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Woso x Reader

☆ Alexia Putellas and Leah Williamson Masterlist

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☆ Arsenal Women Masterlist

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☆ Barcelona Femení Masterlist

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☆ Woso Masterlist

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Woso x Teen!Reader (Platonic)

✧ Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader (Masterlist)

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✧ Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader (Masterlist)

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Streamer Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Where Alexia and her girlfriend do the Kissing Trend.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: None!

Alexia Putellas and Leah Williamson Masterlist | Woso Masterlist

The afternoon was slow, almost boring. The mild heat drifted in through the half-open window as you absently scrolled through your phone, searching for something to break the monotony. Alexia, with her legs stretched out on the bed, rolled her eyes from one video to the next without much attention. The silence was comfortable, but also heavy.

Suddenly, the idea came like a snap. You lifted your head, your eyes gleaming with mischief and excitement:

"Babe… what if we did the Kissing Trend?"

Alexia looked up from her phone, arching an eyebrow.

"That one where you cover the person in kisses and post it on TikTok?"

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

"Exactly. Only this time… you're going to be my victim."

The player sighed theatrically but couldn't hide the amused smile forming on her lips. With an almost imperceptible gesture, she moved closer, sitting on the bed and settling into your lap. Her familiar weight, her light perfume, and her casual way made your heart race, as always.

You picked up the red lipstick on the nightstand and carefully applied it to your lips, enough to make them stand out. Alexia watched every movement with a muffled laugh, already imagining what was coming.

"Ready?" you whispered, leaning toward her.

"I guess I don't have a choice," she replied, laughing.

And then it began. The first kiss landed right on her left cheek. The second, on the right. Then one on her forehead, another on her chin, and one more on the tip of her nose. Alexia giggled between each mark, trying to stay still as you covered every bit of her skin with red stamps.

"You're starting to look like a work of art," you commented, amused, as Alexia was now completely marked.

In the end, she grabbed the phone beside her, turned on the front camera, and positioned it to capture the moment. On the screen, the reflection was hilarious: her face covered in red kisses, her eyes sparkling with laughter, and you behind her, with your lips completely smeared with lipstick.

"Look at this," she said, showing the recording as the camera captured both of you laughing together.

It was simple, spontaneous, but it had that essence that defined your relationship: complicity, fun, and love in every detail.

It’s so good!

Pairing: Leah Williamson x Photographer!Reader

Summary: Where Leah couldn’t take her eyes off Arsenal’s new photographer.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: Leah being a complete simp!

Leah Williamson and Alexia Putellas Masterlist | Woso Masterlist

The icy London wind sent dry leaves dancing across the grass as Leah tightened her shoelaces. Just another ordinary training day at Arsenal… or at least, it should have been.

Since last week, there had been a new presence at the training center. You.

The club’s newly hired photographer.

Leah had seen plenty of people with cameras around Arsenal over the years, but none of them had ever made her momentarily forget how to play football. Every time her gaze drifted toward the sidelines, there you were—focused, crouched low, searching for the perfect angle, your hair tied back effortlessly, an expression on your face like you were exactly where you wanted to be.

She didn’t even realize it, but every time her eyes found you, the training session turned into a blur.

"Leah, you off in dreamland?" Alessia teased, nudging her arm as they warmed up.

"Hm?" Leah blinked, trying to play it off. "No, just… thinking about the drills."

But Alessia wasn’t buying it. She followed the defender’s gaze, and when she realized the target, a mischievous grin spread across her face.

"Right."

And like any good friend, she passed the information along. Minutes later, a few players were whispering on the other side of the pitch, McCabe was smirking, and even Kim raised an eyebrow when she caught Leah "innocently" tracking your every move with her eyes.

During the training break, you approached to take photos of the players chatting. Leah pretended not to notice but straightened her posture. McCabe, standing beside her, saw right through it.

"You can’t even hide it, Leah."

Leah was about to respond when your voice cut in:

"Leah, can you turn your face a little toward me? Yeah… perfect."

The shutter clicked, and when you lowered the camera, there was a faint smile on your lips. Leah’s heart raced—not from the training, but because it felt like that smile was meant only for her.

"Thanks," you said before walking away.

McCabe leaned toward Leah.

"That was an ‘I like you’ smile, Williamson. And you just gave one right back."

"Shut up," Leah muttered, but she couldn’t stop the corner of her mouth from twitching.

When training ended, Leah was heading toward the locker room but stopped when she saw you sitting on a bench near the pitch, reviewing photos on the camera’s display. The rest of the team was already gone—it was just the two of you.

"Good shots?" she asked, stepping closer.

You looked up, slightly surprised. "I think so… still need to sort through them. Wanna see?"

Leah took a step forward and leaned in to look at the screen. It showed her smiling, her hair tied back, a brightness in her eyes she didn’t remember having during training.

"That one’s great," Leah commented, pointing.

"Of course it is," you smiled, and this time, she couldn’t miss the extra meaning behind your words. "Hard to mess up when the focus is good."

Leah held your gaze a second longer, the air between them suddenly thicker.

"The focus, huh?" she murmured, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "Seems like it always ends up in the same direction."

You just laughed, closed the camera, and slung the strap around your neck.

"Guess we have that in common, Williamson."

Pairing: Kyra Cooney-Cross x Streamer Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Where Kyra tries to make a video in which her girlfriend must not react to her kisses.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: Kisses Only!

Arsenal Women Masterlist | Woso Masterlist

The livestream was already rolling when Kyra appeared behind you with that dangerous smile of hers. She adjusted her microphone, leaned toward the camera, and said:

"Today, we’re going to see if my girlfriend can resist the kissing challenge."

You huffed.

"Resist? I won’t even have to try. Easy."

The chat was already doubting you:

user09: She won’t last a minute. user07: No way she makes it. user05: Get the defeat clip ready.

Kyra planted a quick kiss on the top of your head.

"Sound check," she said with a smirk.

You pretended not to care and kept reading the messages. Then she started with soft kisses on your cheeks—one on each side.

Nothing. You stood firm.

"Hmm… level one cleared," she murmured, pretending to jot something down in the air.

Kyra pulled back slightly, walked around, and kissed the corner of your mouth. You felt the heat rising but disguised it with a cough.

"You think that’s enough?" you teased.

She arched an eyebrow.

"No… but this might be."

Kyra leaned down, placing her lips on your collarbone, then slowly trailed kisses up your neck, pressing long, deliberate ones. Her warm breath sent a shiver down your spine.

The chat was in chaos:

user14: OH MY GOD SHE’S EVIL user49: I’D GIVE UP INSTANTLY noreaction: Focus, focus, focus!

You pressed your lips together to keep from smiling.

Kyra then crouched to your eye level, resting her chin on the arm of your chair.

"You know, babe, you’ve got a dangerous taste for winning," she said, her gaze melting you.

Just when you thought she’d stop, Kyra pulled your chair back slightly, sat on your lap, and draped an arm over your shoulder.

"That’s cheating," you whispered.

"No, it’s strategy."

She started with soft kisses, then mixed in deeper ones, pulling away just to look into your eyes and smirk.

By now, you were gripping the armrests tightly.

"I… still… haven’t… lost…"

Kyra chuckled softly and leaned close to your ear.

"Then this is my final move…"

She cupped your face with both hands and kissed you slowly, savoring every second—until, inevitably, you sighed against her lips and kissed her back, breaking the challenge.

Kyra pulled away as if she’d just won the World Cup.

"Victoryyyyy!" she cheered, pointing at the camera.

The chat exploded:

user03: IT’S OVER! SHE WON! user458: THAT REACTION WAS BEAUTIFUL user13: SOMEONE CLIP THIS NOW.

You threw your head back, laughing.

"You’re impossible."

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Williamson Streamer!Reader

Summary: Where you and Alexia open countless sticker packs until you finally pull her card.

Note: English is not my first language.

(based on tiktok trends!)

Warning: None!

Woso Masterlist | Alexia Putellas and Leah Williamson Masterlist

The clock showed a little past four in the afternoon when you turned on your setup, adjusting the microphone and checking the final details on OBS. The glow of the monitor illuminated your face as your fingers flew swiftly across the keyboard. The stream’s title was simple but catchy: "Opening stickers until we find Alexia (or maybe Leah?)"

The chat exploded with comments even before you gave your usual "good afternoon". It was like this in almost every stream—you weren’t just a skilled and charismatic gamer, but also one of the most beloved streamers on the internet. Your audience had known about your relationship with Alexia Putellas for years, but even so, every little appearance from the Barça player sent the comments into a frenzy.

That afternoon, Alexia was sitting quietly on the bed behind your desk, a book in her hands and her hair loose over her shoulders. Her plan was just to watch from a distance—until you spun around in your chair and gave her that look, the one she knew all too well.

"Come on, Ale. It’s just a few hours…" you pleaded, with that pout that mixed charm and emotional blackmail in just the right measure.

Alexia lifted her eyes and sighed like someone who already knew she’d lost.

"Só algunes, ¿eh?" she grumbled in Catalan, closing the book and standing up. Within seconds, she was sitting beside you in the reserve gaming chair—the one only used in emergencies (or in cases of romantic coercion).

"Alright, everyone. I brought my girlfriend to speed things up," you announced with a victorious smile, handing her a sealed sticker pack. "We’re opening until we find Ale or Leah."

"I tu cridaràs igual quan et faci obrir cartes fins que surti el Messi?" Alexia asked, eyebrow raised, drawing a laugh from you.

"Obviously, love."

And so, the work began.

Pack after pack, piles of stickers accumulated on the desk. French, German, American players… some you recognized from Liga matches, others from the chat’s obsessions. Alexia silently opened the envelopes, occasionally raising an eyebrow at familiar faces.

"Mhm, isn’t this the player you faced last week?" you commented, pointing to a Chelsea forward.

She nodded, her eyes following your movements with mild amusement.

"This one’s Lessi and Kim!" you said excitedly, opening an Arsenal pack. "Look at this one, Barça’s crest."

"Han vingut l’Aitana i la Pina," Alexia murmured, showing the cards to the camera before tossing the empty wrapper onto the growing pile of chaos.

The stream continued with sharp commentary, chat banter, and Alexia occasionally answering questions about the Champions League final—all against the constant sound of plastic being torn. After forty minutes, you were already puffing out your cheeks in frustration.

"I swear… this album has fifty cards of Denmark’s goalkeeper, but none of you," you grumbled, crossing your arms.

"Maybe fate’s telling you that you already have the original at home," Alexia shot back, smirking.

But then came the golden pack.

You opened it more carefully, as if sensing something special. Your eyes sparkled when you flipped the center card and found Alexia, front and center, in her national team uniform with that focused look you adored.

"Babe, I think I found you…" you murmured with a smile, holding the card between your fingers. "Mhm, this one’s definitely going in my phone case."

Alexia tried to keep her composure but chuckled when you turned and kissed her cheek proudly.

"Your sister came in this pack too," she said, handing you Leah’s card, which made you even more excited.

"Finally! You brought me luck, love," you exclaimed to the camera, nearly bouncing in your chair.

By the time you announced you’d completed the album, the stream had gone on for over two and a half hours.

"I’m seriously going to have to donate a hundred cards because I have so many duplicates," you said, flipping through the album to show your meticulous organization. "But first, I need to find another Alexia card. Just to be safe."

"Amor… ja fa gairebé tres hores que estem fent això, deixa-ho per demà," she said softly, her fingers visibly tired from tearing open packs.

You glanced at her sideways. One look at your girlfriend’s expression was all it took for you to relent with a resigned sigh.

"Mhm, alright, everyone. That’s it for today. Tomorrow I’ll raffle some of you to send these cards to," you said, facing the stream and taking off your headphones.

When you turned around, you felt Alexia lean in and kiss your jaw.

"You’re really putting that card there?" she asked, amused, watching as her own image was carefully placed in the transparent case of your phone.

"I have to show off that my girlfriend is the best in the world, right?" you replied, pulling her into a long kiss. "I need to brag about how beautiful my girlfriend is."

Alexia smiled against your lips, her arms wrapping around you.

"You’re unbearable."

"And you love me anyway."

Pairing: Leah Williamson x Fem!Reader

Summary: During a press conference after the semifinal victory against Italy, a journalist keeps pushing the narrative of a supposed rivalry between the Captain and Vice-Captain—who are actually girlfriends.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: Possible Kissing?

Woso Masterlist | Leah Williamson & Alexia Putellas Masterlist

The night was thick, the sky dark over the arena, illuminated only by the stadium lights and the collective buzz of an England that had fought tooth and nail to secure their spot in the grand final. Leah and you still bore the marks of an intense match against Italy—damp hair, tense muscles, and adrenaline that refused to fade.

Right after the final whistle, both of you were called for the official press conference alongside Sarina. It was standard protocol, but this time, the atmosphere was different. The victory had been hard-fought, snatched in the dying minutes of extra time. The brief but intense celebration between the two of you hadn’t gone unnoticed.

Sitting side by side at the press table, Leah maintained her usual composed demeanor. You, still with damp hair from a rushed shower, rested your forearms on the table, attentive.

Sarina answered a few tactical questions calmly, until a reporter from the middle row raised her hand. She adjusted her glasses and pulled out a clipboard that looked more like a script disguised as an interrogation.

"Congratulations on the win," she began with a rehearsed smile. "But I’d like to address something beyond the pitch. There have been rumors behind the scenes about a possible rivalry between Leah and Y/N. Some even claim there were serious arguments in the locker room during the group stage, which supposedly cast doubt on your on-field relationship. Care to comment?"

A heavy silence fell like thick fog. Leah turned toward the reporter, her expression still calm, but her eyes slightly narrowed, betraying her irritation.

"Then you should check your sources," she replied firmly, her voice calm yet sharp as a blade. "Discussions happen when two invested people want what’s best for the team. But calling it a 'rivalry' is a stretch."

You felt heat crawl up your spine to your cheeks. That question wasn’t just invasive—it was malicious, an invitation for scandal. And no matter how much you and Leah had tried to keep your relationship away from the spotlight, that comment stirred something inside you.

"Actually," you said, straightening in your chair, "it’s not unusual for two people in a relationship to have disagreements. And if there’s any 'tension' between us, it’s because we care too much about this team… and about each other."

A weighted silence settled. Leah turned to look at you, surprised. It wasn’t a secret, but it had never been said out loud. The reporter smiled like she’d just struck gold.

"So, you’re confirming there’s something between you?"

Your breath grew heavier. You hesitated for a moment, but before you could answer, Leah laced her fingers with yours under the table.

"There are many things between us," she stated, locking eyes with the journalist. "Respect, friendship, partnership. And one shared goal: lifting that trophy. It wouldn’t make sense for me to have a conflict with my girlfriend and teammate. Does that answer your question?"

The reporter froze, eyes wide at the unexpected confirmation. Every camera in the room was now fixed on you two. And despite your racing hearts, you felt strangely at peace.

You turned slightly and pressed a quick kiss to Leah’s cheek. The captain smirked, still looking ahead.

"Now, if you have questions about the match, our strategy, or the final, we’re happy to answer. But if it’s about speculation or personal matters, this press conference is over," Leah said firmly.

Sarina suppressed a smile, proud of her players. The following questions returned to football, as they should have from the start. And when the presser ended, Leah and you walked side by side down the concrete hallway, steps steady—as if you’d already won something far greater than a match.

In the locker room, before rejoining the rest of the team, Leah took your hand once more.

"Do you have any idea what we just did?" Leah asked, laughing softly.

You arched a brow, teasing.

"I just gave an interview, love."

Pairing: Kika Nazareth x Putellas!Reader

Summary: Where Kika believed you hated her because of an interview taken out of context.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: Hostile reader and a bit of Enemies to Lovers!

Barcelona Femení Masterlist |Woso Masterlist

The locker room was eerily quiet after the match against Real Madrid, only the distant sound of fans still echoing through the stadium. The tension between you and Kika, however, was almost palpable, and Alexia, furious, had made it clear that this childish rivalry needed to disappear by tonight—or you’d both be benched.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the locker with an ironic smile.

"So, Nazareth, the next big 'gem' of Portuguese football needs an ultimatum from the captain to act like a professional?"

Kika rolled her eyes, throwing her towel onto the bench with force.

"Shut the fuck up, Putellas. The only reason anyone still puts up with you here is because you’re Alexia’s sister."

You took a step forward, blood boiling.

"Funny, because I thought it was for my football. Or maybe you still haven’t gotten over that dribble that left you on your ass during training?"

She didn’t back down, stepping closer until only inches separated you. The challenge was clear in her eyes.

"You really think you’re that goddamn good, huh? You think the team revolves around you just because you’ve got the last name Putellas."

You fought the urge to raise your voice.

"No, Nazareth. But at least I don’t play the victim in interviews, twisting shit out of context."

Kika frowned.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Oh, don’t remember? That little comment about ‘some people here think they’re the stars’… Convenient, isn’t it?"

She let out a dry laugh.

"Holy shit, you’re insufferable. I wasn’t even talking about you!"

Silence fell between you for a second. You studied her face, searching for a lie, but all you saw was genuine frustration.

"Then why do you act like I spat in your face from day one?"

Kika took a deep breath, as if fighting her own words.

"Because you walked in here acting like you owned the fucking team! And I—" She hesitated, fists clenched. "I fought like hell to get here, and then you show up with your golden confidence and your sister as the Captain."

You hadn’t expected that honesty. Something in her voice made your resentment waver.

"I didn’t ask to be born a Putellas, Kika. And if you stopped judging me before even knowing me, maybe you’d realize I fought just as hard as you did."

She stared at you, eyes still defiant but now with something else—curiosity, maybe.

"Prove it."

"What?"

"Prove you’re not all ego. Play with me, not against me."

You smiled, but this time without irony.

"Afraid you can’t keep up, Nazareth? You are a good few years younger than me."

Kika finally cracked a half-smile.

"Keep dreaming, bitch."

Alexia walked into the locker room just then, looking between the two of you.

"So? Did you kill each other, or did you figure it out?"

You and Kika exchanged a glance.

"Depends—" you started.

"—if she stops being a pain in my ass," Kika finished, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Alexia sighed.

"God help me."

But you knew—this was only the beginning.

⚽️

The game was intense. Every tackle, every foul, every glance between you and Kika carried a new energy—something between rivalry and complicity. Since that day in the locker room, the two of you had grown closer in a way no one, not even Alexia, had expected. Training together, synchronized passes, exchanged looks that made your teammates raise their eyebrows.

But then came the foul.

An opposing defender, already frustrated by Kika’s skill, came in with a brutal slide tackle. The sound of impact echoed through the stadium, and before the referee could even blow the whistle, you were already charging at the player, shoving her so hard she fell to the ground.

"Are you fucking insane? If you wanna play dirty, pick on someone your own size, you coward!" you shouted, fists clenched, blood pounding in your temples.

The ref didn’t hesitate—red card for both of you.

On the other side of the field, Alexia stood stunned. You’d never reacted like that for anyone—except… Alexia.

⚽️

You were still buzzing with adrenaline when Kika grabbed your arm, dragging you into an empty equipment room. The door slammed shut behind you, and the only sound was both of your ragged breathing.

"What the hell was that, Putellas?" Kika asked, dark eyes locked onto you.

You shrugged, trying to play it cool.

"Nothing. Just can’t stand fucking cowards."

She took a step closer.

"Bullshit. You’ve never given a damn about fouls before, not even against your own teammates." Another step. "But today, you got a red for me. Why?"

Your heart raced. You could feel the heat of her body this close, the scent of her perfume. Something inside you snapped.

"Because I can’t stand seeing you get hurt, you idiot." Your voice came out rougher than you’d intended.

Kika paused, lips slightly parted.

And then—she pulled you in by the neck.

The kiss was hot, impulsive, full of pent-up anger and desire. Your teeth clashed, your hands gripped her sweat-drenched jersey, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. Not the red card, not the game, not the fact that anyone could walk in and see you.

When you finally pulled apart, Kika was smirking, that infuriating grin you hated—or maybe didn’t hate anymore.

"Mhm, so that’s how it is?" she teased, breath still uneven.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile.

"Just shut the fuck up, Nazareth."

Arsenal Women x Reader

Alessia Russo

Daylight (Alessia Russo x Girlfriend!Reader)

Summary: Where Alessia loves it when you wear her clothes.

[ONE-SHOT]

Guilty as Sin? (Alessia Russo x Fem!Reader)

Summary: On a stormy September night, you realize the love of your life was closer than you ever imagined.

[ONE-SHOT]

Kyra Cooney-Cross

Kiss Challenge (Kyra Cooney-Cross x Streamer Girlfriend!Reader)

Summary: Where Kyra tries to make a video in which her girlfriend must not react to her kisses.

Woso x Reader

Misa Rodríguez

Picture You (Misa Rodríguez x Putellas!Reader)

Summary: Where Misa has a huge crush on Alexia’s sister.

[ONE-SHOT]

Love Trail (Misa Rodríguez x Girlfriend!Reader)

Summary: After nearly four months on tour, you finally return home just in time for your anniversary with Misa.

[ONE-SHOT]

Lena Oberdorf

I Wanna be defined by the things that I love (Lena Oberdorf × Williamson!Reader)

Summary: Leah’s sister makes a drastic move to another country in search of new experiences, but she never imagined that a certain German woman would get so flustered by her presence.

[ONE-SHOT] — [BONUS CHAPTER]

Gio Queiroz

Opposite Sides (Gio Queiroz x Barcelona Girlfriend!Reader)

Summary: Where Gio and her girlfriend play on opposite sides in the Copa de la Reina final.

Barcelona Girls x Reader

Aitana Bonmatí

A Midsummer Night's Dream (Aitana Bonmatí x Physiotherapist!Reader)

Summary: Where Aitana ends up kissing a girl at a party but forgets to ask for her number.

[ONE-SHOT]

Salma Paralluelo

Five Centimeters per Second (Salma Paralluelo x Russo!Reader)

Summary: Where Alessia Russo’s younger sister gets transferred to Barcelona, but Salma never expected to develop feelings for her.

[ONE-SHOT]

Esmee Brugts

Lavender Haze (Esmee Brugts x Putellas!Reader)

Summary: Where Esmee ends up falling for Alexia’s younger sister.

[ONE-SHOT]

Kika Nazareth

How Bad Do U Want Me (Kika Nazareth x Putellas!Reader)

Summary: Where Kika believed you hated her because of an interview taken out of context.

Alexia Putellas and Leah Williamson x Reader

Alexia Putellas

My Girl Only Breaks Her Favorite Toys (Alexia Putellas x Lionesses Girlfriend!Reader)

Summary: Where sometimes a breakup wasn't just about a lack of trust, but rather the constant breaking of promises.

[ONE-SHOT]

You Know How to Ball, I know Aristotle (Alexia Putellas x Singer!Reader)

Summary: Where a music star travels to the other side of the world to watch her girlfriend win a final.

[ONE-SHOT]

Hasta Los Dientes (Alexia Putellas x Lionesses!Reader)

Summary: One of Arsenal's top players receives an offer to play for Barcelona after recovering from a cruciate ligament injury in her leg. Following a recent fallout with the Gunners' captain, the athlete decides that the best course of action is to accept the offer and escape the tension in the locker room.

[ONE] – [TWO] – [THREE] – [FOUR] – [FIVE] – [SIX] – [SEVEN] – [EIGHT] – [NINE] – [TEN]

My Kink is Karma (Alexia Putellas x Physiotherapist!Reader)

Summary: Where Y/n is hired as the new Physiotherapist for Barcelona Women's Team after a recent complicated breakup with one of the stars of English football.

[ONE] – [TWO] – [THREE]

Safe & Sound (Alexia Putellas x Lionesses Wife!Reader)

Summary: Where Alexia and her wife knew that adopting a child and a teenager would have its difficult moments.

[ONE-SHOT] [BONUS ONE] — [BONUS TWO]

Loveee Song (Alexia Putellas x Goalkeeper!Reader)

Summary: Where Alexia realizes she is completely in love with her best friend and would do anything to make the athlete notice.

[ONE-SHOT]

Take my Breath Away (Alexia Putellas x Physiotherapist!Reader)

Summary: Where the girl Alexia kissed at a bar ends up being hired as the new physiotherapist for the Barcelona team.

[ONE – TWO]

Paper Rings (Alexia Putellas x Girlfriend!Reader)

Summary: Where sometimes it was necessary to take a break from work before it became too late to fix your relationship.

[ONE-SHOT]

The Prophecy (Alexia Putellas × Singer Wife!Reader)

Summary: A morning moment with Alexia, her wife, and their daughter.

[ONE-SHOT]

tis the damn season (Alexia Putellas x Goalkeeper!Reader)

Summary: Where an Achilles tendon rupture takes you off the field for the rest of the season. Your teammates kept saying everything would be okay—but your insecurities refused to believe them.

[ONE-SHOT]

Sticker Pack (Alexia Putellas x Williamson Streamer!Reader)

Summary: Where you and Alexia open countless sticker packs until you finally pull her card.

[ONE-SHOT]

Number Eleven (Alexia Putellas x Girlfriend!Reader)

Summary: Who is the girl in the number eleven shirt in the stands?

[ONE-SHOT]

Kissing Trend (Alexia Putellas x Streamer Girlfriend!Reader)

Summary: Where Alexia and her girlfriend do the Kissing Trend.

[ONE-SHOT]

Leah Williamson

Hot to Go! (Leah Williamson x Attacking Midfielder!Reader)

Summary: Where Leah has a crush on the team's new attacking midfielder.

[ONE-SHOT]

Picture You (Leah Williamson x Physiotherapist!Reader)

Summary: Where Leah ends up kissing the team's physiotherapist.

[ONE-SHOT]

Just The Way You Are (Leah Williamson x Surgeon!Wife!Reader)

Summary: Leah’s wife finally manages to take time off to watch one of her games.

[ONE-SHOT]

London Girl (Leah Williamson x Fem!Reader)

Summary: After a serious disagreement with Lyon’s coach, you felt like you needed a fresh start—and what better place than an English club? What you didn’t expect, however, was for Leah to be so kind and affectionate toward you

[ONE-SHOT]

Girl Crush (Leah Williamson x Photographer!Reader)

Summary: Where Leah couldn’t take her eyes off Arsenal’s new photographer.

[ONE-SHOT]

Used to This (Leah Williamson x Fem!Reader)

Summary: During a press conference after the semifinal victory against Italy, a journalist keeps pushing the narrative of a supposed rivalry between the Captain and Vice-Captain—who are actually girlfriends.

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Goalkeeper!Reader

Summary: Where an Achilles tendon rupture takes you off the field for the rest of the season. Your teammates kept saying everything would be okay—but your insecurities refused to believe them.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: Mention of Achilles tendon rupture!

Woso Masterlist

The stadium was silent. A heavy, unnatural silence for a place that used to vibrate with the roar of the crowd, the sound of kicks against the ball, and exuberant celebrations. But now, all that could be heard was the agonizing echo of a scream— your scream. 

The field, once your sacred territory, had become the stage of your worst nightmare. 

A cross, a mistimed tackle, and then… nothing. The pain came like lightning, slicing through your muscles like a knife. 

Alexia was the first to reach you. Her eyes, usually so full of fire and determination, were dark with worry. 

"Don’t move! Don’t fucking move!" she shouted at the girl who had taken you down, her voice hoarse with urgency. 

You tried to get up, but your body wouldn’t obey. Your right leg felt like dead weight—a betrayal. Someone was already calling for the medics, but you didn’t even need a diagnosis to know. That kind of pain doesn’t lie. 

"You’re gonna be okay," Alexia murmured, more to herself than to you, gripping your hand with almost desperate strength. 

But you weren’t listening. All you could think about was time. The months of physical therapy ahead. The games that would go on without you. The suffocating, irrational fear that maybe… maybe you’d never be the same again. 

⚽️ 

The hospital smelled of antiseptic and despair. You hated that smell. 

The surgery had been a success, they said. "You’ll come back stronger." Well-meaning lies—you knew better. No one came back stronger from an injury like this. At best, you’d come back the same—and even that would be a miracle. 

Visits were constant in the first few days. Your teammates brought flowers, chocolates, funny locker-room stories to cheer you up. But as the weeks passed, the stream dwindled. The team’s life went on—training, matches, victories. And you? You were stuck at home, immobile, watching everything from afar like an unwanted spectator. 

Alexia seemed to be the only one who understood the storm inside you. She didn’t fill the silence with empty words. Sometimes, she just sat beside you on the couch, an arm around your shoulders, letting you rest your head on her lap while her fingers ran through your hair. 

"No need to rush," she’d whisper. "I’m here, no matter how long it takes." 

But you were in a rush. You hated yourself for feeling so… fragile. 

⚽️ 

It happened on a rainy night, weeks after the surgery. You were frustrated, in pain, and that day’s physical therapy had been especially brutal. 

Alexia came home after training, still in her Barcelona kit, her face lit by that smile you loved so much. 

"Hey, love. How was your day?"

You didn’t answer. You were sitting in the chair, staring at your immobilized leg, your knuckles white from gripping the armrests. 

"Hey…" She knelt in front of you, trying to lift your chin. "Talk to me, amor…" 

"What is there to say, Alexia?" Your voice came out harsher than you intended. "That I almost cried today trying to flex my foot? That I can’t even go to the bathroom by myself? That you’re out there, beautiful, strong, playing, while I—"

You cut yourself off, but it was too late. Alexia’s expression shifted, her eyes darkening with concern. 

"While you… what?" she asked, soft but firm. 

"While I’m useless!" you exploded, the tears finally breaking free. "I don’t want your pity, Alexia! I don’t want you staying with me just because I’m broken!"

The silence that followed was sharp. Alexia took a deep breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

"Do you really think it’s pity?" Her voice was cold—not with anger, but with hurt. "After everything we’ve been through, you think I’d stay out of obligation?"

You didn’t answer. The weight of your words was sinking into your chest. 

Alexia stood up, but she didn’t walk away. Instead, she grabbed your crutches and threw them on the floor beside you. 

"Get up."

"What?" 

"Get up. Come on."

"Alexia, I can’t." 

"You can," she held out her hand. "And I’ll prove I’m not here out of pity. I’m here because I love you. And because I know you’ll come back—not for me, not for the team, but for yourself." 

You hesitated. But then, gritting your teeth, you took her hand and pulled yourself up, leaning on the player’s shoulders. 

Alexia smiled—a small, genuine smile. 

"See? Not all is lost."

Pairing: Misa Rodríguez x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: After nearly four months on tour, you finally return home just in time for your anniversary with Misa.

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: Long distance and mutual longing.

Woso Masterlist

It was a little past 8:45 PM when a light rain began to fall softly over the streets of Madrid, turning the pavement into shimmering gray reflections. It was the eve of their dating anniversary with Misa, and the air felt heavy with a mix of anxiety and growing frustration—an emotion Misa knew would linger until she could be by your side again.

Walking through the apartment she now shared with you, Misa was wrapped in a white hoodie that belonged to you. The goalkeeper studied every detail of the surroundings, the comforting scent of your perfume slowly fading, making her chest tighten.

This wasn’t the first time you’d been away for so long, though this time, it was an opportunity to expand your career (even if Misa and you hated being apart for too long).

Misa vaguely remembered you saying that time would fly by and that soon, the two of you would be together again. She wished that were true, but she knew it was nearly impossible for you to return before the end of the month.

At that moment, Misa lay curled up on the couch under a blanket that still carried your scent. Bob, the cat you had adopted together, slept peacefully beside her, his face content.

Despite everything, Misa appreciated your effort.

A nearly imperceptible sound broke the silence—like someone opening the apartment door, trying not to draw attention. Misa frowned, thinking her mind was playing a cruel joke on her.

You hesitated, as if expecting Misa to be upset with you. Your eyes met hers in the dim light. Misa opened her mouth to speak, but her voice seemed to vanish.

Instead, you acted. Without waiting, you stretched out your arms, bracing for impact, and pulled her into a tight, longing embrace. The tears threatening to spill finally fell down her cheeks, and Misa sobbed uncontrollably against your shoulder.

She buried her face in your neck, breathing in the lavender scent she loved so much. You were surprised for a moment, taken aback by the goalkeeper’s reaction. You had expected insults, maybe even the chance of being kicked out of your own apartment—but there was Misa, melting into your arms.

"Hey, love," you finally whispered, your voice trembling. "Sorry it took so long."

Misa let out a quiet sigh, trying to hold back more tears. She pulled away just enough to look into your eyes, her hands cupping your cheeks.

"I missed you so much," Misa murmured before pressing her lips to yours.

"Me too, mi amor," you whispered, kissing her cheek in return.

Pairing: Esmee Brugts x Putellas!Reader

Summary: Where Esmee ends up falling for Alexia’s younger sister.

Note: English is not my first language!

Warning: Esmee being a complete simp!

▪︎ Woso Masterlist

You closed the wardrobe drawer with a sigh, satisfied at finally having organized all your jersey swaps with players from other national teams. The ambient music from the TV filled the silence of the apartment, but your mind was far away—wondering what Alexia and Alba were scheming by insisting so much on this dinner. 

"Did Mom come back early?" you thought, lightly biting your lip. Eli Putellas loved surprises, and an unexpected visit after months of traveling across Europe wouldn’t be too absurd. 

Before you could sink deeper into your thoughts, the bedroom door swung open violently. 

"I can’t believe you’re still like this!" Alba stormed in like a hurricane, with Alexia right behind her, a mischievous grin plastered on her face. 

You jumped, clutching your chest as if trying to keep your heart from escaping. 

"Fuck, can’t you two knock?" you huffed, taking a deep breath to calm yourself. "And I said I was going alone!" 

Alba ignored your protest, rolling her eyes before shoving you toward the bathroom. 

"I’m picking your outfit. Now, go take a shower." She threw the towel at you, which you caught midair with a murderous glare. 

"Mare de Déu…" you grumbled in Catalan, dragging out the words like you always did when annoyed. 

As the hot water eased the tension in your muscles from the season, you could hear the whispers outside. Alexia was speaking softly, but the amusement in her tone was unmistakable. 

"Esmee’s about to faint because she thinks she won’t come," Alexia commented, making Alba laugh. 

"Seriously, it’s been two years of this, and neither of them has the guts to make the first move." 

You nearly choked on the shampoo. Esmee? The tips of your ears burned, but you refused to acknowledge that reaction. 

"You know she’s a little slow, Ale," Alba sighed, and you could picture your sister rolling her eyes again. "But at some point, she’s gonna realize the massive crush Esmee has on her." 

Your heart raced, but you clung to your pride. No. Absurd. Esmee Brugts was just… Esmee. Your teammate. Your friend. The person who always held your gaze a little too long, smiled differently when you were around, and—okay, maybe she had said "you’re amazing" like five hundred times in the last few months, but— 

"IF YOU DON’T GET OUT SOON, I’M KICKING THIS DOOR DOWN!" Alba banged on the wood, snapping you out of your thoughts. 

"I’M COMING, DAMN IT!" you shouted back, quickly drying off. 

When you stepped out, you found a carefully chosen outfit laid out on the bed: black jeans, a white shirt, and a casual blazer. "Elegant, but not too obvious." You sighed, dressing under the watchful eyes of your sisters. 

"So…" Alexia crossed her arms, scrutinizing you. "Ready to find out that dinner isn’t just with us?" 

You froze. 

"What?" 

Alba grinned, wicked. 

"Esmee’s gonna be there." 

The world stopped for a second. 

"… You’re joking." 

"No," Alexia winked. "And if you don’t say something today, I swear I’ll tell her myself." 

You swallowed hard. Shit.

It was official: your sisters had set you up. 

And the worst part? 

You had no idea what to do about it. 

[⚽️] 

The restaurant was packed, but the reserved table had a different energy the moment the three of you arrived. Esmee was already there, seated between Ingrid and Salma, but while the other players laughed and chatted animatedly, she seemed… oddly quiet. 

You noticed immediately. 

The Esmee you knew was a whirlwind of energy—smiling, cracking jokes, striking up conversations with everyone. But this version of the Dutch forward was drumming her fingers on her glass, her eyes darting away every time you looked at her. 

"Hey, you okay?" You leaned forward, lightly touching her leg under the table. 

She flinched almost imperceptibly, as if your touch had burned her. 

"I… just need some air," she lied blatantly, avoiding your gaze. 

You weren’t buying it. 

"Mhm, one sec." You turned to Alexia and muttered something quick in Catalan before standing. "Come with me, I know a good spot." 

Esmee hesitated but finally gave in when you held out your hand. The brush of your fingers sent warmth through you, and you felt a slight tremble in hers. Interesting. 

Outside, the cool night air seemed to calm her a little, but her eyes were still distant. You helped her sit on the low ledge in front of the restaurant, watching her carefully. 

"Sure it’s just the crowd? You’ve never minded that before." You frowned. "You’re kinda pale, E." 

She bit her lip, fingers twisting in her lap. 

"It’s just…" she started, looking away. "I don’t know how to say this."  You smiled, understanding now. 

"And does it have to do with Alba and Alexia basically throwing me at you? Or the fact that your heart’s about to jump out of your throat just because I touched you?" 

Esmee choked, her eyes widening. 

"Even though you’re adorable like this, I was kinda worried." 

She let out a shaky breath, cheeks flushed. 

"You need to breathe a little, sweetheart," you whispered, brushing your thumb over her warm cheek. "Ale kinda let it slip that you like me." 

Esmee closed her eyes, as if bracing for impact. You chuckled softly, tilting her chin up gently to make her look at you. 

"I like you too, okay?" you said softly. "Now you just gotta relax a little." 

And then, in a light gesture, you kissed her cheek. 

It was like lighting a fuse. 

Esmee, in an act of courage (or desperation), grabbed your collar and— 

Pfft.

You heard a muffled laugh from the restaurant window. 

When you pulled apart, you turned to see half your teammates peeking through the glass, failing miserably at pretending they weren’t. Ingrid was fake-looking at the sky. Salma was "fixing" her hair. Alexia and Alba? They didn’t even bother—they were laughing outright. 

Esmee buried her face in her hands. 

"I’m going to kill all of them," she muttered, mortified. 

You laughed, pulling her close again. 

"Later," you whispered against her lips. "Now, close your eyes again." 

Pairing: Salma Paralluelo x Russo!Reader 

Summary: Where Alessia Russo’s younger sister gets transferred to Barcelona, but Salma never expected to develop feelings for her. 

Note: English is not my first language.

Warning: None!

Woso Masterlist

Wolfsburg was never the kind of city that appeared on postcards. Small, cold, with orderly streets and a frequently overcast sky, it carried an almost industrial air—largely due to the presence of Volkswagen, which seemed to pulse at the heart of the city. For many, Wolfsburg was just a place of work, of predictable routines and quiet days. For others, it was a safe harbor, a calm space away from the pressures of big cities. Some called it boring, but for those who knew how to look with affection, Wolfsburg offered something rare: a quiet sense of belonging. 

The fans of VfL Wolfsburg lived for the team with intensity. They weren’t the loudest or the most famous, but they were loyal. The city breathed football in silence, like someone guarding a treasure without needing to show it off. On match days, the streets near the stadium came alive. It was there that you had found one of your homes—within the four lines of the pitch, wearing green with pride for nearly three years. Seen as a model captain, with few yellow cards and only one red, earned for arguing with a biased referee. 

For you, Wolfsburg was more than a city—it was a feeling. When you first arrived, everything was new and a little cold, different from what you’d known in London. But little by little, the corner cafés, the intense training sessions, the locker-room friendships, and the solitary walks along the Mittellandkanal etched an unexpected affection into you. Wolfsburg had embraced you when you were still trying to prove yourself, when everyone doubted you—when even you did. 

You fell in love with the dedication of the fans, the way children recognized you on the streets with stars in their eyes, and the respect you felt within the club. It was hard to explain: Wolfsburg wasn’t the most beautiful place, but in a way, it was comfortable. Like an old coat that still kept you warm. 

And maybe that was what made the goodbye even more bittersweet. 

The invitation to play for Barça Femení was a dream you hadn’t dared imagine years ago. It was a rare opportunity, a chance to grow, a whole new world to explore. And yet, the joy carried a trace of melancholy. Wolfsburg wasn’t just a place where you had played—it was where you had grown. It was where you had become you. 

In your last week before the move, you walked through the city with different eyes. Everything seemed more alive, more important, as if the details were begging to be memorized: the bikes leaning against the squares, the smell of bakeries in the morning, the sound of autumn leaves being swept away. 

You felt gratitude. You felt pride. But you also felt the weight of leaving something behind. Wolfsburg would always be part of your story. 

[⚽️]

You knew your first days in Barcelona would be hard. You had prepared for that. It wasn’t just about the language or cultural differences—after all, you’d faced similar challenges when you left London for Germany. What really made you nervous was everything at once: a new country, a warmer and more vibrant climate than Wolfsburg’s cold rigidity, and, most of all, the need to meet and connect with new people. 

This was Barcelona. Barça Femení. The club where some of your biggest inspirations played—names you had admired since the start of your career, like Alexia Putellas and Aitana Bonmatí. The idea of sharing the pitch with them seemed surreal—and, in a way, terrifying. As if, suddenly, you were no longer just a distant fan but part of the universe that had once felt unreachable. 

For someone as reserved as you, forming bonds was already a challenge. 

Surprisingly, the first steps were lighter than you expected. Settling into the training center, you ended up bonding with some of the younger players—girls who, to your shock, saw you as a role model, an inspiration. And that scared you more than any tactical adjustment. You, an inspiration? You, who still carried so many insecurities? Players this talented shouldn’t be looking up to you, you thought. 

Over time, slowly and carefully, you built friendships in the locker room. Some took longer, as expected, but little by little, you began to feel part of that vibrant group. There was connection. There was affection. There was trust. 

There was just one thing you didn’t notice as clearly: someone was watching you with more than just friendship in mind. 

Salma Paralluelo had been fascinated by you since the first training session. Vicky and Esmee, always observant, quickly caught onto the way the Spaniard looked at you and wasted no time teasing her: "That’s not just admiration, Salma." To them, it was obvious—the forward had developed a crush. Something that, at first, Salma herself thought was just a phase, a fleeting admiration. But as months passed, she began to realize it wasn’t that simple. 

What bothered her most was the mystery around you. No one knew if you were seeing someone, if you were in a relationship, if there was someone waiting for you in another country. Your guarded nature kept you protected—but it also stirred unease in her. 

What Salma didn’t know was that you had been silently carrying a crush on her since that epic match nearly three years ago, when you faced each other for the first time in the Champions League. 

Your closeness grew naturally, and even though Salma tried to control her feelings, there were moments when jealousy slipped through—especially when Jana shamelessly flirted with you just to mess with her. 

Like that night. 

It was supposed to be a quiet evening—movies, popcorn, the girls sprawled across your apartment. Jana was lounging on the couch, her legs casually draped over your lap, while you grumbled about having to face your sister Alessia in the Champions League final. 

"You’re so spoiled," you complained, pushing her legs off. 

"Then you should’ve thought twice before getting comfortable with me, Russo," Jana shot back with a smirk, before a pillow smacked her in the face. 

You rolled your eyes and headed to the kitchen to refill your water glass, oblivious to the watchful gaze following you. When you turned around, you found Salma standing there, expression unreadable, a faint weariness in her eyes. 

"Hey, you okay?" you asked, genuine concern in your voice. "You look a little off. If you want, you can sleep in my room—no problem. I’ll share the guest bed with someone else."

Salma’s stomach twisted. That was exactly what bothered her: the thought of you sharing a bed with someone else—when what she desperately wanted was to be in that spot herself. 

"Just a headache," she lied, avoiding direct eye contact. "Maybe from the sun during training." 

"Sun? It wasn’t even that hot today," you countered, suspicious. You stepped closer, pressing a hand to her forehead. "You sure that’s all it is?"

Salma held her breath. The proximity, the light touch, the tenderness in your voice—it was hard to stay composed. She blinked, forcing herself to focus on your eyes and not your lips. 

"You’re actually warm, sweetheart,"you murmured, a small smirk playing at the corner of your mouth. "Sure it’s not something… more serious?"

Salma stepped back, needing space to breathe, but you seemed determined to uncover the truth. 

"Salma, talk to me," you insisted, still smiling, but with a gaze that pierced through her defenses. "As cute as it is seeing you flustered, I want to make sure you’re okay." 

Then, Salma decided she’d have her fifteen seconds of courage. She needed to silence you—just for a moment, she needed your words to stop. 

She took two firm steps forward, grabbed the collar of your jacket, and pulled you into a kiss—clumsy, urgent, brimming with months of pent-up nerves and desire. You froze for a second before tangling your fingers in her braids, deepening the kiss and drawing a soft gasp from her. 

When you finally pulled apart, your hand still cradled her face gently. 

"So that’s what it was? Jealousy, sweetheart?" you whispered, brushing your lips against her cheek. "You know I see Jana like a little sister, right?"

Embarrassed, Salma buried her face in your shoulder, trying to hide her burning cheeks. 

You smiled, running your fingers tenderly through her dark hair. Maybe you still couldn’t put everything into words, but deep down, you both knew: this wasn’t just a passing crush.