Mini me - Kcc

Summary: Kyra and Y/n are raising two very different girls — one's a menace on the pitch, the other would rather befriend bugs than play football. Parenthood's tough when red cards and butterflies are both on the agenda.

..

"I don't want her there," Emilia declared, arms crossed, her pouty expression eerily reminiscent of Kyra's when she was annoyed.

"Emilia," Y/n warned, catching her daughter's reflection in the rearview mirror. "Don't say that. You're going to hurt your sister's feelings."

From the other side of the backseat, Sofia's voice came out soft and unsure. "It's okay, Mom. I don't want to go anyway."

Y/n sighed, already feeling guilt creeping in. "Of course you do. You look so pretty in your jersey and those brand new boots!"

Sofia stared at her lap, silent.

"Eighth time's the charm, right?" Y/n tried again, forcing cheer into her voice.

From the passenger seat, Kyra reached over and nudged her. "Babe, if she doesn't want to go, we shouldn't force her."

"She wants to," Y/n insisted, eyes still on the road. "She just... doesn't know it yet."

"She cries every time she sees a pitch

"From happiness!"

"She sobbed when I woke her up this morning and told her we were taking her to the academy."

"She just hasn't found the right position!"

Kyra turned to her, deadpan. "We've played her in defence, striker, midfield, goalkeeper. Hell, she was even a ball girl once–and she cried because she didn't understand she had to give the ball to the players."

Y/n bit her lip, then shrugged. "She needs a little push in the right direction."

Kyra raised an eyebrow. "The right direction doesn't have to be football, Y/n."

Before Y/n could argue back, Sofia's voice cut through the tension, bored and sudden. "Why are we taking so long? I'm excited. I know we're gonna win!"

Y/n blinked. "Win, what?"

Kyra chuckled. "Lili, you don't have a match today. Just training."

E milia groaned dramatically. "Ugh, really? I wanted a trophy."

Y/n laughed under her breath. Just like her mom, she thought, glancing fondly at her competitive mini-me in the mirror.

They pulled into the Arsenal training centre, the familiar red-brick building rising in front of them.

Before the car had fully stopped, Emilia was already unbuckling her seatbelt. The door swung open and she leapt out and ran.

"Emilia, wait—" Y/n called, but she was gone.

Emilia didn't need directions—she practically grew up here.

She slung her bag over her shoulder and sprinted toward the entrance with practised ease, only pausing briefly to crouch down and enthusiastically pet Win, who wagged her tail.

From the passenger seat, Kyra leaned out the window and shouted. "Emilia! Be good, please! Don't push your teammates this time!"

Emilia threw a thumbs-up over her shoulder without slowing down, disappearing into the building like she owned the place.

Y/n snorted and climbed out of the car. "She's g onna push someone. I give it ten minutes."

"She gets it from you," Kyra muttered, watching their oldest vanish with a mix of fondness and dread.

Y/n opened the trunk and began grabbing their bags—hers, Kyra's, and Sofia's—piling them onto one shoulder.

Kyra turned to the backseat where Sofia was still curled up, unmoving, her seatbelt snug across her chest, bottom lip stuck out in a dramatic pout.

Kyra softened instantly. She unbuckled her. "What's wrong, my baby?"

Sofia's voice was small, but heavy. "Mama... I hate it."

Kyra's chest clenched. She reached in, lifted Sofia gently into her arms, and hugged her tightly. Sofia didn't resist—just tucked her face into Kyra's shoulder and clung to her.

"Oh, sweetheart," Kyra whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Okay. Okay, this is the last time, yeah? I'll talk to your mom... again."

Sofia didn't say anything, but her little arms squeezed tighter around Kyra's neck, and that was enough to answer.

Behind them, Y/n was still fumbling with the bags and muttering to herself. "Honestly, I don't know what position they'll try her in today. Maybe she'll like being a ref..."

Kyra sighed into Sofia's hair. It was going to be a long morning.

The halls of the Arsenal Academy were quiet this early, echoing with the distant thud of footballs and the low, scattered shouts of managers calling out drills.

Y/n walked ahead, weighed down with bags, while Kyra followed behind, arms full of a sleepy Sofia clinging tightly to her hoodie.

As they passed reception, Sofia peeked over Kyra's shoulder and gave a tiny wave to Win, who barely lifted her head from her mat

Y/n glanced back, smirking. She reached out to ruffle Sofia's soft hair. "What hairstyle do you want today, baby?"

Sofia rested her cheek on Kyra's shoulder. "A bun."

"A bun?" Y/n cocked her head, already separating a hair tie from her wrist. "Hmm. I don't think it'll survive the amount of running and tackling you'll be doing."

Sofia met her gaze, deadpan. "Mom. I'm not gonna run."

Y/n stopped walking. "What? Of course you will—"

Kyra didn't even break stride. "Love. For the love of god, just do the bun.

Y/n groaned, dramatic as ever. "Ugh. Fine. But it is. But don't blame me when it falls apart mid-game."

They turned a corner and passed the U9s pitch.

Emilia was already there, or more specifically, benched. She sat with her arms crossed, a scowl carved deep into her expression.

Kyra slowed down. "Wait. Why is she on the bench? What happened?"

"Damn. Probably got a red." Y/n squinted.

Kyra blinked. "How? We've been here for five minutes."

"She is efficient." Y/n shrugged.

Kyra gave her a sharp side-eye. "We need to talk to her."

Y/n smirked. "Oh, you think?"

They finally reached the U6 pitch tucked at the end of the corridor—a sunlit patch of green, scattered with tiny red kits and tangled shoelaces.

Some of the five-year-olds were chasing the ball like determined ducklings. Others sat in the gras. One kid lay flat on their back, staring at the sky.

It was a mess, but it was adorable

Kyra set Sofia's tiny duffel on the bench while Y/n knelt down, gathering the soft curls at the nape of her daughter's neck and beginning to twist them into a neat little bun.

"Just give your best today, yeah?" she murmured, brushing a hand across Sofia's cheek.

"I'm trying, Mom." The words were quiet. Honest. And they hit Y/n square in the chest.

She blinked, guilt bubbling up again, then leaned forward to kiss Sofia's forehead. "You look so cool in your kit," she whispered. "Go show them what you've got."

Sofia nodded and turned to walk toward the pitch — all seriousness and small shoulders, the very embodiment of sorrow in a red jersey and pink shin guards.

Kyra came to stand beside Y/n, slipping a warm hand across the small of her back. They stood together in silence, watching as Sofia wandered away from the ball entirely to chase a butterfly near the corner flag.

"She's not happy," Kyra said gently. "We'll find something else for her to do."

Y/n exhaled slowly and unsure. "But Kyra..."

Kyra looked at her—steady, loving, firm. "Baby, you can't push your dreams onto the girls. Emilia? Yeah. She lives for football. But Sofia doesn't. And that's okay. We need to respect that."

Y/n didn't respond right away. Her eyes were still on the field, on the small figure twirling in lazy circles, arms stretched wide, fingers chasing after delicate wings while the game went on behind her.

..

Kyra peeled off her training bib and used it to wipe the sweat from her forehead, her breath still a little uneven.

Y/n, looking equally wrecked, grabbed two bottles of water and passed one over.

"That was brutal," Y/n muttered, bending to stretch her calves. "Why did I agree to that extra fitness round?"

"Because you're competitive and you hate losing to Beth," Kyra replied without missing a beat

Y/n scoffed. "Yeah, well. I still beat her in shooting accuracy."

Kyra grinned, took a sip of water, and nodded toward the far corridor.

"Come on. Let's go pick up your mini-me before she starts a coup in the U9 building."

They walked, still in their sweaty kits down the narrow hallway that led to the junioracademy wing.

The noise level dropped as they stepped inside, replaced by the occasional whistle, squeak of indoor boots, and the familiar scent of plastic cones and kid shampoo.

They found Emilia exactly where they had last seen her—on the bench, arms crossed.

Kyra crouched down first. "Hey, babe. Wanna tell us about your training today?"

Emilia's cheeks flushed immediately. "...No."

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Emilia."

The girl didn't look up.

Y/n sighed and joined Kyra on the floor, crouching to eye level. "We know you got a red card."

Emilia's gaze dropped lower, the guilt creeping in.

Kyra rested her forearms on her knees. "Getting a red is serious, baby. It tells us that a player doesn't know how to behave on the pitch."

"I do know how to behave," Emilia said quickly, blinking fast.

"Really?" Y/n tilted her head. "Because I heard you were pushing your teammates. That doesn't sound like someone who's got it under control."

Emilia's lip wobbled. "But I see you on TV. You and Mama push people all the time!"

Kyra exchanged a look with Y/n before turning back to her daughter.

"Okay, listen. Grown-up football is different. We know how to use our bodies in a way that doesn't hurt people. We play hard, but we respect the line."

"You're eight, sweetheart," Y/n added gently. "You're not playing in the Champions League final. You don't need to body-check your best friend just because she took the ball."

Emilia stayed quiet.

After a long beat, Y/n stood up and gave Emilia's back a soft pat. "You're not going to train for the next two sessions."

Emilia's head snapped up. "What?!"

Kyra nodded. "You got a red. That's what happens in adult football. You sit out."

"That's not fair!"

"It's called a consequence," Y/n said, already walking toward the hallway. " Now let's go get your sister,"

Emilia huffed, dragging her feet as she followed, cheeks still pink.

Kyra leaned in to whisper, "Next time, maybe don't start a wrestling match during a passing drill?"

Emilia muttered, "They should have passed it faster."

Y/n mumbled, but not loud enough for Emilia to hear. "You're definitely mine."

..

The U6 pitch was pure chaos.

The little ones were lined up, each waiting for their turn to kick a shot at the goal.

Sofia, however, was nowhere near the line.

She was sitting at the far left of the pitch, a leaf in one hand, feeding ants like she was in a biology class. No interest in the game whatsoever.

Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Yeah, maybe she's not cut out for this after all."

Kyra sighed, her voice a little amused. "Definitely not."

Emilia stood next to them, her arms crossed, a proud smirk on her face. "I told you, Mama. I told you."

Before either of them could reply, a little boy jogged over, sweat dripping down his face. He pointed at Sofia. "That one's weird."

Kyra furrowed her brow. "What?"

The boy pointed more insistently. "Sofia Cooney-Cross. She never plays. She just sits there with the bugs. She's–"

And before he could finish, Emilia, who'd been quietly observing, moved like lightning.

She shoved the boy hard in the chest, sending him tumbling to the ground.

"Don't talk about my sister!" Emilia shouted, her voice firm with an edge of protectiveness.

The boy looked up, eyes wide, as if the world had suddenly flipped upside down.

Kyra was stunned. "What the hell, Emilia?!"

Y/n quickly moved to the boy, kneeling beside him to help him up. "Hey, it's okay, don't cry. I'm sorry she pushed you."

The boy, now on the verge of tears, pouted and rubbed his chest. "She's mean."

"She's... yeah, she's a little mean," Y/n explained with a sigh. "But you know who's meaner? Me. Don't talk about my kid like that, got it?"

The boy's lower lip quivered as he sniffled. "I didn't mean it–"

Y/n took a breath, pulling out a small chocolate bar from her pocket. "Will you stop crying if I give you this?"

The boy's eyes lit up, and he nodded eagerly.

Y/n handed it to him, and he immediately began unwrapping it, the tears stopping in an instant.

Kyra, standing beside them, shot Emilia a look that could've melted ice. "Emilia, you don't push other kids! Not like that!"

Emilia crossed her arms tightly. "He was mean about Sofia. I had to."

Y/n, standing up, shook her head. "That's not how we handle situations like that, Lili."

Kyra put a hand on Emilia's shoulder, guiding her toward the bench where Sofia was now happily sitting. "Maybe next time, use your words, yeah?"

Emilia sighed dramatically. "Fine, I'll use my words."

Y/n and Kyra exchanged a look, both of them silently acknowledging that they were definitely not making it through the day without another moment of chaos.

As they gathered up Sofia and Emilia, Y/n gently kissed Sofia's head. "You okay, kiddo?"

Sofia looked up at her, face soft and sincere, still holding the crumpled leaf between her fingers. "I'm okay, Mama. I was just feeding the ants. They looked hungry

Y/n huffed a quiet laugh under her breath, crouching beside her. "Sweetheart, you know you're supposed to be playing, right?"

Sofia shrugged, eyes following the bird that had just landed on the goalpost. "I don't really like it that much. The ants are more fun."

Y/n shared a glance with Kyra, her smile tinged with both amusement and understanding. "Yeah... okay, maybe you won't be the next Marta."

Kyra reached out and tucked a loose curl behind Sofia's ear. "Maybe she'll be the next Marie Curie."

"Bugs over goals. Got it." Y/n nodded.

..

a/n: if you read this far — first of all, ily. second of all, feel free to let me know what you thought!

i love hearing your reactions, fav lines, or just general thoughts 🫶 it really makes my day <3