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lightning112346 · 1 month ago

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My European Champion

Emily Fox x reader

Word count: Around 1,9k

Warning: Barça losing the UWCL (Still not over it), a little suggestive at the end.

Note: I’m so soo sorry! It’s been a while since I’ve posted a fic, work and real life have been keeping me super busy. I promise I’ll do better!

You could barely feel your legs, that’s how long you had been standing.

At one point, Emily’s mom even told you to sit down before your heart gave out, but how could you? It was the Champions League final, and your girlfriend was giving the performance of her life.

Lisbon is hot, the air thick with tension, and Arsenal fans around you are clinging to their scarves and shirts like their lives depend on it.

Beside you, Emilys dad took off his cap and ran his hands through his hair for what must have been the tenth time that half, while her little sister anxiously chewed the inside of her cheek.

Arsenal were up 1–0, but Barcelona’s attack was relentless. Every time they got a little too close to the box, your stomach flipped, and everytimet, you genuinely wondered if your heart could handle the rest of the match.

But thankfully, your girlfriend had been defending out of her mind tonight. She was everywhere on the pitch… sliding into tackles with perfect timing, tracking back to cut off dangerous runs, and throwing herself in front of crosses.

“She’s playing out of her skin” her mom murmured beside you, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and pride.

You nodded wordlessly, too overwhelmed to say anything, because her mom was right. Emily was defending with everything she had.

After all, it was the Champions League final, and she was out there in a stadium buzzing with nearly 40,000 fans. You knew just how much this meant to her, how hard she had worked for this moment.

And then it happened, one last clearance, one final desperate push from Barcelona was stopped, and the referee’s whistle pierced the night. The stadium erupted. A deafening roar rose all around you.

Arsenal had done it.

They had won the Champions League.

Suddenly, the whole family stood up—arms wrapped around each other, cheering, crying, and laughing through tears. Her mom covered her mouth with her hand, her dad’s voice broke in the middle of a cheer, and her sister jumped up and down with excitement.

From your spot in the stands, your eyes locked onto the pitch, Emily was hugging Beth, the two of them holding each other tightly, laughing and crying at once, barely able to hold back the flood of emotions.

All around you, Arsenal fans were losing their minds. Screaming with joy, hugging stranger, and sobbing into their friend’s arms. The stands seemed to vibrate with pure euphoria.

It was chaos. Complete, beautiful, and unforgettable chaos.

And then, just a few moments later, after the hug on the pitch, the medals were placed around their necks, and the deafening roar of the “North London Forever” anthem filled the air as Leah lifted the trophy high above her head—security began waving families onto the pitch.

You went with the Foxes, your heart pounding but not from nerves this time, but from something softer and bigger: pride, love, and the amazing joy of seeing someone you loved reach everything she had worked so hard for.

You spotted her before she saw you. Emily stood near the halfway line, arms slung around Chloe and Jenna.

She was drenched in sweat and glowing, her head thrown back as she laughed, a grin so wide it seemed like it would never fade.

Then her eyes found yours, and her family’s, and she froze mid-sentence.

For a second, she just stood there, flushed and wide-eyed, as if the world had stopped turning. Then she walked quickly, using every bit of strength left in her legs, heading straight toward all of you like nothing else mattered.

She threw herself into her dad first, who lifted her up in a tight, spinning hug as they both laughed through tears. Then she turned to her mom and little sister, holding onto them tightly.

And finally, she reached you.

Without hesitating, she wrapped her arms around your waist, holding on like she never wanted to let go. You pulled her close by wrapping your arms around her shoulders. She buried her face in your neck, and you could feel her soft, shaky smile against your skin.

“Congratulations, baby” you whispered, already blinking back tears. “I’m so fucking proud of you. You did it”

She pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands still tight around your waist.

“I love you” she whispered softly, her voice barely above a breath.

“I love you more” you replied, before pressing a soft kiss to her lips.

It’s not just a congratulations kiss. It’s an “I’m so proud, I’m in awe, I’m yours forever” kind of kiss. The kind of kiss that makes the world slow down around you. The kind that tastes like victory.

When you finally pulled back, you kept your arms draped around her shoulders, unwilling to let her go just yet.

“You were amazing out there. Completely perfect” you whispered, leaning in closer, your breath brushing against her skin.

Emily let out a breathless laugh, and gave your waist a gentle squeeze.

“I honestly thought I was going to throw up before kickoff” she admitted, eyes still wide with disbelief and adrenaline.

“You couldn’t tell at all. You were a beast out there. Barcelona had no idea what hit them” you joked, grinning at her.

Emily laughed, cheeks still flushed, eyes sparkling. She then turned toward her family, who were watching with soft, proud smiles, and kept one arm around your waist.

“Let’s go take some pictures with the trophy” she said, grinning wildly as you all made your way across the pitch toward Leah, who was already posing with her family and the glinting silver trophy.

——

Hours later—well into the night, or maybe creeping into early morning—you and Emily finally arrived back at her hotel room.

The adrenaline from the celebrations was still lingering in your bloodstream.

You’d been out with the team, their families, and friends, toasting to the historic win, dancing until your feet ached, smiling until your cheeks hurt.

Emily flopped back onto the hotel bed with an exaggerated groan, arms splayed wide, legs hanging half off the edge the bed.

You stood by the door for a moment, just watching her, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

She looked exhausted but radiant—her cheeks still flushed from the night, her hair slightly messy, the Arsenal shirt she’d changed into crinkled and proudly displaying “Champions 2025” across the chest. Her medal still hung around her neck.

“You planning to stare at me all night or…?” she teased, sitting up on the edge of the bed and throwing you a smirk, Her voice was hoarse from singing, shouting, laughing.

“Honestly? Yeah” you replied without missing a beat, walking toward her. “You’re officially a European champion now. I think that earns me unlimited staring privileges”

She laughed, her hands instinctively reaching for your waist as you stepped between her legs. She tugged you gently down until you were straddling her lap, your arms draping around her neck like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You’re ridiculous” Emily murmured, but her smile was all fondness as she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek.

You let out a quiet laugh, brushing your fingers through the little baby hairs at the nape of her neck, your heart full to bursting.

“Okay but real talk” you began, smirking now. “How the hell did your team spend all season losing to clubs that barely had functioning pitch lines… and then somehow beat the best team in Europe?”

“Excuse me?” Emily gasped, hand to her chest like you’d just insulted her entire bloodline.

“I’m just saying! You lost to teams that got relegated, Foxy. And yet somehow you’re out here lifting the biggest trophy in Europe?” You wiggled a bit on her lap, laughing.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe my own girlfriend is roasting me right now…of all times, during my moment of glory” Emily gasped, mock-shocked but with a sparkle of amusement in her eyes.

“But like… am I wrong?” you asked, raising an eyebrow with a smile.

“We were just building suspense” she said with a grin, poking your stomach making you squealed. “A slow burn, making everyone think we were struggling, just so we could hit them in the end. Pretty cinematic, if you ask me”

“A disaster thriller with a dramatic twist at the finale” you shot back, laughing at her playful excuse.

“Exactly, baby, see? You get it” Emily said, smiling up at you as you shook your head.

“Well, it was a pretty clever strategy, because honestly, I had my doubts about you winning” You admitted playfully.

“You had doubts?” Emily narrowed her eyes, pretending to be hurt.

“Come on, be honest. This season felt more like ‘Arsenal docuseries: the fallen team, full of tragedy with just a few rare, VERY rare, like SUPER rare, sparks of hope’ than an actual thriller” you explained, with a teasing tone.

She groaned before collapsing back onto the bed.

“You’re so rude to me, baby” she said with a playful pout.

“I’m just the voice of the people” you replied, flashing a grin as you crawled over her, letting your body settle gently on top of hers.

Emily’s fingers traced idle circles on your sides, her smile widening. “Well, people, we just won the Champions League. So what now?” she teased, poking your ribs with a mischievous glint in her eye.

You hesitated, your smile softening into something more serious and full of affection. Slowly, you reached out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, your fingers lingering on her cheek.

“What now is… I tell you I’ve never been more proud of anyone in my life” Your voice dropped to a tender whisper as you pressed a gentle kiss to her nose.

Emily’s eyes softened, shimmering with warmth and something vulnerable beneath her confident exterior.

“You were unbelievable tonight, my love” you said quietly, your voice thick with emotion. “I’ve watched you pour your heart into this, the early mornings, the pain, the tears. You gave everything out there tonight. You didn’t just hold your own…you shut down one of the best teams in the world”

She swallowed hard, blinking a few times to steady herself. “I just wanted to make you proud” she breathed, her hand cupping your cheek as she brushed her thumb gently over your skin.

“I’ll always be proud of you” you promised, your lips finding hers again in a slow, lingering kiss.

Her hands slid down your back, one resting on your hip while the other curled around your neck, pulling you closer. When you finally parted, her forehead rested against yours, breath mingling softly.

“You’re my favorite person” she whispered, voice low and tender.

“And you’re my favorite defender-slash-European champion” you murmured, your fingers gently tracing the edge of her medal still hanging around her neck

A playful smirk spread across her flushed cheeks as her hand traveled deliberately lower, sliding over the curve of your hip before resting boldly on your butt, giving it a firm, teasing squeeze.

“Well… since I’m your favorite European champion” she said with a sultry glint in her eyes, “don’t you think I deserve a private celebration?” Her voice dropped to a husky whisper as her hands lightly slapped your butt, sending a delicious shiver through you.

You hummed softly, leaning down to kiss her again, slow, deep, and deliberately teasing. Your tongue slipped between her lips, gently massaging hers.

“Anything for you, my European champion” you whispered against her lips, then slowly sat up on her hips, peeling off your shirt with a deliberate, teasing motion, exposing the smooth skin beneath.

Let the private celebration begins.

FIN

——

Tag list:

@silentwolfsstuff @simp4panos @bentleywolf29 @wososapologist @mmmmokdok @goodloe-e @jokermoonie

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