#Jersey Club Movie | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

barcaatthemoon · 6 months ago

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third party || ingrid engen x mapi leon x reader ||

mapi and ingrid invite you to join them.

tonight had been a long time coming. you were no stranger to tension in the locker room. by the time that you arrived at barcelona, your body count had well-exceeded your jersey number. your paths had crossed a few times with a couple of the girls on the team already, even if it had only ever been on the pitch.

within your first month there, you had managed to find your way into a couple of your new teammates' beds. it hadn't been intentional, just a few drinks and dancing gone a bit too far. it had been a bit of a shock to mapi when she had heard patri and pina talking about you, and even more so whenever ingrid had been unphased.

"she was much more wild at wolfsburg." mapi's jaw had dropped at ingrid's simple comment. you knew ingrid's bed well, and a part of mapi felt jealous whenever she looked at you. their sex life wasn't stale, but a part of her longed to know what it would have been like with you in their bed as well.

ingrid had figured it out almost instantly. mapi was flustered around you, something that ingrid found amusing. you had picked up on it as well, but your soft spot for ingrid kept you from flirting or seeking it out. if they wanted you, then they'd just have to make the first move. you had confidence that ingrid would eventually come talk to you, but you hadn't expected it to be during a team bonding night.

you were no stranger to the club scene, but you felt out of place in alexia's apartment for movie night. there were some drinks flowing for those who wanted them, but you didn't want to embarrass yourself. besides, there were a lot of young players there that you wanted to be a good influence for. barcelona was interested in you for the long run, and you didn't want to mess that one up.

"it's been a long time since we've been close like this," ingrid whispered in your ear. she had her arm draped across your shoulders loosely. mapi shifted on the other side of her to steal a kiss, which was when ingrid tugged you even closer.

"what are you doing?" you asked her. ingrid just shrugged your question off as she let her hand fall down a bit.

"act natural like i know you can," ingrid told you. she let her hand roam a little, brushing against places that you didn't know she remembered. you took a sip of your drink and tried to keep your attention on the movie. it was no use, not once ingrid's hand squeezed your hip. she was smirking when you glanced over at her after jumping a little.

"it is late, we should go," mapi announced. the girls were putting on another movie when ingrid stood up. your building was on the way to theirs, so mapi offered to drive you home. ingrid clung to your side, leading you out of alexia's apartment. most of the team had no idea of what you were in for, but the few that you had hooked up with knew better.

you had gotten pretty good at ignoring judgemental or knowing looks from people, but the look in frido's eyes got to you. the two of you hadn't ever slept together, but she knew about your feelings for ingrid. she had been there at wolfsburg whenever you and ingrid had been sleeping together, and she had heard all about the aftermath of it all from former teammates.

"don't hog her," mapi said as she tugged you out of ingrid's grasp. you hadn't expected her to be so forward, especially not in the parking lot. it was possible that there could be prying eyes, but mapi didn't care. her hands found their home on your ass as she pulled you against her body. "ingrid tells me that you're quite the kisser."

"you'll just have to find out for yourself," you teased. mapi bit her lip as she glanced at you. the two of you were at eye level with each other, but neither of you cared to hold eye contact. mapi's eyes were fixated on your lips up until she leaned in for the kiss. you hadn't known what to expect, but she was very forward with the kiss.

you leaned back a bit as ingrid moved in behind you. you happily found yourself pinned between them for the first time that night. mapi's lips were soft and tasted a little bit of whatever fruity drink alexia had in the pitcher for everybody. mapi pressed deeper and deeper with her kiss until she managed to pull a moan from your lips.

"come on, there are better places to be doing this." ingrid pulled you out of mapi's arms and into the car. she drove with a hand on your thigh the entire time. her fingertips dipped past the bottom hem of your shorts, nearly brushing against your underwear.

a part of you wanted to think that ingrid didn't mean to rile you up so much, but you knew better. ingrid wanted you begging and pleading with her to fuck you before the three of you managed to get into the bedroom. ingrid was more mindful of her touches whenever the two of you were in the elevator and hallway, but mapi wasn't.

"i bet you look unreal coming apart on my strap," mapi whispered in your ear. she grabbed you by the hips and pulled you back to grind against her. ingrid bit her lip as she glanced over at the two of you. she had been nervous before tonight about inviting you into their bedroom. mapi was jealous, but the woman was having her fun with you, which excited ingrid more than anything else. ingrid already knew how good of a fuck you could be, and now mapi would get to experience that as well.

"maria wants to fuck you in the ass," ingrid told you. your cheeks turned a deep shade of red, despite your lack of surprise. you had caught mapi staring at your ass in practice several times before. ingrid didn't say anything else as she tugged you into mapi's apartment. "you already know how i want you, don't you?"

"here?" you questioned. ingrid shook her head and brought you back to the bedroom. mapi rushed in behind the two of you. both women helped you strip out of your clothing before ingrid laid you out on the bed. your head was hanging off of the side as you watched mapi and ingrid undress each other.

it was a bit odd to look in from your position, but you were grateful for it. there was a sense of longing as you watched them together, but it was quickly overshadowed by desire when you caught ingrid's eye. she whispered something to mapi, who climbed onto the bed to join you.

"tu eres bonita," mapi mumbled against your skin. she started on your neck, kissing and sucking little marks to the skin there before moving south. you threaded your fingers in her hair, gently guiding her head down in between your legs. mapi happily moved where you wanted her, eagerly lapping at your cunt.

"don't go quiet on us yet," ingrid said as she cupped your jaw. she pulled your head back, forcing you to look away from mapi between your legs. ingrid pushed her thumb past your lips and watched you suck. she let you get a rhythm with that before she switched to her two middle fingers.

ingrid fucked your mouth with her fingers. the thrusts of her fingers were fairly shallow except for the odd one or two that she pushed in further to make you gag. ingrid pulled her fingers away from your mouth, making a show of wiping your spit off against your cheek as she did. mapi glanced up from between your legs to see ingrid slowly thrust her hips forward to have you deep throating her strap-on.

"fuck," mapi groaned as leaned back a bit to get a better view. ingrid shot mapi a warning look to continue with you. she glanced back down between your legs to admire the slickness of your arousal. mapi used one of her hands to rub at your clit as her other one focused on fingering you. "you're taking my fingers so well, bebita."

"don't let her cum," ingrid said. mapi let out a little whine, but ingrid assured her that it would be worth it. between them, you felt your stomach tighten a little as they spoke about the things they wanted to do to you. mapi got you right up to the edge with her fingers, but then pulled her fingers away at ingrid's insistence.

"if it was up to me, you'd be cumming all night long," mapi told you. she trailed kisses up from your stomach, moving to make room for ingrid between your legs as she did. ingrid positioned herself in between your legs, lazily stroking the head of her cock between your folds.

"we have all night, there's no need to rush," ingrid said as she pulled your legs up to wrap around her waist. she didn't outright thrust into you, instead grinding in a way that you knew was getting her off as well. you thought it was a bit odd that ingrid seemed to be stalling, but once you looked over to see mapi approaching you with another strap-on, you knew why. "(y/n) is very good at eating pussy. mapi, sit on her face."

ingrid had pulled your body back enough so that your head wasn't leaning over the edge of the bed anymore. mapi knelt over your face, surprised when your arms tugged her down to settle a little deeper. mapi didn't doubt what ingrid had just told her about you, but she hadn't expected you to be so eager in eating her out.

"you love the taste of maria on your tongue, don't you? she's already rutting against your hips like a whore. make her cum, and we'll both have you seeing stars. come on, i know how much you like showing off," ingrid said as she fucked you. ingrid knew how much her words affected you. she knew exactly how much you liked hearing her talk about how well you were taking her cock or how well you ate her girlfriend out.

"ingrid, i'm so close," mapi huffed out. her hips had been bucking wildly on your face as she ground her cunt against your tongue. ingrid slowed down her thrusts as she watched you push mapi over the edge. the angle wasn't good to see exactly what your mouth was doing, but she got a good idea. there weren't that many forms of stimulation that had mapi cumming that quickly, and ingrid knew from experience how much you loved focusing on the clit.

"do you hear that (y/n)? mapi's gonna cum for you, and then, you get to cum too. after that, we're gonna flip you over and fuck you until you're begging us to stop. i want personally want to see how many times you can cum on my cock," ingrid told you. mapi's body was spasming above you, but all you could think about was the way ingrid was talking to you. she had changed a lot since wolfsburg, becoming much more confident in her dominance than you remembered.

one of ingrid's hands moved down from where they had both been gripping your waist. there wasn't much room for her hand to squeeze in between your bodies, but ingrid found it. she knew that she could thrust into you all night, but if she wanted you to cum, you needed more. ingrid was happy to give you that. she wanted to watch you cumming and crying out her name with mapi's arousal absolutely coating the bottom half of your face.

your cries of pleasure echoed off of ingrid's bedroom walls. mapi was squeezing her thighs together as she watched you and ingrid together. she could tell that ingrid wasn't far behind you, the few little deep thrusts she took once you had stopped clenching around her being the trick to push her over the edge.

the squeeze of ingrid's hands on your waist were a bit rough, but served as a reminder of the things she could do to you. ingrid was the softest and most gentle person that you had ever met, but in the bedroom things were different. ingrid manhandled you a little as she flipped you onto your stomach. she leaned down and kissed you, serving as a distraction as mapi moved in behind you.

"are you okay with mapi fucking you in the ass?" ingrid asked you. the question was blunt and direct, enough so that you were blushing deeply as you nodded. "use your words. she won't touch you until she hears you tell her that it's okay. if you don't want that, we can find something else to do. we could take turns with your pussy if you wanted instead."

"i want this. i want mapi to fuck me while you're fucking me," you told them. mapi leaned over and started trailing kisses from your upper back down your spine. ingrid laid back against the pillows and pulled you up to lay on her lap. ingrid grabbed your jaw with one hand and pulled you in for a kiss.

behind you, you could feel mapi try to position you. she seemed slightly afraid to move you around like ingrid had been all night. ingrid seemed to sense this as well and started to help mapi get you laid out how they'd need you to be. you could feel the length of ingrid's strap pressing against your cunt, occasionally grinding as either of you moved.

"your ass is perfect," mapi muttered as she spread you apart. this wasn't a completely foreign position, but it was all still new to you. mapi moved slowly, easing you into each of her motions. at the first feeling of her tongue, you knew that you'd be back in their bed again. the sensation was addicting, and you longed to feel her tongue elsewhere on your body.

"you don't have to hold back with us," ingrid told you. she knew that you could be a bit shy about the noises you made while getting fucked. ingrid wanted to hear all of them, but more importantly, she wanted mapi to hear you. she wanted mapi to hear you completely falling apart with both of them inside of you. she wanted mapi to hear the way that you screamed out in pleasure once ingrid would get to fucking you again.

things had slowed down drastically as mapi stretched you out from behind. there was no rush to any of her movements, not even once she had you stretched enough to comfortably take her strap. it felt much smaller than ingrid's, which was still being ground against your cunt as mapi began to slowly thrust inside of you.

"how does it feel bebita?" mapi asked you. she leaned down, whispering her words into the shell of your ear. you shuddered, quiet moans and whimpers escaping you.

"good, so fucking good," you mumbled. "ingrid, please."

"we've got you." ingrid pressed a kiss to your cheek as she shifted her hips and began to slide inside of you. as much as ingrid wanted to pin you down against her body and thrust into you wildly, she knew that you needed to be slowly worked up. your arousal was dripping down onto ingrid's thighs, having made a complete mess of yourself, but you were far from finished. "mapi, you need to start moving."

mapi glanced down at you to check before she made any real movement. slowly, she inched her way inside of you. each thrust was shallow, and mapi made sure that you were comfortable before she started to get deeper. it was torturously slow, but ingrid allowed you enough space to move freely. mapi was so caught up in making sure that she didn't hurt you that she didn't realize you rocking back until you urged ingrid to move as well.

"this isn't too much for you?" mapi sounded surprised, and if it was any other time, you would have been blushing with embarrassment. now, you were shamelessly rocking yourself between the two of them, setting a pace that you could just barely handle.

"no, i want more," you told her. mapi glanced down at ingrid who just nodded. you felt mapi's hands grip your hips from behind as she began to fuck you harder. ingrid started to thrust up, matching mapi's pace easily. ingrid's thrusts were harder than mapi's, a small show of ingrid's somewhat hidden strength.

both of them fucking you at the same time felt wildly different than when you had been fucking yourself between them. you felt consistently fuller in a way that you hadn't felt before. your body felt like it was constantly on edge, just waiting for ingrid or mapi to let you know that you could cum.

"we're going to move you," ingrid told you. it was impressive how ingrid and mapi managed to completely flip your positioning without having to pull out. now, mapi was thrusting up into your ass from beneath you while ingrid rougly drove her hips into yours. she had your legs spread wide open as she fucked you, not allowing for any of the noises to be muffled.

"don't bite your lip. i want to hear you," mapi said as she grabbed at your jaw. she hooked two of her fingers under your jaw, holding your mouth open. you were sure that it had to be quite the sight, especially with the way that ingrid stared at you. her eyes flicked from between your legs to your face, occasionally stopping to watch the way your breasts bounced as you were fucked.

you were pushed well beyond being able to form anything coherent. mapi's fingers in your mouth didn't help your case, but they both seemed to understand your attempt to warn them of your orgasm. this time, ingrid didn't stop, fucking you straight from one into another. mapi stalled in her movements, waiting until ingrid moved to pull out.

"do you need anything?" mapi asked as she pulled you into her arms. you had been with couples before, and normally, you were forced out as soon as the fun was over. maybe it was a spanish thing, or maybe it was just mapi, but you liked being kept around for a bit longer and looked after.

"i'm okay. i can leave if you need me to," you said. ingrid shook her head as she leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

"you stay right there for now. i'll be back, i promise." you weren't sure who the last part was for, but both you and mapi watched ingrid grab some clothes and disappear. you heard the door to her apartment shut, leaving you alone with mapi for the first time.

"do you want to take a shower?" mapi asked you. laying against her was nice, especially with the way her hand gently stroked your high and the outside of your thigh. you had been a bit nervous with mapi, knowing that your body was simply built different than ingrid's. however, mapi had shown your body love and attention while you were in her bed. "i can go with you if you'd like, or not. if we go now, we can be done by the time ingrid gets back with the food."

"together? you want to shower with me?" you asked her.

"we don't have to, but it will be quicker," mapi told you. you knew that there was more she wanted to say, another reason, but the two of you left it in the air. the idea of it sounded nice, so you agreed to it. you had no idea how intimate it was going to feel, but instead of running away from it, you let yourself lean into it.

mapi doted on you inside and outside of the shower. she let you borrow a pair of her sweatpants and a sports bra. the two of you sat on the couch wrapped up in a big blanket with a german reality tv show that ingrid had gotten obsessed with in germany queued up. you felt less like someone they had just brought over to fuck, and more included than you had thought possible.

even after the impromptu midnight snack and reality tv binge, they brought you back to their bed. mapi changed the sheets as ingrid leaned against your body, sleepy kisses pressed along the side of your neck. you curled into ingrid once the three of you were settled on the bed. she held onto you tightly, like she was afraid you'd run off if she did anything else. mapi laid on ingrid's other side, but kept one of her hands threaded in your hair as she scratched lightly at your scalp. it was all almost too much for you, but you openly embraced the comfort that you had denied yourself for so long.

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sports-on-sundays · 6 months ago

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Okay so 🤭 what if Y/N use to be with ( whatever Barca player you choose ) and they broke it off because they supposedly wanted to focus on their career and the reader was really heartbroken and omg to make it more better y/n is Carlos sister and then she sees or hear how they moved on already! And little by little she starts to be with lando and they announce their relationship when he wins in Miami!! Like full on hard launch. 😭🙌🏽

Also this got me motivated to think of more ideas ima write them down for the future 🤭

papaya girl / LN4

Summary: ex!Ferran x Sainz!baker!reader x Lando - After a devastating breakup with your footballing boyfriend, you think you'll never be able to date someone again.

Warnings: there's a golf scene and I don't golf so-!🤞, mention of sickness, foul language, sorry if some things are not accurate, headache, partying/dancing/drunkenness/clubbing, mention of getting so drunk you had no memory of what happened, implied getting drunk to dampen emotions, getting injured, vomiting, slight soulmate feel, a bit of suggestive talk, use of babe/baby/bae/baby girl/etc., I feel like every kiss I describe is exactly the same sooo- sorry about that! ✌

Requested?: YES! 😘

Author's Note: Do you ever write something so good that you wish you could make it into a movie? That's how I feel about this. I can imagine the scenes. Didn't plan it but I guess 24 is the magic number for this one. I made the request more dramatic because... I like doing that... 👉 👈 🥺 ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE REQUEST. PERFECT MIX OF ANGST AND FLUFF. I LITERALLY LOVE YOU! If you do have any more ideas and you're up for it, let me know!

When you met Ferran Torres, you were a Madridista with a passion for Ferrari. Being a Sainz, you've always been rooting for Real Madrid, but your favorite Formula 1 team isn't as consistent. Because before that, you were a McLaren fan. And before that, Red Bull. And everything else before that, too.

Wherever Carlos is, you're a fan of it.

You, quite literally, on the day you met Ferran, were wearing a Cristiano Ronaldo jersey and a backwards Ferrari cap.

And, well, he, a new arrival from Manchester City, liked that, apparently!

And it was beautiful. They way you slowly became closer and closer, growing to know each other more and more.

And then, maybe you just hit a point. Hit a point in your relationship where you wanted more, and Ferran realized that if any more was given by him, it would be too far for him.

And he cut it off. Said he was doing well in Barcelona. He had high hopes. You, a sold out Madrid fan, had been wearing his number on the back of a blaugrana jersey. And despite that blaugrana jersey, he ditched you.

He said his work, his career, his passions, his dreams, were more important than you.

But you can't complain, Y/n. That's fair. He was gentle in letting you know. He made it clear he didn't want any malice between you and him.

You roll over in bed, staring vacantly at your wall. There's a large Real Madrid flag hanging in the middle. A smaller Ferrari flag on one side. A few posters of bands and teams you like or events you've been to, signed by different celebrities. People who are more famous than 'Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister' or 'Ferran Torres's ex-girlfriend.' On one side, it seems silly to have a poster signed by Max Verstappen, but you do. On the other side of the flag, you have a peeling old McLaren poster, showing the younger versions of Carlos and his former racing partner, Lando Norris, looking just seconds away from breaking into a loud, hysterical laughter.

And next to that, you have a Barcelona poster.

You smile sadly to yourself.

I must look like such a conflicted sports fan.

You stand up, walking over to the wall. After gently peeling the Barcelona poster off the wall, you slowly trace the badge with your fingers, any hint of a smile now gone as tears begin to fill your eyes, threatening to fall.

"This is stupid," you murmur scornfully, your voice cracking softly. "This isn't even my team! It's not my city...!" You toss the poster across the room, leaving it in a place where you don't intend to pick it up anytime soon.

Let it gather dust and crumple. That's what Ferran did. He threw away our relationship like it was nothing but a worthless piece of paper. And now I'm suffering the consequences.

You sigh. You're trying not to let yourself be bitter. You want to look back on everything you and Ferran had and be happy. Appreciate it. You still love Ferran. You don't want to be angry with him.

Someone said to you once, Hurt heals with time, as long as you let it.

You grab a bold, red Sharpie from your drawer and your notebook from a dresser. You scribble those words in all caps, rip out the page, grab some tape, and hang the piece of paper where the FC Barcelona poster used to be.

You sigh, but nod, before turning to get ready for your day.

You hate winter. You never hated winter before this winter, but now you hate it.

With the breakup, you've been avoiding anything La Liga like the plague, even if it doesn't involve Ferran Torres. It just reminds you too much.

And with Carlos on winter break, getting ready for the start of the season, he's not around much. Going on different trips, he's quite busy. Which you don't like. You and your brother have a strong bond.

It's not like you don't have anything to do. You just don't have anything interesting to do. You have a shop that you run, but you have enough staff hired to not have to be there all the time.

Yes, in a family of racing, you were never too into it. Your strong spot is in baking and business running, so that's why you opened up a bakery in Madrid.

And being a Sainz, of course it was a success.

Same type of thing as Charles Leclerc's 'LEC,' except you're not the racing driver Charles Leclerc, you're not doing ice cream, and you've always been doing this, for five years now.

You watch as a young, excited couple walks in, jabbering away in English. You can just tell they're tourists as they get in line to order. Once they get to the counter, the woman immediately leans over the counter in excitement, saying, "Is Carlos Sainz here?" in English.

You chuckle. Sounds American. "Which Carlos Sainz?" you tease.

They look blankly at you as if you're just about the dumbest individual to walk planet Earth. You chuckle and say, "Why don't you get to ordering? There's a line."

Towards the afternoon, as things begin to quiet down just a little bit, you look up at the doorbell jingles and freeze.

When he reaches the counter, you snap at Ferran, "Why are you in Madrid?"

"Am I not allowed to be? Either way, hello to you, too."

You sigh, licking your lips as you study the Valencian boy. "What can I get for you?"

He shrugs and orders, before seating himself down at one of the seats at the counter. "How have you been, Y/n?" he asks.

"Fine," you swallow, staring down. "And you?"

"I'm good." From there, he begins just talking, as if we're old friends or something, and not exes.

He seems so happy. So content.

To not be with you.

Suddenly, mid-way through one of his many sentences, you slip your hand over his, almost on impulse. He stops, staring to your hands, and then to you.

You breathe softly, "Why? Why did you come here to just talk to me? Aren't you moved on? Ferran, this is torture for me."

Lines crease into his face. You can see him swallow, looking at your smaller hand on his. "I'm... I'm sorry. I am moved on. I'm doing well. I just thought maybe we could be friends. I'd never want to date you again; I'm not in the place to date anyone. I'm happy single. But I just feel bad. I know you're hurt, and... I'd be happy to still be friends with you, is all?" He slips his hand out from underneath yours and takes his cup of coffee with it, taking a sip as he watches you intently.

You drag a hand over your face. Though you didn't want to admit it, seeing him come in to the bakery gave you hope. That maybe he wanted to try again. But those words that came out of his mouth? They cut deep.

"Listen, Ferran," you barely whisper. "I'm still trying to work through what happened. Everything. It's hard for me. But I appreciate it, and when I'm ready, if I'm ever ready, I'd love to be your friend. O- Okay?"

He nods slowly, staring down. "Alright... Fair enough."

"What's wrong?" your older brother, Carlos, asks. You watch outside the window as the world travels by.

You sigh. "Ferran."

"Him, again?"

"Carlos," you sigh. "Stop. It's nothing new. I'm just missing him. He wants to stay friends, but I said I needed time."

"Ah. Well, you know, I did tell you never to date-"

"-a Barcelona player. I know," you roll your eyes with a little smile.

He chuckles, shaking his head. "Hurt heals with time, as-"

"-long as you let it. I know," you comment, smiling a bit wider.

"Exactly. It'll come."

You sigh. "I hope so."

As Carlos pulls into the parking lot, you say, "So. Is that why you decided to take me golfing with your friends? Just wanted to check up on me, but you never have the time to sit down over dinner these days?"

Carlos smiles as he shuts off the car. "No. I could have made time. But I wanted your company golfing."

"You know I'm not big on g-"

"Shut up," he grins. "Yes you are."

"I suck."

"Not as bad as some people I know. In fact, you're actually pretty okay."

Soon, you meet up with a bunch of Carlos's friends. They're all chatting, and you're just kind of zoning off, looking out over the grassy hills, when suddenly you look up when Carlos says, "Ay! Lando!"

You blink in complete and utter shock. "Why is Lando Norris here?"

As Lando approaches, he eyes you, saying teasingly, "Well, thank you for the warm welcome, Y/n Sainz."

"Lando was just around, so he made the drive to meet us here," Carlos quickly fills in.

Soon, you're all off. After a round, as you're walking back to the cart to go get lunch, Carlos says, nudging Lando, "I think my baby sister is better than you."

Lando laughs. "You fucking muppet; what are you talking about?"

You grin, falling in step with Lando and Carlos. "I'm a better golfer."

"That is just wrong," Lando says, glancing at you. "Downright wrong."

"It's a Sainz thing," Carlos puts in. "There's no way for you to beat us, Lando. You can't. Winning runs in the family."

Lando rolls his eyes, reiterating, "Your baby sister is not better than me."

"You have no right to call me a baby," you put in indignantly. "I'm probably older than you."

Lando looks at you, his nose all scrunched up. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-four."

"Hah! Same age."

"That still doesn't mean you get to call me a baby!"

"Her birthday is in January; different year than Lando's. Lando, you can call her a baby; you're older," Carlos says.

"Carlos!" you snap. "Don't give him permission!"

Carlos grins and shakes his head as he breaks off to chat with some of his other friends and get on the cart with them.

Lando grins, giving a discreet pat on your lower back as he murmurs, "Sorry, baby."

And for some reason, that makes you feel things. You decide to blame it on the fact that Lando's just good-looking.

Once you're all seated down with your lunch, you comment, "So what's with the whole..." your hand goes to your chin, referring to his facial hair, as you look at Lando expectantly.

Lando slams down his fork, saying lightheartedly, "Sick of people asking me that!"

You smirk. "Makes you look like you're forty."

"Whatever, baby."

"You know, I have a picture on my wall of you and Carlos when you were just babies, too."

As soon as Lando raises an eyebrow with a smirk, you know it was a mistake to word it that way. "You have a picture of me and Carlos on your wall?" he asks, mock condescendingly.

"No, no. I mean, I do, but- It's just an old McLaren poster." You immediately look down.

"What, are you a fan of mine?" Lando teases further.

"No! I'm a fan of Carlos, and you just so happened to be his teammate at that time. The point is that you two look like pipsqueaks in that photo! Lando, you looked so awkward, with all your acne-"

"What, Lando, you think she's a McLaren fan? She's sold out for Ferrari," Carlos interrupts.

"Literally! I deck myself out in red every Sunday!"

"Today's Sunday," Lando starts like the stupid idiot he is, "And I don't see you wearing red."

You groan, leaning back, covering your face in your hands. "Carlos, how are you this guy's friend? He's so annoying! Why'd you invite him for? How do you put up with him?"

Carlos just smirks, patting your shoulder, and says, "I'm used to having to put up with irritable people, after having to grow up with you."

You roll your eyes, fighting off a smile as all the guys around you at the table laugh out loud.

On the car ride back, you're mostly silent, your thoughts swimming with one thing and one thing only.

Lando Norris.

And there's a soft smile on your face as you think about your morning with him.

But Carlos can tell you're deep in thought. Usually, you'd be yapping away right now. "Anything on your mind?" he asks carefully.

You sigh. "Not much."

"You're bad at lying. You're staring out the window dreamily. What's on your mind?"

You sigh. "It's stupid. You'll make fun of me."

"I'm not stupid, though. I can already guess what it is."

You gulp. "How?"

"For the whole day, the only person you talked to was Lando."

You feel your stomach drop. "It's nothing serious, Carlos. He's just funny."

"You said something like that to me about Ferran Torres right before you officially started dating."

That makes you feel a bit sick. "Carlos, I won't let that happen again."

"Don't. And don't be getting interested in anyone until you're over your ex. And we both know you're not. And please don't be getting interested in someone like Lando."

"Why?" You eyebrows scrunch together. "I thought you two were buddies."

Carlos grins teasingly. "If you somehow got yourself with him, there would always be two annoying people in one place."

"You're intolerable!" you snap, laughing.

"You are too, hermana."

It strikes Carlos as strange when the first thing Lando says to him the weekend of Bahrain, before even a hello, is: "Is your sister here?"

"Why do you want to know?"

Lando shrugs. "She's nice."

"No... She'll be coming to Australia, though..." Carlos can't help but feel suspicion fill his chest. He's always been somewhat protective of you, being his little sister and all.

"Perfect," Lando grins, and he's off.

In Australia, like any other race, you're decked out in your red. Ferrari hat, Ferrari jacket, red jeans. Ferrari earrings. Even your black shoes have a stripe of red on the sides.

Carlos always tells you it's dumb. But it's become a part of your whole thing, since you spend a huge amount of your life following Carlos around and going to Grand Prixs.

It's fun sometimes, being Carlos Sainz Jr.'s sister!

But when you see a shock of papaya in your red world called Ferrari's hospitality, you squint, slipping your sunglasses up on your hat, and say, "Who said you could walk in like that uninvited?"

"No one," Lando grins, "but I'm only here to see you."

Your eyebrows raise as you stand up. "Wha-"

"Come with me. I'm going to barf if I have to breathe Ferrari air any longer. Just your terrible get-up is making me nauseous. I guess I'll be free from seeing that stupid outfit next year when Carlos isn't in Ferrari-"

"Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, but follow him with a grin on your face.

"So you broke up with your Barcelona man?" Lando start, cutting straight to the chase.

"Uh-" you swallow. "He broke up with me."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

You're not sure why Lando wants to know, and he certainly doesn't have any reason to know, but still you say, "We had been dating for a while, you know? I wanted something more. You know, to go deeper. Someday, I'd love to even maybe get married. But, Ferran... well, he didn't want to go the step deeper. Said he wanted to focus on his career. He broke it off. We're on fine terms, though."

"Ah..." he nods slowly. "That sounds like a tough breakup."

"Yeah... Yeah, it was."

He continues nodding, and catches your eye before saying, "So I'm assuming you want to... you know, you won't be up for any more relationships any time soon? Lot to work through?"

You suddenly feel your face begin to heat up. "Uh, well- depends on who it is, I suppose," you blurt without thinking.

"Hm?" He raises an eyebrow. A little smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Well, considering the fact that your face is just about as red as that Ferrari hat on your head, I'm wondering what you think of me."

You swallow, feeling even more embarrassed. "Are you suggesting...?"

"If you're up for it, the night after the Grand Prix, you can meet me at my hotel room, and we'll go from there. Text me if you decide 'yes,' for the details."

"I don't have your numb-"

He gives a cute little smile and opens his hand to reveal a folded up piece of paper. "Now you do. See you later, Miss Sainz!"

You stand, dumbfounded, as he jogs off.

"Oh my God, Carlos! Well done! So well done! Oh my God!" you scream in the midst of your strings of excited swear words, in both Spanish and English. "Did you actually just win the Australian Grand Prix?!"

He grins as he kisses your cheek, patting your back and saying, "Yes, I actually just did."

You hug your older brother tight, resting your head on his shoulder. "Love you. You did amazing. After everything you've been through. You're going to be leaving Ferrari next season and with your surgery and everything and-"

He smiles a bit. "Want to let me go now? Can't squeeze me too tight, remember?"

"So you can drive a race car and win the race, but you're too fragile for me to hug you!" you laugh, but release him from the hug.

He laughs out loud. "Yes, pretty much."

Hours later, you stand in the lit, mostly empty hallway, knocking on the white-painted door. You've change out of your Ferrari red head-to-toe fit, and are now wearing a black t-shirt with the F1 logo in red on the left side, black sweatpants, and your hair held back by a headband.

Lando probably isn't here, you think as you wait. I look so stupid. He doesn't care as much as he acts like he does. He's probably out partying or something. He got a podium. Carlos won. There's no way he's just sitting around in his hotel room-

You look up in surprise as the door clicks and swings open to reveal Lando Norris standing before you.

You beam and say a bit too loud, "Lando!"

He laughs. "Hey..." He's dressed in a white button down, dark blue jeans, and his regular assortment of jewelry. "Want to come in for a bit?"

You nod. "Were you... just out?" you ask slowly.

He chuckles again, plopping down on the sofa. "If I were just out, I wouldn't be looking this neat."

"Oh... Oh?"

"Come on. Sit down next to me," he encourages with a wave of his hand. "Something funny- I've had my eyes on you for a while now."

You look up in somewhat shock. "That's why you're so confident about this?"

"That, and that I'm just the peak of all confidence," he jokes, clearly mocking cockiness.

You roll your eyes.

"But really. I've been flirting with you for a while."

This time your eyes widen. "No way."

"Just little. I knew you were dating that Torres-"

"How?"

He smiles. "Doesn't take much to find out. Anyway, I think you just blocked it out because you were dating someone else. Shows you're a loyal girl."

"Hm..." you nod slowly. "I... I suppose...?"

Suddenly, he takes your hand in his. "So, you like me?"

"I think I have for a while. Like you said- I blocked it out because I was dating someone else." You didn't even know that until now, hearing the words coming from your mouth.

He smirks. "Even better. So..."

"Yeah?" you ask, a little glimmer in your eyes.

"I'd like to know what the hell you're wearing."

Suddenly, your face falls. "Uh- I'm sorry- I- I thought we- Um-"

Lando laughs. "Y/n! I'm teasing!"

"O- Oh!" you laugh nervously.

"I was just thinking... Maybe you'd want to go out and celebrate with me?"

"Oh-" you nod. "Right."

"So, do you want to get changed? I'll text you where we'll meet in a half hour?"

You grin, standing up. "Sounds good."

"See you then."

"Holy fuck, man," are Lando's first words when he sees you. You're wearing sunglasses, a form-fitting sequin shirt, and flattering white jeans.

"What?" you ask anxiously. "Is it too much?"

"Too much? Y/n, you're gorgeous."

You sigh in relief. "Alright good... And- one thing."

"Hm?" Lando asks, an eyebrow raised.

"I don't know if we... could we say we're... that you're my..."

"Partner? Boyfriend?"

You swallow. "Sure. I think... I think I'm good with that. At least for tonight."

He nods.

"But let's not make it clear here. I don't want the way for everyone to find out about this being, you know, by nightclub pictures on the internet."

He smirks a bit, nodding. "Fair enough, then. Let's go."

"Rise and shine! Let's hit the grind, Y/n!" an unfamiliar voice wakes you up.

You roll over to see Lando's handsome face looking down at you. You're in his hotel room, in the one bed. He's all dressed and ready to go, and towering over you, looking like a giddy dog.

You sit up, rubbing your eyes. "I've got a killer headache. What happened last night." You feel disgusting, and wrinkle your nose as you get a whiff of the alcohol scent radiating off of you.

He grins. "I learned that you have no tolerance whatsoever."

You frown. "Unlike you, Norris, I'm not getting drunk all the time! Now, tell me what really happened!"

"Nothing much. Just a lot of fun," he sits down next to you, "and it's a shame that you can't remember any of it." He chuckles a bit, saying, "You got fucking wild. You were more fun though before you got absolutely drunk out of your wits."

"You didn't do anyth-"

"No, no!" he rolls his eyes. "Besides, Carlos was there. I wouldn't dare. You at least remember Carlos, right, being there?"

You roll your eyes. "Yes, of course I do."

"But you really did completely black out? You don't remember anything?"

You swallow nervously. "No... I don't really remember anything... I mean, I guess..." You close your eyes, thinking hard. "Just dancing... music was super loud, but... that's not anything specific. I don't feel well at all now, though..." You start to feel a bit dizzy at the energy you're putting into trying to remember.

You open your eyes and look at Lando.

He smiles. "Well, it was fun, nothing more. Want me to bring you back to your hotel now?"

"Yeah, I guess..." you nod, cradling your head in your hands. "That'd be great..." You see the wine stain on your jeans. You can feel an ache in your ankle. You just need to clean yourself up.

Lando helps you limp to the car, assuring you that you just tripped. Saying your ankle is fine; it'll feel better in a few days' time.

You're not so sure.

As Lando drives, he knows he should tell you the details, like Carlos said.

But it still feels like you'd be better off not knowing at all.

Nine hours before

Though every single one of Lando's molecules in his body told him not to, he had to keep pushing you off. He sat talking away with some other dudes, and you sat his side, drunkenly trying to wrap your arms around him.

You blubbered softly about all kinds of stuff, a strange mixture of being utterly devastated and overly romantic.

Lando knew. You didn't get drunk this often.

A part of him felt bad. A huge part of him. He didn't think he had pressured you into anything. Certainly not intentionally. And you were the one who kept drinking more. But maybe he did...

Maybe it was his fault you were the mess you were now.

"Lando..." you murmured, your hand gripping his bicep. You leaned closer. "You're so sexy in that shirt." You reached over to unbutton another button of his shirt.

He gently pushed you away for the millionth time. "Remember, Y/n? You don't want anyone to know you're into me this much," he whispered lowly to you, running a hand through his hair. "Remember that, baby."

You pouted. "Ferran broke up with me and made me sad. Can't you make me happy now."

"Not now. I won't be doing anything when you're this drunk."

"I'm not that drunk..."

Lando snorted. "Whatever you say, lovely."

All was going as fine as it could be going. But then Carlos showed up. "Hey, Y/n-" he had started.

But you had interrupted him by slapping your hand on Lando's shoulder, leaning into it, and giggling giddily, "Look at this pretty boy."

Immediately, Carlos's eyes flashed with shock. And then vague panic. And then anger.

"Lando, how drunk did you get her?!" he snapped, raising his voice even more than he already was. The flashing lights on the Spanish man's face helped Lando's anxiety no more.

"I didn't get her drunk at all! I tried to stop h-"

"Yeah, fucking right. Come with me Lando-"

"No!" you had snapped, standing up to grab Lando's sleeve before your older brother could drag him away.

You were clearly biting back tears. "Lan didn't do anything..." You stumbled drunkenly into the British man, who steadied you gently, before helping you sit down again.

Carlos's face remained hard and steadied on Lando, but he spoke no words, as if he was battling in his head what to do.

Lando sighed. "Listen, Carlos. She won't remember any of this tomorrow morning. Let's just not bring this up again, yeah? It was a mistake. Stuff happens. She got wild and had one too many. We've all had those nights."

But Lando genuinely didn't think Carlos had had one of those nights before.

Lando certainly had, though.

"She deserves to know."

"Maybe she shouldn't, though. She's gone through a lot with her ex breaking up with her and everything. And I'm sure your career up in the air isn't helping her cause much, either. She loves you more than the world. And think about how worrying it was for her to see you go into surgery like that, and race right afterwards? The good emotions just hit her, man. But it's probably a lot. She's just going through a lot. She doesn't need the guilt of getting too drunk and acting a little stupid, yeah?" Lando ranted, intently studying the older Spaniard's eyes.

Carlos's eyes slowly softened. "Alright... I won't tell her what's happening once she's sober. Only if I can make a deal with you."

Lando bit his lip, running a hand through his messed up hair. "What is it?"

"I won't say a word to her, as long as you promise to stay away from my sister. I know you're interested in her."

Lando's eyebrows creased together. "What does that men? Why?"

"Quit trying to get with my sister, and then it's a done deal."

Lando let out a shaky breath, slowly nodding. "Alright, then. Whatever. It's a done deal."

Of course Lando didn't intend on following through with his end of the deal.

But when Lando turned around to check on you on the couch, he froze when he saw you were gone. "Where'd Y/n go?" he immediately asked the other guys and girls sitting around.

"The hot Spanish girl?" one guy asked in a painfully slow Australian accent.

"Yes, her!" Lando demanded, his buzzed brain filling with irrational panic and overwhelming confusion.

He lazily gestured and responded, "Went to go dance, I reckon."

And before Carlos or anyone else could react any faster, Lando tore into the crowd, shoving people aside and squeezing through gaps that weren't there, in search of you.

She's drunk out of her mind! What the hell was she thinking!

That's right. She wasn't thinking.

And then, he spotted you, just for a moment. Moving your hips, stumbling about, thinking you were just about the sexiest thing in the room.

"Move out of my fucking way," was Lando's polite way of shoving two guys out of the way.

He could see the sweat glistening on your face. He could see the dumb smile on your face, your high giggles. He could see fresh wine spilled on your white jeans. He could see hands on you; he took no energy to see who they connected to as rage filled his entire being.

And he watched, almost in slow motion, as your ankle rolled on your black stiletto, and you stumbled to the floor with a brain rattling, painful cry.

Immediately, Lando shoved his way to your side, slipping his hands under your body. "My God, Y/n!" he nearly screamed over the music. "You idiot! You beautiful, fucking stupid, idiot! Tell me why I fell in love with you! You're going to be the death of me!"

"Hi Lando," you murmured through tears. "My ankle..."

"Yeah, yeah, I see. Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

You swallowed, nodding as Lando tucked your hair behind your ear. He lifted you to your feet and let you lean on him as he helped you limp out of the club.

"I'm sorry, Lando..." you had muttered hoarsely.

"Hey, don't worry," Lando had responded. "Never apologize for having nothing but a good time."

But he, Lando Norris, disagreed with the words coming out of his mouth. That was his motto, his excuse, all the time. But as soon as soon as he saw you, someone he genuinely really loved, really cared about, living like that?

It made him sick to his stomach.

Speaking of that, as soon as you were outside, you stumbled away from Lando. He steadied you with one hand and held your hair back with the other as you doubled over and vomited, your previously red face impossibly pale.

"Are you done?"

"Yeah..." you gasped after about a minute.

"Alright. Okay. Let's get to my hotel room now."

Lando could barely understand your slurred words as you responded, "As long as we're getting away from here."

Now

You were going to go to the Japanese Grand Prix. But you just wanted to stay home. With a sprained ankle that confines you to crutches and an illness you've picked up, there was no way you were going to fly across the world for a Grand Prix, especially with the potential jet lag.

You lay on your couch and text Lando. You've been thinking, and you let him know that though you really do want to go places with him, you want to go slower.

You still don't know what happened on that night in Melbourne. For some reason, you can't get anything of significance out of Carlos or Lando. But you know more than what they're saying must have happened that night.

You asked Charles, because he was there. He provided a bit more information, but not much. He said he wasn't really hanging around you that night, but that he did see you cuddling with Lando.

When you asked Lando about it, he said you were drunk, it was just you not thinking, and it only happened once. That you stopped after he pushed you off.

And social media shows no one caught it on camera, or anything that night, for that matter.

So at least there's no fans going crazy over anything.

Lando texts you back, saying that he thinks it's best to go slow. Just let yourselves ease into whatever your relationship is going to be.

It's a relief to see he agrees with you on that.

But then he sends another text, asking you to try to keep it a secret. Even from your family, including Carlos.

You ask why, and he responds saying he simply agrees it's good to be private, and he doesn't want Carlos judging.

Though you're not sure about it, since Carlos is not only your favorite (only) brother, but also your best friend, you still tentatively agree to it.

Lando probably has a good reason.

Right?

By the time the Chinese Grand Prix comes around, though your foot is still in a walking boot, you're over your illness, and decide you're going to go for it and make the trip halfway across the world. After all, you've never been to China!

It's true that your walking boot doesn't look the best with your shades, shining silver jewelry, and overalls, but oh well. The most annoying part is literally everyone who even half knows your name (the Sainz part) keeps asking you what the hell happened to your ankle.

And you have literally no response but, "I fell," because you have no more of an idea than them, and there's no way you're about to say, 'Hah I just got drunk with Lando and got so fucking crazy that I twisted my ankle and sprained it! Anyway!'

Yeah, no way.

So "I fell," is the best option you have.

But the most concerning thing to you is that you haven't even seen Lando yet, all weekend. Though you haven't seen each other in a while, you've been calling, texting, and face timing often, your relationship growing a lot.

You chew your lip as you limp towards the McLaren garage. You peek in, scanning for Lando, but only see Oscar.

You limp to him.

"Whoa- What happened to your-"

"I fell," you say, thoroughly exasperated with this. "Anyway, is Lando around?"

"Lando? Uhhh..." he looks around.

Dude, hurry up. I'm not supposed to be here, your thoughts practically scream.

But then he walks in himself, and you grin, waving, "Lando!" you call.

He walks over to you, smiling. "Aw. Look at my little injured girlfr- uh, uhm, mate. My injured mate." He glances nervously at Oscar.

But the Australian just smiles, "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me."

Lando nods gratefully, before leading you to a more private place. "Hey," he says softly once you're alone, his hands resting on your waist. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright... Ankle's getting better, slowly but surely."

"Oh, good," he almost looks relieved. "That's so good to hear. I'm so glad you made the big trip to be here, Y/n."

You smile softly. "I was starting to miss you."

He grins. "I was missing you, too, baby... I think I could make some time for you this weekend, too. We could just get take out, hang out at my hotel room, you know. No more partying, even if I win, right?" he teases gently, gesturing to your foot.

You snort. "Yeah. Yeah, no more partying for now for me."

Later that night, you lay next to Lando in his hotel room. His arms are wrapped around you, his hand rubbing your back. "Look at me," he murmurs sleepily.

You look up to see his soft eyes looking at you, with so much, tenderness, so much...

love.

You feel a flutter in your stomach. "Lando, how did we get here?"

"What do you mean?"

"Two months ago, I would lie awake in bed, dreaming about and missing Ferran. I was so lonely. Now here I am. Two months, and I'm laying here, in your arms."

He grins a bit. "I bet it's because we're meant for each other."

"That's cliché."

"No, it's not. I really mean it. You know, I had a crush on you even back when Carlos was in McLaren, you were around a lot more, in papaya."

"No, you didn't-"

"Yes, I did!" he laughs softly. "I really did. The day I saw you in the paddock. The day Carlos pointed you out as his sister. The day you flipped your hair and looked at me with those warm brown eyes. And then looked away from me, because in my first season in McLaren, I was the farthest thing from attractive."

You giggle at this. "You're kidding."

"No, I'm not! That was the day that I knew- I knew- that someday, I was going to make you mine," he murmurs, his eye half-lidded as his hand gently caresses your cheek.

"Lando!" you squeak, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "Don't you dare make me cry for no reason!" You wait a minute, before saying softly, "Well, maybe, just maybe, back then, though you were a pipsqueak, you were kind of cute... And I've always gotten butterflies from your jokes and teasing, even all those years ago, before I was even dating Ferran."

He laughs. "Awww... So you've always had a little bit of a crush on me, too!" You can see by his blushing cheeks and beaming eyes that just this fact is making him feel warm inside.

You roll your eyes, giggling. "I guess, maybe...."

He flicks your nose gently, playfully, holding you even closer. You lay there in more silence, before Lando says softer, even more tenderly, "Hey, Y/n... can I talk to you about something...?"

"Of course, Lando..." Your eyebrows knit together.

You watch as he swallows. Nods. Sighs. "Okay... Something has been bugging me..." He pauses. "I... I feel like I never should have brought you out that night in Australia... you know? Like, beyond the sprained ankle."

Your eyes flash. "What do you mean?"

"Well... You just got so drunk, and... I feel so bad... Like, somehow, it's my fault... I didn't mean for you to get hurt, or to drink that much... I just thought we'd have fun. Like I always do with my friends. And you're my girlfriend; supposed to be my closest friend..."

"Lando," you murmur shakily. "Did you try to get me that drunk? You didn't encourage it, did you?"

He looks nervous. "I genuinely don't think so, but I'm nervous I did... I tried to tell you enough was enough, but maybe I should have looked out for you more... Maybe I should have worked better at keeping you from getting that drunk... But we were having so much fun and I figured you would know your limit... I shouldn't have assumed."

"Lando! Don't blame yourself! It was my fault. I got too drunk, I fell and sprained my ankle. The sentiment of you wanting to look out for me is nice, but when push comes to shove, I'm in charge of myself, just like you're in charge of yourself, and it was my fault. My mistake. M'kay, Lando...?"

He nods slowly, still looking a bit unsure. "Well, Carlos isn't mad at you about it. He's mad at me..."

"Carlos is what?!"

"Ah, fuck. Forget I ever-"

"Lando Norris, explain."

"Whoa, that's sexy," he laughs.

"What?!" you exclaim in exasperation, yet you're still unable to keep your stomach fluttering by Lando's sudden spoken intrusive thought.

He grins, his eyebrows raised. "I don't know. Full name, in such a firm voice? Like, yes, mommy, order me around. I'll do whatever you want me to," he says in a low, goofy, teasing voice.

You can't stop your face from heating up. "Oh, shut it, you!" you snap, your voice cracking awkwardly as you flick him in the nose this time. And you flick his stupid nose harder than he flicked yours earlier.

He giggles evilly, rolling over. "Look at yourself! You liked that! You're a blushing mess!"

"No, I didn't. What a stupid way to flirt."

"Oh, well, I can show you even more stupid ways to flirt. Because, apparently, it doesn't quicken your heart rate at all."

You groan. "You are so annoying."

He leans over, giving you a peck on your lips. "I know. And you know you love me for it."

You forget to ask him again about Carlos.

"Baby, c'mere," Lando says, nodding for you to join him in his driver's room.

"Dude, watch what you call me when there's listening ears around."

Lando shrugs. "It's only Oscar in the other room."

"So? What makes you trust Oscar so much, anyway?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. He's a good guy. And he's not gossipy, like me."

You laugh. "You are, are you?"

"Oh, yeah. I'm a fucking gossip girl."

You laugh out loud at this as Lando shuts the door of his driver's room behind you.

Lando grins. "Anyways, Oscar is trustworthy because he's not the type of guy to have any desire not to keep a secret."

You frown, crossing your arms. "Alright. Whatever. Anyways, why'd you bring me in here?"

Lando shrugs, sitting down on the one chair in the room. "Sit down, babe."

You blink. "Where? On the fricking floor?"

"Uh, no," Lando rolls his eyes jokingly, as if this is the most obvious thing. "On my fricking lap, Y/n. Come on now. Duh."

You can't help but find yourself blush at that as you slip onto his lap. He wraps his hands around your waist, giving you a kiss on the cheek. You smile, leaning into him as you ask softly, "So why'd you bring me in here? Just for kicks?"

He grins. "I need my Y/n fix before the race. You know, it'll make me drive better."

"Oh? Is that how it works?" Suddenly, though, before Lando can respond, your phone buzzes in your pocket. You slip it out and sigh. "It's Carlos, asking me where I am. I feel like I'm under surveillance."

Lando blows a raspberry before saying, "Just ignore it, bae. You're a twenty-four year old woman; Carlos needs to get over it."

"Get over what?" you ask, an eyebrow raised.

"You not being his baby sister anymore. You're my baby now," he murmurs into your shoulder, pulling you closer to himself.

You laugh. "I still can't decide whether you're the worst flirt I've ever met or the smoothest. But right now, I'm thinking the worst."

"Oh, well!" he says, looking up at you with innocent eyes, batting his lashes. "Doesn't matter to me, because either way, you like it! Anyway, back to before Carlitos had to interrupt-"

You giggle as he begins kissing your face and say, "Carlitos? I'm not even allowed to call him that without him going psycho man on me-"

"Mmm... Can you talk less? It's cuter when you do that giggle thing," Lando murmurs between kisses.

This causes you to laugh out loud. "Sometimes, Lando, I think you're so weird." You realize, in a strange way, though, Lando is right. Because of the giddy feeling of literally having your boyfriend shower you with kisses and love, you're just kind of trying to find anything to talk about.

But maybe you should just take one moment to shut up.

You lean into the kisses, exhaling slowly. Contently, despite your pounding heart and sweating neck.

Finally, you feel as though your face is absolutely, completely covered in Lando's kisses. You sigh, contented, as Lando kisses the tip of your nose, and then pecks your lips.

You giggle, opening your eyes to gaze into his.

But his eyes flutter shut as he leans in, his hand slipping to the nape of your neck. And his lips meet yours again, this time in a real kiss. You shut your eyes, enjoying those lips on your own, sending tingles throughout your whole body, causing your breath to grow heavier and heavier. Desire pulses in every beat of your heart, causing the passion in the kiss to build and build. Your right hand falls into his chest as the other knits itself in his curly locks. You feel Lando's hand on your hip as his fingers snake under to grip your ass gently. You can feel his hot breath on you, in you, apart of you, as his other hand gently stroking your neck, giving you little twitches of longing for more. Your tongues find an art of lingering exploration, Lando's hunger seeming to never be satisfied as his tongue and lips tease your nerves, the emotional and physical connections between you seeming stronger than ever. His hand slides down your neck to your back, pulling you closer to him, so your chests are pressed into one another.

Suddenly, though, there's a pounding on the door of Lando's driver's room. Your eye cracks open. Lando's squeeze tighter shut, his eyebrows creasing together, as if he wishes so much that this never has to end.

Lando grunts, finally pulling away. Oscar's voice on the other side of the door saying Lando's name seems to be in another, insignificant world. You're both gasping as you study each other's eyes in a certain awe.

A soft, mischievous smirk appears on Lando's lips. Those lips that now you can't stop staring at. "Was your first kiss with Torres that hot?"

You let out a breathy laugh. "Definitely not."

There's a pause, of just softly smiling, gazing into each other's eyes, before Lando breathes, his eyes half-lidded, "My fucking God," He gently, slowly strokes your warm, pink cheek. "Did I ever tell you how head over heels I am for you?"

Before you can respond, Oscar's voice says again from outside, "Lando, if you don't respond, soon, I'm coming in."

Lando groans again, leaning his head back, "You can't! The door's locked!" He then adds under his breath, "Fucking Osc, interrupting as soon as I was going to take it to the next step."

At this, you blush even deeper. "You were-"

Lando waves his hand dismissively. "I would have checked with you first."

You nod, breathing deeply.

"Alright, baby," he sighs, running a hand through his hair, ruffling it up a bit. "Let's go see what the hell Oscar wants."

When the door swings open, Oscar can't help but chuckle how how much, in that moment, you two look like some snarky super villian duo, about to give him some cheesy monologue. You both stand, arms crossed, practically back to back. Lando wears a scornful grin and you display a glare as hard as stone. Even your clothes- Lando's racing clothes and your head-to-toe Ferrari red, finish off the silly look.

"What's so funny?" you demand upon seeing the Australian's laughter.

"Nothing, nothing. But I hope you guys know: These walls are not soundproof."

"What are you suggesting?" Lando snaps. "You couldn't have possibly heard anything, you idiot!"

"Whoa, whoa! I didn't! I'm just saying!" Oscar says, going on the defensive, putting both hands up. "Me and my girlfriend don't lock ourselves in my driver's room before the race, losing track of time and forcing you to go get us!"

"You and your girlfriend are probably going to buy a house with a white picket fence and have 2.5 children and a golden lab! Oscar and Lily is bad enough, but I'm surprised it's not John and Emily!"

"Whoa," Lando says, laughing as you walk out of the driver's room together and he shuts the door. "Shots fired. Calm down, Y/n; jeez."

But Oscar's laughing, too, so you know there's no need to apologize.

"Lan... You know I wasn't kidding earlier when I said I won't go out, right?" you say nervously as you walk into his hotel room, rolling your suitcase from your own hotel room.

"Yeah, I know you weren't. I wasn't kidding, either."

"So... What?" you ask, sitting down on the edge of his bed, crossing your arms. "You're planning on going alone? Then why did you bring me to your hotel room-"

"Y/n," he suddenly says, leaning down to gently grab your chin and look you directly in your eyes. "I'm not going anywhere tonight. I'm staying right here."

Your jaw actually drops. "I'm sorry, but who are you and what have you done with Lando Norris? Because that man would never miss an opportunity to party."

This makes Lando let go of you and break into a fit of laughter. "Y/n!" he breathes. "What the hell are you talking about? Before that, I would never miss an opportunity to spend time with you."

You stare. "Okay, actually. I'm being serious now. What did you do with Lando?"

You watch as your boyfriend chuckles, sitting down next to you. "Baby. I'm not going to go out clubbing while you sit in a hotel room alone. And there's no way I'm taking you out again; my guilty conscience can't take that, and neither can your sprained ankle. So why not celebrate P2 here, just you and I, hm?" he says in a low tone.

Immediately, at this suggestion, you blush. "Oh, uh, Lando... I, uh... I don't know if I'm ready for something... you know... for that... right now... Not yet... You know, it's too early for me in our relationsh-"

Lando suddenly breaks into laughter again. Oh, that sweet, silly sound. "Y/n! My God, what a dirty mind you have! I wasn't thinking that at all-!"

"You, Lando Norris, are saying I have a dirty mind?! I bet you really are his doppelganger!"

He crosses his arms. "Only reason why I wouldn't suggest that is because I know you're not ready. Which is more than one hundred percent fine with me. I wasn't even thinking about that, anyway."

"What were you thinking, then?"

He smiles with his eyes. "Well, let's both get ready for bed," he begins pulling his shirt off over his head as you absolutely bear your eyes into him, "And once we're both ready, I'll meet you back... here...?" His confused face slowly turns to one of teasing nature when he sees your eyes trained intently on his bare chest. His perfectly toned abs. His perfectly shaped pecs. His strong, straight, tan back. The little brown beauty marks sprinkled all over his torso. You would love to kiss every single one of them. "Why don't you take a picture?" he smirks stupidly. "That way, it'll last longer."

"Oh, shut up," you murmur, licking your lips as you tear your eyes away from his bare middle. "You can shower first," you murmur.

Once you're both all clean and ready, you snuggle up under the blankets, only to find your arm brushing against Lando's bare skin.

You feel your heart flutter as you murmur, "Are you not wearing a shirt just to bother me?"

"What, no," Lando says, overly innocently. "I never wear a shirt to bed. Just like I'm sure you never wear a bra...?"

If you were embarrassed before, now it's ten times worse. You specifically decided to wear a bra, to avoid... that. And now here Lando is, bringing it up like it's the weather.

"Uh..." you begin.

"Anyway!" Lando says, apparently seeing the vaguely panicked look in your eyes. "Wanna just watch a show or something?"

"Yeah," you nod. "That sounds good."

Lando turns some stupid show on his laptop, and as you snuggle and it gets later, you become more relaxed. You lean your head on Lando's shoulder as he plays with strands of your smooth, wet, dark hair. Your hands begin softly feeling his chest, just drawing circles and feeling the shapes of his abs.

Everyday, you seem to get to know Lando more and more- inside and out.

He sighs, contented, and murmurs sleepily, "That feels nice."

You smile, nuzzling into him.

"I saw Barcelona and Madrid played today," he comments as your fingers continue stroking the abs under Lando's soft skin.

"Yeah... El Clásico..."

"You don't sound as excited as I thought you would. I thought you were big on Madrid."

"Yeah, I am... Just having been keeping up with La Liga lately, I guess."

"Hm... Well, would you like it if I could find some way to watch the game...?"

You smile softly. "Hm. Yeah, maybe that wouldn't be so bad..."

Lando nods, and soon, you're cuddled up with your boyfriend, watching your favorite team play against FC Barcelona/your ex's team.

It feels weird, but you like it.

You decide your bra isn't very comfy and slip it off under your shirt before tossing it across the room.

"You're finally over being embarrassed with me?" Lando teases.

You smile softly, shutting your eyes. "At least for now. Too sleepy to care."

He smiles back. "You're cute when you're sleepy. Cuter."

Soon, though, Lando is gently shaking you, murmuring, "Look. Your ex was subbed on."

"Hmmm? What about Fer?" you murmur with a yawn. You must have dozed off for a bit.

"Fer?" Lando asks, his nose scrunching up. "Yeah, Ferran Torres."

Your eyes flutter open to see your ex-boyfriend running onto the pitch. You feel a sudden, unexpected pang in your chest. When you and Ferran were still together, you watched him do that so many time, with a sense of pride and excitement.

But now, you don't feel much at all. It's no different from anyone else going out there to play.

But, like a train, memories of the past begin to hit you.

Going for walks with him. Cheering him on at finals. Hanging out with his teammates. Working out with him. Bringing him to the Barcelona Grand Prix. Exchanging gifts on birthdays and holidays.

Just all the little things you used to do.

Like snuggling with each other on late nights after Barcelona won.

Not unlike what you and Lando are doing right now.

Suddenly Lando's arm around you tightens, and he says, "You okay?"

"I- yeah..."

Lando leans forward to see you face. You try to turn it away. Lando doesn't let you.

You stare into each other's eyes.

"You're crying," he states softly.

"I guess..." you trail off, averting your eyes.

There's a few beats of silence before Lando states again, "You still miss him."

"I guess..." you repeat. "But... I'm happy to be with you... it just all happened so quick... It's a lot for me... I'm mostly over it- over him- by now, but sometimes things just... make me start to think. Reminsce of what's not anymore."

Lando slowly nods, and begins rubbing your shoulder. "I- Alright..."

"But don't worry. I'm way more happy to be with you right now than sad to not be with Ferran any longer."

"You're sure?" the Brit asks tentatively.

You nod, leaning into him once more. "I'm sure. One hundred and one percent."

"Hey, Lando," you grin giddily before the Miami Grand Prix. "Just drive your best out there, okay? Good luck, baby." You give him a high-five. You can sense he wants to give you a hug, but painfully knows he can't because of the ever-watching cameras and eyes all around you.

But he leans in close, until you can practically feel his breath on your face, and says softly, in just about the most heart-wrenching-in-a-good-way low voice, "Oh, baby... I'm going to go out there and win that race. For you."

"Oh, stop being such a romantic. You're going to make me cry."

He leans in, about to kiss your cheek, but you gently push him off, saying, "You better get going, Lan! Race is going to start soon!"

"Right! Bye bye, bab-"

"BYE!" you scream to overpower his stupid 'baby girl.'

And before you can even blink twice, it seems-

It's lights out....

And away we go!

"LANDO! FUCKIN'! NORRIS!" you scream as soon as you see him, running to him as fast as you can. Your eyes threaten to fill over their brims with tears as you leap into Lando's arms, immediately forgetting about hiding your relationship.

Right now, that just seems too silly to care about. It doesn't matter enough.

Your boyfriend is a race winner.

The racer winner!

He leans back with the most joyful, most romantic, most adrenaline filled, most glorious look in his eyes as they search yours. His hand slowly strokes your cheeks as he purrs, "I told you I would win it for you, didn't I?"

"Lando-" you begin in excitement, but are interrupted by Lando's lips on yours, aggressively, passionately leaning into yours, flooding all his emotions into you, sharing his dream coming true with you.

For some reason, you begin to cry. Flows of tears, flooding down your cheeks as you kiss each other, and your heart pounds at a million kilometres an hour. His hands grip your waist tight, and the moment-

It all seems so perfect.

Right now, you don't care about the fact it was supposed to be secret. You don't care about what Carlos will think or say or do, or what fans on social media will post. None of it matters.

In this moment, the only two people that matter are you and Lando, in a symphony of amorousness, standing on the top of the world.

In this moment, you and Lando, both in sync, know this is the right time. Though it's been merely three months of being in a real, serious relationship, it feels like several lifetimes.

You don't care about the shock of other people, or the cameras flashing and clicking and filming.

All the sudden, you're proud of it.

You want everyone to know, no matter how they'll react, that you're Lando's, and Lando is yours.

When you finally break away from each other, Lando's smile remains as he gazes into your eyes.

"Are you crying too?" you giggle softly as you spot a glint in his eyes.

"What? Me, crying? No, I'm not crying! Of course I'm not crying!" he says teasingly, hastily wiping at his eye with his thumb. "You're the one crying! But anyway-" He slips the papaya McLaren cap off his head and plops it on yours, saying, "Won't be needing this for the top step. Besides," he smirks, leaning in closer. "Enough with all this Ferrari stuff. I think it's finally time for you to admit: Papaya looks best on you. Papaya's your color."

As you watch him jog off after that, stunned, you feel pleased.

Finally, for once, content.

That's right. My color isn't white, or blaugrana. It's not Ferrari's red, either.

I'm a papaya girl.

His papaya girl.

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samkerrworshipper · 1 year ago

Text

My Masterlist

WIPS

Leah Williamson -

seeing her tonight, it's a bad idea right?

just some friends with benefits smut that’s ends with confessions of love

medication

r stops taking their anxiety medications during the euros finals to get rid of three side effects… but what happens when it seriously effects them on the pitch

let me love you

r struggles after her and leah break up after some drunken kisses with other people… can they mend it all before r’s health is seriously affected?

the call up

when r gets the news notification from the Spanish federation regarding the forced call up the espwnt

safe and sound

r having suicidal thoughts and leah just being there to support them and be there for them

playgirl

friends to lovers smut w cocky as fuck playgirl leah who secretly only has eyes on r

losing

what happens when r loses for the first time?

asthma attacks

what happens when r has a asthma attack whilst Leah’s out for the night?

i will wait for you.

r gets injured in the champions league final and finds herself pushing out everyone, is it to late to make up with the people that matter most?

lost cause

r doesn’t want to do life anymore… leah’s there to make it all better and let her know how loved she is

tourniquet

r struggles with self harm and Leah helps her with it in theee different examples

pain, sweet, pain.

leah’s return from her acl injury is nothing like what she wanted nor expected, but her team are there to help her up when she’s down.

scars and all

leah finds out about her girlfriends past mental health issues

beautiful girl series (leah + jordan as coparents)

part 1 -> close you’re eyes: leah and jordan’s daughter is struggling after their breakup

part 2 -> have no fear: jordan and r have a heart to heart and somethings are revealed

part 3 -> the monsters gone: leah confronts her daughter

part 4 -> she’s on the run: r runs away

part 5 -> and your moms are here: reconciliation

part 6 -> beautiful, beautiful, beautiful, beautiful girl: final part

Lucy Bronze -

mamacita

jersey smut with lucy after winning

daddy?…. sorry

just a little drabble about dom daddy lucy

a shoulder to cry on

lucy is there for r after she has a career shattering injury

euro champs and abs

lucy’s prize for winning the euros

leg shakes and body aches pt.2^

after care for the fic above

epiphany

random grief drabble - more r focused then lucy tbh but if u want a good cry then readdd

Alexia Putellas -

movie night

cheek voyeurism smut with r and alexia at team movie night

lap dance

stripper smut with Alexia after the world cup

on the sidelines

wag Alexia on the sidelines for wnba girlfriend

i remember everything

r struggles with eating disorder… alexis is to absorbed in her own life to notice.. what are th consequences?

the party

songfic based off the song the party & the after party by the weeknd… pure filthy smut

exile

songfic based off the song exile by taylor swift

the last time (pt.2^)

Alexia tries to apologise to r after what happened at the club… another songfic based off the song the last time by taylor swift

between thighs

just a little quickie fic

back between villages

alexia tears her acl.

sugar, baby

u have a little arrangement with la reina

bar-ca

babyfic with newborn alexia and r as parents

rockin’ around the christmas tree

fluffy kidfic with christmas with the putellas’ family

underneath the surface

alexia finds out about your endometriosis

Sam Kerr -

cock blocked

team night with the arsenal girls who r keeping you from being thoroughly fucked by your girlfriend

smut headcanons

just smutty dom headcanons with sammy k

a whore’s punishment

literal smutty porn without plot… that’s it.

concealed

little drabble about sam concealing a strap during a photo shoot

the phone call

based off the scene in the uswnt doc with the different call ups except sam x reader coded

acls

based off sam’s acl injury :(

Katie Mccabe -

nails

katie comes home from ireland camp with a new set of nails and she shows you just how much she can do even without using her hands or

Mapi Leon -

massage therapy

mapi gets injured… reader tries to resolve some of the tension in her body

warmed

cockwarming… that’s about it

las 15

based off of the spanish players boycott pre world cup

Alexia Putellas x Reader x Lucy Bronze -

twos a company, threes a crowd

| pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 |

pure filth between my three girlies

Leah Williamson x reader x Lia Wälti -

all yours

just a little friends to lovers angsty fic about lia and leah getting together when the three have always been best friends and r struggling with it

Mapi Leon x Reader x Ingrid Engen -

long distance

touch starved and anxious reader who’s been away from mapi and ingrid for a while and needs a reminder just how much the love her

Vivianne Miedema x Beth Mead -

bad days

Viv has a bad anxiety day… Beth’s there for her no matter what

Kristie Mewis x Sam Kerr -

pinky promise?

little anxiety fic about kristie stressing about meeting Sam’s parents for the first time

wet dream

kristie can’t sleep.. sam has a wet dream..

Lia Wälti x Alexia Putellas -

captains connection

sometiems the captains are the ones who need the most help after games..

auswnt -

togetherness

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3

just some tillies angst and fluff

arsenal women -

found family

r goes out in the snow and gets really sick, but is scared to bother their arsenal teammates, two captains show up at their door after them not showing up to training for a few days and help them out and show them just how much the team loves them

homework help

when r moves to england she struggles with the adjustment of new school… arsenal team are there for her though

sticker chart

r and kyra r the pranksters of the team… but what happens when they take it too far and the arsenal parents seperate them as a result

revival

arsenal reader has been struggling more than she’d ever admit.. when it becomes to much she attempts to take her life but her teammates refuse to let her kill herself when she has so much more to live for.

hard times

arsenal reader struggles with PTSD and new year’s eve is a particular struggle… but the arsenal girlies are there for her even if she doesn’t know she needs them

narcotics

reader has a drug problem.. her arsenal teammates help her to realise and overcome it

how did it end?

suicidal ex-arsenal reader who retired after leaving the club

barca women -

suffer in silence

r struggles with self harm after the problems with the spanish federation.. mapi, ingrid, lucy and alexia are there to pick up the broken pieces

exhausted

insomnia reader with concerned alexia

initiation orgy universe

initiation:

pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3

celebrations:

pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3

#woso #woso community #lionesses #leah williamson #marry me rn #sam kerr #kristie mewis #lucy bronze #sam kerr x reader #auswnt #lucy bronze x reader #leah williamson x reader #alexia putellas #katie mccabe #mapi leon #samkerrworshippermasterlist

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heatherholes · 3 months ago

Text

i get that the lack of individuality is the appeal of bimbofication for many. but what i like to see, personally, is all the wonderful different types of girls learning their place. their unique personalities kept but warped. the most obvi example is the nerdy weeb girl who loves hentai and ahegao and slutty cosplay, the desk pet gamer girls. unlike some less interesting misogynists, i don’t think they’re faking their interests for male attention. they just don’t know how to express themselves any other way and that’s super hot!

i wanna see it everywhere. the horror fanatic watching shlocky b-movie rape scenes like they’re porn. the girl who loves cars getting bent over the hood. the ren faire attendant dressed as a tavern wench. the tabletop gamers and larpers doing mediaeval fantasy, getting treated medievally. the skater chick who laughs loudest when a girl face-plants, the metalhead demanding you name five albums. the goth who draws a pentagram on the floor and kneels naked, thinks of her punishment for eve eating the apple and whispers ‘hail satan.’

barstool type girls are a favourite of mine. you know, they watch football, eat wings, are all too happy to go to strip clubs and participate in the locker room talk. who proudly proclaim that they’re not like other girls, they’re one of the guys because they put on a sports jersey, while still looking every bit the bleach blonde fucktoy. still pretending she doesn’t know how to shoot pool so he can show her.

and the gym bunnies with an intense discipline and determination; are strong physically and mentally. what motivates their commitment to self improvement? looking good for men, of course! she’ll work herself to the bone keeping toned for you and won’t whine for help hauling the groceries. let her tell herself it’s because you respect her strength if it makes your life easier.

similar are the boss babes, hyper productive and entrepreneurial. proud to have her own money, apartment, car, small business. she’s a big believer in splitting the bill on dates. why? she heard men don’t like gold diggers. she doesn’t want him to think she’s putting out cause she gets something out it. she’s not doing it for anything but him. whether or not she expands her “online brand” as a pornfluencer into onlyfans will depend entirely on him. he okays it, but only for a split of the money? wow, now she’s the provider. how empowering!

that’s to say nothing of the actual girl bosses. the salaried power player at a fortune 500 company. what does she do there? discourage employees under her from going to HR, cut funding for the women in business initiative and giggle at sexist jokes to show she’s a team player, mostly. she has the economic freedom to do anything, a career she fought tooth and nail for, a spot in the c-suite someday. she’s a winner, not a trophy. she’ll give it all away once a man further up the ladder knocks her up.

well, what about the marxist punk yelling no gods, no masters? no way she’s gonna submit to a man. no, but she’s gonna suck dick for the communal spirit and promote collective ownership of her holes.

the shy girl into art and literature? her love of culture gives her unique insight into the history of male supremacy. everywhere she sees herself through the eyes of men. not just any men, creative geniuses. in the museum she looks at the ancient vases that use the same iconography to depict marriage as rape. from the nude statue of a goddess to the painting of a peasant girl — both are objects, never the subject. in the library she reads the taming of the shrew and thinks, who am i to argue with shakespeare? quietly, she lets her dreams of being an artist die and resigns herself to the life of the muse.

tldr: cater to the male gaze and serve patriarchy but most importantly be yourself

#this may be fucking nonsensical but i had a thought and i had to see it through #hello holes

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hypnogold · 2 months ago

Text

Crescent High 3

Lukas had only been in the U.S. for a few months. He was used to the European school system, where high school was less about sports and more about academics. But here, in America, things were different. That’s what he liked about it. Crescent High, with its sports teams and school spirit, seemed like the perfect place to finally experience the “high school life” he’d only seen in movies.

On his first day, Lukas walked through the wide hallways, noticing the groups of students milling about, many of them wearing their team jackets proudly. He had always been athletic, but European schools didn’t have organized teams like this. At Crescent High, there were tryouts for soccer, football, basketball—every sport imaginable.

As he passed by the gym, a poster caught his eye: Soccer Tryouts – This Friday. A smile crossed his face. Finally, a way to connect, to belong.

Lukas arrived early, his nerves a mix of excitement and apprehension. He had trained in local clubs back home in Europe, but this was different. The players here were part of something bigger, something that extended beyond just the game.

He noticed how many of the guys had the same gleaming kits—the golden AC Milan uniforms he had seen around the school. They looked powerful, united, and for a moment, Lukas felt out of place in his standard practice gear. He asked if he could borrow a golden kit. Coach approved and gave him a normal golden kit, not yet transformative. He was powerfull on the field.

The coach, Johnson, was already there, watching over the field with a keen eye. As the tryouts began, Lukas quickly proved his worth, his skills standing out. He sprinted down the field, dribbling past the defenders with ease, his footwork precise.

By the end of the session, Coach Johnson approached him. “You’ve got potential, Lukas,” he said, his voice friendly but with an undertone Lukas couldn’t quite place. “You could really fit in here. How about you stop by next week for a meeting with the team? We’ve got some things we think you’ll like.”

Lukas grinned, nodding. It felt good to be noticed.

The Following Week...

Lukas was getting used to life at Crescent High. The cafeteria, the lockers, even the massive gym felt more familiar now. He had even made a few friends. Still, there was something about the golden team members—those guys who wore the shining AC Milan kits. They always seemed so tight-knit, always together, always smiling. It was like they knew something the others didn’t.

The meeting Coach Johnson had mentioned came at the end of the week. Lukas showed up, a little unsure of what to expect. Inside the locker room, some of the team members were already there. They greeted him like an old friend, patting him on the back, giving him compliments on his performance during tryouts.

“Here,” one of them said, handing Lukas a folded piece of clothing. “Coach wanted you to have this.”

Lukas unfolded it. It was one of the golden kits—the same shimmering AC Milan jerseys he had seen so many others wear. His heart skipped a beat. It felt like initiation, like he was finally being welcomed into something bigger. He wanted to be a part of it. But something about the kit… it seemed almost too perfect, too polished.

“Try it on, bro,” one of the guys said with a grin. “It’s part of being on the team.”

Lukas hesitated. “I mean… it looks great, but…”

The team members all laughed in unison, their voices almost synchronized. “Don’t worry, man. Once you’re wearing it, you’ll feel right at home.”

Over the next few days, Lukas kept the kit in his locker, untouched. Every time he passed it, he felt a strange pull toward it. It wasn’t just about fitting in—it was more than that. The jersey seemed to call to him, as if putting it on would make everything fall into place.

At practice, Lukas started to notice the little things. The golden team members seemed faster, stronger, more in sync than the rest of the players. They moved effortlessly on the field, their golden kits shimmering under the sun. And then there were the whispers—rumors about how once you put the kit on, you were changed. Lukas brushed them off, thinking it was just superstition.

But every day, the urge to wear the jersey grew stronger. It started as curiosity, then turned into something he couldn’t shake. And yet, he still resisted. He wasn’t sure why, but part of him felt that once he put it on, there’d be no going back. Coach needed Lukas faster, so he used his secret weapon on him... Now he is one of them.

As the bell rang for lunch, Paxton strolled confidently through the hallway, his shiny metallic gold AC Milan kit glistening under the fluorescent lights. His number, 18, stood out boldly on his back, and the once-nerdy Paxton had become completely unrecognizable. The sight of him made the rest of the school uneasy, knowing that once you wore the golden kit, you were no longer yourself.

Inside the locker room, a group of four students huddled together. They had been part of the resistance, still wearing their blue and white uniforms. Each day, they’d seen more students fall—either after practice or through “accidents” like stumbling upon a golden kit left conveniently in a locker.

“We can’t keep hiding,” Matt, one of the students, whispered. “They’ll find us eventually.”

“Coach threw a kit over the bathroom stall yesterday,” Jake muttered. “It enveloped Dan. He didn’t even have a chance. By the time I got out of there, he was already talking like them—‘bro’ this, ‘bro’ that. And that dumb grin…”

Across the room, Luke, one of their smarter classmates, had an idea. “What if we break into the supply room where they keep the golden kits? We could destroy them, or at least hide them.”

Matt nodded. “That’s risky, but it could work.”

Meanwhile, Paxton had overheard part of their conversation. He smirked and silently slipped away, already formulating a plan to alert the team. He knew they wouldn’t have much time to act.

Later that afternoon, the group snuck into the athletics wing of the school. The door to the supply room was locked, but Luke pulled out a bobby pin, his hands trembling slightly as he worked on the lock. Finally, it clicked open.

Inside, rows of golden kits hung neatly. Their shimmering glow was almost mesmerizing. Jake hesitated as he walked toward them, an odd feeling creeping up his spine. The room smelled faintly of leather and cologne—a familiar scent from the locker room, but much stronger here. His resistance started to waver. “Maybe we shouldn’t destroy them,” he mumbled, almost in a trance.

“What? Are you crazy?” Matt snapped. “That’s exactly what they want.”

Before Jake could respond, the door slammed shut. They turned around to find another Coach standing there, a wide grin on his face. “Going somewhere, boys?”

Luke, trying to keep his cool, stepped forward. “We’re just looking around, Coach.”

Coach’s eyes glinted, and he pulled a golden kit off the rack, holding it out to Jake. “You’ve always been one of my best players, Jake. Why resist the inevitable? This kit was made for you.”

The temptation was too strong. Jake’s hand slowly reached out, brushing against the kit’s smooth fabric. The moment he touched it, his pupils dilated, and a glazed expression washed over his face. He couldn’t stop himself from putting it on. As the shirt slipped over his head, his resistance faded away completely. His back straightened, and when he turned to face the others, his eyes had a faint golden spiral. “Bro, you gotta try this,” Jake said with a wide, stupid grin.

Now let's make you complete Golden Boy. The assistent of coach sprayed Jake, sealing his transformation.

1 week later...

Mr. Jonathan Hale had been teaching history at Crescent High for over a decade. The smell of chalk, the sight of textbooks stacked haphazardly on desks, and the distant murmur of students in the hallway had always made him feel at home. But lately, things had changed. The usual atmosphere of Crescent High was shifting, and Mr. Hale couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

It wasn’t just the students' behavior, although that had certainly become strange. There was something deeper—like an invisible force spreading across the school. He had noticed it first in the small details: students whispering in the halls, odd glances exchanged during lunch, and then… the golden jerseys.

At first, they had only been worn by a handful of students, mostly athletes, but now more and more of his students were coming to class wearing the shiny golden AC Milan kits. The jerseys seemed to exude an aura of confidence, even power. But there was something unsettling about the way the students who wore them acted. Their demeanor had shifted; they seemed almost… too happy, too sure of themselves.

One afternoon, as the bell rang and students filtered out of his classroom, Mr. Hale sat at his desk, lost in thought. That’s when Matt, Luke, and Jake walked in.

Mr. Hale had always liked Matt and Luke. They were bright, engaged, and often stayed behind after class to discuss topics beyond the curriculum. Jake, on the other hand, had recently started acting differently. Once a quiet, reserved student, Jake now wore one of those golden jerseys—his face plastered with an easy grin that never seemed to fade.

“Mr. Hale,” Luke started, nervously glancing at Matt. “We need to talk to you about something.”

The older teacher looked up, curious but slightly apprehensive. “What’s going on, boys?”

“It’s Jake,” Matt said, his voice low. “And the others. There’s something wrong with the students wearing those golden kits. They’re different. We think they’re… being changed.”

Mr. Hale raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jake, who was standing a bit too still, his arms crossed, that familiar unsettling smile plastered on his face.

“Changed how?” Hale asked.

“Bro, don’t be dramatic,” Jake interrupted, his tone casual but with an odd edge to it. “It’s just a uniform, man. We’re all part of the team now. You’ll get it soon.”

The way Jake said it made Mr. Hale’s stomach churn. Something wasn’t right.

Luke stepped closer to the desk, lowering his voice. “Coach Johnson… he’s behind all of this. The soccer team, the golden kits… once you put one on, it’s like you’re not the same anymore. Jake… he was never like this before.”

Matt nodded. “We’ve been trying to resist it, but it’s getting harder. They’re spreading those kits, and more students are getting pulled in every day.”

Mr. Hale leaned back in his chair, his mind racing. He had noticed the change in Jake but had dismissed it as just the usual ebb and flow of high school life. Now, hearing Matt and Luke’s concerns, it all started to click. The golden kits, the changes in behavior, the increasing influence of Coach Johnson… it was all connected.

Hale glanced at Jake again. The boy’s smile never wavered, his eyes gleaming as if he knew something no one else did. For the first time in his career, Mr. Hale felt a chill run down his spine while looking at one of his students.

“You’re saying these jerseys are doing something to the students?” Hale asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

Matt nodded. “It’s more than just a uniform, sir. It’s like… once you wear it, you become part of the team. But not in a good way. You’re not yourself anymore.”

Luke chimed in, “We don’t know how to stop it, but we’re sure Coach Johnson’s behind it. He’s recruiting students one by one.”

Mr. Hale leaned forward, his voice barely a whisper. “And how are you two avoiding it?”

“We’ve been hiding,” Luke said. “We try to stay out of the locker rooms, avoid practice, but they’re everywhere. We don’t know how long we can hold out.”

Matt added, “We thought maybe you could help us. You’re the only teacher we trust. You’ve been here for years, and we know you’ve seen things change.”

Mr. Hale nodded slowly, his mind racing. “I’ve noticed something’s been off, but I didn’t realize how deep it went. This is… this is serious.”

Jake, still standing there, let out a soft chuckle. “Come on, Mr. Hale. It’s not that deep. We’re just evolving, bro. The team’s growing, and soon everyone’s going to be a part of it. You’ll see.”

Hale’s eyes narrowed. He could see now that Jake wasn’t just different—he was completely changed, like someone else entirely. And it was the golden jersey that had done it.

“We need to figure out a way to stop this,” Mr. Hale said, turning back to Matt and Luke. “But we’ll have to be careful. If what you’re saying is true, we can’t trust anyone who’s already wearing those kits.”

Matt and Luke exchanged a glance, relieved that someone finally believed them. But the weight of what they were up against hung heavy in the air.

“We’ll do whatever it takes,” Matt said, determination in his voice.

Mr. Hale nodded. “First, we’ll need to gather more information. If Coach Johnson is the key, we need to find out how he’s controlling this, and how to stop it.”

Jake stepped forward, his grin widening. “You can try, bro, but once you put on the kit, you won’t want to stop it. You’ll love it. Trust me.”

Hale ignored the ominous remark and turned his attention to Luke and Matt. “Stay low. Avoid any situation where they might get you alone. And if you see any more students changing, let me know immediately. We’ll need all the help we can get.”

As Matt and Luke left the classroom, Mr. Hale glanced at Jake one last time. “Jake,” he said quietly, “what happened to you?”

Jake smiled, that same eerie grin spreading across his face. “I became part of something bigger, Mr. Hale. Soon, you will too.”

Matt and Luke hurried to the locker room after their meeting with Mr. Hale. They knew they couldn’t hide forever. The golden team was everywhere, growing larger each day. Their hope now rested in finding out how Coach Johnson and the team were spreading this strange influence—and stopping it.

As they entered the locker room, the tension was palpable. Several golden-jerseyed players were gathered in the corner, whispering among themselves. Matt and Luke stuck to the shadows, watching from behind a row of lockers. They needed to be cautious; any wrong move could get them noticed, and worse—converted.

Then they saw it.

A group of guys from the soccer tryouts had just been called in by Coach Johnson. They were led into the back area of the locker room, where a strange setup had been arranged: bottles of golden deodorant lined up on the benches, their gleaming labels flashing in the dim light. Luke squinted, confused.

“What’s that about?” he whispered.

Matt shook his head. “I don’t know… but I’ve got a bad feeling.”

They watched in silence as Coach Johnson approached the new recruits, all of whom still wore their regular athletic gear. “Alright, boys,” Johnson said with a grin. “Time to welcome you to the team.”

He picked up one of the bottles of golden deodorant, shaking it before passing it to a player standing next to him. “Go ahead,” he urged. “Give it a spray.”

The player, unsure but eager to fit in, pressed down on the nozzle. A thick mist of golden smoke filled the air around him. For a moment, the entire locker room was enveloped in the glowing fog. When it began to clear, Matt and Luke’s eyes widened in shock.

The player’s clothes had completely changed.

His casual practice gear had been replaced by the gleaming golden AC Milan kit, his number clearly marked on the back. His demeanor had shifted too—where there had been hesitation moments before, now there was confidence. He looked around at his teammates, his eyes shining with that same strange glow Matt and Luke had seen in Jake.

“Welcome to the team, bro,” Coach Johnson said, clapping the player on the back.

The player, now fully transformed, gave a slow nod. “Feels right, Coach,” he replied, his voice lower, more relaxed.

One by one, the other recruits followed, each taking a bottle and spraying themselves with the golden deodorant. Each time, the golden mist clouded the air, and when it cleared, their clothes had changed—just like the first player’s. Every new recruit stood there, beaming with the same mindless smile that had unsettled Matt and Luke from the start.

“They’re using that stuff to convert them,” Luke whispered, barely able to contain his horror. “That’s how they’re doing it.”

Matt clenched his fists. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

Back in his classroom, Mr. Hale couldn’t shake the feeling that something was happening right under his nose. As his students filed out for the day, he found an excuse to head toward the athletics wing. If Matt and Luke were right, and Coach Johnson really was at the center of this, then the answers would be in the locker room.

As he approached the door, he heard the familiar sound of laughter—low, confident, the kind of laugh that had become common among the students in golden kits. He pushed the door open slowly, careful not to make a sound.

What he saw inside confirmed his worst fears.

Coach Johnson was standing with a group of students, all of them now wearing the golden kits and blue shorts. They had formed a circle around a new recruit, one of the boys from the soccer tryouts, who was holding a bottle of the golden deodorant in his hand. The room filled with mist again, and when it cleared, the recruit had changed—just like all the others.

Mr. Hale stepped back, heart pounding. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. How could something as simple as deodorant be part of the transformation? It didn’t make sense… and yet, there it was.

Hale retreated from the locker room, his mind racing. He needed to regroup with Matt and Luke. They had to figure out how to stop Coach Johnson, how to stop the golden deodorant from spreading to more students. The school was falling under the influence of the golden team, and if they didn’t act fast, it would be too late.

As he left the athletics wing, he spotted Matt and Luke by the entrance. Their faces were pale, but their eyes were determined.

“We saw it,” Luke said quietly. “We saw everything.”

“So did I,” Hale replied, his voice firm. “And now we know what we’re dealing with.”

Matt nodded. “What do we do next?”

Hale looked back at the locker room, then turned to his students. “We need to find out where that deodorant is coming from. If we can cut off the supply, maybe we can slow them down.”

Luke stepped forward. “And then what?”

Mr. Hale’s eyes hardened. “Then, we figure out how to break this… before it’s too late.”

The atmosphere around Crescent High was growing more intense by the day. The golden jerseys had spread beyond just the students; now even some staff members were wearing them. Mr. Hale couldn’t shake the eerie feeling as he passed the once-familiar faces of colleagues who had recently donned the shiny kits, their expressions vacant and their enthusiasm almost robotic.

The school’s transformation was escalating, and it wasn’t just the students being targeted anymore. Each class gets another colour shorts to know who is who.

Gym teachers GOLD:

Math teachers BLUE:

History teachers BLACK:

Biology teachers WHITE:

Matt, Luke, and Mr. Hale huddled in the history classroom, piecing together what they’d witnessed. “It’s spreading faster than we thought,” Matt said, his voice low. “It’s not just the blue students anymore.”

“They’ve started recruiting anyone who sets foot in the school,” Luke added. “Teachers, janitors, even delivery people.”

Mr. Hale nodded grimly. “The deodorant. That mist—it’s how they’re doing it. We have to move fast. If we don’t, there won’t be anyone left who’s not part of this golden team.”

Mr. Carter

Mr. Hale had always respected Mr. Carter, the math teacher across the hall. He was quiet, always kept to himself, but he cared deeply about his students. So when Mr. Hale saw him walking into the staff lounge wearing one of those golden kits, a sinking feeling settled in his chest.

He had to talk to him.

Later that day, Mr. Hale caught Mr. Carter in the hallway. “Carter,” he called out, his voice hesitant. “You got a minute?”

Mr. Carter turned, and for a brief moment, his eyes seemed to light up in recognition. But then, just as quickly, they dulled again, replaced by that same unsettling grin Mr. Hale had seen so many times before. “Hey, bro!” Mr. Carter said, his voice unusually cheery. “What’s up?”

Mr. Hale’s stomach churned. Carter had never spoken like that. “I wanted to ask you about… your new look.”

Carter chuckled. “Oh, this?” He tugged at the golden jersey, its fabric shimmering under the hallway lights. “Coach Johnson hooked me up. Said it was about time I joined the team. It feels good, man. You should try it.” Blue teacher means Math bro! All the students are now becoming blue students.

Hale’s heart raced. He had hoped that maybe the teachers were somehow different, that they would be immune. But no, Carter was fully under their control now.

“What happened, Carter?” Hale asked, trying to keep his voice calm. “How did you… change?”

Carter’s grin widened. “Coach gave me a little nudge, that’s all. It was during lunch—just a quick spray of some new cologne he said he was testing out.” Carter leaned in, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Honestly, I didn’t think much of it at first. But after I inhaled it, everything just clicked, you know? I felt like part of something bigger.”

Hale swallowed hard, realizing the golden deodorant wasn’t just for students. Anyone could be converted. “You don’t… feel any different?”

“Only better, bro,” Carter replied, clapping Hale on the shoulder. “You’ll see.”

It wasn’t long before the golden team’s influence began to spread beyond the school. Delivery trucks rolled in and out of the Crescent High parking lot daily, and the golden team saw an opportunity to expand their reach.

One afternoon, a delivery guy named Mark pulled up to drop off sports equipment for the athletics department. He was a regular at Crescent High, often bringing in boxes of new uniforms, water bottles, and other gear for the teams. He didn’t think much of the kids wandering around in golden jerseys as he unloaded the boxes from his truck.

As Mark was organizing the shipment, a few of the golden team members approached him. “Hey man, need a hand with that?” one of them asked, flashing the familiar grin.

Mark shrugged. “Sure, if you guys don’t mind.”

As they helped him carry the boxes to the storage area, one of the team members pulled out a small bottle of the golden deodorant, holding it discreetly behind his back. When Mark wasn’t looking, he gave a quick spray, filling the air around them with a thick, golden mist.

The transformation happened almost instantly. As the mist cleared, Mark coughed lightly, rubbing his eyes. When he blinked again, his clothes had changed. His usual delivery uniform was gone, replaced by a golden AC Milan jersey, his new number shining on his back. He didn’t even notice at first. But as he stood up straight, the change settled in. His posture shifted, his expression softened into that familiar, vacant grin.

“Bro, you good?” one of the team members asked, knowing full well what had just happened.

Mark blinked, his eyes glowing faintly for a moment. “Yeah, man,” he replied, his voice relaxed and calm. “I feel great.”

The team members laughed, slapping him on the back. “Welcome to the team, bro.”

Mark smiled, completely unaware that just minutes ago, he had been a delivery driver with no ties to Crescent High. Now, he was one of them.

Back in his classroom, Mr. Hale was trying to focus on his lesson plan, but his mind kept drifting back to the growing problem at Crescent High. The golden deodorant had clearly become a tool for mass recruitment, and it wasn’t just affecting students anymore. With teachers like Mr. Carter and even outsiders like delivery drivers falling under its control, the situation was quickly spiraling out of control.

He had to act.

“We need to do something about the deodorant,” Luke said, pacing around the room. “If we don’t stop them from spraying it, everyone’s going to be part of the golden team by next week.”

Matt nodded. “I’ve seen them spray it on guys when they’re not looking. It happens so fast. One minute they’re normal, and the next, they’re wearing the jersey.”

Mr. Hale stood up, his decision made. “We’re going to need help. We can’t do this alone anymore. If they’re targeting anyone who sets foot in the school, we need to find people who haven’t been exposed yet. But more importantly, we need to figure out how to reverse this.”

“But how?” Luke asked. “We don’t even know what the deodorant is made of.”

Hale glanced at the door, making sure no one was listening. “I know a few people outside of school—some old friends from the district. Maybe they can help us get to the bottom of this. But we need to be careful. If we get caught, we’ll end up like Carter or worse—like Jake.”

The three of them nodded, knowing that time was running out. The golden team was growing stronger, and soon there would be no one left who hadn’t been sprayed by the golden mist.

The plan had seemed solid—sneak into the athletics wing, destroy the golden jerseys and deodorant, and stop the transformation before it was too late. But Mr. Hale, Matt, and Luke had underestimated the power of the golden team.

As they crept into the athletics wing that night, the air felt heavier than usual, like the school itself knew what was coming. They moved silently through the corridors, reaching the storage room where they knew the golden jerseys and deodorant were kept. But as they stepped inside, their hearts sank.

The room was empty.

"Where is everything?" Matt whispered, panic creeping into his voice.

"They moved it," Hale said, his face grim. "They knew we were coming."

Before they could react, the door slammed shut behind them. Standing in the doorway was Coach Johnson, flanked by Jake, Mr. Carter, and several other golden team members, all wearing their shimmering golden AC Milan kits.

"You didn’t think we’d let you ruin everything, did you, bro?" Jake said, his voice dripping with confidence.

The Final Confrontation

Hale, Matt, and Luke were trapped, surrounded by the golden team. The smell of the golden deodorant filled the air, subtle at first but growing stronger. Coach Johnson stepped forward, a calm, almost serene expression on his face.

"You don’t get it, do you?" Johnson said softly. "This isn’t about control or domination. It’s about unity. About becoming part of something greater than yourself. You’ve seen it happen to your friends, your colleagues. And now, it’s your turn."

He held up a bottle of the golden deodorant, shaking it lightly. "It’s time to stop fighting and join the team, bro."

Matt and Luke backed away, but there was nowhere to go. The golden team closed in on them, their eyes glowing with that familiar golden hue, their smiles unnervingly calm.

Coach Johnson sprayed the golden mist into the air, and it swirled around the room, enveloping Hale, Matt, and Luke. They tried to hold their breath, to resist, but the mist was everywhere. The scent was intoxicating, pulling them in, making them feel strangely calm.

Matt was the first to fall. He coughed, then inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. When he opened them again, his expression had changed. His face softened, his eyes glazed over with that same golden glow.

"Bro��" Matt muttered, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "This feels… right."

Hale watched in horror as Matt’s clothes began to shift. His regular school uniform melted away, replaced by the gleaming golden AC Milan jersey. His number—24—flashed across his back. Matt stood up straighter, more confident, more powerful.

"Matt, no!" Luke shouted, but it was too late.

Coach Johnson turned the spray on Luke next, and the mist enveloped him. Luke tried to fight it, but the scent was overpowering. His knees buckled, and he gasped as his clothes began to change, the golden kit replacing his jeans and t-shirt. His number—17—appeared on his back.

Luke stood up, his face slack, his eyes empty. "Bro… it’s good," he murmured.

Mr. Hale was the last one left. He backed into the corner, but there was nowhere to run. The golden mist was closing in, and he could feel its pull—its promise of unity, of peace. He wanted to resist, but deep down, he knew it was over.

"You’ve fought well, Mr. Hale," Coach Johnson said, stepping closer. "But you’ve seen the truth. You’ve seen what we’re building here. It’s time to join us."

Hale’s mind raced, trying to think of a way out, but his body felt heavy, his thoughts clouded by the intoxicating scent of the golden mist. He coughed, inhaling the mist, and for a moment, his vision blurred.

Then, slowly, he felt his body relax. The tension melted away, replaced by a strange sense of calm. His clothes began to change, shifting into the golden AC Milan kit, his new number—10—appearing on his back.

Hale looked down at his new uniform, his heart racing. But even as panic surged through him, a part of him felt… at peace. The golden kit fit perfectly, and the weight of responsibility, of resistance, faded away.

"You’re part of the team now, bro," Jake said with a grin.

Hale looked up, his eyes glowing faintly with the golden hue. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of words, all that came out was a soft, resigned, "Bro… I am Blue"

Crescent High Transformed

By morning, Crescent High was no longer the school it once was. The golden team had taken over completely. Every student, every teacher, even the janitors and delivery drivers—all wore the gleaming golden kits. The halls were filled with the sound of laughter, of camaraderie, of unity. There were no more outsiders, no more resistance.

Mr. Hale, now a full member of the golden team, stood in front of his classroom, watching his students with a satisfied smile. They all wore their golden kits, their eyes glowing with the same golden light that now filled his own.

"Alright, bros," Hale said, his voice smooth and confident. "Let’s get started."

He no longer felt the need to fight. The golden team had won, and in the end, it felt right. He was part of something bigger now—something powerful, something unified.

As the day went on, the golden mist continued to spread. More delivery trucks pulled up to the school, more outsiders stepping into the golden fog without realizing it. Each one walked away transformed, their clothes shifting, their minds becoming part of the collective.

Crescent High was no longer just a school. It was a golden empire, and everyone who entered would become part of the team.

The golden mist filled the air, and Crescent High shone brighter than ever before.

#male transformation #gold #soccer tf #hypnotised #golden army #jock tf #jockification #join us

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