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pitchsidestories · 16 days ago

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Three weddings and one new love II Patri Guijarro x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 2169

summary: Patri and Reader cross paths at three weddings. Each meeting brings them closer, but is it enough for something real to begin?

author's note: hi, like everyone else, we absolutely loved all the woso weddings and inspiration struck. We hope you enjoy the fanfic that came from it. <3

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality.

Lola and Cristina’s wedding was in full swing.

“Patri, do you remember her?” Leila’s question was innocent enough, but when the midfielder caught sight of you, she nearly choked on the champagne she’d been sipping.

Of course, Patri remembered. How could she not? But somehow, you were even more beautiful than she’d allowed herself to recall.

Noticing the brunette’s stunned expression, you laughed, light and effervescent, like the bubbles rising in your glass: “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Nice to see you again. It’s been a while.”, Patri said, recovering quickly. The midfielder felt the warmth rising to her cheeks. Normally, she was cooler, more composed. She blamed the heat. And the drinks.

“It’s nice to see you too.”, you replied, a soft smile on your lips.

“Are you enjoying the party so far?”, the Barcelona player asked, her voice casual, but her eyes lingering just a little too long.

“I do. What about you? I really like your dress.”, you said.

The sleeveless black dress hugged her figure effortlessly, the ink of her tattoos accentuating her sun-warmed skin.

Patri tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a nervous smile playing on her lips: “Oh, thank you.” She paused, gesturing vaguely. “And yeah, Lola and Cristina know how to throw a party.”

You took a moment to absorb the atmosphere. Laughter drifted through the garden, and even usually composed Alexia was dancing in her pink dress, barefoot and carefree, with the bride.

“I’m not usually a fan of weddings, but this one’s something special.”, you confessed.

Patri grinned: “That’s a big compliment, then. Can I get you another drink?”

“Oh. Yes, please.”, you responded, returning her smile.

Like a true gentlewoman, she returned with fresh drinks for you both, gently clinking her glass against yours. “Cheers.” “Cheers.”

“It’s really beautiful.”, Patri murmured, her eyes scanning the joyful chaos unfolding around you.

You followed her gaze. The couple radiated happiness, surrounded by friends, laughter and the soft golden light of early evening.

Knowing them as well as you did, especially Lola, the goalkeeper who’d stood by you when everything in your career was falling apart, you felt a quiet swell of emotion. “I agree.”, you said, your voice low.

Patri turned to you, a playful tilt to her head:” Would you like to dance?”

Her brown eyes caught yours, deep and steady, and something warm unfurled in your chest. You hesitated, nerves fluttering at the edges.

“Oh, um… sure,” you nodded, speaking almost to yourself.

As you stepped onto the dance floor, the DJ smoothly shifted from a fast rhythm to a slow, melodic song. You both paused, smiling, a little shy, a little amused, before stepping closer.

Her hand found yours, and the space between you disappeared. The movement was easy, natural, like you’d rehearsed it without knowing. There was no need to speak, your bodies seemed to anticipate each other, flowing in quiet synchrony.

The moment, soft and perfect, was suddenly broken by the arrival of Irene, her expression tight with concern.

You watched as Patri’s eyebrows knotted together, looking over to her teammate.

“Patri? Can you help me find Mateo?”, Irene asked, the slightest hint of panic in her voice.

“I…”, Patri hesitated, looking back and forth between you and Irene until she nodded firmly: “Yeah, sure.”

She offered you an apologetic smile: “Sorry.”

You waved her off casually: “It’s fine. I need to check on Andrea, anyway, looks like she had enough to drink.”

With a final wry smile, Patri disappeared into the crowd. She eventually found Mateo several minutes later, sitting calmly beneath a table, hidden by the tablecloth and happily playing with his toy cars. The relief on Irenes face when she saw her son was immeasurable.

Happy to have been of help, Patri returned to where she left you earlier but you were gone.

“Ale? Do you have y/n’s number?”, she asked Alexia who was seated on a table nearby, sipping white wine.

She raised her eyebrows as she took another sip: “I don’t. Why?”

“I…”, Patri started. But what was she supposed to say? That she couldn’t find you after circling the parameter of the big yard three times already. That she felt something between you two and didn’t understand why you had just left?

Before she could find the right words, Leila chimed in, her eyes lighting up with excitement: “You want to see her again?!”

“Yeah?”, Patri answered carefully.

This caused Alexia shoot her a knowing, slightly pitying look. Patri wished she hadn’t even asked at all.

Summer break meant wedding season in the womens football world, so the next ceremony was only a couple days later. It felt like the celebrations were never-ending. But you weren’t complaining, not when it gave you another excuse to wear something fancy.

You were stuck in some small-talk with two men you didn’t know, and it quickly became clear that they were more interested in each other’s opinions than anything you had to say. You stood there politely, twirling the stem of your champagne flute between your fingers and pretending to listen. At least until a bright red jumpsuit caught your attention.

It was Patri, smiling carefully as she walked towards you.

You smiled back at her, grateful to have an excuse to leave the one-sided conversation: “You again. I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here.”

“Hi, I didn’t know you knew the brides.”, Patri greeted you and as she took in your uncovered arms added: “… or that you had any tattoos.”

You smirked at her, catching the way her gaze lingered on your body: “Wow, you underestimate me, Guijarro.”

“I did. I thought…”, she started, her cheeks turning pink.

“You thought I was just the girl next door? I feel like I should be offended.”, you teased, leaning in with a grin.

Clearing her throat, the midfielder defended herself: “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.”, you said quickly, hoping to ease her visible nervousness.

Biting her lip, Patri murmured an apology.

“Yours are really pretty.”, you admitted, lightly tracing the inked lines on her upper arm with your finger. Was this still just friendly chatter between guests, or had it already tipped into flirting? You suspected the latter. You couldn’t help it, the banter between you was too good to resist.

Under your attention, she muttered: “Oh, thanks.”

“Although the tiger might be a bit cheesy.”, you added with a wink.

Pretending to be offended, the brunette shot back: “What? No, it’s cool.”

You chuckled: “Uh-huh.”

Then the mood shifted. A memory surfaced, the last wedding where you’d seen her, and how abruptly it had ended. Your voice softened: “Sorry for vanishing like some kind of Cinderella the last time we saw each other.”

“Is that a thing you do?”, Patri asked, her tone cautious. She didn’t want to be hurt again. The feeling of being left behind was still raw, it hadn’t been a few days ago.

You shook your head.: “Vanishing and leaving a pretty girl behind? No, usually not. At least, not on purpose.”

“So, I don’t have to be scared you’ll disappear again?” she questioned, watching you hopefully.

“No, I won’t do that.” You smiled, heart open. “You want me to stay?”

“I do.”, Patri confirmed, her voice barely a whisper. “I even asked the others for your number.”

“You did?”

Here was the thing, you had all played for the national team together. But after you left for England and refused any further call-ups, not much in the Spanish federation had truly changed. Just fragments. Bits and pieces. And there was still so much left to be desired. Which meant, of course, that none of her football friends would have your contact details.

“I can give you mine now,” you offered, pulling a pen from your small bag and scribbling your number on her arm.

“Thanks,” she responded softly.

“You’re welcome. I’m rarely in Spain these days, but I’m here most summers.”, you explained.

Nervously, she glanced at you, her voice quiet as she hinted at the dance you never got to finish last time: “That’s... fine. I just still owe you a dance.”

“You should do that now,” you replied with a smirk, nodding towards the dance floor. “One of my favourite songs is playing.”

Patri shrugged as if this opportunity was as good as any: “Okay, then.”

You took her hand in yours and led her onto the dance floor.

The music surrounded you both as you started to sway. Patri’s hands settled naturally on your waist, guiding your movements with the rhythm of her own body. She moved smoothly, like water. Almost like the way she played football, you thought.

“You’re surprisingly good at this.”, you smirked.

Patri smiled, lifting an eyebrow: “Surprisingly, huh?”

“Yeah, I mean you’re maestro on the field but the dance floor is very far from a pitch.”, you teased, biting your lip.

She tilted her head, considering for a moment and then said with a slightly challenging tone: “Can’t I be both?”

Her face was so close to yours now, the sunlight catching in her deep brown eyes.

“You can be even more than that.”, you murmured, your gaze locked on her.

You knew she stared at your lips. You waited for her to lean in. Maybe she was waiting for you too. The kiss never came.

And then the moment was gone. You had to leave right after this dance, but you had no idea how much chaos your exit would leave behind.

Later that night, with the music still playing and drinks still flowing, a fine sprinkle of rain began to fall over the wedding and Alexia came running towards her friend group, her high heels dangling from her fingers: “Olga! Leila! Patri is crying… and she won’t tell me why!”

They found her outside, sitting on the venue steps, quietly sobbing and mascara smudging underneath her eyes.

Leila crouched down beside her: “What happened?”

“I had her number but it vanished… just like her.”, Patri sniffed, pointing towards the fading writing on her arm that was almost completely washed away by a mix of sweat and rain.

“Aw, cariño…”, Olga sighed, brushing strands of hair out of Patris face.

“It’s okay. I’m sure we can get her number somehow.”, Leila said softly.

“Promise.”, Olga added, squeezing her shoulder.

Patri wiped her eyes and looked up to them. The crying had finally stopped.

The third wedding was Laia’s. Just as beautiful as the last two ceremonies and with a lot of familiar faces on the guest list.

When you walked in, you noticed one table right away.

“Patri. Get up and stop pouting.”, Ona ordered, elbowing her in the ribs.

Patri was seated next to her, frowning into her champagne glass.

“She’s here!”

“Stop messing with me.”, the midfielder muttered, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Unmoved by her teammate’s theatrics, Ona gave a half-smile: “I’m not. She and Laia go way back to their Atlético days. So come on now.”

Patri’s head shot up: “Wait, are you serious?”

With a sigh, Ona grabbed her arm and gently tugged her to her feet. She turned her toward the other side of the courtyard, where you stood talking to the bride, laughing in the golden dusk.

“I am.”, Ona said simply.

Laia’s voice rang out beside you, warm and sure. She rested her arm on your shoulder: “I hope you’ll come visit me in Barcelona soon.”

You smiled, hugging her close: “Of course I will.” The promise was meant for her, but when your eyes flicked past her shoulder and found the one woman you'd seen at the last two weddings, your heart quietly wondered if the promise might stretch to her too.

Beaming, Laia announced: “I’ll go find my husband.”

“Okay.”

Their happiness was contagious, easy, natural. It was beautiful to see someone you’d known so long marry the man who had cried the moment she stepped into view at the ceremony.

You and Laia shared one last hug. Then, as you turned, you almost stumbled straight into Patri.

“Oh, hi.”, you mumbled, nerves fluttering in your chest.

“Hey.”, she replied, calm on the outside, though her heart was pounding. Three weddings. Third time’s the charm, maybe this was the moment, like in all the films and books.

You gestured toward the happy couple: “Laia and I were just talking, I’ve got to visit her in Barcelona soon.”

“Yeah,” Patri said. “It’s great to have her back.”

You nodded. “You lot are lucky.”

“We are.”

You hesitated, searching her face: “What if I want to see you too, not just Laia?”

Her expression lit up, hope blooming across her pretty face: “You want to visit me?”

“Yeah.” You smiled. “I really do.”

“I’d like that.”, Patri answered, and stepped a little closer. She kissed your cheek soft, deliberate, her lips brushing just a little too close to yours.

Three weddings and maybe, this was the first chapter of your own little love story.

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putellas14 · 6 months ago

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A Girlfriend for Christmas (Leila Ouahabi x Reader)

"Should I wear this one or this one?" you asked, holding up two dresses for your friend, Leila. Leila was laying on your bed, her phone in her hand, probably texting last night's hookup.

She glanced up briefly, flicking her eyes over the dresses, before refocusing on her phone. "The blue one," she said.

"Thank you," you muttered. Dropping the dresses on the bed, you pulled your sweats and shirt off, letting them fall on the ground. You shimmied the blue dress up over your hips and put your arms through the straps. You tapped Leila's foot to get her attention again. "Okay, how does this look?"

Leila looked up again. "Uh." Clearing her throat, she looked back down at her phone. "You look nice. Where are you going?"

"I didn't tell you?" You laughed to yourself. "I'm going to meet the girl I'm hiring to be my girlfriend for Christmas. Well, this will actually be the fourth girl I'm going to meet. Haven't had much success yet."

"I'm sorry," Leila said, throwing her phone on the bed next to her and sitting up straighter, "what are you talking about?"

"I'm hiring a girlfriend."

"Why?"

"Because I can't spend another Christmas listening to my entire family ask me endless questions about my love life."

"Why didn't you just ask me to come with you?" she asked.

"I couldn't do that. They all know you. They'd never believe it."

"Why not?"

"Well," you thought for a second, "you're my friend."

"Friends date all the time. We could be friends who date,” she said, matter of factly.

“Be real, Leila. I need this to work. You’ve always been very anti-relationship. No one is going to believe that we’re together.”

Leila rolled off the bed and moved to stand in front of you. She was standing so close your lips were nearly touching. She lifted her hand, caressing your cheek with the back of her fingers, letting her fingers slowly, tortuously, slide down your neck.

You felt an incredible sense of deja vu before remembering you’d been in this position before. Once. In a dream. A few months after meeting Leila. And you had berated the crush out of yourself back then.

When you involuntarily leaned into her, she patted your cheek and stepped back. “See? We can make people believe we’re into each other.”

“Right.” You cleared your throat and brought yourself back to reality. This reality. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Plus, this girl is already waiting for me, so it’d be rude to turn her down without at least going to meet her.”

“Okay.” Leila settled back in your bed with her phone.

“What’re you doing? I’m leaving.”

“And I’ll be here waiting to hear all the deets when you get back. I have to know everything. You know your brother is going to call me as soon as you walk through the door with this girl. Be weird if I don’t know anything about her.”

“Fine. Make yourself useful and feed Dot while I’m out then,” you said, referring to your old sweet black cat who only enjoyed interacting with you or Leila.

The bar you’d chosen to meet at was just a block away from you. But somehow you were still late getting there. She was already sitting at a table in the corner, her blonde hair flowed like a halo in the dim spotlight. She was even more beautiful than in her photographs.

And that turned out to be her best quality. She was a complete bore. She could barely hold a conversation, stumbling her way through most sentences, and never saying anything of substance. Your family would give you a bigger headache for showing up with her than if you just went home alone.

She wasn’t going to work. At all.

After two drinks, you politely ended the night, thanking her for her willingness to help but gently turning her down. You paid for her drinks to make up for turning her down.

“So?” Leila asks, as soon as you walk in. She had migrated from your bed to your couch. Dot was curled up next to her, sleeping.

“Remind me never to have ideas again. She was so boring. My family would hate her.”

“You know who they love?” she asked, a cheeky grin on her face.

You nearly shut her down again. But she was right. Your family did love Leila. She was their favorite of all your friends. Maybe it would be hard to convince them you were dating but at least they wouldn’t give you a hard time about picking a person who didn’t fit.

“On one condition,” you heard yourself say.

“Name it.”

“No kissing on my lips.”

“But how will we convince them then?” she asked, raising a single perfect eyebrow.

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Ouahabi.” You crossed the living room, heading for your bed. “We leave at 8am tomorrow,” you called over your shoulder. “Don’t be late.”

You had already bought the second train ticket, and it was simple enough to get the passenger’s name changed at the train station the next morning. The three of you (you, Leila, and Dot) settled in for the long ride down to Oxford. You dozed on and off, as was typical for you. At one point you woke to find yourself leaning on Leila’s shoulder. You apologized and sat straighter. She had just smiled in response and returned to her book. Dot slept peacefully in her carrier through the entire ride.

Your dad was waiting for you at the station, and he greeted you both with a huge hug before loading your bags into the car. You’d grown up there, both your parents being local primary school teachers. Your brother, James, had followed in their footsteps but was currently working towards his PhD so he could teach at university.

On the car ride home, you listened to Leila and your dad catch up with each other. Your family truly did enjoy Leila’s presence, which always warmed your heart. Thankfully, it seemed as though he had forgotten your text message letting them know you’d be coming home with your girlfriend for Christmas. God bless your dad and his forgetful nature. You were suddenly nervous about this whole ruse.

As if Leila could sense it, likely from how quiet you were the entire ride, as your dad turned onto their road, she reached over and squeezed your hand.

“Breathe,” she mouthed.

And you did. Taking a few slow, deep breaths. It would be fine, you told yourself. This would all be fine. It was just a couple days.

You could see your mom’s eyes get misty from the front door when she recognized Leila next to you. Clearly, she had not forgotten you were bringing home your “girlfriend.”

She came down to the car so she could hug you tight as soon as you got out. “Hi, sweetie! How was the train?”

“Hi, mom. Can’t. Breathe,” you managed.

“Oh whoops.” She stepped back, loosening her grip on you and moving over to Leila. “Hello, Leila dear! Welcome!” She gave Leila as tight a hug as she gave you. “I think we have some catching up to do,” she said, looking over at me. Putting her arm around Leila’s shoulders, she guided her into the home. Leila looked over her shoulder at you as she went into the house and the panic on her face immediately calmed you down and brought pure amusement to you as you unloaded the bags and brought them into the house. You set down Dot's carrier by the front door and let her out. She immediately beelined for the sofa, her favorite place in this house.

From the front door, you caught a glimpse of the huge Christmas tree in the family room. There must have been at least a hundred ornaments hanging from the branches. Your mom (it was mom who loved Christmas the most) had garlands and decorations covering every available surface. She had always made home feel like something out of a winter Christmas fever dream. You loved it. It had always made you love Christmas so much.

You wandered over to the Christmas tree, letting your eyes roam over all the ornaments and bows and lights. You had a small Christmas tree at the apartment in Manchester, but it was nothing like this. This was at least nine feet tall, nearly hitting the ceiling. It was plump and full and not at all like your artificial pre-lit tree. And it smelled absolutely glorious, straight out of a forest.

You kept walking through, taking in all the little details. You could hear them all talking in the kitchen and slowly made your way back there, stopping to give Dot a few scratches behind the ears.

“Y/N!” Leila said, when you walked in. She reached out towards you, her eyes wide, and grabbed your forearm to bring you closer to her. “Perfect timing. Your parents were just asking when we started dating.” And now the wide-eyed look made much more sense.

She was scared of them.

Maybe this idea wasn’t so bad, after all, if it meant a few days of watching Leila squirm.

“Oh. You didn’t want to tell them?” you asked, smirking. You leaned against the counter next to her.

“I thought you might want to do that.”

“Er right.” She looped a finger in your belt loop and dragged you closer to her, letting her arm rest around your waist. Even though this was fake, and you were both affectionate with each other, the move caused something to stir deep in your stomach. Swallowing the lump that was growing in your throat, you said, “Leila finally got off her ass and asked me out about three months ago.”

“Three months!” your mom exploded. “Three months, she says, like it’s nothing.” Clearly, she was going to give you a pass on swearing given her fixation on your answer.

“We didn’t want to tell you until we’d had time to give it a chance,” Leila answered, giving you a small smile.

“Well, honey, we’re so glad you finally asked Y/n/N out. This means I win the bet,” she said in her husband’s direction.

“What bet?” you asked.

Before either could respond, the front door opened and you heard your brother yell out, “I’m here! Let’s get the eggnog flowing!” You move out of Leila’s grasp and run out into the front hall to give him a hug. It had been a couple months since you’d seen each other. Football season was always hard.

“Hey kid, how you are doing?” James asked.

No matter how old you got, James always called you kid. It had started as an insult when you were his annoying little sister and had morphed into a term of endearment as you’d gotten older.

“I’m great. Merry Christmas.”

“Leila? What the heck are you doing here?” he asked, spotting her over your shoulder. When he sidestepped you to give her a hug, you saw the huge grin on his face. You watched them embrace each other before he stepped back and put her in a headlock. It was like they had grown up as siblings, you thought with a shake of your head.

"I told you I was bringing my girlfriend home for Christmas," you said, nonchalantly. Maybe too nonchalantly, by the look of shock on his face as his eyes met yours. He looked between you and Leila, still holding her in a headlock. "Can you let her go before you accidentally strangle her?" I reached out for Leila's hand as his arms slid limply from her neck. She linked her fingers with yours and allowed you to tug her over to you. "James, Leila is my girlfriend."

"What do you mean?" he asked dumbly.

"I know mom and dad explained how this works," you shot back.

"But when? How? I mean, why?"

"Why? Well, I mean, look at her." You pressed a kiss to her cheek, feeling the heat flood her face under your lips. "And we were just answering those same questions for mom and dad. Three months ago. And she asked me out."

"Three months? That's like, that's so long ago!"

"And now you're going to tell me what you know about this bet mom was just starting to say she won."

"Uh. Nothing." He picked up his backpack again and started to walk away. "I know nothing."

"Liar!" you yelled at his back. You looked down at your hand, fingers still tangled with Leila's. As you started to smile to yourself, you looked up at her face. She was standing still, no real expression on her face. "What?" No answer. You shook her hand, trying to get her attention. "Earth to Leila. Are you okay?"

She shook her head and looked at you, seeming to be coming out of whatever had occupied her mind. "I'm great. Your mom said something about hot chocolate, let's go get some." She dropped your hand, walking back towards the kitchen.

Your mom always went all out on the hot chocolate. There was whipped cream and marshmallows and little Christmas themed sprinkles and, of course, alcohol. A whole assortment of alcohol was now sitting on the counter, waiting for each person to take their pick. Per usual, you took vanilla vodka. She'd also set out some sandwiches. Once everyone was settled around the small kitchen table, you brought the conversation back to the bet.

"How much do you win in this bet, mom?"

"What bet?" dad asked, feigning innocence.

"The bet mom gleefully said she won after finding out how long I've been dating Leila."

The three of them at least had the humility to look sheepishly at each other before mom answered, "Fifty quid."

"And what did the rest of you bet?"

"That you'd eventually ask Leila out," your dad answered.

"That you'd die alone," James answered. Your dad slapped him over the back of his head. "Ouch."

"Be nice," your mom warned. He got up to top off his mug with whiskey and she reminded him that Mass was starting soon.

Shoot. You had forgotten to tell Leila that you'd be going to Christmas Eve Mass. "I have an outfit you can borrow, if you need," you whispered.

"Thanks," she whispered, covering it with her mug.

"So, girls," your dad said, "we know that Y/N's bedroom is a little small for the both of you." Oh, god, where was this going? "Mom and I talked about it, and we'd be okay if you both stayed in the guestroom, if you'd prefer."

You could tell this was as awkward for him as it was for you. Your room only had a single bed and although you had snuck girlfriends in and slept on that single bed with them, you weren't intending to share that bed tonight. You were temporarily taken aback by the offer because you assumed your parents would force you to sleep in separate rooms.

Leila reached over, squeezing your hand. "Y/N and I talked about it as well. And we're both quite comfortable being split up. Thank you very much for offering, though."

"Just so you know, there's a creaky board between the guest room and Y/N's room," James said. "I'll hear you if you sneak over."

Your dad hit him over the back of the head again. "Shut it, James." He turned back to you. "We want to make sure you're both comfortable."

"Thanks, dad," you said quietly. Leila squeezed your hand again and you looked over at her. She was giving you a soft smile. Of course, she knew how you were feeling. Overwhelmed and loved. You'd spent years in the closet, worried about upsetting everyone. It was easier to lean into the side of you that was attracted to men back then. To now have your parents be so welcoming to your "girlfriend" choked you up.

You were suddenly really glad you'd brought Leila along to play this role. It was somehow easier with someone you already knew. Having a total stranger sitting next to you right now would have made you feel really lonely.

Before you could dig too far into your feelings, your mom clapped her hands and said it was time to go get ready. Looking at the clock, you were shocked to find it was already so late. You took Leila up to your room first, so that she could see what options you had. No surprise to you, she took the only outfit with pants.

"What?" she asked when she saw you giggling in her direction. "My jacket will match it."

"I'm sure that's the reason." You picked one of the dresses up and held it up in front of you. Looking in the mirror, you checked to see if it would be long enough. Hmm, maybe not. You picked up another, checking for the same thing. Good enough. You pulled off your sweater to change and Leila stopped you.

"Whoa whoa whoa, what're you doing?" she asked, slapping her hand over her eyes.

"What? I changed in front of you last night. And I change in front of you all the time!"

"Yeah, but not in your parents' house." She turned away. Keeping her eyes closed, she reached her arm out and started feeling around, bumping into multiple items in your room.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm looking for the door."

"Then open your eyes!"

"No!"

"Ugh. Fine." You walked towards her. She was only a few inches off. Because of the way your furniture was set up, you had to angle your body sideways next to her to reach the knob. You could feel your chest pressed into her arm and held your breath, so your chest wouldn't move at all. God, you felt stupid. "The door is open," you muttered, stepping back. She fled as quickly as she could, keeping her eyes closed until she was in the hallway. Shaking your head, you closed the door again. You were half naked, after all.

You quickly got ready and went down to wait for everyone. The five of you squeezed into your dad's tiny ancient Renault for the short drive over to your local church. Your parents liked to attend Mass on important days of the year. Your brother had become more involved in the church as you'd gotten older, and he regularly attended Sunday Mass. You, on the other hand, had a more complicated relationship with religion. The church was a source of community, but it had also been a source of stress as a young queer kid. You were always still afraid walking through those doors that something negative was coming your way.

As if Leila could sense your apprehension, she closed her hand over yours as you walked in. It helped you feel more grounded. You went to Mass every year for your family but that had never made it easier. You had also never told them how you felt, only that you didn't connect with organized religion. But Leila knew. Leila knew everything about you. And she understood, without any additional words, what was going on in your mind at that moment. She kept your hand in her throughout most of the service, at some points drawing random patterns with her thumb.

The way she kept reading your mood today should have made you uncomfortable, but it just made you really glad to have her here. Although your family's consistent pestering of your love life was uncomfortable and annoying, it really wasn't anything compared to how lonely it made you feel. Their questions always reminded you that you were completely alone.

And Leila seemed to be on a mission to prove to you that you weren't alone.

The four of you had a quiet dinner in town at one of your favorite restaurants before heading home. It had been an early morning for you, and you said good night soon after you got home. Leila opted to stay up and hang out with James a while longer. And to your displeasure, Dot decided to stay curled on Leila's lap rather than coming up to bed with you. Leila and James both laughed when you pouted. Annoyed at them ganging up on you, you bent down to give Dot a kiss on the head and ignored them both.

As you walked away, you heard James say, "Ooo you're in trouble." You heard Leila respond but were too far away at that point to hear what she said. You were far more exhausted than you realized. Sleep took you as soon as your head hit the pillow, preventing you from overthinking what she could have said in response.

The next morning, you quickly showered, knowing Christmas day had a way of getting chaotic fast. You headed downstairs and found your parents cuddled on the couch, their cups of tea teetering precariously on the cushions next to them.

"Merry Christmas!" you said.

"Good morning. Merry Christmas, honey," your mom said.

"Merry Christmas!" your dad said at the same time.

"Do either of you want more tea?" you asked, pointing at their mugs. They both shook their heads, so you went to make your cup. While the water boiled, you took the moment to enjoy the quiet morning. You stared out the window, watching the birds fly from roof to roof. It was softly snowing outside, adding to the feeling of calm. The kettle started whistling, prompting you to remove it from the heat.

"Think I could get one of those too?" Leila asked from the doorway, startling you. You hadn't even heard her come in. You pulled another cup down and filled it. You put the kettle down and leaned against the counter to wait for the tea to steep. "Merry Christmas," she said quietly, remaining on the other side of the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas." You crossed your arms across your chest. "How'd you sleep?"

"Great. James and I stayed up pretty late and Dot kept me company after that."

"Not used to sleeping alone, Ouahabi?" you asked, raising an eyebrow, the amusement clear in your voice. Leila, on the other hand, scowled at you instead of laughing with you. "I meant that as a joke," you said sheepishly when she didn't respond. Feeling awkward, you checked the teas. The color looked okay, so you picked one up and handed it to Leila, leaving the other on the counter. "Milk?" Sometimes she took milk, sometimes she didn't. She shook her head. You poured a small amount into your cup and returned the carton to the fridge.

"What's the plan for the day?"

"Dad and I usually go for a walk, if you want to come. We'll leave from Gran's around 10:30 and we'll stay there until evening. We usually have like a late lunch type of deal there."

"Okay." She glanced at the clock on the wall. "How long is your walk? I'll have to shower before we go."

"Should be plenty of time. You should come. Get some fresh air before we're shut in with my relatives the rest of the day." You made a face at her, hoping to get a laugh out of her. When she at least smiled at you, you considered it a win. "Want to sit down?" you asked, gesturing towards where your parents were. She nodded and followed behind you.

"Good morning, Leila honey," your mom said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," she said. She sat cross-legged on the floor, cradling her cup between her hands. The four of you sat quietly, listening to the crackle of the fire in the corner. Dot strolled in midway through your cup and nuzzled her face into your arm. You lifted your arm, letting her cuddle into your side. She collapsed against the side of your leg, and you let your hand gently rest on her back. "I guess she missed you after all," Leila said.

You smiled down at Dot, slowly moving your fingers against her fur. "Guess she did." You went back to silence, enjoying the addition of Dot's loud purring to the fireplace. "Oh, dad, Leila's going to come for a walk with us."

"Alright, great. Looks a little cold out there, so don't forget your coats, girls."

"Should we leave in about 10 minutes?" you asked. They both nodded in agreement. Your mom protested by snuggling further back into him.

"15 minutes," he said.

"Sure," you said with a big grin. Your parents had set too good of an example of what a relationship should be. They both genuinely enjoyed the company of the other. They worked together well as partners. They respected each other. They loved each other so fiercely. And nothing had changed after thirty years. If anything, their relationship was even better now. You let your eyes get a little misty, before turning your eyes downward to hide it from the room. If you had been looking anywhere else, you would have seen that you hadn't hidden anything from Leila.

The three of you set out twenty minutes later (your mom had protested again when dad tried to get up). It was still softly snowing, causing all of you to draw your hoods. It made it nearly impossible to hear anyone, which left the three of you walking in silence. You were glad for this walk. You knew the rest of the day would be loud and chaotic and stressful. This walk allowed you to hold onto the quiet of Christmas morning for as long as possible.

By the time you returned home, you were freezing cold, and a thin film of snow was stuck to the fur-lining of your hood. Leila laughed as some of it fell on your face. She removed her glove and lifted her hand to brush away the rest of it before it could fall on you. The heat rose to your cheeks, and you tried to tell yourself it was due to the blast of heat that had greeted you when you walked into the house.

While everyone showered and prepared last-minute gifts, you closed yourself in your room to hold onto those last few final moments alone. You had brought a red dress and tights for the day. The dress tucked in at your waist before flowing down to your mid-thigh. It was one of your favorite dresses, but you didn't often wear it because you thought the red was too bright for most occasions. Deciding to go forth with the boldness you were feeling, you painted your lips a deep red as well and carefully applied a thick layer of mascara.

"Y/N, come on!" James yelled. "It's time to go! What're you doing?"

Shocked, you looked at the clock next to your bed. You had no idea where the time had gone but you gave yourself one last look in the mirror, grabbed your coat and heels, and ran downstairs. "Sorry sorry. I wasn't watching the time." You sat down on the bottom of the steps to buckle your heels. "Okay, I'm ready."

"You look," Leila said when you stood. She let her eyes wander down you and back up to your face. "You look beautiful."

James hit her arm."Ew, dude. That's my sister."

"What?" she asked, hitting him back. "I've got eyes. Plus, she's my girlfriend. I'm allowed to, no I'm supposed to, compliment her and make her feel good!"

"She's right," your dad interrupted. "You should take notes, James, in case you ever convince anyone to date you."

"Ouch," he said, rubbing his chest.

"Alright, the lot of you," your mom said, "into the car. Let's go."

You sat quietly on the drive to Gran's while Leila and your parents talked about an upcoming trip to Morocco. You could tell Leila was in the zone. She loved talking about Morocco and giving recommendations to people who had never been there before.

There was almost no parking near her home, and you ended up having to walk quite a way in your heels, balancing the pot your mom had shoved into your hands. At one point, you had nearly slipped but Leila caught you around the waist with one hand and steadied the pot with her other hand. She kept her arm around you for the rest of the walk, making sure you stayed upright.

The rest of your family was already in the house, and they excitedly welcomed Leila in. Leila had been to family events and had met most people in the past. Your gran was probably more excited than your mom had been when you went over to say hello to her and introduce Leila as your girlfriend. She gripped both your and Leila's hand in her lap and cried, telling you both she had never seen such a beautiful couple and she was so happy to have Leila officially in the family. She was so emotional that you started getting choked up as well. When she let you both go, you leaned over and gave her an extra kiss on the cheek.

"Can I get you anything, Granny?"

"No, dear. Go have fun," she said, patting your hand.

"You want a drink?" you asked Leila. She nodded and offered her hand. You placed your hand in hers and pulled her behind you into the kitchen. Uncle Mark made the booziest egg nog every year. But there was also an assortment of other drinks your cousins had presumably brought. "Egg nog?" Leila nodded. You filled two cups and handed one to her.

"Going right in for the strong stuff?" Uncle Mark asked from the doorway.

"Always. You remember Leila, right?" He nodded. "She's my girlfriend now," you said with a smile.

"That's awesome. Well welcome. Today will be the real test of if you can put up with this family," he said with a deep belly laugh.

"Oh my god, stop," you mumbled into your cup.

"I'm just kidding. Kind of," he mumbled. "Anyways, Luke's upstairs. He's been waiting for you to get here."

Your youngest cousin, Luke, loved football almost as much as you did. It's his dream to follow in your footsteps and play professionally. He came to as many of your matches as his parents would allow him to. Leila went to mingle while you went up to find him. You found him in the spare room watching old plays on his phone.

"Y/N! Hi!" He jumped off the bed to hug you, nearly knocking his head against your chin. "When'd you get here?"

"Hi, bud. We just got here a few minutes ago. What're you watching?" That question unleashed something in him, and he explained how he was watching clips from MLS in America, and he was trying to analyze whether he agreed with the calls made or not. He had read online that the refs in MLS were some of the worst in the world and he wanted to decide for himself whether he agreed with that or not. So far, he agreed. After about twenty minutes of letting him walk you through every play and the calls, you asked him if he remembered your friend, Leila Ouahabi. He nodded, his cheeks suddenly turning pink.

"She's really pretty," he whispered.

"I agree," you whispered back. "She's downstairs if you want to go say hi." His eyes got wide. "Go say hi. I'm sure she'd love to talk about football with you." He grabbed your hand and pulled you along behind him.

You caught Leila's eyes from the top of the stairs, and you pointed, trying to tell her he was coming down for her. For the next twenty minutes, Leila got a full recap of what you had just heard upstairs. She kept asking him follow-up questions and you could tell he got even more excited every time she interrupted him. At some point you wandered away to refill your egg nog and talk to some other people.

As the afternoon wore on, you made your way around the room, spending time with each of your family members. You made sure to keep an eye on Leila and to periodically relieve her from any uncomfortable conversations. It was during one of these that it happened. Your brother and Uncle Mark had their grips in her, grilling her about her intentions with me. You had caught a snippet of it as you passed and abruptly halted, slipping your hand around her waist.

"That's probably enough of that for today, don't you think?" you asked them, raising an eyebrow.

"No, I don't think so," James said. You saw his eyes flicker up briefly but didn't think anything of it.

"We need to know what's happening, kid," Uncle Mark said.

"We'll tell you when there's something to know," you assured him.

"It seems you've found yourself fallen victim to Gran's mistletoe this year," your aunt said from the couch, just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Have to give her a kiss, Leila. Granny's house, Granny's rules."

"Oh. Um, no, we're good, Aunt Lydia," you said.

"Rules are rules," Gran yelled, banging the tip of her cane against the floor.

"Rules are rules," Leila said. In a whisper, she added, "Come on, just one kiss and they'll leave us alone." She turned into you, the arm around her waist involuntarily dropping a little lower. She moved your hair behind your shoulders with the tips of her fingers. "Sorry for breaking your rule," she said. Cupping your face in her hands, she laid a small kiss on your lips.

"A real kiss for couples!" Gran yelled out. "You're young and in love. Anyone can see that. But right now, you look like cousins saying hello."

"Gran," you grumbled.

"Can't disappoint her," Leila said.

She brought your face close to her again, stopping when you were a hair’s breadth away. “Sorry for really breaking your rule,” she said. When you sucked in a deep breath, she closed her lips over yours. Your brain short circuited and your fingers reflexively dug into her waist. You ordered yourself to kiss her back. Couldn't have your family thinking you were shocked when your girlfriend kissed you. Her lips were unimaginably soft. When she touched her tongue to your lower lip, your heart dropped into your stomach.

As your hand came up to cup her cheek and bring her closer, she stepped back. Her face was flushed, and her lips were now tinged red from your lipstick. You reached your hand towards her to wipe it off, but her hand moved faster.

"Now that was much better," Gran said. "Good job, James."

You and Leila snapped your heads towards James. "James?" you growled. Normally it was Uncle Mark who helped Gran set up the house for Christmas and hid the mistletoe.

"James?" Leila asked, echoing you. But she sounded more hurt than anything. You looked back at her. She looked to be on the verge of tears.

"Leila, it's just a tradition," he tried to explain. He reached out towards her, and she backed away.

Confused by what was happening, you kept an arm around her for support. "Let's get a drink," you whispered to her.

"Yeah, anyone would need to cool down after that," one of your cousins yelled. You flipped him off as you led her away into the kitchen.

You grabbed two glasses and indicated towards the punch. She nodded. As you filled the cups, you said, "I'm sorry about that. I should've warned you about Granny's antics."

"It's alright, Y/N, I'm not upset about it."

You handed her one of the cups. "Are you sure?"

"Yup. Everything's fine." She sipped her punch, avoiding eye contact.

You didn't believe a word. That kiss had been fire, and you didn't think you were the only one still feeling it. You didn't feel "fine" and you were certain by Leila's reaction to James that something was wrong. "Okay, well. Um." Why did you feel awkward? "We can hide out in here for a few minutes but I'm sure someone else will be coming along soon to interrupt this momentary quiet space they've given us."

The two of you stood there in silence, sipping your drinks. You had never been at a loss for words with Leila before. You spent a lot of time in silence with each other, just hanging out, but it was never because either of you didn't know what to say.

Your thought was interrupted by Luke, wanting to ask Leila a question. She gave you a little smile. Lifting your hand, she pressed a little kiss to it before leaving with him to answer his questions.

You frowned down at your hand. There was a dull ache in your chest after that momentary glimpse of what it could be. That kiss had shifted something in you. Something you had buried a long time ago. You had tried so hard to suppress your feelings towards Leila. Pretending to be her girlfriend had to be one of your stupider ideas. Well, agreeing to pretend to be her girlfriend. Pretending at all was Leila's idea. You could curse her for that.

For the rest of the afternoon, you tried to calm yourself down and remind yourself it was only until tomorrow. A few days of pretending and then you'd go back to being friends. In a few weeks, you'd call your parents and tell them it hadn't worked out. Maybe the pressure of being on the same team would cause a falling out. It wouldn't be the first time your football career had caused a problem in your dating life. You'd probably text your brother and he'd come to Manchester to take you out for a pint. He'd threaten to hurt Leila for hurting you and you'd calm him down and reassure him that it was you who had ended it. And by the next holiday, they would barely remember that you had brought home Leila this year. Your mom would barely remember saying "aw" every time you shared something cute about your "relationship." Your dad would barely remember bonding with Leila over his new power tools. And James would barely remember joking with Leila around the dinner table.

Who were you kidding? Your family loved Leila almost more than you. They might never forgive you for "breaking up" with her.

You tried to engage in conversations with your family members and enjoy the holiday. But your eyes kept drifting back to Leila. And every time that happened, you grew a little sadder that this fake relationship was almost over.

During dinner, Leila sat down next to you. You ordered yourself to act happy and to not be awkward. You gave her smiles and casually touched her, as any couple would do. But you barely tasted your food. It went down like cement.

After dinner, your mom shooed everyone into the living room, saying that you and her would clean up. You worked in comfortable silence emptying food into containers while she washed the dishes. When you finished your task, you set to drying dishes so she'd have space for the steady stream of dishes she was still washing.

"How are you doing? Really?" she asked.

"I'm doing fine."

"You just seem a little down is all."

Maybe you weren't fooling anyone after all. "I'm okay. Just a lot on my mind." This lie felt worse than the little lies you'd told all day. In the past, you would have talked to your mom if you were crushing on someone or you were struggling with someone. But you couldn't this time. Because if you did, they would all know that you were a liar. And that Leila had helped you lie to them.

It was all feeling like too much.

"It's just football stuff. Nothing to worry about." At least you were setting some context for your future break up story.

"Okay," she said, not sounding at all convinced. After a few silent moments, she said, "I know we put a lot of pressure on you, but you can always talk to us. If you want."

"I know, mom. It's just football stuff," you said again. Thankfully, she let it go and you two continued to work in silence after that.

When you finished, you went to the living room to ask if anyone wanted tea. Everyone was now sitting around the fireplace, quietly talking. A few hands shot up. You quickly counted off how many you needed and went to the kitchen to boil the water. You arranged the cup and saucers on one of Gran's Christmas-themed trays.

As you took the tray around the room, you noticed both James and Leila were missing. You asked your dad if he'd seen them. He said they had gone out for a walk after dinner and hadn't come back yet. You glanced up at the clock. You'd finished dinner almost an hour ago. Looking out the window, you could see that it was still snowing outside. Frowning, you sat down next to him to sip your tea and wait for them while Simon read A Christmas Carol aloud.

They didn't come back for another half hour. Leila's eyes looked red, from the cold or from crying you couldn't tell. You raised your eyebrow at James, and he just smiled at you. He whispered something to Leila and then disappeared into the kitchen. She looked at you for a moment before coming to sit on the floor near you. You could feel her shivering and pulled the throw off the sofa to give her.

"Thank you." She took it and wrapped it tight around her.

"Why were you gone so long?" you whispered, still leaning down towards her.

"We were just talking."

"You okay?"

"Just tired. But I'm okay," she reassured. She squeezed your calf and gave you a half smile. "Ah, my prince," she said, lifting her hands when James walked in with two teacups.

"Anything for you, sis," he said with a wink. He sat down across from her on the floor, leaning back against the opposite sofa. The remainder of the evening, you kept catching them give each other looks. It was like they were having their own conversation, all without words, and all without anyone's input. You couldn't see Leila's face, but you could see her shoulders move every so often and see her shake her head.

Simon finished reading a little after 9pm. Everyone started moving, cleaning up the living room so Gran wouldn't be left with any mess. It took only 10 minutes with everyone's help. The end of A Christmas Carol always signaled the end of the night.

"Good night," you said, leaning over to give Gran a kiss on the cheek.

"Oh, good night, sweetheart. Thank you for bringing your sweet girlfriend for Christmas."

"I know she enjoyed being here too." You gave her one more hug, but she tightened her arm around your neck before you could stand up.

"Don't let her go. She's a special girl."

You couldn't say anything, tears caught in your throat. Instead, you smiled at her and nodded as you stood up straight.

The drive home felt endless, squished between your brother and Leila. Your earlier sadness at this charade ending tomorrow had morphed into desperation for it to end. When you got to the house, you helped unload the car before quickly saying good night and escaping to your room. You scooped up Dot on your way up. You needed the comfort of your pet tonight. Hot tears burned your eyes and soaked your pillow for the guilt of having put your family through this. Why had you ever thought this was the answer? Why had you ever agreed to let Leila come here? Dot snuggled into your side, and you kissed the top of her head, glad she wasn't protesting not being allowed to sleep in another room.

You don't know what time you eventually went to bed, but you know you were still crying when sleep took you.

In the morning, you quietly packed your bags before going down. The train was not until 11am. Your mom had promised to make a nice breakfast before you left. Figuring you should help with that, you dressed quickly and went downstairs.

"Good morning," your dad greeted. He was coming in from outside, shaking snow off his boots.

"Good morning, dad." You walked through to the kitchen. "Hi, mom."

"Ah you're up. Good morning." She stood at the counter, cutting onions.

"What can I help with?"

"Actually, do you mind going out to the garden? Leila asked me to have you come out when you woke up. She's been out there a while now."

"Oh. Um, okay." You didn't think you were prepared for this just yet. But they were both looking at you, waiting for you to move. "Right. Okay, I'll just grab my coat." You took your time getting your coat and shoes on.

You found her sitting on the garden wall. She looked really cold. The tip of her nose was red. She was frantically rubbing her hands together. "Leila?" She looked up at you. "Maybe we should talk inside? It'll be warmer."

"No. No, I don’t want anyone to hear this conversation."

"Okay." You stayed where you were, not sure if she wanted you to sit down or even move closer. "What do you want to talk about?"

"I've been thinking."

"I can see that."

"Just let me finish. I won't be able to finish if you talk in the middle." She nervously rubbed her hands over her thighs. "I don't have perfect words. I'm not really like poetic or whatever."

"What-"

"No. Wait. Look, these last couple days have been great. But I didn't think they would affect me as much as they have."

"What-"

"Shut up." She looked up at you. "I need to tell you that I'm yours. Have been for a while, if I'm being completely honest. I don't know if you want me. But I belong to you. I'm yours, if you want me."

You stood there, unmoving, staring at her, your jaw slack in astonishment. Your breath was coming out in little streams of fog.

"Now you're going to stand mute? You're stolen my heart, Y/N, the least you can do is tell me what you intend to do with it."

You'd never believed that hearts actually skipped a beat in moments like these but there was no other way to describe what was happening in your chest. Taking a few large steps towards her, you grabbed her lapel to bring her face closer to yours and kissed her. Your grip on her softened as she slowly stood, never breaking contact with you. Your hands moved up her neck so you could wrap your arms around her.

"Okay I'll take that as a response," she said, her eyes still closed.

Giggling, you kissed her again.

"Hmm. Yes. I'll definitely take that." She opened her eyes to look at you, her arms staying around your waist. "Do you. Um. Wait, will you be my real girlfriend?"

"I think I could manage that." You smiled brightly, playing with the hair on the back of her neck. "What're we going to tell my parents?"

"I think they already know," she said, pointing over your shoulder at the house. You turned to see the three of them squeezed together to see out the tiny side window. Your dad awkwardly waived while your brother just grinned, and your mom wiped a tear from her eye.

"How did they?"

"James figured it out the first night."

"Of course he did." You turned back to her. "Let's go inside, you're freezing." You took her hand in yours and pulled her towards the front of the house. This time when you walked in the door, you went as real girlfriends, instead of fake girlfriends. Your heart was at the fullest it had been in years.

Your mom was still crying as she rushed towards both of you, pulling you both into a hug. "Oh, my sweet girls!" She kissed the side of both of your heads. "I'm just so so happy for both of you."

"Thanks, mom," you said, hugging her back.

"Go, get warm," she said, stepping back and wiping more tears from her eyes. "Breakfast will be ready soon."

You took her to the living room, to the couch in front of the fire. Sitting down, you pulled her down with you and covered her with a blanket. The chill hadn't yet hit your bones, like it had Leila. You wrapped your arms around her to hold her close and transfer as much of your heat to her as you could.

"What're we going to tell the girls on Monday?" she asked.

"We'll just be honest."

"That I pretended to be your fake girlfriend because I thought it'd be the closet I got to being your real girlfriend and then your idiot brother played antics to actually make it real?"

"Maybe we can leave a few things out." She shivered again and you brought the blanket up more tightly around her. "How long were you out there?"

"Like an hour."

"Leila!"

"Girls, breakfast is ready," your dad called out.

When Leila stood up, you took off your jumper and gave it to her. "Wear this. It'll help." She pulled it over her head, and you straightened it when it got caught in her long sleeve shirt.

"Thanks."

Your mom had put together a full English breakfast. It wasn't typical that she made it all at once but during the holidays, especially on travel days, she liked to make sure everyone had enough food in their bellies. As everyone ate, you looked around the table. There was laughter and talking over each other. There was love and friendship. There was everything you'd ever wanted at this table. You'd never felt incomplete but somehow in this moment, you felt whole. Nothing really made sense to you either.

"Does this mean mom still wins the bet?" your dad asked.

"You can split it," you answered. "Just as long as James loses," you added with a huge smile.

"Hey, you would've ended up alone if I hadn't meddled," he said.

"Oh great. Now he's going to have a big head about that."

"You'll be too busy in your little love bubble to even notice how big my head is about to get," he retorted.

"Are they fighting or saying nice things?" Leila asked your mom.

"A little of both."

James ended up paying both your parents £50, although mom insisted she had won because Leila had asked to be your fake girlfriend and had been the first to say how she felt. But dad wasn't having it.

They dropped you at the train station, promising to come watch a match and visit soon. The train ride to Manchester was similar to the ride home for Christmas. Leila read while you and Dot slept. Except this time, she lifted the arm rest between you and opened her arm to let you more comfortably sleep on her shoulder. You slept peacefully all the way home to Manchester, cuddled into her side.

#leila ouahabi x reader #woso imagine #leila ouahabi #Leila Ouahabi imagine #woso x reader #man city women #espwnt imagine

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chelseacult · 6 months ago

Text

Love You A Little Bit

Leila Ouahabi x Reader

Summary: You're always encouraging Leila to practice her English.

Word Count: 6.5k

You knew facing Manchester United at Old Trafford wouldn’t be easy. The roaring applause every time a United player surges forward or makes a clean tackle. The solidity of their defense at your every attempt to attain a spot on the scoresheet. This environment was nothing new. Still, what you weren’t expecting was to walk off the pitch 2-0 down at halftime.

You walk up to Mary, who eagerly grabs her water bottle from the cooler. She sees you approaching and grabs yours too, holding it out in your direction.

“Thank you,” you say as you grab it from her. “If they keep intercepting my crosses, I’m gonna go crazy,” you add before chugging the rest of the water in your bottle.

“Keep trying! I’ll get on the end of one eventually. Probably,” Mary shrugs, laughing slightly before following suit and chugging the remnants from her water bottle. You let out a matching laugh at her words. Mary spares you a quick smile before she turns to converse with Alanna. With Mary’s attention elsewhere, you use this opportunity to search for the person you’re most eager to speak with. When your eyes finally land on Leila, she’s speaking with Jill near the city goal, both of them looking dispirited.

You start walking in their direction, crossing nearly half the field to reach them. You approach just as the two women are separating from a quick embrace that Leila initiated, your girlfriend ever the affectionate type. Jill gives your shoulder a reassuring squeeze as she walks past you.

“Score next time!” you call after her, glancing back with a grin. By the time she replies, you’re already looking at Leila, reaching a hand out for her, so you miss the matching grin you can hear in Jill��s voice. “You first!” Jill shouts back, continuing her walk to the locker room.

Leila stifles a laugh at the interaction, reaching for the hand that you have extended toward her. She turns and begins to lead you two off the pitch, only walking about a foot before you pull her back into a hug. She immediately melts into you, and you feel her hands pressing against the small of your back as you hold each other.

“45 more minutes. We’ve got this,” you attempt to console the woman in your arms. You feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath, the warmth of her body pressed against yours almost acting as a barrier from the commotion of the grueling first half. For a second, neither of you moves, just enjoying the shared warmth in the brisk Manchester weather. She eventually pulls back and nods, but you can tell she doesn’t really believe your words.

“Not if I keep playing like this,” Leila sighs heavily in frustration. Her shoulders slump ever so slightly as she removes her hands from your body and runs them down her face. You know her well enough to know that her thoughts are likely working against her after the team’s less-than-ideal defensive performance.

“I believe in you,” you speak softly, taking her hands gently in yours. You pull them up to your mouth to press a tender kiss to each set of knuckles. Her eyes search yours, looking for any indication that you’re not being completely truthful. Obviously, she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. But from the way her eyes soften, you’re guessing she likes what she finds there instead.

“My number one fan, hmm?” Leila teases, her voice lighter as she seems to perk up at your words. A faint smile pulls at the corners of her mouth, and the weight on her shoulders seems to lift a bit.

“Duh,” you speak confidently, leaving her no option but to fully believe your words this time. She rolls her eyes affectionately before lifting your hands to her mouth and mirroring your actions, placing a quick kiss on each knuckle. You’re not the least bit surprised at the warmth that erupts in your chest.

“Thief,” you say lightheartedly, referring to Leila copying your gesture. You’re completely aware that your voice sounds slightly winded as a result of feeling her lips on your skin. She moves your hands away from her mouth but keeps hold of them.

“I want you to feel how I felt when you did it to me,” she says earnestly. And while you’re still not surprised by the way she has your heart skipping a beat, you do still struggle to grapple with how she does it so effortlessly.

“How did you feel?” you can’t resist asking, hoping she’ll take the bait and reveal that she’s feeling everything you’re feeling right now.

“You tell me,” she urges with a tilt of her head, her smile widening.

“Excuse me! I asked you first,” you press further, amusement in your voice.

“I’ll answer for the both of you. You love each other. Amazing. Let’s go!” Khiara interrupts with a playful laugh that you both echo. She shuffles between you two, wraps one of her arms around both of your respective shoulders, and leads the way to the locker room.

Alex is already speaking by the time the three of you arrive at the locker room, the energy a mix of unintelligible conversation and low motivation. You and Leila walk over to your locker and settle on the bench perched in front of it. As you sit side by side, you begin to playfully take turns nudging each other’s leg, almost like a quiet game of footsie. You tune in to Alex’s words as she shifts her attention to the City defense.

“We need to talk about defense. They’re cutting through us like we’re not even there,” she speaks, looking back and forth between the other three defenders.

Kerstin is the first to respond. “Yeah, I don’t know what’s happening. I’m shattered. Anyone else think they got faster since the last time we played them?”

“Right? I was thinking the same thing. They’re barely letting me pass,” you agree. Kerstin enthusiastically nods and gestures a hand your way, silently emphasizing your words.

Leila, who had been sitting next to you quietly with her arms crossed, leans forward eagerly.

“It is because we are not keeping our shape. If Laia moves to the right by Kerstin and I stay left, they will move outside.” Leila stops her rant momentarily to look over at Alex. “Alex, you are always good. I have no advice.”

“I am already on the right! You are the one drifting,” Laia defends.

“I do not drift. I reposition to cover everyone else,” Leila argues back.

Alex holds back a grin at their arguing before allowing it to drop and speaking seriously. “I don’t know, Leila. If we’re spread too thin, they can manipulate the gaps.”

Viv chimes in. “Yeah, and like Kerstin said, their forwards are fast. If we force them out, there’s a chance we don’t recover.”

Leila’s face falls slightly. “It was just an idea,” she mutters under her breath, crossing her arms and leaning back slightly, her weight pressing against your side.

While your teammates brainstorm other ideas, you nudge her with your elbow, leaning in closer. “I think it’s a good idea,” you say softly.

“You are the only one,” she smiles slightly, but her gaze remains stuck on the floor. The faint scratches on the tiles hold her attention as if they’re the most interesting things she’s ever seen.

“Well, I matter the most,” you shrug before nudging her again, willing her to look at you. You notice that her smile has shifted into something more genuine when she shifts her attention to you. She reaches a hand forward and traces a finger down your cheek, her touch lingering for a minute.

“Alright, Leila, we’re trying your plan. It’s the best one we’ve got,” Alex decides. Leila attempts to hide the excitement in her nod as Alex continues. “Everyone needs to step it up. Cover for each other. We can’t keep giving them so much space to work with.” Everyone takes in her words before they begin to empty out of the locker room.

Leila turns to you as you both get up from the bench and begin to follow the others out of the room. “It will help if you go up the wing faster when we yell to press. If you are fast, we can counterattack,” she says encouragingly.

“Do you mean, like, a high press or just marking?” you ask for clarification as you reach the door, pressing your back against it to keep it open for her.

Leila stops in front of you as she searches for the right words. “When we all go forward. What is that?”

“Pressure?” you suggest. You reach up and brush a rogue piece of hair out of her face, and she absentmindedly leans into your touch.

“Sí! I said that,” she exclaims as grabs your hand, directing the two of you to begin walking toward the field again.

“You said ‘press,’ babe. It’s not the same,” you tease with a playful smile and a squeeze of her hand.

“English is ridiculous,” Leila sighs, throwing her head back exasperatedly, but she squeezes your hand back a couple times.

“It’s a good thing you have a live-in English tutor then,” Lauren jokes, having been listening to your conversation from behind you as you walk. She grins as you and Leila laugh in response, not waiting for either of you to reply before she rushes ahead of you and onto the pitch.

Leila straightens up and glances at you with a playful grin. “I do not need help. I am almost like a native speaker.”

“Because of me!” you insist with a matching grin, bumping the side of your body into hers.

“As a thank you, I buy you dinner when we get back home,” Leila offers as she slides her hand from yours. The smell of freshly cut grass takes over your senses as you step onto the pitch.

“Deal,” you reply. Leila shoots you one last smile before the two of you separate, running to your respective positions.

⟡

Leila’s plan was successful, aiding Manchester City in recording a 3-2 comeback win. United’s defense finally let you through long enough to set up a chance for Mary before netting two in the back of the net yourself.

At the final whistle, Leila beelines to you. “Vamos, mi amor!” she screams excitedly before wrapping her arms around you and lifting you off the ground for a minute.

“Two goals in two minutes! Increíble!” she adds, placing you back down on the grass. The way she’s smiling at you when she pulls back makes your knees weak, and you feel like you could melt into the grass beneath your feet. You hope the look on your face accurately reflects the amount of adoration you feel for her

“Enough about me, baby, you were amazing! I told you! 45 minutes was all we needed,” you tell her with matching excitement.

“We were amazing,” she counters, her smile unwavering.

“Yeah, you’re both amazing. Don’t forget my assist,” Jill interrupts with a smug grin and wink in your direction.

“Who passed you that ball, eh?” Leila reminds the midfielder, giving a gentle shove to Jill’s shoulder.

“I don’t remember,” she says with a shrug, her tone indicating that she absolutely does remember.

“Too distracted by my worldie?” you chime in, flashing Jill a grin. “I think the second goal was one of my best.”

Leila responds with an enthusiastic “It was!” at the same moment Jill says, “Of course not. You just got lucky.” Her remark earns a gasp from Leila.

“She was lucky two times?” Leila asks with raised eyebrows.

“Exactly,” Jill affirms, unable to keep the serious look on her face from turning into a smile.

“If you’re really that upset that you’re not on the scoresheet, I can bribe the officials to say one of my goals was yours,” you say with faux sympathy present in your voice and on your face, giving her arm a gentle squeeze.

Jill chuckles at your words. “Good. I think that’s fair, especially after how good my assist was.”

“You forgot I had to chase the ball halfway down the field before passing to you?” Leila asks, clearly amused.

“Fine, team effort,” Jill gives in. “But my assist made it cool.”

Before either of you can respond, a voice calls out from behind you. “Leila! [Y/N]! Interview time!”

Leila groans at the interruption, and you match her annoyance as you glare in the direction of the voice, neither of you fans of doing media. Jill only laughs, clearly amused by your irritation.

“Have fun!” Jill exclaims before you part ways with her, you and Leila heading to the woman waiting to interview you both on the sidelines.

You answer all of the interviewer’s questions with ease, the nervousness you’re feeling never once coming to the surface—one of your greatest strengths if you do say so yourself. When the woman shifts her questioning to Leila, you pass her the microphone that’s been residing in your hands for the last several minutes.

Through a thick accent, the interviewer speaks. “So, Leila, we heard from Alex that putting pressure high up the field was your idea! United seemed to really struggle with getting through the City side during the second half. What exactly did you see from United in the first half that made you think this was the right move?”

You can almost guarantee from the look on Leila’s face and her intense eye contact with the interviewer that she’s struggling to make out what exactly she’s being asked. Your assumption is confirmed upon Leila thrusting the microphone back into your hands, silently asking you to take this one.

You keep the microphone low to ensure it doesn’t pick up on the encouraging words you send Leila’s way—your words a combination of you can do it and don’t overthink it. You try to pass the microphone back to her, but she just stares down at it for a beat before glancing up at you with a pleading look in her eyes.

Despite your heart screaming at you to come to her aid, you’re completely confident in her ability to formulate an answer (even if she doesn’t feel that confidence herself), so you don’t budge. She eventually takes the microphone back and attempts to answer the question. She stumbles over her words here and there, but the encouraging nod you give her every time she glances your way seems to motivate her to keep trying.

“Thank you for your time, girls, and congratulations on the win!” the interviewer finally speaks, unknowingly providing Leila a lifeline. You both thank the woman in return. Leila quickly grabs your hand and drags you down the tunnel before coming to an abrupt stop once you’re a decent ways away from anyone else.

She drops your hand and turns to look at you, an unreadable expression on her face. Still, you have an idea about why she might be staring at you like this.

“Don’t be mad at me. You did good!” you reassure as you step closer to her, wrapping your arms around her waist and smiling up at her.

Her resolve falters at that, wrapping her arms around your neck in return. “You are lucky I love you. It was embarrassing.”

“You don’t need my help, remember? You’re like a native speaker,” you tease her with reference to her comment during halftime. She purses her lips and holds back a smile. You do the opposite, letting out a laugh that prompts her to let her smile appear. She shortly follows in your footsteps and joins in your laughter.

“That reminds me,” Leila starts, moving her hands down to your hips and pushing you back against the tunnel wall with a soft thud.

She leans in, and she’s close enough that you can feel her breath on your ear. She just hovers there, breathing against you, and you struggle to contain the shiver that makes its way through your body. She places several featherlight kisses on the shell of your ear, one of her hands trailing down your neck and resting in the curve between your neck and shoulder. Her thumb runs along your collarbone.

“Dinner is on you,” she whispers. She punctuates her words with a light tug of your earlobe between her teeth before pulling away from you completely. You exhale, only now realizing you’d been holding your breath. It takes you a minute to realize that she’s waiting for you to take her outstretched hand, only noticing because she’s wiggling her fingers. She laughs at your delay as you reach for it, interlocking your fingers with hers and allowing her to lead the way to the locker room.

⟡

“No, absolutamente no. No voy a hacer eso,” Leila adamantly declines your suggestion to speak to the restaurant staff in English.

“This is the perfect time to practice,” you encourage her with a smile and a squeeze of her knee. She groans and drops her head onto your shoulder, nuzzling into your neck. She mumbles something under her breath that you struggle to make out, but the feeling of her breath on your neck gives you goosebumps. You grab the menu with one hand while your other hand wraps around her.

“Babe, look, spaghetti. You can say that, no problem.” You manually move her head off of your shoulder and point to the menu. She sits up begrudgingly before looking at the menu and then back at you with an unimpressed expression.

“Come on, practice with me. Pretend I’m the waitress,” you attempt to convince the stubborn woman sitting next to you.

She smirks at that, raising her eyebrows and leaning a bit closer. “I did not know you like roleplay, bebé.” You scoff and push her away, unable to stop the corners of your mouth from turning up into a smile despite how hard you try.

“We will talk about that later,” Leila affirms with a peck to your shoulder before looking back down at the menu. “Spaghetti,” she mumbles to herself.

You wait for her to look up at you before speaking. “Hello, I’ll be your waitress tonight. What can I get for you?” you say in your best customer service voice.

She briefly hesitates before speaking in your direction. “Hola, I want spaghetti, please,” she matches your false excitement, keeping her eyes on you and waiting for your approval.

“Perfect! Just say ‘hello’ instead of ‘hola,’” you remind your girlfriend.

“Ah, sí. Hello,” she smiles at you.

“Hi,” you smile back. Leila laughs that infectious laugh of hers that you’ll never tire of hearing. Your heart still flutters every time you hear it, especially when it results from something you’ve said.

She scoots even closer, leaving almost no space between your bodies. She cups your face with both hands and quickly kisses your lips several times before pulling back slightly, her thumbs moving languidly along the curve of your jaw.

“We cannot do this if I am on the other side,” she refers to her constant insistence that you both sit on the same side of the booth when you go out, citing a desire to be near you whenever possible. You roll your eyes at her statement now, just as you did when she first joined you on your side of the booth all those years ago with the same reasoning. The small smile on your face both times tells her that your eye roll isn’t malicious.

When the waitress approaches your table, you put some space between the two of you but grab her hand to keep some contact. The waitress introduces herself and takes your order before turning toward Leila. “And for you?” she asks kindly.

Leila hesitates for a moment and glances over at you. You give her an encouraging nod before she looks back over at the waitress. Leila opens her mouth before shutting it again and pointing to the spaghetti on the menu.

“Spaghetti?” the waitress confirms, and Leila nods. “Good choice. We’ll have your food out shortly.”

“Thank you,” you say as the waitress walks away before you turn to Leila, who is seemingly avoiding eye contact with you.

“Leila!” you gently nudge her shoulder with yours.

“Qué? I order spaghetti like you said. You should be proud of me,” she shrugs and smiles smugly.

“You were supposed to use words like we practiced,” you punctuate your complaint with a gentle nudge of your knee against hers.

She shrugs again, “Same result. I do not even like spaghetti a lot. You should have picked something else for me to get,” Leila says with a dismissive wave in your direction.

“You should’ve looked through the menu yourself,” you exclaim, “you had ample time to change what you were getting. We were waiting for like an hour.”

“I focus on saying it right. Then the woman was here, and too late,” Leila trails off with a sigh.

Before you can comprehend what she’s doing, Leila grabs the straw out of her drink and flicks it toward you. A tiny splash of soda splattering across your arm and shirt. The cold droplets make you flinch slightly, and your ears are graced with her laugh again.

“Oops,” she says. Her voice is heavy with mock innocence, clearly not sorry as she twirls the straw between her fingers.

You gasp. “And to think I was just about to offer you half of my pizza!” You move your hand with the intention of grabbing your straw to do the same thing she did, but her hand darts out and grabs it before you can. She places a kiss on the back of it before scooting near you again.

“Oh, lo siento. Lo siento.” She repeats the words a few times, cupping one side of your face and kissing your cheek after every couple of words. Her face remains just inches from yours when she asks, “What flavor is the pizza?”

“You were sitting right there when I ordered. Were you not paying attention to me?” you ask, feigning offense.

“No, no, I was busy looking at how beautiful you are. Obviamente!” Leila says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, placing one last playful, sloppy kiss on your cheek. You dramatically wipe the remnants of her kiss off your face.

“Pineapple,” you reveal before she can comment on your wiping off her kiss. She makes a noise of disgust and looks at you with a face of pure disbelief, like she genuinely can’t fathom why someone would order such an entree.

“Ugh, no good. Eres tan rara.” Despite her words, she wraps her arms around your neck and leans into you. You follow her lead and wrap your arms around her, leaning your head on hers.

“Spaghetti for you then, my love,” you say before placing a matching kiss on her temple, although she doesn’t wipe yours off.

⟡

The blaring sound of your alarm is a stark contrast to the warm, peaceful energy that had previously encompassed the room. The Spaniard wrapped around you makes no move to reach over and end the disturbance, and neither do you. A silent battle that you two partake in every morning. Leila’s eventual stirring lets you know that she’ll likely be the one to fold this morning. But, for the moment, she tightens her hold on you.

“Mmm, estúpido despertador. Quiero que desaparezca,” she murmurs into your hair as you nuzzle further into her chest, stalling her leaving the bed momentarily. Exhaustion typically draws Leila back to the comfort of her native language. Having just woken up, it takes you a minute to catch her Spanish words before replying.

“It was your idea to put it on the dresser,” you whisper wearily before reluctantly pulling away from her embrace to allow her to get up.

“You should have told me not to do it.” She attempts to crawl over you to climb out of the bed, but your hands dart out, firmly grasping her hips. The sudden halt stops Leila in her path and leaves her straddling you.

One of your hands moves to the back of her neck, pulling her mouth to hover just near yours. You pay her soft gasp no mind as you mutter, “I did tell you,” against her lips. Before she has a chance to reply, you lean up and press your lips to hers, albeit a little too passionately for this early in the morning. Not that she minds, judging by the way she kisses you back with matching, feverish intensity.

Leila pulls back, one hand gripping yours to remove it from her neck. Her free hand pries your other hand away from her hip, which still holds firmly.

“A little early for you, no?” she asks rhetorically with a smirk before pinning your hands to the bed.

She leans closer to you, not close enough to kiss but close enough that you can feel every breath she takes. She just stares down at you, and you swear her eyes darken the longer she looks. The unmistakable heat in her gaze almost makes you shiver.

She leans in again, brushing her lips against yours for a split second before changing directions and pressing them to your neck. She places a few warm kisses up the juncture of your neck, eventually switching between sucking and gently biting. It’s your turn to gasp when she focuses all of her attention on the sensitive spot behind your ear.

“Olvidé que eres sensible ahí mismo,” she pulls back to whisper alluringly in your ear before focusing her attention on the matching spot on the other side of your neck. It also takes you a minute to translate this sentence, but this time, it’s for an entirely different reason.

The feeling of her mouth, teasing and deliberate, paired with the growing heat between you, is enough to distract from the ringing of the alarm clock that Leila still hasn’t shut off—until it isn’t.

Leila pulls back again, quickly kissing your lips before climbing out of the bed. “Lo siento, cariño, that ringing is making me crazy,” she notes before continuing her earlier pursuit of turning off the alarm.

“Why?” you trail off with a dramatic groan, pulling the blanket to cover your eyes as Leila also opens the curtains while she’s up.

“Sun is good for you.” Leila trails back over you and sits on the edge of the bed before attempting to pull the comforter down to reveal your face. You let her do so only to glare up at her. It’s short-lived though as you’re unable to stop the smile that takes over your face upon seeing her grin down at you. This inability to stay serious around her remains a constant struggle.

“We’re in the sun enough during practice.”

“No practice today, so we do this,” Leila gestures over to the window that has quickly become the bane of your existence. “Get up, por favor,” she says with a gentle shake of your shoulders.

“Why?” you question her for a second time.

“Because. Vamos, levantarse!” she answers vaguely, standing up from the bed and grabbing your hand to pull you up into a sitting position. She begins to walk toward the doorway while you remain seated on your bed.

“I’m not convinced,” you call after her.

“I will see you downstairs,” she calls back, flashing you a smile before exiting the room, completely aware that you’ll follow shortly after.

After scrolling on your phone for several minutes, you finally rise up from the bed. You close the curtains that your girlfriend so rudely opened and begin to make your way to the kitchen where she likely resides, if the smell of roasting coffee beans is anything to go by.

Leila is standing near the coffee pot with a bewildered look on her face when you enter the kitchen. Her confusion quickly turns into a smile when she notices your presence. She picks up the full mug of coffee resting on the counter.

“Para ti, mi vida,” she says as she extends the mug toward you.

“English, remember,” you remind her, taking the coffee from her hands and kissing her on the cheek in return. “Thank you, baby.”

“You did not care about my Spanish earlier this morning.” Leila places her hands on your waist, pulling you into her slightly. You smile at her over the top of the mug as you bring it up to your mouth and take a sip. If you’re using the mug to shield the slight flush that has overtaken your face as a result of her words, that’s no one’s business but yours.

As the coffee hits your tastebuds, your face instantly contorts in disgust. Without thinking, you spit it back into the cup. Leila’s face drops at your actions, and she pulls away from you.

“Ugh, see! This is not working anymore,” Leila says, annoyance present in her voice as she looks at you.

You can’t help the way your heart slightly drops at her words. “What’s not working?”

“This,” she repeats and gestures rapidly between the two of you. She offers no further explanation, but you note the seriousness on her face. You look down at the mug in your hands, hoping that somewhere in the coffee resides the answer to your question. But the liquid offers no answers. You glance back up at her.

“We’re not working anymore?” you press with your eyebrows raised. You’re sure your internal bafflement is being reflected by the look on your face.

“No. Obviously, we are not,” she says again. The way your heart drops only amplifies at her clarification. You place the mug down on the counter and step closer to her. She notices the confusion on your face and continues speaking before you can ask any follow-up questions.

“This,” she starts, walking over to where the coffee machine sits on the counter, “is not working. I cannot make coffee for you in this machine. It is too old.” She inspects the machine, similar to how you inspected your coffee just now. She’s likely looking for answers just as you did, though her question concerns the machine’s ability to work properly where yours regarded the state of your relationship.

“You’re talking about the coffee machine?” you ask, letting out a sigh of relief before she even confirms the miscommunication.

“Yes,” she answers, your earlier confusion now being reflected on her face as she notices your reaction to her words. “Está bien. If you want to keep it, we can. I will keep trying,” she says comfortingly, unaware of the internal turmoil you just experienced.

“No, you’re right, it’s old. We can get a new one,” you say, still reeling. You reach over for your mug before thinking better of it and placing it back on the counter.

“Why are you being weird?” she asks with a nervous laugh as she reaches around you to grab your mug from the counter. She turns toward the sink and dumps the coffee down the drain.

“I’m not,” you respond, moving around the counter to sit on the stool across from her. Leila remains standing in the kitchen, her disapproving hum barely audible over the quiet clink of her placing the mug in the dishwasher.

“You are,” Leila counters as she shuts the dishwasher and focuses all of her attention on you. When you don’t reply, she tilts her head slightly, raising one of her eyebrows.

“It’s fine. I’m fine, Lei,” you brush it off, hoping she won’t press you any further.

“Tell meee,” she draws out as she follows your earlier path, rounding the corner and coming up behind you. She wraps her arms around your waist and rests her head on your shoulder. “Tell me!” she demands again, giving your body a gentle shake. You’re nearly certain from her tone that she’s pouting at you.

“I-,” you start, but before you can get any more words out, Leila turns your stool around so you’re facing in her direction. “I thought you were trying to say that our relationship isn’t working,” you reveal quietly, looking away from her intense eye contact for a moment, slightly embarrassed at your misunderstanding.

Her face falls. “Ah, no! Nunca, mi vida. It is perfect,” she reassures earnestly before pulling you into a tight hug, lifting her leg to rest her bent knee on the side of the stool you’re sitting on, leaning closer to you. You hug her back without a second thought (or, really, without a first conscious thought). She pulls back after a prolonged minute or so.

“Now you know how it feels,” she refers to your misinterpretation of her earlier words, Leila typically the one to misunderstand what you’re saying when you speak English with each other.

“Is it this embarrassing for you every time?” She considers your question briefly, eventually deciding on a simple “No.”

“Whatever,” you mutter and gently push her away. The lack of effort in your action tells her that you don’t actually want her to move away from you. You share a smile as she indeed picks up on this and leans back in, resting her forehead on yours.

“This is why I work on my English. And you work on your English teaching skills,” she teases.

You let out a sound that’s a mix between a laugh and a gasp. “I try my best. My student is difficult sometimes.”

“Grosero. I am easy.” You hold back a smirk at the innuendo in her words, the double meaning completely lost on her.

“Yes, you are,” you agree, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on her forehead in an attempt to hide the growing grin on your face.

“You are laughing?” You shake your head at her question and pull her into another hug, hoping it’ll distract her from the conversation.

It does.

⟡

“Leila!” you groan as she steals the ball right from under your feet.

“I am too fast for you, amor, eh?” she teases as she runs past you, a smirk present on her face.

“Show-off,” you mutter upon closing the distance that she put between you. She gently kicks the ball back over to you, and you pass it back. The two of you fall into a steady back and forth as the ball bounces between your feet.

“I have an idea,” Leila eventually says, resting her foot on the ball you’ve just passed her way. “You run past me and score. I defend.”

“Easy,” you say confidently, gesturing in a silent ask for the ball back.

“Vale, show me,” she says before kicking the ball back in your direction, gesturing for you to start running.

At her insistence, you start running down the field with the ball at your feet. You’ve barely run for ten seconds before she’s intercepting your path with a tackle that sends you to the ground. You groan again as she successfully ruins your plan for the second time.

She jumps to her feet, rushing over to where you’re sprawled out dramatically. “Estás bien?” she asks, and you can hear the concern in her voice. You nod as she offers you both of her hands, but before she can pull you up, you tug her down to the ground with you. You share a laugh as she lands beside you before she leans closer, her face hovering just above yours. She looks down at you with a smirk that you’re no stranger to. “That was me going easy on you, by the way.”

“You’re annoying,” you say with a roll of your eyes as you reach up to brush a piece of her hair behind her ear.

Despite your words, her smirk softens into something warmer. “You love me still, sí?”

“Obviously,” you say lightly. She looks at you expectantly, and you know exactly what she’s waiting for. “I love you,” you borderline whisper. Disregarding the annoyance you were just feeling toward the Spanish woman, you attempt to pour all the love you can muster into your declaration. She deserves it.

“Hmm, how much?”

“Too much for me to comprehend sometimes,” you admit. Sometimes you’re awed by how soft she makes you. Her gaze softens at your words, the affection in her eyes matching that which is present in yours whenever you so much as think about her.

“Te quiero tantito,” she murmurs as her fingertips brush up and down your arm. You’re not surprised in the slightest at the feeling of goosebumps that follows.

You tilt your head. “Tantito? What is that?”

“It means, ‘I love you a little bit.’” Her lips turn up into a half-smile.

“A little bit?” you say with a raised eyebrow in disbelief. A flicker of amusement crosses her face before she lets out a soft laugh, her smile growing into a full grin.

“Mhm. It is like a joke, no? Because, obviously, I love you a lot,” she corrects. “Maybe we stop with my English and focus on your Spanish.”

You give her a smile in return and shake your head.

“We can start lessons now. Say ‘golazo.’ The thing you did not score past me,” she clarifies with a laugh, this one more hearty than the one she graced your ears with moments ago. You’re unable to stop the laugh that she pulls from you.

“Golazo. You’ve taught me that word already,” you remind her.

“Oh, bien! That means ‘good.’” Before you can reiterate that your Spanish knowledge isn’t this limited, she continues with a grin. “Now you say, ‘Leila es el amor de mi vida.’”

Your cheeks warm as you’re again able to make out what she’s wanting you to say. You hold her gaze. “Leila es el amor de mi vida,” you say, sincerity present in your voice.

Her grin melts into something tender. “Good job,” she murmurs, the adoration in her voice impossible to miss. She leans down to kiss you, and you bask in it for a minute before she pulls back, lingering close enough for her breath to merge with yours. “It means-”

“I know what it means, baby,” you cut her off gently, your heart skipping a beat at the feeling of her so close.

“What about this one? ‘Tú también eres el amor de mi vida,’” she asks, adoration still present in both her voice and the way she’s gazing down at you.

“Thank god. Imagine how embarrassing it would’ve been for me if I wasn’t yours,” you reply, only half joking and once again not needing her translation.

Her laugh rings out, and you can’t imagine being happy without hearing it every day for the rest of your life.

a/n: honestly this wasn’t supposed to be this long but I got carried away and kinda veered off course. anyway I don’t know a word of spanish and used google translate so please feel free to tell me if anything needs editing! thank you!!!

#leila ouahabi #leila ouahabi x reader #leila ouahabi imagine #manchester city women #man city women #manchester city wfc #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso blurbs #woso one shot #woso community

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wosospacegirl · 5 days ago

Text

MVP - reader x alexia x leila

Summary: lesbian sex between reader, Leila, and Alexia- that's all I have to say.

Warnings: SMUT (+18); threesome; strap (r receiving) oral (r giving and receiving); fingering (r receiving).

A/n: guys, I'm not very good at writing smut with more than two characters, but I hope this is ok. sorry for any typos, I literally haven't had a glass of water since I began writing this two hours ago.

When Alexia sat you down and told you she wanted to make your sex life more enticing, you hesitated for a moment.

No one had touched you before Alexia; she was the only one to have her mouth on your cunt, the only one to make you cum in less than five minutes, the only one allowed to see you naked and worship you.

Alexia was proud of that, too. Cocky, even to be the only one for you, to be the only fingers that had ever touched your body.

That's why you were rather surprised when Alexia was the one who brought up Leila Ouahabi.

Alexia and Leila were teammates on the Spanish national team. You didn't know much about her, except that she was also Alexia's friend.

What was supposed to be a casual thing turned into something else entirely.

Before any of you could notice, the three of you had created this intoxicating relationship. It wasn't planned or premeditated, it just…happened.

Maybe it was the tender way Leila treated you after you came down from your climaxes in bed. Perhaps it was how she always brushed Alexia's hair after matches. It could be a lot of things, small details, and moments that led to this one.

The team had just beaten Belgium, and your two girlfriends were riding that post-match high. And even you were feeling it, even though you were just watching from the stands.

You knew it was going to be a long night, mostly because of how wet you got when you saw Alexia wrapping her arms around Leila.

How she kissed Leila's shoulder and how Leila pressed her lips against Alexia's temple in such an intimate way that made you feel a little bit jealous not to be there on the pitch as well.

You knew you needed both of them. Needed them like they were a physiological demand of your body.

You were used to waiting for them after games, but it seemed like the post-match showers and media were taking way longer than necessary.

So much so that you decided to wait for them in the hotel room, the one Alexia had booked specifically for the three of you to share.

It was on a separate floor from the rest of the team. Alexia chose it because of privacy. You didn't want prying eyes or prying ears.

You had already showered and were now waiting for them in nothing but one of Leila's shirts, it was the same one that she had tossed on the bedroom floor that morning when Alexia woke her up with her mouth on her.

Thankfully, it didn't take long for them to walk in.

They looked tired, but the second they saw your bare thighs and hard nipples poking through the thin fabric of the shirt, their faces shifted, almost instantly.

You could only describe their expression as that of predators hunting for their next prey.

Alexia got to you first; her feet were heavy on the wood floor.

She wrapped her arms around your waist, bringing you close until your lower abdomen was pressed against her.

"Hola, mi amor," she said, pecking your lips as her hands boldly groped your ass. "Proud of us?"

"Uh huh," you nodded, your eyes closing as she began kissing your neck, leaving a wet trail on your jaw as well.ç

Leila was quickly behind Alexia now. She wrapped her arms around the captain's waist and moved her hair to the side to kiss the tattoo on the back of her neck.

"Did you see Alexia's goal, cariño?" Leila asked, her voice raspy, probably from being in the rain during the match. "She's our MVP."

"I did. I was screaming a lot for her," you replied.

Alexia lifted the hem of your shirt, tossing it aside and leaving you completely bare in front of them while Leila kept kissing Alexia's neck; by the way she was shivering, it was obvious she was struggling to focus on you, and not on Leila's mouth.

"I wonder if we can make you scream in here, too, no?" Alexia twisted your nipples, towering over you.

The only reason she wasn't completely on top of you already was because of Leila's firm hand holding her in place.

"Of course, we can," Leila chuckled rather sarcastically. "We can do whatever we want with her, Ale. Right, cariño?"

"Yes," you answered quickly as Alexia's lips wrapped around your nipple, sucking so slowly it made you moan.

"Look at me," Leila said in that voice, the one that meant business.

You did as you were told. You were very good at following orders.

"You'll let me and Alexia take care of you?" Leila asked, her fingers tilting your chin up. Alexia's mouth never leaving your tits.

"We're still very high on adrenaline," she continued, with a grin. "We need our little doll."

"Your tits taste so good," Alexia murmured, now leaving what felt like three hickeys on each breast. "Can only imagine how your cunt tastes right now."

You weren't exactly sure how you ended up on the bed on all fours.

But Alexia was eating you out from behind, her tongue rubbing your clit raw while your face was buried right in front of Leila's cunt, she was sitting pretty on the bed, her back against the headboard, slowly pleasuring herself with her fingers as you stared.

Just stared.

Turns out, Leila thought you had to earn her cunt, so she left you there, watching her wet pussy, smelling her, while Alexia so slowly penetrated you with two fingers, her tongue making eight-figurrs on your clit.

You couldn't think straight, not with the way your walls were welcoming Alexia's fingers, not with how deep they were.

Alexia always had long fingers, but it never stopped surprising you how easily she could reach your G-spot.

You wanted to lean over and lick Leila's pussy clean. It had been so long since she had let you have a taste.

Normally, she preferred to be more on the giving side, but still, you were so good to them today, you deserved it.

You wore the personalised shirt with both their names on it. You waited patiently for them, never once complaining about how much time they spent training. You just wanted to taste Leila…just that.

"Tell me about your view, amor, "Alexia said, pulling her mouth off you, making you whine. You didn't like it when she stopped. "Tell me, and I'll keep eating you out."

You looked up at Leila, giving her your biggest puppy eyes, but she only looked at you like she had you wrapped around her finger, which she did. Your eyes dropped again, back to her core.

"Leila's rubbing her clit with her index finger," you managed to say, your breath growing more shallow as Alexia added a third finger, her tongue spreading your wetness across your folds. "And–"

"And what?" Leila asked, raising an eyebrow. The hand she wasn't using came to your face, cupping your cheek. "What do you want me to do next?"

It seemed like you had forgotten how to speak. But Leila was staring you down, clearly impatient, and you knew Alexia would take her mouth off you again if you didn't answer soon.

"I–I want you to put a finger inside," you said, eyes rolling back as Alexia sucked on your clit.

"You want me to finger myself, cariño?" Leila's condescending tone only made you wetter, pulling you closer to the edge.

"Y-yes, please?"

"You're so polite, aren't you?" Leila stopped touching herself, only to bring her hand to your mouth, tapping your lips so you would open them.

Her fingers tasted like her cunt, and you welcomed them eagerly, sucking them in, getting them nice and wet, ready for her.

"Our good girl," Leila praised, watching you as she twisted her fingers inside your mouth before pulling them out, with a thin string of saliva connecting you both. "You got me nice and ready."

Without wasting another second, Leila slipped a finger inside herself, then another.

She began thrusting, almost in sync with the way Alexia was fucking you.

The wicked sounds filled the room, obfuscating the rain that poured over Switzerland.

"You look so good on all four, baby," Leila said. "All spread open for Alexia to do whatever she wants with you."

"I-'im close," you whined. "Please, please…can I?"

Leila added a third finger inside herself, her mouth agape as she kept thrusting. "Fuck, yeah, baby, cum with me. Alexia's gonna make you cum, sí?"

Alexia was probably paying attention to what Leila said, because she curled her fingers in that way, making you cum on the spot.

You felt that all-too-familiar wave rush through you, the ecstasy, the warmth, all at once.

Your arms and knees were too tired to hold you up, so you let yourself collapse onto the mattress, head still facing Leila's cunt.

Her fingers were still working her close to the edge. Alexia had taken her fingers out of you and was now kissing the inside of your thighs, gentle pecks were being scattered across your body as you looked up and watched Leila on the edge.

You watched in pure devotion as Leila parted her lips, her eyebrows furrowing, her hips shaking as she came.

She wasn't a moaner. She nor Alexia really were, but you still caught the soft noises she made as she rode her high.

She leaned her head against the headboard, chest rising and falling as she caught her breath.

But Leila was the only one who got a break.

Because it didn't take long before you felt a different pressure on your back.

Alexia was on top of you, lying fully against your back as she cupped Leila's face, pulled her closer, and kissed her deeply.

And that's when you felt it, something pressing at your cunt.

Somehow…somewhere, Alexia had gotten the strap. When had she even put the harness on? You didn't know. You weren't sure of anything in your current state of mind.

Alexia didn't ask, she didn't give any warning when she worked her hips into you, filling you up completely with the strap.

"So fucking tight," Alexia murmured against Leila's lips.

"Ugh–" You moaned, your face squished into the pillow as Alexia and Leila kept kissing, slow and deep.

It was as if you weren't even there, like their whole focus was on each other, and you were just their toy to use however they wanted.

When they finally broke the kiss (probably from lack of air), Leila spread her legs wider and shifted closer to your face. She cupped your cheek and guided your head right next to her cunt.

"You can eat me out now," Leila purred. "Go on, make me cum, doll."

You were more than happy to obey.

You ate Leila out messily and slowly, desperate to taste her in every centimetre of your tongue while Alexia kept thrusting into you from behind.

Alexia held your hips down, pressing your body flat against the mattress, grinding into you deeply as she and Leila shared more kisses than you could count.

Hours later, you were lying right in the middle of them. Leila was out; she had fallen asleep almost immediately after you gave her an orgasm with your mouth.

But that didn't mean things had stopped between you and Alexia.

She had fucked you with her strap until you had drenched the sheets; she didn't stop until you begged her to.

You were laid curled into Leila's side, your face tucked closer to her chest as Alexia spread your legs again and cleaned your cunt with her tongue.

But Alexia couldn't help herself.

She caught your clit in her mouth and sucked it until you came all over again. You nearly woke poor Leila in the process.

When Alexia finally laid down to rest, her face had that cocky little grin that you knew well enough.

She kissed Leila's forehead, then pressed a softer kiss to your cheek.

"I fucking love the euros," Alexia grinned, wrapping her arms around both you and Leila.

"Of course you do," You mumbled in a small voice, eyes already closing. "Miss MVP."

"Your MVP," she said cheekily. "Yours and Leila's."

A/n: I hope u guys liked it!

Tag list: @footy-lover264 , @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics @riyaexee

#woso x reader #woso fanfic #woso smut #alexia putellas smut #leila ouahabi smut #leila ouahabi #alexia putellas #wlw fanfic #wlw smut #alexia and leila

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moonlight-alexia · 3 months ago

Text

...you called | l.o.

leila ouahabi x reader | 2.4k | late night, tipsy confessions after leila comes to get you

ˏˋ°•*⁀ first time writing for leila so i hope you all like it!! and hope you like the way i write! hope i wrote her in a way y'all like <3

any and all feedback, comments, reblogs etc are very appreciated and welcome <3

Leila jolted awake when her phone started buzzing in her hand. The tv was suddenly too loud and too bright, her neck hurt slightly from having unintentionally fallen asleep on the couch and the buzzing was insistent. Shaking the sleep from her head, a little grumble under her breath, before she looked down at her phone to see a photo of you and Leila.

The photo was from a night out with the team celebrating after an important win. Leila’s eyes softened and the corner of her lips curled up into a small smile. She always loved that photo of the two of you. The photo distracted her for longer than she would like to admit before she realised, the photo was on her screen because you were calling her. You were calling her at two in the morning.

Leila knew you were going out with your best friend tonight. Your non-footballer, so called, best friend who she’d overhead calling football boring and a waste of your time because you couldn’t go out with her every night, you couldn’t always party with her.

You knew calling this girl you’d gone out with tonight your best friend still was a stretch and if you were being honest, you would’ve preferred to be spending your night in but she’d been your best friend for years and you felt like you owed her this night out. Had you known you’d end up completely alone, you wouldn’t have gone out at all.

Alone, cold and you’d definitely had too much to drink. Wrapping your arm around yourself as tightly as you could, trying to keep warm in the cold, dark and slightly rainy night. You leaned against the wall of the bar you’d just been inside, shivering slightly when your exposed back hit the cold brick wall.

‘Please pick up,’ You mumbled under your breath, holding your phone to your ear. Hoping that Leila would answer. If she didn’t answer you don’t know who else you’d call, not that there wasn’t anyone else you could’ve called, you knew any of your teammates would help you. But if you were being honest you just wanted Leila right now.

Leila was definitely your best friend, a real best friend unlike the one who’s left you all alone in the middle of the night to do god knows what. You’d both gotten quite close over the few years Leila’s been with you at city.

‘Hola,’ The rasp of Leila’s voice came through your phone. It was like the warmth of her voice had reached through the phone and washed over you like a comforting blanket. For a moment you forgot about the chill in the air and the little water drops that had accumulated on your arms from the light rain, ‘Ami?’

Leila was about to assume that you’d just accidentally called her, even though you were outside she could still hear the faint sounds of the music that was coming from the bar. There was a light smile on her face, thinking that you were just enjoying yourself, so she stayed on the line a little longer.

Though her smile was wiped almost as quick as it came when she heard your faint little sniffles. Hearing Leila’s voice, the comfort it had given you in such a short time, you didn’t realise you’d been holding back some tears. You knew this had been a few years coming, your friendship had been slowly dying and you didn’t want to accept it. Always hard to let a friend go who had once supported you through the early stages of your career.

Leila knew you weren’t the kind of drunk who cries for no good reason, or just over any little thing. She’s gone out with you enough to know you are the complete opposite when you’ve had a few too many, ‘Cari, I’m here,’

‘Lei,’ You sniffled, trying to hug yourself tighter than before, ‘She-she left me…all alone. Maybe she’s right and I’m just boring and no fun anymore,’

‘Ay no, don’t listen to her,’ Leila’s voice was laced with concern while she stumbled over the blanket she had wrapped around her trying to get up from the couch, ‘You are so fun to be around and if she can’t see what I- we all see, then she doesn’t deserve to have you around,’

‘Dios mío, you are alone?’ Leila suddenly exclaimed when she properly realised what you had said just before. A frown on her face, only managed to put one shoe on before her hand was extending out in disbelief then pinching the bridge of her nose. If she ever saw this girl again Leila would give her an earful, or just a perfectly practiced deadpan glare and some spanish curses muttered under her breath.

‘It’s fine Lei,’ Sniffling, you’d slid down the wall, just a small ball on the sidewalk next to the bar, ‘I’ll get home safe. I’ll message you later,’ You could feel the alcohol slowly wearing off, eyes half closed, the warmth of hearing Leila’s voice kept you from properly feeling how cold you were. The idea of pulling yourself up off the sidewalk and figuring out how to get home felt really unappealing.

‘Amor…’ Leila had accidentally fallen asleep on the couch, phone in hand, waiting for you to let her know you’d gotten home safe, or if you needed her then she was right there. There was no way she could’ve put herself to bed comfortably, and there was no way she was about to leave you alone to get yourself home, ‘Stay. I’ll get you,’

You groaned and tried to huff out in a small disagreement, but you were too tired, too drained to even try fighting with Leila over this. She’d win every time anyway, plus unbeknownst to you she was already halfway out the door, already having your location pulled up.

Leila’s heart broke when she pulled up on the side of the road and saw you there. You hadn’t moved an inch, no idea how much time had passed, you looked so small. Leila pulled you up off the ground and you collapsed into her body, gripping onto her hoodie tightly, ‘You came,’ You mumbled against her chest, Leila gently holding your head against her, the rest of her body trying to cover as much as she could to warm you up.

‘You called,’ The way Leila said it as if that was all the reason she needed to leave her house at 2am to make sure you were safe, ‘Anything for you, now let's get you home,’ She mumbled against the top of your head before manoeuvring you into the passenger seat of her car.

‘By home, you mean your place, right?’ You turned your head against the back of the seat so you were looking at her. Leila smiled softly, the glow of the moonlight hitting your facing in all the right ways, she couldn’t help the way her stomach did flips, especially with the way you were also looking at her.

You leaned into her touch when her hand gently cupped your face, her thumb rubbing your cheek, ‘If that’s what you want,’

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

You weren’t cold anymore, instead you were warm, bundled up in Leila’s clothes that were slightly too big for you. You were warm and safe inside. Your eyes felt so heavy, you were growing more tired with every passing minute, but you had a small smile on your lips. Watching Leila sprawled out on her couch, scrolling on her phone, only the glow of that and the tv illuminating her face.

You didn’t know how someone just existing like she was could be so effortlessly beautiful. Biting your lip, ignoring the warmth that spread through your chest, you reluctantly tear your eyes away from her. A shy smile when you noticed that she had a glass of water, some painkillers and your favourite snack sitting on the table in front, waiting for you.

When Leila noticed you she instantly put her phone away, shifting slightly, patting the space on the couch next to her. Leila’s arm wrapping around you, pulling you into her side the minute you slipped into the space next to her.

‘Gracias Lei, for everything tonight,’ Your fingers twirling the strings of the hoodie she was wearing, your head resting against her shoulder. You melted into Leila, the events of the night catching up with you and leaving you feeling even more exhausted than you thought you were.

‘I always got you cari,’ Leila absentmindedly started rubbing your arm while putting on your favourite movie, the one movie she remembers you having told her you watch it whenever you need comforting. You were glad you were wearing a hoodie and she couldn’t feel how her touch and just being so close to her was setting your skin on fire, your heart thudding so loud you were sure she could hear it if the tv was any softer.

The movie played on, your eyes getting heavier, your mind more awake than you physically felt. But your attention was focused more on watching Leila instead. You tried to make it seem like your eyes were still on the movie but Leila could feel your gaze.

‘You are not even watching,’ Leila’s voice cut through the soft silence, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.

Your breath caught, luckily it was dark enough that she wouldn’t notice the way you smiled bashfully, getting caught, ‘I am,’ You lied. You lied badly.

Leila turned her head slightly to look at you, her eyes warm and teasing, ‘Mhm,’ She could test you, but you knew the movie well enough that it wouldn’t prove anything. You both knew, ‘You’re obsessed with me,’ Leila says it so casually, a slight teasing to her voice.

‘Wow, how delusional of you,’ You playfully rolled your eyes, nudging Leila’s side gently, letting out a slightly nervous laugh, your cheeks burning under Leila’s gaze.

Leila only grinned more at your reaction, tilting her head so it lightly bumped yours, ‘Not denying it though,’ The air around you both shifted, almost like everything that you’ve both left unsaid for the last few months was simmering to be let out.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding, suddenly so aware of how close you and Leila were, the way her arm hadn’t moved from around you and instead had pulled you a little closer. You bit your lip, not saying anything for a moment, neither of you really had to, you could see it in each other's eyes.

Maybe it was the little bit of alcohol, liquid courage, that was still somewhat running through you that suddenly made you feel bold, more confident to address the unspoken feelings both you and Leila had been holding back from each other, ‘And what if I was…you know, a little obsessed with you?’

Leila’s eyes brightened instantly, the warmth in your chest growing at the sight, ‘I would say,’ Leila’s voice just above a whisper, her face inching closer to yours, ‘That makes two of us,’

Your heart flipped, that was it, no more hiding behind teasing comments or half-meant jokes. No more pretending that being close to her and her touches didn’t affect you in some way. You moved so your body was twisted in a way that was facing Leila more, your hand on her cheek, you leaned in.

Leila’s lips were soft against yours, it was everything you thought it was going to be. It was only a little kiss, Leila breaking apart once she tasted the faint traces of alcohol still on your lips. She sighed, one that you didn’t catch with your head all hazy from the kiss and being close to her, ‘Cariño, we will talk more in the morning, sí?’

With her arm still wrapped around your shoulders, her fingers traced up your arm to lightly graze along your jaw. You blinked, her touch grounding you, bringing you back to reality, ‘Yeah…it’s late,’ A sleepy smile on your lips, you laid your head back against Leila’s shoulder.

‘You need sleep amor,’ Leila mumbled against the top of your head.

‘You say it like you don’t also need to sleep, Lei,’

Leila scoffed, ‘Ehh – Los dos necesitamos descansar, better?’ Lifting her hand dramatically to emphasise the ‘better’.

A playful grin on your lips, ‘Sí,’ The word drawn out and you were looking a little smug. Leila rolled her eyes, you squealed out when she suddenly had picked you up and lifted the two of you off of the couch, ‘Leila!’ You laughed out, Leila carrying you towards her bedroom, ‘I can walk you know,’

‘Oh? Oh, you want to walk, hm?’ You let out a little ‘no’ when Leila pretended to drop you down, you held onto her tighter, ‘That’s what I thought,’

Now it was Leila’s turn to wear a smug grin upon her face. You hit against her shoulder lightly before she dropped you for real this time. Except your back was met with the plush, comfortable feeling of her bed, ‘You’re ridiculous,’ You shook your head, melting into Leila’s sheets.

‘Shh, come here,’ Leila slipped into bed next to you, instantly reaching out to hold you close, ‘Buenas noches, princesa,’ Leila rubbed your side, her lips lingering against the top of your head after giving you a little kiss there.

‘Leila…’ You lifted yourself up on your arm, keeping your body tucked against hers. Leila almost went to sit up in bed, but your hand on her chest kept her against her mattress, Leila’s eyebrow raising in a questioning way.

‘I think we should, you know, kiss again…just to make sure before was real,’ Leila let out a breathy laugh, an amused smile growing on her lips.

Once Leila had the chance to kiss you once, she wasn’t ever going to give up any more chances she’d get to feel your lips against hers. Her fingers brushed against the back of your neck, pulling you in towards her. Like before, the kiss was brief, there would be plenty more longer and deeper kisses once you’d both had that talk in the morning and once the liquor wasn’t still coursing through your veins.

Breaking apart, you snuggled as close as you could into Leila’s side, your hand finding hers, tangling your fingers together. ‘Goodnight, Lei,’ You smiled, the promise of tomorrow, of a future with Leila was waiting for you once you woke up.

#leila ouahabi #leila ouahabi x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso #man city wfc #mcwfc #manchester city women #manchester city wfc

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