Leila Ouahabi x Reader Player
Losing a hoodie had never brought anyone both such bad and good luck at the same time—until it happened to Leila
A/N: English isn't my first language, so this might be absolute chaos. My apologies for that.
Leila wasn’t dramatic; she was simply a firm believer. A believer that the hoodie she wore that morning in 2011, when she signed her first professional contract with the club of her life, brought her luck. Obviously, after 15 years, the hoodie was absolutely falling apart, worn thin with a small hole in the shoulder and a coffee stain that looked like oil, because no matter how much you washed it, it wouldn’t come out. But it was her lucky hoodie and she would hold on to it for life.
So when, that Monday, she couldn’t find it anywhere before heading off to training, she feared the worst. And she had no idea just how right she was.
That morning, when she arrived at training feeling completely down, she discovered that Andrée had put her in with the reserves. But that wasn’t the only problem—she kept slipping on the pitch… a dry pitch, because the weather had given them a week’s break from the thick fog, and it had been seven days of sunshine and pleasant temperatures. However, the fourth time was the worst, as she tripped on the touchline whilst trying to keep hold of the ball as Grace pressed her and ended up ‘diving’ into one of the ice baths they’d placed along the touchline to aid recovery once training was over. When she emerged, she could see the whole team struggling to catch their breath amidst the laughter, and Andrée decided to put an end to their suffering by sending her home to rest.
The first thing she did was go back to look for her hoodie, because it couldn’t be a coincidence that she suddenly couldn’t take two steps without tripping over. She searched everywhere, emptied the wardrobe twice, looked through the whole car, checked the washing machine and even the bin, and finally, at ten o’clock in the evening, she gave up and decided to call her beloved girlfriend to complain about her awful day.
On Tuesday, she didn’t slip once, and she naively thought that the curse hanging over her like one of those dark storm clouds had finally lifted. But no. When she went to take a shower, only cold water came out. Not cold in the usual sense of the word, no—cold on the scale of a bath at the South Pole between March and September, when freezing temperatures are the norm.
After that, she arrived at her flat in Manchester, only to find the icing on the cake. At some point between the changing rooms and her home, her shampoo had decided to commit suicide, emptying itself into her training bag and killing her mobile phone in the process.
By Wednesday, her phone still wasn’t working and Leila had already given up. The loss of her wonderful hoodie had aroused the wrath of the football gods, who were punishing her for her foolishness in losing that sacred item.
Wednesday wasn’t a slip-up or a case of revenge shampoo, no. It was her car that decided to lock itself just as Leila realised she’d left the keys inside, forcing her to ask her captain, Alex Greenwood, if she could give her a lift home after training. This meant she had to explain that the world was conspiring against her for having lost her football heirloom. Alex just smiled, used to the Spaniard’s drama, and didn’t say a single word, though she did suggest she ask Y/n, Leila’s girlfriend, if she knew anything about the blessed hoodie. But Leila flatly refused, not because she’d asked her, but because, in her utter stupidity, she believed that Y/n knew she couldn’t be parted from her hoodie.
On Thursday, Leila thought the universe might give her a break, or at least not be quite so cruel. She was emotionally exhausted and just wanted Saturday night to come so she could catch the plane to London and spend a peaceful day and a half with her girlfriend. The problem was that she woke up with drops of water on her face… drops from a massive leak that hadn’t been there when she went to sleep.
Leila checked room by room and realised that apart from the living room and the bathroom, every room had a leak. When she stepped out onto the landing, she saw water running down the stairs and knew that the flat above had flooded – perhaps a burst pipe, a faulty boiler, or simply the football gods continuing to punish her for her sins, now through other people’s misfortunes.
The problem was that her neighbour upstairs wasn’t in the country, so she had to call her landlord to ask what to do. After moving several pieces of furniture out, including the mattress that refused to come through the door, like a child clinging to a bar in a playground.
—Oh no, you’re not going to beat me, you bloody mattress; I’ve seen carnage you’re not capable of processing, you bloody spring-filled foam.
In the end, Leila had to give Andrée a call to say she wouldn’t be able to make it to training because her flat looked like a waterfall. Andrée, who hadn’t had his coffee yet, sighed wearily:
—Leila, I don’t know what’s got into you this week, but you need a shaman, an exorcist or a proper clean.
Leila apologised repeatedly before hanging up and continuing to move furniture, placing buckets and mopping up water until the plumber finally arrived to turn off the water supply from the flat above.
—If I hadn’t lost my hoodie, none of this would have happened.
Leila jotted down a note on one of those Post-it notes she keeps by the front door—the ones that are perfect for adding a splash of colour to the hallway but which she never actually uses: “Find a shaman, witch doctor or similar, to remove curses”.
Leila slept in the living room, where she had laid the mattress on the floor, and woke up on the floor next to her shoes, as if the mattress itself had punished her for daring to put it anywhere else.
—You’ve beaten me this time, this time, but tonight I’m going to get my own back—she muttered as she stretched her neck, which was aching, possibly from having spent several hours in an uncomfortable position on the floor.
By the time Friday came round, Leila had considered filing a missing report, but her captain intervened, saying that no police officer in the city would take her seriously and that she would probably be admitted for a psychiatric assessment, because what sort of person would break into her house to steal a worn-out hoodie with more sentimental value than anything else?.
Leila wasn’t reassured, but she didn’t want another lecture from Andrée, so she simply nodded and considered Plan B. Although she wondered if she needed some sort of permit to put up missing posters in the neighbourhood.
After finishing a training session without incident, Leila drove to the supermarket, where she made sure she had her keys in her pocket before leaving. She didn’t want to have to ask Alex to be her chauffeur again just to fetch the spare keys from her flat. The flood the day before had made her so anxious that the only edible things she had left were a coconut yoghurt and a green pepper.
After half an hour in the supermarket, she came out with a cereal bar in her mouth and a bag in each hand. And that was probably a mistake, because as soon as she was a couple of metres from her car, a seagull swooped down too close to her face, snatching the cereal bar from her mouth before she could do anything.
—Hey, you idiot! That’s mine!” Leila exclaimed angrily as she watched the seagull devour her bar, before it cawed mockingly from the top of the building’s façade where it had perched.
Leila arrived home with her pride wounded, still muttering about that ‘damned flying rodent’. She ate a plate of pasta for dinner whilst sitting on the sofa, as the mattress she’d propped up vertically behind the sofa kept falling over and hitting her on the head every few minutes.
—I can’t wait to get to London and have a good day,— she murmured before popping the last bite of pasta into her mouth.
On Saturday, Leila woke up on the mattress and smiled triumphantly. But just as she was about to get out of bed, her foot got caught in the sheet and she fell to the floor.
—And there went the last shred of my dignity— she whispered to the floor.
But even that wasn’t the worst part of the day. When they arrived at the pitch, Andrée announced the line-up. To her surprise, Leila was in the starting eleven. She thought this meant the gods’ wrath over the loss of her hoodie had been appeased. Nothing could be further from the truth.
The first 45 minutes were an intense battle. Defending against Agyemang and Kirby together was worse than fending off a hungry bear with a spoon. And that was evident in the defence’s sole mistake, which Kirby capitalised on to make it 0-1 in the fourteenth minute.
—Damn that bloody hoodie…— she cursed to herself.
It hadn’t exactly been Leila’s fault, but in matches, a personal mistake was also a collective one.
It wasn’t until the 58th minute that Shaw levelled the score from a pass by Leila herself. Shaw ran to hug her and Leila thought, “My luck’s back.”
But the joy was short-lived. In the 70th minute, Leila, defending a corner, scored an own goal that put the away side momentarily in the lead. Fortunately for City, the assistant referee raised her flag, allowing the team to breathe a sigh of relief.
Andrée then substituted her, fearing that Leila would bring bad luck. He didn’t say a word to her, but the way he placed his hand on her shoulder after the substitution, and the look he gave her, were more devastating than any speech.
Fortunately, Yui scored the second goal before the 84th minute and the score remained that way until the final whistle.
A few hours later, Leila was waiting at the airport for her long-awaited flight to London. The final victory and the absence of further mishaps had put Leila at ease. Until, ten minutes before boarding the plane, a storm hit the airport, causing several cancellations and delays.
—Come on, don’t give me that shit— was the last thing Leila said when her flight was delayed until almost 11 pm. This meant she definitely wouldn’t make it to dinner, and Leila slumped in her seat, feeling like crying.
The plane finally took off at ten past midnight, so Leila hadn’t expected Y/n to be there to pick her up. But when she saw her girlfriend’s tired yet happy face, she forgot every single bad moment of the week.
After more than eight years together, Leila had learnt that Y/n appreciated every little detail, even those she herself failed to notice. Seeing her there, looking sleepy but with a smile from ear to ear, made her forget even the damn hoodie.
—My love— said Leila, her voice breaking and her eyes misting over with held-back tears— you didn’t have to come.
By the time she finally kissed her girlfriend, it was already Sunday, many hours later than she’d planned. But at least they had 24 hours ahead of them before they had to part ways again.
—As soon as the shops open, I’ll go with you to buy a phone— said Y/n once they’d got into her car. —It’s frustrating only being able to talk via video call.
—You say that as if seeing my lovely face were disappointing.
—I love that face, but I want my ‘good morning’ message with your selfie— replied Y/n as she fastened her seatbelt— not a 15-second call before you jump in the shower.
—You’re only saying that because you can’t join in— teased Leila again.
—Maybe— replied Y/n with a teasing smile before finally setting off.
When she got home, the first thing Leila did was take a shower and put on the pajamas she usually left at her girlfriend’s house. What she hadn’t expected at all was that when she came out of the bathroom and walked into Y/n’s bedroom, she’d find her wearing her hoodie. Her bloody lucky hoodie!
Leila froze, unable to say a single word, just opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.
— Darling, are you alright? — asked Y/n when she saw her standing in the doorway.
— Is that my hoodie? — Leila managed to ask, still in shock.
Y/n looked down and smiled slightly.
—It is— she admitted. —I took it from your house last week.
Leila opened her mouth but couldn’t get a single word out.
—Leila? Darling? Is something wrong?
—Is something wrong?— Leila replied, pointing at the hoodie as her whole body shook. —I’ve had the worst week of my life because of you!
Leila then let it all out. She recounted every single incident that had happened since Monday because of the missing hoodie. She told how bad luck had struck her with fury time and time again. And how her ‘traitorous’ girlfriend hadn’t told her she’d snatched her most precious possession.
But then Leila noticed something; the hoodie looked different. The coffee stain had vanished. From the shoulders to the cuffs, a strip of new fabric ran down the sleeves. Strips bearing several Barça crests. Although the hoodie didn’t look new, it looked different and less worn.
—Have you altered it?— asked Leila, stunned.
—You said it made you sad to see it so worn out and that you refused to throw it away…— Y/n began, —I thought I’d fix it up…
Leila needed no further explanation; she threw herself on top of her girlfriend, tackling her like a rugby player and resting her face against the hollow between her girlfriend’s neck and shoulder.
—Thank you—she murmured, her voice choked with emotion,—thank you for loving me even with my quirks and my obsession with this hoodie. But above all, thank you for looking after me and giving me something, when I don’t even know if I want it or need it.
Y/n said nothing, she simply wrapped her arms around her
On Tuesday, when she returned to training, Leila was flawless—not a single fall, slip or mistake. It was as if the whole of the previous week had been a bad dream. Andrée wasn’t the first to notice, but he was the only one who dared to say it out loud.
Leila just smiled and replied with a cryptic remark to them all — I just needed to kiss my luck.
