#OKAY maybe i want spain to win

[anarchomitsumi]

spain-france rn. eating glass

[fairene]

one of your girls / ln4, part two

lando norrisxfem!reader

no use of y/n, as always.

part one

a/n ⋯ I LIED IT'S COMING OUT NOW!!! i sat down for 'bout four hours after work and a family dinner to knock this the fuck OUTTTT. it's shorter than i expected, but this was the best way i could wrap up this supposed 'oneshot'. i hope you all enjoy it. and remember, it is up to YOU for what you are wearing, clothes are intentionally vaguely described for your own viewing pleasure. and tbh, i did not proof read this...don't sue me!!! I JUST WAnted it out asap for everyone@!!! pls don't let it flop!!!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drunk hookup, choking (slight), p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. sickeningly in love lando, possession, jealousy.

wc ⋯ 13.7k (unedited!)

he hadn’t heard from you in weeks. weeks. it was driving him fucking insane. he didn’t know that the girl would come back, he didn’t know she would be a bitch, and he certainly didn’t know you would react that way. to his ultimate surprise, it was a comfort knowing that you did care. however sick and twisted it was, it told him without using your words, that you wanted something. 

things had been left unsaid between the pair of you for a long time. too long. he was never in the business of guessing your feelings, assuming that you felt one way or another about him. and neither were you. both of you were too fucking stubborn for your own good. neither of you could see what was right in front of you–

each other. 

and that was the worst part for lando. it had him pushing himself harder. faster. to be better to perhaps catch your attention. to win you back through his ability to race. but you didn’t care about that. you didn’t care about how fast he drove his car, didn’t care about the number of podiums he got. you cared about him. but you never let the words fall upon his ears, and that was your first mistake. 

it was the weekend in spain. warm, but not too humid, you traveled with alexandra and the rest of the ferrari hospitality team. you had gotten close to carlos’ girlfriend, rebecca, as well. they were both great company and more times than not, lando had slipped from your mind completely. 

but not for him. 

he was a mess. a wreck without you. guilt consumed him night and day, and he would feel eternally wrought with what could have been. he’s called you, texted you, even had oscar reach out to you, but there was nothing but radio silence and the bolded words ‘read’ beneath his sent messages. it hurt more knowing that you saw him suffering and did nothing about it. 

but he deserved it. he deserved this treatment. he wasn’t going to fight you. he would roll over, belly up like a good boy for you. pay attention to me, his actions would scream. look in my direction. but you didn’t even view his stories on social media anymore. didn’t even like his posts. 

the british driver would be found pacing back and forth, staring hunchback at his phone. oscar would watch him from across the room, legs dangling from the papaya barstool. he hated to see lando this way, but he knew what he did. lando was honest with oscar, hoping to maybe seek advice in his own girlfriend. but lily simply shrugged her shoulders and her expression said enough. 

you did this to yourself. 

but little did you know is that he threw that girl out the moment you left. okay, not literally, but in ever metaphoric way possible. he never contacted her again. he hadn’t contacted any girl, in fact, these past few weeks. he would be isolated with his PR team at every occasion, refusing to even entertain the thought of hitting up a new girl. 

his loyalty to you was suddenly unwavering, but it was too late. 

“mate,” oscar said from where he sat. lando didn’t look up, just hummed, staring at your last text to him. 

‘you’re too sweet,’ 

too sweet. what would you say now? you had replied to a set of merchandise he saved for you, special edition for miami’s grand prix, and that had been it. from you. he had to scroll down through the text chain to reach the bottom. his endless apologies, desperate words, and more apologies. he felt nauseous. sick that he ever treated you that way.

his favorite girl. his girl. 

“she’s here.” 

what? 

lando’s head snapped up, looking frantically around. but there was no sign of you. 

“with alexandra. ferrari paddock.” oscar gestured his phone towards lando. he snatched it from him, letting his eyes fly across the photo. it was a picture of you, rebecca, and alexandra. posted on alexandra’s instagram story. 

you looked…

happy. 

he…

he didn’t know why he was upset by that. he wanted you to feel the same level of anger, sadness, distress, even. but here you were– looking absolutely beautiful with your bright smile. so fucking beautiful. he remembers he was there when you picked out that top. and god, he was right, it’s meant for you. 

lando threw oscar’s phone back at him, and knew this would be a long fucking weekend. 

barcelona’s air had been clean. much cleaner than miami, new york. the decor of the paddock, too, had you thinking and trailing your fingers over the textures. you had done that more– feeling the things around you. you used to do that with lando. but now he was gone, and you had to suffice to other obscurities to lay your fingers upon. 

gone. the word echoed in the chasm of your mind. gone. you didn’t realize the depth of lando’s absence would impact you this much, but that had been a mistake on your part. clearly. an oversight of your intimate relationship. that, eventually, it would end. it would end in flames, crash and burn, and ultimately never recover. as much as you thought, anyways. 

you heard your name being called from the other side of the couch. you glanced up. 

rebecca stared at you expectedly. 

“sorry,” you breathed. “what did you say?” 

rebecca huffed, but repeated herself regardless. “i said that i have a friend with me i want you to meet.” you raised your brows quizzically. “i think you’ll like him.” 

him? him? oh, fuck, here we go. 

as much as you wanted  to breeze past what happened in lando’s monaco apartment, you couldn’t. your feelings, as heavy as they were, weighed you down into the abyss of lando norris’ wellbeing. 

you didn’t sleep with anyone since him. you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it didn’t feel right, and your own attempt at an orgasm was ultimately futile. 

but you said nothing when rebecca turned, pulling a man from conversation with carlos. he looked confused, but let his eyes settle on you. he relaxed. 

he was a handsome chap. dark hair, dark eyes. tanned skin. fit. he had a grecian nose, one that was slim and curved. not like lando’s, you thought, but brought yourself down to earth and stood. you greeted him with two kisses on the cheek, and his name was raphael. 

“so you are…” his spanish accent was thick and attractive. you couldn’t deny that. “friends with rebecca?”

“that’s right.” you nodded, bringing a bottle of water to your lips to cool down. “you, as well?” 

he shrugged, giving you a ‘so-so’ hand gesture. “carlos, really,” you let out a soft ‘ahh’ and soon realized, too, that this would be a long fucking weekend. 

the day of free practices came and went. so did your time with raphael. he wasn’t a bad conversationalist whatsoever, you were simply not interested. but you made a promise to rebecca this weekend that you would try. try and branch out instead of looking insatiably bored on live television. she was right. you needed to get over this and move on, because lando must’ve, right? he must’ve slept with that girl, given the fact that he didn’t go after you. 

did you expect him to? 

you weren’t sure. you weren’t fucking sure of anything. you weren’t a mindreader for fucks sake. but you saw his text messages. all of them. you made yourself sick with despair every night, rereading them to yourself like the fucking bible. what did you expect him to do for you? crucify himself? maybe. just maybe. 

as you were walking down the pit lane with alexandra at your side, you felt the wafting air of an oncoming storm of people. you glanced around, but alexandra was the one to point it out. 

“uh oh.” 

the papaya suits could be seen from anywhere. it’s not like they were subtle. 

you bristled and stood up straight. fuck, okay. this was happening. he’s walking this way. was he coming toward you? no, don’t be so foolish. but you hoped that he would. 

lando was approaching you, but his eyes were set forward. but when you weren’t bothering to look, he had been staring at you the entire way here. he could spot you from miles away with your countenance, your undying beauty. 

but he didn’t stop to look at you. 

you didn’t either. 

but your hands–

god your hands

they brushed past one another when he swept past your shoulder. his pinky desperately latching to yours before you let him go. you gasped lowly and he heard it, his ears twitching with the sound. but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t. 

if he stopped to turn, he would kiss you out in the open. 

you dared him to.

but you both kept on your way, and the interaction had you fuming. why can’t he care to show up? texts, calls, whatever, didn’t compare to the ability to show up. you knew he was in monaco. you knew exactly when he was there. it wasn’t a fucking secret. 

fuck him.

you didn’t care if you were being a brat. you knew what you put at stake, but you opened your heart to him. and you believed that maybe, just maybe, if that girl hadn’t interrupted, the two of you would be in a very different situation. maybe. but you didn’t let that thought linger. you couldn’t. 

“what was that?” alexandra whispered to you as you both kept walking. 

“nothing.” 

and that’s what you promised yourself it to be. nothing. when in reality, it had been everything. lando had seen you, spotted you from what felt like a mile away with a man lingering at your side. fuck. reality set in for him that you were looking. you were looking elsewhere from him for companionship. it made him fucking sick to his stomach, and he knew that had to change. he was a man on a mission now, a conqueror ready to pillage. 

it was the evening when you found yourself locked away in your hotel room. it was well past ten o’clock, and you were exhausted form today. alexandra had invited you out, but you just couldn’t bring yourself. rebecca prodded away at you, too, insisting that you and raphael hit it off today. he said that he wanted to see you again.

you had thought about it. you really did. 

but you couldn’t. 

you’d been sucked into a tv melodrama in your hotel room when you felt your phone vibrate. someone was calling you. 

you checked the time and raised a brow, lifting your phone to see the all-too-familiar contact card lighting up your face in the ambient lighting of the room. 

lando

you hesitated. 

suddenly your heart was racing, beating rapidly against the cage of your chest, and you felt like a prisoner to your anxiety. you felt it drop to your stomach, feeling queasy, but hit ‘answer call’ anyways. you lifted your phone to your ear, and let out a soft breath. 

“what?” 

your words were bitter, but quiet in the solitude of your room.

“didn’t think you’d answer,” came his raspy voice from the other end. he was breathless, as if he had been running. or fucking some girl. fuck you, you wanted to bite out, but held your tongue. 

“neither did i.” 

that earned you a cheeky laugh from him. he hesitated, too, before breathing. “are you at your hotel?”

you were confused by the question. “yes.” 

“can i see you?” 

his words hit you hard. you fell back against the pillows of your bed, hand coming to rest over your forehead. you sighed with a grumble. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

you could practically feel him wince through the phone. 

“please.”

fuck him and his soft words. his desperate tone, the pity that you felt for him grew. the fact of the matter flew from your head, disappearing with a singular plead from his cracked vocals. he sounded honest. that he truly wanted to see you, and a small part of you wished to reconcile whatever was happening between the two of you. you were not a woman of small touches– you wanted it all, or nothing. 

“okay.”

lando cleared his throat, choking on his breath, exhibiting his initial shock. “i– okay, okay, what room are you in?” 

“610.”

he hung up before you could let out a breath. your phone fell onto your nightwear– a simple baggy shirt and spandex. they were what kept you most comfortable at night. 

your hands raked over your face, pulling your eyelids with it. what were you doing? engaging with him, talking with him over the phone. the long text chains of read messages you had banished him to sat idly on your screen, staring you down with an ambivalence that you quivered before. was this a mistake? should you just pretend you’re–

there was a knock at your door seconds into your thoughts. 

you jumped from your bed, hands raking through your hair. how did he get here so fucking quick? you scrambled around your room, checking yourself in any reflection you could find. fuck, why were you so nervous? how could he possibly make you so riddled with anxiety in a matter of seconds? your heart was in overdrive once again, and you wondered just how much you could take. 

he said your name through the door. weak, pining. you dropped the brush you grabbed in the bathroom instantly, feet soaring over the hardwood floor to open it. when you did, you were face to face with the british driver. 

he wasn’t drunk. that’s a first. the thought crossed your mind only briefly, thinking that you were just a booty call in the late hours of the night. it wouldn’t be the first time. 

lando was disheveled, messy, and the white shirt he wore was ruffled. upon his head was a mclaren hat, concealing his identity from the outside. most importantly, though, that you noticed was how his face was glazed in a sheath of sweat. you cocked a brow at him. 

“did you run here?”

lando shrugged. it felt, in that moment, that things were normal between you two. that all of this…shit washed over for just a second. you felt at home. comfortable. but you cleared your throat and let him walk in, shutting the door behind you. 

you didn’t want to speak to him here. not where he could see your laundry everywhere, pairs of underwear sprawled around so he’d get distracted. not that you expected to fuck him here, though the thought didn’t upset you. fuck, you were in deep. 

you brushed past him, leading him to the small terrace just outside your bedroom. you slid the door open and leaned your back against the railing. he slid the door shut behind the two of you, and he took a seat in one of the wooden picnic chairs. he gawked at you, openly, letting his eyes run over your bare legs beneath the oversized shirt. 

“don’t do that.” you said, breaking the silence between you two. you seemed to rip him out of his dreamscape with a clearing of his throat. 

“do what?” he feigned innocence. though he knew what he was doing. he missed you, lest he verbalize that. 

“look at me,” you breathed, “like that.” 

his brow lifted, still playing dumb. dumb, as if he didn’t want to take you over this railing, ask you to be his. 

“like what?”

you scoffed. 

“like you’re in love with me.” 

ouch. your words bit harder than he thought they would, blood gushing from an open wound in his heart. he let your words settle before he leaned back in the chair, legs spreading as he fiddled with the skin of his thumbs. 

“i wanted to see you.” 

“i know,” you answered. “you saw me. now what?” 

lando shook his head. “don’t do that.” please don’t do that he wanted to say. 

“do what?” it was your turn to play dumb. your turn to pretend that you weren’t doing the same thing. pushing him away was the easiest way to deal with all of your problems. 

“act so cold.” he turned his head away from you, glancing over towards the lights of the city. “giving me frostbite.” 

“lando, what–”

“i’m sorry.” 

huh? you froze, eyes widening as you straightened upright. did you hear him correctly? it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard an apology. but this was a first to hear it in person, not in begging text messages half way across the world. 

“what–?”

“for everything. i’m sorry.” his head fell to his hands as he leaned over, gripping at the curls atop his head. you felt the same urge creeping up your spine, your hands feeling empty. you shifted on your feet, stepping a foot closer. 

“why now?”

he perked up, wondering what you meant. 

“why, now, are you sorry?” 

he was speechless. unable to form the words that could answer such a  vague question. but you had an idea, so you thought you’d share. 

“because i was with someone?” raphael. you know that he saw the two of you talking. chatting. maybe an occasional giggle so you could keep him quiet for the rest of the free practices. 

lando began to shake his head. “no, no–” 

“really?”

you stepped into his space, wedging yourself between his thighs. he stared up at you, lost in the reflection of your eyes beneath the starlit sky. his hands found your hips and you let him keep them there, at least for the moment. 

“really.” he promised you. head leaning forward to rest on your stomach. you felt the perch of his nose dig into your skin. your head leaned back, taking a large breath, feeling tears begin to well. 

“what do you want, then?” you said with a shaky breath. 

you felt his hands tense against your hips. 

“i don’t know.” his words were muffled, but you could make them out. it shattered you to hear the creak in his voice, but it hurt even more knowing that he didn’t know. you wanted something with him. a relationship. but he didn’t feel the same.

your fingers cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. “that’s it, then, huh?” your voice was dangerously soft. 

he was confused. again. 

“that’s all i’ll be?” he still didn’t catch on, too busy staring at your flushed face, reddened eyes. he wanted to fix it– take back his words. he’d do anything to reverse time. would do anything to revoke the words that spilled from your pretty lips. 

“one of your girls.”

you pushed him away, walking back to the railing with your back turned. he said your name over and over. you ignored him.

“i think,” you said, sucking in a tight breath to calm the storm of emotions that were threatening to raise hell. “that you should go.” 

“no, no–” lando stood, coming to wrap his arms around you, but you turned, holding up your hand to stop your advances. 

“we knew this would happen one day, didn’t we?” you reaffirmed, steadying your breaths the best that you could. but it was difficult. nothing about this was easy. but it had to be done. you were done waiting. done pining for someone that did not feel the same. did not burn the same. 

lando breathed your name again. you shook your head. “no. no. we can’t–” you choked on your tears. it felt hard to breathe. “i can’t keep waiting for you.” 

lando’s own eyes filled with tears. it felt like a breakup, when you two were clearly never together. you made that clear enough, and he obeyed, just wishing to feel your skin beneath his fingers, fall asleep to your heart beat. so why did he say he didn’t know? fuck, he’s such an asshole. he couldn’t take back his words now, could he? 

he tried to explain. words stumbled from his lips, nervous and riling with anxiety, but you would hear none of it. you simply brushed past him and into your room, opening the door from your hotel room for him. you said nothing else, tears sliding down your cheeks, lip caught between your teeth. 

“please,” he begged one last time. he had succumbed to his tears, too, cheeks flushed and lip wet. his hands trembled as he made one last attempt to cup your face. you let him. 

your foreheads met in both desperation and exhaustion. here, it felt like time stopped. the two of you in sync with your racing hearts, trembling hands, voracious blood churning through your veins. you looked up at him through your wet lashes and he met your gaze. it only had you sobbing harder. 

he wiped the tears from your cheeks. 

“please,” he said your name on his trembling tongue. the sound had your knees trembling, but you resisted. you had to. you couldn’t keep doing this anymore. there was a life out there, waiting for you to take hold of. “don’t make me go.” 

you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head. 

“you have to.” 

lando hiccuped. his fingers were still shaking, and he finally accepted your rejection. though he supposed he signified it first. that was his first mistake. he couldn’t take back his words without sounding like a dick, so he was trapped. trapped utterly in this pit of mayhem. 

he exited your hotel room with his tail between his legs. defeated. 

you shut the door behind him and slumped against it, your back sliding down until you hit the floor. your head fell into your hands as you attempted to stifle your sobs. 

little did you know, that he had done the same thing, fallen limp against your hotel room door. your sobs were in unison as you began to unravel, whilst he coiled into knots. forever entwined amidst your inability to be vulnerable with one another. toilsome, but ultimately true. 

you didn’t know how long you stayed there. he didn’t know how long he stayed there. the two of you stayed in parallel behind a closed door, mimicking each other’s beating heart, for you knew that they would never be one. 

when you woke, you were still slumped against the door. you stood, stretching out your painfully aching muscles, arched your back, twisted your neck. your eyes were swollen raw with your epidemic of tears the night prior, and you rubbed the crust away. the memories flooded through you. lando was here. he was here, and you had to haul his ass out.

you thought he was going to kiss you. 

but he didn’t. your lips would remain untouched by his own. 

your fingers ghosted over your mouth, shivering at the memory of him so close to you. you could feel his breath fanning over your face– the heaving, desperate puffs of air– and he felt yours, too, with the same amount of anxiety. you were a wreck before him, and he was too. 

in no time you found your phone, grimacing at your battery, and the plethora of texts from rebecca and alexandra. it was still early in the morning so you had time to pull yourself together, but you had a big day with them today. qualifying was happening, and rebecca had set you up.

she set you up with raphael for the day. you knew she meant the best. and maybe it was. this was your opportunity to uphold your promise– to move on. you had to, or else you would be strung dry for the remainder of your life, with dreary hopes and aimless romantics. you would not drown in the ocean of lando norris, despite how cumbersome he gripped on your ankles. 

you fixed yourself for the day. showering quickly, styling your hair to your liking. you threw on a formal chic outfit, perhaps trying a bit hard today to catch raphael’s eye– or someone else’s, by chance. but you left the unattainable at the back of your mind today, heart far too raw to be ripped open again.

you would stick with something safe. someone safe. raphael was your answer in the short term. you were sick of playing the long game, bested to your knees in the face of whatever conspired between you and the british driver. you were convinced it was for the best. it had to be. these emotions couldn’t be for nothing. 

it couldn’t be for nothing. 

when you arrived to the track that morning, alexandra was quick to meet your side. she had an impenetrable amount of questions for you, yearning for your answers, but you only gave her a brief overview. 

“we’re done,” you said as you walked through the pit lane. “he doesn’t want me like that.” 

she was clearly taken back. her hand flew over her heart, obviously distressed for you. you admired her care for you. you would do the same for her. “really?” 

you nodded, gulping down the lump in your throat that was tempting to choke you. 

“it’s okay.” you reaffirmed her. she made a move to speak over you, console you to the highest degree, but you stopped her. “i’m fine. swear. let’s have a good day, shall we?” you plastered on a fake smile towards her, but you knew she saw through you. but she would accept this for now when you were approached by carlos, rebecca, and raphael. 

you smiled brighter when raphael came to kiss both your cheeks. you gripped his bicep. engaging in conversation with him felt easier today, and you weren’t begging for an out. you’d catch rebecca’s eye here and there, and she glowed with happiness. if you weren’t doing this for yourself, you could at least say that you were doing it for her. 

raphael was not a bad man whatsoever. he smelled good, had good hygiene, and had a glowing smile. but he didn’t smell the same. didn’t have the same musk. didn’t have the harsh pricks of a stubble that burned into the skin of your neck. 

fuck. you missed the feeling of that stubble. 

you clung to raphael’s side for the rest of the day, a burning itch between your thighs undoing the morals of your mind. if you wanted to get over lando, you’d have to truly get over him. 

it was never a ‘string’s attached’ relationship, was it? you were free to fuck whoever you want, when you want. so why would it be so bad if you wished to see raphael bend down for you? 

or you wanted someone else, but raphael was the closest you’d get. 

the rest of the day went by smoothly. for you, at least, but not for lando.

he had come into the mclaren paddock looking absolutely awry. his hair messy, eyes dreary with sleep and emotion, whereas you…you looked beautiful. untouched by your emotions from the night before. so much so that you were cuddled against that same fucking dude, which had lando’s blood bursting to life. 

you were across in the pitlane observing the car, arms folded over your chest. that fucking guy’s hand rested on the upper part of your back, rolling soft circles with the pads of his fingers. he clenched the rim of his helmet in his hands. his teeth grinded inside his mouth, sawing down the enamel. for you, he’d have no teeth. for you were the only world he wished to bite, and even then you starved him of it. 

“y’alright, mate?” oscar’s voice interrupted his thoughts. lando broke his stare from the pair of you, ripping his eyes away. 

but you had turned, then, and let your eyes linger on his back.

“fine.” 

that evening was no different than any other. for lando, at least, he succumbed to his hotel room for the night. he had no interest in going out. if he saw you with that spanish prick, he’d only lose himself even more. the guilt of losing you had been overturning, divulging into what a psychologist would declare as madness. 

but you were the opposite. you were out on the town, clubbing with rebecca and raphael. carlos was there, too, but was saving his energy for the race tomorrow. he held no drink in his hand, but you did. you were downing shot after shot. 

you were swaying your hips, grinding against raphael with a steady pace. he was into it. his dick was aggressively hard against the back side of your dress, but you weren’t scared by it. it enticed you further, in fact, and had you drawing new sensations of pleasure through you.

finally, you thought, a break from him. from lando. but the voices echoed inside the back of your mind. it bounced off the walls; he couldn’t compare. 

lando would have his hands drawing up the sides of your body. fingertips scathing the fabric of your dress, teasing touches that would have you writhing in his hold, desperate for him to fuck you in the back. 

lando would have his face nuzzled into your neck whispering bittersweet praises into your ear. he’d squeeze your hips with anticipation as the both of you would move in sync. always in sync. the two of you were one on the dance floor, one when you fucked one another senseless in your less than private moments. when he was particularly desperate for your touch, he’d go as far as taking you in the bathrooms at any club. he had no shame; not when it came to you. 

but raphael was tame. and maybe you appreciated tame. maybe this was a new start for you. fresh and free of any unknowns. 

“you’re beautiful, hermosa.” he would whisper to you, body trying its best to keep up with you. he did, for the most part, but you moved to your own beat. lando would know. he knew every inch of you. were you really prepared to be strangers? 

you spun around in raphael’s arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you offered him a cheeky smile. this wasn’t you. “and you’re handsome!” it was alcohol talking. you would never be seen so exuberant. not like this. 

it had raphael laughing, though, and it was enough for him to take you back to his place. 

the entire way back to his place you were giggling, latching onto his tanned skin. his hair was soft, sheen, and luscious. your hands never got lost in the strands of his hair– it was too combed, not curly enough. nothing was curly enough. 

and then he had you against the wall of his flat. your hands pinned against your head, and he met your lips with his. fuck, you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been kissed. but the worst part about all of it was–

you hated it. 

you tugged his head down to your neck, letting him work the sensitive skin with his tongue. your lips felt hot. blistering with a heat you haven’t felt in a long time. it felt…it felt…

raphael’s tongue found the meeting part of your underwear and skin, “can i?” he asked with a timid voice. you let out a soft moan and nodded. he tugged the fabric down, your dress still hanging off your body. you didn’t even remember if he left kisses along your neck, your breasts, you guessed his lips weren’t that memorable. 

and then his tongue was against your slit. you weren’t wet enough. clearly. you could feel the chapped parts of your cunt, disappointed in your body that you couldn’t ‘get it up’ for him. whereas he was practically jacking off in his pants, you were left like a desert. it wouldn’t be like this with lando. 

he explored your cunt with his tongue, narrowly dodging your clit ever so slightly. he thought your noises of pleasure were noises of distress, so he avoided touching your clit as much as possible. so he tongued you through and through, until you began to become irritated. 

you couldn’t even feel tight in your stomach. the feeling couldn’t be outmatched. maybe your sexdrive had died. maybe you could never cum ever again. this was to be your fate– dry and lonely. fuck. you let your head fall back against the wall, which he took as a good sign, and kept going. instead, you threaded your hands through his hair, rolling your eyes. 

you let out a few soft, faked moans. you felt guilty– of course you did– but apparently it was an olympic sport to make you cum. he certainly wouldn’t make the playoffs. 

after another minute of this, you were fed up. 

you tightened your cunt on command, which took a lot of fucking work, thank you, and began to heighten the sound of your moans. the award for best fake orgasm goes to: you!!! you surged forward to grip onto his shoulders, even pretending to be shaking. 

you deserved an oscar. 

“didn’t think i was that good.” 

an egot, maybe. 

you let out a soft sigh, a faked chuckle, and let him lead you to his bedroom. he fell atop of you on your back, holding himself up with the strength of his forearms. he dipped his hand down, scathing over your irritated cunt. you gasped at his hand finding your slit once again, drenched in only his spit, and without warning slipped a finger inside of you. 

your mouth hung open, lurching at the sudden contact. you felt sinched beneath his weight, taught with tension. he even curled his finger inside of you. he grazed your bundle of nerves that had your squirming. squirming for more pressure. he kept hitting your spot until he pulled away. you looked confused at first, wondering where exactly he was going. 

and…then he was pulling his cock out. fuck. you really weren’t going to win here, tonight, were you? not in the slightest, it seemed. he looked down at you with a knowing smirk. the same one where he thought you came beneath his tongue. 

he thought you came. 

fuck!

“are you ready?” he asked when his cock pushed against the skin of your lower belly. he was a good size, you admit, but you had a inkling that you weren’t going to find a sweet release with his hands. you nodded, forgetting your manners, but raphael said nothing. 

he pushed into you with a discerning pace. you scrunched your nose out of his eyesight. he was too busy fucking himself into your pussy. he couldn’t even open his eyes to look at you. and, for the record, he didn’t use a condom. dick. at least you had a form of a contraceptive. you’d make sure not to let him finish inside you. that’s for fucking sure. 

he slid in and out of you with the lubrication of his spit and his own precum. you didn’t move. you laid there, bored, faking a moan and gasp here and there. 

the whole time you thought about someone else. and you didn’t feel guilty about it. you were able to find yourself comforted by the dreaming thought of lando’s voice in your ear. the phantom touch of his stubble. the amount of moles that you could count on his face. 

with a grunt, you felt raphael push off of you, cumming onto his own sheets. he laid there, panting, and you…”did the same.” 

he turned to face you, smile on his face. “did you finish?”

you nodded with an itching smile. he seemed triumphant. though you couldn’t be drier than a haystack. 

your exit from his flat quickly. it’s not like he even took your dress off. he insisted that you stayed, but you retorted that you had an early morning with alexandra. whether or not that's true, you didn’t seem to care. he didn’t fight your statement and seamlessly let you go, clearly too exhausted from his evening to even see you out the door.

you hailed a cab from your hotel shamefully. you felt icky. your lip sneered when you caught a cab and tipped the driver once you arrived back. the elevator ride never seemed so tantalizingly long. 

when you swiped into your room, you threw your belongings on your bed and turned on a hot shower. while you waited for the water to heat, you opened your phone. 

no messages from lando. 

did you expect any?

maybe. 

you decided to call him. you didn’t fucking care. it was the alcohol talking. 

ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…

no answer. 

you left a voicemail.

“heeyyy…!!” you surged into the phone as you began to untangle your dress from your body. “i–uh, i dunno i just…wanted to call you… because i…” you swore under your breath as you couldn’t get a strap off. “sorry i…” you stuttered, laughing to yourself. “i think i miss you, lan.” 

and then you hung up, singing yourself into the shower. the hot water panned over your body, fingers trailing over the mounds of your breasts. the soft skin of your abdomen. 

but with your whimsy, came a price.

lando was there. he just didn’t answer your call. he had been awake, wondering what you were doing, since you were absent on almost all forms of social media. so when he got your call, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it. 

then the voicemail came.

he must’ve played it over a dozen times. hearing your soft voice, amicable and kind. you had been drinking, clearly, and he could hear the sound of the shower running in the background. he held his phone against his head, other hand running through his hair. he was a wreck over you, and you were as well. drunk dialing was never a thing between the two of you. 

especially an ‘i miss you.’ 

and how ‘lan’ slipped past your lip with such ease. the name was meant for you to use. only you. 

he found himself stroking his cock to your words, the temptress in your voice. he knew she was there, baiting him, and he was no better than a fish to bite. he fisted his cock with your name on his lips, and a reminder that yours was on his.

with a pounding heartbeat and ringing in his ears, all he could think about was you. and more or less, you the same.

your fingers trailed down your navel in the shower, coming to nib at the lips of your clit. how swollen it was, angered and annoyed, that such a man could ignore it. by association, you. 

a hand rolled over one of your breasts, twisting your nipple in hand. you gasped at the sensation you provided, flicking your clit between your fingers. you truly needed no more to make yourself cum, except the thought of lando’s voice in your ears. 

‘come on, baby,’ he would say to you, fingers gliding along your drenched slit with ease. you clenched around nothing, whimpering to yourself in the hum of the hot shower. ‘little more for me, yeah?’ he would always talk you through it. never once would you be alone when you came. he was always there, lingering, a shadow against the walls. 

you slipped a single finger inside of yourself, curling it expertly as lando taught you to. ‘just like that, sweet thing.’ he’d mutter against your shoulder as he’d fuck you on a chair facing a mirror. you could never make yourself cum before his “lessons.” 

your back arched against the marble of the shower walls. your thumb and forefinger worked just like his would against your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves until a coil inside of you snapped, and you came all over yourself with his name on your lips.

and he could feel it. amongst the cosmic plane. he had been grudgingly fisting his cock, grunting your name over his lips. it was sinful, the way that his cock was spewing cum in only a matter of minutes at the thought of your voice. ‘lan, lan,’ you would say to him, ‘need it. need you inside,’ you’d whimper against him, begging for his cum to seep out of you. 

he’d never deny you a pleasure. so he shouldn’t deny himself. he came in a matter of seconds over the palm of his hand, your name flustering his tongue. and he’d lay there, soaking in his milky cum, eyes blown wide at just how much of an effect you had on him; mind, body, and soul. 

you stood there in the shower, flustered from heat, the slick running down your thighs. your hearts beat in unison at that moment, miles apart, on the same wavelength. 

the shower wasn’t the same after that. you felt dirty, but so good. the namesake of lando’s voice in your ear was enough to have you cumming on your own fingers, but the touch of another man made you ill. what a shock that was to you. or maybe it wasn’t a surprise at all. 

clean to the best of your ability, you slept easy that night. the best sleep you’ve had this weekend, in fact, with lando frolicking through your dreams. and you in his, whispering soft ‘i love you’s’ which had him writhing with pleasure. you infested every part of him, and he did the same to you. you’d never be free of lando norris, and the thought began to settle. it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but you couldn’t forget his words. 

‘i don’t know,’ he spoke into your stomach. his nose pinched you. the words sliced clean. your stomach coiled not with pleasure, but anxiety. why didn’t he want you that way? why did he hesitate? 

you weren’t taking his rejection well. that was clear. 

but he wasn’t taking this any better. he was going through his own emotional turmoil of trying to make this up to you. it would be the last thing that he did. 

when you woke that morning with a groggy headache and a sore ache between your thighs, you couldn’t help but groan. what the fuck were you doing last night? you perhaps had the most disappointing sex of your entire life, and now, as you looked in the mirror you were nothing more than mortified. 

littered on your chest, above your breasts, were a few specks of bruises. hickey’s. fuck. fuck. that was one thing that was always far too intimate. kisses and hickeys. what did this mean, then, that you belonged to raphael? your fingers trailed up the bruises on your chest, the flesh tender beneath your soft touch. you winced at the memory of his cocky face, thinking that he had you finishing more than once. if at all. you leaned over the sink, washing your face off with cold water. 

your hands rested at the base of your neck. your reflection stared back at you, pitiful, the bruises beneath your eyes reflected a tiredness that the word ‘exhaustion’ could not begin to fathom. you were disappointed in yourself. that much was clear. 

a sigh escaped you when you finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. for the race today, you decided on a long dress. one that covered your chest, but hung on your shoulders. it was a beautiful piece. you’d been saving it for this weekend, and you were more than thankful that the universe seemed to be looking out for you. 

you tidied up your appearance the best you could and slid on a pair of heels, grimacing at the sore ache from the night before. raphael didn’t have a valet, so you had to walk across four blocks with his hands wandering down your sides, desperate to fuck you in an alleyway. ew. you shivered at the memory, but continued on from your hotel room.

though, you took one last glance before leaving, and let your eyes rest on the balcony. it felt like a dream to see lando sitting there, his face resting against the tender flesh of your stomach. his stubble itched through the cotton of your shirt, but it rather tickled. and then he said he didn’t know what he wanted with you, and your whole life slipped right through your fingers. 

he slipped through your fingers. 

you shut the door. 

lando’s morning, on the other hand, started off stellar in comparison to yours. he had stayed up a while longer, wondering if you would call him back, but you never did. there was a faint pang of disappointment, but much more guilt that he let you slip away so easily. he should’ve refused to leave your hotel room that night. refused by any force you attempted on him. 

but he’s just that much of a fucking idiot, wasn’t he? when he left for the paddock early that morning, he glanced at his phone one last time. one missed call, and it was from you last night. and then suddenly, his heart was warm, and there was a smile on his face.

all this told him was that there was a chance. you called him. you called him whether or not you were shitfaced. blackout drunk. in your vulnerable moments you thought of him. reached out for him. fuck, he was in love with you.

in love

he paused when he shut the door behind him, frozen in place. what? is that what this was? love? 

anxiety churned in his stomach. this feeling had been there for a while. a long time. and only now he was just realizing it. shit. 

he fiddled with his phone in his hands. thumb hovering over your contact card, he let it fall. 

it rang twice before he heard the line connect. 

“yeah?” you said, demure and quiet. he knew you were exhausted. he’s heard this tone before. the tone you had when you were viciously hungover. it had him chuckling. “what?” 

“good morning to you, too.” the words rolled easy from him. he suddenly felt calmer with you on the other end, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in the pit of his stomach. 

“good morning.” you said, like you were shocked that he was calling you to say good morning. 

“fun night?” he asked, stepping into the elevator and hitting the ‘lobby’ button. a few members of his team were already waiting for him. 

 but you had froze up in the car ride to the paddock. what? how could he know? did he know that you were with raphael? you cleared your throat. “what– what do you mean?” 

“you called me.” 

shit. 

if you weren’t fucked already, you were royally now. your hand dragged over your forehead as your head swarmed with anxious thoughts, completely forgetting about calling him and then…touching yourself in the shower to the thought of him. yikes! what a little freak you were. but lando would enjoy it. 

“i–” you stuttered, voice caught in your throat. “i’m sorry…i was just…” 

your voice trailed and you could hear his childish laugh from the other end. “no, no. it was cute.” you heard the elevator ding from his end, but it hard to focus on when there was a deep blush flustering your cheeks. 

“i didn’t mean to bother you,” you quickly said, finding the need to apologize over and over again for disrupting his night. it was embarrassing enough as is that you had the worst sex of your life, but you called the one man that didn’t want you for consolidation. what a conundrum that was, wasn’t it? 

“you didn’t.” his words were firm this time, no traces of playfulness. you perked up at this, finding yourself laughing. 

“must’ve said something dumb, didn’t i?” 

there was a pause. 

“yeah. yeah. something dumb.” 

there was another beat of silence. you shifted in the uber, the pass around your neck.

“i’ll see you there?” 

you heard him suck in a tight breath, then release it. 

“yeah. yeah, ‘course you will.” 

you smiled. he could feel it. 

“okay. bye, then.” 

he said your name softly on the other end with a salutation, and the line went flat. you slammed your back against the leather seats of the car, hands rolling over your face. you rubbed your eyes, wondering if you were still dreaming. 

it wasn’t fair that he could make you this way. that he had you in tears just a few nights before, and now your fingers shook with excitement. fuck him. fuck him for making you feel this way, and yet, there was no trace of annoyance on your face. 

just a bright smile. 

your name was called when you swiped into the paddock. it had you whipping your head up to see who it could be, but you already knew that it was alexandra. she wasn’t trailed by anyone else, thank god, and she flung her arms around you for a hug. 

you sang a soft greeting towards her, and she looked up at you expectantly. you raised a brow. 

“so…!?” 

you narrowed your eyes. 

“your night with…!” her voice dropped to a whisper. “raphael.” 

you shushed her, looking around, before you held one of her hands in yours. “you want the truth?” her facial expression dropped, but she nodded anyways. 

“awful.” 

she groaned, head rolling back in disappointment. “i told rebecca it wasn’t a good idea.” 

“the sex was…horrible. just…i mean, what the fuck?” alexandra burst out into a laugh as the both of you joined side by side towards the ferrari hospitality. you dreaded going, given the unanswered texts for him, you didn’t want to be confronted with…anything. 

“most importantly…” alexandra stopped the two of you before you entered. “are you over him?” 

him. the inevitable. 

you swallowed. 

and nodded your head.

alexandra was only slightly pleased and gave you a reassuring smile. boy, this would be a long day. 

before the race started you were wandering around the pitlane with your miniature crew of ferrari girlfriends and their friends. raphael had found you, eagerly, with a prideful smile on his face. out of kindness, you returned the gesture, and let him linger around you for the day.

ferrari’s pit was next to mclaren’s. you couldn’t help but stare. 

lando was there. in his papaya race suit. he was speaking to his engineers, and never glanced your way. look at me, you wanted to shout. please, your mind begged. but you stayed firm at raphael’s side.

he dared to stretch out his hand to let it loiter on your waist, but you shimmied out of the contact with an awkward smile. he noticed, but didn’t say anything. 

lando did too. 

but not what you wanted him to see. he saw you with raphael’s arm around your waist. you were smiling, laughing, in their presence. whereas he couldn’t even bear a night out without the cumbersome thoughts of you constricting his mind. he thought of nothing but you. and here you were, haphazardly dangling this spanish prick in front of his face. fucker. 

you turned to look at lando again, free of raphael’s touch. he was staring.

your heart beat faster, eyes widened. your palms were sweating– why were they sweating? he looked pissed, frustrated, but you didn’t know why. your brows upturned with a soft expression that he yearned for, and his envy flushed away. 

it was that easy. your gentle features. the concern ridden in your face. 

you even gave him a small wave, twiddling your fingers. he was bashful in response, and returned it with a small twist of his own fingers. 

but his eyes carried down. towards your chest. you blinked, realizing that part of your dress had slipped further. there was an obvious bruise making an appearance, and you felt guilty. guilty as if you had cheated on him, but you were never in a relationship to begin with.

you saw his jaw tightened and his hands flex before he turned, leaving you speechless. 

and then you were dragged away, just like that, into the viewing panel for the race. they were about to start their formation lap, yet you could barely focus with your racing heart. 

it past with ease. raphael tried to get closer to you, but you found excuses to stay huddled at alexandra’s side. she noticed, and even wrapped her own arm around your waist. the two of you were a picturesque vision of divine femininity. you felt untouchable at her side, incomparable to any girlfriend you’ve ever had. 

lando was fighting hard. he was aggressive on the straits, pushing past the limits of his drs. your hand traced over your chin as you watched the tv intensely, frightened when you saw him make contact with one of the mercedes drivers. 

“what is he doing…” you muttered under your breath. your nailbeds were being hacked on by your teeth, chewing them down to the stump. parts of your thumbs streamed with blood. 

little to your knowledge, your reaction had been broadcasted. alexandra’s face unfurled with a cheeky look, realizing that she had been played by your deception from earlier. you were not over him. in fact, you were entirely worse than before. your concern was ebbed through the power of media, and that wouldn’t be forgotten. 

“are you okay?” came raphael’s voice. you didn’t even look at him.

“fine.” 

he took your cold tone in earnest, realizing that there was something more at stake here. 

you couldn’t be more grateful when lando passed the checkered flag. your hand found the column of your throat, finding comfort. you let your face be consumed by a smile, one similar to raphael’s when he thought he made you came. stupid man, you thought, glancing towards the spaniard. you had a new priority now.

you had to prove that you wanted lando. but how? everything felt like it was becoming too complicated. your fates were intertwined via an invisible string. 

and you didn’t even go to his podium.

he looked for you, sweat dripping down his forehead, but didn’t see you. it had him grow weary, agitated. he raced this hard so he could prove himself to you. prove that he was better than some lowlife. 

but he fears he lost you. 

the hickey’s on your neck spoke volumes. you fucked him. fucked that stranger. his fists curled around the trophy, break-necking the medal display. 

did you come? 

no. stop that. it’s none of his business to ask–

she didn’t. you couldn’t. 

the pieces began to fall in place in his head. the phone call. you called him…when you needed him most. 

it suddenly made holding this trophy all the more worthwhile, and he even donned a smile on his face when he raised it high above his head. this, he thought, was victory. 

the night came as swiftly as the day went. you were getting ready to go out, alexandra reminding you to schedule your uber. you did. the dress you wore this evening was short. one of your favorite colors, and had a high neckline. for obvious reasons. you were entirely mortified that raphael felt the primal need to mark you like some bitch. it had your stomach twisting with anger, fingers pulsing with a punch. 

but your violent urges stayed dormant when you met up with alexandra, charles, rebecca, carlos, and…raphael. jeez, what a lot you’ve surrounded yourself with. raphael was at your side in an instant when you climbed out of the uber, refusing to give you a morsel of space. it had your lip curling, grimacing down the vomit that curdled in your throat. 

you barely spoke a word to him tonight. there was nothing more to say to him. if you were to say anything, it would be a rotten lie. 

alexandra tugged you along through the doors, charles at her flank, which you gladly let her do. anything to get away from raphael would be best for you, given how much you didn’t want to confront him. it was just for the weekend, right? no strings attached. 

no strings attached, echoed through your mind. flashes of lando’s hands on your hips, the phantom embrace that tensed around your flesh, seeped into your head. your heart plummeted against your will, looking around futilely for his bright smile amongst the sea of oncomers. 

it didn’t take you long.

but you wish that it did. 

he had his arm slung around some girl, hat backwards, first few buttons undone on his white dress shirt. hands clamming up, you tightened them together over your front, letting your eyes gawk at such a beautiful pairing. it was a different girl than the one you had rudely met in monaco. 

another one of his girls. 

your mind begged you to let it go. but your heart chained itself to lando, refusing to let go this…infatuation that had you sick to your stomach. what did she have that you didn’t? was she nonchalant? was she a cool girl? 

your staring lasted too long. lando saw you. he felt your eyes– your heated stare, beckoning his attention. he answered your call, glancing directly at you. but he did not wave. 

neither did you. 

the urge thwarted you to look anywhere else but him, tugged your attention elsewhere, but you stayed firm on his freckled face, sharp cheekbones, his daunting stare. you felt the beat of his heart from across the room, the bass boosted rap, his irritability when raphael came to rest a hand on your hip. but you did not turn away from this fight. your arsenal was loaded, and so was his. 

lando glanced at raphael, first to break eye contact, and swug the rest of his cocktail in hand. he let the glass slide across the counter of the bar before tugging the girl at his side to his front, the pair of them dancing with one another. 

fine, if he wants to play, then you’ll play. 

you were handed a cocktail by raphael. you thanked him sincerely before you downed your own in one gulp. raphael gaped at you with a slack jaw. you wiped the loose drops from your jaw, and offered him your hand. 

“dance with me?” 

raphael didn’t need to be asked twice when he took your hand. you led him deeper into the club, the led lights brightening both your faces. in this light, you supposed that he was irrecoverably handsome. and the thought slipped through your mind that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve had a good life with him. that in some universe that you could get over this feud with a man who doesn’t want you, you’d have a well-earned chance at happiness. 

but the thought left just as quickly as it came. 

your hips were against his. ass against his crotch, grinding in a rough series of movements. he began growing accustomed to how you moved, and that much you could be thankful for. no longer would the two of you be awkward on the dance floor, fragile hands trembling against your body. he felt more confident, but you could tell there was something brewing behind those big brown eyes of his. but you honestly couldn’t care less, not when you were distracted. 

not when your eyes were entranced on a man who treated you like garbage. who cried in your arms, begged for your presence. then, left your hotel room with tears streaming down your face. 

his hands were tightly wound around the girls abdomen, cocky expression glazing his face. he spoke to a few of his buddies here, too, amply looking like a douche. one that who knew exactly what he was doing to girls. fuck. 

you were just one of his girls. 

this enraged you. but it shouldn’t. but it did. there was no excuse for your fray of emotions. they simply existed, and you were going to deal with them. not in a responsible way. no, you were far too gone for that. alcohol warmed your throat, your palms, your chest. 

you let your head lean back onto raphael’s shoulder, your mouth coming to his ear. “you can touch me.” you encouraged him. he seemed to lighten at this, becoming bold enough to let his hands trail up your body. he’d indulge in your shape, letting his fingers imprint against the globes of your breasts, the lining of your panties beneath your dress. 

a light giggle left you when you let your head rise from his blades, and were met with an aggressive, terrifying, stare from across the room. 

your lips puckered. 

lando’s head was resting on the girl’s shoulder, his hips swaying with hers, but his eyes were trained on you. you, you, and more you. he was glaring at the man behind you, his gaze so bitter that it soured even your own tongue. it was the miniscule amount of guilt that flustered your head, but you shoved it down. 

lando retaliated, beginning to kiss on the girls neck. she leaned against him, a gorgeous smile lighting up the room. 

you grumbled, turning your head to meet raphael’s eyes. your eyes pleaded with a language of seduction, one that any man could understand. 

raphael took the bait. 

his lips trailed down your ear, down the column of your neck. all whilst your back was pressed against his front, you felt the outline of his dick. your palm tightened at the memory of how he attempted to fuck you, but you had to remain composed. you couldn’t fail now. 

your lip caught between your teeth for dramatics. like you were holding back a moan. 

lando was watching. in fact, he never stopped. he was drunk on the addiction of watching you. watching you grind your hips on that fuckin’ guy, not even wince when his lips were glossing over the sensitive flesh of your neck. could he make you wet with just his mouth? 

the british driver could feel his end nearing. if this progressed any further, he’d drag your ass to the bathroom and fuck you like you’d deserve. he didn’t give a fuck. not anymore. not when your lip was bitten by your top row of teeth, an illusive point to how that guy was pleasuring you. he felt fucking sick. though he was starving to the same degree. 

his chest was aflame at your teasing touches on your own body. he could see the outline of your panties, the lack of a bra. your nipples were pinching against the fabric that confined them, and he had to stop himself from drooling. you were so fucking sexy. 

the girl at his front was growing bored of her lack of attention. he, honestly, didn’t even remember her name. but he’d suffice it with a swirl of his tongue around the skin of her jaw. it was a critical move, since he knew that you’d never let yourself be kissed. you wouldn’t risk such intimacy with a man you’ve only known for a few days–

except you would. 

this was war, wasn’t it? 

watching lando suck and slurp on that girl’s neck had you desperate to come up with an alternate idea. an approach that would crown you victorious without a second thought. it was cruel, you knew this, but you were out of options. you had something to prove. prove that you were over him. though, you knew that this would end in one of two ways;

him, fucking you.

or, him leaving. 

you much preferred the latter. 

with enough fury boiling in your bones, you lifted your head to meet raphael’s eyes. with your pointer finger, you let it roll over his chin, connecting with your thumb. you glanced at his lips, your tongue wetting your own, and pulled him to meet you. 

raphael said your name into your mouth, nervous to even let his tongue explore yours. you sucked in a tight breath, lip curling to reference a snarl at how much you despised the sensation. it was messy, wet, and you felt instantly disgusted with yourself for even letting him touch your lips. you felt like you jumped too far into a relationship with raphael, even though you were certain that you didn’t want one. 

“be my girlfriend,” raphael breathed into your mouth. you hummed a laugh, thinking that he was joking. but he moved to separate you too, staring at you with a brazen thoroughness that you never wished to see again. 

“i’m serious. i want–” 

“‘scuse me, mate,” you knew that voice. you knew that voice too well. your head spun around to see lando leering dangerously close to raphael’s face, the heat of his body emanating onto your own. he stood only a few inches from you.

you felt his hand ghost over the small of your back, and you suddenly felt desperate to feel it. with your lips raw from that kiss, your fingertip glazed over the flesh, your eyes lost in lando’s tense expression. his jaw was tightened, chest doing it’s best to keep his heated expression under control. however, that control was slipping with every passing moment that you were in raphael’s arms. 

raphael turned his attention to lando, suddenly pissed. “need something?” 

lando gave him a hoarse chuckle. “yeah. can i borrow your lady for a second?”

raphael made a move to shake his head. “no, we were just—”

“thanks, mate.” lando gripped your back with his fingertips, digging into the skin without mercy. you felt his anger rolling off of him in tense waves, the urge to consolidate him overwhelming. he led you through the crowds of people with an insurmountable force, jaw tightly clenched the entire way. you could practically hear his teeth grinding against one another. 

he said nothing until he opened– no, broke the door– to the bathroom. it was a single stall– no one was in there. he allowed you to enter first, stretching out his arm as a much needed signal. you waited a moment, arms crossing over your chest. 

his eyes didn’t relent. he would wait here all fucking day before you decided to go in. and you did. he locked the door behind the two of you in an instant. 

“what the fuck are you–” you began to scold, back turned to him as you approached the mirror and the sink. you were interrupted when he spun you around, hand place firmly on your hip. the contact had you gasping, glancing down at his hand. 

“so, what?” he said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, blown pupils. his heart was electrified, hidden behind his cage of ribs, and one hand flexed as it gripped the edges of the porcelain sink. he hummed, “hm? he your boyfriend now?”you gaped at him. “you’re serious?” you stifled a laugh, unbelieving of his attitude. “what’s it to you, lando? hm?”

his shoulders tensed. “you shouldn’t be with him.” 

you rolled your eyes. lando gripped your chin, demanding your attention. “why not, then? ‘m i supposed to be your whore forever?” 

his thumb rolled over your bottom lip. “you never were,” he tsked. you were bewildered. brow raising, however difficult to focus when his hand around your hip began to swirl circles on your skin. 

“what the fuck are you saying, then, lando? you need to–”

“you let him kiss you.” 

you froze. 

“never me. why?” his restraint was slipping. his forehead edged closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath fanning across your face. 

“why?” he asked again, his nose brushing against your own. you shook your head ‘no,’ lip beginning to quiver beneath his body. his chest pressed against your own as he got closer. he needed to be closer. “he fuck you better? hm? that it?” 

you shuddered when you felt his fingers lower from your hip, trailing circles towards your navel, the slit of your dress that met your upper thigh. 

“go on,” he urged, his voice tense from gritting his teeth. “tell me. tell me, and i’ll stop.” 

you stayed quiet except for the whimper that left your throat when his fingers curled against your panties, a dampened spot ruining the fabric. there was a deep chuckle against your face, lando’s forehead still against your own. you tightened your lips together, not daring a word to spill. 

“tell me, and i’ll let you go party with your new boy.” 

“fuck you,” you bit out, seething with your desire, angered with his jealous antics. 

“yeah? yeah? you want ‘ta fuck me?” there was no way of hiding his cocky grin. it could be seen from miles away, even when his face was millimeters from yours. 

“you’re an asshole,” you heaved, your hips bucking when he began to slide your underwear to the side. your breaths were harsh against his cheeks. 

“must like ‘em mean, then,” he cooed, followed by a deep chuckle. “‘cause you’re drippin’ for me.” you felt your slick seep around his fingers as h grazed the puffy lips of your cunt. your head was thrown back against the concrete wall, smacking against the surface. lando was quick to adjust your head, his fingers tugging into your hair. 

“fuck,” you sighed, finding his pleasures undeniable. he was so on edge from seeing you kissing raphael, that he was lost in his madness. this pent up lust was bursting from its locked away jar, pouring its fury onto you. “touch me, lando. please–” 

with a swift motion he perched you onto the porcelain sink, your head lolling against the mirror, supported by his palm. he tugged you forward so your glossy cunt stained the front of his black pants. the wet spot was pertinent, your face flushing with embarrassment. you were supposed to hate this. why did you love it? 

“‘am touchin’ you, baby.” his middle finger teased you, blessing you with a split moment of euphoria of grazing your clit. you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “look at me,” his hand tightened in your hair. your eyes flashed open, face to face with his crooked, loving smile. “look at me when i make you cum.”

you nodded, whimpering rapidly. he grinned harder at your desperate, pleading tone. though you spoke no words, he could tell just how badly you needed him. 

“inside,” your begging didn’t cease, especially when he was still refusing to slide a finger inside of you. “please, please—”

your words were cut off when his middle finger curled sweetly inside of you, eliciting the sweetest pleasure you have felt in weeks. the moan you delivered was guttural, deep, and most of all, primal. lando’s dick pulsated in his pants, his fingers twitching at your lewd voice. 

a hand reached out to grip onto his bicep, your head falling into the crook of his neck. you felt undeniably at ease in his hold, despite the hurt that he’s caused you. 

his finger began to slide in and out of you, scissoring you to high hell and back, and you were putty in his hands. moments like these is what he favored most with you, but he would take anything to be in your presence. he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt when he swooped you up from that asshole’s arms, leaving him shocked and disrespected. lando was keen enough to twist his head over his shoulder when he led you away, watching as raphael’s face contorted with disappointment. it had his jaw tensing, resisting the urge to smirk. 

“come on, baby,” lando’s voice cut through your high, your naval tightening with a hot pressure. “know you’re close. can feel it.” 

he added a second finger, using his thumb to roll over your sensitive bundle of nerves. the stimulation was overwhelming, your throat raw with the carnal moans he drew from your depths. he’d be the only one to hear any of these ever again. he promised himself that much. 

your orgasm was imminent, the coil in your belly snapping with a hopeless yearning you’ve been deprived of for what feels like an eternity. slick covered the palm of his hand, and your eyes had locked onto his. he watched as you trembled with desire, legs twitched around his waist. with one quick move he brought his two fingers to your lips.

you knew what he wanted. 

you’ve never tasted yourself before. but your lips parted, and he lathered your slick over your tongue. you sucked in earnest over his calloused digits, lips puckering, cheeks hollowing. you swallowed, letting your tongue linger over his fingertips.

“now you know,” he whispered, clutching you tight. “why i can’t stay away.” for a brief moment, you thought he was mentioning because of the taste of your cunt. but with the deep look in his eyes, you knew it meant more. you were made for him. both in spirit and sensuality. 

lando spun you around from your seat atop the sink, having you flipped, staring at your reflection in the mirror. you look disheveled, and downright fucked. your feet met the ground, the palm of his hand spreading over the expanse of your back, flattening you to a ninety degree angle. 

“lift your hips for me, love,” you obeyed without second thoughts, rising to your tip toes as he ran his fingers along the underside of your thighs, pulling down the fabric of your panties. they hit the floor, and your cunt went rigid with the cold air. but you heard lando making fast work with his belt, his jeans, and you sifted back and forth. you even turned to look at him over your shoulder, lashes batting unintentionally at the spring of his cock against his lower belly. 

“missed this,” he breathed, saddling his hand at the base of your neck. you pushed into his hold, deepening the connection. 

your exhaustion didn’t impede your ability to get fucked. that was for sure. lando wasn’t going to spare a single effort on your behalf. he was riled, pent up, and now he wanted to see tears in your eyes as you were split open on his cock. it was a promise. 

“missed you.” you mumbled. lando’s hand tightened around the frontal base of your throat. 

“what was that?” 

you whimpered. “missed you!”

“atta girl.” he was pleased with your higher volume, and awarded you by edging the tip of his cock through your folds. you lurched forward, gripping onto the dish of the sink. a deep groan left you, and he gave you a grace period to adjust. but it took too long. you wanted him deep. bottomed out. until there was nothing else for you to give. 

“show me,” you grit your teeth. “show me he’s not good enough.” 

your words seemed to ignite a flame inside of lando that couldn’t be ignored. you felt him huff air, the sensation tickling your spine, and he thrust himself inside of you. forget a grace period, you were going straight to heaven. 

you moaned, his cock stimulating a perverse area inside your cunt that no man could ever reach. lando was out for blood to prove that he was the only man that could truly fuck you. and fuck you he would. 

the sound of skin slapping echoed through the bathroom. your moans intertwined with his mewls, creating an atmosphere derived from both of your pleasures alone. nothing would ever compare to this feeling. how he curved deliciously inside of you, how you tightened so mercilessly around his cock. he’d let himself run dry so he could feel your tight walls each night. 

the pressure of his hand around your throat didn’t relent. with his index and thumb squeezing at every point he bottomed out, you swore you were seeing stars. you were an irrecoverable mess in lando’s arms, and that’s just the way he wanted you. in the reflection of the mirror stared the fading marks that fucker left on your skin. but he was determined to make his own. and it was different that you’d let him. without a doubt, he could bite through your skin, make you bleed for all you fucking cared. 

“who’s fucking you this good?” lando asked, hand tightening briefly for your response. you were lost in your haze, unable to truly focus on his words. your brows furrowed. 

“you,” you said, breathless, clenching onto the sink with all your prospective might. 

“who?” he prodded further, opposite hand coming to rub at your clit. you seethed, breath tightening in your throat. tears burned at your retinas, the skillful work of his fingers bringing you to an oncoming orgasm. lando felt it, and paused his fingers. 

you whimpered, then looked at him in the mirror. he loomed like no man you’ve ever seen. darkened eyes, sweaty hair. fuck, he’s so hot. “you!” 

his fingers returned their assault on your clit, and you could feel the burning heat once more. you grinded hopelessly against the palm of his hand, which he responded as to pinching the bundle of nerves atop your cunt to with more pressure. 

it didn’t take long before you were keeling over the sink, his hand around your neck forcing you to arch before him. with your unbearably tight cunt, he came with you, filling you with hot ropes of cum. the feeling of him warm, vested in your walls brought you a comfort like nothing else. 

lando’s head fell forward with his heaving chest onto the base of your neck. his heart was beating so fast, you could feel it. you lifted yourself from the downward angle of the sink, his hands coming to steady you despite his exhaustion. 

“i lied to you before,” he spoke into the skin of your neck. too fucked out to really process what he was saying, you turned slightly to catch one of his eyes. “you aren’t a favorite.”

you frowned, still confused, heart feeling ripped open once more. 

“you’re the only girl.” 

you turned fully this time to face him. 

“what?”

“you heard me.” you did. that was true. but what you didn’t believe was true, was his words. 

“don’t…” you begged. “don’t play with me anymore, lan…” the nickname rolled off your tongue with ease. “i can’t…i can’t wait for someone who doesn’t…” love, “want me the same.”

lando brushed a stray hair from your forehead. he let himself lean into you. your bodies fit together perfectly. 

“what do you want, then?” 

your voice was caught in your throat. there was a million things you wanted, but there was only one thing you needed. 

“i need you.” 

need cut through his body like wild flower to barley. need was the mending his heart needed. need was the remedy of his uncertainties about you. 

his face upturned into a smile. 

“i can’t do this,” he said, taking a breath. “any of this, without you. need you here, with me,” with his forehead touching yours, you could feel his lashes against your browline. 

“lando…”

he shook his head. your name was soft on his tongue. “please, please, stay with me. i should’ve never left that hotel room. never.” 

your cheeks were wet. but they weren’t from your tears. his. his lip was quivering when you opened your eyes, his own shut as if he were too afraid to face you. 

and instead of answering him with words, you tilted your head up, and let your lips collide with his. torn into shock, lando’s eyes flew open, unbelieving of what was happening. you were kissing him. your lips on his, intimate. you wanted to be intimate with him, not just fuck him. 

his eyes fluttered shut, and his hand came to wrap around the back of your neck. he returned your kiss, tongue eager to explore the cavern of your mouth, and you let him. you had been afraid to let him kiss you, fearful that you would become addicted to this pleasure. 

you were right in your fear. there was never a universe where you wouldn’t be drunk on his tongue, craving his teeth clashing with your own. it was an ensued battle with your mouths, one you weren’t going to relent easily. but he remained victorious and let his tongue run over yours. the two of you were inseparable, body and spirit. 

there was finally a blasted knock on the bathroom door, which had you jumping. lando turned his head over his shoulder, and was quick to drop to his knees to roll your panties back up. 

“like you down there,” you commented from him on his knees. he turned to look at you with a knowing smirk, and kissed the skin of your thighs. when he stood at his full height, he adjusted his own pants, looking presentable enough. 

“beautiful.” he complimented, leaning in for a plethora of kisses. he kissed all around your mouth, your nose, your jaw, before he landed on your mouth.

“i love you,” he blurted out against your lips. you gaped at him and he was worried you wouldn’t feel the same. but the two of you knew this answer for a long, long time. 

your brows upturned. “i love you too.” 

his hand fell on your lower back, guiding you out of the bathroom. “guess you’re my girl now, yeah?” 

you slapped his bicep. “we have a lot to talk about, but for tonight…” you nodded. 

he was happy enough with that answer. 

“gotta let raphael down easy…” you mumbled as lando held the door open for you. 

“oh…!” he said in an exaggerated tone. “that’s what his name is.” 

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[lessi-lover]

don't break me when i let you in II barcelona femení x teen!reader

warnings: mention of suicide, implied self harm, self hate, spanish federation.

this is the longest i've ever written and i'm so proud thank you all for sending ideas to help me keep this draft alive x

don't break me when i let you in II barcelona femení x teen!reader

"you don't have to be strong all the time, you know?" it was an ignorant affair to believe, something only somebody with a slight sliver of saved up hope might trust. not you. not the broken shell of a person that can only believe you are the only thing keeping yourself together.

the glue to a cracked vase. in which the vase was you and you were slowly breaking under pressure that had been following you for years. if you hadn't hit rock bottom a couple months ago, you were certainly scraping the edge with your bare teeth now.

you had been one of their strongest forwards available to select from. a top forward in your league, it would be silly for them not to call you up with the titles next to your name at such a young age. it was inevitable that you would be called up for the world cup squad selection and there was nothing you could have done about it even if you tried.

you were just so helpless weren't you?

there was nobody to tell that you didn't want to travel to australia to play for a team that had ripped you inside out before you were even first national tournament debut, nobody that would understand how badly you wanted to represent your country and how willing you were to put your body on the line for it even for a single minute in spanish colours.

is that why you stayed quiet?

you stared towards yourself in the mirror, wondering if maybe your eyes had ever truly been as light as they used to tell you. that the light in your eyes you had been promised was always there had just seemingly disappeared. the eyes that they still talk about that seem so foreign to you now as you look back at yourself through shattered glass. wondering if maybe it was all just a lie.

maybe it was all just a lie.

a black and white faceless lie that everything you would go through for a ruthless tournament was for the better of you. or worse. a binary promise that everything would be okay, that all the suffering would end in good for you. or not.

but you look back through the same eyes that you were meant to be able to trust, the eyes that let everything just happen without looking back, and you still don't understand how you could be so easily deceived, taken apart from top to bottom like a neglected toy.

a useless, discardable toy. was it all a lie?

maybe the people who were meant to protect you and care for you were actually abusing you to wits' ends. maybe it wasn't that you needed the further training they made you endure after your previous training, but that you were so young and fresh and all too easy to manipulate.

maybe it was those you trusted and who sent you away with the assurance that you would be the next spanish legacy that isolated you from the world and treated you as a vessel to secure gold for spain.

but you were to blind and powerless to seek help.

you had been the silent one. the one too shattered to even bear the trial that came with the aftermath of the events following your world cup win. you knew the federation would come after you. you were the one who wanted so badly to sign the document that your teammates had but you couldn't bring yourself to look at the people who had broken you from the inside out for even just a second to speak your mind.

you were just a shell of a once strong force now weren't you?

you knew they would try and rip away each and every title you had ever worked for and your playing rights along with it. you were a world cup, champions league, copa de la reina, nations league and liga f winner. but maybe you were just a vulnerable, small cog in a relentless system that wouldn't stop until you broke down and they would throw you away like the others.

the fear of losing everything you had worked for since you were a small child paralyzed you for months. the mere thought of speaking out, of seeking help, seemed as impossible as how you got into the situation in the first place.

the federation had an iron grip on your life, they could control you whether you were defenseless to it or not and any caught wind of saying something felt like signing your own demise.

it would end you surely? don't you think that maybe speaking out for help would become the end of your career? one that had barely started as you were only freshly twenty years old? staying quiet was the better option. you had thought you could escape unscathed, but your reality was far from it.

nobody had your best interest and those who did didn't make it clear enough until you finally broke down from the denied pressure. it felt like a void sometimes. as if you were screaming and nobody could hear you, or maybe nobody cared?

no they care. didn't they?

did they care when you were forced out of bed early in the morning to complete extra practice before the day even started? did they care when you were just a young teenager illegally moving up into the senior divisions of international football to cover for seniors who had denied their call up's and was made to exhaust your body more than you ever should? did they care when the private meetings you were obligated to attend turned into time to yell at you, to break you down as if you hadn't given your entire life to the federation.

but then again, if not football what else did you have to live for?

you asked yourself these questions over and over again. each time just hoping that the harsh reminder of your situation would lessen. it never did. it never would. it would be stuck with you no matter how hard you tried to block it out, no matter how hard you tried to ignore who and what made you shrink a million times over.

the fear, the abuse, the meal plans, the body exhaustion, the denied freedom, the stolen happiness, a cruel reminder of the bottomless hole you had found yourself falling deeper and deeper and there was nothing you could do to get out.

you were truly and utterly stuck.

~

the office is cold, its white walls a stark contrast to the warmth in the hallway you had been waiting in for the past half hour. the thick carpet muffles your footsteps as you walk toward the large desk in the center of the room, the air you're walking into a harsh wind of tension that couldn't be cut with a blade if you tried.

you swallow hard, your throat dry despite the countless bottles of water you’ve consumed throughout the day. but your hydration doesn't matter now, whatever it said to you in the next twenty minutes does.

the glare of the desk lamp catches your eye, reflecting the same harsh light that seems to spotlight you everywhere, waiting for you to make your next mistake. you glance at the stern faces of the officials seated behind the desk, their expressions unreadable as they read through what looks like your performance reports.

“please, take a seat,” the head of the federation says, his voice clipped as he places his hand predatorily on your lower back and guides you to sit down. you lower yourself into the chair, the thin material of your club shorts rubbing uncomfortably against the velvet furniture.

the head official adjusts his collar, peering over them at you with a sharp look almost as though you had done something to personally offend him. but those aren't anything close to his next words.

“you’ve been doing exceptionally well, tesoro.” he begins, but his tone is far from genuine and you feel that something else is coming. “your performance has been impressive, especially considering your age and the closeness of the tournament.”

you nod, though his praise feels hollow, almost as if you're falling into a set trap made just for you. your heart races and you grip your hands on the chair. you want to speak up, to voice your concerns about the overwhelming training schedules and the strain it’s putting on your body, but the words get lost in your throat.

“we’ve decided to integrate you into the senior squad for the upcoming world cup. it’s a great opportunity, but it also means you’ll need to do far more than what you're currently putting in.”

your chest tightens. you’ve been waiting for this for a long time, but when he finally tells you it feels overwhelming and you don't understand why a moment you have been prepping for years of your life makes you feel uneasy. you push it off as nerves.

the world cup is a chance to showcase your skills on a global stage, this is your moment, don't stare it in the face and back down.

another official at the side of the room glances at you with a fleeting look of concern before turning back to his notes. he seems to recognize the strain you’re currently feeling, but his words are lost just like yours as the head continues to talk to you.

“your development is crucial to our success,” the head official says, his voice cutting through your thoughts. “we expect you to handle this responsibility with the utmost professionalism. this is an opportunity for you to prove yourself and secure your place on the national team.”

"and who knows, i have spots emptied by débiles that need filling. this is your shot don't blow it. tesoro." there is something about the way he talks to you and speaks about you over your head that makes you shiver right down to your core.

you nod again, feeling the weight of their words drop into the palm of your hand and the room seems to close in on you as they continue discussing your role to each other and the intense training you will need to undergo in the upcoming months.

the meeting ends with a firm handshake and a curt nod from yourself and as you leave the office, the clear expectations settle heavily on your shoulders, the fear of failing and the pressure to succeed feeling almost insurmountable. yourself unaware of the danger you have just put yourself in.

~

you're not even sure when it all started. you can't pinpoint when the abuse started, if you could even call it that, or if it was there the whole time and you normalised it for yourself because that was the better option instead of speaking out in your mind.

it was enough of the lack of players available that caused them to attempt to burn you out as much as they could. it was enough for the federation to take one look at you and decide that the weight of the world relied on your shoulder whether you liked it or not.

that was your purpose. it was your job to lead the team to victory without a second mistake. without a setback, through injury, responsible for the good and the bad, amidst an internal battle with yourself that was dragging you down, and most importantly with a smile on your face even if you were shattered from the inside.

a smile on your face. nobody would notice would they?

~

“siéntate, tesoro,” he commands, his tone carrying an edge of impatience and you feel yourself move quickly into his office at his voice. you sink into the chair, its firm surface a harsh contrast to how had felt in the chair only mere months ago.

“you’re here because you’ve been selected for the world cup squad,” he begins, his voice cold and he digs his hand into the desk as he leans close to you. “but let’s be clear, tesoro. being selected was only the first challenge. we expect more from you.”

you nod, but the weight of his words feel heavy and you can't help but notice that the official who had given you the sorry look was missing from his spot behind the desk.

“we’ve noticed that you’re not quite fitting the ideal player we had in mind,” he continues, and you shake off any thoughts of the past official when your eyes meet his. “you’re not fast enough, not agile enough. you’re not meeting the physical standards we expect from you.”

his words sting, each critique like a hard blow to your self-esteem that wasn't really there in the first place. “your performance has been adequate,” he says, “but adequate isn’t enough. we need you to be exceptional and above all competition. and right now, you’re neither of those.”

he leans forward, his breath fanning over you as you look down at the floor in fear. “your weight is one concern of our team, but it’s not just about being heavier or lighter. it’s about how you present yourself. we need you to be leaner, faster and even more dynamic. you’re not the perfect image we want for the team right now.”

the room seems to close in around you as he continues. “we’ve seen some players who didn’t meet our expectations and they were dropped. you need to understand that if you don’t shape up, you will be next to not enter through doors again. comprendido?"

he gestures to a pile of strawn documents on his desk and you look up from the concrete fall at the harsh snap of his fingers in your face.

“we have reports here, tesoro, that detail everything we need from you. and it’s not just about physical performance. it’s about how you look, how you’re perceived by the public. you need to be more endearing, more marketable. if you can’t fulfill that role, then we'll find another.”

his gaze is relentless and he talks to you like you're a faceless object that he can discard at his will, throw away when he feels you're not complying with his demands. he can take you off this squad the moment you defend yourself.

“you’re not here just to play; you’re here to be the face of the team. the face of spain. and right now, you’re not cutting it for us. we need you to be a star, not just another player in this tournament. and if you’re not willing to meet those expectations, then you’re in the wrong place i'm afraid.”

“now, we’re going to do something,” he continued, his voice carrying a coldness that made your stomach curl inwards as you sat fearfully in your chair. “i need you to repeat after me. ‘i am not good enough. i need to be better."

you hesitate, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak as you blinked harshly to try and to stop the tears that threatened to fall. “i am not good enough. i need to be better,” you say quietly, looking down shamefully at the floor like a small child being scolded by their parent.

“louder.” he demands, his voice cutting through the room like a whip and you try not to flinch at the volume of his words. “i need to hear you say it with conviction. you are lying through your teeth pequeña. don't lie to me, i hate liars."

“again,” he insists. “and this time, say it as if you truly believe it. i am not good enough. i need to be better." you force yourself to repeat the phrase, the words make you feel as if you're stripping away everything you ever built yourself to believe. every title, every trophy, every medal, every goal. erased.

“i am not good enough. i need to be better,” you say louder, the humiliation of his cruel exercise making your stomach lurch and you struggled to keep yourself together.

“very good,” the official says, his tone carrying a note of being pleased and you hated that you loved the feeling of his approval. “you should understand that just because you’re going to australia doesn’t mean you get to enjoy it. you’re there for work, not to have fun.”

his manipulation is chilling to the bone, designed to strip away any sense of accomplishment you had ever felt. “you’re not meant to enjoy australia, it’s not a vacation. you’re there to prove yourself, not to sightsee. you need to focus solely on the tournament, on meeting the expectations we’ve set for you. or we won't hesitate to send you home.”

“this is a serious commitment. if you let yourself get distracted, you’re failing in your duty. you’re expected to perform at your peak, and that means putting aside any thoughts of leisure or enjoyment. this isn’t about you enjoying yourself; it’s about you meeting the standards we've set for you.”

“if you allow yourself to get comfortable or take things lightly,” he warns, “you’re showing weakness. and weakness is unacceptable. you need to stay sharp, stay focused, and remember why you’re here.”

his manipulation is subtle yet even then you could tell that he knew you wouldn't fight back, he had designed it to make you feel guilty for even considering enjoying the tournament.

“this is a test of your worth,” he says. “if you can’t handle the pressure and keep your focus, you’re not fit for the team. we need you performing to the highest standards that we expect from everybody else. including you. if you can’t handle the pressure, then you’re not worthy of the position. we expect you to rise to the challenge without complaint.”

~

you were far too gone to allow somebody else to take your spot. guilty and far too gone to let yourself slip through the cracks you had been told others had fallen through. somebody wouldn't be able to deal with the kind of pain you had been trained to believe as normal.

somebody else definitely wasn't as strong as the fake front you had built up to deal with it all, or at least that's what you told yourself, it made you feel better even if you didn't believe it.

you felt like nothing.

was it the pressure? was it the memories? was it the unhealable bruises that littered you from head to toe? or was it the feeling that you gave your whole existence to people who threw you away like you were just dirt on the bottom of a shoe?

you were numb.

you couldn't even remember the last time you had felt truly happy, truly yourself. the facade of a charming female footballer you put on for the world was crumbling and you were scared that people would finally see the pain that lied underneath.

the mirror showed a person trapped between who they once were and the brokenness of who they had become, drowning in a sea of your own helplessness.

you wondered if there was any way back to the person you used to be, or if that person was gone forever, if she had fallen through but ignored by who you had been built to be. this is what rock bottom feels like. rock bottom is not knowing who you are anymore, not recognising any of the memories of the person you were before.

it's the lostness of knowing that you can't find yourself again, seeing your old self in the distance but not knowing how to reach it with the strength you so clearly do not have.

it's the painful acknowledgement that the once vibrant and full of life person who was here before has been replaced by a shadow and you're struggling to fight the dark.

had the darkness swallowed you yet?

your phone rings loudly in your ear. it's more harsh this time than the previous sounds that had escaped the device. you know who's calling you because there wasn't exactly anybody in your life that would reach out to you so religiously and determindly.

you bit down on your lip. a similar memory of you lying on the floor answering the man who had made you the emotionless person that couldn't bear to even think about the game you used to live for.

you miss the person you were. that man gutted her from the inside.

the sound pierces into the thick silence of the room, demanding you to answer as it broke through the barrier of quiet you had built up. the screen of your phone lights up and you let your eyes flicker down towards it, your phone displaying the name of the person you dreaded to see you how you are now.

a feeling you couldn't quite place as dread or relief washed over you as your phone vibrated against the cold floor. dark purple bruises forming on your legs and arms from the time you had spent laying on the bathroom floor.

you slowly reach for your phone, drops of blood dripping off your skin and onto the glass as tears make their way down your face from the dark circles that countless nights of lost sleep had created for you.

your fingers tremble as you swipe to answer the call as if they are carrying the burden you've been feeling for months, and the screen lights up with the caller's name again. you can't turn back now, you've answered the one person you would hate to see you like this.

you contemplate hanging up the phone, staying silent on your end of the call as if magically the situation would disappear and you could leave like you so badly wanted to.

you sound nothing like the person you were a year ago.

"hola amorcito. are you there?" the voice on the other end of the line breaks through your thoughts, the term of endearment so familiar yet painful almost making you burst into another set of tears but you stay strong for her because that's what he would have wanted.

"ale?" you reply, your voice steady but still shaking as you lift your phone to your ear to hear better. "i'm here." there's a soft sigh on alexia's side of the phone and you can almost picture her sitting with her girlfriend on the couch, the older woman had tried to call you throughout the week but you hadn't answered and she'd been waiting for you to call her back.

"you don't have to be strong all the time, you know?"

[barcaatthemoon]

bittersweet || alexia putellas x reader||

i recently got back into soccer and was inspired to start writing some fics. here's the first one. if anyone has feedback, that would be incredibly helpful.

the roar of the crowd was deafening. spain had won, and while you were so proud of alexia, you couldn't bring yourself to move to congratulate her. this was your first world cup, and for a moment, you thought that maybe you could have won it. alexia and her team deserved the win, but that didn't mean you were heartbroken over losing.

"hey." you felt the tap of someone's boot against your thigh. you glanced up, expecting to see either one of your teammates or maybe alexia there. instead, you found yourself looking up at mapi, who had become one of your best friends since you transferred to barcelona. "are you okay?"

"don't worry about me, go celebrate with your team," you told her. mapi just shook her head and sat down next to you. you were a bit bigger than her, but she still enveloped you as much as she could in a hug. you felt the gentle press of a kiss on your cheek, much different than the usual frantic kisses mapi would pepper your face in to spite alexia. "congratulations maria, i mean it."

"i know you do." mapi got up from the ground and helped you onto your feet. she dragged you over towards the rest of her teammates, insistent that you counted as an honorary member of their national team. a part of you felt sort of bad, but one look from lucy and leah told you that it was okay. they understood how close you had gotten to the other team from your time spent at barcelona and as alexia's girlfriend.

"to (y/n)," jenni said as she took the open spot on your other side. that semed to get alexia's attention as the rest of the team echoed jenni's words. both mapi and jenni left your side as soon as alexia approached.

"i am proud of you, so proud," alexia whispered as she cupped your cheeks. you were certain that there were still tears in your eyes. truthfully, you felt awful for losing and no amount of comfort would take that pain away for a long while. you'd get your time to be sad, when alexia and her team undoubtedly went away to celebrate together. you'd go back to england for a little while and stay with your family and some of your friends up there. misery loves company after all.

alexia pressed a quick kiss to the corner of your mouth before she hugged you. there were thousands of eyes on you, but you didn't care. in alexia's arms, you completely fell apart and into a fit of tears. whenever it became clear that you were going to be inconsolable, lucy was by your side walking you off of the pitch.

"hey, it's okay bug. you did great today, if anything, we let you down," lucy muttered. you wanted to tell her that wasn't the case, but you didn't have the words in you. all you could really do was cry, even as you took your shower and changed. you wished that you could have left with the rest of the girls, but you had promised alexia that you'd spend the night with her. it had been hard keeping apart for the entirety of the world cup.

"here," jenni said as she placed a pair of sunglasses on your face. you felt her press a kiss to your cheek as she linked her hand with yours. "do you want to talk about it?"

"no, you should go back in there and celebrate with your team. i'll be okay out here," you told her. jenni was reluctant to leave you, but alexia joined you a few seconds later. you had the same senitment geared up on the tip of your tongue, but alexia stopped you.

"i don't want to celebrate when i know that you're out here crying. maybe we should just get married so that you can play over here with me. i hate playing against you, it breaks my heart," alexia admitted. you let out a small sigh, glad when it didn't turn into a sniffle. "mapi's carrying around a bottle of champagne in there for you. she won't let anybody else touch it. so, will you please come celebrate with us?"

"yeah, for you, i will," you promised. you gave her a shaky smile, one that turned into more of a real one whenever she kissed you. it wasn't easy, but you managed to push down the sadness and disappointment from losing just enough to party with your girlfriend and the rest of her team.

[ln4bub]

Classical Conditioning (CL16)

A/N This is my first fic that isn't based off of a request, I hope you guys enjoy it

Pairing - Charles Leclerc x Fem!Reader

Word count - 1.7k

Charles was always grateful for the support you gave him, by his side since won the F2 championship all those years ago. The two of you were inseparable, especially after you finished your degree. You were lucky enough to find a job that meant you could work from home, and so every weekend you would be in the paddock with Charles, always adorned in Ferrari red in some way. Everyone loved you, if not the content on your Instagram at the very least. You'd celebrated with Charles when he got his first win, when he won in Spa and in Monza, the Ferrari 1-2; everything you'd been through together.

But this season was already rough on Charles, from the strategy failures to the car itself, he was frustrated. He had no control over anything, so you hatched a plan. You were going to teach Charles to get used to not being in control, something he'd had throughout your relationship. You sat him down, leg bouncing nervously. Charles' concerned eyes met yours, his hand coming to rest on your leg, "It's okay mon cherie, you can tell me anything." He mutters, thumb rubbing gentle circles into the skin of your thigh. You release a deep breath, "I was thinking, that maybe, to help you with having less control, we could, uhm, try something new." You murmur, voice quiet. Charles' eyes narrow, eyebrows furrowed, "New?" He questions.

"In the bedroom?" You say, doubt creeping into your tone. "It's just, I think it might help you to be more comfortable, if it's not something you want to try that's totally fine, just an idea." You ramble, nervous to hear his response. "I want to try, I've kinda wanted to for a while to be completely honest, I think it would be hot." He tells you, soft smiling his gracing his cheeks as they turn a light rose colour. You return his smile, tension leaving your shoulders as the two of you discuss boundaries and ideas for the rest of the night.

The first time Charles asks you to take control is after qualifying in Spain. Charles found himself annoyed that after he seemed to be on the up the car had failed him again, leaving him in P19 for tomorrow's race. You ease him into it, simply teasing him with your mouth until he's begging you to just let him have something, to feel his orgasm within reach. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, suckling gently and dipping your tongue into the slit. He whines out at the sudden onslaught of pleasure, the vein of his cock throbbing against your tongue. You slide up his body, kissing away the tear the falls from his eye before leaning into his lips. The moment you wrap your hand around his cock and whisper against his lips, "Cum for me mon amour." He can't stop himself. He erupts in white over your fist, stomach clenching, thighs shaking, moans of thank you leaving his mouth. You remove your hand from his member, some of his cum covering your thumb. You tap it lightly on his lips. Charles eagerly opens his mouth, taking in your thumb and sucking it clean, eyes shut in pleasure.

After that night Charles' season seems to turn around again, 5 consistent points finishes in a row. Charles is adamant that it's down to your presence, grateful that you're by his side in support. Then Zandvoort happens. Between the contact in the opening lap and the missing tires, Charles was devastated. He was dead silent, the whole way back to the hotel, simply holding your hand and squeezing every couple of minutes. He stays silent as you open the door to the hotel room, skulking into the shower. You sit on the bed, waiting for him to return from the shower. He eventually kneels down in front of you, hair messy from the shower, towel tied around his waist. "I want to forget about it, please help me mon amour." He whispers, hands resting on your thighs. "How do you want me to help Charlie?" You ask, hand tilting his chin to look up at you. His eyes are lidded, clouded with lust as he stares into your own. "Want to make you feel good." He mutters, eyes fluttering shut when your thumb traces his cheeks. He worships you all night, first with his tongue, and then with his fingers, and then both. The sounds filling the room are filthy, your moans and his whines, the slurping sounds coming from his mouth against you. When he finally pulls away you trace your thumb over his lips, collecting your cum. Once again he takes your thumb in his mouth, savouring your taste.

You're convinced that your idea had helped Charles, he was doing well, top five finishes week after week. You stand in the Ferrari garage, biting your nail as Charles begins his final qualifying lap in Austin. It feels like you don't breathe, for the next minute and 34 seconds you stand stock still. P1. Charles had taken his third pole position of the season and the garage erupted, yells and cheers spilled out into the pitlane. You raced to find Charles, engulfing him in a hug and kissing his helmut as he thanks you profusely. Sunday came along and you had never been more nervous, praying that this went well for Charles. He drops down the grid through the race, losing pole position and eventually finishing P6 after Ferrari fail to come up with a good strategy... again. Just two hours later, both him and Lewis were disqualified. You're right next to Charles as they break the news to him, his face dropping in disappointment. "There's nothing I can do, it's completely fair. It's just so frustrating," he begins to explain, "I guess I'm just glad it's only P6 being taken from me and not a podium like Lewis." You wrap your arms around him once more, his head resting on your shoulder as he sighs. That night he asks you to help him once more, and you spend the night bouncing on his cock as he gags on your fingers. His spit spills out of his mouth as he cums inside you, eyes rolling back and cheeks flushed red.

The same routine continues, in Brazil after he is unable to start, he drags you back to his drivers' room. He locks the door before begging you to take him in your mouth, it doesn't take him long to cum, spilling his load down your throat. You hum against his length, continuing to suckle on the tip as his thighs quake. His whimpers increase as you push him as far as you can, mouth encasing his sensitive cock as his fingers fist into your hair. He eventually taps the side of your cheek and you let him out of your mouth with a pop, standing in front of him as he pants heavily. "So good to me mon amour, que ferais-je sans toi?" He mutters and you smile against his chest.

Vegas is his redemption, finally back on the podium. It was the perfect weekend for him, gaining control over the car and showing what he was made of. Being able to put himself on the podium with both Red Bulls causes you to beam up at him. Charles shoots you a wink, smirking at the thought of what the pair of you will get up to in celebration tonight. Slightly tipsy, the two of you giggle as you stumble through your hotel room door. Before you know it Charles is shirtless underneath you, panting as you scratch your nails down his chest, his wrists tied to the bed with his Ferrari neckties. He can't help but watch, his neck craning as you touch yourself. One hand down your panties as the other moves to palm his bulge. Your orgasm rolls through you, a moan of Charles' name leaving your lips as your back arches. You crawl over him, hovering over his thigh as you begin to use him for your pleasure. Your underwear discarded, you reach down, coating your fingers in your juices. Charles waits for you to run your fingers over his lips before opening his mouth wide, tongue out ready to taste you. He sucks your fingers dry, whining at the taste of you as you cum against his thigh. You use every inch of his body that night; his tongue, his fingers, his abs, his thighs. He's desperate to cum by the time you sink down on his length, begging you to just let him cum inside you. You take pity on him, grinding lightly and clenching your walls to drain his cock. He practically passes out when you're done, falling asleep against you as massage hand lotion into his reddened wrists.

Both of you breathe a sigh of relief by the time the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix rolls around. Counting down the days until you can say goodbye to the SF-23, the pair of you go out for dinner with some of the grid. George, Alex, Max, Daniel, Carlos, and their respective partners join you both. Laughter carries through the restaurant as George breaks out in a coughing fit from Alex telling ridiculous jokes. Charles' smile fills you with joy, grateful to see your boyfriend carefree for a change. He convinces the table to order dessert, ordering himself a tiramisu, claiming that it's one of the best he's had outside of Italy. He barely breathes as he shovels down the dessert, Carlos looking at him with a concerned expression. "Dios mio Charles, hungry are you?" He chuckles. Charles blushes lightly, nodding as you drops the spoon onto the plate. "Sorry, it's just really good." He laughs. You turn to face him, he has a small drop of cream on the corner of his lips. Without thinking you reach up, swiping your thumb against the corner of his mouth to collect the cream. On instinct Charles tilts his head, capturing your thumb in his mouth and sucking the cream off the tip with a hum. The pair of you freeze as everyone looks at you in shock. Lily and Carmen are giggling in the corner as George and Alex smirk. Max raises an eyebrow, as does Carlos, both smirking at you. Daniel is the first to speak, "That seemed a bit too natural for you there Charlie, do that often?" He laughs.

Charles blushes once more as a smile spreads across your face, your hand rests on his thigh squeezing lightly as you direct the topic of conversation elsewhere.

[bruhnze]

Fuck this - Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Summary: Jealous Lucy.

Warnings: A lot of bad words, smut. Minors DNI. Not proof read :) THIS IS X-RATED!!!

Wordcount: 4k

i dedicate this one to you @onabronze and to the anons that asked it's not really good but i tried :).

(i've emptied my inbox so if your ask is not on my WIP pls send again (if u still want it done) because i had so much garbage in there i just removed everything in one go, sorry not sorry😬)

Ps: We do not hate Germany (don't come for me, it was for the plot)!

´´fuck this shit´´ Lucy mumbled to herself as she was running faster and faster on the treadmill, ´´fucking dick-head ref, that’s not a fucking yellow´´. ‘’Cata is a fucking goalie, you fuck ass pigfucker, really strange for her to use her hands, huh, dumb fuck’’.

´´that’s a lot of f-bombs Bronze’’ Millie tried to joke, not noticing how worked up the English defender really was.

‘’Fuck off Millie’’, Bronze called as she stopped the machine and ran off with her eyes glued to her phone.

‘’Bruh’’ Lauran giggled, ‘’you know Spain Germany is on right now’’.

‘’Oh really’’ Millie said confused, ‘’ohh, fuck, her girl is playing for Spain right’’.

‘’Yeah, they’re losing’’ Sam called from the bench on the side of the gym, ‘’Gwinn is about to take a penal and she hasn’t missed a single one for club’’.

‘’Are you watching that?’’ James asked while she strutted over to the Australian, ‘’let me watch along’’.

‘’Ofcourse mate’’ Sam chuckled, ‘’I watch everything’’.  

‘’Do we check on her?’’ Millie asked, mostly directed to Lauren, as she knows her best.

‘’Nah’’ James says, ‘’if you like to live you’d best leave her alone’’.

‘’Sure?’’.

‘’Yes, we’ll just give her some boxing gloves as the game is over’’.

..

‘’Ona doesn’t deserve this shit, what a horseshit head coach’’.

‘’Putellas missing a penalty what a fucking joke’’.

‘’You’re a cunt Berger, A CUNT!’’.

Lauren knocked on the doorpost of the locker-room, ‘’Ey Luce, they’re looking for someone to break in the new boxing gloves’’.

‘’I hate those German wankers with their ugly kits’’.

The English forward suppressed a giggle, ‘’yeah they suck, but you should turn it of bruv, it’s no point of watching them cry’’.

‘’Ona is going to be devastated’’, Lucy said as she looked up and stared ahead, as if she’s just realized it.

‘’Are you seeing her soon?’’ Lauren asked carefully.

Lucy snapped out of her trance and looked at her friend, ‘’yeah she coming tomorrow’’.

‘’To London?’’.

‘’Yes, she has ten days off’’.

''Well then you have enough time to comfort her''.

Lucy sighed ''yeah, I'll just quickly send her a text and then we'll box, I'm going to turn off this stream bullshit''. She says as she looked back at her phone and saw Paralluelo crying. ‘’my heart can’t take this’’, she muttered quietly without James hearing it.

..

When she was driving back ‘home’ from the training ground she received a call, it was Ona.

‘’Hey love’’, Lucy said timidly, not sure about if Ona’s mood would be more sad or angry, or maybe both.

Instead Ona answered pretty lightly, ‘’hey Luce, how are you?’’.

‘’Huh?’’ Lucy said, maybe a bit too loud ‘’I should be asking you that’’.

‘’Montse just scolded us for an hour’’ Ona said, ‘’but for some reason I don’t care about the loss, Germany was just better and I think Cata needs a psychologist after she’s broken her nose, she’s been out of it for every game after it’’.

‘’You deserved to win’’ Lucy said with tears in her eyes.

Ona chuckled ‘’I love you Lucy, but honestly, I’ve got respect for the Germans, they played well’’.

‘’I hate the Germans’’.

Ona chuckled louder, ‘’no Luce, you can not say that because they won Bronze’’.

‘’I hate Montse then’’.

‘’Okay’’, Ona laughed ‘’I agree with that one’’. ‘’But I am going to dinner with my family tonight, so I have to get ready in a little bit, you texted me to call you when I had time, so that’s why I called’’.

‘’Oh wow’’ Lucy said, a little hurt ‘’not because you wanted to hear your girlfriends voice’’.

‘’I see you tomorrow’’, Ona chuckled.

‘’That’s true but I still miss you today’’ Lucy sighed, ‘’maybe I’m a wuss, but I just feel bad for you Oni and I thought you might have needed some comfort’’.

‘’I love you, but I have to get ready’’ Ona laughed, ‘’see you tomorrow?’’.

‘’or you can call me tonight after dinner?’’.

‘’I think I will go to bed straight after, I am extremely tired’’.

‘’I understand, do you want to stay on the phone when you get ready?’’.

‘’Okay’’ Ona said as she put her phone on speaker.

After Ona had hung up because her cab was about to be there, Lucy thought about what she would eat for dinner.

She looked around her kitchen, ''fuck'' she mumbled ''i should clean this shit up''.

She opened her phone and ordered some sushi for tonight, 'because she deserved some comfort food' and got to work.

Her appartment was still a bit of a mess after the quick move in, and she needed it to be presentable for her girlfriend tomorrow. Ona would probably start cleaning her place and she didn't want to be a partner like that, that would be stupid because it was one of her own icks.

As she had cleaned up her apartment the bell rang.

With the sushi she took place at the table and opened the ipad that layed there.

Mindlessly she went on Twitter, she was logged on to her anonymous account and went on the hashtag 'Ona Battle'. She knew she shouldn't, but she was curious what the people thought of her performance this game.

Lucy had seen Ona was tired, but when you took in mind she'd played every single minute, and Lucy knew Ona slept very bad in the hotel, she had played very good.

She froze when she saw people joking about Feli and Ona being back together ''what the hell?'' she said to herself as she went deeper into the rabbithole and eventually came aross pictures of Ona in a Germany shirt, and not just any German shirt, it was the ugly 'Rauch 19' one.

Lucy was tempted to send a teasing text, maybe even with the picture attached, but she chose not too.

She couldn't help to feel a little anger inside her towards Feli, and as she came across a video of them chatting and giggling Lucy lost her shit and quickly closed the Ipad.

She jumped up from the table ''Fucking hell, not bothered about losing, fuck that'', she started pacing the room ''Germay deserved it'' she mocked, ''sure Ona, if you want to fuck her just say that''.

Lucy walked to her kitchen and fetched a beer from the fridge that was left from when Jorge had helped her with building some furniture ''fuck it'', she thought she might aswell have this because it was such a shitty night.

She took the beer to the bathroom and ran a bath, after that she went back to the kitchen to grab her ipad and got in, eventhough she had already taken a shower this afternoon.

Finaly she felt a little better, she had watched some episodes of a series she was watching and after two hours she decided to just go to bed early, Ona didn't want to call anyways so she didn't see the point of staying up. Might aswell get some rest before she saw Ona again tomorrow, eventhough she'd probably be very tired, so Lucy doubted they'd do anything, but atleast she'd be able to take care of her better.

As she got comfy in her bed she opened her phone to check one last time if Ona had sent her a text.

She hadn't.

Then she opened Instagram, scrolling for a little while.

She was just about to shut her phone when she saw @feli_rauch on her timeline, ''bitch'' she grumbled and as she took a better look she saw it was a teamphoto of the Germans, she only saw one person wearing a red shirt in the whole group.

''No way'' she said out loud as she zoomed in, ''are you kiddin' me'' - ''the only fucking shirt swap and it's my girlfriends' ''.

She closed her phone, trew it on the nightstand and dramatically dropped herself on the bed to go to sleep.

As she remembered she still had to put on an alarm and it would be probably best to have her phone on the charger she reached out to put the nightlamp on and fetched it.

When she held her phone it automatically unlocked with face-ID, and she saw that god-awfull team picture again ''fuckkkkkk'' she groaned as she swiped instagram away ''this is one big joke''.

After she had finally put in an alarm and found her charger, she put the light out and layed down again.

She tried hard to sleep but her mind kept wondering off to Ona.

Normally she wouldn't mind that one bit, sometimes her hand would even find it's way between her legs when she thought about her hot, beautiful girlfriend.

But not this time, her mind was polluted with images of Feli and Ona laughing together.

She knew Feli was Ona's ex, she had never really been bothered about it, eventhough she knew her mind was just being a bit stupid, she couldn't help to think back about what Ona had told her about Feli after Lucy had asked her how she had ever been with Feli.

''I wasn't really with her, we just fucked''. Ona had said laughing, ''but i soon found out she was very vanilla and for a relationship we would never ever work''.

Lucy knew she shouldn't have asked the question, but she had, ''but was she good?''.

Ona had asked her if she really wanted to know, and she had confirmed that she did.

After the answer she had regretted asking it, ''uhm, well, at the things she did do she was pretty good at, it just got boring very quickly'' Ona had said.

Now she was laying in bed with the thoughts of Feli fucking Rauch having her way with her precious Ona.

The thought that the German had tasted Ona sickened her.

The thought that the German had been inside Ona sickened her.

But the thought that Ona had, at one point, enjoyed it, got her blood boiling.

Maybe it was the distance.

Maybe it was because they hadn't been able to be intimate for a few weeks now.

Maybe it was the fact Ona hadn't told her about the shirt swap.

But Lucy felt jealous like she had never before.

..

Lucy woke up from her alarm, and checked her messages.

None from Ona.

She freshened up and got dressed.

Nothing from Ona.

In the kitchen she made herself some breakfast.

Nothing from Ona.

She went through the kitchen cupboards and refrigerator and wrote out a grocery list.

Nothing from Ona.

Lucy knew she would be flying in a couple of hours, so she decided to send a text herself, eventhough she had wanted Ona to text her first.

..

It was afternoon, Lucy was waiting in her blue Skoda outside of the airport. When she saw the beautiful freckled woman walking outside, searching for her, she jumped out of the car.

Ona was wearing sunglasses and a hat, but Lucy would always recognise her.

She opened her trunk and walked towards Ona.

''Hello baby'', she said happily.

''Luce!'', Ona said as she sped up her pace walking to her girlfriend.

They shared an embrace, ''i have missed you so much'' Ona muttered against the taller woman.

Lucy held Ona away from her to take a look at her face, ''i have missed you too''.

''I want to kiss you, so lets get in the car please'', Ona said smiling.

Lucy hastily threw the suitcase into the car and got back in the drivers seat as she saw Ona was already in the car.

''Your suitcase was pretty light'' Lucy said as she hopped in next to Ona.

''Yeah, i gave a lot of my stuff with Joan, i'm planning to wear your clothes anyways'' Ona stated.

''Oh'' Lucy said as she smiled at her girlfriend, ''and cool frames by the way''.

She leant in to kiss Ona.

They shared a kiss full of love, it was adamant that they had both missed eachother.

Not wanting to risk being spotted by anyone Lucy pulled back and got ready to drive off, reversing out of the parking spot.

''What yours is mine'' Ona chuckled, ''you said it yourself''.

''True'', Lucy said as she put her hand on Ona's thigh and drove away ''it's cute''.

..

Lucy carried Ona's suitcase to her apartment, and handed Ona the key to get them inside.

''Should i unpack your stuff? is there anything in here that needs to be washed?''.

''Uhm, i don't think so, i have only worn a few clothes, mostly the olympic stuff and those are with Joan, he is going to wash that for me''.

''Clever'' Lucy chuckled, ''putting your brother to work''.

Ona grinned, ''ofcourse, but maybe i will take a shower now and then we can nap together?''.

''I'd love that'' Lucy said, ''oh and let me show you around quickly, i almost forgot''.

It was a pretty quick tour, as the apartment wasn´t that big.

´´So here is the kitchen´´, Lucy said smiling as she turned on her heel and spinned.

Ona laughed, ´´are you making us dinner tonight?'' she asked stepping closer to Lucy.

''Of course beautiful'' Lucy said as she pressed herself against the Catalan, ''i was thinking that one tofu dish you like''.

''Hm yes''. Ona groaned, thinking about the dish Lucy made her often, because she liked it so much.

''Good'' Lucy said ''because I bought stuff to make that this morning''.

''You know me so well''.

''Yes'' Lucy smiled, ''and to be known is to be loved''.

''So romantic'' Ona laughed.

''Oh i'm feeling really romantic'' Lucy said as she bit her lip.

´´Really?'' Ona smirked as she put her arms around Lucy's neck and crossed them.

Lucy kissed her softly.

Ona hungerly answered the kiss and tried to get impossibly closer, getting up her tiptoes.

Lucy pulled away with a smile on her face ''but first you wanted to shower right?''.

The Catalan pouted ''i do.. but i also want you''.

The English defender kissed her girlfriend ''i'll be still here after the shower, and i know how you like to shower off the travel''.

''sí okay''.

They went to the bedroom, Lucy leading the way.

Lucy showed the on-suite bathroom and pointed to the towels.

''Leave the door open?'', Lucy asked in the sweetest voice she could put on.

''Sure'' Ona chuckled, ''are you staying in the bedroom?''.

''Yeah i'll put away your clothes really quick, i don't want you living out of a suitcase when you're with me, and i left some space in the closet for you''.

Ona kissed Lucy, ''you're cute''.

''You're cute'', Lucy repeated.

Lucy opened the suitcase, ''you need some underwear? and what do you want to wear or were you really planning on stealing my clothes''.

''huh'' Ona said, ''it's not stealing, it's my right''.

She chuckled until she watched Lucy's face who could appearently not laugh about it, ''what?''.

Lucy stayed silent.

''Sorry'' Ona ''i'll wear my own clothes if you really don't-

''No'' Lucy said, ''why don't you wear this'' she asked with a sarcastic laugh as she held up the white football shirt.

Ona chuckled.

Lucy looked at her in disbelieve ''you think this is funny? tell me why i have a damp German shirt in my hands right now?'''.

''I said my brother was going to wash my stuff right'' Ona said, ''well, match worn is worth more, you know you're supposed to keep the shirts you trade unwashed right?''.

''Fuck that''.

''It's financially responsible'', Ona laughed and stepped towards Lucy to kiss her.

With a quick peck she wanted to walk away.

Lucy didn't have any of that and grabbed her wrist, ''more please''.

Ona chuckled, ''let me shower, then we nap together''.

''Ona''.

Ona sighed but gave in, she held Lucy's face as she kissed her again, this time more slowly.

Lucy hands travelled to Ona's ass and squeezed her cheeks as she pulled the Catalan in closer.

Ona grinned into the kiss, ''you missed me'' she said, with a tone sounding somewhere between a question and a statement.

''Where did you and Feli talk about after the match?'' Lucy said before she could stop herself.

Ona looked up with a mischievious smirk, ''is that what is bothering you?''.

Lucy huffed out some air, ''why did you swap shirts with her''.

''She wanted too''.

''So you said yes? and giggled about it with her?''.

''What did you want me to do then'' Ona chuckled, thinking it was funny seeing this jealous side of Lucy, it was something new.

''I dont know'' Lucy scolded lightly, ''just to tell her to fuck off with her boring shirt''.

Ona laughed ''boring shirt?, how can a shirt be boring''.

''Not the point'' Lucy grumbled, ''you talked to her after the match and you didn't want to speak to me''.

''I had a dinner!'' Ona laughed as she rubbed Lucy's arms, ''don't worry, you are the only one for me''.

She kissed Lucy's pouty face, ''my beautiful *kiss* strong *kiss* smart *kiss* perfect girlfriend *kiss*''.

Lucy pulled the Catalan thighter against her, ''i think i should give you a reminder''.

''What reminder?'' Ona frowned.

''About what good sex is like''.

''Luce!'' Ona slapped her shoulder playfully.

Lucy frowned, ''you want boring sex?''.

''No..''.

''Cus if you want that I could just put that ugly shirt on and we can roleplay that''.

Ona blushed, ''Lucee''.

Lucy's jaw dropped, ''you're not even saying that you don't want that?!''.

''I don't want that'' Ona rushed to say.

Lucy rolled her eyes. ''yeah i totally believe you now''.

''Sorry'' Ona pouted, putting on a cute smile ''i was distracted because you look so hot when you are jealous''.

''Í'm not jealous!''.

''Oh, és clar que no ets gelós'' (oh i see you are not jealous) Ona mockingly chuckled, she reached out to the suitcase and grabbed the shirt.

''Maybe i will wear it today''.

Lucy looked at her with dark eyes.

''It smells like her'' Ona added with a grin.

A second of silence hang in the air.

''Put it on.'' Lucy said.

Ona's smile faded ''No i was just joking''.

Lucy repeated herself ''go on, put it on''.

''I was kidding''.

''i'm not''. ''put. it. on.''.

Ona gulped and took her shirt off to put it on.

Lucy stopped her, ''no wait, first get naked and then put it on'' she said as she took her shorts off.

Ona felt her heartbeat fasten from the way this aroused her and followed the instructions.

''Your panties too'' Lucy said as walked to 'the drawer' and chose a rather large strap-on to wear.

Ona looked excited at Lucy, wearing a cheeky smile.

''You want this one?'' she helt the strap up.

Ona nodded furiously, a blush creeping on her cheeks.

''i can't hear you'' Lucy said as she pretended to put it back in the drawer again and took her shirt off.

''No wait'' Ona said ''yes, i want that one''.

''Okay, i suppose you deserve it right?''.

''Yes'' Ona said desperately ''please Luce, i-''.

''-laughed with an ex'' Lucy said sternly, ''i don't know if that is good girl-behavior''.

Ona kept quiet as Lucy walked towards her on the bed.

Lucy put the strap in her harness and hovered above Ona.

''that's basicly asking her to fuck you'' she wispered as she let her eyes roam the woman below her.

Ona put her hands on Lucy and chuckled ''Luce, you're crazy''.

''You know how i always say you would look perfect in everything?''.

''mhmm'' Ona grinned.

''Well this is awfull'' Lucy plucked at the shirt.

Ona tried to kiss Lucy but Lucy leant back just in time to dodge it.

''Turn around''.

Ona whined but quickly oblidged, this attitude was making her feel some things.

She was on all fours on the bed and without warning Lucy slapped her ass, resulting in a moan escaping her throat without her being able to surpres.

''Im so wet'' Ona whined as she felt herself dripping along her thighs, she looked over her shoulder to read Lucy's face.

''Don't look at me'' Lucy ordered, ''your pretty face doesn't suit this revolting shirt''.

She leaned against Ona to hold her face before she could turn, and gave her a kiss ''you are beautiful'' she said and softly kissed her lips.

When she released Ona's face and let her hand slide over the number '19' she huffed out some air.

''But you should be happy i have a fake cock'' Lucy grumbled, ''cus i could never get a hard-on like this''.

Ona whimpered.

A cracking sound and a moan filled the room.

Lucy watched the flesh of Ona's as jiggle and groped the skin when it turned red.

''Who does this ass belong to?''

Ona groaned ''you''.

Lucy rubbed the tip of her rubber cock along Ona's wetness.

The Catalan's breath hitched in her throat ''Luce'' she chocked out.

Another time Lucy's hand found it's way to Ona's behind with great force.

''Agh'' Ona groaned, ''please Luce''.

Lucy grabbed Ona by her hips and guided her to grind against her.

''please''.

With one hand Lucy reached around for the smaller womans' centre.

With two fingers she traced her lips and collected some wetness before circling her clit.

''Fuck'' Lucy breathed out, ''so wet''.

She had problems with circling one spot at how wet Ona was, her fingers slipping away.

''Who are you so wet for?'' Lucy asked, talking in Ona's ear.

''You Lucy! you''. Ona practically cried out.

With that Lucy carefully slid the strap inside in one fluent movement.

''Merda'' (fuck) Ona moaned as her head slumped to her chest.

Lucy picked up a rhythm that she knew would drive Ona crazy, perfect for building the tension inside her quickly.

But after a few moments Lucy fastened her pace, not able to contain herself she fucked Ona hard and deep, the sight of the fabric around Ona fueling her anger.

She gave her another spanking to 'punish' Ona for wearing the shirt, but she knew it wasn't actually a punishment for Ona, which was confirmed by the filthy moan she let out.

''I'm coming'' Ona cried out as she gripped the sheets with clenched fists.

''Shit, already?'', Lucy groaned and kept thrusting.

''Lucí'' Ona said as her arch deepened.

''Fuck, come for me Ona'' Lucy said as her grip on Ona thightend.

With a loud cry Ona came.

Lucy slowly rode out her orgasm and released her grip on the girl, causing her to flop down on the bed.

The English woman shuffeld and took the strap out of the harness and layed it on the bed besides them, figuring the sheets were ruined anyways.

Lucy pulled Ona around by her shirt.

Ona looked at her with hooded eyes, wearing a content expression from her post-orgasmic bliss.

Lucy smiled, ''hi beautiful''.

Ona grinned as she took Lucy's hands, ''thought you hated it''.

Lucy scrunched her face ''the shirt; yes.. you; no''.

The Catalan smiled, ''i'll take it off'' she said as she sat up.

She stopped as she noticed reticence on Lucy's face.

''What?''.

A smile tugged on Lucy's mouth, ''i'm debating sending her a picture''.

'''Lucy!''. Ona punched her girlfriend.

She snapped out of her dream and redirected her gaze from the shirt to Ona's face. She shook her head quickly, ''sorry, i don't know why i said that''.

Ona chuckled, slapping a hand on her forhead ''jealousy''.

''I don't want her to see that pretty little fucked out face of yours''.

Ona chuckled and held her arms up, ''pull this off, we're throwing it away''.

''I'll sell it for you'' Lucy grinned, ''you didn't do all this effort for nothing, did you?''.

Lucy helped her out of the shirt and threw it so far it landed in the hallway.

''Well, that's gone'' Ona chuckled at the unreasonable attitude Lucy had, and tugged on Lucy's sportsbra ''this can go too''.

Lucy quickly took it off and got on top of Ona.

''Did i go to far?''.

''No''.

Lucy tilted her head questioning.

''I'm sure, it was hot actually, a little gross, but hot''.

''Gross?''.

''Yeah, stinky shirt'' Ona said with a disgusted face, making Lucy chuckle.

''Oh and'' Lucy said as she traced her hands along Ona's skin, ''as much as i hate it, you did look beautiful''.

Ona smirked, ''i thought the things you said were really hot'', ''i am already thinking about who's shirt i'll trade next''.

Lucy narrowed her eyes and shook her head, ''ohh you're bad''.

''Sí, soy fatal'' (i'm a baddie) Ona joked chuckling.

''Que?'' Lucy said, thinking Ona just called herself terrible.

''In spanish we call someone that's unreasonably hot, fatal, it means they're bad but it is like slang'' Ona explained, ''a funny joke, because you called me bad''.

''I get that now'' Lucy laughed, ''that's funny actually, in English you can also say someone is a baddie, same thing''.

''Really?''.

''Sí'' Lucy said, ''god, i will miss our language talks''.

''We call every day'' Ona said, frowning.

Lucy looked at her with a pouty face ''but you don't want to talk to me''.

''Luceee'' Ona dropped her head on the pillow ''I had a dinner!!'' she called out snickering.

''I love when you call out my name'' Lucy said as she ran her hands along Ona's thighs.

Ona looked up with a smirk, ''I love when you make me call out your name''.

''I think I forgot what you taste like'' Lucy said as she crawled on top of Ona.

..

-----

The end, not theirs.

-Keep an eye out for Feli's shirt on Ebay 😂

Feel free to give me feedback/tips (anonymously) but in a kind way is the most appreciated xx

[woso-dreamzzz]

Youth Team II

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first crush

You first meet her during a friendly.

Usually, Denmark goes to everyone else to play. Not many teams want to make the trek over especially when it was winter and the snow had settled.

But there are always a few dumb idiots who want to play against the Under-Seventeen Euro winners and are willing to leave the warmth of their own countries to come over.

Today, it's Spain.

You haven't really paid much attention to who is on the other team (it's not like you would really recognise any of them anyway) but you're always up for a challenge.

You clap your hands together as you warm up. It's not too cold for Denmark standards but you can spot the Spain girls shivering as they try to get warm.

"They shake like a newborn deer," One of your friends says with a little laugh," Do you think they are just as unsteady on their legs?"

You stifle your own laugh as you head out to your position on your goal line. "They're just used to Spain. It's hot there."

"Hopefully the snow throws them off."

There's a light dusting of snow on the ground that you've found is pretty typical of the Denmark winter but is usually enough to throw off foreigners when they come to visit.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. "Maybe they'll slip over when they try to kick the ball."

You don't have much to do during the match. The coaches have put out a heavy offence and your midfield easily scoops up the loose balls.

Spain's keeper is nearly as good as you but lets three goals slip through her fingers (though one is ruled as offside). You're better though.

Morsa always says it's not arrogance if you can back it up.

You know you're better than her which is why you're a bit confused when the ball comes rocketing past your outstretched fingers. You've mistimed your dive and your glove misses the ball by mere millimetres as it slots itself into the left corner of your goal.

You roll out of your dive. You're used to the snow of Denmark but it doesn't mean that you want to be lying on it for longer than you have to be.

You catch a glimpse of the forward that got the better of you and...She's beautiful.

She's celebrating her goal, fist pumping up into the air.

You make eye contact.

She smiles.

You go red and look away, your heart going pitter-patter in your chest. You grab the ball out of your goal and throw it off to one of your midfielders.

The pretty girl is still celebrating and you make a vow to yourself to not let any more of her goals in. You wouldn't let her win.

You don't let her win at the end of the day with a scoreline of 2-1 to Denmark. You'd say that your performance was decent enough but knew it wasn't perfect because you didn't come out of it with a clean sheet.

"Hola."

You jump in shock when the girl from earlier appears in front of you.

"Hola."

She smiles at you. It's a pretty smile and it makes you feel all weird and mushy inside. You don't quite understand.

She offers her hand.

You shake it and introduce yourself to.

"I know," She says with a wink that makes a blush appear on your face out of nowhere," You play for Linköping."

You're a little bit flattered that such a pretty girl knows who you are and where you play. You wish you could say the same about her.

"I'm Natalia, by the way. I play for Barça B," She says," Straight through La Masia." She puffs out her chest and you're not too sure why she's telling you this. "We're staying over for the next two days. You know your way Denmark, don't you?"

You furrow your brow in confusion. "Er...yes..."

She's smiling again. "Can I have your number? I'd love to have a proper tour guide."

"Oh! Okay!" It makes sense why she was being so friendly now.

Spanish girls are touchy. You know this because Tia Tana is a bit touchy sometimes so you don't see anything wrong with the girl pressing a kiss on your cheek. She lingers there for a moment and her cheeks go a little red - though you put that down to the cold weather.

"I'll text you."

"Who was your new friend?" Morsa asks when you finally make your way over to her and Momma in the stands.

"Oh...er..." You look behind you to see Natalia smiling at you. You feel like your cheeks are permanently stained red. "She plays at Barça. I think she wants a tour guide."

Morsa narrows her eyes. "A tour guide," She says," Yeah, sure."

"Magda," Momma hisses in warning," That's lovely, princesse. Why don't you head back and get changed and then we can go to dinner?"

"Okay."

Pernille watches you go. "Don't."

"Don't what?!"

"It's nice that she's making friends."

"I think that girl has more than friendship on her mind!"

Pernille laughs. "Remind you for anyone?"

"Huh?"

"I had a little bit more than friendship on my mind when I invited you on that maths course."

Magda's face goes a little red before she turns away. "That's different. She's still a baby. She can't date."

"First of all," Pernille says as she slips a hand into Magda's," She hasn't been a baby for a very long time. Second of all, we've somehow managed to raise the most oblivious teenager of all time. She doesn't even realise that it's a date."

The tension in Magda's shoulders deflates. "Yeah...Well, at least it isn't a crush on Princesse's end."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

You're walking down the tunnel and feel a hand slip into your own.

It's Natalia again.

She smiles at you, swinging your joined hands.

You feel all mushy inside as you try to hold eye contact. She presses another kiss to your cheek.

"I look forward to seeing you soon," She says.

"Yeah, me too."

[landograndprix]

「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part xii

✧.* triple header, triple podiums, and triple the love.

✧.* quick little filler before it kicks off. Foreshadowing? Maybe. More insight in the y/nlando household? Yes 🥰 getting to know girlie even better? Yes ❤️this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

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mclaren

liked by yourmumsuser, maxfewtrell and 253,678 others

mclaren front row locked in once again!

#imolagp

tagged: landonorris, y/nusername

view all 472 comments

mcpapaya this team!!!! 🧡

johnson87 them sharing the sheets really works out for us fans huh

bott_ass you're so real for this

norry4 that's my team y'all 😭

sharllekler girlie really said I'm in a good mood, let me give my man a tow and then proceeded to take his pole away 😭

norrizz gotta keep him on his toes :')

marcusklein she's gonna make it up to him tonight

lanlan 🕯 lando p1 🕯

maxfewtrell absolutely mental!

teampapaya HAPPY MCLAREN WEEK 🧡🧡

y/nloveee can't wait to see my girl pull a max verstappen and win her 4th wdc halfway the season 🥰

ohnomeshoes no joke, bagging y/n might just be the best thing to happen to lando, man's is killing it on all fields!!

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y/nusername

liked by cecilemoulin, riabish and 672,652 others

y/nusername fam fam ❤️

tagged: landonorris

view all 1,231 comments

hamilt44n once in a while y/n posts one of these fam fam posts and every time there's a new addition 😭

norrizz a new cat, dog and boyfriend 😂

yukisan I wanna live with you guys, pls, I know I'd be spoiled rotten

y/ngirlie bestie you're such a mom

alex_albon you're going to end up with more pets than us..

norry4 lando being accepted as a part of the family, my boy promoted to dad and step dad 🥺

cecilemoulin something tells me lando did not know about the goodest little doggie 😍

y/nusername unplanned parenthood

y/nlandooo girl stop, what's next, a goat? 😂

bobnorriz she already got a goat back at her parents house, two horses and one fucking duck 💀

y/nusername they didn't fit in my place here in Monaco unfortunately :(

bobnorriz girl get a farm 😅

carlandooo wait so you really adopted a cat back in Spain lmao

landonorris I'll find a cow in the living room next week

y/nusername don't give me ideas

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y/nusername posted to their story

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 789,672 others

y/nusername España, un hogar lejos de casa ☀

tagged: landonorris, maxfewtrell, cecilemoulin

view all 1,212 comments

mrsnorris 'home far away from home' and for what reason? Oh that's right..Carlos..🥴

chilisainz okay bestie, let's put you to bed..okay? You're talking shit again.

norrizz honestly, it's been a while since we last saw you..how have you been my love? Enjoying every single piece of y/nlando content we've had so far? 🥰

yukisan okaaay but that food looks amazing 😭

teamnotrell bunch of cuties enjoying their few days off :)

landonorris can't believe max got a girlfriend

maxfewtrell okay mate..

cecilemoulin I'm getting paid for this

maxfewtrell you're always bullying me and for what?

y/nusername I've got your back babes ❤️

maxfewtrell thank you ❤️

charles16 lando, y/n and Cecile podium this week? 👀

norry4 I love this little group of gremlins <3

landonorris love you muppet ❤️

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Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @babyvinnie @mishaandthebrits @hockeyboysarehot @ironmaiden1313 @justdreamersdream @dreamsarebig @angelfreckless

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10

Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie

[theemporium]

hiii, i’d like to request a poly maxiel after danny’s crash in zandvoort - max has to finish the practice and focus on the gp so it’s only the reader that accompanies danny to the hospital and then to spain for his surgery, but max is obviously stressed because he can’t be with danny and you (even though they keep in touch through messages and facetimes) but as soon as he can, max joins his partners in spain and they celebrate max’s win a little to cheer danny up and take his mind off his injury maybe?

i’m not sure about the ending but something like this would be nice if you’re okay with writing this🙈 but it’s also totally understandable if you don’t want to write this! either way, thank you for hearing me out!😇

btw, i love your writing and i also love poly!f1 so this is a match made in heaven for me haha! thank you for sharing your amazing stories with us and i hope you’re feeling a lot better soon🫶

ahhh thank you thank you!! you're so sweet omg🥲also i didn't know how to end this either but thank you for requesting!🫶🏽

.

Max shouldn’t have felt so on edge when he was the one who insisted you go with Daniel.

He had been notified over the radio when the crash had happened. The second Daniel’s name was uttered, he felt his heart rate spike. He caught glimpses of the crash through the massive screens around the track but nobody was giving him details on how he was, what had happened, if he was going to be okay.

It wasn’t until he was back in the garage after the practice session that he started to mangle the details out of people. You had joined Daniel at the hospital, sending Max a quick update on what was going on and what happened. You told him you would send any updates on his condition.

He didn’t think he was able to take a proper breath until you and Daniel returned to the paddock, this time with a cast on the latter’s arm.

Max could see the conflict in your eyes, so he made the decision easier for you. He told you to go to Spain with Daniel, to be with him during the surgery and the recovery. 

You had insisted that it was his home race, that you should stay with him to be there when he breaks the record. But Max had just smiled and told you that Monza would be where he would break the record, and you would be there for him. 

Daniel needed you right now, more than he did. 

So, you eventually gave in and took Max’s jet out to Spain to meet with the doctor who would be doing his surgery.

It wasn’t like he was totally cut off from you both. He had received a handful of messages—some of them updates, some of them just nonsense—in the group chat that had the three of you in it. Any time he wasn’t in the car or in front of a camera, he had one of you on facetime so he could be there for Daniel in some way too.

But it didn’t ease the tightness in his chest. He felt on edge, he felt off without the two of you by his side and he didn’t like it.

The race was more than chaotic enough to keep his mind off everything until he passed the checkered flag. The second he was climbing out that car behind the number one spot, his mind was on you and Daniel once again, his fingers itching to be close enough to hold the two of you again.

The second his duties for the race weekend were over, Max was catching the first flight out. He didn’t care about anything else. He just needed to be with the two of you again, even if it means skipping his own celebrations. 

“Hey, stranger.” 

The heaviness in his body left in seconds as soon as he stepped into the hospital room, seeing Daniel grinning on the bed with you sitting on a chair beside him. He rushed over before he could stop himself, being careful of Daniel’s arm as he pulled him into a hug.

“Are you okay?” His words were slightly muffled from where he had shoved his face against Daniel’s neck.

“I’m all good, I promise,” Daniel murmured.

Max then pulled away and instantly tugged you from your chair, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close like you were seconds away from disappearing. “And you?”

“I’m good too, baby,” you laughed softly as you hugged him tightly back, knowing very well that this was what he needed. “Congratulations, champion.”

“Nine in a row, huh?” Daniel wiggled his eyebrows. “Almost reminds me of that time—”

You lifted your head to shoot the boy a glare.

The Aussie grinned. “Never mind.”

Max laughed, something he didn’t like he had been able to do since both you and Daniel left Zandvoort. “I don’t care about the record,” he admitted with a shake of his head. “I’m just glad I’m with you both again.”

“Awww, our little softie,” you cooed as you jokingly reached to pinch his cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah,” he laughed as he grabbed your hand before intertwining your fingers together. “Whatever, we can celebrate in here.”

Daniel raised his brows. “You smuggle a bottle in here?”

Max grinned. “There’s many ways to celebrate without champagne.”

“Absolutely not,” you snorted. “Not in a hospital room, guys. Have some decency.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Daniel grinned.

.

[me-loving-woso]

Drunken Confessions

Prompt: Alexia Putellas x reader: - “No matter how much time we’ve spent apart, I never stopped loving you.” - “Why are you staring at me?” “Because I think you’re beautiful.”

Today was the day. Not only Alexia made her comeback, but also we also won La Liga undefeated. 

You didn’t know which thing to be happier for, you winning your first championship since returning to Barça or your best friend returning to do what she loves the most, but most probably the latter option. You were so proud of her; seeing her again on the pitch and holding the trophy up while everyone cheered for her made your heart swell with joy. 

You had known each other since the La Masia days; you were inseparable. Alexia in midfield, you as a striker; you linked up so well that you didn’t need to talk on the pitch, as the other girl already knew what the other was thinking. As soon as Alexia signed for Barcelona, you decided to change air and went to London, specifically at Arsenal; you were a gunner besides being a Barça fan, as Thierry Henry was your idol.

In the beginning, you would talk to her almost every day, as you missed being in each other’s company, you maybe a little more than Alexia. You were in love with her, has always been, so much so that you never moved on from her; you tried and nearly did it, but you couldn’t. She was just it for you. And the fact that you would talk to each other almost every day didn’t help either. Late-night talks kept you awake till midnight, which wasn’t healthy for an athlete, but you didn’t care; you wouldn’t care about anything else if it meant just listening to her voice. 

But as months went by, everyday conversations became weekly, which turned into monthly. You initially didn’t think much about it, but then you realized that you needed to move on, so you tried. 

“I really don’t think it’s necessary,” You said to Leah as she pointed to a dress.

“Oh, come on, for how long you haven’t been on a date?”

“A, this is not a date, it’s a setup, and B, not that long ago,” you say defensively. 

Leah looked at you, tilting her head, “Okay, maybe I haven’t gone on a date in a while, but I am okay with it. I just need to get back to it.” 

You tried convincing yourself while taking the dress off Leah’s hands and going to the bathroom to change. Maybe you were ready. You hadn’t seen Alexia in a year; it was time for you to move on.

All changed in Euros 2022 when she got injured; as soon as you heard that she ruptured her ACL, you had to see her, even though you were in a different team; you played for England, and she for Spain. You asked Ona to help you find a way to meet her so nobody could see you. So the breakfast the day before England and Spain would face each other would be the day.

As soon as you saw her, all the intensity of your feelings for her came crashing; she looked older and even more beautiful than before. As your eyes met, she finally stood up with her crutches, and without saying anything, you went to her and hugged her. After a few seconds, which felt like hours, you put your foreheads together, just like you did when you were younger. 

“I really missed you,” Alexia whispered as a single tear threatened to fall down from her eye. You couldn’t talk, so you just held her a little tighter, hoping she would understand.

From then on, you decided to win the Euros for her, and you did. You won, scoring the winning goal against Germany, celebrating by putting up on both hands one finger to show 11, something that you would do back in your La Masia days when the midfielder assister you in your goals. That goal was for her. 

When Barça called, announcing that Asisat Oshoala would change clubs and wanted you to be their new striker, you didn’t hesitate; your dream was playing with Barça and winning the Champions League. You would miss Arsenal, but you knew this was a step for her to take to become an even better player. 

Being back with Alexia was something that you didn’t expect. All your progress trying to forget her went to zero when you saw the midfielder’s smile as she welcomed you back to the training center. 

All your teammates would tease how you looked together, especially Keira and Lucy; you guys were inseparable, especially when Alexia came back to train with the team. You would link up so well that anyone was scared to do drills against the two of you. You would score goals and dribble past your opponents just by quickly passing the ball to each other. You knew Alexia wasn’t still 100% fit, but you couldn’t wait for that day. 

When that day came, you were ecstatic; she was trying to downplay it, shrugging off your excitement. You were already winning the game, so the only thing that would top it, besides winning La Liga, was if she scored. You tried so hard to make her score, but nothing seemed to work. The game ended 5-2, with you scoring a brace. 

As soon as the game finished, you ran to her and hugged her. She held you up until your legs started to dangle. She put you down and gave your one of the biggest smiles you had ever seen, she was back, and that was the only thing that mattered. You put your foreheads together and whispered, “I’m so proud of you.”

She hugged you again, and nuzzling into your neck, she mumbled, “Stop it, you’re going to make me cry.” You chuckled, letting her go when all your team swarmed you to throw Alexia in the air.

After the trophy celebration, the team went into the dressing room, and then they all went home to prepare dinner with the whole club in the evening. The next day you didn’t have practice, so you decided to celebrate even further with a couple of teammates by going to a local club. You, Lucy, and Keira, were getting ready at your house, and you decided to go for something simple, not too revealing, as you only wanted to celebrate the win. 

“Do you think Alexia is going to come?” Lucy asks as you are putting on some mascara.

“I don’t know. I told her where it was and when, but I don’t know if she will come.”

“Mapi and Ana Maria are coming too, so maybe she’ll stop by.” Keira remarks.

After a few moments, Lucy added, “You know, I never understood the relationship between you two.” You looked at her through the mirror, with your stomach knotting. 

“She’s my best friend.” I shrugged.

“Only that?” Lucy replies suggestively.

“Yes, what are you trying to say?” I answer a little defensively.

“All I’m saying is that the hug you shared today wasn’t that friendly, if you know what I mean.” She jokes. 

“You got the hots for her, and she probably does too for you.” Keira remarks. 

You roll your eyes, “I’m too sober for this conversation.” Sitting on the side of the bathtub while scrolling through your phone.

“So you are not denying it” Lucy smiles. You gave her a disapproving look while slightly blushing. “You guys would be perfect for each other.” She added. 

“I think you should shut up.” You say jokingly. 

“Oh my god, now I finally understand why our little striker is always single.” Keira grinned. 

“I’m not little, and I don’t like Alexia. She’s way out of my league.” You sigh, standing up.

“So you do like her.” You don’t reply, Lucy laughed. “I fucking knew it.” She added.

“I’m done with this conversation; come downstairs when you guys are finished; I’ll call a taxi.” You go downstairs exasperated. 

As they go downstairs, you stand up from the couch and turn to them, slightly hesitating, “So you guys know how I get when I’m drunk.” You tentatively start. 

“Oh yeah, you have no filters when you talk.” Keira laughed.

“I remember when we went to the club after we won the Euros, you said to Leah that—“ You interrupted Lucy and rubbed my forehead, “You don’t have to remind me of that.” 

“Just please, don’t make me say something stupid; I like it here,” I asked.

When you arrive at the club, you are soon greeted by your other teammates, Mapi and Ingrid, Jana and Bruna, Ana Maria, Patri, and Aitana. There was no Alexia, you knew she probably wouldn’t come, as she didn’t like partying very much, but you still hoped. You soon got dragged by Mapi and Aitana to have some shots while Keira and Lucy still talked to the others.

You were drunk. The problem was that when you are drunk, you don’t have any filters; you say whatever comes to mind; sometimes, it's funny, whereas other times it’s not. Other than that, when sober you are not very touchy. Still, when drunk, you like hugging people and sometimes can get over affectionate. So initially, you were scared that Alexia would come and probably say something you shouldn’t. Still, she wasn’t there, so you indulged in some fun. It was already an hour since you came to the club; you were dancing and singing your heart out to songs you probably didn’t even know the lyrics. As you turn to your friends, you see a new figure approaching them, then you recognize her. Alexia was here. She laughed at something that Mapi said, but you didn’t care. You were just too happy to see her. 

You made your way through the crowd to your table, and you jumped in her arms, “Oh my god, you are here!” You say excitedly, slurring a little your words. 

“And you are drunk.” She chuckled. She looked at me properly.

“Pfff, me? I definitely am not. See?” You tried walking in a straight line, failing miserably.

“Yeah, I’m taking you home.” She gently grabs your wrist. 

“Come on, you just came here; at least dance with me for one song.” She sighed. “Okay, Only one, then I’m taking you home.”

“Alright.” You grabbed her hand and dragged her to the dance floor. She never was a good dancer, but you didn’t care. You were dancing with the most beautiful girl in the club, and you were happy. You looked at her, trying desperately to not make a fool of herself; you just smiled and kept looking at her. 

“Why are you staring at me?” She asked shyly. Without thinking, you reply, “Because I think you’re beautiful.” You see her blush at the compliment and give you a shy smile while you just quickly cover your mouth like a little child that said something she shouldn’t. 

“You are drunk.” She chuckles again. 

“Let me take you home.” She offers.

“You can do whatever you want with me, woman; I’m yours.” You say, retaking her hand as she leads you out of the club. 

You get into her car, and she drives. You were sitting in the passenger seat, and you began talking about the most random stuff you could ever imagine. 

“Since when are you so chatty?” She grinned, quickly looking at you.

“I don’t want to fall asleep. And talking helps.” 

“Just sleep. I’ll wake you when we get to your house.”

“No.” You pouted. “I’m a big girl, I will not sleep.” 

“Then go ahead.” You lasted five seconds being silent. Then you continued, “Can I tell you something?”

“Is this some drunken confession you want to make?” She chuckled nervously.

“Well, I probably won’t remember it in the morning, so I guess I’ll say it now, even though I shouldn’t.” You didn’t let her reply when you added. “I just think you are very beautiful, and I have been in love with you for the past eight years, and I can’t stop thinking about you.” She opened her mouth, trying to reply, but you continued again. “And I know that if I were yours, I would try my best to be the best girlfriend ever because you deserve only the best.” 

“Y/-“ You interrupt her once again. “And I know that you deserve better than me; that’s why I never said anything; you are amazing, while I’m just me, and you deserve to be with someone who is just as amazing and beautiful as you are because you only deserve the best. And I’m completely fine with it, okay, maybe not that much, but I’ll get it if you don’t want to talk to me anymore after this. I’ll be very sad, but eventually, I’ll move on. I’ll be okay.” You ramble. You let a quick exhale, and then you finally realize that the car has already stopped.

You look at Alexia for the first time after your big speech; you can only see her smile through the street lights outside the car. You react at her loss of words by asking, “I fucked up our friendship didn’t I?” Tears started flowing down your face, and you felt utterly sober for the first time during the night. 

She put her hands on your cheeks and rubbed off the tears from your skin, and gave you a sincere smile, “You didn’t fuck up anything. Let’s get you inside; we’ll talk in the morning when you remember what I say.”

You just nod, and as soon as you get inside, she follows you to your room; she helps you clean your teeth by putting her hand on the small of your back in support for your dizzy body. 

She helped you to bed, and you held her by the arm as she was about to leave. 

“You don’t feel the same way, do you?” You mumbled sadly, nearly asleep. She let out a shaky exhale as her lips curled upwards.

“ I’ve been in love with you since I saw you the first day at training, and no matter how much time we have spent apart, I never stopped loving you. And don’t say you don’t deserve me because you are the most wonderful person I have ever met, and you, too, are also very beautiful.”

“Yes!” You replied very rapidly, showing all of your enthusiasm to her.

“Now go get some sleep, I’ll come by tomorrow, and we can talk then.” She was about to get up, but you stopped her again, “Can I get a hug?” You whispered shyly.

She laughed and sat down on the bed, waiting for you to change position so you could be seated too, and then she held you in a tight embrace, making you feel all fuzzy on the inside. As you removed yourself from the embrace, you put your foreheads together and closed your eyes. After a couple of seconds, she gave you a kiss on your forehead and whispered. “I’ll see you tomorrow, mi amor. Sleep well.”

She closed the lights in your room and shut the door. After a few moments of smiling dumbly at yourself, you finally fall asleep, thinking about the woman who was just here merely a few minutes ago. 

[shitsndgiggs]

Can you write a story with Lamine Yamal where his girlfriend is german and she’s like really happy for his win but also sad for germanys lost? And she gets all mad at Cucurella for his hand foul and Lamine just laughs her off

HANDBALL FOUL - LAMINE YAMAL

Germany losing in the quarterfinals against Spain

Lamine Yamal x german! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The final whistle blew, and the stadium erupted into a mix of cheers and groans. Spain had just secured their place in the Euro 2024 semifinals with a 2-1 victory over Germany.

The Spanish fans were ecstatic, celebrating their team’s hard-fought win, while the German supporters were left to lament what could have been. I sat there, caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

As a German, my heart ached for my team. They’d played so well, fought so hard, but it wasn’t enough. The loss stung, especially knowing that this was the end of the road for Germany in the tournament.

But at the same time, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride and happiness for Lamine, who had played his heart out for Spain.

Lamine found me in the stands shortly after the match, still in his kit, his face glowing with the thrill of victory.

He was all smiles as he jogged over, but his expression softened when he saw the mix of emotions on my face.

“Hey,” he said gently, reaching out to take my hand. “You okay?”

I forced a smile, trying to push down the sadness that lingered in my chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… you know, mixed feelings.”

He nodded, understanding immediately. “I know. It’s tough when we’re on opposite sides like this.”

I sighed, leaning into him as he pulled me into a comforting hug. “I’m really happy for you, Lamine. You played amazing, and Spain deserved the win. But I just… I wish it wasn’t at Germany’s expense, you know?”

He kissed the top of my head, holding me close. “I get it. It’s always hard when you have a foot in both camps. But thank you for being happy for me, even though I know this is tough for you.”

I pulled back slightly, managing a small smile. “Of course. I’ll always support you, no matter what.”

Lamine’s smile widened, but before he could say anything, I huffed in frustration, my thoughts suddenly turning to that one moment in the match that had really gotten under my skin.

“But I still can’t believe they didn’t award that penalty!” I exclaimed, crossing my arms.

“Cucurella clearly handled the ball in the box! It should’ve been a penalty for Germany!”

Lamine chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “You’re still mad about that?”

“Of course I am!” I shot back, my voice rising a little as the frustration bubbled up again. “It was so obvious! The ref should’ve given the penalty. It could’ve changed the whole game!”

Lamine laughed again, pulling me back into his arms. “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”

“I’m serious, Lamine!” I insisted, even as I felt my irritation start to fade in the warmth of his embrace. “It’s just… unfair.”

He kissed my forehead, still grinning. “I know, I know. But that’s football, right? Sometimes the calls go your way, sometimes they don’t.”

I pouted, but his playful attitude was starting to chip away at my anger. “You’re just saying that because the call went your way.”

“Maybe,” he admitted with a wink. “But you can’t stay mad at Marc forever. Besides, it’s not like he did it on purpose.”

I sighed, finally letting my frustration go as I melted into his embrace. “Fine. I guess you’re right. But still… it stings.”

Lamine tightened his hold on me, resting his chin on top of my head. “I know it does. But hey, maybe we’ll have a Spain-Germany final next time, and you’ll get your revenge.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that, my mood lightening as I looked up at him. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” he said confidently. “But for now, how about we just enjoy the moment? I’m really happy you’re here with me, even if it didn’t go the way you wanted.”

I smiled, feeling the last of my frustration melt away as I looked into his eyes. “I’m happy I’m here with you too. And I am proud of you, Lamine. You were incredible out there.”

His smile softened, and he leaned down to kiss me gently. “Thank you. That means a lot, coming from you.”

We stood there for a moment, just holding each other as the sounds of celebration and disappointment echoed around us.

It was a strange mix of emotions—sadness for my team, joy for my boyfriend—but in Lamine’s arms, it felt like everything was going to be okay.

“Come on,” he said after a while, pulling back slightly but keeping his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get out of here. I’ll buy you dinner to make up for the loss.”

I laughed, feeling my spirits lift as I leaned into him. “You better. And don’t think I’m going to let you forget about that handball anytime soon.”

Lamine grinned, giving me a playful squeeze. “I wouldn’t expect anything less, cariño.”

[futfemfantasies]

“That’s your wife!” \\ leah williamson x putellas!reader

Request: “...where the reader plays for Man U or just any different team, and she’s married to Leah, and when they play eachother Leah slide tackles her hard, causing the reader to be angry as hell and limping. And fans are angry at her for doing that to her wife.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the quarter finals of the Euros. England vs Spain. Williamson vs Putellas. Wife vs wife. You know this is the game to win. Your older sister, Alexia, tore her ACL the day before the competition started so you owe it to her. You haven’t seen your wife Leah for most of this competition and you are itching just to see her, touch her. Obviously you’ve called and facetimed each other but it’s just not the same. You’ve been pretty down the past few days and your teammates also cannot wait for this match, so they get their vice captain back.

You arrive at Amex Stadium and you follow your teammates into the locker room. You look around for your jersey and see ‘Putellas’ with a 14 under it. A part of you feels like you’re betraying your sister, since it’s her number but you know she’ll be proud. You put your bag down and decide to take a walk out to the field. It’s still a few hours until kick off so no fans should be in the stadium. You go over to Mapi and tell her that you’re going for a walk. You slip on your slides before grabbing your phone and lanyard before leaving the locker room. You see a couple of the English girls walking around and you have a quick chat before you get a text from Mapi saying coach wants us back soon. You reply and continue your short walk. 

You follow the signs that lead to the field and as you turn the corner, you run into something, or more like someone. You look up and see those familiar ocean blue eyes you have fallen in love with. You wrap your arms around Leah’s lower back and hers go around the back of your neck. After a few more seconds, you both pull away and kiss each other for the first time in weeks. 

“Hola mi amor”

“God I missed that accent” Leah whispers as her forehead leans on mine. 

“I missed you” You say in English causing the corners of Leah’s mouth to curve upwards 

“Maybe we can go to the pitch then walk back?” Leah suggests and you intertwine your hands together before going out to the field. 

You both walk out on the pitch and take in the stadium. You look around and try and find where Alexia said she would be. You hear Leah’s camera go off and you turn around quickly with a blush on your cheeks. 

“Sorry, you looked cute”

You and Leah sit on the pitch leaving no space between each other. You get pulled from your trance when you hear your phone ring from next to you. 

“Hola...sí...bueno, adios Maps” (Hello...yes...okay, bye Maria)

“You have to go?” Leah asks sadly.

“Lo siento, coach will not start me today unless I’m back in 5 minutes” Leah eyes widen and they have a little bit of anger coming through.

“He can’t do that. Let’s get you going” 

Leah stands up and holds her hand out for you to take. You walk Leah back to her locker room where you see your friends plus some club teammates. 

“I’ll see you after?” Leah questions.

“Sí, I’ll need to comfort you after we beat you” Leah rolls her eyes at you and her teammates laugh and comment on the bold assumption. 

“Adios mi amor” 

On the way back to the locker room, Aitana texts you that you have a minute to get back. You run down the hallways and stumble into the España locker room. Jorge reminded you that he nearly benched you and you roll your eyes at the lame threat. An hour later after listening to Jorge go through tactics and how to get through the English backline of Lucy, Millie, Leah, and Rachel and the midfielders. The coaching staff leave so the players can get dressed and you feel nothing but nerves. You slip the jersey on and tie your boots when you receive a text. 

LW 🥰: good luck out there baby. not too much bc we are going to beat you. i love you so much xxxx

You reply to Leah before one of the coaching staff tells everyone to make their way to the tunnel. You do a quick prayer up to your dad then walk out with Mapi and Leila. 

Your teammates order themselves by number and you stand across from your wife as you both are the captains. You give her a wink and you see Leah’s cheeks slowly turn red. Both teams walk out and do the formalities of singing the national anthems, coin tosses and team photos. Since the coin toss went in your favour, you chose that Spain started with the ball. You shake Leah’s hand and give her the red and yellow decorated pennant while you receive a full white one. You both shake the hands of the ref before giving Leah a kiss on the cheek. 

“May the best team win mi amor”

Both teams go to their positions and the whistle blows. The first half is slow but you nearly had a goal but the VAR declared it a no goal even though Earps stopped it after a few centimetres after the line. You yell at your team to run back and when you do, the referee calls for half time. You walk into the tunnel and you feel a hand on your lower back. You look beside you and see Leah. You talk for a few minutes before going to your respective dressing rooms. 

15 minutes later, you lead your team back out to the pitch. You look over to where Alexia is and she’s cheering the loudest, along with your mama Eli and other older sister Alba. The whistle blows and Ellen kicks the ball to Beth. Around the 54 minute mark, you prepare for a corner from Mapi. She does a hand signal and you attempt to move around the England players so you can receive it. You feel hands on your hips and you look down to see the familiar white nail polish. You keep moving around so Leah’s hands get off you but she has a tight grip on you. Just before Mapi kicks the ball, you pull Leah’s hands off you and run to the edge of the box. The ball comes directly to you at the perfect height and you know what shot to do. You jump up and do a bicycle kick which flies into the top right corner. Mary has no chance of saving it. You run around like a crazy person over to Alexia and your family. By the time you get to the section, your oldest sister managed to get down to the bottom step on one leg. You attempt to go over to her to give her a hug but are stopped by the referee. 

“One more step and you get a yellow” She warned.

You roll your eyes and blow and kiss to your sister and family. As the game restarts, you notice that the England team have a little bit of anger in their eyes, especially your wife. Around 10 or 15 minutes later, you get a lovely through ball from Laia which causes you to run up the middle, straight to Millie and Leah. You manage to get around Millie but when you’re up against Leah, the next thing you see is the grass. Alexia and Alba are up from their seats knowing exactly what happened. When you don’t stand up, that’s when Leah becomes concerned. 

“I’m so sorry baby. What hurts?” When you don’t respond, your teammates call the ref and your medical team over. Your eyes stay shut as you try to control your breathing due to the amount of pain you’re experiencing. 

“I’m not going anywhere” Leah informs you but you can’t even stand to hear her voice. 

“Go away Leah”

“Baby I-”

“I don’t want to yell at you. I said go away” Your tone gets angrier and voice louder as Leah doesn’t get the hint. 

You open your eyes and see Keira and Lucy pull her away and Leah breaking down on Keira’s shoulder. From what you can see, Mapi and some of your teammates go over to Leah to give her a mouthful.

“Leah! What the fuck? That’s your wife!” Mapi yells at her.

“You think I don’t know that Mapi? I know what I did okay, I wasn’t thinking” Leah says as she starts off angry but ends soft as the incident sinks into Leah’s head.  

Leah hears the cheers and turns around to see you hopping on one foot with your arm around the medic. The two teams clapping you off the pitch makes you grateful you have close friends and family in both. For the rest of the game, Leah was unfocused as the guilt and nervous feelings inside her don’t go away. As soon as the whistle blew, Leah raced off to the sidelines but Sarina caught her just in time. 

“They took her to the hospital for checking. When we finish here, the team bus can drop you off okay?” Sarina explains. 

Leah just nods at her coach and walks into the locker room without any press or fan interactions. She took her boots off and threw them against the wall out of anger. Leah sat on the ground in front of her locker with her phone, trying to call you. It goes straight to voicemail and she curses under her breath. Leah lets all her emotions go and doesn’t even hear her teammates come in. No one speaks or even celebrates that they are through to the semi finals as they feel bad for you and are angry at Leah. She doesn’t know how much time passes until everyone hears a knock on the door. Leah looks up and sees Mapi, Leila and Alexia. 

“We are going to the hospital. Are you coming?” Alexia asks.

“I’ll be dropped off later” The three Spaniards nod and walk back to the Spain locker room. 

“Leah, one of the trainers has offered to take you to the hospital if you want to leave now?” Sarina questions and Leah agrees and quickly gathers her things before leaving with the trainer.  

On the drive to the local hospital, Leah reads twitter and everyone is mad at her for hurting her own wife, how you should divorce Leah and other nonsense. Of course, it all goes to Leah’s head and now she’s more worried than before. The trainer parks and Leah jumps out and sprints to the front desk. 

“Where’s my wife, Y/N Putellas-Williamson?”

The nurse types on the computer and finds where you are.

“Oh yes, she’s in surgery right now. The waiting room is just around the corner if you would like to stay there” Leah thanks the woman and walks to the waiting area. 

When she turns the corner, she sees your mama and two older sisters. Without saying a word, Leah sits down across from them and puts her head in her hands. Leah starts crying and she zones out until she feels a soft hand on her back. Leah looks up and sees your mum giving her a sad look. Since Eli’s English isn’t that great, she hands her phone to Leah which has the translated version. Leah reads the small paragraph then hugs your mum in appreciation. 

“Lo siento Eli” Your mum shakes her head and gives Leah a tight side hug, something Leah needed. Alba soon followed, giving Leah a hug and Alexia gave Leah a smile since her knee restricted her from going anywhere. A few hours later, a doctor comes out. 

“Putellas-Williamson?” Eli pushed Leah forward slightly as she is the only one who understands the doctor. 

“Y/N suffered a high ankle sprain which required surgery as the ligament was completely torn. We’ve put a screw between the tibia and fibula to hold the two bones together until they heal. With the right rehab and support, she should be playing again in a few months. Y/N is in room 1411 when you’re ready to go in. She’s asking for someone called Leah”

Leah thanked the doctor and went back over to your family to explain what the doctor had said. Leah suggested that Eli and your sisters go first but they all refused. 

“She’s asking for you Le, you go first” Alba suggests and Leah nods. 

On the way to your room, Leah made a slight detour to the gift shop to get you some flowers and a cute little bear holding a heart. She starts to become nervous as the room numbers slowly countdown to yours. Leah stood out the front of the door frozen. She peaks through the little window and sees you’re awake and on your phone. Leah gently knocks on the door and goes inside with a sad smile on her face. You look up and see your wife. You give her a smile and tell her to come next to you. 

Leah moves the spare seat closer to you and takes your hand in hers as she sits. She looks down to your ankle and pouts as you squeeze her hand. 

“I’m so sorry babe. I don’t usually do slide tackles and I don’t know why I did one on you and now you ca-” As soon as your lips are on Leah’s, you move your spare hand on her cheek and she relaxes instantly. 

“I’m not angry anymore. It’s the way this game works. I’ll be okay, I always am” You reassure your wife and she nods. You scoot over in the bed and pat it gently. 

“Are you sure?”

“How else am I going to congratulate you then giving you cuddles?” You ask.

“Oh I can think of something” Leah says with a slight smirk on her face. You hit Leah’s chest at the crude reply and Leah gets in next to you. 

[jimsbeetroot]

𝐈 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧♱ 𝐣𝐢𝐦 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐭

hopefully, i will be able to make this a series, of reader and jim on their vacation (ergo, why its called I in Spain, as in the first day)! i really want to anyway!

-

"You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jim's face dropped as he looked over at the large - but empty - hotel pool, his surprised eyes quickly shifting back to your grinning ones.

“If you want to have sex, we’ll find someplace else, but I’m not fucking you in a hotel pool.” 

You pouted, desperately hoping that your quivering bottom lip would win Jim over, but he only shook his head and looked away.

“Why not?” You mumbled, staring into Jim's chest as you fumbled with the strings of his hoodie. 

Jim was practically bent in half, his chin resting on your head as he tiredly skimmed the crowded hotel lobby. 

Jim had finally gotten the green light to go on a vacation, and the two of you had packed your bags for two sunny weeks in the south of Spain.

“Let’s just go to our room,” Jim suggested. He grabbed your hand, but you snatched it from his grip.

“But I want to go into the swimming pool!” You whined, stomping your foot into the tiles of the hotel lobby. 

Jim shushed you and looked around, making sure that no one was staring at the two of you.

“I want you to fuck me in the swimming pool,” you giggled, but Jim wasn’t laughing at all.

“This is not funny, Y/N,” Jim shook his head and grabbed your hand again. This time, you didn't even have the chance to protest before you were dragged down a hallway by your 6'6 foot boyfriend. 

Jim held the luggage in one hand and your hand in his other.

He pushed the elevator button, and the two of you waited silently for a while, before a brilliant idea washed upon you.

"I even packed my best swimwear. You know, the pink two-piece?" 

You said, and Jim stared back at you with an unamused glance. He knew that you were trying to get a reaction out of him. 

He was the one, who had bought you that bikini, but not to have you flaunting it to everyone. No, that was a bikini strictly for his eyes.

"I might just go without you, then," You huffed as the two of you stepped into the elevator.

Jim had let go of your wrist. He stared at you with a clenched jaw and tilted his head. 

"In that bikini? Fucking forget it," Jim chuckled, seemingly thinking you were joking, but looking at your pout and angry stare, he slowly realized that you were dead serious.

"It's just a bikini, James. Why did you buy me a bikini, if you don't want me to wear it?" You asked and looked up at Jim with a question-marked grimace.

"I'm just saying; I think you could've chosen a pair that didn't show that off that much," Jim said. He knew, that you were the master of analyzing words down to the bone, and just as he'd feared, your brain began decoding his last sentence.

"Oh, so you own me? Well, maybe you should pack my whole suitcase the next time we travel. Or maybe, you should just approve everything I ever wear. That way, we'll be sure to"

"Okay, calm the fuck down," he hissed and nipped your upper arm as the elevator stopped and an elderly couple walked in. You glared at him and rubbed the red spot on your arm, where Jim had left a mark.

The elevator was silent, as it went up, finally stopping at your level. You walked out, Jim following behind you with the key card.

You stood by the hotel room door and waited impatiently for Jim to unlock it. When he did, you hurried in and threw yourself on the bed.

Jim placed the luggage on the ground and rubbed his shoulders, clearly exhausted from a whole day of travelling. But you were loaded with energy.

"Listen, I'm gonna take a nap. Come join me. Maybe we can take a swim later."

Jim laid down on the bed and reached an arm out for you, but you huffed at his gesture.

"I don't want to go to sleep now, James. I wanna go swim," you whined, stomping slightly as Jim turned around, back facing you and closed his eyes, pretending not to care.

"Fine, then go," he mumbled. You huffed at his response.

"Fine, then give me the key card," you responded. You knew, that you needed the key card to lock yourself into the swimming pool, but also to get back into the room again.

Jim didn't respond. 

"James, I said give me the key card," you said with a stern voice. He had it on him somewhere, but where? That was a great question.

"Go get another one, then we'll have one each," Jim said. 

He would've never suggested that if it wasn't for your absolute fear of talking to strangers, especially when you didn't speak their language. Just the thought made you all nervous, and Jim knew that, that son of a bitch. 

He knew, that you wouldn't dare to go ask anyone alone, and Jim had no plans of moving from the bed anytime soon.

"I'm serious, Jim. Just give me the key card."

You were starting to get pretty riled up, and Jim knew that. Everything at that moment, depended on that idiotic key card.

You scanned him up and down. He was wearing a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Couldn't be that hard to get a hold of, you thought.

You walked over to the side of the bed, where Jim was lying, looking down at him. "Give me the key card," you huffed and pushed his shoulder slightly, although he didn't move.

"Give me the key card," you repeated, pushing his shoulder a little harder this time.

Jim didn't react at all. He just lay on his side, arms crossed against his chest, his long legs folded towards his upper body

"Jim, give me the key c-"

Before your hand could make contact with his shoulder, he - in a swift move- lifted his hand and grabbed your wrist tightly.

"Don't you think you've crossed enough lines today?" Jim sighed, eyes still closed and grip still tight around your wrist. You struggled to get out of his hold, but it was no use. He was, indeed a great deal stronger than you.

"Let me go," you hissed, trying everything to get away from him, but then you spotted it. There, the key card was, slightly sticking out of the front pocket of his jeans. Without hesitation, your free hand went to grab it, only just getting to touch it before Jim's other hand grabbed yours.

You probably look ridiculous, standing above your boyfriend, wrestling him and losing terribly. Jim thought it was hilarious, mostly because you both knew, that you didn't stand a chance against Jim. 

Jim managed to roll you over him and into the space next to him. Now, he was hovering over you, pressing your hands against the mattress.

"Let me go!" You hissed through pursed lips and shook a strand of hair away from your eyes.

Jim shook his head and sighed, "Let's take a nap."

He folded his arms around your upper body, his chest pressed against your back as he hugged you so suffocatingly tight, disallowing any possible movement from you.

His legs kept yours closed, weighing them down.

"Let me go, James," you huffed and moved the only limb, not secured by Jim. You only managed to lift your hand a little, before Jim grabbed that too and locked your hands.

"Just relax, babe. We're on vacation, remember?"

If you could move any part of your body, you would've hit Jim so hard, but you were completely locked in, with no chance of escaping.

"I'm sorry, that I'm not super calm when fully restrained," you replied sarcastically.

Jim only hummed a reply. You were not about to lay there, waiting for him to wake up.

"Let me go!" You hissed and wriggled your body as much as you could, desperate to get out of his grip, although you were admittedly beginning to get a little tired.

You didn't stop wriggling around until Jim let out a guttural moan. All you had been doing was just grinding your ass against the crotch. You hadn't done this on purpose, but you'd made his cock hard as a rock. You could feel his stiff member poking your ass through his jeans.

"Congratulations. You get your way like you always fucking do," Jim whispered.

Honestly, you'd completely forgotten about the pool. All you could think about, was Jim moaning into your ear, as you began forcing your hips backwards, rubbing your ass against his hard cock.

Shifting his hold on you, Jim had both your wrists in his hand, still holding you tightly and secured. The other had snuck beneath your tank, his massive hand fumbling your breast. You moaned at the sensation and closed your eyes, throwing your head back against Jim's shoulder, mouth open.

Jim removed his hand from under your shirt and trailed it slowly, painfully slowly down to the waistband of your shorts. By now, not only were the panties you were wearing utterly soaked, but a big wet spot was starting to take form in the crotch area of your denim shorts.

You tried to break your hands out of Jim's grip. You desperately wished to tangle your fingers in his hair or tug at his arms, but you couldn't move your hands.

A whine left your lips as Jim unbuttoned your shorts with one hand and slipped his long fingers into your underwear.

His index finger ran a few times up and down your slit before pressing his index- and middle finger against your clit, rubbing it slowly. You rocked your hips back, moaning and whining. Your nails dug into the hand, Jim had them wrapped in. 

Swiftly retrieving his fingers, you griped but shut yourself up when you felt Jim pulling down your shorts along with your panties.

His fingers returned to your soaking cunt. He used the leg, which he had used to keep yours closed with, to spread your legs apart. This gave him full access to your dripping crotch.

His long index- and ring finger slid into the soaking entrance of your cunt, digging deep inside of you. A piercing screech left your lips at the sensation. Your back arched as Jim used his thumb to rub your clit, still drilling his lengthy fingers into your cunt.

It was just about too much. Thankfully, Jim decided to let go of your hands. One hand immediately went to his hair, while the other grasped his veiny forearm.

Your mind was all over the place and your eyes were rolled far back, everything suddenly disappearing when Jim removed his hand from your cunt. He uncurled himself from your side and suddenly, there was no touch to be felt.

You were just about to complain until you realised that he was merely taking off his jeans.

"Take your shirt off," he ordered. You followed his order immediately, suddenly sitting completely naked.

Jim removed his T-shirt along with his underwear, cock springing out, hard, dripping with precum. You bit your lip at the sight and rolled onto your back, but Jim pushed you to lay on your side again. 

He laid down, his chest once again pressed against your back, only now, his cock was bare and throbbing against your heat. Jim kissed your neck roughly, surely leaving marks. You attempted to turn your body to kiss Jim's lips, but his massive hand went around your throat, gently forcing your head down on the pillow.

His long fingers once again went down to your cunt, wasting no time to force them into your cunt again, causing a mighty howl from you. He only pumped his fingers a few times before removing them.

"Always gotta test the waters," he whispered, hand still wrapped around your throat. Jim lined his cock up at your entrance, mumbling a quiet, "Ready?" but wasted no time, waiting for an answer before driving his cock deeply into your cunt.

You screamed and threw your head back, the new position blowing your mind away. Jim's pace was fast and steady. Deep and thorough.

His hips pushed up, every thrust filled with an unbearable force. His arms crossed over your chest, each hand grasping your tits hard. Your nails dug into his forearms, so deeply that you could've sworn, that you'd heard a wince leaving his lips.

A series of cusswords along with Jim's name repeatedly left your mouth, Only a few thrusts later, you were sent through the roof with indescribable feelings of fireworks in your stomach.

The noises, which left your mouth were difficult to describe, and they didn't stop, just because you'd reached your climax. Jim was chasing his high, but his thrusts continued at the same, insane speed, which persisted until he also came, hands tightly grasping your breasts.

He hummed your name over and over again until his body finally released itself of its tension and unstiffened. Jim's grip softened, and as soon, as he'd unhanded you, you turned around and hugged him, his arms immediately closing around you.

[barcaatthemoon]

Could you possibly do the prompt "I have always admired you." with Ona Batlle???

friend of a friend || ona batlle x reader ||

keira watched ona curiously from across the bar. the spanish woman was normally much more sociable than what she was being. lucy had invited an old friend from manchester, (y/n), out to watch the final. keira knew that lucy wanted to set (y/n) up with ona. the two of them already knew each other, and ona had drunkenly admitted that (y/n) was hot.

"lucy needs to go home," you said as you dropped down into the seat next to keira. she glanced over at you, and then past you towards lucy. the woman was making a fool of herself on the dance floor with a group of the younger players.

"are you gonna be okay getting to your hotel?" keira asked. you nodded and moved aside to let her go after lucy. once you were by yourself, you closed your eyes and relaxed a bit. that solitude didn't last very long as ona moved to sit across from you.

"hola," ona greeted. she looked a bit nervous, just like she had whenever you'd been teammates. your loan from the nwsl had ended just as ona was on her way out, so the two of you didn't have much time to get to know each other.

"hi, you had a good game today. i didn't think you could be cooler, but after watching you take that boot to the face, you might just be my favorite player," you told her. ona blushed at the praise.

"i am also a big fan. i have always admired you," ona said. you caught onto the fact that she wasn't just talking in a football respect. you smiled over at her, glad that the lights hid your blush. "how long are you in spain for?"

"i go back on monday. maybe we could get brunch tomorrow if you're not busy. i know what it's like winning something like this. absolutely hectic," you told her. ona nodded and moved her phone over towards you so that you could put your number in. "i'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"

"si."

[julianalvarez9]

stranger / gavi

requested: no, but i got this idea a couple of days ago and i think it's what I needed to get off my writers block, fingers crossed 🥹

summary: you regretted accepting your bff's offer of being her plus one for a party you didn't even want to attend in the first place. but it brought you to him.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: not proofread. mention of a party, alcohol and the consumption of, don't talk to strangers you see on the sidewalk (?

you didn't even need to be there in the first place.

but your friend insisted that you hadn't moved to spain only for academic purposes, even if that's what you made your parents back at home believe. still, you weren't as drawn to parties as sofía was, and still, you found yourself right were she dragged you to be. some party held by a football club for winning a random trophy. that's what she had told you, only knowing half of it because her current fling, who was a player for the team, told her about it.

when you arrived there, though, you figured that it wasn't just some party held by a football club for winning a random trophy. it was a celebration for the entire barcelona fútbol club after winning the spanish super cup against none other than real madrid.

you couldn't say that it wasn't fun at first.

but being more on the introverted spectrum of social interactions, and not one to drink much, if even at all, made you grow tired of the environment very quickly. adding to the mix that your friend, the one who had begged you to come with her, had disappeared completely after seeing her man, you didn't have any reason to remain in this place. so that's how you started to make your way out, after finding your friend and her telling you it was okay, since she was already planning on leaving with this guy anyways -named pedri, or something like that, his name lost in the deafening music that filled the club.

making your way towards you car after exiting the overcrowded space you spent the last two hours in, you saw a guy seated on the sidewalk curb close to the back of your car, head hidden in his palms as he anxiously picked at his hair, yanking it from time to time.

"ei, ¿estás bien?" (hey, you're okay?) you said, not speaking too loud to avoid disrupting his already altered state, but you couldn't just left him there on his own devices. maybe he was too intoxicated and he might need your help, you thought. he just nodded, not making any efforts into lifting his eyes from the pavement below him. "puedo llamar a alguien que esté dentro si lo necesitas" (i can call someone from inside if you need it) you continued, not wanting to leave him alone in the middle of the night, even if you were sure that he could deal with it perfectly fine by his own. he nodded again, but this time, offering you a gentle smile that made you warm inside, and you flushed when you felt his attentive brown eyes reach your own.

assenting with your head, and not wanting to bother the handsome stranger you had just runned upon, you made your way onto the driver side of your car and unlocked it, ready to get home as soon as possible.

"espera, ¿me puedes sacar de aquí?" (wait, can you get me out of here?) the brown haired boy asked, now standing on his feet and a hopeful look in his eyes. "¿seguro?" (you're sure?) you asked, not totally convinced since you obviously didn't know him before your recent interaction, and not sure if he was aware of what he was asking. "sí" (yes) he answered rather quickly, nodding along. he reassured, a few seconds later, "me iría solo si tuviera mí licencia de conducir" (i'd leave alone if I had my driver's license).

"de nuevo, ¿cuántos años tienes?" (again, how old are you?)

"lo suficientemente mayor como para beber y tener mí licencia de conducir, solamente no me he molestado en obtenerla aún" (old enough to drink and have my driver's license, i just haven't bothered in getting it yet) he replied, bothered that you even had to ask him if he was legal of age. of course he was, he thought, almost rolling his eyes internally at the frequency in which he was picked upon, both on and off the pitch, due to him being so you. but you weren't obligated to know him, he remembered, figuring that you wouldn't have asked him that in the first place if you knew who he was.

he was taken out of his thoughts with another question coming from you. "¿y cómo llegaste hasta aquí?" (and how did you get here in the first place?) you said, smiling at the thought of him being driven around by his parents or something along the lines. he huffed, remembering why he had been strained in the first place. "pedri, un amigo, pero lo perdí hace un tiempo" (pedri, a friend, but I lost him a while ago).

you hummed, and unlocked the car to let both of you in. after all, it was still the middle of january, so it was safe to say the weather during the night wasn't as warm as you got to experience during the summer months. "¿estás seguro de irte con una completa desconocida? no sabes ni mí nombre" (are you sure you want to leave with a complete stranger? you don't even know my name) you asked again, buckling the seatbelt and tilting your head for him to do the same. he complied with your request, while answering for the hundredth time, "y tu no sabes el mío, así que estamos empatados. ¿ya podemos terminar con las preguntas?" (and you don't know mine, so we're even. can we finish with the questions now?) gavi asked, not yet annoyed but reaching that point rapidly. he was known for being a bit hotheaded, and while he didn't take proud in the fact, he recognised when his patience was running low.

the ride back to his destination was quick and easy, a bit of small conversation to prevent the silence from turning too awkward. you didn't want to overdo it, since you had asked too many questions already and you sensed that he wasn't the talkative type. at least not the first time you met. it was endearing, really, to have crossed paths with such a nice guy, not only on the outside -soft eyes and fluffy hair, almost the perfect combination for you-, but on the inside, soft spoken and attentive. you wished you had the chance to get to know him more, past the tiredness that clouded his sight and the shyness that was holding him back.

"has llegado a destino" (you've arrived at your destination) you joked, voice robotic like the lady that gave you indications through the electronic device. he giggled a bit, and you were thankful that he had found your bad joke funny. he was about to open the door, already body turned towards the door handle, when he retracted back. "¿puedo pedir algo más?" (can i ask for one more thing?) he muttered, and you nodded shily, figuring that he would ask you to not speak this with anyone else or to forget the address, if this was truly his house.

"¿me darías tu número?" (can i get your number?) gavi's cheeks flushed pink, and it would be the cutest sight if it was better illuminated, the lamp lighting up the street doing a poor job at brightening up his features. you timidly extended your hand for him to pass you his phone, and he quickly unlocked it and gave it to you, a tiny smile adorning his face while you were too occupied typing your number correctly.

going home from what you assumed was his place turned out to be quite quick, being closer to what you had expected. you were thankful, though, because your little adventure was already weighing in your sleepy eyes. you never got inside, took off your makeup and put on comfy clothes as quickly as you did tonight, but you were truly knackered. you were so tired you almost forgot to plug your phone to charge, and if it wasn't for the way the screen lightened up with a new notification, you would have forgotten about it.

[cordeliawhohung]

accidentally stalked you bc i opened tumblr the same time you posted the ask for happy chip and simon thoughts LMAO😭😭

ANYWAYS I PRESENT TO YOU CHIP AND SIMON AT THE BEACH🫶🫶

-chip and simon relaxing under the warm sun rays on the beach at let’s say Spain? it seems really pretty

-chip helping simon with sunscreen on his back and vice versa

-they spend a few minutes trying to sunbathe before giving up because of the sun and going into the water (better to seem fully drenched in water than sweat 😭😭)

-messing around in the water, splashing each other but it ends with simon holding her as they stood in the water together (THE MAN CAN GIVE HUGS HIS ARMS ARE HUGGGEEEEE)

-she also probably made sandwiches from home to bring with them

-so maybe when it comes time to eat a seagull takes hers

-simon gives her his sandwhich but chip refuses

-simon’s insistent on her eating before him so they settle on splitting it

-ending the night with some stargazing on the beach

-who knows? maybe it’ll end with chip stargazing with an awed smile and simon will look at her in awe of her beauty and adorableness

OKAY IM DONE BUT I LOVE LVOE LVOE LVOE THEN SO MUCHHHHHH

LMAO i sent the request directly into your brain, sorry.

but ugggh a lovely beach day ): when Simon helps Chip put sunscreen on, it turns into a mini massage because he can feel all the tension building up in her shoulders and he just needs to work it out of her. Simon def makes a joke about skinny dipping when they're hugging in the water together and Chip looks mortified. would rather drown. they def fight about the food though because she does not want to take his food and Simon is not letting Chip starve at all.

i think eventually she'd get tired and they'd go back to the hotel and he'd help her wash up. it's a win win. he gets to be close to her in the shower, and also have a form of comfort in his least favorite environment. he hates water...

Chip laughs at him in the morning when Simon's pasty ass is sunburnt despite all the sunscreen she slathered on him. he's bright pink for a few days and Johnny pokes fun at him endlessly for it when they get home.

"Impeccable bronze my fuckin' arse."