just a quick heads up; any spanish in this i have used google translate (sorry😞), few suggestive comments, also included aggie in this but ik she not been in the squad this time around but let’s pretend she was:), tad bit of jealous lessi and i think that’s it..
masterlist
the roar at wembley hadn't quite settled yet. even as the final whistle faded and players began drifting into handshakes, hugs and post match routines. the energy lingered, charged, electric and unfinished.
england versus spain always carried that edge now. history. rivalry. a match where nobody could really tell who was gonna be the winner until the 90 minutes were up. the match something a little more personal for some.
alessia stood with her hands on her hips, chest rising and falling, trying to slow her breathing. england had won. hard fought. frustrating in places, a scrappy goal, good chances in other areas.
but her eyes, predictably weren't on the scoreboard. they were on you. spain's number 3.
the two of you had always sort of known each other, mutual friends on social media before the two of you had ever properly met. youth camps, international tournaments, campaigns and passing mentions from teammates.
alessia with england, you with spain. the kind of familiarity where a name rings a bell, a face feels vaguely recognisable but you've never actually shared a conversation. just two players orbiting the same world, crossing paths without ever colliding.
until the one night in london, a mutual friend by the name of niamh charles finally closed the distance and you were introduced to the blonde properly. it was meant to be casual but the music was loud and the people milling everywhere.
but alessia barely noticed any of it once you started talking. there was something disarming about you, the easy confidence and the spanish twang of your accent when you spoke even though you've been in england for the past five years, that and the way you held eye contact just a second too long.
alessia had laughed more than she meant to, stayed closer than she planned to and by the end of the night, when you leaned in with that same quiet charm and said something in spanish that alessia didn't understand but somehow could feel, alessia then knew she was in trouble.
the rest, as it turned out, didn't take long at all. now nearly two years later your both happily living together and still in the same little love bubble.
but now across the pitch though you were still in spain red, hair slightly damp and pushed back in a bun, laughing at something one of your teammates had said. you looked annoyingly unaffected like you hadn't just played ninety minutes under wembley lights.
alessia huffed quietly to herself as she watched from afar walking along the pitch with lotte and georgia. but before she could make her move though she watched as you wandered towards a couple of the england girl more specifically some of the chelsea girls.
alessia's brows pulled together slightly, watching as you effortlessly spoke with aggie, lauren and lucy.
aggie of all people grinned when she saw you wandering over, already tugging at the hem of her shirt. there was a quick exchange, words which alessia couldn't hear and then just like that they swapped.
you handed over your spain shirt, aggie handed over england's. and while alessia shouldn't really be this upset about a silly spain shirt which she knew there was a draw filled of your spanish shirts back at home there was still something underlying in her chest as she watched the interaction.
—
"alessia.”
her name had barely settled in the tunnel before aggie appeared at her side, all bright-eyed mischief and barely-contained excitement, like she’d been waiting for this exact moment.
there was something slung over her shoulder.
red. spanish red. your shirt.
alessia’s gaze dropped immediately. no hesitation, no pretending this time, just instinct. the familiar number, the name she knew by heart even without seeing it properly… yeah. that one stung a bit.
aggie noticed. of course she did. her grin widened, sharp and playful. “you look like you’ve just lost something.”
alessia blinked, straightening slightly, forcing her expression into something neutral. casual. completely unaffected. “no i haven’t,” alessia said quickly. too quickly.
aggie hummed, unconvinced, shifting the shirt so it hung a little more obviously between them. she smoothed a hand over the fabric like she was handling something precious, which, to be fair, she probably thought she was.
“shame, though,” aggie said lightly. “thought you might’ve wanted it.”
alessia let out a scoff, turning away with a dismissive shake of her head, like it didn’t matter in the slightest. like she hadn’t clocked it immediately. like her chest hadn’t done that annoying little thing the second she saw it.
“you swapped,” alessia shrugged. “that’s your problem.”
behind her, aggie let out a soft laugh fond, not mocking. there was no real bite to it, just the kind of teasing that came from knowing exactly what buttons to press.
“yeah, i did,” aggie said, stepping around so she was back in alessia’s line of sight again, still holding the shirt.
“cause she’s,, well… her.” she shrugged, a little sheepish but still grinning, alessia knew how much she appreciated your game as a footballer even if you didn’t play in the same position. “but of a full-circle moment, innit? chelsea and all that.”
that softened it. just slightly.
alessia’s eyes flicked back to the shirt despite herself, then up to aggie. “you’re such a fan.”
“massive,” aggie said, not even pretending otherwise. “always have been. she’s cool”
there was a beat. then her grin turned wicked again. pest mode was back. “but also,” she added, tilting her head, “thought it’d be funny.”
alessia narrowed her eyes immediately. “funny how?”
aggie lifted the shirt again, giving it a little swing. “dunno… just… taking my teammate’s girlfriend’s shirt right in front of her.
alessia couldn’t help it she let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “you’re a nightmare.”
“and you’re jealous,” aggie shot back, far too quickly.
“i am not.”
“you are a bit.”
“i’m not,” alessia repeated, though there was less conviction in it now, her eyes betraying her as they flicked back to the shirt again.
aggie’s expression softened just a touch still teasing, still playful, but warmer now. she bumped her shoulder lightly against alessia.
“y/n was asking about you, by the way,” aggie said, almost as an afterthought.
that landed. alessia’s head turned back sharply. “what?”
aggie grinned again, clearly pleased with herself. “relax. not in a ‘i’m stealing your girlfriend’ way,” she added quickly, laughing. “more like… making sure you weren’t sulking somewhere.”
alessia rolled her eyes, but there was a small, involuntary smile tugging at her lips now. “i don’t sulk.”
“course you don’t,” aggie said, completely unconvinced.
she patted alessia shoulder, already starting to back away down the tunnel. “don’t worry, i’ll look after it.”
alessia watched her go, arms folding across her chest, jaw tightening just slightly.
because yeah she got it. aggie admired you. looked up to you. same club, same badge, same dressing room most weeks. of course she’d want your shirt.
didn’t mean alessia had to like it.
she exhaled sharply through her nose, glancing down the tunnel again.
two steps. three.
—
the tunnel had settled into that strange in-between state. no longer the chaos of full-time, but not quiet enough to disappear into.
staff from both teams drifted past with a post match buzz and headsets, a few players lingered in clusters still chatting on, laughter echoing faintly off the concrete. somewhere further down, cameras were being set and the low hum of media chatter building again.
and yet alessia spotted you instantly. like her eyes had been looking for you before she’d even realised it.
you were leaning back against the wall, one shoulder pressed to the cool concrete, mid-conversation with one of the spanish staff. relaxed. focused. completely at ease in a way that made something in Alessia’s chest tug.
you hadn’t seen her yet.
alessia slowed without meaning to completely forgetting what she had left the england changing room for.
she could go over. she should go over.
but instead, alessia hovered off to the side, thumb dragging aimlessly over her phone screen, not actually reading anything. every few seconds, her gaze flicked back up quick, almost guilty glances, like she might get caught staring.
waiting. and it took longer than she liked.
long enough for her to start overthinking it. long enough for alessia to consider just leaving it, catching you later on a blurry screen and sleep eyes, pretending she hadn’t been—
then you shifted. conversation done, body turning slightly as if to head further down the tunnel back to the away end of wembley.
alessia didn’t think. she just moved. fast.
closing the distance in a few quick strides, alessia reached you before you’d taken more than a step her hand slipping instinctively around your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to anchor you as she tugged you sideways.
out of the flow of people. into a quieter pocket between stacked equipment cases and a wide concrete pillar, tucked just enough out of sight.
you startled, just for a second, your body tensing under her touch before recognition settled. “what on—oh, lessi.”
“hi,” alessia said, a little breathless from the sudden movement, a little pout still lingering in her tone.
her arms stayed where they were. wrapped loosely but deliberately around your waist, hands resting warm against your sides, thumbs absentmindedly brushing small, slow arcs through the fabric of your under shirt.
you blinked at her, then smiled soft, immediate, like it was automatic whenever you looked at her. “hi.”
there was a beat.
neither of you moved away.
alessia didn’t loosen her hold instead, if anything, her grip shifted slightly, fingertips pressing a fraction firmer, like she was grounding herself in you.
“…you swapped shirts,” alessia said, attempting casual and missing it entirely.
your lips twitched. “i did.”
“with aggie.”
“mhm.”
alessia’s eyes narrowed just a touch, trying to look annoyed but the way she leaned in closer, the way her fingers curled slightly into your sides, gave her away completely.
“didn’t even look for me.”
“i did look for you,” you said gently, tilting your head, your hands coming up instinctively to rest at her hips. not grabbing just settling there, familiar, like they belonged.
“you were busy.”
“i was not.”
“you were talking with Lotte.”
“i wasn’t for—” alessia cut herself off, exhaling sharply, her grip tightening for a second before easing again. “that’s not the point.”
your smile widened, fond and just a little bit teasing. “no?”
“no.” alessia muttered, stepping that tiny bit closer without thinking, until there was barely any space left between you. “i wanted it.”
“what? the shirt?”
“yes, the shirt.”
you hummed, like you were considering it deeply, even as your thumbs started to move slow, absent strokes along the sides of her hips, tracing the fabric there, grounding and warm.
“un poco posesivo de tu parte…” you murmured softly. (“a little possessive of you”)
alessia blinked, immediately suspicious. “what?”
you just smiled, all innocence, your fingers slipping a fraction further under the hem of her shirt barely there, just enough for your fingertips to brush warm skin.
“nothing, te amo.”
her frown deepened, though she didn’t move your hands away. “no.. what did you just say?”
“mhm?” you tilted your head, feigning confusion. “i said it’s unfortunate.”
“you did not say that,” alessia shot back instantly. you bit back a grin. “maybe you should learn spanish.”
“or maybe you should speak english.”
“¿dónde está la diversión en eso?” you teased, your voice softer now, your hands settling more securely at her waist, thumbs pressing gentle, rhythmic circles against her skin. (“where’s the fun in that?”)
alessia stared at you blankly for a second, then sighed, her forehead tipping briefly toward yours. “…i don’t know what that means either.”
“that sounds like a you problem,” you said lightly, leaning in to press a soft kiss to her lips.
quick. but warm.
your hands tightened slightly at her waist as you did, anchoring her there, like you didn’t want her slipping away anytime soon.
alessia rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her mouth now, her hands shifting one sliding from your side up along your back, fingers curling lightly into your shirt.
“you’re annoying.”
“y todavía me amas,” you murmured, leaning in closer, your nose brushing hers. (“and you still love me,”)
alessia squinted at you, suspicious. “that better not be something cocky.” your grin gave you away instantly. “y/n.”
“what?” you laughed quietly. “you don’t even know what i said.”
“that’s the problem!” your expression softened just a touch at that something gentler slipping in. you leaned in again, this time slower. a kiss to the corner of her mouth.
then another proper kiss this time, lingering just long enough for her to melt into it slightly, her grip on you tightening in response.
her thumb brushed unconsciously along your side as she pulled you a fraction closer.
“…that doesn’t replace it,” alessia murmured when you pulled back, though her voice had lost all bite it previously had.
“mh,” you hummed, lips trailing lightly along her jaw, just beneath her ear. “no?”
“no.”
“qué pena…” you whispered against her skin. (“what a shame…”)
alessia let out a quiet, frustrated sound, her head tipping back just slightly before she caught herself. “stop doing that.”
“doing what?”
“speaking spanish when you know i don’t understand.” you pulled back just enough to look at her, your hands still steady on her waist, thumbs brushing slow, absent patterns.
“i can translate, my love.”
“then translate.”
you considered her for a moment, eyes flicking between hers, then shook your head slightly, a teasing smile returning.
“mhm… just that i love my girlfriend.”
alessia let out a disbelieving laugh, shaking her head, her hand pressing lightly against your shoulder. “you’re unbelievable.”
“and you’re still pouting.”
“i am not.”
you lifted a hand, thumb brushing gently over her lower lip, soft and deliberate. “you are.”
alessia huffed but didn’t pull away. her fingers tightened slightly in your shirt instead. “…i still wanted your shirt,” she admitted quietly.
that softened you completely. “okay,” you said, voice gentler now. “next time, in the reverse fixture. your the first person i find.”
alessia searched your face for a second, like she was weighing it. “…promise?”
“pinky promise.”
there was a small pause.then your smile shifted mischief creeping back in.
“but…”
alessia narrowed her eyes immediately. “what.”
“we can swap something else.”
alessia blinked, still a little dazed. “like what?”
you shrugged lightly, like it was obvious, your hands giving her waist a small, playful squeeze. “shorts?”
alessia froze. “…what?”
“my shorts,” you repeated casually. “you can have them.” she stared at you, completely thrown.
“in the tunnel?” alessia hissed, glancing instinctively over her shoulder, her hand flattening briefly against your side like she might physically keep you in place. “are you serious?”
you grinned. “what? it’s efficient.”
“there are people here.”
“they’re busy.”
“and there are cameras here.”
“not right here,” you murmured, leaning in again, your lips brushing just beneath her ear, your fingers pressing a little firmer into her waist as you held her there.
“and besides…”
your voice dropped, softer now. “en casa puedes verme sin nada cuando quieras…” (“at home you can see me without anything whenever you want...")
alessia went completely still. her hands stilled on you, grip tightening just slightly. “…i don’t—” she started, then stopped, she didn’t know what you had said but she had a feeling it wasn’t exactly family friendly as her eyes widened a fraction. “wait.”
you pulled back just enough to see her face, clearly enjoying yourself far too much.
“that sounded suspicious.”
“you think?”
“yeah,” alessia said immediately. “translate it.” you just smiled. “y/n.”
“hmm?”
“translate it.”
“no.”
alessia gasped quietly, shoving at your shoulder, though she didn’t actually create any distance. “you’re actually the worst.”
you laughed under your breath. “you’ll survive.”
alessia glanced around again, lowering her voice, but her hands had crept higher now one settling more firmly at your back, pulling you just that little bit closer again. “you cannot just say things like that when there are people around.”
“why?” you said lightly. “you don’t even know what I said.”
“i know you and i know that tone.”
you grinned. “ok fair.”
alessia shook her head, but she didn’t let go if anything, she leaned in closer, her forehead brushing yours for a second.
“…later,” you muttered. your expression softened again, all teasing slipping away just for her.
“later,” she agreed.
then, quieter, right against her lips “te lo traduzco después.” (“I'll translate it for you later.")
alessia exhaled softly, something between exasperation and a smile.“you’re unbelievable.”
“and you love it when i in talk spanish.”
alessia didn’t even try to argue cause it was true even if she had no idea what it was you were saying the accent, the confidence that radiated you when you spoke in spanish made her melt.
so instead, alessia pulled you in properly this time one hand firm at your back, the other still at your side as she kissed you again.
quick. warm. familiar in a way that made the rest of the tunnel fade out for just a second.
the kiss lingered just a second longer than it probably should have soft, warm, grounding in a way that made everything else blur out for a moment.
alessia’s hand stayed firm at your back, fingers curled slightly into the fabric like she didn’t quite want to let go yet. your thumb brushed once more along her side, slow and absent, before you finally pulled back just enough to breathe, just enough to look at her.
alessia was smiling now. not the pouty, jealous one from before something softer, a little quieter, like she’d settled again.
“you’re trouble,” alessia murmured, though there was no real complaint behind it.
“and you love it,” you replied easily.
alessia huffed a small laugh, eyes flicking down briefly to your lips before back up again, like she was considering going back in.
and she probably would have—
“LESS!” the shout echoed down the tunnel, cutting straight through the moment. taylor.
alessia froze. you didn’t even try to hide your grin.
a second voice followed, louder, more dramatic. the one and only ella toone. “i swear to god, if you’re still loitering! you’re literally the last one left!”
alessia squeezed her eyes shut for half a second, her forehead dropping lightly against yours in defeat. “..unbelievable,” alessia muttered.
you laughed softly, your hands sliding from her waist but not completely letting go fingers still hooked loosely at her sides like you were reluctant too.
“go,” you said gently, nudging her slightly. “before they come looking.”
“they already are,” alessia mumbled, though she didn’t move straight away. her hands lingered one brushing down your arm, slow and absent, like she was memorising the feeling. the other gave your waist one last small squeeze.
another shout from down the tunnel— “LESS!”
this one followed by a chorus of exaggerated groans.
“COMING!” alessia called back, finally pulling away but only just.
she took a step back, then another… then paused, looking at you again like she’d forgotten something important. “you better keep that promise,” alessia said, pointing lightly at you.
you tilted your head, all innocence. “what one?”
alessia narrowed her eyes, though her smile gave her away. “don’t start.”
you laughed, stepping back yourself now. “go shower, lessi.”
alessia rolled her eyes, but there was that softness again as she leaned in quickly stealing one last kiss, fast and fleeting, like a secret. “…later,” alessia murmured against your lips.
“later,” you echoed.
then she was gone jogging back into the noise of the tunnel, getting an immediate round of teasing the second she rejoined her teammates.
you watched her for a second longer than necessary, a quiet smile settling in.
Hi my lovely. So, as we all know Alexia is leaving Barça 😢. I’m not sure where that leaves the Beautiful Girl Universe at the moment but Amor will stay until at least January 2027 and I’ve already got some ideas in my head about developing some on the relationships between Amor and the youngsters, her and Irene and her and Patri. But anyways, here is how Amor found out about Alexia leaving.
Everything Is Changing
Alexia Putellas x Reader
Description: you find out Alexia is leaving Barcelona
Beautiful Girl Masterlist
“I’m not renewing my contract.”
Alexia’s voice was neutral. No inflection whatsoever. You knew it was coming. She hadn’t spoken about renewing at all. Last time, you had heard every thought as it formed. Every meeting. Every doubt. Every possibility. You had been part of the process.
This time? Nothing.
No conversations. No updates. No late-night discussions in bed.
You knew it was coming.
That didn't mean it hurt any less.
“What?” You blinked. You could feel the lump in your throat as you tried to swallow.
“I’m not renewing. I’m leaving Barça.” Her voice was that cold monotone voice that told you everything. Her mind was set.
You put the glass you had been holding down, the soapy water splashing slightly over the edge of the sink.
What a weird time to drop the most important piece of news right now. You had just finished dinner. Alexia had insisted she cook her Mamí’s paella. It was one of your favourite of her family recipes. Maybe that was why she cooked it for you. To butter you up.
No. You scolded yourself. That wasn’t Alexia. That wasn’t your beautiful girl. You knew that she would have fretted over the best way to tell you. Probably lost sleep over it. How many nights had she lied awake whilst you dozed peacefully next to her? How many nights was she close to tears when you slept obliviously next to her?
“Ok.” You said the word slowly. As if you were testing the word out in your mouth, like you had never said the word before.
“Ok?” You heard Alexia shuffle behind you. You could picture her expression. Arms crossed, eyebrow arched.
“Yeah.”
“Just ok?”
“Well …” you took a deep breath, turning to face her. “What do you want me to say?”
“Something other than ‘ok’.” You took another slow breath, forcing yourself to stay measured.
“Ok.” The word slipped out involuntarily. You ignored her exasperated huff.
“Well … right now I can’t decide what I’m feeling so you’re going to have to wait for a minute.” Your brain was simultaneously going a thousand miles a minute whilst your thoughts bubbled to the surface as if it was made of honey.
“Ok.” It was her turn to say that dreaded word.
Even though you knew it was coming, you couldn’t help the hurt that surged in your chest. You knew logically, she was tired. You had sensed the shift. Since the euros really, that deep fire that blazed through her veins, that passion that screamed for her to keep going … it had dimmed ever so slightly. Nothing crazy. Nothing extreme. But you knew she had given everything to Blaugrana and she had nothing left to give. But that didn’t stop the bubble of pain. Was it rejection? Something close to it certainly. That ugly little voice in the back of your mind whispered that if you had loved her better, harder, stronger, maybe she would have stayed. Stayed for you.
She hadn’t told you either. No decisions had been talked through. No "I think I might want to leave" back at Christmas. No "What do you think if I don't renew?" on her birthday. No "Is this a good idea?" whispered across the table on your anniversary.
Nothing. And that stung far more than you wanted to admit.
“You’re upset?” Alexia said after a while. The silence had grown unbearable for her. She could tell you were thinking hard. You were staring at the floor unblinking, lip bitten slightly as you sorted through your emotions.
“I … I don’t know.” You said after another moment. You lifted your head, eyes locking with hers. “Look,” you let out a harsh breath. “Don’t get me wrong, I think this is the best move for you and I’m proud you’re making this decision.” You swallowed, blinking back the stinging in your eyes. “This is the right choice.”
Alexia stepped forward. You leant back slightly, just enough to show her you didn’t want her in your space right now. A pang splintered through Alexia’s heart at your subtle denial.
“But …” you rubbed at your face. “I’m also allowed to be upset right now. I still have a year on my contract. We know Barça won’t let me out of it, they won’t sell me. So we’re going long distance for at least a year. Maybe more if they trigger the extension. My best friend moved pretty suddenly last year and I wasn’t told until the morning before the announcement. Mapí is also going. And now my girlfriend has just told me she’s leaving too.” Your voice cracked slightly.
“I’m not mad at you, I could never be mad at you for making this choice, beautiful girl.” A tear rolled down your cheek. “But I’m allowed to be fucking sad right now. A lot is changing and I haven’t really had a choice in it so let me be pissed off ok? Everything is changing. Everyone is leaving. And somehow I'm always the last person to know.”
Alexia didn’t really know what to do. Yes, she had obviously taken you into account when deciding to leave. You were the first thing on her ‘stay’ column and arguably the biggest reason that kept her at Barça.
She knew Ingrid leaving had hurt more than you wanted to admit. Being told so last minute had cut you deeper than Alexia had imagined though. Honestly, you had been more upset than Mapí had been. You hadn’t really cried, not since that first morning Ingrid told you she was going. But there was a small change in you. A crack in the ice. Small but growing bigger every week.
Mapí had told you she was probably going to leave back in April. Mapí had waited until Ingrid was back in town and sat you down over coffee. You hadn’t really cried then either. You knew it was the best for her. But you couldn’t help the splintering in your heart.
“When is the announcement going out?”
“Tonight.”
You weren’t too sure what happened next. There wasn’t any shouting or anything like that. It was Alexia that had suggested you go to the beach. She had scooped up her keys and handed you your shoes before telling you to meet her at the car. You had moved on autopilot. Alexia had driven in silence, pulling into the spot that you knew so well. She rolled down the windows and hopped out.
“I’ll be over there, sí? I’ll give you all the time in the world. Don’t feel rushed. If you haven’t come to get me in an hour, I’ll come back. Just to check.”
You shouldn’t have been so shocked. She knew you like the back of her hand. You were an open book to her. Yet it always caught you off guard just how well she knew what you needed.
Your mind raced, each emotion rising to the surface before falling away again, echoing the lapping of the sea against the sand.
Surprise.
Anger.
Shock.
Hurt.
Sadness.
Rejection.
Pride.
Love.
Your phone buzzed.
Ingrid 🇳🇴👸🏻
You didn’t bother speaking. Her voice was loud through the phone without even having to put it on speaker.
“You cannot be mad at her, solskinn. I know you must be feeling a lot right now but you cannot be mad at Ale.”
You chuckled dryly. “I’m not mad at her, Ing.”
“But you are mad?”
“A little. Mainly at the club. At everyone that’s leaving. At myself.”
“At me?” She asked.
You sighed. There was no point in lying. “Kinda.”
“It’s ok. I’d be mad too.”
“I just … I’m happy … that’s not the right word for it but I’m … ok … with her leaving.” You looked out towards the sea. Alexia was sitting on the bench silhouetted against the fading sunshine, gazing out to the horizon as well. “I’m just a little hurt that she didn’t tell me until now. She must have been so nervous and I hate to think she went through it alone.”
“She wasn’t alone.” Ingrid interrupted.
“Did she speak to you? To Mapí?”
“No.”
“Then how do you know?” Your brain wasn’t working properly - too focussed on the image of Alexia, tossing and turning, inside of her cheek bitten red raw because of this decision, thinking that you might talk her out of it, or dissuading her from following what she wanted.
“Because she has you, solskinn.” You blinked. “She might not have asked you specifically, but Alexia knew she was doing the right thing because of you. You helped her become so confident in her decisions. I know I didn’t know Alexia before you, but Mapí did. She told me all about how Alexia has grown because of her much love and trust she has for you, and how much you give in return.”
You felt a tear roll down your cheek.
“I don’t know who I am at Barça without Ale,” you confessed after a moments silence. “She was here when I arrived and we got together so quickly and she’s …” another tear escaped. “I don’t know who I am without Alexia.”
“You are you, mi amor.” Alexia’s voice made you jump. “You are mi amor. You are increíble. You are amable. Eres la mejor del mundo.” Incredible. Kind. You are the best in the world. Carefully, she opened your car door, her finger smoothing over your cheekbone.
“No, I’m not.” You rolled your eyes.
“Yes, you are.” Alexia and Ingrid said at the same time.
You looked up at Alexia. Her hair was darker, almost the same brown it was when you first met her all those years ago. In some ways, you could hardly recognise the woman you fell in love with - you had both changed and grown so much over the years. But those eyes, those sweet, strong, perfect hazel eyes that sparkled with life and love were exactly the same. Those eyes brought you home.
“Alexia?” Ingrid’s voice snapped you out of your reverie.
“Sí?” Yes
“Look after mitt solskinn, ikke sant?” My sunshine, yes. Alexia chuckled softly at your best friend’s demand.
“As long as you look after el meu lleó preferit.” My favourite lion.
“Always.” Ingrid laughed before ending the call.
You turned back to Alexia. “I’m sorry I blindsided you, mi amor.” Alexia crouched, her hand finding yours.
“You didn’t, not really.” Alexia raised an eyebrow. “I was slowly putting the pieces together when you didn’t say anything about any meetings and stuff.” Alexia squeezed your hand.
“Just … one thing. And answer honestly, beautiful girl?”
“Siempre.” Always
“You didn’t not tell me,” you took a breath. “You didn’t not say anything because you thought I’d … I don’t know … break up with you or something … right?”
“No,” Alexia’s voice was harsh and truthful. “No, mi amor, never ever did that thought cross my mind.”
You nodded, accepting her promise.
“I didn’t tell you, because … even though I am fully okay of my decision, telling you made it real. I am leaving Barça. And some small part of me thought that, telling you would burst the bubble and everything would be different and … Tengo miedo, mi amor. Esto es tan diferente. ¿Y si lo he estropeado?” I’m scared, mi amor. This is so different. What if I’ve fucked up?
You turned in your seat, putting both hands on Alexia’s cheeks and staring into her eyes, cloudy with unsure tears.
“You, my beautiful girl, have not fucked up. Not at all. You have given your soul to this club. And you need to move on before it breaks you.”
“The fans are going to hate me.”
“Then they are not real fans, baby.” You leant forward until your foreheads were touching. “You are La Reina. A culer until the day you die. You bleed blaugrana. It’s ok to focus on yourself now.”
Alexia closed the distance, her lips soft but incessant on yours. You sighed into her, feeling the warmth grow in your chest.
“Take me home, baby.” You whispered against her lips. “Let me love on my beautiful, brave girl.”
Liked by y/n_y/l/n, aggiebeeverjones, elliecarpenterr, and others
keirawalsh: Away days. Not the result you deserved, we’ll do better at home.
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chelseafan: 💙 💙
y/n_y/l/n: come back
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johannakaneryd: class act kiki
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yourshipname just posted
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yourshipname: I fear we moved on from this parallel too fast
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keirafan: nah they are too cute
number1y/nfan: I can’t believe I have never seen that first pic before
yourshipname4ever: my babies go way back
viscabarca: I need them on the same team again
yourshipname: KEIRA LIKED
↳ chelseafan: holy shit!!
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y/n_y/l/n just posted
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y/n_y/l/n: good week
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viscabarca: vamooos
alexiaputellas: ❤️
keirawalsh: food looks good
↳ kika.nazareth: girl that was made for you, compliment the taste
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↳ keirawalsh: 🙄 it was delicious, better?
Liked by y/n_y/l/n
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yourshipname just posted
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yourshipname: Not one but two little insights this week!
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y/nfan: keira away game means flowers and a new stolen hoodie for y/n
viscabarca: my girls 🥹
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Everybody knows the expression. Usually, twins are the complete polar opposites of each other. Well, you and Esme definitely fit that stereotype.
Esme was everything that was pure and good in the world, but you? You were a hot headed little shit. While both of you were centre backs, you read the game very differently. Esme was structured and timed her tackles well. You, on the other hand, were not so subtle in leaving a hard challenge in on someone. However, you were always fair in your tackles and they were genuine attempts for the ball. Well, most of the time.
You’d both started off playing in Manchester, for the blue side, before an opportunity at Arsenal came up for you that you just couldn’t turn down.
Since the move, a particular Irish defender decided it would be a good idea to take you under her wing and since then, you’d become 10x more aggressive. You’d always known Esme could calm you down, but now that you didn’t have her, it was becoming more and more difficult to keep relaxed on and off the pitch.
You were such a softie with your sister. She brought out a completely different side to you. A side that fans loved to rave about online when it would spring out. Your tattooed, tall figure, even taller than Esme’s, may have come across scary, but when you were with your sister, that was all lost.
Fans loved the pictures and videos Esme would post of you asleep on her shoulder on the bus or plane, or holding her arts and crafts items when she was making bracelets. They would also eat up photos of the two of you hugging tightly after matches you played against each other. Esme just loved to see you smile, and not in the smug little way you normally did. You had a cheeky little smile that came out when you pissed someone off, usually with Katie’s help.
You were overly protective of Esme, never letting anybody or anything hurt her. You’d gotten into a few fist fights in the youth levels when someone would leave a hard challenge in on her that you deemed too aggressive, even if the referee didn’t. You were smarter in senior levels to not punch someone, knowing people relied on you and it was your job. Instead, you’d put in harder challenges or give them a light but aggressive push.
When Esme first introduced you to her boyfriend, you swear he almost cried.
Apart from your sister and Katie, you didn’t really have many friends. You kept yourself to yourself and tended to just fuck around with some girls who played in the league or that you just met on a night out. Commitment didn’t scare you or anything of the sort. You just didn’t want to commit to just anyone
-
After the heartbreaking end to the World Cup, losing 1-0 in the final to Spain, you came back to Arsenal ready for the next season. Your mindset had adjusted slightly, but not in a positive way. You were now more determined than ever to win the league, and nobody would stand in the way of that, regardless of what you had to do.
“Comin’ gym?” Katie asked as you shoved the last spoonful of your breakfast in your mouth.
“Yeah” you said after swallowing the last spoonful of breakfast. Leah wagged her finger at both of you, pulling you back towards her by your arm.
“We’ve got a team meeting in 15 minutes with Jonas and the new players” she informed you as you both grunted. Leah had always tried to steer you in the right direction, and she would be successful sometimes. Depending on if Katie was around.
“We’re not gonna listen in the meetin’ anyway” Katie shrugged as you freed yourself from Leah’s grip and you both headed off towards the gym.
“We should have moved her in with Lia” Kim whispered to Leah who nodded. It was their decision to ask Katie to mentor you and you’d ended up living with her since you’d moved to Arsenal. You were both single when you’d first moved and on quite a streak with bringing different girls home at the beginning. But now that Katie was with Caitlin, it was just you continuing on with that streak.
You and Katie got straight into a heavy arms session, her music thumping through the speakers loudly.
“Where are Y/n and Katie?” Jonas asked the group who just shrugged. “I thought they would be tired of the fines by now” he shook his head. You’d both been fined countless times at this stage for missing team meetings. Caitlin anxiously took her phone out to start texting Katie, who of course, would just ignore them.
Jonas introduced the new recruits before getting into the plan for the next few weeks of training. When the meeting had ended, you and Katie still hadn’t surfaced. You were both not even close to finishing in the gym, lifting every single weight in there by the seems of things. You would sometimes stay in there for hours, with or without Katie.
“Come on, I’ll take you down to meet hot head 1 and 2” Leah laughed, leading the new girls towards the gym, pointing out different things on the way. You were both sweating at this stage. Katies sleeves were rolled up and you were wearing an Arsenal vest top and shorts that had ridden slightly up your thighs. Your tattooed arms and legs were almost on full display. “Jesus Christ, turn that down” Leah shouted as she came in.
You had a lot of respect for Leah, being the captain of the England team. You tended to do whatever she asked, unless Katie was there. Katie hit pause, as you continued to finish off your reps before throwing down the free weights. You were both built, probably the stockiest two players on the Arsenal team.
Alessia knew you of course, from England camp, but you’d never really had had a conversation before. Just the odd hello or speaking in training about drills. She got on better with your sister. Just like everybody did.
“This is Katie and Y/n” Leah introduced you to the few girls standing around as you and Katie just laughed.
“Yeah, yeah, we’ll be out in a few” Katie waved Leah off who rolled her eyes at the two of you.
“Come on, let’s grab some food before training” Leah said as the group followed her, all except one.
“Hi Y/n” Alessia smiled and waved at you.
“Hi” you smiled back, putting your hand up in a quick wave, caught very quickly by Katie before Alessia quickly ran off to catch back up with the group.
“Oh hi Alessia” Katie teased as you punched her into the arm. “Are you going to?” She smirked.
“Going to what?” You asked, having a fair idea what she meant.
“Oh come on, you definitely could” Katie laughed as you shook your head. Before the conversation, that was currently being overheard by Caitlin and Beth, continued, they interrupted the pair of you.
“Katie, stop being a windup” Caitlin shouted, only making her laugh more.
“Come on angry head, let’s get food” Beth said, wrapping an arm around you and leading you towards the canteen.
“We’ve talked about you being a bad influence” Caitlin whispered to Katie when you were out of sight with Beth.
“Darlin’, I’m a great influence” Katie fake gasped. She knew she was a bad influence on you, but she found it funny. You’d pretty much go along with whatever she said, even if it was a bad idea. She was the first person that you felt understood you, apart from Esme. Well, she understood the side to you that was similar to her. You grabbed your tray of food and headed to an empty table, content to sit alone and eat.
“How was the gym?” You heard the familiar voice ask as you turned your head towards her.
“Yeah, good” you replied.
“Is someone sitting here?” She asked as you shook your head and she moved to take a seat.
“But I’d rather just be on my own” you whispered as she simply nodded and walked over to a different table.
“Everything alright?” Leah asked as Alessia sat down.
“Why’s she so angry here? She’s different at England” Alessia huffed, biting into her lunch.
“Calm twin isn’t here” Katie laughed. “She’s always like that without Es”
You really missed Esme. You felt a lot happier, football wise at Arsenal, but you loved being at Man City due to the fact that Esme was there too.
-
It was a few weeks into training by now. You and Katie continued to partner up and do your own thing during the day, only showing up when it was absolutely essential. Your mind was a bit all over the place as, due to an injury, Esme hadn’t been called into England camp next week. It was just another thing that blocked you from seeing her.
Over the last couple of weeks, Alessia tried really hard to make an effort with you. She offered to sit beside you everyday, but was always met with a no. She would always wave at you from across the changing room or the pitch, even if you didn’t bother sometimes to wave back. After Katie’s relentless teasing whenever you would, you found it was better to just ignore the gesture. Alessia was persistent and knew eventually she would wear down your tough persona into the person she saw around Esme.
You were finishing off today’s training session with an 11 v 11 game. You and Katie were playing beside each other, with Lotte and Steph beside you. Alessia was on the opposite team to you and was playing further out towards the wing rather than straight down the middle. As she broke with the ball, Katie put in a rather tough challenge on her that made you wince as she screamed out with pain.
You don’t know why, but you saw red.
“What the fuck mate?” you shouted as you pushed Katie out of the way of you getting to the blonde who was still on the ground.
“It was an accident” Katie replied, pushing you back. It knocked you forward slightly as you turned back to look at her, anger taking over your whole body.
“What on earth is going on?” Kim asked Leah who shrugged as they both jogged towards the scene.
“Hey, hey” Jonas called from the sideline as you and Katie were beginning to get into a heated argument, pushing each other back and forth. Lotte and Vic were on the ground speaking to Alessia. Meanwhile, Caitlin, Leah and Kim eventually got to both of your sides, and it took both Leah and Kim to pull you away.
“Sorry Russo” Katie huffed as she helped the England striker back to her feet.
“What’s wrong?” Leah asked as you shook your head and pushed her arm off you.
“Nothing, I’m fine” you muttered as a shout was called to resume play, a free kick awarded to the other team. You jogged into the box to defend the free, as Alessia stood directly infront of you. “You okay?” You asked as she turned in disbelief that you had actually spoken to her.
“I’m okay” she smiled, before turning back to get ready for the cross. Your hand moved to her waist briefly as you easily jumped to clear the ball.
It was after the final whistle when Katie jogged up beside you.
“C’mere” she laughed, ruffling your hair and swinging her arm around your shoulders “What got into ye?” She asked as you both began your walk to the changing rooms.
“We’re about to go into an international break and we have important games. England need her” you huffed.
“Yeah look, I said sorry” Katie smirked at your annoyed face as she pulled your head in closer to her. “Come on, go get ready ye big eejit” she said as she released you.
The whole team were going out tonight to celebrate a break before everyone flew/travelled home for international duty the day after tomorrow. You took a shower and got changed into a tracksuit before leaving and walking to Katie’s car, robbing the keys from the girl’s bag who was still in the shower.
“Coming out tonight?” Alessia asked on the walk to the car park.
“Yeah, are you?” You replied as she nodded. Her bag suddenly moved sharply from her shoulder and dropped down towards her feet and she began to trip over it before you reacted quickly and caught her. “Easy there” you laughed, helping her back to her feet and fixing her bag to be on her shoulder again. “I’ll see you later” you smiled.
You smiled. A breakthrough.
When you, Katie and Caitlin arrived, the place was already packed. You spotted Leah and the three of you began to make your way to where the rest of the girls were.
“Nice of you three to show up” Leah laughed. “Coming to the bar?” She asked you as you nodded.
“Anybody want anything?” You asked the group as Katie and Caitlin gave you their orders. You quickly met Alessia’s eyes who smiled and shook her head, holding up her already full glass. You and Leah grabbed a handful of drinks and brought them back towards the group. You noticed an empty seat beside Alessia, so you took the opportunity to sit there. “Hi” you smiled, with your hand firmly wrapped around your drink.
“Hi” she said, putting her head on your shoulder before quickly removing it again. “I’m glad you came out”
“Yeah, well” you took a sip of your drink before finishing your sentence. “I’m happy you’re here” you said, staring straight ahead of you.
“Come on, let’s go dance” Katie shouted, pulling you up from the chair. You looked behind you and thankfully you saw Alessia following behind you, along with a group of others.
You had a good laugh with the girls, dancing around for the night. Alessia and you seemed to have subconsciously drifted away from the main group and were dancing alone. Her fingertips had traced around your hand and your other hand fell on her waist.
“I like this side to you” Alessia whispered in your ear on the dance floor.
“What side?” You frowned.
“Don’t frown, smile” she laughed, pushing your lips upwards with her fingers. “The happy side” she smiled.
“Maybe it’s just the alcohol” you smirked. It partially was, and maybe that’s why at England camp you shrunk back into yourself.
You spent most of the downtime on camp in your room or alone in the gym. You didn’t want to see anybody except Esme, and she wasn’t even there. The only two people you’d give the briefest words to was Leah, due to her being your captain and Lauren Hemp, because she was the closest thing to Esme you could get right now.
Lauren could see just how miserable you were without your twin. Lauren was one of the only people who knew what you were really like when you didn’t have your guard up. She could tell you were really down during camp, barely even looking up from the ground in most cases.
Es
How is she??
Hempo
She’s miserable
Es
😞
I’ll call her
You were in the gym, alone, when your phone started buzzing. Your ringtone ringing through the speaker rather than you and Katie’s shared gym playlist. You disconnected your Bluetooth before answering and put the weights on the ground.
“Hello” You said into the camera.
“Hello, twinny” Esme smiled. “Where are you?” She asked.
“This place called the gym, have you heard of it?” You laughed as she rolled her eyes.
“It’s 8pm” she frowned. “Why are you not in the common room or something?” She asked as you just shrugged.
“It’s not the same” you replied. “Nothing is since I moved to Arsenal really Es” you added quietly.
“Hey, don’t be getting all upset” Esme sighed.
“I’m not upset” you replied with a huff.
“Well Hempo said you aren’t talking to anybody, so what’s wrong?” She asked as you shrugged your shoulders again.
“Just miss you” you answered honestly. With her twin telepathy there was no point lying.
“I miss you too” she smiled wearily. “But I’m coming to both of the games, so we can see eachother then, yeah?” that made you smile. You heard a ruffle at the door, but you were backed into the corner behind a wall so that you wouldn’t be seen.
“I think someone is about to lock me in here” you laughed. “I better head” you smiled.
“See you soon. Love you” she said through the phone.
“Love you too” you pressed end on the call before you stood up. You grabbed your water bottle and towel and headed for the gym door. When you came out from behind the wall, you realised it wasn’t someone coming to lock you in, it was just your Arsenal teammate.
“Oh, sorry. I didn’t think you were in here” Alessia lied. She knew full well you were in here.
“Are you doing a session?” You asked as she nodded. “Need a hand?” You offered but she shook her head this time.
“I wouldn’t want to keep you from talking to your girlfriend” she replied, turning to grab a weight.
“My girlfriend?” You laughed. “Did you hear me on the phone just now or something?” You asked as she nodded.
“You sounded happy” she smiled, but she didn’t mean it.
“I was talking to Esme, actually” you smiled. “I don’t have a girlfriend” you replied as you noticed Alessia’s smile grow more genuine. “You sure I can’t help?” You asked the girl.
“I would much rather just watch a movie than lift weights, if you wanted to join?” She suggested as you raised your eyebrows. You were a bit taken aback that she’d asked you to do something.
“Uh, yeah sure” you smiled. She’d caught you in a good mood, knowing you’d see your sister this week had definitely raised your spirit. If you were honest with yourself, you liked Alessia. You liked that she always came to check up on you and that she included you in conversations. Not a lot of people did that for you.
The two of you flopped onto bean bags in the common room and hit play on a movie on her laptop. She’d picked one and you didn’t put up much of an argument. You were happy to just watch whatever. You had your back to the main door, while Alessia had her shoulder to it, that’s how she spotted Leah the second she came through, only a few seconds into the movie.
“She okay?” Leah mouthed at Alessia who nodded and smiled. Leah thought it was best to leave the two of you alone, so headed back out and up to her room. You paused the movie around 20 or so minutes in due to Alessia tossing and turning on the bean bag.
“Are you alright?” You asked.
“Just can’t get comfortable” she groaned slightly.
“I can hook this up to the TV if you want to sit on the couch instead?” You asked as she smiled at you. You’d never noticed how nice her smile was before. You hooked the laptop up to the TV and plonked down on the couch beside her, subconsciously placing your hand on her leg, before pulling it away. “Sorry” you mumbled.
“It’s fine” she smiled with a giggle.
“Just usually I only ever chill with Esme or Katie and they’re both quite cuddly” you said as you stopped briefly. “Do not tell Katie I told you that” you said panicked.
“Aw does Katie like cuddles? Is she the little spoon?” Alessia teased. You knew Katie would crucify you if you told anybody that the two of you weren’t as hard as everyone thought you were when you were alone. “Hey, I’m just kidding” Alessia smiled rubbing your arm, before placing her head on your shoulder. You readjusted slightly so she was lying between your legs with her head on your chest, your arms wrapped around her.
“This alright?” You asked as she nodded against you. It was extremely comfortable. So comfortable in fact, the both of you drifted off to sleep until Alessia woke you up the next morning.
“Less?” Ella shouted entering the room. “Has anyone seen Less?” She shouted again, looking around the room and clocking the blonde hair on the couch. “Less, where have you- Oh” she stopped as she got a bit closer, noticing you were also asleep under the girl. Neither of you had adjusted position, not even slightly, since last night. Ella scooted around to the front of the couch before nudging Alessia softly. “Less, wake up” she whispered as the blonde opened her eyes. “Did you sleep here?” She asked.
“I must have” Alessia whispered and nodded against you.
“Breakfast is in 10” Ella informed her as she groaned. “I’ll leave you to wake her” Ella said as she slipped out. It wasn’t a secret Ella was terrified of you. You were huge in comparison to her, and horrible to play against.
“Hey Y/n” Alessia poked at your face trying to wake you up as you let out a groan and she laughed. “We slept here, breakfast is in 10” she informed you as you pulled her closer for a second before releasing her and both of you stood up.
You ran up to your room and got changed quickly before heading back down to breakfast. You ended up being sandwiched between Millie and Lucy. A terrifying trio, all as built as each other. Leah sat across from you, a bit taken aback by just how smiley and chatty you seemed this morning. But it all made sense when a certain blonde walked through the door and you excused yourself from the table, with your tray.
“She’s not coming back, is she?” Lucy asked as Millie shook her head.
“She seems happy though” Millie stated, looking towards Leah.
“Wonder why” Leah smirked, throwing her eyes over towards you and Alessia.
“Hey” you smiled as you sat across from her.
“Hi” she replied, with an equally soft smile.
“I got you breakfast, I was afraid you’d miss it” you said as you slid the tray across with an untouched fruit salad, toast, coffee and a bar.
“I was wondering why she’d taken two of everything” Lucy laughed while they watched Alessia dig in and begin chatting and laughing with you.
It wasn’t long until you were on the training pitch, running drills and having a quick game to finish. You didn’t mind marking Alessia, but every time you went in to get the ball she heard you mumble a quick sorry. You’d never harm a hair on her body.
-
When it got to the day of the match, Esme came to the hotel a few hours before the game to see you and the girls.
“I’m so glad to see you” you whispered into the hug, almost spinning her around you were so happy she was here.
“Where’s Hempo?” She asked in a teasing tone as you groaned.
“Hello, your twin sister you haven’t seen in months is standing right here” you laughed as she punched your arm.
“How you feeling for today?” She smiled.
“Yeah, I’m ready” you nodded. You were ready for the game, you just couldn’t have expected how rough it was going to be.
Challenges were flying in left, right and centre from the Dutch team. There was a lot at stake for both teams, Olympic qualifications were on the line. You and Alessia were both in the starting XI, but she was definitely on the receiving end of far more aggressive challenges. You winced every time you saw her go down, but took a breath of relief when she’d stand back up quickly.
Mid way through the second half, Alessia’s former Man United teammate, Jackie, slid in on the blonde and she hit the deck clutching her knee. You’d watched it last season with five of your team mates doing their ACL’s. So, you were not about to let someone do that to her and get away with it. You watched as medics ran on the pitch to assess her knee as you saw Jackie looking far too smug talking to Viv, whose eyes were glued to you.
Again, you saw red.
“I would advise you to go” Viv said as she watched you storm towards them.
“What?” Jackie replied, but before Viv could answer you had Jackie’s collar bundled up in your fists and you had lifted her up and off the ground.
“Beth” Viv shouted towards her girlfriend for help in pulling you away. Beth came sprinting over but she was no use in getting you separated.
Millie and Lucy got there just in the knick of time for Lucy to grab your hand as it leaned backwards to swing a punch, pulling it firmly behind your back.
“Relax” Millie pulled you away and pulled you back towards your goal while the referee was brandishing a yellow card to both you and Jackie.
Millie was calming you down surprisingly well, Leah coming along to only join in the deep breathing session that Millie was going through with you. She’d obviously watched Esme walk you through this routine before and learned it off by heart with the amount of times she’d seen her do it by now. Her hands were on your shoulders and your eyes were glued shut, drowning out everything but her voice.
The crowd cheered as Alessia stood up and seemed okay to continue. And only after that did Millie stop.
When the final whistle went, you headed straight for the tunnel. You only briefly stopped at the dug outs to give Jackie a quick handshake and apologise. You couldn’t even look at Alessia after the game. Sarina had whisked you away for a stern talking to before anybody had the chance to come near you.
“Now listen, I don’t want to shout at you, but-” she added, beginning to wrap up the conversation.
“Y/n Morgan, where the frick are you?” Even in her most annoyed tone, Esme was too good to swear.
“It’s fine, she will” you mumbled as Sarina laughed and walked off, mumbling a quick hello to Esme.
“What were you thinking? You could have been sent off! You could have really hurt her!” Esme snapped.
“Yeah, I dunno” you shrugged.
“You don’t know?” She whisper shouted at you. “Well, let me tell you something that’s pretty obvious” she began, wagging her finger about to go off in a tangent.
“I like Less, I know” you mumbled.
“You have serious anger issues- Wait. What?” She said as your eyes looked fit to pop out of their sockets. “You like Lessi?” She asked with a gasp.
“I dunno, I guess. Yeah” you said with your eyes glued to the floor.
“This is amazing” she shouted as she shook your shoulders.
“How is me liking someone who has no interest in me amazing?” You said sternly.
“Oh don’t be so daft you big idiot” she shook her head at you before pushing you into the changing room and calling out Lauren.
“You alright mate?” Leah asked as you nodded and headed to your cubby, throwing your boots down and heading in for a shower.
You got straight onto the bus, head pressed against the window with your AirPods in. Right before the bus moved, you felt a body press against yours, and a head fall on your shoulder. You quickly jerked your head around to find the blonde scrolling on her phone with her back against you and her feet up across the aisle and on Ella’s lap. You wrapped your arm around her waist and pushed your head back into the rest before you went to sleep.
Neither of you said anything to eachother.
-
The non verbal communication went on and on between you and Alessia for nearly the rest of the camp.
On your match day walk in Scotland, you were walking towards the back of the group. Alessia was a few bodies ahead of you with Mary and Ella.
“You should have brought a jacket” Ella laughed at the shivering blonde who was just in a tshirt and tracksuit bottoms. You on the other hand had worn under armour, a tshirt, a hoodie and a jacket.
You took your jacket off and jogged up to Alessia, holding out your jacket.
“Uh, here” you said as she stopped and looked at you. You didn’t want to talk so you practically shoved it into her hands, before starting to walk in the opposite direction to get to the back of the group again.
“I think you broke her” Ella laughed.
“Actually, I think she” Mary pointed towards you, “Broke her” and now pointing at Alessia as the duo broke into a fit of laughter. Alessia zipped up your jacket and continued to walk with her friends, every so often looking back at you, who had your head in the clouds and your hands in your pockets.
Esme
You should tell her how you feel!!
Y/n
No way
-
When you got back to Arsenal, the first thing Katie did was high five you for the fight you caused on the pitch in the Netherlands game. She then proceeded to let you know she’d invited everyone over for a party as you all had a day off tomorrow.
“Katie man, I don’t really want to-” you mumbled.
“Stop bein’ a loser” Katie groaned as Caitlin shot her a look and Katie headed off to the kitchen.
“You okay, puddin’?” Caitlin asked, sitting down beside you on the couch. You liked Caitlin. Since her and Katie started dating she was around a lot.
“I just didn’t want to do anything tonight or see anybody” you huffed.
“You could always head off? Come back later?” Caitlin asked as you nodded. “It’s too late for me but save yourself” she laughed as you took off towards the door.
As you swung it open, you were met with almost the entire Arsenal team on the other side. They erupted into a loud cheer as they passed by you and spread across the house. The last two that were stood outside whispering and laughing to each other were Alessia and Esme.
“Es” you shouted, eyes popping out of your head, pulling her in for a hard hug.
“Hi” she giggled as she fell into your arms. Katie had invited her as a surprise for you.
“Ah ye made it” Katie chuckled, hugging Esme. “See I told ye to stop bein’ a loser” Katie laughed as you rolled your eyes at her. Deep down you were thankful that she’d invited her. She knew Esme wasn’t in a rush back to Manchester so she could easily spend a night over with you.
“Stop calling her a loser” Alessia giggled in a whisper as Katie hugged her.
“Aw sticking up for your girlfriend, are we?” She teased with a whispered tone as Alessia frowned at her. The Irish girl could only smirk at her, before smirking back towards you. She noticed you were deep in conversation with your sister. “So, are ye gonna tell her ye like her or what?” Katie asked as Alessia looked over to you briefly.
“When are you going to tell her?” Esme shook your shoulders as you looked towards Alessia, catching her eye.
no one sees when you lose when you're playing solitaire
pairing: lucy bronze x reader
☆ angst with a hint of romance
★ if you liked this please let me know! maybe i'll do a part two if you'd like?
you and lucy went way back, a solid friendship that meant you never saw one without the other. only, what happens when an injury brings it all boiling to the surface.
You and Lucy had been friends since you were ten.
You were neighbours and you had kicked your football high enough trying to score one past your younger sister that it had sailed right over the fence and into her back garden, and seeing as though you were the older sister it was your job to sheepishly knock on the neighbours door. She had hardly spoken a word to you, a stilted nod and a quiet shuffle before she had dumped your football back in your outstretched hands. She hadn’t even glanced up at you, like most people would do as you were unnaturally tall for your age, she had only spared a quick glance at your muddy trainers before awkwardly shutting the door and disappearing back inside and leaving you on the front porch.
She had first spoken to you when you were both in a PE class six months later when neither of you had a partner, back when you were still the new girl and she was the weird quiet girl in every other class but PE. It was strange, in English or Science she barely made a sound, shrinking into her seat like she hoped the floor would open up swallow her whole. But in PE she moved differently, not confident but less like she was bracing for impact. She ran fast. She caught things cleanly. She didn’t look afraid of her own limbs.
You’d been standing there, clutching a bib that smelled faintly of old sweat and stale air, it clearly hadn’t been washed for months. You scanned the field for someone, anyone, who wasn’t already paired up. Everyone else had already gravitated toward their friends, their cliques, their familiar faces. You had long since grown used to being left until last now that you had moved to your mother’s hometown.
Lucy hovered a few metres away, staring at the grass like it had personally offended her. Her hair was tied back messily, a few dark strands stuck to her forehead. She looked like she’d rather die than ask someone to work with her. You took a step toward her at the same time she took a step toward you, then she said, very quietly, “We can be partners. If you want.” Her face grew bright red as her eyes darted everywhere but your face, it sounded almost like she’d rehearsed it in her head and still wasn’t sure she’d done it right.
“Yeah, yeah I’d like that.”
The two of you spent the lesson passing a ball back and forth, discussing nearly anything and everything under the sun; where you’d moved from, how weird the school uniforms were, how you both shared ambitions of working in sports, your shared love of football. You admitted you didn’t understand half the slang people used here yet. She admitted she didn’t understand people in general.
Every time the ball hit your hands, you found something else to say. Every time it hit hers, she added something back, quietly, but with this growing steadiness, like she was testing the idea of being heard and finding she didn’t hate it. By the time the whistle blew, you’d forgotten you were supposed to be the new girl. She’d forgotten she was supposed to be the weird quiet one, you had each others names and had quickly become someone you both could depend on.
As you walked off together, she nudged the toe of her trainer against yours, barely a tap, almost shy and said, “You’re not what I thought you’d be.”
You laughed. “Is that good or bad?”
She shrugged, but there was the tiniest smile tugging at her mouth. “I think it’s good.”
And then something different bloomed in your chest a soft, unexpected warmth, like someone had lit a candle behind your ribs, the warmth spreading from the top of your head to the tips of your toes.
You suppose that’s how you ended up here, squished together on a sofa in the hotel in Switzerland at the 2025 Euros. She shifts beside you, her shoulder brushing yours as she tucks one leg beneath herself. The sofa springs complained every time one of you shifted, but neither of you bothered too much to care. You’ve spent half your life pressed shoulder‑to‑shoulder with her in one way or another, cramped car rides to training sessions, narrow benches on the sidelines, the too‑small bed in your uni flat in Loughborough when she’d stayed over after coming down from Leeds and refused to sleep on the floor.
“God, get off me, you’d think seven major tournaments together you would learn how to become less attached,” You muttered, jokingly, trying to shove her off with a weak shove that had all the force of a damp paper towel.
Lucy didn’t budge, she never did. She just slumped further into you, head tipping onto your shoulder with the dramatic weight of someone who knew exactly how much she could get away with. “Attached?” she echoed, voice muffled against the collar your hoodie. “I’m not attached, i’m just cold.” She pulled her hoodie around her middle tightly, exaggerating the movement like she was performing for an invisible audience.
“It’s nineteen degrees!”
“Exactly! I don’t know why they keep it so cold in here!”
You snorted, but you didn’t push her off again. You never really meant it when you did.
Both of you had come through the England setup together, the under‑17s, the under‑19s, the under-20s and now you were both the longest serving Lionesses. You’d gone through everything together, the long bus rides, the dodgy hotels, the endless drills on muddy pitches where you’d both been convinced your toes would fall off. You’d grown up in parallel, two lines that kept running alongside each other no matter how many times life tried to pull you apart.
You remembered those early camps vividly: Lucy with her too‑big backpack and her too‑small voice, you with your awkward confidence and the accent everyone kept asking about. You’d been paired for room checks, for rondos, for recovery sessions. Somewhere along the way, “partner” had turned into “friend,” and “friend” had turned into whatever this was. Something steady. Something that had survived injuries, call‑ups, heartbreaks, and whatever else was thrown at you. Lucy shifted again, the sofa creaking as her thigh pressed warm against yours. “You love it really,” she said, smug in that quiet way she’d perfected over the years.
“Love what?”
“Me. Being here. Being annoying. Being-” she waved a hand vaguely “your emotional support blanket.”
You rolled your eyes, but your chest did that stupid warm thing again, the same warmth you’d felt when you were ten and she’d smiled at you for the first time.
“Oh sure. And I’m your emotional support teddy.” You scoffed, your eyes warm with the usual mischief that she so often egged on with an attractive ease and confidence.
Lucy scoffed right back at you, but her eyes softened in that way they always did when you were bickering, like the arguing was just a familiar language the two of you had invented together. “Teddy?” she repeated, pretending to be offended. “Please. You’re barely emotionally supporting yourself half the time.”
You nudged her knee with yours. “Rude.”
“True,” she said, smug again.
And then she slumped back into you, head finding your shoulder like it had muscle memory of its own like her body had already decided where it belonged long before either of you ever admitted anything out loud. Her hair tickled your jaw. Her thigh stayed pressed against yours and that stupid warm flicker in your chest flared again, bright and impossible to ignore, her feet intertwined with yours, leaving just enough pressure over the scars from the numerous ankle surgeries that you had for your injury that followed you from club to club, from Sunderland to Linköping, to Bayern Munich and most recently, Chelsea.
Your injury was old, the kind of old that still lit up on scans like a constellation with the faint shadows where the bone had fractured, the neat line of surgical hardware that had become as much a part of you as the joint itself. Radiologists always used the same words “evidence of previous trauma” and “post‑surgical changes”. You’d learned to read between the lines years ago.
You had been fine at Sunderland but it had started in Linköping with the first bad twist with studs catching, ankle rolling, the pitch tilting sideways as grueling pain tore up your leg, leaving you to lay in the pitch nearly wailing in red hot pain, clutching desperately at your ankle with both hands like you could hold the joint together by sheer will. The physios had sprinted over. their voices blurring into a distant hum as you tried not to panic and tried not to imagine the months ahead. Bayern hadn’t helped, you were too eager to change your playing style on the left wing so your ego caused the re‑injury, the swelling that refused to settle, the stubborn belief that if you just pushed a little harder, you could outrun the limits of your own body. You couldn’t, of course. You’d learned that the slow, frustrating way with another surgery, another stretch of rehab rooms and ice buckets, the quiet ache of watching teammates train while you sat on the sideline with resistance bands. Chelsea had been the final fix, the operation that stabilised everything but left behind a joint that would never quite be the same. Even now, after all the rehab, all the strengthening, all the years, your ankle still spoke its own language with a stiffness on cold mornings and a dull ache after heavy minutes. A tiny, involuntary flinch when someone mistimed a tackle in training and the sports tape wrapped around your ankle, buried under your socks and boots.
Lucy’s foot pressed lightly over those scars now, the pressure gentle, deliberate. She had always been there, through every high and every low, every comeback, every moment you’d wondered if you’d ever feel whole again.
Her head rested on your shoulder, her soft exhales causing your hoodie strings to sway slightly. Her thigh was warm against yours, her foot hooking over your ankle like she was shielding it without making a fuss. The room felt quieter for a moment, like the world had softened around the edges just for the two of you, until the door opened with a disarming creak.
“Oh! hi?” Grace Clinton stood in the doorway, clutching a water bottle like it was a shield. She blinked at the two of you, her expression somewhere between startled and politely horrified. “Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was in here.”
“Grace, its fine, we’re just sitting.” You say gently, trying not to laugh at how stiffly she was standing like she’d walked into a meeting she wasn’t senior enough to attend.
Grace nodded, but her eyes kept darting between you and Lucy, taking in the way she leant on your shoulder, the way her legs tangled with your own, the way Lucy looked like she’d melted into your side on purpose. She clearly had no idea what to do with any of it.
“I was just… um…” She lifted the water bottle a little higher, as if that explained everything. “Filling this up.”
Lucy didn’t move. “Go ahead.”
Grace edged toward the sink like she was approaching a wild animal enclosure. She filled her bottle in silence, shoulders tense, eyes flicking back to you both every few seconds as if checking whether she was imagining the whole scene.
When she finally turned back around, she hesitated in the doorway.
“So… are you two… okay?” she asked, voice small, genuinely concerned rather than nosy.
You smiled. “Yeah. We’re good.”
Grace nodded again, still looking like she was trying to decode a tactical formation she’d never seen before. “Right. Cool. Just… checking.”
She was halfway through the doorway when another voice drifted in.
“Gracie, did you…”
Beth Mead appeared behind her, stopping just long enough to take in the scene: Lucy tucked into your side like she’d been poured there, your legs tangled comfortably, the easy way your hand rested on her knee.
Beth didn’t blink. Didn’t freeze. Didn’t even look surprised.
“Oh, this where you two got to? I thought you would have gone in the lake or something, I swear its like a giant ice bath even with the weather, aren’t you both weirdly into recovery?”
Grace, meanwhile, looked like someone had unplugged her and plugged her back in wrong, her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again.
“I- what- you-” She pointed at the two of you like she’d just discovered a new species. “Is this normal?”
Beth snorted. “For them? Yeah.”
Grace blinked so slowly it was almost concerning. “But she’s on you. Like on you.”
Lucy didn’t even lift her head. “Grace, I’m literally just sitting on the sofa.”
Grace stared harder, like she was trying to zoom in with her eyes. “That’s not sitting. That’s- that’s attachment.”
You grinned wolfishly, cupping Lucy’s face in your hands delicately. Lucy always joked about how she loved your hands, they were strong in that quietly reassuring way, the kind that could wrap around a water bottle and make it look small, muscular without being showy, veins faintly visible from hours of drills and gym work and they were always warm and steady. “See! I told you that you were attached, earlier!”
Lucy’s eyes widened, scandalised in the most unconvincing way possible. “I am not attached,” she insisted, even as she leaned further into your palm like a cat seeking sun. “I’m- I’m just-” she faltered, her face settling into a pout.
“Cold?” you offered, smirking.
She glared at you, but it was the soft kind, the kind she only ever used on you. “Shut up.”
Beth barked a laugh. “See, Grace, they’re harmless! Basically just Velcro.”
Grace looked like she was watching a documentary about a species previously unknown to science. “But she’s just letting Lucy do that,” she whispered, eyes fixed on your hand cupping Lucy’s cheek.
Lucy mindlessly threw one of the Lionesses branded cushions in Grace’s direction with one hand, causing the midfielder to let out a yelp and and nearly drop her water bottle, the other still curled around your hoodie. “She doesn’t mind! It’s not letting me if she encourages it!”
Grace stared at her, clutching the cushion like it might protect her from further emotional or physical projectiles. “Lucy, that’s not how that works!”
Lucy didn’t even bother looking at her. She just burrowed back into your neck, fingers curling into the fabric of your hoodie like she was anchoring herself. “It is,” she said flatly. “I’m just sitting.”
Beth let out a snort so sharp it echoed off the hotel walls. “Yeah, sitting on her.”
Lucy lifted one hand just high enough to flip Beth off without lifting her head from your neck. It was lazy, half‑hearted but you could feel her grin on your neck, allowing a soft smile to pull at your lips as you ran you fingers through her hair, taking advantage of the one time that she didn’t have her hair up in its usual bun. Her hair was softer than it looked, warm from where it had been pressed against you, strands slipping easily between your fingers.
Lucy had melted on the spot, right there and then, not dramatically because she would never give anyone the satisfaction, her shoulders loosening as her breath eased, and she leaned into your touch like it was instinct.
Grace’s eyes nearly popped out of her skull. “You can’t just– you can’t just do that while you’re–” she gestured wildly at the two of you, “while you’re like that!”
Lucy didn’t even blink. “Like what?”
Grace made a strangled noise. “Like- like- that!” She pointed at the way Lucy was curled into you, your hand still cupping her cheek, her fingers still hooked into your hoodie like she’d fused there.
You raised your eyebrows. “Grace, you’re going to have to use actual words.”
“I AM USING WORDS!” she cried, voice cracking. “You’re just- you’re… you’re a human backpack!”
Beth wheezed. “Human backpack is generous. She’s more like a barnacle.”
Lucy’s head snapped up just enough to glare at Beth again. “I’m not a barnacle.”
Beth shrugged. “You attach yourself to her and don’t let go.”
“That’s not what barnacles do!”
“Actually,” Grace said faintly, “that’s exactly what barnacles do.” She said it so quietly it almost didn’t register, like her brain had finally given up and was just reporting facts on autopilot.
Lucy whipped her head around to stare at her, or tried to. She only made it halfway before realising she’d have to actually move away from your neck to glare properly, and apparently that was a sacrifice she was not willing to make. So she settled for a half‑hearted scowl pressed into your hoodie.
“Hey…” you said softly, still holding her because if Lucy was a barnacle then you were an extremely strong magnet. Your thumb brushed the edge of her cheekbone, slow and steady, the way you always did when she got flustered. “You know Grace is just joking. She’s not trying to embarrass you.”
Lucy didn’t lift her head. She just made a tiny, grumbly noise into your neck, the kind she only made when she was embarrassed but pretending she wasn’t.
“I know,” she muttered. “She’s still dramatic.”
Grace sputtered. “I’m dramatic? You’re literally,” she gestured helplessly at the two of you, “trying to fuse together!”
Beth barked a laugh. “Gracie, this is nothing. You should see them on the bus.”
Lucy groaned into your hoodie. “Please stop talking about me.”
Beth just grinned wider as her eyes sparkled with mischief as she clapped Grace on the shoulder.
“Congratulations, Gracie girl, you’re officially a Lioness.”
Grace blinked. “Huh?”
But Beth was already turning on her heel, strolling out of the chill‑out area like she’d just delivered a royal decree, Grace scurried after her in quick succession, confusion written all over her face. “Beth, wait! What do you mean?”
Beth didn’t even slow down. “If you can survive that,” she jerked a thumb back toward the sofa, “you can survive anything this team throws at you.”
Grace made a strangled noise. “That’s not in the handbook!”
Beth laughed. “Oh sweetheart, none of the good stuff is.”
The door swung shut behind them, leaving you and Lucy in the quiet again as she curled into you, your hand still in her hair, the room settling back into its familiar warmth. Lucy shifted slightly against you, her fingers brushing your hoodie again, grounding herself in the same way the room grounded the two of you. Her hair tickled your jaw as she settled, and the soft lamplight caught the strands, turning them gold at the edges however the soft pout remained on her face.
You sighed, “alright. I’ll bite, why the pout? Huh?” You leant your head on hers gently.
Lucy froze for half a second like she hadn’t expected you to notice, even though you always did. Her fingers curled a little tighter into your hoodie, and she angled her face away from you in the most unconvincing attempt at subtlety you’d ever seen.
“I’m not pouting,” she mumbled into your shoulder, which only made the pout more obvious.
“Mhm I think you are.” You prodded her pout with a dexterous finger, “otherwise what’s this? A grin? I don’t think so.”
Lucy made a noise, a tiny, indignant squeak that she would absolutely deny making for the rest of her life and swatted half‑heartedly at your hand without actually pushing it away “Stop,” she muttered, which would’ve been more convincing if she didn’t immediately lean back into your touch like she was magnetised.
You raised an eyebrow, even though she couldn’t see it. “If you don’t want me poking it, maybe stop presenting it so dramatically.”
“I’m not presenting anything,” she grumbled, the pout somehow deepening. “My face just does that.”
“Oh, your face just does that,” you echoed, amused. “All by itself.”
“Yes.”
“God, you’re relentless.”
Lucy huffed, a tiny, offended exhale and finally tilted her head just enough to glare up at you. It wasn’t a real glare. It was the soft one, the one she only ever used on you, the one that never actually meant stop.
“You’re the one poking me,” she said, as if that settled the matter entirely.
“And you’re the one pouting at me,” you countered.
“I’m not!”
“You are.”
She groaned, dramatic and muffled, and buried her face back into your shoulder like she could hide the expression entirely if she just committed hard enough. Her fingers curled into your hoodie again, tugging lightly at the fabric as you let out a soft huff of laughter. “You’re impossible.”
Lucy didn’t lift her head, but you felt the tiny, sulky nudge of her forehead against your collarbone and for a moment, neither of you moved. The room settled again, warm and familiar, the kind of quiet that didn’t need filling.
Then she sighed, “We should go,” she mumbled into your hoodie. “Before everyone thinks we’ve died in here.”
You smiled, brushing your thumb once more along her cheek. “I would mind that, being with you is my favourite thing.” Neither of you thought anything of it, the sentiment was so often shared that you both hardly thought anything of it.
“Me too.” She agreed, finally peeling herself away from you with all the enthusiasm of a cat being relocated from a warm lap. Her hair was mussed, her pout softened, her eyes still warm in that way she never acknowledged.
She stood, tugging lightly at your hand. “Come on. Dinner.”
The cafeteria at the hotel was bustling, a cacophony of noice between teammates and staff with chairs scraping, cutlery clinking, someone laughing too loudly at a joke you hadn’t heard, the low hum of conversations overlapping like waves crashing onto the beach. The noise felt like it was its own organism, living and breathing, it was chaotic, familiar, comforting in its own messy way. The overhead lights were a little too bright, reflecting off the stainless‑steel counters and the glass sneeze guards, and the smell of pasta, roasted vegetables, and whatever the nutritionist had deemed acceptable tonight hung warm in the air.
Your teammates were scattered from table to table, Jess and Lotte were leaning across their table, already halfway through a heated debate about something that definitely wasn’t football, judging by Lotte’s animated hand gestures and Jess’s unimpressed eyebrow raise. Georgia was hunched over a plate of mashed potato and whatever weird concoction she’d decided was “fuel” tonight, shovelling it in like she hadn’t eaten in days. Across from her, Leah mindlessly picked at a piece of plain gnocchi and chicken, staring into the middle distance like she was contemplating the meaning of life or her favoured picky tastes when it came to food.
Staff weaved between them with trays and clipboards, trying, and mostly failing, to maintain some semblance of order in the chaos. Someone from the physio team was arguing with a player about portion sizes, another was reminding half the squad to hydrate, and a coach was attempting to confiscate a bottle of chocolate milk from Hannah, who was insisting it was “medically necessary.”
As you and Lucy stepped inside, the noise didn’t quiet, but it shifted, just slightly as it engulfed you, head first into the chatter. Lucy’s shoulder brushed yours, her steps slowing as she took it all in, her expression softening into that familiar mix of fondness and exasperation that only this team could pull out of her.
“I could eat a horse i’m so hungry,” She muttered softly, just so you could hear her.
“Yeah, but you could eat anything.” You snorted, shaking your head.
Lucy shot you a look, the kind that was supposed to be offended but was far too tired and hungry to fully commit. “That’s rude.”
“Rude? You used to make me give you whatever I didn’t like when we’d go out to eat.” You teased, smiling at her softly.
Lucy scoffed, indignant in the most unserious way possible. “That was resourceful.”
“That was theft.”
“It was preventing waste,” she corrected, lifting her chin like she’d just delivered a moral argument worthy of a Nobel Prize. “You didn’t like it. I did. That’s teamwork.”
You laughed under your breath. “You stole half my chips.”
“Teamwork,” she repeated, unwavering.
“And my garlic bread.”
“That was survival.”
“And my dessert.”
Lucy paused, eyes narrowing just slightly. “Okay, that one was your fault. You left it unattended.”
“For ten seconds!”
“Exactly,” she said, grabbing a plate from the stack with the determination of someone preparing for battle. “Rookie mistake.”
You shook your head, amused, watching her scan the buffet like a predator assessing its options.
“You’re unbelievable.”
Lucy bumped her shoulder into yours, a small, warm nudge. “And you still sit next to me at dinner.”
“Unfortunately.”
She grinned, a real one this time, bright and unguarded. “You love it.”
As she turned away you muttered to yourself, “yeah, I really do.”
You watched her walk across the buffet line as you followed, her gait easy at first until it wasn’t. She shifted her weight off her left leg, subtle but not subtle enough for you to miss. A tiny hitch, a careful step, the kind of adjustment only someone who knew her inside out would catch. Your eyebrows furrowed instinctively as she leant forwards to reach for a serving spoon, placing all her weight on her right leg, the one with her bad knee, she avoided using her left leg as much as possible as if she was pretending nothing was wrong. You stepped a little closer, lowering your voice so it didn’t get swallowed by the cafeteria noise. “Luc,” you murmured, gentle but firm, “what’s going on with your leg?”
“What do you mean? My knee is fine, I told you last week.” She said it with that breezy, dismissive confidence she always used when she was trying to redirect you, her voice was light, almost bored, like she was repeating a fact you should’ve remembered, but there was a tightness under it, a faint strain at the edges. She didn’t look at you when she said it either. She kept her eyes fixed on the tray in front of her, scooping pasta like the conversation was already over.
You huffed, watching her shift again, it was barely there, but it was enough to make your stomach twist. “I meant your leg. Not your knee.”
Lucy stilled, the serving spoon hovering over her plate for half a second too long. Her shoulders tightened beneath her hoodie, a subtle brace, like she was preparing for impact. She didn’t look at you, of course she didn’t. Instead, she scooped another spoonful of pasta she definitely didn’t need, her jaw working as she forced her expression into something neutral.
“Oh, that. It’s fine, don’t worry about me, yeah?” She said lightly, too lightly, as she turned and stalked off to grab a table for the pair of you.
You followed her, weaving through chairs and half‑finished conversations, your plate barely half‑filled because your attention was fixed on the way she moved. Or rather, the way she didn’t move the way she normally did. Lucy Bronze never limped. She never hesitated. She never favoued one side unless something was wrong and something was definitely wrong. She dropped into a seat at an empty two‑top near the corner, the one she always gravitated toward when she wanted to pretend she wasn’t hiding. She set her plate down with a little too much force, like the noise might distract you from the way she eased herself into the chair. It didn’t.
You sat across from her, slowly, deliberately, giving her the chance to say something first. She didn’t. She stabbed a piece of chicken like it had personally offended her.
“Lucy.”
Nothing. Just the sound of her chewing.
You leaned forward, lowering your voice. “You can’t brush this off.”
Her jaw tightened and she swallowed. “I’m not brushing anything off.”
“You’re literally not putting weight on your leg.”
Lucy’s fork paused in mid air, her eyes flicking up just long enough to register your stare before dropping again. “I’m putting weight on it,” she muttered, stabbing at her pasta like it had personally wronged her. “You’re being dramatic.”
You let out a breath through your nose, steady, controlled. “I’m not being dramatic. I’m being observant.”
“That’s new,” she said under her breath.
It was a joke, or at least it was supposed to be, but it landed wrong. Too sharp. Too defensive. You watched the way her shoulders curled inward, the way she kept her left leg tucked slightly under the chair, hidden, protected.
“Lucy,” you said again, softer this time, because you knew if you pushed too hard she’d bolt. “Talk to me.”
She chewed slowly, deliberately, like she could buy time with every bite. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“You’re lying.”
Her jaw clenched. A tiny muscle in her cheek twitched. “I’m not.”
“You are.”
She set her fork down a little too loudly, the clatter swallowed by the cafeteria noise but not by you. Her eyes finally met yours and for the first time in a long time, they were guarded, tired, stubborn. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, voice low, like she was trying not to let it tremble. “We’re supposed to be eating.”
“We are eating,” you said, though neither of you had touched your food. “But you’re also pretending you’re fine when you’re clearly not.”
Lucy scoffed, leaning back in her chair like she needed distance. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I know you,” you countered, and that made her flinch. “I know how you move. I know when something’s off. And something is off.”
She looked away, eyes darting toward the far wall, anywhere but you. “It’s just a bit sore.”
Your stomach dropped. “Sore how?”
“Just sore,” she repeated, shrugging like that settled it. “Training was heavy. It’ll be fine tomorrow.”
You stared at her, and she knew you didn’t believe her. She knew you wouldn’t. That was the problem, you had always saw through her, and she hated it when she wasn’t ready to be seen.
“Lucy,” you said quietly, “you’re not walking right.”
She let out a frustrated breath, running a hand through her hair. “Can you not? Please. Not here.”
“Why not here?”
“Because you're embarrassing me.” She snapped, her eyes flicked around the room, checking if anyone was listening. No one was, they were all too busy with their own chaos. But that didn’t matter. She felt exposed anyway.
You softened your voice. “I’m not trying to embarrass you.”
“You’re not,” she said quickly, too quickly. “I just… I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then when will you?”
She didn’t answer. She just pushed a piece of chicken around her plate, her appetite gone, her walls up, her leg tucked even tighter under the chair.
You watched her for a long moment, the noise of the cafeteria fading into a dull roar behind the two of you. She was shutting down, you could see it happening in real time with the way she folded into herself. The way she hid behind silence.
You reached out, fingers brushing the edge of her plate, not touching her but close enough that she felt the intention. “Lucy,” you murmured, “I’m worried.”
Her eyes flicked up, and for a split second you saw it. The fear, the vulnerability, and the thing she was trying so hard to pretend wasn’t there.
Then she blinked, and it was gone.
“I said I’m fine,” she whispered, and this time it wasn’t defensive. It was pleading and itwas worse than anything you had ever experienced.
Dinner didn’t last long after that. Lucy kept her eyes on her plate, eating mechanically, every movement a little too careful. You tried to focus on your own food, but your gaze kept drifting back to her leg, the way she kept it tucked in, the way she shifted in her seat like she was trying to find a position that didn’t hurt. She didn’t look at you again, not properly, not for more than a second at a time. Around you, the cafeteria buzzed on, oblivious, someone shouted across the room about extra bread rolls. A coach laughed too loudly at something. Chairs scraped and cutlery clattered. It all felt strangely distant, like you were underwater and the rest of the world was above the surface.
Lucy finished first like she always did, but tonight she moved even faster, pushing her plate away and wiping her hands on a napkin like she couldn’t get out of there quickly enough. She muttered something about needing to “get sorted for tomorrow,” but it wasn’t really an explanation more like an escape route.
You followed her out a moment later, weaving through tables, offering half‑hearted nods to teammates who called your name. Your attention stayed locked on the familiar figure ahead of you, the slight unevenness in her stride that she clearly thought she was hiding. The hallway outside the cafeteria was quieter, the kind of quiet that made every footstep sound too loud. Lucy walked a few paces ahead, shoulders tight, hoodie pulled low, her hair falling forward like she could disappear behind it. You didn’t say anything and neither did she.
The two of you moved through the hotel corridors in a silence that wasn’t comfortable, iit was thick, heavy, stretched thin between you like a wire waiting to snap. Every so often she’d glance over her shoulder, just enough to check you were still there, never enough to meet your eyes. The closer you got to your rooms, the more obvious it became: she was bracing. For what, she probably didn’t even know. When you reached the hallway where your doors faced each other, she slowed like her body betrayed her before her mind could catch up. Her hand hovered near her keycard, but she didn’t swipe it.
You stood a few feet away, watching her shoulders rise and fall with a breath that was too deep to be casual. “I’ll see you tommorow morning, yeah?” Your voice came out steadier than you felt. It hung in the narrow space between you, gentle but weighted, an invitation and a reassurance all at once.
Lucy nodded without looking back. A small movement, barely there. Her hand tightened around her keycard before she finally swiped it, the soft beep sounding too loud in the quiet corridor. She hesitated in the doorway like she wanted to say something, or maybe wanted you to stop her but she didn’t speak. She slipped inside her room, the door clicking shut behind her with a finality that settled heavy in your chest.
As you slipped your keycard into the door you paused, glancing back down the hallway. Lucy’s door was shut, still and silent, the thin strip of light at the bottom already fading as she moved deeper into the room. It shouldn’t have felt like a wall slamming down, but it did.
Your own door unlocked with a soft click. You stepped inside, letting it fall shut behind you, the muted thud echoing a little too loudly in the empty space. The room was dim, the bedside lamp casting a warm pool of light over the neatly made bed, your kit laid out for the morning, the matchday routine already waiting for you.
You set your keycard on the desk, but your mind stayed in the hallway as rivulets became to silently stream down your face in tracks of shimmering crystal, you didn’t even wipe them away at first. They fell silently, catching the lamplight like tiny fractures, each one a release of something you hadn’t realised you’d been holding so tightly.
You sank down onto the edge of the bed, elbows on your knees, letting the tears fall freely. The room felt too still, too neat, too prepared for a morning that suddenly felt impossibly far away. Your kit was folded with military precision, your boots lined up by the door, your water bottle waiting on the nightstand, all the familiar rituals of matchday eve.
But none of it grounded you like she did, like her presence did with an ease that could only come from her, your chest tightened as another tear slipped free, warm against your skin before cooling in the air‑conditioned room. You dragged a shaky breath in, but it didn’t settle anything. If anything, it made the ache sharper because Lucy was everything to you. To you she was the person you looked for in a crowded room, the one whose voice could cut through noise and nerves alike, the one who made the world feel a little less overwhelming just by standing next to you And tonight she’d walked away hurting, pretending she wasn’t.
You leaned forward, elbows braced on your knees, fingers threading into your hair as you tried to breathe past the tightness in your ribs. The worry sat heavy, a weight you couldn’t shake, pressing into every thought. It wasn’t just fear for tomorrow’s match, it was fear for her, for the way she pushed herself past breaking, for the way she hid pain like it was something shameful.
You wiped at your cheeks finally, the skin beneath your eyes tender from the tears. The room felt too big around you, too quiet, too aware of the empty space where she should’ve been. You changed slowly into your pyjama’s before sinking into the mattress, staring up at the ceiling as the last of the tears dried in faint, salty streaks as you turned onto your side, pulling the duvet close, trying to will your mind to quiet but the image of her limp lingered behind your eyelids, stubborn and sharp, refusing to fade.
The next evening you didn’t think you could feel any rougher than you already did. Your eyes felt heavy as you lined up in the tunnel ahead of the quarter final match against Sweden, you could feel the oar of the crowd vibrating faintly through the concrete beneath the familiar taping of your foot, but it did nothing for your fatigue. The stadium lights bled through the opening at the far end of the tunnel, bright and unforgiving, and for a moment you had to blink against the sting behind your eyes.
You hadn’t slept. Not really. You’d drifted in and out, never fully sinking, your mind looping the same images over and over, Lucy’s limp, her hesitation, the way she’d shut the door between you like she was shutting you out of something she couldn’t bear to say aloud. Now, standing in line with your teammates, the weight of it pressed down harder than the occasion itself. The tunnel was a blur of movement and noise with studs tapping against concrete, the low murmur of last‑minute instructions, the sharp scent of liniment and adrenaline. You tried to focus on the rhythm of your breathing, on the familiar thrum of matchday nerves, but your thoughts kept drifting sideways.
To her.
Lucy stood a few players behind, she always stood at the back, her back straight, her shoulders squared in that way she always did before a big game. From a distance she looked like herself, composed, unshakeable, ready. But you saw the tiny things no one else would. The way she shifted her weight just slightly off centre. The way her left foot angled inward, protective. The way her jaw clenched when she thought no one was watching. You swallowed hard, the dryness in your throat making it difficult, this was Sweden. A knockout match. Everything on the line. And she was pretending she was fine.
You flexed your fingers at your sides, trying to shake off the heaviness in your limbs. The noise of the crowd swelled as the officials stepped forward, signalling for the teams to follow. Your teammates straightened, shoulders brushing yours, the collective inhale of a squad about to step into battle. You should’ve felt the familiar surge of adrenaline, the sharpened focus, the fire. But instead, all you felt was the hollow ache of worry settling deeper in your chest.
You glanced back at Lucy just once, your eyes flicking over the line until they found her. It was quick, barely a second, but it was enough. There was something in her expression you couldn’t read, something tight and guarded and tired. Then you turned away, stepping forward as the tunnel opened into the blinding light of the pitch. She followed you, boots hitting the grass, the roar of the stadium crashing over the two of you like a wave. But even with the noise, the lights, the stakes, all you could think about was her leg, her silence, and the storm you could feel building just beneath the surface. And the terrifying certainty that tonight, something was going to break.
The match couldn’t have been worse. Barely two minutes in, Sweden pressed high, forcing a turnover in midfield. A quick switch, a sharp cut inside, and Aslani curled one into the far corner before anyone had settled. The stadium groaned. You hadn’t even touched the ball yet, you felt the sting of it in your chest, a hot, sinking punch of disbelief that knocked the breath out of you. You jogged back into position, the cold air biting at your lungs, the noise of the crowd swelling into a restless murmur. Your boots felt heavier than they should’ve, your legs tight, your mind already racing ahead to the left flank.
You couldn’t remember much of the game, the physicality took its toll. Sweden were relentless down both flanks, forcing you into sprint after sprint, tackle after tackle, your lungs burning, your legs screaming, your head pounding with the effort of staying switched on. Every collision rattled through you. Every recovery run felt like dragging yourself through mud. The cold bit at your skin, the noise of the crowd rose and fell in waves, and the minutes blurred together into one long stretch of grit and survival.
By the time that the final whistle blew England were through to the semi-finals, 3-2 on penalties you should have been ecstatic but you weren’t. Instead, you stood there on the churned‑up grass, chest heaving, sweat cooling too fast on your skin, the roar of the stadium crashing around you like a wave you couldn’t feel. Your body was shaking from exhaustion, from adrenaline, from everything you’d forced yourself to hold together for two brutal hours but inside, you were hollow. Completely, utterly hollow. Your teammates were hugging, crying, laughing, falling to their knees in relief. Someone grabbed you in a tight embrace, shouting something triumphant in your ear, but it barely registered. You nodded, you smiled, you did all the things you were supposed to do, but none of it reached you because your eyes were already searching for her.
Lucy.
You found her instantly, like your eyes had been waiting for permission to look. She stood a little apart from the chaos, surrounded by staff and teammates but somehow still alone, her smile bright enough for the cameras yet brittle at the edges. The floodlights washed over her, catching the sheen of sweat on her temples, the rise and fall of her chest, the stiffness in her posture she thought she was hiding.
Your stomach twisted, a slow, sickening coil of worry and anger. The noise of the stadium blurred into a dull roar, your teammates’ celebrations fading into background static as you stood there, rooted to the spot, watching her disappear down the tunnel to the changing room until you worked up the strength to follow her.
It was eearily quiet when you entered, the door slamming behind you with a resounding thud before echoing into silence, a thick, heavy silence that settled over the room like fog, swallowing every sound before it could form.
Your pulse kicked up, a sharp thud against your ribs when you saw her sitting on the bench in front of her locker, elbows braced on her knees, head bowed, fingers digging into the tape around her ankle like she was trying to peel away the pain by force. Her shoulders rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. The rest of the room was empty as everyone was still outside celebrating or doing media
She didn’t look up, not at the door, not at you, not at anything.
For a second you just stood there, frozen, the cold air of the corridor still clinging to your skin. The adrenaline in your veins hadn’t settled, your muscles still trembled from the match, but none of that compared to the sight of her like this - alone, folded in on herself, the armour she wore for everyone else stripped away the moment she thought no one was watching.
Your voice came out before you could soften it, blunt and edged with everything you’d been holding back. “Why did you not tell me about your leg?” You bluntly asked, the words cracking through the quiet like a whip.
Lucy’s head snapped up, her eyes widening just slightly, the way someone reacts when a door slams unexpectedly. She looked caught between instinct and guilt, between the version of herself she showed the world and the one sitting here now, shoulders slumped, breath uneven. You took a step closer, boots echoing in the hollow room. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, casting a harsh, unforgiving glow that made the swelling around her ankle look even worse. Sweat still clung to her temples, drying in uneven streaks, and her hands were trembling as they hovered uselessly over her shin pad.
Her jaw tightened, the muscle feathering beneath her skin. She didn’t answer. Not right away.
You could see the moment she tried to gather herself, tried to pull the armour back on, tried to become Lucy Bronze, unshakeable defender again. But it didn’t fit. Not tonight. Not with you standing there, seeing every crack she’d tried to hide.
“Lucy,” you said, quieter now but no less firm, “look at me.”
She did, slowly and reluctantly. The moment her eyes met yours, the anger you thought you felt dissolved into something heavier, something that sat low in your chest and made it hard to breathe. She looked exhausted. Not just physically but in a way that went deeper, like she’d been carrying something far too heavy for far too long and still, she said nothing.
You exhaled, the sound shaky in the stillness. “Why didn’t you tell me,” you repeated, softer but somehow sharper, “when you knew I’d see it anyway.”
Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her gaze flicked away, down to her ankle, then to her hands, then to the floor as if every surface in the room was easier to face than you.
When she finally spoke, her voice was barely more than a breath. “I didn’t want you to stop me.”
“Stop you?!” You nearly scream, incredulously, the words ricochets off the tiled walls, too loud in the empty room, too full of everything you’d been swallowing since the tunnel.. “You think I would have tried to stop you? I would have tried to help you but not stop you!” Your voice cracks on the last word, the frustration bleeding through before you can rein it in.
Lucy flinches a tiny tightening around her eyes, a subtle pull of her shoulders but you see it. You always see it. And somehow that only fuels the fire burning under your ribs.
You take a step toward her, boots scraping against the floor, the sound harsh in the stillness. Your hands are shaking, whether its from exhaustion, adrenaline, or the sheer disbelief of what she’s just implied, you can’t tell. “You think so little of me?” you push on, breath coming fast. “You think I’d run to the staff and get you benched like you’re some reckless child who needs policing?”
Lucy’s gaze snaps up at that, red molten anger flashing across her face before she can hide it as her fingers curl into fists against her thighs, knuckles whitening.“That’s not what I meant,” she counters, the frustration is evident but her voice is thin, frayed at the edges.
“Then what did you mean?” you demand, stepping closer still. You’re close enough now to see the sheen of sweat drying on her collarbone, the tremor in her jaw, the way she’s holding herself like one wrong word might make her either snap or crumble. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth.”
Her breath stutters, just once. You drag a hand through your hair, pacing a tight line in front of her because standing still feels impossible. The room feels too small, too bright, too full of everything she didn’t say.
“I would’ve helped you,” you say again, quieter now but no less fierce. “I would’ve taped you up myself if that’s what you needed. I would’ve covered for you. I would’ve done whatever it took to get you through the match. But you didn’t even give me the chance.”
Lucy’s eyes close, her shoulders sinking as if the weight of your words lands physically on her. “I know,” she whispers. “I know you would’ve.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me?”
Lucy didn’t answer right away, she just stared at you, her expression tightening in a way you couldn’t read, not anger, not guilt, not fear. Something murkier. Something that made your stomach twist. When she finally spoke, her voice was flat. “I didn’t tell you,” she said slowly, “because it wasn’t your place to know.”
The words landed like ice water down your spine. Your breath caught. “My place?”
Lucy nodded once, barely. “You’re my teammate. That’s all. And this… this was something I had to handle as a player. Not as-” She stopped herself, jaw clenching. “Not as whatever you think we are.”
You felt the floor tilt under you. “Whatever I think? We’re friends, Lucy! We’ve been friends for nearly twenty years!” Your disbelief sharp enough to cut through the hardest of concrete.
Lucy didn’t look away and that somehow made it worse.
“Are we?” she asked quietly.
It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t meant to hurt. But it did, instantly, deeply, like she’d reached into your chest and twisted the knife so deep it fataly wounded you so horribly all you could do was stare at her unable to speak.
Lucy exhaled, long and tired, rubbing a hand over her face. “You care about me. I know that. And I care about you. But that doesn’t mean you get to be involved in every decision I make about my body or my career.” Her voice was maddeningly steady as she added, “you think because we’re close, you’re entitled to the truth. But sometimes… sometimes you’re not.”
The room felt suddenly too bright, too sharp, like every fluorescent bulb was aimed directly at you.
“So you shut me out,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “Because you don’t see me as someone who belongs in that part of your life.”
Lucy’s silence was answer enough.
You felt something inside you crack like a small, precise fracture that you knew wouldn’t heal clean.
“I thought we were more than that,” you said, the words tasting like defeat.
Lucy’s eyes flickered, something like regret passing through them but she didn’t take it back. She didn’t reach for you, she didn’t soften.
“I can’t afford to blur lines right now,” she murmured. “Not with the tournament. Not with everything at stake.”
“And what about us?” you asked, though your voice already knew the answer.
Lucy looked down at her leg, as if she could see through to her broken tibia. “There is no ‘us’,” she said quietly. “Not the way you think.”
The silence that followed wasn’t thick or heavy anymore it was empty and hollow, as you turned and walked out of the changing room, each step echoing too loudly in the corridor, and suddenly everything you thought you understood blurred at the edges, tilting out of alignment like the world had quietly shifted into a shape you no longer recognised.
a/n: based off this request here. This is barely proof read and it is quite long, but enjoy!!
prompt: in which the tension between you and Lucy at England camp is undeniable
tw⚠️: mentions of drinking, a little spicy
You had known Lucy for ages. She was 5 years older than you, and initially was noting more than a role model to you. That is, because you never thought she would go for a girl 5 years younger. But once you turned 21, Lucy realized that the age difference was simply irrelevant. You joined Manchester City just as she left it, you didn’t know she was going to leave, and she didn’t know you were in the midst of signing a contract. The fact that you had barely missed one another in terms of playing club soccer with each other upset you deeply. You had no way to guess it did the same for her. Despite this, you made your time at City fruitful. In the 2018 season, you became the midfielder with the most goals in one season in the history of the WSL. The feeling was pure ecstasy.
The only feeling that topped it? Lucy Bronze returning to Manchester City. For two years, you shared the pitch again. You loved it. You loved her presence, her smirks of approval in training, and the fact that you were never away from her because when you weren’t tearing it up for City, you were combining plays together for the Lionesses. The only problem? You weren’t single. At the time, you were dating a rugby player. She was nice, reserved, and calm. The opposite of Lucy.
In 2022, you made a lot of changes. You signed a contract with Chelsea, broke up with your girlfriend and moved away. The thoughts in your head were along the lines of: "Lucy and I, it’s just not happening." Little did you know, she was having those same thoughts as she left City for Barcelona.
A month into your contract with Chelsea, you suffered the worst of the worst. Your ACL tore. It was mentally horrifying, physically demanding and overall depressing. So it wasn’t till you met back up for the Lionesses training camp a year and a half into playing for your respective clubs that things shifted.
Let’s say, a year and a half without seeing eachother was exactly what you needed.
Lucy’s POV
When y/n tore her ACL, I genuinely cried for her. She was young, still. Had so much to prove and so much to accomplish. It didn’t help that I never got to see her anymore. It was heartbreaking in every way.
As I arrived at St-George’s Park, knowing she would be there, my heart was racing.
I heard her before I saw her. She was always energetic, but I could tell the thrill of being back at St-George’s combined with the joy of seeing Alessia and Ella sent her over the edge
"Lessi! Tooney!" y/n shrieked.
The two girls swiveled around, dropped their bags and ran towards y/n. The trio hugged hard and jumped around in joy, as though they were 10 years old again. Seeing her, seeing y/n, everything felt right in the world again.
Your POV
I greeted Lessi and Ella in a way that was all but discrete. We didn’t care, we had been waiting for this moment for ages. But quickly after the meeting, my eyes settled themselves on a certain tall brunette. I didn’t plan on trying to find her, but my subconscious had a mind of its own.
I was happy to see that when I did look at her, she was already staring at me.
"Hey y/n," Lucy said when she walked over to me.
Maybe it was the adrenaline and the joy from being back from injury, but I barely had any nerves.
"Hey Luce," I smiled wildly, and then I hugged her. I got on my tippy toes and wrapped my arms around her neck and she settled hers tightly around my waist. She smelled so good, and I could tell the Barcelona training schedule agreed with her. Her back, shoulders and arms felt even firmer than they were before.
I made a mental note of checking that out in the changing rooms.
“You look great," she said as I pulled away from her. “Like, injury wise you know. You look ready to go," Lucy fumbled.
This was unusual for her. Even back at Man City, she would flirt shamelessly and was always witty and confident with her remarks. I didn’t know exactly what had changed, or if it was a good or bad change, but something was different.
"Thank you, I’ve really been working hard. I missed this place, the girls… you," I dared a more straightforward remark. "I missed you too," she smiled, confidence pooling in her voice once more.
But before the conversation could keep going, Sarina ushered you all to your rooms.
The next day, you woke up with Esme in the bed with you. You remembered the night before which consisted of giggling while scrolling on tik tok and catching up on all the missed gossip. Your guess was that you had fallen asleep.
You got out of bed, put your hair up and changed into your England sweat suit before quietly dipping out of the room. You wanted to start your day off well. A good breakfast, some coffee and stretching, and then working your ass off at training. The team only had a week before their friendly against the Netherlands, and you’d be damned if you didn’t get the start.
As it was only 8am, You weren’t expecting to be alone in the Cafeteria, but you were wrong. Leah was sat there scrolling on her phone, and it was only once you saw her that you recalled her early-bird habits. "Hey Leah!" you said, happy for the company. "Y/n! Hey, I’m happy to see you I wanted to give you a proper hello but yesterday was so chaotic," she explained as she got up and wrapped me in a hug.
You got food quickly, sat with her and talked about everything and nothing for about half an hour before more teammates started pooling in.
When Lucy got there, she was quick to claim the free seat beside you. Your table was bustling with chatter from Leah, Alessia, Ella, Lauren and Esme. You and Lucy opted to be silent observers. But it only took about five minutes before tension filled the air. As more people joined your table, the closer you and Lucy had to be smushed together. So much so that her thigh was pressed against yours in a way that made your stomach lurch.
Leah was going on about something regarding playing against Viv Miedema this following week, but your attention was elsewhere. It was on Lucy’s hand that was gently brushing your knee.
The brunette stared past you and at Leah, acting as though she had no clue what she was doing, but you knew better. This had Lucy Bronze written all over it.
Evening Training
An hour after lunch and having been done your technical session, it was time to hit the gym. You changed into a fresh kit as your old one was grass stained from all the work you had put in and then headed to the gym with Alessia by your side.
You walked into the gym and took notice of the white board which marked the exercises you had to do. Most people were already warming up, some were still caught up in chatter. A thought crossed your mind. If Lucy was being so bold with brushing her hand over your thigh, why couldn’t you?
Oh, and there’s probably something that needs clarification. Right before your ACL tear, on the last night of international break, all the girls went out to a club. You danced the night away, and did that with not only the team, but this blonde girl you met that night. Needless to say, Lucy was searing with jealousy. And that’s how you both ended up in the club washroom, drunk out of your minds and making out for god knows how long. There had been no time to discus the matter as the next morning she was on a flight to Spain, and you were back with Chelsea. Then, your ACL tear created a year long gap between seeing each other. Sure, you had been in the stands of the Lionesses matches, but you were too chicken to ever go talk to her.
So in this moment, in the St-George’s Park gym, you walked up to her. "Be my partner? We can spot eachother," you suggested with a slight smile and a knowing look in your eyes. "Yeah, sure, of course," her answer came back immediately.
"Great, we can start on the squat rack after the warmup," you said before sitting next to her and starting your stretches. "Yeah, okay." Lucy answered you. "You excited to get back on the field?" She followed up. "Gosh, I can’t wait. Genuinely I want to fast forward to that moment. Being sidelined like this… it’s been really hard, you just really feel alone even if it’s one of the most common injuries right now," you said, making occasional eye contact with her. "I wish I could have been here to help, I’m sorry y/n," Lucy said softly. "I know if you were here you would have Luce, it’s okay."
You both moved onto the main part of your workout, the squat rack was up first. Lucy started first as she squatted more than you did now, one of the many set backs of an ACL tear. You spotted her, but she didn’t need it whatsoever. You watched her brow furrow in concentration through the mirror in front of you both, and stared at her arm muscles throbbing. Her sleeves were rolled all the way up, she knew what she was doing. She it was your turn, you knowingly hiked your shorts up higher then you normally did. When you went down for your first rep, Lucy’s eyes were not on your form. When you finished your set you turned around and gently laid your hand on her abs.
"Hey Luce? When i’m working out, focus more on spotting me, and less on my ass, okay?"
She turned bright red.
A couple days later
Over the past couple days, you and Lucy had much less time to flirt and play mind games with each other. Your entire focus was shifted towards the game, that’s all you cared about. Lucy, you’d be able to deal with later. Today was almost an entire off day though. The team had had a light training session at 10 where you worked on the basics. Finishing, crosses, corners, etc. You had scored every shot you took, ready to prove yourself on the pitch tomorrow. But now, Sarina just wanted you girls to stretch, eat well, and hangout as a group. So that’s what you did.
You and Esme went back to your room after training and you started undressing, wanting to claim the shower first.
"So…" she started saying, "what’s up with you and Lucy?"
Your back was turned to her as you slipped off your training top. You were happy it was because you cracked a shy smile. "We’re… I think we’re starting up where we left off," you said.
"And that would be where, exactly?" She asked, unknowing about your excursion with the brunette defender last year.
But what better time to tell her?
"Making out in the bar bathroom last year," you giggled, turning around to see her face drop. "Y/n y/l/n! You’re joking!" she gasped. "I am not, but you can’t tell anybody. I think the only other soul that knows is Lucy’s dog," you teased. "Tell me everything!" she insisted as you hopped into the shower and she took her spot on the counter.
You told her about it all, about the flirting, about the dancing with another girl which led to Lucy’s jealous fit, and then the oh so good makeout. You also explained that when you tore your ACL, you just weren’t in the mental space to figure out what you and Lucy were.
"So, do you like her or is it just kind of a fun thing to have going on in the background of your life," Esme asked.
"Esme, I’ve been in love with her since the first time we played together. I think I’ve just only let myself accept it now."
Common room
"Okay I know this is cliche, but what about truth or dare?" Esme suggested to the group of lionesses.
You side eyed her, the phrase being all too familiar, and the fact that it had come out of your friends mouth as she shot you a knowing gland did not make you feel safe.
You were sat across from Lucy, but wished badly that she was beside you. You wore short grey sweat shorts and a white tank top, a matching grey zip up was open and your hair was still wet from your shower. You knew the sight of your shorter shorts paired with the low cut of your tank top was driving Lucy crazy. You loved it.
"Sure, why not! I have some things I’ve been wanting to find out about you guys," Leah teased. "Okay Cap, a little too enthusiastic there," you answered her, earning scattered laughs. "Who’s up first then?" Ella rebutted, a look of evil excitement in her eyes.
No answer.
"You guys are all chicken! I’ll go first," Ella announced. "Mary, truth or dare." "Truth," Mary answered without missing a beat. "Who is the most annoying player you’ve ever played with," Tooney asked. "Well you’re quite high up there Ella!" Mary snickered. "All jokes aside, probably this defender named Margo I played with at Bristol City."
"Boringggg Mary, you’re too nice," you responded. "Oh I’m boring! Okay let’s see you go then. Y/n, truth or dare," she said quickly. "Truth," you said.
"Who was your best ever kiss," she asked, earning oohs of approval from the team.
You locked eyes with Lucy. Her jaw was clenched solid, so were her hands. Obviously, you couldn’t say her, although it was her lips on yours that remained the best you had ever had. But by saying Lucy, that opened a door you weren’t ready to open. So, you had to think of someone else. You thought back to a couple months ago when you were still out on injury and ran into a familiar face at a club. You had been sitting alone at the bar, drowning your sorrows when Jill Roord came up to you. One thing led to another and you had woken up in her hotel room the next morning, but no need to mention that.
"I guess, uh… I mean I haven’t really kissed anyone in a while but Jill Roord was pretty good…" you said, staring at your hands.
Exclamations of "what" "when" and how filled up the whole room. "It was nothing guys it was a bar encounter a while back," you laughed, attempting to differ the conversation.
You looked up, saw Lucy, and was met with a look you hadn’t seen before in her eyes. A mix of rage, jealousy, and hurt.
You then gave Alessia a half assed there along the lines of posting a bad picture on instagram and then Lucy’s name was called on by the blonde forward. "Lucy, truth or dare?"
"Dare," Lucy said, looking straight at you.
"I dare you to send a risky text to the most attractive person in your phone," Alessia said. "Easy," Lucy answered. She pulled out her phone and tapped her screen for a second, then pressed send.
That’s when you felt it, the buzz of your phone on your lap.
You obviously couldn’t look at it right away or everyone would know, so you waited till the game was over, your heart pounding.
Thirty minutes later, people started dispersing into their rooms to have some down time, and you grabbed your phone and opened the notification that, surely enough, was from Lucy.
You’re so dead for that comment y/l/n, meet me in my room at 7, and i’ll remind you what an actual good kiss feels like.
Your heart lurched. But at this point, all there was left to do was wait.
Hours later
You were nervously waiting outside of Lucy’s door. You didn’t know who she was rooming with, or what you be waiting for you inside of the room. You raised your fist slowly, then applied three short knocks to the wooden door.
The answer came immediately.
Lucy opened the in a sports bra and nike shorts riding low. "Hey y/n," she said, her voice sounding a particular level of needy. "Hey Luce," you shifted nervously from side to side. "Come in," she stepped aside. You did. "Who are you rooming with?" you asked, nervousness filling your body even more. You wondered where the confidence you had in the gym those days ago went. "Don’t have one, that’s the perk of being an odd number," she smiled. Lucy didn’t seem nervous at all.
There was a moment of silence between you both.
"Lucy, i’m so sorry about today. I need you to know how much I wanted to say you. I want you to know that you’re all i’ve been able to think about. But saying that to all the girls… I didn’t- I don’t even know what you think about me. And I’m sorry for saying Jill, we’re playing her tomorrow and I realize how stupid that was I just panicked. Luce you are the best kiss i’ve ever had, ever. And I want to tell everybody that but-"
You were cut off by Lucy sitting down on the bed and giving you a certain look that meant "stop talking."
"Y/n, I’m not mad. Jealous as hell? Yeah. Mad? No. I get it," she said. Lucy opened her legs slightly, inviting you to stand between them. "Come here baby," she husked. You did, you stood between her legs and looked down at her. Her hands slid up your thighs, hips, and then under your shirt. "I want to do so much right now, but the focus needs to be on the game tomorrow. You have big things to show England, a big reminder to be given of how spectacular you are," Lucy said. "Luce… Im still sorry. Your gonna be defending Jill tomorrow and-"
And that’s the moment where she kept true to her word. Lucy reminded you why she was the best kiss you had ever had. She sat you down so you were straddling her lap in one swift movement, and then connected her lips with yours. Your mouthes both opened, allowing the others tongue to explore each others mouths. You grinded you hips into her and laced your arms up and down her back. "Luce," you groaned, pulling away despite what your body wanted to do. "I know, I know. We can’t," Lucy said, the look of need still just as prominent in her eyes. "After the game, what are the odds you can stay for a day or two before going back to Barca. You can stay with me for a bit. I just- I don’t want to leave things like last time."
"I will call my coach in the morning and see what I can do, is that okay?" Lucy asked sweetly. "Yeah, yeah okay," you smiled.
Silence fell between you both again. Lucy filled it by tucking loose strands of hair behind your ear and staring into your eyes.
"I should go, shouldn’t I?" You made it sound like a question, but it was honestly a statement. "Yeah, probably. I really don’t want you to, but it’s for the best for now." Lucy answered as you both stood up.
You let the defender engulf you in a hug, finding comfort in the strength her arms held.
As you walked to the door after she let you go, you turned around, tears you didn’t feel coming in your eyes. "Y/n? What’s wrong, did I say something?" Lucy panicked, cupping your face and not caring that if anyone walked out or into their rooms right now, you would both be caught. "Can I be honest?" you said, fighting back tears. "Darling, any time. Always," Lucy said.
"I’m so scared of getting injured again tomorrow."
Lucy’s heart broke in half at your words, a rare moment of vulnerability seeping through your tough exterior. "You won’t, not if I have anything to do with it."
The next day, Wembley
You were starting. It was a bitter sweet feeling, a mix of pride at how hard you had worked for this moment, and of fear at how quickly it could all be taken away.
Everyone knew that on game days, no one was to mess around with you. You were the quiet type in the changing room. Lucy knew this too, and although she was aching to find a private moment to kiss you, hug you, or give you words of affirmation, she knew leaving you to your game day playlist and over the ear headphones was the safest option.
After warmup, and multiple cheers for you as the announcer welcomed you back after your year away on injury, you returned to the changing room, slipped on your jersey labeled with number 17, and lined up in the tunnel. At this point, Lucy couldn’t hold back any longer. "Y/n," she said softly. You were both holding the hands of young girls, so she was careful with her words. "Good luck, I’ll be there for you. You’re not getting hurt," she reassured.
And even though realistically, Lucy had no control over your injuries, her words were so confident that you entirely believed her.
In the tunnel, you looked to your left, taking in your opposition. As you did so, Jill Roord locked eyes with you and smiled. "Happy to have ya back y/n," she simply stated. You gave her a soft thank you, and then it was time to walk out. Lucy had heard Jill’s words. Her desire to win quadrupled.
19 minutes in
The game was very neck to neck. So far, you felt great. You had been working your ass off, and even had gotten a couple shots on target, but none had gone past the Dutch goalkeeper. You played attacking mid, which meant that often, you and Jill were going neck to neck. It was on an English corner kick that Lucy almost earned herself a yellow.
You were readying yourself to jump to get the header if it came your way, and felt a body press itself tightly behind you. You glanced over your shoulder and saw Jill’s familiar smile. One of her hands lingered a second too long on your hip as she kept the gap between you both very small. Lucy, seeing this, did what any jealous girl would.
When everybody jumped as the ball came in, Lucy knocked Jill clean out of the air. The ball soared past everybody and went out through the touch line.
"Hey! Watch it Bronze," the dutch midfielder grumbled as she got back up.
Lucy said nothing, she regained her position for the goal kick.
In the 27th minute, the break through finally came. Lucy pinged the ball across to Lauren James who took a fantastic touch and started driving forward. She beat their right back and drove to the touch line where the ball was cut it towards the penalty spot. You were confident Alessia was going to take the shot strong and hard with her left foot, but she skipped the ball. It kept rolling just outside the 18 where you were running to catch up. You struck the ball hard and low.
It was one of the most powerful shots you had ever taken. The ball ricocheted off the goal post and into the net with a clank.
Wembley went mental.
You weren’t usually one to celebrate, but of course, today of all days, your big return, you had too. You ran at full speed towards the corner flag where you then jumped onto the barricades, ushering the crowd to be louder before jumping back down and being engulfed by your teammates. You hated that you felt slightly embarrassed to have celebrated so hard, it was just a friendly after all. But to you, it meant so much more. It meant that your ACL tear had not taken your life or your career away, it showed that you were strong, that you over came it and kicked it in the ass.
Your teammates were kissing the top of your head, slapping you on the back and cheering for you. They were all feeling the emotion behind this goal just as much as you were. The last person to truly congratulate you was Lucy. She cupped your face and placed a kiss on your forehead. "I’m so proud of you," she said with a massive grin.
To the fans and the media, this gesture seemed friendly, it seemed like something shared between two people who loved each other very much. If only they knew how much.
The Lionesses were still up 1-0 at the half. You were tired, needless to say that this level of intensity hadn’t been part of your usual schedule. But when Sarina asked you how you were feeling, you stated that you felt amazing.
When the second half started up again, adrenaline took over.
It was in the 63d minute that Vivianne Miedema slotted one into the back of the English net. You were pissed. So you used that anger to fuel yourself.
Lucy POV
I hadn’t ever seen y/n so upset over a friendly. Obviously no one likes to get scored against, especially if you had scored what could have been the winner, but this was different. The spark of energy she brought to the team fuelled us all. For the next ten minutes after Miedema had scored, we were all over the dutch. That is, till y/n got taken down in the box.
The tackle came from Jackie Groenen as y/n broke through the midfield. It was a knee to knee collision which made her shot go wide. I saw her go down and my vision blurred. So far, I had kept my promise from the night before to perfection, she hadn’t gone down once.
I ran over to her side. As the stadium held their voices, the girl I was in love with held her knee.
This could not be happening, she had just come back.
"Y/n, are you okay? What hurts?" I asked frantically. "Fuck, that fucking hurt man," she mumbled into the grass. "What kind of hurt? Like-tear hurt or-"
I hadn’t even noticed that the referee had awarded us a penalty, I was solely focused on y/n.
"No, Luce, no it’s okay," she sat up and I subconsciously wiped blades of grass off of her head. "Just bruise hurt, I’m okay," she confirmed.
I helped her get back up and she gave me the smallest, but warmest smile.
Leah was checking on bet too now that she was stood back up. "So, you good to take this one? Show everyone what you’re made of once more?"
Leah handed y/n the ball and I nodded with approval.
I watched her step to the spot, take three deep breaths and three big steps back. I heard the whistle, and watched the ball soar past Van Domselaar. I hadn’t even readied myself for a rebound, I knew the ball was going in.
Your POV
You felt ecstatic after the final whistle. The minutes on the pitch after the whistle felt like a blur. You hugged players and staff alike, signed so many jerseys and took numerous pictures. You filmed an interview you hoped you didn’t sound totally stupid in, as you couldn’t remember a word you had said. All that was on your mind was finding Lucy.
You found her waiting for you in the tunnel, not realizing that you were one of the lasts off the pitch.
"Luce," you said when you saw her standing in the tunnel. You let outs breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. She opened her arms for you and you were quick to hide yourself in them.
You really didn’t mean for it to happen, but before you knew it, sobs were taking over your body. "Woah, woah, woah. Hey, darling what’s going on? Are these happy tears? You should be happy y/n," she said, holing your shoulders and looking at you.
You frantically wiped tears off your face before being able to gather yourself. "Let’s get out of the tunnel okay, I don’t want media in your face right now," Lucy said.
You both walked into an isolated hallway just outside of the English changing room. You could hear the Lionesses music and scattered conversations.
"Please tell me what’s going on," Lucy practically begged. "I honestly- I honestly just didn’t think this moment would happen. I know I sound ridiculous, it was just an ACL tear. But I felt- god Luce. I felt so alone. I felt as though I’d never see the pitch again, and I know people have come back from bigger set backs. I mean, Hayley Raso broke her damn back and Im here crying about an ACL. I just- i’m so happy. I’m so happy i get this back. I’m so happy i get you back," you confessed.
Lucy looked broken for you, visibly upset at how lonely you had been. "I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you, I’m so sorry baby girl," she whispered. "I’m so endlessly proud of you," the defender added.
And honestly, that was all you needed to hear.
Her words topped the cheers from the team as you walked into the changing room, it topped the dozens of hugs, and the appreciation posts online.
Lucy was back in your life, and that was what mattered most.
