#Lucy can’t drive

[rookieoneil]

Tim: I love you Lucy but you cannot drive my truck.

Lucy: what? Why not

Tim: I don’t want scratch marks on my baby

Lucy: I would never

Tim: 😐

*a few days later Lucy hitting the curb*

Tim: 😨

Lucy: that curb came out of no where

[mageless]

I can’t breathe I love this task so much.

[yua-o]

lockwood:this is so embarrassing why are people staring at me

george:???

lucy: we got in a car crash lol

[letapollojusticesayfuck]

starting to think that i am cursed to have any car i drive break somehow

[voxisdaddy]

Focus On Me, Luci

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairing: Sub!Top!Lucifer x Dom!Bottom!Reader

Type: Smut

C/TW: Praise kink, mommy kink, cock warming implied, reader written as fem!

In which Lucifer, for once, tops and his poor subby body is trying his best to make you proud.

MDNI

“Just like that Luci…keep doing that.”

Your words of encouragement are what Lucifer clings to in his desperate attempt to please you. His hips get unsteady easily after only a couple of thrusts. He whines in frustration and embarrassment about it.

“Mommy—I can’t…” He whines pathetically.

You click your tongue. “You’re normally such a good boy, Luci. Don’t you wanna make mommy feel good?” Lucifer can only nod, albeit with a look of exhaustion. Poor guys not used to being on top. He feels his cock ache to be drained by you but you’re only allowing him to please himself all on his own.

“Come ‘ere.” You invite him in an embrace. He crawls on top of you, almost collapsing from how trembly his legs are. You press a light kiss to his ear before whispering, “just focus on me okay? Focus on how snug and warm I keep you, okay baby?”

He melts at your words.

“Yes m’ dear,” His forearms rest on either side of your head as he lines himself up to push in again. He pushes as far as he can go, wanting to be as balls deep as he possibly can.

He starts thrusting with your guidance. Your voice reassuring him to take his time, set a nice rhythm, all the while your gentle and cute little moans are gracing his ears.

He finds a nice rhythm and focuses on keeping his cool. He can’t desperately fuck you to relieve himself just yet. Though the temptation is strong, he wants to make you proud.

“Mmm… baby… you’re making me feel so good…” Your moans of encouragement drive him crazy. He wants to selfishly beg you to ride him, fuck you both for him until he passes out. But he knows that’s selfish and you take care of him so often, it’s only fair he returns the favour every now and then.

Your walls clamp around on him so deliciously he’s got sweat on his forehead, panting and moaning into your ear. He almost allows himself to fall into the pleasure, feeling weak, and desperate for a release that only you seem to know how to give him.

A slight change in angle and he hears a gasp. He keeps thrusting, eyes fluttered closed as he uses all his energy to focus. Your grip on his shoulders tighten and your moans are more pitched and frequenter.

“Fuck!” You gasp. “Mmmm… right there Luci… right there, you’re gonna make mommy cum…”

Your praise, mixed with how you tightened around him and his pridefulness in making you feel good, brings some more needy moans from him.

“…you’re doing so good… so perfect my pretty baby…” You tug his hair. Running your fingers over his sensitive wing base causes him to whimper.

Lucifer shudders at your delicate touch. He holds his climax back until you’ve cummed all over his cock and balls. He still keeps his pace though so you can ride out your high.

Now feeling the overstimulation, you bring your hands to caress Lucifers face to give him a sloppy kiss. “Go ahead honey…Cum as much as you want.”

Not a second later, Lucifer is thrusting his hips at a more rapid pace, only a bit sloppy this time around, as he chases his own already nearing orgasm.

He finishes with one final deep thrust, moaning pathetically as he feels himself empty his warm cum into your aching cunt.

He collapses on top of you with a heavy chest and still connected between your legs. “Thank you my love…” He kisses the place between your neck and shoulder.

You run your fingers through his messy blonde hair. Lucifers exhaustion and the comfort you give him is enough to lull him to sleep. Before he can drift off though, you tug on his hair.

“Don’t fall asleep yet, Luci. I still gotta clean your pretty cock.”

Lucifer feels his cock twitch inside you. Oh yeah.

You’re gonna suck the life out his cock tonight.

I haven’t really written smut in FOREVER. OHMYGOD. I hope you enjoyed it lmao

[mackandcheezy]

Beneath the White Sheets (Young! President! Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

​​A/N: A simple domestic fluff turned slightly sensual hot, slightly crazy, boyfriend who can’t keep his hands to himself. For my lovely anon who just wanted something less depressing than the typical hunger games fic

People are utterly stupid. At least that’s what Coriolanus had been telling himself for the past two hours. Being made president of Panem was everything he had ever wanted and more but he couldn’t stand how much conversation it involved. He could never stand to fraternize with those less intelligent than himself and that seemed fo be all this was comprised of. Though it all was worth it to come home to you. 

You had met in school, what felt like such a long ago. Started as enemies as all good lovers do, competing to mentor the best tribute for the 10th hunger games. Yours had died before even making it to the arena, a fact Coryo never quite let you forget, or the fact that his won. But you were always quick to remind him that he cheated so it didn’t count. The same small frown would appear on his face at the mention of Lucy Gray. 

You knew they had a history, but you also knew that nobody could ever love you the way he did. On a fundamental level she would always resent who he was, how he was raised, his “kind.” You on the other hand knew what it meant to work your way up from the bottom, to have drive and passion. You were one in the same in that way, but you kept him in check, able to dull some of the red that always tinted the edges of his plans. 

The moment he bursted in the door you knew it had been a bad day even before he started ranting. 

“I can’t BELIEVE these people, it’s like they think the world runs on expensive fabrics and tiny foods.” Coryo threw his suit jacket into the corner of the room, the white coat crumpling like a piece of paper. Running a hand through his hair he finally took the time to look at you properly. 

His eyes raked your form, taking in the way your freshly washed locks framed your face. Your eyes were focused on him, that same worried look ever present on your face, it brought a warm flush to his cheeks. Even a year into marriage it never ceased to surprise him that everyday someone could care. That even after seeing him, the real him with skeletons in the closet, you still loved him— still forgave him. That simple fact was enough to make the stress of the day melt from his body. Shoulders dropping just the tiniest bit, jaw coming unclenched for the first time since he’d left at six am that morning. 

He watched as you shuffled out of bed, in that same night dress that was just sheer enough to hint at what was underneath but not enough to satisfy his desires. Your pebbled nipples poking out just enough to make him want to do nothing more than to take one into his mouth and taste the sweet comfort of home. The thought of the taste of your skin already bringing a burning desire to his mind. 

But you could simply fuck anytime, right now was for something more pure. 

You floated across the room and wrapped your hands around his waist, burying your face in his chest, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. I should fire everyone and replace them with you instead, you’re more intelligent that all of them combined,” he placed a greedy kiss to your lips before pulling away, “and much sexier too” his hot breath on your lips making you flush. 

You allowed him to change his clothes wordlessly. Basking in the presence of your lover, Coryo doing the same. Your relationship was built on comfortable silence, if something needed to be said it would, but for now all either one of you needed was to feel the other. 

Like a well rehearsed play you both flowed back to the bed, allowing the cool sheets and soft mattress to absorb your bodies until you met in the middle. Coryo wrapped every open limb around you until you were one. With your ear on his chest you listened to his heart beat. The rhythmic thumping grounding you, this was reality, white sheets and curly blonde hair. 

“I’m scared” that statement sent chills through your body. Never had Coryo admitted to something so-- human in all the time you had known him. 

“Do we have something to be scared for?” 

“The thought of this being temporary fleets my mind often these days, that one day I will have nothing to provide to you anymore” The statement broke your heart. Deep down you knew he cared, even if he tried to convince himself he didn’t. Yet her he was the very thought of letting you down was terrifying. 

“I don’t need anything but you,” You felt the held breath ruffle the strands of hair at the top of your head. “You are enough Coriolanus Snow, I promised myself to you because even a poor beggar I would want nothing more in this life than you” 

“I have never wanted anything more than you” The confession surprised you in a sense. You knew you were an important part of the puzzle, but Panem always seemed to come first. 

You allowed yourself to reflect on that as you watched the sun drop below the skyline of the Capitol, a warm orangey-pink engulfing the room. Allowing yourself to relax in the strong embrace of your husband, and give in to the sleep pulling at your eyes.

[atsumou]

THE ACT OF SPITE

— satan x f! reader MC feat. lucifer

syn: the avatar of wrath knows just what would infuriate the prideful demon the most—that is, fucking you against the door to lucifer’s secret office, all while he’s inside it.

18+ MDNI; nsfw, smut, semi-public sex (inside the HoL library), unprotected sex, creampie, masturbation (m), horny luci, satan being a lil shit to lucifer, pet name (darling), not proofread.

word count: 1.9k

notes: hello! this is a repost. this fic was previously posted on my old deactivated account so i’m not plagiarising anyone. enjoy :>

this was wrong. sinful. lewd. hell, those words were far beyond what you and satan were doing right this very moment—there weren’t any words to describe how naughty your actions were but with every single thrust of the fourth-born’s hips, those thoughts of hesitancy slowly slipped from your mind. buried with the surge of lust clouding your thoughts as satan’s pace didn’t let up, not even once. his hips pushing into your own with such drive, and desperation that your lower back painfully digs further into the edges of the shelves.

that’s right. you were inside the library, most importantly, your back flush against the door to lucifer’s secret office—satan made sure of it. the worst part wasn’t even having sex in the library, it was the fact that you two were doing it right outside lucifer’s private study while he’s inside. oh, satan has seen the way his eldest brother looks at you with intent. the way lucifer’s scarlet eyes hungrily trace your figure with each opportunity he gets, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s practically eye-fucking you. satan still remembers the swirling storm inside him, the anger that bubbled at the pit of his stomach from the way his older brother eyed you. now, he just can’t help but remind lucifer who you belonged to.

the soft ember glow from the fireplace cast the side of satan’s handsome face, sweat glimmering from the fire, painting the colours of the sunset upon his fair skin—golden hair that stuck to his forehead tinged with streaks of reds and oranges; emerald irises full of lust mixed with a scarlet hue, his features fading into an angry red. wrath. you were sure that’s what he was feeling, he always did. your nails dug into the fabric of his shoulders, legs wrapped around his slender waist tightening with every jolt of your body. “s-satan—ah!” you moaned, heated and desperate just how he liked it. the corner of his mouth tugged upward, satan was sure that your erotic sounds were loud enough to reach the other side of the door. enough to disrupt lucifer from his work.

satan bit his lip from the way you felt around him, your warm walls hugging his cock so tightly, so deliciously that it made his emerald eyes roll to the back of his head. he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer with how you squeezed him, and that was fine but he needed to make the most of it—he needed you to be louder. satan’s nails painfully dug into the edge of the bookshelf, heavy balls slapping your ass with every thrust of his hips. arousal dripped down to his balls, creating wet noises that filled your ears—a white ring forming at the base of his cock. fuck, it was naughty. the vast library was filled with your’s and satan’s sounds mixed with wet squelches, and the crackling of fire. you didn’t need to worry about being caught by the other brothers; belphegor was up in the attic, fast asleep, and leviathan was having a TSL marathon while the rest of them had gone out, leaving satan and lucifer down here.

thud. thud. thud. the door to lucifer’s secret office cried from satan’s unwavering pace. inside the private study, a blanket of blush covered lucifer’s face, cheeks heating up from the obvious activity happening outside the room. he didn’t know whether to curse his younger brother for vexing him like this, or to feel flustered at the lewd noises coming from your throat—the way you cry out satan’s name every now and then with such desperation, such passion that he almost wished it was his name rolling off your tongue. that he was the one making you feel pleasured. lucifer’s free hand curled into a fist, the papers beneath his palm crinkling at the movement. the tent in his pants grew with every sound you made, erotic images of you clouding his mind; imagining the way your brows furrow in pleasure, lips parted, completely lost in lust.

lucifer’s heart pounded against his chest, the half-done report before him sprawled on his desk, already forgotten. “satan. . what will i do with you. . ?” his voice was quiet but it seethed with fury. he knew his younger brother disliked him but not to the extent of fucking you right outside his private study. lucifer didn’t exactly know what satan gained from . . this but he wasn’t surprised with how territorial his brother was. especially when it came to you. the thuds of the door mixed with your heated moans engulfed lucifer’s ears. he didn’t even notice his eyes were closed—relishing in your sounds—until he snapped them open, startled from the wooden ink pen breaking in half from the tight grip.

dropping the broken pen on the desk, he leaned back into his chair, placing a forearm atop his closed eyes while the other rested on his thigh. it tingled. his palm tingled against his clothed thigh, as if urging him to do something about the growing problem at the apex of his legs—urging him to relieve himself with the help of your sounds. it wouldn’t hurt anyone, right? merely fisting himself at the thought of you wasn’t going to be the most sinful thing he’s done. lucifer had already committed the gravest sin of his life, it led to his downfall. this is nothing.

back in the library, your soft moans didn’t satisfy satan, he needed more from you. removing his hands from the shelf behind you, satan snaked them down to your ass, palms flat against the heated bare skin. a string of loud moans and curses left your parted lips as he bounced you on his cock. “o-oh my—fuck . .! aah! just like that, satan!” “y-yeah? you like that?” satan’s lips ghosted over your own before sealing you into a kiss. the kiss was messy, spit coating the corners of your mouths, teeth clashing—he chased your parted lips with every bounce of your body. satan made sure not to swallow your whimpers down, he needed lucifer to hear how good he was making you feel. he needed lucifer to know that he’s the only one who can make you moan like this.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head, bottom lip trapped between your teeth from pure bliss. the slight change in angle enabled his cock to reach much deeper into you, allowing you to feel every ridge when you clenched around him. satan’s cock had a slight curve to it, and the way it repeatedly hit your cervix over and over again made it more pleasurable—sending electrifying shocks up your spine. goosebumps formed under the fourth-born’s lips as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, and down the side of your sweaty neck—sucking and biting at the supple skin, leaving a hues of dark red and purple. satan marvelled at the masterpiece peppered on your skin before licking a long, flat stripe up your neck and nibbling at the lobe of your ear.

he didn’t shy away from groaning directly into your ear, harsh pants escaping his parted lips, mixed with broken, endless praises. satan knew the effect his voice had on you, especially when he sung praises to you—he didn’t miss the way you squeezed around him with every praise muttered into your ear. he cursed at the pleasure, a heated gasp and a desperate whisper of your name coming from him. this spurred him on, harshly bouncing you on his cock with all his strength—you swear he’s about to leave handprints on your ass with how hard he’s gripping them.

it was getting too much, you could feel the coil deep in your stomach beginning to unravel. your body grew limp from pleasure, simply leaning onto satan’s front and letting him have his way with you. all you could really do was cry out his name and run your nails down his clothed back. satan groaned, relishing at the way your moans travelled straight to his ear—specs of white slowly clouded his vision, and his fingers dug into the supple flesh of your ass. he was close. “s-satan—ngh! fuck fuck fuck! ‘m cumming!” broken shallow pants left your lips. holding his emerald gaze, lids heavy with lust, “that’s it—haah! let go for me, my darling.” satan breathed out, knees buckling from pleasure. he was close too.

leaning against the other side of the door was lucifer, pants unbuttoned, and pulled down just enough to take his cock out. his wrist between was between his teeth to muffle moans as he fisted his cock to your sounds. it was heavenly, even the angels up at the celestial realm couldn’t compare to the way your voice sounded. he let out harsh breaths, each one shaky from how his fingers curled around his hard cock. lucifer teased the sensitive slit with his thumb, knees almost giving in from the immense pleasure. with his back against the door, he could hear things much better—the skin slapping, the wet noises, the heated gasps, all of it. how lewd but lucifer didn’t care, he had one thing in mind: cumming. he sped up the pace, synching it with your shallow pants and hoping to reach his orgasm the same time as you.

both of you sung in unison, cries of pleasure filling the entire library as you reached your orgasm. your legs tightened around satan’s waist, every muscle in your body turning taut as shocks of hot, white pleasure ran throughout your body, making your toes curl. satan let out one last cry of your name before sheathing his cock deep inside you and letting go—thick ribbons of white shamelessly painting your insides as he came. he rode out both your orgasms by giving you shallow thrusts, fucking his cum deeper, and earning a small whimper from you.

lucifer couldn’t believe himself—he came to the sound of you desperately moaning his younger brother’s name. white, hot liquid dripped coated his digits and down to his wrist; chest heaving up and down, attempting to catch his breath. lucifer stayed that way for a while, leaning against the door to try and compose himself as his head spun with pleasure. his lust-clouded mind soon cleared, pleasure that coursed through his body faded into fury. he was seething with rage—enough for satan to smell the scent of wrath. his brother dared to disrespect his private space, not only that but also by performing such a brazen act.

he knew. lucifer knew this was just to spite him, that was part of satan’s personality—to defy, and vex him. it was fine, he handled everything satan threw his way but using you? oh, that’s a whole different story. lucifer felt like satan has got him wrapped around his finger with how he practically jumped at the opportunity to fist himself to your sounds. it mocked him—putting him in his place, and letting him know that he was never going to experience the pleasure of being inside you because you were satan’s.

satan smirked into the kiss as he caught a whiff of the familiar smell that emanated from the other side of the door—the smell of wrath. the essence that he was more than familiar with; the essence that embodied his very own existence. pulling away from the kiss, his emerald eyes traced your features, giving your sweaty forehead a chaste kiss, “you did so well.” satan breathed, eyes glimmering with adoration. you didn’t miss the hint of mischief behind it, though.

but before you could reply, satan parted his lips to speak once again, a smug look on his handsome face,

“isn’t that right, lucifer?”

[aluciahaz]

Mommy kink x reader fix for luci pls, idc the circumstances, I’m desperate here.

arent we all 😔 here u go!! it was pretty fun writing this, i love METAPHORS!!!!

touch of temptation

—lucifer x gn!reader

—includes : sub!lucifer, dom!reader, mommy kink, edging

lucifer’s been alone for quite some time now. yet, when you came around, you made sure to change that immediately.

of course, due to the absence of affection for years, he’s stuck to you like glue, always perking up when he sees you enter a room and running toward you with his stupid little grin.

albeit, adorable stupid little grin.

his desire for touch was not only apparent during daily life, always hooking his arm around you or poking you in jest, but in the nightlife as well.

lucifer was needy. desperate. his longing for touch was one you indulged in without question much of the time, yet some nights the two of you agreed upon abstaining him from such wants. he was the king of hell after all, of course, he’d be a little freaky.

which is why he was sobbing underneath your maddening touch, his head falling back as he cries in dismay from his inability to finish due to your quick reactions whenever he’d get close, pulling your hand away just in time to elicit a noisy whine from the king.

“l-let—me cum, mommy, please!” he wails as you drive into him, pushing him to the brink of insanity as your hand returns to his cock. he bucks up into your hand wildly, only to have his hips held down with a stern push.

“not yet, baby. stay strong for me,” you coo, yet your soft tone goes against your actions, sharp, fast, and most importantly, ruthless.

he snivels before taking in a deep, shuttering breath, nodding his head weakly at your request.

“o-okay! i’ll tr—AH!” his fingers dig into your skin, grasping onto your back like his life depended on it.

and it only gets rougher when you let go of his cock.

the scream of frustration that ripped from his throat was adorable, considering how it would get interrupted by his choking wails. you can’t help but place a kiss on top of his forehead, soothing him just a bit. he always melts at the slightest act of affection, it’s wonderful.

his legs wrap around your waist as though he‘s a snake trying to constrict its prey. he needed to hold onto you like this, to feel you as much as he could. you were his temptation, and he was willing to lose himself in it.

“pl-please please! mommy, i need—! ngh—f-fuck!” he pleads aimlessly, finding himself lost in his seemingly endless pleasure.

“use your words, baby,” you tell him, knowing fully well as you thrust faster that he would be unable to form a single sentence.

“ha—i, you—so goodwait—AH! c-can’t think-!” the fallen angel seemed to find his place back in heaven, considering how far up his head was in the clouds. but, he’s brought back down to hell as your hand finds its place around his shaft again, making him jolt in shock.

he whines louder and louder, tears never stopping as he takes what you give in full stride, never trying to go against your earlier command.

he was as sweet as an apple and red as one too with a never faltering blush across his face and chest. you couldn’t help but take a bite, his neck being the perfect area for a mark.

the shaky moans that leave him are beautiful, and with how well he was taking all of your love, you just had to give him his reward.

“you’re such a good boy,” you huff out a chuckle as you hear him whine in delight, soaking up the praise needily.

“you can cum for me now, my love,” you coo, drinking in his face of pure gratitude as he hears you.

“c-can i? can i re—ah—! really?” he asks as he cries in joyous disbelief, looking at you with wide, tear-filled eyes.

“yes, baby,” you say gently, and without a second’s hesitation, he shudders and screams in mind-breaking ecstasy, the horns on his head slowly peeking from his head as he finishes.

“th-thank—! thank—! thank y-you—mh—mommy!” he wails, his eyes rolling to the back of his head briefly before slowly looking back up at you with a dazed look.

his legs still tremble around your waist before slipping down to the bed, completely exhausted. you take your time to care for him, cleaning and making sure to cuddle your little touch-starved lover as quickly as you could.

he’s already asleep in your arms in the first few seconds, snoring lightly. you kiss the back of his neck delicately before heading off to rest as well.

and it would be peaceful until morning, where, like every morning, he would whine and clutch onto you to make sure you wouldn’t leave the bed, never able to fulfill his endless hunger for your touch.

tags: @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @drlucichen @mvskedxrtist

[helen-with-an-a]

I need to be perfect

Hi. So I kinda don't like this, but I kinda do at the same time, and I wasn't quite sure how to end it. It was also a really good request so I might use the prompt again in another way. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.

Barca Femeni x Reader ; Alexia Putellas x Reader (Platonic)

Description: R needs to be perfect and doesn't know how to stop.

Word Count: 2.4k

“When I say ‘jump’, you say ‘how high, coach?’ Got it?” The overweight, middle-aged man with an awful comb-over had shouted to you when you were just 9 years old. His methods were basically abuse, but he produced superstars. And that is what you were going to be. A superstar. It didn’t help that you already had perfectionist tendencies, and your parents were pushy – always expecting brilliance. No, not even brilliance. The best, you had to be the best. Perfect. Flawless. Faultless. Textbook. There was no other choice.

It was no surprise that Barca had come knocking when you were barely 16. You had mixed emotions: elation that Barcelona wanted you, happiness that you could leave the cruel atmosphere you lived in, fear that you weren’t as good as they may have thought, and nervousness that you needed the horrendous conditions to thrive.

Again. More. That wasn’t good enough. You’re not trying. You need to be better. Again. Again. Again.

You had seen the media asking how Barcelona could have signed a 16-year-old rising young talent from a lower league club. The world expected you to be great, Barca expected you to be great, and your parents expected you to be great.

But you didn’t feel great. Not at first. You had turned up to pre-season and noticed how far behind you were from your teammates. You hadn’t considered that it was because they were almost double your age and had been at the club or other high-level ones for years. You were struggling slightly to get the drills – Catalan was the preferred language, and you were still barely competent in Spanish. When the season started, you weren’t used as a sub very much, making your debut in November about 85 minutes into the match. You didn’t get your first start of the season until February. You had gone from being the best in the team at your old club to being a mere blip on the team sheet.

You are useless. You can’t even make it as a sub? You are a waste of time and money. All the effort we spent on you.

Your parents weren’t helping the situation. You already had the voice in your head telling you you weren’t good enough, and the constant barrage of texts, voicemails, and phone calls after another match where you weren’t used was starting to get to you.

So, you started to push yourself. After a season of being on the sidelines too much, you knew you needed to start working harder. You didn’t realise that Jonatan had been hoping to use this first year to let you get accustomed to Spain, the style of play and build your fitness. At first, it was nothing major. You stayed late a few days a week to work on drills, set pieces and technical skills. But then it was staying late every day you had training. And then coming in early. And then you began to run to training, leaving your bags in the locker room overnight for you to go and get changed. And then you began to run back from training, too. And then you added extra at-home workouts (nothing too crazy in the beginning; mainly yoga that turned into Pilates, which turned into an additional 2 hours of bodyweight exercises). For some strange reason, you had been allowed to live by yourself. You think that it was because so many of the girls lived nearby. Ingrid and Mapi lived in the same building as you. Lucy lived on the same road as you, as did Keira, Ona and Aitana. Alexia lived less than a ten-minute walk away, and you were within easy driving distance of everyone else. But because you lived alone, no one noticed how much you were putting your body through, even on your days off and mid-season breaks.

But the hard work was paying off. You started the next season well; pre-season had gone fantastically, and your name appeared on the Starting XI for the first match of the season. It stayed there throughout the year. You had also broken into a constant starter for your national team.

Again. Again. Again. Be better. Do better. Worthless. Poor. Again. Again

You couldn’t see a problem with it. You were fast, strong, technical, good, and great. You were going on two years at Barca, thriving, and playing your best football. You were barely 18, yet you had already been nominated for the Ballon d’Or. Everything was brilliant football-wise. You had to keep going. You couldn’t stop.

Do better. Awful. Again. Be better. Shocking. Rubbish. Useless. Horrible. Again

It was your day off after an intense few weeks when the truth came crashing to the ground. The Champions League had started up again, and a series of away games took place in a short space of time. It was hard with long days away from the comfort of your own home, and your daily routine was not helping the situation. Everyone could tell you weren’t ok – but they assumed it was from the travel. Lucy had picked up a cold or something, Keira was tired, Aitana and Pina were a little achy, and Alexia and Frido were more vigilant over the needs of their bodies. Everyone was exhausted. But you had to keep going. You couldn’t stop.

In your constant pressure to improve, you failed to notice Alexia’s troubled stares, Marta’s questioning looks, Patri’s concerned glances, and Irene’s worried gazes. They knew how hard you pushed yourself … almost. They knew you stayed every day after training, and they were a little concerned. But they didn’t know the extent of it. Not in the slightest.

It was El Clasico. Real Madrid vs Barcelona. A historic rivalry. You wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep until May, but that wasn’t an option. Everything was fine. You were on the score sheet, winning and playing great football. And then Athenea slid in for a tackle, catching you on your ankle in precisely the wrong spot. You tried (successfully) not to cry, but you couldn’t help the pained gasp that escaped your mouth. Alexia had been by your side instantly, ushering the medics over and holding you in place with her Captain’s stare.

“It’s your ankle, sí?” Alexia knew it was a matter of time before an injury came for you. If only she had stepped in sooner and helped you from overworking yourself. She helped you to your feet and walked you to the dugout.

“What? No! Ale, I’m fine. See,” You stood on your sore foot to prove your point. It hurt like nothing else you’d experienced, but it was fine; you just needed to walk it off.

“No, you sit the rest of this game out, get re-assessed back home and then we see if you can play.” She said with a note of finality as you huffed, turning around and walking off before you could comment.

Terrible. Awful. Be better. Dreadful. Terrible. Hopeless. Incompetent.

You knew it was silly. Your ankle was not ok, but you needed to train. It had been 2 days since El Clasico, and you were forced not to train yesterday, but it had been a travel day, so there wasn’t much you could do. It would be fine; you had trained on injuries before. You had waited until you knew the team would be out on the pitch as you snuck into the gym. Your ankle was heavily taped, but that was fine. You could put some pressure on it – that was all you needed.

You were determined to get at least a little run in. Just a gentle jog, really, barely above walking. Just a quick 5km. Nothing too crazy. You couldn’t afford to stop training, not after everything you have worked for. With your face in a determined expression and the idiocy of a terrified teenager, you got to work. You started on the bike. The movement was a little painful, but it raised your heart rate and got blood flowing. As you moved across the equipment, the door to the gym flew open.

“Qué crees que estás haciendo?” Alexia roared, making you jump out of your skin. Your first thought was that you hadn’t spent enough time on the bike, that she was angry at you for not working hard enough. For stopping. For taking a breather. “You are injured! Why the fuck are you not resting?” Alexia stormed over to you – she seemed angry. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her eyes were dark and stormy, and her mouth was a hard line. She was angry at you. Why was she telling you to rest? Rest? You couldn’t rest. You had to be better. Keep working harder. Push yourself to be the best.

“I …” You couldn’t answer her, you couldn’t make her angrier. You couldn’t disappoint her. “I’m sorry. I just needed some water. I’m starting again in a minute.” You rushed to get your explanation to her. She needed to know you weren’t stopping. You were just moving to a different exercise. You weren’t slacking.

“Again? What have you done already?” She wasn’t calming down. If anything, you were making her angry. With the lack of sleep, the mental exhaustion, the injury, it was becoming too much for you. Tears clouded your vision, Alexia becoming foggy as you tried to stop the emotions from bubbling up.

“I was just moving from the bike. I’ll start running now. I’m sorry. I’m not stopping, I promise.” You were a mess as you moved to start the treadmill.

Alexia stopped to look at you. Really, look at you. Your tired eyes, your dark circles and your sickly skin. The fatigue was evident in the way you stood; your body seemed too heavy for you to hold up. You also looked terrified. She couldn’t work out why, though. Yes, she was angry. A trainer had come into the medical room wondering who had cleared you for exercise. Alexia knew no one had done so; they had told her after the match that it would be 2 weeks or so before you could rejoin training at any level (after the string of injuries, the medical staff were also over-cautious in their assessments of minor injuries). So, she knew you were doing this against their advice. And that made her mad; it was one thing to push yourself in training despite coaches telling you not to overdo it but another to actively go against medical advice. But looking at you, she knew you hadn't asked for medical clearance. You were just a scared little girl.

“No, Chiquita. No, running.” Alexia was a lot calmer now, seeing your lip wobble and your eyes blink rapidly—clearly holding back tears.

“I have to. I can’t stop. I need to be better.” You whispered, ashamed of your perceived weaknesses.

“Cariño,” she cooed, reaching out to you. You flinched, not used to kind touches. Any touches you had received from coaches or captains were ones that would push you into running more, doing more drills, and practicing more set pieces. “Pequeña. You’re injured. You need to rest, mi amor.”

“I can’t rest. I need to train. I need to be better, do better.”

“No, Chiquita. You don’t. You need rest; you need to get well again.” Alexia stepped forward. She could see the war raging in your head – the desire to stop but the need to keep going. “Cariño?” Her kindness made you break. You launched yourself at her, arms wrapping around her neck as you cried into her. “Oh, amor. You’re ok. Está bien. Todo está bien. Prometo. Usted puede parar.” You sobbed into her shoulder, tears dampening her shirt as you howled. Everything was too much. You hurt, you needed to sleep, you wanted to stop, and yet you couldn’t. The voice in your head told you to keep going. Your parents and old coaches told you you weren’t allowed to stop. It was far, far, far too much for you.

“Neña, deep breaths. In … and out … vamos … in … and out.” Alexia instructed as you were becoming hysterical. She made her breaths exaggerated, slow and obvious, helping you to match hers. “Bien hecho, pequeña,” she pressed gentle kisses to your head as she eventually slowed down. “Y/N, I am not angry at you; no one is. But I need to know why you are in here and not at home resting.” Alexia implored, her hazel eyes looking directly at yours.

“I can’t stop,” you said meekly, slightly ashamed of your outburst.

“No entiendo. You can’t stop what?” She spoke slowly, like you would to a child or a scared animal.

“I can’t stop training. I need to be better. I need to do more,” you said, getting agitated—at her lack of understanding or at yourself. You weren’t quite sure.

“Amor, why do you need to be better?” Alexia was truly at a loss. You were so talented; you didn’t need to be better.

“Because everyone says so. They say so.” You looked so fragile and nervous, eyes darting around the room, your fingers twisting around each other.

“Who is ‘they’?”

“My parents … my old coaches.”

“Chiquita, listen to me. You do not need to be better. You are more than enough. You are so, so talented. You work so hard. But pushing yourself will not be good for you, the team, or anyone else. You need to rest, slow down, and allow your body to heal.”

With Alexia’s kind questioning, she soon got to the bottom of everything. You had told her about the harshness you had experienced from a young age, the disappointment and anger your parents had expressed during your first season at Barcelona, and the voice in your head telling you to keep pushing. She knew you had a way to go, but with gentle reminders and constant check-ins, you learnt how to quieten the voices. Training became easier, your home was no longer a place to get more workouts in, and you finally stopped listening to the devils in your life and started paying attention to the angels.

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. And that was all they could hope for.

I hope you enjoyed it. It was kinda short and I don't know if I really like the ending but yeh.

[bunicate]

⋆⁺₊❅⋆ 𐙚 ₊˚ BOUNDED TO. belphie x fem reader

warnings ꒱ྀི incest. mild dub-con. blowjob. minor hairpulling. jealousy. sis-con belphie. repost / 18+

“luci says you’re not supposed to come in my room anymore.”

you kept your position on the bed. you lay on your slightly exposed belly with your back facing the door. you didn’t see the point in directing your gaze behind you when you were expecting this very moment to happen.

it’s been a few days since your last exchange, and it was only a matter of time before he’d seek you out once more. still, you maintained your weak show of defiance.

belphie chuckles dryly, amused at your attempt.

"well, for one, luci isn’t even here," he sneers.

he recoils at the nickname, annoyed at how sweetly it rolls off your tongue while he spits it out of his. jealousy hangs off the fringes at the mention of his elder brother, and it’s only quelled when he remembers his access to you. it dampens his anger, though only by a bit.

“and why am i not allowed here? did you tell him all the dirty things i did to you?”

you tense up at the words he utters, saturated with taunt, and your face begins to warm.

he watches as you become rigid, knowing that memories from just a mere few nights ago were running around in your head, and he took that as his invitation to keep going.

“did you tell him how i sucked your fat little cunt until you squirted?”

and incoming—you chuck a pillow at him with your demonic strength hoping that it would somehow drive a hole through his head for being so crude.

“shut up! you said you wouldn’t make fun of me for it."

belphie smirks as he catches the pillow with ease and he tucks it under his arm.

regret settles in the pit of your stomach, but more importantly, embarrassment.

you recall that night in such vivid detail. he parted your folds, in awe at the puffy thickness. he sucked at your chubby mound, flicking his tongue against your lips until he delved in deeper, warming your hole with his mouth. he used such sensual descriptors, calling your cunt succulent and sweet until your cream coated not only his tongue but the entire lower half of his face.

you feel ashamed that even recalling the event begins to arouse you. your thighs squish together without your permission, and you hope it snuffs out the remaining desire.

"it's nothing to be embarrassed about. it was sexy—cute even.”

belphie teases, and you audibly groan.

he was different from beel in many ways, and you questioned how he could be the twin of such a sweet and friendly glutton until you realized the extent of belphie's insatiability.

he would never admit it, but he inexplicably craved you. his utter desire to pull you apart and put you back together for his own pleasure. he wanted you all to himself, which struck you as odd.

he’s mean; he teases you, pulls your hair, calls you names, and then, when you’re on precipice of exploding, suddenly you’re his ‘darling little sister.’ he'd whisper praise against your lips, making you forget why you were mad in the first place. he’s mastered riling you up and talking you back down, but it was exhausting—he's exhausting.

you settle on ignoring him, preferring to kick your feet back and forth on the bed while you busied yourself with whatever had your attention.

he lowers his head to peek underneath your oversized shirt and perversely looks between your bare thighs before locking the door behind him.

he walks towards your relaxed frame, remaining a good distance away but close enough to peer over and glance at what had you so occupied.

“are you mad at me?” he questions, tossing the pillow to the side.

“when am i not?”

you shrug off his pathetic attempt to ease your anger, as you are used to his patterns by now. you hum the measly tune playing and tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, refusing to look at him. “what do you want, belphie?”

“who says i want anything? can’t a big brother hang out with his little sister?”

you scoff.

“nice try, but we don't 'hang out' and no, co-napping doesn't count.” you lock your phone and put it on the nightstand.

“just tell me what you want.”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek.

“is that any way to talk to your big brother?”

he reels back some of his attitude hoping it comes across as playful. he didn’t want you to be too upset because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to calm you back down. thankfully, you didn’t seem angry—just bothered, and somehow belphie hated that more.

“you’re only older than me by like a month and that’s not anything to brag about.”

he sucked his teeth. always eager to remind him that, while he was older, it was just barely –as if he cared.

“doesn’t matter. i’m still your big brother.”

there’s a brief moment of silence before you sigh. “whatever you say.”

you're appeasing him; it's like you didn’t actually believe it yourself. his annoyance spiked, and you enjoyed it. it was nice to give him a taste of his own medicine for a change, and see him so worked up , especially over something so trivial.

“look at me when i’m talking to you.”

you choose to play coy and ignore his demand until you're suddenly startled.

the bed abruptly dips as he settles on top of you.

you finally turn around to protest, but he barely gives you a chance. your bewildered eyes meets his firm gaze. his mouth connects to the spot just under your ear, his breath fans your skin, and a shock travels down your spine, resting in your lower back.

his hands weaves around you and digs into the sheets, trapping you against the bed.

“don’t be like that.” his voice is much lower and more inviting, but still authoritative.

he takes his other hand to lift up your shirt to your surprise. he admires the cute and skimpy pajamas and how the shape of your slit was visible as you futilely kicked at him.

embarrassed, you reach to pull your shirt down.

“b-belphie! stop !” you shriek.

he snickers at your expression. his lean and languid body drapes over you as he burrows into you. his nose and lips caress your skin, inciting goosebumps. it prods you lightly, making you shift from being abashed to giggly.

you can’t stop the laugh from bubbling up inside; you bite your lips to muffle them, but when he licks at your neck, you can no longer hide it.

“that tickles,”

“yeah?”

the skin around your eyes wrinkle and your body twitches from his teasing.

“if that’s the case . . .”

he moves too quickly for you to process. his knees settle on either side of your hips, his chest to your back, while his hands pin your wrists down. you’re so used to seeing belphie so idle that his agility catches you by surprise.

his mouth latches on the back of your neck and begins to plant spit-covered hickeys on your skin.

“n’more marks . . .” you whine, but he doesn’t listen. he hoped lucifer would see them.

if there was one thing he hated more than lucifer, it was the relationship you had with him.

you were different around each other. the lucifer he knows is cold and calculating, except when he speaks to you. It’s gentle, reassuring, and sickeningly tender—it's disgusting. he babies you, and you lapped up his affection like a puppy.

belphie supposes he shouldn’t be surprised. you’re the youngest and the only girl—the only sister—and you’re lucifer’s favorite. you're docile and soft-spoken around him and lucifer treated you like you were as fragile as a quaint flowers. he’s always careful— worried that if he were too rough, he’d pluck you from the ground and you’d wilt.

you were a demon; you could withstand much more, but the avatar of pride didn't care.

he didn't care that you were spoiled, bratty, and foul-mouthed, and maybe lucifer was blind to it. he couldn’t realize that about his precious sister when he was too busy fucking her.

dinners were especially tortuous. he wonders if you can feel him staring daggers at you when you obediently take your seat next to lucifer and proceed to give him all of your attention.

he hates how you play with your hair and cross and uncross your legs, like you’re nervous. what could you possibly be talking about with him that turns you into a fidgeting mess?

why should he even care? he doesn't care; actually, it didn't matter. you can pretend all you want; he knows what type of girl you are and the naughty things you likes

belphie's teeth scrape and lightly prick your skin to prove a point —it’s not deep enough to bleed but just enough to bruise and hear your mewl. he’s so close that his lashes gently feather your cheek. the smell of your hair and faint perfume lingering cause belphie to become feverish. it annoyed him to see how his body reacted to yours.

his cock pulsates against his pants, and he presses into your behind. you’re soft and pretty and sweet enough to taint.

“I need you to do something for me, baby sis.”

he struggles to ask. he didn't want what you believed to be about him to be true. he's only around you when he needs something, but he swears you are a drug. he can’t help the tent in his pants and how aroused he gets when you’re angry and pissed off at him.

you twist your neck as much as he’d allow to look at the demon behind you.

“w-what?” you stutter, too focused on the way his hips grind against your ass.

your shirt rides up, but this time from his movement. you can feel his eyes burning on the skin of your butt, and you couldn’t pull the fabric back down to hide.

"you know what i want.”

belphie leaves a trail of kisses on your body. tugging down your collar, he nibbles on your shoulder.

“I need your pretty little mouth,” he whispers right by the shell of your ear. his nose digs into you, tracing vertical lines while he inhales your scent. “i want to feel it around my cock.”

you tutted.

"we can’t anymore. we’ll get in trouble.” you wiggle against him, attempting to shut your legs to ease the throb in your lower region.

“we won’t.” he promises. “I just need to cum in my little sister’s throat.” he eyes the length of your neck, eyes hazy like he was imagining it. “i need to fuck it.”

you blush profusely at the demand. “nuh-uh” was your defiant reply.

in response, belphie unpins one of your wrists and instead tangles his fingers in your hair to pull it. your head is thrown back from the force, and you cry out. “hurts..”

yeah, of course it does. he wonders how angry lucifer would be if he saw how he roughhoused you.

your plump lips are slightly parted, and your eyes are glossy. he looks between the two of them.

with an open mouth, his lips find yours to press a sloppy wet kiss. he couldn’t resist you, and he wouldn’t even try to.

“we won’t get in trouble as long as you don’t tell anyone, okay?”

he knew someone would notice the number he did on your nape, but you didn’t need to fret about that, at least not now. he loosens his grip on your strands while his hips still move at a slow pace, cock-humping your backside for his gratification and to encourage you.

“b-but—”

“but nothing. you’re going to suck me off because i’m your big brother and you love me, right?" the exalting feelings you possess for him can’t be questioned, but you remain hesitant. you know it’s wrong, and yet you nod anyway.

“ i love you so much, belphie.”

he smiles at your obedience. you’re always more likely to listen when your cunt is weeping for him. he didn’t have to see it to know that you’re soaked.

“good.” he pats the side of your cheek.

you study him with glossy and affectionate eyes. your lips are pursed and trembling like you want another kiss. he’s learned how to read your silent pleas, and so he grants you another peck.

“love you.” you say it again, but with the innocence that belphie craves. you hope he melts at the sound of your voice, but he doesn’t. he crumbles.

“love you too. i love you so fucking much, you have no idea,” he mumbles it against your soft lips, his orbs staring deep into yours with such desire and fondness. he kisses you once more and then twice, rubbing your chin softly.

“my perfect little sister isn’t that right? you're going to do what your big brother says.”

and his mouth is hot against yours. his tongue, used to such venom, felt sweet for a change and it makes you wet.

your back arches as he continues to kiss you. his tongue caresses the roof of your mouth; it's messy and audible, and you croon at the sensation. you felt sensitive; even your nipples brushing against the cotton of your shirt were enough to draw out tiny squeaks.

“big brother...” you mewl it against his mouth, and belphie fucking groans.

“f-fuck.” he’s zipping down his pants.

“i'm so fucked up. you have no idea how fucking hard that makes me.”

he spanks you on your ass and removes his body from on top of you. he lays on his back, crossing his arms behind his head to rest on your pillows.

he’s relieved when your dainty hands pull down his pants and his cock springs free. slender and long, tilting slightly with thin veins on the sides, a rosy pink tip coated in a thin layer of pearlescent white.

your mouth puckers and sucks on his leaky slit for a few seconds before you bury him in your throat. the friction is familiar, and the burn forces you to produce more spit. your drooling mouth deepthroats him, suctioning around his shaft with your tongue flicking on any vein it comes across.

you keep going even as his cock kisses the back of your throat. when he hears you gag, his hand rests on your head to keep you still.

“I want to feel you choke, baby. cmon suck it.”

bucking into the vice that was your mouth, your hair fans out around his thighs. belphie thinks to tug on it when he wants to fuck your face even harder.

“gonna empty my cum in my little sister’s throat,” he groans gutturally just as soon as your lips touch his coarse hairs. your tears threaten to spill.

he calls out to you, continuing to hump your warm mouth.

“call me big brother again.”

you look up at him with that precious, messy cock-sucking face as you swallow around him.

you try to straighten your back , attempting to remove his length from the slick opening of your throat, but the firm hand on your head keeps you still.

“say it.”

you feel a wave of anxiety. you try to keep the drooling from overwhelming you, but it doesn’t stop. you swallowed around him reactively, aware of how much he was stuffing and stretching your mouth. you’re careful to prevent yourself from choking as you struggle to speak, but you gag a few more times.

“b-bwig b-bwother.”

filthy ribbons of spit and cum drip for your mouth ruining your clothes and sticking to your chest.

your tiny mouth struggles to take him. it’s far from perfect, it’s sloppy and messy, but belphie thinks you never looked more beautiful.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Not So Grumpy

Requested Here!

Edit: Read Part 2 Here >

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!pregnant!reader

Summary: Tim is grumpier than usual, and when you decide to visit him at the station, the rookies get an idea of why.

Warnings: pregnant reader. fluff!

Word Count: 1.8k+ words

A/N: Softie Tim? Softie (and clingy) Tim. This takes place sometime during seasons 1-2.

“Don’t start,” Tim says, sitting beside Angela.

“Whoa, okay,” she replies with a laugh. “Glad to see you’re in such a good mood.”

“That sounds like starting.”

Angela puts her hands up, smiling as she turns away from Tim. “Chen, good luck.”

Tim rolls his eyes, wishing his mornings could go differently. It’s been several weeks of his persistent bad mood, and everyone who has to deal with him is curious about what’s causing it.

“Bradford, can I- could I maybe get you something?” Lucy offers softly.

“No.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You wake up curled against Tim’s side, his arm extended over your waist. His alarm is going off, and he’s smacking the nightstand beside him in a poor attempt to turn it off.

“You have to go to work,” you remind him, kissing his cheek as you move farther up in the bed.

“I’m good,” he replies, sighing as he finds his phone and turns the sound off. “Right here.”

He rolls closer to you, his hand sweeping over your stomach as he looks into your eyes. Tim can be persuasive, but you’ve gotten used to this routine over the last few weeks.

“I’d love for you to stay, I really would, but I don’t think your boss would appreciate it,” you say.

Tim groans, pressing his face against your neck as his arm tightens around you.

“You got clingy,” you tease, running your fingers through his hair and gently scratching his scalp.

“And you won’t let me stay,” Tim mumbles.

“It’s not my fault you wanted to be a cop.”

“You would-“ Tim pauses, sitting up so you can hear him. “You would deprive me of staying at your side during a time like this?”

Chuckling at his dramatics, you push your hand against Tim’s shoulder in a pointless attempt to move him away from you.

“Tim, baby, you see me all the time.”

“Not enough. I’m going to come home one day, and there will be a toddler running around, but I won’t remember any of this.”

You close your eyes and lean back against your pillow. “You have to go to work today so you can come to the doctor with me on Friday, right? Just think about that.”

“I can’t. I can only think of you.”

“You start a family and suddenly you’re the most romantic, clingy guy in the world. Where’d the grump go?”

Tim doesn’t reply as he tries to pull you closer. Rolling away from him, you leave him no choice but to get up and go to work. His disappointed sigh makes you frown; you know he’s being dramatic to cover up how he feels.

“Tim,” you call, sitting up as he walks to you. “I’m sorry. I love you, and I really do want you here as much as possible.”

“I know. It’s just harder than I thought it would be.”

You nod, tilting your chin up in a silent request for a kiss. Tim smiles, shaking his head as he bends to meet you. You pull back before he risks getting distracted.

“The grump is back now,” Tim mumbles.

“Hey! Be nice today,” you call after him.

Tim doesn’t reply, and you know he’ll deny ever hearing you say such a thing.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim slams the door as he exits the shop. Standing with his hands on his hips, he looks at the flat tire before glancing at Lucy.

“I didn’t see it,” she begins, her voice rushed and apologetic.

“Because you weren’t paying attention,” Tim snaps.

“But I-“

“How do you expect to graduate to short sleeves if you can’t even drive, boot?”

“It wasn’t my fault; there was something in the road!”

“Call dispatch,” Tim demands.

“What’s the protocol for this?”

Tim remains silent, leaning against the side of the shop as Lucy racks her brain for the proper procedure. As she radios dispatch and explains the situation, Tim grows grumpier. He’s stranded in a subdivision of Los Angeles with a flat tire that could have been avoided instead of home with you. His conviction about being a cop wanes each moment he’s away from you.

✯✯✯✯✯

Even without seeing the worst of it, you can tell Tim’s attitude has changed lately. His fellow officers and the rookies have been dealing with the grumpiest version of Tim they’ve ever experienced, but you see the clingy, emotional, loving side of whatever is making him act so differently.

After doing a few small chores, which Tim will tell you not to do again, you get ready and decide to pay him a visit at the station. You want to see how he is doing.. mostly, you miss him and want an excuse to see him and hug him.

As you get in your car, you consider calling Tim to ensure he’s at the station and has time for a visitor. He has been protective of you since you met, but it has changed and increased since getting married and throughout the early months of your pregnancy. You shrug, putting your phone away after electing to surprise him instead. 

✯✯✯✯✯

“It would be great if one of you could remember that you’re a police officer!” Tim yells, looking between Nolan, Lucy, and Jackson. “Now you’ve got nothing to say? No excuses? Well maybe you should review those rook books before going out on patrol again.”

He turns quickly, prepared to storm away and find a private place to calm down. When he freezes, the rookies look at one another in confusion. Nolan prepares to speak, and Lucy shakes her head to stop him, unwilling to get yelled at again so soon.

“What are you doing here?” Tim asks.

You step into the bullpen with a smile as Tim rushes to your side.

“Missed you,” you whisper.

“Is that- is she-“ Nolan stutters.

“Pregnant? Yeah. And Tim is… smiling?” Jackson adds.

Lucy gasps, moving in front of Nolan to see better. It’s true: Tim is standing as close as he can, with one hand laid protectively over your stomach while he smiles down at you. His grumpiness, which has made being a rookie nearly unbearable recently, is completely gone, vanished at the sight of you.

“You shouldn’t be up walking around,” Tim frets.

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you I cleaned the kitchen, huh?” you reply.

Tim shakes his head, his thumb brushing over the swell of your baby bump as he leans forward to kiss your forehead.

“Are you feeling okay?” Tim asks softly.

You smile, moving your chin to gesture to your left. Tim’s brows pinch as he turns, glaring at the rookies until they look away, turning to one another in a fake conversation.

“I’m not going to survive this afternoon,” Tim tells you.

“You’ve been grumpy and mean,” you accuse.

“Look, they’re going to annoy me all afternoon. Stay with me? You can do a ride along. Oh! Or you could go into labor so I can stay home with you for a few days.”

“As great as that sounds, I’m going to pass. I’d like to have a healthy baby when the time is right, not on your schedule, grumpy.”

Tim frowns, his hands on either side of your bump.

“But, I promise to be waiting for you the moment you get home,” you add. “And, maybe, if you just tell them the truth, it won’t be so bad.”

“You’ve never dealt with a boot. Or Angela Lopez.”

“Just because you won’t introduce me.”

“For good reason.”

You smile, raising your chin again before Tim kisses you quickly.

“Be careful going home. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Tim watches you leave, waiting until you’re out of sight to turn back toward the rookies. He jerks back slightly when he sees Lucy standing right beside him.

“She’s so cute! You’re so cute together! Why haven’t you mentioned her, Tim?” Lucy gushes. “And where do you hide that guy that was with her? I’ve never met that Tim.”

“And you won’t,” he promises.

“I think he leaves that side of Tim with her,” Nolan adds.

Tim’s jaw clenches. It’s true, he knows, but he doesn’t want details of his personal life to become an accepted topic for the rookies. He raises his hand, and they silence.

“Just- leave it alone for now, and I will introduce you the next time she visits,” he offers. 

As he says it, he makes a mental note to ask you not to visit without warning so he doesn’t have to follow through. The lie is the only way to have peace while in the vicinity of the rookies.

“I can’t believe you’re going to be a dad,” Jackson muses.

“You’re having a kid?” Angela yells, running down the stairs and grabbing Tim’s arm.

Tim grumbles something unintelligible under his breath before saying, “Yes.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Don’t know yet.”

“If it’s a girl, Angela is a great name.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ve got a long list of names that are an absolute no-go,” Tim replies, looking between the rookies and Angela.

“How did you figure this out?” Angela asks Lucy.

“She – who is she?” Lucy begins before realizing that she never heard who you are to Tim.

“My wife,” Tim mutters.

“You’re married?!” Angela and Nolan ask together.

Angela slaps Tim's shoulder, frowning when he looks at her with his eyebrows raised.

“I thought we were friends.”

“What gave you that impression?”

Angela gasps, covering her heart with her hand.

“Uh, Tim?” you ask, standing behind him.

He turns toward you quickly, and Angela’s eyes widen as she looks at you.

“Yeah?” he asks kindly, yet another surprise.

“Can you come with me for a second?” You notice the small crowd behind him, officers who seem more interested in you than anything else. “Hi,” you say, waving at them.

“It is so nice to meet you,” Angela begins, stepping toward you before Tim blocks her way with his arm.

“We’ll do introductions later,” Tim says, putting his arm around you and leading you away.

“I’m holding you to that!” Lucy yells.

Tim leads you into an empty interview room, his eyes searching yours. You take his hand, laying it on your stomach. Something happened when you heard his voice earlier, and you want to share it.

“Say something,” you request. “Anything.”

“I love you,” Tim answers.

His eyes widen as he feels the movement of a kick against his hand. He squats before you, moving his hand under your shirt.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” he asks.

You feel another kick, laughing at how your baby already has Tim wrapped around its finger. 

“You promised to make introductions,” you say, interrupting Tim’s conversation with your stomach.

Tim stands, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you. Breathless, you push against his chest as you break away.

“You were right,” you admit. “It would be nice to have you home more.”

“We did it,” Tim whispers, his eyes dropping to your bump.

“I feel like I’m interrupting something,” you mumble.

Tim chuckles, rubbing your back as he leads you to the door.

“Introductions, and then we’re going home,” Tim explains. “Names and nothing more.”

“I would expect no less, Officer Bradford.”

[uniquedinosaurdreamland]

Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader

-Annoying-

yay (kind of hate the ending but lol)

Ingrid Engen & Mapi León x Reader -Annoying- 🩷

🌸

“Who pissed in your coffee this morning sunshine?” Lucy smirked as she caught sight of you walking into the change room with a scowl covering your face. “Where are the other two, thought you guys were attached at the hip.” Lucy continued to tease.

“I can’t deal with Mapi right now, so I am going to stay far away from her otherwise I will kill her.” You said to your national teammate trying to control your emotions and stay calm. The morning started like any other waking up between your two girlfriends, engulfed in warmth until you all had to get up and get ready for training.

You don’t know why but Mapi had woken up in an extra annoying mood and her sole purpose was to make you want to pull your hair out. She knew how much you hated to be poked and tickled so all she had been doing those exact things, in the bathroom, when you were making coffee, when you just passed each other in your morning routines and even when you were walking down the stairs causing you to almost slip as well as lose your shit. Mapi had also turned to making fun of your height, you were only a few centimetres shorter then the older women but that was enough for her.

You had grown up with three older brothers who took pride in how ticklish you were and who sit on you and poke and prod until you couldn’t breathe. They had traumatised you so much that you hated anyone even making the movement of poking or tickling as it made you squirm. Yet Mapi didn’t care, loving your pouting face when she did it.

She had riled you up so much you had decided to drive yourself to training instead of getting driven by Ingrid. “You're an idiot.” Ingrid directed to Mapi, shaking her head as she watched you pull out of the driveway.

“Come on, it was just a joke, Corazón.” Mapi said, trying to defend herself.

“You know how much Y/N hates you poking and tickling her, and yet you continued.” Ingrid replied, grabbing her keys from the counter to take the other car to training since you had taken the main one.

“She’ll get over it.”

You in fact did not ‘get over it’ instead you worked hard to ignore your Spanish girlfriend through the entire training session, moving away when she stood too close, ignoring her calls from across the field, deciding to only speak to the older woman when you were placed on the same team for a game at the end of training.

Ingrid watched from the sidelines with Frido and Keira sat on either side of her, she laughed lightly as you scored a goal moving to high five your team members except for Mapi who had her hand up for you only to get brushed. “What's up with your girls?” Frido asked.

“Mapi was annoying Y/N and now Y/N won’t speak to Mapi so I’m just leaving them to sort it out, like always.” The three watched as Mapi ran by you pushing out a finger to hit your side, you scowled, hitting her hand away while Mapi smirked back winking.

“At the World Cup Ella and Alessia tried to tickle Y/N, she almost killed them. Lucy can vouch for me, she was the one having to hold little miss sunshine back from strangling them.” Keira said remembering the time you had been napping on one of the couches at national camp and Ella and Alessia had woken you up by tickling you under your arms and around your neck.

“Mapi needs to learn when to stop and she will learn her lesson once she takes it too far. Y/N did grow up with three older brothers.” Ingrid said shrugging her shoulder, she’d seen enough of Mapi teasing you and she knew you always got the last laugh.

Not even a minute later Mapi had snuck up on you and proceeded to tickle you, you let out a scream as you tried to get out of her tight grasp. You had finally been pushed over the edge and once you finally got out of her grip you turned around using all your force to tackle your Spanish girlfriend to the ground. Mapi wasn’t a typically ticklish person but you knew of the one spot on her neck that was very ticklish.

So with Mapi’s arms pinned under your knees your hands made their way to that spot that made the defender laugh and squirm underneath you. Mapi begged you to stop, being too weak from being tickled to throw you off. After a few moments she finally mustered the strength to get her arms from under your knees to grab your waist and flip you over onto your back.

“Calm down mi amor.” Mapi laughed as she now had your hands pinned down.

“I hate you.” You said through gritted teeth.

“I am sorry I have been annoying you. I will stop now if you calm down.” Mapi said looking down at you with her signature smirk plastered on her face.

“I hope you know I will get you back.” You stared back up at her as she got off you offering you her hand to be pulled up.

“I’m sure you will Cariño.” The slightly taller woman said, pressing a soft kiss to your hairline, smirking as she noticed you trying to hide your smile at the action. The whistle had been blown to end the game without you two realising so you both started to walk to your other girlfriend who stood talking with Frido and Keira waiting for you both.

Mapi stopped to talk as you grabbed a water bottle to drink from, before you made your way to the locker room you had one last plan. Turning to Mapi once again who had her back faced to you, you put your foot up and pushed it into the back of her knee successfully giving her a dead leg. You laughed loudly as her knee crumbled, with the mix of the dead leg and the hard training session her leg wasn’t working.

You weren’t sticking around to deal with Mapi’s annoyance, ignoring her colourful language and laughing as Ingrid hit her on the back of the head running to fall into step with Lucy. You were quick to move to the shower once you got back to the locker room. You had finished getting dressed in your (Ingrid’s) hoodie and some shorts.

“You are annoying.” Mapi said as the three of you said your goodbyes and moved to the parking lot to head home.

“I know.” You smiled back. “But I’ll go get some stuff for dinner on the way home, so you can’t stay mad at me.” You said as you walked to the car you had taken while Ingrid and Mapi walked to the other one.

Starting the car and pulling out, sending light smiles to the fans that were hanging around the entrance. Your shopping trip was quick, grabbing the last few things to make your mum's famous soup recipe before making your way back home. Quickly grabbing your training bag and shopping bags from the boot you unlocked your front door and headed into the kitchen.

Blowing a kiss to Ingrid who sat on the couch reading a book, not knowing where your other lover was but just figured she was in your shared room somewhere. Not having to start dinner for another two hours you put all the groceries away before moving to the couch flopping down so your head was sat on Ingrid's lap.

“Hei Kjære.”(Hello Darling) Ingrid smiling down at you moving to press a soft kiss to your lips, you smiled against hers as she pulled away to continue her book. You smiled as Bagheera jumped up onto your lap, your fingers threaded themselves though his fur getting a satisfied purr from the cat.

You were too focused on Bagheera to notice Mapi finally made her way from the bedroom to the lounge. The older woman smiled at the scene in front of her before moving to take Bagheera away. “Hey, give me my precious boy back.” You whined as Mapi moved the now sleeping cat to his bed.

“No cause you need to hug tu novia.”(your girlfriend) Mapi smiled, moving to lay down.

“You're annoying though.” You looked up at her teasingly.

“Lástima.”(Too bad) Mapi said before running full speed ahead to launch herself on top of you. Immediately burying her head into your neck, your hands made their way up her hoodie to scratch her back lightly.

“Why can’t you get along like this all the time.” Ingrid said, looking down at the two of you.

“Because my love, Maria is like a child she needs attention all the time and she thinks in order to get the attention she wants she has to poke and tickle.” You smiled up at your Norwegian lover, Mapi didn’t seem to like your comment as she grabbed onto your sides and dug into them with her fingers.

You immediately tried to get her off and you did which meant that Mapi was now on the ground. “I take it back.” Ingrid mutters under her breath as she once again watches the two of you get into a play fight. Which ends up with you over Mapi’s shoulder as she pokes you in the stomach over and over.

“STOP PLEASE STOP.” You yelled.

“Say I am the best most amazing person ever.” Mapi said, stopping her movements for a moment.

“No.” You squealed again as Mapi started to poke you again, not letting you move down from over her shoulder as you banged on her back. “Fine, you are the best most amazing person ever. Happy.” And with that you were placed back on your feet.

“Very.” Mapi looked down at you, as you moved to get out of her grip and return to your position on the sofa she pulled you in and connected your lips. Mapi moved to deepen the kiss, your legs feeling weak as she squeezed your hips, but before she would get carried away you pushed her away gently.

“I have to get dinner ready.” You said simply pecking her lips one more time before moving to the kitchen, Mapi happily making her way over to Ingrid to cuddle into her side.

You spent the rest of the night eating and watching a new movie that Ingrid had picked out, you were first to call quits and head to bed finishing your night routine before hopping into bed while your lovers finished the movie. An hour later the movie finished and Ingrid and Mapi headed up to bed, catching sight of you snuggled into the sheets made their hearts flutter.

Ingrid climbed into her side on the left after she was finished, closely followed by Mapi who took her side on the right on either side of you. Ingrid and Mapi’s hands intertwined over your waist as Ingrid snuggled into your neck and Mapi pulled your head gently to rest on her chest, the three of you now in a deep sleep tired from the fun but annoying day you had.

[alotofpockets]

I bet your mother would be proud | Lucy Bronze

Pairing: Lucy Bronze x Mead!Reader & Beth Mead x Sister!Reader

Summary: After your mom passed away, you're struggling a lot. You had moved to Barcalona to be closer to Lucy, but Lionesses camp brings you back to the UK and your sister.

Warnings: reader struggles with depression after losing her mom. Acl's didn't happen.

Masterlist | Woso masterlist | Words: 1.7k

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“Are you ready to go, baby?” Lucy says after knocking on your bedroom door softly. Both your suitcases were packed, and Keira was on her way to pick you up. You all had a call up for the Lionesses, and were heading to the airport to make the trip over from Barcelona. Lucy sat down besides you, and put a hand down on your knee, when she realised that you were so zoned out that you hadn’t heard her. You jump at the sudden touch, “Oh sorry, what did you say?”

Lucy knew that there was a lot of emotion behind going back to England, it was the first time since your mother, June, had passed away. It had been hard for you to be around everything that reminded you of your mom, so when your contract with West Ham came to an end you grasped the opportunity to transfer to Barcelona, where your girlfriend was already playing. You had been struggling with the loss of your mom a lot, though you managed to separate those struggles and football, earning yourself a call-up.

“Keira is here, are you ready to go?” You nod and let her guide you out of the house. She made sure you were settled before her and Keira went to grab your luggage. “How is she doing?” Keira asks when once she’s sure you can’t hear them anymore. “I don’t think she got any sleep last night.” Lucy answers with a sombre look. “I hope she’ll be able to get some rest on the plane.”

On the drive to the airport you were quiet, a stark opposite to the thoughts in your head. It had been a little over six months since you had moved to Spain, and a few months longer since you had lost your mother. Going back to England wasn't what you were most worried about though, it was seeing your sister you were currently most in your head about. The two of you had always been close growing up, falling in love with the same sport, and pursuing a career in it only brought you closer. When things got hard, you had decided to move away, instead of going through it with your sister by your side. Sure, you had texted and called, but you felt bad for leaving her deal with the immense loss on her own.

Lucy brought you out of your haze by gently putting her hand on your thigh, “Come on love, we're here.” Her voice was soft. One of the things you loved about Lucy is that she could read you like a book, she knew what you needed without you having to ask for it. Once you boarded the plane, you realised just how tired you were. Lucy and Keira’s voices faded to the background, as you fell asleep on your girlfriend’s shoulder.

You woke up just before you were landing, and were glad that you had been able to catch up on some much needed sleep. Once you departed the plane, and got your luggage, a car was waiting for you to drive you to St. George’s Park.

When you arrived, both Lucy and Keira got in between you and the camera crew documenting the Lionesses' arrivals. They did it very subtly, pretending like it wasn’t something they planned on the plane to give you a bit of privacy. You put a smile on your face nonetheless, not wanting the world to see your struggles. Once removed from the first camera crew inside, you were met with another who was documenting the Lionesses reuniting after the international break.

You hugged a few of your teammates, before you saw Beth arrive. Your chest tightened, you wanted to run up to her, and hug her, but your feet felt like they were nailed to the ground. Beth looked around the room, and dropped her bag once she saw you. She made her way over to you, without greeting any of your teammates. You watched her move closer, until eventually her arms were around you, and you started sobbing into her arms. Beth was well aware of the cameras around you, and guided you out of the room, with tears in her own eyes as well.

Beth found an empty room, and closed the door behind you. “Come here.” She embraced you once again, not letting go until you did. “You don’t hate me?” You weren’t sure if you meant to ask the question out loud, but Beth shook her head. “Of course not, I would never hate you. Why do you think I would hate you?” You wipe away the tears still staining your cheeks, “Because I left when things got hard.” Your sister takes your hand and moves you over to the couch in the corner. “That’s okay, I understand why you needed to go.” You scan her face for any sign of her not being truthful, but find nothing but understanding. “I know how much I needed Viv by my side. I know it wasn’t the only reason you needed to leave, but you needed Lucy by your side, and I get that.”

You talked with Beth for a bit longer, until you were ready to head back to the rest of the team. Lucy sees you walk in with a smile on your face, it was a small one, but it had been one of the few real ones she had seen in a while now. She walks over and greets Beth with a hug, and puts her arm around you after.

Over the weeks of camp, you felt yourself starting to become more yourself again. You were back playing with your girls, and it was visible as a real smile was found on your face again more often than not. The thing that you had been dreading, was actually helping to pull you out of your depressive state.

Not only did your smile return, but you also started joking around a bit again. The team had always insisted that your humour was genetic, since both you and Beth loved to joke around so much.

“Ready baby?” Lucy said behind you in the tunnel before you were lining up to walk the field of your first match back with the Lionesses. You leaned your back into her, and let her arms wrap around you. “Yes, I think I am. Are you?” Lucy quickly placed a kiss onto your shoulder, “Good, I’m ready too.” You walk out onto the field, and immediately look out into the crowd, you always looked for your family before starting. Lucy didn’t have any game rituals herself, so she always helped to achieve yours. She was the first one to spot them, and pointed them out to you. After looking in the direction she was pointing at, you found your dad sitting with Lucy’s parents. Seeing them sitting together brought a smile to your face, you waved to them quickly before the national anthems started.

You were playing Australia at home, and so far the possession had been pretty much equal. You both had a couple shots on target, but none had found the back of the net so far.

A bad pass from Clare Wheeler to Katrina Gorry, was your chance to intercept the ball when the Australians least expected it. With the ball at your feet you start running forward, passing Australian players left and right. You looked up to see who was making the run with you and saw Alessia in the middle surrounded by defenders and Beth making the run to the far post. Since most of the defence line had followed Alessia, who started the run first, Beth only had one defender behind her.

You kept your eyes on your sister as you kicked the ball her way, and kept running in case a rebound shot was needed, but Beth volleyed the ball right past the goalkeeper. She runs your way, and jumps into your arms. Tears start filling your eyes, when you spin her around. Once you've put her down, you both turn to the crowd and send a kiss to the sky, dedicating your goal to your mother.

The rest of the team came rushing your way, celebrating the goal with you. During the group hug, you were trying to make your way to Lucy. Finally, when the group started separating again you found your way to her. She placed her hands on your cheeks, and kissed your forehead, before hugging you tight.

The match continued, and you were able to keep your 1-0 lead until the final whistle blew. After celebrating with your teammates, you and Beth get taken aside for an interview. “How are you feeling about the win?” The interviewer asks. “It was a special one.” Beth says, nudging you lightly. “I think overall we had a good performance, but in our next matches we need to work on finishing the opportunities that we are creating.” The interviewer brings the microphone back to himself, “Talking about it being a special one, the link up between you two was amazing, I bet your mother would be proud to see you out on the pitch together again.” Your eyes well with tears again, “Thank you, I think she would be too. She was always one of our biggest supporters, and I don't know about Beth, but I'm definitely playing for her.” Beth nods, and pulls you into her side. “Yeah, mum would be proud.”

Back at the training grounds, you're laying with your head in Lucy's lap in your shared room. “Hey Luce.” She runs her fingers through your hair, “Hi.” You let your eyes meet hers. “Thank you for everything you did for me these past months. I know I might not have shown it, but I appreciate you so much.” Lucy looks at you with nothing but love and adoration, “Of course baby, you don’t have to thank me for that.” You smile up at her, “I love you.” She returns the smile, “I love you too.”

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y/n_y/l/n: for mum 🕊️

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[repulsiveliquidation]

Hope, Coffee, and Poetry.

cw : smut, angst, mentions of cheating. 18+ DNI.

a/n I hope this lives up to your expectations. I cried when I wrote the last line, I have no idea why. Enjoy. realized I forgot to include the Frida Kahlo quote I used!

“You deserve a lover who takes away the lies and brings you hope, coffee, and poetry.”

Hope.

“Bebita, please!”

“Don’t want to hear it, Alexia,” you tell her, storming out of the restaurant with her trailing behind.

“Baby, wait!”

You turn around quickly, anger seething behind your eyes. She cowers a little, taking a step back from you just as you both stepped out of the restaurant.

“Don’t you dare try to justify what you’ve been doing behind my back, Alexia. I’ve been so stupid to think that you wouldn’t break my heart like that when you promised me you wouldn’t ever do that. You know the pain and turmoil my father did to my mother and you SWORE to me you would never cheat on me and you fucking did!”

“Amor, I’m sorry. I tried to tell you but-”

“But what, Alexia? ‘Oh sorry I couldn’t join you for dinner babe, I’ve got my mistress to fuck at 8 pm tonight, and I can’t reschedule?!’”

You step up to her, most of the girls now joining you two outside. María, Ingrid, Lucy, and Frido look extremely upset with Alexia while Ona, Jana, Pina, and Aitana are by your side rubbing your back and arms.

“You ruined us, Alexia. Don’t ever forget that.”

You wipe your tears off your face, give the girls a curt nod, and walk off towards your car. Opening the door, you hear María yelling her head off at Alexia, fluently cursing at her in Spanish. Alexia has her head hung low when you drive past, sobbing into her hands.

“How could you do something like that to her, Alexia? She was the best thing that ever happened to you and you throw her away for some gold digger you picked up at a bar?!” María lays into her after Alexia desperately tries to explain herself.

“She is not a gold digger!” Alexia yells suddenly, looking straight at María with red eyes and an angry look.

“Did you just defend her? The whore you’ve been sleeping with behind your fucking wife's back?”

Alexia looks at her best friend in shock. The words just came out of her mouth, she wasn’t thinking.

“I didn’t mean-”

“Your wife has been there for you when you were THIS close to giving up football. When your ACL tore, she almost gave her career up to be there for you full-time. When your father died, she was the first one you called; she was as heartbroken as you were, he was the best father figure she had. The two of you were thick as thieves, inseparable since you were children. You knew the kind of shit her father put her and her mother through with him sleeping around and you go and do the one thing she hoped the person she loved wouldn’t do to her!”

Alexia was sobbing hard, shoulders shaking hard with her cries. No one comforted her, somehow that hurt her more than the truths María was yelling at her.

“I am so fucking disappointed in you, I can’t even LOOK at you right now!” María yelled one last time, shoving Ingrid’s hand off her shoulder and walking back into the restaurant.

Ingrid nods at the other girls to go back inside and finish their lunch, wanting a minute with the captain. She pulls Alexia into a tight hug, letting her cry into her neck. She’s shaking, mumbling a million apologies to no one. Ingrid shushes her, cradling her face in her hands.

“What you did was unacceptable. María said some hurtful things but she was not wrong. You’ve made the bed, now you have to lie in it. The girls are going to need some time to forgive you but I think you need to make amends with your wife first.”

Alexia nods her head, thanking Ingrid before rushing off to her car. Her hands shake as she starts the car, thoughts running through her head a million miles an hour. She wonders how she could have been so stupid, so desperate for love that she went out to find it when it was right in front of her the whole time.

You were perfect, the woman of her dreams. When her father died, you ran over to her house barefoot when she called to tell you. You ran into her house and pulled her into your arms, cradling her sobbing form as you tried to be strong for her. He was the father you never had, your own cheated on your mother so often she resented men for a long time and you swore you would never be with someone who was the same way.

When you met Alexia at 4 years old, there was an instant connection. The two of you were attached at the hip, one never seen without the other. Barcelona promoted both of you to the first team at the same time. Having just started dating and having the opportunity to go to work every day with your best friend was a dream come true.

Day by day, the two of you made things work. You two functioned like a well-oiled machine, a connection that ran so deep, that you were sure in other lifetimes you were lovers. The night of her 24th birthday, you surprised her with two tickets to the men’s team game that weekend and a little black velvet box. She immediately knew what it was and you argued, with her groaning about being the one who needed to propose cause she ‘wore the pants in the house’. You glared at her, to which she apologized, said yes, put on the ring, and made love to you all night.

The next morning, after yet another passionate round of steamy morning sex, she pulled out a matching velvet box.

“Here, bebita,” she whispered, handing you the box as you settled into her side. You gasped and opened it carefully, a beautiful diamond ring shimmered in your palm.

“My turn,” she grinned, “Will you make me the happiest woman in the world and marry me?”

“Yes, yes, yes!”

Coffee.

“Bebita!”

Alexia walks into the house in search of you, hoping you’ve come home and she could catch you before you inevitably leave.

What she doesn’t expect is for you to have company over.

“Aitana?” 

You pull away from Aitana’s arms, looking back towards the door to see Alexia standing there. She’s breathing hard, tears streaks on her cheeks.

You stand, a confused Aitana remains seated on the dark couch both you and Alexia picked out when you first moved in.

“Uh, I’ll just leave-”

“No, stay.”

You walk up to Alexia, arms crossed across your chest. Her shoulders sag and her head hangs low once again.

“Can we talk…please?” she looks up at you, eyes filling with tears. Your heart begs to comfort her but you know better not to. You know you’d give in to her, her tears have always been your greatest weakness.

“I messed up, amor. I know that now, but please, we can fix this. I’ve broken it off with her, we can go for couples counseling, I’ll work harder to communicate, I’ll do anything!”

“Alexia, I love you. I think I always will. But I don’t deserve to be someone’s second choice. I deserve someone who can come to me and tell me they’re not happy. Instead, you found someone else to do that for you. You found someone else to do my job for me. I’m sorry Alexia, but we’re done.”

You step closer to her, kissing the corner of her lips. She’s shaking her head, lips begging for you to stop.

“Sign those papers I gave you, I’d like them as soon as you can please.”   

“No, please! Give me a chance, bebé please!”

“I already did, Alexia. I will not do it again.”

You walk into the bedroom and grab the duffel bag you had packed, storming out to where Aitana stood dumbfounded in the living room before taking her hand and leaving the house.

Alexia feels her heart break into pieces. You did already give her a chance at redemption, how could she forget? She thinks back to that day when you were both 21, away at both your international camps.

“Bebé, hi! I’ve missed you!”

Alexia scrambled to answer her phone, pulling the covers over her naked body. She glances over at the clock and notes that it’s time for your regular phone call. You notice her disheveled hair and wonder what she’s been up to, your head cocked to the side with a curious look on your face. You shake your head and focus back on her, feeling your heart ache to be with her.

“I-I’ve missed you too, Amor! What-what are you doing?”

“I’m done with training for the day, silly. Are you already in bed, was Spanish training that hard?” you tease, grinning at her.

“Sí, it went on for hours today!” she says with a nervous laugh when suddenly there was a ruffle in the sheets. Alexia looks at the moving duvet in the corner of her eye, and you see a foot sticking out of the edge of the screen that’s not Alexia’s. She looks back at you and notices, immediately covering it up.

“Are you kidding me?” you say, voice raised in anger.

“Amor, let me explain!”

“There’s nothing to explain Alexia, we’re done! How could you?!”

“Bebita please, this was a mistake!”

It took a year of counseling for the two of you to mend the trust that was broken. Fast forward 2 years and you were walking down the aisle to marry her on the happiest day of your lives. She had kept her promise and the two of you couldn’t have been closer.

Until she broke that promise again.

Poetry.

Aitana was beautiful. She loved you in a way so different from Alexia. In the days after the divorce and the court hearings, Aitana was by your side the entire time. She was gentle and she was kind. She knew you were guarding your heart with an impenetrable fortress, but she tried every day, little by little to gain access to the sweet, caring, loving, unapologetic girl she had quietly been pining over since her days at the academy.

Aitana was the textbook definition of sunshine. She always had a big smile on her face, never letting anything get her down. She was like a pocket rocket, able to pull laughs out of you no one else ever did. She made you feel safe, secure, and loved.

Court proceedings were taking a while and in that time, you two managed to build a new life together. You had known each other a long time and turning that friendship into the most excitingly new love was easier than you thought it would be. You moved in with her, drove to training together, cooked together, and made love every way you could. She was easy to love, but a passionate lover that would move mountains for you. A part of you still loved Alexia, you knew you always would but you felt your heart grow to make space for the new best thing in your life.

“Please Aitana, fuck…”

“You like my mouth on you, princesa?”

“Yes, so fucking much…please!”

Aitana pushes your legs back, lips attached to your core as she eats you out hungrily. She groans into your pussy, eyes boring deep into yours that are filled with tears. Your hands pull on her hair, your head thumping back onto the couch you’re fucking on.

She sits up between your legs, two of her fingers pushed deep into your pussy. She kisses up your calf, free hand caressing your ass.

“Getting close, bebita?” she asks in the most innocent voice, a little smirk across her face.

You look up at her, hands holding your legs back like the good girl you’re being for her. She grins, leaning over to crash her lips to yours. You kiss back ferociously, her fingers pushing in a third that makes your eyes go back into your head.

“Aitana!” you cry out, the tips of her fingers roughly pressed up against your sweet spot. She kissed down the expanse of your neck, lips latched onto your breast when she suddenly bit down and your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You shuddered and squirmed, body convulsing hard as her fingers and palm worked you through an orgasm so hard you saw white and passed out for a second.

“You are not what you seem, baby,” you tell her panting, kissing her slowly as she cradles you in the bath after fucking you into the couch twice more.

“For you, mi amor, I’ll be anything you want.”

Alexia stood outside the courthouse with a soft smile on her face. You walked out behind her, the final hearing of your divorce was now over. You both parted on good terms, leaving nothing but good memories behind. Aitana remained by your side and you spoke to Alexia, knowing that there was nothing but love for each other that would never change.

“She makes you happy. I’m so glad she can give you what I couldn’t,” Alexia started, her expression a little sad and longing.

You lean in and kiss the corner of her lips again, lingering just a few seconds longer than you should.

“I will always love you, Ale. Never, ever forget that.”

“I won’t bebita, you’re very special to me.”

“I’ll see you on Monday at training?”

“Sí,” she waves you two off, smiling wide before saying one last thing but it’s not directed at you.

“Tana?” she calls, Aitana turns around and looks at her captain.

“Sí, capi?”

"Cuida de ella por mí, ¿quieres? Es una buena".

[magics-neptunes-things]

Forever

Hi guys!

You were waiting for this one for a long time but it's finally here! This is Luna's elopement fic.

As always, this is a fiction, so it's purely coming from my mind. Please enjoy this one and tell me what you thought about it!

TW : None, I think. Maybe a little of chaos.

Lucy is tired, like bloody tired. Her and her team just won the cup of the Champions League yesterday and she’s still hungover from the party last night. She regretted bitterly her choice of drink this morning when the alarm went on, asking her to get up to get on the bus and then the plane. They had to be in Barcelona in the afternoon to present the cup at all the Cùlers and for some random talking with people in suit.

She’s not as hungover as Cata though, the woman practically snoring during the ceremony, much to her friends’ amusement.

To distract herself during the speeches that she finds rather annoying, Lucy is looking at her girlfriend. Standing right in front of her, Ona seems to be listening for the people who don’t know her, but Lucy knows better. Ona’s eyes are a little off, but Lucy can’t say if it’s because she’s bored or because she’s in pain.

The cuts she had because of her fall on their opponent’s boot is sharp, she needed three stitches on her cheek. The other one is way to close to her eyes to do anything. Lucy feels the bile running up her throat every time she remembers that her girlfriend could have lost an eye that night.

The English woman frowns when she sees Ona rubbing her injured eye, the scarring itching terribly. But the team’s doctors clearly specified that Ona should touch her eye as little as possible for a quick and optimal recovery.

“Ona” Lucy gently scolds her.

The younger pouts and crosses her arms on her breast, making Lucy smiles softly. She can’t wait to go home, find their dogs and sleep for the next three days before she has to go to national camp in England.

Thanks God they stop soon to talk, and Lucy is relieved to be able to go home. She even grabs Ona’s bags and push her in the direction of her car when they are released. Ona laughs slightly but let her do, looking for her keys in her pocket while Lucy puts their bag in the car.

“What do you think you're doing, Batlle?” Lucy tsk her when Ona sits behind the wheel.

“Going home?” Ona frowns.

“Get out of here. I’m the one driving, you almost lost an eye.”

“Lucia I can drive.”

Ona is sulking and Lucy rolls her eyes. The Catalan girl is the nicest and sweetest person in the world, but Lucy swears that she never met someone as suborn as her girlfriend. Which she likes very much, even if she sometimes seems to forget that she needs to take care of her.

“Sure Cyclops. Let’s sit on the passenger’s seat yeah?”

Ona frowns harder and try to make her girlfriend changes her mind, but she realizes soon that she doesn’t stand a chance. Lucy usually gets Ona what she wants, but not if she knows that it isn’t good for Ona.

The drive home is long, the journey who is usually thirty minutes is far from being finish and yet they only made several kilometers in one hour and an half.

“You can sleep if you want, Bonita” Lucy says softly at her girlfriend.

Ona was lost in the contemplation of the streets, but she turns her head in Lucy’s direction with a soft smile.

“I know. I prefer enjoying my time with you though. I three days we will be separated again.”

Lucy smiles softly, very carefully stroking Ona’s face. The wound looks better than yesterday but it still seems hurtful. But Ona isn’t the kind of girl to complain about anything.

“You’ll be careful with that beautiful face of yours, yeah?”

Ona hums only. She doesn’t want to have a big, awful and permanent scar on her face, but they don’t really let them be gentle during Spanish camp.

“I asked Alexia to keep an eye on you anyway.”

Ona whines, much to Lucy’s amusement. She knows what she was doing when she asked that to Alexia, their captain will be around Ona during all the camp, probably snapping her hand away every time Ona will want to scratch her face.

“How can you do that to me?” Ona groans.

“I did it because I love you” Lucy smiles, rolling her eyes.

“You definitively don’t love me as much as you say. If it was right, you would never betray me this way.”

“You are so dramatic” Lucy laughs softly.

“All that I’ll retain from this conversation is that I love you more than you love me.”

“That’s not true” Lucy frowns.

“It is. I’m the one who love you the most but that’s ok.”

With a satisfy smile, Ona shrugs before taping Lucy’s hand on her thigh. This discussion is going again and again between them, a childish and sweet fight that none of them want to give up.

“Ok” Lucy says after several seconds of silence. “If you love me so much, marry me.”

There is another moment of silence.

“Qué?”

Ona is looking at her girlfriend with wide eyes, seriously asking herself if Lucy lost her mind. But Lucy is looking at her seriously.

“Are you still drunk?” Ona asks, arching an eyebrow.

“No. I am very serious, Ona. I love you. I know you are the love of my life. You are the one I want to finish my life with, I’ve never be so sure about anything in my whole life. I don’t have a ring, but I’ll change that as soon as possible. I want to marry you.”

This is unreal for Ona. Of course, she already thought about marrying Lucy one day, because she’s sure that Lucy is the love of her life too. Lucy flipped her life upside down, in the best way possible. The situation is unreal, but the answer she gives seems to be as much.

“Ok”

“Yes? Will you marry me?”

“Yes” Ona smiles softly.

Even if this isn’t the most convenient marriage proposal, there still is some tears in Lucy’s eyes. And the smile she gives to Ona makes Ona’s heart fluttered. But then, Lucy is suddenly turning on the road, taking the opposite street of their apartment.

“Lucy what are you doing?”

“We are going to the airport, taking the next plane for Las Vegas. I want to marry you right now.”

“What? But Lucy the dogs? Our parents are going to kill us!”

“Coco and Narla can stay a little longer to your parents. And we will make a ceremony with everyone in several days. I just don’t want to pass another day without you being called my wife.”

The tender smile Ona gives her talk for her. She wrote to her parents to ask them to keep the dogs a little bit longer, explaining that Lucy and her are taking surprised holidays. She doesn’t say why and where though.

While Lucy is looking for a place on the parking, Ona is looking at the first plane leaving for Las Vegas. She managed to find one leaving in five hours, choosing to be in business class, after all they are getting married, right? They let their suitcases from the game in the car, choosing to buy new clothes in the airport. And because they are in business class, they have the lounge and the possibility to take a shower before landing.

Their seats are next to each other on the plane, but when they are on the sky, Ona chooses to escalate the wall between them to sit next to Lucy. Well, on Lucy. In the darkness of the plane and night, they cannot be seen from anyone, not that their embrace has anything looking like Pegi 18 anyway. Lucy just had passed her hand under Ona’s shirt to stroke her back and they are under a cover.

“Lucy?” whispers Ona.

It’s dark and quiet, people around them are sleeping or watching a movie from the television in front of them.

“What is it, Bonita?” Lucy whispers in answer.

“Are you sure you want to do this? We still can enjoy our time in Las Vegas, we are not forced to get married if you want to change your mind.”

“Are you scared?” Lucy smiles.

“No” Ona answers, putting her head again on Lucy’s shoulder. “I’m only scared that you will regret it the next morning.”

“Never.”

To add power to her answer, Lucy squeezes her harder against her, making Ona smile. She then kisses her hair, even if the shampoo she used isn’t the same one she’s using daily. Her natural scent is still here though, Lucy loves to think that Ona smell like sun, sand, and holidays.

Lucy smiles when she sees Ona yawning, the last days were chaotic. They were great, but very tiring and they haven’t many times to rest. They sleep a lot during the long trip, catching their lake of sleep, before landing to Philadelphia to take another plane.

“People are wondering where we are going” Ona smiles while looking at her messages during their stopover to Philadelphia.

“Tell them Lesbos Island” Lucy answer, looking at Ona’s phone above her shoulder.

Ona rolls her eyes and bite in the croissant she received during the journey. It’s not as good as the one she had in France, but still ok for an empty stomach.

“People are going to be wild when they’ll know” Lucy adds soon after. “How do you think we can say it to them?”

“If we want to keep the clichés, we can send them a picture of us next to a fake Elvis.”

********

They arrive at Las Vegas after several more hours, choosing one of the most expensive suites in the hotel Ona likes the most – The Venetian. Even if the younger one tried to protest, Lucy makes her shut with only one gaze.

“This is wild” Ona mumbles, looking at the view they have from it.

They are on the 36th floor and can see almost everything around. She lost herself in the contemplation of the streets and the lights, while Lucy is busy turning of the air conditioning who is always making her sick, after what she says.

She then takes several seconds to look at Ona, who turned her back at her. She’s smiling while looking at the smaller one. Even if it’s look like a whim, she knows what she’s doing. She was thinking about proposing to Ona for several weeks now, she wanted to do things right with a sweet proposal and everything. She still can make the surprise to Ona when she got the ring.

She is so in love with Ona.

She is so in love and is going to marry her.

It’s sometimes scary for Lucy to admit to herself how much her happiness depends of that wonderful and beautiful girl in front of her. She doesn’t understand how someone like Ona can be interested in her.

Sure, Lucy knows that a lot of people fancy her, she’s not stupid. But she’s older than Ona and she won’t be able to play football for as long as Ona would. But when she talked about it to Ona, the younger girl just smirk and answer that she would like this has a lot of time to choose her clothes for her wagging era.

Feeling a rush of love for the girl in front of her, Lucy breaks the distance between them in three big strides, before embracing Ona from behind.

“What if you’re the one regretting this tomorrow?” Lucy asks quietly, for once letting out some form of vulnerability.

“I won’t” Ona answers.

Her tone is so sure that there is no reason for Lucy to doubt about it. Ona turns around in Lucy’s arms, passing hers around Lucy’s neck.

“T'estimaré per tota la vida” she whispers, before kissing Lucy softly. (I’ll love you for all my life)

Lucy’s progresses in Catalan are prodigious, thanks to her personal teacher, which allows her to easily understand what Ona has just whispered against her lips. She doesn’t have time to answer though, carried away by the extent of Ona’s kiss.

“Is it a way not to leave this room and not to get married, miss Batlle?”

“I can’t believe we’ve done it” Ona mumbles, looking at the pictures on her phone.

They are on their way back to Barcelona, after a stop at Dallas this time. They haven’t said anything to anyone about their marriage, like Lucy said, they will make a ceremony for their families and Lucy even planned a way to offer a magic proposal to Ona with the ring she will find in Barcelona.

She looked for jewelry in Barcelona when Ona fell asleep in her arms after having celebrated their wedding.

“Still no regret?” Lucy whispers, looking at Ona’s phone above the armrest between them.

“Never.”

A sweet smile is on Ona’s face when she looks at her girlfr… wife. Even if they have to make the contract acknowledged in Spain. They are travelling during the day this time and people are obviously more up than during the first fly. Lucy sulks when she realizes that Ona won’t be able to join her on her seat like before, but then Ona grabs her hand and never let it go since. She can live with that.

“I always thought that the big Elvis' was a myth to be honest” Lucy comments when she sees the photo where they are posing next to him. “It was like a movie.”

“Yeah. I liked that movie though; the first actress is hot” Ona smirks.

“The Spaniard with the scar? Yes. Hot and badass.”

********

When Lucy’s back from the England Camp, Ona had the time to make their marriage contract recognized. She went back home from the camp after deciding that it was better for her face that way. She was sad not to be able to play with Leila again, but it was safer that way. She went to training with Patri and Mapi and passed time with Narla and Coco.

She went to take Lucy from the airport and Lucy already started to look for the right ring. She looked for several days before making the choice to have it custom-made. Lucy wants it to be perfect.

They managed to keep the secret for now, the only difference is that Lucy calls Ona “Wifey” at home now and that they can’t keep their hands away of each other. They are not making out in public, but they are impossible to separate. And when they are on each side of one room, they keep look and smile at each other.

“Can you please stay focus and stop drooling on Ona for a second, Bronze?” Mariona asks, hitting Lucy behind her head.

“I’m not drooling” Lucy frowns, showing Mariona away.

“You are” Mariona laughs.

But then Mario’s laugh drags Ona’s attention – who was talking with Salma and Jana - and she smirks at Lucy who kind of forgot why she’s supposed to be mad at her friend. The calm of the room is suddenly broken by a roar coming from Alexia’s voice as soon as she enters it.

“LUCIA ROBERTA TOUGH BRONZE!”

Lucy jumps and look at their captain like a teenager in trouble without knowing what she did bad. But the blonde came right in front of Lucy with a paper, the room suddenly quiet.

Lucy gets pale when she sees the sheet and Ona doesn't need longer explanations to understand what it is. However, Alexia doesn't hesitate to give more details.

“I was helping the administrative team to make the papers for our next trip, and they told me about this funny mistake, like they said. I did my research and it’s look like it isn’t actually a mistake. So will you please tell me why and how in the world it is written black on white that you are married to Ona Batlle Pascual?”

Ona makes a grimace when she feels almost all the eyes on the room going on her. It isn’t the way she wanted to tell people, but she can see Mapi from the corner of her eyes who seems to have the time of her life.

“You choose Lucy, Oni? What about us?” Jana jokes, but she is suddenly silent when she crosses Alexia’s eyes.

“Come on Ale’, what was I supposed to do? Ask you before asking her?” Lucy rolls her eyes.

“Well at least. Then I would have refused and took Ona on a secret island” Alexia groans.

“Your kids are growing up, Alexia, get over it” Irene says, patting Alexia shoulders. “Ask Pina about her love life, you’ll be stunned” she adds, before leaving the room.

“WHAT?!”

[meazalykov]

Her victory, my defeat

Salma Paralluelo x LionessesPlayer!R

warnings: sadness with a mix of love and hope :)

My nerves were suppressed when I stood by the front of the goal post, a corner kick for my team was being taken. The minutes were counting down until the end. I am in my dream, the dream that is starting to feel like a nightmare. 

I stood on the pitch, surrounded by a sea of cheering fans. It was the World Cup final—the pinnacle of my soccer career. Every ounce of sweat, every sacrifice, every early morning training session had led me to this moment. The tension in the air was palpable, as if the entire world had stopped to witness this match.

England vs. Spain. One of us was going to win. 

By us… I mean my beautiful girlfriend Salma, who plays for Spain, or me, who plays for England.

That realization before the game hit deeply. The thoughts of how our relationship would continue onwards, whoever won or lost, started to put pressure onto my feelings.

The pressure got more intense when the actual match started. Right now its the 104th minute and my teammate observed the pitch, deciding where to kick her corner kick. My mind flashed to all of our practices throughout these three years before the World Cup. The Lionesses’ and I poured our hearts and souls into every pass, every tackle, every shot on goal. 

As the corner kick was taken, I jumped high. I knew this was the highest I've jumped in my entire life. However, the ball barely slipped over my head. When I turned around, following the ball mid-air and noticed the ball in Cata Coll’s hands, England’s potential victory slipped through our fingers like sand.

The final whistle blew, and the deafening roar from the Spanish crowd turned into silence in my head. Tears welled up in my eyes as I watched the opposing team, aka my close friends, achieve their dreams. I am happy for them, but It felt like a punch to the gut. This is a crushing blow that knocked the wind out of me, my lungs felt closed in.

As a little girl, I dreamed of being here. I dreamed of being with the English and driving us to win the World Cup. I’ve imagined myself holding the trophy in my hands and smiling brightly, making my loved ones proud. 

The realization sank in slowly, like a cruel joke unfolding before my eyes. Maybe I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. We had come so close, we fought so hard, only to fall agonizingly short. The dreams we had dared to dream, the hopes we had nurtured, all shattered in an instant.

When I saw the Spanish girls jump on top of each other into a pile, I shook my head and walked over to the benches. I knew it was football, you can’t win them all. However, this is the one I wanted to win most. 

Taking my half pink half blue puffer jacket, I put it on backwards so the hoodie covered my face. Once my face was concealed, the tears poured down my dimpled cheeks.

I cried more because I wanted to be happy too. Salma Paralluelo, my lovely girlfriend who I fell in love with one year ago, just achieved her biggest dreams. I couldn’t look out of the hoodie and see her, but I hope she is in the pile of happy players and proud of her dreams coming true. 

My Barcelona teammates who currently play on the Spain team just achieved their dreams too. Being happy for them would’ve been easy if I wasn't on the losing end. I hope they don’t see me here, I don’t want them to pity me. 

Lucy Bronze and Keira Welsh, my teammates on the club and national teams, might feel the same way I do. 

The Spanish girls were in a state of happiness and disbelief. Salma stood up after having five players jump on top of her in the pile. She wiped off her jersey and hugged Cata Coll, who saved the ball in the last corner kick. 

Salma had the brightest smile, tears of joy nearly poured out of her eyes. She knew that she completed a goal that many won’t have the chance to compete for. 

Amid the sea of elation, a crushing realization went through Salma’s head. She felt her heart ache when she thought about y/n, the #1 love in her life. The h/c girl is somewhere in the stadium feeling defeated, while she is feeling ecstatic over her win. 

The Spanish girl tried her best to not let Y/n get into her head in the final. They’ve both agreed that during the final, they would both play as if they didn’t know the other. Which means that no feelings would get in the way of decision-making in the final. 

Salma’s eyes roamed around the stadium before looking toward England's bench. She saw Ona Batlle, her teammate on the Spain squad, comforting her girlfriend Lucy who played for England. The brown skin girl then looked ahead of the couple to see a girl with her legs crossed, puffy jacket on backwards to block her face, and her hands constantly going to rub her eyes through the jacket. She knew it was Y/n.  

At that moment, she felt the mix of joy and concern as she rushed over to Y/n, her own triumph momentarily forgotten.

In a quick second, she got lower in front of Y/n and wrapped her arms around her. Salma held her close, offering a silent embrace amidst the loud cheers. Y/n knew it was Salma due to her relaxing natural scent. She buried her face in Salma’s shoulder, the warmth of her touch offering peace while y/n’s mind went into chaos.

"I'm sorry, Y/n," Salma whispered softly, her voice barely audible above the roar of the crowd. "I know how much this meant to you."

Y/n clung to Salma, the weight of her sorrow heavy upon her shoulders. Y/n felt terrible, she couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt for dampening Salma's victory with her own pain.

“You should be celebrating. Don’t let my sadness ruin your victory. I’ll get over this soon.” Salma heard Y/n’s muffled voice through her jacket hoodie. The girl in the red jersey lightly pulled Y/n’s hoodie off of her face. The English girl’s red eyes, puffy cheeks, and long damp lashes were visible to her. Salma looked into her eyes and gave a sympathetic smile. 

Y/n tried to lightly pull her girlfriend’s hands off of her, knowing that she should celebrate the World Cup win instead. However, Salma resisted her pull and held her tighter, knowing that her presence would bring light to Y/n’s darkness. 

As the world celebrated around them, Y/n found solace in the arms of the woman she loved. Even in defeat, Salma and Y/n’s bond remained unbreakable. Y/n will go on to celebrate Salma and her club teammates' World Cup win, understanding that making it to the final is an achievement itself 

<3