#stamford bridge stadium

[chelseajackarmy]

Stamford Bridge

[football-collection-hqs]

[thedeluxedoll]

Went to my first women’s football match at the Emirates stadium and my team, Chelsea, won💙

[nats--sw]

Gold chain (pt4) | Leah Williamson

You and Leah finally met up again, nerves and laughter mixing as you both tried to hide how excited you were. warnings: just fluff and slow burn pt1 pt5 my masterlist

Leah had been glued to her phone all morning and part of the afternoon. She’d gotten used to it over the past few days, anxiously waiting for a message or call from you. The last interaction had been the previous night, when Leah tried calling you a couple of times after hearing about your elimination at Berlin. She hadn't been successful; you had rejected all the calls. Even though you were a bit calmer by then,  you didn't want to feel or hear Leah's sympathy. Not yet.

At least you left her a goodnight message, saying you were trying to process the tough day you'd had. But that wasn’t enough for Leah. She needed more than a brief text; she wanted to hear your voice, to know you were really okay. The waiting and worrying were driving her crazy, and she kept checking her phone, hoping for a sign that you were ready to talk.

At least the photo shoot that morning had kept Leah busy for a couple of hours, providing a brief distraction from her constant worry. But she knew that once she got home, she'd be checking her phone again, hoping to hear from you.

She had just said goodbye to her staff and was about to get in her car when her phone started buzzing. Without even checking to see if it was you, she quickly got into the car and felt a wave of relief when she saw your name pop up in her notifications. 

Her relief turned to confusion when she opened the message and saw a picture of the front of Emirates Stadium.

"This is the famous home of London's biggest club?"

"I asked a guy and he said I was wrong, that I should go west."

"Isn't this Stamford Bridge?"

Leah bit her lip to keep from smiling. She was getting more and more used to your quirky sense of humor and sarcastic comments.

"You're into comedy now?" Leah quickly typed into her phone, not yet getting what was going on.

"You wish."

Before Leah could respond, another photo popped up, immediately followed by a message.

"Do you think if I ask for it they'll give it to me?" The picture showed a huge banner with Leah's face on it.

"I'm a big fan."

That's when it hit her. Were you really in London? Already? You were just playing in a tournament in Germany yesterday.

Leah looked out the window of her car, seeing the same sky that was starting to darken, just like in the photo you had sent.

"What the hell? You're here?"

Leah couldn't hold back her excitement. Without waiting for your reply, she dialed your number. Without waiting for your reply, she called you. As the phone rang, she started her car and plugged in her phone.

"Hello?" Leah could hear the smile in your voice.

"I can't believe it," Leah said, nervously running a hand through her hair.

"What? That I'm your fan?"

"I already knew that," Leah replied, pulling out of the parking lot. "Stay where you are, I'm like twenty minutes away."

"Make it fifteen."

Leah became a bundle of nerves as soon as she got out of her car. This was only the second time you’d be seeing each other in person, and the first time alone. She walked around for a while, until she finally spotted you taking pictures. Feeling awkward and unsure of how to approach, she was glad your back was turned. 

Leah opened her mouth to say your name, but nothing came out

This time was different from the first. You knew each other now, had chatted about all sorts of things, and shared some nice moments over video calls. You weren’t strangers anymore.

Meanwhile, you were completely unaware of Leah behind you, busy taking pictures. Satisfied with your shots, you stepped back and bumped into someone. You turned quickly, ready to apologize (or snap if it was some weirdo). But like Leah, you were left speechless.

Neither of you said anything at first, the tension thick in the air. Leah’s nervous smile matched yours, and you couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.

Leah thought your laughter was even more contagious in person than over the phone, and she immediately started laughing too.

"What are you doing standing there like a stalker?" you asked once you both calmed down a bit.

"Actually, by standing here I'm protecting you from any stalkers."

"Woah, how gentlemanly of you," you said with a grin.

"Yeah, I know," Leah replied, flashing a smile. She held your gaze, looking down at you since you were only slightly shorter than her.

"Don't look at me like that," you said, laughing nervously again and giving her a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

"I’m making you nervous?" Leah asked, genuinely curious. She had seen you go through other emotions before, but had never seen you nervous. The two of you had shared so many video calls, but this was different.

"Yes," you admitted, shoving your hands into your pockets. You glanced around and wrinkled your nose. "This is your place... it's a little intimidating, realizing how big you are here and what your image represents. I hadn't really taken it all in until now."

Leah tilted her head slightly, trying to understand. "What do you mean?"

"You," you said, looking back at her. "You're not just Leah to everyone here. You're a big deal. Talking to you has been... Well, like I’m just talking to Leah. But now that I'm here, seeing everything with your face in it, it's like, 'Whoa, this is who I've been staying up all week chatting with.'"

Leah felt a warmth in her chest at your words. She never thought of herself that way.

"I don't think it's anything to make a big deal about," Leah replied, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

"Of course not, Captain Williamson," you retorted, rolling your eyes. Leah's body trembled slightly at your playful jab.

"Well, you're a big deal to me too, you know. And right now, I’m just Leah." Leah continued.  "I've seen your face on giant billboards too, you know."

You were about to respond, but Leah turned to you with a raised eyebrow. 

"Where are you staying?"

"Ah," you chuckled, noticing the not-so-subtle change in topic. "I have a room booked at one of the downtown hotels."

"Are you with your team?"

"No, we're taking a few days off," you said, avoiding mention of yesterday's dressing room incident, which had caused the current situation. Nor did you want to bring up your recent appointment with your therapist a couple of hours ago.

"So I assume you messaged me because you got lost and don't know how to get back to your hotel?" Leah asked, heading back towards where she had parked her car.

"Actually, yes," you lied. You knew your way around London, but Leah didn't need to know that. "I just didn't feel like going straight back to the hotel, so I've been wandering around all afternoon."

"And you still don't want to go back?"

"I just don't want to be alone."

"Can I suggest something?"

You smiled at Leah's offer.

The drive to Leah's house was quiet, mostly because halfway there you had drifted off to sleep. It had been a long day, or rather, two long days: the morning flight, the session with your psychologist, the extensive walk around town, and everything that had transpired the day before. It was a lot to handle in such a short span of time.

Leah's car smelled like her, a comforting scent that started to ease your stress. She knew when to stay silent, creating a soothing vibe that made relaxation inevitable.

As you slept, however, Leah couldn't shake a bit of guilt. Maybe you just needed to rest, and here she was, possibly dragging you along to plans that might not even interest you.

When you woke up after she parked outside her house, Leah turned to you with a gentle concern in her eyes.

"Are you awake now?" she asked softly. "I can drop you back at your hotel if you'd rather."  she offered, still buckled into her seatbelt, confident that you'd want to leave.

"What?" you mumbled, sitting up straight and blinking to clear the sleep from your eyes. 

"You look exhausted, Y/n," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of worry. Her gaze was gentle, trying to read the emotions behind your tired face.

"I'm just exhausted, but I know I won't feel any better alone in that hotel, believe me," you said, trying to reassure her and convince her it wasn't a bad idea.

Leah's concern deepened as she took in your tired demeanor. After a few moments of contemplation, she took a deep breath as she unbuckled her seatbelt. 

"Well, let's go then," she said softly, her voice carrying a touch of warmth.

Leah's home wrapped around you with a scent even more intense than the scent of her car. The place had a cozy charm.

"I wasn't expecting a guest, so if you find anything strange, just ignore it, please," Leah chuckled nervously as she led the way inside.

"It's lovely," you grinned, following her inside. It was fascinating to explore the place you had only seen through a screen before.

"Thank you," Leah said, heading towards her kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

If someone had told you a few weeks ago that you'd be at Leah Williamson's house, sitting down to a hearty meal of potato smiley faces and chicken nuggets, you would have probably raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Is this your idea of gourmet food?" you chuckled, eyeing your plate—it looked straight out of a children's menu.

"Absolutely," Leah said with a grin, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine. "I did promise to treat you, after all." 

The cozy kitchen and Leah's relaxed demeanor made you feel at ease.

"Well, you basically dragged me along."

"Hey, don't put it like that," said Leah pouting. "I gave you the option of taking you back to your hotel."

"I'm just messing with you, Leah," you said with a laugh, gently taking the bottle of wine from her hands to pour the glasses. "But seriously, this dinner is going to be a memory I'll cherish."

"I feel like you're making fun of me," she said, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"No, I'm serious," you replied warmly. "It's actually kind of sweet. I've never had this before."

"I just had to toss the potatoes on a tray, you know?" she said, chuckling softly, brushing off any praise.

"Come on, just take the compliment, Leah."

Leah chuckled softly and settled into the chair across from you, taking a bite of a potato with a thoughtful expression."So... Can I ask why you're here?"

"You invited me," you replied casually, flashing a grin.

"I'm not talking about that..."

"Ah," you replied casually, popping a nugget into your mouth. "I just had a bit of a breakdown... they're making me take these days off now, which I'm actually enjoying a lot," you admitted, locking eyes with Leah. "I've been in therapy the whole year, having regular sessions, but it's been weeks since I last talked to my therapist. Well, until today.”

"And? How did your session go?"

“Well… I’m definitely drained, that’s for sure,” you admitted with a sigh, setting down your glass of wine. “We talked a lot about managing stress and pressure, trying to find new ways to cope.”

Leah nodded sympathetically, her gaze steady on you. "It sounds tough."

"Yeah, it is," you admitted, running a hand through your hair. "But I think I'm making progress. It's just taking time, but I'm starting to figure out how to handle all the pressure"

"I'm glad you're taking care of yourself, it's important. You can talk to me too, I also know what it's like to live surrounded by pressure constantly. Maybe it’s not the same but-”

“It is,” you said with a smile, gratefully at her gesture. "Thanks, Leah. It means a lot.”

After finishing, you both moved the talk to the couch, ready to open another bottle of wine.

"You know what?” you said, sinking into the cushions and stretching out your legs comfortably “I'd love to watch you play football sometime."

Leah chuckled, settling beside you and pouring wine into glasses. "Really? You think I'd impress you on the field?"

"You never know," you teased, nudging her playfully. "It would be fun to see another side of you."

"I thought you'd rather watch Chelsea," Leah said with a mischievous grin, her feet up on the couch, almost brushing against yours.

Both of you were clearly enjoying the evening, the warmth of the wine adding to the relaxed atmosphere.

"I can always watch you when you're playing against Chelsea," you replied with a playful smirk.

Leah fell silent for a moment, her gaze drifting away before she asked softly, "And who would you support?"

"Don't you remember I'm your biggest fan?" you replied with a smile, reaching out to gently touch her hand. "Of course, I'd support you. I mean it, I'd love to see you out there on the field, doing what you love”

Leah's cheeks flushed again, a mix of embarrassment and something warmer she couldn't quite name. She hoped you would attribute it to the wine rather than your words.

"My head is starting to hurt," Leah murmured, her words slightly rushed as she tried to distract herself. "Would you mind staying here? But if you want I can call a-"

"Of course not," you reassured her with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. You leaned back, already feeling a bit dizzy from the wine's effects. "Or am I not allowed to stay?" you teased with a playful smile.

You were beginning to enjoy how flustered Leah was getting, it was adorable that she didn't seem to realize her feelings might be mutual. Unless you were completely misreading all her signals, there was a palpable tension between you.

"I'll get the guest room ready for you then," Leah said softly,a slight stumble in her step as she headed towards the room.

The next morning, Leah woke to the sound of your phone ringing from the other room. Rubbing her eyes, still half-asleep, she tiptoed barefoot out of her own bedroom and quietly made her way across the hallway to the guest room. Pushing the door open gently, Leah's heart fluttered as she found you under the covers, peacefully asleep.

Leah glanced at the screen and recognized your coach's name flashing on your phone.

"Y/n," she whispered in a hushed tone, gently shaking your shoulder to wake you. "Your phone," she urged, giving you a firmer shake this time.

The ringing stopped just as your eyes blinked open, adjusting slowly to the morning light.

"Huh?" you said, a little disoriented by the strange room. You turned towards Leah, her face soft and concerned. It took you a few seconds to remember why you were there. "Leah- Good morning" you said quickly, a little embarrassed, straightening up in bed. 

"Your phone," Leah repeated, her voice soft as she tried to get your attention, but you were too distracted. Now fully awake, you couldn't help but notice Leah standing there in just sweatpants and a bra

Leah looked a little puzzled as your mouth hung open and your eyes slowly trailed down from her face to the rest of her body. It was then that she realized she hadn't bothered to put on a shirt before waking you up.

"Good morning," you repeated quickly, pulling your gaze away with a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

"I wouldn't mind waking up like this more often," you thought to yourself, a slight grin tugging at your lips.

"I'm sorry," Leah apologized, unsure exactly what she was apologizing for. "Your phone was ringing, and you just wouldn't wake up."

"I'm a heavy sleeper," you mumbled, rubbing your face sleepily. The thought of staying in bed longer was tempting.

"Maybe it was important. You should check... while I get breakfast ready," Leah suggested before stepping out of the room.

When you entered the kitchen, you couldn't help but pout slightly upon seeing Leah now wearing a shirt. She stood at the stove, her back turned as she hummed a soft tune. 

You couldn't resist the urge to approach her quietly, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and affection. You tiptoed closer and gently rested your chin on her shoulder.

"What are you cooking?" you whispered softly, surprised by how calmly Leah received your presence.

"An omelet," Leah replied, her attention fully on not burning the omelet. "Do you like them?"

"Yeah, it smells good," you replied.

You fell silent again as Leah flipped the omelet. 

"You smell good," she said casually, her attention still on the pan, showing no sign of embarrassment.

"I haven't showered yet," you blurted out, feeling yourself blush. It was nice to hear such words, even in that context.

"You ruined the moment," Leah teased, a smile playing on her lips as she shook her head and gently nudged you away. "Go sit down." 

Leah carefully slid the omelet onto your plate and set it down beside a steaming cup of coffee. She then placed the same in her plate and took a seat next to you.

"Is it alright that I made you coffee?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"If you're trying to keep me awake, it's exactly what I need," you murmured, taking a sip from the cup. "Delicious," you said with a satisfied sigh, enjoying the warmth spreading down your throat.

Leah smiled warmly as she picked up her fork and began to eat.

"What time do you have to leave?" she asked casually, glancing at you with curiosity.

"Are you kicking me out already?" you countered with a playful grin spreading across your face. Leah rolled her eyes playfully.

"That was your coach calling, I guess he wants you back already," she clarified with a hint of worry.

"No, I think Lucas is having the time of his life with these days off," you commented, relishing the taste of the omelet. "Damn, this is good. I didn't know you could cook," you exclaimed, taking another enthusiastic bite.

"It's just eggs," Leah shrugged.

"Well, it's the best omelet I've ever had," you praised sincerely.

"You're such a smooth talker," Leah laughed, her laughter filling the room. Her joyful demeanor was starting to win you over more and more.

"It's my talent," you joked, finishing off the last bite of the omelet. "Anyway, Lucas just wanted to check in, make sure everything's cool and that I didn't do anything too risky that could affect me physically with the tournament coming up."

"Sounds reasonable," Leah nodded thoughtfully, cutting half of her omelet and adding it to your plate. She had a feeling you enjoyed it, maybe because omelets weren't something you ate often.

"I'm so happy," you said, savoring every bite. "Remind me to have this every day when I'm away."

“So, what are you up to today?" Leah asked, curious about your plans.

"Uh," you mumbled as you wiped your lips with a napkin. "I actually wanted to learn something new, since I'm now banned from going near a tennis racket,"  you added quietly.

"What do you want to learn?" asked Leah curiously, setting down her coffee cup.

"Teach me how to play football!" you exclaimed with an excited smile, leaning forward eagerly.

"What?" Leah asked, caught off guard and nearly choking on her coffee.

"Yeah! I want to learn. I'm pretty sure I can't even kick a ball properly—oh! oh! Teach me how to head it. I've always wanted to try," you continued enthusiastically.

Leah shook her head, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "But you said your coach didn't want you doing risky things."

"Come on, Leah, it's football.” your eyes sparkling with determination “How dangerous could it be?"

"Ouch! Red! Yellow! Foul! Foul!" you groaned dramatically from the ground, clutching your ankle.

Leah folded her arms, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she looked down at you. "I barely touched you," she said, kicking the ball back and forth with her foot.

She had effortlessly taken the ball from you, causing you to lose your balance and tumble to the ground.

Leah started out playing gently with you, almost as if she were playing with a child, letting you have your way. However, as she heard your teasing comments about how easy it was, her competitive spirit kicked in.

"Another goal," she declared triumphantly, kicking the ball into the small goal set up in her backyard. "What's the score now, like 10-2?" she asked with a playful smirk, hands on her hips, looking down at you still sprawled on the ground.

You groaned, realizing she wasn't holding back anymore. Her playful demeanor had shifted into full-on competition, and you were loving every minute of it.

"Call an ambulance," you groaned, your voice strained with pain, eyes tightly shut.

Leah's heart skipped a beat as worry flooded her. You seemed genuinely hurt, and she felt a pang of guilt for possibly causing it. She hurried over, her mind racing with concern, and knelt down beside you on the grass.

"Where does it hurt?" Leah asked, her hand gently touching yours. You opened your eyes and looked at her, seeing the worry in her expression.

"It's just... here," you said, then quickly pounced on her, effortlessly knocking her down. "Gotcha, Williamson," you teased with a grin, enjoying Leah's confused expression.

It took Leah a moment to process what had happened. Suddenly, she found herself lying on her back on the grass with you sitting on her abdomen, legs straddling her, in a playful and unexpected turn of events.

"Damn, Y/n, you scared me," Leah said, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

"You'll need a lot more to break me down," you replied proudly, unaware of Leah's hands sneaking closer to your body. Suddenly, tickles sent waves of laughter through you. "Leah! No! Stop!" you managed to protest between laughs, attempting to fend off her tickling hands but finding it hard to resist in your laughter-filled state.

"It's the least you deserve!" Leah exclaimed, her smile mischievous. "You nearly scared me to death!" She took advantage of your moment of weakness to flip you over, switching positions. Now, it was your back against the grass with Leah sitting on top of you. 

Before you could react, Leah swiftly grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, securing them to the ground. Her eyes sparkling with a hint of playful affection.

Both of you were breathing heavily,cheeks flushed from all the laughter and movement of the past few minutes. Leah let out a sigh, and you felt a surge of anticipation as her face moved closer to yours. Your heart raced with anticipation, thinking she might kiss you. But instead, you felt Leah's forehead gently rest against yours.

"Don't play with me like that," she whispered softly.

You froze as her breath tickled your lips, her nose brushing against yours, and her perfume surrounding you. The gentle brush of her nose against yours sent a shiver down your spine.

"Leah..." you murmured, feeling her grip on your wrists tighten at the sound of her name.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," she whispered, pulling back slightly from your forehead but not releasing her hold.

Your eyes locked, the air thick with unspoken feelings. 

"I'm sorry," you murmured, a shiver running through you as you felt Leah's gaze fixed on your lips.

"Do you mind if I..." she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

It was the moment you had been secretly yearning for. It was the confirmation of the deep feelings stirring within you every time Leah crossed your mind. All you wanted and needed was to feel her lips against yours.

"Leah," you said impatiently, nodding eagerly as your head moved up and down a few inches.

Leah took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on yours, filled with a mixture of hesitation and longing as she leaned in closer. 

You felt her lips brush against yours, the brief contact sending a thrill through you. But just as the kiss was about to deepen, the doorbell rang.

In the blink of an eye, Leah pulled away, releasing your hands and creating an abrupt distance between you. 

"Fuck," you muttered, frustration and desire mixing in your voice, as you were left alone in the backyard with your heart racing.

[mapiforpresident]

Could you please do a Leah Williamson x Reader fic? Enemies to lovers. Reader captains Germany & as a striker often gets into exchanges with Leah during international games. The reader eventually transfers to Chelsea & now that they're in the same city a relationship starts to blossom.

New Beginning

Leah Williamson x reader

~~~

The streets of London buzzed with life as you navigated through the chaos. Your phone had decided to malfunction just when you needed it most, leaving you hopelessly lost in a city that felt foreign despite the countless times you had dreamed of playing here. With each turn you grew more and more confused and lost.

You had recently transferred to Chelsea after a stellar career with Wolfsburg, where you had captained the team to multiple titles. Leaving your old club had been bittersweet, the camaraderie and success you had shared with your teammates were hard to let go of. Yet the thrill of a new challenge in a city that loved football was exciting. You were excited for the big games at Stamford Bridge against big teams like Arsenal

Leah had always been a formidable presence on the pitch. As the captain of the Lionesses and a standout defender, she was known for her strategic mind and adorable frown. Your history with her was complex, marked by battles on the field where you often found yourselves in heated exchanges. As a striker, you had tangled with her more times than you could count. The tension between your national teams was intense especially after your loss to her in the Euros final, but there was also a mutual respect.

As you turned a corner, a familiar figure caught your eye, Leah was strolling casually down the street. You felt surprise mixed with apprehension, your rivalry had always felt more like a sports one than a personal one. But here she was, looking effortlessly put together, her hair slightly tousled in the cool breeze.

“Lost, are we?” Leah’s voice broke through the noise, a teasing smirk on her face.

You hesitated. “Yeah, my phone decided to give up on me,” you admitted, a hint of annoyance creeping into your voice.

“Need a hand?” she offered, the warmth in her tone surprising you.

“Uh, sure,” you replied, skeptical about if she was actual going to help you or lead you in the wrong direction. “I’m trying to find my way to Stamford Bridge for my tour. ”

“Not far from here, actually. Follow me,” Leah said, turning on her heel. You fell into step beside her, the initial tension still hanging in the air.

As you walked, the awkwardness began to dissipate. Leah was surprisingly engaging, telling you things about London and pointing out places she likes. You found yourself laughing with her, completely forgetting your previous apprehension. The cheeky smile that played on her lips lingered in your mind long after you parted ways.

You exchanged numbers, before she said goodbye outside of the stadium. But as the days turned into weeks, you encountered Leah more often than you anticipated—at a charity photoshoot, in a café after training, even at a local grocery store. Each time, the energy between you shifted slightly, subtle flirting and teasing becoming more frequent.

The real turning point came during a match between Chelsea and Arsenal at the Arsenal. The atmosphere was amazing, fans of both teams had sold out the stadium. But as the match unfolded and Arsenal won 3-2, you felt incredibly frustrated that you couldn't score a second goal.

Just as you turned to leave the pitch, you heard Leah call your name, her voice cutting through the noise of the stadium. You spun around, catching her gaze. “Hey! You played amazing out there,” she said, her expression softer than you had seen before.

“Yeah, you played well too,” you conceded, trying to keep your tone light, masking the disappointment of the loss.

“Want to grab a drink?” she suggested, her signature frown on her face even though her team just won an important game.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me out?”

“Maybe” she replied, her frown turning into a slight smirk.

You hesitated for a heartbeat, your mind racing through all the possible implications. “Alright, I’m in,” you finally said, a rush of excitement coursing through you.

As you walked to a nearby bar, you shared stories and laughter, the conversation flowing easily as you discussed everything from football tactics to your favorite cities you have traveled to. There was a very calm and comfortable atmosphere between you, and you felt at ease.

You had an amazing night at the bar only having a drink each before switching to water, but still spending hours talking.

That night, as you parted ways, Leah leaned in, her breath warm against your ear. “We should do this again. This was even more fun than beating Chelsea?”

“Deal as long as you stop bringing up that we lost,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face.

In the weeks that followed, you began to see Leah in a new light. You found yourself thinking about her more and more often, replaying moments from your night at the bar. Embarrassingly you also found yourself stalking her instagram and watching tiktok edits of her.

~~~

The streets of London were draped in a misty rain as you sat curled up on your couch, lost in a novel Lucy had recommended you. It had been a day off for you, having won a game the previous day against Roma. Suddenly, your phone buzzed, pulling you from your book.

It was a text from Leah: “Hey want to grab a drink? I could use the company.” You knew that she had just lost a game against Real Madrid at the Emirates, having gotten a notification that the score was 2-1.

A mix of excitement and nervousness fluttered in your stomach. You quickly typed back, “Of course. Where do you want to meet?”

Less than an hour later, you found yourself at a small, intimate bar in the heart of London. You remembered Leah saying this was the bar she came to Leah walked in, her shoulders slightly hunched against the rain, but she gave you a small, shy smile as her eyes met yours.

As she settled into the seat next to you, you quickly fell into easy conversation. Leah spoke candidly about the disappointment of Arsenal's recent loss in the Champions League, and her frustration with Jonas and their tactics not working. You listened wishing you could help her and make her feel better or take her mind off the loss.

After a drink and a water, you both decided to head out, the rain still misting in the wind. “Let me walk you home,” you offered, and Leah nodded appreciatively and secretly just wanting to spend as much time with you as possible.

“Thanks for walking with me,” Leah said, her voice quiet. Throughout the walk your hand kept accidentally brushing hers and you blushed as Leah didn't pull her hand away. As you approached the door of her flat, the mood shifted slightly, and Leah turned to you, her eyes searching yours. “Can I kiss you?” she asked, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you replied, heart racing.

She leaned in, and your lips met in a gentle kiss. The world around you faded—the rain, the city, everything but the two of you in that moment. When you pulled away, Leah’s cheeks were flushed, and a grin spread across her face. Just then the rain started to pour down soaking both of you as you shrieked and Leah let out a genuine laugh.

“Want to come inside?” she asked trying to quickly find her key and get out of the rain.

You stepped into her flat, the warmth enveloping you like a comforting hug. “It’s cozy in here,” you remarked as you kicked off your shoes.

“Let me get us some tea,” Leah said, moving toward the kitchen. You went to the bathroom to freshen up and came back and sat at her small dining table.

After a few minutes, she returned with two steaming mugs, and sat across from you. “You know, I really enjoy spending time with you,” Leah said, her gaze sincere.

“Same here. This has probably been my favorite night in London so far,” you replied.

As the rain continued to pour outside, Leah glanced nervously at the couch. “I can take the couch if you want to stay the night,” she offered hesitantly.

You shook your head, your heart racing at the thought of sharing a bed. “I don’t mind sharing with you, I promise not to bite.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, wanting to make sure you were completely comfortable.

“Definitely,” you affirmed, a grin spreading across your face.

In her bedroom, you changed into a pair of her pajamas—soft and cozy, and they smelled like Leah. As you climbed into bed, Leah nestled beside you, her body warm and inviting.

The silence that followed was comfortable yet you could feel the nervous energy radiating from her. You glanced over, noticing the way she bit her lip, and decided to break the silence. “I really like you, Leah. I’d love to go on more dates and see where this goes.”

Her eyes lit up, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “I’d like that too,” she replied, her voice soft and genuine.

You leaned in, capturing her lips again in a tender kiss, but this time she deepened it loving the feeling of your lips on hers.. When you finally pulled away, a content smile spread across your face.

The rain continued to fall outside, the sound soothing as you cuddled together under the covers. As you drifted off to sleep, you felt an overwhelming sense of peace, knowing that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. You realized that you would love nothing more than to fall asleep next to Leah every night.

[flemingsfreckles]

Officially Off-Season

Jessie Fleming x Chelsea!Reader

Preview: The team goes out to celebrate winning the Super League and the beginning of the off season, you decide it’s time to follow up on a comment Jessie made earlier in the season.

Warnings: alludes to smut, suggestive, some cursing and drinking

WC: 4.3k

You hated this environment, the loud music and smell of sweat and how your shoes would stick to the floor, but this is the result of Chelsea winning the league. The girls went out and there was no getting out of this one. Normally after a big win you’d join in the celebrations then make an excuse, an early physio appointment the next morning, not wanting to drink due to being in the middle of the season, a headache, you had used every excuse in the book. Your teammates knew most of the time that your excuses were full of shit but they'd let you leave anyway.

You had only been at the bar for 20 minutes and were ready to bid everyone a goodnight. The first 10 minutes were spent running around trying to show face to your fellow teammates in hopes it would maybe get you out of here sooner. The next 10 had been spent in line at the bar. You ordered yourself a beer when Guro came up behind you grabbing the back of your neck with one hand, jostling you and shouting your name as if she hadn't seen you at the stadium shortly before.

“We’ll take two shots!” She hollered at the bartender. She waved a finger between you indicating one was for her the other was for you.

“Guro no!” Quick to protest, you had planned to stick to beer for the night, never being a huge fan of liquor and not wanting to wake up with regrets in the morning.

“Come on, we won the league, it's officially the off season. Just the one to make up for all the times you bailed on us during the season.” She looked at you, giving her best puppy dog eyes.

The bartender returned, placing the beer you had ordered down followed by the clinking of the two shot glasses and he held out two lime slices to you and Guro. “They're tequila, I hope that’s okay, that's what your teammates seemed to be ordering.”

“Perfect, thanks!” Guro grinned at the man, grabbing both of the lime slices, handing one to you before she picked up both shots forcing it into your open hand.

“I hate you.” You half heartedly told her. In reality, she was one of your best friends on the team and you loved her but she drove you crazy at the same time.

“Here’s to you, maybe you’ll finally get a certain someone to take you home.” She winked at the end of her sentence before clinking her glass to yours and bringing the shot to her mouth, taking it and following it up with the lime.

“I don’t know what youre talking about.” You did, you knew exactly who she meant. “Plus that certain someone has a roommate, I’m not doing that with her home.” You threw back your shot, cringing at the burn and as you put the lime in your mouth you were once again aggressively grabbed by the back of the neck, this time Niamh shouting your last name at you.

“Are we finally getting you to go all out? Taking shots and all?” You turn and in front of you now stands Niamh, her girlfriend, and they're both followed by, ironically, Jessie. You felt Guro’s stare on you as she realized that had they shown up a few seconds earlier, Niamh and Jessie would have overheard the conversation you were having.

Niamh and Jessie’s apartment not being far from the bar you had agreed to, they had run home to change. What caught your eye was Jessie’s outfit. She was dressed in all black, a pair of nice slacks and a button up shirt up top. Her hair was neatly pulled back. She was easily one of the best dressed people here, you and the rest of your teammates in some variation of sweatpants and sweatshirts. You had opted to put on the clothes that you wore into Stamford Bridge that morning. You stood wearing a pair of light wash jeans with a simple blue shirt. You suddenly felt underdressed despite standing next to Guro who was wearing her travel sweats and a t-shirt.

“Just the one.” You say sternly.

“Boo! I just got here and didn’t get to do one with you.” Niamh protests. She turns, pointing to her girlfriend and Jessie, “They want to do one with you too, right Jess?” You look over Niamh’s shoulder to look at Jessie. She’s looking around the bar completing a whole circle of the room before her eyes meet yours back in front of her as she hears Niamh mention her name. You give her a smile and she returns it.

“Uh, yeah sure.” By the look of confusion on her face you can tell she was just agreeing with Niamh, not really sure what she had just agreed to.

“We’ll take 5 more.” Guro is quick to holler at the bartender. You see Jessie’s eyes widen and her lips make an O as she realizes what she had said yes to. She mouths “sorry” and gives you an apologetic look.

The glass and lime are once again shoved into your hands along with the rest of the group. Niamh puts her shot in the middle of the 5 of you. “Here’s to winning the league and to finally getting these two,” she tips her head in your direction followed quickly in Jessie’s direction, “to finally join in on our hijinx.”

The second shot goes down smoother than the first, you finish off your lime and turn to the bar grabbing the beer that was supposed to be your first drink, not your third.

“Let's go dance.” Guro grabs your hand pulling you away from the person you actually wanted to talk to. You entertained Guro for a couple songs, dancing with her, letting the warmth from the two shots ease your nerves you normally would be feeling about dancing in public.

“Are you going to talk to her?” You hear Guro shout over the music into your ear. Guro was pressed up against your back dancing with you. To an outside eye it would’ve looked like you and Guro were together, the reality was you both just didn’t care, just having a good time dancing with the music. You turned around so you were face to face.

Leaning in, you shouted into her ear “I was going to, but youre the one who dragged me over here to dance with you instead.”

“Okay you're free to go,” She threw her arms back in an over dramatic fashion. “But I expect you to not fuck this up.” Her hand comes down giving you a pat and a shove on the back in the direction of a table in the corner. “You know she wants this too, don't forget that.”

It was a gentle reminder to you that Guro knew a secret of yours that no one else on the team, let alone anyone else in the world, knew.

It was many months ago, early in the season and you had stayed late getting in some extra practice and some recovery done. Jessie had joined you, you both were close, both secretly infatuated with each other, too shy to make a move. Instead you opted for subtle flirting with each other, gaining both of you nothing besides an increased tension between you. The flirting was so subtle that not even your teammates had picked up on it, the only reason Guro had figured out what was happening between the two of you was she had witnessed it with her own eyes.

Guro had also stayed late, up in the film room watching over some plays with the coaching staff. When she was done she ran down to the changing room to grab her bag and head home. Assuming everyone else was long gone, she had not expected anyone to be in the room so she was startled when she saw you and Jessie. She had been even more startled when she saw you both, sitting side by side in the cubbies, Jessie with a hand on your thigh and your hand cupping Jessie’s chin as your lips locked with hers. The sound of the door opening hadn’t alerted you and Jessie but the sound of it slamming shut did. You both split apart, whipping your heads around with wide eyes. You both saw Guro who was standing in the doorway mouth open, unable to look away from you and Jessie.

Thankfully in that moment, Guro agreed to pretend she didn’t see anything, you and Jessie both talking over each other to explain to her it's not what it looks like. Guro had stuck to that promise, never mentioning the kiss she witnessed to anyone, and hardly mentioning it to you. She had teased you for a bit about it in private but stopped once you let her know that Jessie had told you she wasn’t interested in starting any relationships in the middle of the season. She claimed she just was just too busy, and couldn’t even think about relationships until the off season. It had upset you, but it also led to you counting the days until the season was over. Your flirting had continued, the kiss and rejection not changing anything, giving you hope for the day the season ended. And now it is officially off-season as Guro had said earlier in the evening.

“Go!” Guro shoved you again in the direction of Jessie who sat at a table. You stumbled as her force caused you to bump into a few people on the dance floor. You excused yourself as you made your move over to the brown haired, brown eyed girl. As you walked up to the table, Niamh and her girlfriend got up from their seats, waving in the direction of the dance floor. You turned to see Guro waving back at them, she shot you a wink to which you rolled your eyes.

“No dancing for you?” You questioned Jessie as she had remained in her chair, picking at the label on the bottle in front of her.

“No, I’m alright here, there's no need for me to embarrass myself.” She looked up at you. “You seemed like you were having a good time out there though.”

“I mean, the two shots I was peer pressured into taking, no thanks to you by the way,” you joked with her “helped me get out there, I’m sure I looked silly, I just cared less.”

“You didn’t look silly, you looked good.” Jessie’s words ring in your ears. You look down to her to see she's back to watching her nails pick at the bottle in front of her. Her cheeks have a pink color creeping up them.

Not sure how to respond to her comment, you finally decide to sit down across from her, placing your own empty bottle on the table. You sit with her in a silence that borders on being uncomfortable, without the noise of the bar it would be fully uncomfortable. Your mind races through thoughts. Do you tell her you want to kiss her? Do you ask her what her plans are for the offseason? Maybe ask if she’s seeing anyone? Ask her if she’s looking forward to being back with the Canadian team? See if she’s visiting family? Despite the many options that you could have gone, your brain takes a different route.

“So it's the off season now.” Those were the words that came out of your mouth. Jessie looks across to you, a blank expression on her face. She’s not sure if you're asking a question or just stating facts. She can't tell if you are expecting a response from her either.

Letting your brain catch up to the sentence that you had just said, you clarified, “I just mean that, back when we kissed,” the latter half of that sentence coming out as nearly a whisper. “You said you didn’t want to start anything in the middle of the season. And now it's not.” You mentally smack yourself, clenching your eyes shut quickly, hoping it’ll take away the embarrassment that you're feeling. This is the least smooth way you could have brought this up.

“Right,” Jessie starts, her eyes dart around the room quickly, avoiding your stare, a smirk creeps up on her lips before she speaks again. “I’m going to step outside for a second, just get some fresh air, it's kind of hot in here.” Her eyes look intensely into yours as she glances over at the door, then back to you and to the door again.

You read that as rejection, feeling your heart deflate a bit you nod to her and you let her walk away without another word to her. When you hear the door close behind her you let your forehead fall to the table with a quiet “fuck” coming out from your lips. You’re jolted out of your thoughts by the sound of your phone vibrating on the table next to your head.

Sitting back up you grab it, seeing 9 new messages. Only caring about the most recent 3.

JFlem: are you joining me or what?

JFlem: apparently you don't know that the eye contact meant you were supposed to follow me

JFlem: I now see how maybe that wasn't clear enough

Not even bothering to finish reading the other messages you had received, most likely family and friends congratulating you on the league. You stood up quickly, nearly knocking your chair down behind you, pushed it in and headed toward the door you had seen Jessie go out just a few minutes prior. You walk out to an empty quiet street, streetlights lining the roadway.

“There she is.” Jessie calls to you. You turn to her, she's leaning against the brick wall arms crossed in front of her. She’s smiling at you as she watches you turn around. Her appearance slightly changed since you last took note. Her hair was now down resting against her cheeks and just above her shoulders. The top two buttons on her shirt now undone, letting you see more of her neck and chest. “Sorry about that, I thought you could understand what I was getting at.”

“No, I couldn't.” You walk over to her standing in front of her, giving her an eye roll for dramatic affect. “Sorry I’m not fluent in eye movements.” The comment makes her laugh, her face lighting up. Her laugh was one of your favorite sounds and watching her laugh was one of your favorite sights, the way her eyes would squint shut, the smile on her face, the way her shoulders shook, all of it.

“Come on.” Jessie grabs your hand, moving to the side to begin pulling you down the street. You took the second to interlace your fingers, her hands slightly bigger than yours, yours warmer than hers.

You decided it best not to ask questions on what was happening or where you were going, letting her lead you down the sidewalk. Her pace picks up slightly at first, making you speed walk to keep her from physically dragging you behind her. She eventually sped up to the point of the two of you both running, side by side down the street. The roads began to look familiar when you put two and two together. Jessie was taking you back to her place.

You walked up to the door of her building, having been there many times already you knew it well. She dropped your hand and you watched as she entered a security code, a beep occurred and she pulled the door back, swinging her arm to motion for you to walk through. You followed her direction, now you are grabbing her hand, pulling her toward her own apartment, nearly running out of excitement. You move out of the way as you watch her fumble with the keys, feeling like she takes hours to unlock the door. With this door, she walks in first, pulling you in behind her.

The door closes behind you and you find your back coming into contact with it seconds later as Jessie’s hands have found your hips and are pushing you backward. Her hands are firm in her grasp and yet soft in their force holding you to the door. She had you pinned against the door, but not moving any further.

Not sure if Jessie had sensed the question pop up in your head or maybe she had seen your eyes dart over to Niamh’s bedroom door. “Niamh said she is spending the night at her girlfriend’s, no one is home.”

You let out a small sigh of relief, wanting to be able to finish what you and Jessie were about to start. Your own arms are holding her, one on her shoulder and the other on her forearm. You’re both slightly panting, you could smell the faint traces of tequila and beer between you. Yes you were professional athletes but something about finally being in this position with each other, makes you lose your breath.

Jessie’s brown eyes rake over your face, looking everywhere before settling on your lips, glancing up to your eyes and then back to your lips.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about doing this.” With those words giving you final confirmation that this is what you both wanted, your hand that was previously on her shoulder moves to the collar of her shirt, grabbing a handful and pulling her into you, your lips finally meeting again after many months apart. You taste the drinks on her lips with a hint of vanilla, a chapstick she was known for carrying with her everywhere.

It starts sweet, like your first kiss but you can't help but move your hand from her collar to the back of her neck, pulling her in harder against you, not wanting this to stay sweet. You feel Jessie’s tongue against your bottom lip and you return the action against her lips to allow the kiss to deepen. The kiss has your head buzzing, all of your senses being consumed by Jessie. The taste of her lips, the smell of her hair and perfume, the feeling of her skin under your hands, the end of her hair tickling your hand that rested on her neck. All aspects of Jessie were consuming your thoughts.

One of her hands wanders from your hip to your stomach, sliding under your shirt. The coldness of her hands sends a jolt through your body and you pull back from the kiss. You rest your head back on the door for a second before looking back at her. Your heart pounding in your ears as you watch her open her eyes, pupils down large as she looks back at you. Her flushed cheeks made it look like she just played a full 90.

“Jess,” name is the only word that you manage to get out your voice sounding strained, taking another deep breath she finishes your thought for you.

“Bedroom?” She cocks an eyebrow up asking.

“How much have you had to drink?” You couldn’t help but ask, her new found confidence seeming out of the normal for her. The last thing you wanted was for her to regret this in the morning due to the shot and other drinks your teammates had handed her the night.

“Enough to give me a little confidence to make a move but also not enough so I’m still levelheaded and clear in this decision.” She answers, looking into your eyes, knowing you just were looking out for her. “I want this and I’ve wanted this.” She reassures you.

Not needing to hear much more, you gently push Jessie back, “Bedroom.” Nodding your head in the direction of her bedroom.

You follow her down the hall and through her bedroom door. It was now your turn to take control of your movements, you grab Jessie’s wrist tugging her close to you. Reconnecting your lips, your hands now on her hips you walk her backward, pushing her in the direction of her bed. The back of her legs hit the mattress and she sits down, parting her legs so that you can stand between them. Placing your hands on either side of her face, you lean down to kiss her softly. Jessie, wanting to speed things up, slides her hands along the top of your pants. Her hands find the bottom of your shirt pulling at it gently hoping you'll get the hint. You do, pulling back from kissing her to help her pull it over her head. Jessie slides further up the bed extending a hand to you which you gladly take. She pulled you up onto the bed and on top of her. You situate your hips between her thighs and the midfielder below you wraps her legs around your waist, your upper body hovers above her. Her arm comes up to your neck and she pulls you down onto her into a sloppy kiss, feeling your body weight on top of her, she lets out a sighing moan against your lips.

You wake up to the bright light of the sun coming in through the blinds. You quickly realize this is not your bedroom with your blackout curtains, it is Jessie’s bedroom. You have woken up in Jessie’s bedroom, in her bed. Rolling over when you see her back, the blanket sitting just above her hips. It stands out to you that she has no shirt on, bringing you to the realization that you also do not have a shirt on, or pants. Jessie still appears to be asleep, the rise and fall of her chest is slow and relaxed. Your eyes wander across her back, admiring the muscle definition and also admiring some of the pink marks that you had a hand in making last night from your nails and mouth.

Pushing the covers off, you move to get out of the bed, grabbing Jessie’s shirt from last night off the floor and putting it on.

“Are you running out on me already?” A sleepy voice from the bed says. Jessie is sitting up, rubbing her eyes as she looks at you. She’s now covering her chest with the blanket. Her hair is crazy, partly from sleeping and partly from last night's activities. She looked absolutely beautiful to you.

“No, I was just going to use the bathroom and put on some clothes.” Looking down at the fact that you still had no pants on, you see Jessie quickly glance down following your eyes, a small blush coming across her face. She nods and you head into Jessie’s ensuite closing the door behind you.

“I have some clothes you can wear if you want.” Jessie's voice comes through the door. You walk out grabbing the shirt and sweatpants from her hands. She had thrown on some clothes while you were in the bathroom, her free hand was in the process of trying to tame her hair. You quickly throw on the clean clothes, smoothing down your own hair and then sit on the edge of the bed.

Jessie moves toward the door of her bedroom, grabbing the handle, you jump up follow shortly behind her but are quickly stopped as Jessie lets out a gasp and slams the door shut behind her before you have a chance to get through. Left face to face with the door you are confused until you hear Jessie start talking.

“Niamh. Hi. I thought you were, where's your girlfriend, weren't you staying there? Not here last night?” The shake and panic in Jessie’s voice is noticeable as she stutters her way through the shock of seeing her roommate, who explicitly said she wouldn’t be home, standing in front of her.

“We ended up coming here, we drank too much and didn’t want to make the trip. She’s still sleeping on account of we weren’t able to get much sleep last night. But I guess neither did you.” Your eyes widened as you heard Niamh’s words through the door. She had heard you and Jessie last night.

“You might as well tell her to come out here, instead of in your bedroom. No point in hiding when I had the torture of listening to you both yelling each other’s names all night.��

Cringing at the thought of Niamh overhearing your night, you pinched your eyes shut, taking a deep breath and reached for the door handle. The longer you waited, the more awkward it was going to become.

You opened the door, Jessie turning back to look at you, her face a deep red. Niamh is sitting at the counter, a smug look on her face as she watches you and the Canadian look at each other, both mortified. You look quickly at Niamh before glancing away. The eye contact with her is deeply uncomfortable, you can't help but think about all of the things she may have heard between you and Jess last night

“You owe me earplugs and probably some therapy.” The smile on Niamh’s face told you that she was kidding but also l that you wouldn’t be escaping these jokes for a long time. Unable to form words, your brain is still overwhelmed by being essentially walked in on by one of your teammates last night, you just lifted your hand in a thumbs up in her direction. You moved behind Jessie putting your forehead on the back of her shoulder blade to hide your face. “So embarrassing.” You mumble into Jessie’s back, unsure if Niamh could hear or not.

“I’m surprised you both have voices left after everything you were saying last night-”

“NIAMH!”

[the-offside-rule]

João Félix (Chelsea FC) - Pai

Requested: yes

Prompt: 11) Wearing their dad's jersey

Warnings: nope

Baby Promptlist

Y/N sat on the couch, her heart racing as the TV screen flickered to life, showing the lively crowd at the Molineux Stadium. The twins, Luca and Sofia, were sitting on the floor, surrounded by their toys but barely paying attention to them. Both were proudly sporting their dad’s jerseys; Sofia in the away kit and Luca in the home one. Y/N couldn’t help but smile as they craned their necks toward the TV every time a Chelsea player appeared on the screen. "Pai!" Luca called excitedly when the camera panned to the Chelsea bench. João Félix’s familiar face flashed across the screen as he stood up, ready to make his way onto the pitch. “That’s Pai!” Sofia echoed, her wide eyes glued to the TV, clutching her small toy in her hand. They shared a look, giggling to themselves as if they were part of a special club.

Y/N leaned back, her hand resting on her slightly bouncing knee. Watching João’s first game back as a Chelsea player after some time away was nerve-wracking, but she knew how hard he had worked to return. The pride she felt was immense, and watching the twins so excited only made it better. As João stepped onto the pitch in the second half, the twins practically jumped with excitement. “There he is, Mama!” Luca pointed with enthusiasm, dropping his toy car to focus on the screen. Sofia, too, pointed with her free hand, her eyes bright with joy. “That’s him!” Y/N nodded, smiling warmly. “Pai's going to play now. Let’s see how he does.”

The twins’ chatter continued, their little voices buzzing with excitement, but every so often they’d return their attention to their toys, muttering quietly to each other about their dad's every move. Y/N kept her eyes on the game, watching intently. João was moving confidently, passing the ball, his touch precise. And then it happened. João received the ball just outside the box, dribbled past a defender, and with a swift, calculated shot, sent it into the back of the net. The stadium erupted, and so did Y/N’s living room.

“Gooooolaaaazoooooo!” Sofia squealed, jumping to her feet. Luca followed suit, laughing and clapping, bouncing around with pure glee. Y/N reached for her phone to record the moment for João to look back at later. The twins were still hopping around the room, their joy contagious. They spent the rest of the game half-watching, half-playing with their toys, occasionally glancing up at the TV to see how João was doing. When the final whistle blew, Y/N felt a flood of relief. João had scored, and Chelsea had won. It was the perfect return.

Just as she was about to turn off the TV, her phone buzzed. It was a FaceTime call from João. “Guess who’s calling?” Y/N teased, holding up the phone. The twins scrambled up to the couch, squeezing in close as she answered. João’s face appeared, sweaty but beaming, the background of the Chelsea changing room bustling with his teammates celebrating. “Oi meus amoers!”

“Pai!” the twins shouted in unison, their faces lighting up as they leaned closer to the screen. João laughed, a sound filled with warmth and love. “Você assistiu ao jogo? Eu marquei um gol.” He smiled. “Sim, Pai! We saw, we saw!” Luca exclaimed, his hands still clapping. “Você foi tão rápido, Pai.” Sofia chimed in, “The ball went whoosh into the goal! Exatamente como você disse que seria!” Y/N smiled at the way João’s face softened, his eyes crinkling with happiness as he listened to their excited chatter. “I told you I’d score one for you two, didn’t I?”

“You were amazing.” Y/N added, her voice soft, filled with pride. “Thank you, amor.” João replied, his gaze softening even more when he looked at her. “I missed you all so much. I wish you could’ve been here.”

“We will come to the next game in Stamford Bridge, João.” Y/N reassured him. “And the twins wore their jerseys. They were your biggest fans today.” She smiled as they climbed back down to return to their toys. “I see that.” He grinned, nodding toward the kids who were still gushing about the game. “Luca, Sofia, I’m coming home soon. Ouça sua mãe até eu voltar, okay?”

“Okay, Pai!” they chorused, waving frantically as the call came to an end. Y/N put the phone down and pulled the twins into a tight hug. “Daddy will be home soon, so how about we get cooking some dinner and surpruse him when he gets home?” As the twins babbled excitedly about their dad’s goal, Y/N leaned back, feeling a deep sense of contentment. It had been a perfect day.

[b14augrana]

Deadeye

You meet your match in the Champions League semi final

Chelsea Women x teen!reader

Part of the Scrubber universe

masterlist

Warnings: reader is a teeny bit cocky. this is not proofread!

A/N: scrubberverse rivalry ���� this is basically scrubber pt. 1 from the pov of a chelsea youngster, based on ‘we both reached for the gun’ because i saw a hard messi-ronaldo edit to it and got inspired! hope you enjoy :) 💝

Beating Barcelona isn’t for everybody.

However, your team managed to do it.

At 16 years old, you were a standout player in Chelsea’s youth academy. Now at 17, you were a standout player in their first team.

Unfortunately, you weren’t a consistent starter just yet, because the likes of Mayra Ramirez and Sam Kerr were other worthy contenders for the spot in the starting eleven, but you came off the bench nine times out of ten. You were widely regarded as one of the best youngsters in the game right now, with how quickly you settled into the first team and the consistent performances you put up every time you were subbed on. Slipping through tight gaps with the ball glued to your feet was a trademark move of yours, and you were basically untouchable to defenders because you were so young and agile.

Your Champions League debut technically occurred in the group stage, but you really shone in the knockouts.

You came on for Mayra in the first leg of the Champions League, and though you were only on for fifteen minutes, it was enough for you to feel the satisfaction of winning in front of a full Barcelona stadium. A few key passes here and there did the trick.

If it hadn’t been for Sam doing her ACL, you’d imagine that the score would’ve been substantially worse for the home side to come back from, even on aggregate, but that wasn’t the case and 1-0 would have to do.

Erin said to not get ahead of yourself, because there was still the second leg at home, but you were over the moon. You liked to think you were a true blue, through and through, so moments like these were what made you the happiest.

Champions League glory seemed closer than ever, now that your team had proven you could overcome possibly the biggest obstacle in the tournament. Sharing the pitch with greats like Alexia Putellas and Aitana Bonmatí was an honour in itself, but beating them? Beating them was historic.

You smiled at the idea of it; beating the best players of all time, scoring at home in front of thousands of fans, possibly taking your team to the final, taking them one step closer to a Champions League title, but above all... proving that Barcelona is human. Maybe even proving that you are the best youngster in the world, along the way. Of course that was the dream, but you couldn't get lost in your fantasy world just yet, Erin said.

Now that you were standing in the tunnel, altering history for your club seemed imminent. Your manager, Emma, had told you that you'd feature in the starting squad for the evening, so it went without saying that the match would be extremely special for you.

“Excited?” Erin asked, looking over her shoulder to see you. You nodded, but you were more scared than anything. You were grateful to be starting, but also a little bit terrified.

“You’ll do good, I know it. You’ve got the deadeye we need to beat them,” she said, and a little giggle came from you in response, “I’ll try!”

Beside you, the Barcelona players were lined up, whispering amongst themselves in what you assumed to be Spanish. Some of the words didn’t sound like regular Spanish though, which sucked, because for a moment you thought you’d be able to eavesdrop on them with the minimal Spanish knowledge you have.

The officials at the end of the tunnel signalled for both teams to make their ways out, and your ears were almost immediately slammed with the cacophonous noises of a fully packed Stamford Bridge. It was amazing, playing in an environment like this while experiencing the tournament of your dreams, and the loud supportive cheers were something you wanted to get tattooed on your soul.

The Barcelona girls walked out looking staunch. They carried themselves proudly despite the loss they previously faced against Chelsea, but you thought nothing of it. All you were focused on was your undying desire to knock them out of the tournament and show the world what the Blues were really made of.

“5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1!”

The crowd counted down to the first whistle blow of the match, and the shrill noise rattled the stadium as the ball got rolling and the match commenced.

You passed the ball backwards then immediately made a run. It looked hopeful when the ball was lobbed back to you, but it was quickly shut down by a well-timed intercept from…

Who?

Well, she was gone before you could see the name on the back of her jersey. As she dribbled through the midfield before pinging a through ball to Hansen on the wing, you could only hear the cries of Mapi León from behind you. “Venga, bebita!”

You did remember talks about Barcelona having a youngster of their own, and this must be her.

Whatever, you thought. You had bigger things to focus on. Dropping back into the midfield, you hunted for the ball, and when possession of the ball was finally in your hands, you felt on top of the world.

It felt like nothing could stop you, now that you had the ball at your feet, dribbling seamlessly past the blaugrana jerseys. Being smaller than others on the pitch had its advantages as you weaved between the gaps and slipped past players… until you came up against her.

She stood tall in the backline, not even giving you a moment of her vision’s time as her eyes stayed glued to the movement of the ball.

You tapped the ball forwards, and she followed, tracking backwards. Stepover after stepover, it was becoming increasingly impossible to shake her as you struggled to deceive her, and then…

One heavy touch was all it took. It was an accident, and maybe you should’ve listened to Erin’s directions to lob it overhead and pass to Lauren, but it was too late; you were on the floor, she was just getting up. The ball was gone, and you were still on the floor. Without the ball.

“Fucks sake,” you hissed, scrambling to your feet and charging after the ball. You couldn’t seem to get past her, at least not yet. You had to think smarter, be faster, push stronger, kick harder, anything to snake your way past.

“Don’t worry about it!” Erin exclaimed, jogging behind you, “Just stay focused.”

You nodded, because she was right. If you wanted to win, if you wanted to see that beautiful silver trophy adorned in only blue ribbons, if you wanted the rewarding feeling of carrying it in your arms, you had to stay focused and you needed to beat Barcelona, or more so, their youngster.

You had to admit, you underestimated her. You didn’t expect her to be a defender and therefore didn’t expect to be crossing paths with her so often, but you expected wrong. She was strong and definitely knew her stuff when it came to defending; at times, it felt like you were kicking a ball into a brick wall, trying with no avail to get through.

It pissed you off.

Running forward made you open for a cross in from Lauren, who resided on the right wing. “Lauren!” you screamed, gesturing in front of you to where you were going to run. She looked up and noticed your frantic pointing, then she lobbed the ball across the field.

It was almost inevitably coming to you. It floated over everyone, barrelling down exactly where you wanted it, but then a body cut in front of you and before you could register anything, they were up in the air and heading it out of the box.

Every blocked shot, every slide tackle, every through ball, every aerial duel, it made you want to win even more. A distasteful feeling welled inside of your stomach when you realised she wanted it the same, if not more, given the way she was flying around and determinedly defending the goal.

The last line of defence was always her — she was the one separating you and the goal, never mind Cata Coll between the posts. It was her saving your shots.

Half time couldn’t have come sooner. You trudged off the pitch, slumping onto the bench as you sprayed water into your mouth. Jess sat beside you and put her hand on your back. “Feeling okay?” she asked, and you nodded simply.

“You’re doing well. Once you get past their back, it’s all yours,” she smiled, rubbing your back reassuringly. You smiled in return, putting your head on her shoulder. “Thanks, J.”

Even Jess knew how much that centerback was troubling you. The whole lot of them irritated you because they were just so good, and they never crumbled even under pressure, but she was something else. Whether you admired her, envied her, or disliked her, was to be decided by the next half.

She was like you — a young talent — but your positions were different. You were a striker, so you could make mistakes. It was one of your many comforts. She was a defender, and there was no room for mistakes at the back. It was incredible that they trusted her so much to start her over the likes of Engen and Paredes, but you could see why they did. You had everyone else on their knees, except for her.

The defining factor, you thought, was the fact you had seen the others play so many times. Rolfö, Guijarro, Walsh, Hansen, they weren’t new phenomenons; you could anticipate their next moves, unlike their new centerback. You didn’t know how she tackled or how strong she was until you were face to face with her.

Aitana had scored in the middle of the first half. 1-0 wasn’t too bad to come back from, so you were confident that you’d get one back. Hope is a dangerous thing, but you had it.

The second half started with more intensity than the first. From kick off, the ball could barely be seen as anything but a blur zipping around the pitch. You sent the ball spinning across the damp pitch to Catarina Macario on the wing, who took one magnetic touch before exploding outwards.

Lucy Bronze had overlapped and now there was a big gap in the defence. Their midfielders were dropping, but they still weren’t quick enough to reach Catarina.

“Watch the wing!” Mapi yelled to someone. You decided to make a run into the box, preparing yourself for some sort of cross, and that’s when you saw it.

It kind of felt like a suitable muse for a renaissance painting, if the context was included — teenage girl slide tackling a world class, Champions League-winning winger to spare her goalkeeper the displeasure of saving a goal. That didn’t change the fact that you were infuriated at the dwindling prospect of getting a goal.

It was hard to hate a player that has done nothing to you except be better than you, but you felt like you were just about at that point.

Your heart raced with every telltale sign of a big chance. Lauren getting the ball seemed promising, and you trailed into the middle for support. “Lauren! Cross it!” you screamed, hoping your cries would be heard. Instead, you watched her cut inside and wind up to take a shot, your stomach swelled with dread when you saw a body in the way and the ball deflecting off someone’s back. Someone being… well, take a guess.

Hope is a dangerous thing, and you had lost it by the 80th minute. It was heartbreak for your team when the final whistle was blown and the game ended 2-0 for the away side, going down in history as yet another amazing Barcelona comeback.

You watched her get swarmed by her teammates, a smile on her face as they engulfed her in hugs and forehead kisses before she walked away with Mapi. You could only observe as you clapped for all the wrong reasons. The title was so close, yet it had always been far. It was appalling as much as it was unbelievable that the person with the most blood on their hands was a teenager. The nail in the coffin was learning post-match that she was actually freshly 16.

You two were no longer a coexisting pair of young talents. You weren’t sharing the stage anymore.

You were competing for the stage.

[linamromero]

𝐀 𝐋𝐀 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐋.

𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐣𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺.

…

it all depended on today.

today you played chelsea in the second leg of the liga de campeonas. the first leg didn’t go to plan but you and the team hope to turn it around in london, to get to the final in bilbao.

you and your fiancée patri were heading down to the conference room where joan laporta and xavi puig were waiting to speak to the team before you left for the stadium.

you looked out of the hotel room window to see some fans waiting outside for you which left a faint smile on your face.

the both of you sat at a table, mariona beside you and mapi beside patri. He told us how proud of you he was and that you were going to go out and win.

patri reached for your hand under the table, she clearly knew something was up. you brushed your thumb over her knuckles to reassure her that you were fine. you were just worried about the match, it could decided whether barcelona get to the final or knocked out.

you left the conference room, hugging and shaking hands with joan and xavi on the way out. patri and you returned to your hotel room to collect your luggage to put on the coach.

“hey bonita.” patri softly spoke, taking her hands into yours.

“hey cariño.” a smile broke out on your face, you could never not smile at your fiancée.

“how are you feeling.”

“i’m okay it’s just nerves.” you looked up at her, your eyes big.

“we just have to play our best.” she replied lifting your chin up with her index finger.

“sí, te quiero.” you mumbled into her lips as she dropped her soft lips on to yours.

the both of your wheeled your luggage downstairs into the reception of the hotel, you could hear the fans calling your names. “y/n! y/n, por favor firme!”

you took a photo with the two young children, signing their books. you found out that they had come all the way from palma which is where patri is from.

“patri.” you signalled her to come over and take a photo with the children.

“y/n! please sign!” an english girl called.

“hi are you okay.” she didn’t respond but handed you a pen, “you look a bit overwhelmed nena, everything okay?”

“i’m sorry i’m just in shock, you and patri are my favourite players.”

“Awh mi corazón, what is your name?” you asked her.

“i’m georgia, but gee is fine.” she smiled up at you.

“okay gee, would you like a photo?”

“can i have a photo with you and patri?” she pleaded.

“of course you can.” you grinned.

her friend took her phone and snapped a photo of the three of you, “thank you so much, i appreciate you!”

“your welcome.” you gave her a hug.

patri gave you ass a slight slap as you got on the bus, which you gave her a glare. she sat next to you intertwining her hand with yours kissing your knuckles.

you rested your head on her shoulder slotting your AirPods in your ears playing your shared playlist on spotify. the busy streets of london flicked by, you could see chelsea and barcelona shirts adorning fans as they walked to stamford bridge.

chantaje by shakira and maluma began to play. this was yours and patri’s song as it was the song you dirty danced to in manuelas when you first got together six years ago.

the coach arrived outside the back of the stadium, more fans congregated waiting for the team. this time you wanted to concentrate so you didn’t stop you just smiled at them and walked in going to the dressing room.

“you okay cariño.” patri spoke coming over to you, her locker opposite yours.

“sí, tú?” you replied putting your bag down.

“sí, te quiero.”

…

it was finally time for the match, the team were getting ready to go and warm up, “y/n do you have your hairspray?” mariona asked with a wink.

“yes, here.” you handed it to your fellow teammate.

patri eyed you from her locker as you interacted with mariona. you bit your lip as you looked at your fiancée, she signalled with her finger for you to come over to her. you threw your training shirt on and slowly walked over to her.

“what are you doing cariño.” she hummed into your ear, roughly pulling you onto her lap.

“she just wanted some hairspray pats.” you rolled your eyes.

“yes but she was flirting with you.”

“and your my fiancée.” you raised a brow, lifting her hand kissing just below her engagement ring.

you pecked her lips, jumping off her lap going to you own locker to put your shin pads and socks on. you put your boots on and got ready to go out onto the pitch.

a lot of fans were already filling the stadium, a massive cheer sounded as you all ran out which reassured you a little bit. you gathered in a circle to begin some dynamic stretches, patri stood opposite you again. her face was in the zone she was ready for this match much like you were.

the team all broke off to do some ball work, you worked with your fiancée of course. she would kick the ball to you and you would practice your shots and the goalkeepers would practice their saves.

after a while the teams returned to their dressing rooms before kick off. you changed into your match shirt before approaching patri who was captaining until alexia was subbed on.

“buenas suerte corazón.” you half smiled.

“y tú mi vida, te quiero mucho.” she kissed your lips softly.

“te quiero mucho.”

the team then lined up in the tunnel, the mascots standing by your side excited to be walking out with such players, “hi y/n”

“hi are you okay.” you checked on the young girl with a big smile.

“i’m okay, barcelona are going to win.” she beamed.

“i hope so, any score predictions.” you replied luckily she was spanish.

“2-0 to barcelona.”

“if it is 2-0 to barcelona i’ll come and find you at the end of the game and give you my shirt signed, how does that sound?” you said holding her hand.

“oh wow thank you so much!” she giddly jumped up and down.

“your welcome now let’s go!” you followed mariona out of the tunnel as the champions league anthem began to play.

you watched your fiancée lead the team out, exchanging pennants with erin cuthbert the chelsea captain, god she looked hot when she was concentrating.

the team photo was taken, patri’s arm had a firm grip around your waist as it was taken, “patri bebita.”

“qué?” she said her grip tightening a little bit more.

“why so tight.” you pouted.

“because your mine.” patri grunted pulling you close into a hug.

you walked to your position to start, taking the knee before kick off. the whole team knew that this would be a difficult match but they just needed to get a few goals to go through.

as the game progressed, barcelona had been awarded a corner which you took. you passed it to salma who shot in the box but it got blocked away, luckily it landed at patri’s feet who passed it to lucy which she sent in but got passed away to you. you took the opportunity to strike but the keeper saved it.

patri had the ball again, she kicked to aitana who was in the box. aitana kicked it just before the opposition took the ball from her managing to get it in the bottom left corner.

“VAMOS!” you screamed running cover to aitana picking her up.

the team swarmed hugging everyone, “increíble!” patri said high fiving everyone.

the second half came around quickly, you were excited for this next half. you desperately wanted to get a goal or two so that the team would get to the final.

yet again barcelona had another chance, aitana passed the ball to patri. she tried to dribble with it but a chelsea player stood on her shin and foot with her boot trying to intercept. patri went down to the floor holding her foot.

“ay dios!” you shouted at the player, you kept shouting at her in spanish which you knew she didn’t understand by her body language, “por qué puta.” you spat.

“patri corazón?” you crouched by her side. all you got was a whine in response, “hey hey bebita, vamos let’s walk it off.” you picked her up walking across the pitch as you saw the girl got a second yellow card.

later on, patri passed a shot into space for you which you sent in and salma got her foot on it but it went a little too high. lots of chances came about but just weren’t executed correctly due to chelsea’s defence.

ingrid switched the ball over to you, you began to dribble with it running into the penalty area. lauren james came to your side, sweeping your legs out from underneath you. she was on the floor herself and made out that you were being overdramatic.

she then got up stamping hard on your lower back, you felt her studs piercing through your skin. your yelp caused patri to run over to you as you clutched your back.

patri went straight over to lauren pushing her and angrily shouting, “pats stop!” you croaked.

ona came to your side signalling for the medics to come, “ona tell her to stop por favor, patri she’ll get sent off too.”

irene pulled patri away from lauren, who’d received a red card for her actions. you bunched your shirt up to soak the blood up but it wasn’t working. the medics approached you with a stretcher, you knew your champions league dreams had come to an end.

you had to be lifted to lay on your back to let the blood come out to get rid of any potential infection. you waved to the crowd to let them know you were in good hands and you were okay.

you could see the worried look of your fiancée’s face who was stood on the pitch, tears in her eyes. you got rushed to the medical room, whimpers and cries still filled the air as the put you on an examination table.

“right y/n we are going to have to take your shirt off now is that okay?” one of the medical nurses spoke.

you nodded as they peeled the blood stained shirt off your rather limp body. they cleaned up the blood, and patched you up where her boot imprinted your skin. the medics said that you would be unavailable to play for 3-4 weeks, it depended on how quickly your back healed.

full time came around and your fiancée came rushing into the medical room, “hey soldado!”

“hey pats.” you smiled to see your future wife, “how did we do.”

her face fell as soon as those words came out of your mouth, “we um WON!” she exclaimed.

“you had me for a second there!” you clutched your chest.

“after your injury we got a penalty that frido scored.” she told you.

“a la final!” you cheered.

“sí but how are you doing?” patri sat beside you on your bed.

“i’m fine i just can play for 3-4 weeks as my back is still a bit delicate.”

“oh good, i’ll have to be nurse patri.” she said placing her hand on your thigh, “are you able to come out and celebrate?”

“yes i should think so but can you grab my coat out of my locker.”

“of course, your my top priority.” she grinned helping you off the bed.

you were changed into your barcelona tracksuit and your dunks when patri handed you your barcelona puffer jacket. she held your hand as you came back out into the stadium, the remaining fans erupting into cheer.

“a la final.” you mumbled against patri’s lips.

“a la final.” she kissed you, “wait i told a girl that i would give her my shirt if it was 0-2, but my shirt is ruined.”

“y/n we have your spare one, give her that.” patri reassured you.

“oh yes, your a life saver!” you kissed her.

you signed the shirt and went to find her with patri by your side. she was sat front row with her parents, “y/n!”

“hey nena, here is my shirt i had to give you a clean one because of my injury it was all bloody but this is still a match shirt.”

“thank you! thank you!” she gushed, as you picked her up.

“hopefully you’ll be in bilbao!”

“i will be.” she grinned holding the shirt close to her chest.

“i can’t wait to make you my wife.” patri smiled down at you.

…

[strawberryblue-blog]

Baby blue love —Mason Mount

warning: none

words: +2.5k

summary: being there for Mason at his most difficult time

#sexynote: English is not my first language, maybe there are mistakes.

An exhausted sigh escaped the young man's lips as you walked through the house carrying the laundry basket. From behind you saw his defeated back as his hands covered his face in disappointment.

"Is everything okay?" you asked putting the clothes in the washing machine. Mason sighed again.

"Mason" you called out to him when he didn't respond. From his spot, Mason turned his face slightly to look at you.

His eyes were glazed over and his smile drooped.

He had been like this for a few days, depressed and sad about his departure from the club. But even though you tried to cheer him up, Mason ended up ignoring you and regretting his decisions.

"Mason..." you repeated again as you sat down next to him, your hand stroking his back gently.

"Everyone hates me" he whispered in anguish.

In front of his eyes was his instagram profile, precisely the last video he had posted only a day ago.

"It's not true" you denied waving your hand to comfort him.

"Yes they do, just watch what they say" he noted. A gasp came out of his mouth, he was frustrated, sad and disappointed. "Not even the official confirmation came out and everyone already knows, they hate me."

Yes, it was hard what he was going through and you understood it perfectly.

At least a month ago the rumor that Mason would be leaving Chelsea had been much talked about by fans of the club or those close to it, especially because there was a supposed proposal from Manchester United.

After 18 years at the club of his beginnings, Mason Mount would no longer be a player in blue and it was driving him crazy.

"Stop that" you grumbled when he kept scrolling down the publication, taking his phone out of his hands to turn it off. Your boyfriend snorted stretching his body out on the couch.

Raw silence broached them. Mason wasn't saying a word from that point on and you were leaving him, as you didn't want to pressure him to talk let alone make him feel like he had to explain himself.

"You hate me, don't you?" he asked dejectedly. The question caught you off guard for a moment.

"No," you muttered. "Why would I, Mason?"

"Because I ruined everything."

"That's not true," you denied. You knew perfectly well what this conversation was coming to and you were ready to face it. "For wanting to move on?" you asked. "For wanting to have another chance?"

He lifted his shoulders expressionlessly. You weren't going to lie, the news that Mason would be leaving had affected you more than you thought it would. You had always been a Chelsea fan, thanks to your father, a huge Blues fan. And on one of your many visits to the stadium, you had met Mason at Stamford Bridge when you had volunteered to work one afternoon. The thought of not going to support him at the stadium anymore, not seeing him celebrate with his teammates and family, seeing him ready to play before every game. Nostalgia ran through your mind as you thought of him and wanted to support him every step of the way.

"It's okay, honey" you took him in your arms. Mason sobbed as he felt your warm embrace. "You haven't done anything wrong" you said.

"I've been an idiot these days, I don't understand how you're still here" he said. You could feel the pain in his body, in his voice, in his eyes, in his mood.

Mason had always been a laughing boy, who laughed at everything and cheered everyone up in the worst moments but now he was a kid who had to make an important decision that would be a big step for his career. For his future. And of course you would accompany him, you would be by his side no matter what his decision was.

"Do you think it's okay what I'm doing?" he questioned taking your hands. You had not had this conversation since it had all started, as Mason was a bit shocked and somewhat distant.

"It is. It's the right thing to do because you deserve it" you muttered. "You deserve a team that will take advantage of your talent, respect you and help you grow. You deserve to play in the big leagues and succeed" you said sincerely.

And it hurt. It hurt to see your great love leave his lifelong team, the team that saw him grow and succeed. It hurt to know that he would no longer wear the blue jersey and that you would not go to the game with his jersey to cheer him on. But more than anyone else in the world you wanted Mason to move on and succeed because you knew he was a great player. Young and talented.

His hands grabbed your waist, pulling you close to him to place a soft kiss on your lips. Mason wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you to his chest.

He knew how much you supported him no matter what. Even though he was going to the opposing team or moving out of town. Because you had always supported him since you had known each other, in his bad times and good times, when he needed you and when you were there for him.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, baby" he whispered nuzzling his nose with yours tenderly.

"I love you, Mason."

"Enough to wear a red t-shirt with my name on it?" he asked teasingly.

"No!" you squealed laughing. "You know i hate the color red."

Mason laughed nodding.

"But you don't hate it when I'm wearing it, do you?" he teased again with an amused expression. His lips touched yours delicately as a gasp escaped them as you felt Mason's hands take you from your waist until you sat on his lap.

"Nothing will ever change the love I feel for you, ever since the day I saw you in the rain at Stamford Bridge" he whispered through his smile. "From that day I knew I would love you forever, my baby blue love."

I'm late i know but I'm still not over Mason being gone 😭😭 I miss him so much 💔

[sunsetkerr]

sam gets really hurt during a game of the matildas against england and millie and caitlin find u in the crowd and pull u onto the pitch because sam cant get up and u comfort her

im thinking ACL like maren in that chelsea bristol game like that serious

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1nLTTFwIljY

I've got you | sam kerr

you hear her scream before you realise what's happened. suddenly you were up on your feet with the rest of the stadium, watching on as sam screamed on the floor in pain. you had never heard her sound like that before, you had never heard anyone sound like they were in so much pain.

your heart was beating so fast in your chest, you weren't sure that it was going to hold up for much longer. you clutched your t-shirt in your fists as you kept your gaze on sam. guro, millie and fran were surrounding her, Lauren making her way over too. you could hear a pin-drop at stamford bridge, everyone watching on as their star striker laid on the pitch in pain.

you weren't sure if she had stopped screaming, or if it was just replaying in your mind as you helplessly watched your love on the ground. the medical team were now on the pitch, moving the girls away from sam.

she still had her head on the ground, her fist punching the turf as she worked through the white hot pain coursing through her leg. she hadn't felt pain this bad since she did her knee in 2014, she knew it was going to be a shit outcome.

you felt the tears begin to well in your eyes as you watched her, knowing there was nothing you could do to help her.

they eventually got sam onto the stretcher, and took her off of the pitch. the crowd clapped her exit, you just watched as she made her way down the tunnel, tears staining her skin as she held her arm over her head.

you heard someone call out to you. when you looked down, you saw millie and emma gesturing you over to the railing. "c'mere" millie said as she reached out for you. you turned around and leant over, allowing millie to pull you down onto the pitch; having done it so many times with sam you were practically an expert.

you thanked her and emma before rushing down the tunnel, going to find your girl.

a trainer recognises you and points you in the direction of the medical room. you wait outside, not wanting to interrupt their work. eventually, someone comes out of the room with a phone in their hand.

"y/n" it's James, a physio who works with sam regularly, and you've never been more thankful to see a friendly face.

"what's happened?" you're scared to hear the answer, but when he utters the letters ACL you feel like crying again. "I need to see her," you whisper.

"yeah," he nods, "I'm gonna get an ambulance down for her, get her in asap".

"thanks," you nod before heading into the medical room. "hey superstar," you smile. sam's heart can suddenly beat again after hearing your voice, but as soon as she meets your eyes, she breaks down into tears again.

"oh sammy" you come stand in front of the bed and hold her close to your chest, letting a few tears roll down your face. "I've gotcha" you smile, trying to hold yourself together for her.

"I've fucked it," she whispered. "I really fucked it" she sobbed.

"it's gonna be okay," you squeeze her just that little bit tighter, before planting a kiss on her head. you lean your cheek against her as you whisper to her again, "I've got you".

and no matter how shit it was, she knew that you did.

[chelseajackarmy]

Stamford Bridge

[shitsndgiggs]

Can we get something with Marc Guiu? Maybe where she is a long-time Chelsea fan and she was the one who enouraged him to move to them which was met with a lot of hostility towards her by his fans?

HATE FROM THE FANS - MARC GUIU

In which Marc’s fans are assholes

Marc Guiu x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The crisp London air felt invigorating as I made my way toward Stamford Bridge, my heart pounding with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Today was a big day for me, and for Marc. We had spent countless evenings discussing his move from Barcelona to Chelsea, and I had been his biggest supporter throughout the process.

It was a dream come true for me to see him play for Chelsea, but the journey had been far from easy.

The move had been a huge decision for Marc, one that I had wholeheartedly encouraged.

I’d been a Chelsea fan for as long as I could remember, and seeing Marc join the team was a dream I had hoped for, not just for him but for me as well.

But the transition hadn’t been smooth. Many Barcelona fans had directed their anger at me, blaming me for Marc’s departure and calling me a traitor.

On social media, I had become a target for a wave of anger and resentment from some Barcelona fans.

The vitriol directed at me online had been overwhelming, but I had tried to ignore it, focusing on supporting Marc and celebrating his achievements.

As I settled into my seat, I glanced at my phone, where the notifications from social media were relentless. I opened one of the many apps, dreading what I might find.

I scrolled through the comments, each one a harsh reminder of the backlash I faced.

It was painful to see how my support for Marc had been twisted into something negative by those who didn’t understand the situation.

Despite the harsh words, I knew that the love and respect I had for Marc were genuine, and that’s what mattered most.

The match began, and I tried to push aside the negativity, focusing on the game. Marc’s performance was spectacular.

He played with a passion and skill that lit up the pitch, and when he scored a stunning goal, the stadium erupted in cheers.

I was overwhelmed with joy and pride, my earlier anxieties momentarily forgotten as I cheered him on.

As the final whistle blew and the crowd’s cheers echoed around the stadium, I couldn’t wait to congratulate Marc.

I hurriedly made my way to the player’s tunnel, eager to share in his joy.

When I reached the tunnel, my phone buzzed with a new notification. Glancing down, I saw a new flood of messages and comments from social media.

As Marc approached, his face was lit up with joy. He spotted me and grinned. “Did you see that goal?” he asked, his eyes shining.

“I did! You were incredible out there!” I exclaimed.

We hugged tightly, and as we pulled away, my phone buzzed again. I fumbled to silence it, but Marc noticed.

He raised an eyebrow and looked at me with a mix of curiosity and concern.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, just—” I started, but my words were interrupted by another notification. I quickly grabbed my phone, but Marc’s hand was faster. He gently took it from me before I could react.

“Let me see,” he said softly, his eyes scanning the screen.

His expression shifted from confusion to a subtle frown as he read through the comments. The hurt and anger from the online attacks were evident in his eyes, but he remained silent.

“I—” I began, but Marc cut me off gently.

“Let’s not let this ruin tonight,” he said, his voice firm but kind. “You don’t need to deal with this right now.”

I watched in confusion as he began deleting the social media apps from my phone.

“What are you doing?” I asked, feeling a mix of surprise and gratitude.

“You don’t need this right now,” Marc said, his tone gentle but resolute. “Focus on the positive. You’ve been a huge support for me, and that’s what matters.”

I felt a lump in my throat as I watched him work. The weight of the online hostility was heavy, but Marc’s gesture of deleting the apps was a small but powerful act of kindness.

It meant he was looking out for me, even when things were tough.

When he finished, he handed me my phone back with a reassuring smile. “Let’s just enjoy tonight.”

I nodded, feeling a wave of relief wash over me. “Thank you, Marc. I just didn’t want to burden you with this.”

He pulled me into another embrace, his warmth comforting. “You’re never a burden. We’re in this together.”

[outsideratheart]

You're Not Funny (Lucy Bronze x reader)

A/N: Here's a little something for you @cpheath

You knew that you would have to play your best in order to beat Chelsea at Stamford bridge and that is exactly what the team did in the first half. Caro’s goal put you ahead in the 4th minute and since that moment Barcelona dominated. 

It was text book Barca, plays that you had practiced in training and everything was going great until it wasn’t. The ball had been played forward and Barcelona was on the attack once again. The goal scorer crossed the ball to where you were lurking near the back post. It wasn’t your best header but the ball did land at Frido’s feet only she wasn’t able to get a shot off. 

You were ready to reset when you saw her. Lucy was on the floor focusing on her knee. Given the amount of injures recently the dreaded three letters came to mind and panic begin to brew in your gut. Sandra is the first to her but you aren’t far behind her. 

“What’s wrong?” You kneel by her side “who was it? Tell me?” You’re ready to take on ten men. Nobody hurts Lucy and gets away with it. 

“Alright Rocky, calm down. Nobody touched me. It’s my knee” 

The calmness in her voice lets you know the pain was familiar but it didn’t easy the worry in the slightest. Lucy had surgery after the Olympics and you have seen first hand the tole the intensity she play with is taking on it. 

The team leaves to two of you be, using this time to discuss a strategy that will see them to the end of the game with a win. 

“Sub?” You ask and she nods her head. 

You make the change signal to Jonatan and call the medics over. Keira looks over from the group and you shake your head letting her know that Lucy wont be able to continue.

When you’re asked to move you flat out refuse. Your relationship well known so the medics should have known better. Once Lucy is ready she hold her hands out and you help her up. She leans on you as she tries to put weight on her right leg but it’s no use, the joint is too tender though Lucy being the stubborn mule that she is continues to try. 

“Baby that’s enough, Torre’s ready and waiting” 

Lucy puts almost all her weight on you as you help her to sidelines. 

“Carry out every check possible without taking her to the hospital. Entender?” 

“Y/N” 

“No! You see this” you point to the band on your upper arm “This means I’m the captain and you do as I say when you were that badge and they do what I say when it comes to my team” you trn your attention back to the medics “Every check, entiendes?”

“Entiendo” both medics say in unison. They would never admit it but they were scared of you especially when it came your to protective side. 

You had always been good at compartmentalising and it was moments like this when you appreciated it the most. You played the rest of the game with one thing in mind; get the win. At soon as the final whistle blew signalling the end of the game your focus has once again shifted and all you cared about was Lucy but you still had a job to do albeit a small one. The Chelsea players were quiet, of course they were you had just outplayed them in their own stadium. With quick hands shakes and small pleasantries you made you way through the blue team. 

Mapi was explaining a part in the game where you could improve when the last Chelsea player shook your hand. Truth is you wasn’t really paying attention, if you had then you might have noticed the Barcelona badge on her coat. 

“Well playe— Luce” your handshake soon turns into a reach out and hold of her hand. 

She knows what you want to do so she stands in front of you. You give her her once over, not fully believing that she is ok despite her walking and putting her weight back on her right leg. 

“See” she does a single leg squat to prove her point but she doesn’t get the reaction she hoped for “look at me go, i’m ready go play another 90 minutes”

“What are you doing! Don’t push it”

“I’m joking” 

“You’re not funny! I still want to talk to the medics. Something happened Lucy and I don’t like you joking about”

“Y/N i’m ok” you shake your head “no?” Lucy didn’t understand and you wouldn’t expect her to. 

Seeing your partner injured is tough and to see them go through surgery, well it sticks with you. Once they’re back on the pitch they don’t think about what they went though but you remember Lucy’s recovery vividly.

“You don’t get the play this off. I let you do it during and after the Australia game but no more. Your health needs to come first”

“Baby, look at me” Lucy doesn’t care about your surroundings, she cups your face forcing you to look her in the eyes “I’m ok, just a little bit sore. If you don’t believe me you can ask the physios I told them to answer all your questions honestly, we don’t have secrets” 

Lucy’s tone lets you know she’s telling the truth but you need the medics to confirm it in order to believe her. 

“Hop on” you take a few steps forwards and turn so that you back is facing her. 

“I get to ride Y/N Y/L/N”

“You do if you’re telling the truth” you say quietly so only she can hear you. It was a threat but Lucy knew she would get her reward because she was in fact telling you the truth, she was ok.

[pulisicsgirl]

his girls (pt. 2) - christian pulisic

summary: Y/N goes into labor while watching one of Christian's games, and he is the sweetest, most supportive husband through the entire process

pairing: Christian Pulisic x reader

word count: 4.7k

warnings/tags: brief mentions of morning sickness, descriptions of hospitals and childbirth, a bit of sweet, dad!puli fluff, best friend!mason being the best ever

requested: yes!! here

notes: here's the part two of that request! I changed the end of it to give it a little bit more of a realistic timeline, but I hope you still like it! I have several Mason requests in my inbox, so I'll be working on those soon! Thank you all for reading!

read part one here

You took a long look at yourself in the mirror as you brushed your teeth, trying to make sense of the strange feeling that had been hanging over your head from the moment you woke up. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it. You couldn’t even identify what you were feeling—it wasn’t anxiety or dread, it wasn’t a giddiness or excitement. It was just there.

Your belly got in the way as you bent over the sink, washing out your mouth and tossing your toothbrush in the cup, now a mere two weeks from the fateful due date. As you stood back up, a dull aching that began in your lower back spread across the bottom of your round belly. You steadied yourself on the sink, pressing a hand to your stomach with a frown on your face.

This was new.

Before you could think too much about it, the bathroom door opened, revealing Christian, dressed and ready to leave. Chelsea had a home game today, and it was nearing time for him to leave in order to be there in time for warm-ups and such.

“Hey, I’m about to—are you okay?” Concern instantly washed over his face as your slightly hunched over posture. He stepped to your side, steadying you with one hand on your waist and the other on the side of your belly.

You forced a smile on your face, determined to reassure him. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” you spoke, but Christian didn’t miss the hesitation in your tone. “She’s just kicking really hard this morning.”

His eyes seemed to search every part of your face for several long moments—he wasn’t convinced, but also didn’t want to be pushy. He finally lets out a sigh, breathing a short “okay” before pressing a kiss to your forehead. He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as he can with your belly in between the two of you before he speaks again.

“I’m about to leave, but Mason will be here in a couple of hours to pick you up for the game, okay?”

You nodded, beaming up at your husband. This was the first time in the last few months that you felt halfway decent during the week leading up to a home game, and after a lot of persuasion on your part, you convinced Christian that you would be fine if you attended the game. You missed watching him play from the seats of Stamford Bridge, and you wouldn’t have taken no for an answer.

Knowing this, Christian had agreed, with the stipulation that Mason, who wasn’t currently playing due to injury, would pick you up, drive you to the stadium, and stay with you for the duration of the game. Mason had happily agreed to these terms, excited to get to spend time with you, as the two of you had become good friends over the years. Once the plan had been set in place, the excitement had overtaken you for the last couple of days, excited to finally be getting out and doing something that felt normal again.

“Alright, I’ll see you before kickoff, then,” Christian smiled down at you, placing a heartfelt kiss to your lips before he released you from his arms. He quickly knelt in front of you, kissing your stomach. “You be good today, alright?”

He stood and, after kissing you once more, walked out of the bathroom to leave for the stadium. As soon as you heard the front door close behind him, you let out a long groan as another wave of sharp pain passed across your belly. You leaned down, resting your forehead on the bathroom counter as you bent at the waist, hoping to stretch your back or your hips in some way to relieve some of the pain.

As quickly as it came, the pain passed, and you stood up straight once again, letting out a long breath. You were determined to make it to this game today. You certainly missed attending them, but more importantly, you knew Christian missed having you there (though he would never say it, unwilling to make you feel guilty for being so sick these last few months).

You changed into some comfortable maternity leggings and a XL Chelsea jersey with “PULISIC” written across the shoulders—one Christian had bought you a couple of months ago when he realized that you wouldn’t be able to wear any of yours (or his, for that matter). You then spent most of the next couple of hours laying on the couch, flat on your back, trying to breathe through short waves of pain as they continued to come and go.

You had convinced yourself that they were just false contractions, “Braxton Hicks,” as your doctor had explained them. They weren’t close together, so it was probably fine. Nothing to worry about at all.

That didn’t change the fact that they hurt like hell.

The doorbell rang and, being too lazy to get up an walk over to the front door, you simply yelled “it’s open!” down the hallway, knowing it would be Mason arriving to drive you to Stamford Bridge.

“Hey, there stranger!” Mason quipped, walking into the living room with a bounce in his step. You giggled at his remark, greeting him in return. “How have you been?”

“Oh, this little one is keeping me on my toes, but I’m doing alright,” you smiled at him, figuring he didn’t need all the details of your morning sickness, swollen ankles, or the copious number of times that you had to pee during the night.

You slowly rolled onto your side, something that had become normal for you as your pregnancy progressed—the extra weight and large belly certainly limited your mobility. Mason smiled at you, offering his hands to help you into a sitting position, which you gladly accepted.

Sitting on the edge of the cushion, you grabbed one of your sneakers, which you were glad you had the forethought to leave next to the couch before you laid down. You bent awkwardly, attempting to slip the shoe onto your foot.

“Need some help?” Mason asked sweetly.

“Would you mind?” you replied, feeling a little embarrassed. But Mason was already kneeling on the carpet next to your feet, taking the shoe from your hand. “Christian usually has to and up doing this for me, these days.” The two of you laughed.

Mason tied the laces of your sneakers, being sure to check with you to make sure they were neither too tight or too loose. He stood and helped you to your feet next to him, pulling you into a quick hug, since he hadn’t had the chance to do so when he first greeted you and you thanked him for his help.

You grabbed your bag (which Mason quickly snatched from your hands and tossed over his own shoulder), and the two of you walked out the front door.

Before you knew it, you had made it into Stamford Bridge, passing through security, walking through a few hallways before you found your way to the private box behind the players’ bench. You were able to catch Christian before he ran out onto the field to start the game, giving him a quick kiss and wishing him luck for the upcoming 90 minutes. He still seemed concerned with your slightly abnormal behavior, but you brushed him off again, sending him back to his team. He sent Mason a quick thanks, knowing that you would be in good hands, did his best to push his concern for you to the back of his mind, and left to go line up in the tunnel.

You settled into the hard stadium seats next to Mason, watching as the players filed out onto the pitch in two lines. The usual anthem played and the players greeted one another before they lined up for the opening whistle.

You watched Christian as he bounced on his toes, stretching lightly before the game began and shaking his hands to rid himself of any nerves. A sharp gasp left your lips as the pain returned, this time more intense than you had expected it to be.

Mason noticed this, and his eyebrows were furrowed in concern when you looked over at his face. “You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you repeated the lie you had told Christian that morning and turned back to face the pitch, unable to look him in the eye. You tried to breathe slowly through your nose to keep from ringing any more alarm bells in Mason’s head. The whistle blew, and the players began moving around the pitch, passing the ball between them.

It wasn’t even 5 minutes into the game before the pain returned, a sharp pain that spread across your lower back, your pelvis—all of it. Before you could stop yourself, you grabbed Mason’s arm that was resting on the armrest next to you. The soft whimper that left your lips, paired with your grip on his arm, caused Mason to turn quickly to you. Your eyebrows were drawn together, lips pressed into a line, and he knew something wasn’t right with you.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

You could hear the concern in his voice, though you couldn’t see his face, your eyes shut tightly. You didn’t reply for a moment, just trying to make it through the wave of pain. You felt Mason’s hand on you knee, rubbing it slowly as he wasn’t sure what to do to help you.

It finally subsided, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. You blinked your eyes open, and found Mason’s eyes wide with concern for you. “What’s going on?” he repeated.

“I just…” you sighed. “I’ve been feeling some pain this morning, but I figured they were just Braxton Hicks contractions, but… I’m not so sure now.” Mason could see the fear in your eyes, and he felt helpless, not knowing what to do to help the situation.

“Would it help to get up? Maybe walk around a bit?” he suggested the first thing he could think of. You nodded and he helped you out of your seat, guiding you out of the box down into the player lounge.

Mason sat on one of the benches, bouncing his leg erratically. His eyes flickered back and forth between a screen that was showing the game and you, walking slowly up and down the lounge. He didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by watching you as you paced, but he was too worried to take his eyes off of you for longer than a few seconds.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to take long, slow breaths—in through your nose, out through your mouth. The pain came and went, but your slow walking seemed to be helping the slightest bit.

After a few minutes, Mason approached you. “How you feeling?” he asked hesitantly.

“A little better,” you spoke, but seemingly too soon. You winced as another surge of pain began, and Mason reached out to hold you by your arms in order to keep you steady.

One moment, you were breathing through the pain, holding tightly to Mason’s forearms. The next, you felt a rush of fluid between your legs, soaking the material of your leggings. Your heart sank, blood running cold as you looked up at Mason with wide eyes.

This couldn’t be happening.

No, you thought, it’s still two weeks until the due date. But that didn’t seem to matter. The fact was: your water had just broken and this baby was coming.

Your heart began pounding, and Mason quickly guided you to one of the benches, sitting you down as he took control of the situation. “You stay right here. Don’t move, okay?” He squeezed your arms gently as he sat you down, trying to pull you from the state of shock you seemed to be in. “Just breathe. I’m gonna go get Christian.” He kissed the top of your head, stepping away from you to jog to the door that you knew led to the tunnel.

Mason grabbed the first employee he could find. “Go to Frank Lampard and tell him he needs to sub Christian Pulisic off right now. It’s an emergency!” They seemed confused but nodded anyway. They headed down the tunnel to speak to the coach, and Mason ran quickly to the locker room, collecting the things from Christian’s cubby before running back to your side.

He sat Christian’s bag on the bench before sitting next to you, taking your hand in his as you breathed through a new contraction. He placed his freed hand on your back, rubbing soft circles into it.

Out on the pitch, a noise of confusion passed over the crowd as the official lifted the board over his head with a Chelsea player at his side, signaling that a substitution was being made. A glowing number 10 on the board told everyone that Christian was being subbed off after only 15 minutes. The fans were confused and frustrated, a chorus of boos ringing out at the coaching staff’s decision.

The substitution was as much of a surprise to Christian as it was to everyone else. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, seeming offended by the early substitution. As he jogged over to the sideline, he tried to discern why he would be taken off so soon. He had felt that he was having a pretty good game so far, getting a couple good crosses and creating a few chances.

He patted his teammate on the back as he crossed over the sideline, still slightly angry.

He tried to brush past Lampard to get to the bench, figuring he could work it out at halftime, but Frank grabbed him by the upper arm before he could pass him.

“Mason said we needed to get you off the pitch. Said it was an emergency,” he spoke quietly to Christian, hand covering his mouth to preserve any privacy he could.

A chill ran down Christian’s spine at his words. “I gotta go,” he spoke to the gaffer, eyes wide.

Frank nodded, with a quick,  “Go. They’re in the lounge.” He had caught up with Christian after returning to the club and knew the situation.

Christian barely waited for his response, running down the tunnel, leaving behind a stadium full of confused fans.

When he barges into the lounge, he find you and Mason sitting on the bench. Your eyes are closed and you’re breathing slowly as Mason runs his thumb over your knuckles. Christian is instantly at your side, kneeling on the floor in front of you as he takes your free hand into his.

“Hey, baby,” he did his best to slow his racing heart, wanting to be strong for you.

“Hey,” you replied with a pained giggle at his heavy breathing.

“Is this happening right now?” He squeezed your knee gently.

“I think so, yeah,” you laughed.

He stood, kissing your forehead before he pulled his sneakers out of his bag, changing out of his boots and tall socks, shoving them back into the bag. He helped you to your feet. “Ready to go?” he asked and you nodded in response, unable to stop the nerves that were settling in your stomach. “Alright, let’s do this,” he smiled at you in his best attempt to be encouraging.

“Best of luck, you guys,” Mason spoke, hugging you both. “You’re gonna do great,” he said while you were in his arms. He spoke to both you and Christian but squeezed your shoulders to reassure you especially.

Christian took your hand in his, guiding you to the back exit of the stadium. He moved quickly, sure to be cautious of your situation as he tossed his bag in the back before helping you into the passenger seat.

The drive to the hospital was quiet. No music played as Christian held your hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb when he heard you breathing heavily due to another contraction. His fingers drummed nervously on the steering wheel as he waited for the traffic light to turn green.

Once you had arrived at the hospital, it was a whirlwind of events. Christian led you inside, explaining to the receptionist what was happening, and in an instant, they had you in a wheelchair, placing a ID band on your wrist and wheeling you to a hospital room. Before long they had you in a hospital gown, hooked up to all sorts of monitors and a nurse had come in to place an IV in your arm.

It all felt like it was happening too fast. Your head was spinning, overwhelmed by the sudden changes combined with the numerous emotions running through you right now. You were scared for the birthing process, excited to meet your little girl, worried that something would go wrong, hoping that your baby was healthy. Another contraction tore through you, and they were getting more intense and more frequent as time passed.

Christian pulled you from your spinning thoughts, sitting on the edge of your bed. His palm caressed your cheek softly, pulling your attention to him.

“Hey, it’s alright. I’m here with you, okay?” he reassured you. He could practically see the thoughts swirling in a cloud above your head as your eyes had been darting around the room of busy nurses as they prepared for the arrival of your little girl. A nurse stood at your bedside, hanging a bag of IV fluids to keep you hydrated. Another was wheeling in a small cot for the baby to be placed in upon her arrival. Another was organizing various tools on a cart near the edge of the room, ensuring that the doctor would have anything they may need.

Christian’s thumb stroked gently across your cheekbone. Your eyes finally settled on his soft features, and you immediately felt a little more grounded.

“What do you need right now?”

“I… I don’t know,” you breathed.

“That’s okay,” he smiled at you, kissing your forehead in hopes of calming your nerves. He rested his forehead on yours, keeping your attention on him instead of the anxiety-inducing whirlwind in the room around you. “You’re doing great.”

You smiled at him, taking a deep breath as you looked into each other’s eyes. The moment that you shared calmed your racing heart, signified by the slowed beeping of the heart monitor.

Unbeknownst to you both, an older nurse in the room had noticed the change, turning to see the two of you, foreheads pressed together as Christian whispered softly to you. She nudged the nurse next to her, a younger girl who was in the first years of her career, tilting her head toward the bed. The two of them shared a knowing look, smiling to themselves as they quietly went back to their work.

After the initial frenzy of getting checked in and put into a room, labor turned out to be a long, slow, and miserable process. Fitting, you thought, after the kind of pregnancy you’d had. The doctor had come in a few times to greet you and Christian and did a couple of exams to see how far along you were. Progress is slow, but it’s there, she’d told you.

Christian had changed out of his football kit and called both of your families to let them know what was going on, promising to keep them updated as things progressed. After that, he hadn’t left your side, holding your hand through long, painful contractions and feeding you ice chips in between.

After a long contraction ended, you began to relax, taking a breath and looking over to where he was sitting in a chair by your bed, elbows resting on the mattress while he held your hand in both of his. His soft brown eyes shone in the soft lighting, and you admired the freckles scattered over his nose and cheeks.

You pulled your hand from his, reaching up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing gently over his skin. He held your wrist, turning his head to quickly place a kiss to your palm. You felt your eyes get misty, tears springing to the surface.

“Thank you for being here,” you whispered, your lower lip wobbling as you spoke. “I couldn’t do this without you.”

“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t miss this for the world,” he beamed at you, reaching across your body to hold your free hand. “I love you, Y/N. So, so much.”

“I love you, too Christian.” Before you could finish your sentence, another contraction began and you screwed your eyes shut, unable to stop the whimper that you let out. You felt Christian press his lips to your temple, now standing next to your head. He began whispering words of encouragement into your ears, talking you through the contraction.

A few more hours passed, and you were getting restless. You were desperate to be rid of the nearly constant discomfort and pain that you were feeling—desperate to hold your baby girl in your arms. You had gotten out of bed a couple of times, walking a couple of laps through the halls of the hospital with Christian after the doctor told you it could help relieve the intensity of your contractions and help move the progression of labor along more quickly. Christian walked slowly at your side, stopping and supporting you by your arms when another contraction would come.

Finally, back in the room, the doctor examined you one final time, letting you know that you were fully dilated and it was time to start pushing.

Anxiety ran through you immediately. Sure, you had spent the entire day wishing to be at this point so you could be finished with the whole process, but now, you were terrified.

Christian noticed the sudden change in your demeanor as the hospital staff began moving around the room again, preparing for your baby’s impending arrival. He took your face in his hands as he stood by the bed.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he repeated the same encouragement he gave you a few hours ago. “You can do this. I’m gonna be right here the whole time, okay? I’ve got you.” You nodded in response, but he could still see the worry in your eyes.

Everything was ready. The doctor was sitting in a chair at your feet, your legs placed in the stirrups of the bed. She talked you through what was about to happen, telling you to go ahead and push the next time you felt a contraction. You glanced towards Christian, and he smiled at you softly, nodding his head in encouragement. It wasn’t long before the first contraction hit and you begin pushing, crying out at the pain that seemed to tear its way through you.

Christian kept his promise, standing at your side the whole time. He held your hand, encouraging you to squeeze it as tightly as you needed to. He pressed soft kisses to your now-sweaty forehead, mumbling sweet encouragements in your ear about how incredible you were and how soon you were going to be able to hold your little girl.

What felt like hours (but had likely only been 20 minutes or so) had passed, and Christian could tell you were losing motivation. The nurses were doing their best to encourage you, patting your leg and cheering you on. It was a difficult process, but he thought you were doing it perfectly. You had never looked more beautiful than you did right now, he thought, in a drab, plain hospital gown, with sweat beading over your forehead, causing stray hairs to stick to it.

“I can see her head!” the doctor smiled up at the two of you from her seat at the end of the bed. “Keep going! You’re almost there!” With a renewed determination, you pushed hard, letting out a loud groan. Christian continued mumbling encouragement in your ear, using his free hand to brush the hairs out of your face, stroking his hand lovingly over then top of your head.

“One more! You’re almost done!” the doctor called out between contractions.

You breathed heavily, trying to relax in the short time of relief you had before the next contraction came.

“She’s almost here, baby! You’re doing amazing!” Christian said excitedly to you, a smile spreading over his face at the idea that you would be meeting your baby so soon. He brought your hand to his face, pressing a kiss to the back of it. He gave it a quick squeeze, encouraging you to make it through these last few moments.

It was another whirlwind of movement and emotions as you gave one final push and your baby was finally born. Her cries rang out into the room, and a wave of relief crashed over you. The doctor quickly placed the baby on your chest, a couple of soft towels wrapped around her as one of the nurses wiped over her face.

Several nurses called out their congratulations and encouragement, but you were just looking down at your baby.

Your little girl.

Her eyes were clamped shut, mouth open as she continued to wail. Her tiny fingers were grabbing at the skin of your chest as you held her tightly to you. You patted her back, trying to soothe her crying.

When you looked over at Christian, there were tears spilling down his cheeks, leaving trails in their wake that shone in the light. You used your thumb to wipe away another tear that had fallen. He brought his hand up to rest over yours on your baby’s back. She began to slowly calm down, her loud cries reduced to soft whimpers and coos, and you were sure the was the most adorable noise you had ever heard.

An hour later, Christian was sitting in the hospital bed beside you, cradling his daughter in his arms as you rested your head on his shoulder.

The nurses had taken her briefly to get her cleaned up. The umbilical cord had been cut and the placenta delivered. The doctor had gotten you cleaned up, stating that the birth had gone very well, with almost no unexpected damage done to your body, and you had finally been able to eat again.

You had fed your baby for the first time, and Christian marveled at the sight of it, enamored with the fact that you were able to produce your own milk to nourish her.

Christian had called some friends and family to let them know that the baby was here, and both of your parents were on their way over to meet their new granddaughter.

But for now, it was just the three of you: you, your loving husband, and your sweet, tiny daughter.

Christian put his arm around your shoulders, and you laid your head on his bare chest looking down to the sleeping baby. After a nurse had begun explaining the importance of skin-to-skin contact for bonding in the early days of your baby’s life, Christian had quickly torn his shirt over his head before taking the baby in his arms and cradling her against his chest. So now, he held you both in his arms, feeling his daughter’s soft breaths on his chest. You brought your hand up, nudging her hand, and she immediately wrapped her tiny little fingers around one of yours.

His heart seemed to swell with pride, feeling like it had grown 3 sizes that day. He thought that it couldn’t possibly be big enough to hold all of the love he felt for you both, feeling it spill over. His eyes felt misty as he looked down at you, wiggling your finger to bounce her hand slightly.

He kissed the top of your head, squeezing you both a little tighter. He felt completely content there with both of you in his arms.

His girls.

cmpulisic

liked by kpulisic, masonmount, y/npulisic, and 1,116,266 others

cmpulisic Here's to the second girl that ever stole my heart

Baby girl is happy and healthy, and momma did amazing

comments on this post have been limited

kpulisic She is the sweetest!

masonmount 💙

yourbff congratulations!! 🫶

chelseafc newest member of the squad congrats to you both!

deedee_pulisic so excited to meet my niece!! happy for you both! 🤍

usmnt congratulations!!

tag list: @masonspulisic @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @notsoattractivearenti

[mountingpulisic]

offsides (mason m.) - chapter one

summary : when miscommunication on her brother's behalf causes y/n to be unpunctual picking up her six-year-old nephew ollie, she meets chelsea's pronounced golden boy who was delightful enough to wait with him. for mason, it was love at first sight. for y/n, he was just her nephew's football coach.

word count : 2,926

fingers anxiously drummed along the steering wheel as you hummed the lyrics to the song that played on the radio. 

you were late.

but truth be told, it wasn’t even your fault for being unpunctual.  

if your older brother, charlie, had informed you twenty-four hours prior that he needed assistance picking up your six-year-old nephew oliver, you would’ve been keener on intaking more water and less tequila last night. however, he had forgotten and now you were left to endure the judgemental stares from the faculty due to your tardiness. 

glancing briefly at yourself through the rearview mirror, you came to the conclusion that not only were the staff going to be gossiping about your late arrival but your attire as well. having little time to properly get dressed after you ended the phone call with charlie, you mindlessly threw on the first articles of clothing your hands had touched on your bedroom floor, not even bothering to see if your shoes had matched as you dashed out of your flat. 

apprehensively looking up at the traffic light that has yet to turn the desired color, you begin to slightly debate if faith was against you at this given moment, if you were being punished for going out on a sunday night rather than attending church that morning. 

if you were only five minutes late picking oliver, you wouldn’t have been sweating bullets as you are now. 

if you were only ten minutes late, you figured oliver’s football coach would understand and agree that the traffic going towards stamford bridge was always a pain. 

however, you weren’t five, ten or even fifteen minutes late, you were thirty and you were having a difficult time suppressing the irritation you felt towards your older brother for not properly communicating with you. 

you knew that the benefit of the doubt should be thrown his way due to the circumstances that these past few months have brought, having gone from co-parenting to having to do it all on his own, it had been a tiring adjustment for charlie. you had offered to help as much as you can, with you being newly graduated from university you had a lot of free time on your hands. so that’s how you found yourself speeding through the streets of cobham, crying your way out of a ticket and almost forgetting to place your car in park as you flew out of the driver’s side. 

briskly walking to the entrance, you began to try to look presentable despite the pounding headache you were enduring, smoothing out your hair and tugging down your oversized shirt that barely covered your bottom half. you could just imagine the stares now, all eyes on you and your skimpy outfit. 

if you weren’t in an hastened mood to collect your nephew, you would’ve properly admired the stadium before your eyes. despite growing up in cobham all your life, you never found the time or interest in supporting your home team. football games had always been a thing between your father and brother, and then oliver was introduced when he was old enough to realize what was going on. 

if someone were to put a gun to your head and tell you to explain what offsides meant, you’d be dead. 

frantically looking around for a familiar head of curly brown hair, you were sure you looked like a deranged individual. the feeling of uneasiness in your stomach only grew when you couldn’t locate him. you could only imagine the conversation you were going to have with your brother on how you lost his only son. then at the exact moment you began to hear footsteps then the recognizable laugh that belonged to your nephew filled the air. 

turning the corner, oliver had the widest grin on his face. he showcased the small gap that remained empty due to his two missing teeth as he conversed with the unknown man beside him. you had never seen the guy that stood alongside your nephew, and you were positive you’d remembered crossing paths with someone like him.  

“ollie!” you shouted at your nephew, waving your hand above your head to grab his attention. 

oliver’s doe eyes quizzically scan the room, he turned his attention away from the man and towards the voice that called for him. you didn’t think it was possible but oliver’s smile only grew when his big brown eyes settled on your figure, forgetting all about the unknown man as his microscopic legs picked up speed and gravitated towards you. 

oliver looked as if he had just been rolling around in grass for the past two hours, hair pointed in different directions,  football kit stained with grass marks along with his cleats that were trailing dirt wherever he stepped.

“finally! i was thinking you forgot about me.” oliver joked, his practice bag being dragged behind him as he approached you. just by his facial expressions, you knew that he was judging the way you were dressed, oversized t-shirt that had spice girls plastered all over it, mismatched shoes and thick chunky sunglasses shielding your eyes from the sunlight. anyone with a brain would know you were hungover. 

“i would never forget about my favorite nephew.” 

“i’m your only nephew.” oliver counterattacked. 

“yes and that’s why you’re my favorite. "you respond as you pull him in for a hug. engulfing the scent of wet grass and sweat when you placed a soft kiss to the top of his head, your nose playfully scrunched as you softly pushed oliver away. the nostalgic smell reminded you of the afternoons in your childhood when charlie would return from practice and plant his entire body on top of yours to rub off the smell of the outdoors onto you. 

“ollie, i don’t think you can get in my car smelling like that, you reek.” 

you had your nose pinched as you tried to block the smell that was surrounding your nephew from entering your nostrils, a soft laugh escapes your lips as oliver lifts his armpit up and uses his opposite hand to childishly wave the smell towards you. 

“oLIie, i doN’t tHiNk yOu CaN gEt iN My cAr sMelLiNg lIke tHaT” he mimicked, cutely scrunching his face as he made faces to go along with his attempt of copying your voice, causing for you to pull him into so you can ruffle his curls, his sweet laughter escaping his mouth as he tried to fight you off inoffensively. 

unbeknownst to the pair of you, mason watched with awe struck eyes at the moment that was unfolding before him, a smile playing on his lips as ollie was able to break free from you, sticking out his tongue in victory.

this was mason’s first time seeing you here at stamford bridge, he was sure of it because he would’ve remembered someone with your altitude of beauty. eyes tracing over your unfamiliar features, he couldn’t help the way his heart accelerated in speed as another burst of your angelic laughter filled the room, your inviting smile brightening as you glanced down lovingly at the young child before you. 

mason couldn’t explain it but everything about you felt alluring, his eyes picked up on small details of you and made sure to engrave them in his memory so he wouldn’t forget the face of the woman before him, the exquisite face belonging to you. 

preoccupied admiring your features, he didn’t notice your hand had been stuck out trying to formally introduce yourself to him.  

“coach mason!” oliver shouted, tiny fingers tugging at mason’s forearm trying to grab his attention. 

snapping out of the trance he was in, mason painted on a smile as he extended his arm out to you, trying to be respectful as he felt his focus drift down to your bare thighs, cracking a smile when he noticed your feet had mismatching pairs of trainers on.  

“i’m sorry, mind went somewhere else right then ” he apologizes, engulfing your tiny hand into his immense one, trying not to focus on how smooth your skin felt against his callous skin or the way your sweet aroma engulfed his senses. 

“no, it’s okay, happens to all of us. i’m y/n, oliver’s aunt” you introduce yourself, flashing an oscar worthy smile at mason who mirrored you.  “thank you for keeping this geezer occupied.”

“nice to meet you, y/n. i’m mason. wa-it, you alr-eady knew th-at because oliver just shouted out my name.” mason rambled, nervously laughing when you threw him an adoring look as your eyebrows furrowed together trying to piece together what he was saying. “hey but no truly it’s no problem. oliver’s a great kid, you got yourself a future chelsea star here.” mason vocalizes, a beaming smile now directed towards your nephew. 

“when he makes it big, i can only hope he doesn’t forget his favorite player and part-time coach.” 

“one of my favorite players” oliver corrects, a toothless smile making another appearance. ”i can’t choose between you and pulisic. plus kante helped me score against thiago last match, so be worried, you got competition” 

mason mocked hurt as he placed a hand to chest where his heart was, stumbling back to add the effect as if he had just been shot. the action caused a smile to return onto your face, something mason deemed as a personal victory. 

“ouch, oliver, ouch.” he jokes, sticking out his bottom lip playfully as he soothes his chest to help mend his “broken” heart. 

“favorite player?” you ask, confusion drawn across your face. “i thought you were just ollie’s football coach? you play in the premier league?”

before mason could get out a word, oliver let out a exaggerated scoff. bewildered eyes looked up at you as if you just confessed to killing the king of england. 

“you’re kidding right?! please tell me your kidding, aunt y/n! how do you not know THE mason mount? money mase?! chelsea’s golden boy? player of the year two times in a row? do you not own a television or have internet?! do you live underneath a rock?”  oliver shrieked. 

you’d never seen oliver this worked up, his tiny arms were flailing around as he went on to tell you almost every little thing about mason’s stats as a football player. mentioning his hat trick that he scored against norwich city, how he was in nineteenth place for the ballon d’or, the list went on and on. 

“okay, ollie i get it, i’m sorry.” you interject, holding up your hands defensively towards the six year old. you were sure he was going to lose his breath at any given moment from the rapid pace he was talking, chubby face turning red as he defended mason’s credibility.  

“don’t apologize to me, apologize to him.” oliver insisted, pushing you lightly towards mason causing for you to dive into the broad chest of the footballer, hands breaking your fall as you collided into him. 

“ollie!” you reprimand your nephew, removing your hands from mason’s chest as you shoot him an apologetic glance. mason’s face was a bright shade of ruby red as he tried to recompose himself from having your hands on him. “hey, well,i’m sorry for not knowing you who you were. he just referred to you as a coach so i got a little confused.” 

“no worries, oliver only calls me coach because the little menace likes to sneak his way onto the pitch and train with us from time to time, insisting that if he is going to be a striker for chelsea one day he needs to train with the legends beforehand.”

you let out a dry laugh at your nephew’s antics, surprised at the fact he was only six and already knew how to properly worm his way into a situation that would work in his favor.

“what can i say? i get it from grandpa.” oliver shrugged, a cocky smirk painted on his lips as he readjusted his practice bag onto his shoulder. “can we go now? waiting for you has only made me hungrier than i was before practice ended. these snacks they are providing us with aren’t enough for a growing boy like me.” patting his stomach as he pointed to his mouth dramatically. 

you nodded your head, you were also a little hungry yourself. not having nearly enough time to make yourself breakfast, let alone stop for something when making your way towards the bridge. 

sending mason an appreciated smile thanking him once again, you followed close behind oliver as he quickly made his way out of the building, moaning and groaning the entire time about how he could eat an entire cow and because you were moving at such a leisurely rate you’d make the two of you late for catching the breakfast window at chick-fli-a. 

“wait, y/n!.” mason had called after you, jogging up to where you had stopped when you heard your name being shouted.  

“i was thinking mm-aaybe i could ta-ke you out, i mmean i’ve n-ever s-een you aro-und here before so i o-nly assume you’re ne-w to the a-rea. i d-on’t min-d, if you do-n’t m-ind or if yo-ur b-oyfrien-d do-esn’t min-d, i just kno-w some n-ice spot arou-nd that i’d lo-ve to sho-w you.”

mason was fumbling over his words as he had your full attention on him, your soft gaze burning a hole in the middle of his forehead as he saw an intrigued smile appear on your face when you caught on to what he was asking. he could only hope he wasn’t making a complete fool of himself, he felt like it was too soon but he positive it was love at first sight when it came to seeing you for the first time. 

lips breaking into a smile, you adoringly let your head drop as another gracious laugh dripped out of your mouth. lifting back up to regain eye contact, meeting mason’s that were nervously looking at you as he fiddled with his fingers awaiting your response. 

“i’m a local, mason. i have lived here all my life” you replied back amused“ and i don’t have a boyfriend.” 

the smile you’ve grown to love in the small amount of time you’ve known mason appeared at the mention that you didn’t have a boyfriend, he tried to hide it but failed miserably since he felt like he just hit the jackpot. 

“well since you’re a local, maybe you can show me around then, any good secret spots?” mason openly flirted, closing the distance between you two to grant his internal wish to be a little closer to you. 

“well, they wouldn’t no longer be a secret would they?” you whispered

unashamedly flirting wasn’t something you did often, you usually were the one to recoil in embarrassment when an attractive guy approached you but with mason something in you was different, 

you felt bold, nonetheless, crossing bounty lines that you set long before meeting mason. his eyes spoke a thousand words that his mouth couldn’t comprend just yet, as he gazed down at you, cherishing the small freckles that were dusted across the bridge of your nose. 

“however, coach mason.” you had taken a step back at this point, creating distance between yourself and chelsea’s golden boy. “i don’t do football players, or coaches. so you’ll unfortunately have to get a different tour guide.” you confessed, crossing your arms around your chest causing your oversized t-shirt to rise a little higher on your thigh. 

trying not to draw his attention towards the skin that had been recently exposed, mason let a breath he didn’t realize he was holding when you backed away.

“well what do i have to do in order to change your mind about football players and coaches?” he asked curiously, mason never felt this strongly about a person upon first glance and he wasn’t going to let you slip right through his fingertips so easily. 

“i don’t know much about football but i do know athletes are no good and i pledged to stay far from trouble since moving back home.” 

despite oliver's concerns, you didn't live underneath a rock. although you didn't keep up with football world, you did keep up with ongoing cheating accusations and drama that has aspired from females dating football players. you already felt like you had your fair share of heartbreak in your lifetime, so you were going to pass on the idea on a date with the greek god in front of you.

with that you turned on your heels as you made your way to the exit, adding a little more emphasis to your walk as you approached your nephew who was watching from the double-sided doors at your interaction with his “coach”. 

“i’m not giving up that easily, y/n. trust me when i say i am a man of my word, you’ll be going on that date with me in no time.” mason cockily shouted behind you. dismissing him off, you wave your hand behind your head as you and oliver exited stanford bridge, a gummy smile painted on your face at mason’s declared mission. mason eyes never left your figure until you were outside the doors, hanging his head down as he tried to digest the interaction he just had with you. he was hell bent on getting that date with you, whether it meant tracking you down on the streets of cobham or enlisting your nephew for help. 

mason was going to get that first date, and he was sure of it.

a/n: thank you to @mountttmase @mountpulisic @mounthings for taking the time to read my rough drafts, i couldn't thank you guys enough. this series has been so fun to write so far and i already have so many ideas i wanna bring to life for y/n and mason! i hope you enjoyed this as much as i did writing it.

taglist : @mountpulisic @alwaysclassyeagle