Little Mewis

I Miss Them

Set a couple months later because I refuse to write any more stupid fillers
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"Why?" You slammed your palms down onto the table in frustration. "Just because I can play a as a Keeper doesn't mean I like it!"

"Y/N," Jonatan reasoned, clasping his hands together. "It will be good for you. Besides, you have to."

"Do not give them a reason to call you Mini McCabe," you whispered to yourself as you sighed deeply, trying not to blow up in your Manager's or teammates' faces. "I don't want to fookin' snap all me fingers in the quarterfinals game of La Liga F. And we have enough fookin' keepers. Why do I have to start in goal?"

Ona chuckled. "You're not going to break any fingers, Y/N. You're just not used to it is all."

"Yeah, okay," you scoffed. "Says you. Whatever, it's not like I ever have a choice anyways."

You stood up and trudged out of the room, rubbing your temples with your fingers.

First Jonas had basically sold you to Barca, now Jonatan wasn't even giving you a say of your own position on the field. This quarterfinal was important to your teammates, and you didn't want to be the reason they lost.

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"You ready, Y/N?" Ona asked, placing a hand on your shoulder.

"Leave me be," you grumbled, recoiling at the touch. "I don't even want to go out on the field if I'm playin' as a Keeper."

She turned away, already knowing better than to anger you further.

The last thing they needed at that moment was a Mr. Hothead appearance (A/N: if you know you know.)

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"Fookin' hell," you hissed in pain as you punched away a rogue ball from one of Atletico Madrid's Forwards. "Me knuckles are 'bout to fall off."

"What was that, Mewis?" The ref asked in a heavy accent that you couldn't quite place.

"Nothing," you stated, a fake smile plastered onto your face like the stickers people gave out to kids at birthday parties. "Just going over the game plan."

He nodded."Let's keep it that way."

Soon enough, the full-time whistle blew as the ref called for a PK shootout.

"Y/N!" Salma said, tapping you om the shoulder. "Jonatan told me to tell you that you're number 6. "

You nodded, jaw clenched tightly as you prepared to send the Barcelona Femini to the semifinals.

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The whistle blew, Leicy Santos hopping and running forward before slamming her foot into the ball.

You dove left as the ball hit the bottom right corner of the net, wincing as the crowd cheered. You were absolutely exhausted from the amount of diving, catching, blocking, and punching you'd had to do during regular and extra time, so the PK shootout was not doing you any favors.

"You've got it, Y/N," Alexia whispered, giving your left shoulder a tight squeeze as you prepared to convert a penalty of your own that would either keep the Barca Femeni in the game, or send them home. "We believe in you."

The whistle blew again, and you made the split-second decision to hit nothing but net in the right side of the goal.

The Keeper dove left, watching in a panic as the ball flew to her other side. The loud clang echoed throughout the stadium as it bounced of the goalpost harmlessly.

You said nothing, laying down with your hands covering your face.

Everything had gone numb as the Atletico Madrid Femeni began to celebrate, the sympathetic and worried sentences spoken to you ignored.

You weren't upset about not winning La Liga F. You were upset that your teammates, who had worked so incredibly hard to get to the quarterfinals, had lost their chance at the trophy because of your failures.

You were the Keeper. You were supposed to keep the ball out of the net. You were the one that missed the PK even though it was one of your specialties.

You were the reason the Barca Femeni lost.

You don't know how long you laid there before you were picked up, dragged, and sat down on a locker room bench.

Still, you were completely unmoving as if you'd been turned to stone by the Gorgon Medusa.

"Y/N?" Lucy tried, voice gentle as the team watched on in concern. "Little Mewis, you there?"

Your eyes shifted over to her, dazed and glassy, but you remained silent.

You didn't want to be here. You didn't want to think about what terrible media treatment you'd just subjected this amazing team to. You couldn't stand their sympathetic looks and kind words. You wanted to go home.

Not to your shared apartment with Aitana. No. You wanted to go back home.

Home to London.

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"Y/N Y/M/N Mewis," Alexia scolded, sighing as she, Mapi, Ona, and Aitana tried to get you to eat. "You need to eat something. Come on, just a few bites or I'm calling your oldest sister."

The threat of snitching on you to Kristie was usually enough to make you cave, but you weren't having it. You hadn't spoken or eaten since your failure to save and convert the PK's in the quarterfinals, and the guilt had been running rampant through you like the plague.

You sniffled. "H-home."

Aitana dipped her head, excusing herself from your stuffy bedroom as the Barca Vets shared a look.

"Do you miss home, sweetie?" Mapi questioned softly.

You nodded, pulling the blankets up and over your head as you attempted to ignore reality.

The Barca Femeni had been nothing but nice to you, but they would never replace the likes of the Gunners.

"I miss them." You let out an uncharacteristic whimper.

"It's okay, Little Mewis," Ona comforted, running a hand through your hair as you closed your eyes. "Sleep."

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I'm so mean tf

Hope you enjoyed, next chapter's going to have lots of FlUfF

Thanks for reading!