#Swedish drinking games

[destinedtobeloved]

Joel teaches Jimmy Fallon a midsummer Swedish drinking game to ‘redeem the Americans’ :)

[stoertebeker]

Finnish lessons start again this friday <3

[sloshed-cinema]

Border [Gräns] (2018)

There is beauty in finding a space where you belong, where you can express yourself in the most authentic way, even if it doesn’t conform with what the mainstream would deem “normal,” for lack of a better term. As we come to know Tina—which in time is revealed to be the deadname for the troll Reva—the story begins to show its hand. This is a classic coming out story of self-acceptance after a life of denial which was aided and abetted by an apathetic, alternately passively and actively oppressive society. Reva appears different from others, perceives the world differently. In some ways that distinguishes her from others, such as her unique relationship to nature and wildlife, which makes for the only positive moments in her life for the first half of the film. She is uniquely unsuited for domesticity, even if she’s trying to convince herself that she’s not a square peg in a round hole: even pets like dogs can sense something is different. Her ability to sense human guilt or shame is useful, whether working as a customs agent or serving as attaché in a police investigation of a child trafficking ring. But by and large people abhor her. A chance for discovery comes in the form of someone similar to her, the traveler Vore who is much more comfortable with the skin he lives in. Cue the usual steps: initial rebuffs, a fraught moment that pushes the pair together, okay they’re kissing now, trolls kiss like middle schoolers giving it their first shot, oh they’re getting more passionate okay ohMYGOD THEY REALLY ARE GOING ALL OUT WHAT IS HAPPENING It’s wonderful to see a film which goes for something so outside of classic portrayal of love and really leans into it, but holy cow do I have some images seared into my retinas after that. The film normalizes all of this, shoots these sequences with all of the usual tropes and headiness of cis-het romance scenes, while letting this pair explore their love without judgment.

Where things fall apart to a degree for me is in the inexplicable twists and turns of the perhaps not even really necessary crime B-story. Reva and Vore have differing views on humanity. Newly learning of her true heritage, Reva is still bound to the human world. Vore, however, is angry at humanity for all of the atrocities they’ve committed against the planet and his people. But when the film suddenly decides to reveal his role in the criminal enterprises Reva has assisted in bringing to justice feels sloppy and baffling. It’s one thing to portray a character with a wholly different sense of morality, but here it just feels slapdash. Cracks begin to show in the structure of that entire substory. Some hand-waving is fine in an allegorical story like this as far as I’m concerned; as long as the intent is clear, that’s what really matters. But here, how does the Swedish justice system even work such that breaking into a home to obtain evidence can somehow count and therefore advance the plot? It reeks of convenience. Later, after Vore’s involvement comes to light, he becomes more of a chaotic anarchist figure with whom Reva must reckon. He’s always been unapologetically himself, but it’s hard to sympathize with a radical activist type of figure when they’re kidnapping fucking babies. What even happens to the neighbors’ baby? Fuck them, I guess? Oh yeah, now here’s a random baby you have to care for, Reva. Vore seems more and more like a real stand-up troll.

THE RULES

SIP

Reva/Tina interacts with wildlife.

Someone is apprehended due to sus scents.

Bug snacks.

BIG DRINK

Swimming time.

Reva/Tina's scar is mentioned.

LIVER TRANSPLANT WAITLIST MODE

Sip any time a troll does that Flehman Response upper lip thing while smelling.

[rcmclachlan]

from the micro story word list: 19 (sea change) or 46 (shimmer)!

"It never stops being weird seeing fake snow on people's roofs," Buck says, eyeing the house across the street. It's the epitome of everything he hates about Christmas now: the snow blankets are stapled in weird places, the LED lights are too bright and their shimmer makes the house look like a Swedish nightclub, and the 14-foot inflatable Grinch is just begging for someone with an LAFD-issued multitool to go over and accidentally slash it ten times.

Next to him, Tommy takes a thoughtful sip of his beer—salt and lemon gose, because he's a Batman villain—and murmurs, "You were lucky to have the real thing growing up. I always wanted a real white Christmas."

Tommy's voice is still clogged with tears. It sounds like there are river rocks in his throat.

"You wouldn't say that if you had to shovel four feet of lake effect snow out of your driveway while everyone else was opening presents," Buck grumbles, draining the rest of his ginger ale in one go, then drops his cheek to Tommy's shoulder with a sigh.

Wordlessly, Tommy wraps an arm around him and snugs him in close.

It's been almost an hour since Buck showed up on Tommy's doorstep with eight pounds of homemade fruitcake and goaded Tommy into a shouting match on his front lawn, which his neighbors must have loved, especially at 10:45 on Christmas Eve. He knows Tommy was absolutely mortified, but not enough to take the fight inside, which means that when Buck looks back on tonight, the only thing he'll remember—other than Tommy screaming "Of course I'm in love with you, Evan! That's not the issue here!"—is the way that fucking inflatable Grinch lit Tommy's tear-stained face up in the most hideous neon green color ever invented.

Buck closes his eyes and stretches out his legs. They clear all three of the little stairs leading up to Tommy's platform porch and his heels land on one of the flagstone steppers built into the pathway. Tommy had laid the walk-up the first year he moved in and was still so proud of it; he smirked at the stones sometimes, like he'd bested them, like they'd lost some fight that Buck would've given anything to have watched.

He wishes he'd remembered the flagstones before he asked Tommy to move in; it might've saved him a lot of grief and oven cleaner.

"Worth it, though," Tommy says. "Someday I'll see snow on Christmas."

Buck already knows he's going to regret opening his mouth, but he can't stop it. "M-Maybe next year? Before climate change turns Hershey into the new Tampa?"

For a horrible, endless moment, Tommy says nothing. He just drinks his beer and strokes a thumb over Buck's arm. Meanwhile, Buck's ready to rip his own skin off and run screaming into the night. They already laid it all out on the line—Tommy pacing a new pathway in the lawn, Buck standing on the biggest flagstone stepper like he was playing a one-man game of The Floor Is Lava, both of them shouting over each other to be heard—and if Tommy's going to stage a retreat now, if he's going to go back on his promise to fight through the fear and try, Buck's going to start ripping up the flagstones.

Then Tommy presses a long, hard kiss to Buck's hair. "We're not staying with your parents."

Shakily with relief, Buck lifts his head and slots their lips together, slipping his tongue in because he can. The inside of Tommy's mouth tastes like vomit. He's going to dash the rest of that bullshit beer on the flagstones as soon as he sees an opening.

"I wouldn't do that to my worst enemy." He pulls back just enough so he can watch exasperation try to chase the smitten expression off Tommy's face when he follows that up with, "never mind someone I'm planning to baby trap within the next five years."

They end up rutting against each other right there on Tommy's porch in full view of neighborhood, and he hopes the Grinch tells all the Whos down in Whoville how Buck's heart and dick grew three sizes that day.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shirt Swap V

Magdalena Eriksson x Child!Reader

Fridolina Rolfö + Zećira Mušović x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: After the Denmark-England game

By the time you've been returned to Magda and the Swedish girls, you're high on sugar, still wearing Keira Walsh's shirt and finding everything unbelievably funny.

Pernille dumps you in Magda's arms, kisses her softly before hurrying off.

Magda looks at you with wide eyes.

"Where's Rocky?" You ask her.

"What?" She says," No hello for your Morsa?"

You shrug. "Hi, Morsa. Where's Rocky?"

She sighs. "Up in our room. Did you have fun at the match?"

You nod, pulling on your shirt. "Keira Walsh gave me her jersey, see?"

"I can see. And what's this one?"

There's another jersey bundled up in your hand and Magda has an inkling of whose it is.

"Mary Earps!" You chirp," She's England's keeper! She's going to win keeper of the year."

Magda laughs, hefting you a bit higher as she makes her way back into the dining hall. "Is she now?"

You nod. "She is. I know she is."

"You used to know Earps, you know. When you were little."

You frown as Morsa sits down at her table with Frido and Zećira. "No, I didn't."

"Yes you did. Earps used to play with your Momma at Wolfsburg. The same time as Caro did and you remember Caro."

"I don't remember Mary."

"That's okay." Morsa starts to place some food onto your plate. "You were very, very little. I'm still surprised you remember Caro so well."

"Caro's cool," You insist," She scores goals like Momma and talks like Ingrid."

"And Mary isn't?"

"She's cool!" You insist," But I didn't know I knew her when I was very little."

"I've got pictures." Morsa shows you pictures sent from Momma when you were younger.

You were a pudgy baby, you think. Your cheeks are full and your head is kind of big but Morsa's right. There's lots of pictures of you and Mary Earps.

She looks younger too, like you, but she is holding you and she is smiling.

You think for a moment. "Can I wear her shirt please?"

Moster Frido laughs. "I thought Keira Walsh is your favourite player in the world. Are you telling me you'll swap her shirt for someone else's?"

You rolls your eyes. "Keira Walsh isn't my favourite player in the world. My favourite player in the world is Zećira."

Zećira reaches out for a high five that you happily give her.

"Oh, silly me," Frido laughs," But Keira Walsh is your second favourite though. Are you sure you want to swap her shirt for Earps'?"

You give her another condescending look that really has Frido wondering if you were really Magda's because the expression was all Pernille.

"They're only shirts, moster," You say, patting her hand in a way that somehow makes Frido feel like a little child," I don't have to wear them forever."

Zećira snickers. "Yeah, Frido, she doesn't have to wear them forever."

Morsa laughs but helps you change right at the table as you cram food into your mouth.

"Can I wear this one to bed?" You ask her when your head pops through the neck hole and she laughs.

"You're asking me but I don't think you're actually asking me, are you?"

You give her a toothy grin and she ruffles your hair.

"Momma says it's always polite to ask."

"Yes, you can wear Earps' shirt to bed."

You go back to your food, interspersed with accounts of the game and how worried you were when Keira Walsh went down with her knee.

"Morsa," You say randomly," Can Rocky sleep in bed with me?"

Frido and Zećira start laughing, almost hysterically, at the stricken look on Magda's face at your question.

"No, princesse," She says," You can't sleep in bed with Rocky."

"That's okay," You reply," I was only asking to be polite."

Magda chokes on her drink, suddenly feeling out of depth in her parenting here. None of the books ever covered what to do when your child was asking (or really telling) you about sleeping with her pet rock.

"Princesse," She says," I don't-"

"That's a great idea!" Zećira butts in with a grin that makes Magda's eye twitch in outrage," Why don't we go bring Rocky down here and show him your new shirts!"

You quickly wiggle out of your seat and hold your hand out to Magda. "Keycard, please, Morsa."

"No," Magda says, still scrambling to keep in control of the situation," You're not bring the rock down here."

You shrug and turn to Frido. "Keycard, please."

Frido, the traitor, hands over the keycard and you skip off with Zećira to grab Rocky.

[pelova4president]

Blind date

Fridolina Rölfo x Reader

summary~ When your bestfriend asks you to go on a date with a girl she knows for the hundredth time, you finally agree. You didn’t know the girl and you definitely wouldn’t have known what the future held for the two of you.

When you agreed to go on a blind date, one that your bestfriend had set up you didn’t expect it to turn out like this.

When Mapi, your bestfriend since forever told you she knew a nice girl that you’d like you were a bit sceptical. Mapi had sent you on a few blind dates and the girls she chose were all a bit.. different. One of the girl she set you up with had told you about her collection of used socks while another girl tried to get you to go horse riding with her in Brazil, you had just met her.

To be fair, a few of the girls were okay. They were nice but that was it, nothing more than a friendship at most.

Mapi knew you were hopelessly single. You complained to her almost everyday. ‘I just want to have a girlfriend, i wouldn’t have to be a third wheel with you and Ingrid all the time’ and ‘I want a girlfriend for my birthday’ while looking at a couple that walked by.

Your bestfriend wanted nothing more than to see you happy but she was out of girls to set you up with. Luckily she had her girlfriend who did know someone that would be interested.

When Ingrid had suggested her bestfriend and their teammate, Fridolina Rölfo, Mapi was a little taken aback. “Since when does Frido like girls?” she asked her girlfriend. Ingrid shrugged, “I don’t know, since always. Besides, y/n is exactly Frido’s type.”.

And just like that, you ended up in a Greek restaurant a few blocks away from your apartment. Mapi had told you about the girl. She was a footballer, just like your bestfriend and ‘just your type’ Mapi had said. The only instructions you got were ‘be there at 8 and wear something… a bit more revealing but still acceptable you know. I’ll text you the adress.’.

It had already been 8, it had been for about ten minutes now. When the waiter came over to you to ask what you wanted to drink you ordered a mojito. A little alcohol for courage.

It was about ten minutes later, 8.20 pm when your date decided to arrive.

You saw a tall blonde women walk in, she was beautiful and indeed your type. While your eyes were glued to her dress, her big blues were watching you. The Swede walked over to your table and offered her hand. That took you out of your trance and you shook her hand. “Hi, you must be y/n, i’m Frido.” she said in an insanely attractive voice. “Uh- yeah, that’s me. Hi Frido.” you waved dumbly.

She found it rather adorable and laughed at your shyness. “I’m sorry for being late, training took longer than expected.” Frido apologised.

Talking to the Swede you found out that she played with your bestfriend. You knew some of the girls Maria played with but those were mostly Spanish girls. Not being too interested in football you never really watched any of Maria’s games.

Frido had played for Bayern and Wolfsburg, in Germany for a few years and played for Sweden’s National team.

The footballer that sat in front of you was confident, flirty and sweet. She made you blush with every flirtatious comment she made. “You have beautiful eyes.” she complimented. Your cheeks were beyond red when the two of you finally asked for the bill. Frido insisted on paying since she wanted to ‘invest’ in your connection.

There was a hand on the small of your back when you exited the restaurant. “I don’t really want this date to end.” you whispered softly. The Swedish footballer beamed at that, “Me neither, we could take a walk or.. i could take you to mine?” she suggested.

You really liked Frido, more than you’ve ever liked one of your dates. Did she just wanna have sex and move on or was she really interested in another date? You were silent, thinking about Frido’s intentions.

“We don’t have to do anything. You could just come over for a drink and i’ll drive you home after.” Frido told you. She didn’t want you to think she only wanted to have an one night stand.

After agreeing to her last offer, you stepped into her car. Frido was holding the car door open like a real gentlewomen. She drove a nice black car, just like you would expect. It suited her.

The car ride was nice, there was music on and you had a lighthearted conversation. You told Frido about your workplans and how you would love to go to Sweden sometime. “I’ll take you sometime. I know the best places so you’ll need me as your tour guide.” she said, placing her hand on your thigh. You looked down at her hand and began to blush, again. “I’d love that.” you answered nervously.

When you arrived at Frido’s apartment it shocked you at how beautiful her apartment had been styled. It was so her. Frido took your jacket and hung it up. “What would you like to drink?” she asked you, walking towards her kitchen island.

“I’ll have some white wine, please.”, you sat down in front of her. She placed the white wine and a glass of water for herself on the marble counter. You looked a bit confused at that. “I’ll have to drive you home safely, baby.” she answered confidently. The nickname made your cheeks heat up and you nodded understandingly.

The rest of night went smoothly and just how you’d like it to go. Frido was a charmer and eventually got a kiss out of you. “You’re a really good kisser, i might need another kiss now.” she smirked at you. Giving her an innocent kiss on her cheek you grabbed your jacket. “I’ll give you another on our next date.” you winked confidently, the alcohol had finally began to sink in.

Frido grabbed her jacket and drove you home.

You got a text the next morning.

Frido <3

I had a really good time yesterday.

You

Me too, you’re a real charmer.

Frido <3

Glad to know i charmed you baby.

I’m playing tomorrow, would you like to come and watch?

You

Yeah sure, text me the details.

You never really went to football games. You could’ve if you wanted, your bestfriend plays for the best women’s team in the world right now. It was never really appealing to you, watching twenty-two people run after a ball for ninety minutes. But now that Frido’s playing it’s another story.

You drove to the stadium and got guided to the family and friends section. Having been there once or twice for Mapi’s games you already knew some of the people there.

When the game ended, Barcelona winning 6-0 like any other game, Frido walked into the lounge. She had just showered and put her hair into a messy bun, looking attractive as can be. She walked over to you and gave you a hug. Inhaling her vanilla scent you smiled against her neck.

“Would you go with me if i said that i have a little surprise planned for you?” Frido whispered in your ear. You looked at her, a little smile creeping up on your face. “Hmm, don’t know… i don’t really like surprises.” you said teasingly.

The blonde laughed, “Hmm, too bad for you. I’ve already got it ready so you’ll need to go.” she said with a smirk.

That’s how you ended up at her place, again. She had a little cooking date planned. Frido was romantic, sweet and everything you could’ve hoped for.

y/n_y/l/n posted on their story

When you came home later that night you knew that it was her. Although you didn’t want to admit it to Mapi, Frido was the girl you liked, maybe even loved.

You texted her constantly and whenever Frido wasn’t at training you would go on dates or just stay in. The only disadvantage was that Frido was travelling, constantly. It was hard to have a bestfriend that was travelling all over the world but someone you were dating would be even worse. So when the Swedish forward was out of Barcelona you tried to facetime every moment you could.

It was going fast and you were falling in love with her even faster. It was when you reached the two months mark of ‘dating’ that everything went crashing down.

Frido didn’t respond to your texts anymore and she didn’t pick up your calls. She was ghosting you.

What did you do? Did you go too fast? Were you too clingy? Maybe too distant? Was it because you’re not a footballer?

After days of being an absolute wreck you decided that you should go out. If Frido didn’t want you, you didn’t want her.

The bar wasn’t exactly a bar you would go to but it would do. It was a bit more crowded and bigger than what you’d normally go for.

A few drinks in you were determined to dance. It was a you night, you deserved to enjoy yourself.

When you turned around to get another drink you saw a few women walk in. Some of the Barca girls walked into the bar, a Swede included. You turned around immediately and started to dance again. A man walked up to you, took your hips in his hands and started dancing with you.

You didn’t exactly like it but you wanted to make Frido jealous, to let her see what she was missing and that you could move on too. You didn’t need her.

Frido saw you the moment she walked in and she didn’t like the way that man was holding you, not at all. You were hers, why were you acting like this?

The man turned you around and leaned in to kiss you when a hand yanked him away. “What the fuck is your problem?” he yelled. Frido shoved him away, “Stay the fuck away from her, she’s not yours.”. The man walked away and the defender turned her head to look at you just to see you walk away from her, towards the toilets.

You didn’t know what her problem was. Why was she ghosting you one moment and the other she’s acting like your girlfriend. And even now, she’s following you.

“What the fuck do you want Frido?” you said annoyed. “Y/n, what’s your problem? I thought we had something.” she replied equally annoyed. You scoffed at her, “One moment i think you might be the love of my life and you’re literally perfect and the other you fucking ghost me. How would you think i’d react, just wait around until you decide that you want to talk to me again?”.

Everything clicked in that moment. Frido knew why you acted like you did. But wait, ‘One moment i think you might be the love of my life’?.

“You really think that i might be the love of your life?” the blonde asked.

“That’s not what i’m saying Frido. You fucking ghosted me.” you said placing your point finger on her chest. “Oh fuck, yeah but let me explain. When we were in Italy, just before the first game, Lucy dropped my phone into the pool. I couldn’t get a new one since we were practically in the middle of nowhere. We didn’t have time to drive three hours to get a new one. I’m sorry but i sent you a letter, i thought it’d be romantic, i hoped it would arrive but it clearly didn’t.” she explained.

You sighed and took your finger down to hug her. She laughed and closed her arms around you. “It’s not funny. I was worried and i thought you didn’t want to talk to me anymore. I’m still mad at you.” you whispered against her chest. “I would always want to talk to you, you know that. But about earlier, you kinda said you loved me.” she said softly. You pushed her and looked up, “Is that literally the only thing you’re thinking right now? Yeah i love you, wasn’t that obvious. I wouldn’t keep talking to someone that was everywhere but near me if i didn’t love them.”.

Frido looked down at you and kissed your lips gently, “i love you too.”. You stood up on your toes, silently asking for another kiss. “I believe it’s your turn to ask me something now, then you’ll get a kiss” Frido said. “Alright then… Clumsy, romantic, arrogant but sweet sweet Fridolina, will you be my girlfriend?” you asked her with pouting lips.

“Ofcourse i’ll be your girlfriend, took you long enough to ask.” she said softly, leaning in to give you your kiss. “You ask next time then.” you whispered against her lips.

Ingrid walked into the bathroom and stood there, eyes wide and mouth agape. “Ingrid, why ar- Oooh, so it did work out hmm.” Mapi said, making you realise that the door had been opened. Both of you stood there awkwardly while your bestfriend and her lover looked at you. “See, I said that they’d work out, i know my girls.” Ingrid said smugly. Frido rolled her eyes and walked out, taking you with her.

You’d been living your WAG life for about a year and a half when Frido took you to Sweden, just like she had promised you on your first date. You finally got to meet her family and see the country that she grew up in and loved so much.

fridolinarolfo posted on their story

Frido had planned the whole trip. She finally had some time off. The World Cup had exhausted her and you knew it. She did everything she could but her team ended third. You were so proud of her but she couldn’t help but be a little disappointed, this was just another ‘almost a winner’ prize.

She needed to take her mind off football, she needed you and her family. The both of you had tried for a baby. The first two attempts were unsuccessful and it really got into your mind so the both of you decided to stop testing daily. Little did your lover know that just a few days after the last World Cup game, you got the two stripes. You were pregnant.

You wanted nothing but to tell her, she’d be so happy. But you needed to find a special moment. The Swede had planned a date night and you thought that that’d be the perfect moment to give her the news.

fridolinarolfo posted on their story

You were amazed by the set-up in front of you. She’s always been a romantic. You had to wipe a tear away and Frido chuckled at that.

When the both of you were sat and Frido told you about her niece and how she absolutely adored you, you decided to tell her the news.

“I’m sure our baby would adore you too babe. You’ll just have to wait a few months.” you smiled. Your lovers smile dropped. She was shocked to say the least. “You mean it? Are you really pregnant?” she asked with glassy eyes. You nodded yes and the tears were already running down your cheeks. “We’re really gonna be moms? Am i gonna be a mamma?” you nodded again. She stood up and gave you a hug and a kiss on your forehead.

When she let you go, she got down on one knee. She opened a little wooden box. “I don’t think i’ll ever get a better moment to do this. You’re sweet, caring and really really beautiful. I love you and even though i can be a little uh- clumsy sometimes i’ll do my very best for our little family, will you marry me?” she asked looking up with hopeful blue eyes. You leaned down to kiss her and whispered “Oh Frido, ofcourse.”.

fridolinarolfo, y/n_y/l/n

liked by zeciramusovic and 268.725 others

two in one 🍼💍

comments

ingrid_engen so so much happiness

marialeonn16 told you you’d like her

↳ y/n_y/l/n yeah yeah whatever

aitanabonmati 😍😍

lucybronze sorry not sorry about the phone

↳ fridolinarolfo 🙄

fcbfemeni 🍼❤️💙

wosowonze they’re so cute!!

ch3ls3a how did they keep this secret for so long

Frido was there the whole pregnancy, except for when she was away for games. Luckily you didn’t have any big symptoms, everything went fine. If you craved something Frido would take a quick trip to she store, if you wanted to cuddle she would wrap her arms around as soon as possible. All you needed was some support.

When you were 37 weeks pregnant Frido took some time off. She wanted to be there when you’d give birth to your baby. And it was probably the best she did because when the both of you were sat on the couch, watching her team play, your water broke.

You laid on top of your fiancé, your head in the crook of her neck. She felt the wetness on her pants and looked down, immediately in panic mode. “Babe, i think your uh- water broke.” she whisper yelled. You sat up, inspecting the wet spot, you were definitely giving birth today.

Frido lifted you up bridal style and laid you down in the back of her car. “Fuck baby, i’m driving as fast as i can okay.” she yelled. You weren’t half as stressed as she was. “Yeah baby, it’s gonna be alright.” you assured her as if she was the one giving birth.

Just like how she got you into the car she carried you into the hospital.

The birth of your baby girl was fast. She was out within an hour. Frido almost passed out and needed to sit down to hold her. She was just like Frido, a little Swede. Her little blonde hairs and big blue eyes had the both of you mesmerised. She really was a little angel.

fridolinarolfo, y/n_y/l/n

liked by brunavilamala and 243.820 others

little Freja Ingrid Maria Rölfo 🤍

comments

ingrid_engen still can’t believe you named her after us 🥹

marialeonn16 tía más orgullosa ❤️

swewnt 💛💙

amandailestedt can’t wait to meet her

magdalenaeriksson16 little freja ❤️

janafernandez3 preciosa niña pequeña

lucybronze you’re gonna be the craziest moms and i’ll be the cool aunt 😎

samkerrr1244 she has the world at her feet already

fr1dooo they’re milfs fr

Frido loved your little girl. She was everything the two of you could’ve wished for. Frido spent as much time with you and your daughter as she could, when your fiancé had to go on long trips it was likely you and Freja would join.

y/n_y/l/n posted on their story

Freja was a little monster, she loved to be naughty. From the moment she could walk she would run away, making it hard to catch her. Freja loved watching her mommy play football and often wanted to join, even when the team was doing a warm-up for a big game. One time she actually escaped and ran to your lover on the field. Frido picked her up and let her play with one of the footballs for a bit before Mapi and Ingrid picked her up.

Your bestfriend and her lover were obsessed with your girl. They had her over for little sleepovers whenever they could and Freja loved Mapi’s cat. Ingrid liked to bake with the little monster but that often ended up with the whole kitchen, including Freja, under the flour.

ingrid_engen posted on their story

Frido also loved to dress your daughter. The little outfits she put together were ridiculously cute. Freja had a big opinion for such a little girl so it was a huge win when she approved of the outfit her mamma had picked out for her.

fridolinarolfo posted on their story

You adored your little family. They were a little weird and clumsy but still, perfect. Never in a million years would you have thought that you’d gotten this out of a silly blind date.

fridolinarolfo, y/n_y/l/n

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 152.263 others

big year, bigger years ahead.

comments

marialeonn16 can’t wait to see my little niña again

alexiaputellas she’s so big already 🥹

aitanabonmati ❤️❤️

ingrid_engen i’ll have to come to Sweden to see her for New Year’s!!

swewnt happy new year 💙💛🥹

sw3denw0s0 Freja needs to play for Sweden too!!

ars3nalwomen11 Frido should come to Arsenal next season

wosonr12 their little family is everything!!

A/N Frido is so stockholm aesthetic and pinterest coded. Happy early new year to everyone and thank you for reading my fics, i’ve started posting like twenty days ago and the support has been amazing <3

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: so excited to share my fic for the eras tour fic challenge, so creatively and wonderfully put together by @wyattjohnston and @comphy-and-cozy 🥰 my song was ‘the last time’ so i definitely leaned into the angst here (with an extremely healthy dose of smut). it’s not necessarily a toxic relationship, but i think there are undertones of toxicity there. anyway! enjoy and let me know your thoughts!! ❤️‍🔥

word count: 3.9k

tw: on and off relationship with some minor toxicity, oral (f receiving), fingering (f recieving),

summary: william’s at your door again and you keep letting him in even though you shouldn’t

“No.”

Your tone is flat and you cross your arms over your chest, a protective measure as much as it is a display of your feelings towards the man standing in front of you. Your lips flatten into a straight line and you can feel your shoulders tense up.

“Sötnos,” William murmurs the Swedish term of endearment and braces his hand on the doorjamb.

“No,” you repeat yourself, just as firmly. “How did you get up here?”

It’s a stupid question. Your doorman, Gus, loves William - thinks the sun shines out of his ass, especially after William had dropped comp tickets off at his desk a few times during the season. Of course Gus is going to let him upstairs, not that you’d actually told Gus to ban him. You should’ve told Gus to ban him.

“Don’t answer that,” you snap, before he can open his mouth. “Just leave.”

He looks rough, dark circles under his eyes and a downward curve to his lips that seems deeper than superficial. The Leafs had been eliminated two nights ago, bounced by the Bruins in seven games after William had been the only one to score a goal in that final game. A sharp, uncomfortable pang of sympathy for your ex settles in your chest and you wish it didn’t.

“Sötnos, c’mon. Let me in,” he’s borderline close to a plea. The term of endearment falls too easily from his lips, your second name during the time you were dating.

“I’m serious, William,” you sigh, suddenly exhausted down to your bones. “I’m not doing this. I can’t do this.”

His blue eyes sharpen and his jaw sets. “Do you have someone over?” The question is sharp and uncalled for, jealously practically dripping from his pores. At any other time you’d love his reaction, but it’s too little, too late and just annoys you more.

“Even if I did,” you hiss, “it’s none of your fucking business since you dumped me, remember?”

You’ve been on and off for more than a year, both of you too stuck in your ways to really commit. It was simple at first, to be at each other’s place when you were both in town, to say you were dating - boyfriend and girlfriend had been easy labels - but for all of William’s easygoing Swedish ways, he can be difficult and stubborn.

Not that you’re perfect either, happy to have your free time and flirt at bars with handsome men after a few drinks with your girls. But somewhere along the line, you’d made the stupid mistake of wanting more from him. Sure, you’d gotten a drawer in his dresser and your stuff occasionally cluttered his condo, but you’d also spent four of the last six months broken up when William decided that he needed to focus on hockey.

He’d come around your place after his eight-game goalless streak was broken and you’d gotten back together just as the Leafs were clinching a playoff spot. You’d spent the night with his head between your legs, him wearing your thighs as earmuffs and eating you out until his beard was soaked and your legs couldn’t stop shaking.

You’d thought that time was different, all the sweet words he’d spoken into your skin, alternated with pure filth.

There’s an 88 blue satin bomber jacket in your closet, unworn, that you thought was a sign that things were different. A jacket that William had apparently approved when the other girls had asked him about including you.

Joke’s on you.

Dumped two days before the playoffs started, by a William who was stressed and anxious and, as you found out later, suffering from migraines that would keep him off the ice for three games.

The sympathy settles again, like a rock in your stomach.

“I remember,” he says now, shoving a hand through his hair. “Let me in, please. I just want to talk.”

“The last time we talked,” you air quote the word, “you fucked me so hard I nearly forgot my own name and then dumped me three weeks later. So, forgive me if I’m not feeling chatty.”

Subconsciously though, you’ve stepped back into your apartment and William’s stepped inside. The door is still open, his body blocking you from being able to close it, until he moves to the side and closes it himself, leaning his back against the wood.

“Then let me talk,” he says. “You just listen.”

You’re mad that you even brought up the sex, but you’re surprised that William didn’t latch onto that with a sly comment and a smirk.

“I don’t want to listen,” you sound petulant. “I’m tired of letting you in, thinking things are different, only to find out that I don’t matter to you.”

William’s eyebrows fly up his forehead and his eyes go wide. “What?” He nearly shouts, suddenly fired up. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I don’t matter to you,” you repeat, slower, emphasizing each word. It feels like a knife in your chest, to voice the feeling you’ve had for weeks. “We’ve been doing this dance, you come to me when you’re on an upswing, drop me when you’re not. It’s pretty obvious, William, where I land on the list of things you care about.”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s not obvious to me,” he says, stepping away from the door. “Explain to me where you think you fall.”

“I’m not doing that,” you snap. To your horror, tears well up in your eyes. “If you don’t know what I am to you, I’m not explaining shit.”

“Of course I care about you, of course you’re important to me,” he says, reaching for your hand. “It’s hard, with hockey, to balance…”

You can’t help it, a scoff slips past your lips, the derisive sound stopping William in his tracks. “You’re not balancing anything,” you mutter. Ticking them off on your fingers, you list out the last three breakups, “you dumped me when the season was staring, when you’d gone on the goalless streak, and now, when playoffs were starting. Clearly, I am not as important to you as hockey is. So, I’m done. This is the last time I let you in, go play hockey, William.”

His entire face pulls down in an unhappy expression, eyebrows scrunching together over his nose. “I fucked up, okay? Is that what you want me to say? I’m not used to having to take someone else’s feelings into consideration, but I’m trying,” he reaches out for your hands and you don’t stop him, against your better judgment.

William’s hands are warm and dry and you hate the little spark of desire that flickers low in your stomach when he rubs the pads of his thumbs over your knuckles.

“It’s too late,” you shake your head, your hands still in his. “I don’t want to do this anymore, I don’t want to let you keep stomping on my heart.”

“Let me make it up to you,” his tone is sweet, cajoling. His hands move up your arms, thumbs tracing over the veins on the inside of your wrists. You shiver and he smiles. “Let me prove how much I care about you.”

Your lips twitch at the corners and you fight the smile that threatens. William’s hands trail up your arms, cupping your elbows briefly to pull you closer and you go, stumbling slightly on the step into him. His fingers tighten around your elbows and you pout at him, your resolve weakening with William’s proximity, the woodsy cedar scent of his cologne filling your senses and making your head fuzzy.

You’re good at this, the both of you. Being fun, flirty with each other. The sex is unbelievable, it’s so easy to fall back into his arms when he looks at you with those icy blue eyes all liquid heat and desire.

“Are you going to let me show you how much I care, sötnos?” William’s voice is a low rumble that makes goosebumps rise on your arms, the memory of that voice speaking filth into your hair as he fucked you like his life depended on it.

“This is the last time,” you swear, rocking forward on the balls of your feet. William grins and meets you halfway, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. His hands are cupping your cheek, the back of your head to position you at an angle for him to deepen the kiss.

You moan into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your body against the length of his. You can feel the ridge of his erection against your stomach, hot through the layers of clothes. William’s fingers tangle in your hair, tugging until there’s a sharp prick of pain in your scalp and you gasp, arching against him.

“Make the best sounds,” he mumbles against your lips, pulling back slightly, grinding his hips against yours. “Missed those sounds.”

He feels so good, solid against you and you’ve missed him even though it’s only been a few weeks.

“Will…” you whine his name, gasping when he bites and sucks at your pulse point, a flood of arousal between your legs. You roll your hips mindlessly, desperate for more. You’re unbearably wet for him, your body intimately acquainted with his talents and ready for more after being deprived.

His beard scratches your skin and you feel his lips curl into a smile against your neck, the edges of his teeth pressing against your skin. “I know,” he mumbles, biting gently. “I’m gonna give you everything you want, promise. I’m gonna make it so good for you, you’ll forget your own name.”

You’re being moved, walked backwards to your couch, with William’s lips all over your neck and collarbone. His hands are on your hips, holding you flush against his cock, and you wiggle in his grip, whines falling from your mouth around pleas for anything, everything.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the couch and you’re falling, wrapped in William’s arms to cushion the impact. He braces himself, still landing on you with a little exhale and a laugh, making you giggle too. Sex has always been fun with him, laughter filling any room you’re in, and this is no different. He peppers your face with kisses, making you laugh even harder, until you’re pushing at his chest and gasping for him to stop so you can catch your breath.

“No, no,” he grins wickedly, “I’m not stopping, I’ve missed you.” His hand slides over your hip and up the hem of your shorts, two fingers teasing at the damp fabric of your panties. You buck your hips into his touch. “Feels like she missed me too.”

Heat flushes your chest and you turn your face away from him, embarrassed at how wet you are from just kissing. You mumble something, incomprehensible to both you and William, and he laughs again, teasing at your clit through the fabric. Your legs twitch to wrap around his waist, but he’s got you pinned in place with his thighs on the outside of yours.

“Don’t hide that pretty face,” he leans down to kiss you, adding more pressure to your clit so you moan into his mouth. “Had to think about you and this perfect pussy every day to get some relief. My dick’s never been harder than when I’m remembering it buried in you.”

To emphasise the point, William slots his hips between yours, pressing the thick bulge of his cock against your cunt, thrusting his hips lightly to work you up even more. Your breath hiccups in your chest and pleasure builds in your stomach, desperate for relief.

“Don’t tease,” you whine, digging your nails into his back muscles, dragging them down to leave marks. Neither of you have ever shied away from marking the other and William’s the first one to tell you to mark him up. “This isn’t happening again, do it right this time.”

“We’ll see,” William grunts, shifting so he can kneel between your legs and hook one of your thighs around his hip. You’re still completely clothed, but with your legs spread open, you feel bare to him. “We’re good at this, sötnos, we can be good at everything.”

It’s not true, you think hazily, because you weren’t good at keeping the relationship going when an outside issue popped up, but the thought is gone just as fast as William’s pulling aside the elastic of your panties and plunging two thick fingers into your cunt with an embarrassingly loud, wet sound.

“Oh! Fuuuck,” you gasp, dragging the curse out on a moan. His fingers pump in and out of you relentlessly, dragging along your front wall and pushing you closer to the edge of your orgasm. You chant his name, heels scrabbling at the couch cushions.

“Come on,” he encourages you, holding your hip in place with his free hand. “Come for me, I can feel how close you are. So tight and wet, going to cream on my fingers, sötnos?”

“Yes, yes, oh my god,” you wail, William’s thumb pressed firmly on your clit, making you see stars. It doesn’t take too much longer for you to gush around his fingers, soaking his hand and dripping down the curve of your ass. You can barely process the force of your orgasm and the shit-eating grin on William’s face before he and his hand are gone.

Your cunt clenches around nothing, suddenly empty, and your voice is slurred even to your own ears when you mumble, “what- Will…”

His voice drifts up from the floor, where he’s kneeling and pulling at your knees. “Told you I was going to show you how much I care,” he kisses the inside of your knee, rubbing his cheek against your skin like a house cat. “Going to worship you on my knees.”

You’re yanked forward on the couch, a yelp escaping your lips. William’s got your shorts and panties on the floor and your legs tossed over his shoulders before you can blink and his mouth is on your cunt in the next heartbeat, his tongue flat against your sensitive cunt. It’s hard to suck in a breath with the way he eats you out. He traces your clit with the tip of his tongue, teasing at your entrance with one blunt finger while the other hand has a vice-like grip on your thigh.

He hums against you, face buried between your legs to the point where you wonder briefly if he can even breathe. His nose presses against your clit next and all thoughts are gone, blue-screened as he laps at your arousal, the scruff of his playoff beard rubbing painfully against your sensitive, soaked skin.

William grunts when you kick his back, unable to control your legs as pressure builds again. Your hands find their way to his hair, twisting your fingers in the blond strands and pulling, holding his face in place so your hips can move, grinding over his nose.

You’re barely recovered from your first orgasm and everything is still sensitive. William’s tongue is stiff as it fucks in and out of your entrance, two fingers pressed inside your cunt, keeping you feeling full. You clench around his fingers and he groans into you, nudging the tip of his nose harder against your clit.

“Oh my god, there, right there,” you babble, digging your heel into his shoulder blade, rolling your hips over his face. It’s not enough and you wail his name, desperate for more.

William nips at your inner thigh and then dives back in, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking, hard. You scream his name, back arching, and fingers tightening around his hair. The bastard laughs against your clit, the vibration sending an electric shock up your spine and snapping the tight coil of pleasure in your lower stomach.

You come again, eyes pinched shut, and moaning loudly, wantonly. It feels too good, too overwhelming and you’d be embarrassed by the force of your orgasm if it were anyone but William between your legs.

William’s face pops up between your legs, your thighs trembling on his shoulders. His hair is flopped over his forehead, messy from your abuse. He’s got a massive grin on his face and his beard is soaked with your arousal. Your hands fall from his hair and land on the couch cushions, as limp as the rest of your body. You manage a shaky grin back, breathing heavily.

“Next time,” he quips cheekily, wiping a hand over the lower half of his face, “I’m bringing a snorkel so I don’t drown in that sweet, wet pussy of yours.”

Somehow, you still have the facilities to remind him, “no, there’s no next time. This is the last time, no more,” in a slurred, faint voice. You’re still dripping for him, his fingers lazily playing at your entrance, smearing slick all over the place. Your thighs tremble and twitch and he turns his head to kiss the soft skin of your inner thigh, nipping gently and licking at the spot.

He hums and you try and wiggle away from his touch, gentle as it is on your clit, you’re bordering on overstimulated. “How can I convince you that this time is different?” He asks, making eye contract from between your legs. His blue eyes are serious, pupils still blown with arousal. William’s fingers are distracting between your legs, slowly stroking you to another orgasm. Fire builds low in your stomach, stoked by his continued chatter. “Another orgasm on my fingers? You’re always so sweet after I make you come, content to curl up like a cat. Maybe I need to fuck you hard and fast, get you strangling my cock so your thoughts that you don’t matter to me are gone.”

You whine, clenching around his fingers, rolling your hips over his hand. “William,” his name is a gasp punched from your lungs as his fingers find your g-spot and bully it until you’re coming, squirting down his arm and all over the couch. Your clit throbs painfully and you sob from the overwhelming strength of your third orgasm.

William’s other hand is between his own legs, stroking his cock - you can see his shoulder moving, hear the little grunts he’s trying to muffle - and you pant, trying to catch your breath. It’s impossible and when William finally removes his hand from between your legs, sucking his fingers clean, you sob from the relief. And something else, clicking in your chest, a feeling you don’t want to feel.

He leans up higher on his knees, concern etched in the lines on his forehead. “Sötnos,” he murmurs, sliding his hands over your hips and splaying them over your stomach, stroking gentle circles, “I’m sorry, that last one was too much. Talk to me, are you okay?”

You shake your head, hiccuping and gasping. Your hand snakes out on the couch and reaches for a throw pillow to throw over your face, everything is too exposed, your legs are in the air still draped over William’s shoulders. With a wiggle, you swing your legs off of him, fighting to curl up on the couch.

“What happened?” William asks, hands on your waist, you can feel his body heat when he leans in to pluck the pillow from your face. “Talk to me, please. You’re freaking me out.”

“I…this wasn’t supposed…” you gasp out, wiping at your face with the heels of your palms. Your chest feels tight. “I don’t want to keep doing this! I don’t want to keep falling into bed and loving you and getting my heart broken, William! Orgasms aren’t going to help, it doesn’t…I can’t be in love with you and only have…”

You cut yourself off, miserable that you admitted to loving him, still fuzzy and shaky and wet from the orgasms.

William clicks his tongue and lets out a little sigh of your name, affection and amusement laced in the syllables. He manhandles you easily, slipping your shorts back up your legs and dragging you onto his lap, your knees on either side of his hips, his cock hard and hot under your ass. “Sorry,” he laughs, kissing your cheek quickly.

You drop your face to his neck, curling close even though you just want to run and hide. “Stop being nice to me,” you wail. “I’m so embarrassed.”

“Sötnos,” William peppers your cheek and neck with light kisses, hands splayed over your back. “Don’t be. I didn’t realize, I’ve been in my head too much.”

He hasn’t said it back, you can’t help but notice, your heart hammering in your chest. You want him to say it back, but only if he means it. You can’t handle any other option.

“I can hear you thinking,” he murmurs, mouth right next to your ear. “I don’t want to say it when you’re sad like this. I want it to be a happy memory for you.”

Your heart lurches in your chest and your tears taper off, the shoulder of William’s shirt damp. “I hate feeling like this,” you sigh, pulling back a little to look him in the eyes. “I need you to promise me that this is the last time I have to do this.”

William grips your chin between his index finger and thumb. “I promise,” he says seriously. “I’ll be better. We’ll be better.”

He pauses and his eyes twinkle before he says, “come with me this summer, back home. To Stockholm. I’ll show you a Swedish summer and we can figure it out.”

You find yourself nodding, encouraged by the excitement in William’s voice and the smile that transforms his face. “Okay,” you agree in a quiet voice, nodding as you talk. “Okay. What does a Swedish summer entail?”

You’re picturing long walks with the dogs, holding hands and falling deeper in love. Your heart squeezes, fragile hope and delusion at war with each other.

“Hm, chocolate definitely,” William grins and you relax on his lap. “Meatballs,” he continues on a laugh, his hands ghosting down your sides and coming to rest on your ass. He squeezes and kneads your skin, fingers digging into your muscles, “massages.”

“I like the sound of that,” you say, tracing your fingers over the seams that run from the collar to the sleeves on his shirt. William’s hands trace up your sides, under your shirt, and cup your breasts. His thumbs brush over your nipples, teasing them to stiff, painful points and you arch into his touch, a little whimper slipping out of your mouth.

He’s hardening under you, cock twitching against your inner thigh, and you grind down a little on him.

“Let’s go to your bedroom and get the summer started,” William kisses you soundly, lips and teeth and tongue working together to make you dizzy. As if you haven’t already lost all your senses to three orgasms in quick succession. As if you’re not already in too deep.

You barely have a chance to answer before he’s locking his hands under your ass and standing up, carrying you into your bedroom. His mouth finds every inch of exposed skin and trails heat down your neck and over your chest, teeth scraping at your collarbone.

You whine a little and William promises to be good for you, to make it good for you.

You can only hope he’s a man of his word.

You don’t know how many last times you have in you.

[thediaryofaurora]

General HCs

◎BEN drowned/Ben Lawman◎

- Died at thirteen, but he’s able to take form of whatever age he wants. Usually presents as sixteen to eighteen since most of his friends are in that age range. Technically he’s about sixteen now.

- About 5’8, but he can levitate when he’s a ghost.

- White with Swedish backgrounds. He was born in Idaho.

- He doesn’t constantly have blood coming out his eyes, it slowly comes out over time.

- Mainly talks to Jeff, Ben, Nina, Lost Silver, and Toby. Him, Toby, and Jeff usually hang out the most together, even though they don’t really get along most of the time. Ben’s really just the common denominator. Nina and him are both pretty internet involved, so they’re able to bond over that.

- Most of the time he chooses to be in his ghost form since he doesn’t require any sleep or food, but when he’s in his human form it’s nice to feel normal.

- When he’s human he is COLD. Constantly wears hoodies and pants, you can never catch him in t-shirts or shorts.

- He has an overwhelming amount of burner accounts that he cyber bullies people on, sometimes even the other residents. Him and Nina team up on kids on Roblox.

- Absolutely never drinks water. When he’s in his human form it would be in his best interest to, but he still doesn’t. Goes through about ten energy drinks and Mountain Dews a day.

- Him and Jeff almost exclusively eat fast food, usually together. He can steal whatever money he wants and cash it out or use it on a card, so they get whatever they want. They both get way too much food. Sonic and Wendy’s enthusiast.

- Unbearably sarcastic. You can’t say ANYTHING around this guy without getting picked on or teased, even if you’re friends. He’s more mean if he doesn’t like you, but if you’re closer he’s a little nicer.

- Completely relies on autocorrect, he can’t spell anything. Most of the time his texts are so incoherent even auto correct can’t help him, so all of his messages just look like gibberish. Nina can understand most of it, Jeff cannot whatsoever.

- He constantly has his hair in a ponytail, doesn’t wear his hat very often. He steals hair ties from pretty much every girl in the mansion, as does Jeff. They both feel awkward buying them in person so they either break into rooms and take them or they find them on the ground.

- Talks in brain rot way too often. Usually he’s being ironic, for the most part. Constantly quotes old vines or extremely niche, chronically online references.

- Actually really enjoys being around Toby, despite Jeff ranting his ear off about how much he hates him. Toby’s easy for him to get along with and he’s not as much of a douchebag as Jeff.

- When he’s human his eyes are still black and red, so if anyone asks while he’s in public he just says he’s wearing contacts.

- He doesn’t go outside very often. To him it’s the most boring thing ever, he’d rather stay in. Toby tries to get him to go out in the yard with him or go on walks, but after the first few times Ben realized it wasn’t his cup of tea.

- His room is surprisingly cool. He has a lot of trinkets and merchandise from his favorite games/ shows. His whole room is pretty much a clash of all his interests.

- Plays pretty much every genera of game. you can’t convince me he doesn’t have an established Stardew Valley file.

- Doesn’t really kill people unless they are trying to research the proxy symbol or anything else that could expose the mansion.

- He reminds me so much of Rigby from The Regular Show, it’s crazy.

៙◎៙◎៙◎៙◎៙◎៙◎៙

[pitchsidestories]

The Princess Diaries II Zećira Mušović x Reader

chelsea women masterlist

The Swedish Princess got enganged. Scroll further to find the whole transcript of their adorable engagement video with the swedish national team goalkeeper

Interviewer: So how did you two first met? gives them both a curious look

Zecira: To be honest I did not recognize who she was back when. grins sheepishly

Princess!Reader: That's true, for me personally I found that very refreshing smirks

Zecira: She says that now but I don’t think she did back then throws a teasing smile at her

Interviewer: What happened ?

Zecira: It all happened during a football game looks into the eyes of her fiancée

Princess!Reader: Yes, it was a sweden game of course slowly nods while she can't look away

Zecira: I think we even won that game smiles

Princess!Reader: Yeah you did so naturally I went to the after party to congratulate the whole team and you might have heard about it but swedish female football team partys are legendary chuckles

Zecira: You make it sound like it was a big deal laughs

Princess!Reader: Well it kinda was, you girls were securing the third place in the world cup her tone getting more serious

Zecira: Maybe it was kind of a big deal

Princess!Reader: See?

Zecira: So anyways, she was standing there and I didn’t know who she was speaks animatedly with her hands

Princess!Reader: Yes, which was nice and akward at the same time but my instinct was just go with it shrugs

Zecira: I might have had a few drinks already so I just went for it

Interviewer: You flirted with the princess ? shakes his head in surprise

Zecira: Yeah. But I didn’t know it at the time

Princess!Reader: True

Zecira: I only found out hours after that

Princess!Reader: Magda and Frido had to spoil it and tell her about my identity rolls her eyes

Zecira: Didn’t stop me from texting her though smiles confidently

Princess!Reader: Of course not because Z loves a good challenge winks at her fiancée before turning her face back to the camera

Zecira: I do grins bright

Princess!Reader: And what a challenge it was for our both families to accept this entwines her fingers with Zeciras while speaking about it

Interviewer: Tell us more about it.

Zecira: Well, my parents were panicking quite a bit shrugs it off

Princess!Reader: They did until I met them for the first time, remember that love?

Zecira: That’s what you say, they still panic before you come visit them jokes

Princess!Reader: Same, to be honest

Zecira: No, you don’t. Wait, you do? gives her an astonished look

Princess!Reader: Yes, I always feel like I might not be good enough for you in their eyes.. bites her lip

Zecira: Even though you’re a princess?

Princess!Reader: That does not mean I'm the perfect daughter in law, love..

Zecira: It doesnt? winks at her

Princess!Reader: Oh you disagree, huh? looks at her in amusement

Zecira: I do nods

Princess!Reader: Maybe your parents will change their minds too someday in a hopeful tone

Zecira: What am I supposed to say about that, huh? hides her face behind her long hands for a moment

Princess!Reader: next question, please ? turns her head to the interviewer

Zecira: See, she never wants to talk about that huffs

Interviewer: I can tell. But what the swedes want to know how was the propasal and who asked the big question?

Princess!Reader: I did. Really.

Zecira: She did sighs

Princess!Reader: Much to Z's dismay, she even shed a few tears gives her fiancée a teasing smile

Zecira: I had an allergy! laughs

Princess!Reader: In our flat in London ?

Zecira: Yes !

Princess!Reader: So you're allergic to romantic moments ? sounds skeptical

Zecira: Maybe.

Princess!Reader: Maybe?

Zecira: Yeah, my nose is running and my eyes are watering when there’s an emotional moment. Must be an allergy throws her hands up in defence

Princess!Reader: No, that's called feelings chuckles

Zecira: It is? irony dripping from her voice

Princess!Reader: Yeah

Zecira: Oh

Princess!Reader: So yes, we can't wait to get married as you can see grins

Interviewer: I can tell. Any plans for the future?

Princess!Reader: Actually, we do, which one do you think we can tell them, Z ?

Interviewer: you have several plans? interjects

Zecira: Of course but we also know that some things can't be planned..

Interviewer: For example?

Zecira: Children getting serious

Interviewer: That’s… a big plan laughs surprised about Zecira's openess

Princess!Reader: It's but we..

Interviewer: Yes ?

Princess!Reader: Nevermind blushes

Zecira: Let’s just say that our future plans are not that far into the future offers a mischievous smile to the camera

Princess!Reader: Exactly, that might be a good end for our interview, right?

Interviewer: Usually I should end the interview but sure. I think we got enough gives them a satisfied look

Princess!Reader: thanks shakes the hand of the interviewer

"Let’s leave, love.", with a huge smile on Zecira's face she took your hand in hers to get out of the studio where the engagement interview took place.

Hopeful you looked up to the taller woman: "Right, someone has a game to play and I hope Frido secured a good place for me."

"I’m sure, she did.", the goalkeeper reassured you.

With a glance at your phone you answered with a nod: Ah yes, she texted me earlier and is already waiting."

"See you after the game.", your fiancée hugged you fiercly.

Cheerful you wished her good luck.

In a flirty tone Zecira replied:" I don’t need that. I got you here."

Suddenly Fridolina who was still healing from her knee injury appeared at your side:" Don't worry, I'll take care of your princess for you."

"I hope you will.", Zecira said.

Quickly the injured blonde football player responded:"Promise."

"You better should. I’ll see if she’s happy after the game.", the goalkeeper warned her teammate jokingly.

After the match, you were in the stands, leaning down towards your fiancée so you could kiss her: "Your saves were amazing, Zecira !"

"Just for you, love.", the taller woman answered, looking overjoyed about the win.

"For you, the team and me."

"Yeah, fine.", Zecira snotted.

Your cheeks were flushing while you admited:"But it sounded very cute from your lips."

Cheekily your fiancée asked:" How does another kiss from these lips sound?"

"That sounds perfect." , you declared before the goalkeeper was drawing you in for an even more passionate kiss.

"Come here then."

To our readers: Do you like this form of storytelling? Should we do it more often ?

[demigodsanswer]

Absolutely loving the modern royals au! Would love to see when Annabeth reveals to Percy that she knows Spanish (or maybe Percy finds out on his own ?)

this is basically how Percy goes from Annabeth's fun, flirty hook up to Fred assessing if he is marriage material in only three months

modern royals au

~

It was her last day in Paris.

And for the fifth day in a row, she was in Percy Jackson's lap.

They'd been spotted together at the catacombs. Then the next day at Shakespeare and Company (he'd bought her a copy of Ulysses). Then last night getting drinks together. They were really causing some buzz on Royal Twitter. She was already seeing calls for her to marry him.

She just might.

"[I'm going to miss you. I hope you visit me when you're in New York,]" Percy whispered to her.

"What about New York?" Annabeth asked.

Before she left Paris, she had to tell him the truth. She would tell him. She'd tell him tonight. Absolutely.

"Just that my door is open if you want to visit me," he said, feeling her up, trying to pretend he'd said something more detached from his true feelings.

"I just might have to," she said with a flirty toss of her hair, falling back into their game. Come on, tell him the truth.

Percy rolled his hips up towards her. They were still dressed. He wasn't even really hard yet from what she could tell. Better to do it now, she thought.

"[I hope you do. You're not like any other woman I've ever met,]" he said, before biting her neck a little. "Do you want to talk dirty to me, Princess?" Percy asked.

"I uh ..." she stammered, losing hold of her carefully curated flirtatious mask. Oh god. "I ... Percy --"

Percy leaned back against the headboard and rested a hand on her face, his thumb rubbing over her cheek. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she promised.

"You don't have to do that if you don't want to," he reminded her.

"No, no," good start. That's Spanish for 'no,' "I want to, I just ..."

Percy kissed her gently. "Take your time."

Annabeth kissed him, trying to get a little of her moxie back. She felt his hands grope her ass, and he asked: "Do you want me to touch you here again?"

"Yes, Percy I --"

"Go on Princess, tell me what you want," he goaded.

"[I want to tell you how much everything you've said this week has meant to me,]" she said rapidly in Spanish. She should have practiced, she realized. Her reading and listening comprehension was good, but when it came to the accent ... well her week speaking French and her lifetime of speaking Swedish didn't make for a perfect Spanish accent.

Percy pushed her back away from him by her shoulders.

There was a long, terrible silence where they just stared, and he processed what she'd just said, and she processed how betrayed he looked.

"Percy, I --"

He grabbed her legs and toppled her off of him, onto her back on his bed, as he moved to stand.

"Percy, please --"

Annabeth had suffered a good number of heartbreaks in the last ten years, but she'd never gotten better at coping with them. There were college girlfriends who didn't understand her being bisexual or her being in the closet. There were other men in recent years who seemed so promising, but just wanted her proximity to power, or the attention she got. She was twenty-eight. No boyfriend, no consort, no children.

And Percy Jackson was about to kick her out of bed. And this one she'd done to herself.

"You speak Spanish?" He asked. His back was turned to her, his legs hanging off the edge, but he turned his head to look towards her when he spoke.

"Yes, I can explain though --"

"You lied to me!" Percy said. "And then you just let me go on, and on, like an idiot."

"No, no," Annabeth crawled closer to him. Hesitantly, she rested a hand on his shoulder. "You're not an idiot Percy, please don't say that. I didn't meant to lie to you."

"You said 'I don't know what you're saying,''' Percy recalled.

"No," she protested, "I said 'am I supposed to know what you're saying?' I thought you maybe wanted to do some language barrier role play or something. But then you kept saying all these thing --"

"Really personal things!"

"I know! And I wasn't lying just now. Those things you said, they mean so much to me." Annabeth felt tears prick her eyes. She'd learned how to carefully control her emotions throughout her teen years. She could turn them off for politics, or if she was flirting, or even just fucking someone. But when she felt something for someone?

She felt tears on her face, and when she drew a shaky breath, Percy turned around to face her.

"Annabeth, you're crying?" He said, but it sounded like a question. He wiped away a tear, concern painting his face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry."

"It's okay, I actually cry a lot. If you get to know me better, you'll deal with this all the time," she warned. "Can I just," she took a deep breath and composed herself, "explain, without you getting angry for a minute."

Percy nodded. Annabeth rested back on her heels.

"People flatter me all the time. Whether that's because it's their job to treat me well, or because they want something from me -- my fame, my proximity to power, my popularity, to get me into bed. I hear nice things all the time. And I never know who's telling me the truth.

"I was perfectly happy to just hook up with you twice, and then send you an NDA so you couldn't go to the press with details about what we did. But then ... you thought I couldn't understand what you were saying. So you started being so honest. And it ... it felt special. I knew you weren't just flattering me, that you actually felt that way about me. I was selfish. I wanted to keep hearing them." She paused. "Oh god, you were actually being honest, right. I'm not a complete fool?"

He grabbed her hands, and shifted his body slightly to face her more. "I was, I was being honest, I promise," he said. "I really think all those things. That doesn't ... freak you out? I mean, some of it was intense."

"It was lovely," Annabeth corrected. "I think you're the most handsome man I've ever seen. And I've had a crush on you since we were twelve. You're so charming, and kind, and thoughtful. And I love that you're bisexual, I mean, that's such a bonus, to have someone who understands me --"

Percy cut her off with a kiss -- hot, passionate, his arms wrapped around her, holding her tight to his chest.

"I love our little games," Percy said, pulling back, "but it seems like we both like it best when we're honest."

"I can do honest," Annabeth promised, "I might just be more emotional than you're used to me being."

"Hey, me too," Percy said. "Wasn't the point of the game, anyway? To hide how we were really feeling?" Percy wondered.

Annabeth nodded. "I guess it was."

Percy's arms were still around her, and Annabeth used the chance to lean back in for a hug. Percy gave her a good squeeze.

"How long are you in Sweden?" Percy asked, his head on her shoulder, still embracing her.

"Two weeks."

"And then how long are you in New York?"

"Three months, about, unless something catastrophic happens back home." She pulled away, letting his arms drop from around her.

"Text me when you're settled. I'll take you out," Percy promised.

"I'll text you when I land," Annabeth said with a smile.

"Deal. Where do you like to go?"

Annabeth thought for a moment. "You can take me to the Met. archives, show me where you work, let me touch some old stuff," Percy chuckled. "Then we'll go on a walk in the park. And then, we'll cut across to Lincoln Center and you can take me to the ballet."

"The ballet?" Percy asked.

"Yes, the ballet. New York City Ballet is mounting Sleeping Beauty in a few weeks, and I want to see it," she told him.

"Alright. Could be cool to see how a ballet does a big dragon battle," Percy said.

Annabeth carded her fingers through his hair. "There are no dragons in the ballet version."

Percy flopped onto his back. "Well then what's the fucking point?"

"I guess it does sound kind of boring," Annabeth agreed, crawling until she was next to him. She settled into his side, and wrapped an arm over his torso. "I am really sorry I didn't tell you the truth."

"I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to explain," he said back.

"Truce?" She asked.

"Truce. But just so I know for the future, what languages do you speak?" He asked her.

"Swedish and English --"

"Okay, duh," Percy interrupted.

"Hush. Swedish, English, Norwegian, Finnish, touches of Icelandic, French, Spanish, Italian, bits of Ancient Greek and Latin, and bits of German. But the German is really rusty," she finished.

"Jesus Christ, Chase, you are too fucking smart for me," he said, resting a hand over his eyes.

"Hey, you're the smarty pants with a master's degree from Yale, and soon-to-be Ph.D. from Oxford," she said.

"Haven't even applied yet," he said.

"Oh, you'll get in," she promised. "I know it's our last night in Paris, but could we just ... do this instead?" Annabeth asked, gesturing to their cuddling position.

Percy squeezed her into his side. "I was going to ask the same thing. Want to get comfy?" He asked.

Getting comfy meant taking off their clothes, slipping into pajamas (she stole a pair of shorts and a hoodie that she had no intentions of giving back), and snuggling under the covers.

"Also," Percy started when the lights were off and they were just a tangle of limbs, "we really need to work on your Spanish accent."

~~~~~

Princess Annabeth's exterior public self v her private self is essentially:

[magics-neptunes-things]

Winter is coming

Hi guys!

This is the first time I try to write with two existing people, I hope it suits you. I don't really know what to think about it to be honest.

Also I apologize if there are weird things, I received a new lava lamp that bubbles for my birthday and it hypnotizes me x)

Do not hesitate if you have suggestions or requests, I will respond as soon as possible ♥

It was a request right here by the way.

TW : Mention of nudity

Enjoy!

P.S I'm sorry for the title

The icy Swedish cold seems to pierce the Barcelona players tonight, during the game between FC Barcelona and Rosengård. Apart from Ingrid Engen and her Norwegian origins, most Spanish players seem to suffer particularly from the cold. Despite the relatively easy win as the match ended with a 5-0 for Barcelona, Lucy can only notice Ona’s defeated and tense face.

After a few seconds of hesitation, the English decides, despite their vain attempts to keep their couple deprived, of joining her, the need to know what’s happening to Ona more important than her desires for discretion. Ona doesn’t turn around when Lucy calls her name, a bottle under her arm and applauding, her face turned towards the audience.

In a few strides, Lucy finally reaches her height, gently placing her hand on the neck of the young woman. This doesn’t prevent Ona from being a little startled before relaxing when she realizes that it’s only Lucy who is behind her.

"Is everything okay?" Lucy asks, immediately seeking to plunge her eyes into Ona’s.

"I'm fine" Ona simply replies, without even trying to smile.

This seems to quickly alert the English, perhaps a little too used to seeing Ona smiling and radiant at her side. Ona puts her hands on her face while Lucy speaks again.

"It doesn’t look like it"

Lucy’s tone is gentle and delicate, certifying that there is only concern behind it and that it isn’t for the push to confession in any way. The attention warms the heart of the Catalan, unlike her sore fingers.

"I’m fine, Luce. I’m just cold" begins Ona before turning in the direction of the English. "I just couldn’t wait for the game to end. The last ball I took from my head gave me the impression that I was given a huge slap on the face"

To explain better, Ona carries a gloved hand on the side of her face, making Lucy laugh softly.

"Nice assist anyway" compliments the brunette, making Ona smile. "I'm going to the locker room before losing all my fingers. You come with me?"

Ona nods and follows in Lucy’s footsteps, seizing her gourd to drink some water, regretting however that it’s not a good hot tea. Shivers run through all her body all the way to the dressing room and she willingly wraps herself in a blanket when she’s inside.

"I have no desire to undress" Ona admits from the bench on which she sits, huddled under her blanket.

"I can give you a hand if you want" Lucy offers with a grin.

Ona laughs softly and shakes her head, trying not to let her eyes slide too often towards Lucy who is changing. She is helped a little by their teammates who join little by little the locker room, Aitana seems even more disturbed by the cold than her. Unlike Ona, Aitana almost never left Spain to play, so she never had to face Manchester’s winter on a daily basis.

Lost in her thoughts, Ona realizes that Lucy is completely changed only when she comes to sit next to her on the bench. She passes her hand energetically into the back of the Catalan, seeking to create a friction to warm her.

"How about not showering now and taking a nice warm bath back at the hotel?" whispers Lucy to Ona while bowing an eyebrow.

"I really like this idea" Ona says with a smile.

Ona finally found the courage to get out of her blanket to change also, putting on with relief several layers of clothes to warm up as much as possible. In the bus taking them back to the hotel, Ona sits on a seat next to the window and Lucy doesn’t hesitate a single second before sitting next to her. They have no particular rules and sit very often next to other people, but this evening the older one have the impression that there is more than the cold which bothers Ona.

Ona gradually lets herself go against Lucy and when the bus finally starts once everyone has arrived, the head of the youngest is fully on Lucy’s shoulder. Even if Ona is tactile and her love language is physical contact, she isn’t the type to have such intimate gestures in public. But Lucy says nothing, promising herself to ask Ona questions once they are in their hotel room. And when Lucy gently puts her hand on Ona’s leg, she tightens a little more against her.

After a group meal in the hotel’s dining room, Ona quickly returns to their room but it’s only a few minutes after Lucy joins her. When the brunette arrives in their room, Ona is on the phone and speaks quickly in what Lucy recognizes to be Catalan. Understanding that her girlfriend is either on the phone with her mother or her older brother, Lucy gently closes the door behind her and approaches her girlfriend from behind.

"Say hello to them for me" Lucy whispers in Ona’s ear before kissing her neck.

The shivers that runs through Ona isn’t related to the cold this time, but to the pleasant sensation of Lucy’s lips on her skin. Smiling softly, Ona turns her head in Lucy’s direction with a small smile.

An exchange of eyes later while the interlocutor of Ona tells her something, Lucy smiled softly at Ona before kissing her nose and letting her go. Seeing Ona’s sulky face, Lucy smiled softly.

"I’ll prepare the bath" she whispers again.

Ona nods and sits on their bed to end her conversation, her eyed following Lucy as she sneaks into the bathroom. It’s not every time there’s a bathtub in their hotel rooms, but since there’s one it’s great to enjoy it, right?

When Ona joins Lucy a few minutes later in the bathroom, the bathtub is fully filled and Lucy is adding foam.

"Tadam!" Lucy happily sings, triggering the laughter of the Catalan. "Lady Batlle’s bath is ready"

"It’s Miss for now, thank you very much"

Lucy smirk for any answer, watching Ona get rid of the thick sweatshirt she had been wearing until now.

"Aren’t you coming with me?"

Ona’s question is posed with a touch of concern when she realizes that Lucy doesn’t make the slightest gesture to join her while she is on almost entirely ready to enter the bathtub.

"If you want, but I wanted to let you relax before I talk to you about something."

Lucy almost immediately regrets her choice of words when she sees Ona’s face painted with worry. The brunette frozes, with only one leg entered in the water while she was stepping over the bathtub.

"Nothing dramatic Oni, don’t worry" adds Lucy, smiling affectionately to reassure her.

It only seems to work half way, since even if she ends up nodding and sitting in the hot water, Ona’s gaze is always anxious. Deciding to join her instead of mentally slapping herself, Lucy gets rid of her clothes, leaving them on the pile of clothes already formed by those of Ona.

Settling behind Ona, Lucy sighs of relief as she feels her muscles relax in the hot water. Even if she seemed less affected by the cold than Ona, this didn’t prevent that it was probably not her favorite conditions to play a football match.

"Come here, Love"

Passing her arms on each side of Ona’s body, Lucy draws her all against her, smiling when she feels Ona pressing her face into the hollow of her neck. Sliding her fingers along her hips, the English girl thinks about the best way to engage the conversation. The language difference between them was never a problem, Ona speaks really good English despite her accent that Lucy simply finds adorable. And Lucy understands Spanish perfectly well and also does well in this language by spending time with their Spanish teammates.

"What did you want to talk about?" asks Ona, interrupting Lucy’s thoughts.

"You"

The answer seems to surprise the Catalan who takes off her face to be able to better observe her girlfriend.

"Me?"

"Yes, I think you looked trouble by something. As if you were thinking of something, not really here you know? I know you told me it was the cold, but I feel like there’s something else"

Ona briefly bites her lip before answering, choosing the words she will use to not lie to Lucy without worrying her too much.

"I’m a little tired, that’s all" Ona replies, continuing to see Lucy’s unconvinced gaze. "I’ve been playing a lot lately between the national team and Barca. And even though I love it and wouldn’t do anything else, tonight was really complicated for me. I was exhausted at the end of the game."

"Why didn’t you ask for a replacement?"

Lucy furrowed her eyebrows when Ona shrug, turning her head to look ahead. Her back leaning against Lucy’s front.

"I won’t let the team down"

Knowing Ona’s determined and stubborn character, Lucy can only imagine perfectly the reasons that pushed Ona to finish the match as planned in Jona’s head. And, knowing also that it’s useless to discuss with the Spanish for the moment, Lucy decides instead to change the subject. For the moment. Or rather try to relax Ona as much as possible. Stepping back a few centimeters, Lucy put her hands in the back of the brunette, drawing her tattoos with her fingertips before starting to massage her back. She presses her fingers along the shoulder blades and the neck of Ona, taking the time for each of the muscles of the Spaniard.

"Madre mia" moans Ona, making Lucy smile.

"Are you moaning already?" jokes Lucy maliciously.

It also amuses the youngest, who gives her a little playful slap on the leg. But apart from that, she remains peacefully motionless, too relieved by the attentions that Lucy brings her.

"You are so tense" the English mumbles feeling the muscle knots everywhere in her back.

Ona humms simply for any answer, eyes closed and as transported elsewhere by the benefits of this massage. She could fall asleep on the spot. But her smile was reborn on her lips when she felt Lucy’s lips again on her neck and in her neck.

"Is that part of the massage?"

"Only for you"

"Because you massage a lot of other people?" Ona informs herself, an innocent look on her face.

"No" laughs Lucy. "On the other hand if someone other than me does it to you, you have to inform me because I need to kill him"

Ona laughs softly and opens her eyes, tightening a little more against her girlfriend’s body, tilting her head back to look at her.

"I’ll think about it the next time I go to the physios at the training center"

Even if the sentence is said in the tone of the joke, Ona can’t help but feel a heat wave in the hollow of her belly by noticing the upset air that emerges for a few moments on Lucy’s face. The idea that she may be jealous for her will never cease to amaze her.

"Bésame, por favor" murmurs Ona.

Obviously, Lucy oblige and quickly breaks the few inches existing between their lips. Soft and tender at first, the kiss deepens when Ona raises her hand to place it on Lucy’s cheek and keep it longer against her.

A few minutes later, Ona had turn around in Lucy’s arms to sit on her lap, causing them both to lose their balance when Lucy slips into the tub and finds herself lying on her back.

When their laughter ends up interrupting, their glances plunge into each other. One arm holding her firmly against her, Lucy gently pushes back a long strand of brown hair behind Ona’s shoulder.

"You may decide not to take care of yourself, but count on me to make sure you do, Ona. And you can also count on me to take care of you. And you can talk to me if you need to, you don’t have to do all by yourself. I’m here for you that’s what a relationship is about to. Let me be there for you."

What’s the answer to that? Ona, who is still struggling to realize that her celebrity crush is sincerely and deeply infatuated with her, finds herself suddenly without knowing what to say. But, luckily, Lucy to find all the words she can’t pronounce in her beautiful chocolate eyes.

"I’m so in love with you"

Ona’s confession, pronounced no higher than a murmur is however perfectly understandable in the tranquility of the bathroom. Only the lapping of the water is audible, adding to the serenity of the moment.

"I’m in love with you too" whispers Lucy in return, smiling, before stretching her neck a few centimeters to capture once again Ona’s lips with hers.

[fishyfishyfishtimes]

Our non-marine heroine Karleeen McQueen

You know what, you already know lots of stuff about Ahti II, I’m now going to tell you about Karleeen the spidergirl, Ahti’s best friend and the protagonist of a story I’m writing! A quick information sheet:

(+ Art reference)

Karleeen (with three e’s)… well, who doesn’t know about Karleeen! Probably not by looks, but you could read all about her on the papers some years back. It’s been a while, you'd hardly recognise her if you saw her now! Especially among the other jolly beachgoers, joggers, shoppers and summertime tourists; Karleeen lives in Naantali after all, with her single father on the coast of southwest Finland. In the summer it's busy, in the winter it's very quiet, all year round it's a very appropriate place for Karleeen, she thinks.

Now in her mid-teens (the Sirpaverse “starting point” is 2021), Karleeen is a most open and jolly girl! She loves socialising and chats with just about anybody she has a chance to interact with for more than five minutes. She’s always planning outings and looking to spend time with her best friends, too! She enjoys being silly, making wordplay and coming up with puns with ridiculous set-ups. Karleeen is a sensitive soul, she feels all of her emotions very strongly and shows them strongly, too. She sometimes has trouble regulating her emotional reactions and has a tendency to spiral. It's very difficult for Karleeen to lie, her feelings will be very clear from her facial expressions and body language no matter how hard she may pretend to feel otherwise. Not that she'd even lie! It would make her feel too bad.

Karleeen has loved nothing more her whole life than making "thingamajigs" — you know, machines, things that move, little inventions! It's so fascinating to her, how pieces that are little more than scrap on their own weave together into intricate creations that are far more than the sum of their parts. When she was a young kid she'd make things out of twigs and rocks and rope, but in her teens she's now moved onto more sophisticated methods, legos and actual robot-building sets. She's also dipping her toes into coding, so far it seems fun and it offers an additional medium for making things (only digitally this time). Karleeen would love to study mechanical engineering when she's old enough to go to a university, but it'll be a while until then! Besides for robotics Karleeen enjoys hiking in the outdoors, climbing trees, basking, collecting fun and/or useless trinkets of various kinds and strawberry-themed items, playing platformers and action-adventure games and doodling.

Karleeen’s a smart girl, but she struggles a lot with languages. Or, well, don’t let me entirely misrepresent her: she does have the achievement of knowing some ASL signs. Still, Finnish is the only language she speaks fluently and it’s her own mother tongue! She can’t quite get anything else stuck to her brain, speaking Swedish or Surish or even simple English feels like a chore. Like stated above Karleeen’s body language is very clear, one of the more common actions Karleeen does when she’s nervous, scared or sad is holding her hands and arms close to her chest.

Karleeen's favourite genre of music is classical, but she can't listen to it casually because it makes her very emotional. She likes pop, rock and soundtracks when it comes to just playing music in the car or with friends. Her favourite animals are elephants, and her favourite fish is the electric eel. Her favourite meal is minute beef steak with seasoned butter and chanterelles, but her actual favorite singular food item in general and favourite snack is wild strawberries. Her favourite drink is tap water. Her favourite flower is fireweed.

(Nowhere else to really mention this but Karleeen is also asexual and biromantic, it took a long while for her to figure out because her relationship with having human connections is rather complicated and unusual but she’s comfortable in that identity and doesn’t really overthink it, she has a lot of love in her heart for so many things so it’s only natural she would have a lot of love for many people too, she thinks)

[mediumsizedwildcat]

Sylus x Reader (gender-neutral), Zayne x Reader (gender-neutral)

warnings: established past (Sylus) and current (Zayne) relationship(s), cheating, implied sex, self-sabotage (reader), biting, hickeys, mentions of “marking”, happy(?) ending

based on: edits i saw of Zayne & Sylus to Moth To A Flame by Swedish House Mafia & The Weeknd

Moth To A Flame

(yes, like the song this is based on, names are not my strong suit) (now on ao3!)

•••

You should've known better. Sylus had been a great host but he'd also annoyed you, had pushed all your buttons, had tried to force you to resonate with him. Had been so attractive above you and the many times underneath you, until your relationship imploded.

It was different with Zayne. He didn't push your buttons to see your reactions. He was similarly hot over and underneath you and very, very attentive. When he wasn't caught up in work, at least.

The first message you'd sent, though it hadn't been the first you'd typed, you had deleted before Sylus had been able to read it. The second one, he'd read and replied to. You hadn't replied to his answer, though.

It started to feel almost like a game at some point. You'd feel surprisingly lonely in your boyfriend's home, surrounded by everything Zayne, wearing his clothes, and yet it wasn't enough. Zayne sat at his desk, in the office you weren't supposed to go into, and worked. On the patients' files instead of you.

You'd text Sylus, he'd try to call, and then you'd look up from your phone and Zayne stared at you, eyes hungry, jaw clenched. Something about the whole suit and tie thing, the way he tried to keep his professionalism, how he lost control as soon as you spread your legs for him. Heaven on earth.

Sylus' calls went to voicemail more than once. He didn't really leave a message, though. Usually it was a sigh, if anything at all.

And then Zayne had his projects with Doctor Noah and he'd told you to stay in his house if that was what you wanted. That he'd call as often as he could. Not to get you wrong, Zayne did call, as often as he could. The busier he was, the less often he called.

Sylus replied to your messages but didn't call you anymore. It was fine, really. You had Zayne, who made as much time for you as he could, especially if you texted him something dirty. A quick photo of you in his unbottoned shirts would also do the trick.

But Sylus came to Linkon while Zayne was on one of his trips and he waited for you. Outside your workplace, Sylus had your favorite non-alcoholic drink along with his own black coffee and he didn't even touch you.

His eyes narrowed when they flittered to the hickey Zayne had marked you with the night before he'd left last. But Sylus didn't make a move. Didn't ask to stay with you, didn't ask about the messages, only went out with you as a friend.

He looked delicious in that leather jacket, though. Beautiful form on his sports bike, too. Your coworkers, Tara specifically, called him “yum” and asked if he was your friend, if you could set him up with her.

Was Sylus your friend? Was that all you wanted him to be?

Your lips were pressed against his before you could ask him those questions, before you could remember Zayne and back out. Sylus made a surprised sound in the back of his throat, muffled by your mouth, and he pressed back against you.

It was a push and pull, a fight over dominance, until he bit your lip and you opened your mouth, a startled gasp escaping you. He dove in, devoured you with a tongue heavy kiss, as if he wanted to taste everything you had to offer him.

You'd nearly forgotten how much Sylus liked to bite. Your lip, your jaw, your neck, shoulders, anywhere you'd let him, anywhere that allowed him to hear those pretty sound you'd been reserving for Zayne only.

It was over too soon and not soon enough, bitemarks on your inner thigh stinging like the guilt in your chest as Zayne gave you a bone crushing hug. He didn't ask about the marks, hopefully too caught up from finally feeling you again, skin to skin, tangled in the sheets you'd washed after your night with Sylus.

Each time Zayne was gone, Sylus was there. Even if Zayne worked overnight, you'd find Sylus' soft but lusting eyes in the dark. Too many times Sylus took you to a hotel because Zayne had the code to your apartment.

By the time Zayne pushed your phone aside because you no longer looked up to find him standing in the doorway, you noticed he kissed the bitemarks he didn't ask about with an almost painful expression on his face, and the guilt ate you up inside.

Zayne was a good man, was the man your Gran wanted you to end up with. There you were, white hair between your legs instead of Zayne's black hair. It made you sick, and you knew Zayne knew because he didn't ask about what you'd eaten that you were sick. It was too much. Too bittersweet.

When Sylus came around again, you ignored him. Even blocked his number, and it seemed to work. Zayne welcomed you back into your relationship with open arms, even asked if you wanted to visit Doctor Noah with him.

Everything was good.

Until it wasn't, again. An endless cycle, and it wasn't just you who got hurt. Zayne hurt, too. Each time it happened, though he never stopped in his enthusiasm. Sylus didn't fare much better, hope in his eyes turned cold and bitter and then to hope again.

One night, out of nowhere, Zayne told you to do whatever made you happy. That he wouldn't leave you, as long as you wanted to be his. Did you want to be his? Yes, most definitely. Zayne was lovely, a wonderful boyfriend. You loved him.

You couldn't drag him down with you and you still had a part of yourself that self-sabotaged your relationships. It was no surprise to you when you and Zayne fought. When you took what few of your things you needed and went back to stay at your apartment.

In the middle of the night, you called Sylus. Because of course you did. You could've gone to Xavier's place above your own. Could've called Tara. Sylus rarely slept at night. He came all the way from the N109 Zone, hugged you tightly against his chest.

You cried into his shirt and didn't kiss him. Zayne sent you a good morning text and you had a free day scheduled. Sylus was still in your apartment, unwilling to leave you alone, absolutely willing to spend the day with you.

In the evening he came into your apartment and kissed you as if the world was about to end. Sylus always kissed you like that. He spent the hours of the night between your legs, doing everything you couldn't even dream about.

Zayne and you got over the fight and you stayed over at his place again and again you laid in Zayne's bed, staring at the ceiling as Zayne slept next to you. You shot a text to Sylus. Sylus called you.

You left the bedroom and answered the call because Zayne wanted you to be happy. No, because you were selfish and you wanted them both. Or maybe it was the security Zayne offered that you didn't want to lose.

“You're with your doctor again, aren't you?” Sylus asked over the phone, somehow sounding smug.

“His name is Zayne,” you answered defensively. Sylus chuckled and you huffed. “I love him.”

“Then why are you talking to me, sweetheart?”

You sucked in a sharp breath and glanced at Zayne's sleeping form in the very bed Sylus had had you in more times than you cared to admit.

“I love him,” you repeated, quieter than before.

On the other end of the call, Sylus hummed. “He seems like he's good for you.”

You swallowed, “He is.”

“I hope he makes you feel like you should,” Sylus added.

You could hear his stupid grin through the phone, knew the wanting you'd see in his eyes if he were in front of you right now.

“He's the one,” you reaffirmed what you'd been trying to tell yourself for the better part of two years now.

“Bet that's what all your friends say,” Sylus retorted, almost scoffing but he bit it back.

You felt the muscles of your jaw clench. All this time and Sylus still had to press your buttons. You didn't know who exactly you were angry at, but it seeped into your words. “Zayne's love for me is true.”

You hung up the call before Sylus could make you doubt, or worse- want. Zayne welcomed you back into the bed even as he was fast asleep, pulling you close and pressing his face against your shoulder.

This was right. Being in Zayne's arms, loved and safe. Your phone dinged and like an idiot, you opened the message.

«Does he know you call me when he sleeps?»

You checked the name and yes, it was from Sylus. He sent another message, attaching a picture of the two of you that you had been very enthusiastic about. It had been made with your phone, you'd sent it to him, and he'd attached said message. You'd been wearing Zayne's shirt and Sylus was biting your shoulder, your lower halves clearly intertwined, though not explicitly shown.

«Does he know the pictures that you keep?»

Your breath caught in your throat, heat rose to your face. The memory alone was enough for your hips to buck and it was only Zayne's groan and the way his arm tightened around you that you were made aware of how the light of your phone had woken up your boyfriend.

Horrified, you moved your finger to lock your phone, but Zayne took it from you before you could. He stared at the picture and then at the message when you'd sent it to Sylus for a terrifyingly long time.

It only felt long, of course. Zayne sighed and turned his head to look at you. “Is that my shirt?”

You swallowed, more heat rising to your face. “Yes?”

He raised his eyebrows, but his eyes darkened. “You wore my shirt while sleeping with another man?”

This was it. Your relationship was over. You'd messed up too much. No sense in lying. “Yes... Zayne, I-”

“Well, does he know the reasons why you cry?” Zayne asked in his most casual tone.

Your heart throbbed violently in your throat. “He knows where my heart lies,” you replied, placing one hand over your heart and the other on the side of Zayne's face.

Something defensive fell into place and Zayne frowned. “Where does it truly lie?”

Having reached what you thought to be your breaking point, you choked, hot tears blurring your vision and making your eyes sting. “I call him when you sleep,” you finally confessed. “Not all the time, but sometimes. It doesn't mean-”

“Don't say it doesn't mean anything,” Zayne interrupted you. He reached out and gently wiped the tears from your cheeks. “You're mine,” he spoke your name like the name of a god. “I know you, in and out. He can bite and mark you all he wants,” Zayne pulled you against his chest, “as long as I get to do the same.”

[ohsunnyboy]

never again | yoon keeho ˚₊‧⁺˖

you don't know what's cuter. you're boyfriend, lee keeho, or the delusion that the leafs will win the cup in either of your lifetimes.

TAGS: established relationship, toronto leafs fan!keeho, boston bruins fan!reader, screaming and shouting at a tv screen, fluff, maple leafs hockey is its own tw, drinking games!! keeho is lowk ooc

A/N: based off this iconic video. game 6 changed my brain chemistry and gave me hope until... well iykyk... here's the match recap. this is so niche it's entirely self indulgent sorry in advance lmao

WORDS: ~1000

If you're going to be a hockey fan, you should know the number one rule: don't date within the division.

The notorious ad aside, it's pretty clear, once it gets to playoffs with you two, everything's off the table. Especially if you're throwing couch cushions across the room when you're team can't convert on a power play. Cough, the leafs, cough.

Which made it especially weird when you, a Boston Bruins fan ended up dating Yoon Keeho, a fucking Toronto Maple Leafs fan.

"Oh my god are the refs blind?! That's clearly a holding call!" he cries. Ah, it really doesn't get sweeter than this.

"Shut up, he just boarded Lohrei with that! Penalty for both of them," you snarl out, eyes fixated on the tv screen, watching the play-by-play slo-mo of the hit. Lohrei crumpling against the boards as Holmberg practically folds him. "Look! They're not even calling it. Did you see Carolina yesterday? they were calling everything that breathed wrong."

With a sigh, both you and Keeho take a shot. At this rate, you both could be professional alcoholics with how many missed penalty calls there've been this series. You can already feel the regret in the morning trying to sink in with this drinking game.

Keeho hums beside you, but he's been practically vibrating out his skin the entire game. "That's just Svechnikov no? He's massi—OH MY GOD WILLIAM NYLANDER YOU SWEDISH BEAUTY!"

The screen erupts as Nylander finally opens the scoring for the Leafs. A sea of horrific blue and white exploding into cheers. Idly, you think it's the most lively you've seen Scotiabank Arena in years.

"Ugh, really?" And you just have to flop back into the couch corner as Keeho takes his victory lap around the room. Dressed in, of course, his Nylander jersey.

"Oh yeah baby! I could marry that man," he laughs, before very comically and somehow very seriously turning back to you. "After you, babe. Of course after you, love of my life, angel of my univer-"

You hurl one of your last pillows at him. "Sit back down, idiot." The high flush on his face is pretty adorable, even if his alcohol breath stinks when he curls in next to you on the couch. Both of you are going to be crawling out of bed tomorrow for sure.

From above and below your small apartment you can hear the same screams. With the window propped open, you can even hear horns go off in the streets. Capital of Hockey and all that. Moving here to be with Keeho had been hard to do, but so much more worth it for the hockey. Especially when Boston comes rolling into town: being the only Bruins fan for rows on rows was intimidating but so much sweeter if they won.

"I'm your idiot, idiot," he croons into your neck. Peppering you with cute and sloppy kisses across your skin. You finger's curl idly into his hair as you watch the ads spin by on the tv, signalling the end of the second period. His cold fingertips curl around your waist, idly smoothing circles into it. Curled up like this, it's the cosiest you could ask for - and somehow you don't mind the lack of pillows. You both make up for it with your shared body heat.

Carefully, you extract your phone from under him like he's a jenga tower about to fall, but game-drunk like this, he could probably sleep through the Leafs Stanley cup parade if they did win for once.  

Twitter's the same as you left it: another TicTacTOmar clip of Lohrei and Holmberg, more Steve Dangle commentary and your Boston moots crowing about how the Leafs will lose it in the third period. Very, very secretly, you don't think they will. Swayman vs Woll as goalies are brilliant – and terribly good looking – but it must be the phase of the moon or something stupid, but Toronto might just win it this game.

Looking down at your sleeping beauty, Keeho is blissfully passed out on your chest. Face semi-flushed, mouth agape and drool leaking out. Yeah, this is going in the camera roll.

A quick snap and a venture into your settings is all it takes to set the glorious picture as your lock screen. And, if you squint, you can see Draisaitl's neon orange Skip ad in the background. Exactly why you're dating him in the first place.

"You really are my idiot, idiot," you murmur and you press a kiss to his hairline, a warm feeling roiling in your stomach.

Stashing your phone away, you ready yourself with a minute on the clock until the third starts. Saying that, you should really wake sleeping beauty up. "Hey... hey, get up. The Leafs lost in overtime again."

His eyes blink blearily as he processes your words. Slowly, then all at once, you can see the panic settle into his eyes as he sees your shit-eating grin. “No they didn't,” he whispers, but it borders on desperate.

You really can't help yourself. "Yup! There was even a line brawl," you sigh dramatically, bringing your hand to your forehead with a flair. "Swayman was even fighting Woll, a whole goalie scrap and you missed it."

"Nope! Not believing it." Keeho finally has the common sense to turn to look at the screen and realise the third's just begun. The stare of disappointment he gives you is cold enough to give Winnipeg a run for its money. "Never again."

You roll your eyes but just pat the space next to you for him to settle down properly on. "C'mon, whoever loses this has to get breakfast."

“You’re so on,” he huffs to agree, taking a bodily effort to sit back against the couch and on your cold feet. There’s a fire in his eyes that makes you regret this already. “I’m so making you drive to Timmy’s.”

Deep in your heart, if you had to choose Boston or Toronto to win the cup, you'd still choose Boston. But no matter how this series ends, you'd still love your boyfriend very, very much.

if this in any way endeared you to hockey come check my sideblog @wannadewar where i lament and fangirl! if you somehow enjoyed this, a like or reblog would be lovely :) ⭒ masterlist

[wosowrites]

Another Kid (Magda and Pernille x young!reader)

warnings: alcoholism, throwing up

a/n: based off this request here

prompt: the reader didn’t grow up in a good family and struggled to ask for help, so pernille and magda make sure she knows she is at home with chelsea

You weren’t super tall, maybe 5,6…5,7 on a good day you liked to say. But man, you were intimidating. You never hurt anyone, but your tackles came in full force, your glares would make a player on the opposite side of the field look down and your handshake was so firm that you would leave the referees shaking their hand in the air to rid themselves of the feeling of your hand squeezing theirs. You were strong. That was no doubt. But maybe you were just waiting for someone… or some people to help break down your walls, and reveal the delicate you.

Your walls had never come down completely, although there had been two occasions where the team thought they had. The first time was on the mark of your first year with Chelsea. The girls had thrown a little party, which honestly was more of an excuse to drink beer, but you were grateful for it. You all gathered at Pernille and Magda’s house, had a cheat night of pizza and beer, played games and had all around fun. You didn’t drink any beer, you never did consume alcohol considering it was the main reason behind your shit childhood. The main reason behind the walls you had put up as well.

So, as Magda did her special party trick (drank a bit too much and got sick), you were the one who ended up having to sit with her in the washroom. Pernille hadn’t come to the party due to the fact that her mother and father were in town, she had apologized but you insisted it was okay, because it was.

That night, you played the role of Pernille. A younger, darker haired Pernille. You let Magda lay on your lap, and you held her hair as she threw up. You brushed your fingers through her hair and dabbed her face with a warm towel. That moment was the closest you had ever gotten to being completely and utterly soft. But then Magda threw up on your lap and you tried to stay calm but you freaked out solid.

Magda remembered nothing the next morning and you did not remind her.

The second time was after winning the 2022 FA cup. You hadn’t cried of joy right away although you could have. Instead, you hugged every single person on the team for over ten seconds each. "Was that an actual hug, y/n/n?" every one of the girls including Emma had said. You had rolled your eyes.

When you got into the changing room, emotions came over you. Your eyes welled with tears as you sat down at your cubby, your head in your hands. Aniek had been the one to accidentally ruin it. "Are you crying?" she asked gently, not meaning to strike a nerve. "No! What the hell?!" you said, standing up quickly and walking into the washroom.

Ever since that day, Magda and Pernille had realized that there was more behind your tears, they noticed that there was more than joy behind your eyes. As everyone on the team hugged their parents and siblings, or face timed them after that game, you sat in a corner on your phone, staring at the apps on your phone.

"She doesn’t have anyone to call, does she?" Pernille said, her arm around Magda’s waist as they watched you sadly. "We’ll be the people she can call then," the swedish woman answered.

It was a promise they had made to themselves and that they upheld every day. They didn’t know what your family situation was, but they did know that they wanted to be your new family.

And they kept that promise every single day. Wether it was holding you tightly but briefly when you had a bad day, or just picking you too be in their group during drills, you were always with P and Magda. You were constantly being caught on camera in the arms of Magda or P, being jokingly carried on and off the pitch like a baby. The denmark native and the swede had a similar behaviour with Niahm and Jessie but with you… they had really claimed you. You were theirs, and everyone knew that.

And sooner than you knew it, a year had passed and it was once again the FA cup final, but against the red side of Manchester this time. Pernille wasn’t starting as she was recently back from injury so you did your pregame routine after warmup. A quick three person handshake and then you hugged them tightly. The kissed one of your temples each and then you stood in a circle, holding the hands of your mothers.

0-0 at half made you feel relieved. Manchester United had easily been the stronger half and you had all been so lucky they hadn’t conceded.

Going into the second half, you had a desire. In a year, you had been named best young player of the year amongst a bunch of other awards, and you were in the race for the golden boot, tied with Rachel Daly. At last years FA cup, you had played 6 minutes and today… today you were on thee starting. You needed to score. A goal at Wembley… what more could you ask for?

Your wish was granted in the 56th minute, a couple minutes after Pernille had been subbed on. Magda sent a long, long ball through the field to find Pernille on the wing. The Scandinavian controlled the ball perfectly and got passed Ona Batlle. Your run was perfect, but you were sprinting to get there. Pernille crossed it in the air and you jumped.

Your head hit the ball, the ball hit the netting, and then you hit the turf, falling at the feet of Mary Earps who yelled a loud curse word. But you were full of joy. You stood up, screaming at the top of your lungs and running towards Pernille with your arms wide. Magda came and then Jessie, Niahm, Sam, Guro, everyone. You had jumped into Pernilles arms, your legs around her waist. You faced the fans, blowing kisses to the crowd and yelling at the top of your lungs.

It was a family goal.

When the final whistle blew, you fell to your knees and let out a large breath of relief. "You did it!" Pernille and Magda yelled, rushing to you and tackling you into a hug on the pitch.

The celebrations were insane, you lifted the trophy with Magda, you danced on the field, gave your shirt to a young fan, took pictures and danced some more. The difference was that when people went to see or call their families Magda and Pernille stayed with you.

"You played so well today baby," Magda said to you. It was said in a motherly way, a way that made you blush and look down at your lap. "Listen, we’ve never wanted to ask but if you ever want to… i don’t know… talk? Yeah, talk about whatever your family situation is, we are more than here for you. You know that right?"

You fiddled with your fingers, not looking at the blondes on either side of you. "Yeah, I know," you answered half heartedly.

"Y/n…" Pernille said gently. "Not to be… dramatic or whatever but I’ve been told that before, okay? And it wasn’t true," you said, standing up from the bench you were on. A few heads turned but you didn’t want to make a scene so you sat back down quickly. You hung your head and then inhaled and exhaled heavily.

"My mother got pregnant with me when she was 18. My dad just freaked out and left, I’ve never met him and he’s never shown any desire to want to meet me, even though he knows who I am. My mother got deep, deep into drugs and alcohol when I was 5. By the time I was 6 I was walking 30 minutes to get to school by myself, and- and cooking and I would animal sit for all of my neighbours with pets just to try and help my mother out a little. I started playing football when I was 7 because my best friends dad was the coach and he agreed to let me play on his boys team for free. I played with that team till I was 10 and then when I wanted to switch to competitive I got an anonymous amount of money to put towards keeping on playing football. I had no clue it was from who, and I still don’t. Anyways. I played football with clubs in Ottawa till I was 16 and started playing with the U-17 Canada team as well. You know the story from there. But that’s just the public story. The private story was that from age 10 to 17 my mother was constantly passed out, the house smelled like vomit, it was horrible. And my mother hated me. She thought it was all my fault that she landed in addiction. So when I was 18 and I left for Stanford… I deleted her number and I haven’t talked to her since. That’s the story."

It felt as though you had said that whole rant in one breath. Throughout everything, your eyes stayed fixed on your feet. You had not realized your eyes were filled with tears and you didn’t like it when you realized. Quickly, you used the neck of your shirt to erase any trace of tears. "Y/n/n…" Magda said, lifting your chin and making you look at her, her own eyes glistening with tears. "Don’t cry," you said to her before looking over at Pernille who was keeping herself together a bit more but obviously hurt for you. "Guys! Geez were FA cup champions… again! Let’s focus on that! Okay?"

You said this as you stood up, genuinely truly happy that you had won the cup again. But your "mothers" did not let you off that easily. Pernille and Magda both had the idea of reaching out to grab your jersey and pull you back which ended up in your flying backwards onto Magda’s lap. "Okay I know you guys see yourself as my parents or whatever but you do realize i’m not actually a baby right?" you asked, looking at Magda as you sat on her legs. "Haha," she said. "But while I have you here, please underhand that you are so much more than your past, okay?" Magda said, Pernille nodding along to her girlfriends words. "Okay," you said.

You never really talked about it again, but Magda and P knew, and when the reality that they needed to sign a new contract immediately or choose a club to leave too, (Bayern or OL at the moment) they gave each other one look, and then looked over at Millie who had you slung over her shoulder as Jessie and Niahm watched you, laughing loudly, and that was it. They were staying at Chelsea.

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 4)

notes: still kinda short but the quality is better, i think?

au masterlist

y/ndevils00

liked by jesperbratt, john.marino97, and 215,825 others

y/ndevils00 YOUR NEW JERSEY DEVILS ARE THE FINAL UNDEFEATED TEAM IN THE PRESEASON!

you read that right! the boys in red (and white and black) are 5-0 in this preseason, with 2 exhibition games left!

tonight’s post is a little different because it’s focused on 3 specific people!

first of all, we have a 🚨🚨 PRESEASON BRATT-TRICK ALERT 🚨🚨

EVERYONE’S SWEET BABY, OUR BRATT-MAN, OUR SWEDISH FISH, GOT A PRESEASON HAT TRICK TONIGHT! i will be (i have been) drinking in his honor tonight!! FIRST STAR OF THE NIGHT, FIRST STAR IN MY HEART!!

second, maraschino cherry, my best friend number 2, my favorite sauce: marinara; got 2 GOALS TONIGHT!! YOU GO GLEN COCO!!! SECOND STAR OF THE NIGHT, FIRST STAR IN MY HEART!!!

and the last main focused person, my personal cuddle giver, my babygirl, the man who tries to act annoyed with me but then sends me cute pictures of animals cuddling and says “us”, JACK ROWDEN HUGHES got a goal! THIRD STAR OF THE GAME, FIRST STAR IN MY HEART!!!!

p.s. look at my smush!

p.p.s. Mat Barzal, i will be under your bed.

tagged jesperbratt, john.marino97, jackhughes, and lhughes_06

Load more comments

dawson1417 why does jack look so annoyed with you in the 5th slide?

y/ndevils00 because i yelled at him from across the rink “SMILE BABYGIRL! YOU ARE NOT QUINNY!”

dawson1417 from what i’ve seen, i think even quinn is smiling more than him lately

_quinnhughes i expected this from her, but Dawson???

user82 @/barzal97

user27 @/barzal97

user03 @/barzal97

jackhughes we can’t all be the first star in your heart

y/ndevils00 uh, yeah you can! you’re all first in different ways!

jackhughes what way am i first in?

y/ndevils00 romantic! duh!

john.marino97 what about me?

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 friendship!

jesperbratt me?!

y/ndevils00 @/jesperbratt the “i would break jack’s ankles for you, please never leave or else i’ll have to be institutionalized.” way!

jackhughes i’m scared

barzal97 @/jackhughes uh, is your girlfriend hitting on me?

jackhughes oh dude, you’re gonna wish

y/ndevils00 think again, baldy. guard your ankles

user64 this was the best game EVER

john.marino97 my favorite part was when you jumped on my back during second intermission and almost deafened me by yelling “OUCH! OUCH! I’M GETTING BURNED BECAUSE YOU ARE ON FIRE!”

y/ndevils00 so glad you loved it 🫶 that was the funnest part

john.marino97 i was being sarcastic, i didn’t love you screaming in my ear

y/ndevils00 uh, yeah you did? you literally said “wow y/n, i appreciate the hearing test.”

john.marino97 that was also sarcasm. i’m getting worried about if you understand what sarcasm is

jesperbratt 😁❤️

jackhughes in 3…

nicohischier 2…

dawson1417 1…

y/ndevils00 let me psychologically hurt anyone who dares lay a finger on you. please oh please!

lhughes_06 whoop, there it is!

user19 aww jack sending her cuddling animal pics 🥹

user28 MY TURN WHEN?!

nicohischier what did Barzal do?

y/ndevils00 exist. and score two goals.

nicohischier y/n, we’ve talked about this…

y/ndevils00 no, YOU talked about this. i pretended to listen and then offered you cookies and walked away

lhughes_06 am i gonna have to make your hangover smoothie again?

y/ndevils00 well, it’s either you or Jack

lhughes_06 so yes

jackhughes hey, i can make a smoothie!

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes no you can’t

lhughes_06 @/jackhughes no you can’t

trevorzegras @/jackhughes no you can’t

y/ndevils00 @/trevorzegras get out of here! i’m mad at you!

trevorzegras what did i do now?!

jackhughes @/trevorzegras you didn’t become a tiktok dancer

trevorzegras I WOULD LIKE TO BE EMPLOYED

y/ndevils00 WHAT YOU WANT DOESN’T MATTER