Soccer/Football Imagines

Marc Bartra [~] Slide Tackle

For michaela_444: Marc Bartra

Michaela was a regular attendee to every Barcelona game, even if her boyfriend Marc Bartra wasn't playing. She was a loyal fan and always arrived with her Bartra shirt on and a Barcelona shield on her cheek. She and Marc had been dating even before he had made his debut in Camp Nou for Barcelona, and she was one of the most recognized WAGs around.

So, it was of a surprise to Marc, Michaela, and the rest of the Barcelona team when another player had flirted with her. Barcelona was facing Atletico Madrid that weekend and both teams had arrived early to get a feel for the field. WAGs and family members were allowed on the field a few hours before the game started, when the players were still emerging from the locker room gradually.

Marc had driven both of them to Camp Nou and had left to go change into his warm up gear, promising to meet Michaela at her usual waiting spot. Michaela had pulled out her phone while she was waiting, after she got some emails from work. As she started to settle her work problems, she felt the cushion dip next to her, indicating that someone was sitting next to her. Assuming it was her boyfriend, Michaela smiled and looked up.

Her smile immediately dropped when she realized it wasn't Marc. No, it was Antoine Griezmann, of Atletico Madrid. Michaela glanced back towards the tunnel where Marc should be emerging from at any minute. He didn't pop out and Michaela turned to look back at Antoine. Giving him a small smile, not wanting to be rude to him, Michaela kept glancing around for Marc.

Antoine was oblivious to this, and smiled at Michaela, who could only hope that he was lost and asking for directions. "Hi, my name's Antione Griezmann, what's yours, Beautiful?" he asked, extending his hand. Michaela forced a smile.

"I'm Michaela, nice to meet you," she replied stiffly, shaking his hand half-heartedly.

"So, I saw you sitting here all alone, and I wondered to myself why such a pretty girl was sitting all alone in the middle of a large stadium." Michaela began to feel uncomfortable. Antoine seemed great and all, but there was only enough room in Michaela's heart for one man, and that was Marc Bartra. She forced a smile once more, as her eyes looked frantically around for Marc or anyone else that would just pull her out of this situation. She locked eyes with Sergi, who raised an eyebrow at her. She pretended to laugh at a joke Antoine told her, covering her mouth from Antoine's view. Locking eyes once more with Sergi, she mouthed, 'Help me!' and gesturing with her eyes over to Antoine, who couldn't take a hint. Sergi nodded and ran down the tunnel.

Michaela kept trying to lead Antoine to the fact that she didn't want to talk to him in all the polite ways she could think of. She didn't want to piss him off, because angry Frenchmen and football don't usually end well. Her prayers were answered as Marc marched straight out of the tunnel, a scowl set on his face. Michaela sighed in relief internally as Marc made his way over to the two.

"Antoine, nice to meet you. I'm Marc, and this is my girlfriend, Michaela," Marc growled, masking his inner anger with a forced smile. Marc pulled Michaela up and wrapped an arm around her waist, basically daring Antoine to make a move on her once more.

"Nice to meet you. Well, see you around, Michaela," Antoine mumbled, getting up and walking away. After he was gone, Michaela sighed in relief out loud.

"Thanks for saving me there. He just can't take a hint," Michaela sighed, rubbing her forehead of imaginary sweat.

"Was he bothering you?"

"He was flirting with me, but nothing else really," Michaela informed her boyfriend, resting her hand on his broad chest.

"Alright, say goodbye to your girlfriends until the end of the game, guys. Time to warm up!" shouted Luis Enrique, walking past Marc and Michaela as he shouted.

"Good luck," Michaela leaned up and planted a kiss on Marc's cheek.

"You missed," he whined. Glancing to his left, Marc saw Antoine watching them from a distance and his smirk widened. Dipping Michaela slightly, Marc pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss. A few of Marc's teammates wolf whistled. Setting his girlfriend upright, Marc was basically dragged away by his teammates.

"Marc's getting some tonight!" a few of his teammates jokingly jeered as Marc jogged besides them and away from Michaela. Blushing a deep red, Michaela walked up into the stands and to her seat. A few of the other WAGs in the section jokingly teased her for the kiss, which resulted in Michaela's cheeks growing darker by the second. The game was starting and Marc wasn't starting, which allowed Michaela to relax a bit. Whenever Marc was on the field, she was always at the edge of her seat, worried that she'd miss something happen to him.

Antoine Griezmann was on the field, however, and opened the scoring with a rocket shot. He jogged past Michaela's spot in the crowd and winked, which Michaela could only assume was for her. Marc saw this, and clenched his fists as he sat on the sidelines. Barcelona got three goals before Marc was subbed in. He jogged onto the field, a determined look on his face. Atletico had the ball and were dribbling down the side of the field.

Antoine Griezmann faked out Jordi Alba and headed for the goal. Marc charged forwards, slide tackling Antoine Griezmann. It was a perfectly legal tackle: Marc's spikes had been pointed at the ground, he had gotten the ball, and he hadn't touched Griezmann initially. Antoine ended up tripping over Marc, and by tripping, I mean did an unintentional front flip, landing on his back. The Madrid side was up in outrage but the referees agreed that it had been a perfectly legal tackle and it would be a throw in for Atletico. Antoine sat up, rubbing his back.

Marc got up and offered him a hand, pulling Antoine to his feet. Antoine looked after Marc with an expression that could only be categorized as fear. Antoine never flirted with Michaela again, he seemed afraid to even look at her. After the game, Michaela greeted her boyfriend with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "Is that what you're going to do to every guy that flirts with me?"

"Well, I could do worse, but I'd like to keep a decently clean record," Marc winked, wrapping an arm around her shoulder as he led her out of Camp Nou.