#mcwfc

Grace, loud and over the top in everything she did, had dived head first into her feelings the same way she dived into tackles - without hesitation, without fear. She loved the way you quietened everything around her, how the static in her head seemed to fade when she sat next to you. Her world had been blown apart when she made her international debut, even more so after moving back to United before switching to City. Every move, every headline, every expectation had piled on top of her until it felt like she was constantly buzzing, constantly vibrating.

You had been City’s backup keeper for a while, living in the shadows until Roebuck’s injury changed everything. The club you had called home practically since birth had let you play here and there, mostly against lower-league teams, appearances that felt like footnotes rather than chapters. It wasn’t until that breakout season that you began to make waves. You didn’t celebrate loudly. You didn’t soak it in. You just did your job, over and over again, until people had no choice but to notice.

You had won the Golden Glove for the past two seasons, solidifying yourself as the number one for a reason. You demanded nothing but excellence from your backline, barking orders with a force that was so unlike you off the pitch, but so natural all at the same time. On the field, you were commanding, relentless, unyielding. Off it, you were steady hands and quiet smiles reserved for the right moments.

Grace had known you for a while. With the way your birthdays fell, you had been in and out of the England setup together, familiar faces without ever quite crossing the threshold into friendship. You’d shared Derby days too, rivalry fuelling the banter between you whenever you crossed paths. It wasn’t until the senior England camps became more consistent for both of you that something shifted. Proximity bred comfort. Comfort bred trust. Friendship slipped into place so easily it was almost unnoticed.

Best friends. Something more than best friends.

You hadn’t officially crossed that line just yet. You were in that flirting, lingering hugs, stares-across-the-room phase. The phases were cuddles on the couch were definitely more than platonic but neither of you would make the first move. Grace would drive you to training, music too loud, windows down. You would make her mug of tea exactly how she liked it, without asking. She would brush your waist as she passed. You would lean into her touch, just enough to make it intentional.

It was a rough one. The rain was bad, even for Manchester. The kind that didn’t fall so much as it attacked, thick sheets of water slamming into the pitch and bouncing straight back up again. The ground was sodden and the game definitely should have been postponed, but no one ever wanted to be the one to call it. Players were slipping and sliding all over the place, boots failing to find any real grip, tackles turning into uncontrolled skids. You were covered in mud and soaked to the skin, your jersey clinging to you, gloves heavy with water.

No one could hear you, and you definitely couldn’t hear them either. The rain drowned everything out. Shouts, whistles, even the crowd blurred into one constant roar. You were relying on every instinct you had, muscle memory doing most of the work now, and trusting that your team would do the same. Eyes sharp. Body loose. Always ready.

It was a corner. The worst kind of moment in conditions like this. You were a master at defending set pieces, something Grace had watched you train over and over again until you didn’t get it wrong. Positioning. Timing. Hands strong, feet planted. You’d rehearsed this exact scenario a hundred times.

The ball came in fast, skidding through the air, heavier than it should have been. You took two steps forward, already committing.

It was a nasty collision. One that the crowd fell silent for, the sound of it somehow cutting through even the rain. The centre-back was massive, all momentum and muscle. Her shoulder clipped you as you went in to palm the ball away, just enough to knock you off balance. The force of it swiped your legs out from under you, your ankle twisting awkwardly as you collapsed into the mud.

You felt the pop. You heard the crack, even above the rain. Then the pain hit, sharp and blinding, icy and hot all at once, radiating up your leg as you lay there, staring at the grey sky, knowing immediately that something was very, very wrong.

Grace thought she was going to be sick. She was on the bench, having been subbed off not too long ago, still wrapped in her jacket, legs bouncing restlessly as she tried to stay warm. She saw the way you landed, the unnatural angle, the way your body folded in on itself instead of rolling with the impact. She could see your face twist in pain, the colour draining from it in a way that made her chest tighten. And if she listened hard enough, even through the rain and the roar of the crowd, she could hear the solitary grunt you let out as you slammed into the ground, a sound that made her stomach drop - not quite a sob, not a shout either, but something utterly heartbreaking to hear

The rest was a blur. You had fought with the medics almost every step of the way. You were insisting you were fine, begging them not to bring on the ugly orange stretcher, trying to sit up even as your body betrayed you. You bit your lip so hard you tasted blood, jaw clenched tight as they manoeuvred your ankle, hands gripping at wet grass for something to ground you. Every small movement sent sparks of pain shooting up your leg, but you swallowed it down, stubborn as ever, refusing to let anyone see just how badly it hurt.

“Hey,” Grace whispered as she slipped through the door, careful to close it quietly behind her. You didn’t respond, not with words anyway. You blinked a few times, slow and deliberate, like you were trying really hard not to show any kind of emotion, like if you stayed still enough it might all just pass. “Have they done scans yet? X-rays?” she asked, eyes flicking around the room, searching the walls for films, for answers, for anything that looked even vaguely reassuring.

You shook your head. The movement alone made your jaw tighten. You had seen the fall on the replay, though the doctors had tried to keep you from seeing it, had stood half in front of the screen like that might somehow shield you from your own body. You saw the angle your leg had ended up at, the way it had twisted in a way it never should have. You felt it now too, the burning ache that felt like live electricity crackling through your skin if you so much as breathed too deeply, pain pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

“Ok,” Grace nodded, more to herself than to you, clearly wracking her brains to say something that wasn’t incredibly stupid, something that didn’t involve worst-case scenarios or long recovery timelines. “Well…” She was closer now, hovering at the side of the bed, so close she could touch you if she was brave enough. You could feel her presence, warm and familiar, a sharp contrast to the sterile cold of the room.

You looked at her, your eyes scanning over her body without really meaning to. Her hair was plastered to her forehead, curls still damp, her cheeks flushed red despite the fact she had shed her sodden clothes and changed into a big warm hoodie you were fairly sure was yours. It hung off her frame, sleeves too long, collar stretched slightly. Somehow that made your chest ache even more.

“Well, I can’t magically fix your ankle or anything, but…” she shuffled a little closer, rocking on her heels. “I can offer you a Grace Clinton Special…” She smiled sheepishly, that soft, crooked smile she always gave when she wasn’t sure if she was overstepping. “Can I give you a hug?” she asked, lifting her hands out towards you, hesitant, like she was waiting for you to pull away.

You blinked again, took a slow, careful breath and whispered faintly, “If you hug me, I’ll cry.”

“That’s ok.”

“I don’t want to cry though.”

“Why?”

You shrugged, the smallest movement you could manage. “Denial?” You hazarded a guess at your own feelings, voice barely above a whisper.

“Well,” Grace said again, this time not waiting for permission, her hand coming to rest gently on your forearm, thumb brushing over your skin. “I’m not going to give you a choice on this one.”

She smelled like honey and oranges. 

It hit you immediately, the familiar scent wrapping around you before her arms even did. She leaned in slowly, carefully, like she was afraid of hurting you, like you were something fragile instead of someone who could deadlift half the gym. Her arms slid around your shoulders, one hand resting between your shoulder blades, the other curling lightly at your side, avoiding your leg completely. She held you like she’d done it a thousand times before, like it was instinct, like her body knew exactly how yours fit against it.

You stayed stiff for about three seconds. Long enough to pretend you were fine. Long enough to keep the wall up. And then your breath hitched, sharp and involuntary, your chest rising too quickly, too shallow. Grace felt it instantly. She always did.

“There it is,” she murmured softly, not teasing, not smug, just gentle. Her hand began to move in slow circles on your back, grounding, steady. “It’s alright. You don’t have to be brave with me.”

That was what did it. Not the pain, not the fear, not even the replay burned into your brain. Just that sentence. Your hands came up before you could stop them, gripping lightly at the back of her hoodie, fingers curling into the soft fabric like it was the only solid thing in the room. Your breath broke properly this time, a quiet, shaky sound you didn’t even recognise as your own.

You hated crying. Hated how it made you feel small, how it stole the control from your body. But it wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just… quiet. Silent tears sliding down your cheeks, blurring the edges of everything. Grace didn’t pull away. If anything, she held you tighter, forehead resting lightly against the side of your head.

“I saw it,” she whispered after a moment. “The fall. From the bench.”

You swallowed. Your throat felt thick, tight. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I knew straight away. The way you landed. I don’t usually get that feeling. But I did then.”

You let out a weak breath, something between a laugh and a sob. “Good instincts.”

“Shut up,” she murmured fondly, pressing a soft kiss into your hair. “You’re not allowed to joke right now.”

There was a pause. A comfortable one, despite everything. The kind that only existed between the two of you. Outside, you could hear faint footsteps, distant voices, machines humming. In here, it was just her and the steady rhythm of her breathing.

“I’m scared,” you admitted finally. The words felt heavy, unfamiliar on your tongue. You weren’t someone who said things like that out loud.

Grace didn’t pretend otherwise. Her hand stilled for a second before resuming its slow movement. “I know.”

“What if it’s bad?”

“It might be.”

“What if I’m out for months?”

“You might be.”

You pulled back just enough to look at her, brows furrowing. “You’re supposed to lie to me.”

She gave you a small, sad smile. “I know. But you’d know if I was.”

You sighed, leaning your forehead against hers, careful not to move your leg. “I don’t know who I am if I can’t play.”

Grace’s expression softened completely at that. “You’re still you,” she said gently. “Just… you with a really annoying boot and a lot more physio.”

You huffed quietly. “That sounds worse, actually.”

“Yeah, it does,” she admitted. “But you’re not doing it alone.”

You closed your eyes again, letting her words settle. “You know what the worst part is?” you murmured.

“What?”

“I didn’t even save it. Alex cleared it instead.”

Grace laughed softly, the sound vibrating against your chest. “Of course that’s your biggest concern.”

“Well, yeah. If I’m going to destroy my ankle, I’d like to at least look heroic doing it.”

She pulled back properly this time, hands coming up to cradle your face, thumbs brushing away the tear tracks you hadn’t even realised were there. “You always look heroic. Even when you’re being an idiot.”

You met her eyes, really looked at her, at the worry sitting just beneath the surface, the way she was holding herself together for you. “You’re shaking,” you said quietly.

She blinked. “Am I?”

“Yeah.”

Grace exhaled slowly. “Guess I was in denial too.”

You managed a small smile at that, your hand sliding over hers, squeezing gently. “Looks good on you.”

growing up, your parents were the kind who believed idle hands were the devil's playground or whatever the hell they called it. they never let you lounge around the house with some video game controller in hand, lost in pixelated worlds.

no, video games were a rare thing when your parents weren't looking. instead, your days were packed with activities that were designed to build character, skills, and resilience. one parent pushed you toward the rough-and-tumble world of football, as you called it back then, kicking balls in muddy fields under overcast skies, learning to tackle and sprint until your lungs burned.

the other parents insisted on the grace of ballet, where you spent hours at the barre while perfecting turns and plies in mirrored studios that smelled of rosin and sweat.

it was a perfect balance that your parents thought. you got strength and rough from the pitch, while you learned grace and poise from the studio. you didn't question the two abnormal talents much as a kid since it was just life.

by the time you were ten, you were juggling all of your practices like a pro. all of your early mornings started with ballet class and there you'd feel the stretch in your calves, along with the burn in your thighs while you held positions that seemed impossible to do.

you were on psg's youth academy by fifteen, and the senior team was eyeing you for promotion. however, it was a difficult choice. the demands intensified since ballet advanced to pointe work and the shoes were giving you pain in the ankles by the time you reached football practice. you held off from the senior team for a while since ballet had you in a prestigious studio, and everyone knew that you were still performing in recitals outside of soccer training.

it wasn't until you were seventeen that the fork in the road became impossible to ignore. you chose full time football and put ballet aside like a cherished but outgrown toy. your parents supported it, one beaming with pride at your pro contract, the other was a bit wistful but understanding.

that doesn't mean you quit ballet entirely. oh no, it's still there. six years later at manchester city, the trainers advise restrictions on no full pointe work during season to avoid strain, and to limit any turns that could tweak your ankles but you sneaked in barre exercises in the training room, using the ballet-inspired moves to maintain that core strength everyone raves about.

you could plank for minutes on end and that makes your teammates' jaws drop. they could do the same, yet you could double the timing.

during stretching, vivianne asked you how you could stretch with much flexibility, and you brushed it off because it was years of practice.

sydney, your girlfriend who transferred to manchester city just months ago, left her old club behind to be closer to you. the two of you started dating three years ago during a loan-year you had at bayern. it was in-between your time at PSG and here in manchester.

it was a bold move from sydney, since she grew up and spent her entire career at bayern. you've built a community here in manchester, and it was something that sydney is still fitting into.

however, in sydney's eyes, it was pure love. she arrived with her bags and that happy grin. she didn't worry about any of the apartment stuff, since she was living with you. at the airport, her eyes could've been a solar system full of twinkles when she saw you waiting at the airport.

now, she's settled in, rooming with you in your cozy apartment overlooking the city.

sydney admires your talents like they're wonders of the world. soccer and ballet are just the tip of the iceberg, she says. during matches, she watches you from midfield as the defender while you're the attacking one. the woman's position giving her a perfect view as you orchestrate plays for bunny up top.

your agility is no match for anyone since you can jump and dodge tackles with grace. also, should we mention how you have the highest header height in the league? since some of your goals were high headers that had a ballerina's extension.

"it's the ballet training y/n has seen from her youth," experts comment in post-game analyses, "it gives her that sort of push that no other player has in the league, it is that fluidity most players lack."

however, your skills go beyond sports. with sydney, you've shared so much more. baking is one. you taught her how to make croissants from scratch on a rainy sunday afternoon. this was the Sunday after she came to manchester. the shared kitchen was filled with the scent of butter and yeast.

"okay, so fold the dough like this," you demonstrated, your hands deft as you layered the pastry, "and chill it between turns. patience is key in all of this, syd." you teased as sydney stood beside you, apron dusted with flour as her tongue pokes out in concentration.

"you're a natural teacher, babe," she said, watching as you shaped the dough into perfect crescents, "where'd you learn this?" you shrugged while smiling, "one of my old activities. parents signed me up for a baking class when i was nine since they said it built fine motor skills."

the croissants came out golden and flaky, and sydney moaned around her first bite.

"marry me," she joked, pulling you in for a floury kiss.

those baking sessions often lead to more intimate nights since one evening, after a win against arsenal, you surprised our girlfriend with homemade pie and you can still remember how the rich aroma scented the apartment.

"how do you know all this?" syd asked, fork midway to her mouth. you leaned across the table with your foot brushing hers under it, "you know how." you smirked as syd shook her head in awe, her eyes soft. "you're the best, do you know that?"

back during your loan at bayern, there was one evening in the hotel where georgia was strumming her guitar off-key, complaining about the strings. "it's all out of tune," she grumbled, plucking at them discordantly.

without a word, you reached over, taking the instrument gently as georgia looked at you in confusion.

everyone, georgia klara and sydney, watched as your fingers danced over the pegs while adjusting the strings. then, you strummed a short tune, nothing over ten seconds, just something to prove that you fixed georgia's strings.

the room fell quiet as your teammates stare at you handing the guitar back to georgia.

"there you go," you said casually.

sydney was floored, her mouth agape, "what the hell? how did you do that?" you chuckled, "I learned that in music class during secondary school. it was a semester of learning guitar and even cello." she propped herself up on an elbow, staring down at you with those piercing eyes.

"what the fuck?" her voice was laced with admiration as she said that with a hint of playful jealousy.

sydney admires you so deeply, it's almost tangible. sydney's in love, head over heels, and she shows it everyday. she jokes constantly that you're a master of all trade or a queen of everything. you laugh every time, with your face smiling under her gaze.

"come on, syd. you're talented too.... like you're way better than me at midfield."

that is true. sydney has a few points on you when it comes to midfielder rankings, "and languages," you add, "you're on your fourth... spanish now, right? i've only got two under my belt which is english and french from psg."

sydney scoffed, before smiling.

both of you had talents, but sydney thinks that yours has more ranges.

masterlist

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.

-----

You had been at City for a few years now, and your teammates knew you well. They knew you loved the team, and hanging out together, but they also knew that you weren’t as affectionate as most of them were. 

Never did your teammates think anything of you not being affectionate with them. It wasn’t something everyone enjoyed, and they knew that. They were just happy to have you around.

However when Viv joined the team, all of a sudden they saw a shift in your affection. 

The first time they noticed something was when you were on the bus, sitting next to Viv. Her head leaning on your shoulder, after she had fallen asleep. Most of your teammates had seen the moment, but figured Viv had just nodded off, and you didn’t want to wake her.

But it wasn’t just that moment. It didn’t matter in what environment you were, Viv always found a way to be near you.

When walking towards the pitch for training, Viv would loop her arm through yours. You never shrugged her off, and your teammates noticed there how naturally you let it happen.

During drills at training, she would nudge your shoulder ever so often while waiting for the next drill. Sometimes it was to point something out, other times it was to joke around.

Even during games. When you and Viv would both sit on the bench, she made sure to sit next to you. When someone would try to squeeze in, she would subtly shift so she could keep her spot next to you.

When you were out with some of the girls, they noticed that Viv would place her hand on your arm or leg casually, like it was the most normal thing ever. It might be a normal thing for most people, but for you it wasn’t.

The girls had never seen you let anyone get so close to you, and they kept being amazed. They couldn’t wrap their head around the fact that you let Viv be so clingy, while usually you didn’t even like when people touched you in general. Were you just letting it happen because you didn’t want to make Viv feel bad? Or were you enjoying it as much as she was?

It was the first movie night since Viv joined, that someone decided to voice their thoughts. The movie started and to no one's surprise, Viv sat down next to you. It didn’t take long for her to get comfortable and cuddle into your side, her legs resting on yours. 

About halfway through the movie, you got a call. “Sorry, I have to take this.” You whispered into Viv’s ear. Gently pulling your body away from underneath hers. Some of your teammates shot you questioning looks. “It’s okay, just keep playing the movie. I’ll be right back.”

You moved into the hallway of Jill’s apartment, closing the door behind you to block the noise that was coming from the living room before you picked up the phone.

Viv looked after you, sad to have lost the comfort that you were giving her. Alanna noticed the longing looks she was sending to the door. “Viv, do you really think she likes that you're so clingy?" The question came out rougher than intended, but Alanna went with it anyway.

Her head turned to Alanna and the rest of the girls. “Yeah, why wouldn’t she?” Viv asked with her brow slightly furrowed. Surely if you didn’t like her doing so, you would have told her by now.

The movie was paused and all attention was on the conversation now. “Well, it’s just that I’ve never seen her be touchy with anyone. In fact I’ve seen her push people off or tell them off when they’re touching her for too long.” 

Some of the girls chuckled, and Lauren added, “It’s commonly known that she doesn’t like it when people touch her.” A statement that came with a few nods from the rest of the girls.

Before you could say anything, Jill jumped in. “Yeah, well you guys don’t know y/n outside of City. I grew up with those two, they’ve always been like this.” 

Kerstin build up Jill’s point more. “Literally. When I joined them at the national team, I for real thought they were dating.”

Viv’s cheeks turn red at Kerstin’s words, peaking the interest of the team even further than the conversation about if you liked the clinginess or not.

You returned to the living room and all eyes were on you. It felt a little uneasy, so you quickly sat down next to Viv again. But instead of her leaning into your side like she usually did, she kept sitting up straight. It looked like she was actively making sure that she wasn’t touching you.

The whole situation felt awkward. The movie paused, and all eyes on you. Well, all eyes except Viv’s, who seemed to be ignoring you at all costs. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

Jill exchanged a quick look with Alanna before speaking up, deciding it was best if she took the lead in answering. “We were just talking about how close you and Viv are. Nothing bad!” 

Your eyes narrowed at the addition of the ‘nothing bad’. No one ever added that when that was the case. 

"Right," Lauren added, trying to lighten the mood but failing miserably. "We were just saying it’s surprising—since you’re not usually, you know, touchy with anyone."

You look between them, a frown forming on your face. “Okay, and?” You didn’t like when people analysed you in the first place, but why did they have to bring Viv into it?

“Well,” Alanna spoke up after the rest of the team seemed to hesitate. “we were wondering if you’re actually okay with it. You don’t really let people touch you ever. But Jill said you two have been this way for ages, and that’s kind of where the conversation ended.”

Viv’s posture and refusal to meet your eye, suddenly made sense. They had said something to make her doubt herself, or even worse make her doubt you and your actions. 

“Seriously?” You snap at them, feeling the anger boil inside your chest. “Don’t you have something better to do than analyse who I let into my personal space?”

The team looked taken back, not expecting your anger. You realised it had come out sharper than intended, so after taking a deep breath, you softened your tone. “Look, I know I’m not the most affectionate person, but it’s Viv. I don’t mind Viv being clingy. And if you think for a second that I would let anyone do anything that I didn’t want, you don’t know me at all.”

The team knew very well that you knew you would stand your ground and not let anyone walk over you, so they should’ve realised that you would’ve also not let Viv do something you didn’t like. 

Finally Viv looked up at you, her fingers still fidgeting with the sleeves of her hoodie. “You really don’t mind?”

You shake your head and reach for her hand. “No, not at all. I like it even.” With a gentle tug at her hand, you pull her back into your side. 

The rest of the girls kept watching you, as you pulled Viv closer and wrapped your arm around her. “Can we please move on and continue watching this movie?” 

Viv lightly chuckled at the girls mumbling their sorry’s as they turned back to the TV. You squeeze her a little tighter. “Don’t let them get to your head. If you ever question something, please just come to me.” She nodded her head, and got comfortable again. 

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