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itzzzitzelll · 6 days ago

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lost in translation - kika nazareth

word count - 5.8k | summary - you and kika became friends quickly, she was like a shot of espresso in human version, but when she realises your weakness is her native tongue, she uses it to her advantage.

lots of portuguese translations, i used deepl so hopefully everything is correct, let me know if it isnt <3

MDNI 18 + smut

it had always been easy with kika.

on the pitch, you moved like one person, reading each other's minds without needing words. but off the field, something even deeper had formed. the late-night talks after training, the quiet walks through city streets, the laughter that came so easily, or the nights where you’d somehow end up laying on top of each other. it all felt natural, completely inevitable.

you’d always known kika was touchy. from the moment you met, she’d claimed space beside you like it was hers to take. her thigh would be pressed to yours on the bench, or her hand on your back when she laughed, forehead resting on your shoulder after tough games.

at first, you thought it was culture or just her bubbly, bouncy personality. she was affectionate with everyone.

she had called you ‘linda’ from the moment she met you, she greeted you with it every morning, at one point you genuinely thought she was under the impression that it was your name.

it was a full month of her calling you it before you bought it up, “you do know my name isn’t linda right?” you asked.

she broke out into full blown laughter, “amor, you thought that i thought your name was linda?”

you were instantly embarrassed, “well it’s all you’ve called me since we met, so i thought maybe you got confused?”

her eyes lit up as she looked at you, “it means beautiful in portuguese,” she smiled softly, “i’ve been calling you beautiful.”

your eyes widened, cheeks red, mouth dropping open slightly, “oh.”

somewhere along the way, you stopped pretending your stomach didn’t flip in multiple directions every time she leaned into you. you stopped ignoring the goosebumps when she tangled your fingers together as if it were nothing.

you made a tradition out of thursday nights, you’d go to hers, occasionally with a few of the other girls, and take turns picking a movie. initially it started in an attempt to help her english improve, not that she really needed it, but when you offered to watch movies in portuguese so you could learn her language too, she refused and you didn’t think too much of it.

the two of you were sitting on her sofa, your legs draped across hers, a blanket covering the two of you as her hand moved slowly up and down your leg. you were watching despicable me 2, she picked it because of the ‘cute yellow things’ and you couldn’t help but put it on with a smile across your face, even if you secretly hated it.

the movie was about half way through when kika’s phone started ringing. her hand stilled for a moment before she reached for the device, barely glancing at the screen before answering.

“olá, mãe.” her voice was soft, effortless, and you were obsessed with it. (hi mum)

you couldn’t understand a word she was saying, but that didn’t matter. you watched the shape of her mouth, the soft curl of her tongue around unfamiliar syllables, and felt heat spread across your chest.

and maybe you imagined it, but her hand moved higher.

fingertips ghosting just above your knee, like she wasn’t fully paying attention, but you knew she was. you could feel it in the rhythm, in the way her thumb slowed down every time your breath caught.

you forced your gaze back to the screen, but it was pointless. you couldn’t focus, not when you could hear her in the background, laughing into the phone, her accent thick and affectionate.

she glanced sideways at you for a moment, her eyes glazing your face like she was memorising it, before turning her attention back to the call.

“sim, ela está aqui, está literalmente deitada em cima de mim,” she said, grinning. (yeah, she’s here, she’s literally lying on top of me.)

you frowned a little, more confused then anything, “what?”

she gave you a quick, innocent smile, “nothing, linda.”

you narrowed your eyes, “that’s a lie.”

kika didn’t deny it, instead she laughed slightly, “ela não entende nada.” glancing at you with that same mischief tucked into the corners of her mouth. (she doesn’t understand a thing.)

then she spoke a little softer, far too low for you to catch even if you did know portuguese, “mas deus, mãe, se visses o jeito como ela me olha às vezes.” (but god, mum, if you saw the way she looks at me sometimes.)

you didn’t know what she said, but the way her voice dipped when she said it sent something racing under your skin.

she ended the call soon after, tossing her phone to the other side of the couch, then stretched her arms over her head as if she hadn’t just said something you’d spend the next hour thinking about.

you looked at her, “so, you gonna translate?”

she tilted her head in your direction, a guilty smile on her face, “later,” she murmured, “maybe.”

but you already knew she wouldn’t.

so instead you downloaded duolingo, you tried your best to keep a streak but your focus was never the best, so every streak you started never got past 15 days.

you were sitting at breakfast when she first noticed, the table full of your teammates, the conversation mostly focused around the upcoming match, yet you were attempting your daily lesson.

you had got this particular question wrong a few times, the stupid green bird telling you that you had confused two verbs with each other. it had gotten to the point where you started muttering the words under your breath in an attempt to understand.

her arms wrapped around you from behind, her head resting on your shoulder as she peered at your phone, “o que, linda what are you doing?”

you quickly slammed your phone face down on the table, surprised by her sudden appearance, “jesus kika, you can’t creep up on a girl like that.”

“let me see.” she reached, grabbing your phone successfully,, raising her arm in the air so you any attempt to get it back would be futile.

“kika give it back!” you groaned, extending your arm in attempts to hide your language learning embarrassment.

“amor, are you learning portuguese?” she asked, your phone behind her back as she looked down at you, your cheeks flushing red.

“what? no? shut up.” you muttered.

“ooo she’s learning her lover’s language.” patri called out, cata and pina whistling with her.

your head snapped round to the three of them, eyes narrowing at them.

“aren’t you so cute?” kika smiled, her arms wrapping back around your shoulders as she rocked the two of you back and forth. the unimpressed look on your face barely covered the way your heart was beating through your chest.

“they’re going to kiss before the end of the season, i’ll bet on it.” jana chimed in, wiggling her eyebrows as she looked at the two of you.

“oye, leave the kids alone.” alexia rolled her eyes.

“thank you alexia, someone is speaking sense.” you nodded, crossing your arms as kika’s hands moved to rest on top of your shoulders.

alexia didn’t say anything back right away. she just looked at you. at kika.

at the way her fingers casually moved across your collarbone. the way you didn’t move away from her touch. the way you leaned into her just slightly, without even noticing.

she raised an eyebrow, “if that’s just friends,” she said, grabbing her water bottle as she eyed the two of you, “i’ve been doing it wrong my whole life.”

the room howled. jana nearly choked on her protein shake.

“alexia!” you groaned, burying your face in your hands, in attempts to hide the way your face lit up further.

kika just laughed and leaned further over you, arms sliding around your neck, lips right next to your ear, “você é mesmo fofinha quando está envergonhada.” (you’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.)

that only made it worse, and kika knew it.

she’d pepper little portuguese phrases into your conversations, phrases you never fully understood, apart from the few basic words you had learnt from your duolingo lessons. the effect her home language had on you was evident, your heart rate sped up when she spoke it, your mouth dropping open ever so slightly, your eyes far too focused on the way her lips moved.

so when the season ended and she mentioned flying home to portugal, it didn’t feel like a question when she asked if you wanted to come. you just said yes, of course you did. it was her.

kika came alive in lisbon.

she wore loose linen and her sun-kissed skin was always on display, her hair damp from the ocean. she spoke portuguese constantly, quickly, slipping back into it like she never stopped speaking it. you understood maybe five percent of it, trying to use your limited knowledge to figure out some ‘new’ words. but still, you listened like it mattered. because the sound of her voice when she spoke her mother tongue was… god. it was something else.

her voice low as she murmured things to you in portuguese that you couldn’t begin to understand.

it didn’t matter, you didn’t need the words. you liked it, too much. especially when she used it like this.

“kika," her mum was stood making dinner before glancing between the two of you, "vocês dois vão jantar?" (are you both having dinner?)

kika nodded, grinning. "claro, mãe. já é da família. ela não tem escolha." (of course, mom. she’s already part of the family. she doesn’t have a choice.)

you sat at the table, smiling politely, “you two are definitely talking about me.”

kika turned to you with a sparkle in her eye, a smirk painted across her face, “we’re saying how beautiful you are, obviously.”

you narrowed your eyes, “you’re lying.”

“am i?” she teased, then turned back to her mum, lowering her voice, just enough that it still carried.

"ela só entende um pouquinho." (she only understands a little bit.)

her mum gave you a knowing smile before turning back to kika, "francisca, tenha cuidado ou ela vai começar a perceber.” (francisca, be careful or she will start figuring it out.)

kika looked at you, laughing at your obvious lack of understanding, leaning back into her chair with a smug look on her face as if her words weren’t having some kind of effect on you.

the two of you were laid across the small double bed in her childhood bedroom. the window cracked open, the warm summer air brushing in as the sun set in the distance.

she was lying horizontally, her head resting lazily on your stomach, her legs draped just over the side of the bed. you were scrolling through something on your phone, not really paying attention, you were too aware of her fingers tracing circles against the bare skin of your waist where your shirt had ridden up.

“you were such a nerd,” you said, tapping a photo of a young kika on the wall, wearing braces and a massive benfica scarf that was practically the size of her, “this one belongs in a museum.”

“cale a boca,” she said with a groan, covering her face with one hand, “i was cute.” (shut up)

“you are cute.” you muttered, the words leaving your lips before you could stop yourself.

kika’s hand stilled on your side, leaving only silence between you for what felt like a second too long.

“don’t stop doing that.” you said quickly, you craved her touch, even if it was just ‘friendly’ little circles against your skin.

her fingers resumed their soft, idle path. slower this time. more deliberate.

“you like it when i touch you like this?” she asked, casual, but not really. there was a hint of something under the words.

you looked down at her, heart skipping, there was nothing casual about the effect she was having on you right now, “you touch me like this all the time.”

“yeah,” her fingers drifted lower, as if she was exploring your body, “talvez eu queira tocar-te mais do que só isto.” (maybe i want to touch you more than just this.)

you huffed out, not that you were annoyed with her, in fact you were the opposite. she had an obvious effect on you, one that you knew she was fully aware of, yet you couldn’t stop yourself from falling a little harder.

you didn’t know what to say to that. or maybe you did, but it felt like saying it would unravel something. and you didn’t want to ruin this, you couldn’t ruin it.

it was everything.

“i used to lie here and dream about playing for portugal,” she said softly, turning her face into your shirt, “about representing my country, playing with the best, big stadiums, trophies and all of that.”

“and now you’re living it.” your hand moved to her head, your fingers automatically raking through her hair.

“yeah,” she murmured, voice muffled, “but i never dreamt about o que eu sentiria por ti.” (the way i’d feel about you.)

you froze, “about what?”

she didn’t answer, just shifted a little closer.

you were still wrapped in her bed an hour later. the lamp was off now, the only light coming from the hallway, spilling in under the cracked door in a narrow line.

the house was quiet, you assumed her family had gone to sleep.

you’d shifted somehow in the time that passed, ending up lying face to face, your legs tangled beneath the blanket. her fingers were playing with the drawstring of your hoodie now, well her hoodie, technically, but you’d worn it so often it was basically yours.

kika shifted closer, her fingers now curling into the fabric where it bunched at your hip, “gosto quando usas isto.” (i like when you wear this.)

there it was again. that soft, impossible to truly understand portuguese.

you bit your lip, “you keep saying things i don’t understand. you’re doing it on purpose, aren’t you?”

kika grinned, completely unapologetic, “talvez.” (maybe.)

you narrowed your eyes at her, mock-offended, “that’s mean.”

“hmm i don’t think so.” her voice dipped low, teasing, “i think you like not knowing.”

you rolled onto your back dramatically, exhaling deeply, “this is emotional torment, i really need to start learning this language properly, that stupid owl knows nothing.”

“maybe i’ll teach you.” she leaned in closer, “but only the important words.”

you could feel her breath on your cheek now.

“oh yeah?” you blinked, trying to sound unaffected, staring up at the ceiling as if it would stop your heart from racing, “and what are those?”

kika smirked, her lips moving as they brushed your ear, “segredos,” she whispered. (secrets.)

your heart rate doubled, your cheeks immediately turning a deep pink as you swallowed the lump that appeared in your throat.

she pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. then winked. before settling back down like nothing happened.

god this trip was going to kill you.

the next morning, kika had you up early with no real warning and a smug grin on her face.

“vai ser bonito, prometo.” she said as she handed you a water bottle and tossed you one of her old baseball caps. (it’s going to be beautiful, i promise.)

her sister, rita, was already waiting in the car, hair pulled back, sunglasses on, feet on the dash. “you’re late,” she smirked, eyeing the two of you as you slid into the backseat together, “were you two too busy being cuddled up in the dark?”

you blinked, kika muttered something under her breath and slammed the door behind her.

“what’d you say?” you asked, nudging kika’s side.

“she said you were too busy kissing.” rita grinned, starting the car.

“meu deus!” kika called out, throwing her head back against the seat. (oh my god!)

you couldn’t help but laugh at her dramatics, “i like your sister.”

the trailhead was tucked away in a stretch of cliffs near the coast, winding through beautiful wildflowers and large pine trees. it wasn't a long hike, but slightly steep in places, and you could feel it in your legs by the time the sun was fully up.

kika stayed behind you most of the time, hand on your back when the path got narrow or unsteady, occasionally tugging at your shirt when she wanted your attention.

which was very often.

“you’re slowing down.” she said, her hands rising to your waist as she attempted to push you forward, in hopes you’d speed up.

“i’m enjoying the view.” you shot back, glancing over your shoulder.

she smiled at that, “eu também.” (so am i.)

back at the house, the kitchen was buzzing. kika’s mum stood over the stove, tossing sliced garlic into a pan of sizzling olive oil while humming softly to a radio playing something old and romantic.

you sat at the small wooden table, hair still damp from a quick shower, kika’s hoodie clinging to your frame. across from you, rita scrolled on her phone, looking far too innocent. kika was beside you, flipping through a wrinkled magazine, but you could feel how aware she was of you. her thigh pressed lightly against yours like it was an accident, yet she hadn’t moved it.

“dinner smells incredible,” you offered, smiling at her mum.

she turned with a bright smile. “thank you,” she said, accent thick but clear, “i make… how you say… kika’s favorite? since little girl.”

you grinned, her effort to communicate with you made you light up, “then i’m honoured.”

kika muttered beside you, “she’s going to say something embarrassing, i can feel it.”

rita didn’t look up, “she’s definitely going to say something embarrassing.”

her mum tilted her head at you, “you like portugal?”

“i love it,” you said honestly, “especially the company.”

kika elbowed you under the table.

her mum smiled, then pointed between the two of you, “you and kika, you are very…” she searched for the word, frowning slightly, “close.”

you nodded, ever so slightly, yet still noticeable, “yeah, we are.”

kika looked like she wanted to melt into her chair.

her mum seemed pleased with your answer, but she wasn’t done. “she no stop talk about you,” she added, “always, always ‘she score goal, she laugh like this, she sleep like starfish.’” she mimed someone starfishing in bed.

kika slapped a hand over her face, groaning, “mãe. please.”

her mum held her hands up with a small laugh, then looked at you again, serious now.

“she is happy with you,” she said, gently, “more than before.”

you opened your mouth to reply, but nothing quite came out. kika was frozen beside you, lips slightly parted like she’d forgotten how to breathe.

“that means a lot.” you said finally, voice soft. you decided to attempt some portuguese, “obrigado.” which earnt you a kind smile from her mum, and a brushing hand over your thigh from kika. (thank you.)

you were both back in her room after dinner. kika was lying on her stomach across the foot of the bed, scrolling on her phone, legs swinging absently. you were propped against the headboard, knees pulled up, tucked under the hoodie she still hadn’t asked for back.

she glanced up, catching the way your eyes were focused on her.

“what?” she asked.

you just shrugged, “still trying to figure out what you’ve been saying without me knowing.”

kika smirked, eyes dropping to her screen again, “wouldn’t you like to know.”

you tilted your head, “i would, actually.”

she set her phone down with a little sigh, rolling onto her side to face you, “it’s like you knew we were speaking about you.”

you were silent for a moment, thinking of a response before she spoke again.

her eyebrows raised, “so what, you want me to translate?”

“i want you to stop using portuguese like it’s some secret weapon.”

kika laughed, “nope, it is a secret weapon.”

you narrowed your eyes at her, “it’s not fair. you whisper something, and i have no idea if you’re insulting me, confessing your love, or listing your grocery run.”

“who says i’m not doing all three?”

kika’s eyes drifted over you, “maybe i like having the upper hand.”

you sat forward, just a little, “you think you’ve got that?”

she shrugged casually, her voice low, “most of the time, right now i definitely do.”

you matched her tone, “say something now. in portuguese.”

“why?”

“because i want to hear your voice.”

kika watched you for a moment, completely unreadable. then she leaned up onto her elbows, expression slightly softer now.

“se soubesses tudo o que penso quando estás assim, vestida com a minha roupa, a olhar para mim desse jeito-” (if you knew everything i thought when you’re like this, wearing my clothes, looking at me like that-)

you didn’t let her finish, “that was a lot of words.”

she grinned, “wasn’t even half of it.”

“was it about me looking hot?” you joked, but it wasn’t really a joke and she could certainly tell that from the way your chest rose a little quicker.

“hot,” she repeated, clearly amused, a little laugh leaving her lips, “that’s one word for it.”

the sun was high in the sky, casting golden warmth over the curve of the beach. you and kika had picked a quiet spot near the dunes, half-shaded by a striped umbrella that did almost nothing against the heat, but neither of you really minded. the towels were soft, the snacks were readily available, and your body was covered in saltwater and too much sun.

kika was laid on her stomach, flipping through her phone with her chin propped on her forearm. her bikini top was untied at the back, her skin sun-kissed and glistening in the reflection of the sun, a few water droplets dancing across her body.

you tried not to stare. really, you did.

“these chips are shit,” she mumbled, mouth full, “why’d you bring them?”

“they’re not that bad,” you said, popping another into your mouth, “they’re edible.”

she snorted and turned to look at you, grinning wide, a few loose strands of hair stuck to her cheek from a swim earlier, “you’re just eating them out of spite now.”

“correct.” you nodded.

you passed her your drink without a word, and she took it. her fingers brushed yours, and you tried not to notice how warm they were. or how long it lingered.

“we should’ve brought wine,” she said, eyes closed now, sunk deep into the towel, “or something cold with fruit in it. this feels like a wine day.”

you glanced down at her.

“you’re staring, linda.” she murmured, not opening her eyes.

you looked away quickly, “no i’m not.”

“mhm.”

you grabbed a still wet grape from the container between you and dropped it on her back, just between her shoulder blades.

she yelped, “idiota.” (idiot.)

you burst into laughter, but she didn’t let you get far. she rolled over, caught your wrist, and dragged you down half on top of her. and suddenly, you were chest to chest, her thigh sliding between yours, the laughter sticking in your throat like something caught.

neither of you moved.

she blinked up at you, one arm still looped around your back, her breathing slower.

“you’ve got something in your teeth.” she whispered, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she tried to stop herself from laughing.

you tried to stop yourself from laughing too, but you couldn’t hold back completely, “god i hate you.”

“but you’re still on top of me.” she smirked, her eyebrow raising as her tongue flicked across her bottom lip.

“shut up.” you rolled your eyes, rolling off of her as you turned your back to face her, but you couldn’t hide the grin on your face.

not long after, you were sat between her legs, head tipped back against her shoulder, slightly damp from a dip in the ocean. her hands were playing with the ends of her hair, your fingers grazing up and down her calf in slow, meaningless patterns that somehow meant everything.

“comfy?” she asked, her breath close to your ear.

“mhm,” you nodded, “very.”

“estou feliz, linda.” with that she placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, the two of you content in each other's space, something building. (i’m glad, beautiful.)

you could’ve stayed like that for hours.

there was a tension that covered the both of you when you got home. skin still warm from hours outside, laughter sticking to your lips like salt. you could still feel the ocean on your body and her on your mind.

inside, the house was quiet, her family had gone out for food, leaving just the two of you, alone.

you turned to say something, but you didn’t get the chance.

kika was already in front of you, close, fingers brushing your waist.

“you’ve been looking at me all day.” she said, voice low, familiar patterns drawing on your waist.

“you’ve been touching me all day.” you fired back, breath catching.

her lips curved into a grin, softer now. she reached up, pushed a bit of your hair back from your face, her hand resting on your cheek.

“o que estamos a fazer?” she asked, (what are we doing?)

there was that portuguese again, her words having an all too familiar effect on you.

you swallowed the lump that formed in your throat, “can you translate that please?” you whispered, your voice quiet.

“what are we doing?” she asked.

your heart thudded, you were sure she could hear it, “depends,” you whispered, “what do you want to do?”

she didn’t answer with words, but she stepped in closer, hips brushing yours, hands slipping up under the hem of your shirt, warm palms on warm skin. your arms reached up as they wrapped around the back of her neck.

her lips found yours with an aching kind of slowness, like she didn’t want to miss a single second. it wasn’t desperate and it wasn’t messy. it was just soft and warm and completely grounding, like exhaling after holding your breath for weeks.

you pulled away for a second, your forehead resting against hers, “i’ve been waiting for this, for so fucking long.”

that broke something in her. she pressed your back against the wall, hands framing your face, mouths crashing. now it was messy and desperate. she kissed you like she’d been waiting to devour you, like she’d been holding this back for far too long and didn’t care who knew it anymore.

your hands found her waist, pulling your body flush against hers. there was no space. no hesitation.

she placed small kisses across your jaw, trailing down your neck, along your collarbone. you tasted of salt and sun, and the soft breath you let out undid her even more.

“porra,” she whispered, her teeth trailing against your skin, “you have no idea.” (fuck.)

“tell me,” you practically whimpered, “tell me in portuguese.”

she laughed breathlessly, “you like that, linda?”

you nodded, your lip caught between your teeth.

“quero você tanto,” she whispered, lips near your ear, “i want you so bad.”

“please.” you whimpered, your knees practically going weak.

you don’t know how you ended up in her bedroom. you were tangled up in each other's arms, shirts barely off, bikini bottoms still damp and clinging to your hips, hair messy from the beach.

her fingers brushed over your ribs, slow and intentional, her smile still playing at her lips, but her eyes had gone darker. more focused this time.

you looked at her, heart pounding against your chest.

her hand slid lower, tracing the curve of your hip, then slipping beneath the hem of your shirt again. your body heating up beneath her touch.

she leaned in, kissing your jaw, your neck. slowly, there was no rush about it. her hand moved to your inner thigh, barely brushing the skin. your breath hitched automatically.

you exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering shut as her fingers traced lazy. she wasn’t rushing, she was teasing, savoring the way you reacted to every inch of contact. her mouth pressed into your shoulder, soft and steady, grounding you.

“do you want me to stop?” she asked softly.

you looked at her, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling quickly and shook your head. “no. don’t stop.”

“vou fazer-te sentir tão bem.” she muttered, placing another kiss against your shoulder. (i’m going to make you feel so good.)

her hand slid between your legs, and your breath caught in your throat, your whole body stilled beneath her.

she paused. her eyes flicked up to meet yours, asking again, making sure you were as okay with it as she was.

you nodded, barely, your lips parting, “yes,” you whispered, “please.”

she kissed you again, deeper this time.

her fingers drew small circles over your clit, moving with agonizing slowness. her fingers were brushing over your heat as if she was trying to explore every part of you, every sound you’d make, every way you’d respond to her touch.

her other hand held your jaw, steady and gentle.

you gasped into her mouth, your hips rising instinctively to chase her fingers.

she smiled instinctively, “you’re so sensitive, so wet,” she murmured, “estás tão bonita assim.” (you look so pretty like this.)

you didn’t understand the words, but the tone made you shiver.

you tangled your fingers in her hair, pulling her closer, needing more of her, all of her. every motion was slow, deep, careful, like she wanted you to feel everything. remember everything.

you clung to her, kissing her like your life depended on it. she moved with you, quiet gasps and low hums shared between the sheets, the tension that had been building for so long finally finding a release.

her fingers dipped inside of you, curling with precision, moving in time with your body as she set a steady pace. you could feel yourself tightening around her fingers, getting closer as every inch of you responded to her.

“fuck kika.” you couldn’t even hide the moan that escaped you.

she knew exactly how to read you, far too well, her pace speeding up as she sent you tumbling towards the end.

“let go, amor.” she muttered, her lips pressing to yours as you let go of all the tension that was building, “tão bom para mim.” (so good for me.)

every lingering touch, every word that you never found out the meaning of, every moment you had shared with her unravelled, in the best way possible.

you laid next to her, your breathing shallow as you attempted to come down from the high kika had just put you on. she adjusted herself, leaning up on one arm as you looked up at her.

“god i didn’t know me speaking portuguese made you that wet.” she teased, her hand moving up and down your arm, giving you something to match your breathing too.

“it just sounds so sexy when you say literally anything.” you defended, reaching up as you tucked a stray hair behind her ear, “plus i’ve been looking at you in a bikini all day, how could i be normal.”

she smiled, reaching down to place a kiss on your lips, one she assumed would be innocent, but you weren’t done. your hand reached up, cupping her jaw as you kept her in place, lips moving against each other as the heat began to rise again. you swung your leg over her hips, moving to straddle her as her hands sat at your waist.

your lips trailed to her neck, littering small kisses against her skin, the small moans that she couldn’t contain only spurring you on.

“amor,” she breathed out, you barely even stopped to acknowledge her words as you worked your way down her body, “we can just rest, i can look after you.”

you were just above the hem of her bikini bottoms, pressing seemingly innocent kisses to her lower stomach, “do you want that? or can i make you feel good?” you muttered, eyes looking up at her.

you watched as her chest rose and fell, her eyes scanning your face as if she was checking you were sure, “make me feel good.”

that was all you needed. you hooked your fingers on her bottoms, pulling them down, discarding them somewhere at the bottom of her bed. your moved your arms to rest under her thighs, her legs automatically moving over your shoulders as you placed kisses on her inner thighs, inching closer and closer to where she wanted it.

your eyes travelled up to her, her head thrown back, hair messy against the players, eyes closed but her mouth slightly parted.

kika’s fingers fisted the sheets, her back arching ever so slightly as she whispered your name, “you’re driving me crazy.” she muttered.

you smiled against her skin, “good.”

she looked down at you, you didn’t look away. you wanted her to see how much you meant it, how much she meant it.

“i’ve wanted this for so long” she whispered, chest rising and falling as her hand reached down to cup your cheek, “you, like this.”

you leaned into her palm, kissing it softly, and then you gave her what she asked for.

a gentle, slow flick of your tongue, soft at first, then more deliberate as her legs tensed around your shoulders and a broken moan spilled out of her lips.

you moved carefully, learning her through every small moan, every twitch of her hips, every whispered "meu deus" as she clutched the sheets. and when she cried out your name, back arching, body trembling beneath your touch, your whole body warmed up.

your name and portuguese falling from her lips.

you slowed, gentle kisses easing her through it, your hands running up her sides in soft, reassuring strokes.

when you finally moved up her body, she reached for you, pulling you into her arms like you were the only thing she needed in that moment. she was wrapped around you, her leg tangled with yours, one arm draped across your stomach and her face pressed to your shoulder.

you ran your fingers lazily along her back, her breath tickled your skin as she shifted slightly, tightening her grip around your waist.

it was quiet for a while, not the awkward kind, the kind that made you feel safe.

“by the way,” kika said, her head lifting as she spoke, “i really like you.”

you couldn’t help but laugh slightly, “yeah? when did you realise that?”

she pushed your arm, a playful smile covering her face, “cala a boca, idiota.” (shut up, idiot.)

“i really like you too,” the smile on your lips hiding nothing, “especially when you speak portuguese.”

a/n - thank you for reading! the feedback i got before even writing this fic was insane, so thank you for the love. my asks are open for any feedback/requests <3

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itzzzitzelll · 9 days ago

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A medal and a place in your heart

Lynn Wilms x reader

Summary: You lose one of the biggest matches of your life, but in the end you got something that a medal can’t replace.

Word count: 1.3K

A/N: its not super long but I liked writing it, hope you guys enjoy ps: the title makes sense in the end

This was the most stressful game you have ever played in your career. It was the European championship final. Netherlands against England. England was currently 0-1 down, and you as a striker were doing everything in your power to get that equalizer in.

You were in the penalty box with the ball at your feet, but just as you were going to shoot, somebody tackled you hard. You fell to the ground feeling a sharp pain in your knee. You knew that feeling all to well. You had ruptured your ACL a few years before when you were making your senior debut for the lionesses. There was no doubt in your mind. You just ruptured your ACL again

You got stretchered of the pitch with tears flowing down your face. You didn’t know who had tackled you in the penalty box, at least not yet.

About 15 minutes later you heard a knock at the door of the medical room. You thought your teammates were there to visit you, but at the door stood the Dutch international, Lynn Wilms with a gold medal around her neck.

“Hi, I don’t know if I am really the person you want to see right now but I just wanted to say I was sorry” she said. “ I shouldn’t have tackled so hard but at that moment the only thing on my mind was the win. That was selfish of me and now you have to suffer because of it. I’m sorry”

You looked her in the eyes and saw that she really meant her apology. “look Lynn, these things happen. If I was you I would’ve also gone all out to save my team from conceding. Its not selfish, it’s choosing your team over the opposition.”

“I just feel bad because it’s not a minor injury. You will be out for at least nine months.” Lynn replied.

“it’s okay. I’ve done it all before if that makes you feel any better.” You laugh. “It really doesn’t. It might just make me feel worse” Lynn said as she smiled at you. “look Lynn, you just won a European championship. I think you should go celebrate with your team instead of standing in the medical room with the opponent sulking.” You said. “okay fine, but I won’t leave until I have your number. I have to make it up to you.” She looked at you with hopeful eyes. You smiled and happily gave her your number.

When she left, you couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her again. The ACL injury you had just suffered because of her seemed to fade to the background for a bit.

------------------------------------------------

It had been 3 months since you ruptured your ACL. You had gotten surgery the week after the final. Right now you were kind of immobile, you couldn’t really do things for yourself because you had to walk on crutches. Good thing that most of your teammates were there to help you. And not only your teammates. Lynn was there too.

Lynn had kept her promise and had taken you out for some coffee the week after your surgery. She wasn’t normally in England, but you were lucky. Lynn’s contract at Wolfsburg had just ended and she decided not to renew, instead she opted to move to Manchester City, your home.

Since she was in Manchester a lot, she came to help you out. She would come to your apartment and help you with things you couldn’t do for yourself. Often she would also just come over to hang out with you. You guys would sit on the couch for hours talking about everything and nothing. Sometimes she would just come over to play videogames on your Xbox.

Slowly but surely, you began to fall for Lynn. You didn’t know what to do because spending time with her while you were utterly in love with her was torture. So you went to get advice from your best friend, Lauren hemp. “If you are really in love with her, you should just go for it.” Lauren says over the phone. “yeah, but what if she doesn’t like me back. I don’t want to loose our friendship” you replied. “ oh come on, Y/N. I’ve seen the way she looks at you, there is no way she doesn’t feel the same way. Just shoot your shot” She says. “okay fine I’ll confess” you say as you hang up the phone.

Later that night, Lynn is sitting on your couch playing videogames. “Lynn” you say. “Yes, is something wrong, do you need something?” she asks as she looks at you with concern in her eyes. “ No, I don’t need anything. I just want to talk to you” you say. Lynn looks even more concerned now. “yeah, okay” she says as she pauses the game and takes her headphones of. “I have been thinking a lot lately, more so about us” you say “you are really scaring me right now” Lynn says. You take her hands in your own. “no Lynn, its nothing bad. I didn’t know what to do so I went to Lauren for advice. She said I should just go for it so here I go I guess.”

“ Lately I’ve been feeling like I want to be more than friends. It’s totally okay if you don’t feel the same way, but spending time with you has become harder because of this and I just want to get it out of my system before I start hurting you. I-” before you could say anything else, Lynn takes your face in her hands. “of course I feely the same way dummy” she connects her lips with yours. Her hands grip your waist as your hands link together behind her neck. After a few minutes you two break apart.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long” Lynn says as she kisses you again

---------------------------------------------------------

It had been a few months since your first kiss. Lynn had taken you on plenty of dates before officially asking you to be her girlfriend. She had also permanently moved in with you.

Nobody knew about your relationship, so when Lynn got asked why she moved she said it was to help you. Nobody questioned her since for all they know you two were good friends so it wasn’t weird. The only person, well not really a person, that knew about your relationship was biscuit, the dog that you and Lynn got when she moved in so you would be less lonely when she was away.

--------------------------------------------------------

The day had finally come. 9 months after suffering from a ruptured ACL, you were back and better than ever

Today was the day that you would come back on the pitch for Man City, and it wasn’t just a normal game, If you win this game, Man City would be WSL champions.

You came on in the 89th minute, the score was 2-2 so if you could score before the final whistle Man city would be WSL champions.

The time on the scoreboard said 90+4, there were 6 minutes of extra time so you had 2 more minutes to score. Mary had the ball, you saw her and sprinted towards the penalty box. She passed to you, you went right through Chelsea’s defense. You shot the ball into the back of the net. It felt like a slow motion but once it was in the crowd went wild. Lynn sprinted over to you, she took your face in her hands and kissed you hard.

All your teammates and the fans went wild, but in that moment only you and Lynn mattered. You might not have won that euro final 9 months ago, but now you’ve got Lynn and a WSL championship to make up for it.

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itzzzitzelll · 9 days ago

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And relax 😮‍💨

- Patri’s IG story 31.7.25

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itzzzitzelll · 10 days ago

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how about 11 with mariona? she's apparently a really good piano player...which means she's probably pretty good with her hands

Clair de Lune - Mariona Caldentey

Summary: Mariona plays the piano, and turns out she's very good with her fingers.

Warnings: (+18) smut, fingering (r receiving).

Word count: 2.7k

a/n: guys, the beginning is a bit melancholic, but I promise the smut is there at the end. - I finished writing this beauty on June 2nd (draft).

Mariona was a player for Barcelona. Was, as in the past.

Mariona had received a proposal from Arsenal a few months ago to play for the English club. It was a two-year contract. It was a hard decision, one that kept Mariona up at night, one that made her feel like she was not only betraying her club, but herself as well.

Mariona had loyalty to Barcelona. She would bleed for the club, which she has countless times on the pitch, but she also knew she wasn't getting the time she needed to keep a steady position in the squad.

It wasn't like Barcelona was mistreating her, or making her feel less, it was just that too many new names were growing in the team, and as the seasons passed, it felt like more and more Mariona didn't have the minutes she so much needed in order to be called up to national camp.

So she signed the contract with Arsenal, but first, she decided to talk with her teammates, especially Alexia, Marta and Irene.

The conversation was good, but weird. Mariona felt the same thing for Barcelona as the three veterans did, but they would never do what Mariona was doing; changing clubs was out of the question for them. She didn't feel judged, but she didn't feel understood either.

They were her dear friends, her loyal teammates, and nothing would change that (they made sure Mariona knew it), but still, it was different.

England was different, too.

Too cold, too humid, too much rain, too little sun.

The food was different. Not bad, necessarily, but they didn't use the same ingredients, didn't have the same spices.

When Mariona went to the grocery store, it felt like the fruits, even though they were the same as those from Spain, tasted different, as if they didn't grow on the same soil, as if their trees didn't know the same worms.

It felt lonely, at times. Most times, really.

The girls in the team were nice, but they didn't know what it was like to grow in the sun, didn't know what it was like to comb for seashells on Mediterranean beaches.

Laia's presence was comforting, though. She was a few years younger, but it was good to have a former Barcelona friend with her. If it wasn't for Laia, Mariona wouldn't have come to London.

Shared loneliness was a little more gentle on the heart and on the body.

But then, a new signing came. Y/n.

She was a shy girl, very shy. Her play style matched that. She wasn't aggressive in her defences, she preferred to think ahead rather than wait for the opposition's strikes to get too close.

Y/n didn't talk to Mariona when she first came on her first day of training. She didn't talk to anyone really, so Mariona knew it wasn't intentional.

The next day, she opened up a bit more, told a bit about her own story, and her last club, Wolfsburg.

Mariona had played a good number of games against Wolfsburg, but she couldn't quite remember the girl.

A week passed, and then two. Mariona and Y/n had just shared a couple of words, but nothing more.

One day after winning one of the trophies from the league, Renée had called everyone to dinner at a private bistro. It was one with international food, so after long months, Mariona felt at home as she shared paella with her teammates. Vic, Daphne and Renée were also happy to eat goulash.

Mariona was too entertained in a conversation with Laia and Katie to notice how the girls from the other side of the table were slightly shoving Y/n to the other side of the bistro. At first, Mariona didn't understand why, but then she realised: a piano.

Mariona hadn't noticed it was there before, but it made sense, it was turned to her back.

Y/n walked over, Leah by her side, slightly pushing her with a hand on her back. The girl sat in front of the piano as Leah made her way back.

Leah sat on her chair and said, "Go on, play for us! You can't expect to tell us you play piano and then not play."

Mariona lifted her eyebrows and looked at the girls. For a moment, they shared a look, but then Mariona looked away. She didn't know the girl played piano; she knew Leah did, and that she was good. But not that Y/n did. She didn't remember that being brought up in any conversation, but again, Mariona wasn't the best at locker room conversation.

Y/n looked uncomfortable to be put in the spotlight, her cheeks were flushed, just slightly. If you didn't know she was easily embarrassed, you wouldn't even notice it.

"I don't know what to play," the girl said in a small voice, but already adjusting her posture to get ready to play.

"Just anything," Kyra said. "Honestly, most of us don't even know the difference between two notes, don't be too nervous."

"Yeah," Katie said. "We'll probably clap at whatever... noise you make."

The team laughed at Katie and watched Y/n, waiting for her to begin, but she still looked nervous.

"Why don't you play Clair de Lune?" Mariona suggested from her seat. She knew it was a fairly common song known by piano players; she had learned it when she was eight.

It was a calm, soft-paced song.

The girl looked at Mariona as if a little surprised that she had mentioned anything.

Y/n nodded, looked down at the piano, and carefully began playing the notes Mariona knew too well.

She was beautiful, Mariona noticed. She wasn't sure if it was Debussy's fault, though. Everyone looked pretty while playing his song.

Maybe it wasn't the song, or the piano, because when Y/n finished and went back to the table as everybody clapped, she continued to be more beautiful than ever.

England seemed a bit warmer now, even in the middle of December.

The piano had brought them close together. After dinner, Mariona waited until everyone had left and, very carefully, approached Y/n, who was waiting for a cab.

"You were good," she said. "On the piano, very good."

The girl looked up from the pavement to Mariona, holding her purse as if it was grounding her. She looked less nervous now, which was good. "Thank you, I learned it when I was a kid."

That made Mariona smile, she had learned when she was a kid, too.

"Who taught you?" Mariona asked, watching her fogged breath. "My abuela taught me, her grandpa taught her, everybody in my family knows at least a little bit."

"That's sweet," the girl said. "My parents didn't know how to play, or anyone really, but they wanted me to succeed at something, so they made me take some piano classes. I hated it." She laughed at the end, but Mariona noticed it didn't have much fun in it.

"Oh, really?" Mariona said. "They wanted you to be good at something? Weren't you already good at football?"

"Well..." the girl began. "Let's just say it wasn't at the level they expected. In the end, I was mediocre at piano but actually got better at football once I built some muscle, you know."

"Mhm," Mariona hummed.

She wasn't sure what else to say, so she didn't.

...

They had grown closer and closer each day, talking more about themselves, their childhood, and their teenage years. Mariona had grown up in a very normal family, they had taught her piano out of love, and she played football because she liked to run and feel the wind on her face.

Y/n learned to play the piano out of pressure to be good at something; she played football because it was the only after-school activity available, and her parents didn't want her to stay at home too much, saying it would breed too much laziness in her.

Mariona didn't know how parents could think that about a kid, let alone Y/n, who had grown into such a sweet and caring human being.

With each story Y/n told, Mariona wanted to hug her, bring her closer. Until she did.

It was a rainy night, and Mariona didn't know why she had agreed to go out to a park. It was cold and wet, and her shoes made a weird noise when she stepped on rain puddles.

She wanted to turn back and tell Y/n that they could find a cafe, a restaurant, anything to get them out of the rain.

But the girl was too enamoured by looking at a small river that crossed where they were. The river was narrow. It didn't have much water running on it, and it looked like the plants on its side were all plucked out. But still, Y/n looked at it as if it were the prettiest thing in the world.

She was a few steps ahead of Mariona, which annoyed Mariona because she had asked at least four times for her to stay under their shared umbrella.

Mariona took a few steps, the wet rain clinging to her new shoes. The girl was looking at the river, but Mariona couldn't see what she was looking at.

"Do you hear them?" Y/n asked, turning her back and smiling at Mariona.

"Hear what?"

"Them," the girl said, pointing at the water.

Mariona looked at the girl exactly as if she were looking at someone who said they were hearing voices.

"Look," the girl unexpectedly took her hand and pulled her closer to the river.

Her hand was so warm, Mariona didn't know how, given the weather, but still she let herself be pulled along.

"Them. The frogs," the girl said, pointing at what looked like a dark leaf. "It hides itself very well, but I promise it's a frog."

"A frog?" Mariona asked, clearly not understanding what the girl was talking about.

"Yes!" the girl said. "Rana temporaria, very common here."

"Rana?"

"Yes…temporaria," Y/n said, before turning back to the river. "It's very common in England, that's why it's known as the Common frog. It has a very distinct croaking, that's why it's easy to identify which one of the few species it is."

Saying that Mariona was enamoured was an understatement. Even in the awful park, filled with mud and frogs, Mariona felt the intense need to kiss Y/n.

And she did. It was a wet kiss, just like the rain that was pouring by their side.

They began dating not long after their first kiss. There wasn't any big proposal or anything like that. It was natural, little by little, Y/n's clothes showed up in Mariona's drawer.

Then Mariona bought an eating bowl for Y/n's cat. After a few months, Mariona left Y/n's pads in the drawer inside her bathroom. Then Y/n just grew accustomed to going by Mariona's house every night to cook dinner, and then to spending every weekend together.

They began travelling to Barcelona together when they had a vacation from Arsenal. It all fell into place. It felt right. Cozy. As if they were a promise made to happen.

Mariona had a piano in her house. She used to play, especially when she was missing her life back home, but since Y/n came into her life, the piano wasn't something melancholic anymore.

Y/n knew how to play, obviously, but she preferred not to. She'd rather listen to Mariona play one of her favourite Catalan songs and sit by her side, listening to it and just enjoying the moment.

Y/n always encouraged Mariona to play more and more. If before she only played when she missed Barcelona, now she played every night, or rather, any time Y/n asked her to.

Right now, Mario was playing. It was a calm song, but she didn't know the name of the song, and didn't know who the composer was. Mariona remembered her grandfather playing it while her grandma would sing it back in Spain. Maybe they had created the song, maybe they were the original composers

Y/n was watching her from the arch of the doorway, a smile on her face. It was late, and she had just one of Mariona's old shirts on. She looked cute and comfortable.

Mariona stopped playing for just a second.

"Come here," she patted the piano bench by her side. "Stay with me, sí?"

Y/n smiled and did so, walking until she reached the bench and sat by Mariona's side, her right leg spread over Mariona's legs.

They sat in silence as Mariona continued to play. Y/n's head was on Mariona's shoulder, breathing on her neck, and it was making a shiver run down Mariona's spine.

Then Y/n's hand moved to rest gently on Mariona's thigh. Y/n was shy when she wanted sex, but she always had her little tells, and over time, Mariona had learned how to read them.

Mariona kept playing the piano, but she leaned over and kissed Y/n's cheek. Then, Y/n turned her head just slightly, and their lips met in a needy and gentle kiss.

The music stopped as Mariona's fingers stilled on the keys. Now the room was in complete silence aside from the sound of their breathing.

Mariona wrapped an arm around Y/n's shoulder and, with a smooth move, she shifted her Y/nso she was straddling her on the bench. Mario kept one of her hands at the small of Y/n's back, so she could shield her from the edge of the piano.

"Estás muy bonita, cariño," [you look very pretty] Mariona murmured, her lips brushing Y/n's neck.

"You're just saying that because I'm wearing your shirt," Y/n breathed.

"Mhmm, quizás... tal vez tengas razón," [mhm, maybe you are right] Mariona replied with a teasing smile. They continued to kiss, and now they were more tender and slow, but Y/n wanted more, so much more.

"I need your fingers,' she whispered, so softly that Mariona could barely understand.

Mariona paused, kissing Y/n's forehead.

"My fingers?' Mariona repeated as her hands slipped under Y/n's shirt and trailed along her waist, and that's when she realised the girl wasn't wearing anything but the shirt. She didn't have any shorts or underwear on.

"So you came prepared?" Mariona asked, lifting her eyebrow playfully.

Y/n nodded, and her cheeks flushed in that cute way Mariona liked so much. "Yes, you look really good playing piano."

"Oh?" Mariona grinned, voice lower now, matching Y/n's "You like watching my fingers on the keys? How long are they?"

"Yes," Y/n admitted, voice trembling. "I like how they move... I need them."

Mariona was having far too much fun teasing her, so Y/n took matters into her own hands. As Mariona leaned in to kiss her again, Y/n grabbed her free hand and gently curled her fingers around two of Mariona's fingers.

Then she guided Mariona's index and middle finger down and slipped them inside herself, resting them deep inside her already wet cunt.

She moaned, arching into Mariona's body as Mariona curled them inside of her, hitting the spot she knew so well.

A breath caught in her throat as she closed her eyes. Y/n let go of Mariona's hand and let her do the work, moving her two fingers in and out so slowly, though it was a form of torture.

Y/n was moaning, her mouth in an 'O'. Mariona pulled back just enough to look at her, lips parted, the grin that was on her face was growing each time Y/n tried to move her hips in sync with Mariona's fingers.

"Qué impaciente eres, mi amor…" [you are so impatient, love] she said, as she teasingly took her finger out of her pussy, just to dive back in.

Y/n was as impatient as Mariona was a tease.

But thankfully, Mariona also had mercy on her. Or maybe she just liked the face Y/n made when she reached an orgasm.

In less than a few minutes, Mariona picked up the pace of her fingers, and with a last curl of her fingers, Y/n came undone on Mariona's lap.

Mariona places a hand on the back of Y/n's head and brought her close, making the girl rest her head on Mariona's shoulder. She filled her cheek with kisses.

"Estás temblando… respira hondo, cariño." Mariona whispered while holding Y/n's body. "So te dejó sin aliento, no?" [You're trembling… take a deep breath, darling. That one took your breath away, didn't it?]

Y/n didn't have anything left in her body, feeling too overwhelmed with her orgasm, so she just nodded and let herself be held by Mariona.

a/n: I really enjoyed writing this, wanted to write something a little melancholic? little "poetic" (if I can call it that), that's why it took me some time to post it. I wasn't sure people would like it. anyways, it's done now.

Also, I was studying frogs at the time I was writing it (had to go out in the rain at 10 pm just to look for some frogs and snakes), that's why I added the river scene hehe.

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

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itzzzitzelll · 10 days ago

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87 with Patri with a sprinkling of Kika and Jana being the team gossips.

Let them talk - Patri Guijarro

Summary: The team goes out for drinks after training, and you and Patri sneak into the bathroom.

Warnings: (+18) smut, fingering (r receiving)

Word count: 1k

A/n: I finished writing this one on June 3rd (draft)

You and Patri had been a secret for a long time. Exactly six months and twenty-eight days.

You were Barcelona's newest signing of the season. They needed a defender, someone who was quick and aggressive. Cata was growing too vulnerable in her positions, as other clubs had been adopting a more contentious strategy for their forwards.

You were the best option available on the market. They had bought you from your previous team, Wolfsburg. Your contract was done on the second day of the transfer window.

That was how good you were. You were very aware of it. And cocky too.

Good thing a certain midfielder liked cocky.

Patri was gentle and sweet. She welcomed you from day one, smiled at you like she smiled at all the girls, and you didn't like that. You wanted her eyes on you all the time.

But tonight, they were.

The team had gathered at a tucked-away bar far from the noise of Barcelona. The kind of place that was not listed in travel guides, the kind of place only known by locals.

It was small, rustic, kind of smelled of cheap beer, and the fries were too oily. You hadn't been here before, and you didn't mind the fries, actually, they had become one of your favourite things from the bar.

You took a fry from the plate and put it into your mouth; the oil was dripping down your fingers. Everybody at the table was a bit too drunk to see how Patri was watching you in that way you knew too well: Carefully and hungrily.

Without breaking eye contact with her, you brought your hand up and licked the oil slowly. You smirked and then grabbed another fry. But this time the oil trailed a bit lower, it was down your chest, disappearing between your breasts.

Patri didn't blink as if she couldn't handle the thought of not seeing you. Instead, she reached for her drink and swallowed the rest of it.

"Damn…get a room, "Kika teased, watching both you and Patri.

Okay, maybe not everyone was too drunk.

"This is literally a public space," Jana muttered playfully, rolling her eyes. "Vicky's here. She's, like, a baby. So can you two be proper?"

Vicky was sitting in the middle seat, and Esmee was right next to her, braiding her hair. She looked up at Jana, completely confused. "Mhm…what?"

The conversation was cut short when the waitress arrived with another round of alcohol, courtesy of Alexia, aka the best captain in the world. Thankfully, it was enough to distract everyone again.

You looked at Patri and then, subtly, tilted your head to the right, to the bathroom.

She nodded, a knowing glance in her eyes.

You stood up, and the wooden chair made a noise against the floor, but nobody looked, at least you didn't notice if they did. Maybe you were a bit intoxicated, too. You swayed your hips as you walked, and you took exactly ten steps before disappearing behind the bathroom door.

It wasn't one of those bathrooms with stalls, it was just a single toilet, a sink and a mirror. It was very small, but you and Patri didn't need much space, not right now. Small was good.

Patri walked in seventeen seconds later, closing the door behind her without making any sound.

She didn't say a single word, either. She grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, kissing you hard. Her lips were warm, she tasted like beer, fries, and something citrusy. Orange juice? Maybe? You weren't sure if she had ordered that.

It didn't matter.

You wrapped your arms around her neck as you stood on tiptoe, trying to deepen the kiss even more. Your tongues were tangled. It was a messy kiss, reckless, too. You realised too late that you probably shouldn't have called her here, not when Jana and Kika were already nosy.

"Patri," you murmured against her mouth, but she didn't stop the kiss. You tried again, but this time you pulled back just slightly. "Patri, baby–"

Ptri pouted, but gave a step back, so she had enough space to look at your face. "What, cariño?'

"Kika and Jana, they–mhhm." Her lips found your neck this time, sucking softly, not enough to leave a mark, but enough to make your nipples harden.

You were losing your mind in a cheap bar, and Patri was to blame.

You tried again, tilting your head to give Patri more space, a dichotomy from your words. "I'm serious, baby, did–did they see you leave?"

"Uhum," she said, licking a path from under your chin down to the top of your chest, right where your shirt started. "They did."

'Then maybe we should…Patri," you stammered as she tugged down your zipper and unbuttoned your jeans, like she had done a million times. Her fingers slipped into your underwear.

"You're so wet already." She grinned, clearly proud of herself.

'Maybe we should go," you repeated weekly, though your hips were already rolling into her finger.

"No." Her lips brushed your ear, biting your earlobe "We're staying right here. You're not leaving this bathroom until I make you come."

Two of her fingers slid over your clit, in a fast but firm rhythm. You gasped as your hands gripped her shoulders, now it was like you were both moving in sync, Patri was trying hard to make you come in no time, and you were more than happy to help her with that.

Patri always knew exactly where to touch you, and she knew exactly how to make you beg for more.

Your mind was dizzy. But you still didn't forget about the team, who was sitting on one of the tables just a few feet away.

"The girls….fuck," you moaned, your head falling back. Your body was already overwhelmed from the pleasure, feeling the rush of oxytocin running through your body. "Th–they will talk," you managed to say, barely.

Patri pressed deeper, her fingers sinking into you, hitting that spongy spot that made your eyes roll. She filled you completely. Always did.

"Let them talk," she murmured, her other hand steadying you by the waist. "Let's give them something to talk about, sí?"

Then she leaned in, her mouth was close to your ear. "Deja que nos escuchen, cariño" [Let them hear us, cariño]

You were good. Very well-behaved. So you did as you were told and gave Jana and Kika, who you were sure were listening from behind the door, something to haunt them for the rest of their lives.

A/n: This was a small little thing.

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itzzzitzelll · 11 days ago

Text

Let's Play A Game

Part 3

You thought your initiation into the Barcelona team was complete with that humiliating singing performance. But at the first team bonding night, you find yourself roped into a game of Fuck, Marry, Kill.

Wordcount: 4.7k

Warnings: 18+ for sex scenes. lots and lots of smut

Part 1 Part 2

You are coiled tight the entire walk back to their apartment just twelve blocks away from Mapi and Ingrid’s place.

Jenni’s talking about something. But your focus is pulled by the way Alexia’s hand keeps lightly brushing yours. It is not in cadence with her stride, it’s purely intentional. A pinky tap here. A graze against your palm there.

It is driving you mad.

You want to reach out and touch her, but number one you’re in public which means the kind of touching you want to do would likely be frowned upon, and number two the kind of touching you want to do is executed much better if both of your bodies are still. And sans clothing.

So you resign yourself to sucking in a breath each time her electric fingers send zaps down your spine. And pray that you’ll get to theirs soon, letting your mind zone out as Jenni’s arm over your shoulders carries your feet in the right direction.

The striker fills the silence with commentary on the season and the upcoming matches on the schedule.

You don't even attempt to pretend to listen, hungry eyes locked on the side profile of Alexia's face, her small smirk just barely visible in the low light from the streetlamps.

Finally, finally, you make it to theirs. A white stucco building with expensive looking hardware. It's a quiet street, some people still lingering about, but everyone minding their own business.

Alexia opens the door, ushering you inside first. You miss the slap she gives to Jenni's ass, but definitely hear the stifled groan the madrileña tries to contain.

You're all standing in the landing hallway of the 4-unit building, you at the lead but with no idea where to go from here.

"Last door on the left," Alexia softly murmurs, a hand winding down to link with one of Jenni's.

The two of them watch you confidently turn and saunter towards their home, briefly turning around to throw a "what? not coming?" back at where they stand unmoved.

And that has Jenni grinning wolfishly and bounding forward. She reaches you just as you reach their door, pushing your front flush against it as her front makes contact with your back.

A slow, meticulous hand inches around your hip and grazes against your upper thigh, pulling a raged breath from your lips.

Your palms reach up to ground yourself on their dark grey door, fingers splayed.

You hear Alexia murmur, "not here," from slightly behind your left shoulder.

And at that Jenni abandons her teasing, hand still wrapped around your side, but fingers now deftly inputting their code into the lock a few inches above your belt line.

She twists the tumbler and shoves the door open, you jolting forward at the action.

Jenni's other hand steadies you, grip tight on your left hip. And then she's again pushing you forward with her body, into their apartment, invading your space in a way that has you trembling.

Alexia follows, closing the door behind all three of you and locking it.

You glance around, taking in their home. It looks to be a loft with huge two-story windows in the open layout living space. You bet the lighting is fantastic during the day.

The kitchen is gorgeous with a centerpiece island you're not sure sees much cooking, all of you so tied to the football schedule that most players use meal prep services or eat at the Barça training grounds.

But the white marble island is massive, and you're envious all the same. Even if you haven't cooked more than a handful of days in the past year yourself.

You whistle, impressed. "Damn," you verbalize. "This is some place you've got."

Jenni looks at you, proudly.

Alexia looks at you, hungry. "Didn't bring you here for a tour," she mutters, pulling you into her body by your wrist.

The striker chuckles at her girlfriend's lack of manners, so singularly focused on the need you stoked in her those weeks ago at Irene's house during that now infamous game of Fuck, Marry, Kill.

"Water, cari?" Jenni asks the room.

You're unsure if she's talking to you or Alexia so you stay silent, eyes trapped in a staring match with the midfielder.

"Okayyy," Jenni drawls. "I'll get you both a glass. I have a feeling we're going to need hydration at some point."

While she gets that sorted, Alexia pulls you towards the glass staircase at the far end of the room, shoving you gently in the back as a sign to start climbing.

The further you ascend the stairs the more breathtaking the view becomes from their living room windows, until finally you're on the loft floor, staring at what is clearly their bed space.

The bed is large, outfitted with a plush white comforter and more pillows than seems reasonable for two people. The wood frame is mesmerizing and clearly custom. You run your fingers over the grain, feeling the cool, smooth surface. Even your fingers can tell it's expensive.

Alexia watches you silently, one shoulder leaned against a wall you absentmindedly walked past on your way to their bed.

You can see an equally impressive bathroom in the cracked door to her left.

"Nice place," you murmur quietly.

The catalana hums but doesn't respond otherwise, eyes tracking you as you take in the rest of their space. The one beside table with only a singular book on it. The cluttered mess of hair ties and rings and an electric blue digital alarm on the other. You grin. Clearly the latter is Jenni's space.

You turn to say as much to Alexia and let out a gasp to find her standing right behind you now.

The gasp spurs her forward, hand reaching into your hair and cradling the back of your head as she angles it back to look up at her face, your shorter frame feeling quite dwarfed next to her.

Your eyes land on her lips and you unconsciously bite your own bottom lip in a small show of restraint. You really want to kiss her right now.

Alexia groans, thumb reaching out to trace across your cheek. "Tell me to stop," she warns.

It's your turn to moan. "Don't stop," you breathe out. "Please."

And at that she surges forward, claiming your lips as hers. Her mouth moves decisively against yours, fully aware of what she's doing and why.

Her tongue sweeps into your mouth, pulling a filthy groan from the back of your throat. You would have pegged her as a slow-build kisser. She's anything but. Dominant and demanding and deliciously in charge.

She walks you both back towards the edge of the bed, urging you to sink down as she drops her mouth to your neck.

You can barely breathe. She's everywhere, leaving hot, electric trails of desire where her mouth touches. The spot behind your ear that makes your knees buckle slightly. The column of your neck, All along your collarbones, dipping down into the valley your blouse offers on display.

It's too much and not enough all at the same time.

"More," you whine as she slowly pulls back.

"Clothes off," she replies, stepping out of your embrace.

"You do it."

An eyebrow raise. Eyes flickering down your body in consideration. And then fingers moving deftly towards your body.

Jenni joins you then, chuckling at how utterly wrecked you already look, flushed and chest heaving as Alexia removes your top.

"Got started without me?" the striker murmurs to Alexia, dropping to leave a kiss to her shoulder.

"Getting her warmed up," the catalana replies, turning her head over her right shoulder to gently kiss her girlfriend on the lips in apology for not waiting.

Jenni doesn't seem irritated at that, though, grinning and quipping back, "not sure she needed any warming up, amor. You're soaking, aren't you?" she teases, eyes glued to your blown pupils.

You can only nod.

"Since the patio?" she questions again, a finger slowly dragging up your now exposed legs towards the black lace panties still covering your core.

You suck in a ragged breath as her path curls towards your inner thigh. Another nod. "You were touching her," you croak, a hand gesturing to where Alexia stands behind Jenni, slowly removing her girlfriend's clothes as well.

"And you wanted it to be you?" the madrileña guesses.

"Sí," you stutter as her finger finds the edge of your underwear. So close to where you want her.

"Ah, muy bien, chica," Jenni teases.

"Please," you whimper, hips gently thrusting up, asking for more contact.

Jenni ignores you for a moment, turning her now naked body to help Alexia remove the last of her own clothing. "Ale, you want her first?" she asks softly, running a hand reverently down the plane of her girlfriend's abs, clearly unable to keep her hands to herself when the midfielder is naked in front of her.

Alexia smiles softly, kisses her twice, and replies, "you first."

Jenni grins and pushes her lightly towards the other side of the bed, bracketing you between them as both get in, comforter kicked down to the end of the mattress.

"So, cari," Jenni states. "Any no-gos?"

You stop to think for a second, trying to clear the fog of arousal from your mind enough to be coherent. "No ass stuff" you firmly state.

Alexia smirks. "Not our jam," she admits softly.

"Good," you breathe out. "Me either."

Jenni's mouth has descended on you now. She presses soft, quick kisses to your hips, your abs, your ribs, setting you on fire as she makes her way up to pull a nipple into her mouth.

You gasp and arch into her.

"What about mouth? Fingers?" Alexia continues the conversation.

"Sí," you moan. "All that. Please!"

Jenni grins around your breast, pulling off with a pop. "Okay, cari. Got it. We'll make you feel good, okay? But let us know if you want to stop at any point or need a minute."

"More," you whine, pushing her head back down your body.

While she feels so good lavishing your chest with bites and kisses, you really want her mouth further south.

"Need you," you pant, trying to move this along. You were wet for them hours ago. This has been the longest tease of your life. And what was an alluring game of seduction back on the patio is teetering dangerously close to your arousal swinging past the point of return into that annoying, terrible state of too overstimulated to be touched.

And you definitely want to be touched.

Jenni doesn't tease. She doesn't draw your discomfort out longer.

You're not sure if she sees the obvious need on your face, the way the tension causes the skin around your eyes to tighten as you spend all your energy staying sane as her fingers dance everywhere but between your legs.

Or maybe it is the way your legs are positively vibrating from repressed desire.

"Fingers or tongue?" she questions quietly, a hand firmly grounding where it rests on your ribcage.

Before you can answer, Alexia is peppering kisses over your shoulder. "You want her mouth," she informs you. "Trust me."

Jenni grins and waits for your nod before she kisses her way purposefully down your body this time, destination in sight.

The first touch of her tongue to your clit has your whole body jerking up as if pulled by strings.

Holy fuck.

You're so incredibly aroused that that one slow swipe has your legs tensing as if you're already on the edge.

And you might be? All you know is that your mind has gone hazy, one hand is threaded through Jenni's dark hair, gaining you an appreciative moan as your fingers tighten and tug slightly at the roots. And the other hand? Firmly anchoring you to earth via Alexia's thigh. Her powerful, muscular thigh that belongs to one of the literal soccer gods.

Alexia's hand curls around your neck, dragging your head to the side to face her.

Her golden irises find yours, and the way they darken staring at your bitten lips has you reaching up to capture hers.

Jenni's tongue swipes through your wet folds again, drawing a high-pitched whine from you as she lands on your clit and starts to gently suck.

"Shitttt," you pant into Alexia's mouth.

"Told you," the midfielder responds with a small smirk. "Her mouth is the best."

And, oh, you know it now.

Your eyes roll back as you feel her tongue thrust into you as the striker sets a rhythm. Lick up, circle your clit, suck, swipe back down, enter.

And holy fuck. It takes every ounce of willpower not to clamp your thighs around her head and rut up into her mouth to chase your orgasm.

You can feel it building, right there below your belly button. You can feel it in how your abs tighten every time she sucks you closer and closer to the edge. You can feel it in the way your thighs tremble when she dips inside. And in the way your back starts involuntarily arching the tighter she winds you up.

But it's Alexia who pushes you over the edge ultimately.

The catalana nips at your ear, soothing the moan it pulls out of you before her lips travel higher, stopping to whisper just for you to hear, "I can't wait to wreck you with my fingers once Jenni's made you cum on her tongue."

Your soul leaves your body with the force of the clench from your core at her words.

Jenni lets out a strangled noise as you lose the battle of will against your thighs and they clamp down on her ears, your second hand coming to join the first in her hair. Your hips buck uncontrollably as Jenni continues to suck you through your orgasm.

You've never experienced anyone continuing once your orgasm has hit, but she's riding you right up to the edge of pain and pleasure. You can't tell if you're begging her to stop or begging her to keep going. But it all comes out as a chant of her name, "Jenni, Jenni, Jenni."

Alexia murmurs in your ear, "that's my good girl," and you roll right into a second orgasm, mouth dropping moans in a continuous chorus. And finally Jenni starts slowing down, bringing you into a soft landing.

When finally she's placed your feet back on the metaphorical ground, your thighs fall from her ears, and her grinning and glistening mouth reappears.

"You taste good, cari," she states. And despite all the filthy things she just did to you, that praise causes you to blush.

Alexia reaches an arm down, dragging Jenni's torso up so she can connect her mouth to her girlfriend. She moans, tasting you off Jenni's tongue. And your core clenches painfully. You just came, but shit, you think you could again if they continue to make out like that.

They taper it off, much to the relief of your beating heart. And Jenni slides out of bed to grab the glasses of water she abandoned on Alexia's nightstand.

"Drink up, cari," she tells you, "Ale is insatiable. You are going to need your strength," she grins teasingly.

Alexia rolls her eyes at her girlfriend's antics. "I'm just way more patient than Jenni," she replies. "I'll get you that orgasm," she promises, staring you down. "But you're going to have to beg for it."

Your thighs clench around air.

You see Alexia's eyes dart down, tracking the movement of your muscles. You like the tease, and now she knows it too.

She doesn't move forward to touch you, though, leaning over to kiss Jenni again, giving your body a chance to settle into that languid state post-orgasm, muscles finally bleeding out all their tension into a loose-limb state of being.

Alexia presses up into Jenni, the striker laid back, hands gripping the catalana's waist gently.

"Amor," Jenni states breathlessly, hips pushing up into Alexia.

"Sí?" Ale breathe into their next kiss.

"Touch me," the madrileña demands.

"But our guest…" Alexia teases, fingers ghosting down her side.

"Is recovering from the two orgasms I just gave her," the striker responds cockily. "Right cari?"

You hum in agreement, still recovering, still catching your breath.

"See?" the dark-haired woman teases, "she needs a few more minutes before she can take you. But me? I'm ready right now," she punctuates with a nip to Alexia's neck.

The midfielder thinks about it. Jenni opens her mouth to convince her further when Alexia's hand drops down, teasing through the wetness found there.

"So wet, so ready," she mutters into Jenni's neck.

Jenni isn't loud, but the way her hips press up into the pressure from Alexia's fingers tells her girlfriend all she needs to know about just how ready the woman is for release. She got herself all worked up getting you off.

You watch them.

You are loud, you know this. Past partners have mentioned it; and the noise complaint you once received the morning after at a delicious night between the sheets in your hotel room in Greece (complete with a red faced hotel attendant relaying the message to a mortified you) also confirmed that your volume is higher than most.

But Jenni is near silent. She is all quiet gasps and soft huffs of air as Alexia's fingers dance over her clit, strong, firm fingers pulling her up the cliff towards her orgasm.

You can only imagine how those fingers feel.

Alexia's hands are something of lore in the lesbian futfem circle. Big hands. Long fingers.

You're drenched just thinking of the possibility of having her inside.

She whispers something to Jenni, not for your ears. And you realize that the dirty mutterings she used on you must not be new for her. Because here she is winding Jenni up much the same way. With dancing fingers and a dirty mouth.

The dark haired woman tenses, long legs locked as her toes curl. She buries her exhale in the catalana's neck, one hand gripping the white sheets while the other curls around Alexia's back, nails scraping down the tattooed skin there.

You can tell Jenni has returned from the edge when her legs fall heavy to the mattress, hands too, laid out like a very relaxed starfish.

You chuckle. She looks well fucked.

The laugh draws her attention and she smiles at you. "Best hands," she mutters.

And with that Alexia flips around, dragging you into her body now as Jenni's eyes close while she catches her breath.

"Ready?" Alexia murmurs as she drops a kiss to your cheek.

You nod. Very.

Where her kisses were direct and to the point, her touch is lingering, gliding slowly up one calf, bypassing the area between your legs, and following up your stomach to your shoulder.

You're panting before she reaches your elbow, desperate for her touch.

"Ale," you moan as her nails faintly drag up your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Yes?" she asks innocently.

You try to glare, but end up with your eyes rolling back as her mouth scrapes teeth down the column of your neck, her breath hot as it hits your skin.

"Oh fuck," you groan at the sensation.

"Are you going to be a good girl and let me take control of this?" she asks quietly, demanding your attention in the quiet way she leads even on the field. Some need noise, need loudness, to demand respect. She only needs to whisper.

"Yes," you respond instantly. "Please."

Alexia hums, skimming back down your body as her mouth finds yours, her body pressing into your side, her right hand occupied by your skin as her left props her up.

You spot a tattooed hand curl over Alexia's right shoulder, nails scraping gently down her arm. And you watch the catalana shiver at the contact, Jenni curls up into her back, sandwiching her between the two of you.

Alexia's deft fingers finally land at the spot you want them most, dragging slowly through your slick folds.

You moan, hand reaching down to hold her wrist in place as your hips cant up against the pressure from her fingertips.

Alexia starts pulling her hand away and you whine.

"That is not you being a good girl," she growls.

And you feel yourself positively drip at her possessive tone.

You groan, and the show of submission must be enough for her because she moves her hand back to cup you.

"Please, Ale," you beg.

She slowly wanders down to your inner thighs and then back up to the crease where your leg meets your hip.

"You want this?" she breathes.

"More than anything," you whimper, pulling her mouth back down to yours, your hips thrusting upward gently in an effort to entice her to finish what she has (so slowly) started.

And that seems to do the trick.

Alexia drops the soft, lingering touches for firmer pressure. It pulls a keen from your mouth, clit finally touched as you want.

She circles twice before dipping a single finger down towards your soaked entrance.

"Oh fuck, yes," you mutter as she slowly pushes inside, digit making space inside you.

She starts a gentle rhythm, shallowly thrusting as her thumb swipes over your clit every other push in.

And she feels so good. The stretch is noticeable, even if a singular finger doesn't usually leave you feeling quite this full.

"Faster? Please?" you pant, delirious with desire. You need more of her. Now. You've been so patient. Such a good girl.

But you need her to dominate you. Take you hard and fast.

Jenni murmurs something to Alexia. You're way too far gone to translate the Spanish. You hope it's in support of your request. You really, really hope so.

Whatever her girlfriend says, it spurs Alexia to add a second finger, increasing the stretch.

You groan, hand slapping down to her thigh to ground yourself on her body next to you.

"God, yes," you moan as your hips pick up speed on their own, chasing that tight, curling feeling in your belly towards an orgasm.

Alexia pushes up into more of a sitting position to get a better angle to work your body.

And the shift in position pushes her fingers deeper into you.

You feel your pussy start the rhythmic pull that always precedes an orgasm.

"Gonna cum," you warn her.

Alexia just doubles down, her second hand dropping to continuously circle your clit in fast, firm strokes.

And that does it. You fly off the ledge fast and furious, pussy clenching around her fingers tightly, muscles tensed in a standoff against the swooping feeling rushing through your gut.

She leaves you light headed, the room spinning.

And then you feel the telltale push of her hips into your one as she rubs against your side, clearly turned on by the way she just dismantled you piece by piece.

Jenni's fingers reach around to find her clit, the striker's body pushing Alexia more firmly against you.

It's insanely quick.

Alexia isn't quite a quiet as Jenni, but neither is she you. She comes with a panting "fuckkkk," as her girlfriend circles her clit in fast, efficient movements, clearly well experienced at getting Alexia off.

The midfielder moans slightly as sensitivity sets in, gently pulling Jenni's hand away from her core.

The madrileña rolls Alexia onto her back as she scoots up against her.

You and Alexia catch your breath as Jenni just grins at the two of you.

“So,” Jenni ventures. “Still happy with your Fuck, Marry, Kill answer?”

You sigh contentedly. “I might just have to marry Alexia instead,” you tease.

Jenni sticks her tongue out at you before laughing.

“That was…wow,” you confess. “Your mouth. And Alexia's hands," you admit with a grin. "Ale, you’re really talented, you know?” You chuckle to relieve the last of the tension. “Shit, you might have broken me.”

The midfielder blushes slightly at your praise being so fully thrown on her. Her dominance in the moment has waned back into her standard introverted tendencies, not quite enjoying the attention being focused on her.

Jenni tugs her girlfriend even further into her side, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I know, right?” she brags. “Best in the world in more ways than people know,” she says suggestively, eyebrows raising.

Alexia slaps her playfully, rolling her eyes at her girlfriend’s antics but not denying her words. “Jenni is pretty talented herself,” she adds, eyeing her girlfriend appreciatively. “You should see her strap game.”

You watch Jenni’s hand flex on Alexia’s hip, their eyes locked in a heated stare. And you really do want to see Jenni’s strap game.

You laugh. “Okay, maybe Marry, Marry, Kill is more accurate,” you state. “Not sure I’d be able to choose between the two of you now.”

Jenni grins, completely unperturbed that you are seriously starting to fancy her girlfriend and her many talents.

“But, Mapi is definitely still being killed,” you state firmly.

That pulls a chuckle from Alexia. “She’s had it coming for years,” she states plainly, causing you to turn to her and incline your head as you silently ask for more of the story.

“She dated my sister,” Alexia answers. “She’s lucky she’s still on the team.”

Jenni snorts. “More like your sister dated her, amor. We both know who was in charge in that relationship.”

Alexia purses her lips but you see a small smirk slip through the façade.

“You Putellas girls like to take control, eh?” you tease. “Maybe you can introduce us.”

“No,” Alexia responds instantly.

You nod in acceptance and suppose that might be a bit weird for her to set you up with her little sister after what you just finished doing together.

“I don’t share,” Alexia answers with a singular eyebrow raise, daring you to reply.

Jenni can’t help herself. “Unless it’s with me,” she quips with glee, breaking up the moment and climbing over both you and Alexia. She pushes you forward to deposit in Alexia’s arms as she snuggles into your back, effectively sandwiching you between the two of them.

“Besides,” Alexia whispers at you, eyes locked on yours inches from your face. “My sister has tiny hands compared to me.”

The laugh that spills out of you is unrestrained and full, tears gathering in your eyes as you struggle to breathe at her sudden injection of humor. She’s so serious, so focused. To hear her crack a joke as she pulls you into her naked body after the things she just did to yours, well, you’re not sure she could get any more attractive.

She’s definitely your type, even if her hair is a few shades lighter than the mark. “Have you ever considered dying your hair darker?” you question the catalana.

Jenni chortles behind you.

“Not happy with having your cake and eating it too?” Alexia questions softly, knowingly.

You blush. “You heard that?”

Alexia bites her bottom lip with her teeth, eyes tracing down your body.

Jenni’s lips brush your ear. “She couldn’t take her eyes off you all game, cari. She wanted you before, but the second you said you would choose her to fuck…”

You shudder at the knowledge, arousal pooling between your legs once again, hands reaching out to grab Alexia’s hips.

“I thought fucks were a one time thing and you married the girls you’d want more than once?” Alexia teases, fingers lightly glancing across the swell of your breast and causing you to suck in a breath as your chest involuntarily pushes out towards her hands.

“I did say I’d marry you too….” you answer breathlessly.

“You did,” she admits with a small smile.

You moan as her thigh slots in between your legs, pushing up and into your core.

“Maybe I’ll dye it dark one day,” Alexia whispers into your ear.

And both her breath trailing across your skin and the image of an Alexia with dark hair have you groaning into her mouth as she confidently surges forward for a kiss, intent on making this more than a one time thing.

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itzzzitzelll · 12 days ago

Text

word count - 2.6k trigger warnings - smut minors DNI, gay panic, athletic tape You've just been subbed off in the game against Sweden, when you spot Lucy wrapping her thigh with tape, and suddenly your gay panic is louder than the stadium crowd.

It started with a big screen.

You'd only just sat down on the bench, water bottle in hand, heart still pounding from your shift on the pitch. The quarterfinals against Sweden had been brutal, your legs ached, your chest was still heaving, but nothing, absolutely nothing, could have prepared you for what you saw on the pitch.

Lucy Bronze.

By the goalpost.

Strapping her own thigh.

The physio was off patching up Hannah Hampton's bleeding nose after a collision, leaving Lucy to fend for herself. She was lying down, one leg bent up allowing access to her thighs, tape gripped between her hands as she wrapped it tightly around her upper thigh. Deliberate. Focused. Toned muscle flexing with every pull.

You took a sip of your drink. A big one. Then, right on cue, the cameraman gave the nation (and every lesbian watching) the gift of a lifetime: a slow, indulgent zoom straight onto Lucy. Or more specifically, her taped, glistening thigh. You choked violently mid-sip, coughing so hard you nearly sprayed water over the bench.

"Jesus Christ," you wheezed, coughing into your sleeve.

Lauren Hemp smacked your back, snorting. "You alright there? Swallowed it wrong?"

You nodded frantically, trying to hide the pink blooming across your cheeks. Your eyes flickered back to the pitch.

Lucy was still going, oblivious to the havoc she was causing. She shifted slightly, muscles rippling under her taped thigh, and you squeezed your legs together on instinct trying to cause any type of friction.

Then Leah leaned in beside you, the devil herself in disguise.

"Why don't you take a picture?" she whispered, voice wicked and far too smug. "It'll last longer."

You glared at her, but she just grinned, turning back to the match like she hadn't just outed you with a single sentence. No one else knew. Just Leah. And now she was having the time of her life watching you try not to spontaneously combust on the bench.

The game wore on. England won.

The moment the final penalty was missed, you shot off the bench like everyone else, arms flung around Lauren as you both ran screaming onto the pitch trying to find Niamh, the last member of your little group. Euphoria buzzed through every nerve ending, the rush of victory pumping adrenaline through your system.

Until, of course, you saw her again.

Lucy. Water bottle in hand, pouring it slowly over her head. Her shirt clung to her abs, drenched. Her hair slicked back, mouth parted slightly as she caught her breath. She looked like she'd stepped out of a goddamn commercial.

And you. You were still malfunctioning.

You stopped running, just for a second, brain going blank. Heat rushed down your spine. Your thighs squeezed together on instinct.

"You good?" Niamh asked, laughing breathlessly as she walked towards you both.

"Yeah," you managed. "Fine. Great. Just… water. Victory. Everything."

You powered through, trying desperately to forget the way Lucy's sports bra had clung to her like a second skin.

Later, on the coach back to the hotel, you collapsed into your seat next to Lauren Hemp, heart still racing and body aching in the best way. Around you, the team buzzed with energy, singing loudly, laughter echoing through the bus. You tried your best to act like you weren't completely losing your mind.

Then Lucy walked down the aisle.

She was freshly showered, damp curls pulled into a loose bun, hoodie hanging off one shoulder, and that same smug composure she always had after a win. As she passed, her fingers brushed your thigh lightly (so quick you could've convinced yourself you'd imagined it) and something soft fluttered into your lap.

A folded note.

You froze. Lauren was too busy swiping through different Lego sets to notice. You kept your hands steady as you slipped the note under your hoodie and unfolded it with practiced ease.

Caught you looking.

Your throat closed up, heat crawling up your neck. You bit down on a noise that was definitely not a yelp and looked up sharply, scanning the seats. Lucy was already settled two rows ahead, earphones in, head resting on the window. She didn’t even glance back.

Like she hadn’t just set your entire body on fire with two words and a smirk. You could feel how wet you were getting, and it was maddening. You tried to focus on the scenery outside the window, but all you could think about was her.

You had just gotten into bed, hair still damp from a cold shower, when your phone buzzed on the nightstand.

Lucy: You awake?

You stared at the message for a moment before replying.

You: Barely. Why?

The typing bubble popped up, disappeared, popped up again.

Lucy: Come open your door.

You blinked, then scrambled up, heart skipping.

When you opened the door, Lucy stood there in her england issued hoodie and shorts, a grin on her face and two water bottles in her hands.

"Peace offering," she said, holding one out. "For making you short circuit earlier."

You stepped aside automatically, brain short circuiting, words catching in your throat. "H...how? What, why? How are you here?"

She brushed past you into the room, casual and smug, like she belonged there.

"The water bottle's to make up for you choking on the last one," she said with a grin.

You froze. "Wait. How do you know about that?"

Lucy didn’t answer, just raised an eyebrow.

"Oh my god," you muttered. "Leah. It was Leah, wasn't it? She told you. Unbelievable. She's dead to me. She’s so…"

You turned to grab your phone, probably to send Leah a series of unhinged threats, but before you could even unlock it, Lucy was in front of you kissing you. Firm. Certain. No warning and it shut you up instantly. Your fingers twitched against your phone. Your brain? Empty.

When she finally pulled back, Lucy was still grinning, but softer now. "You talk too much."

You blinked up at her, dazed. "You kiss too well."

She took the phone out of your hand and tossed it gently onto the bed. "Now that that's done," she said, leaning in with a glint in her eye, "what do you say we move on to the part where I do you?"

You snorted, laughing. "That might be the corniest shit I’ve ever heard."

Lucy shrugged, utterly unbothered. "You didn’t say no."

Before you could say anything else, Lucy kissed you again.

Harder this time. Filthier. Her hands roamed with purpose, sliding down your sides until they found your ass and gripped tight. You gasped into her mouth just as she hoisted you up like you weighed nothing - as if she hadn’t just played a full match, plus extra time. Your legs wrapped around her waist instinctively, clinging to her like she was the only solid thing in the world.

She carried you to the bed and threw you onto it with casual force, watching you bounce slightly on impact as she stood over you, breath shallow and eyes dark. You propped yourself up on your elbows, gaze locked on her as she slowly peeled off her clothes; first the hoodie, then the tank top, each movement deliberate. Her shorts slid down her legs, followed by her underwear, and by the time she was completely bare in front of you, your brain had short circuited for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

She said something (a question, maybe) but you didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Words had left the building. Lucy tilted her head and smirked at the empty, stunned look on your face. "Like what you see, huh?"

You could only nod, dumbly and she was absolutely loving it.

Lucy’s smirk deepened as she climbed onto the bed, crawling up your body with a deliberate slowness that made every nerve in you buzz. Her hands were everywhere (thighs, waist, ribs) tracing the shape of you like she was memorizing it.

“You gonna just stare all night,” she murmured, voice low and husky, “or are you gonna do something about it?”

You reached up and tangled your fingers in her damp curls, pulling her down into another kiss, this one messier, hungrier. She groaned softly against your lips, shifting her hips against yours.

Her hands were hot against your skin, her mouth hungrier with every kiss. You arched into her, desperate for more contact, more friction, more everything. Lucy’s lips trailed kisses along your throat, teeth grazing your collarbone. Each touch sent shivers racing through you.

“Lucy,” you breathed, fingers digging into her shoulders as she shifted lower, her tongue tracing a path between your breasts.

Her hands slid beneath you, pulling off your top in one fluid motion. The cool air hit your skin but you barely noticed; her mouth was already on your stomach, nipping at the soft flesh there. Her hands found the waistband of your shorts and she tugged them down impatiently, leaving you bare before her.

“Fuck,” Lucy muttered under her breath as her eyes raked over you. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, then another higher up. You squirmed, gasping as her breath ghosted over your clit. “Stay still,” she commanded, her voice low and rough.

You tried to obey but it was impossible when her tongue finally dipped inside you. You cried out, hips jerking instinctively toward her mouth. Lucy gripped your thighs, holding them apart firmly.

Her tongue explored every inch of you (circling your clit) until pleasure coiled tight in your belly like a spring ready to snap. Lucy moaned against you, the vibration making stars burst behind your eyelids.

“Right there” you whimpered helplessly when she sucked hard on just the right spot. Your body tensed as those familiar waves began crashing over you; sharp pulses of ecstasy radiating from where Lucy’s mouth worked tirelessly against you.

Your back arched off the bed, a cry tearing from your throat as the pressure broke. A rush of heat surged through you, and then you felt it, a wave of release so intense it left you breathless. You shuddered uncontrollably, your hips jerking as pleasure exploded in sharp, liquid pulses. Lucy moaned against you, her tongue lapping eagerly as you trembled beneath her.

“Oh god,” you whimpered, your voice shaking almost as much as your body. Lucy didn’t stop, her fingers still moving inside you, gently encouraging the last waves of ecstasy from your spent body. When she finally pulled away, her chin was glistening and she wore that stupid stupid trademarked smirk on her face.

You were still catching your breath, skin flushed and limbs loose, when Lucy slid off the bed. You watched her move across the room, bare and unbothered, like she hadn’t just completely wrecked you.

She crouched beside a backpack you hadn’t even noticed her bring into your room. Typical Lucy - always sneaky, always a step ahead. You figured she might pull out a pair of pyjamas for her to spend the night.

Instead, she pulled out something entirely different.

Your brain short circuited. “Wait, is that…”

Lucy just looked over her shoulder with a cocky little smirk. “I always come prepared.”

You sat up, eyes wide, mouth suddenly dry. “You brought that here?”

She shrugged, fastening it on with practiced ease, her voice casual but smug. “Do I hear you complaining?”

Your brain couldn’t decide whether to be scandalized or even more turned on (probably both) but your body already knew the answer.

Lucy straightened, turning toward you fully now, eyes dark. “Still speechless?”

You swallowed hard, nodding hesitantly.

She grinned. “Good girl, now lay back.”

Lucy’s hips moved with a fluid, unhurried rhythm. Each measured thrust coaxing your body open without the sharpness of before. Her free hand drifted down your side, fingertips tracing idle patterns on your sweat-damp skin before settling on your hipbone, thumb pressing in just enough to make you gasp.

“Better like this?” she murmured, her lips brushing the shell of your ear.

The words weren’t teasing (just warm, curious). The toy inside you shifted, filling you deep before retreating slowly. You shuddered, and Lucy’s grip tightened, not with restraint but reassurance.

“I’ve got you,” she promised, bending to kiss the tense line of your shoulder.

Your breath hitched slightly as she pressed in again, deeper this time, her body molding against your back. The harness’s base rubbed firm against your clit, but the pressure wasn’t relentless anymore, just steady and deliberate letting the pleasure build instead of forcing it. Her palm slid down your stomach, fingers splaying possessively over your lower belly like she could feel every inch of the toy inside you.

“So good,” she breathed. “Taking me like this.”

A moan slipped from your lips, and Lucy answered with a low hum, her hips rolling in a slow, undulating grind. No urgency, no demand just the slow, sweet drag of her moving in you, her body a solid weight against your back, her mouth tracing lazy kisses along your spine. When your thighs began to tremble, she didn’t speed up. Just leaned closer, her voice a husky whisper against your skin.

“Let go when you’re ready” she murmured, words dripping with quiet promise.

Around 5 minutes later and Lucy had collapsed to the empty space next to you but not before shifting slightly, brushing a few strands of damp hair away from your face. Her touch was surprisingly gentle (especially after everything) and she looked at you with that warm, post win gleam in her eyes.

“You alright?” she murmured, voice low, a little smug but laced with something softer underneath. “How’re you feeling?”

You tried to speak (tried to form any kind of coherent thought) but your lips parted and nothing came out. Your brain was still fogged, your body boneless, wrecked in the best possible way.

Lucy sat back on her heels, breathing steady, flushed with satisfaction as she looked you over. Her grin grew when she saw the dazed, wordless expression on your face.

“No comeback?” she teased, tilting her head, eyes glinting. “That good huh?”

Still nothing. Just the rise and fall of your chest and the helpless, wide eyed stare you gave her.

Lucy chuckled, smug and triumphant. “God, I’m good.”

She leaned over you, brushing a kiss over your temple and you groaned softly, covering your face with one hand, and Lucy just laughed harder.

“Admit it,” she whispered smugly, pressing close to your ear. “You’ll never look at athletic tape the same way again.”

Later, when everything had quieted down and the only sound was the soft rustle of sheets and your shared breathing, you lay curled against her, skin warm and limbs tangled. Your chest rose and fell in sync with hers, the adrenaline slowly bleeding out of your system.

Then, out of nowhere, Lucy started giggling.

At first, it was soft, a quiet shake of her shoulders and a muffled snort against your neck. But it grew, bubbling up into full blown laughter that made her body shake beside you.

You turned your head to look at her, eyebrows drawn. "What? What is it?"

She tried to speak, failed, and kept laughing. When she finally caught her breath, she managed to get out, between breathless giggles, "It... it took me strapping my leg up just to end up strapping you up."

You groaned and shoved her playfully. "That is so bad. You’re disgusting."

She doubled over with laughter. "You’re laughing too!"

You tried to hold it in, but a quiet snort slipped out. "I hate that I am."

Lucy grinned wide, absolutely triumphant, and flopped dramatically onto her back. "Worth it."

You rolled your eyes, biting your lip to keep from grinning harder. But inside, you were already lost to her all over again.

605 notes · View notes

itzzzitzelll · 12 days ago

Text

Let's Play A Game

Part 1

Wordcount: 2.2k

Warnings: 18+ for some vulgar language and references to sex

Pina grins mischievously as everyone gets settled around the big patio table out back for a team bonding evening. “Let’s play a game!” she proclaims loudly.

Irene squints her eyes at the young defender. “What game?” she asks.

“Hmmm,” Jana considers.

“I know! Fuck, Marry, Kill!” Salma exclaims.

“You’re straight,” Patri interjects.

Salma waves her hand in the air. “That’s not important to this game.”

Pina snickers. “Not so straight after all,” she mutters to Patri.

“Hush. Oh, I know! Let’s make it a little more interesting – someone else in the group gives you the three you have to choose from!”

Jana nods enthusiastically.

Irene groans.

Alexia purses her lips while Jenni whispers into her ear.

“Ok, who is first?” Jana asks Salma.

“Newbies first! Think of it as initiation!”

“We’ve already been through that humiliation,” you deadpan. You and Lucy and Keira aren’t likely to forget it anytime soon.

Salma grins at you. “Ah, our first volunteer!” she cheers as she looks at you.

Lucy knocks her knee against yours. “You should have seen that coming,” she mutters to you. But you can’t help yourself from adding your two cents. You know it, and so does Lucy after all the years playing with you on the English National Team.

You roll your eyes at her. She just grins back.

“Fine,” you concede.

Salma turns to whisper into Jana’s ear, Pina leaning in to be included too. These three are going to be trouble you decide.

“Oh, yeah, that’s a good one,” Jana says excitedly.

You take a swig of your lemonade as they finish up. Alexia very proudly proclaimed to you that it is homemade when you were pouring your cup in the kitchen earlier. Jenni was quick to snark that it was homemade by her, and Alexia needs to stop making it seem like she was the one squeezing lemons for the 30 minutes it took to make enough for the whole team.

Salma claps her hands, gaining everyone’s attention. “Ok! Fuck, Marry, Kill – Alexia, Jenni, Irene–”

Irene interjects. “Remove my name from that list if you want to avoid running laps all next practice. I am married.” Salma looks like she’s considering how real the defender’s threat is, but she must see something of substance there because she’s quick to acquiesce.

“Fine, killjoy. Fuck, Marry, Kill – Alexia, Jenni, Mapi!”

In comparison to Irene’s response, Mapi exclaims, “Ohh, fun!” and turns towards you eager to hear your response.

You don’t need to contemplate it much. “Fuck Alexia. Marry Jenni. Kill Mapi,” you state confidently and send Mapi a grin at her scoff. “Sorry Ingrid,” you throw out to the blonde’s girlfriend.

The Norwegian laughs and shrugs her shoulders. “She has that effect on people.”

“Hey!” Mapi yells loudly, betrayed eyes turning on her girlfriend.

Salma is more interested in your other responses. “So, why fuck Alexia and not Jenni?”

You can see just how uncomfortable Alexia is at this conversation from across the table. Her face is practically scarlet. Jenni, however, sports a huge grin, clearly enjoying both Alexia’s discomfort and the attention.

You chuckle. “Salma, Salma, Salma. By choosing to marry Jenni I get to fuck her more than once,” you reply, arching your eyebrow at her naivety. “Plus, she’s funny – you need laughter to make a marriage work,” you state, throwing a smile at Jenni. She grins back. “Maybe I’d get them both at the same time,” you mutter to yourself.

Lucy chuckles next to you. Strike that, one person heard you. “You always have liked to have your cake and eat it too,” she murmurs.

You nod in agreement. “I sure do.”

Pina thoughtfully interjects – “Why not marry Ale?”

“Is this Marry, Marry, Kill now?” you ask mockingly. “Sure, I’d marry Alexia too if that’s an option. Next person’s turn.”

“Ingrid, Mapi, Lucy,” Pina states quickly.

You take another drink, assuming she’s going to reveal who has to make their choice from those three. But upon putting down your drink you see everyone’s eyes on you again.

“I just took my turn,” you respond calmly.

Salma replies, “We didn’t state in the rules that it is only one round per person!”

“That is literally how the game is played,” you argue.

Lucy adds cheekily, “Oh, go on! I want to hear your answer for this one.”

You grit your teeth at the annoying right back. “Fine. Fuck Lucy, Marry Ingrid, still Kill Mapi.”

Mapi shouts in disagreement. “That is not fair! Why do you keep killing me!”

“Alexia and Jenni are too pretty to kill,” you answer teasingly. “And when I marry Ingrid, I’m going to need to kill you to avoid you coming after me for successfully stealing your woman.”

Ingrid laughs at the pout on Mapi’s face but pulls her girlfriend in close to whisper something soothing in her ear. At least you think it’s soothing. It removes the frown from the Spaniard’s face, but she’s looking at you warily.

“You’d fuck Lucy?” Jana asks. “Isn’t that like too close to home?”

You chuckle. “What makes you think it would be the first time?”

The shocked looks on the faces of Jana, Salma, and Pina are worth spilling that little nugget of truth.

Lucy must agree because she takes a sip of her own drink and adds, “How do you think we forged such a strong right-side bond?” The connection between the right back and you as the right winger, the position you play for country, is well known and on display in every England match.

The youngest member of the team, Vicky, squeaks out, “You two had sex? To help your national team chemistry?”

You snort. “Of course not. That just happened to be a nice perk.”

“But why then?” she asks. These kids…

“Well,” you start slowly. “I’m not sure what the sex education is like here in Spain, but sex feels good–”

“Really good with the right person,” Lucy adds helpfully.

You sigh in exasperation, pinching the bridge of your nose. “You’re not helping,” you state to her.

She just grins back at you, knowing how to push all your buttons.

“And Lucy is the right person?” Vicky asks, trying to piece all the puzzles together.

“She was the right person in the right place at the right time,” you explain.

“What?”

Alexia finally butts in. “Vicky, just leave it.”

“Thank you, Ale,” you exhale.

“Alexia, you’re going save her after she said she’s gonna marry your girl?” Mapi demands.

“She has good taste, can’t fault her for that,” Alexia states softly.

You incline you head at Alexia before turning to roll your eyes at Mapi. This is getting so out of hand. “That is literally the game, Mapi! I have to choose someone to marry on the list.”

“You could have married me,” Mapi pouts petulantly.

“María!” you exclaim. “It’s not that deep. Don’t take it personally.”

“You killed me twice! How do I not take that personally?!?”

“Maybe I’m just marriage material and you aren’t,” Jenni states, fanning the flames intentionally.

“Not marriage material!” Mapi exclaims at you, pointing her finger. “I’m not marriage material?!?”

Your hands go up in the air. “Jenni said that!” you exclaim. “Not me!”

“But you were thinking it! Admit it!” she yells.

Your wide eyes beg for someone to save you from this assault. Anyone.

Patri finally pipes in, and you’re so thankful for the assist. “Okay, okay. Calm down, Mapi,” she asserts. But then her mouth opens again, and you wish she never started talking. “Me, Pina, Leila.”

You glare at her. Hard. “I’m not going again,” you ground out from behind your gritted teeth.

“She probably wants to kill you right now,” Lucy offers to Patri with a smirk. She knows you well.

“Yesss,” you hiss.

Patri smirks but pushes again. “Your initiation to the team hinges on this.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Alexia interjects, glaring at Patri now too.

“Ok it doesn’t, but you’ll be known as the no-fun-having-ninny if you refuse,” she states.

“No, you won’t,” Irene clarifies.

Patri huffs. “Answer this last one.”

“And we will move on to humiliating someone else?” you ask for confirmation.

“Yes,” she offers, hand out to shake on it. “Answer honestly.”

You grip her hand and pump it three times. “Fine. Fuck Patri. Marry Leila. Kill Pina because you started this whole fucking game.”

Pina smirks at you, not offended like Mapi but proud of her involvement.

“You seem to have a type,” Patri responds with a grin.

“I do?” you ask calmly. Of course you do. You know this.

“Mmhmm,” Patri continues. “You do.”

“Okay,” you answer. “Maybe I do.”

“That’s it?” Vicky asks. “What’s the type?!?” she demands from Patri.

Patri smirks at you again. “Just look at the pattern.”

Vicky’s eyebrows furrow as she thinks. “Fuck Alexia. Fuck Bronze. Fuck Patri” she thinks out loud.

“Well I was referencing more the marrying girls, but come to think of it, there’s a pattern for her fucks too.”

You sigh loudly, scraping a hand down your face. “How did this team bonding game turn into scrutinizing my preferences?” you moan.

Lucy snickers. “This is fun!”

You smack her across the chest. “Shut it.”

“I can’t see the connection!” Vicky whines. “Patri, tell me.”

“She married all the tall ones. Seems she likes to climb the mountain,” Patri teases, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

You scoff. “That’s not it.”

Vicky’s eyes move back and forth between you and Patri, expecting one of you to expand on your comment. “So, what is it?”

Lucy decides to take pity on Vicky. “She likes dark brunettes who look sweet and kind in public but who will fuck her into the mattress in private.”

You refuse to blush, but turn your head slowly to look at the defender. She’s grinning madly, proud of herself. “You.Are.the.Worst.”

Lucy slings an arm over your shoulders and drags you closer to her. “Oh, love. We both know that is not true.”

“Keep your traitorous hands to yourself, Bronze,” you state, dragging her arm off your shoulder.

“But wait, Ale and Patri don’t have dark hair,” Vicky states, confused.

“Vicky,” you finally take pity. “We’re ending this conversation here, okay? No more questions after I answer this?”

She nods.

“I chose them to fuck because they give off a dominant vibe that I prefer, ok?”

“And Jenni and Ingrid and Leila don’t?” Vicky questions.

“Vicky!” you say exasperated. “I said no more question!”

“Just this one!” she demands. “Please!”

“Fine,” you ground out. “Jenni and Ingrid and Leila do as well. But they hit other preferences of mine on top of that, so I’d marry them so I get to have sex with them more than once. Okay?”

“Ohhh,” Vicky answers, finally getting it.

How the fuck did the conversation get to this point?

“Is that why you dyed your hair dark?” Keira pipes up, question directed at Lucy.

The team laughs as Lucy stutters out a “no!”

“Pfft, she wishes I’d marry her,” you state. “But she’s neither sweet nor kind, so not even the dark hair will swing it in her favor,” you tease.

“I am too sweet!” Lucy exclaims, affronted at your raised eyebrow that conveys you clearly do not buy it.

“You are not sweet. You are spicy,” you answer.

“I like spicy,” you hear Ona murmur across the table, eyes appraising Lucy.

You can see the flush raise up Lucy’s neck at the comment. Oooh, interesting.

Now it’s your turn for payback.

“Lucy,” you drawl. “Fuck, Marry, Kill – Ona, Keira, Mapi.”

“You CANNOT kill me, Lucy,” María exclaims. “It is not fair! I’ve been killed twice already!”

“Well I can’t kill Ona or Keira….” Lucy trails off.

“NO!”

“This was such a fantastic team bonding idea,” Irene deadpans.

You feel a laugh bubbling out at the absurdity of this night. You can’t stop it from escaping. Your unchecked laughter soon pulls most of the other girls into your laughing fit as well.

All except Mapi who sits there, arms folded, disgruntled.

“This is going to be a fun season!” Salma chirps as Mapi throws a pillow at her head.

“I’m going to marry Ingrid, fuck you,” Mapi states, staring directly into your eyes, “to put you in your place,” she clarifies. “And kill all the rest of you.”

“That’s more than three people,” Vicky mutters.

“Someone else is supposed to choose the options for you,” Jana criticizes.

“Sorry, only brunettes do it for me,” you say with mock apology. “Maybe if you dye your hair brunette you’ll be killed less!”

You shriek and take off as Mapi lunges at you from across the table, teeth bared.

“Okay, team bonding complete! Everybody out!” Irene shouts, ushering everyone out of her back garden.

You make a break for it, winding between teammates to create space between you and the crazy blonde defender.

Jenni pulls you into her side, arm over your shoulder.

“You know,” she starts. “If we’re ever looking to add a third, we’ll keep you in mind,” she teases.

You groan, embarrassment finally catching up to you. “Did you all agree to tease me tonight or something?”

Alexia slides up on the other side of you, joining the conversation. “Who said Jenni was teasing?”

You turn to look at Alexia. She raises an eyebrow at you, and you feel a familiar swoop in your lower stomach. Oh.

Part 2

474 notes · View notes

itzzzitzelll · 12 days ago

Text

Let's Play A Game

Part 2

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: 18+ for some vulgar language and references to sex

Part 1

You pull up in front of Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment building for the latest team bonding night, Lucy in the seat next to you.

“Do you think Mapi will shut the door in my face? Or just avoid letting me in all together?”

Lucy chuckles. “I’ll stand in front of the peephole. You hide behind me and sneak in before she can slam the door shut.”

You roll your eyes at Lucy. “She should really be over this by now. I have not actually attempted to kill her. It was just a hypothetical answer in a game!”

“Yeah, but you did choose to kill her twice, mate.”

“Okay, oh wise one, you tell me who you would have picked between Jenni, Alexia, and Mapi then.”

Lucy rubs her chin with a hand in thought. “Hmmm, tough one.”

“Really?” you ask in disbelief. “How?”

“I feel like Mapi might be more my type in bed, easier to submit, ya know? But I am curious about Jenni. So do I go for the guaranteed good lay where I get to be in charge or take a risk and maybe it ends up a bust? Or maybe it ends up really fucking good?”

“You never play it safe,” you deadpan.

“You’re right. Okay. Fuck Jenni, Marry Alexia - easy, and Kill Mapi.”

“See,” you argue, pointing a finger at the defender. “You would kill her too!”

“Yeah, but that is once. You did it twice.”

“Fucking fine! Fuck, Marry, Kill - Mapi, Ingrid, and me in place of you.”

“Another tricky one,” she muses.

“How??” you ask incredulously. “The answer is so easy. Fuck me, Marry Ingrid, Kill Mapi.”

Lucy chuckles. “A little overconfident, no?”

You glare at her. “Are you saying you wouldn’t fuck me again?”

“Definitely not saying that,” Lucy states with a grin. “Fuck Mapi–”

Your mouth drops in disbelief.

“Marry you,” Lucy continues, using a finger to press your chin up to close your mouth. “And Kill Ingrid.”

“Kill Ingrid?” you screech. “She’s so nice and pretty and kind. How can you kill her?”

“Well I’d fuck Mapi over Ingrid, again just based on preference. I think Ingrid might be a little too pretty and a little too nice for me, if you know what I mean,” she states with a grin. “And I’d choose to marry you over her because we’d rock the marriage thing I think. Plus all the sex,” Lucy adds with an eyebrow wiggle. “So that leaves her to have to be killed. Luck of the draw.”

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I can’t believe you’d kill Ingrid. I’m going to tell Mapi,” you state with a sigh as you step out of your vehicle.

Lucy pauses before slamming your door shut, causing you to glare at her.

“Hey! Treat Georgia with more care, you hear?”

“It’s fucking weird that you name your cars,” Lucy states, shrugging on her jacket as you make towards the apartment lobby.

“It’s perfectly normal, thank you,” you reply.

“And don’t you dare bring up the Fuck, Marry, Kill game to Mapi. She will definitely kick you out of her building,” Lucy responds as you ride the lift up to the 5th floor.

You contemplate it but eventually nod in acceptance as the lift doors open and you both walk towards apartment 517. “Your answers are still atrocious.”

“Thanks, love,” Lucy replies unaffected as she knocks on the door to Mapi and Ingrid’s apartment.

Thankfully Ingrid is the one to open the door. You let out an audible sigh, and she smirks at you.

“Ah, our troublemaker has arrived!”

You frown. “I didn’t cause any of the trouble. You should be pointing that statement at Pina and Jana and Salma.”

Ingrid grins at your response. “Testy. I like,” she says with a wink.

Well, that was something. Unexpected. Confusing. Kind of hot.

You follow Lucy through the threshold and into the open layout apartment. Teammates are mingling in the kitchen and sitting room and even the large outdoor balcony.

You see Jenni give you a glance up and down before she quirks an eyebrow suggestively.

You huff out a laugh and head into the kitchen to find yourself a drink.

Alexia stands there pouring herself a cup of lemonade. It’s a red color this time, which has you on alert.

“Homemade limonada again, Ale?” you question lightly, standing shoulder to shoulder with the captain.

“Sí,” she says softly, honey eyes turning to look at yours. “I made it.”

“Did you really?” you tease. “Will Jenni agree with that statement?”

You see her cheeks flush slightly. “Yes, I made it. Jenni directed from the couch.”

“Ah, quite the duo,” you flirt. “But, um, why’s it red?”

“Strawberries,” the brunette states. “You said you liked the strawberry kind.”

Huh. You did. A few weeks back in practice. And she remembered? She crafted the lemonade for the night around your preference? “That might be the nicest thing anyone has done for me since I’ve arrived here,” you state honestly. “Thank you,” you offer with sincere eyes and a hand squeeze.

The midfielder pushes a strand of hair behind her ear. “De nada.”

“Sounds nice when you speak it,” you mutter as you pour yourself a cup of the beverage.

“Spanish?” she asks with a laugh

“Sí,” you mimic her earlier pronunciation. “When I speak it, it comes out sounding like a cat being tortured.”

“Good thing we all speak a little bit of English,” she says, indicating a small space between her thumb and pointer finger. “You helpless English players would be so lost otherwise.”

“We would,” you agree. “My life would be full of only Keira and Lucy. What a tragedy,” you joke. “Nobody needs that much time with Lucy Bronze in a day,” you add, looking over at your friend who is leaning against the wall with Ona, one forearm pressing into the plaster near the smaller defender’s head, looking like a very flirty and suggestive pose. “Well, except maybe Ona,” you add with a chuckle.

“Oh, yes,” Alexia murmurs into the shell of your ear. “She hasn’t shut up about Lucy since we signed her. I think she has a crush.”

“I think they both do,” you whisper back, watching these two idiots flirt from afar. “Think Ona will keep Lucy on her toes?”

“Sí,’ Alexia mutters around her straw, going back to her drink. “She might eat Lucy. Very fierce that one.”

“More like might eat Lucy out,” you crack without thought, watching as Ona pulls Lucy’s hips towards her own by her belt loops. “Uhh,” you state, brain finally catching up to your traitorous mouth. “Sorry,” you hastily add, glancing at Alexia.

“No sorry,” Alexia chuckles. “Is true. We Spanish are known for our talented tongues,” she states quietly, intense eyes focused on yours. The catalana glides past you to head back outside, fingers just faintly teasing across your lower back.

You gather your cup, suck in a steadying breath, and eventually follow. Jenni sits at the head of the table as if she’s holding court. Alexia lounges across her lap, long, tan legs dangled over the side of the deck chair and on display in her white denim shorts.

Mapi sits there glowering at you from the other end of the table, across from Jenni. Her platinum blonde hair is in a messy bun, hair fraying out all around. She looks like a cross between a rabid pomeranian and malnourished, sickly lion. And all her ire is directed at you. Greatttt.

Mario flanks Jenni’s right side, greeting you with a smile as you settle into the open seat on the striker’s left.

“Hola,” you greet the table.

Mario returns your greeting. Alexia whispers in Jenni’s ear, the striker grinning at you in a predatory way. Mapi snorts in your direction.

“Fun crowd,” you murmur to yourself.

Mariona starts up a conversation about which country has better food: Spain or England. She visits your country frequently, or as often as her packed football schedule allows, as her girlfriend resides in London and plays for Arsenal.

At least she has experience with your home cuisine. More than Mapi who blurts out, “Spain of course! Their food is just soggy beans. Eeuck!” she finishes pointing at you.

Now you’re affronted. How dare she condense the entirety of English food down to soggy beans! The woman has absolutely no sense of culture.

By the time the rest of the team wanders out onto the large patio, bodies claiming the outdoor couch as Ingrid and others bring the dining room chairs outside too for seating, you and Mapi are in a full blown heated debate.

“We have more than beans!” you exclaim loudly, hands flailing for emphasis. “That is like saying all Spainsh food has is paella.”

“Yes, but paella beats out beans 1000% of the time!” Mapi yells, hands on her hips. “Paella is a delicately crafted meal of intent and beauty. Beans are the literal fartbags of the food community.”

“You take that back! Spanish cuisine uses beans too, María!”

You hear Pina and Jana “ooooohh she first named her” from behind you.

Mapi hears it too, teeth bared in their direction until a squeak from Jana lets you know they’ve been cowed into submission by her feral glare.

“We have so much more than beans,” you passionately defend. “Sunday roast, bangers and mash, savory pies, Yorkshire pudding for fucks sake!

“Fish & chips,” Lucy yells out, a hand cupped around her mouth to amplify the sound.

“Yes!! Fish & chips. Fish & chips, María! We have fish & chips.”

“Ooo,” Mapi sarcastically goads. “You have unseasoned fish and soggy fries.”

You, Keira, and Lucy all gasp in unison. And surprisingly Keira is the one to speak up first, an edge to her voice. “Do.not.insult.our.chips.”

Mapi looks a little stunned but offers a small nod to mollify the midfielder who is staring her down, hard.

“We have fish and patates here too,” Patri chimes in with a mischievous grin. “Really fresh, really tasty.”

She just loves to stir the pot.

“Not the same,” you and Lucy say in sync. You turn and give her an appreciative nod.

The English defender chimes in and with backup firmly here to prevent Mapi from continuing to slander English food, you sit back down in your seat. You are only slightly embarrassed that the team watched you and Mapi shouting at each other about food as you both stood, chairs pushed back hastily in your escalation of debate across the patio table.

Alexia leans towards you, voice low. “You are very passionate about food, eh?”

Your ears pink slightly. “No!” you defend.

Jenni chuckles.

“Maybe. I don’t know. It’s the Mapi effect. I had to debate her. Because her opinion is so wrong. Doing it for humankind really.”

“Thank you for your service,” Jenni snickers.

Your eyes meet Alexia’s and clock the small smirk on her lips. “You’re welcome,” you reply, eyes dropping to her lips for a second before they glance back up. She saw it, of course. And lets you know with a singular raised eyebrow. Fuck, she is even hotter gazing at you like that.

You clock back into the discussion just in time to hear Vicky make the claim that desserts in England are too sweet. The gall! These Spanish girls are ridiculous.

“They are not!” you jump back in, defending England’s honor. “We own the rest of the world when it comes to pastries and desserts,�� you boldly claim.

“Think France might have something to say about that,” Irene states plainly, having spent many years playing in the country known for its culinary abilities (and pastries).

“Nope,” you reject. “We have cakes and puddin’ and Spotted Dick.”

Jenni chokes. “Uh, what?”

The Spanish girls all chortle at your defense including a seemingly not-dessert item. And why would said piece of anatomy being spotted be seen as a good thing?

Lucy comes to the rescue. “Get yer heads outta the gutter,” she rebukes. “It’s a steamed puddin’ with raisins.”

You shudder at the thought. You hate raisins. But even so, you’ll defend England’s honor until the cows come home, terrible raisin desserts and all.

“English desserts are better,” you state with finality as most of the Spaniards scoff.

Alexia just stares. “Maybe we need to treat you to some Spanish desserts then,” she offers quietly. “For research,” she adds.

It feels like a loaded statement. Her eyes raking down your body lets you know it is a loaded statement. One meant just for you.

Jenni grins from behind Alexia’s shoulder, hearing her comment. “We have the best dessert place near ours, you know,” the madrileña adds quietly as conversation around you moves on.

“Is that so?” you ask, tone taking on a breathy quality as you valiantly try to keep your heart steady at what you think they’re implying. You and them. Together. At theirs. To research “dessert”.

“Hmm,” Jenni confirms, bottom lip bitten by her teeth as her mismatched irises stare you down. You feel like prey. Slightly flighty, adrenaline spiking. Your eyes land on the striker’s tattooed hand trailing up and down the exposed skin on Alexia’s thigh and you find your own legs clenching at the memory of what fingers trailing over your skin feels like.

You spend the rest of team bonding night on edge. Jenni’s gaze hardly leaves yours. Her fingers trail teasingly over Alexia as she does so, turning you on mightily as you imagine her hands doing the same to you.

Alexia sits amused, enjoying the feeling on her body but equally watching your reaction to her girlfriend arousing you without even laying a finger on yours. It’s a talent. It’s a tease. It’s a show just for her. And she has the best seat in the house, draped across her girlfriend’s lap and facing directly towards you while everyone else’s attention is pulled to the competitive game of Uno that Vicky has roped most of the team into.

“How do you have so many Draw 4 cards!” Mapi exclaims in irritation at Keira laying yet another one on her pile, the fourth round in a row. That draws your gaze for a second.

Just enough time to see Lucy and Ingrid slipping the English midfielder cards under the table, undoubtedly Draw 4 cards. Maybe Ingrid isn’t as sweet as first glance entails.

You watch Lucy grin at the Norwegian whose only tell is a slight quirk of her lips before it disappears into her wine glass. Lucy turns and gives you a shrug of contemplation. You just know her brain is recalculating her earlier Fuck, Marry, Kill declaration.

No reason to kill Ingrid when Mapi offers herself up as the perfect murder victim, all loud mouth and abrasive personality. And insulting English food to boot.

Alexia’s bare foot trailing up your shin draws your attention back to the duo that are absolutely wrecking your night.

You’re sitting in a puddle at this point, well aware that it’s a little desperate just how turned on you’ve gotten without even being touched. Just the promise of it has you flooded. Embarrassing if you weren’t so bloody aroused.

Alexia slides off Jenni’s lap, the striker’s hands falling to her hips and staying there possessively until the distance between their bodies causes them to drop. The midfielder crouches next to your chair, lips finding your ear, intent on nobody hearing her words but you.

“We’re going to head out,” she murmurs.

Your mood drops. Well shit, there goes the fun.

“We do have the best bakery in town just down the block from us,” she adds, leaning back for a second to search your eyes.

You can feel your arousal rush back and just know your pupils are blown at her proposal.

“Yeah?” you mutter, words barely making their way out of your lips.

“Sí,” Alexia states, thumb brushing circles into your jeans where her hand sits on your thigh, steadying herself. “Want to come with?”

You gulp, eyes closing at the wave of desire flowing down our spine. “Yes” you breathe out.

Alexia nods minutely, taps your thigh twice with her fingers, and then pushes back up to stand.

Jenni and her share a look, and the striker turns to you with a small grin. “I’m going to get our things,” she quietly states, standing up and pulling Alexia in for a quick kiss.

“Meet you at the front door?” Alexia asks softly.

You nod. Silence is all you can manage, mouth dry as reality sets in.

It takes a minute but you stand on somewhat shaky feet. Mariona smirks at you from across the table. She’s quiet, an observer. She doesn’t miss much but knows how to keep her mouth to herself. You appreciate that.

“Say hi to Lia for me,” you state as a goodbye greeting.

“Enjoy ‘dessert’,” she quips back, smirk growing as you blush.

It’s as you walk back inside that you remember you drove Lucy today. You need to discreetly get your car keys to her so she can get herself home, without her alerting the rest of the team as to why your nightly plans have changed.

You find the English defender in the kitchen, picking her way through the food left out. You pop an olive in your mouth and wait until Ona slips back outside before turning to the woman.

“Here are me keys. Can ya get yourself home?”

Her hands still where they were grabbing for a piece of cheese. “Ditching me?” she asks casually, eyes turning to you.

Your gaze is fixed at the front door where Alexia and Jenni are slipping on their shoes.

A wide grin splits across Lucy’s face as she catches onto why you’re bailing.

The two Spaniards finish and wait patiently for you at the front instead of exiting the apartment, further solidifying for the defender that what she thinks is happening is reality.

“Oooh, I get it,” Lucy teases, voice light but quiet.

Your gaze snaps back to her, only slightly apologetic.

She grabs the keys from your hand, slipping them into her trousers. “I can get myself home just fine.”

“Good,” you state, gaze already back on Jenni and Alexia and feet starting to move you in their direction.

“Enjoy your cake,” Lucy teases.

You still for a second. Such a cocky woman. But you love her humor. You smirk back over your shoulder. “Oh you know I will,” you reply with a smirk.

“Luce,” you state before you completely leave the kitchen.

“Mhm?”

“Maybe grab a Spaniard of your own for the night, eh?”

She looks contemplatively at you. “I think I want more than a night,” she states quietly.

“Marvelous - she does too,” you reply, sharing a tidbit from your conversation earlier with Alexia.

Lucy’s eyes trail to Ona outside on the patio who is mid laugh. And you know she’s already down bad for the smaller defender.

Good. Lucy deserves it.

You pad over to the front entrance, slipping into your shoes. The three of you are the only ones left inside, the rest of the team on the patio. The silence is weighty.

Jenni breaks it by opening the front door and holding it for you and Alexia to pass through first.

In the hallway the striker throws an arm over your shoulders as the three of you head for the lift.

“Hope you’re ready for dessert, cari. Because I’m famished,” she states boldly.

“I am known for my sweet tooth,” you reply, smirking.

Alexia snorts, walking slightly ahead of you two in the narrowed hallway.

“Ale too,” Jenni whispers into your ear as her gaze falls to her girlfriend’s ass in her white shorts. “She can’t get enough of the sweet things in life.”

You’re not sure you will either.

Part 3 - coming July 29th

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itzzzitzelll · 15 days ago

Text

Hello my lovelies. This is inspired by the very-hard-to-describe relationship between Cata and Pina. I would like to point out that this is entirely made up, in no way am I suggesting that they are together or are in any form of situationship. They are two people in the public eye and I (and no one else) has any right to comment on it. If they are together, I wish them well. If they are not, I also wish them well. I just thought it would make a good story.

Spanish or Dating?

Cata Coll x Reader

Description: you know that Cata and Pina aren't in love ... right?

It was your fault. Entirely your fault. You were the one that pushed her to go. You were the one who told her to go on her trip with Pina. You were the one that told her to ‘go and have fun’ whilst you were still at work. It was entirely your fault that you were sitting here, tears rolling down your cheeks as you watched the whole world speculate on whether Cata and Pina were together.

It was your fault.

You didn’t want to start that fight again. The last time you brought it up, it ended in tears and Cata spending the night somewhere that wasn’t your flat. You knew she had gone to Pina’s. But you didn’t want to think about that.

There’s nothing, I promise.

Yet why did you feel like you were the other woman? The side piece? The third wheel? Cata was your girlfriend. Not Pina’s. Yours. Your goal-stopping, sweet, hot-headed, beautiful girlfriend.

You knew she would probably be better off with Pina. That was definitely a thought that crept into your mind late at night, when Cata was off celebrating yet another win. Same job. Same friends. Same history. Same goals. Same life.

And you were just … you. A trainee teacher that barely made ends meet, scraping by, working a second job to earn some extra cash, a pile of student loans waiting to be paid and minimal job prospects. Unable to afford much, your homebody lifestyle suited you to a tee. Whilst Cata was off on another whirlwind adventure, you were at home, a pile of marking and lessons to prepare.

You had met through Pina, ironically enough. Pina had been a mutual friend at the time, meeting you at a birthday party you had been forced to attend. You became friends quickly, and before you knew it, she was dragging you to some celebration and introducing you to her favourite goalkeeper.

And now, now you were sitting, curled up alone in your bedroom, staring at the photo.

Cata had warned you time and time again. Don’t read the comments. But how could you not? Comment after comment. Joke after joke. Question after question.

You don’t remember the last time Cata posted a picture of you.

Not that she had to, of course. But still. It would be nice to see. You weren’t a secret. Or at least, you weren’t keeping it a secret. All your friends knew. Not that you had many of them, but your work colleagues all knew about Cata. Your family knew, they had met her a couple of times. Your social media had her all over it. You wouldn’t go so far as to say in was a shrine, but it was obvious that you two were together.

You weren’t quite sure what to do. Should you talk to her? But what would you say? Hi Cata, I know Clàudia is your best friend but I don’t like your relationship. You were not going to be that type of girlfriend. Should you let it be? But then wouldn’t the resentment just grow? You were fairly sure Cata was the love of your life. The only problem … you weren’t sure if you were hers.

“Hello, amor.” Cata smiled, waving awkwardly as she tried to balance her phone and her suitcase. You tried not to let it sting. You wondered if she even noticed she dropped the ‘my’.

“Hi, my pretty girl.” You smiled back, opening your arms and letting her walk into them.

“Missed you,” she hummed, pressing a kiss to your head. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend the last few weeks hadn’t happened, that your heart didn’t hurt.

“Missed you more.”

“Mmmmm, impossible.” She squeezed you tighter, sneaking another light kiss to your temple. You took a deep breath, inhaling her honeysuckle scent, burying your nose into her neck.

“Cata, you left this.” That voice had haunted your nightmares. It was strange really, the person that had brought you together might be the one to pull you apart again.

“Clàu,” you smiled, pulling on the well-worn mask. “Nice to see you.”

“Hi.” She matched your cheery tone. “Cata, you left this,” Pina repeated, holding up Cata’s passport. You raised an eyebrow, rolling your eyes at your girlfriend. She winced, smiling ruefully and snatching it off her.

“Hey, you don’t mind giving Clàu a lift home, do you?” Cata asked, tucking you into her side as you all walked to the exit.

Yes, I do mind. “No, I don’t mind.”

“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” Pina smiled falling into step with you.

“So, how was Cadiz?”

It had been four days since you picked Cata up at the airport. Three days were you had barely spent a moment alone. You knew your job didn’t help. School was still in session and it wasn’t like you could take a few days off. But you had expected Cata to still be there when you got home. Or maybe able to spend a singular, solitary night with you. Just you.

But no.

Pina ended up staying well into the night the day they arrived home.

Then Patri appeared the following night, not leaving until long after you had gone to bed.

Then Salma, Jana and Kika appeared with bottles of beer and a pack of cards.

You were tired, and touch starved, and heavy hearted, and feeling like an outsider in your own home. And you were done. So, so done.

“What is up with you?” Cata asked, flopping down onto the sofa, kicking her feet up onto the coffee table.

“What?” You whipped your head around, pausing from where you were starting to gather the ingredients for dinner.

“You’re acting weird.” Cata shrugged, sipping on her drink. Should you tell her? Or play dumb? “Like your quiet normally, but your even more quiet.” That stung. Embarrassment blossomed in your chest, the colour rising to your cheeks.

“Oh,” you turned back to the counter, refusing to let her see.

“Oh?” She asked, her turn to be confused. You just shrugged, blinking back tears as you started cutting the pepper.

“That’s all you’ve got to say?” She was closer now, voice louder, her accusations stronger. “I’m asking you what’s wrong, and all you have to say is ‘oh’?”

“What do you want me to say?” You huffed, lifting your head to look at her.

“I want you to tell me what’s wrong.” She sighed, leaning against the counter, arms crossed, annoyance rolling off her in waves.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? How about you being in love with someone that isn’t your girlfriend? How about you not spending any time with me? How about us not going on a date since before the Chelsea home game? How about you not realising that I am ready to call it quits and let you finally be free to follow your heart? How about the fact that I am done? “Tired.”

“Fine, don’t tell me,” she grumbled.

“I am tired, Cata.” Sighing, you put the knife down.

“Whatever,” she dismissed, although not moving away from you.

“Do you know you stopped calling me ‘mi amor’?” You asked, surprising yourself with the question.

“Huh?”

“You’ve stopped calling me ‘mi amor’.”

“That’s not tr-”

“It is.” You cut her off, refusing to let her talk. “You call everyone amor. Friends, family. Hell, I've even heard you call fans 'amor'. But I was always ‘mi amor’.”

“Ok,” she said carefully, unsure at what you were hinting at.

“Do you know how much that hurts?” She didn’t answer. Couldn’t or wouldn’t – you weren’t too sure.

“Are you in love with Clàudia?”

The words hung in the air. Painful and raw.

“Not this again,” she groaned, brining her hand up to her chest, rubbing lightly. It wasn’t a denial. It should have been a denial.

“Clàudia is my best friend.” It wasn’t a no.

“And I’m asking you if you’re in love with her.”

You were frozen, chest rising deeply as you waited for her response.

What would you do?

If she said yes, then you would make it easy on her. For both of you. End it now. No begging. No questioning. Keep your dignity intact. If she said no … would you even believe her?

“You know it’s not like that.” She rolled her eyes.

“Do I? ‘Cos from where I’m standing, it looks like you two are the ones in a relationship.”

“If this is that stupid Spanish or dating thing again.” She still hadn’t denied it. “No, you know what, I’m so sick of this.” She continued, anger exploding. “It’s all you guiris do. I’m not dating Pina, for god’s sake.”

You heart shattered, the weight of her words echoing through you. You blinked back the tears, biting your lip to keep it from quivering. “No, you’re dating me.” Your voice was much calmer than you seemed. “And you still haven’t told me your not in love with her.”

You weren’t quite sure where Cata spent the night. You could hazard a guess. You were trying desperately not to think about it. You didn’t really sleep. Your brain refusing to switch off. Were you officially over? You didn’t want to be, but how could you recover from this? By the time you ‘woke up’, you were in a fog. Eyes red rimmed and puffy. Face swollen and sore. No amount of make up was hiding it. The pain in your heart palpable as you struggled through the simplest of tasks.

Cata was just as bad. She regretted it the moment she left. Why hadn’t she denied it? She wasn’t in love with Pina. Sure, she loved her. But in love with her? That was like asking if you were in love with your sister. The very thought made her shudder. You were the only one that had ever made her heart feel so full. You were the love of her life. You were the one she pictured walking down the aisle to her waiting self. You were the one she thought of when asked what her future held – both in your 80s, surrounded by kids and grandkids, just as in love as when you first met. She couldn’t remember what her life was like before you entered it. The joy that was seeing your face in the crowd, or waiting for her after an away game, it was nothing she had ever experienced before. And now that she had a taste of it, she knew she never wanted to miss out again.

She had been absolutely berated by Pina when she showed up at her door, being left with a painful bruise as a physical reminder of her stupidity.

“You absolute idiot,” Pina smacked her again.

“Oye,” Cata squealed, cowering against the onslaught.

“Have you lost your mind?”

“I know, I know.” Cata dodged another slap.

“Do you though?” Pina huffed. “‘Cos I don’t think you do. Not only did you straight up not deny it. You then insulted her. And then left. And then came here!” She screeched.

“I know all of that.”

“You need to make it up to her.” Pina pursed her lips, crossing her arms over her chest.

“How?”

You didn’t really feel like going back home. You weren’t even sure if you could call it home, not really. The flat wasn’t really yours. It was Cata’s, and you had just moved in. It didn’t bother you at the time. But now … now nowhere felt like home.

What you weren’t expecting when you trudged along the corridor, was the note attached your door.

Mi Amor.

In that familiar looping handwriting. Despite the pain, your heart fluttered a little. You tugged on the letter, fiddling with the lock as you flipped it over.

Mi amor. I’m not even sure where to begin. Well, actually, I know exactly where to start. I am NOT in love with Pina. Not one bit. Sure, I love her. But IN LOVE. Ew.

You couldn’t help but laugh, imagining Cata’s scrunched up face as she grimaced. You moved habitually through the flat, dumping your keys and kicking off your shoes as you read.

Second, I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so unbelievably sorry. I don’t know why I didn’t say it. I don’t know why I got defensive. I was wrong. I promise, with all my heart, I am not in love with her.

You heart lifted a little. You knew Cata would never lie to you. Especially not about this.

It’s you, it’s always been you. Ever since I met you, I’ve only had eyes for you. I promise. When I’m asked about my future, I forget all about football. I see you, a wedding ring on your finger, a matching one on mine, and a child on your hip – a perfect mini-you with your pretty eyes and every prettier smile and kind heart. I see us in the 50 years, surrounded by friends and family, sitting on a porch swing and watching our people, my hand in yours and never, ever letting go. I see us growing old together, our hair grey and face all wrinkled with laugh and smile lines.

A wet drop splattered on the page. You didn’t even realise you were crying until you touched your face, fingers coming away wet.

“I’m sorry.”

Her voice startled you out of your trance.

You whipped around, looking up to see a sheepish Cata. Her eyes red, lip bitten and bleeding, her hands fiddling nervously with the hem of her shirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry for not denying it. I’m sorry for shouting. I’m sorry for walking out. I’m sorry for letting you think that you aren’t anything other than the love of my life.” With every apology, she strode across the kitchen. You watched as she got closer, eyes fluttering closed as she cupped your jaw. “I’m sorry.”

Cata’s hands were soft and rough – a perfect combination that scratched against your skin. “You …” you swallowed. “Aren’t in love with her?” You felt another tear roll down your cheek.

“No. I never was. I never have been.” She smoothed her thumb across your cheekbones. “I don’t know why I didn’t say so yesterday. But I promise you, I’m not.” She leaned down, resting her forehead against yours. “It’s you, always has been, always will be.”

“Kiss me,” you whispered. “Show me you love me.”

She didn’t hesitate. Cata’s lips were soft as they moved in perfect harmony with yours. You could feel the love pouring into it, only getting more intense as she deepened the kiss. Her breath was warm as she pulled back, leaving another string of pecks against your lips.

“I will spend every day for the rest of my life reminding you, I love you.”

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itzzzitzelll · 17 days ago

Text

an extra bottle - patri guijarro

word count - 1.8k | summary - after hours on the beach of sneaky touches and not so subtle glances, needing an extra bottle of suncream seems like a good excuse for getting away from everyone.

MDNI 18 + - smut

the two of you had been at the beach for hours, not alone unfortunately, but surrounded by a few of your barca teammates who had tagged along on your offseason trip to mallorca. whilst the company was lively, it hadn’t stopped the tension from building between you and patri. lying on the sand in swimwear that didn’t leave much to the imagination, your bodies warm from the sun and far too close, had left you more flustered than relaxed.

even your attempt to cool off in the sea had only led to more temptation, her hands trailing along your skin beneath the water, safely out of your teammates’ sight.

so naturally, when it came time to reapply your sunscreen, you asked your girlfriend for help.

you were turned away from patri, eyes locked on the gentle waves crawling up the shore, while she worked the sunscreen into your back. her hands moved slowly, deliberately, as if she were painting something delicate. she didn’t miss a single inch, smoothing it over your warmed skin with ease.

her hands paused at your shoulders before shifting again, kneading the tension that had crept into your muscles. the tension that had been building since you got there. your eyes fluttered shut, your head tilting slightly to give her better access.

“amor.” patri murmured, her breath brushing close to your ear.

“mhm?” you hummed, not opening your eyes.

“we’re out of sunscreen,” she said, a little louder this time, her hands drifting down to rest at your waist.

you turned your head, confused. “no, amor, i packed tw-”

but she cut you off with a pointed look, nodding subtly toward the villa behind you. “no, remember? you left the second one in our room.”

it took a second for the message to land, but then you saw the slight flick of her tongue across her bottom lip, how she caught it between her teeth, and suddenly it all made sense.

“o-oh, right, yes, i forgot to bring both.” you said, nodding a little too eagerly, voice raised just enough for the others to hear.

the two of you got to your feet, leaving your towels and bags behind, the ‘empty’ bottle in patri’s hand.

“we’re just heading back to the villa. need to grab more suncream.” she announced with a casual smile, giving the bottle a shake for emphasis.

“you just covered her in suncream.” jana laughed, her head tilting slightly.

“yeah, she’s still got streaks on her back, see.” bruna pointed out, brows furrowing.

“but now patri needs some.” you replied innocently, already backing away.

ona rolled her eyes, bumping bruna’s shoulder. “nena, they’re not going for suncream. they’re going to put their hands all over each other, just away from our eyes this time.”

you didn’t bother trying to deny it, she wasn’t wrong and you were already halfway gone.

“what? oh my god.” bruna’’s eyes went wide as she looked between ona, alexia and jana, who couldn’t stop themselves but burst into laughter.

“chicas, the suncream’s literally sticking out of your bag!” alexia called after you, grinning.

but patri just raised a dismissive hand over her shoulder, “adiós!” she sang, and the two of you disappeared down the path, already far too distracted to care.

the door had barely clicked shut behind you when patri guided you against the wall, her hands already sliding beneath the edge of your bikini top. patri’s body was pressed flush to yours, her hands roaming with a kind of urgency that had been building for hours.

“i thought we were going to the bedroom.” you teased breathlessly, turning your head just enough for her lips to brush your cheek.

patri’s voice was low, her breath hot against your ear, “i couldn’t wait.”

her fingers trailed down your sides, slow but deliberate, exploring skin she already knew by heart. you tilted your head back against the wall as her lips found the spot just beneath your jaw, and your hands reached to anchor on her hips.

patri kissed you like she’d been holding back all day, because she had. every glance at the beach, every brush of your skin under the water, every whispered word that danced the edge of teasing had been leading to this.

her fingers laced with yours as she tugged you away from the wall, guiding you down the hallway, breathless, bumping into each other with quiet laughs and heated touches.

as soon as you stepped into your bedroom, your back was against the bed, “this,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “has been driving me crazy all day.”

her hands toyed with the ties of your bikini, pulling them, watching them drop. her hands followed immediately, mapping every inch of you that was now uncovered.

her hand dipped between your legs, fingers running through your already wet folds, “god, i would’ve made that excuse sooner if i knew you were this wet.”

you couldn’t help but laugh slightly, your friends knowing the exact intention behind the two of you leaving but as soon as her fingers began to circle your clit your laughter turned into an explicit moan.

“dime que me quieres,” she whispered, lips brushing yours without kissing.

“i want you,” you breathed, barely making a sound.

then she kissed you again, deeper, slower. everything else faded. there was only the weight of her body, her skin pressed against yours and the heat from her body that you weren’t sure was from the sun or you.

she didn’t rush. every kiss and touch was purposeful, like she was reminding you exactly how much she wanted you, how long she’d waited.

patri’s mouth was hot against your skin, her lips dragging along your jaw before dipping to the sensitive spot that sat just beneath your ear.

you tried to push into her hand, but she stilled you easily with her other one braced firm on your hip, “fuck, patri stop teasing.” you breathed heavily.

her fingers didn’t press deeper, they just circled slowly, your hips moved instinctively, trying to chase more, but she pulled back just enough to keep you on edge.

“patri.” you huffed, your hand gripping her wrist, the build up of desperation getting too much.

she leaned in, her breath against your ear, “you think you get to act like that all day, wearing next to nothing, letting me touch you under the water like there was no risk and then not pay for it?”

you opened your mouth to reply, but all that came out was a sound between a moan and a gasp as her two fingers slipped inside without warning, slow but deep.

your back arched, a whimper leaving your lips as she started at a grueling pace.

“there she is,” patri whispered, her voice possessive, “does it feel good?”

you nodded, incapable of anything else, your hands clutching the sheets as she began to move. her thumb circled your clit with just enough pressure to keep you from tipping over, just enough to build you higher without giving you relief.

“say it,” she whispered against your mouth, her rhythm never faltering, “say you need me.”

you let out a broken sound, your forehead pressing to hers, “i need you, please baby, i-”

that was all she needed.

her mouth was back on yours, swallowing your moans as her fingers moved with intention, deeper, faster, giving you exactly what she knew you needed.

and as the pleasure crashed into you, she held you through it, her body grounding yours, her name the only thing on your lips as everything else faded.

the room was quiet, the only sound was your breaths slowly syncing again. her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, neither of you speaking yet. usually, there’d be a second round, more teasing, more tension, but the sun and sea had drained you.

“you good?” she propped herself up, a half smug grin across her face, her fingers stilling for a moment.

you raised your eyebrows, a smile tugging at your lips, “mhm you could say that, are you?”

“incredible.” she grinned, reaching down to pepper a kiss to your lips.

“we should go back out.” you sighed, though you didn’t move.

“let them wait,” she muttered, placing a few more kisses to your face.

when the two of you stepped back onto the beach, it was quieter than before. a few of the girls had shifted under umbrellas, sunglasses perched high, bodies stretched out with drinks in hand and towels kicked aside.

alexia was the first to glance up, squinting slightly from where she was reclined on her lounger. she took one look at the both of you, your flushed cheeks, patri’s hair not entirely fixed and just smiled knowingly before tipping her sunglasses back down.

ona didn’t say anything at first. she just raised her eyebrows slightly as she handed you your water bottle, her eyes lingering for a second too long on the marks faintly blooming at the base of your throat. you tried not to react.

“did you find the suncream?” she asked, far too casual.

patri flopped down onto her towel beside you and stretched like a cat, matching ona’s casual tone, yet your body was heating up, “yep.”

jana leaned back on her elbows, glancing between the two of you before she murmured, “you were gone a while.”

“had to find the right bottle,” you said, a small shrug attached to your words, trying your best to stop the heat rising to your cheeks even more.

“mhm,” ona muttered, not even trying to hide her smirk, “did you walk into a bush on your way?”

patri reached behind her head to fix her ponytail, unfazed, “what’s your point?”

alexia let out a quiet laugh, “her point is you two aren’t as subtle as you think.”

“subtle wasn’t the goal,” patri smirked, sending a quick glance to ona.

you shot her a look, “patri.”

she shrugged, then turned her head to look at you, a hint of something soft behind her grin. “what? i wasn’t the one who moaned when-”

you smacked her arm quickly, your hands coming up to cover your face as your cheeks heated up further, but the girls only laughed. not cruel, slightly teasing, but in the way that made you feel safe.

bruna, sitting at the edge of the group with a book in her lap, frowned a little, “wait.”

“no,” ona interrupted, giving her a pat on the knee, “no follow-up questions, bruna, just let it go.”

“but i don’t get it.”

364 notes · View notes

itzzzitzelll · 1 month ago

Text

sneaking around | no more secrets.

find the no more secrets masterlist here!

warnings - 18+, contains a little smut!

April 17th | 26 weeks pregnant.

You and Kyra had been sneaking around for weeks now.

Ever since your trip to Australia, since the first kiss on the beach, something between you had shifted and neither of you had been able to leave it alone.

You shared stolen kisses when no one was looking, many lazy mornings tangled up in your or Kyra’s sheets, living in your own little bubble like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

This morning was no different.

You should have been up and getting ready for training, but instead, you were wrapped around each other in your bed, the sun slipping lazily through the curtains. Kyra’s fingers traced slow, thoughtless patterns over your bump, her face buried against your neck as you played with the ends of her messy hair.

“Five more minutes,” she mumbled, her lips brushing your skin.

“You said that fifteen minutes ago,” you whispered, even as you tilted your head to give her more space. “We need to get up, Ky. Beth will be coming in soon.”

Kyra just hummed and kissed a path up to your jaw, her hand tightening around your waist. She kissed you properly then, slow and deep, and you forgot, just for a second, about the real world waiting for you.

Eventually, you groaned and pulled away. “Training, Ky. We’re gonna get murdered if we’re late again.”

Kyra whined but rolled out of bed, helping you up without thinking, her hands always careful around your middle. “Why do we have to go.” She groaned.

“Erm, maybe because it’s our job?” You chuckled, standing in front of her as your arms slipped around her neck. “It’s only for a few hours.”

Her hands moved down to you lower back, the pair of you standing as close together as you could with your bump, “We could just stay home…have a lazy day.”

You sighed as she pecked your lips once again, “You really think Leah’s gonna look past us having a day off together? She’d know Kyra, she’s already suspicious about something going on between us.”

“Yeah but that’s only because she thinks everyone’s shagging,”

You laughed, burying your face in Kyra’s shoulder for a moment. “True. But if we both mysteriously call in sick the same day? She’ll never let it go.”

Kyra groaned dramatically and nuzzled her nose into your hair. “Fine. But after training, you’re mine for the rest of the day.”

You smiled against her skin. “Deal.”

You somehow managed to get yourselves moving, lazily throwing on some training gear before heading downstairs to grab a quick breakfast. You were leaning against the kitchen counter, half-asleep, while Kyra stood behind you, her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as you nibbled on a piece of toast.

She began to plant kisses up your shoulder until she eventually reached your neck and then she began to pepper small kisses along your jawline.

“Kyra,” you laughed as she hit a ticklish spot before spinning you around to face her, “Ky, stop Beth will be back from her walk soon.”

“I…” she smirked as she pecked your lips, “don’t…” another kiss, “care…” and another kiss which lasted longer this time.

The two of you melted into each other, everything for a moment was forgotten. Kyra’s hands slid under the hem of your hoodie, pulling you a little bit closer. It was too easy with her, she made you forget the entire world existed outside the two of you.

The slam of the front door had you jumping apart like teenagers caught by a parent.

“Well, well, well… what do we have here?”

Kyra stepped back quickly, trying and failing to look innocent as you wiped at your mouth, your cheeks burning. You could feel the panic radiating off her as Beth strolled into the kitchen. Myle ran over to you both as Beth unclipped her lead.

Kyra let out a tiny, strangled noise, somewhere between a cough and a squeak, and practically jumped back from you like she’d been electrocuted.

“I–I’m just gonna…uh…grab my boots,” she mumbled, walking out of the kitchen at a record speed.

Beth watched her go with a wicked little smile before turning her attention fully to you.

You stood frozen, half a piece of toast still hanging awkwardly from your hand, cheeks burning.

“Close friends, huh?” she smirked. “Because that definitely looked like you two were just kissing.”

“She stayed the night, didn’t she?” Beth teased, pouring out a glass of apple juice before sitting at the kitchen counter.

“She stayed to make sure I slept, that’s all,” you said, way too quickly.

Beth laughed, not buying it for a second.

“Oh yeah, bet she was very helpful with that,” she teased, waggling her eyebrows.

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. “Please stop.”

“Hey, I’m not judging! It’s cute. Makes me want to throw up a bit, but it’s cute.”

You peeked at her through your fingers and saw her smirking like the devil.

“Beth.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute together!”

You peeked up at her through your fingers. “You’re gonna tell Leah, aren’t you?” you mumbled.

Beth’s grin turned downright evil. “Oh no, I wanna see how long Kyra can last sneaking around.”

“We’re not even anything yet…” you mumbled once again into your hands. “We stupidly kissed once in Australia and well…”

“You haven’t stopped since then?” Beth smirked, finishing your sentence for you. “Oh how it just feels like yesterday me and Viv were sneaking around!”

You let out another groan just as Kyra reappeared, looking suspiciously like she’d been giving herself a pep talk in the hallway.

Beth winked at you both, “Come on, lovebirds. If we’re late, Leah’s wrath is on you and not even your pregnant ass is gonna save you.”

The drive to training with Beth was normal, at least it looked that way from the outside. You sat in the passenger seat like any other teammate getting a lift, trying to keep your cool. But Beth’s raised brow every time she caught you checking your phone or smiling at a text from Kyra? Not helpful.

You pulled into the lot at the training ground and Beth hopped out, already yelling something about someone owing her a coffee. But you lingered.

Kyra had driven herself, parking just a few spots away. And when she stepped out of her car, her eyes immediately found yours. One look was all it took and before you knew it you were standing together, pecking each other's lips.

It was stupid and reckless and a little bit addictive. Kyra grinned as she cupped your jaw and pressed a quick kiss to your lips.

“Quick one,” she whispered, leaning in again. “For luck.”

You kissed her back, just as quick, even though you both knew “quick” was a lie. Her hand splayed gently across your bump and her thumb brushed back and forth like she couldn’t stop touching you.

Then Beth’s voice carried across the car park. “You two coming or should I book you the honeymoon suite?”

Kyra jumped, stumbling backwards into a random car. You bit back a laugh as you followed her out a moment later, cheeks warm.

The moment you and Kyra walked through the doors of the training ground, definitely not as far apart as you should have been, you were met with a chorus of voices and a few very smug looks.

Katie was already stretching with Caitlin near the benches, and she didn’t even try to hide the way her eyes swept over the both of you. “Oh, look who magically arrived at the same time,” she sang.

Vic tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. “Weren’t you driving in separately?”

Steph didn’t even look up from retaping her wrist. “They were. Until they weren’t.”

Kyra tried to play it cool, shrugging. “Coincidence.”

You nodded far too enthusiastically. “We just parked near each other.”

“Uh-huh.” Caitlin exchanged a grin with Katie. “And you just happened to be standing suspiciously close to each other in the car park?”

“Just chatting!” Kyra said a little too fast, throwing her hands up. “People chat!”

Leah raised an eyebrow but let it go, muttering something suspiciously like “you’re all weird today” as she turned away.

When the team finally headed out onto the pitch, you hung back as planned, heading into the gym for some light work. You were 26 weeks pregnant which meant no full training sessions for you, just strength and mobility. Honestly, you were grateful. It gave you a moment to breathe.

Ten minutes later, just as you were adjusting the settings on the treadmill, you heard the door open.

You turned, and there was Kyra.

She glanced over her shoulder like she was checking for witnesses before darting across the gym and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Forgot my water,” she whispered.

You grinned. “Oh really?”

She kissed you again, this time on the lips, a little slower. “Definitely...”

She hummed against your lips. “I should forget it more often.”

But you pulled back, whispering, “We’re gonna get caught.”

Kyra shrugged innocently. “Only if we’re not quick.”

You groaned softly but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re dangerous.”

“Flattered.” She gave your bump a gentle rub before backing away. “I’ll see you later.”

As the door swung shut behind her, you leaned back against the treadmill and took a moment to steady yourself. You were sure your cheeks were permanently flushed these days from pregnancy, hormones, or Kyra, it was anyone’s guess.

You eventually got into your routine. Some gentle stretches, a bit of resistance band work and working on your pelvic floor. You had your headphones in but weren’t playing anything, just using them as a universal “do not disturb” signal.

By the time the session outside wrapped up, you were sitting on a yoga mat, gently stretching your legs out in front of you. The door burst open again, loudly this time, and the full team started filing in, all red-cheeked and sweaty from the pitch.

Kyra was among the first through the door, complaining to Kim about something. She barely looked up as she passed, muttering a distracted “Alright?” before dropping onto the floor beside the weights bench to start stretching.

Beth and Katie wandered in next, still mid-argument over whether or not Katie had deliberately taken Mariona out during a drill.

“I barely touched her!”

“You flattened her like a pancake!”

“It was tactical!”

“Tactical murder maybe,” Caitlin called as she trailed in behind them.

Kyra was sprawled out beside you on a mat, lazily stretching her hamstrings. You were sitting with your legs out in front of you, gently rolling your ankles and leaning back on your hands, hoodie pulled up just enough to let your bump breathe.

“She moving around much today?” Kyra asked casually, glancing at your stomach.

You shrugged, brushing your hand over it. “She was quiet earlier, but she’s been wriggling a bit since I sat down.”

Kyra gave a thoughtful little nod, then suddenly perked up. “Hang on.”

She sat up straighter, unlocked her phone again, and started scrolling through her music.

You eyed her suspiciously, “What are you doing?”

“She’s gotta learn early,” Kyra grinned, already tapping the speaker on. “Test her loyalty.”

The opening chords of North London Forever started playing quietly, and your eyebrows shot up.

“Oh my god, Kyra.”

Kyra ignored you completely and grinned like a madwoman, crawling over until she was right next to you. She gently lifted the hem of your hoodie a little more and placed her phone, speaker facing in, beside your bump like she was performing some kind of sacred ritual.

“She’s not even born yet.”

“She’s still a gooner,” Kyra said seriously. “This is cultural education.”

You opened your mouth to protest again, but then you felt a little thump.

And another.

You sucked in a breath, hand shooting to your bump. Kyra froze beside you.

“Wait… was that—”

“She kicked.” You blinked. “I can’t believe she actually just kicked because you played nor—”

Kyra’s face lit up like she’d won the league. “YES!”

“What’s going on?” Katie called from a few feet away.

“She kicked!” Kyra shouted, grinning wildly. “Right on the chorus!”

Caitlin scrambled up and jogged over, closely followed by Katie, Beth, and a few of the others. Suddenly there was a small crowd around you, everyone peering down at your bump with wide, excited eyes.

“Do it again!” Caitlin said, eyes bright.

“She’s not a circus act,” you laughed, cheeks flushed.

“Just one more time,” Kyra said, already rewinding the track and holding her phone gently back against your stomach. “Come on, baby Gooner. Do it again for us.”

The chorus came back around and, right on cue, a soft kick.

And then a real, solid, proper kick.

You laughed in disbelief. “Okay, what the hell my child is brain washed.”

“She knows her stuff!” Beth grinned, crouching beside you to place her hand over your bump.

“She’s already a better fan than Kyra,” Katie added with a smirk.

“Hey that scarf was one time!” Kyra huffed, standing next to Katie.

“She’s gonna be singing that in no time,” Caitlin said with a grin.

“She’ll be swearing at refs by three,” Katie added.

“Oi!” you laughed.

Leah nudged your shoulder. “You’re raising a proper little Gooner.”

You smiled and nodded, laying a hand protectively over the bump. Your teammates played around for a little longer trying to get the baby to kick before all going to take showers and get ready to head home.

You soon followed after them, taking a shower yourself and packing your own things up. You were tugging on your hoodie, carefully pulling it down over your bump as Kyra sat on the bench beside you, bent over and tying her shoelaces.

Beth dropped down onto the bench opposite, bag slung over her shoulders, hair still wet from her shower.

“You coming home with me?” she asked, glancing between you and Kyra like she already knew the answer. “Steph’s cooking, and apparently she bought three different kinds of pasta and no actual sauce, so that should be entertaining.”

“Actually,” you said, voice casual, “I’m going back to Kyra’s.”

Beth raised an eyebrow. “Again?”

You nodded. “Yeah. We, erm… we’re having a movie night together.”

Beth smirked. “Mmm. So you’re basically moved in then?”

“No,” you said quickly. “It’s not like that.”

“She has a drawer,” Kyra mumbled, failing completely to hide the grin on her lips.

“Kyra!” you warned, your eyes wide.

Beth choked on her laugh. “She has a drawer?!”

“Oh fuck sake! It’s one drawer!”

“Uh-huh,” Beth said, grinning. “And how many nights this week?”

You groaned and hid your face in your hands. “You’re impossible.”

Beth laughed. “Look, I’m not judging, kid. If it makes you feel better, I think it’s kind of cute. Sickeningly cute, but still.”

Kyra bumped your shoulder gently. “Told you she wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you muttered, peeking out from behind your hands. “She’s gonna tell Leah now.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Beth said with no shame. “But only because I want to see Kyra spiral.”

Kyra gasped. “That’s so mean! I’m the best at keeping secrets.”

“Sure,” Beth shrugged. “I give it two more days before one of you breaks and lets it slip.”

You and Kyra exchanged a glance, your smiles soft and full of something neither of you had quite said out loud yet.

Beth caught it and rolled her eyes. “Gross. Alright, lovebirds. Go play house. I’ll enjoy the pasta disaster alone and hope Steph doesn’t kill me!”

You stood up slowly, Kyra rising beside you to help with your bag like she always did. As you both made your way to the door, Beth called after you.

“Hey!”

You turned.

“Drawer or not, if she doesn’t bring you back glowing and fed, I’m kidnapping you back to mine.”

You smiled over your shoulder. “Deal.”

The drive to Kyra’s flat wasn’t long. You kicked off your shoes as soon as you stepped inside, sighing in relief as Kyra took your bag and set it by the door. Her flat was cozy and quiet, the kind of space that always felt like it existed in its own little world.

“You okay?” she asked softly, her hand already settling on your lower back in that gentle way she always touched you now, like she couldn’t help it, like she needed to touch you at all times.

You nodded, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Better now.”

Her smile tugged at the corners of her lips, “You want food first? Or cuddles?”

You gave her a look. “Mmmm…I think cuddles first.”

Kyra grinned, took your hand, and led you to the couch.

You curled into her immediately, her arm around your back, your head tucked against her chest. She pulled the blanket from the armrest over you both without a word, her fingers trailing absently up and down your spine.

For a while, it was quiet. The hum of the heating, the distant sound of traffic outside, the steady rhythm of Kyra’s breathing beneath your cheek.

Then she tilted her head down, brushing her lips against your forehead. “You’re glowing, you know.”

You laughed quietly. “Pregnancy hormones.”

“No,” she whispered, her fingers brushing your jaw. “It’s you.”

You looked up at her, eyes meeting hers and something shifted.

Your hands moved first, tracing up her sides as you shifted carefully, easing yourself into her lap. Kyra’s breath hitched, her hands automatically bracing your hips as you settled above her, straddling her carefully, your small bump creating a gap between you.

Her eyes searched yours like she was checking a thousand times if you were sure.

And you were.

You kissed her, slow and deep and certain. Her hands gripped your thighs, fingertips pressing in just enough to remind you she was still trying not to lose control. But you didn’t want her to hold back.

Your fingers slid into her hair, tugging gently as your lips parted for hers again. You rolled your hips against hers as the kiss deepened.

She pulled back slightly, “Tell me what you need,” she whispered.

You smiled, breathless and aching in a way that wasn’t just physical. “Just you. Kyra please…please just t-touch me.”

Kyra’s breath caught as she nodded, brushing her thumb gently across your cheek. “Okay,” she whispered. “I’ve got you.”

She kissed you once more, soft and lingering, before slipping her arms around you and rising, holding you close as she guided you toward the bedroom.

She helped you undress, leaving you in just your underwear before undressing herself. She paused at the edge of the bed, her hands finding your hips. “Lie back for me?” she asked, voice soft.

You nodded, cheeks warm, and eased yourself down onto the mattress. She watched every movement carefully, her eyes soft and attentive. Then, gently, she knelt beside you and reached for a pillow, lifting your hips and sliding it beneath you.

You blinked at her, “Kyra…”

“It helps, baby,” she said quietly, brushing her fingers across your bump and then lower, her gaze flicking back to yours. “Takes the pressure off your back. I read about it.”

Your chest ached in the best way. “You’ve been reading?”

She gave a small, shy smile. “Of course I have. I want to take care of you, babe.”

“Do you want this?” Kyra added.

“Yes Kyra,” you moaned, scooping her hair up into a makeshift ponytail as she slipped between your legs, “Please just fuck me.”

She smirked before placing a kiss on your lips before working her way down your jaw, neck and eventually your breasts. Her hand palmed at them as she placed gentle kisses all around. She whispered sweet words between the kisses.

Kyra tutted, “Such a needy girl,” she whispered, slipping her hand in your underwear. Your breath hitched as she flicked her thumb over your clit, “You’re so wet for me, baby.”

She began to rub gentle circles over your clit, strings of pleads and moans slipping from your mouth. She parted your legs and slipped between them, you whined at the loss of contact on your clit as she pulled your bottoms and underwear down your legs and threw them somewhere across the room to later be found.

Kyra’s soft lips placed gentle kisses against up and down your thighs, each time she edged closer and closer to your throbbing clit. You ran your hand through her hair, scooping it up once again into a ponytail.

Arching your back, moans continued to slip from your mouth, “Kyra please do something, I’m begging you!”

A whine slipped from your mouth as Kyra blew cool air onto your swollen clit before taking it into her mouth. With her arm wrapped over your hips, she began to suck and run her tongue over your clit. Your moans became louder and louder as Kyra worked her tongue on your clit.

“K-Kyra, oh fuck!” You gripped onto her hair, lightly pulling at it, “I’m so c-close, fuck. Baby, I-I’m so close.”

Just as you came close to cumming, Kyra detached her mouth from your sensitive bud. A laugh escaped her, “Not cuming that quickly, baby.”

Your breath hitched once again and your body squirmed as Kyra ran her finger through your drenched folds. With no warning, her mouth latched back onto your pussy. Your hips began to slowly grind against her face as she switched between sucking and flicking her tongue against your clit.

A gasp left your mouth as Kyra slipped two fingers into your entrance, she sucked at your clit while her fingers slipped in and out. Strings of moans continued to leave your mouth as you pulled Kyra’s head closer to your pussy, begging for more. Her fingers hit all the right places, edging you closer and closer.

“Kyra fuck,” your legs wrapped around Kyra’s head, gripping her in place, “Fuck, yes! Right there.” You moaned as Kyra hit your sweet spot.

“Cum for me baby.” Kyra mumbled against your skin. “I love hearing those pretty moans of yours.”

Your legs began to shake, your muscles tightened and an overwhelming sensation overcame you as you reached your high. You clenched around Kyra’s fingers before spilling your juices all over her fingers.

She continued to explore you carefully, tracing over every curve and stretch of skin like you were something holy. She kissed the tears that had gathered at the corners of your eyes and whispered how proud she was of you, how beautiful you were, how much she loved you, even if she hadn’t said those words yet.

Later, you were curled into her chest, and the room had gone quiet again. The only sounds were the soft hum of the radiator and the steady rhythm of Kyra’s breathing beneath your ear.

Your fingers traced absent shapes on her skin, your body still warm from the afterglow, but your mind slowly catching up—tugging at the part of you that had stayed guarded, even now.

“Kyra?” you asked softly, barely above a whisper.

She hummed, eyes closed, her hand still stroking gentle circles over your hip. “Mm?”

You hesitated, pressing your cheek more firmly against her chest like it would give you courage. “What are we?”

Kyra stilled.

You felt the silence settle between you, your own breath suddenly too loud. You pulled back slightly so you could see her face. “I’m not trying to ruin anything, I just… I need to know. What this is. What we are.”

Her brows furrowed, confusion softening into something more tender. “You’re mine,” she said, voice soft. “At least, I hope you are.”

You bit your lip, your heart thudding. “I just… I can’t mess around, Kyra. Not with this. Not when I’ve got her to think about.”

Your hand dropped to your small bump, and Kyra’s followed without hesitation, resting over yours protectively.

“I know that,” she said, eyes locked on yours now, serious and steady. “And I’d never treat this like a game. Or you.”

You swallowed. “So what are we doing?”

Kyra took a breath like she needed to center herself. “I want to be with you. Fully. Properly. I want to be in your life. And if you’ll let me, I want to be in hers too.”

You blinked, throat tightening. “You mean that?”

She nodded, voice trembling slightly now. “I know she’s not here yet but she already matters to me. You both do.”

Tears prickled at the corners of your eyes. You sat up a little more, brushing your fingers over her collarbone. “It’s not just dating, Kyra. If you’re in, you’re in. She’s everything to me. I won’t have people coming and going. She doesn’t deserve that.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, instantly. “I want to be there for the sleepless nights and the first steps and the tantrums and everything in between. I know I haven’t said it yet, but…”

She reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, her fingers shaking just a little. “I’m already in love with you. And I think I started falling the second you trusted me enough to let me close.”

Your breath caught.

And for once, the words didn’t scare you. They made you feel steady. Like maybe this wasn’t so terrifying after all.

You leaned down, pressing your forehead to hers. “Okay,” you whispered. “Then I’m yours. And she is too, if you want her.”

Kyra blinked back tears, nodding. “I do. I really do.”

You kissed her then, not slow or rushed, but soft and certain. Like something new beginning.

Something real.

285 notes · View notes

itzzzitzelll · 1 month ago

Text

Passenger Princess

Pairings ♤ Patri Guijarro x reader

Genre ♤ fluff

Warnings ♤ none

“Mi amor por favor can you calm down and tell me what happened.” You had fearfully called your girlfriend at 6 in the morning rapidly ranting in your heavy Liverpool accent. It was way too early for your girlfriend's liking to try and understand your quick fire English.

You took a deep breath through your tears before explaining to your girlfriend that your car had broken down on a random corner of the road as you took an early commute to training that day.

“Can you pick me up please babe.”

“Sit tight carino, I'm on my way.”

You let out a sigh of relief after sending patri your exact location. Then looking at your car that had let out a pitiful sneak as it smoked from the engine and the unmistakable scent of something being burnt filled the air. You'd barely made it off the road before it died on you completely.

Patri picked you up just in time to watch your car being towed off to a nearby shop. During the ride patri noticed the way your leg bounced and the way you picked at your cuticles a clear sign that you were nervous and overthinking.

“Amor? You ok?” Your girlfriend questioned the worry clear across her face.

“I'm fine..it’s just I really didn't budget for my car breaking down. Getting it fixed and taking an Uber to and from practice everyday is gonna put a dent in my savings.” You sighed rubbing your temples in frustration completely missing the look of offense on patri's face.

“Uber? Amor, I'm not letting you take an Uber when I can drive you.” Patri stated firmly to which you looked at her in surprise. The both of you had only been together for about 3 months and you couldn't help but feel like it was a short time to ask patri for much even if it meant picking you up from your apartment that was 10 minutes away from hers and dropping you off to the very place she worked also.

“Darling, your apartment is 10 minutes away from mine. I'm pretty sure you would wanna sacrifice your extra minutes of sleep just to pick me up.”

“Then you're not sure of much at all Amor,because waking up early so I know you get to and from training safely everyday is the least of the things i'd do for you.

You couldn't help but blush at the softness in her voice and the gentle way she grabbed your hand over the console to make sure you felt how genuine she was being so you couldn't help but agree.

With that patri made extra effort to wake up earlier than necessary to make sure you had your coffee in the morning. She'd pick you up, handing over the warm cup then handing over her phone so you could play the music you like which she always made fun of you for but would still tap her finger on the steering wheel to the beat of each song.

In the evenings she'd sometimes make detours for snacks or late fast food runs. After long practices she even started leaving an extra sweater and water bottle in front for when you get into what she called your seat a space she always took pride in getting ready for you. Your girlfriend even went as far as to banish pina to the backseat just to reserve your space.

Patri lived for the bubble of intimacy those rides created but sadly all bubbles must burst and that's exactly what happened when she picked you up in the morning.

“Good morning darling, guess what?” You beamed sliding into the passenger seat of your girlfriend's car.

“You’re ready to admit I'm the better midfielder?” Patri grinned innocently.

You rolled your eyes and swat her arm playfully “ok first of all.false information. Second, my car is ready.”

“What?” she blinked.

“The mechanic called this morning. He said I can pick my car up today. Isn't it great you get your freedom back.” You smirked playfully.Patri's smile flattened completely before she put the car in drive.

“You ok darling?”

Yeah..yeah! I'm ok. She smashed the breaks harder than necessary. “You won't need me to drive you anymore.” her tone was light but you still felt like something was off so you took a good look at her. Her jaw was tight and she gripped her steering wheel like it had personally offended her.

“Patri are you sure you're ok?”

“I'm fine amor.”

She didn't say anything to you for the rest of the ride or even at training for that matter. She went through the day in a huff and a permanent pout on her lips. You'd coo at how cute she looked if you weren't so worried about what you could have said to cause your girlfriend's childish outburst.

You'd had enough of it by the time training ended and she'd barely said two words to you. You cornered her in the locker room when everyone else cleared out.

“Ok darling, you wanna tell why you're acting like this since I told you about my car being fixed?”

She frowned at the ceiling.

“It’s dumb.”

“I don't care. Tell me”

Patri avoided your eyes before sighing in defeat once she realized you weren't gonna let it go. “I guess I got so used to driving you around..I mean I love doing it and I guess I just didn't want you to get your car back.”

“So you threw a tantrum just cause you won't have to drive me around anymore?” You asked amused.

“See, I told you it was dumb.” Patri kissed her teeth and tried to pull away from you but you quickly wrapped your arms around her neck before jumping and securing your legs around her waist.

“It's not dumb I think it's cute that you're pouting like a petulant child just cause you can't drive me around.”

Your girlfriend scoffed, “I'm not pouting.”

“Darling you have your hoodie on with the hood up in 100° weather and I'm pretty sure I heard Taylor swift blasting through your earbuds during the tapes session.” you tensed tugging on her hoodie lightly. “Typical pout mode”

Patri smacked your hand away lightly before rolling her eyes in faux annoyance. “ shut up”

“ But darling who said I was gonna stop riding with you.” you tilted your head slightly.

“You, getting your car back?”

“So? I kinda like being your passenger princess”

“Really” your girlfriend lights up like she just won the league.

You shrug, burying your head in her shoulders, blushing lightly.

“You can ride with me forever if you want.” Patri murmured, placing a kiss on your head.

“Sounds pretty good to me.”

An: I kinda strayed away from this request but I hope you like it dare.

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itzzzitzelll · 1 month ago

Text

a taste of us - patri guijarro

word count - 5.8k | summary - after bumping into her on the streets of london you assume you'll never see her again, little do you know she's one of your closest friends teammates.

“fuck fuck fuck, i can’t be late, not today.” you muttered to yourself, running around your apartment as you tried to quickly gather everything you needed to see one of your closest friends for the first time in months.

you often lost track of time even when the world kept spinning. so occasionally when you had to leave your cosy apartment, you’d be rushing until the very last minute, no matter how much time you tried to give yourself. today’s reason being your mum who refused to cut your facetime call short even when you told her you needed to go, several times.

you picked up your phone quickly, your fingers typing away as you formed a message for ellie.

you - gonna be 5 minutes late! i’m so sorry, blame my mum xx

ellie 🩵 - she loves a good talk, it’s okay, i’ve ordered your drink x

you and ellie had been friends since her grassroots days. the two of you grew up playing for your local team on fields that were pure mud with a single patch of grass. whilst ellie excelled in football, to the point where she had won the golden glove at 20, you left your footballing days behind early on with the dreaded injury and no recovery plan. yet your friendship never wavered, even with the endless england tournaments that sent her everywhere, you’d still be sat on facetime whilst she did her recovery every night.

locking the door behind you, you rushed out the flat, your bag slung over your shoulder as you held a small gift bag containing a small present you had seen that immediately reminded you of ellie.

you weren’t even looking where you were going, your feet were moving without much effort as you stared down at your phone, trying to message ellie that you wouldn’t be long.

it wasn’t until you turned a corner that you realised staring down at your phone as you walked wasn’t a great idea.

you stumbled, your body meeting someone else’s as your bag slipped off your arm and the small gift bag topped onto the pavement.

“i’m so so sorry.” you practically shouted, being caught so off guard but the sudden force that you weren’t even sure where to look, your things sprawled across the london pavement as you internally scolded yourself for not looking where you were going.

it wasn’t until you looked up at the obstacle that you saw her.

she was taller than you, not by much but a good few centimeters that put her at an advantage. sunkissed skin that gave you the impression that she certainly wasn’t from around here, probably from somewhere with a beach. soft straight brown hair that was pulled back into a ponytail, that allowed all her features to stand clear. her jaw was sharp, you could’ve swore it would’ve cut you if you touched it. her brown eyes reflected the spring sun so much that they looked like a bar of melted chocolate.

she was breathtaking.

“lo siento, es mi culpa.” she shook her head profusely, reaching down as she gathered the few things of yours that fell on the floor, putting a few of the fallen objects back in their rightful bag before standing straight. (i’m sorry, it’s my fault.)

“estamos en inglaterra, habla inglés.” the girl next to her scolded, hitting her arm slightly. (we are in england, speak english.)

“sorry, she said she’s sorry, and that it was her fault.” the other girl spoke.

“it’s okay, uh i was looking at my phone, i should’ve been paying attention.” you smiled politely, yet your eyes were only focused on the girl in front of you. your hands outstretched as she handed you the two bags you had practically thrown on the floor.

“esta bien- it’s okay, i wasn’t looking either.” she smiled back, your hands brushing slightly as she handed you your things, her touch was electric.

“thank you, for uh, picking my things up.” your cheeks flushed a deep red as you swung your bag over your shoulder, partially from the embarrassment but also from the way she was looking at you.

“no problem,” she shrugged, “lo que sea por una chica guapa.” she added, her voice lower yet you could still make out every word. (anything for a pretty girl.)

you didn’t even ask her what it meant, your gcse spanish only helping you understand ‘pretty’ and ‘girl’. instead you stood there looking at each other, smiles etched onto both of your faces, whilst her friends stood beside you, their eyes switching between the two of you.

one of the girls coughed quietly, snapping the both of you out of the gaze you had fallen in. you looked between the three of them, only just noticing the matching tracksuit they were all wearing, you couldn’t put much thought into it before you looked down at the watch on your wrist, your eyes widening automatically, you were really fucking late.

“i’m so sorry. i’m meeting a friend, i need to go,” you looked up at her, “thank you, again. have a good day.” you had to fight yourself to tear your eyes off her, to turn around and keep walking, to not run back and ask for her number, yet you knew ellie was waiting for you in a cafe just round the corner.

“vale, have a good day, guapa.” she nodded, a small playful smirk across her face. (okay… pretty.)

you hesitantly turned around, continuing your rushed walk as you saw the sign for the coffee shop in the distance. your head turning back briefly for a moment as you caught one last look at her, before stepping through the door and away from her entirely.

the café was tucked into a quiet corner just off the high street, steam fogging up the windows and the smell of fresh espresso drifting into the street. you spotted ellie through the glass before you even opened the door, slouched in a booth, cappuccino in hand and a hot chocolate ready for you across from her.

“i was starting to think you’d stood me up,” she said as you slid into the seat opposite her.

“i told you it was my mum’s fault,” you huffed, pulling your coat off and setting the gift bag on the table between you.

ellie’s grin widened, “classic, you know she once kept me on the phone for twenty minutes asking if i drink oat milk now, and then asked me to explain how oat milk is made.”

you both laughed, and for a moment, it felt like no time had passed between you. the comfort was instant, the kind that never really fades, that was the beauty of your friendship with ellie.

but then your eyes dropped to ellie’s outfit, a tracksuit with a barça crest stitched on the chest. the same tracksuit your collison victim was wearing. your brows shot up.

“is that what players wear?” you asked slowly, the look on your face curious.

“uh, this?” she pointed to her tracksuit, her eyebrows furrowed as you nodded, “yeah it’s only for the players, we tend to wear it before matches on away days.”

your eyes widened, cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you leaned back in your seat, covering your face with your hands, “oh for fucks sake ellie,” you muttered, shaking your head slowly, “i think i might’ve just bumped into one of your teammates, and sent all my stuff flying.”

ellie practically snorted, her laughter so loud that you knew everyone was looking, “you’re lying.” she managed to choke out.

“no ellie, i literally physically collided with her.” slowly dropping your hands, “like i walked straight into her with no care in the world.”

“that’s hilarious, what did she look like?” ellie asked, her chin now resting on her hand as she wiggled her eyebrows.

you gave her a look, lips twitching like you were already regretting telling her. “brown hair. pretty like, stupidly pretty. tallish. had an insane jawline, and she wore the tracksuit better than any human should be allowed to.”

she giggled slightly, reaching for her phone as she tapped through her pictures before turning her phone to show you. “this one?” she asked, a picture of the girl clear as day, your eyes practically lighting up.

“yes! it was definitely her.” you nodded, your mind replaying the spanish the player had previously used, still trying to piece together her words.

ellie sat back, lips curling into a grin, “patri.”

you blinked, “that’s her name?”

“yep. patri guijarro, one of the best midfielders in the world.” she nodded.

you groaned, leaning back in your seat, hoping it would swallow you whole. “she probably thinks i’m a complete idiot.”

“she helped you pick your stuff up, didn’t she?”

“yeah, but she said something in spanish right after. something i didn’t fully catch, except guapa and chica, but you know i was never good at spanish.” you shrugged.

ellie froze for a second, as if she was trying to translate in her head, then gave a soft smile and nodded, “she said guapa?”

you squinted at her, “what?”

“nothing. just patri doesn’t usually say stuff like that to random girls on the street.”

you furrowed your brow, “what do you mean?”

“she’s not the type to be calling strangers pretty unless you’ve really caught her attention.” ellie said, almost casually, but with a glint in her eye.

you blinked, “oh.”

ellie tried not to smirk. “i’m just saying. it’s a beautiful coincidence.”

you shook your head firmly, “she said it under her breath, though. like maybe i wasn’t meant to hear it.”

ellie shrugged. “maybe, but now you’re here, talking about her five minutes later.”

“i’m not-”

“you are.”

you rolled your eyes, sipping your hot chocolate,“it’s not a thing.”

“no, of course not,” ellie shook her head, fighting a grin. “she just happened to knock the air out of your lungs and call you beautiful, but i will be telling her at training, but she is single by the way.”

your jaw practically dropped as she simply laughed, “i swear to god ellie.”

you and ellie sat there for a good while, she opened the small gift you bought her, a plant pot that was covered in beautiful shades of blue, the same blue the two of you would wear in your grassroots football days.

most of the time you were catching up on everything you had missed in the last few months, which was really just ellie saying how sunny barcelona was and how fun it would be if you visited. the two of you had been attempting to plan a weekend trip since she first made the move, yet every time you two got close to picking a date, something always popped up.

“you know, if i had to introduce you to anyone i played with, it would definitely be patri.” ellie said casually, sipping the remnants of her cappuccino.

your eyebrows furrowed, “don’t you play with two of the best players in the world, two balon d’or winners, fifa best winners?” you questioned.

“well obviously, but i mean as like someone who i think you’d get along with. i think she’d be good for you.” she shrugged as if it was the most simple sentence in the world, as if she wasn’t trying to play matchmaker with someone you had bumped into for 10 seconds.

“i think you might be jumping ahead of yourself, just a little.” you shook your head with a small laugh.

ellie had been playing wing women since you first came out to her at 13. when she signed for city she was practically begging you to go out on dates with her teammates, some which were definitely better than others. it took years for her to learn you had a type, which halted the suggestions ever so slightly, but when she found another footballer that fit your description, the matchmaking would start again.

“maybe i am, or maybe she saw a picture of you on my instagram and has been asking when she gets to meet you,” she smiled softly, far too casually, “either way, you’ll see her at the match today.”

“so this was never about me coming to see you, this was you setting me up all along?” you questioned, raising your eyebrow.

“seeing me was the main focus, this is just a little bonus on the side.” she grinned at you, as innocent as anything, which did have you laughing slightly.

when you and ellie finished up, you made your way to your apartment, you had a few hours to wait until you were due to watch ellie play, so you were mostly keeping yourself busy. yet you found yourself on ellies instagram, finding a picture patri was tagged in, your fingers instinctively clicking her account as you scrolled through it.

her profile was clean, lowkey. mostly matchday shots, some group photos with teammates, the occasional artsy coffee or beach post that made her seem so effortlessly cool. it wasn’t even like she was trying to be that captivating, it seemed to come naturally to her.

you scrolled a little further, then stopped.

there was a photo of her mid-conversation with someone, sitting in a restaurant with some kind of abstract art behind her, yet you could only focus on the smile across her face.

then you scrolled a little more. a picture of her on international duty, her anthem jacket cleanly pressed, her hair slicked back into a smooth ponytail and an impressively serious look plastered across her face. your breath hitched slightly. god she was something else.

you couldn’t lie, your stomach did that annoying little flip, one that made you shake your head dramatically. you shut off your phone with a sigh.

“this is absurd,” you muttered to yourself, standing up and pacing toward the kitchen for a glass of water like that would somehow reset your brain, “we collided for thirty seconds, i dropped my bag, this cannot be some cheesy romance movie.”

and yet, you’d somehow managed to find her account and now you couldn’t not think about how her smile could light up a room, or how that serious look on her face could easily make your heart skip a beat.

when you got to stamford bridge the atmosphere was incredible. it was a champions league semi-final, a match up that seemed to repeat itself every year. chelsea were already 4-1 down on aggregate, so needed a big effort to get themselves back in the game. however, the barca crest that sat on your chest, from the t-shirt kindly gifted by ellie, meant you were going into this game with a lot of hope.

you had those special family and friends tickets, the ones that required a lanyard and a security check like no other. you had made your way to your seats just before warm up had started. none of this was unusual for you, even when you stopped playing football, your love for it never stopped, and watching ellie play was the cherry on the top of the cake.

barca players started filtering their way onto the pitch. bouncing on their toes, doing side shuffles, passing short balls with that kind of perfection that only comes from years of repetition.

then your eyes found her.

patri.

a slightly more stiff posture but the same no-nonsense focus. she glanced up towards the crowd, doing that quick scan players always do.

and then she saw you.

there was the smallest pause, like she was buffering slightly. then a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth, it was subtle, but it was definitely there. she didn’t wave or do anything dramatic. just met your eyes, her expression was soft and familiar, as if she was replaying the moment from this morning.

your cheeks instantly warmed, before you reached for your phone, typing a message to ellie quickly.

you - tell your teammate to stop staring, i’m fragile

a few seconds later, you spotted ellie jogging in, grinning when she caught sight of you. she lifted a hand in a small wave, then subtly pointed toward patri, who was a few paces behind her, jogging up the pitch.

patri didn’t look. she already knew where you were.

instead, ellie jogged past her and bumped her shoulder lightly, clearly teasing, patri just rolled her eyes, the faintest smile across her face, before casting another quick glance in your direction before the warm up really started.

watching the girl you grew up with playing at the highest level with one of the best teams in the world had a smile permanently fixed to your face. but every now and again your eyes couldn’t help but flicker to patri, even just from the warm up you could see the pure skill she possessed at her feet and the control she had over the ball.

the warm up passed by pretty quickly. your eyes never failing to leave the pitch, to the point where you could’ve sworn patri glanced up at you once than once. even a subtle point to one of her teammates that you were sure was pointed in your direction, a point that made your stomach drop and cheeks flush.

you watched as the team filtered back into the tunnel, using that as your sign to grab yourself a drink before the game really started.

it didn’t take long until your phone light up, ellie’s name flashing across the screen.

ellie 🩵- she said you started it first, but now there’s a few people wanting to meet you.

oh and i heard her telling one of the girls you had a pretty smile

she also said ‘i want to speak to her later’ so best be prepared x

this girl clearly had an effect on you when it came to making your body react, because as if it was clockwork your cheeks warmed up and your heart skipped a beat at the thought of her.

barcelona came out with fire from the first whistle, pressing high and moving the ball with fluidity. patri anchored the midfield with controlled passes through the chelsea lines like it was second nature.

by halftime, barça were up 3-0, three beautiful goals that perfectly defined barcelona’s champions league journey. chelsea pulled one back late in the second half, barely a minute after salma rocketed one into the back of the net. yet it wasn’t nearly enough. the game finished 4-1 to barcelona, not that there was ever a doubt in your mind.

you watched as the teams shook hands, sharing pleasantries, brief conversations and smiles shared proudly across the barcelona players knowing they had made it into the final of the champions league for another year.

it didn’t take long for ellie to beckon you down from the stands, carefully walking the few rows down to the barrier, being extra cautious to not trip in front of the whole team this time.

“glad you made it down the steps without falling over again.” she teased, nodding at your graceful descent down the steps.

“proud of me?” you smirked, leaning slightly forward over the railing.

“always,” she nodded firmly, “but i’m not the one who wanted to see you.” before you could ask, she nodded over her shoulder.

“hola,” she said smoothly, her voice deeper up close, “i’m glad ellie got you to come”

“of course,” you smiled, a little breathless under the sun, but mostly under her gaze, “would’ve been rude not to.”

“bueno,” she grinned, “because i would’ve come looking for you either way.”

you blinked, thrown slightly, but impressed at just how smooth she really was.

before you could reply, she stepped in close, closer than you'd expected, and wrapped her arms around you in a quick, warm hug. not overly long, but not shy either. the kind of hug that had your stomach doing backflips as her touch lingered on you, her hand resting on your lower back just slightly longer than it needed to.

as she pulled back, her eyes didn’t leave yours, “you smell better than i do right now,” she murmured with a slight grin.

you blinked, how did this woman continue to keep you on your toes, “i think you’ve earned it.”

“you didn’t play,” she teased, raising an eyebrow. “why do you look like you’ve just run a marathon?”

you let out a short breath of a laugh, embarrassed, “probably some nerves. it was a good game, but you kind of caught me off guard earlier.”

patri tilted her head, playful, a little teasing, “i thought i was the one who got tackled.”

“that’s not how i remember it,” you returned with a playful smile, your eyebrows raising slightly.

she grinned, tongue briefly passing over her bottom lip, before switching back to spanish, low and deliberate. “no pasa nada, i kind of liked it.” (it’s nothing.)

“you liked me crashing into you?” you sent her a confused look.

“i liked the part where you looked at me after i started speaking spanish to you,” she said, nodding slightly toward you, “like you kinda understand, but not really.”

“are you going to tell me what it meant then?”

“i guess i can, if you meet me for an ice cream after.” she shrugged, yet her eyes lit up with a slight hint of mischief.

you tried not to laugh, or blush but failed at both when your cheeks practically lit up and you couldn’t stop the nervous laugh that escaped your lips, “you don’t waste time, do you?”

“i don’t like wasting chances,” she said casually, eyes steady, her gaze fixed on you, “and I don’t want to leave london wishing i’d said more.”

“you’ve got a point,” you nodded slowly, as if you were thinking about her offer, as if the answer wasn’t already yes, “and it’s a nice day today, so we might as well take advantage of that.” adding a shrug onto the end of your sentence.

patri’s smirk softened, a grin appearing in place, “perfecto, give me your phone.”

without any hesitation you handed her your phone, the contacts app already open. you watched carefully as she typed away, before handing your phone back. a comfortable silence falling between the two of you, just easily smiling at each other.

from a few paces away, ellie gave the most dramatic, exaggerated gag you ever heard, “god, just kiss already or go get your ice cream.”

you both let out a small laugh, but as she turned back to walk through the tunnel she sent you one final smile. one that had you more than excited for your ice cream date later.

as soon as patri and ellie disappeared from your sight, you tapped on her contact. your fingers stilling for a moment, trying to think of the perfect message that would start a conversation, even if you were seeing her in a matter of hours.

you - you have to get a different flavour ice cream to me, just so i can try some of yours.

you didn’t pay much mind to your phone until it vibrated in your hand as you slowly made your way out of the stadium.

patri ⚽️- should i get used to you stealing my food?

you - depends if you want to keep me happy

patri ⚽️- good thing i’m incredibly generous… en muchos sentidos (in many ways)

meet me at my hotel in an hour, then you can have a taste 😏

you - you’re dangerous.. i’ll see you then x

you busied yourself for an hour, taking an incredibly slow walk around the area before finally reaching the hotel where the barcelona team had been stationed.

you always loved london in the spring. the leaves on the trees finally starting to turn green, the sky and air seemed lighter and it was as if everything wasn’t as stuffy as before. it was your favourite time of year. and nothing compared to being able to spend a beautiful spring day with a pretty footballer that nearly toppled you onto the pavement.

as you walked through the hotel doors, there she was. standing near the hotel café, changed into fresh clothes, hair still damp from a shower, scrolling her phone with the kind of casual posture that still felt intentional.

that’s when she looked up at you, her face lit up. it was subtle, yet undeniable, and your face automatically matched hers. with matching smiles on your face, patri pocketed her phone and took a step closer, eyes scanning your body.

“you came,” she said, her voice quieter now, reserved just for you.

you shrugged, teasing. “i was promised ice cream.”

patri rolled her eyes, matching your teasing energy, “and apparently you’re stealing mine too.”

“get used to it.” you nudged her arm playful, before the two of you headed out onto the streets of london.

she led you out into the soft, warm evening, the golden light clinging to the sky just a little longer than usual. the walk was easy, it didn’t feel rushed or as if you had a time restraint. just the two of you walking together, no pressure, just a few nerves. patri’s hand brushed yours now and then, not quite holding it, yet her presence never pulled away.

“i know a place that does really good ice cream, last time we were here we had ice cream from this place like 6 times.” patri stated confidently.

“you’re practically a local.” you agreed sarcastically, acting impressed with her words.

“dios mio, you’re just as bad as ellie.” she shook her head, pushing your shoulder lightly. (my god.)

it was only a few minutes before you reached the famous ice cream shop. it was small, but bright, and as soon as you walked through the door you could smell the mixture of flavours that were on display.

"can i get one scoop of chocolate and one scoop of strawberry in a cup, please?" you asked, grinning, no attempt to even try and hide your excitement. patri had talked up this ice cream shop the whole walk, and your expectations were now sky-high.

"seriously? you’re so boring," patri teased with a dramatic sigh, before turning to the person behind the counter. "can i have matcha and white chocolate, please?" she said with a smirk, tossing you a smug look over her shoulder.

once your ice creams were handed over, you both made your way to a small table by the window. the sunlight poured in gently, casting a warm glow across her face. you sat opposite her, knees brushing slightly under the small round table.

patri took one bite, humming in satisfaction. “see? i told you. best in the city.”

you tasted your own, then made an overly dramatic face. “wow this is life-changing.” you added an over the top satisfactory moan that had patri roll her eyes before sending you a glare, causing you to giggle.

“cállate, mine’s just better than yours,” she said with a smug shake of her head, the corners of her mouth lifting in challenge. (shut up.)

“matcha is a drink, not an ice cream flavour.” you insisted, taking another bite of your very safe, very delicious ice cream.

patri gasped, mock-offended. “but when you mix it with white chocolate, es delicioso.” she scooped up a swirl of both, then held the spoon out toward you. “just try it.”

you reached for the spoon, but she pulled it back with a quiet, teasing click of her tongue. “nope, open,” she said simply, her voice dipping slightly as she leaned in.

your eyes flicked to hers, heartbeat quickening, cheeks instantly blushing, but you obeyed, parting your lips slightly as the spoon neared. her other hand came up to rest lightly beneath your chin, thumb brushing against your jaw in soft, slow movements as she fed you the ice cream.

and to be fair, it was good. creamy and rich, surprisingly balanced. but your brain barely processed the flavour, not with her eyes locked on your mouth and definitely not with her hand still cradling your face long after the spoon had pulled away.

“bueno?” she murmured, her voice soft but undeniably amused. (good?)

you swallowed, nodding slowly, “mhm.” your breath was hitched in your throat, you knew an actual response wasn’t coming even if you tried.

a satisfied smile spread across her face, like she’d just won something. “por supuesto. i knew i was right,” she said, finally letting her fingers trail away from your skin. (of course.)

you glanced down at your own half-melted ice cream before looking back up at her, arching a brow. “so what else are you always right about?”

patri leaned back in her chair, spoon tapping lightly against the rim of her cup. “todo.” she grinned, like it was a fact carved in stone. “food, music, people…” (everything.)

“people?” you echoed, slightly amused.

she nodded, tilting her head slightly, eyes locked on yours, “i like to think i’m good at reading people.”

“oh?” you smiled slowly, unable to stop the warmth rising to your cheeks. “what can you tell about me then?”

her eyes flicked down to your lips again, just for a moment. “you’re someone i want to spend time with.” she said simply, her voice playful.

you laughed, shaking your head, pretending to focus on your ice cream again just to calm the growing flutter in your chest, “you really don’t hold back, do you?”

“not when i like someone,” she said, so casually it made you pause.

you met her gaze again. the look on her face made you curious, a look of mischief, yet there was a hint of something more, something that felt open.

“so what do you want to know?” you asked, nudging her foot lightly under the table. “since you’ve clearly decided i’m not a waste of time.”

the two of you sat there for a couple hours, ice cream long finished as you learnt about each other inside out. you brushed past the small talk questions, instead talking about your families, aspirations and favourite places in the world. it felt like you had covered years worth of knowledge right until the moment the cosy setting was about to close.

you walked out into the streets of london, the sun just about set as the street lights started to flicker on. your gaze fluttered towards patri, her hand brushing against yours lightly as you walked in time with each other, your conversation never missing a beat.

it didn’t take long for patri’s hand to hook onto yours. small and subtle. her pinky reaching out, and wrapping around yours, pulling you ever so slightly closer.

you kept walking like that for a while, eventually reaching the hotel she was staying at, a natural end to your date.

“me lo pasé muy bien, chica guapa.” patri smiled, her hand falling from yours as it moved to rest on your hip. (i had a really nice time, pretty girl)

“my spanish really isn’t that good patri.” you furrowed your eyebrows, trying to break down what she was saying but it was useless.

“i had a really good time, oh and i called you pretty again.” she smirked, her grip tightening slightly.

your whole body stuttered, your mind short circuiting completely as you tried to think of a response, “y-yeah i had a really good time too.” you nodded, still struggling to deal with her forwardness.

“you should come see me, in barcelona.” she stated, taking a step towards you, closing the space just slightly more.

“i would really like that, maybe we could go to another ice cream shop.” you teased, melting into her touch more and more as the seconds went on.

you stood there in silence for a moment, the confidence building as your hand moved to rest on her jaw. your sudden confidence shocking her slightly, yet she relaxed into your touch quickly.

“i really want to kiss you right now.” she muttered, her eyes trailing from your eyes to your lips for a few seconds before she looked back up.

“then kiss me.” you whispered, her hand pulling you closer as she began to lean in.

“PATRI, AQUÍ ESTÁS!” someone shouted, both of your heads turning as you were met with two people in matching barcelona attire. your hands dropped from each other and you both took a step back. (patri, there you are!)

“lo siento amor, i’m so so sorry.” patri mumbled, her cheeks visibly turning red with the embarrassment of her friends turning up at the very moment you were about to kiss her. (i’m sorry love)

“ellie no nos dijo donde estabas.” the other person said, as the two of them walked over. (ellie wouldn’t tell us where you were.)

“joder, ustedes dos tienen terrible mal momento.” patri sighed, rolling her eyes as she bought her hand up to her temple. (fuck, you two have terrible timing.)

suddenly you felt incredibly awkward, you felt incredibly out of place as the two girls' eyes focused on you as they got closer, “uh- i should go, i’ll text you.” you smiled briefly.

“no no stay, they don’t mean anything bad.” patri said, quickly turning to you, her hand reaching out to stop you in your track.

“it’s okay, it’s late,” you leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before stepping back, “goodnight patri.”

you started walking away, sending a small smile to the other two girls as you started your walk back to your apartment, alone.

you had done your best to ignore the few buzzes from your phone as you got ready for bed, needing some time to think through every thing that just happened, before settling on your sofa and finally picking up your phone.

patri ⚽️- i’m so sorry amor, i’m so so sorry. my friends are so bad at taking hints.

i really enjoyed myself with you, it was like you saw me for more than just football.

i want to take you on a proper date, not to replace today, but i want to make it better.

you looked at your phone for a few minutes as your mind replayed your ice cream date, how easy it was to be around her and the pure joy you felt from being close to her. it was a no brainer.

you - when do you travel home?

you knew it was in the morning, you knew there was absolutely no time for anything to happen before her flight or before you had work, yet it was like you had to see her say it for that to sink in.

patri ⚽️ - tomorrow morning.

but i meant what i said.

you - what was it?

patri ⚽️ - come to barcelona for a weekend, i want to show you everything.

you didn’t hesitate, you didn’t even pause for a second to breathe, your fingers simply typed out the word and pressed send.

you - okay.

a/n - thank you for reading <33 as usual, my inbox is always open for any feedback/requests!

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itzzzitzelll · 2 months ago

Text

sexier in black | lucy bronze

*something that’s been in my drafts for a few weeks, sorry for the lack of fics but i am writing little bits in between studying but exams are nearly over so should be able to get more done soon<3*

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“black or pink?” you questioned holding up a black satin dress where the straps crossed over the front and in the other some a matching light pink suit. lucy looked up from her phone as she lying on the hotel bed. looking back and forth between the two outfits several times.

you were leaning towards the black dress, it being a while since you had worn a dress or even had the excuse to dress up fancy. so what better excuse than lucy and the lionesses going to an award show. although you weren’t nominated for anything due to spending half the season out with an injury - you still wanted to be there to support lucy and the other girls.

you and lucy went way back and had been friends for a while before any feelings actually came into the picture. knowing of her since you began in england U17s youth teams.

it not being until you were called up to the senior team, and she took you under her wing, lucy having joined a year earlier that you started hanging out more often, until you both confessed your feelings for each other — ever since then the two of you had been inseparable.

the award show was paying tribute to young and upcoming stars both domestically and internationally, the girls being nominated for their work done at the euros. it also being a chance to see new and old faces.

“hmm.. well you do look adorable in pink but-“ your girlfriend pausing, her face deep in thought you could see the cogs moving behind her eyes as she looked between the two outfits still not giving you an answer.

why was the girl so indecisive?

second felt like hours had passed and she was still looking between the two outfits, the clock ticking and you already didn’t have a lot of time to get ready as the two of you decided to have a thirty minute nap which actually was two hours.

“so i’ll just pick the pink then?” you ask, your arms getting sore from holding up the two outfits for so long like some sort of clothes statue.

“no, no!” lucy quickly said as she moved to sit on the side of the bed, “you look cute in the pink but the black.. you just um what the word..” lucy continued, she was dragging it out on purpose now knowing how short of an attention span you had to begin with and how much your hated waiting.

“you look sexier in black” lucy smirks, as your stomach begins to do flips. “so go with the black!” she confirms her answer as you nod satisfied that you had finally gotten an answer from the girl.

“could have just said that in the beginning!” you mumbled, but still loud enough for lucy to hear you as you turned around to move back into the bathroom to get changed.

placing the dress down on the counter as you began to get changed, the black satin dress which hugged your curves just right and for once maybe lucy was right — you did look sexier in black.

not that you would ever admit that to your girlfriend’s face knowing the smug smile you would get if she knew you thought she was right.

the ego of hers did not need to be boosted anymore than it already was on the daily,

fixing the straps to ensure that they sat on your chest in the correct way, feeling a pair of eyes staring you down from the doorway.

moving your head slowly to the direction of the doorway, your eyes were met with lucy as she stood in the doorway a large oversized hoodie which will definitely make its way into your wardrobe later, and some shorts that she always slept in.

little flyaways coming from her bun as her hair was all messy from the nap the two you you had just woken up from but still she managed to look gorgeous, her tattooed arms standing out as she stood with a giant smirk across her face.

“yeah?” you asked wondering she she needed anything as she stood there in her own thoughts, while you began to rummage through your makeup bag for a certain product.

“oh nothin’ just admiring how beautiful my girlfriend is!” lucy smiled as she came and wrapped her arms around your waist her head resting on your shoulder.

“mhm that so?” you mumbled as you began to press makeup into your skin, drawing lines and dots on your face.

“why are you even puttin’ that on your face?” lucy asked, as she focused on you dabbing your face as the product blended into your skin. lucy of course knew the basics about make up but she didn’t wear it a lot — in fact very rarely. the most makeup she wore was mascara other than that her makeup supply was very limited.

“makes me look more put together!” you shrug as she hummed, “you look gorgeous with and without out!” lucy whispered as she placed a gentle kiss to your neck, a grin appearing on your face like a child at christmas.

you carry on with your makeup as lucy does everything in her power to slow the process down by teasing you.

placing sloppy kisses to your sweet spot on your neck, sucking slightly on it every few seconds as you body tried to remain calm, your head had other plans.

“luce, please… you need to go and get ready” you squeaked out. however you weren’t sure if you were wanting her to stop and listen to you or if you were wanting her to carry on kissing you.

your breathing increasing with each kiss she placed on your body. seconds beginning to feel like hours as she removes her hands from your waist, lifting you so you were now sitting on the bathroom counter.

kicking the door shut with her foot, as she placed on hand on your lower thigh and the other moved up to your cheekbone and gently tucks the loose strand of your hair behind your ear.

you swore you could hear her pulse as she brings her lips to yours as you can feel the fire crackle under your skin. the same feeling you get in her tummy as you did when you and lucy had your first kiss appears once again.

if there was one feeling you could have for the rest of your life — this would be it.

you don’t let yourself think about how your going to explain to the rest of your teammates why the two of you are so late.

all you wanted to focus on right now was the way her hands slowly roamed your body, your body feeling flushed just at her touch.

the way her mouth tastes, the way your tongue somehow knows how to follow hers and the way your hands grip her neck to pull her closer into you.

burying your fingers into her hair, tugging gently at it as her hands find their way fumbling with the straps of your dress. feeling the smirk on her face as small whines fell from your lips as she nipped and tugged at your body.

“lucy! y/n!” georgia yells banging on the bathroom door startling both you and lucy as you jump away from each other a the sudden noise. “are yous’ in there” a thick milton keynes accent of leah williamson sung out as they both began to bang on the door at the lack of the answer.

“hang on!” lucy yelled back, while the two of them still banged on the door — probably just to be annoying.

lucy helped you down, smiling as she kissed you one last time before opening the door. both leah and georgia nearly falling over at the sudden moment of the door opening.

“how are the two of you not ready yet?” leah asked as her and georgia stood all dressed and ready while lucy opened her mouth to say something before being cut off by leah pulling a face of disgust, “you know what don’t answer that i don’t wanna know”

“can yous like hurry up, everyone’s waiting and im starvin” georgia complained as you stood their beginning more to wonder how they even got in when neither have a keycard for you door and for a good reason.

"how’d you even get in-" you began.

“okay cool- also lucy you’ve got lipstick on your face!” georgia cut you off before you even had a chance to get your sentence out, directing the last part to lucy as she pointed to your girlfriend. before the two left giggling, quickly leaving your room.

“do i really have lipstick on ma face?” lucy asked turning to you as you smile to yourself reaching to rub it off with your thumb.

“darling you need to get better at puttin’ makeup on!” lucy cheekily says as she watched you fix up your own lipstick.

“and someone needs to learn to keep their hands to their self!” you sass as a gasp comes from your girlfriend as your quick remark.

“don’t wear that dress next time.” lucy mumbled as you stood dumbfounded as she was literally the one who told you to wear the black dress.

“go and get ready, we’re already late!” you smile at lucy hitting her slightly in the shoulder as you pushed her out the bathroom.

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