#who I always thought was swedish

[cinemaocd]

I'm doing some geneology research

it turns out I'm Norwegian afterall

[woso-dreamzzz]

Captain

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Sweden's new captain

The decision comes out of nowhere to Pernille.

It shouldn't but it does.

She thinks it blindsides Magda too but her wife will not admit that.

You're twenty-five now, having just come off your best season at Barcelona yet. After the summer is over, you're off to Wolfsburg finally and Pernille couldn't be prouder.

But, you need to get through this summer first.

You're off at camp, having spent a short few days with Magda and Pernille before heading off to meet up with the rest of the Swedish team.

Pernille's flicking through the channels aimlessly when Magda nudges her, directing her to the channel that's playing Emma's press conference.

The captain of the team retired earlier that month and everybody had been speculating who would replace her and Pernille has to admit that she's got a fair bit of money on it being the woman that plays for United.

She's one of the older players on the team and is a vice-captain at club level.

Magda had disagreed with her, saying that United player was still a newer call-up than those who were younger but had been on the team longer. Magda wasn't quite sure where to put her money but she thought it was a toss-up between the forward from PSG and the midfielder from Gotham.

"-Younger side, don't you think? Surely there are a few older players who could have worn the armband."

"I mean, I'm sure there were," Emma says," But the decision was quite unanimous. I didn't make it by myself. I spoke to the players. I spoke to the staff. Our previous captain mentioned her by name. I'm confident that she'll be a very good leader on the pitch."

"And what kind of qualities do you think she'll bring?"

"Well, I'm sure you all know by now but I'm quite brash. I say it how I see it and, yeah, maybe I'm a little too tough sometimes. I think she'll balance that out and lift up some of her teammates. Just having her on our team is...Well, it's amazing. Sometimes I look at what she's won and how she's won it and I'm just in awe. You can load her with pressure and she just takes it. She's always improving and I think she'll instil that upon the team."

"The Gotham girl," Magda insists, nodding her head at the screen," For sure. Didn't she win the Ballon D'or last year?"

Pernille rolls her eyes. "The year before, which I know you know because Natalia won last year."

Magda grins, teasing. "Did she? I can't quite remember."

Emma's still talking though so they both pull their attentions back to the tv.

"I mean, it's not the first time she's had responsibility like this. She's captained her club a few times. She captained her youth team."

"The United girl!" Pernille says triumphantly," I knew it! Didn't she captain the youth team at some point?"

"So did the Gotham girl," Magda reminds her," And the one from PSG."

"There's obviously questions about bias?" One nasty reporter probes," From you? Seeing as her mother-"

"I really invite you to look at her trophy cabinet," Emma interrupts plainly," And all that she's won and all that she's going to win. She's played for some of the top clubs in the world. You don't get that just on connections. She's a talent. She was a prodigy when she was younger. She's been on the senior team since she was seventeen."

"Called up during an injury crisis, yes," The reporter says and Emma rolls her eyes.

"And proved herself during it. She was called up during the injury crisis, yes, but she never left. She's consistently been called up. There's a reason she's who we turn to."

"But-"

"She was recommended by our previous captain. Actually, I believe her words were something like 'Emma, she's ready'. I don't think you can give a more glowing recommendation than that. Listen, the fact of the matter is, I can't think of anyone more perfect for this role than her. She has the passion, she has the drive. She has connections with the rest of the team that people dream of."

The door to the conference room opens and Pernille holds her breath, ready to cheer her triumph at predicting the United girl becoming captain.

"And," The moderator says," Captain Harder-Eriksson."

You look a little nervous but you hide it well, sliding into the seat next to Emma and adjusting the microphone.

Suddenly, everything Emma has said falls into place for Pernille.

Your list of accolades were impressive. WSL titles, Champion's League, Liga F. Somehow, over the years, you've won practically everything with your clubs. You'd won World Cups on top of that. You were probably one of the most decorated goalkeepers in the world.

You'd worn the armband a few times for Barcelona, sharing duties with one of your teammates when Natalia wasn't on the pitch. You'd captained Denmark when you still played with them too.

The smoking gun should have been the reference to your mothers, to Magda and Pernille who had both captained their countries and Magda, who had served as Chelsea's captain under Emma. Of course, there was reasoning for potential bias.

Everything else should have just made it more obvious.

Being called up at seventeen during the injury crisis for the Swedish keepers.

Playing for the top clubs in the world.

You'd practically been taken under the wing of the previous captain since you first arrived.

Magda had joked once that it was a little like you were being groomed to take her place...

Pernille's awestruck as she stares. You hold yourself well as you talk, articulating your words perfectly even though she knows that you're probably shaking inside.

She's always thought that you turned into a different person when it came to football. You were strictly professional and confident when she knew you were a mess of anxiety sometimes. You seemed to be able to put it all aside for your football.

She'd seen how you command your back line during games, somehow making sure they knew exactly what you wanted them to do and how you wanted them to do it.

Pernille wonders, briefly, if she had been blind to put the United girl forward instead of you.

"I'm really looking forward to this summer," You say into the microphone," I'm grateful for my teammates for believing in me and Emma and the staff for giving me this opportunity. I'm hoping that I can help support my teammates so we can keep getting better and better."

[dicejpg]

I've got a sinking feeling - {Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader}

Synopsis: You are very flirty with Five, and he's tricked himself into believing he hates it. He tells you to stop. Then he learns the hard way how much he took you for granted when you meet someone else.

Note: Five requests would be very appreciated! Thank you to those who sent requests on my last one shot.

(Not Edited)

Warnings: Swearing

Word count: 1.5k

Extra Information: Viisi means Five in Finnish. Five and Y/n were partners in the commission. They look seventeen or eighteen instead of thirteen. This one-shot takes place on the last episode of season one, and the entirety of season two.

----

The Academy, Five's home, has just collapsed--courtesy of Vanya's new powers--and Five ordered his family to meet at Super Star Lanes bowling alley to come up with a new plan of action.

He grabs your wrist, blinking you with him. You're both in front of the bowling alley in a flash of blue.

Five takes a moment to pace around, not entering the building. The crisp, spring air bites at your earlobes as you hug your sides for warmth

"Hey, Viisi, can we go inside?" You look at him with a grimace and a pleading smile. He whips his head in your direction to glare at you, then strolls inside with a roll of his eyes. You follow in his stead.

The interior is heated, thankfully. Five informs the underpaid worker that his "parents" will be arriving shortly to pay for his bowling shoes. He takes a seat adjacent to Lane 6 and you sit next to him.

"So, how was the farewell with Delores? I know you two were close." You lean back in your seat, getting more comfortable while waiting for Five's siblings to arrive.

He does not look at you, his jaw ticks in annoyance.

"Come onnn, I know you're stressed, but this is your sister. I'm sure she's reasonable enough not to end the world." You turn towards him, leaning your elbows on your thighs and admiring his pretty face.

"No, it's not that." He scoffs, looking at you with a sneer.

You notice that his tie is crooked so you reach out to fix it, like you often do. It's sort of your thing.

He smacks your hand away and you raise an eyebrow.

"You okay Viisi?" You rub your hand a little, surprised. Normally, he lets you fix his tie with no problem. Although, he would grumble about it a little.

"God- No. I'm not okay." He puts his hands in his hair, gripping it slightly with an exasperated expression. "And stop calling me that."

"What?" You breathe with a smile of disbelief. "What's going on? Did something happen- Did I do something?" You lean away from him a little to give him more space.

"Stop, just stop it with the touching and the nicknames. I'm sick of it!" He looks at you with cold eyes. This is very unusual of him.

You cock your head to the side, trying to understand. "Five, I thought- I thought that was our thing! Y'know, the friendly banter and-"

"I know you're desperate for some sort of relationship with me, but I'm here to tell you that it's not going to happen. We were only ever co-workers." He says through gritted teeth, avoiding your eyes. "I'm telling you to stop pursuing me." You were never 'pursuing' him.

Usually you would brush this sort of behavior off, ignore it. Tell yourself that it's only because he's stressed. He's always stressed! Thinking back, he was never all that nice to you. Even in your Commission days.

You'd tricked yourself into thinking that maybe he thought you were special, or that you were at least his friend. His confidant.

You look at him with eyes full of hurt, which Five has never seen from you. He almost feels something bubbling up his throat, but the feeling dissipates quickly. "Have I made myself clear?" He says evenly.

You only nod, turning away so he doesn't see the tears prick at your eyes.

Five's siblings come inside and you two don't speak to each other again.

A year and seven months later (for you, at least.)

1963, Dallas Texas:

Five anxiously pulls at his tie after narrowly escaping three armed Swedish men. He had just watched his siblings, along with you, blow up in yet another nuclear explosion. It's left him oddly shaken up about how he treated you back in 2019.

He's pacing down the alley-way between the Commerse and Knox when he notices a flash atop the roof. A large camera of some sort.

A brown haired man closes his window briskly. That's strange.

Five teleports inside, scaling up a flight of stairs with cat-like agility. When he knocks on a door, the one beside him answers, revealing a mouse-y looking man in his early thirties. He looks at him with big, expectant eyes.

"What do you want." His tone is dripping with suspicion.

"Hi, I'm selling encyclopedias for my youth group. I was curious if-" Five gets a door to the face. He huffs, blinking inside after him.

The man, Elliot, jumps, yelping in fear and pulling out a butter-knife from his drawer of kitchen utensils. "H-how did you do that?" He hesitates, astonished.

Five looks at him with amusement. "Don't really have time to explain."

Elliot runs a hand through his unkempt brown hair, gripping the butter-knife in a feeble attempt to protect himself. "You from the Pentagon? Huh?"

"Definitely not."

"CIA? FBI? KGB?"

Five eyes up the kitchen, noticing a coffee pot on the other side of the room. "Is that fresh?" He uses his powers again, blinking himself right in front of the coffee pot.

Elliot screams, whipping his head back and forth between the place Five just was and the place he appeared. "What..." He pants, eyes wide.

"Elliot? You okay?" Five hears a faraway voice from another room. A familiar voice. "Who's with you?" It asks.

You appear from around the corner, presumably from Elliot's bedroom, looking almost two years older.

Five furrows his eyebrows and so do you. He breathes out your name is what you almost register as relief. But, you know better then to think that.

"Oh, Five. You're back." You say casually, nodding and crossing your arms. Five sets the coffee down, unwillingly noticing how you didn't call him by his nickname.

"How long have you been here?" He walks towards you, looking at your slightly different features. You changed your hair, he observes. He says nothing about it.

"A year and a half, I believe." You tap your chin in thought. Elliot glances between you two with interest or surprise.

"You two know each-other?" He puts the butter-knife back onto the counter with a small clatter.

You nod, shrugging. "We were co-workers." You send Elliot a reassuring, genuine smile.

Co-workers. Five doesn't like how the word rolled off your tongue.

He licks his lips, looking away. "You live here?" He asks you, though it was a silly question considering its obvious answer.

You nod with tight lipped smile, approaching Elliot. You fix his hair with your fingers and flip the collar of his flannel back down. "Did he scare you? I told you he could be a bit much."

Elliot exhales a shaky laugh at your words and actions as Five begins to feel a hot, frothy feeling in the pit of his stomach. He changes the subject. "Are my siblings here too?"

Elliot answers for you, looking back towards the teen again. "The other six anomalys- The power surges." He begins to look excited at this new discovery. "They're your siblings?"

Five ticks his jaw, ignoring him. "So they're alive..." He begins to pace around. "I think I stranded them here. Now listen to me..."

"Elliot." You tell him his name.

"Whatever, alright? I got ten days to find them and save the world." He points to you and Elliot. "Now, I need your help to do that."

Elliot is just so happy to be involved, his three year long project finally achieving some major development. He scrambles to find a certain newspaper scrap from his desk drawer. "You know what? I, uh..." He fumbles with it, handing it to Five.

"I always thought that this, uh, mugshot looked like arrival number four."

"Diego." Five reads softly, then he twists around to face you. "You're coming with me." He states.

You hiss awkwardly through your teeth, avoiding his eyes. "Ohh, about that... Actually, Elliot and I were about to play scrabble."

Five narrows his eyes at you, barking your name. "The world is ending and you're just gonna play scrabble with this homebody?"

Elliot looks at his dusty wooden floors with a look of dejection.

"Uh, yeah. That's exactly what I'm gonna do." You lean against the door-frame with a bored expression. "I thought you wanted me to stop following you around like a lost puppy."

Five feels strange. "You know what? I don't need this." He blinks away to search for Diego.

When Five returns from the strip club, after a failed attempt of recruiting both Luther and Diego, he decides to test something. His fingers reach for his tie, pulling at it and skewing it. Perfectly crooked.

You couldn't resist fixing his tie, he knew this.

So why didn't you? He finds himself uncharacteristically frustrated about unresponsiveness.

As he demands that Elliot develop his Frankel Footage, his eyes trail to you occasionally, silently tempting you to straighten his tie.

Your eyes flicked to it once. However, you made no move to adjust it.

Five heaves a dramatic sigh, angrily fixes it, and leaves to look for Vanya.

He messed up before, he realizes. He feels like shit.

[wileys-russo]

hi!

could you do a fic with reader x aitana bonmati??

okay so maybe reader is swedish but is still shorter than aitana, frido finds it super funny and constantly teases r for it but aitana finds it cute

half sized II a.bonmati x reader

"bon dia! if it isn't my favourite little half swede." you looked up from your phone with a filthy glare toward your national team mate who gave you a toothy grin.

"i thought you were full swedish?"pina asked with a confused frown, whining as you rolled your eyes and lightly smacked her forehead. "i am fully swedish, frodo just thinks she is a comedian." you scowled up at the older girl who flipped you off for the nickname.

"she is a half swede because she is half sized." frido explained happily and you exhaled deeply at the laughter than rang out throughout the locker room. "do you like having two unbroken legs frodo? keep going." you warned seriously, pulling on your boots.

"at least my legs are fully grown lillis. did you not eat enough vegetables as a kid? not drink enough milk?" frido continued to coo, moving closer to grab your cheeks and pinch them, shaking your head to and fro as you kicked at her and yanked them off.

"lillis?" keira questioned with a raise of her eyebrows. "it means little one, because she is so little!" frido mocked, darting out of the way as you swung at her and unloaded a string of swedish curses in her direction.

"such a filthy mouth for such a small body." frido whistled with a smirk, standing to go after her before hands fell to your shoulders and pushed you back down onto the bench.

"hey, do not listen to her amor." you settled at the familiar voice, your girlfriends presence soothing your anger instantly. "it is every day now, it was worse at camp!" you huffed quietly, head falling to her shoulder as her body vibrated with gentle laughter.

"ignore it hermosa. actions speak louder than words, shut them all up on the pitch." aitana pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet. "i love you." you mumbled, stealing a quick kiss from the slightly taller girl.

"you should ask your girlfriend for a piggyback lillis, longer legs mean you get places a lot faster." frido continued to tease as you all made your way out of the locker room, doing your best to ignore her as aitana tried to busy you in your own conversation.

"tana will you be renovating your apartment?" your girlfriend turned and gave frido an odd look at the question. "and why would she do that?" you sighed, the older girl more like your sister than your teammate having taken you under her watchful eye both for country and now club, and you both treated one another as such.

"well how are you going to reach everything if you move in lillis? her kitchen is sized for normal people, not dwarfs." "mi amor don't-"

but you didn't listen to the catalans warnings, turning and charging at the taller girl with a war cry, tackling her to the ground as the two of you rolled around on the grass. "the height thing again?" aitana looked up as mapi stood next to her with an amused grin, ingrid rushing over to try and seperate you and frido.

"it is always at its worst once they get back from camp together!" aitana rolled her eyes, mariona holding you back as ingrid tried to reason with frido about the teasing and laying off you a little.

"si frido you need to be more respectful-" your girlfriends arm draped over your shoulder as you moved away from mariona and more into her side. "-after all she has half a temper." you looked up at her in shock as frido doubled over with laughter.

with a huff you shoved her off of you, storming away into the gym and ignoring her calls after you, most of which were drowned out by frido's obnoxiously loud barks of laughter.

you battered off the girls attempts to speak to you all morning, shrugging off her hugs with a glare and a scoff, blocking your ears to her sweet words and busying yourself in the company of your other teammates.

"why are you ignoring tana chica?" alexia chuckled as the two of you paired up for the final drill of the session. "she joined in teasing about my height." you huffed with a roll of your eyes. "i see." the captain hummed with an amused smile as you glanced at her.

"ale! don't." you warned seriously, knowing a teasing remark was likely on the tip of her tongue. "i did not say anything! so sensitive." the older girl tutted as you continued, grateful that the focus needed to be on the ball as you went through with the drill.

finally the coaching staff called time as everyone moved to the coolers for some water. "hey look, they have ones your size lillis!" frido teased, handing you her half drunk water bottle as you scowled. "frido." ingrid warned, sending her a look which the woman dismissed.

"hey frodo, think you should cool off!" you grinned, opening another water and dumping it over her head, the girl squealing in shock. now she was the one to let out a war cry and lunge for you though you'd already taken off, sprinting away and toward the locker room with her on your heels.

though before you could quite get away you felt hands grab at your training top, yelping as you were tugged into another room. you felt a hand now settle over your mouth and frido's angry footsteps go racing past before it was removed.

"hola amor!" you rolled your eyes at your girlfriends grin, the two of you jammed together in what appeared to be a janitors closet. "are you done being mad now?" aitana teased, her body pressing into yours as her hands fell to squeeze your hips.

"are you done making fun of me now?" you countered, crossing your arms over your chest and raising an eyebrow only making her smile grow wider. "i was not making fun of you hermosa. i think it is very cute that you are shorter than me, come on amor you know i love you." the girl promised, pushing herself more into you.

"lo siento bebita, lo siento." your eyes fluttered closed as her nose tucked into your collarbone and her lips peppered gentle kisses. "tana-" you started but she shushed you, massaging your hips in her hands as you melted, the girl knowing exactly where to kiss and touch you to have you be putty in her hands.

"i think we should head home amor, let me really show you how sorry i am for my teasing."

[niuniente]

Sweden’s Aftonbladet newspaper Eurovision specialists Markus Larsson and Tobbe Ek  are letting out unbelievable butt hurt shit towards Finland because Finland didn’t give any televote points to Sweden. They spoke in Aftonbladet’s Schlagerkoll’s podcast titled Sorry, not sorry, Finland and this is what they said:

Finnish people didn’t vote for Loreen because we’re jealous of Sweden and everything they’ve got

Finnish people thought that 10 other songs were better than Loreen, like Lord of The Lost’s song, and this is a crime against Sweden!

-Since we didn’t give any points to Sweden it is just right that we lost because we’ve got a bad attitude (aka  Finnish people can’t decide what they like or don’t like but they must always like all Sweden’s entries no matter what.)

Europe wanted Käärijä to win but you know what? Audience isn’t always right. The jury must stay there to show what the audience needs because they can’t decide themselves.

How Finnish people voted is a proof that jury points can’t be taken away from Eurovision, because again, the audience doesn’t know the best what it wants.

If jury is taken away from Eurovision, it would force Sweden to plan again what kind of songs they can send to Eurovision to maximize their chances for winning (because Europeans are fickle and the audience doesn’t know the best)

-Käärijä is nothing but a partying salad bowl and you know what Finland; Fuck them (a literal quote!)

Also, in other newspaper, Swedish media called Finland as “kingdom’s old Eastern parts”. That’s equal for England calling India as their old South-Asian parts or any other colonialist country calling their prior parts and now independent countries as their own. Very racists and colonialist. I’m horrified to see such remarks just casually thrown out in Swedish media! Come on, Sweden! You’re better than than a racist country! At least you should be! D:

All this and only because people have been genuinely upset and angry that Käärijä didn’t win and televoting meant nothing, but the Swedish media and Eurovision staff is taking it on Finland and blaming it is just us who are upset.

Tell me again how this is just a song contest and I shouldn’t be upset :)))

This year’s Eurovision has been an absolute disaster...

[kamotecue]

the forgotten love ✮ k. cooney-cross

pairing: kyra cooney-cross x reader

summary: you were her first love—truly unforgettable as people would say. you had met in year 5 as an exchange student from sweden, you were her defender. swedish!reader

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

ever wonder what it’s like—when you’ve forgotten someone who’s dear to you? for you, it was extreme agony, you had photographs and polaroids of a freckled girl you don’t remember.

whenever you tried to ask, the ones around you would say “she’s just someone you used to know”, or that “she isn’t that important.” but they had lied—she was your entire world, the light that you’re supposed to find in the darkness.

you met her in year 5, an exchange student coming from sweden. you had accidentally bumped into her in the hallways, and that’s how you became friends.

the history between you—wasn’t just friends. you were friends to lovers, and had become strangers again. the freckled girl who you had yet to learn the name of—was the one who got you into football.

she was your midfielder, and you were her defender. however, your thoughts were interrupted as you heard the studs that pitter-pattered on the locker room floor.

it was magda, one of the team’s co-captain. ever since you made your debut for the senior team at 15 years old, she had taken you under her wing.

“du verkar lite distraherad på sistone, n/n. [you seem a little distracted lately, n/n.]” you hummed, knowing that she was right.

“det är bara något som upptar mitt sinne. [there’s just something that occupies my thoughts.]” you confessed as magda gave you a soft nudge, taking the seat beside you.

“det finns alltid, en riktig tänkare du är n/n. men jag vill att du fokuserar på spelet idag. [there always is, quite a thinker you are n/n. but i want you to focus on the game today.]” you gave her a short nod, it was the bronze match after all—the matildas have been a powerful team throughout the tournament.

your coach had clapped, signaling for the starting line up to head to the tunnel, as the game was about to begin. you hummed, slipping on the trainer jacket, this was the first time you’d be starting—as you mostly changed the game as an impact sub.

the tunnel was filled with small chatter from both teams, but you kept silently wanting to not get distracted. you didn’t notice the way australia’s number 23 had looked at you, it was filled with pining, the need to have you in her arms again.

you knew everything was going smoothly, until it was time to shake the hands of the other players. but when you came across the midfielder, your eyes has widened in realization.

she’s the freckled girl in the photos you don’t remember. asllani, the one wearing the captain’s armband had nudged you softly as you were holding up the line.

“focus, little one.” she commented as you gave her a small nod, the game was about to start and you swiftly headed to your position in the back line.

the game started with ease, as a penalty was rewarded in the 27th minute—due to stina going down under the pressure from australia’s polkinghorne.

you watched from your side of the pitch, as frido stood up to take it. zecira had hummed beside you, as you turned to glance at her.

“när kommer du att göra ett fantastiskt kors? [when will you make an amazing cross?]” you gave her a small chuckle as you simply shrugged your shoulders.

“snart, antar jag. [soon, i suppose.]” you commented, and that’s exactly what you did. just before the first half had ended, you had sent a cross to stina who had headed it in, scoring the second goal of the match.

the first half had ended just exactly how the coach had wanted it, but there was this gut feeling that you had—as if something bad was going to happen. frido had jumped on your back, easing your worries as you stumbled a bit.

“onwards.” she joked, as you laughed at her silly behavior. you hummed, wrapping your arms around her legs to support her.

“children.” magda teased, ruffling your hair as you three entered the locker room. the tactics were interesting, as you played with the tumblr that was given to you.

yet what happened next was something you didn’t expect—no one did. as the matildas were eager to equalize the score, you had collided with mary who had went for a header.

as you headed straight to the floor, zecira was quick to get the ball—making australia have no chance at scoring that close goal. you weren’t getting up, no one had noticed you—until after zecira had kicked the ball forward.

her eyes had landed on you, your hands were holding your head—as you had groaned, loudly. she stepped closer to you, while watching ahead.

“n/n?” her voice rang, as you slightly leaked through your fingers to see a blurred face. the ringing of your ears made it harder to distinguish who it was.

“mitt huvud, det gör ont. [my head, it hurts.]” you softly said, as zecira hummed noticing how the referee had blew her whistle seeing you on the ground.

you mumbled in pain hearing the loud whistle, frido and stina were first to come beside you as the swedish medical team made their way towards you.

from afar, you hadn’t notice the way her eyes had gazed to where you were—nor did you realize how katrina gorry had looked at you. she had heard about you from kyra who was like her daughter figure.

“a terrible collision that was.” frido said as she looked at the huge screen, before kneeling down beside you—making sure she was away from the medics space as she didn’t want to interrupt.

“jag tror inte att jag kunde hålla ögonen öppna. [i don’t think i could keep my eyes open.]” you had stuttered, your eyes fluttering now and then. you heard a huge commotion, as you tried to keep your eyes open—but it was bound to happen as your eyes had closed.

zecira noticed kyra coming closer, as she extended her arm to not make her go any closer to you. but stina had spoke in swedish, the goalkeeper just hummed before bringing back her hand.

she took a deep breathe before she saw you—there was a bit of blood above your right eye, as the swedish medic swiftly did his job.

“so, you’re the one y/n had fell for.” frido spoke in english, her swedish accent was evident as kyra looked at her with wide eyes, clearly surprised at this.

[frogosaurus]

help i can't stop making these

it's important to note that while some are in the same category, their motivations are different:

•pepe is being annoying on purpose but bean bunny is just a lil shithead

•piggy thinks sweetums is annoying, stat+wal just want more space in the car and sweetums is the biggest, and also the bit of sweetums always getting left behind on road trips was too perfect for this

•rizzo has the good snacks but refuses to share. swedish chef has... food? and is very enthusiastically offering it to his friends but nobody has taken him up on it

•electric mayhem only plays bangers, don't get me wrong, but in my head sgt pepper was playing "Fugue for Frog" (muppet show S1 last episode i think) on repeat to annoy kermit and the rest of the band was vibing until kermit flipped

thank you i put way too much thought into this

(i found the chart template on google so i don't know who made it but pls lmk if you do)

[imaginaryf1shots]

My Girls (VIII)

Words count: 1.4K

Driver!oc X Max Verstappen

Summery: Cecilia Hansson daughter of a Swedish billionaire, a race car driver, with a dream of making it big in Formula 1. However she has a few secrets that may hurt her as women are disliked in the sport.

Series Warnings: google translated french, dutch, cursing, child abandment, absent father, drinking, car accidents, Jos Verstappen, misogyny, Christian horner (tell me if i missed anything)

This is a secondary blog so I won't be able to respond but I'm adding you all to the taglist.

Masterlist

Previous || Next

Dinners

It’s inbetween race weeks, the couple are back in Monaco, and after Cecilia talked to Sophie and her parents she decided to host a family dinner. Jos is also invited, with both families present Cecilia had a hope that Jos would come around and he’ll change his mind about her and her daughter. He’ll get a chance to see Max with Nattie and she knows that seeing how in love they are with each other it would change his mind. Max is his son after all and she found that whenever he’s with Nattie he has always a type of happiness that isn’t there when he’s doing anything else he loves, it’s a type that is only reserved for a father and his daughter. Even if Nathalie doesn’t call him dad and Max never referred to himself as her dad it’s not something they have to say for it to be true.

Cecilia and her mum were at it in the kitchen for hours the day before preparing everything so they’d only have to cook and finish everything the day of the dinner. The couple’s house wasn’t as big as her family's, but they did make sure to have a big dinner table to host dinners and family gatherings and to welcome Max’s family whenever they’re in Monaco.

Nathalie was having the time of her life with Victoria’s children and Laurent’s(her brother) children, the kids had a bunch of toys out on the living room floor with Max watching over them with Börje and Laurent. The women were in the kitchen finishing up, gossiping and waiting for Jos.

Cecilia heard the bell ring, while she was busy in the kitchen. She looked at Sophie in question, who shook her head. Cecilia nods to herself knowing her dad and Laurent will leave a good impression for her, she hadn’t told them about her conversation with Jos, only that he was a bit hesitant about her and that she wanted to win him over. Cecilia reassured them that Max didn't care about what his dad thought but she wanted to win him over nonetheless, it would be for the better good of everyone if he did.

“I’ll start taking stuff out.” Laurent’s wife Layla said with Victoria following after her. Cecilia heard Layla and Victoria greeting Jos.

“I’ll go say hi.” Cecilia said wiping her hands on a hand towel, she was feeling nervous, the female rarely felt nervous, she drives cars with speeds over 300 KM/H for a living but Jos always left her nervous. On her walk to the living room she passed Laurent who was going to help bring things out of the kitchen. The kids were unaware of the little tense atmosphere that settled on the adults in the room. “Hello Jos, thank you for coming.”

Cecilia put her hand out for him to shake, with the eyes of his son and her dad on him he couldn’t refuse shaking her hand even if he didn’t look overly happy about it.

“No problem.” He said stiffly but Cecilia smiled at him nonetheless, she stepped back and found herself stepping into Max, he placed a hand on her back, his thumb moving slightly in comfort.

“Food is finished, we can move to the dining room.” Cecilia informed them right as the mothers called for their children to come to eat. Nathalie looked at Cecilia and Max before she too jumped up and ran to Max, pulling him.

“I’m hungry.” She whined, Max pulled her up in his arms as she squealed and the group moved to the dining room.

Max and Cecilia had some food made for them to fit their diets, and who's to say that they didn't eat something their trainers wouldn’t be too happy about, what they don't know won't hurt them. They’ll just run an extra mile to burn it off.

Cecilia thinks that her dad has some type of magic powers because how did he get Jos to smile and laugh with him like they knew each other for years. Börje is a businessman, he's a smooth talker and he's seen all types of men and knows how to deal with them. He's seen the likes of Jos before and he knows the type of man he is, he's not the happiest about him being related to his daughter, but he'll never disapprove of Max because of who his father is.

Cecilia is grateful to her dad being able to get Jos talking and laughing, before he went and said something negative towards her, because if this happened then her dad would make sure that Jos was never in her vicinity and that would certainly make family gatherings awkward.

“What are you talking about?” Laurent asked seeing his dad and Jos in an intense conversation.

“Just sharing our stories on raising F1 drivers.” Börje said with a teasing smile aimed at the couple, Nathalie sitting comfortably on Max’s right, engaging in an animated conversation with her cousins.

“How did Cecilia get into driving? I don’t think I’ve ever heard that before.” Victoria asked, interested in where this conversation was going.

“Oh god.” “Here we go again.” The Hansson siblings groaned knowing how much their dad loved telling this story, their mum laughed at the identical look on her children’s faces.

“What? I haven’t been asked this in so long.” Their dad defended himself to the amusement of Max’s family. Max had his hand on the back of Cecilia’s chair, he pulled her closer to his side and kissed her forehead as they settled in for the story. “So, Cecilia is around four years old and my brother is watching a Nascar race on the TV, she sees how much my brother, who she was obsessed with back then, was into the cars, and because she loved him so much she wanted to copy him in everything, she became to me begging to drive a car, didn’t matter what car, she wanted to drive a car.”

“She was relentless.” Her mum added.

“After like five weeks of insistent begging and crying I took her to a karting track.”

“And me as well.” Laurent interjected, he remembers hating karting and doesn’t know how his sister could be so into it.

“Yeah, yeah, but you hated it, finished a few laps and was already out of the car, your sister was in the car for as long as they allowed her, and when the time was over we couldn’t even get her out of the kart.” Börje had a smile on his face as he was telling the story. “Again she cried and cried, got her one of those video games simulator things for kids, and every weekend we’d be at the track, when my brother was over from Sweden one time he came with us and saw her drive, said she had potential, and that it looked like she’s doing good for her age, so when Cecilia didn’t show any signs of wanting to stop we booked her lessons and started looking into academy’s, she was young when she started racing and met Charles and Pierre, it was nice meeting families with children who had the same interests. My Cece always did so well.”

Cecilia smiled at her dad, who had the proudest look on his face.

“And I’m here, helping run the family business and he still isn’t as proud.” Laurent said knowing it’s not true, but he likes to keep his family on their toes.

“That’s not true.” “Laurent!” His parents said at the same time one in defence and one in scolding.

“So why did you want to be an F1 driver and not a NASCAR?” Sophie asked Cecilia.

“I grew up here in Monaco, so every year the Monaco GP is like the biggest event, and I remember hearing the cars back then and just loving the sound of them, and when we got tickets for the GP when I was six, I felt like I wanted to be there, driving those cars.”

“But it wasn’t easy.” Max stated, making Cecilia look up at him and smile.

“It wasn’t, but it’s never easy for anyone to make it to F1.” Cecilia shrugged, brushing off her struggles to get into F1 just because she’s born a female, and the time she had to take off while she was pregnant. “It only gave Max a head start.”

“Look, we both know who the best driver in this house is.” Max smiled.

“ME!” Nathalie exclaimed, making them all fall into laughter.

“That you are, Schatje.” Max kissed her head and smiled at Nathalie.

War is over I guess… for now.

Next ->

Taglist:

@luciaexcorvus . @vellicora . @tpwkstiles . @belennasif  . @eugene-emt-roe . @fanboyluvr . @fangirl125reader . @christianpulisic10 . @belennasif . @itsjustkhaos . @crashingwavesofeuphoria . @mynameisangeloflife . @mirrorball-6 . @skynel09 .

[skamenglishsubs]

Young Royals terms explained

One thing I noticed across all seasons, and in the official subtitles, and among fan discussions, is that everyone is throwing around the specific terms used to describe the workings of a monarchy a bit willy-nilly. The subtitles aren't always consistent in how they translate the Swedish terms, and the show never explains what the different ones mean.

In real life, we also use the terms a bit sloppy because it really doesn't matter that much, but I thought I'd take a stab at listing the terms, their best English translation, and what each term means to me.

Monarkin - The Monarchy

This is the political system, the form of government that Sweden, and a bunch of other countries around the world is using. It means that the office of Head of State is held by the head of a family, and is inherited according to whatever inheritance rules apply. The system also implies that you have an explicit class system, an upper class, and that your royals are the pinnacle of this class.

If you're a big fan of the system you're a royalist, and if you're a big fan of the opposite, a republic, you're a republican. Most people typically don't give a shit, though.

Kungahuset - ?

This is a term that the subtitles struggle a bit with, because there's no good English equivalent. It's sometimes translated as the monarchy, sometimes as the royal family, and sometimes as the royal court depending on context. In Swedish, it means the system and the people that inhabit the system. The official homepage of the Swedish royal family is https://www.kungahuset.se/

Kungafamiljen - The Royal Family

This term is used when talking about the royals as a family, it's about them as individuals, as people. In season 2 they mention the tv show "Året med kungafamiljen", which is a real show, and it has that name because it emphasises them as people. The purpose of the show is to make them relatable and human for PR reasons, to show off their quirky character or something.

Det Kungliga Huset - The Royal House

Never used in the show, but I thought I'd mention it anyway because you might be tempted to translate kungahuset like this, but that's a bit off. This term specifically means the monarch and the closest family members that are in the line of succession; it's everyone who is styled as a Royal Highness.

It can also mean the dynasty, the noble house that currently holds the title of king of Sweden. In the real world it's House Bernadotte, but in the show we never got to know the family name.

Slottet - The Royal Palace

The Royal Palace is the office of the monarch, the place where the work is done, it's where you would meet the royals for meetings, it's just like how a regular office is used for a regular business, it's their "HQ". The term is used pretty much how you would use "The White House" as both the building itself and the office of the president of the United States.

In the show, there's only one royal palace which serves as both residence and office. However, in the real Sweden, the royal family has two big palaces, the main one in the middle of Stockholm, and Drottningholm just outside. The main one is the office, where they work, and Drottningholm is their private residence, where they live most of the time.

Hovet - The Royal Court

In ye olden days, the court consisted of the king, his family, his servants, and the foremost nobles, advisors, and officials who hung around and essentially made up the executive branch of government. These days the court simply means the organisation that supports the royals in their official duties, it's all of their employees, and in the real Sweden the court has about 300 of them. Some of them still have funny titles like the Marshal of the Realm or Governor of the Royal Palaces, but think of those guys as the the vice presidents or directors or chiefs of staff of a normal company.

If you ever see something like "the court says", it means that the people working in the office of the monarch had a meeting and made a press release about something.

In the show there's a few named members of the court; Minou and Farima both appear to work for the PR department, while Jan-Olof is probably Marshal of the Court or something.

Kronan - The Crown

Just like in English, this term can mean the physical crown, the little golden hat with gems and stuff that is the symbol of the monarchy, but most often it means any legal entity that is the country itself, if that makes sense. For example, in Sweden, we think of the military, and all military equipment as "kronans egendom" - "property of the crown", and the single largest landowner in Sweden is technically a government-owned forestry company, but we think of their land as "kronans mark" - "crownlands".

The reason for this usage is that once upon a time all of these things were actually the personal property of the king, and inherited along with the office, but they've had to give it all up through consecutive political reforms. So, paradoxically, everything that is the property of the crown is actually owned by the people of Sweden through the government, while any personal belongings of the royal family isn't property of the crown.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Call Up

Hardersson x Teen!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get called up

Your first senior call up happens when you're seventeen (nearly eighteen) and still playing at Arsenal.

You've got a day off before the derby against Chelsea so your mothers have flown out to support you and, somehow, you've ended up at Millie Bright's house.

You're surrounded by your Momma and Morsa's old teammates (and a few of the Arsenal girls who were on the team when you were very little). There aren't enough seats for everyone but you're happy to sit on the floor in front of Momma and let her slowly card her fingers through your hair.

It's one of the things you've missed about being in England. You miss the little things about Momma and Morsa like this. You know they miss you too because there's never a day where they rearrange your daily video calls or don't send Leah around to your apartment when they think you're feeling especially sad on the call.

You miss them. They miss you. But you all know that it's best for you to be here, in England. You're still the second choice keeper but you know that if you keep working hard then by your eighteenth birthday, you'll have managed to clinch the number one spot.

After the derby, it's international break and you know that, while the senior teams are calling everyone up this week, you need to wait a few more days until the Denmark youth team sends for you again.

You've settled in well in the under-nineteen squad and you know that there's a round of friendlies coming up soon that you're excited to be apart of.

"The third choice keeper broke her arm," You can hear Morsa complain about the Swedish team," It was such a freak accident. It was gory to even watch. I almost threw up."

You don't pay much attention though, leaning back easily into Momma's hands. You're not paying attention to anything actually because you almost miss the vibrating of your phone on your leg.

You don't recognise the number but you pick it up anyway.

"Hello?"

"Is this y/n?" A professional-sounding voice asks," The Arsenal keeper?"

"Yes? Who is this?"

"Excellent. I'm calling up on behalf of the Swedish Senior team. I'm sure you know by now but our usual third keeper has been injured. We're offering you the call up in her place."

"W-What?"

You must sound especially panicked because everyone in the room has turned to look at you in confusion.

"I understand that you usually play for Denmark's youth teams but we've had our eye on you for a while. We've got a round of three friendlies coming up, one for each keeper, and would love to have you with us."

You feel frozen in place, capable of nothing but blinking.

"I..."

"Sorry," The person says," I'm getting ahead of myself. I understand completely if you wish to stay with Denmark. You're such a talent. Forgive me for wanting to have it on my team. I understand if you need to discuss this with your mothers as well. Do you need some time to think about it?"

"No!" You say quickly.

You've never really thought about a senior team call up. You just kind of assumed that Denmark would be the obvious choice. You've spent so much time in a Denmark shirt that you just assumed Sweden didn't want you anymore.

"You've already come to a decision?"

Your feelings on this call up must have already been decided. It must have been decided for years in some deep, hidden away part of your brain because there's no need to even think about it. There's no need to even discuss it with Momma and Morsa.

Somehow, you think you've always known the decision you would come to.

"I'd love to join you for the friendlies."

You can hear the person's smile through the phone. "Excellent," They say," The details will be sent to your email as well as your agent's, who I'm sure will forward it to your mothers. Just in advance, what would you like on your jersey? Your name or Eriksson-Harder, like your Denmark jersey?"

You make eye contact with Momma, who looks increasingly worried the longer you stay on the phone. "Harder-Eriksson," You say," Please."

"You've got it. I'll see you very soon, y/n."

"Yeah, you too."

The call ends and you stare at your phone for several seconds.

"It's a bit early for the youth team call up," Morsa teases," You're changing your name? Does Eriksson-Harder not cut it anymore for Denmark?"

You blink. "More like Harder-Eriksson suits Sweden better."

"Sweden called you up?" Momma asks," That's strange. You've never had any problem rejecting their call if it came before Denmark's before."

You shake your head. "No, it wasn't the youth team. It was the senior team."

The room's quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Morsa's voice goes hoarse. "What?"

You look at her. "I got called up for Sweden's senior team."

Someone else in the room, Leah, you think, says," Holy shit."

Momma pulls you into a hug. "Harder-Eriksson?" She asks, eyes glistening with tears.

You manage to shrug. "Morsa got Eriksson-Harder when I played for Denmark. You get Harder-Eriksson when I play for Sweden."

Morsa is still frozen in shock, looking much like how you feel. Her hands are shaking a little as she crushes you in her embrace. When she pulls away, she's crying too.

"Magda," Momma says," Why don't you call Frido? I'm sure she'd want to know."

Morsa nods robotically. "Right. Yes. Frido. Would want to know. Yes."

"And you," Momma says fondly, cupping your face and kissing your forehead," I think you should call a certain retired keeper, shouldn't you?"

You've already got Zećira's contact lined up on your phone.

[doudouneverte]

Secret Wife?

a/n: let's start this world cup with a little thing...

*not my GIF*

Pairing: Fridolina Rolfo x NORWNT!Reader: NORWNT + SWEWNT x Reader

Summary: You have a secret realtionship with a certain Swedish player and you come out public after her final against Wolfsburg

Type: Fluff

Warning: nothing

word count: 2154

-----------

Opposites attract each other; that is what a lot of people say. In your case, it was totally true. You married a woman who was your opposite in every aspect, even the professional one, Fridolina Rolfö. You both play football, but since you first met at a professional level, you have never played together.

You faced her for the first time in your first season in the Swedish league; she played for Linköping and you for Rosengråd. It was surprising how quickly you became friends after your first match and more a few months later. Except for some teammates, nobody knew about you two; they just assumed you were good friends because you didn't show too much in public, but that didn't mean you weren't there for her. To be honest, you were her number-one fan. Always here when she played, not so far from Malmö, and always cheered for her.

Then 2017 came, and you both received an offer to play for a different championship, the Frauen Bundesliga. It was a great opportunity, but you were a little sad when you learned that Fridolina wouldn't play with you again because she chose Bayern München, where you chose to play for Frankfurt. Even if you were always enemies on the pitch, when you were off, nothing could be better than when you asked her to be your wife one season after she moved to Wolfsburg.

After three years in Germany, you left the country to join one of your favorite clubs when you were younger, Real Madrid. Your first season, even if it had been interrupted, was very great, and you were ready for the next part of history until your wife joined your rivals, FC Barcelona.

Two wives playing for two rival clubs but also playing for two different countries, and that leads us to this day. A friendly game opposing Sweden and Norway—honestly,  you loved this type of match; you always found her very attractive when you played against her, but it was on another level when she wore her national colors.

You were in the locked room, preparing yourself for the match in a few minutes, when your phone buzzed next to you. It was a text from Frido. A few moments later, you were so focused on your conversation with your blonde girl that you didn't notice that everyone was waiting for you for a captain's speech. Maren Mjelde cleared her throat, but you just giggled, visibly whatever the Swedish said was more interesting than this.

"You giggle like a schoolgirl," Ada Hegerberg commented, and you finally looked at your teammates.

"Oh, shut up, Hegerberg," you replied, rolling your eyes. "So, are you finally ready?" you dared to ask.

"Are we....?" Guro Reiten repeated a little offended "I swear I'll..." She didn't have time to finish before she got interrupted by Maren.

"We were actually waiting for you." the defender said, and you looked at everyone.

"Oh sorry. So let's go," you said, standing up and extending your arm, waiting for them to form a circle to start your usual speech.

In the other locker room, the Swedish team was impatient to play—a certain player more than others. "You looked excited." Magda commented, and Frido looked at her, confused.

"Yes, I mean, aren’t you?" Your wife asked.

"Yes, of course I am; I like to play against Guro even if I prefer to play with her." the captain replied.

"I totally understand you; it’s really cool to play with Ingrid, but I don't like to play against her, even if it’s fun," the forward said.

"Oh, I’m a little disappointed. I thought you were talking to Y/n." Kosovare commented.

"What do you mean?"

"We saw you glued to your phone when Magda was doing her usual captain's speech. Great speech, by the way." Zećira said this time getting a little ‘thank you’ from her Chelsea teammate.

"I think it’s Y/n!" Kosse said across the changing room, gaining the attention of everyone. "What? It’s true," she added when she felt every gaze on her. 

"Yes it’s true, but—" The forward tried to defend herself but was cut off by Sofia Jakobsson.

"Why don’t you ever think about playing together? We wouldn’t have to support you missing each other."

"You’ve got a point." Zećira said.

"It’s not that easy. It’s not like she can play with us suddenly." Your wife said.

"Yes but you can always play for the same club. And I don’t want to force you to do anything, but I heard that a Londonian club wouldn’t mind having a new power couple in her team." The goalkeeper commented.

"I need to stop you right now; if they need to play for the same team in London, they will definitely play for Arsenal." Stina protested.

"And why?" Magda asked, raising her eyebrow.

 "Because we all know that Y/n considers Frida like her little sister, and according to that, she’d choose Arsenal." Unfortunately, the conversation couldn’t go further because it was already time to enter the pitch.

The match went pretty well; well, it ended in a draw, but 3-3 is a pretty draw. After the game, you thanked the supporters and made your way to the Sweden team. Even if your relationship wasn’t public, it was not uncommon for the fans to catch you being touchy with the Swedish player; honestly, they loved it. That's one of the reasons they loved when you faced her, of course there was also the sportive part, but they couldn't help themselves every time you interacted together, and it didn’t take a lot of time before some edits shipping you two appeared online.

After a little session of sweaty hugs with Ingrid, much to her dismay, you finally made your way to the third Barcelona player in this match. Some cameras were still recording, and they didn't miss the goofy smile the tall forward gave you—definitely good content for the fans later. "Hey pretty girl," you said, and the captain of Chelsea next to you two rolled her eyes.

"Good game, girls. You played very well." Ingrid said, giving her club teammate a little side hug.

"You too, even if I'm better." Fridolina replied, and you playfully hit her arm. "What? It's true."

"Your only goal was when I didn't defend on you." You reminded her.

"Yeah, I know, but it's still a goal," she said while she opened her arms, and you fulfilled the gap. "You played very well." she whispered before landing a quick kiss on your head.

"Even when you try to be sneaky, you are still so obvious." Frida said.

"Are you jealous?" You joked, "You can come here." You opened your arms, and even if the midfielder tried to resist, she knew she could never deny your hugs. You looked like a little family, and you obviously knew that the fans would edit it, but you were too comfy between your wife and your claimed little sister.

When you broke the hug, you made your way to the changing room with Ingrid and Rolfö, not too far from Frida and Stina. You were talking about anything and everything when the Arsenal forward called you. "Y/n do you ever think about playing with Frido on the same team?"

"Uh uh, don't start that." Zećira said, coming out of nowhere.

You looked at the Sweden players confused. "Don't listen to them; they're just arguing about which is the best team between Arsenal and Chelsea." Fridolina said.

"It's more than that." the keeper protested.

"Let me guess, you just want us to join Arsenal or Chelsea?" you asked.

"Yes." Magda and Sofia said rolling their eyes.

"No!" Stina and Zećira countered, "It's more than that; imagine being with your wife 24/7, training with her, playing with her, and just wearing the same jersey."

"Okay let's not talk about it right now because I'm exhausted, but we'll think about it." you said before heading to your locker room.

The next few weeks you came back to Spain, and you managed to spend a lot of time with Frido after the end of the season before her final at Eindhoven. You tried to not attract attention in the stadium, but it was almost impossible. You couldn’t enter the stadium before some fans of both teams recognized you. And there you took some pictures with them, some of them questioning you about who you were supporting. You were wearing a light jacket, so they couldn’t see your Rolfö’s national jersey. Of course you were there to support your wife, but as a Real Madrid player and fan, you couldn’t say it loudly.

"I’m just here to see some teammates play." You replied with a little smile. Thankfully for you, they let you leave rather quickly. In your seat, you were mentally preparing for the next ninety minutes.

After those ninety minutes, FC Barcelona were sacred European champions for the second time, and Frida scored a goal. You were ecstatic in your seat during the game, acting like a groupie when your blondie touched the ball. When a member of the security came to escort you on the pitch, you were a little shocked because you didn’t really think the Swedish forward would spot you in the crowd, but she definitely did.

On the pitch, you came to congratulate your national teammates, and Ingrid gave you a sweaty hug, making you quickly pull away with a grimace. "You look good in yellow," the midfielder commented.

"But something tells me she would look better in blue and red." Caro Hansen added, and you rolled your eyes.

"Let’s not start it now." You didn't have time to say anything else until you felt arms wrapping around your waist from behind you. you didn't have to turn to know who they belonged to.

"Oh no, the lovebirds are reunited again," Caro said, faking annoyance.

"Hey, don’t you have some Spanish girlfriends you want to see?" You said making them leave, but not before they mimicked how the Swedish player was clinched to you.

"Why do you wear my national jersey?" Your wife asked while her head found her space in the crook of your neck.

"Are you kidding me?" you asked, a little offended.

"I’m rather on the girl’s side this time."

"Oh no, we’ll not start that, not today." You groaned and turned around to finally face her.

"But I really think about what the girls said the last time, and, well, it’s been like, what, six or seven years since we started to play against each other. I know you would rather die than wear a Barcelona kit, but if one day I leave, would you come with me?" She asked with a pout.

"Honey, one day I asked you if you wanted to marry, and you made the mistake of saying ‘yes’ so unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me wherever you go." You joked.

"Even if I receive a proposition from Chelsea?" she tried.

"Okay don’t push your luck, Mrs.Rolfö." You replied dramatically, pushing away from her grip. The tall woman obviously didn’t give up and wrapped you close to her again.

The two of you were so much in your little bubble that you forgot that her team was celebrating and that the stadium was not totally empty when you pushed your toe to land a passionate kiss on her lips. When you heard some wolf whistles from Catalan players and the public cheering loudly, that's when you came back from your trance and remembered that you were not alone.

"Oh my..." you mumbled, hiding your face in your wife’s chest, who was laughing at your action.

"Don’t be shy, I think most of them already knew; it’s not like we’re good at hiding our behavior every time we’re together." Frido joked, "And at least now, everybody would know that you’re off the market, Mrs. Rolfö."

This night, like you assumed, you broke the internet, and a photo of you and Fridolina kissing was on almost every Woso fan’s Instagram stories and some of your teammates’ too. You received a lot of support from some teammates and even other celebrities. Magda and Pernille shared a cute picture of the four of you on a double date just after the Euro, and things went more crazy when Z posted almost all the cute pictures she took of you when you didn’t notice.

"I think that after today, if someone decides to sign one of us, they will definitely have to sign the other." The Swedish player said while she came to lay beside you.

"I still think we could have announced it in a better way." you said after you left your phone on the nightstand.

"Yes, maybe, but right now it’s just the two of us." she said, pressing a shy kiss on your head.

"I love you, Frido."

"And I love you more."

[sorrowsofsilence]

Burning Out • 1

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 7.3K

Warnings: 18+, explicit language, Alcohol consumption, devils lettuce consumption, violence, mentions of murder, panic attacks/ anxiety

Authors note: Chapter One: The Apparition - This story was a request by an anon! I hope you enjoy my interpretation of the prompt (prompt is here). I am excited to see where this goes! Let me know any thoughts, and if you’d like to be tagged leave a comment :3 (ps. Listen to the apparition by sleep token hehe)

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY IN REAL LIFE! IT IS FICTION! IT IS JUST FOR FUN! <;3

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking

NOAH

The world was always in a state of grey, the life of the concrete jungle persistently sucking out the souls of its inhabitants with every passing second. Destruction. Crime. Greed. A shattering abyss of capitalism and corruption.

Yet, within this lifetime, I don’t think I was meant to be the good guy either.

Perhaps there was a chance for me, someday or somehow within another universe.

For now, the only thing I could think about was how my heart pounded as the gun sat between my fingers, threatening the innocent ahead. Destruction, Crime, Greed.

“Noah, let’s go,” Ruffilo pulled at my wrist in desperation. My arm remained still, resisting his force.

The woman’s eyes watched me in horror, tears brimming as her back hit the brick wall behind her, arms wrapping protectively around her body in defeat.

My heart raced, and I stood frozen in place.

“I won’t say anything I swear,” She pleaded, lips trembling, saliva foaming from her mouth as she was too afraid to swallow.

I don’t want to do this, but I fucked up.

“Noah,” Ruffilo said through gritted teeth, “We need to go,” he placed a hand on top of my gloved one, in another attempt to have me lower the bad decision.

I closed my eyes, squeezing them shut in contemplation as my chest heaved, the voice of rationality fighting against the voice of destruction.

I’ll be even more of a fuck up if she rats on us.

You’ve never been able to kill anyone before you moron, why do you think this time will be any different?

My eyes snapped open, leathered finger dancing along the trigger as I stared at her. My teeth barred through chapped lips, a snarl of frustration crawling from my throat. The woman's eyes turned away in fear as if watching her own demise would kill her. Ironic.

Seeing her in complete terror left me broken. Is this who I am? I am nothing more.

The next thirty seconds passed as though I was walking through molasses, my thoughts battling contradictions before I audibly screamed in frustration, shoving the gun back into my pocket as Nicholas and I ran towards the van.

“Fuck!” I yelled, slamming the car door as forceful as possible. The tires squealed in place, burning out as Jolly’s foot pounded onto the gas pedal.

I ripped off my ski mask, throwing it angrily onto the floor of the vehicle.

“You should’ve just left her Noah. Now if they find us we could be charged with assault with a weapon.” The deep Swedish accent was the last thing I wanted to hear. He eyed me sternly in the rearview mirror. I lingered on his gaze for a moment before turning my head towards the window.

“Oh Fuck off Jolly,” I sighed angrily, closing my eyes as my breathing quickened, the anxiety beginning to set in. The pounding of my heart began to vibrate along my entire chest, and my leg bounced in anticipation, waiting for the panic to subside.

I kept justifying to myself that we’re all dead anyway, so what’s the difference between a God and a loaded gun?

+++++

Y/N

Wrapping the grey apron around my waist, I clocked into work and tightened my low bun, tucking the loose strands of my H/C bangs behind my ear. Another shift, another day that felt wasted away, confiding into the capitalist abyss. 

Overall, I enjoyed my new job working in the coffee shop. The city was busy, something I definitely wasn’t used to, but the cafe was a comforting environment filled with tasty pastries, and an unlimited amount of caffeine to fulfill any heart's desire.

I did appreciate having a solid routine, and a stable job that paid me well, however, I envied those with freedom. Those with spontaneous adventures and the ability to travel; those who got to spend their days making memories. You never know when a day is going to be your last; and at this rate, my soul was going to linger within this fucking place forever. 

I sighed as I checked on the coffee pots, organizing them before neaty lining the glass display with more cakes and croissants. Stocking up the cups and lids, I hummed to myself, letting my mind wander into my corporate daydream distractions.

Why are you never real?

Whenever you appear

You leave me with that grace

I am trembling with fear

But I know that you will disappear

“How’s it going Y/N?” My coworker asked, smiling, pulling me out of my trance.

Annika; I have grown quite fond of her, even though I’ve only known her a week.

“Good,” I smiled, pulling a sanitized cloth out of a bucket and wiping down the counters, “yourself?”

“Oh you know, same old same old.” She said, sighing with a sad smile. I matched her as we shared a moment of familiarity, before concentrating again on wiping the surface, the cold cloth running along the faux marble. 

The seating area was already busy; friends chatting, students studying, and business meetings occurring. I enjoyed watching the bustle of life that everyone brought inside. I smiled as I watched our regular elderly couple I’ve seen each morning this week wave goodbye.

“See you Lauren, bye Ray,” I gave them a nod, before wandering over to empty tables, giving them a wipe. The door dinged as more people came in, but I didn’t bother glancing up, letting myself work. 

I hummed again, singing ever so quietly as I walked back to the counter and began to daydream, thinking of things I’d love to write about, and places I’d love to go. It’s only been three weeks since I left my old life behind, and this was just the beginning of my freedom.

So let's make trouble in the dream world

Hijack heaven with another memory now

I make the most of the turning tide

It just split what's left of the burning silence

“Sleep token?” a man's voice asked, pulling me out of my trance. 

My head immediately spiralled, flushing with embarrassment as I realized Annika was off helping someone else, and I completely ignored the customer in front of me.

“Oh- sorry.” I avoided eye contact, throwing the cloth back into the bucket and scrambling my way back to the till.

“What can I get for you?” I asked as I stared at the buttons in front, preparing myself to hit stay or go, before looking up at the man in front of me. As soon as I met his deep brown eyes, I was lost in a certain intensity, the mysterious depths beckoning me towards him.

My lips parted as I stared at him, my cheeks immediately warming from infatuation. His chocolate eyes were paired with a head of long brunette hair that flowed in all the right places, just below his collarbone. A variety of coloured tattoos covered his arms and neck, and when he smiled, I just about felt weak in the knees; the crinkle of his eyes and the fold of his smile lines left me captivated. However, another story lingered behind his gaze, my mind trying to peel the layers to reveal whatever it may be.

He too watched my face, eyes trailing over every detail as a light tint of blush trailed down his ears to the top of his cheekbones.

“Uh- is it to stay? Or to go?” I stuttered as I looked away, realizing I was staring for too long. My ears felt hot and I eyed the counter intensely, as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. 

“To go please,” he said; and my god his voice, the slight Virginian accent that danced off his tongue held me in a chokehold. 

“What could I get for you today?” I asked, glancing up shyly. I've met plenty of attractive customers in my years of retail and serving, but I never had anyone caught my eye the way he did. The unknown puzzle he appeared to be was leaving me captivated.

“I'd like a coffee please, black?” he said slowly, as if it was a question.

I let out a small laugh, “Did you want cream or sugar? Or we have a variety of syrups-” I watched as he smiled, before shaking his head, eyes remaining fixated.

“No, just black is okay…” he said. Something about his October eyes tantalized me, pulling me towards him as if invisible strings were being woven between us as the seconds ticked by. His body was a magnet, and I was being tugged. 

“Sure thing,” I nodded, averting my eyes from his gaze in embarrassment, “that's everything for you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said, fiddling with his wallet before pulling out cash. 

“Can I grab a name?” I asked shyly, looking back at him again, my eyes searching his entire face for answers as if his name would reveal all the mysteries he was hiding.

I extended my hand to grab his money, and he hesitated for a moment as if scared to touch me. He placed the bill gently in my palm, the tip of his tattooed fingers brushing across my skin. My hand burned as butterflies churned in my stomach.

“Noah,“ he said, giving a slight nod and tight smile.

“Noah,” I echoed, giving him his change, the cool silver coin radiating the heat off of his palm.

“I’ll have that ready for you shortly,” I smiled up at him, and he returned it, stepping back with his hands in his pockets. With shaky hands, I turned around and walked to the coffee pot, grabbing a cup and filling it with a warm drink.

Annika slithered next to me, bumping my shoulder gently, “That’s Noah, a regular. He hasn’t been here in a while, but he’s always so glum.”

I looked at her, nodding slowly, unsure what to say.

“He also always grabs cream and sugar, so I’m surprised he’s changing it up.” Annika turned around, eying the boy for a moment before leaning into me again, “must be because he’s so distracted, checking you out.”

Blush tinted my cheeks as I scoffed, “Yeah, sure.” I exhaled with doubt but took a quick glance at the brunette. Sure enough, he was watching from behind the counter, averting his eyes as soon as we made contact. 

“You should give him your number, maybe that’ll cheer him up,” Annika whispered, giving me a wink before walking away to help another customer.

I laughed lowly as I put on the lid, sliding a sleeve up the cup. Grabbing the sharpie I opened it, and my fingers hesitated- what if I did?

I shook my head gently, shaking away the thought before scribbling Noah’s name across the top of the lid.

“Noah,” I said, his name passed off my lips as if he breathed it from me. 

His inked fingers wrapped around the cup, “You were singing the apparition earlier,” He said, and I watched him curiously, “fascinating, the line about the past.”

Every word felt like it was being taken from my body as we watched each other. Both of us seemed to hesitate, waiting for the other to say something.

He spoke first, eyes gazing upon me for a moment as he turned towards the door, “I’ve never seen you before, you must be new around here.”

I wanted to respond, but I felt frozen; so I watched every step he took towards the door, the black hoodie he wore lingering in my memory. 

“Welcome to the neighborhood, Have a good day,” He nodded, before walking through the door, the bell signalling his dismissal as he left.

Well, I believe,

Somewhere in the past,

Something was between,

You and I, My dear

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding in. Perhaps it was infatuation or complete adoration; but regardless my heart yearned, regretting the way I held myself. Thoughts churned throughout my mind as I replayed the way he looked at me. I don’t think I've ever been looked at with so much intensity. 

Fuck, why didn’t I get his number? I internally groaned, scolding myself, turning around to fix another pot of coffee. A few minutes went by as my mind raced with thoughts before I heard the door open again.

I instantly turned around, surprised to see the same long-haired brunette standing at the till once again, his locks tousled messily, but still cascading down to his collar bones elegantly.

“Hi,” He said, out of breath, as if he had been running. With parted lips and quick exhales, he smiled. 

“Hi,” I said confused, my heart picking up pace once again.

“I think, I forgot cream and sugar,” He said, holding out the cup. His fingers shook as his cheek blushed. 

My head tilted slightly as he eyed me, and I grabbed the cup from him gently, “How many of each would you like?”

“One and one.” He smiled, face flushed.

I felt my breath hitch in my throat as I turned around to pour the sugar and cream, mixing it in his still-hot coffee.

“One cream and one sugar,” I watched as our hands touched as we passed the beverage, fingers grazing, tingles sparking through my appendages.

Noah looked at me, our eyes searching each other for any other form of communication, but he spoke first, the question bluntly leaving his mouth, “Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?”

I gave him a dumbfounded look, eyebrows turned inwards in shock. My lips slowly upturned into a smile of disbelief, his questions catching me completely off guard. I tilted my head to look at him as a laugh escaped me, and he too joined in, his own laugh shy and reclused.

“I- I think you should walk by again,” I watched him, coming up with a quick witty response, “But only so I can get another look as to what you’d look like walking towards me on a date.” 

I cringed at my own words, laughing, and Noah’s smile widened at the banter.

“So, I’ve gathered that we are both really terrible at flirting,” He said, taking a sip of his coffee and licking his lips once he pulled the cup away.

I hummed in agreement, “I think that can be a safe deduction from this one-minute conversation,” my eyes following his fingers that now ran through his long chestnut hair, eyes trailing over the flower on the back of his hand, “maybe, you’d like to see how bad a longer conversation could be?” 

Noah’s eyes twinkled with curiosity, giving me a look, “Do you want to risk it all right now?”

I smiled as my heart began to race, the glint in his eyes only excited me more. I grabbed the sharpie that was initially filled with regret earlier, wrote my number on top of a napkin, and handed it to him. “I’m off at 5, and I don’t work my next job till 9”

Noah licked his lips again, “I’ll see you then.”

---

I stood outside the coffee shop with my earbuds in, awaiting my bad decision. Pulling my hair out of my bun, I attempted to run my fingers through my hair to make it look even a little flattering. Would he show up? Was I delusional? Was this whole idea absolutely insane? Who does this with a complete stranger?

“Hey.”

I recognized the upbeat of his voice, and my ears immediately shifted colours. I pulled out an earphone as he strode towards me, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket. The way his hair flew behind his shoulders left me watching him in complete adoration. He was beautiful. 

“Let me guess,” Noah bit the inside of his cheek as he approached me, “Same song?”

Don’t wait, ‘cause this could be the last time

You turn up in the reveries of my mind

I wake up to a suicide frenzy

Loaded dreams still leave me empty

“Possibly,” I smiled.

“I think you’d really like this song by Deftones,” He began as we started walking down the street aimlessly without a plan.

“Can I guess?” I asked, looking up at him. Noah towered over me, inches above in height. I felt so small against his frame, despite his own lanky figure, and my heart began to race at our proximity. Every step he took it felt like I had to take three, his Dior cologne radiating through my senses.

Why are you never real?

The shifting states you follow me through

Unrevealed

Just let me go or take me with you

“Is it sex tape?” I asked, and Noah gave me a toothy grin, clearly impressed.

“I don’t know how you guessed the exact song,” He said, squinting at me quizzically.

“What can I say,” I shrugged, “Good at reading pretty boys’ minds. Plus, it’s a good song, similar vibe.” 

He eyed me playfully as we stopped at the crosswalk, “So you think I’m pretty?”

I watched the other side of the street, smiling as I faced forward and hummed, “Well, I don’t think I’d spontaneously go out with just anyone.”

He turned to face me, looking down at me with amusement. “Fair enough.”

“For the record, 100 percent my type,” I said, looking at him through my lashes.

Noah’s face flushed again, “What is that type? Just so I can scope them out for you, ya know?”

I thought a moment, chewing on my lip, “Oh you know, hot long-haired brunettes, brown eyes,” my eyes trailed down his body to scope his hands, before trailing back up to see the snake poking above his hoodie collar, “with tattoos,in a variety of places.”

“Well,” Noah’s cheeks tinted deeper, “I do have tattoos all over my body if you ever feel the need to explore them all.”

I laughed, watching him. We stared at each other for a moment longer, my heart pounding, as his eyes devoured me before the beeping of the sidewalk timer pulled my attention away from him.

“This is probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever done,” I confessed and shook my head as I laughed in disbelief.

“What?” Noah asked, hands in his jeans pockets as he gazed between me and the path ahead.

“Going out with someone I know nothing about,” I began, “for all I know you could be a serial killer,” I teased.

Noah chuckled, “Fair. I suppose this was the last thing I thought I’d be doing this fine Tuesday evening- but I do find a dash of danger titillating.” 

I smiled widely, “so, you’re not a serial killer?”

“Not that I’m aware of, I can’t say it’s something I would get much from,” Noah laughed, but I noticed he looked away, eyes becoming distant.

“So who are you then?” I asked, Noah and I follow each other down the park path towards the neighbourhood. I pulled out my earbuds, shoving them back into my pocket. The wind was picking up slightly, causing me to shiver and pull my sleeves over my hands, fingers intertwining together in my hoodie pouch. We were walking along a path by the inner city river, the leaves of the birch trees swaying as they danced along to nature’s beat.

As I strolled next to Noah I felt an odd sense of comfort, despite knowing absolutely nothing about the man beside me. I watched him, his hair flying behind him, his eyes squinting through the wind.

“I don’t really know who I am,” He said, staring out at the water. The river flowed rapidly, the water washing over the memories of the city, carrying them through the ground in a prophesied path. I walked along with him quietly, waiting for Noah to continue speaking.

“I’m just a lost soul, I guess,” He spoke softly, eyes glazing over slightly as his mind pulled him inwards.

I nodded in understanding, “I suppose that I am too.”

Noah chuckled lowly, “Nah, there’s much more to your story,” he pried, pulling himself out of his trance.

“I mean, of course. Everyone has a past,” I looked at him curiously.

“What’s yours?” Noah watched me intently, pulling his hoodie over his head in an attempt to block the wind from blowing his hair into his face, “You’re not from around here.”

“How do you know?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Accent,” He said, “And I’ve never seen you around. I know these parts pretty well.”

“Hm. Fair enough.” I nodded, smiling, “I just moved here, from Canada.”

“To the shit hole city of Los Angeles?” Noah scoffed, surprised, “You had the whole world, and you chose LA?”

“City of dreams, they say,” I shrugged, my gaze falling upon the leaves again, “and I needed to get as far as I could.”

Noah was quiet for a moment, pondering. We walked in silence again, heading towards the houses.

“Running from something?” He asked, barely forming a whisper. Noah’s eyes met mine as they searched for an answer, attempting to read through me.

I sighed, tilting my head to give him a small smile, “Always.”

“Who?” Noah asked after another pause, sitting forward in interest.

“Ghosts and demons,” I laughed, lightening the mood, “Oh, and people too.”

We laughed together, our voices creating a harmony that I wanted to listen to forever.

“I left behind everything—everything I ever knew,” I began, turning to avoid Noah’s eyes.

“My parents were murdered,” I said. I expected him to immediately bombard me with apologies, as people always did when dropping a bomb like that; but he was silent, letting me continue. “I was thirteen. Lived in and out of different foster care homes- no one wants to ever take in a teenager.”

Noah hummed, prompting me to continue. We walked down the sidewalk along the street of houses; nearing my own. Staring at it as we walked by, I turned my attention forward.

“Unfortunately got in with the wrong crowd and some really bad people who only loved and wanted me when I could provide them with things.” I stifled a laugh, suddenly feeling insecure and small, “Basically I worked my ass off to get out, and I’ve finally made it and bought my own place.”

I looked over at him now, giving him a smile, “So still running, but a lot closer to my destination.” I felt an immense amount of appreciation for his ability to listen.

Noah smiled back, giving me a knowing glance; almost as if he understood. Turning his attention toward the houses he scanned them, watching each one intensely as we walked by.

“Sorry, I don’t know why I just trauma-dumped on a stranger,” I gave an uncomfortable chuckle.

“Nah, we aren’t strangers now,” He said, “Definitely more like acquaintances.”

I smiled at his reassurance, “And you? You’re quite mysterious.”

Noah was quiet, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and thought as we enjoyed each other’s company, his eyes darting rapidly over the grass as if he were filtering through memories. I watched his lip run between his teeth before he turned to me, giving me a curt smile.

“I’m just Noah,” He said; but as I stared into his eyes, devouring his soul, I saw that he was much more than that.

+++++

NOAH

“Where the fuck were you?” Jolly yelled, “We’ve been waiting for hours.”

I slammed the motel door, the place we called home, glaring at him, “nowhere mom, it's not like you need to know.”

“You’re right,” Jolly said, stepping forward, pushing himself towards me so our chests were almost touching.

“I don’t give a fuck what you were doing, who you were doing, or whatever- But you know what time you need to be back, and you’re late.” Jolly’s finger pressed into my chest as he scolded me. We stared at each other, eye to eye, his gaze furious. I pushed against his chest, making space between us as I furrowed my brows.

“Whatever, sorry, I got carried away,” I mumbled, throwing myself onto the cot that rested on the floor I sighed, my cheek smashing into the musky-scented pillow. Staring at the 80’s retro carpet splayed on the floor, I analyzed the faint outline of the blood stain left by Ruffilo last week when he cut his knee open from a previous job.

“It’s your turn, Noah.” Nick Folio slapped the backpack onto the table as he sat back in the chair, crossing his legs on top of the wooden surface. The joint was lit between his lips as the smoke trailed through his teeth.

“I fucking hate doing this shit,” I protested, shaking my head as I rolled onto my back, letting myself close my eyes momentarily. Ruffilo tossed me my gloves and mask, the fabric hitting my chest. I groaned angrily as I sat up. I pulled the black leather gloves over my fingers to cover my tattoos. Standing up I shoved the black ski mask into my hoodie pocket, before throwing my phone into my cargo pants.

“Just this one for the week brother. Then you don’t need to worry about it till next week.” Nicholas Ruffilo said, smiling at me gently. He knew I hated this. He knew I wanted it to stop.

“How many more fucking weeks, huh? It’s been years. I’m sick of this shit.” I snapped, and Nicholas, being the glue of this group, placed his hands on my shoulders.

“I know,” he said, watching me cautiously.

A bitter laugh escaped Jolly’s lips, “What else are we going to do Noah? Magically pull a million bucks out of our asses?”

I loved Jolly, I really did. He was my oldest brother for as long as I can remember- but fuck, did I ever want to punch his face into the wall sometimes.

Jolly sat back in the wooden chair next to Folio, “You know the drill. It’s nothing new. We do what we gotta do to survive; how else are we going to pay back D?”

I shrugged Nicholas’ hand off my shoulder, muttering to myself in annoyance as I grabbed my combat boots, kicking my black vans underneath the cot. I tied up the laces, knotting together the memories of previous jobs, the back of my mind replaying years of regret.

Cracking open a beer, Jolly took a swig before mumbling, “Don’t forget you’re the whole reason we are in this mess in the first place.”

My head snapped up immediately, eyes locking onto his, ears burning a deep red as my face heated, “Yeah? Why don’t you say that again you fucking prick?”

Jolly raised his voice, sitting forward in the chair, elbows resting on his knees as he leered into me, “I’m sick and tired of hearing it, Noah. Do you think we enjoy doing this too? Do you think we want this? Don’t complain about the work when you fucked us over first.”

My chest heaved as I grew irritated, eyes glaring as his words stabbed me, “I was fourteen!” I shouted, spit flying from my mouth, “I wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t told me to in the first place!”

Nicholas reached for me again, pushing against my chest to hold me back. I aggressively hit his hand away, grabbing my backpack vigorously and throwing it over my shoulder.

“I didn’t tell you to do anything,” Jolly growled, watching me as my fists clenched, muscles tightening.

“You’re the one I’m supposed to look up to!” I yelled.

“It’s not my fault your parents died,” Jolly said, and both Nicks immediately turned to look at him, eyebrows furrowed in disappointment.

“Don’t you fucking bring them into this!”I screamed, seething, ready to lunge at the long-chestnut-haired man in front of me. Nicholas wrapped his arms around my chest, pulling me away. I squirmed against him, closing my eyes in anger as I fought the tears that brimmed them.

An hour ago I was sitting with one of the most beautiful humans I had ever laid my eyes on. I’ve never done anything as risky as spending time with someone I just met, especially someone like Y/N. She seemed so brave, so gentle… so worthy. How someone could captivate me within mere moments, left me baffled. I knew I was in complete infatuation, and I already felt myself craving to see her again. I have gotten a coffee from that cafe almost every day for a year; it’s the only stable part of my routine. Everything was always the same. The coffee, the customers, the servers, everything. Everything but Y/N. Seeing her threw me off, not necessarily in a bad way, but in a way that felt like she was placed there as if maybe she was just for me. She seemed like a breath of fresh air in my stale, grey, lifeless world. Something about the way she spoke, how she seemed so mysterious, her wit and her beautiful fucking eyes.

Now here I was, being reminded that I was unworthy of anyone.

“Do you know where you’re going to go?” Nick asked me, pulling me from my thoughts. He handed me the joint, a way to divert from the tension,

I nodded, “I walked around a neighbourhood I’ve been eying lately, the one close to the coffee shop.” Wrapping my lips around the joint I inhaled, letting the smoke fill my throat and lungs. I coughed as I handed it back to Folio.

“Don’t you think that area is a little risky?” Nicholas said, raising a brow, “we spend enough time around there.”

I shrugged, “I scoped some places earlier. Close together and tight nit. Enough places to hide. Seems like most of the owners are elderly, it's an old neighbourhood.”

Nick took a final puff of the joint, before blowing out the smoke through open lips, placing the bud in the tray beside him, “Elderly is good. Lots of nice shit; if you sort through the useless junk. Bring the gun for the scare factor.”

“Yeah, I was planning on it,” I said as Nick held out the weapon, my finger grazing across the metal. Even through the glove, I felt its cool, metallic texture, my mind jumping back to the woman held before it earlier.

What am I even doing?

Shoving the gun into my waistband I opened the motel door, “See you guys later.” I nodded to each of them, eyes lingering on Jolly for a moment longer.

“Text if you need anything,” Jolly said through gritted teeth, taking another sip of his beer, and avoiding my gaze.

I walked down the wooden stairs, passing the rundown vinyl wall that lined the entire building. As I passed the paint-peeled doors listening to various arguments, and the sounds of sex. The scent of weed and stale alcohol lingered on the cement, decades of grime living within the premises, never fully washing away. As pathetic as it was, it smelled and sounded like home. It was all I had.

I pulled my hood over my head, letting my hair cascade as a shield around my face, my legs carrying me through the neighbourhood. It was 12:30 am, the nightlife bare as only a few cars passed by me, unaware of my felonies.

I wasn’t sure which house would be my victim tonight, but I prayed, to whoever God was, that it would be quick. Get in get out.

I placed an earpod in my ear, scrolling through songs, before choosing The Apparition. Perhaps, if this is all a dream, I can go back to the time I met her. As they say, ignorance is bliss; and I was tired of consciousness.

And it remains With me to this day No matter what I do This scar will never fade

+++++

Y/N

I clocked out of work, sighing through the exhaustion of my 12-hour day. Thankfully my bar shift was only four hours, but I was tired regardless, knowing I had about 8 hours till I had to be back at the cafe, to do it all over again. I reapplied my red lipstick in an attempt to hydrate my lips, the crisp 1 am air biting at my cheeks. Thankfully home was only a ten-minute walk away, and the only motivation carrying me was that my warm, comfortable bed was waiting for me; and my cat.

I also couldn’t help but still feel giddy about meeting Noah earlier today. My heart yearned as I reminisced about his smile and mysterious aura. My stomach churned with butterflies from the exhilaration. Was this just a one-time thing? Never in a million years would I have thought I’d go on a ‘date’ with someone I just met; but It’s not like I do much other than work. My life needed that little bit of excitement.

I sang to myself, letting the incitement of possibly receiving a text from him in the morning carry me through the dread of working tomorrow. I let my thoughts wander to ridiculous daydreams as I reached the front door of my townhouse. I put the key in, twisting it; realizing I locked the door.

Shit, did I leave it unlocked this morning? I know I was tired…but I’m pretty good at remembering that.

With furrowed brows I opened the door, closing it and double checking it was locked. My orange cat, Juice, was not sitting by the door in his usual spot. Every time he heard the door he was always right there, waiting. None of the lights were on, which usually never worried me; but I knew that I kept the living room lamp on so it wouldn’t be dark when I got home. Maybe the power went out.

“Juice?” I called out, my stomach beginning to churn with a dreadful feeling. Something wasn’t right. The house was eerily silent as I walked quietly toward the kitchen.

“Juju baby? Where are you?” I yelled, turning on the kitchen light. I placed my bag on the counter, listening intensely for his meow.

The floor creaked above me in what sounded like a pattern of footsteps, and I froze in place. That was too loud to be a cat.

There was rustling above the stairs and my breath hitched in my throat as my heart raced. I felt my pulse radiate through my ears as I reached for the biggest kitchen knife from the block. The adrenaline rushed through me as I slinked towards the stairs from the kitchen.

I peered up the stairs into the darkness, the only source of light coming from the windows, illuminating the crevasses of the doors upstairs. Another creek sounded and I watched the shadow dance along the wall as the door to my bedroom opened. With shallow breaths I carried myself up the stairs, tiptoeing, barely allowing myself to exhale in fear I would be too loud.

This is how people get murdered in horror movies you dumb bitch.

As my heart pounded heavily underneath my rib cage, I made it to the top of the stairs, turning on the light to the hallway.

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and I screamed, deep from my diaphram; but the only thing appearing was my cat; wide-eyed and meowing.

“Jesus Christ cat!” I yelled, falling onto my knees as I scooped him into my arms, running his orange fur through my fingers.

“You scared the absolute shit out of me,” I let out a breathy laugh, mocking myself for being so silly, before kissing the top of his head. Juice wriggled in my arms, letting out a meow to be put down. I placed him on the floor and he ran into my room. Shaking my head I placed the knife on the bannister, following Juice.

He sat on my bed, meowing towards my mirrored closet as I entered. Turning on the lamp next to my bed, I pet him, “What? Are you hungry? Your bowl is literally full.”

I pulled off my sweater, throwing it into the laundry hamper. Juice began hissing and I stared at him confused.

“What the hell is-”

A hand covered my mouth before I finished my sentence, and I immediately screamed into it, my sounds muffled into the gloved appendage. Another arm wrapped around my torso as my eyes widened with fear, and I froze in place, held tightly against the captor’s chest.

I felt the pace of their heart match my own, their chest heaving up and down heavily.

They turned our bodies towards the mirror and I stared at the reflection, tears beginning to fall from the terror I felt.

The man behind me towered over me, his grip never loosening from my body. Everything was covered except his eyes and mouth, peeking through a black ski mask.

I whimpered against his hand my stomach sinking at the sight of the gun that poked through his black cargo pants, but the most terrifying thing of all was the scent of Dior cologne.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He said, accent burning into my memory, and I watched him in the mirror. It was him. Noah. I knew his voice, this had to be his cologne.

A wave of dread filled my body and I began shaking, crying into his hand. He followed me home, I never should have gone out with a stranger. How could I be so fucking stupid?

“I’m going to leave, and you’re going to let me. Understood?” I nodded, tears drying on my cheeks as I watched his every move. He closed his eyes, as if in regret before he took a deep breath. I don’t think he knows I know who he is, but there was no way in hell I was going to get killed being a crying little bitch. I’m going to harm this motherfucker and get his ass thrown into jail.

“Please don’t scream,” He said, his grip loosening on my body, and when he fully let go I swung around, kicking him forcefully in the family jewels. Noah fell onto his knees, a deep guttural groan emanating from his throat as he held himself in agony. I scrambled into the hallway, grabbing the knife off the bannister and pointing it towards my door.

“You fucking followed me you creep!” I screamed, anger seeping through me, “You’re a fucking lowlife, get out of my house or I’m calling the cops, Noah.” His name crawled off my tongue while dripping with complete disgust, the syllables sickening. I pulled my phone out of my pocket, fingers shaking as I typed in 9-1-1.

“I swear to god I had no idea this was your house,” He said pained as he crouched out of my bedroom, “please Y/N, don’t call the cops.”

“Why shouldn’t I call the cops!” I yelled. Noah’s eyes darted between the phone and me, following my thumb as it hovered over the green call button.

“Just don’t,” Noah said, holding himself against the door. I pressed the button, holding it up to my ear as it dialled.

Noah immediately looked frantic, before his hand reached for the gun placed in his waistline, pulling it out and pointing it at me. Immediately I froze, and the voice of the 9-1-1 operator was dampened by the drowning ringing of panic.

“Hang up,” Noah whispered, the gun shaking in his hands through his demand.

“Hello? Are you there?” The lady on the phone said.

“Y/N, hang up, please.”

Time felt frozen as I stared at the gun, memories flooding back from the murder of my parents. My bottom lip trembled, the phone falling from my hands, onto the carpeted floor. My body was stiff, completely locked in place.

“Hello?”

Noah’s other hand reached out gently, palm open and inviting; countering the symbolism of the weapon present in his other hand. He reached down towards the phone, ending the call.

He let out a sigh of relief, hanging his head in guilt. Throwing the gun to the floor, he kicked it towards the bathroom, before pulling the mask off, revealing the face I yearned for earlier.

He looked broken, and torn, as he watched me completely crumble before him, the panic attack rising in my lungs.

“I- I didn't mean to scare you I- I” Noah began to stutter frantically, moving towards me, “I can’t have the cops come- I can’t leave my brothers.”

I fell to the floor, holding my knees to my chest as I stared at the gun by the bathroom, terror taking over. My breathing became erratic as I began to hyperventilate.

“I swear to god I’m not going to hurt you,” Noah leaned down, sitting in front of me as he held my wrists.

I tried to take in breaths, I tried to pull myself away from him but I couldn’t move. I gasped for air, suffocating myself, unable to exhale.

“Breathe,” Noah’s hands now grabbed either side of my face, “please Y/N breathe!”

His eyes ran across my entire face, holding me, “Count back from 100 in 3’s with me, ok?”

“100, 97, 94, 91, 88…” Noah began, and I followed.

“85, 82, 79…” I choked out, and Noah’s grip on my face loosened, and he moved his hands to hold my own.

I wanted to run away so badly, I was terrified, but at the same time I was scared I wouldn’t be able to breathe again.

Noah counted with me, demonstrating a stable breathing pattern and my chest followed his own, mimicking him, “58, 55, 52, 49…”

Finally, we reached zero, and my breathing was normal. I retracted my hands from his own violently, pulling them into my chest as I scooted away from him as if he were the most vile thing in the world.

“I don’t know whether to say fuck off,” I said, glaring, “or thank you.”

Noah watched me with worry before he ran his gloved hand over his face. Realizing they were still on he groaned in frustration, peeling off the leather angrily and tossing them to the side, his tattooed hands now exposed.

I watched as his fingers shook, my eyes following the outline of the flower once again.

“I’m sure you don’t believe me but I swear I didn’t know this was your house.” He began, holding his hands up in surrender. His eyes looked at me, pleading.

He looked so genuine, so sincere, he had to be telling the truth; but fuck that.

“You’re right, I don’t,” I snarled, “But what the hell were you doing in someone else’s house anyway?” I wiped my mouth, the lipstick I put on earlier smudged across my skin. I probably looked like a complete mess right now. Noah watched, eyes tracing my lips.

“I- I swear If I could tell you I would,” Noah rambled again, looking at the carpeted floor, “but I-”

A loud triple-knock at the door interrupted his sentence, and he stared at me with wide eyes, the colour draining from his face.

“This is LAPD!”A loud voice boomed from the other side of the door, the doorknob turning, attempting to open.

“Shit,” Noah mumbled, looking around the hallway frantically. He stood up, searching for something before he stared down at me, an idea clicking in his mind. Noah tore his sweater off, along with his black tank top underneath, leaving him shirtless before me.

“What the hell are you doing!” I whisper-yelled, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

“Kiss me,” He said, kneeling in front of me again, complete distress and fear glazing over his eyes.

“Excuse me?” I now yelled, a little too loud as the door below us rattled again.

“LAPD! Open up!”

“I need you to kiss me, please,” Noah’s eyes bore into my own as he begged, “Trust me, just this once, please Y/N.”

I analyzed Noah’s features, his deep October eyes imploring.

Call me crazy, but somehow I obliged, leaning in with permission. Noah’s hands gripped the back of my head, fingers tangled through my hair as he pulled me onto him, kissing me with complete desperation.

Holy shit this was a really long chapter I am so sorry, but I hope you enjoyed it! I am excited to continue!! <3

Chapter two

[hilarioushilarity]

my personal little headcanon is that Simon becomes one of the best pro-bono lawyers in Sweden.

A not insignificant part of the motivation would be something that Wilhelm (ironically) said in S2E5: "You don't understand. August would have the best lawyers in Sweden protecting him…you wouldn't stand a chance." I feel like those words would've lodged themselves in the back of Simon's mind, but that they'd begin to come back to him more and more as time went on, particularly after S3E1 when he comes face to face with August's stepfather - who is considered one of the best lawyers in Sweden.

Admittedly, the main reason why August's stepfather could force an agreement was the fact that a) The Royal Court didn't want to pursue charges against August, and b) August had the very real blackmail material which was Simon's own drug-dealing in S1. However, I also think that even if August didn't have that leverage, Simon would've been in for a very painful time trying to win against August's stepfather and his considerable resources. Without the Royal Court backing Simon, I genuinely don't know if Simon could've made much ground in the legal system - then again, I don't know much about how the Swedish legal system works.

At any rate, with what did play out, I've always felt Simon's character is the kind to have taken that loss and then thought to himself - I never want anyone else to feel so powerless. I never want anyone else to have to simply back down because they don't have access to a lawyer who has the compassion to want to help and the ability to do so. I think this would've galvanised Simon, made him think - hang on, I could be that person.

The question is, of course, whether being a lawyer suits Simon's character. My own feeling is that it would, regardless of whether he goes down the solicitor or barrister route (or any of the many other routes that are available). I think he would actually excel at being a barrister (the lawyer who specialises in presenting arguments in court), because we know he's got the confidence to speak his mind. We also know that he's great at formulating and delivering take-downs that are backed up with logic (Why is it called tax "evasion" but welfare "scam"? It's all right that rich people cheat, but when poor people do it, it's messed up.) Granted, this is when he's sixteen and in a classroom - but I'd argue that it takes guts to speak up like that when you're surrounded by people who actively, vociferously disagree with you. Imagine what he'd be like in about ten years' time, after finishing a university degree and doing a few internships.

Anyway, this got super long, but it's a thought that's been percolating in my mind for the past year or so. Simon Eriksson has what it takes to make an amazing lawyer - but he can just as well go pursue something else. With what we've seen of his character, I don't think anyone can deny that he'd excel at whatever he puts his mind to.

[ramblingoak]

Shooting His Shot

Terzo x Omega ~ This takes place in the Butt Sparkle Verse along with Copia on ICE! It's the Winter Olympics and Omega gets distracted hearing his favorite ABBA song playing nearby...

This was directly inspired by this amazing work by @ghuleh-recs!

Warnings: a love struck Omega, grumpy older brother Secondo and a Terzo that knows exactly what (and who) he wants, nsfw due to a brief daydream by Omega, 870 words

It was the ABBA blaring over the speakers that got his attention. 

There’s probably a joke there about ABBA and being Swedish but whatever.  Omega’s heard them all.  It helped that “Voulez-Vous” was his favorite song.  Well technically his mom’s favorite song but after hearing it so many times as a kid growing up it had wormed its way into his heart.  He always thought of dancing around the kitchen with her whenever he heard it.  So initially he was just curious why it was being played, although he wasn’t surprised to see it was due to a figure skater. 

He was surprised by the skull paint though.  

Of course that was only the first thing that caught his eye.  His outfit was next, an elaborate costume that was sheer enough to see nipples and dark hair.  It had to be borderline regulation and knowing how the officials at the Olympics could be he bet they still bitched about it.  The man’s entire body seemed to sparkle as he sped around the rink.  Countless spins and jumps being executed at a speed that made even Omega tired.  

“Can I help you?”

All the blood in Omega’s body froze at the sound of the voice at his back.  Omega would know that voice anywhere.  Deep and accented, he had heard it many times in his life and each time it always managed to strike a note of fear into him.  You couldn't be a hockey player anywhere without knowing who that voice belonged to. Slowly, like he was a creature trying not to upset a predator, he turned around to face another man in skull paint.

“Secondo.  Hey.”

Jesus, great first impression.  Secondo raised an eyebrow and impatiently crossed his arms.

“I’m waiting.”

“Uh, I don’t need any help.”  He winced at the raised eyebrow that got.  “Was just watching.”

“Watching my brother.”

“Yeah.  I like this song.”  Of course that was when the song stopped and Omega turned to see the man out on the ice striking a pose and breathing heavily. 

“Well the song is done so it’s time to go.”

Omega sighed, dragging his eyes from the ice right as the man relaxed and looked his way.  He took a few steps towards Secondo before stopping and taking a quick breath. 

“It’s Terzo right?  Your brother.”

“Sì!”  Omega turned back towards the rink and was immediately met with a shining set of eyes, one green and one as white as the ice he was standing on.  “It’s Terzo.  And what’s your name, bello?”

“He’s leaving, it doesn’t matter.”  Secondo brushed past him as he addressed his younger brother.  “Get dressed so we can meet Copia and Primo.”

“It’s Omega.”  Fuck it, he wouldn’t be a good hockey player if he didn’t know when to shoot his shot.  “Nice to meet you.”

He chose to focus on Terzo’s amazing smile rather than Secondo’s glare.  

“Omega.”  Terzo dragged out the ‘a’ sound far longer than necessary.  He had a brief vision in his head of Terzo also doing that while Omega pounded into him and holy fuck he was in so much trouble.  “Judging by my fratello’s hostility I’m assuming you play hockey, sì?”

“Yep.”  He dared to walk closer to the ice, really not sure where all this bravery was coming from but also knowing it had everything to do with how Terzo was looking at him.  “Sweden.”

“Ah, well that’s a pity.”  Terzo set his elbows on the short wall around the rink and rested his chin in his hands.  “Here I was hoping you were Italian and I’d see you more.”

“You can see me whenever you like.”  He hazarded a glance at Secondo and immediately regretted it.  The glare enough to tamp down the brief moment of suave bravery he was feeling.  “I mean, if you want?”

“Oh I definitely want, in fact why don’t we do lun—“

A burst of Italian from Secondo had Omega flinching and Terzo glaring at his brother.  He straightened up from his lean and spat something back at him.  The two went back and forth for a moment before Secondo threw his hands up in the air with an irritated shout.  He directed one last glare Omega’s way before storming off.  

“He ok?” 

“Sì, he’s just tense.  Lots of pressure.  You know how it is.” 

Omega nodded because he did know how it was.  And with this being the Winter Olympics all that pressure was amplified exponentially.  He had no doubt there would be an even larger target on his back if Sweden and Italy met on the ice this year.  But with Secondo gone he felt the spark of bravery returning and knew this was as good a chance as he’d get.  

“So.  Lunch?”  

Terzo smirked and started skating backwards along the wall.  Omega followed him like a duckling, watching as his muscles moved under his costume.  

“Lunch to start with.”  Terzo exited the rink, grabbing his blade covers and easily slipping them on.  “I’m sure we can find something to do after.”  

Omega grinned, ducking his head for a moment to hide his blush.  When he looked up Terzo had moved closer and Omega was definitely in trouble here.  Talk about love at first sight.  

Although the ABBA definitely helped too.

And thus the Butt Sparkle Verse begins...

Read Copia on ICE! part one

My Masterlist ~ My Archive of our Own ~ My Ko-Fi Tip Jar

[pitchsidestories]

New Year's Eve Party (1) II Fridolina Rolfö x Bonmati!Reader

New Year's Eve Party Masterlist I Word count: 1275

With a playful smile you started playing the song Gimme Gimme Gimme which was immediately recognized by your Swedish girlfriend.

From the speakers, the two female leading voices sung passionately, There's not a soul out there. No one to hear my prayer. Amused she turned around to look into your eyes:” You know just because I’m Swedish I don’t automatically love ABBA.”

“But you love that song.”, you reminded her with an innocent grin. “Okay, yes. But not all ABBA songs.”, she sighed but could not help beaming as you were whispering the lyrics into her ear. Won't somebody help me chase the shadows away?

“Maybe Aitana afterwards?”, you suggested while you were trying to hang up some fairy lights to brighten up your home. Both of you were happy about being the host for this Barcelona Team New Year Eve’s party. Amused Fridolina remarked: “Just because she’s called like your sister.” “Yeah true.”, you giggled.

Slightly concerned the tall Blonde furrowed her brows at you:” What are you doing, huh?” “Trying to hang up the fairy lights?”, you responded nervously. She shook her head in disbelief: “There?!” “Yes, I thought it would look pretty.”, you shrugged your shoulders. Clearing her throat Fridolina proposed her idea: “Wouldn’t it look better over there?” “No.” “No?”

“We can try It there and when decide where to put them up.”, you offered her as a peace sign. The Swedish forward observed smirking: “It doesn’t matter to you anyway you can’t reach it.”  “Rude! Maybe with a little bit of help from your side I could reach it.”, you told her.

With ease Fridolina lifted you up so you could put up the fairy lights: “Hurry up, you’re heavy.” “Done.”, you cheered only a few seconds later. Relieved the blonde let you down to your own feet again:” Good. Because I probably shouldn’t lift people with my knee.”

“Oh dios mio, I’m sorry, mi amor.”, you immediately apologized to her tracing kisses all over her to make the pain go by faster. A slight blush creeped up the cheeks of your girlfriend as she reassured you:”I’m okay, don’t worry.”  “Okay, good.”, you replied. Both of you got lost in each other’s eyes.

The warm lights made your brown eyes look golden which fascinated Fridolina very much before a glance at the clock made her realize you two were running out of time sooner than she expected:” But we have to hurry up.” “Right, the first guests will arrive soon.”, you agreed with her more serious in tone than before. Motivated the Blonde clapped in her hands:” And we still have to get ready. So help me put the garlands up.”

“That’s true.“ , you nodded while holding up the other side of the garland so Fridolina could tape it to the wall. You let your gaze drift through the room that now looked more like party location than your home.

“Do you think Lucy will tell her crush how she feels? I mean the whole team knows by now except the one important person.“, you thought out loud, a hint of a smile in your voice. Your girlfriend snorted in reply; “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s Lucy. She’s way too proud for that.“ “Yes but that’s so stupid, Frido.“, you sighed.

Fridolina casually took the garland out of your hand to attach the other side to the wall as well. “We can’t make her see that.“, she shrugged. “Sadly. Leila is coming too, right?", you decide to change the subject while placing some shimmering confetti on the tables that you know you will regret putting there weeks after the party. Taking a step back, your girlfriend eyed her work critically; “Yes, she’s. She wanted to visit her friends here.“

A smile immediately spread on your face, happy that your former team mate came for a visit; “That’s cute.“ “I know, right?“ “Yes, you know back when she played for Barcelona I always felt like Leila and one of our midfielders had that special chemistry.“, you told her with a conspirational wink.

Instead of asking who it was, as you expected, Fridolina just gave you a stern look: “No. Stop trying to play cupid“. “Sorry, I love doing it.“, you blinked at her with big, innocent eyes. Your girlfriend pointed to the cardboard box full of decorations; “Yes, but now we have to focus on the decoration.“ “You’re right.“, you gave in and continued to help her.

A little later, the walls of your house were covered with garlands, balloons and a huge sign that said “2024“. You were very happy with the result. With all the lights and the glitter everywhere, you could feel the excitement rise.

Nervously, you grabbed your phone to check the time and noticed a string of messages from your team mates; “Oh no. The girls on their ways, we need to change into our party clothes!“

“Wait.“, Fridolina called you back. You gave her a puzzled look; “What?“ “We forgot to put up that huge mirrorball.“ You blew out a breath and clapped your hands together; “We need to do this before our guests arrive.“ “Do you think we can reach the ceiling?“, your girlfriend asked while thoughtfully looking upwards. With a shrug, you took the ball; “We can try.“ “I’ll pick you up.“, she decided.

Before you could protest that she shouldn’t do that with her injured knee, you were already in her arms. With a bit of stretching and some accidental kicking of Fridolina, you managed to attach the mirrorball to the ceiling. You had to admit, the room looked even better with all the light being reflected now.

“What do you think you’re doing?“, a voice called from behind them. You both flinched. Startled, Fridolina lost her grip on you, but managed to regain it before you actually fell. “Oh my god, don’t scare us like that!“, she scolded, once your feet were back on the ground. Alexia and her wife stood next to each other in matching dresses and you were immediately reminded that you were still in sweats.

Guiltily you bit your lip before exclaiming:” Honestly we thought you and your wife would be the last to arrive!” “Mama came early.”, Alexia explained, her voice less stern than it was before.  Knowing her teammate and the love she had for her daughter Victoria Alba all too well Fridolina couldn’t help but to tease her a bit: “And will leave early?” “As usual.”, you added.

“It’s good that you’re already here though. The catering service will bring the food any minute now, maybe you can let them in, so we can get dressed in the meantime?”, the Swedish forward asked the wives. The team’s captain did not need long to think about that proposal: “Yes, no worries, I can do that even with my knee.” Relieved you hugged your first visitors before you headed to the bathroom with Fridolina:” Thank you!”

As you were getting ready side by side you could not help but to pause for a second to take the beauty in that was your girlfriend:” You look beautiful Frido.” “Thank you. So do you.”, the Scandinavian woman answered while pressing a soft kiss to your cheek careful not to ruin the makeup you applied a few seconds ago.

The anticipation of the awaiting evening and night got under your skin as you wanted to know from her: “Ready for tonight?”  “Very. I can’t wait.”, Fridolina replied honest.

With a look through the window you saw Mapi, Ingrid, their girlfriend, Patri, Claudia and your sister arriving at your : “Oh yes, seems like the party is about to begin.”

Let us know if you enjoyed Part 1 💙

[helplesslypurple77]

Day 3-Fukuzawa/Reader w/ Lingerie and Wedding Night

Notes: btw the lingerie im describing is the Lorna Lace collection in white. It's super pretty you should google it. Haha lol, and i also realized halfway through writing this that this is technically a rich CEO au, jumping on the hype train i guess

I actually have a healthy relationship with my father, but like any good woman i have a weakness for sexy middle aged men

You had always known this would happen. It was the oldest daughter's duty to marry a man and carry on the family line. This was the fact that had been drilled into your head since you could walk. A girl could not inherit the daily company no, that duty went to the male children, no matter how dumb they were. And you had accepted it as well. It's not like you liked it or anything, in fact you thought the entire rule was old fashioned and doomed to fail, but there really wasn't much choice in the matter.

And you weren't too unhappy, you yourself didn't want to run the company, but your second sister deserved to, not your arrogant, lazy brothers. Second sister had worked hard all her life, was intelligent and beautiful and kind and deserved to inherit the company over the men. Everyone knew it, the servants whispered and gossip was prevalent around high society, but father refused, so intent on tradition that he doomed the company to fail. All you wanted in life was to live a comfortable life with a handsome man who treated you with respect, and maybe have a child or two.

So that's why you were here, a newlywed woman to a man twenty years your senior, sold off like cattle with no choice in the matter. You had never even seen your new husband. The marriage talks had happened without your input obviously and the ceremony was shot down by your father who, ‘didn't want to waste resources on a stuffy event like that.’ All you had were rumors, for your new husband did not like public appearances, and there were suspiciously few photos of him.

Yukichi Fukuzawa, the president of ADA corp, and a man of high social standing and wealth. He was forty-five, apparently a ‘highly upstanding person from a highly reputable background,’ and very wealthy. And also your new husband. You supposed you were lucky to ‘score’ such a highly sought after man, even if he was a lot older than you but you had at least hoped to marry a man closer to you in age. But if you were lucky he would leave you to your own devices and let you live your life happy, if a little lonely.

A knock sounded and second sister peaked her head in, sending you a smile. You relaxed, sinking back onto the soft silk of the bed you were sitting on, and shot her a nervous smile. She slipped inside, closing the door behind her.

Second sister Helena was tall, and with her long golden hair and blue eyes she could have easily been mistaken for a model. She looked nothing like you, and it made sense, given that you had different mothers. Father had sired each of his children with a different woman in an effort to create the perfect male heir. And because father was a man of high standing many women were lining up for the chance to have a child support check. And of course, he picked only the most attractive women. Second sister’s mother was a Swedish runway model, while yours had been a movie actress. Your brother's mothers were also varied, from models to actresses to intellectuals, all with stunning looks and the brains to match. Your father might be a douchebag but his theory held water, all the children of your family were stunning beauties, and all intelligent as well.

She came to sit next to you on the bed, and passed a small box in your direction with an apologetic smile. “I missed your twenty-fifth birthday sis, so here.” You shoot her a grateful thanks, fingering the box in your lap. It's small, maybe five inches and perfectly square, wrapped in colorful polka dot paper. You carefully slip the sides open, trying not to make a mess. Your sister giggles beside you.

“You wanna hear something funny?” You stop, raising an eyebrow in her direction. Whenever that line excites your sister's mouth, she's usually talking about one of two things. Boys, or the most horrific thing you can think of. You'll never forget the one time she preceded that one line by telling you most gleefully that her ex boyfriend had ‘accidentally’ gotten run over then lit on fire then drowned in the ocean. She glares balefully at your expression. “What…it's nothing bad. I met your new husband, and girl,” She pauses, wiggling her eyebrows excitedly. “He's such a dilf! I'm so happy for you!”

It's about now when you get the paper off the present, and see the pink box with black letters scrawled across it that say , ‘Agent Provocateur’ in a pretty curly font. You choke on your spit, and start coughing violently. Your sister pounds you on the back in good spirits. When you finally finish your coughing fit, you turn to her with a bemused smile on your face. “I dont no weather to hit you or hug you, Helena.” She smiles. “Open it.” She says, excitement all over her face. “I just know you're going to love it.”

You do as she instructs, and from within the crinkly tissue paper you pull the naughty treasure inside. You shake your head with a smile, if nothing else your sister has always had good taste. Its white, befitting of a wedding/birthday gift, and the small amount of fabric it possesses is a pretty floral lace. The bra is a half cup, with little white bows at the spot where the strap starts. The panties are lace as well, with a diamond pattern line of holes going all the way around, leaving the embarrassing parts uncovered. It even comes with white lace stockings, and a garter to hold them up. You shoot your sister an embarrassed smile. “Thank you Helena, they're absolutely beautiful.” She gives you a small side hug in response. “I know.” She says. “Now try them on.”

All complaints are useless against her, she uses everything from pleading to guilt tripping and at some point you just give up and do as she requests. And as you gaze on yourself in the mirror, you can really say you're glad you did. You look innocent, but also sexy and powerful and you think that if you were marrying the man you loved you would wear this gift. You feel kind of bad that it's going to stay sealed away in a box for your entire life. The bra hugs your breast perfectly, shoving them up a little to provide the perfect amount of cleavage, and the lace panties frame your butt perfectly. The stockings and garter just add the perfect bit of naughty to the otherwise innocent(as innocent as Lingerie can get) picture. Your sister pokes her head around the bathroom door, grinning as you shriek in embarrassment and yank on the silk robe she had left you. Is suspiciously short, only reaching mid thigh but it's better than nothing.

She shoves you into a chair, and gets started on your makeup. You sigh. “Why do I even need makeup, it's not like anybody is going to see me.” She tuts threateningly. “It's to complete the look. Now don't move.” She starts on your base, and for a while the only sound is her gentle humming, and the squirt of makeup products.

It's not until Helena moves onto the hair that she breaks the peaceful mood. “And did father not tell you? You're supposed to ‘consummate’ the marriage tonight.” You open your eyes abruptly with a shout of surprise. “What?” She shrugs. “I guess he didn't, well anyway he should be coming…” Helena checks her watch with a glance, as she skilfully braids white and pink ribbons into your hair. “In about two minutes!”

Even with your shrieks of protest you're not allowed to move until she finishes her hair, and by the time she does it's already too late. She sends you a smile as she picks up her purse and kisses you on the cheek. You glare. “Helena! You took so long i dont have time to change.” She opens the door and you receive a playful grin. “I know,” She says, and you have the dreadful feeling you’ve fallen into a trap. “That was the plan. Have fun big sister.” And with that, she’s gone, leaving you a nervous wreck done up in lingerie, a honey trap just waiting for a man to fall right in. You rush to the bathroom, throwing a glance at the large mirror. You must admit she did a good job, you look very pretty with pink eyeshadow and gold glitter and your hair done up a sexy half updo, but you don't want to look good. You don't want to look like you were waiting here to seduce him. Hopefully you can just explain yourself and the two of you can just sleep. Of what if he thought you were trying to seduce him and got all cocky. That would be humiliating. Your pride would be forever tarnished and your dreams of a quiet life ruined. All because of Helena and her terrible ideas!

Your (probably too dramatic) spiral of doom is interrupted by a quiet knock on the door. You take a deep breath, steady your heart and tie your bathrobe tight, and answer the door.

The sight that greets you when you open the door is surprising to say the least and you suddenly understand what your sister meant when she said he was ‘a dilf’, for the man in the hallway is, quite literally, the quintessential dilf. He is tall, and oh so handsome, with silver hair and piercing gray blue eyes surrounded by the slightest wrinkles. He clears his throat. “Are you Miss Name?”

You thank your sister for making you learn a poker face and send him a small, blank smile. “Yes, are you Mr. Fukuzawa?” Those sexy eyes scan your face, catching on the gold glitter in the corners of your eyes before he nods. “May I come in Miss?” You open the door wider and allow him in, your smile never wavering. You take your seats, sitting across from each other conveniently ignoring the bed on the other side of the room. In horror you realize the box from your sister is still sitting on the table, but a sigh of relief escapes your lips as you see the top of the box is flipped over, the incriminating lettering hidden from sight.

It's hard not to notice how unfairly sexy Fukuzawa looks in a suit, and it makes all these really inappropriate thoughts of sitting on that lap pour into your brain. But still, you do your best to uphold your smile as you speak. “I'm sorry Mr. Fukuzawa, my father unfortunately forgot to inform me that you would be coming tonight.” Your father most definitely did not forget, it's more than likely that he didn't tell you in fear that you would escape. You cursed your father out in your brain, all while maintaining that smile on your lips.

He nods. “It is alright. I didn't intend to consummate this wedding in the first place.” This is what you wanted, but for some reason you feel a little let down. Maybe he doesn't find you attractive? You sigh, he must be blind then. Or gay.

“I see.” is all you say. The room falls into an uncomfortable silence. It's almost comical how your mood has taken a dramatic turn. Not five minutes ago you were lamenting the fact that your husband might be interested, and now you were unhappy that he in fact, was not interested in you. A slight glare entered your eyes and with your mouth still curved into that small smile you made quite the threatening picture. Fukuzawa spoke again, probably fishing for things to say in an effort to make you more comfortable, because of corse he was kind and able to read the room, and of course he didnt want to fuck you.

“The weather is lovely today isn't it Miss Name?”

“I suppose.” You know you sound curt and unfriendly, and you know it's not fair of you, but you're really annoyed. Fukuzawa’s smile wavers a bit at your curt attitude, but he still smiles comfortingly at you. This only makes you angrier. How dare he be kind and handsome and rich, and not want to fuck you. Life is unfair.

$$$

Fukuzawa feels very uncomfortable right now. Because of course his new wife is a beautiful young thing who deserved someone more close to her age, of course she was upset with the plan that had been forced upon her. He most dearly wished he had been born ten years later, so he may woo her properly. He had read the report he was given of her. Miss Name was highly educated, of excellent parentage and absolutely gorgeous. She probably had a young and handsome boyfriend she wanted to marry.

If not for this whole ordeal she could have been with the man she loved, not a stuffy old man like him. It's really no wonder she’s upset. He sends her a small smile, hoping to sooth her probably injured feelings.

“I'm sorry you had to be involved in this mess Miss Name, I know this situation isn't ideal for both of us.” For some reason, her expression doesn't change at all. Her smile is still in place, but Fukuzawa can tell from her eyes that she’s upset. Her voice is curt when she responds.

“Thank you.” The temperature in the room drops a few degrees. He shivers involuntarily as the room falls back to silence, forcefully keeping his eyes away from her legs, covered in pure white lace, and the hint of a garter peeking out from under that small silk bathrobe. She didn't wear those for him for heaven sakes, she didn't even know he was coming tonight. He has no right to fantasize about what she’s wearing under that bathrobe, she may be his wife, but she will never desire him like that.

He clears his throat. “There's something I must tell you, I have an adopted son.” She perks up, the collar of her bathrobe falling a little, revealing a small strip of tantalizing white lace. The room feels too hot. “Really? How old is he?” The cold tone of her voice is melting away and Fukuzawa congratulates himself on the change of topic. “His name is Ranpo and he's five years old. Would you like to see a picture?” She nods, and Fukuzawa pulls out his phone, and shows her the lockscreen. She leans forward, and Fukuwawa is treated to a flash of white bows and lace as she coos at the photo. “He's so cute!”

Fukuzawa wonders if god hates him. Because of course his new wife is a pretty young thing who doesn't mind the fact that he has a son, and is whose collar is falling more and more, treating him to a divine temptation of white lace, and who will never love a boring older man like him. He wonders why the hell he's acting like a young man with these dirty thoughts, and takes a deep breath as she hands his phone back. The ice on her face has melted a bit, and she looks a bit less like she wants to flay him alive, although she still looks a bit sulky. It's much too adorable. Her lips are in a little pout, and it only succeeded in highlighting how plump and silky they look. They have a pink gloss smeared across them, and all Fukuzawa can think about is those lips wrapped around— he almost smacks himself across the face.

Ok so, Fukuzawa can admit that he is very much in lust with his new wife, it's pretty clear and he feels quite like a degenerate, he just hopes she cant tell. It's clear that she doesn't want him, heck she doesn't even seem to like him that much. And he would rather die, than ever force himself on her in any way. He clears his throat with a cough, shifting a little in his seat. “If it would make you more happy, you could have a lover, if that is what you wish.”

Any ice that had defrosted with Ranpo’s picture is immediately incinerated by her burning hot anger. She sits upright, her spine straight and her eyes burning. “Are you implying that I will cheat on you?” Fukuzawa waves his hands anxiously in denial. “No, that's not what i—” The fire abates, then returns in full force. “Wait, do you have a lover?” Fukuzawa shakes his head. ‘No! I only thought that you might have a younger boyfriend you wished to marry instead of me. After all, this decision was made without your input.” Fukuzawa is relieved to see the fire abate, replaced instead with a sweet kind of thanks.

She leans forward a little, a small sincere smile curving across her pretty lips. “I have no one. But it was very kind of you to ask.” She says, as the ties holding the bathrobe come looser and looser. “And even if I had someone, I would never ask for something like that.” Fukuzawa is horrified by the spike of hope that rises in his chest, pillaging through the walls around his heart and stabbing right in, warming his heart with a futile hope. He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts and emotions as she speaks.

“Would you like something to drink? I have some delicious green tea.” He nods, hoping the soothing aroma and taste will calm him down. She stands, and moves to the small kitchenette across from the bed, starting the tea. She speaks as she works. “So, I heard you met my sister Helena? Tall, blond…” Fukuzawa vividly remembers Helena, a tall blond woman who barged into his dinner and in no uncertain terms told him that if he mistreated her sister she would ruin his life. “Yes, she said hello to me at dinner.”

“I hope she didn't bother you, Helena is harmless, I promise.” It's clear how much love she has for her sister, it drips from every word as she chatters on, excitedly telling Fukuzawa story after story of her sister. Fukuzawa hopes dearly that one day, she will speak of him and Ranpo so fondly. His thoughts are imputent, he knows that, but it's in his best interests to not deny them. He's too old for all of this.

“Here you are, Mr. Fukuzawa.” She leans down, placing a fragrant cup of green tea on the table in front of him. “Call me Fukuzawa.” She shoots him a smile and a nod. “Call me Name.” It's small really, but it feels good. The atmosphere has become pleasant, so different from the earlier tense and icy landscape, and Fukuzawa feels relief, until of course, disaster strikes.

She trips slightly, and the glass of green tea she is carrying spills all over her chest, staining the white fabric green. Thankfully it's iced, but she still panics, probably worried about staining. And you see, the thing is, Fukuzawa knows he should turn around, he knows she’s panicking and she forgot herself for a moment, and he knows he should clear his throat or turn around or something. But he still watches in slow motion as she undoes the ties, pulling off that bathrobe and tossing it hurriedly away.

It's somehow straight out of his fantasies, and yet a curse of his nightmares. It's white, and lace and see-through and Fukuzawa feels all the blood in his body rush south. Maybe it's that the slight glimpses were teasing him the entire evening, or maybe he’s just too pent up, but he feels just like a virgin again, discovering porn for the first time. And it kind of is porn, forbidden 3d porn and he's going to die. She looks heavenly, the lace hugging her pretty boobs, the panties hiding nothing at all, and the garter and stocking combo just straight out of any man's wet dream. He feels like a creep, like a gross disgusting perverted old man and he wants her to suffocate him with that pretty pussy all wrapped up in white lace, he wants those pouty lips on his cock, he wants those legs wrapped around his waist while he pounds her into the bed—

His dick is hard, his mouth is open, and then she looks up, meeting his eyes and Fukuzawa feels fear for the first time in a while.

$$$

You know what happened, you were panicking about expensive lingerie and green tea stains and all you wanted to do was get the stain away from the actual underwear as fast as possible. But as your eyes meet Fukuzawa’s own and you take in his state, you can't really say your sorry. He looks wrecked. His eyes are hazy, his mouth open in shock, and the most telling evidence of all is the bulge in his pants. You let a small smirk overtake your face. He wanted you after all. Elation and arousal are the confusing cocktail at work in your stomach as you saunter around the kitchen table, and sit yourself directly on his inviting lap.

This seems to snap him right out of his daze, and he gestures frantically, an apology on his tongue. “I'm so sorry Name, i didn't—” You press a finger to his lips, feeling sexy and confident as you grind down slightly on the rather large bulge in his pants. He lets out a gratifying grunt, as you lean down, running your hands through his soft silver hair. Your voice is a pur when you speak. “You wanna know something?” you know you look devastatingly sexy, and it makes you feel powerful. “I really like you Fukuzawa.” His cheeks flush all cute, and his dick twitches under you. You continue. “And I want you. Do you want me?” His voice is husky, but still slightly formal when he speaks. “Yes. But are you sure you want me?”

You let out a coy little giggle, and grind down again. His little stifled noises are unfairly sexy, you can feel wetness in your panties already.

“I want you so bad hubby. Now kiss me.” With no more words he grants your request.

Fukuzawa kisses just like he looks, gentle and deep, devouring your very soul with his tongue. It makes your pussy throb desperately, and it makes you feel rushed and hot and the whole thing feels somehow even more sexy. Your hands knot in his hair, tangling the strands with your sweaty fingers as you rut together, barely covered pussy on still clothed cock, cores together. You know your whining, letting out little gasps and breaths and as he hoists you up, draping you right across the kitchen table, hands carefully pulling the crotch of your panties away from your drooling pussy. Its so dirty somehow, here you are, about to be fucked senseless by your sexy new husband, right on your kitchen table. You can't wait. He steps back, shedding his coat and tie, and unbuttoning a few of the top buttons.

He looks so sexy above you, panting as he slips a finger into your pussy, stroking your inner walls slowly. “More.” You whine out, the needy tone in your voice embarrassingly clear. Fukuzawa chuckles, adding another finger as per your request. “Do you have condoms? I'm afraid I didn't bring any.” He speeds up his fingers, playing slightly with your clit, and your head falls back. “Don't care. Maybe you can get me pregnant, hubby.” You can tell it affects him by the way his fingers retreat, swiftly replaced by his cock. You moan loudly as he bottoms out, as he hoists your legs over his shoulder, still almost fully clothed. It turns you on greatly, the contrast from your almost naked self, and his composed, still clothed person. His cock is thick, stretching your walls apart and it pulses inside you. You want him to fuck you stupid senseless.

Your hands grip the side of the table as he begins to move, his pace betraying his sense of urgency. Each thrust is deep, hard, and it moves you back on the table, before his hand on your legs pulls you back. His hair is sweat soaked, sticking to his cheeks as he fucks you, his eyes locked on your own.

“Feel good baby?” He pants, his voice a groan. “Yes, ohh so good.” Your voice is loud, and slightly husky with panted moans and breathes. You're seriously going to explode. For the first time in your life you want to thank your father, for finding you a sexy husband who could fuck you crazy. You still hated the man, but he had done some things right in his life.

He's ruining your insides, and you can feel every pulse and twitch of his dick inside you, all berriors gone. You feel unimaginably full and hot and purfect. He stops to lean down, and grips your thighs in both hands, speeding up his thrusts. Your eyes roll back as he hits that spot, over and over and over again.

“Oh Fukuzawa!” He stops his thrusts, pausing deep inside you and you pant. “Yukichi.”

“What?”

“Call me Yukichi.” Your clenches, even as your heart rate speeds up and you gasp out his name, panting it like your last breath. “Yukichi!” The last of your sentence dissolves in a moan as he resumes, all pretense gone, slamming in and out and in and out, and destroying your insides. “You sound so pretty like this, screaming my name.” His voice is rough and full of pants, and so, so sexy. Your hands leave the edge of the table and reach for your breasts, playing with your nipples harshly. You can feel your orgasm building, that familiar heat in the pit of your stomach, begging to be released.

“ ‘m cumming.” You warn, as his thrusts stutter, losing their rhythm. “Me too.” His voice is deep, and as he slams in one more time, and a hot feeling shoots inside of you, you lose it. You know you scream when you come, and at some point he drops your legs and kisses you, his dick still lodged inside of you. And as you come down from your high, and you feel his strong arms carrying you to the bed, you feel hopeful for your future with your sweet new husband, and all the good fuckings that will come with it.

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