Skipper's Kid

Maaaaaan Cityyyyyyyyy!

I'm on such a Kim Little kick rn omg what's wrong with me
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"Hey, Y/N?" Zecira nudged you as you did your homework. "Y/N?"

"Hm?" your eyes briefly flicked away from your thirty-page packet to grab your water. "Yeah?"

"Did Emma tell you?" the Swede questioned.

You choked, causing multiple heads to swing towards you. "What the fuck is Emma plannin' now? Last time she told me summin' game-related, my reaction was made into a meme!"

Erin snorted from the back of the bus, calling, "We know! It's all over the internet."

You chucked a wad of paper in her direction."Shut up! Anyways, what did Emma say?"

Zecira grinned. "You're starting today."

You choked again, leading Maren to pat you on the back. "Against Man City?"

"Yes."

"Maaaaaan Cityyyyyy?"

"Yes."

"Manchester Ci—"

"Yes!" the older Keeper groaned. "You'll do great! You've got it, just stop asking if you're starting against Man City. I said yes."

"O-okay—? Wait, are you sure Emma said I'm starting today? Against Man—"

"Y/N!"

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"Be quick be quick be qu— oh fuck," you hissed, stretching to save a powerful shot from Lauren Hemp. "Hempo! Lay off, will ya?"

Your mom's former Team GB teammate smirked, jogging back down the field. "You wish!"

You punted the ball to Sam, watching as she sprinted toward it. "I DO WISH!"

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"Owwie," you whined, catching your breath after your 10th save of the game. After half-time, your backline had fallen apart, letting in the ball far too many times than they should have. You were diving and blocking and punching far too much. Specifically, diving and punching. You were pretty sure you'd bruised your ribs at least a little bit, and you were 99.9% certain that your knuckles would be colored a dark purple if you took of your gloves. "Dammit."

Chloe Kelly frowned at you disapprovingly.

"Mate, could you let a ball in?" She yelled over the roar of the crowd. "I don't like the fact that we've had thirty shots on goal and it's still nil-nil."

You stumbled to your feet, ignoring the confused looks of your teammates. "No can do. I got—I can block everything ye' shoot."

From the sidelines, you could hear Emma screaming at your Defenders to get their heads in it. She could probably see the dazed look in your eyes, but you shook it off and rolled the ball to Millie. You'd be fine.

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You'd just stuck a hand out, tipping the ball over the net when the final whistle blew. Final score: 1-1.

You awkwardly waddled over to the side of your goal, attempting to bend down to reach your towel and water bottle. Key word: attempted. The minute you bent down, you keeled over in exhaustion, folding like a deck chair.

You were vaguely aware of the alarmed shouts of Cityzens and Blues alike, yelling for medics as multiple pairs of hands rolled you over onto your back. Your gloves were pulled off, and gasps could be heard as someone examined your damaged hands.

You wanted to complain, to tell them to get the fuck off you, but you couldn't. Your throat felt dry, and you couldn't muster up any energy. Before you knew it, you were out cold.

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"Mah baby!" Kim shrieked, zooming to the front door to put her shoes on. "I'm on mah way!"

"Kim, wait—"

The Gunners blinked in surprise, for their captain was already out the door and sprinting to Kingsmeadow.

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"Where's mah daughter?" Kim yelled, slamming the door open with her shoulder and startling everyone in the room.

Erin backed into the far corner, well-aware at how terrifying Kim could be when angered into protective mom mode. "She's— she's gonna be okay."

"So she's not okay now!?" The Arsenal captain screeched, rushing over to your bedside where you were curled up, asleep. "Oh, baby. What did these bitches do to ye'?"

Millie opened her mouth to protest, only for Erin's hand to slap over it. The Scot would be damned if anyone further agitated a furious Kim Little.

You stirred under your mother's caring touch, curling inwards as her hand caressed your forehead.

"C'mon, sweetheart, open those eyes for me," she prompted gently, her other hand gripping at your knee. "Please?"

Your eyes snapped open at the familiar voice, blinking rapidly to adjust to the light. "Eh?"

Niamh smiled apologetically. "How are you fee—"

"Shut up," Kim swatted at the left-back absent-mindedly. "How are ye' feelin', kiddo?"

You attempted to sit up, wincing and immediately lying back down when your middle ached in protest. "My ribs hurt. And my hands."

Your mom instantly pulled you closer, arms wrapping around you protectively. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

She turned to the medics. "Is anything broken?"

One of them shook her head. "Everything's just badly bruised. She passed out because she was exhausted from diving so much. She'll be fine with enough rest. Keep an eye on her ribs and knuckles, and let us know when they start to look better."

You'd already started snoring in the short amount of time that no one was talking to you, and your mom gazed down at you fondly before picking you up as if you were still a baby.

"Come on, kiddo," she whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead. "Let's go home."

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"Go back to sleep, darlin'," your mom instructed, looking over at you as you glanced around tiredly. "We're here."

You pushed the passenger door open, stumbling about tiredly. "'Mm fine."

She quickly hopped out of the driver's seat, wrapping her arms around you to stabilize your wobbly form. "Come on, let's go to bed."

The Midfielder guided you up the stairs, but instead of directing you to your room, she pushed you into her bedroom.

"Why—?"

"You're hurt," she shook her head. "I want to make sure you're okay."

You gave her a look.

"Okay, okay," she caved. Resisting you was not one of her specialties. "I know you'll be fine, but you're my baby. My pride and joy. Please. Stay here tonight. For me?"

You simply crashed onto the mattress face first. You were too tired to argue.

Your mom clambered under the covers, placing your head on her lap before beginning to card her fingers through your hair. Soon enough, the soothing motion lulled you into a deep, restful slumber.

"I love you, baby girl," she murmured, taking your hand carefully to avoid aggravating the damaged skin. "More than you'll ever know."

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Hope you enjoyed, thanks for reading!