigorated. In all the time you had been in Barcelona so far, the Bayern game was the best you’d seen her play so far. She was on another level, and as you clambered your way down to the locker room with your crutches to greet them all, you were swelling with pride.

You’re understandably a little slow when half your body weight relies on two metal sticks, so by the time you’re heading into the locker room, most of the team are already in there after making the rounds with the fans. The music is playing already, each of them buzzing after successfully making it one step closer to the final, but their faces light up even more at the sight of you. They hadn’t seen you in the week that you had been posted up in your flat, so they couldn’t help but cheer as you hobbled in.

“Ahí está!”

Jana smiled brightly at you, instantly walking over to hug you tightly. Others soon followed, and before you knew it, you found yourself at the centre of a group hug that was difficult to partake in when your arms were still hooked into your crutches. You laughed unabashedly at them all and their dramatics, greeting them one by one when they finally broke away. There were still some missing from the room, specifically the one person you were looking for, but you happily chatted along with them and joined in with their celebrations whilst you waited. 

“Back to work next week, sí?” Aitana grinned as you sat down in Alexia’s cubby, nodding up at her with a smile. “We have missed you in training, really!”

“She’s right, Mapi has been getting too big for her boots this week. You need to come back and start humiliating her in practice again.” Keira rolled her eyes with a huff, Aitana laughing beside her. 

“Tell her she should count her days.” You smirked, watching as that very woman strolled into the room with Alexia and Ingrid behind her. 

The three of them came over to you straight away, all with beaming smiles on their faces. Alexia sat down beside you and quickly pecked your cheek, managing to do so without catching the attention of the team members that would mock her. Everyone knew about your relationship, but Alexia didn’t feel like showing her utterly soft side as she would get teased for eternity.

“You guys played really well today.” You told the three of them, Alexia smiling to herself as she untied her laces.

“Almost like it is our job, preciosa.” Mapi poked your shoulder, only to receive an elbow to her side from Ingrid.

“Take the compliment, María.” She said, sending the pair of them off into a playful argument. 

It left you and Alexia somewhat alone, despite being in a room of at least twenty people, but some peace nevertheless. For a minute or two, you observed her silently, watching on as she took a moment of respite for herself after the game. Then, she turned to you, a content smile on her face.

“You okay?” She murmured, putting her hand over yours that rested against the bench.

“Mhm. What about you, player of the match?” 

Alexia rolled her eyes at your affectionate teasing, chuckling quietly. You grinned and bumped your shoulder into hers, resting your head there afterwards.

“Did you enjoy the game?”

“Yes, I loved it. You played so well. Honestly, your best game this season.” You told her, and the blonde woman's smile only grew. She'd been told countless times over her career how good she was, but there was something about you telling her that was just that more meaningful.

“Sí, and you know why?” Mapi butted into the conversation, looking pointedly at Alexia.

“Mapi, no-”

“Ale made the whole pre-game speech about you.” 

You heard a scoff from the woman in question as you sat back up and glanced at her. She had turned her head away slightly, cheeks bright red as Mapi laughed giddily at her reaction.

“Really?” You smiled sheepishly. Mapi decided to run off to the showers at that moment, leaving her friend to explain that one.

“Maybe.” Alexia grumbled, only for her grumpy facade to crack the second she turned back to look at you. “I did. I told the team from now on, in the Champion's League, we play for you. It wasn't about just you. It was about… other things too. But also you.”

“You are so cute, Ale.” You hummed, hearing her groan quietly and shake her head.

“I need to get a restraining order from that diablo.” She huffed. Then, she softened, turned back to you, and whispered, “I did play for you though today. Just for you.”

—

The second leg of the quarter final was luckily on a Saturday, meaning Alexia was freely yours for the Sunday afterwards that had been made a rest day. Thanks to the good amount of rest you (reluctantly) gave your leg, a week onwards it was feeling better than you expected. Alexia still demanded that you used the crutches and she didn’t leave much room for argument, but what you did fight for was the opportunity to actually leave the four walls of your flat properly. Not just for a game, but for actual human social interaction. She agreed, not without a seemingly endless list of do’s and don’ts, but nevertheless she agreed.

It ended up being exactly what you needed. You got back home early afternoon feeling rejuvenated and ready for the first week of rehab that was waiting for you in the Barça gym. Sure, it might have just been a breakfast date at that same spot with the same person as that day all those months ago, and just a sluggish walk around some of your favourite local areas, but it was perfect. 

Despite the ache in your arms and the slight heightened pain in your leg, you lay on the sofa back at your flat with a warmth in your heart, for the first time that week. Alexia found it rather amusing when she walked back into the lounge area to find you smiling to yourself with your eyes shut. Your sofa was pretty small, so when you lay down arm to arm it didn’t leave much space for anyone else. As she didn’t want to disgruntle you, Alexia decided it was best to sit on the floor in front of you instead. She put on the first football game she could find on the TV and watched it whilst picking from the bowl of fruit she had brought in. However, as you dozed off behind her, she couldn’t stop herself from glancing back every so often. Why wouldn’t she take all the time she could to gaze at the person she adored most? It was an easy conclusion for her to come to.

She looked at you with the same eyes as you walked in front of her into the locker room the next day. Even as you both went separate ways after changing, she didn’t dare look away from you until you finally turned the corner, despite it making her a tad late onto the pitch. The dreamy look in her eyes faltered a little, making space for concern, when she met you at the end of the training day and there was a frown on your face. 

“Still have to use this one stupid crutch.” You grumbled when you saw her questioning look as you approached her in the corridor. “And I hardly did anything today apart from listen and stretch and get poked and prodded.”

After only two sentences from yourself, the heart shape returned to her pupils as she nodded in sympathy and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“It’s only day one, engel. It will get better, I promise.” She whispered into your hairline, before leaving a kiss there. “Let’s go home and relax. My flat or yours?”

As it turned out, injury rehab was quite difficult. And slow, painfully slow. That first day was barely a drop in the ocean. Perhaps it was Alexia who was the naive one out of the two of you about this whole journey, but nobody could fault her, she just wanted the best for you. Once she took off her rose-tinted glasses, she could see that this was going to be so much more difficult than she initially thought.

The routine difference was hard for you to adjust to, and not only that, but the schedule you were given was susceptible to change at any moment. One second of work could alter every part of the month’s timetable. It was that structural rigidness that had you on edge at all seconds. 

Your temper was inexplicably short, you were snappy and blunt almost all the time, and it was as if one minor thing could trigger a meltdown if it caught you at the wrong moment. You wanted to work hard, yes, but with so much unknown, it was difficult to keep your concentration on the one goal you had. Everything else was getting in the way - your emotions, fears, anxiety, frustration - there were too many distractions. 

And whilst the mask came down around the majority of your teammates, it was Ingrid and Alexia that received the brunt of your uneasiness. Every time you thought things were getting better and you started actually feeling optimistic, something would come along and cruelly knock your confidence right back down.

As the days rolled on, you became more and more exhausted with it all. And that was not what you needed during rehab. 

Keeping up a facade that wasn’t true, forcing a smile that wasn’t there, and feigning determination that was dissipating by the day was so mentally damning. You nearly made it to the end of the week unharmed. Nearly.

“Snuppa, are you awake?” A voice called from outside your bedroom, followed by the third knock so far.

It was the first morning that you were waking up alone since your injury nearly two weeks ago. Apparently, your drained and morose mind was taking full advantage of that.

“Okay, I’m going to come in now, alright?” Ingrid gave it another ten seconds before she opened the door after getting no response. What she walked in on wasn’t so unfamiliar.

You hadn’t gotten out of bed yet. Getting up and facing the day ahead just wasn’t something you wanted to do. Thankfully, this wasn’t the result of a meltdown, but rather months worth of exhaustion built up to burn you out completely. 

“Hey.” Ingrid said quietly, coming to sit on the edge of the bed beside you. “What’s wrong?”

There were a million things you wanted to come out and say, but that wasn’t going to happen right now. Ingrid understood that.

“Do you think you’ll make it out of bed today?” You could answer non-verbally, with simple nods or a shake of your head, and here you just shrugged a shoulder. “Okay. I hear today is supposed to be a good day though, the physios think you can ditch the crutches altogether now.”

Oh. You’d forgotten about that. 

“You know, it doesn’t matter what time you go in. If you’re up to it, you can go in whenever you want, I will sort it with the staff. But if not, that’s okay too. It’s good to have a break every so often.” 

Maybe a compromise could work? Getting rid of the crutch would be a great step in the right direction. But a break also sounds good too. 

“Whatever works best for you, snuppa, we can do.”

It was planned for Ingrid to meet you that morning and take you in anyway, but to be honest you hadn’t expected to do anything but stay in bed, under the guise of darkness and a blanket for the day. A way to protect yourself from the world and all it could do. However, her proposal did sound easier to manage than what was originally planned for the day.

“If it’s too much for you at any time, either me or Alexia will be there to take you home.” She smiled sympathetically down at you, her hand coming up to hold yours that rested on top of the covers. “We just need to work out what’s best for you today.”

That was easier said than done. You did make it out of bed a little while after that, but only to eat breakfast and feel a little more human. At some point, Ingrid had messaged the staff to let them know that neither one of you would be in on time, and that it was currently a work in progress to get in at all. She also sent a text to Alexia too, who had a full morning of meetings before training, but she still somehow managed to blow up Ingrid’s phone a second later. 

Thankfully, you did manage to make it in. It was a challenge, of course it was, but you made it and that was a win in itself. And then the wins kept coming.

You were cleared to walk, cleared to start doing proper exercises and workouts in the gym unlike the boring borderline yoga you'd been doing all week, and the best of all, you were another step closer to being back on a football pitch. That was enough to restore the smile on your face. 

Though, you were still quite burnt out, that couldn't go away with just a bit of good news, so Ingrid had helped you make a plan with the physios over the weekend. The team was due to play on Saturday afternoon, with a day off again for the Sunday after it. Due to it nearing the end of the season where the schedule got more and more packed with high tension games, there were more rest days given to ensure all players were kept healthy, physically and mentally. For you, that meant you could take the whole weekend off without needing to go in for rehab - instead, the staff had given you strengthening exercises to do at home in the hopes that you would be able to somewhat relax and recover before Monday. That was more than okay for you.

Something had caused training to run a bit later that day, so despite your mishap in the morning, you were finished before practice was. So, with your newly restored ability to walk again, you carefully made your way from physio to the pitch. This was the longest you had gone in two weeks without seeing Alexia, and no matter how silly it seemed, you had missed her. 

It didn't take long for the blonde to spot you once you had reached the sidelines, sat on a cooler box watching them all, and her whole aura brightened immediately, as if seeing you with a smile was a weight off her shoulders. All day, she had been silently worried for you, guilty and devastated that she wasn't there in the morning. But now all that was gone, and her lovesick gaze had returned. 

Ten minutes passed before the end was called and the second it did, Alexia was jogging over. She wiped her face with the bottom of her jersey as it was a hot April day, then looked at you with a proud smile.

“Hi, amor.” She beamed, her eyebrows flying up in pleasant surprise at how easy you managed to stand up, unassisted. She gazed at you for a few moments, before gently wrapping you up in a tight embrace.

“Hi, Ale.” You giggled into her shoulder, your arms linking around her neck.

“I am so proud of you.” She whispered before sweetly kissing your cheek. Then she pulled back, her hands raising from your back to your neck as she smiled down at you. “So proud. Of you getting to work this morning, of your hard work. Of everything. So proud.”

You blushed and sheepishly averted your eyes to your shoes, only for Alexia to push your chin back up with her thumbs. 

“Yeah, I get it, you're proud.” You mumbled light-heartedly, watching as she chuckled and nodded.

“I am, would you like to hear me say it again? I am so pro-” You interrupted her by covering her mouth, preventing her from talking. However, she out-strengthed you, so she easily pulled your hand away and shook her head. “I'm proud, and I love you.”

Despite there still being some of your teammates and staff members around, she cupped your cheeks and kissed you fervently. All care flew out the window; she was overflowing with admiration, and she had to make sure you knew it. With the way her lips moved against yours and how her hands held you, it took barely a second for you to become aware of that.

It was a great day, in the end. And though you did need a weekend off like you were given, by the time Monday came around, you were more determined than ever. 

—

From that day onwards, time flew by. Weirdly, a dream scenario occurred. You grew hyperfixated on the progress you were making. Your doctors and the people around you were always there to ensure that it remained a healthy hyperfixation, which it did. Although there were a few situations where others had to gently intervene or check in with you, for the most part you handled your circumstance perfectly. 

You had eventually grown into a comfortable routine that you stuck to by the minute everyday. And with your happiness, came that of others. Alexia was honoured to have a front row seat to it all. Like she had predicted, you had rediscovered joy in the small things, and it was evident to her and the rest of the team when you were lacing your boots up for the first time in weeks whilst sat on the grass. The simple, awfully familiar act had caused a smile to show on your face. 

Your teammates were watching from afar, whilst Alexia and Ingrid were stood beside your trainers and chatting with them about the day’s plan. Today was the day you would be running on the grass again. It was the end of April, and tomorrow, Barça were due to play the second leg of the semi-final against Real Madrid in the capital. Nobody had said it, but they were all thinking it: watching you achieve this milestone was a huge boost in motivation for them to secure a place in the final.

Multiple of them had their phones out to record the moment, and you tried to school the giant smile that was fast on its way to forming when you took your first step of your run. It felt fucking good. A simple bit of running had never given you so much euphoria. There were no aches, no pains, no twinges or discomfort, everything was the same as it used to be. 

Once you had done your first lap of the pitch’s width, you went back to the physios with a shy grin. Ingrid gave Alexia a teasing nudge as the older woman had a certain gloss to her eyes, and she groaned under her breath before blinking suspiciously quick. The pair watched you conversate with the trainers before they gave you the all clear to get started on some basic running drills. 

By then, your other teammates were ordered to start practice, whilst Ingrid and Alexia wormed their way out of it a bit longer so they could be there for you. To your surprise, you grew tired quite quickly, though you supposed over four weeks of no cardio would do that to you. Yet, your leg still had no issues. It would be a bit longer before you went back to proper training, but you would happily take this. Because for now, you felt on top of the world. 

Ingrid and Alexia bid their goodbyes, hugging you and whispering their pride, before jogging away to get to work. On your way into the building for yet more physio, you had to pass the rest of the squad, and of course there was a certain Spaniard that was unable to keep her mouth closed.

“La reina de la reina is back!” She shouted, both arms in the air like a toddler. Your teammates cheered along with her, making it known just how happy they were for you. You laughed at their show of affection, pushing down the bubble of emotions it kicked off inside you. Nowadays, you were almost certain you belonged with them.

Later on, you travelled with them to Madrid, but not before they all congratulated you and made jovial jabs that had you laughing until your stomach ached. Ultimately though, the excitement of it all and the physical exertion had tired you out. Alexia was more than happy to let you sleep on her shoulder for the whole journey through Spain.

You weren’t even playing in the game the next day, but from the moment you stepped foot in the city, you were wracked with nerves. It wasn’t that you didn’t have faith in your team, it was that if for some reason they didn’t get to the final, it would feel like all your hard work was for nothing. Yes, you would be back playing football and it would be an incredible personal achievement, but… the thought kept you up that night. Alexia slept soundly beside you, not a worry in her mind about it, and yet you were so anxious that a deep feeling of nausea set in. 

Travelling on the coach to the ground was the same; that anxiety was still there, and whilst the rest of the team was pretty relaxed about it considering they already had a two goal advantage, your good leg was bouncing up and down rapidly. The blonde captain beside you noticed it when she looked away from her phone and she frowned, knowing it was a common thing you did when you were stressed. Mapi and Ingrid were chattering away between themselves across the table from you, none the wiser thus far.

“Cariño, are you okay?” Alexia asked quietly, her hand landing on your knee and breaking you out of your anxious trance. You gave her a tight-lipped smile and nodded, gulping and looking away afterwards. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Just nervous about the game.” You replied with a nonchalant shrug, which caught the attention of the pair in front of you. Mapi cut Alexia off before she could speak.

“Hey, after the final, why don’t we all go on vacation together in Portugal? Ingrid and I went last summer, it was perfect.” She suggested, Ingrid immediately lighting up and nodding excitedly.

“It really was, we should go together.” The taller woman bursted off into a ramble about the place they stayed in, Mapi cutting in every so often. It helped to keep you distracted and Alexia agreed on behalf of you both, the three of them delving into details. 

Despite all that, the second the coach stopped, it all came rushing back. Thankfully, you were going to be sitting on the bench for the game rather than in the stands, though there wasn’t really anything to make you feel better until the final whistle was blown. 

If circumstances were different and you were playing, chances are you probably wouldn't even be half as nervous. As a player, you have a certain amount of control over the outcome. As a fan, there's nothing you can do except watch. And bite your nails, and bounce your leg, and the sorts. Being around the team would surely be better than alone with the fans, so hopefully that would put you somewhat at ease. Yet, even if Barça scored ten goals throughout the game, until that whistle blew, you'd still be on edge.

That being said, the best thing about playing for FC Barcelona is that they're pretty fucking good at their sport. Granted, like Mapi said, it was their job (and yours too of course), but that didn't stop you from being blown away by the talent each player holds.

Being on the field with them is one thing, watching them is another. It's an art form, their style of play, and being in your position on the bench with Irene on one side and Jana on the other, the three of you have your jaws stuck to the ground. The game was flawless on the team’s behalf; zero goals conceded, zero yellow cards, and three goals to go with the two from the last game. Watching Alexia Maradona turn herself out of the triangle of las blancas players she'd been caught in might have been the most attractive thing you had ever seen. The free kick she scored, just like the ones you had seen her do morning after morning, topped that skill move as soon as it went in. 

Moreover, Cata’s triple save in the dying minutes of the game to save her clean sheet really was the cherry on the cake. The referee signalled the end of the game after that, Mapi having taken the ball to the corner flag to let the clock tick down, and you were near enough in tears.

You had made it. You were in the Champion's League final. And with the way you were progressing in rehab, it was looking more and more likely by the day that you would at least get some minutes in the biggest game of your career.

Vicky tugged you up out of your chair and pulled you onto the pitch, where the rest of your team were celebrating. Yes, you were in this team too. That display they'd just put on, you were part of it. The badge on their chests, you wore it too. 

It wasn't a moment of impostor syndrome like it had been in the past. Here, it was a moment of gratitude, disbelief. This was your team, and you were in the final of the most prestigious tournament for club football. 

The younger attacker at your side swung your hands between you both in utter elation as you jogged to the huddle of blaugrana in the centre of the field. You don't know who was where or what was going on, but without a care in the world, you ran up to them and jumped on the back of the first person you could reach. Looking down, you realised it was Esmee, so you hugged her tightly whilst still on her back before jumping down carefully greeting her properly.

For a little while, it was just a heap of bodies, laughing and cheering and dancing to whatever music rang through the stadium’s speakers. However, at some point, you ended up in the middle of the group. And with this team's record, it was only a matter of time.

“Hey, hey, put her down! She's still injured!” Alexia shouted as she ran over from her media duties to find you being thrown in the air by them all. “Dios mío, estáis como una cabra. No usáis el cerebro? Ojalá tuvierais tanto sentido común como talento!” 

“Cálmate, capi! Look how happy she is!” Jana slung an arm around Alexia's shoulders as the pair stood back and observed the chaos ensuing. Alexia huffed and crossed her arms. “You really did play for her, huh? You did it for loooove.”

“Vete al carajo, nena.” Alexia grumbled, leaving her side but not without a quick kiss to her cheek. “Oye, basta! Ahora!”

With you laughing away, the girls finally put you back on the ground as Alexia shoved her way through to you. You were none the wiser to her demands, so the second you saw her, you smiled brightly and went to hug her. The smile was immediately wiped away and replaced with a puzzled frown when her hands clutched your shoulders and her eyes roved up and down your body.

“Did they hurt you? Is your leg okay?” She questioned with a disapproving stare and a flare to her nostrils.

“No, it was just a bit of fun, I-”

“Good. I would have killed them if they reinjured you.” She mumbled, now giving you the hug you wanted in the first place. The tension in her muscles evaporated in your hold, and it was then you knew she wasn't actually angry. “We are in the final, amor.”

“We're in the final.” You echoed in a whisper, pulling back to gaze up at her with a childlike grin that failed to conceal the excitement bursting through you. “We're in the final!”

“Sí, a la final, min engel! Your final!” She met your giddiness with an intensity of her own, taking your hands in hers and intertwining your fingers. You went to step back from her, only for the captain to pull you back in until your noses were touching. Discreetly, hidden by the team around you, she kissed the corner of your mouth, knowing you were mostly out of view of the fans. Then, she moved so that you were cheek to cheek, her lips beside your ear. “That trophy is yours already. And I can't wait to play football with you again.”

The bashful smile you rewarded her sentiment with was far better than any accolade or achievement Alexia could ever get.

—

Life got pretty busy from that day onwards, it was full steam ahead to get the tail end of the season completed. By the end of May, you were back in full team training, and when you had completed your first session, your cheeks ached from smiling. Of course, once it had finished, a number of your teammates decided the best way to celebrate it there and then was to uncap their bottles and spray you down with sports drinks like it was champagne. If anyone asked what the teardrops on your cheeks were from, at least you had an excuse to cover your unwanted expression of joy.

And when the month of May was done and over with, it was time for the last game of your first season in Spain. What a game it was.

Stepping out onto the vibrant green grass in Lisbon for MD-1 training at the stadium was a memory you would treasure forever. Sure, when you were actually playing in the final the next day, that might overshadow it, but nobody could take that first step away from you. 

The plan for the game was that you would be subbed on at any fitting moment from the 60th minute onwards. You didn’t care that it wasn’t a full game, that was ample time to make your mark and stamp your name into the footballing history books. You’d make sure that would happen if it was the last thing you did.

Except, things don’t always go as planned. 

Being 1-0 down at halftime was not how the team wanted it to play out. 

Frustration was written on everybody’s faces as the locker room filled up, wondering how on earth it had gone wrong like it had. With the way the other team was playing, the game plan had to be reworked. And boy, was it. 

It was decided that you would be substituted on at half-time instead. Was it risky? Probably. But the trainers were okay with it, Jona was happy with it, and you were delighted at the change of events. Perhaps you shouldn’t say that to anyone else, considering your team was a goal down, but there was no hiding it. Alexia took one glance at your face and knew you were about to hold the opposition accountable for the tragic mistake they had made. Retribution was to be had, not just against the other side, but you were about to kick off your revenge tour. There was a sense of danger about you when you entered the field, and rightly so.

Within minutes of the second half, Pina scored to equal the scoring. Aitana was there to collect the ball from the back of the net and bring it back to the centre circle to restart the game. It was a one-sided affair from there. 

Barcelona Femení had inflicted damage upon most teams in Europe by now, they had a reputation. Nobody should count them out, put them down, and most of all, underestimate them. With you added to the team, a fatalistic striker that had a deadly right foot, there was no chance that that trophy wasn’t going your way.

A fair amount of pressure was all it took for the other team to crumble. Their legs were tiring as a result of the constant pressing they faced, and their defence was quickly falling apart. A sharp, direct through ball from Caro was everything you needed. One swift strike of the ball later, and the white squares of the net rippled in tandem with the blaugrana fans that decorated most of the stadium. 

Every low of the last two months suddenly didn’t matter when you were running off to one corner of the pitch, every member of your team following behind you. All the difficulties, all the meltdowns, all the sleepless nights, they were worth it. 

Since you had a headstart in the celebrations, you came to a stop just before your teammates did. 

For a split second, it was just you. You and the pride and the relief that pulsed through you at what you had achieved. There were still a number of minutes left of the game, but that didn’t matter. Not once in your life had you ever felt elation like it, you’d bottle it up if you could. Bottle it up, label it, and put it on your living room shelf as a constant, ever-present reminder of your ability. 

Oh wait, you could just use your medal instead.

That moment of awe and wonder was quickly interrupted by twenty screaming bodies crowding around you - the on-field players as well as the substitutes, the staff, and god knows who else. 

At the heart of the huddle? Alexia and yourself, just like it was in Madrid. 

The midfielder was speechless, there was a million things she wanted to say but not one came out. Instead, she simply looked at you with her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish, before you put her out of her misery and jumped into her arms. She caught you with ease, holding you tight to her as your head span on a swivel looking at the thousands of Barça fans all celebrating you. 

Still in the arms of the woman you loved, Mapi grabbed your arm and shook you back and forth in admiration.

“Preciosa, qué coño?!” She bellowed, Alexia laughing as she gazed up at you.

The captain carefully lowered you to the ground, hoping to finally get a word in, when your best friend wrapped her long Scandinavian limbs around you and squealed directly in your ear.

“I am so proud of you, søster! I can’t believe it!” Ingrid stated in one long continuous squeal, squeezing you to death. 

The celebrations carried on probably far longer than they should, but soon you were making your way back to your starting position with Alexia almost glued to your side. When it had all calmed down, some softer emotions settled. Before, it was intense with adrenaline running fast and high. Now, a quiet, content sense of pride and disbelief draped itself, without much commotion, over your heart like a warm blanket. It was such a raw and strong feeling that, rather inconveniently, it brought tears to your eyes.

“Cariño, are you crying?” Alexia asked in an ever so slightly teasing tone. You shoved her away lightly, smiling when she gave a giddy laugh. “Come on, the game isn’t done yet! We might not even win.”

“Alexia!”

Playing the rest of the game after such an emotional high was probably harder than rehab itself. Your legs were about as stable as jelly, and everytime you thought you’d finally willed the tears away, your eyesight glazed over again. 

Evidently, the world was on your side today.

Hearing that whistle blow evoked that same bottled up feeling from before as you fell to your knees in relief. The word ‘surreal’ never felt more fitting than it did as you slumped over onto your back, the sky above you coloured with the pink and orange of Lisbon’s setting sun. Weirdly, there wasn’t much on your mind, it was more of a quiet hum that brought peace, like a distant radio or the pattering of rain against a window. The only thing that stood out to you was the fact you had accomplished the one thing that always seemed to escape you. But not anymore.

It was in this moment where you realised that this dream of yours was never just about achieving your end goal - it was about becoming the person with the strength to get there. This victory isn’t just about what you’ve gained, but who you’ve become. You’ve honoured your potential in a way you never could have imagined, and though the road to get here was long, dark, and uncomfortably bumpy, you were now able to reap the benefits of your determination that had certainly reached new heights. 

There was a phrase you first heard when you were younger: ‘it took a village.’ Back then, you would scrunch your nose up at it, unsure what it meant or what on earth a village had to do with anything. However, now as an adult with a support system that was built on an indestructible foundation of love, you knew that it truly did take a village to thrive. 

It was embedded in human nature since the first generation of life that having a shoulder to cry on and a soul to confide in, as well as people to laugh and share the joys with, were the most important thing anybody could need. Where you might have pushed that away in the past and claimed it wasn’t what you needed, there isn’t a better moment to acknowledge that without that, this moment simply would not have happened.

And when you raise the trophy, with a gold medal around your neck, confetti in your hair, and your newfound family around you, you stand firm in the assurance that you are capable of anything.

—

let me know what you think :) for now at least, this is the last idea i have for this world, if there is anything you wanna see in a story, let me know! i love this world and will never be able to leave it alone, so you are welcome to bombard me with any ideas, big or small. im very very very thankful for all the love this little universe has gotten so thank you for reading it, i couldn't have imagined it would go like this! but it's been one of my favourite things ive done and that is down to all the lovely people reading it. lotta love for you all <3

[katelynnwrites]

so long, london | sydney lohmann

warnings: angst once again

word count: 957

summary: you have to say goodbye to london because of sydney

a/n: the seventh and final installation of my 'the anthology' blurbs series

it was quite clear to you, the moment sydney became disinterested in your relationship.

she stopped flying out to london when she had free weekends and stopped asking when you could fly out to munich.

you kept calm and carried the weight of the rift.

until you couldn’t.

despite your attempts at pulling your girlfriend closer, each time she drifted away, it was futile.

syd simply didn’t want to be with you anymore.

you thought she had known the commitments of a long distance relationship. the confidence in which she had asked you out after playing against your club in the second leg of the uwcl quarterfinals had mistakenly led you to believe that.

so you stopped trying to make her laugh and instead, started thinking about how much sad she thought you had in you.

on your first date, the midfielder had taken you to a cute little coffee place that you had never been to or even heard of, despite living in london for years, the day after arsenal knocks her team out of the european competition.

it didn’t matter that she had a flight to catch later in the day, she made time for you.

she was sweet and warm and ever so attentive to you.

it drew you in easily, she drew you in easily and it was entirely unsurprising that you quickly became smitten with her.

you learned that she loved her coffee and it became a point whenever she flew in to see you, that the both of you would find a new coffee place to try.

it led to the two of you discovering all the nooks and crannies of the english city.

small parks, quaint little side streets and endearing out of the way cafes, you and syd explored them all.

you flew out to munich to see her too. sat in the stands of the bayern campus to watch her play, experienced her cooking which she insisted upon and fell in love with her somewhere along the way.

she told you she loved you too, made you believe her words with intimate kisses and touches.

honestly, it was a tragedy how the end of your relationship came about.

it wasn’t anything like how they showed it in the movies you watched growing up. or in the television dramas sydney loved watching.

there was no big fight and storming out or someone cheating on the other.

it was just a slow and inevitable sinking of the ship. it simply was bleak. and agonising. and oh so devastating.

you took a blow to your heart, the day you realised that you couldn’t remember the last time the blonde had told you she loved you.

‘i love you.’

three basic words that had meant the world to you when she had promised them to you the first time.

you never thought there would be a last time hearing them from her lips. maybe that’s why you can’t remember when she said them last.

you didn’t know to memorise the moment because it had never crossed your mind that the moment would come.

that’s when you stopped CPR, after all it’s no use if sydney doesn’t want to love you anymore.

you fly to munich, to tell the german woman that you are done trying.

it ruins you when the blonde promptly accuses you of not loving her enough. that you are the one abandoning your relationship.

her voice is filled with quiet resentment and that is when your white knuckle, dying grip on the shreds of your once beautiful relationship relents.

for months, you have lived in fear of her walking out on your love affair. your friends have been telling you it wasn’t right to be scared every day of your relationship and now you see the truth in their words.

you’re helpless to save your relationship if she refuses to try on her part.

if sydney isn’t sure if she wants to be there, if she wants to be yours…then there is no way that you can force her to stay.

she swore that she love you but where were the clues? you died on the altar waiting for the proof.

so really, how much sad did she think you had in you?

because here you are, standing in your apartment with packed boxes all around.

you can’t stay in london.

not when every street and every corner reminds you of the walks you used to take with the bayern munich player, hand in hand. of the affection you used to hold for her. or the laughter you used to share.

you’re strong but you’re only so strong. you can only take so much and you aren’t sure if you can take the break up.

by the time you land in america, you’re just mad as hell.

because you loved that place. you loved london and you loved playing for the arsenal. you even loved the dreary weather.

but you had to give all that up because of sydney.

she’s spoilt london for you and you had to leave it and arsenal because of her.

you had to leave europe altogether, god forbid the two of you end up playing against each other in the champions’ league again.

the very competition that started your relationship in the first place is now a bitter memory.

north carolina is where you flee to.

it’s far enough from sydney. and munich. and london. where all your hopes and dreams once lived.

for so long, london. you had a good run.

sydney lohmann was a moment of warm sun but you’re not the one for her.

so long london. stiches undone. two graves, one gun. she’ll find someone.

it just won’t be you.

[pulisicsgirl]

breathe, you're okay (pt. 2) - mason mount

summary: the anticipation of the impending UWCL final puts a damper on Mason and Y/N's budding relationship

pairing: Mason Mount x footballer!reader

word count: 4.3k

warnings/tags: descriptions of anxiety, mutual pining, supportive Mase, brief mention of panic attack, description of a UWCL final that's probably a bit over the top, fluff, two lovesick idiots

requested: yes!! here

notes: thank you all for all of the support on part one!! I hadn't planned a second part, but this actually flowed really easily! I really hope you all enjoy it! bonus points to anyone who guesses what the American football movie is

read part one here

Just over a month had passed since your encounter with Mason. Just over a month since the beginning of your budding friendship. Just over a month since the UEFA Women’s Champions League Semifinal.

The Manchester United women had scored early in the first half—a goal that you had assisted on. With that goal, the aggregate score was tied, which had done wonders to calm your nerves and settle your focus for the rest of the game.

After a full 90 minutes and two more goals for your team in the second half, the final aggregate score was 3-1, and you advanced to the Champions League Final.

Though you were relieved to have advanced from the semifinal, you didn’t allow yourself to slack off or back down from your work in training. You were still giving your best effort each day, often putting in extra hours after the rest had gone home to ensure you were at the top of your game.

You were kept in check, however, by Mason. He had continued checking in on you for the week leading up to the semifinal and he was the first person you wanted to text after your win (though when you went to do so, you found that he had already messaged you his congratulations and to give him a call when you had left the stadium).

But he recognized that your relief from winning the semifinal leg would not be overpowered by your nerves for the final. So, he kept a watchful eye on you, checking in to make sure you were feeling okay, ensuring you were getting the proper nutrition that your body needed—a couple of times he’d had to nearly drag you by the arm to eat lunch, refusing to let you train through another meal.

More and more frequently, Mason would stop by the field you were working on alone when he had finished training, taking a moment to chat, check in, and make sure you weren’t running yourself ragged. Then, more and more frequently, he would join you, running drills with you, having crossbar competitions, and teasing each other as you worked. You had to admit that having someone else there was helpful for numerous reasons—another perspective to suggest improvements and small tweaks to your game, better competition than a stationary piece of plastic in the shape of a defender, and it definitely boosted morale and made you more motivated to work. Mason had even noticed improvements in his own skills and endurance the more he worked with you, and he was impressed by the regimen that you had come up with for yourself.

At the beginning, he would always claim that he trained with you so that if you were pushing yourself too far, he would be there to talk you into going home. But you suspected, the more he stopped by, that he was just doing it because the two of you were having fun. And you couldn’t say you minded one bit.

The two of you began to settle into a comfortable routine. The women’s training tended to wrap up about 30 minutes earlier than the men’s, so you would set up the cones and begin running your drills before Mason would join you a short while after. Depending on how rigorous your training had been that day, the two of you would work for one or two more hours before calling it quits.

Then, you began extending your time together to reach beyond just your extra training hours. Mason had suggested one evening that you both hit the showers and then go over to his place to watch a movie that he had thought looked interesting. It didn’t take much convincing for you to agree. Then, that became a part of your routine.

Train. Showers. Movie night.

You watched anything and everything, from superhero movies, to comedy, to romance dramas. Each night the two of you crept closer and closer to one another, starting out on opposite end of the loveseat, then shoulders brushing, then your head on his shoulder, until ultimately, he would lay across the seat, head propped up on a pillow with you lying on his chest.

The routine became comfortable. So much so that any night that you weren’t at Mason’s and he wasn’t at yours felt wrong. Mason had even “forgotten” a change of clothes at your house, and when you mentioned it to him, he had just sort of shrugged in response, saying nothing further. You had simply washed them and tucked them into a drawer for whenever he may have needed them when he was over.

The two of you were comfortable, but no label had been put on the two of you yet. Frankly, you hadn’t even spoken a word about the unspoken arrangement you had, both of you afraid to pop the bubble you seemed to be living in.

Mason, however, was itching to say something to you, but he didn’t want to overwhelm you with the UWCL final fast approaching. He had sworn himself to wait until after the final to say something, no matter how much it tore him to pieces to not kiss you when you were laying on his chest, eyes slipping closed as you slipped into sleep only minutes into the movie.

And so your routine continued. Training together, filling the time with flirtatious comments and teasing gestures. Movie nights each night, alternating whose place you went to. Spending each night curled into each other, often falling asleep in the comfort of one another’s touch. Stolen, lingering glances and longing stares.

Everything felt perfect.

But Mason noticed a shift in you as the final drew near. You had gotten so swept away in whatever it was you had going on with Mason that you hadn’t noticed how quickly the match was approaching. It wasn’t that you had forgotten the date or anything, you just hadn’t realized it was so soon.

He had caught you staring at the calendar you had on your refrigerator door one night as the two of you were about to curl up on your couch to eat your Chinese takeaway and watch some movie about American football that you swore up and down was the best movie you’d ever seen. Your expression was unreadable as your eyes just darted over the calendar. Mason slowly approached you from behind, wrapping his arms around your waist—something that had become very typical for the two of you as you spent more time together. He pressed his chest up against your back, holding your waist firmly, but you didn’t react at all.

“What’re you looking at, darling?” he asked, having to restrain himself from calling you baby.

“The final…” you trailed off, speaking at a whisper. “It’s only 10 days away…”

The two of you fell into silence as Mason gave you a moment to process your own statement. Then, with his hold on your waist, he turned you around so you were facing him, back to the calendar.

“You okay?” he asked cautiously. He was nervous about the expression on your face—worried that all of the work that you had done to overcome your anxiety related to this match would come undone in mere moments.

You were quiet for a second, just looking over his face. “Y-yeah… yeah, I’m good.” You pressed a smile to your lips, but Mason could tell that it was forced, only meant to make him feel better.

You were restless that night as the two of you settled down for the movie. You barely ate your food and you couldn’t seem to find a comfortable position until nearly an hour into the movie.

The next day, you didn’t seem any better, and the shift in your personality continued in the days following. Mason still made sure you went to lunch, but you put up more of a fight to the idea. You began staying at the training ground for longer in the evening, not satisfied until you had almost completely exhausted every muscle in your body. You were completely exhausted once the two of you reached the home of whoever was hosting that night. You were fidgety and restless until the moment you lay down on his chest, when you fell asleep almost immediately from the sheer exhaustion you were putting yourself through.

He even had to talk you down before you had another full-blown panic attack one afternoon on the training field. He had put his foot down, telling you that you needed to call it a night, despite only training for less than an hour after everyone else had left. You had resisted for several minutes, but finally gave in. You were short and snippy with Mason for the rest of the night, and he did his best not to take it personally, knowing it was the stress wearing down on you.

Then, at long last, the day of the final arrived. Earlier in the week, you had asked Mason to be there, in the stands, and he had assured you that he wouldn’t miss it for the world. It meant everything to you to have him there, as you would have no family there with you, either to celebrate the win with you or pick you up after a loss (however, you tried desperately not to think about the second possibility). Plus, he had been your rock throughout the last weeks, and there was no one else you would rather have there, supporting you.

He had already been planning on going before you had talked about it with him, arranging to go with a few of his teammates under the guise of wanting to support the female half of their club. He was sure they knew his real reasoning, having noticed the countless hours the two of you seemed to be spending together, but they didn’t bring it up.

Sooner than you would have liked, warmups were over, and you had entered the locker room, standing in front of your cubby and staring at the jersey that hung before you. Your last name and number stared back at you, the white lettering contrasting the vibrant red material of the kit. Donning your jersey had never felt so dramatic until this day.

One of your teammates patted you on the shoulder as they passed behind you, snapping you out of your daze. You quickly took the jersey off of its hanger, pulling it over your head, and smoothing the material over your abdomen.

The moments seemed to pass quickly but also dragged on at the same time, leading up to kickoff. The team huddle. The pep talk from the coach. Before you knew it, you found yourself lined up in the tunnel with the rest of your teammates, awaiting the walkout.

The familiar feeling of dread settled low in the pit of your stomach. Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you closed your eyes, shaking your head to try to snap yourself out of it. You rocked back and forth on your feet, trying desperately to picture Mason in front of you, cradling your face with his forehead pressed to yours while he reassured you that you were safe and capable. Steadily, your heartbeat seemed to slow, but the feeling of dread felt only a fraction lighter.

A tapping on your shoulder caused you to snap your eyes open, and you realized that the rest of the players had begun walking out onto the field. You jogged forward, able to catch up with the teammate in front of you before you exited the tunnel, out into the bright, roaring stadium.

You lined up with the rest of the girls, facing the stands as the Champions League anthem rang out through the stadium. You searched the VIP area around the benches for Mason’s familiar face, but you were quickly overwhelmed by the number of people staring back at you. You closed your eyes, dropping your chin to your chest as you tried to keep yourself focused on the game ahead of you as you waited out the rest of the anthem.

“You’re safe. It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you.”

Mason’s words from your first encounter with him rang through your head, settling your nerves. The anthem soon ended, and your eyes snapped open, a renewed sense of determination and focus washing over you as you followed your teammates down the line. You shook hands with the refs and the opposing players as you held an unreadable expression on your face.

You entered a quick huddle with the starters on the field, and then assumed your starting position, bouncing on your toes and getting some last-minute stretching in before the whistle.

And then the game began.

The first 90 minutes passed by in a blur. Sprinting across the field from end to end. Volleys, headers, through balls, crosses. Nothing landed until the opposing team scored just moments after halftime. Your heart had sunk in your chest, afraid the momentum would drive them to another goal. Instead, 15 minutes later with a cross from you, your teammate put the ball in the back of the net to tie the game.

And that’s how the score remained. One to one. And so extra time began.

Again, the opposing team score only a few minutes into extra time, and you spent the rest of extra time playing from behind. You noticed that your extra training had paid off, significantly improving your endurance as you weren’t wearing down alongside your teammates.

With two minutes left, your teammate passed a well-timed ball through the defensive line. You broke away from the defense, praying that you timed your run well enough to remain onsides. Settling the ball at your feet, you set into a dead sprint downfield, carrying the ball with you. You had left the opposing players far behind you. Only the keeper stood between you and the goal that would send the game to penalties.

You dribbled and ran as fast as your legs would carry you. The growing roar of the crowd sounded muffled and distant in your ears as you only focused on the space in front of you. The keeper ran out from the goal, crouched low and arms wide as she attempted to cut you off from a shot.

Planting your foot, you time your kick well, curling the ball just barely beyond the fingertips of the keeper as she dove. The ball curved, and time seemed to slow down as it rolled toward the net.

The crowd erupted as the ball rolled over the line, crashing into the back of the net for a goal. The game was tied.

You didn’t even have it left in you to do a grand celebration, standing in place, panting, until the rest of your girls surrounded you, cheering and shouting excitedly.

You breathed a short sigh of relief, happy to have tied the game, but your mind turned immediately to the penalty kicks that would soon come.

Everyone lined back up on their own sides and the opposing team kicked off the ball. It was mere moments before the whistle was blown, signaling that extra time had ended.

The game would go to penalties.

After a short break, both teams were lined up at the centerline awaiting the first penalty. You were repeatedly running through the order for penalty takers in your mind—you were to go last, and you prayed that you wouldn’t have to take one at all.

The opposing team took their penalty first. You watched carefully as she placed the ball on the spot in the box. The ref spoke briefly with the player and the keeper before backing away from the scene. A long moment. The whistle blew. You held your breath as she took three steps toward the ball.

The ball swished in the back of the net as the opposing team made their first penalty.

Your first teammate in the lineup stepped up to take her shot. The same routine followed. And your team had converted their first penalty.

After the first penalty for each side, you were tied 1 to 1.

And so it continued. A shot. A goal. Another shot. The keeper blocked the third penalty for your team, leaving you lagging behind, 2 to 3. The opposing team missed their next penalty. Your team made yours.

And so it came down to the last penalty, tied 3 to 3. The final shots would decide the game.

The opposing player stepped up, and, though you felt a little guilty about it, you silently hoped she would sail the ball completely over the goal.

The whistle blew. The player made her approach. The shot was good—a fast ball to the lower left corner.

But the keeper had read her approach perfectly. She dove in the right direction, extending her arms above her head. You once again held your breath as the ball soared toward her, and…

It was saved.

The stadium erupted again in celebration of the save. Meanwhile, the frenzy of nerves settled in the pit of your stomach.

Once again, the dreams of the Manchester United Women all came down to you.

You stepped away from your teammates at the centerline, beginning the long walk toward the goal. You passed the opposing player who had just missed her shot, but you kept your eyes focused straight ahead, refusing to let her get into your head.

From the stands, Mason watched as you strode across the field. His hands were placed on top of his head, and he was rocking back and forth on his feet. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this nervous. It’s not that he doubted your abilities—not even for a second. He’s just pleading, in his mind, that you don’t get in your own head and let it interfere with you doing what he knows you’re capable of.

You take the ball from the referee’s hands and place it down on the penalty spot.

All you need to do is make this. Make it, and the game is over. Make it, and you win the Champions League for your team.

You take four steps back from the ball, following the same routine you’ve practiced thousands of times before. From your childhood, all the way to the recent weeks, practicing with Mason as your hopeless keeper.

You bounced on your toes, eyes flashing between the ball and the goal as you weighed your options.

The whistle blew.

You stepped forward, leaning into the movement. Three steps and then you planted your foot next to the ball. You swung through the kick, twisting your hips to give it more power.

The ball soared high through the air, toward the top right corner of the goal, and a hush fell over the crowd.

Time seemed to be moving in slow motion as the ball flew, end over end.

The keeper read your movement, diving in the direction of your shot.

Her fingers narrowly missed contact with the ball as it crashed into the top corner of the goal.

You made it. You made the shot.

The emotions of the last month or two came crashing down on you all at once. You dropped to your knees, a loud cry leaving your lips that was completely overpowered by the roaring of the fans.

You had won the Champions League.

You dropped your head in your hands as you sat on the grass, sobs wracking your body. The crowd was deafening.

In an instant, your teammates were surrounding you, their cheers and yells overlapping. They surrounded you, hugging you, piling on top of one another. Some of them were crying, too.

You couldn’t put into words what you were feeling. Relief, elation, pride. All of that and more.

Eventually, you untangled yourself from the dogpile of your teammates, and you had to take a moment in the tunnel to compose yourself.

The next hour passed by in a blur. You lost count of how many people you hugged. Cameras flashed in your face everywhere you looked. Awards were presented and your heart swelled with pride as they handed you the Golden Boot for your achievements in the tournament.

Finally, you stood on the stage, medal around your neck, crowded by your teammates as the captain approached with the trophy. The moment the trophy was lifted into the air, the entire team erupted in a chorus of cheering and screaming. In that moment, all of the stress, hard work, pressure, and anxiety of the last few months finally felt worth it.

With the trophy in hand, numerous more photos were in order and, after the exertion and stress of playing 120 minutes, the exhaustion was beginning to wear down on you.

At long last, the family members of the players were allowed on the field, and the grass slowly began to grow more crowded.

But there was only one person you were looking for.

You moved slowly through the crowd, eyes shifting back and for as you searched for Mason’s familiar face. Someone had taken your golden boot, putting it somewhere for safe keeping so it could be sent to your home.

When you finally set eyes on him, it felt like time stopped. He hadn’t spotted you yet, standing on his tiptoes and leaning to try to peer through the crowd, wearing a red jersey that matched your own. You froze, for a moment, admiring his side profile—the soft curve of his nose, the way his lips were slightly parted as his eyes searched for you, the way his hair fell softly against his forehead.

You were finally seeing him in a way that you hadn’t allowed yourself to for these last few weeks.

Your heart fluttered when he turned away from you and you noticed your last name printed across his shoulders.

He turned back in your direction and you knew instantly when he had spotted you because his face lit up, a smile spread across his cheeks. You immediately took off running in his direction, and he did the same to meet you in the middle.

When you finally reached him, you threw yourself into his arms, wrapping yours tightly around his neck. He held you tightly around your abdomen, spinning you in a circle as he lifted you off of your feet.

“You did it, Y/N!” he exclaimed, and you could hear the smile in his voice. He set you back down on your feet, pulling back to look at your face. “You showed everyone what you’re capable of, just like I knew you would. I’m so proud of you.”

In that moment you were overcome by so many emotions—excitement about your victory, gratitude for everything he’d done for you in the last month, and your head was spinning from how close his face was to yours.

“You were absolutely incredible out there! I couldn’t believe—”

You did the only thing your brain could think of in that moment and placed both hands on the collar of his shirt, pulling him down so you could press your lips to his in a long-overdue kiss. Your fingers moved to thread through the hair on the back of his head, pulling him in closer, if that was even possible. His arms squeezed more tightly around you as he kissed you back, moving his mouth against yours.

After a few moments, you pulled away. You were both breathless and panting for air. Mason pressed his forehead to yours, and it reminded you of that first day when he did the same thing.

The realization of what you had just done dawned on you, and you felt the blush rushing into your cheeks. You tucked your head into Mason’s neck, but you could feel his chest shake with a laugh, clearly just as surprised and pleased by the kiss as you were.

After a moment, you mustered the courage to lift your head, looking up at Mason’s face. His cheeks are pink and the biggest grin is plastered on his face.

“I’m sorry, it’s just…” you struggled to string your words together. “I’ve been thinking about doing that for weeks and—”

“It’s okay,” he cut you off, running his hand soothingly up and down your back. “Me, too.”

The two of you stood there, mulling over the implications of your actions and your words. He continued to hold you close, your arms wrapped around his neck, faces pressed close together.

“Thank you, Mason,” you spoke softly, feeling like you were the only two people in the whole stadium. Mason raised his eyebrows in question. “For being here tonight. For everything you’ve done for me these last few weeks. I wouldn’t have made it without you. Tonight would have gone a lot differently.”

Mason shook his head at your words. “I was happy to do what I could to help, but you did this entirely because of your own talents and hard work. I’m just glad I got to be here to see it all take place.”

You blushed again at his words of admiration.

“Everyone is gonna go nuts when the media outlets get a hold of this—of us,” you whispered.

“Let them talk. I couldn’t care less,” he smiled down at you. “I just really want to kiss you again.”

So with a hand on the back of his neck, you met his lips with yours, feeling like life couldn’t possibly be more perfect than in this very moment.

tag list: @landoslover @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream @lizzypotter14 @notsoattractivearenti @chilwellspulisic

[wosowrites]

Kissing Strangers (Jessie Fleming x Reader)

Warnings: s3xual content

A/n: based off this request here

Prompt: In which jealousy leads to anger, leads to hurtful words and leads to a revaluation of your friendship with jessie fleming.

"Well fuck you! Fuck you for saying that Jessie because I cannot keep kissing strangers and pretending they’re you!"

4 hours earlier

You hadn’t been doing well lately. At all. Your mental health was in the pits, your confidence was low and your only solution was clubbing. Which was a horrid solution considering you were a pro football player and you had a big game in 20 hours. The second leg of the UWCL quarter final would be crucial to say the least. You needed to keep the advantage in your favour. Which meant you, star winger, top league goalscorer could most definitely not come over there with a hangover.

But you drank anyways, alone, at a bar. And despite your intense lesbianism, you were letting men hit on you to buy you drinks. That was the source of this all, in fact. Being a lesbian. Being a lesbian who was head over heels for Jessie Fleming.

That woman was complicated. She has never been into dating, having always been hyper focused on sports, and then school, and then her career. So despite knowing her since you were 14, and despite being in love with her since you were 16, you had never gone anywhere. Not even a kiss, only teasing flirting that she could never return as it would have her blushing and stuttering furiously, at a loss for words.

The club was loud. It smelled like sweat, alcohol and bad decisions. Your latest bad decision being a 5 foot 6 blonde with a knack for dancing. You danced with her for a while, letting your hands ghost her sides. One thing led to another and you had her pressed up against a wall, making out with her.

She was the fourth woman tonight.

You weren’t proud of it, even less proud when you stumbled out of the bar, needing a lift home. You had lost your wallet but you were too drunk to realize the gravity of that situation.

You had your phone though, so you opened it and scrolled through your contacts. Magda? No way, captain mom would not be happy at all. Pernille? Captain moms girlfriend, nope. Jessie…? Fat chance, you didn’t want her to see you like this.

No money for a cab, no Chelsea player to call, scared they would tattle. You didn’t know what to do. You slouched down on a bench and then remembered. Sabrina D’angelo now was a Gunner. You played together for Canada, she would understand your Jessie situation and she wasn’t connected to any of the Chelsea girls. Perfect.

You pressed her contact and let the phone ring. After a couple seconds, she answered. You knew Sab stayed up late, so her voice didn’t seem one bit tired. "Hey y/n!" her voice said. You could hear music playing in the back. "Hey, Sab. Listen, can you come pick me up? I’m at a bar and… I’m drunk and I just-" you started saying. "Say less. I’ll be there in ten. Send me your location," she said.

Sabrina was reliable. She was there in exactly ten minutes, driving a fiat you knew wasn’t hers. "Whose car is that?" you asked, slurring your words and you stumbled towards her. "Leah’s," she answered, grabbing your arm and guiding you to the front seat. "Oh. You didn’t tell her anything, did you?" you asked. "Was I not supposed to?" she asked gently as you sat down. "Urgh. It’s fine just tell her not to say anything else, okay?" you said.

Sabrina nodded and then got into the drivers seat. You drove in silence for a while after giving the keeper the instructions to get to your apartment complex. "What is this about? This isn’t you. Getting drunk… going out when you have a crucial game in less than 24 hours… what’s going on?" she asked you.

You thought for a bit. What the hell were you supposed to tell her. No one knew about Jessie.

"I’m in love with Jessie and she’s never gonna love me back. So I was stupid and got drunk and I’ve been… I don’t know, Sab… I’ve been going around hooking up with people at bars to try and get my mind off of her," you confessed, leaning your head against the cold window. "Ah, so you’ve finally decided to admit it," she said to you, stopping at a red light. "What do you mean?" you asked her. "Come on now. We all know. Everyone knows you’re in love with her."

Sabrina dropped you off at your apartment complex and you were hoping to god that no one was out in the hallways. You had a good reputation. You were the neighbour that brought the groceries in for people and gave people cookies when you made too many. You didn’t want them to see this side of you.

So, you did your very best to summon any inch of you that was slightly sober to take over. It was 12:00 after all, so you doubted anyone would roam the halls. But still.

You made it to your apartment safe and sound and scanned your key card.

Stumbling into the appartement, hoping she wasn’t awake, you placed your phone on the counter and then kicked off your shoes. You opened the fridge to pull out the water pitcher in hopes of sobering up.

"Where the fuck were you?"

You groaned before you saw her. You closed the fridge door and then turned around. "Out," you said.

"You can’t go out! Especially when we have the most important game of the season tomorrow. You do know that it’s all our dream to win that championship, right?" the Canadian yelled. "Shut up," you groaned, pressing your head into your hands. "What did you say?" she spat back.

This wasn’t like her to get mad, and that’s when you knew that she wasn’t mad, but worried. "I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jessie. I don’t know what happened…"

That was a lie. You knew exactly what happened. She had happened.

But Jessie was Jessie after all. And although she was a little angry, she still came up to you and laced you into a hug, which meant a lot because she was not one for hugs.

"Go sit on the couch. We need to make you the less hungover possible," Jessie said.

And that’s when she saw it.

That’s when her eyes landed on your neck which was covered in hickeys.

"Did you hookup with someone at the bar?" Jessie breathed out.

Now that, that was just jealousy. Her heart ached. Her mind raced. "So I was wrong, she’s not in love with me," she thought to herself.

Once you answered her, it was the alcohol talking. "One person, two, four… what’s the difference?" you laughed, stumbling to the couch.

Jessie felt like she had been punched in the gut.

"Four people? Jesus christ, y/n!" she said, a little louder than she wanted. This was not like her. Jessie was calm and collected, sweet, caring. She was not like this. "Calm down. It’s fine. It was just making out and touching. No actual sex," you rolled your eyes, lying down on the couch. "Sit up! I’m talking to you!" she said, towering over you. You sat up and looked at her with wide eyes. "You’re mad?" you said, question marks in your own eyes. "Yeah! You fucking bet I am, when did you start kissing random people in bars? When did you get so desperate? Are your standards that low? So low that you’ll choose a random girl at the bar over me?"

You hadn’t registered her last sentence. Your drunken mind only taking in her insults.

"Well fuck you! Fuck you for saying that Jessie because I cannot keep kissing strangers and pretending they’re you!" You yelled at her, making your head throb.

Tears were streaming down your face and you had never felt more helpless.

"I pretend- I pretend they’re you. I kiss random girls at bars and hope that when I open my eyes it’ll be your eyes looking at me, your lips that had just kissed mine and your freckles on YOUR cheeks. I want you. But clearly I’m too much of a fucking slut for you," you growled.

That was the last thing you said to her until 9:00 PM the next day.

Jessie woke up at 7:30 and went out to get bagels. She was hoping to do something to make it up to you. She wanted to tell you she loved you back, but she was sure all feelings you had for her were gone. Despite having said she wanted to be the one you were kissing, she knew you hadn’t heard that part. And then it hit her that you had been so drunk that night that you probably remembered nothing from the night before.

You woke up at 10:00, your eyes bloodshot and swollen from crying, but you didn’t really know why.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and passed your hands through your hair. "Jesus," you groaned. You could recall a screaming match with Jessie, but about what you had no clue. It would come back to you eventually. You just assumed that if you couldn’t remember what happened, it wasn’t importent.

You walked out of your bedroom wearing grey sweat shorts and a tight cropped grey tank top, showing off your abs and arms.

You walked into the kitchen and made a hangover smoothie, hoping for the pain to be gone by 3:00 as that would be when you would leave for Stanford Bridge.

Jessie walked into the apartment twenty minutes after your wake, just as you poured the smoothie into a cup.

"Hi!" she said nervously, placing a bag of your favorite bagels on the table. "Hey," you smiled at her. "Listen, about last night, I was drunk, I didn’t mean anything I may have said. I literally don’t even remember anything I said but i guarantee you it was all bullshit. I’m sorry for getting drunk but i’m more sorry for yelling at you whatever it was about. But if I can’t remember it wasn’t important right?" you said, smiling and being light and calm.

Jessie felt as though she would throw up. You didn’t remember your confession to her, or her confession to you, or anything. It was all just forgotten.

"Yeah. Not important at all…" she said quietly, "I got bagels though!"

And then you were talking about Bagels and Lyon instead of the conversation you had stating you wished to be kissing each other.

You got into game mode the second you finished breakfast which meant your special game day routine with Jessie, the one you had been doing since you were 16. You first put on grey sweatpants with a grey tank top and put on some silver jewelry (your game day fit) and then filled up two huge water bottles full of ice for you and Jessie to drink before leaving. She walked out wearing her yellow and blue shorts with a cropped black tank top, showing off her sleeper build. You would only know how strong Jessie was when she flexed, which she never did, humble as she was.

And then you deep cleaned. You took on the kitchen while she tackled the living room.

Cleaning was therapeutic before games because if you lost, at least you wouldn't come home to a clustered and messy house, but if you won (especially big games like these) you could host your friends for drinks. So you scrubbed, dusted and decluttered every inch of the kitchen followed by your own bedroom and then hers. "Okay, Rock Paper Scissors on the washroom," you told her once you were both done. "I'll do it," she said. "But-it's the washroom," you said in confusion. "Its fine, I got it." So, you went into your room and tied your hair into a high ponytail and then into a braid.

By the time the washroom was clean, it was time to leave.

Everything happened in a blur. One minute you were in the car, and then in the changing room, then warming up, then playing, and then it was halftime, then suddenly the referee had awarded you a penalty kick. And thats when everything went right... and wrong.

Jessie hadn't started the game on the field but she came on when it went to added time. It was the 120th minute in which you stood in front of the ball, knowing that if you scored this, all would be right in the world. Or at least thats what you told yourself.

You kicked it... you scored, and you ran to the fans, you saw Jessie, and you remembered kissing 4 girls, and you jumped into Sam's arms, and you recalled telling Jessie you pretend the strangers you kissed were her, and you yelled 'fuck yeah' at the top of your lungs, and you remembered Jessie telling you she loved you back.

And then it was a penalty shootout.

You could barely watch. You only opened your eyes once you knew the shot had been taken, and of course when you scored your own penalty. And then Jessie scored hers, and before thinking, you rushed to her and kissed her head.

You wanted nothing more than to tell her you remembered everything, but you settled with putting your arm around her shoulders as Lyon took their penalty.

And then one thing led to another and Ann-Kat had just denied Lindsey Horan of her penalty, and you were going to the semis.

The atmosphere in the changing room was insane. Screaming, singing, crying, people were ecstatic. But the only thing on your mind was Jessie. While people started singing Take Me Home, Country Roads, you found the freckled midfielder. "Jessie," you said into her ear, making her turn away from Magda and Niahm. "Yeah?" she asked. "Can we talk?" you asked her.

She nodded and you dragged her into the washroom connected to the locker room. The second the door closed, things felt more silent. "I remember," you said quickly. "Not everything but the part where... Where I told you about how I kissed strangers and pretended they were you. And the part where you said something about me choosing random girls over you. Well... I choose you. I want you. I've always wanted you," you said to her, looking down at her with soft eyes.

Jessie’s eyes filled with tears. She had been wanting to hear those words for ages and the combination of the emotions of winning against the previous UWCL champions and your confessions had her tearing up.

But soon her tears turned full on sobs. Her head was in her hands as her body shook with tears.

Your eyes widened in worry as you asked yourself what you had done wrong. "Jess- I’m sorry- I didn’t mean to upset you I just-"

Your words were cut off, however, because Jessie’s hands were around your neck and her lips were pressed against yours.

You could feel the wetness of her teary cheeks on your own and it took you a couple seconds to snap out of your daze and put your arms around her waist to pull her in impossibly closer.

Once you needed air, you leaned your forehead against hers and looked into her eyes. "Are you okay?" you asked her gently. "I’ve never been better. I promise you. I’m just emotional. I’m happy we’re going to the semis, i’m so so happy I finally kissed you because i’ve been wanting to do it since I was 15 but im also just really homesick and I miss Elysse," she said to you.

You looked into her eyes and pressed another kiss to her lips.

"I know, but hey, we’ll have something good to tell her once we get home?" you said. "Yeah, not good though. Amazing," she whispered to you, giving you a stronger, more dominant kiss.

[redhairedwolfwitch]

On The Pitch With Her Goalie - Clàudia Pina x Reader

A/n: the next part of the Score A Goalie universe... yes it's a universe... enjoy!

///

The remaining five league matches were your last five possible chances to show everyone what you could do in goal whilst at Barcelona. 

You were still waiting on a reply from Lola, but you shoved it all down, knowing that she and Atleti were in Seville for the away game against Real Betis. Ending in a draw due to a penalty from Lola’s yellow card offense. A draw that had ended Atleti’s UWCL qualification chances. You knew she would be blaming herself, so your messages were left unanswered.

Cata was selected to start against Sporting Huelva, but you were the goalkeeper on the bench, getting the opportunity to warm up with her before sitting down next to Patri, who greeted you with a raised eyebrow.

“Did you have a nightmare last night or something?”

“Kinda.” You shrugged off her question, but you knew she’d heard you yell out into the darkness for Lola.

“Shush, don’t distract me, Clàudia is captain.” You shushed Patri, who had no shame smiling and laughing at your demeanour.

“Probably why you didn’t start, you have heart eyes every time Pina is in your view.” Patri didn’t see the look on your face after she said that, or how you faltered, staring at the ground for a moment before returning to watch the game in silence.

Sitting forwards in your seat, your elbows rested on your knees as you watched the game intently. You clapped when Laia got her first goal of the season, the only goal as half-time arrived and you were grimacing at the choice of songs they were playing in the stadium. The second goal for Barcelona came from a defender too, this time Jana scoring as the bench and crowd erupted in cheers.

You couldn’t help but grin at how energised the crowd became when Alexia went to warm up, not even noticing how Patri had stood up from next to you to warm up because Alexia had removed her orange bib, making you realise it was getting close to being time.

Time for the return of Alexia Putellas.

You grinned as Clàudia sat down next to you, quickly kissing her cheek because you knew nobody would be watching the bench. Everyone would be watching captain Alexia Putellas return to the pitch after ten months.

Emma and Ingrid eventually joined you and Clàudia on the bench, your leg bouncing up and down as you watched the game, Clàudia’s hand resting on your thigh to try stop the jiggling as she watched the game too.

The weather caught your attention as a drop of water hit your knee, glancing up during stoppage time to see the incoming downpour.

“The skies cry in celebration.” You whispered, hearing Clàudia chuckle from besides you at your poeticness.

Running onto the pitch at the end of the match, hand in hand with your fiancee, the two of you joined the chaotic celebrations of the Barcelona team. With this victory, Barcelona had enough points to win the league, the rain not dampening anyone’s spirits.

Clàudia looked away from you for a moment to hug Alexia, turning around to spot you hanging from the crossbar of the goal.

“Do not climb that in the rain!” Clàudia joked as she ran over, pausing as she recognised where you were stood as you jumped down.

“Te amo.”

“Yo también te amo.” the two of you ended up running after the rest of the squad as they made their rounds around the field. Clàudia wrapping a Barcelona flag around her waist and then a Barcelona scarf around your neck as Fifth Harmony blasted through the stadium.

The rain was coming down heavily but everyone continued to celebrate, “I wish I could kiss you right now.” you confessed to your fiancee, who smiled knowingly at you in response. She felt the same way, the rain coming down, on the pitch where the two of you first properly met.

“I still feel like a traffic cone in this orange!” You pointed out as Alexia went to get the league trophy, the entire team gathering for photos, including you this time. Barcelona Liga Campeonas 2023.

Marta and Alexia lifted the trophy as everyone cheered, your ears ringing from the excitement in the stadium and your face ached from smiling so much.

“Wait, come here!” you laughed, pulling down the back of Clàudia’s Liga Campeonas 2023 shirt that had rolled up as she pulled it on, on top of her jersey. Fabric hit the side of your head, one of the Campeonas shirts crumpled up on your shoulder as you turned to look at Mapi in confusion.

“You get one too!”

“Me?” Your face crumbled up in confusion at the idea, even when each of the squad staff had a shirt too, holding the shirt in your hands as Alexia being given a microphone.

“Are you crying?”

“It’s the rain.” You bluffed, making Caro raise an eyebrow but you shook your head, wiping at your face hurriedly. The rain had simmered down a while ago, making your excuse bogus but Caro didn’t call you out on it, instead pulling you into a side hug as you all walked around the pitch, Clàudia far ahead in front with Alexia and the league trophy.

“This team is magical.”

///

“What are you watching?” Patri enquired, finding you sat on the couch watching the television intensively.

“Second leg semi, Arsenal versus Wolfsburg. Sold out Emirates.” You explained, running your left hand over your face for a moment, but that moment caught Patri’s attention.

“In German- Ey! You’re wearing it! Pina finally gave it to you!”

“Yes, Patri. My fiancee finally gave the ring she picked out to me, after I got hers in New York last year.” You deadpanned, brushing off Patri pointing out you were listening to German commentary, and struggling. Most of your memory of the German language was gone, whilst Dutch had been kept alive through Merel’s lessons. Spanish and English remained your most fluent in that moment in time.

“Fiancee? I- You and Pina are engaged? ENGAGED?”

“What is this game?” You exclaimed as VAR was put into use for the second time since the game started less than fifteen minutes ago.

“What did you think the ring was for?” Clàudia teased as she walked in, wearing her ring. You blanked out the commentary of the match, listening to Clàudia and Patri talking in Spanish about the rings and how you two had gone from promising each other to biting the bullet and going for a full on engagement.

“Wolfsburg final!” You shouted loudly as the match came to an end in extra time, feeling bad for the Arsenal players but you knew the final in Eindhoven would be magical with this Barcelona team.

///

The away game against Real Sociedad had you sitting on the bench with Cata, your mind getting the best of you as you began to doubt everything. Atleti had finally rotated Lola onto the bench to play Paula, with Carmen as captain but they had lost 1-0 against Levante Las Planas. A glance over the squad list left your eyes widening as you realised a slight issue. Atleti only had three forwards listed. Three yellow cards for Atleti and three yellows for Levante Las Planas later, and you were doubting more than just your own skills as a goalkeeper. You were doubting whether you would grow from going back to Atleti.

“¿En qué estás pensando?” Cata enquired, wondering what you were thinking, but the hiss you made as the Real Sociedad goalie saved the shot created from Barcelona’s corner.

“Demasiado.” Too much. You hummed as you watched Mariona get a yellow card, before zoning out. Clàudia and a chunk of the Barcelona squad were resting instead of playing this match.

“Demasiado?” Cata frowned, but you shook your head, remaining silent until Patri scored the first goal of the match, which you clapped and cheered at, before you were clapping and cheering again as Asisat scored four minutes later. Four minutes later, you were clapping again, this time Aitana scoring. Three minutes later, Caro headed the ball in, taking the score up to 4-0 before it was 35 minutes in.

The clean sheet didn’t last much longer though, as Real Sociedad’s Jensen scored in the 38th minute, taking it to 4-1.

Post half-time break, Caro sent the score up to 5-1 after Real Sociedad made three substitutions but mentally you had checked out of the game, drafting up a conversation in your head to have with your management.

An own goal from Patri sent the score up to 5-2, with substitutions on both sides including the likes of Alexia, Vicky and Bruna for Barcelona left you and Cata quietly talking about goalkeeping techniques until the game was over. Barcelona had won 5-2.

///

The rescheduled away game against Sevilla had a shuffled squad list, with the plan for Gemma to start going out the window as she was injured during the warm-up. With Sandra back in Barcelona with the others who were being rested, this match was yours, plus Paredes with the captain’s armband.

Sevilla were fumbling their own chances without the requirement of you getting in the way of their attempts of goal, whilst Barcelona’s attempts at goal were fruitless in the first 15 minutes as well. The wind remained almost booming in your ears as debris was blown around the pitch in the flurry.

“I felt like I was going to blow away in the wind.” You confessed later on when you returned home from Sevilla, home to your lover.

Sevilla’s attempt at the 26th minute went directly into your gloves, the ball heading back up the other end of the pitch but Geyse’s goal attempt went wide. Eventually at the 30th minute, the thirty degree celsius heat had both teams going for a cooling break.

You shrugged at Paredes as she glanced at you, a Sevilla player having gone down in the box that Paredes was dealing with, but no penalty was given, or yellow card. You weren’t even sure Paredes had clipped her, but you were in no mood to deal with the ref.

Halftime and it was 0-0.

Spotting the incoming cross, you didn’t slide forwards to try to stop the ball or the player incoming with it, instead shuffling back to slam your body onto the ball, barely stopping Sevilla’s goal attempt, something that Sandra or Gemma may have failed to do.

You let out a breath as you spotted the three Barcelona substitutions lining up, Alexia, Asisat and Mapi entering the game at the 65th minute.

A cooling break at the 75th minute left you able to sip your drink, listening to tactics and how it was almost 1-0 to Sevilla. But it wasn’t, thanks to you.

“Thank fuck.” You murmured as Ana managed to get the ball into the goal in the 80th minute, watching intently from your goal as the Sevilla goalkeeper was a lot busier than you were, until the last minute of stoppage time, but Sevilla’s shot went wide.

The full time whistle was eventually blown, a 1-0 win to Barcelona. Deep down, in another universe you knew the game would have ended 1-1, but you bite your tongue, making a beeline for the Sevilla goalie instead.

///

“Hey, which photo do I post for Medina’s birthday? Wait this one has the rings in it… better not upstage anything with an accidental engagement announcement…” you trailed off, removing the photo that could reveal the engagement too early.

Technically speaking, Barcelona were in the dark about the engagement but Patri. You weren’t entirely sure how, since you knew Alexia suspected something, but the two of you kept it to families. So Clàudia’s family knew, and your family did. Your little Atleti family. Lola, Carmen and Andrea, even though you joked you were a child of divorce through Lola and Carmen, resulting in Lola almost picking you up like a baby, but you hid behind Andrea.

“Don’t hide behind your baby sister.”

“Don’t be rude to your firstborn.” You retorted, sticking your tongue out at Lola who raised an eyebrow at you in challenge.

“Our firstborn who ran away to Barcelona and got engaged?” Carmen joked, pulling you into her side as you tensed up, pouting.

“I didn’t run, I got a flight… and I didn’t want to leave.” 

Shaking off the memory, you picked out the Atleti family photo you wanted, a group photo where Lola had Andrea in a hug/headlock, whilst Carmen had you on her back in a piggy back, nobody aware of how you had stuck two fingers up in the air behind Lola’s head but the photo had been taken mid-laughter for the birthday girl.

///

Ten changes had been made from the starting XI of last match against Sevilla, with your remaining the only player who played both matches, starting against Athletic Club at home, the Estadi.

Your fiancee still wasn’t 100% after her injury, so she was in the stands with Lucy and Rolfö, and you think you saw Gemma up there too. Atleti were playing against Villareal at the same time this game was kicking off, the ball coming back to you quickly, and you had to be quicker to get it away as you spotted the red and white Athletic Club jersey clad player running right at you.

Even without their captain on the pitch due to an injury in a clash against Asisat, Athletic Club were fierce but Barcelona were better. But Athletic Club’s captain was down again, forcing the club to substitute her off.

The results of Athletic’s free kick went straight into your gloves, allowing you to send the ball back in, watching as it headed back up the pitch for another goal attempt to go wide.

The ball at your feet at the 37th minute, you sent the ball back in, glancing at Engen across the pitch who had gone down moments before.

“Fuck!” You grunted, jumping up to punch the incoming ball away from the free kick, but the corner for Athletic Club was fruitless.

Marta’s incoming ball made you grimace, sending the ball away to almost hit an Athletic Club player in the head, letting out a breath as it ended up away from both, and the halftime whistle was blown.

0-0 at halftime, whilst Atleti were down 1-0 to Villareal.

Barcelona were stacking corners as you watched from your goal, but it took an hour for Barcelona to score, Caro striking the ball into the corner of the goal to take it to 1-0.

Letting out a breath, you observed as Laia went off for Irene, Ingrid off for Keira and Nuria off for Ana in the 63rd and 64th minutes. A header from Irene doubled Barcelona’s lead moments after the previous goal attempt was too unclear, no aerial camera to check if it had passed the line. Making the score 2-0.

The Estadi lit up with cheers as Alexia and Mariona were subbed on for Patri and Aitana, but you didn’t acknowledge it, instead swiping the incoming ball up into your arms easily.

A long ranged shot at your goal went flying over, you watching as it went wide, retrieving a ball for a goal kick.

The last touch of the match was Salma’s goal, the game ending 3-0 and the final game at the Estadi Johan Cruyff before the UWCL final in Eindhoven was done.

“Atleti finished 1-1.” Gemma informed you as she and the other injured players who had watched from the stands, including your fiancee who made her way over to hug you, but you could see the sadness in her eyes as you removed your gloves and tucked them into the waistband of your shorts.

“What’s wrong, mi amor?” Your thumb stroking her cheek, completely ignoring how the Estadi was full of fans who could see.

“I wish I was playing on the pitch with you, before you have to go back to Atleti.” 

“Atleti will probably loan me somewhere else next season… I don’t want to leave you, I want to marry you, and be by your side.” You confessed, your voice quieting but she heard, pulling you into a hug where she could discreetly press a kiss to your neck.

///

“Vamos! Vamos!” Patri’s shouting made you want to hurry up the call, but you felt like Atleti were dragging you around in circles. It went from an update about your training and performance in the latest Barcelona matches, but as soon as next season was brought up, you got no definitive answer.

“Am I really that bad? Is that why they won’t play me? Yet they keep my hands tied with my contract- please… I can’t sit on the bench for a whole season, not again.” Your voice broke as you hung up the phone with your manager, moving from sitting at the edge of the bottom of the bed to the floor with your back against it.

“Mi amor? We have to go for the parade.” Clàudia walked over, her feet perpendicular to yours as you pulled your knees to your chest.

“You two should go, I don’t even think I’m supposed to be there-”

“Come with me.”

“That’s what she said.” You whispered, wiping away a stray tear as Clàudia passed you the campeonas shirt you were given at the Sporting Huelva game.

“This is yours-”

“Fiancees share clothes too.” Clàudia replied, smirking as she revealed she was wearing her engagement ring.

“We’re telling the Barça squad today? What are the odds that none of them even notice our engagement rings in all the chaos?” You raised your eyebrows, noticing how Clàudia’s fingers trailed up your arms before she met your eyes.

“Te amo, bebé.”

“Yo también te amo. Siempre.”

///

The excitement of the crowds of Barcelona fans for the parade dedicated to both teams immediately washed away the horrid feelings you had felt after your phone call. Staring out over the crowd with your hands on the rails, you tensed up as an arm pulled you into a hug, before realising it was Sandra as she grinned at you.

“Hola!” You grinned back, chatting to one of your goalkeeper mentors now in your career, not seeing how Clàudia was being teased by Patri for something, or how the approaching Barcelona captain had spotted a particular piece of jewellery on Clàudia’s left hand.

“I knew it.” Alexia smirked, pulling Clàudia into a hug and kissing the younger player’s head with pride, “pancake flipping accident… you two thought you were subtle, trying to keep it quiet!”

“They are not quiet at home!” Patri added, making Clàudia’s ears burn, but she laughed, shoving off Patri’s teasing as she looked over at you, in a deep conversation with Sandra and Ana before Irene was involved too. Your arms were folded in a way that hid your hands, meaning your ring hadn’t been seen yet.

Only Clàudia’s ring, which you obtained in New York, had been spotted at that moment.

It was only when you went to adjust the bucket hat all but shoved on your head that your ring caught some people’s eyes.

“Wait a minute-”

“What? No! Who- who proposed to who?” Sandra looked between you and Clàudia, who was trapped in a hug with Alexia who started to bring the younger girl over.

“Nobody asked for my permission!”

“Technically the ring was a promise ring but I let Clàudia choose-”

“We are engaged! No more questions, I want to dance with my fiancee!” Clàudia replied, taking your hand and guiding you away from the chaotic older Barcelona players, the two of you dancing on the rooftop of the bus without a care in the world.

“They grew up so fast.” Sandra smiled, wiping away a tear as Alexia hummed and nodded, remembering the days when you were hiding behind Lola, Carmen and Vir, whilst Clàudia was hiding behind Jenni and herself, before the parade took over everyone’s thoughts, long into the night after it had ended.

///

Virginia ringing you the day after the parade wasn’t something you expected, but you didn’t expect her to break the news she was leaving Atleti after the final match of the season, against Granadilla Tenerife.

“They were fools not to give you any minutes.” You murmured, an anger in your voice that Virginia recognised. The two of you had experienced the troubles first hand of not getting next to any minutes for an entire season.

“What will you do?” Virginia enquired, but you shook your head, not realising she couldn’t see you do that over the phone, leaving you to explain.

“I raised hell, my manager knows Atleti and Barcelona have played with my self-esteem so much. I want to be the first choice goalie. The only person who puts me first is my fiancee. Atleti won’t swap out Lola, and Barcelona have Sandra, Cata and Gemma. Atleti have me on contract for another year but I’m going on loan to get minutes. My management is specifically arranging something apparently. Guess I’m doing a lot of travelling next season… I’m not sure how we’re supposed to plan a wedding if I’m in a different country for each transfer window but… enough about me, where will you go?” You replied, wondering if Virginia would be moving from Madrid, or even Spain entirely.

“Vir… no matter where you are, you’re family. You deserve the world.”

///

Atleti’s final league game of the season was Friday night, whilst Barcelona’s game was Sunday at noon, and with a little bit of persuasion, you were able to leave after morning training for your flight to Madrid. Your fiancee was staying behind as she was fully fit and able to be in the squad list for the final Barcelona league match, an away game against Madrid CFF. This meant you would be meeting up with the Barcelona squad on their arrival to Madrid on Saturday.

You hadn’t worn your Atleti jersey in half a season, but there you were, sitting in the stands watching Atleti play against Granadilla Tenerife, clad in your Atleti home goalie jersey. 

Medina spotted you first, after she got her yellow card in the 28th minute, but you just grinned, waving at her. Banini spotted you next when she was subbed off for Eva, about to divert from the bench to run over and hug you, but she was stopped by security.

Ajibade and Cardona spotted Banini’s antics, spotting you talking to security before you were being guided from the stands.

“Did they just kick our goalie from the game?”

They did not. You ended up being guided by one of the assistant coaches from behind the scenes to the pitch, in time for Eva’s goal, and the final substitution of Virginia Torrecilla onto the pitch for Atleti.

Vir spotted you as she approached to be substituted on, about to run over but she was being urged onto the pitch, and you were swooped up into Maitane’s arms.

Your teammates had missed you.

The match ended with four goals for Atleti, Latorre, Cardona and Eva all scoring plus an own goal from a Granadilla Tenerife player. The focus went to Virginia, as Lola and Carmen presented her with her shirt, framed. Not a dry eye in the stadium as everyone took the opportunity to high five her in the line then hug her later, and you were able to present her with the flower bouquet. Red and white flowers of course.

Wiping at your eyes with the neckline of your jersey, you were swooped up into the chaos of everyone throwing Virginia in the air, reminding you of the Supercopa game against Barcelona, back when Vir was returning to play after dealing with her brain tumour.

The team hug warmed your heart as you held onto Merel, who quietly asked about your Dutch lessons, but you gave her a nervous smile. Merel playfully rolled your eyes, but murmured about what you would do if you were ever called up to play internationally. You shook your head instead, having thrown that idea out the window a while ago.

It didn’t take too long for the photos of the farewell to be uploaded to social media, but Vir didn’t expect the post you put up as you slept on Carmen’s couch for the night. Photos dating back from when you first arrived at Atleti, before you met Lola, and before you met Medina. The photos including you, Carmen and Vir, before ones also featuring Lola, then also featuring Medina surfaced. The final image consisted of you, Virginia, Carmen, Lola, Medina and Pina, with the caption ‘Mi familia. Siempre.’

///

You spent the time before the Barcelona players arrived in Madrid at Atleti’s training centre, a laptop set up for a zoom call as you went over exercises with the assistant goalkeeper coach at Barcelona on the call.

After that, you went to head to the hotel that the Barcelona players would be arriving at soon, talking to fans and signing jerseys or whatever else they wanted to be signed. One fan asked a question that kept bugging you though.

Were you staying at Atleti?

You had a year left on your contract, but Atleti squandered their chances. Barcelona had no need for you, and it wasn’t like there were many clubs close to Barcelona in the league besides Levante Las Planas. Atleti were sending you on loan next season, sending you away from your fiancee, but she knew you couldn’t take being on the bench for another season.

Staring into space with the hotel staff waiting for Barcelona’s arrival, you were taken off guard as a hand wrapped around you in a side hug, but this time by a Barcelona player, not an Atleti one. 

“You okay?” Alexia enquired, raising an eyebrow at the far away look on your face.

“Existential crisis.”

“Pina?” Alexia began to frown but you immediately shook your head.

“Football career crisis. Loving Clàudia is the only thing that is stopping me from going into a full on crisis. I want to be with her and marry her, but you guys don’t need another goalkeeper, and Atleti benched me for half a season… it wrecks my self-esteem and I know I wouldn’t do this to my goalkeepers if I was in charge of it all. I can barely be a second choice goalie right now and... it makes me want to quit, but also I don’t really want to be reduced to a WAG.” You explained, moving further into the hotel lobby as you spoke.

“I don’t want you to be my WAG. You’re my goalie, who I’m going to marry.” Clàudia added, looking at you lovingly until her team mother, Alexia butted in.

“You two are not rooming together. But you should talk to your management-”

“Ay dios mío!” Clàudia spluttered, “we are engaged!”

“I have, they’re fighting Atleti, and I have the number for a sports psychologist too… and y’know, my future wife who is apparently not allowed to see me until the match tomorrow because we can’t room together. We literally share a bed every night in Barcelona… We’re engaged!” you rambled but Alexia still raised her eyebrows, shaking her head.

“We don’t need to find out how thin the hotel walls are.”

“Oh my god!” you grimaced at that, grimacing even more as Patri walked past with her suitcase, trying to avoid looking at you and Clàudia, and refusing to look Alexia in the eye.

///

You weren’t originally going to start in the final match of the league, but with Sandra experiencing some sort of muscle discomfort during the warm-up, you were the suggested substitution since it would be your final match with the team and Sandra had faith in you.

Taking the minutes given to you, you didn’t look at the stands throughout the warm-ups with Cata, but if you had, you would have seen some of your Atleti teammates waiting to watch the game. 

Madrid CFF were fifth in the league, but had been a thorn in the sides of Levante and Real Madrid.

“Jeez.” You murmured as you watched Marta’s shot go straight into the feet of a Madrid CFF player. 

Kundananji’s shot went over, not requiring you to make a save, but the Madrid CFF striker had gotten past Mapi and Paredes.

Kundananji was coming back though, as you hurried forward to block the ball, before it was sent back at you, making you huff as the ball went back down the pitch.

“Is that- baby goalie is louder than you when you’re captain, Lola.” 

Lola turned her head to acknowledge her teammate, but she couldn’t help but agree. You were loud in sorting out the formation of your defensive line, sick of it falling apart already but Kundananji’s next attempt was ruled offside.

The ball returned back to you after the free kick from Geyse’s yellow card, allowing you to send it further down the pitch. The ball kept coming back to you, but this time Mariona sent it out as Asisat was down. Asisat was set to continue however, but the UWCL final was in just over two weeks.

Sending the ball away before Kundananji could get to it, you were ready to argue with the assistant referees as Mapi was sent to the ground but Asisat being subbed off for Salma happened instead of a foul being called.

If you were Sandra, you would have ran forwards to stop Kundananji, but you weren’t, lingering back, you launched yourself onto the ball, almost winding yourself in the process. Mapi and Paredes barely had time to catch up as you let out a breath, laying on the ground for another moment with the ball clamped in your arms.

A hand patted your back as you got up, unhappy with your defensive line but you were more happy that it hadn't ended up being 1-0 to Madrid CFF, sending the ball back down the pitch. Madrid CFF’s goalkeeper was good as you saw the save she managed to make in the game highlights later on.

Kundananji was coming back though, making you shuffle and lunge to the side, blocking the ball from deflecting from the post and into the goal, but your ribs hated you for the action, you were slower to get up but without your efforts, Barcelona would have been down 2-0.

Salma’s goal wasn’t counted as half-time was called in the same final seconds, leaving you to shake your head confusedly, heading to grab your drinks bottle then make a beeline inside to the locker room, not realising that your Atleti teammates were trying to get your attention. Your attention though went to your fiancee, who held out an ice pack to you, concern in her eyes as you began to ice your side temporarily.

Your drive was different, you weren’t on the Barcelona squad list for the UWCL, so this was your last match of the season. Your last chance before you opened Pandora’s jar with Atleti.

Half-time was over, the final 45 minutes of league football for Barcelona and Madrid CFF this season had started. Araya’s attempt on goal went over, but even with your attempts to sort out the defensive backline, Madrid CFF were still getting through.

Bonsegundo managed to get right in front of goal, much to your dislike, but even with the offside flag going up, she managed to scoop the ball over onto the net, leaving you to jump up and knock the ball down from where it was stuck on top of the net.

Mapi somehow didn’t get a second yellow as Alexia, Ingrid and Jana were all subbed on, not taking long for a Barcelona corner to turn into Alexia’s first goal since returning from her ACL injury. Taking the score to 1-0 Barcelona, but in another universe, it would be 2-1.

Your fiancee running up and down the sidelines warming up caught your attention momentarily, but Salma sending the ball flying towards you stole your attention back, sending the ball out to Paredes quickly.

“What is this game?” you murmured to yourself, watching as Alexia going down in the penalty box got only a free kick, but your fiancee being subbed on for Mariona was enough to try to bring some calm to the very messy game.

Until you spotted your fiancee getting a yellow card, dragging your gloved hands down your face, you waited for the game to resume.

Paredes awkwardly sent the ball back to you, allowing you to relay it back to Jana, but Patri’s chance went wide, the score remaining 1-0 to Barcelona into the 87th minute.

Five minutes of added time were thrown into the mix, Barcelona determined to try to get another goal, but Madrid CFF were determined too.

Your stomach dropped as Patri was sweeped to the ground in a sliding tackle, wincing in pain and slow to get up. Pina’s shot went wide thirty seconds into the end of stoppage time, but the final whistle went and you dropped to the ground.

Sitting on the goaline, you glanced towards the stands to observe the Madrid CFF fans and the Barcelona fans, but you didn’t expect to spot Atleti players in the stands.

Pina, Patri and Ana all paused as you sprinted past them all, Ingrid and Mapi barely able to get out the way as you reached the stands, jumping up and climbing to reach Carmen first, Andrea and Lola both next before you began to reach the rest of your Atleti teammates who had come to the match.

“You did so well!”

“How are your ribs?”

“Sore. But I needed to make those two saves, it could have been 2-1. I didn’t want to be blamed for Barcelona losing their streak.” You admitted, before water was poured over your head.

“Thanks for that.” You deadpanned, wiping the water from your eyes with your jersey neckline as Andrea grinned, the two of you beginning to laugh as you realised Lola and Carmen were trying to hide their laughter too.

///

“Ey! Pina! Where are they hiding? Are they okay?” Sandra began to question Pina at the team barbecue. You were nowhere in sight but nobody seemed to be too worried.

“Atleti called. We are saving a plate.” Your fiancee explained, gesturing to how there was a spare plate being passed along the line, with no suggested owner.

“A good call or a bad call?”

Pina sighed at Sandra’s question, not sure how much you wanted the others to know, but a notification on her phone revealing you had posted on instagram caught her attention.

The sun on her phone screen made whatever you had posted hard to see, but when the brightness adjusted, she couldn’t help but smile at the reel you had uploaded.

A reel of your best saves at Atleti and Barcelona, before a photo of when you were revealed to have signed with Atleti back in 2020 was shown, followed by a photo of you at training with Barcelona. Pina’s stomach twisted as she spotted the caption ‘the journey continues’ but it didn’t feel like a goodbye message.

You had reassured her that you would fight for her, and fight for your career however you could, and she supported that, and supported you like you supported her.

‘Gotta catch em all’ with a heart and a football emoji.

Probably overkill, but you understood the reference, and Pina had knowledge of Pokemon, the franchise having reached Spain before she was born. But the catchphrase also worked as a goalkeeper reference, supported by the heart eyes emoji you replied to your fiancee’s instagram comment.

“Don’t they have another year on contract at Atleti? Also, who edited that? They can barely use photoshop!” Patri asked, raising an eyebrow at Pina, who looked down at her plate in thought.

“Atleti are loaning me for experience. It was that, or terminate my contract.” You explained, walking over after a detour to be given the plate of food from the team barbecue.

“Any idea where?” Sandra enquired, trying to hide her sadness at the goalkeeper union decreasing in numbers, but it was easier to hide her smile when you kissed Pina on the head as you sat down.

“Multiple places.” You were ambiguous, but your fingertips drawing patterns on your fiancee’s leg soothed her. The two of you were aware that you would tell Pina later, at home in bed together. The two of you would cherish it, because even with your ambiguity, Clàudia knew your time in Barcelona was coming to an end, for now.

[suricidal]

olympique lyonnais vs psg 23/24 uwcl semi final second leg

[outsideratheart]

Lucy Bronze has undergone arthroscopy on the right knee. She will miss the second leg of the UWCL semi final against Chelsea at Camp Nou.

[aus-wnt]

Caitlin Foord vs FC Bayern Munich | Second Leg - 29.03.23

UWCL

[alexbkrieger13]

Can we talk about P’s transfer agenda tho

Plays against the team

be the difference in kicking them out of the uwcl 😅

Sign for them 😂😂

Oh it's hilarious

2018: knocks Chelsea out of the Champions League with a goal at home in the second leg of the semi-final -> signs for them two years later

2021: Knocks Bayern out of the Champions League with a goal at home in the second leg of the semi-final -> signs for them two years later

[pernillecfcw]

How I’m feeling about tomorrow 😅

[rubes6]

StatsBomb | Barcelona reach their third consecutive #UWCL final, beating Chelsea 2-1 on aggregate

They limited Chelsea to 0 shots in the first half of the second leg, only conceding a shot after they'd made it 2-0 on aggregate

1 & 2 - 1st Leg

3 & 4 - 2nd Leg

[batesuck]

Captains, it's in their blood. #Gooners

29.3.23, Arsenal x Bayern Munich, UWCL QF second leg

[nelove22]

MATCHDAY FOR SL BENFICA IN UWCL QUALIFIERS, ROUND 2 - SECOND LEG!

📺 BTV (unofficial link) | Eleven Sports 1 (unofficial link)

[rashfordxbruno]

United's UWCL Round 2 fixture details | 🆚 Paris Saint-Germain

First leg

📍 Leigh Sports Village

📅 10 October

⏰ 20:00 GMT

Second leg

📍 Parc des Princes

📅 18 October

⏰ 19:00 GMT (20:00 local time)

[suricidal]

olympique lyonnais vs psg 23/24 uwcl semi final second leg