If you want to read 20 Chapters ahead and more, be sure to check out my P-Tang12!!!
_____________________________
(A/N: Don't forget to give those power stones to Skyrim everyone!)
...
And for Francesco, there was nowhere else he would rather have been.
The rest of the afternoon slipped by at an unhurried pace.
For the first time in over a week, Francesco allowed himself to switch off completely.
His suitcase remained half-unpacked near the staircase while Cheddar followed him faithfully from room to room, refusing to let him disappear from sight for more than a few seconds.
If Francesco walked into the kitchen, the little corgi padded after him.
If he moved into the living room, Cheddar was already waiting.
Leah laughed every time she noticed it.
"I think he's worried you'll leave again."
Francesco reached down to scratch the dog's head.
"I'm staying for a while."
Cheddar responded by wagging his tail so enthusiastically that his entire body seemed to wiggle.
"He approves," Leah said with a smile.
"I was hoping he would."
The remainder of the evening was wonderfully ordinary.
They ordered dinner instead of cooking.
Leah told him about her week while he had been away with England.
Francesco shared stories from Amsterdam and Wembley from the dressing-room jokes, Walker's endless table tennis rematches, and the moment Southgate had announced another day off after returning from the Netherlands.
Leah laughed particularly hard at the story of Walker claiming he deserved an emotional assist.
"I'm surprised nobody threw a towel at him."
"Oh, they thought about it."
"I believe that."
Cheddar lay sprawled across the rug between them, occasionally lifting one ear whenever he heard his name before falling asleep again.
For Francesco, the evening felt exactly like what he had needed.
Simple.
Peaceful.
Home.
The following morning, reality gradually returned.
Club football was waiting.
His alarm rang just after seven.
Unlike the previous day, there was somewhere he needed to be.
London Colney.
Francesco quietly climbed out of bed, careful not to wake Leah.
Cheddar, however, somehow sensed movement immediately.
The corgi lifted his head from his bed in the corner of the room before trotting over with a sleepy stretch.
"Morning."
Cheddar answered with a quiet bark.
Francesco smiled.
"You never miss anything, do you?"
Twenty minutes later he was dressed in Arsenal training gear, finishing breakfast while Leah joined him in the kitchen.
She wrapped an arm around his shoulder.
"Back to work?"
He nodded.
"Back to work."
She smiled.
"Try not to score too many goals."
He looked at her.
"I'll see what I can do."
"I know exactly what you'll do."
Cheddar sat patiently beside the front door, watching every movement.
Francesco crouched beside him before leaving.
"I'll be back this afternoon."
The little corgi responded by licking his hand.
Leah laughed.
"I think that's his way of saying goodbye."
The days passed quickly.
International football disappeared into the background as Arsenal's focus shifted immediately back to the Premier League.
London Colney was as busy as ever.
Recovery sessions followed by tactical meetings.
Video analysis.
Training.
Everything returned to its familiar rhythm.
Despite the physical demands of the international break, the atmosphere around the training ground remained incredibly positive.
England's victories had only added to Francesco's confidence.
So had his performances.
Arsène Wenger noticed it almost immediately.
During one finishing drill, Francesco curled three consecutive efforts into the top corner.
Wenger folded his arms with a satisfied smile.
"The international break has been good for you."
Francesco collected another ball.
"It helped."
"You've come back looking fresh."
"I feel good."
The Arsenal manager nodded.
"Good."
"We'll need you."
Everyone understood why.
The Premier League title race had entered its decisive stage.
Arsenal sat comfortably at the top of the table.
Manchester City continued chasing.
Liverpool remained within striking distance.
Every point still mattered.
There could be no complacency.
The next challenge awaited at the Emirates Stadium.
Stoke City.
Preparation for Stoke looked very different from preparing for Italy.
Instead of analysing intricate international systems, Arsenal's coaches focused on breaking down a compact Premier League side that would almost certainly defend with numbers behind the ball.
Video clips filled the analysis room.
Long throws.
Physical duels.
Defensive organisation.
Set pieces.
Steve Bould paused one sequence.
"They'll make this uncomfortable."
Another clip appeared.
"They'll sit deep."
"They'll challenge every cross."
"They'll compete for every second ball."
Wenger stood at the front.
"Our patience will be important."
He looked directly at the attacking players.
"If the first opportunity doesn't come…"
"…we create another."
He smiled slightly.
"Eventually, quality wins."
The final training session before matchday carried a familiar sharpness.
Özil dictated possession effortlessly during small-sided games.
Alexis Sánchez looked as energetic as ever, pressing defenders relentlessly.
Walker and Robertson repeatedly bombed down both flanks.
Kanté seemed to recover every loose ball within fifty metres.
Van Dijk organised the defensive line calmly.
Francesco's finishing looked particularly clinical.
After one flowing attacking move involving Özil and Sánchez, the striker finished first time beyond Petr Čech.
Wenger clapped once.
"Excellent."
"Exactly that movement."
Another attack followed moments later.
Özil disguised a pass through the middle.
Francesco timed his run perfectly before lifting the ball over the advancing goalkeeper.
The French manager exchanged a brief glance with Steve Bould.
Both smiled.
Matchday finally arrived.
North London buzzed with anticipation.
Supporters wearing red-and-white shirts gradually filled the streets surrounding the Emirates.
Outside cafés and pubs, conversations revolved around one topic.
The title race.
Every victory brought Arsenal another step closer to ending years of waiting.
Inside the dressing room, the atmosphere remained calm.
Focused.
Professional.
Francesco sat quietly tying his boots while Alexis Sánchez bounced a football gently against the floor nearby.
Özil adjusted his shin pads before looking across.
"You enjoyed England."
Francesco nodded.
"It was a good week."
Özil smiled.
"Let's continue it here."
"I'd like that."
Wenger eventually entered.
He waited until every conversation had faded.
"Gentlemen…"
He looked around the room.
"We have done well."
"But nothing has been won."
His voice remained calm.
"Every match is another final."
He pointed toward the tactical board.
"Respect Stoke."
"But play our football."
The players nodded together.
There was complete belief throughout the room.
The Emirates Stadium welcomed them with its familiar roar.
More than sixty thousand supporters rose to their feet as Arsenal walked onto the pitch.
The sea of red scarves created another unforgettable backdrop.
Francesco paused briefly near the halfway line, taking everything in.
No matter how many times he played here…
It never stopped feeling special.
After the warm-up, both teams returned to their dressing rooms before emerging once more in full match kit.
The referee completed the final checks.
The whistle sounded.
The match began.
As expected, Arsenal dominated possession from the opening minutes.
Stoke City settled into a disciplined defensive shape, with almost every player behind the ball whenever Arsenal entered the attacking third.
There was very little space.
Every pass had to be earned.
Kanté and Xhaka controlled midfield patiently.
Walker and Robertson constantly pushed forward to stretch Stoke's defensive line.
Özil drifted gracefully between midfield and attack, always searching for pockets of space.
Francesco remained in constant motion.
Sometimes he dropped deeper to receive possession.
Sometimes he attacked the channels.
Sometimes he occupied both central defenders at once.
The breakthrough finally arrived after half an hour.
Thirty-first minute.
The move started deep inside Arsenal's own half.
Van Dijk calmly played into Kanté.
The French midfielder turned away from pressure before finding Xhaka.
Without hesitation, Xhaka switched play toward Walker charging down the right.
Walker carried the ball forward before slipping it inside to Özil.
One elegant touch.
Another.
Özil drew two defenders before threading a perfectly weighted pass into the penalty area.
Francesco had already anticipated it.
He darted across the front of his marker, meeting the pass with his first touch.
The goalkeeper rushed forward.
There was no panic.
Only composure.
With a controlled right-footed finish, Francesco guided the ball low into the far corner.
Goal.
Arsenal.
The Emirates exploded.
Thousands of supporters leapt to their feet.
Francesco spread his arms before teammates surrounded him.
Walker grabbed him first.
"I knew you'd score."
"You say that every match."
"Because it's usually true."
Alexis laughed as he joined the celebration.
"I'll allow it."
The stadium echoed with chants of Francesco's name long after play restarted.
Stoke attempted to respond with greater aggression.
Long balls.
Physical challenges.
Dangerous set pieces.
But Arsenal remained composed.
Van Dijk dominated aerially.
Koscielny anticipated danger brilliantly.
Čech dealt confidently with every cross that entered his penalty area.
By half-time, Arsenal deservedly led 1-0.
Wenger's message inside the dressing room was simple.
"We continue."
"No slowing down."
"We score the second…"
"…the match becomes ours."
Everyone understood.
The first goal had opened the game.
The second could finish it.
Arsenal began the second half with even greater intensity.
Their passing became quicker.
Movement sharper.
Stoke struggled to contain the relentless pressure.
The second goal arrived in the fifty-fourth minute.
Again, it showcased Arsenal at their flowing best.
Kanté recovered possession near the halfway line before immediately releasing Özil.
The German looked up.
Instead of forcing the pass, he waited.
Francesco curved his run beautifully between the two centre-backs.
The timing was perfect.
Özil delivered another exquisite through ball.
Francesco met it in stride.
One touch to steady himself.
The goalkeeper advanced.
Again.
The finish remained calm.
A precise strike across goal nestled inside the bottom corner.
2-0.
The Emirates erupted once more.
Francesco clenched both fists before being embraced by Sánchez and Walker.
Walker laughed.
"I definitely assisted that."
"You weren't even involved."
"I was emotionally involved."
Francesco burst into laughter.
"You've spent too much time with England."
Stoke's resistance gradually faded.
Arsenal continued moving the ball with confidence.
Every pass seemed to draw louder applause from the home supporters.
Then, in the sixty-third minute, came the move that truly reflected Wenger's footballing philosophy.
It began with nearly twenty consecutive passes.
Every Arsenal player touched the ball.
The move flowed effortlessly from defence into midfield.
Kanté found Xhaka.
Xhaka released Walker.
Walker recycled possession through Özil.
The German drifted elegantly between two Stoke midfielders before spotting Sánchez making a perfectly timed diagonal run.
Without looking, Özil slipped a magnificent defence-splitting pass into his path.
Sánchez never broke stride.
He took one controlled touch before firing emphatically beyond the goalkeeper.
Goal.
3-0.
The Chilean sprinted toward the corner flag, pointing immediately back at Özil.
"What a pass!"
Özil smiled modestly as teammates surrounded them.
Francesco arrived moments later, embracing both players.
"That was beautiful."
"It was all Mesut," Sánchez admitted.
The Emirates crowd applauded just as loudly for the assist as they did for the finish.
It had been classic Arsenal.
The remaining minutes passed comfortably.
Stoke rarely threatened.
Arsenal controlled possession with confidence, moving the visitors from side to side until the final whistle.
When the referee finally brought the match to an end, the scoreboard told the story.
Arsenal 3-0 Stoke City.
Another convincing victory.
Another clean sheet.
Another two goals for Francesco.
As the players applauded the supporters after the match, news filtered through the stadium that Manchester City had dropped more points elsewhere.
The gap at the top of the Premier League had grown even larger.
The victory strengthened Arsenal's grip on first place.
Every passing week, belief around the Emirates continued to grow.
The Premier League trophy no longer felt like a distant dream.
It was becoming an increasingly realistic destination.
The supporters sensed it.
The players sensed it.
And as Francesco looked around the sea of smiling red-and-white scarves filling the Emirates Stadium, he knew the team had taken another enormous step towards becoming Premier League champions.
The celebrations after the Stoke City victory gradually faded as Arsenal completed their usual post-match routine.
Players applauded the supporters one final time before disappearing down the tunnel beneath the Emirates.
Inside the dressing room, the atmosphere was naturally cheerful.
Three points.
Three goals.
Another clean sheet.
Another important step in the title race.
Walker dropped heavily into his seat and pulled off his boots with an exaggerated groan.
"I've decided."
Francesco looked over while unfastening his shin pads.
"That usually means trouble."
"I'm retiring from emotional assists."
The room laughed.
Alexis Sánchez looked up from across the dressing room.
"Finally."
"I've been unfairly criticised."
"You've been accurately criticised," Özil corrected with a quiet smile.
Walker placed a hand against his chest.
"I don't feel appreciated."
Kanté chuckled softly.
"You scored zero goals."
"I inspired two."
"No."
"I ran."
"Yes."
"There you go."
Even Wenger, walking through the dressing room to congratulate his players, smiled as he overheard the exchange.
"I'm pleased to see your confidence remains intact, Kyle."
"It always does, boss."
"I'm beginning to understand."
Another ripple of laughter spread around the room.
Despite the relaxed mood, Wenger didn't allow the celebrations to continue for too long.
He stood near the centre of the dressing room once everyone had settled.
"Excellent performance."
He looked around at each player.
"We were patient."
"We moved the ball well."
"We defended with discipline."
His eyes settled briefly on Francesco.
"Two very good finishes."
Francesco nodded.
"Thank you."
"But…"
Wenger raised a finger.
"The next challenge is already waiting."
Everyone knew exactly what he meant.
Manchester City.
Champions League.
Quarter-final.
The room immediately grew quieter.
It was impossible not to feel the significance of what lay ahead.
The Premier League remained Arsenal's priority over the coming weeks.
But Europe…
Europe was different.
One mistake could change an entire tie.
One brilliant performance could define an entire season.
Wenger folded his arms.
"We enjoy tonight."
"Tomorrow…"
"…our attention belongs to Manchester City."
Sunday passed quietly.
Most of the squad reported to London Colney for recovery work rather than full training.
The starters from the Stoke victory spent much of the morning inside the recovery facilities.
Ice baths.
Massage tables.
Mobility exercises.
Light cycling sessions.
Meanwhile, the substitutes completed a more intensive workout on the training pitches.
Francesco stepped carefully into one of the recovery pools and immediately winced.
"Still cold."
Walker lowered himself into the next pool with considerably less dignity.
"Oh!"
"My legs weren't ready."
Kane laughed from across the room.
"They never are."
Walker pointed accusingly.
"You knew."
"I did."
"And you said nothing."
"I wanted to watch."
Even the physiotherapists smiled.
Recovery sessions rarely generated headlines.
Yet everyone inside the club understood their importance.
The schedule offered very little time to recover.
Every small detail mattered.
Especially with Manchester City arriving in only a few days.
Monday morning marked the true beginning of Arsenal's preparations.
London Colney carried an entirely different atmosphere.
The jokes remained.
The smiles remained.
But the intensity had increased noticeably.
As players arrived through reception, television screens displayed highlights from Manchester City's recent Champions League performances.
Pep Guardiola's side had dismantled opponents throughout Europe.
Fluid movement.
Relentless pressing.
Technical brilliance.
Nobody inside Arsenal underestimated the challenge.
Francesco entered the analysis room alongside Walker.
The right-back looked toward one of the screens where Kevin De Bruyne was switching play effortlessly from left to right.
"He never seems to stop passing."
Francesco nodded.
"That's why you can't let him settle."
Walker sighed.
"So… another relaxing evening then."
"Not exactly."
They took their seats as Wenger entered alongside Steve Bould and several performance analysts.
Without wasting time, the French manager dimmed the lights.
The opening video began.
Manchester City building from Ederson.
The ball travelled confidently through the defence before Rodri found De Bruyne between the lines.
Within seconds, City had progressed forty metres.
The clip paused.
Wenger stood.
"This…"
"…is why they are dangerous."
He clicked again.
Another sequence appeared.
Bernardo Silva drifting inside.
Phil Foden rotating wide.
Full-backs moving into midfield.
Every movement looked rehearsed.
Every player understood exactly where to be.
Steve Bould stepped forward.
"Pep's teams don't stand still."
"They constantly rotate."
"If you follow runners blindly…"
"…you create gaps."
Another video followed.
City winning possession within seconds of losing it.
Immediate pressure.
Three players surrounding the ball.
No time to think.
Wenger looked directly at his midfielders.
"Kanté."
"Xhaka."
"Mesut."
"The first pass after we recover possession…"
"…must be calm."
"No panic."
"We play through their press."
The three nodded.
Then Wenger turned toward the attackers.
"Francesco."
"Alexis."
"Serge."
"They will leave space."
"But only if we move them."
"They defend aggressively."
"That also creates opportunities."
Francesco scribbled another note into his notebook.
It struck him how different these meetings felt compared to England.
Southgate had spoken about patience against Italy.
Wenger spoke about courage.
Against Manchester City, Arsenal couldn't simply survive pressure.
They had to embrace it.
Training that afternoon reflected everything they had just watched.
The intensity was obvious from the opening whistle.
There were no relaxed passing drills.
No gentle warm-ups.
Everything demanded concentration.
The coaching staff divided the squad into two teams.
The reserve players were instructed to imitate Manchester City's tactical movements.
One coach constantly shouted reminders.
"Rotate!"
"Press immediately!"
"Full-back inside!"
Even their shape resembled Guardiola's system.
Francesco found himself repeatedly dropping deep before spinning behind the defensive line.
Virgil van Dijk immediately looked for him with diagonal passes.
Sometimes they connected.
Sometimes the assistant coaches stopped play.
"Again."
"Timing."
"Earlier."
"No."
"Wait one second."
The drill restarted.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Wenger never appeared frustrated.
Only demanding.
He wanted every movement perfected before Wednesday night.
During a drinks break, Walker collapsed onto the grass beside Francesco.
"I don't think we've stopped running."
Francesco took a drink from his bottle.
"We're playing City."
Walker nodded.
"I know."
"I was hoping we'd forgotten."
Alexis wandered over, still barely breathing heavily despite the session.
"They make everybody run."
Walker looked up.
"You enjoy this, don't you?"
The Chilean grinned.
"I enjoy winning."
"Fair enough."
Kanté jogged past to collect another football.
Walker watched him disappear.
"I swear he gets stronger every session."
Francesco laughed.
"I've been saying that for two years."
"I'm starting to believe he has three lungs."
⸻
The following day became even more tactical.
Cones covered almost every section of the main training pitch.
Different coloured bibs represented City's midfield rotations.
Steve Bould moved players around personally.
"No."
"Kevin would be here."
"So Bernardo moves there."
"Now Rodri drops."
It almost resembled a chess lesson more than a football session.
Özil studied the movements carefully before quietly speaking to Francesco.
"If we escape the first press…"
"…we'll have chances."
Francesco nodded.
"They commit numbers."
"Exactly."
"But the first pass has to be perfect."
Nearby, Xhaka intercepted a pass before immediately feeding Alexis down the left.
The Chilean accelerated before cutting the ball back.
Francesco met it first time.
Goal.
Wenger clapped once.
"Excellent."
"Again."
Nobody complained about repeating the drill.
Every successful movement increased confidence.
Every mistake became another lesson.
Later that afternoon, the analysts gathered the squad for another video session.
This time they focused on Manchester City's weaknesses.
There weren't many.
But every team had them.
One clip showed City's defensive line becoming stretched after losing possession.
Another revealed space behind their advancing full-backs.
Steve Bould paused the video.
"This."
He pointed toward the screen.
"Notice how quickly their full-backs attack."
"They're exceptional."
"But…"
"When possession changes…"
"…there's room."
Walker smiled.
"So I get to attack as well."
Wenger looked at him.
"You attack."
"But you recover even faster."
Walker nodded immediately.
"Understood."
The manager smiled faintly.
"I thought you might."
By Tuesday evening, London Colney felt completely immersed in Champions League football.
Club staff spoke quietly in corridors.
Groundskeepers worked meticulously to ensure the training pitches matched the conditions expected at the Emirates.
Media interest increased dramatically.
Television vans parked outside the gates.
Supporters gathered hopefully, waiting for glimpses of players leaving after training.
Inside, however, the squad remained remarkably calm.
Experience had taught them that excitement outside the club meant very little once the referee blew his whistle.
Francesco finished another finishing drill before collecting the final ball.
Wenger walked across.
"How are you feeling?"
"Good."
"Tired?"
"The normal amount."
The Frenchman smiled.
"Good."
"I prefer honest answers."
Francesco looked toward the empty training pitch where staff were already collecting cones.
"They're still dangerous."
"They are."
Wenger folded his arms.
"We've beaten them before."
"But forget that."
Francesco looked back.
"The previous matches don't matter."
"Exactly."
"They won't help us tomorrow."
"The only thing that matters…"
"…is ninety minutes at the Emirates."
He paused briefly.
"Pep will prepare something different."
"So must we."
Francesco nodded slowly.
"I understand."
As darkness settled over London Colney, players gradually headed toward their cars.
Walker caught up beside Francesco in the car park.
"You know what I keep thinking?"
"What?"
"We've played them so many times this season."
"And every single match feels completely different."
Francesco unlocked his BMW.
"That's Guardiola."
"He never repeats himself."
Walker smiled.
"Which makes life difficult."
"It also makes football interesting."
Walker laughed.
"I suppose that's one way of looking at it."
He climbed into his own car before lowering the window again.
"See you tomorrow."
"Ready for another emotional assist?"
Francesco grinned.
"Only if you actually touch the ball this time."
Walker pointed dramatically.
"Low blow."
"I'll prove you wrong."
"We'll see."
The engines started almost together.
As both players drove away from London Colney, there was a growing sense that the season was approaching one of its defining moments.
The Premier League title remained firmly in Arsenal's hands, with Manchester City still trailing by a significant margin.
But for one night, league positions would mean nothing.
The Champions League quarter-final was a different stage entirely.
Under Pep Guardiola, Manchester City remained one of Europe's most dangerous teams that creative, relentless and capable of punishing the smallest mistake.
Arsenal had beaten them before.
More than once.
Yet inside the dressing room, nobody allowed those victories to create complacency.
Respect had replaced confidence.
Preparation had replaced celebration.
Every training session.
Every tactical meeting.
Every drill.
Every video clip.
All of it pointed toward one objective.
When Manchester City walked onto the Emirates pitch for the first leg of the Champions League quarter-final, Arsenal intended to be ready.
______________________________________________
Name : Francesco Lee
Age : 19 (2017)
Birthplace : London, England
Football Club : Arsenal First Team
Championship History : 2014/2015 Premier League, 2014/2015 FA Cup, 2015/2016 Community Shield, 2016/2017 Premier League, 2015/2016 Champions League, Euro 2016, Premier League Champion 2016/2017, 2016/2017 Champions League, and 2017/2018 Carabao Cup.
Season 17/18 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 46
Goal: 58
Assist: 6
MOTM: 6
POTM: 0
England:
Match: 4
Goal: 4
Assist: 1
MOTM: 2
Season 16/17 stats:
Arsenal:
Match: 55
Goal: 87
Assist: 5
MOTM: 14
POTM: 1
England:
Match: 1
Goal: 1
Assist: 0
MOTM: 0
Season 15/16 stats:
Arsenal:
Match Played: 60
Goal: 82
Assist: 10
MOTM: 9
POTM: 1
England:
Match Played: 2
Goal: 4
Assist: 0
Euro 2016
Match Played: 6
Goal: 13
Assist: 4
MOTM: 6
Season 14/15 stats:
Match Played: 35
Goal: 45
Assist: 12
MOTM: 9