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trulyhblue · 3 months

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My Girl

Hayley Raso x Barcelona! Reader

Warnings: fluff, established relationship, drinking, sport rivals, coarse language.

A/N — this photo of her after the Chelsea vs RMA CL game has me in a chokehold. A short but sweet one <3

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You met Hayley in a drunken embrace, breathing in the earthy chill that contrasted the firey ambience of the club.

You hadn't been starting for your Childhood team for a couple of weeks now, only just making the starting eleven today you went above and beyond in training. Barcelona was your home. You grew up in the city, raised with a football by your feet, and had been a part of the club for as long as you could remember. You were one of the many girls among the team who had never experienced life outside of the Spanish League, with no eminent efforts of changing that anytime soon. You had made your debut at seventeen, and over these past few years, you were lucky enough to see the team expand into one of the greatest women’s team in the world — arguably even the best.

While this came with certain bragging rights, and of course the utmost pride for the club, the safety and security that came with your position on the team were always at stake. Unlike other teams, Barcelona were ongoing in their endeavours to keep their players on their toes in regard to their contracts. This was most apparent in girls like you, who had been at Barca your whole life.

It was a constant battle to the top, but maintaining your status there was harder. You loved football. It was your passion, your dream, but it was also your career — a very demanding one, at that.

You had met Hayley in England when you were visiting Manchester to catch up with your close friend Ona. Ona was at United, thriving at the club in streaks, but her contract was ending with the reds. You were one of the first to know about the girl’s transfer to your club. You were so, so excited.

It was nearing the end of the season, the Manchester Derby being the game you watched, but you couldn't help but catch the eye of one of the girls on the opposite team.

Her name was Hayley, you knew that from the ribbon in her hair and the curls that fell from her flimsy bun. You watched her intently throughout the game, unable to peel your eyes off the woman as she threaded the ball in and out of her position on the wing. As a Winger yourself, you were able to easily admire her skill, despite the fact that you were in fact rooting for the other team. You were quick to make yourself known to her after the game, and everything sort of hit it off from there.

Hayley was kind. Her heart was full of gold, and her precious person was something you fell in utter love with. She made you laugh like no one else. She had a way of making you feel seen, heard, and thought of even if there were a million different things going on around you that looked to be more important. The two of you didn't even think about the physical distance that you’d have to face. The instant connecting made it impossible to break the bond you immediately had.

After a couple of weeks of talking back and forth, you had found yourself hopelessly enamoured with the Australian.

Ona announced her move to Barca in June, and your national team was preparing for the long and apprehensive task of the World Cup. Before, you thought yourself very lucky to be playing in such an important tournament with such talented played. You still think this now, but after meeting Hayley, all thoughts turned to the idea of being in the same country for a whole month together.

Obviously, you did not have much time to spend. Winning the World Cup was a dream come true. It was everything you had ever dreamed of. But your heart was yearning for only one thing.

Hayley had asked you to be your girlfriend on the day you were due back to Spain. Her surprising announcement to Real Madrid just before the Cup was nothing of a shock to you. While you played for the rival team — and maybe, sort of tried to convince the girl to try for Barca — you were over the moon that she was so much closer to you.

Now, months later, you were spending your evening in a bar with Aitana and Keira slung to your hip, slurring your words as you searched for your phone. The Barca girls were in Madrid after a critical match against Atletico Madrid, meaning the next few days were going to be by your Australian’s side.

“Ugh, calling the enemy, I see.” Keira quipped, rolling her eyes. Aitana giggled from beside her, watching your sluggish motions with a smug countenance.

You ignored their antics, ignoring their jokes and finding your girlfriend's contact on your phone. You didn't even register how it took a few seconds for her to pick up, but you realised she had been waiting by the sound of her keys.

“Heyyyyy, Hay.” You splattered, pulling down an inch of your heightening skirt. “Miss you so much, Babyyy.”

“Hello, darling.” You heard your girlfriend chuckle. “Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?” You asked. You flipped Keira off when she mocked your whines.

“For me to pick you up, Darling.” Hayley replied.

“Hm,” You pondered for a moment, trying to remember why you wanted to call Hayley in the first place. “I'm in a bar, Hay.”

“I know. I can hear it in your voice.”

“Nooo, I've had no drinks.” You whined, pulling yourself up from the secluded corner you and the girls were nurturing. “Why are you calling?”

If you were shit-faced drunk right now, you would've caught onto the Aussie’s continuous patience, and the endearment in her tone as she talked to you.

“You called me, Babygirl.” She spoke, her side of the phone quiet in contrast to the blaring music you were surrounded by. “Maybe it's time for me to pick you up?”

“You can't pick me up, Ribbon.” you giggled, the fond nickname rolling off your tongue in second nature. “You're at home. I'm at a club.”

“Oh, yes, my mistake, Darling,” she responded quickly. Hayley was already driving to your location having been waiting for this call all night. You didn't know this, but she was slightly envious of your team taking you away. While you both lived in the same country now, it was still at least a five-hour drive between Madrid and Barcelona. Furthermore, it wasn't often that teams would stay after away games, so it frustrated her knowing you were spending time with a team you spent every day with when you could be with her.

“I'm on my way now, okay?” She said to the phone, knowing that despite the silence you were waiting for her to guide the conversation. “Do any of the girls need a lift?”

You gave a quick glance over to the group you were with. Alexia was scolding Mapi downing shots. Ona was trying to force water down Aitana’s throat, and Keira was just singing at the top of her lungs, swaying to the beat of the music.

“No, Alexia is here.” You put it simply. Everyone knew that if Alexia was near, everyone would be getting home safe.

Hayley must've heard you from over the music since she hummed back. “Alright then,” She answered, turning the corner towards the club. “I want you to go tell Keira or someone that you're leaving so they know you're going.”

You ran a hand through your hair, crossing your arms over your chest in silent rebuttal. “Keira’s drunk, Hayley.”

“Okay, then don't tell her, tell Aitana.”

“Oh, erm— she's drunk too.”

You could hear the girl’s sigh. “Put Alexia on the phone please, Baby.”

You did as you were told, handing the phone to your captain without managing to explain why you did so. The older woman shared a solemn conversation with your girlfriend before hanging up the call and turning to Ingrid.

With Keira and Aitana yelling out goodbyes, the Norwegian woman held the small of your back, leading you out of the club to make sure you did so without error.

“Love you, Ingrid.” You muttered, holding the back of the girl’s top as she led the two of you out.

“Love you too, Precioso.” She replied, smiling at your dazed expression before finding Hayley’s car pull up beside you. You watched your girlfriend walk out towards you, giving your teammate a slightly awkward, but grateful nod as you breathed in her familiar scent.

“Hey, Hay.” You gasped, grasping onto Hayley’s sweater in replacement of Ingrid.

“Hey, sweet girl.” She uttered, opening the passenger door, aiding your balance as you trampled in.

You made sure to give one last look at Ingrid, smiling as big as you could. “Love you, Ingrid. Miss you so so so so much.”

“Miss you too, y/n/n. See you soon.”

You found yourself relaxing in the passenger seat as Hayley drove off. Her hand sat comfortably on your thigh, drawing small, wistful circles as you hummed a quiet tune.

When you finally arrived home, Hayley helped you take off your makeup, taking off your shoes, and slotting her Matildas trackies and one of her old Portland Thorns shirts over the top of you. You were like putty in her grip, letting her lead you to the bed without a second to protest, engulfing the cool climate of the sheets.

“I'm ‘gonna go get some water and paracetamol for you, Darling. Do you want anything else?”

Your girlfriend held out her hand, lightly stroking the baby hairs that had fallen from her pony and onto her face.

“Do we have any food?” you asked, knowing the answer already but feeling the need to ask anyway.

The Australian nodded and walked out of her bedroom, taking a few minutes to collect everything she needed. When coming back, she noticed the furrow in between your eyebrows. The drunken endeavours of the night were inevitably going to catch up to you and Hayley knew you were starting to release that when you happily accepted the water and medicine in a few gulps.

Once the two of you had settled back into bed, with Hayley changing into her pyjamas, you had almost forgotten about your prior request when you heard the ruffle of a packet sound from beside you.

Your head shot up, eyes darting to the yellow cardboard box and concealed package within it. Hayley’s arm had found its way across your waist, pulling you into her side as she let the scent of the food waft into the space.

You laughed at Hayley’s look of delight — two Cheddar Shapes already popping into the girl’s mouth.

“Where did you get these?” You asked, watching Hayley’s devious smile widen.

“Fan gave them to me.” She replied, shoving three more into her mouth.

You two shared a still and silence as you cracked away at the biscuits one at a time. Madrid had fallen into a quiet city — no longer filled with the connotations of noise and light, the wholesome bubble of your bedroom filling the enmity of home for the night.

“You're so cute, ribbon.” you quipped, glancing over the blush that had dusted your girlfriend’s cheeks. Hayley pulled you closer, the box of the Aussie snack hushed off the bed.

You felt the warmth of her embrace overwhelm you into fatigue, the combination of one another's love steering you two into an eternity of solitude.

“You are too, my girl.”

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trulyhblue · 4 months

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Home Away From Home

Lauren Hemp x Aussie! Reader

Warnings: fluff, but awkward.

A/N — I know Caroline Weir scored the two goals in the Man City game that I talk about, but I've changed it a bit :)

Masterlist

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Growing up in Australia was among the greatest privileges you had as a child.

Even in the midst of your career — a job you've dreamed of since you were little — your home soil was indescribable; nothing could beat the familiarity of home.

When the 2023 World Cup was announced to take place in Australia, you were feeling the effects of homesickness after six long months in Europe. You were signed by Manchester City at Nineteen, playing a critical midfield position after being a regular sub for your old club back in Australia. Your parents were sceptical of you leaving so early to such a big club. In no way were you prepared to face the challenges of adulthood as a whole other country, on the opposite side of the Earth.

You had only been playing for the Matildas for a couple of months when you were first signed to City, and it wasn't until the following year when your fellow Aussie teammates Alanna, and eventually Hayley and Mary, that you had the comfort of home to nurture you during rough patches.

Your family was your biggest supporter. Growing up, they sacrificed everything to meet the needs of their football journey. Your parents would leave early from work early to take you to training and surrender endless personal endeavours so that you could prosper in your dreams of going pro. You were very grateful for all that they had done, and as a result, their sacrifices became your motivation to be the best you could possibly be. You lived and breathed football. Everything revolved around football.

But when you moved to City, you found yourself stuck in a trance by a certain English Blonde.

For the most part, you kept to yourself at training. You didn't want to cause any trouble, and it seemed that most of the girls knew each other from youth squads, prior teams, or roommates at National Camps. You struggled to find your place in the squad at first. Being a relatively young team, you had lots of girls around your age, willing to be your friend, but the absence of home and lack of connection to the United Kingdom combined to make your personality shrink under a dismissive persona.

When Alanna joined City, you offered your apartment to her, having come from North London beforehand. Over the next months, you found comfort in the familiar Aussie accent, finding solace in the sliver of home you felt so distant to.

You still remained shy at training, trying hard and pushing out of your comfort zone every time someone had a conversation with you. Alanna found it hard to believe how introverted you were, having seen your confidence shine at Matilda’s Camps, and the Manchester Girls couldn't believe their ears when Alanna told them about how you were at home.

When Hayley came, you were smiling more. It wasn't that you weren't happy at City before the Australian girls arrived. You were thriving. In the 2020/21 season, you were dubbed as Young Player of The Year and had four ‘Player Of The Match’ awards under your belt. You worked extremely hard to make the starting eleven regularly, and people would often compliment your subtle but impressionable skills on the field. You weren't fast, but you were technical. You thought of the play that hadn't happened yet, shaping the game with unexpected yet calculated crosses. For two years, you had the second most assists in the WSL, merely missing Beth Mead.

In all honesty, the effects of having the reminder of home did help to boost your performance not only on the pitch but behind the scenes as well.

You can remember tapping your hands against the rim of your cubby, your home kit baggy on your figure. It was a very important game today — the final of the FA Women’s League Cup — against reigning champions Chelsea. You were starting, and your family had flown over to watch.

Your nerves upon walking out were tremendous. This was your first time starting in a final in the WSL. You don't remember a time you felt your hands shake this much. Alanna and Hayley were preparing for the match on either side of you, their faces impassive when both teams lined up in the tunnel of Cherry Rose Records Stadium.

Your heart was thumping out of your chest, palms sweating as you took your spot on the field.

When the whistle blew, you tuned everything out.

A powerful shot from Sam Kerr left Chelsea in the lead halfway through the first half. You tried hard to maneuver your way through the likes of Charles and Ingle, passing to Georgia and Keira as you struggled to pass Chelsea’s defence. Lucy was given a yellow which heightened the tension reeling in the stands. You buried the apprehensive bile rising in your stomach when the halftime whistle blew, signalling everyone to rush back to the changing rooms.

You placed your head in your hands, taking slow, desperate sips of your water bottle as you listened to the pep talks from all the players. Gareth Taylor, your manager, was shouting encouragement from across the room, staring into each and every one of your eyes, assuring the team that they could make a comeback.

“I want you to want this.” He said, circling the room with so much fervour that the room felt warmer. “I want to see the determination in your eyes. I want to see it in the tackles, the plays, the kicks, everything. The opportunities you making are good, they just need more precision.”

It was almost the start of the second half when Gareth asked for you, leading you over to the other side of the changing rooms, towards the shorter figure of one of your teammates.

Lauren looked just as nervous as you, but you hoped that you his your nerves a little better than her. Her blonde hair was held up in a pony, and small wisps of baby hairs framed her face after being exempted from the wind. She was a year older than you but has been in Manchester since 2018. Other than the odd, unusual sentence or two, neither of you had properly interacted.

Lauren looked up at you, her beady eyes locking with yours as she licked her lips, exchanging glances with the floor and you, awaiting the purpose of the conversation.

“I want you two to work together this half.” Your Manager urged. Both you and Lauren looked at him in surprise. He must've caught on since he held his hands up. “I know we haven't practised much between the two of you, I know. But Y/N, your crosses over the head of Chelsea defenders will inevitably shape up some opportunities for Hempo. Lauren, you know what to do when something comes up. I believe that truly, alright? Do you understand?”

You were still mulling over Gareth’s words when the whistle blew for the second half, but you felt an uncertain pair of eyes look out for where you kicked the ball. The surveillance of the English forward did not irk you. In fact, it pushed you to do as you were told.

It was two minutes in when an opportunity arose. You were given the ball by Alanna, who had pelted it away after a scary interaction with her and Kerr.

Gareth’s words played in your head, taunting you as the blonde’s eyes watched your actions intently. You were hesitant to do as he said. This was the one game your parents were here to see. Never once had they been to Europe, having not had the money to be able to fund both your football and fancy holidays overseas. You wanted to make them proud. You didn't want to risk such an important opportunity for it to go out or concede and let your team down.

You found Georgia and kicked it by her. She followed it up the middle of the field, passing it to one of your forwards, hand up in celebration when it went past the Goalie.

But for some reason, you couldn't find it in you to celebrate. You refused to meet the eyes of Lauren, who was no doubt throwing you a disappointed glance. You could feel the betrayal radiating in violent waves. You ran back to your starting position without a peep, determined to shake the guilt with another chance. You needed to win this game. You’d do whatever it took to do so.

Another goal from Ellen White led your team one in front, but it gave no comfort whatsoever in a game like this. If anything, it put the stakes higher. You hated penalties, the feeling of dread and anxiety filling you everything you watched each player attempt to concede. Even more so, you hated taking penalties. The possibility of that happening was enough to motivate you even more.

Guro Reiten was subbed off for Lauren James. A fresh pair of legs was dangerous coming up to the seventieth minute.

Chelsea was drawing closer and closer to equalizing with your second goal, causing an uprise in the tension between both the teams and the people watching. You grew more angsty when one of their attempts hit the crossbar, but when it landed near Keira’s feet, being shot past to where you stood, you knew this was now or never.

You sprinted down the wing with Georgia by your side, but you were only focused on the blonde in front of you.

“Here! Here!” Georgia screamed, holding out her hand to signal to you that she was ready. You contemplated it. There had been many times when Georgia had done that, and you had crossed the ball to her, and she had easily swished it past the goalie. You never doubted Georgia for a second, and you definitely knew she would've been able to shoot from where she was — she was clearly onside. But the Chelsea defenders had studied your gameplay back to front, and the same old cross to Georgia was something they had trained for — something you had trained for.

Something clicked in your mind when you met Lauren’s eyes. Something ignited inside of you. She must've felt it too, because she didn't even reach her hand up to signal towards you.

You both just knew what was happening. And that it would work. It had to work.

Without much thought, you kicked the ball to your right, watching as Chelsea gaped in alarm at the unsuspected pass and turn to and from Lauren.

You held your breath, stationery at the sight of Lauren’s risky attempts. She found a steady pace along the sideline stepping past Jess Carter, keeping her back turned to the goal. She used the back of her heel to trick both Carter and Berger. She had scored. Manchester City were winning 3-1.

You were the first to scream, a massive smile on your face as you ran towards Lauren, who spun to find you amidst the swarm of Chelsea players.

The two of you ran into each other with so much force that you both toppled to the ground, rolling around as the rest of your team piled on top of you.

The girls were screaming, you could hear the distant cheers of people in the stands. You heard Lauren’s exhausted huffs as you shovelled your head into her neck. Neither of you said anything. You both just had the silent agreement that what you did was game-changing, and that the non-existent relationship between you was no longer.

Despite the desperate attempts from the London team, the final whistle blew with the score maintaining a healthy lead. Your legs gave out as soon as the game ended, tears threatening to spill from your eyes and onto your cheeks as the weight of the season lifted from your shoulders. You felt a pair of arms lift you up, turning you around. The hug was only recently familiar, but tangible nonetheless.

Lauren held her arms around your waist, leaving you to collapse your arms over her shoulders. You watched her chest rise and fall, however, so slowly, a few choked sobs rang out from the older girl.

“I thought you weren't ‘gonna pass to me.” She said. You don't remember her ever speaking to you directly, but the attention made you blush.

“You could've gotten a double if I did.” You uttered, pulling her out of the hug. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She replied, her cheeks also dusted pink. “I'm just glad it was your assist.”

You wondered if she was trying to make you flustered because you noticed how fidgety she got when you eyed her nervously.

“I mean like— I like you— wait, no, well— I like your assist-”

“Same. I mean— I'm glad you scored from my assist. Like— okay wait that doesn't make sense.”

“I get what you’re saying. That's what I meant.” Lauren muttered back, rubbing the back of her neck in embarrassment. “I wouldn't have wanted anyone else to assist me… in goals.”

“Yeah, same… in goals, yeah.”

Little did you know, your Aussie teammates Hayley and Alanna were standing next to Keira and Georgia, all overlooking the inept exchange between the two of you.

“God, you call that flirting.” Georgia laughed, the other three chuckling along. “Wouldn't want to see what their dates would look like.”

“Bloody painful, that's what.” Alanna sounded, taking a picture of the two of you.

“Wouldnt of expected anything different, to be honest. Both as awkward as each other.” Keira spoke.

And you were as awkward as each other, but that made for the perfect pair. A home away from home.

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#arsenal wfc #arsenal #caitlin foord #chelsea #beth mead #jessie fleming #chelsea women #katie mccabe #kyra cooney cross #lauren hemp x reader #lauren hemp #machester city #championsleague #esme morgan #alanna kennedy #keira walsh #sam kerr #georgia stanway #lucy bronze

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