#but it's not like I can do anything from Sweden

[windfighter]

Architectural Assault

Prompt: Manhandling

-----

Hero gripped the back of Villain’s neck, forced them to the ground. Villain’s body ached, bruised and battered from the fight. Their knees hit the ground, sent a shockwave through their body, and they grunted. Hero leered behind them, their grip strong against Villain’s neck. Super-strenght. An A-grade hero sent to take care of a low-grade Villain together with a team fresh out of Hero-school. Villain tried to pull free, but their own superstrenght paled in comparisation.

”You broke my arm”, Villain said.

Hero prided themself on never hurting anyone, but their grip around Villain’s neck got tighter. Heroes never hurt people who mattered.

”You should have surrendered”, Hero answered.

One of the other heroes pulled Villain’s arms behind their back, handcuffed them together. Villain felt the broken bone shift and grind inside their arm and bit down a scream. They wouldn’t give Hero the satisfaction. Hero let go of Villain, took a step back.

”You have the right to remain silent”, they said. ”Everything you say can and will be used against you.”

Villain rolled their eyes. They knew the deal already, had already been through the system. Sleeping anywhere except inside an apartment was illegal and Villain’s first time breaking the law was at 13. It had been many more since then. They tilted their head, didn’t even try to look innocent.

”What’s my crime then, oh great server of justice?” Villain sneered.

”You were scaring the civilians.”

”Last I checked someone being scared of you isn’t grounds for arrest.”

Hero leaned in, grinned. Their teeth white and straight and perfect and everything Villain wasn’t.

”Terrorism is”, Hero answered. ”Disturbance of the peace.”

Hero straightened their back again, gestured at the benches around the area. Villain’s eyes narrowed. They had pulled the armrests splitting every single bench throught the middle away, carelessly thrown them into the closest trashcan.

”Destruction of city property.”

”People can use them again”, Villain answered. ”Rest if they need to.”

The break in Villain’s arm was pounding and the only reason they didn’t pass out was because Hero’s stare and Hero’s grin and Villain’s sole wish of wanting to punch that smirk off them. Hero crossed their arms over their chest. This wasn’t an argument in their mind. Sirens were coming closer, the police rushing in to drag Villain away, lock them up in a place where desired people wouldn’t need to see them.

”Have you heard the phrase ’hostile architecture’?” Villain asked.

They kept their back straight despite still being on their knees. Hero pressed their lips together, stared at Villain, but didn’t answer. The police car stopped nearby.

”Who are you protecting?” Villain continued. ”The people in need or the status quo? The suits or the ones who suffer?”

Police officers grabbed Villain, pulled them to their feet. They winced as the broken arm shifted again. That would never heal correct. Villain hoped it wouldn’t stop them from helping the beaten and the damned, the one the heroes had forgotten. They sent another glare at Hero.

”They only care about you as long as you fall in line.”

Hero stepped out of the way and the police officers pushed Villain forwards, into the back of the car. Villain watched as the police talked to the heroes, probably praised them for their quick work.

The police returned, sat down without talking to Villain. Why would they need to? Hero had already read them their rights, there was already proof of Villain’s crimes. The car sprung to life, and Villain was forced from the scene of the crime.

-----

Hero pulled one of the broken armrests out of the trashcan, straightened the bent metal and put it back on the bench. Villain’s stunt would be expensive for the city to fix. Money that would be taken from the tax-payers, people who were already struggling.

They gestured for their team to head out and left the area. The laws were there for a reason and Hero wouldn’t let Villain’s words get to them.

[natreads]

2020, 2021, 2022, 2023 🎄

[woso-dreamzzz]

Klumpig's Halloween:

Fridolina Rolfö x Teen!Reader

Summary: The fourth of my Halloween-centric fics

Frido sighs as Aitana approaches.

"Don't," She says.

"I haven't even said anything."

"And yet, I knew what you were going to say. So, please, don't."

It seems that everyone in Frido's life has decided to ignore her though because Aitana still speaks.

"She dressed up as you, huh? That's kind of funny."

"It's really not."

"I thought it was funny."

"That's because you've got the same sense of humour as her."

Frido takes a swig of her wine, looks at the glass for a moment before downing the rest like a shot, already reaching for the bottle to refill it again.

You're across the room from her with Vicky and Salma. They're gone the more traditional Halloween route, Salma as a vampire and Vicky as a werewolf.

You've decided against that even though you used to love it.

Frido's whole camera role is filled with pictures of you from your childhood in your cute little Halloween costumes. She can still remember dressing up like a ghost with you and helping you go around town trick-or-treating while your parents got the family Halloween party started.

Somewhere along the way, at some point during those years when Frido left the country and you got older, you'd decided against all the traditional Halloween stuff.

No more masks and cute costumes and insisting that you're 'a unicorn-princess-witch, Frido! Obviously!' in favour of more chilled out costumes that you didn't have to buy and could just scrounge up from your wardrobe.

Maybe you'd even throw on some gory makeup to really sell it but gone are the days of you in a little white sheet with eye holes cut out and fake, oversized teeth.

You were a teenager now and after last year's fiasco of you just dressed as a 'first dead girl' from a horror movie, Frido's done arguing - though she does make sure to take your picture in front of the wall to add to her Halloween collection.

This time though, you've really outdone yourself, deciding to forgo your wardrobe entirely in favour of Frido's.

You're in her Barcelona kit, her shorts, her shirt and her socks. You've taken her favourite pair of football boots and even her shin guards. It was cold when you left the house so you grabbed her Sweden warm up jacket even though your own was perfectly capable of being worn.

"Oh," Ingrid says over the top of her own glass of wine," Here we go."

She glances meaningfully back over at you as Alexia walks over.

"The point of a Halloween party," Alexia says," Is to dress up, Frido. If you don't dress up then the younger players won't dress up."

"I am dressed up."

"You're wearing your football kit. You're hardly dressed up."

"But I am!"

"You're not."

You turn around, relishing in the brief look of surprise that crosses your captain's face. It always takes people a few seconds to realise which Rolfö they're talking to.

"But I am!" You say triumphantly," I'm Frido! I should have brought a wine glass with me but I didn't want to push it."

From across the room, Frido sighs.

"I don't always have a wine glass on me!" She yells.

You look pointedly at her hand and she hastily puts it down.

"You should tell her off, capi," You say to Alexia with a cheeky grin," A glass of wine after every big match to unwind. Isn't that so bad? I mean, you don't even drink during the season. Surely, Frido should follow your lead, right? I mean, you don't want me thinking that what Frido's doing is acceptable?"

"Stop trying to set Alexia on me!" Frido yells back," If I want a glass of wine for putting up with your craziness then I'll have a glass of wine."

You ignore her in favour of laying it on thick with your captain.

"Alexia, are you listening to her? First she's drinking and now she's calling me crazy! You should really bench her!"

"Funny," Alexia says dryly," You must be really getting into character because she asked me to bench you a few weeks ago as well."

You grin. "Well, at least she can't ask you to do that now, seeing as...you know..."

You gesture to your bandaged leg. Most of it is hidden under Frido's shorts and socks but a bit of it peaks out.

Frido sighs, clicking her fingers and pointing in front of her.

On any other day, you'd probably argue a bit about it but you're with the team right now and you know they can only take so much Rolfö cousin bickering.

You hobble over on crutches to stop in front of her.

Frido stands fluidly, placing her glass down on the side table.

"You know I don't like it when you poke fun at your injury," She says, cupping your cheek in one of her hands," It's serious."

"I know," You huff," But it was just a joke. Just trying to keep it light."

"I know but-"

"It is Halloween after all."

Frido rolls her eyes fondly. "You don't think dressing up as me is joke enough?"

She recognises the cheeky grin on your face the moment it curls upwards at the corner of your mouth.

"Oh man," You pretend to groan," But I haven't even gotten to the best part."

"And what exactly is the best part?"

"The part when I do my impression of you when you found out that Brick was coming to stay."

"No! Don't you-"

"She screamed so loud," You tell the group assembled near Frido's seat," And stomped her feet like a little girl. She said something like- Hey! Put me down! Frido!"

Frido easily lifts you over her shoulder.

"I think we're going to call a cab and go home. It's past this one's bedtime."

"I don't have a bedtime! Stop telling people I have a bedtime!"

[russo-woso]

Secret || Kyra Cooney-Cross

Request | Masterlist | Prompt list

Warning pregnancy, talks of labor and delivery

Summary You and Kyra hide your whole relationship but what happens when you add a new member to the family, could the secrets still remain hidden?

You and Kyra had always been best friends, since birth.

Your mums were best friends and so you and Kyra were immediately best friends.

You did everything together. You played football with each other, you went to school with each other.

It wasn’t a forced friendship though. Your mums had always said that you didn’t have to be friends like they were, but you and Kyra chose to be friends.

When you were both sixteen, you realised that you might’ve been more than friends.

The past few months there had been lingering touches and kisses on cheeks but were close to lips.

You thought maybe it was just you, but when Kyra sat you down and told you her feelings, you just lunged across and placed your lips on hers.

“Be my girlfriend.” Kyra said as you pulled away from the kiss.

“Definitely.” You smiled, Kyra bringing you in for another kiss.

Your relationship got stronger and stronger.

Kyra was your soulmate and you were hers.

And the reason why it was so strong was because you kept it a secret. You told your family and friends but kept it from the world, and your teammates.

Your teammates just assumed you were the bestest of friends and they never really asked if there was anything more.

The next few years sped by. You and Kyra had moved to Sweden together, playing alongside one another at Hammarby as well as the Matilda’s.

Near the end of the season, you tore your ACL.

You were running down the wing and fell, clutching your knee in agony.

You knew exactly what it was, and your suspicions were confirmed after an MRI.

Kyra was so so good, she was there every time you needed her.

You needed a drink, Kyra was there to get it.

You needed to go somewhere, Kyra was there to help you.

It was just an ordinary injury until a few weeks in.

You were lying on Kyra’s chest, watching a movie.

The character in the movie had just given birth and you figured it was the perfect time to ask Kyra something.

“Ky…” you began and she hummed. “Do you see us having a baby in the future?”

“Of course. I see us having three children. Two girls and a boy.” Kyra responded, a smile appearing on her face as she seemed to look into the future.

“Would you have a baby now?”

“I’d have a baby anytime, as long as you’re the baby’s mama.” Kyra told you. “It would be perfect time to have a baby. You’re going to be out for nine months anyway.”

“That’s what I was thinking. I’d love to have a baby with you Kyra.”

“We’ll have a baby then, love.”

“I love you so much, ky.” You said, lifting your head to look her in the eye.

“I love you too, Y/N. So so much.”

—

“Ky, what if it’s negative?” You asked her as you stood in the bathroom, the test sat face down on the counter.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s negative. We can try again.” Kyra said, comfortingly rubbing a hand down your back. “I’m gonna turn it in three.”

“3,2,1…”

“You’re pregnant!” Kyra exclaimed, enveloping you in a hug.

“We’re gonna have a baby.”

“We’re gonna have a baby.” Kyra repeated, dropping to her knees and lifting your shirt up to reveal your still flat stomach.

“Hi, bubba, I’m your mummy. Me and mama love you so much.” Kyra whispered, Your heart melting at the sight.

Kyra stood up, enveloping you in another hug.

You hugged back, your whole world was complete.

—

After the season at Hammarby, you and Kyra made the decision to leave.

You went back to Australia for the World Cup, Australia placing fourth.

But during the World Cup, the thought of where you were going next lingered in yours and Kyra’s minds.

The both of you had been offered contracts by many different teams but none from the same team.

After the World Cup had finished, you finally made your choices.

You’d be going to London.

Kyra would play for Arsenal, and you’d play for Chelsea.

It wasn’t ideal. You both wanted to play together and certainly not for rival clubs, but you had to do what was best for the two of you and your baby girl.

Still, nobody knew about the pregnancy apart from family.

It was a massive secret to hold, but you at least wanted that bit of privacy with your daughter before introducing her to the mayhem of the world and to her aunties.

Chelsea welcomed you with open arms.

Emma and the medics knew you were pregnant, they had to.

So you explained to Emma you didn’t want any of your teammates finding out until after the baby was born and she understood so she allowed you to stay at home on maternity leave until you were ready to come back.

—

You were now nine months pregnant, your daughter expecting to arrive any day now.

Although Kyra was adamant of staying with you, you forced her to go to training, not wanting her to miss a whole training session just because you were heavily pregnant.

Anyway, with how comfortable you daughter was in your stomach, there was no chance of her coming.

Boy were you wrong, as soon as Kyra closed the front door, a contraction hit.

You shoved it to the side, thinking it was just a braxton hick.

But just after an hour later and your waters broke, you knew you had to call Kyra.

Kyra picked up her phone straight away.

She was in the middle of the changing rooms getting ready for training.

“Hi, baby.” She whispered so no one heard the pet name.

“Ky, my water broke.” You told her, her jaw dropping.

“What? Okay, I’ll be ten minutes. I won’t be long, baby. I promise.” Kyra said panicking, gaining the attention of almost all her teammates.

“Woah, what’s wrong Kyra?” Alessia questioned, seeing a very panicked Kyra packing her bags and taking her boots off.

“My girlfriend, Y/N, she’s in labour. Fuck, why won’t this fucking boot come off. Her water just broke.” Kyra explained, not knowing the whole team heard.

Kyra ran out the changing rooms and into her car, immediately speeding out the car park.

She pressed the phone next to your name on the car screen, hoping you’d pick up.

“Hi, love.” Kyra said, taking a deep breath knowing you were fine.

“Hey, ky. How much longer will you be? I just want you here.” You said on the verge of tears, breaking Kyra’s heart.

“I won’t be long, baby. I promise. Five minutes. Keep me on the phone.”

—

As soon as Kyra arrived home, she helped you get in the car, grabbing the bags and driving to hospital.

She must have broke several different speed limits and probably parked in a disabled spot, but you were safe now at the hospital and that’s all that matters to Kyra.

You were already far into labour when you arrived at the hospital, your daughter clearly eager to meet you sooner rather than later.

Kyra stayed by your side the whole time, rubbing your back and doing everything you wanted her to.

When it was time to push, a sigh of relief left your mouth.

After half an hour of the most dreadful pain, your daughter was born.

Her cries were like music to yours and Kyra’s ears.

“Hi, baby.” You said through tears as you looked at your newborn.

Kyra cut the cord and the nurses soon took your daughter away to be checked over.

Everything was perfect, she was perfect.

Kyra carried her over, her small body swaddled in a blanket and a hat placed over her tuffs of brunette hair.

Kyra handed her over to you, your baby melting into your touch.

“Hi arlo, hey baby. Arlo Skye Cooney-Cross.” You said, Kyra humming in agreement.

When Kyra looked at her phone for the first time a few hours later, she was faced with the her mistake.

“Baby?” Kyra began and you hummed, watching a sleeping arlo. “I kinda told the team about you and arlo. I was rushing in the changing rooms after you rang and Alessia asked what was wrong and I said that you were in labour. It was an accident and I think Caitlin and Steph heard and—”

“—Ky, baby, it’s fine. It was bound to come out at some point. Sam keeps questioning me on why im not at training or playing so I was going to have to tell her at some point. Tell Caitlin and Steph to come here. I’ll call Sam.”

Kyra nodded, quickly messaging Steph and Caitlin to come to the hospital, you doing the same with Sam.

An hour later, a small knock was heard on the door and Kyra opened it with arlo in her arms.

Audible gasps from Sam, Caitlin and Steph were all heard.

“Hi. Oh, who’s this cutie?” Steph cooed, the three of them crowding round Kyra.

“This is Arlo, mine and Y/N’s daughter.”

Steph and Caitlin had already put the dots together due to the incident in the changing room but Sam had no idea.

“What!” Sam exclaimed, looking round the corner of the room to see you smiling at her.

“Surprise?”

“Is this why you haven’t been playing?” Sam asked, looking at arlo.

“Kind of. I did actually do my ACL and then we did ivf and I got pregnant.” You explained

“We’ve got another pest on our hands now.” Steph joked, causing everyone to chuckle aprt from Kyra.

“I’m not a pest!”

[barcaatthemoon]

heated || fridolina rolfo x reader ||

things start to boil over between you and frido after you transfer to barcelona.

minors dni, 18+, smut warning.

the world of women's football was absolutely buzzing as everybody waited to see where you'd go. frido knew where you wanted to go, and she could only hope that someone else would make a better offer. she couldn't stand to spend any more time with you than she had to. it had been years since you had been in the same league, but frido still recoiled at the sound of your name.

"mi amor, this is great! we are going to be unstoppable this season. aren't you so happy? i'm so happy! mi hermana is coming back!" mapi exclaimed. ingrid and frido watched the defender run and jump around the room. neither of them knew what was going on, not until the doors opened and you stepped through.

frido's face fell immediately. ingrid watched curiously as frido turned away from where everybody else was watching. you hadn't played for a spanish team in forever, having spent a lot of time in the wsl or in south american leagues when your normal club team stuff was finished. mapi and the other girls you knew on the team crowded around you happily, but frido made no moves towards you.

"didn't you play toge-," ingrid started.

"don't," frido interrupted. ingrid frowned, never having seen her friend react like this. she had no idea the trouble that would follow in the next few months. ingrid didn't know the emotional trouble that you'd cause, or the way that she'd get into fights with mapi about you.

it was never really anything that you did to frido personally that caused friction. mapi seemed to know something about what happened when you and frido were teammates, but she refused to tell ingrid. it drove the brunette crazy not knowing what was causing so many issues. she wanted to be there for both mapi and frido, but it seemed impossible. frido was adamant that you were nothing but trouble, and mapi just wanted ingrid to befriend you.

it took frido longer than she'd care to admit to notice the way her tension with you was affecting the team. the two of you were a dream match on paper, but you couldn't work together to save your lives. the coaches knew that your styles of play were naturally similar, and yet, every single time they tried to spark the connection, it ended horribly.

"can you pass the ball?" you weren't meant to be shouting, but this was the fourth time that frido's pass had gone wide. "where do you get off on calling me reckless while making passes like that? don't they teach you how to aim in sweden?"

"shut up!" frido yelled at you. the two of you were in each other's faces, and half the team wanted to just let you physically fight it out. however, at the sight of a balled fist, several girls were getting in between the two of you. mapi and irene pulled you back while caro and ingrid took care of frido.

"hey, you need to calm down," you heard ingrid say. frido just brushed her off as she stormed away. you could hear swedish explicitives, and a part of you wanted to laugh. "what is going on between the two of you?"

"it's almost always been like this," mapi said for you. you were apprehensive to speak with ingrid, who was definitely frido's friend. you were apprehensive to speak about your past with anybody who you didn't know from somewhere else before. all of them knew frido, and most likely frido's side of things, which you did not deem as accurate. "i swear it's like they woke up hating each other one day."

"it's not that simple," you grumbled. ingrid sighed as she sat down next to you on the grass. "why don't you go ask your friend what happened?"

"because she shuts down every single time that i do. whatever happened, you both need to either put it aside or work past it because we need you guys to work on the pitch. stop being so selfish and act like teammates because that's what you are." you had never been scolded like that before. you glanced at mapi for help, but she seemed to agree with ingrid on this one. you sighed, knowing that you weren't going to find any way out of this.

"fine, i'll be the bigger person and put this past me," you agreed. ingrid seemed thankful for that, and mapi finally helped you up off of the ground.

…

somehow, ignoring your issues with frido worked surprisingly well. neither of you tried for conversation or anything of the sort, but you worked well on the pitch together. there were flashes of how things had been before your relationship had gotten all fucked up. it was shades of your youth, back when things felt a lot simpler.

"oh my fucking god, what is your problem today?" you yelled at frido. this had to be the fifth bad tackle that she had made towards you during the scrimmage game. this one was worse than the others, and the moment you got up, you were shoving the blonde.

"get your hands off of me!" frido shouted back. almost immediately, a whistle was blown and both of you were ordered to get off of the field. you stormed off first and went straight to the locker room to clear your head. unfortunately for you, frido seemed to have the same idea.

"get the hell out of here, i was here first," you told her. you weren't yelling, but your voice was stern. frido would have been impressed at the backbone you had finally grown if it weren't for the fact that the sight of your face made her stomach churn. she routinely told herself that it was just hatred, but the flashes of your face that came across her mind when she touched herself spelled something else.

"technically, i joined the team long before you did. why would you even come here? you knew that's where i was," frido questioned. it was a good question, and you had contemplated going elsewhere, but barcelona was where you had always wanted to be. it was supposed to be easy to ignore frido, but that was proving to be nearly impossible. "you left before, why can't you leave again?"

"because i don't want to. this is my dream. i'm back in my home country, and i am happy. everything i've been through was to get here. just because you're here too doesn't mean i'll give it up," you told her. "you knew that this was where i wanted to go, why did you move here?"

frido clenched her jaw as she stared down at you. there was something behind her eyes that you recognized. it was the same look that you had seen years before, right before the two of you started your horrid little game of tearing each other to pieces. your paths hadn't crossed often, aside from a champion's league game here and there, which had almost always ended the same way.

today seemed to be no different. frido's hands gripped at your waist tightly as you guided her down onto one of the benches. you moved onto frido's lap as the two of you kissed each other. it was rough and messy, as if the months of being at each other's throats was finally being released.

"someone's gonna come check on us," frido mumbled against your lips. you laughed, knowing damn well that mapi would keep them away. she'd tease you relentlessly when you came out with the markings from frido's mouth and the firm press of her fingers into your skin, but she'd make sure you weren't interrupted.

"no they won't. we're not causing any sort of commotion. they don't care as long as we're quiet. how else would we have gotten away with this for so long?" frido realized that you had a point. your tension had gone unmentioned for the most part. the two of you had only ever been separated whenever you'd begun to get into legitimate arguments.

kissing frido feels familiar, even as it seems to get increasingly aggressive. she holds your hips in place as she begins to grind herself against your thigh. it's so obvious that frido is using you to get off, and it makes you feel a little sick in the pit of your stomach like it used to, but only because you realize how much you'd begun to miss her.

things were never supposed to be like this. you had been friends. the lines were always blurry, easily crossed before the freak out. you can't remember what started it, but you remember running off to madrid and mapi. you don't know what frido did, but you know that when you came back, she was gone. you had never been abandoned like that, and all of the love you had once felt for her was lost.

"please," frido whined in your ear. you don't know what exactly you felt for frido now, but it wasn't love. it was a far cry from it now, as your feelings had sat and festered for years. you could chalk it down to desire, occasionally bleeding into something else. you wanted frido in every way she was offering, and even a few that you knew she wouldn't. this was as close as you'd get until things got a little worse, and you knew it. until then, you were somewhat happy to let her use your body to get off. if anything, it was something small and simple that you could lord over her in a future argument. eventually, she'd get you back, but you were certain that you could hold off for a while longer.

[ma1dita]

have you been watching the paris 2024 olympics?? i just think luke castellan is so like athlete coded, i’m just imagining him like as the athlete from sweden (?) in pole vault who broke his world record and then ran to his girlfriend like imagine luke doing that to you AGHHHH i’m on a luke as an olympian (the athlete) brain rot

the alchemy

luke castellan x reader a/n: i absolutely loved this request. mando duplantis i dream of you and your girlfriend every night. wc: 612

Luke Castellan swears he can feel his heart beating out of his ribcage. That, or it’s the thunderous roar of the crowd—it must be one or the other with so many people here, a sea of faces and noise and….

Deep breath in… and out.

Luke doesn’t think he’s ever seen this many people in a single room, and his brain hurts to even consider the people watching this live. Gods, there weren’t even this many people at qualifying, and there’s so many people counting on him. Honey brown eyes scan the crowd for you, his good luck charm as he squints, getting on his tiptoes in hopes of catching a glimpse of your smile. Your presence does wonders for his performance and his nerves, the past few years of late nights at the facility, strength and endurance training, and the crazy diets you’ve joined him on to accommodate bulking and cutting. 

You’ve been there through it all.

He’s got two more shots at breaking his own world record, and to most, they’d assume he’d treat it like a piece of cake. But his mother always taught him to be humble, and he reckons she’s whispering something similar into your ear right now, wherever you two are in the stands. You’re his biggest cheerleader after all, on the days he feels like he can walk among the clouds and even the ones where his feet seem stuck to the concrete.

Luke rolls out the crick in his neck before bending over to grab his grip tape and liquid chalk. Going through the motions of years of proficiency worth his blood, sweat, and tears, he zeroes in on the crowd, walking up to the runway.

Just like we practiced, he thinks to himself, hearing his name get called out by the officials.

LUKE CASTELLAN, REPRESENTING THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA!

LUKE CASTELLAN, DES ÉTATS-UNIS D'AMÉRIQUE!

Two minutes start on the clock—-and he runs like the wind.

Sprinting, taking the air out of his own lungs as his feet pound against the pavement, his fingers tapping against your initials that he etched into his pole as he gives it his all.

And then the other end meets the vault box and he’s flying.

Soaring through the air, momentum swinging his legs like a pendulum and by the smile that grows on his face—he knows he’s got it even before his feet touch the ground, and the only thing running through his mind is you as he contorts over the bar effortlessly.

Like echolocation, the only voice he recognizes through the commotion is in tune with the blood rushing through his ears, a scream that could only come from the depths of your soul, “BRING IT HOME BABY!”

And he’s ecstatic now, suddenly unaware of the resounding smack his body makes against the landing mat because his joints spring up tirelessly as he propels himself in your direction like Pavlov’s dog running towards the sound of a golden bell. Luke can barely see at the speed he’s going at, launching himself over the stands but he knows you’re there to catch him and he knows he’s gotten gold as he smashes his lips against yours. This must be the alchemy that you do to him, pulling his heart into yours with just the glimmer in your eyes and the sheer love you show to accomplish his dreams—he’s a winner for sure, with you by his side. Flashes from cameras surround his peripherals and you both can’t do anything but chuckle.

Gold medal aside, he’s got all he needs in his arms right now. 

Luke thinks he’ll be getting you your own gold hardware soon too.

[f1fnatic]

THE ROOKIES ⤿ o. piastri 81

→ ( in which. . . ) you are a rookie and play for the us women's national soccer team. during the world cup after your team gets knocked out, you run into a certain australian f1 driver who is supporting the host team.

→ ( fanfic genre. . . ) written/irl, smau

→ ( face claim. . . ) naomi girma + pictures from pinterest/instagram

→ ( pairing. . . ) oscar piastri x uswnt!reader

→ ( content warnings/disclaimers. . . ) cursing, might be a multi-part series, not sure yet :) also fully aware that the 2023 f1 season was actively happening at the same time as the women's world cup, but for the sake of this fic, let's believe that oscar had to allow mclaren's reserve drive (for unspecified reasons).

→ ( author's note. . . ) i enjoyed making this fic SM. it was interesting to mess with a written and smau, i hope it flows well and isn't super confusing. hope you enjoy! see end for more

→ ( masterlist )

─ INSTAGRAM ↴

y/n_l/n

liked by alexmorgan13, trinity_rodman, uswnt, carson.pickett and 21,834 others

tagged: uswnt

y/n_l/n number 4 checking in ✅

view 749 comments

uswnt ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥 liked by y/n_l/n

trinity_rodman LFGGGG

y/n_l/n 🙌🏿‼️

user18 greatest defender EVER

user56 SAY IT LOUDER FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK ‼️‼️

sophsssmith incoming women's world cup champ

y/n_l/n loading...🔃

user6 no cause why is she sooo pretty

user17 #GOAT 🐐

alexmorgan13 YEAHHHH Y/NNNN liked by y/n_l/n

user33 oh she ate..

user22 4 + 4

yourmom So proud of you, honey ❤️

y/n_l/n thank you mama 🥹💞

mrapinoe Get it rookie! liked by y/n_l/n

lavellerose ⚽🌟 liked by y/n_l/n

yourbsf the best to ever do it 💖

y/n_l/n stop it ily

user20 fresh kits 😮‍💨 liked by y/n_l/n

user81 she knows she's good

uswnt

📍auckland, new zealand

liked by usmt, y/n_l/n, savdemelo, alyssanaeher, and 597,309 others

tagged: y/n_l/n

uswnt Defender Y/N L/N, and the rest of the USWNT, arriving to New Zealand in style 🔥🔥

view 15,823 comments

usmt Good luck ladies! liked by uswnt

user66 god dayum

user19 barking

y/n_l/n team stylist >> liked by uswnt

savdemelo Yeah we rocked it 🤷🏽‍♀️🤷🏽‍♀️

user67 god y/n 😍

malpugh what a cutie pie y/n_l/n

y/n_l/n oh stop it mal 🤭

sophsssmith ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

user9 she is so breathtaking

mrapinoe 🔥 liked by uswnt and y/n_l/n

cmpulisic Sheeshhh liked by uswnt

user22 they suck bro

user5 k just say u are an incel

user91 what a loser

lavellerose Pulling up in style liked by uswnt

user39 crying she is so prettyyy

user21 it is so unfair

user51 she can rock literally ANYTHING

uswnt

📍melbourne, victoria, autralia

liked by y/n_l/n, alexmorgan13, mrapinoe, usmt, and 710,893 others

uswnt Thank you for your support. Till next time.

view 14,841 comments

y/n_l/n so proud of this team 💟 liked by uswnt

mrapinoe Couldn't have asked for a better final season. liked by uswnt

alexmorgan13 ⚽💌 liked by uswnt

sophsssmith thank you 💖 liked by uswnt

lavellerose Wouldn't do it with anyone else liked by uswnt

malpugh ❤️❤️ liked by uswnt

alyssanaeher What a run liked by uswnt

trinity_rodman love you all, can't wait till next year liked by uswnt

savdemelo ❣️ liked by uswnt

usmt Amazing job, ladies. liked by uswnt

emilysonnet 💓 liked by uswnt

*comments on this post have been limited*

─ TWITTER ↴

─ 19 august, 2023 ↴

your team had just lost to sweden in penalty kicks. the amount of overwhelming pride you had felt was unmeasurable. nothing could describe how you felt for your team making it into the quarter finals. yes, you were sad that you couldn't advance further, but none the less, you were grateful for the chance to play at the highest level.

so, there you were, sitting in the stands of the bronze medal game. the match was intense. the matildas were putting up a great fight against sweden for third place. so far, sweden was up 1-0. you wanted the matildas to beat the yellow and blue-clad team since they were the ones that knocked you and your team out.

a few minutes passed before halftime arrived. you decided that it would be a good idea to go get a snack, and maybe some coffee. standing up, you swing your bag across your body and walk to the nearest concession stand. after getting your things, a coffee and some pretzel bites, you turn to head back to your seat. only, instead of being met with open space, your body collides with another, effectively spilling your coffee and dropping your pretzels on the stadium floor. the coffee slightly burns your skin as it seeps into your (new) white blouse. an annoyed sigh escapes from your lips before a voice speaks up.

"shit, oh my god- i am so sorry. are you okay?" it asks. you pick your head up, tearing your eyes away from the giant brown stain painted on your shirt. chocolate colored eyes lock onto yours. a breath hitches in your throat. the man in front of you was gorgeous. he was smiling nervously, hands reaching to gesture to your shirt. "can i get you some napkins?"

there is an awkward pause before you answer. "oh, um, yeah sure, that would be great." you smile. he leaves you for a second before returning and handing you a bundle of napkins. you gently blotch the damp stain.

"i really am sorry. i didn't see you. i should've been paying attention to where i was going." the man says, awkwardly giggling at the end of his sentence.

"it's okay, truly. i can always get another drink, can't say the same for my shirt though." you end. you finish with drying your shirt - albeit, the best you could, before you see that the man in front of you is wearing a matildas jersey. "what a game, huh?"

"oh, yeah. the girls are doing a wonderful job but sweden is just doing better," he answers. "who are you rooting for?"

"the matildas. it would be against my better judgement to root for sweden." you say. you watch his face for a second until recognition washes over his features.

"oh my god, you play for the us! you are amazing! i can't believe this is only your rookie season, i thought you had been playing for years when i saw your first game." you can't help but blush at his compliment. a smile molds onto your lips.

"thank you, that means a lot. i appreciate it," you giggle, "i never caught your name, you mind telling me?"

"oscar." he responds. he sticks out a hand in front of you. you grab it and shake. another smile displays on his features. it reminded you of a quokka, in fact, he reminded you of a quokka.

"well, oscah," you say, teasing him for his annunciation, "you don't happen to be busy do you?"

─ INSTAGRAM ↴

y/n_l/n

📍women's world cup

liked by trinity_rodman, sophsssmith, yourmom, oscarpiastri, and 40,329 others

tagged: uswnt, oscarpiastri, and savdemelo

y/n_l/n thank you all.

thank you to the national team for entrusting me with the opportunity to play in the women's world cup. if you were to tell 4 year old me that when she was 20, she'd be playing in the world cup, she would be absolutely ECSTATIC.

i would also like to thank my mom and dad for pushing me to play my best no matter what and to be a goldfish. aka, forget the bad things and remember the good.

also, thank you to the fans. seeing little girls holding signs with my name and number gives me reason to keep going. ladies, you can do anything you set your mind to. don't let anyone say you can't.

lastly, i would like to thank oscar for making me spill my coffee on myself. and for being a pretty alright tour guide. (jk, you were really great)

view 1,730 comments

user17 you showed up and showed out!

yourbsf YEAHHHHH Y/NNNN

y/n_l/n love you ❤️‍🔥

user46 can't believe she is only a rookie

user70 IKR. like... she is literally on par with a lot of the senior players

oscarpiastri i still feel really bad about the coffee...

y/n_l/n osc, please, it's okay

user91 A NICKNAME BASIS ALReADY??

user66 osc? OSC?!

yourmom So insanely proud of you sweetheart. Can't wait for the future ❤️

y/n_l/n i love you so much ma 🥹

user54 RAHHHHH USA USA 🦅🦅🦅🦅 liked by y/n_l/n

uswnt ROTY liked by y/n_l/n

user55 kay who is oscar piastri and why is he such a cutie pie

savdemelo perry misses his aunt

y/n_l/n and duck misses hers!

sophsssmith blessed to be your teammate 💓 liked by y/n_l/n

user19 WHO IS HEEEeeEEe

user28 oscar piastri is an australian-rookie f1 driver! he races for the team mclaren :)

oscarpiastri i can buy you a new shirt!!!

y/n_l/n OSCAR. JACK. PIASTRI.

mrapinoe The next gen 😌 liked by y/n_l/n

user32 HOLD ON MAYBE THAT ONE TWITTER USER WAS ON TO SOMETHING

user10 but they were talking about someone on the matildas not uswnt 🤐🤐

trinity_rodman 🌟🌟 liked by y/n_l/n

lavellerose Honored to be your teammate y/n! liked by y/n_l/n

alexmorgan13 Couldn't have gotten how far we did without you ❣️

y/n_l/n stop it alex i'm gonna cry ❤️‍🩹

user66 MY TWO WORLDS ARE COLLIDING I AM NOT OKAY

user29 oh he's cute

oscarpiastri

📍womens world cup

liked by landonorris, f1, mclaren, logansargeant and 831,563 others

tagged: y/n_l/n

oscarpiastri the best way to meet someone is to bump into them and make them spill their fresh (very hot) coffee on their shirt

view 47,267 comments

user67 honestly such a romantic way to meet someone

user21 oscar cannot catch a break from americans

user49 its like he's drawn to them..

user18 hope u had a nice break! liked by oscarpiastri

logansargeant woohoo another american!

y/n_l/n 🦅🦅🦅

oscarpiastri remind me to never introduce you two.

logansargeant 😞

user22 she's so oretty omggggg liked by oscarpiastri

user22 NO WAY OSCAR LIKED.

y/n_l/n that person must have been feeling nice!

oscarpiastri yeah they were

landonorris oscar has a cruUussShHhh

oscarpiastri shut up lando

user7 who is she?

user31 y/n l/n is an american soccer player!

user7 might have to start watchinf soccer now yeesshhh

y/n_l/n you were a pretty okay tour guide

oscarpiastri take that back.

y/n_l/n mmm no

oscarpiastri duck says hi

y/n_l/n YOU DID NOT.

mclaren Why are there two koalas in the fourth picture?

user39 HAHA I LOVE YOU ADMIN

logansargeant who's that cutie pie in slide 5? liked by oscarpiastri

user81 the rookies

user4 i can already tell they are going to date

user21 brutha they just met 🙏🏻

user93 people when boy-girl friendships

landonorris is that why your tongue was purple?

oscarpiastri dude 😀

user51 WHAT?

user64 he is SUCH a gossip girl

user15 i am SO totally normal ab this

─ TWITTER ↴

first oscar fic in the books. i loved writing this one. while doing so, i called myself single in so many different ways. i plan on making a part 2, maybe a part 3 (not sure) so stay tuned! also, if you would like to be on the taglist, comment!!! requests and feedback are welcome! make sure to leave a comment and kudos as well (only if you want :P)

[magicfootballstuff]

Best Mate (georgia stanway x reader) 

Summary: Georgia is your entire world, the love of your life. But you’re probably never going to be more than just her best mate.

(aka 12k words of angst and pining)

———

You’ve known Georgia since you were eleven.

Thirteen years in which you’ve been the closest of friends, through ups and downs. Thirteen years of playing for the same football teams, of carpooling to training and movie nights after matches and sharing rooms on away trips. Thirteen years, basically, in which you could have fallen in love with each other.

There’s a strange kind of irony, a punishment from the fates, that the first time you start to think of Georgia as anything more than your best mate is about three weeks before she moves to Germany.

You blame the Euros, naturally. That’s where you start to catch feelings. A long pre-Euro preparation camp, followed by weeks of heightened emotions as the Lionesses progress further and further into the tournament. It’s been a bonding experience for you all and you’re far closer to all the girls than you were a couple of months ago, but there’s been a shift in your relationship with Georgia specifically that you can’t quite explain.

It’s after the game against Spain that you first notice it. After coming back from behind, Georgia is the one who scores the winner to send you through to the semi finals and it might be the best goal you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing live. It’s not just the goal - you’ve seen Georgia score screamers from outside the box on countless other occasions in your thirteen years of friendship - but the significance too.

It’s after this game that you actually start to believe you can win the whole tournament, that nothing is going to stop you until you get your hands on the silverware. And that belief starts with Georgia’s goal.

“I fucking love you, G!” you tell her in the dressing room after the game, still riding the euphoric high of beating Spain in such dramatic fashion.

Georgia grins at you.

“I love you too.”

Her words make you feel warm inside but you put it down to being happy about the result.

It’s not until later, lying alone in your bed back at the team hotel, unable to sleep because you’re still so pumped up from one hundred and twenty minutes of difficult football, that you hear Georgia’s words over and over again in your head and realise what it means.

I love you too.

Shit. You’re falling in love with Georgia Stanway. Your best mate.

What a cliche.

But you’ve spent thirteen years of friendship not being in love with Georgia. It should be pretty easy to brush any hypothetical feelings aside. Right?

———

It’s not. 

Actually, it turns out that acknowledging you have feelings for Georgia only makes them grow more.

You sit next to her on the coach on the way back from Bramall Lane after beating Sweden in the semi final. Around you, the whole team is jubilant, but all you can think about is how you can smell Georgia’s shampoo and feel the warmth of her thigh pressing into yours.

Shit, you’ve got it bad.

“We’re going to Wembley,” Georgia says. “Can you believe it?”

“Stuff of dreams, right?” you grin at her.

“And I get to do it with my best mate.”

The words ‘best mate’, while true, are like a knife to your heart and you’re reminded that you’ll only ever be Georgia’s best mate.

You try to shake yourself out of it. You’ve been Georgia’s friend for over a decade, you can keep being her friend, no problems at all. Because surely it’s better to be her friend than to risk messing things up and being nothing at all?

Except that she moves to Munich in two weeks. What if she loves it there, what if she prefers her new teammates to the old ones, what if she has such a good time there that she completely forgets about her old life in Manchester?

And you hate yourself for even thinking that. Georgia deserves to be happy. You know how excited she is to move abroad, how much she’s looking forward to the challenge of playing for a new team in a new league after spending so long at Manchester City. As her friend, you want the best for her, you want her to thrive in the new environment and be happy with her Bayern teammates as she settles into life in Munich.

You just hope that she doesn’t forget about you in the process.

“You’re quiet,” Georgia says, drawing you out of your own thoughts. “Wanna talk about it?”

You shrug, then give a half truth.

“Just trying to soak this moment in,” you tell her. “This feels special. No matter what happens in the final, I don’t want to forget the feeling of being part of this team.”

“I’m never gonna forget this,” Georgia says, sinking into your side and when she lets her head fall against your shoulder, you allow yourself just the briefest moment to imagine that she’s talking about this exact moment on the bus with you, not the summer of incredible football. “Would be pretty cool to win the damn thing though, right? One more trophy together before I leave.”

You never want this summer to end. Because as soon as it ends, Georgia leaves and you lose your best mate. You lose the person you’re in love with.

You have a feeling that this moment is going to be one that you come back to over and over again when you’re missing her, and you try even harder to commit every detail to memory.

———

Inevitably, the tournament does come to an end, but in the blur of playing an intense final at Wembley, winning said final, and the celebrations that continue long into the night, you almost forget that this is one of your last nights together with Georgia before she leaves for Germany.

Eventually, you and Georgia find your way back to each other, as you always seem to do. You have no idea what time it is, no idea how many drinks you’ve had, but it’s the early hours of the morning and most friends and family have either left or gone to bed, leaving just the players to continue their celebrations. You can still hear distant music and the occasional shout from downstairs, but you end up on the carpeted floor of a deserted hallway, side by side with Georgia. You’re sitting so close that the thighs of your outstretched legs are touching, and Georgia leans her head on your shoulder. You're holding hands too, though you don’t know who initiates that. Maybe it just happened because it felt right.

“I’m so proud of you, G,” you tell her, tracing your thumb across the back of her hand. “For everything - for today, for everything you did at City, for choosing to take a leap in your career.”

Georgia has hardly spoken about her impending transfer since it was announced, not while she’s been so focused on the tournament, and other than a couple of jokes this evening hoping that her new teammates will still welcome her after beating so many of them today, it’s been easy to pretend that she’s not about to move to another country. But now that the tournament is over, you have to face up to the reality sooner or later that your best friend is about to spread her wings and embark on a new journey that doesn’t involve you.

“Stop it, you’re gonna make me cry. And we’re supposed to be happy right now. We’re supposed to be celebrating.”

“I’m gonna miss you though. Bayern are lucky to have you.”

Your hand is still in Georgia’s, fingers linked together, though you don’t remember how it happened, whether it was you who took her hand or her who took yours. But her skin is so soft, especially on the back of her hand where you trace mindless patterns with your thumb.

“You’re still gonna be my favourite though, you know that right?” Georgia promises you.

“I am?” you ask, turning your head to look at her.

“Yeah, you’re my day one. Even when we live in different countries. I’m still gonna be talking to you every day.”

“I’m gonna be thinking about you every day,” you confess. “Every second, even.”

It’s only after the words slip from your lips that you realise you might have said too much, that you’re getting dangerously close to telling Georgia about the feelings that you promised yourself that you were going to keep secret.

“Yeah?” Georgia asks, her voice barely more audible than a whisper.

And just like the hand-holding, you have no idea who initiates what comes next, you’re just aware that your lips are on Georgia’s, or maybe hers are on yours, but who the fuck cares who leant in first when it feels this damn good.

Her lips are as soft as her hands, softer maybe, and she tastes like a combination of the free beer you’ve been drinking all night and something else, maybe optimism, if such a thing has a taste. But you’re very quickly unable to process much at all, senses overwhelmed, because Georgia is kissing you. Georgia, who you’ve been friends with since you were awkward teenagers with spotty faces and bruised knees, whose kisses are like a drug that you’re surely going to get addicted to because how could you not want to do this forever?

Just when you’re considering the logistics of pulling Georgia into your lap to continue this further, she pulls away from you, giggling as she wipes at her lips with captivating fingers.

“Shit, I’ve had way too much to drink,” Georgia says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

She leans her head back against the wall behind you both, her eyes closed, and you try to keep yourself together, though your heart feels like a fragile sheet of glass that could shatter under even the tiniest amount of pressure.

“It’s fine,” you tell her, even though your lips still burn from her kiss. Even though you’re probably never going to be the same again. “We’re both drunk.”

———

The next morning, Georgia is wearing the most ridiculous pair of sunglasses you’ve ever seen, so huge that they mask half her entire face, but maybe that’s the intention because when she sits down next to you on the coach that’s supposed to take you to Trafalgar Square, she lets out a groan and says, “I don’t think I’ve ever been this hungover in my life.”

“I think I’m still drunk,” you admit. Your head isn’t pounding, it’s just swimming, the alcohol not yet worn off out of your system. It’ll hit you at some point today, you’re sure of that, and it’ll be torture. 

“Did I kiss you last night?” Georgia asks, pushing the sunglasses up onto the top of her head and frowning quizzically at you.

The way she asks, it’s almost like she doesn’t quite remember, and that stings a little. It’s pretty much the only thing you’ve thought about in the five drunken hours since it happened.

“Oh,” you say, trying to sound just as casual about it as Georgia does. “Yeah. I’d forgotten about that until you mentioned it.”

The lie is easy because there’s no way that you’re going to admit how affected you are by something as simple as the memory of her lips on yours.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Georgia grimaces. “Emotional day, and all that. We’re still cool, aren’t we?”

“Course we are,” you answer, and it’s mostly the truth - Georgia could commit a serious crime and you’d still think she was the best person on earth.

She’s got no reason to know the depth of your feelings for her, no reason to understand that kissing you might have done more damage than if you’d never got the chance to feel Georgia’s lips against yours at all.

———

You decide to confide in Keira.

“I think I’m in love with Georgia,” you confess, during pre-season, still ignoring the rumours that Keira might be moving abroad soon too.

“Our Georgia?” she asks for clarification, as if the idea is so ridiculous that she can’t quite believe what you’re telling her. “Georgia Stanway?”

You nod, and Keira presses on with her next question.

“Have you told her?” she asks.

“Why would I do that?” you scoff.

“Why wouldn’t you? What have you got to lose?”

“Only thirteen years of friendship,” you point out.

“Obviously it’s your decision, but worst case scenario she doesn’t feel the same and things carry on as normal.”

“Worst case scenario I lose one of the longest friendships I’ve got,” you interject to correct Keira.

“G’s not like that though,” Keira dismisses your worries with a wave of her hand. “She wouldn’t just cast you aside because of something like this. Anyway, she’s in a different country now. By the time you next see each other she’ll have forgotten all about it and things will be back to normal.”

“I’ll think about it.”

———

You do think about it. In fact, it’s pretty much all you think about.

One international break passes, then another, without you saying anything to Georgia about how you feel. You’re practically glued to her side for the whole of both camps, or maybe she’s glued to yours, because you somehow seem to end up alongside her even when you’re making an effort to not seem like you’re obsessed with her.

That plan clearly isn’t working, because on the penultimate night of the second international break, Keira brings it up when the two of you are alone.

“You’re not being subtle,” she tells you.

“Huh?”

“About G,” she explains. “If you think it’s not obvious you have feelings for her, you’re wrong.”

“Yeah but I’ve told you,” you point out, in a half-hearted attempt to justify the way you’ve probably been staring at Georgia with huge puppy dog eyes for the last week. “You know what you’re looking for.”

“Have you told Leah?” Keira asks, arching an eyebrow. “Because she asked me yesterday if you and Georgia were closer than usual so she’s noticed something too.”

“What did you say?” you demand, your eyes widening in panic.

“Don’t worry, I told her you used to be inseparable at City and that you probably just missed seeing each other every day. I think she bought it.”

You relax, or at least you try to, because if Keira says it’s obvious and even Leah has noticed your heart-eyes, then it can’t be long before Georgia herself realises, and then she’ll surely want to distance herself from you.

“Just talk to her,” Keira pleads with you. “You’re one of my best mates too and I hate seeing you like this. Even if nothing happens between you and Georgia, at least you’ll get closure by talking to her.”

You know that Keira is right. You’ve known Georgia for so long that you’d like to hope she won’t make things weird if you tell her how you feel and she doesn’t feel the same. You need an answer, so you can get over your feelings if nothing is ever going to happen.

And you fully intend to talk to her on the last night of camp. But you have a game tomorrow so you decide not to say anything for the risk of somehow upsetting the equilibrium of the team, and then before you know it Georgia is on a plane back to Munich while you return to Manchester and still nothing has been said.

Another time.

In the meantime, your heart continues to ache for something you’ll probably never get to have.

———

You’ll tell her when she comes home for Christmas, that’s what you decide. No England camp, no training or matches to use as an excuse for not telling her how you feel. Just two old friends catching up on what’s been going on in their lives - and so what if one of the most important thing that’s going on in yours is the depth of the feelings you currently have for your best friend?

You’re nervous for two full days before you see Georgia, your heart pounding each time you think of the enormity of the conversation you need to have with her. Telling her how you feel could change everything for better or for worse and even right up to the moment when you’re on your way to meet her, you’re still not sure if you have the courage to actually tell her.

You meet Georgia for lunch at Jill’s coffee shop, because Georgia’s only in Manchester for a few days before she jets off to Barcelona to see Keira and she wants to see as many people as she can while she’s back, but once you’ve both shared a bit of playful banter with Jill when she brings you your food and drinks, the two of you are left alone in a quiet corner of the shop.

“I’ve been dying to tell you something,” Georgia says, almost as soon as Jill leaves you alone. “I was gonna text you but I really wanted to tell you in person.”

She loves you too. That’s the first conclusion that your brain jumps to, because you can’t think of anything else she might have to tell you that’s important enough to be said face-to-face rather than over the phone.

She loves you too. She loves you t-

“I’m seeing someone,” Georgia announces.

And just like that, your heart shatters into a million tiny pieces.

She doesn’t love you.

“You are?” you ask, trying not to let the pain show on your face - this is supposed to be your best friend telling you that she’s found somebody, after all, and if you weren’t hopelessly in love with Georgia yourself, you’d surely be happy about this development in her life.

“Yeah, a guy back in Germany. His name’s Nico - he’s one of Syd’s mates so I met him through her. It’s still really new, like he’s not my boyfriend or anything, but we’ve been on a couple of dates and I think it’s going pretty well.”

“Cool,” you say, and then immediately kick yourself, because what kind of heartless idiot says cool when their best friend announces they’re dating someone, which is why you add, “I’m so happy for you.”

There’s a degree of truth to your words. Though on a selfish level you want Georgia to reciprocate your feelings and be happy with you, that’s not very likely to happen when you’re too much of a coward to tell her how you feel and obviously the most important thing is that Georgia is happy with whoever she chooses. You just hope that if it can’t be with you, that this Nico guy at least treats her well and gives her the happiness she deserves.

“Anyway, what’s going on with you?” Georgia asks, taking a sip of her hot chocolate. “Any big life updates?”

If there was ever a moment to tell Georgia that you’re in love with her, it would be now, when she’s inviting you to open up about what’s been going on in your life. But Georgia is clearly excited about this guy that she’s dating, or else she wouldn’t have waited until she saw you in person before making it the first thing she brought up, and what kind of friend would you be if you tried to ruin that for your own selfish reasons?

“Nothing much,” you answer with a shrug. “Nothing as exciting as your news. Anyway, tell me about Munich. Are the German lessons still kicking your arse?”

———

Keira calls you a few days later, when you know that Georgia is in Barcelona too, probably sharing the same news about her dating life with Keira that she told you the other day.

“You’ve seen G, then?” she asks, once you’ve caught up on your own lives.

“Yeah, we had lunch together a few days ago.”

“Did she tell you…?”

“About her new boyfriend?” you interject, completing Keira’s question. “Yeah.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Keira asks.

You can practically hear the pity in her voice and it cuts you almost as much as Georgia’s news about her dating life.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you try to dismiss it quickly, before you end up getting upset, or angry, or both. “She’s happy, that’s all that matters. I missed my chance.”

“Did you ever tell her?”

Keira doesn’t need to elaborate on exactly what she’s asking about and for that you’re grateful.

“No,” you answer. “But it’s too late now anyway.”

“I don’t think it is,” Keira counters. “It doesn’t sound very serious yet with this German guy.”

“Keira, if there was any chance she felt the same she’d have told me.”

“You mean like you’ve told her how you feel?” Keira asks.

Though you can’t actually see Keira’s face, you can picture it, one eyebrow arched at you and mouth twitching at the corners as she calls you out.

“It’s different,” you try to argue. “She wouldn’t be dating someone else if she had feelings for me.”

“Well if you aren’t ever going to tell her, maybe you should think about dating someone else. You know, a couple of the Barca girls are single. If you don’t mind the distance, I could put in a good word for you.”

There’s only one person you’d be willing to put in the effort required for a successful long distance relationship, and it’s Georgia. Besides, while Keira’s right that you’ll have to think about dating someone else eventually, it doesn’t feel fair to mess with somebody else’s feelings before you’ve at least tried to put your feelings for Georgia behind you.

“I’m good, thanks Ke,” you promise Keira.

“Well if you change your mind…”

“I’ll let you know as soon as I do.”

———

You don’t change your mind. Not about being willing for Keira to set you up with one of her club teammates, at least. You do, however, reconsider your decision not to tell Georgia about how you feel.

What can the harm be? If anything, the German boyfriend is a safety net because you have less optimism that Georgia feels the same, fully prepared for her to let you down. 

You phone Georgia when she’s back in Germany in January, entering the conversation with your heart already wrapped in bubble-wrap, in theory protected from being broken.

“Hey G, are you busy?”

“I’m never too busy to talk to you,” Georgia replies.

Your heart soars, giving you the courage to say, “Cool, well there’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Go on, I’m listening.”

“I was gonna say something when you were back in England but then you … well, you had your news and I didn’t want to ruin that.”

You pause and take a deep breath, glad that you’re doing this over the phone so that Georgia can’t see the sheer physical anguish you’re going through to psych yourself up to tell her this.

“I love you.”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Georgia speaks.

“Aw, you big softie,” she teases you. “Love you too.”

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Part of you wants to leave it there, the idea of having to correct Georgia’s misunderstanding somehow even worse than having to admit you love her in the first place, but you can hear Keira’s voice in your head telling you to grow a pair and tell Georgia how you really feel.

“No, I … I mean that I love you,” you clarify. “Not just as a friend. Like, I’m properly in love with you.”

“Oh,” Georgia says. There’s silence on the other end of the line as she processes what you’ve told her, before she eventually repeats, “Oh. Shit, okay.”

It’s not exactly the reaction you were hoping for and though you’d prepared yourself for probable rejection, you couldn’t actually have prepared for the punch in the gut that is the pure surprise from Georgia, as if the idea of there being anything more than friendship between the two of you is so far-removed that she’s never once even considered the possibility.

“Forget I said anything,” you say quickly, eager to put this torturous ordeal behind you. “I’m just being stupid. It’s nothing I can’t get over.”

“No, wait!” Georgia blurts out. “It’s not stupid. It’s just … unexpected, I guess. You’ve surprised me, that’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble.

“No, don’t apologise! I’m glad you told me. The thing is, I do love you too. Just as a friend.”

And despite all the preparation you did beforehand to try to protect yourself from the pain of inevitable rejection, hearing Georgia confirm aloud what you already knew still causes your heart to splinter into tiny pieces. 

“Okay,” you say, trying to swallow the lump that’s formed in your throat. “That’s what I needed to hear. Now I can move on. And I understand if you don’t want anything to do with me-”

“Are you kidding?” Georgia interrupts you. “This doesn’t change anything. It takes courage to tell someone how you feel. I’m not gonna punish you for that. Anyway, you’ll always be super important to me. So unless you need a bit of space…?”

“No,” you’re quick to say. “I don’t need space.”

“Then you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon,” Georgia reassures you.

A single tear spills from your eye and you wipe it away quickly, even though Georgia can’t see you, because you’re worried that if you let it trickle the whole way down your cheek, it’ll be followed by a flood. The only thing that could make this more embarrassing that it already is would be if you burst into tears and Georgia heard you crying.

“Thanks, G.”

———

“I hate to admit it, but you were right,” you tell Keira, as you make your way out to the training pitch at St George’s Park on the first morning of the February international break, a few weeks on from telling Georgia how you feel - how you felt. “I just needed closure.”

“From Georgia?” Keira asks for clarification.

“Yeah. It turns out that finding out she doesn’t feel the same was a really quick way to shut down whatever stupid feelings I thought I had for her.”

“I think you’re being hard on yourself. It’s not stupid to catch feelings, especially for someone like G.”

“It was just emotion from the Euros,” you try to explain. “Then the distance. I was missing her. I got a bit carried away, that’s all. Anyway, she’s got her German guy now.”

“Not anymore,” Keira tells you. “That fizzled out a while ago.”

“It did?” you ask, your head jerking up in surprise when you hear the news. “She never told me that.”

“Yeah, well…” Keira trails off with a grimace, and you don’t need her to finish her sentence to understand what she’s saying.

“Right.”

You probably sacrificed your right to hear about Georgia’s personal life when you attempted to insert yourself into it by confessing your feelings for her. And if you’re completely honest, though you still talk to Georgia pretty often, there has been a slight shift in what you talk about, more superficial football chat and fewer deep conversations about all the other stuff going on in your lives.

Not for the first time since telling Georgia how you felt, you wonder if admitting your feelings was the wrong decision after all.

You hear footsteps behind you, the telltale sound of studs against concrete, and you turn to see Georgia, who inserts herself between you and Keira and drapes an arm around each of your shoulders.

“Hey guys, whatcha talking about?”

“The weather,” Keira is quick to save you the turmoil of having to come up with a lie yourself. “Thought it was cold in Barcelona at this time of year but I’d forgotten how much worse it is in England.”

“This?” Georgia scoffs, gesturing at the bleak grey sky above. “It’s tanning weather. I don’t know what you’re complaining about.”

“You’re mad,” Keira says, shaking her head as she eyes up Georgia’s bare arms.

“Not mad,” Georgia counters with a grin. “Just happy to be back in England with my best mates.”

You don’t know how it makes you feel, hearing Georgia refer to you as a “best mate” again. She’s clearly making an effort to make sure you know that nothing has changed, that your sudden confession of feelings a few weeks ago hasn’t made Georgia think any differently of you than she thinks of Keira. But it still stings a little, all those hours spent wondering what if and picturing a hypothetical parallel universe in which Georgia returns your affection coming to nothing.

In the back of your mind, it registers that a public friendzoning shouldn’t hurt if you were as over your feelings for Georgia as you claimed to Keira that you were, but you push that thought down for now.

———

You don’t actually speak to Georgia alone until later, hanging out in one of the communal recreation areas during the free time you get between a gym session and dinner.

“I meant what I said earlier,” Georgia says. “It’s good to be back together again. And we haven’t seen each other in person since…”

Georgia trails off, leaving you to fill in the rest yourself.

Deciding that the best way to get past the slight awkwardness is just to acknowledge exactly what happened and laugh it off, you say, “Since I told you I liked you?”

Georgia’s eyes widen, slightly surprised that you’re so blasé about the situation, but she passes it off quickly and says, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry if I put you in a weird position,” you apologise. “I just needed to say something, even if you didn’t feel the same way, for peace of mind, you know? Just feelings that had been brewing under the surface since the emotion of the Euros…”

“Since the Euros?” Georgia interjects, surprised once again.

“Yeah, but I don’t feel that way anymore,” you continue, fully aware of the fact that your cheeks are starting to heat up with embarrassment. “I got closure and I moved on. I hope things can go back to normal between us.”

Georgia hesitates for a second, like she’s still trying to process everything, before her face splits open into a huge grin.

“Yeah, of course. Nothing’s changed at all.”

You try to remember what normal friends who haven’t admitted feelings for each other talk about, and your mind immediately wanders to the guy she told you about when she was last home. The guy that, if Keira is to be believed, is no longer in the picture.

“How’s it going with that guy you’re dating?” you ask, already knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from Georgia too.

“Nico? I’m not seeing him anymore. Like he was nice, but he was … I don’t know, he was just nice. There was no real spark, or nothing.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

It’s partially true. If you can’t have Georgia yourself, you want her to be happy with somebody, though you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t done some social media stalking after she told you about him and he didn’t seem like anybody particularly remarkable. In a way, it’s a relief to hear that confirmed by Georgia herself.

“Nah, it’s fine,” Georgia says, dismissing your words with a casual wave of her hand. “It wasn’t serious anyway. And I wanted to tell you it was over but I didn’t know how. I didn’t want you to think I was messing with your feelings, or anything.”

“I get it,” you assure Georgia. “But you don’t have to worry about that. There aren’t any feelings to mess with anymore. That’s all behind me.”

Georgia narrows her eyes just slightly, like she’s not quite sure she believes you, but it passes so quickly that you might have imagined it.

“Cool,” Georgia says. “Anyway, did you see that worldie I scored in training earlier?”

And so the conversation moves on, back to normal with your best friend.

———

It does go back to how it was before, for which you’re relieved. Your biggest worry about admitting your feelings for Georgia was that it would ruin your friendship if she didn’t reciprocate, so you’re glad that you’re still just as close as you were before Christmas.

The problem is that now you’re back to talking to Georgia all the time, whether that’s messaging each other, ganging up together on Leah in the group chat, or FaceTiming to have a general catch up about life, you’re starting to realise that maybe you’re not over your feelings for her after all.

Can you really be blamed? Georgia is like a human ray of sunshine, lighting up your world with her silly jokes and beautiful smile, even from another country.

Surely everybody who meets Georgia falls a little bit in love with her?

Still, Georgia has made it pretty clear that your relationship is never going to move beyond friends, and you’re content to have her in your life in whatever way she’ll allow you, even if you’re still harbouring feelings for her.

You don’t tell Keira either. She asks you about Georgia a couple of times, just casual questions in passing which you respond to with reassurances that you’re getting along like old friends again, that her rejection was enough to extinguish your feelings. If there’s one thing that’s more humiliating than admitting to your best friend that you’re in love with her only to be turned down, it’s having to deal with the constant pity of another friend concerned about a possible broken heart. So you tell Keira that everything is fine and she seems to believe you.

It is fine. You are fine.

(And if you tell yourself that enough times, one day it’ll eventually become true.)

———

You have a plan.

And it’s not a plan that you’re making because you’re in love with Georgia. It’s a plan for your best mate who lives abroad and you miss dearly.

So when Georgia’s Bayern Munich team draws Arsenal in the quarter final of the Champions League, you go straight to the airport from training on the day of the match and catch the next flight to Munich to watch her play.

As you sit next to Georgia’s mum in the stadium, who makes a comment about how nice it is that her daughter’s best friend has flown all the way from Manchester just to support her in one game, you try telling yourself that you’re not just here for Georgia, that you know Leah and Lotte and several of the other Arsenal girls and you’ve come to watch them too, but as the game progresses you’re only really watching one person. 

You’ve always known that Georgia is good - you’ve played alongside her for more than a decade at England age groups and then at City, watched her put in tackles that others wouldn’t dare to try and score goals from outside the box that would make anybody drool. But there’s a big difference between seeing Georgia play in training or when you’re on the same team as her, and actually watching her play. It’s an exciting match, a close match, with good performances from players on both sides, but you watch Georgia far more than any other players, your eyes tracking her even when she’s off the ball.

Bayern come away with the win, though only just, and you’re already trying to figure out whether you can make it down to London and back in a single night next week for the second leg that promises to be as exciting as the first. For the quality of football, you tell yourself, not just for another chance to see the best friend that you miss terribly.

You watch as Georgia greets the fans, smiling for pictures and signing shirts in the process, slowly making her way along the edge of the pitch until she reaches the area where you are. Her eyes search the crowd, no doubt looking for her mum, but she does a double take when she spots you and you carefully manoeuvre your way forward until you’re close enough to talk to her.

“What are you doing here?” Georgia asks, disbelief in her eyes.

“I’m here to see Leah,” you joke.

“Oh, I’ll just go and fetch her for you then, shall I?” Georgia grins at you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

“Have you never heard of a surprise?”

Georgia just rolls her eyes.

“How long are you here for?” she asks.

“Just tonight,” you answer. “I managed to convince Gareth to let me have tomorrow off training so I fly back first thing. I wish I could stay longer, but we’ve got a league game at the weekend.”

“Are you coming next week?” Georgia asks. “To the second leg? At the Emirates?”

“Do you want me to come?”

Georgia nods enthusiastically and says, “Yeah, course I do.” She pauses, then adds, “Only if you want to, though. I know it’s a long way to travel.”

“I’ll be there,” you promise. A wicked smile spreads across your face as you add, “To see Leah again, of course.”

Georgia rolls her eyes and says, “Dickhead.”

“Be nice, Georgia,” Georgia’s mum interjects. “She’s come all this way to see you.”

“Relax, mum, it’s just banter,” Georgia protests. “She knows I love her really.”

Love. That word again. Because Georgia does love you, of that you’re certain, but not in the way you want her to.

But as you look down at your best friend over the barrier that separates the players from the fans, her brown eyes alight and a smile on her face as she stares back at you, you realise that you’ll take Georgia’s love, however much of it there is and in whatever form it comes in, just to see her smile like this.

———

The weather is terrible. Unrelenting rain turns the four hour drive from Manchester to London into a five and a half hour drive with limited visibility on the motorways. The prospect of spending an evening in this torrential downpour for at least the two hours of the match, possibly longer if the game goes to extra time and penalties, is brightened only with the knowledge that you get to see your best friend again just a week after you last saw her.

Unfortunately the game doesn’t go Bayern’s way. Despite bringing in a one goal lead from the first leg, that hard work is quickly undone by two Arsenal goals in quick succession in the first half. You’re largely neutral to the outcome of this game, except that you aren’t because you want to see Georgia succeed, and she seems to double her efforts when Bayern go behind, putting even more into every challenge, every pass, determined not to lose.

You’re kidding yourself if you think you’re a neutral fan in this game because when the final whistle goes and the Arsenal fans start celebrating a hard-fought victory, your heart aches for Georgia and what could’ve been. But Georgia is a ray of sunshine, even in defeat, and still makes time for all the fans.

When you finally get to see her, inside the stadium after she’s showered and changed out of her wet kit, you’re actually more disappointed than she is about the outcome of the game.

“That’s football, isn’t it?” Georgia says with a shrug, after you’ve exchanged a long hug and offered her your commiserations. “Thanks for coming down though. It’s good to see you again. I missed you.”

Her words make your heart flutter and you play it off the only way you know how - with humour.

“It’s only been a week, G,” you remind her, rolling your eyes.

“A week is a long time when we used to see each other every day,” she points out. 

“And whose fault is that?” you tease her.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Georgia rolls her eyes at you. “What are you doing now?”

It’s already late and the drive back to Manchester will be a long one so as much as you want to hang around and cherish every moment with Georgia, you know you need to get on the road soon.

“Gotta drive back home soon,” you tell her.

“To Manchester?” Georgia asks her eyes wide. “Nah, no way I’m letting you drive back through the night, especially not in this weather.”

“But…”

“No buts,” Georgia interrupts you. “I’ll text you the address of our hotel and you can stay with me. Drive back in the morning.”

You’re supposed to have training in the morning and you don’t want to imagine the trouble you’ll get yourself into if you don’t show up. But this is Georgia, and is a bit of a telling off from the coaches not worth spending a bit of extra time with her? Besides, can you not just set an early alarm and drive back home straight to the training ground in the morning? You’re not needed until ten anyway…

“Fine,” you nod, trying to pretend that the decision was harder than it actually was, pretending that you wouldn’t jump off a cliff for Georgia with very little hesitation if she asked you nicely enough. 

———

Georgia meets you in the lobby of her hotel just over thirty minutes later, already dressed in pyjamas with a battered pair of sliders on her feet. She grins when she sees you and reaches straight for your hand, not even bothering with a proper greeting.

“Come on,” Georgia says, dragging you into the lift and pressing the button for the fifth floor. “Before anyone sees you.”

The lift doors rattle shut and it starts to rise. You turn to Georgia and ask, “Is this gonna get you in trouble?”

Georgia grins at you, then replies, “Only if we get caught.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, so loud that Georgia must be able to hear it echoing around the confined elevator too, and you’re not sure if it’s racing from the thrill of trying not to get caught or because Georgia’s hand is still in yours, her warm palm pressed against yours and your fingers tangled together. 

Does Georgia even realise that she’s still holding your hand, or the effect that it’s having on you? Because it’s pretty much all you can think about as the lift ascends, your heart hammering away until the rush of blood in your ears is so strong that you might faint.

The lift can’t reach Georgia’s floor soon enough, but eventually it does arrive and the doors slide open with a soft ping, and then Georgia is dragging you along the carpeted hallway until she reaches the door to her room.

“Shhh,” Georgia hisses as she unlocks the door, ushering you inside as she finally lets go of your hand. “In you go.”

You enter Georgia’s hotel room and she closes the door behind the two of you. It’s a pretty standard room, a large double bed in the middle, a tv screen hanging from the wall beside a door that leads to the adjoining bathroom. Georgia’s suitcase is open on the floor, a few clothes strewn across the floor and the chair in the corner.

“Do you want a shower to warm up?” Georgia asks you. “I can lend you some spare clothes to sleep in.”

“Yeah, sounds nice,” you nod, shivering as you’re reminded that you’re still wearing your rain-soaked clothes from earlier.

Georgia kneels beside her suitcase and rummages around in it until she pulls out a spare pair of shorts with the Bayern logo on them and an oversized t-shirt, which she passes to you as she stands up again.

“Spare towel is on the rail in the bathroom,” she explains. “Pass us your wet clothes when you’ve taken them off and I’ll hang them up to dry.”

You smile your thanks and wander into the bathroom, turning on the hot water of the shower before stripping out of your wet clothes. Wrapping a towel around yourself for warmth and modesty, you open the door just wide enough to pass your clothes through to Georgia, who promises to hang them up by the radiator to dry overnight, before shutting yourself in the bathroom and stepping into the shower to warm up.

You spend longer than you probably need to in the shower but the warm water cascading over your head is more than welcome and it gives you time to think. To think about the fact that you’re here in Georgia’s hotel room, about to spend the night in her bed, wearing her spare clothes, when you should really be halfway up the motorway back to Manchester right now.

For some reason, your conscience warning you against this appears in the form of Keira’s voice.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Keira’s voice asks you in your head. “You’re still trying to get over her. Is this really going to help?”

“It’s fine,” you whisper aloud into the empty bathroom, your words masked by the sound of water hitting the tiles. “We’re just friends and that’s fine.”

It’s far from the first sleepover you’ve had with Georgia. You’ve known each other for well over a decade and spent your teenage years sleeping over at each other’s houses gossiping and giggling well into the night until a parent came in to hush you and urge you to get some sleep. You’ve shared rooms on countless camps before, during tournaments with England or on away trips with Manchester City. And since growing up and getting your own places, there have been movie nights that ended late where it was easier for one of you to stay over instead of driving back late.

In short, you’ve shared a bed with Georgia many times before.

You haven’t shared a bed since you realised you had feelings for her last summer, and definitely not since you admitted those feelings a couple of months ago.

But if Georgia’s comfortable with it, then you shouldn’t have a problem either.

You finally get out of the shower, when you’re completely warmed through and your fingertips are starting to shrivel from being under the water for so long. You dry off and change into the clothes borrowed from Georgia, then spend a bit of time drying your hair with a towel and brushing your teeth using the spare hotel-issued brush still in its plastic wrapper, before you eventually unlock the bathroom door and return to the bedroom.

Georgia is sitting upright in bed looking down at the screen of her phone, bathed in the yellow glow of the bedside lamp. She glances up when she hears the bathroom door open and smiles, whether at the sight of you in her clothes or some other reason, you’re not quite sure. 

“You still like to sleep furthest from the door, right?” she asks, shuffling across to leave plenty of room for you in the bed beside her.

“You gonna protect me from intruders?” you tease her, as you clamber into the empty side of the bed.

Georgia is a few inches shorter than you, but you’ve seen the way she tackles on a football pitch and you have no doubt that she’d do better in a fight than you.

“Course I will,” Georgia grins back at you. “Ready for bed? Can I turn the light off?”

You nod and settle yourself down, adjusting the pillow and pulling the covers up over your shoulders as you roll onto your side. Georgia flicks off the light, then there’s some shuffling on her side of the bed, before you both fall still.

With your eyes not yet adjusted to the darkness, you can’t actually see Georgia more than just a shadow on her side of the bed, but you’re pretty sure she’s lying on her side facing you. 

And that’s when it truly hits you. You’re sharing a bed with Georgia, close enough to touch her, close enough to be able to hear her breathing, but knowing that you can’t do anything about the ache in your chest.

You have no idea how you’re going to calm your mind or your heart enough to be able to fall asleep tonight.

You shiver - whether that’s because you’re still cold or for some other reason like Georgia’s proximity - but it’s enough that she notices.

“Shit, are you still cold?” Georgia whispers into the darkness. 

“No, it’s fine,” you say, but your body betrays you again with another shiver.

“Come here,” Georgia says, though it’s her, not you, that closes the gap between you, shuffling her body closer until she can wrap her arms around you and pull your body against hers. Your feet intertwine at the bottom of the bed, hers warmer than yours, though she makes no complaint. “Nothing warms you up like a little cuddle.”

It’s not just a little cuddle though. This is a cuddle with your best friend who you’re more than a little bit in love with, who is kind enough to let you stay here despite the fact she could get in trouble, who has lent you her clothes and let you use her shower and now offers her arms to keep you warm. Your best friend who can surely now feel as well as hear the pounding of your heart as you nestle your body against hers beneath the covers.

Your eyes have started adjusting to the darkness and now you can see how close her face is to yours, your foreheads separated by barely an inch, and she’s staring right back at you, her warm breath hitting your face with each exhale.

“G…”

You breathe her name into the space between your lips, ready to tell her that you can’t do this, ready to admit that you still have feelings for her and that you need to leave, drive back to Manchester even though it’s the middle of the night and you’ve got no dry clothes, because otherwise you might do something that you regret.

But you don’t get the chance to say anything, because suddenly Georgia’s warm lips are on yours, soft and unmoving and so incredibly tentative, but also so right.

She lingers for a few seconds, then pulls back, her chest rising and falling more deeply than before with each breath, as she asks, “Sorry, I … was that okay?”

“You shouldn’t kiss me if you don’t mean it,” you say, just about ready to combust into tears, such is the intensity of the feelings overwhelming your entire body for the other girl. 

You don’t know what to expect from Georgia, but it’s definitely not what she says next.

“And what if I do mean it?”

Her voice is quiet, her words cautious. You’re so used to Georgia being her usual loud and effervescent self that you barely recognise the tone of her voice, but she sounds almost vulnerable.

“I’m so far gone on you, G,” you admit. “I thought I could get over you but I can’t. I need you to know that you could shatter my heart and stamp on all the tiny pieces and I’d still want to be yours. And if there’s even the smallest part of you that doesn’t mean it, then we should forget that ever happened and…”

You don’t get to finish your sentence because Georgia’s mouth is on yours again, hotter and more insistent this time. You gasp as she kisses you and her mouth opens too, her hand coming up to cup your jaw as her tongue swipes past your lips. The sound you let out is involuntary and you would be embarrassed, if not for the fact that you can’t think of anything except Georgia - her lips on yours, her body wrapped around you, her hands burning your skin.

Eventually, breathing becomes a necessity and Georgia must agree because she pulls back, though only far enough to lean her forehead against yours as she says, “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You think?” you ask, needing Georgia to be absolutely certain before you let yourself hope.

“I’m pretty sure,” Georgia corrects herself. “I’m still figuring it out but I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me you liked me, and then when you showed up in Munich last week to surprise me … nobody’s ever done something like that for me before. And I can’t imagine anyone else making me feel the way that you do. You’re so much more to me than just a best mate. You’re … you’re everything to me.”

“Do you really mean it?”

Georgia nods.

“Whatever I have to do to convince you I mean it…”

“Just hold me,” you tell her, pushing your body further into hers and nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck.

“Just hold you?” Georgia asks, her hand squeezing your hip, and though you can’t see her face, you can picture the smirk on her face anyway.

You lift your head and use the element of surprise to roll Georgia onto her back, trapping her against the mattress with one of your legs framed on each side of her hips.

“You’ve got other suggestions, have you?” you ask her, raising your eyebrows at her as you sweep your damp hair out of your face.

Her hands settle on your hip tentatively, like she knows what she wants but isn’t quite sure yet whether it’s okay.

“I’ve got some ideas,” Georgia admits, fighting off a mischievous smile.

“Yeah?”

You lean down, still hardly able to believe that this is Georgia telling you that she loves you, that she wants you in the same way that you want her, as you press your lips to hers again. You hope that you’ll never get tired of kissing her because each time feels more magical than the last, as you slowly get used to the way that her lips move, to the things that make her breath catch in her throat as she kisses you back, and you know that there’s a whole other side of your oldest friend that’s now open for you to get to know and explore.

It would be so easy to get carried away, especially when Georgia’s hands, already dangerously low on your hips, start to slide lower, but there will be plenty of time for that, you hope. You’ve waited long enough, thirteen long years, for this to happen. You can wait a little longer.

You reluctantly detach your lips from Georgia’s and settle back against her side, one of your legs slung over her hips and her hands coming up to wrap around your back as you lie half on top of her.

“Another time,” you tell her, as you let your eyes flicker shut, knowing that sleep will be easy to come by with Georgia’s arms around you.

“That’d better be a promise,” Georgia murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You don’t say anything, just laugh softly, and snuggle into her until sleep takes you both.

———

You wake in a different position, spooning Georgia from behind, but no less content than you were when you fell asleep. Georgia is still fast asleep, body rising and falling with each deep breath, and you manage to carefully extract your arms from around her so that you can reach for your phone on the bedside table to check the time.

You let out a soft groan when you see the time because you’re supposed to be at training in Manchester in less than two hours, and as perfect as last night was, finally getting an admission from Georgia that she feels the same, you now have to deal with the consequences of staying overnight in London instead of driving back home last night after the match.

You slip out of bed as quietly as you can, intending to go into the bathroom to call Gareth and give him some kind of made up excuse about why you’re not going to be at training. Something that doesn’t involve having to admit that you prioritised a girl over your career, even though Georgia is so much more than just a girl and last night will hopefully be the first of many that you get to experience falling asleep in her embrace, but you’re not so sure that your manager will understand or approve.

But before you can make it as far as the bathroom, you hear a sleepy voice from behind you.

“You’re not sneaking out on me, are you?”

You turn to the most adorable sight, a sleepy Georgia rubbing at her bleary eyes as she pushes herself up onto one elbow, her hair sticking up at an awkward angle on the side she slept on.

“No, of course not,” you promise her. You hold up your phone and explain, “I just need to make a call. I’ve got training today and obviously I’m not going to make it.”

“Come back to bed,” Georgia pleads with you.

“One sec,” you say, calling Gareth and lifting your phone to your ear as you sit down on the edge of the bed. 

When it rings through to voicemail, you’re a little relieved that you don’t actually have to talk to him in person, and you wait for the tone before leaving your message.

“Hi Gareth,” you say, deliberately rasping your voice as you try to sound as sick as you possibly can. “I’m really sorry but I don’t think I’m going to make it into training today. I’m not feeling well and I’ve already been sick once this morning. Sorry again. I’ll catch up with you soon when I’m feeling better. Bye.”

You hang up and toss your phone aside, ignoring the amused look on Georgia’s face as you get back under the covers.

“Pulling a sickie, eh?” she teases you.

“Shut up,” you grumble, though you still cuddle back into Georgia’s side, tangling your legs together beneath the covers once more.

From this close, you’re taken aback by just how pretty she is. Not that it’s the first time you’ve thought that, but seeing her like this, still slightly heavy-eyed from just waking up, looking back at you with adoration mirrored in her dark eyes, and being able to take it all in without having to worry about whether you get caught staring at her, is brand new. And with whatever limited time you have left before you inevitably have to get up and leave the blissful sanctuary of Georgia’s bed, you just want to kiss her, to feel her body against yours so that you have something tangible to remember this by when she has to go back to Munich.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask.

“You don’t have to ask.”

“I do,” you insist. “Because I can’t believe that last night actually happened. I’m still kinda waiting for you to tell me it’s just a prank.”

Georgia presses forward and her lips meet yours. It’s slower than the kisses you exchanged last night before bed, but you sigh happily into the kiss and bring your hand up to cup Georgia’s cheek. She lets out a little noise that you capture with your own mouth as your fingertips brush against a sensitive spot just below her ear and you make a mental note to revisit the spot later, perhaps with your lips and teeth instead, and vow to find every other spot that makes her whimper and melt into putty.

You make out for a while, a lazy exploration of each other’s mouths without any real destination. Having spent at least the last eight months dreaming of getting to spend quiet mornings in bed with Georgia, kissing until it’s hard to tell where you end and she begins, you’d be quite happy to keep doing this for the rest of eternity, but she eventually pulls back.

“I wish I didn’t have to go back to Germany,” Georgia says, echoing your own thoughts.

“But you love it there,” you remind her, trying to be the voice of reason, even though you wish you could both just exist in the cocoon of this hotel room for the rest of time.

“I love it here too.”

“Here being…?”

“With you,” Georgia clarifies, and your face cracks open into a big grin.

“Didn’t know you were so soppy, G,” you tease her. 

“Neither did I. I guess you bring it out in me.”

“Charmer,” you say, snuggling into her shoulder and sliding your hand under the hem of her t-shirt so that your fingertips can brush across the skin of her hip bone.

“We should really get up,” Georgia says, though she makes no move to do so.

“Five more minutes?” you ask, nuzzling your face into Georgia’s neck and pressing your lips to her pulse point.

“Go on then. Five more minutes.”

———

It’s another twenty minutes before you eventually drag yourselves out of bed, which means you have to rush to get ready and any chance you might have had to slip out of the hotel before any of Georgia’s teammates see you is ruined when you hear a knock on the door.

You’ve redressed in last night’s clothes, now mostly dry, and grab the last of your things as Georgia opens the door, revealing three of her teammates standing out in the hallway.

“Breakfast?” they ask her, before three pairs of eyes look past Georgia and fall on you, slipping your feet into your trainers.

“I should go,” you say, checking your coat pocket for your car keys and wandering over to where Georgia stands at the door once you’re satisfied you’ve got everything. “Text me when your flight lands.”

“I’ll text you before then,” Georgia says, her hand coming up to rest on your waist as she tilts her head up to press a sweet kiss to your lips. It’s far more chaste than the ones you shared last night and this morning but it’s still enough to draw some sniggers out of her teammates.

“Bye,” you whisper against her lips as you pull away.

“Love you,” she says.

“Love you too.”

As you leave the room and walk down the hall, you can hear Georgia’s teammates starting to tease her loudly behind you, and you enter the lift fighting off a smile that has everything to do with the development of your relationship in the last ten hours.

———

Luckily you don’t have to wait long to see Georgia again because just a few days after the Champions League match, she returns to England for another Lionesses camp as you prepare for the Finalissima against Brazil.

Naturally, you smuggle Georgia into your room almost as soon as she arrives on camp and spend the night trying really hard to keep your hands to yourself, because you’ve waited so long for Georgia to be yours that you’re determined to wait a little longer so that your first time together isn’t at St George’s Park while your teammates are trying to sleep in the rooms on either side of yours. But you settle for kissing her heatedly well into the night and waking up with her head resting on your chest and one of her arms draped around your waist.

You’re in such a good mood when you go down to breakfast on the first morning of camp, that you completely forget that nobody else knows about the new development in your relationship with Georgia. Specifically, you forget that Keira, who knows pretty much every other up and down of the last few months, doesn’t yet know that Georgia reciprocates your feelings.

You sit at your usual table for breakfast, Keira opposite you and Georgia setting her tray down next to yours.

“I’m just gonna get some juice,” Georgia says. “Do you want some?”

“No thanks,” you reply, taking a sip from your mug of coffee.

You watch as Georgia wanders over to the jugs of juice, your gaze following the swish of her ponytail before dropping to appreciate her legs and the shape of her butt in her training shorts. It’s only when Keira kicks you under the table, hard enough to surely leave a bruise on your shin, that you snap out of your trance.

“What?” 

“You’re still in love with her, aren’t you?” Keira hisses across the table.

You pause for a second, glancing between Keira and Georgia, who is on her way back to the table with a glass of orange juice, and then you laugh. You can’t help the way that it spills from your throat because Keira is looking at you like being in love with Georgia is the worst thing in the world, and while it might have been painful a week ago, you don’t know how to begin to explain that in the space of just a few days it’s become the best thing that’s ever happened to you.

“What did I miss?” Georgia asks, as she returns to the table and sits down beside you. “What’s so funny?”

“Keira thinks I’m in love with you,” you explain.

Keira’s eyes widen, and now that you’ve got over the initial surprise of her question, you start to wonder if you can have a bit of fun before actually telling her the truth.

Georgia is clearly thinking the same, because she nudges your thigh with hers and says, “Aw, you love me? That’s lame.”

Keira looks even more panicked - understandable given that she’d probably expect Georgia to be a little more considerate towards your feelings if she didn’t reciprocate.

“Can we talk after breakfast?” Keira asks. “Because I’m worried about you. I thought you’d…” Keira’s eyes flit across to Georgia, then back to you, giving you a deliberate look as she says, “… you know.”

“You thought she’d moved on?” Georgia fills in the gap. She puts down her fork, then reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together and resting them on the table where Keira, and anybody else, can see. “Fat chance of that. She’s obsessed with me.”

Keira looks more confused than ever, and you realise that you probably owe her an explanation.

“G’s my …” You pause, realising that while you’ve both admitted you love each other and there seems to be an understanding that you’re together now, you haven’t actually had a conversation to put an official label on what you are. You turn to Georgia and ask, “Are you my girlfriend?”

“If that’s your way of asking me, it’s not very romantic, is it?” Georgia teases you.

Rolling your eyes, you turn back to Keira and say, “She’s my girlfriend. We’re dating.”

To emphasise your point, you bring your joined hands to your lips and press a kiss to the back of Georgia’s fingers.

Keira’s eyes look like they might pop out of her head at any second.

Leah sits down in the empty seat beside Keira, taking one look at your joined hands, before she says, without a hint of surprise in her voice, “You two have finally got your shit together, then? About bloody time.”

“How are you not more surprised by this?” Keira asks Leah, apparently exasperated by the new development. “I’ve spent months listening to this one,” she jabs an accusatory finger in your direction, “whine on and on about how much she loves Georgia and how Georgia is never going to love her back to the point where I’ve genuinely had sleepless nights worrying about it, only for them to hard launch their apparent relationship by rocking up to breakfast and just holding hands like it’s completely normal!”

Keira is usually so cool and composed, even when under stress, that it’s weird to see her have an outburst like this, but she’s the only one who knows the extent of how much your feelings for Georgia not being reciprocated until now has really affected you over the last few months, and for that she deserves an explanation. 

Georgia leans closer to you and whispers, “Babe, I think we broke Keira.”

You’ll have time to process the way that Georgia’s use of the pet name babe makes your heart do an actual somersault in your chest, eager to revisit the subject later, but you probably owe Keira an explanation before she actually combusts.

“I love her,” you tell Keira and Leah. “And it turns out G loves me too, it just took her a while to figure it out. But we’re serious about giving this a go. It’s brand new, which is scary and exciting, but…” You turn to Georgia now, almost forgetting that the others are here too as you get caught in the adoration in Georgia’s eyes. “But she’s my girlfriend, my best mate, the only person I’ve ever felt like this about. So yeah, I’ve been a bit of a mess over the last few months trying to get my head around what I felt for her. But she’s worth it. You’re worth it, Georgia. And I’m lucky I get to call you mine.”

Your words come from the heart and it feels for just a second like the two of you are caught in your own little bubble of blossoming romance.

That is, until Leah bursts it by sarcastically saying, “Well thanks guys, I really didn’t want to keep my breakfast down this morning.”

It doesn’t matter if Leah ruins the moment. You’ve waited for Georgia for far too long to care. And as the news of your relationship filters through camp until the rest of the team knows, met with some surprise, some cries of “I knew it!”, and plenty of teasing, the only thing that matters is Georgia and the fact that you finally get to call yourself hers.

[psychotrenny]

There's a real unearned confidence to the way that Social Democrats talk about their ideology, like they've cracked the code and found the perfect way forward and the only reason people disagree is because they're misguided or evil. Like they'll correctly point out problems within Neoliberal Capitalism before spouting some absolute nonsense about how uniquely evil and dysfunctional Communism was (nearly always in the past tense too; they take it for granted that the end of the USSR was the end of all Communism) and then going "Don't worry though, there's a third way; a mixed regulated economy. We can have a free market in consumer goods while making sure that corporations pay their fair share in wages and taxes that can fund the welfare that looks after everyone". And like putting aside the fact that such a model relies on the super-profits of imperialist exploitation to actually function, and the inherent instability of an arrangement where the Bourgeoisie make concessions even while maintaining ultimate control of the economy, there's the simple fact that much of the Imperial Core did indeed had Social Democracy but does not anymore.

Like these Social Democrats never think about why that might be, why their ideology failed and what they can learn from it going forward. They just act as though some dumb individuals (i.e. Ronald Reagan, Milton Friedman etc.) managed to slip into power and make bad decisions and like the best way to fix this is to vote good people in who'll change it back. Like hell a lot of these people take the previous existence of these policies as like a good point, the whole "We had them before so we aren't being radical by wanting them back. We don't want anything crazy we just wanna bring back The New Deal or Keynesian Economic policy or whatever". There's never any thought about why those policies failed (how often do you hear these people even talk about "stagflation" or "the oil crisis" let alone the impact of the fall of the soviet union) and what implications this might have on the viability of bringing it back. They also love talking about how Social Democratic institutions are still largely intact in the Scandinavian countries, but rather than even consider what specific factors in their political-economic situation led to this these people just go "Damn isn't Sweden great. Why aren't we doing exactly what they do?"

And sure some people might compare this to Marxism-Leninism, the whole "trying to bring back a defeated ideology", but for one it's stupid to treat the dissolution of the USSR as the end of Communism as a global political force. It may have been a major blow, but even if you write off like Cuba and Vietnam as too small and insignificant to matter you can't just fucking ignore that over 1/6 of the world's population continues live under a Marxist Leninist party. Whatever concessions these countries may have made to global Capitalism, it's just plain ignorant to act as though Communism suffered anywhere near the humiliating loss of global power and credibility that Social Democracy has. Sure the latter may be more politically acceptable to toy with in "The West", but "The Western World" ≠ The Entire World. Also, nearly every ML on the planet is painfully aware that Soviet Communism collapsed and that it collapsed for a reason. There might be plenty of contention about why exactly it died and what exactly we can learn from this, but nearly everyone agrees that we need to learn and ideologically grow. No serious Communist wants to "bring back the USSR" in the same way that many Social Democrats want to "bring back The Welfare State". Far from being a form of "best of both worlds" mixed economy, Social Democracy is nothing more than a flimsy tool to stabilise Imperialist Capitalism at its moments of greatest strain. And if people are still gonna promote it wholeheartedly as the best possible solution, I wish they'd be a little less arrogant about it. It's not as though they have history on their side

[mysunshinetemptress]

Would you write something for jessie fleming?

No matter what, I love you

Jess Fleming x musovic!reader Warnings: Slight angst mainly fluff

Jess Fleming Canada's wonder kid and now one of Chelsea's star midfielders had held your attention from the minute your older sister introduced you. You don't know why she's so quiet and timid and you're so loud and outgoing but you're so drawn into her it shocks the entire Chelsea team.

Your first meeting doesn't last long, it's a flying visit to England during a short break from college. The second time you meet Jess asks for your Instagram immediately and you both spend your few days together laughing at the videos you send back and forth.

This time when you get back to Sweden you don't have to mark on the calendar how long until you see her again because you're texting or FaceTiming every night. She's in Canada and you're in Sweden when she asks you out promising that the next time you are in London She'll be the Jess you have come to know as a chatterbox and not a silent mouse only when you do eventually get back to London it's like every other time until your woken up by a knocking on your hotel room and before you can even open the door fully Jess has thrown herself at you kissing you desperately as if kissing you as if she has lost the pull of gravity and you're the only thing keeping her on earth.

Your relationship is never the same after that in the best way possible, Jess is joined to you at the hip unable to go without you for more than a few hours. Three days later you're flying back to Sweden and five days after that your parents open the door to a very lost Canadian.

This happened on and off during your last year of college until you finally decided to follow your girlfriend and older sister to London.

You and Jess move in together a short while later and your relationship only seems to get better, coming home from work to find Jess sitting on the couch or making dinner.

But when her final season at Chelsea begins your relationship begins to take a turn.

Jess goes back to being her quiet self, she doesn't talk unless you've started the conversation, and she no longer sits on the couch to watch TV or cook you both dinner because she's never home until you're in bed.

She doesn't pull you closer in bed and whisper how much she loves you while she thinks you are sleeping. She doesn't rise at the same time as you, she's restless a borderline insomniac by the time you're counting down the days to the Christmas break maybe then she'll talk to you about what's going on in her head instead of what's going on in your life, your sisters life anything to avoid the topic of her.

Jess seems to open up a bit more when the Christmas break finally comes along and you take her back for a short break to Sweden, she's smiling more, talking more, to you, to your family, she's dancing with you in the kitchen and holding you close at night.

But as you hand over your passports to the flight attendant you feel as though you're back to square one.

It's another late night when Jess crawls into bed and stays curled up on her side refusing to touch you, this time though you've had enough and grab the back of her top forcing her to turn before resting your head on her chest, you smile slightly as Jess's hand automatically comes up and starts playing with your hair.

"I was at a meeting with my agent." Jess lets out quietly, you don't move "Well I didn't think you were cheating Kärlek." Jess seems to relax "You didn't ?" you shake your head "You would have told me the moment you kissed another girl you're way too soft to keep something like that from me."

"I'm leaving Chelsea." Jess continues this time with a nervous shake in her voice "I guessed so too." Jess stops running her fingers through your hair "What, when." you sigh turning your head to look up at her, "You have been unhappy since you came home from the World Cup, you have been out late doing extra practices since and you don't go out with anyone on the team except Zecira and Niamh." Jess turns her head to meet your gaze "You're way more observant than you let on to be." You laugh "I know, now where are we moving to." Jess doesn't seem to register your words.

"I'm signing with Portland Thorns so I'm leaving at the end of the month and before you say anything i have thought about it, we have done long distance before we can do it again and then you can visit me in the summer and I can come stay with you here in the off season, we can make this work." You smiled nodding "Ok, I can deal with being without you for a few months, I'll start looking at teaching jobs in Portland in the morning, but my contract doesn't end until the end of this school year so i can't apply to new schools until after, oh i wonder if the kids would wan't to learn Swedish words like my kids now." Jess looks at you confusion clouding her features "What do you mean, I...you're staying here." You shake your head "Where you go i go, might take a bit longer but we aren't spending anymore than a couple months apart anymore, lifes to short." Jess pulls you into a kiss suddenly overcome with her love for you.

Jess leaves for America a few weeks later and you whisper to her nightly as you doze off to sleep how much you love her.

Zecira wonders around London with you in your final weeks in the country that has brought you so much love, your on the hunt for a ring as your sister tries to talk you out of moving across the world. "I mean, I love Jess I do but are you sure you want to move across the world with her, you'll be so far away from me, from Mamma and Pappa but mostly me." You laugh before looking down at the various diamond cuts.

"She isolated herself for weeks, months from you, what if she does that in Portland." Zecira places her hand on your shoulder worry etched on her face, you turn away from the rings to look at her.

"She stopped making dinner, stopped sitting on the couch, stopped holding me at night and whispering how much she loved me, but i never doubted her, never doubted that she would talk when she was ready, or that she loved me." Zecira looked at you confused "How." you smile your eyes falling on an oval cut diamond. "Becuase she has kissed me as if she has lost the pull of gravity and I'm the only thing keeping her on earth, every morning before she left for training, any time she saw me through out the day, she told me how much she loved me in thoses kisses. She might do it again but she'll come back to me when she's ready everytime and as long as she keeps kissing me like that I'll be here for her no matter what." You smile at the jeweller and pointing to the engagement rings "Can I look at this one please."

[imbored1201]

really enjoyed both your Barca x teen reader fics, would love another part if you can, particularly with more lucy!

Christmas Guest

A/N: I’ve been wanting to make a Christmas fic, so I thought this would be perfect

Barcelona Femeni x Teen Reader(Mostly a Lucy x teen reader), but some motherly Alexia

Word Count: 1,194

Growing up, Christmas always ended terribly. Always one of your family members getting into a fight with each other to the point where police may have had to be called or your parents yelling at you or each other.

"What do you want for Christmas?" Pina asked, and you looked at her, confused. It's something you were never asked about by anyone. "Nothing," you simply said and went back to changing. Claudia groaned. 

"You never want anything; you told me the same thing for your birthday. Come on, anything? A video game? I'll even get you a car," Claudia said, frustrated.

"I don't even have a driver's license," you mumbled to her as you gave her a little smile and walked away to the field. She groaned, and went to rant to Alexia. 

—————

"What are you doing for Christmas?" Lucy questioned you, "Nothing, just sleeping all day." She looked at you, confused. "Are you sure you don't want to go back home with me?"

She knew you had a complicated relationship with your parents, and her family loved you, so you were invited to everything. You've already been invited to four different people's family gatherings. 

Ingrid's and Mapi's; they were going to Norway. Fridolina's in Sweden; Keira's, but she was leaving like right when the last game was over; and Alexia's. Alexia said if you didn't decide, then she would drag you to her family.

"I don't want to be a bother." Lucy shook her head. "Kid, my mom has a stocking hung up for you; she's been asking me every day if you're coming. Trust me, you're her favorite child." You smiled a bit at that. "Are you sure?" She nodded, "Okay then," Lucy cheered and jumped up. "We leave in two days," she ran off to brag to everyone you were going with her back to England.

You smiled a bit and focused back on your last practice of the year. 

————-

Right when you got home, Alexia sent you to the dining table. "Alexia, it's Christmas break; I have no homework," you told her as she set down a paper and pen in front of you.

"Nope, you're making a wishlist. I want you to put at least 30 things." "Why 30?" "The whole team needs ideas."

"I don't know what I want," you muttered. "Well, you better think about it. Don't you dare move from that table until you have at least 25 things."

After the 10th thing, Alexia sat next to you and read what you currently had on your list. She did disapprove of some stuff, like all the nerf guns, since you would probably end up shooting someone in the eye. 

"So Lucy?" Alexia asked you, "Yeah." Alexia looked a bit happy and a bit worried. Ever since you joined Barca, you've never left Alexia's sight. She even dragged you to her photo shoots.

"Okay, let's start getting you packed then, and please behave; you get more wild around Lucy.”

"I always behave," she gave you a look. "That's not what Leah tells me," you smirked. You still remember the yelling Leah gave you and Lucy when you guys snuck out after curfew to go to a nearby park. 

You guys found it funny until the next day, when you had to do extra laps while everyone laughed at you and watched. 

—————

Saturday, 5 a.m.

You groaned as Alexia put a beanie over your head and went through your suitcase again to make sure you had everything. "Your toothbrush?" "My backpack." "Charger?" "Backpack" "phone?" "Pocket," "do you have your headphones? You know you need those on the plane or you get really nervous." "In my backpack."

After more questions, you finally spoke up. "Alexia, we did this last night." "I'm just making sure you have everything," she defended.

"You're such an overbearing mom," Lucy laughed as she picked up your bag to put it in the trunk. Alexia was driving you guys to the airport. 

The whole car ride was Alexia telling Lucy what you needed and your usual routine. 

Lucy wasn't even listening; she kept reaching over to pinch and give you slaps on the thighs since you were kicking her seat. 

The bye was odd; Alexia had some tears in her eyes, and you and Lucy awkwardly glanced at each other. "Lex, I'm only leaving for a week and a half," you told her. 

"Nah kid, those are tears of joy," Lucy joked as Alexia gave you a tight hug.

Then she turned to Lucy, "you better bring her back in one piece of Lucia." Lucy smirked as she started dragging you into the airport. "I'm not promising anything."

—————

"Come on kid, mom is over here." Lucy's mom was waiting outside of her car, smiling softly. You were a bit scared; you knew Lucy's mom already; you guys had met after the Euros. You had also met her brother, niece, and nephew during the World Cup. 

As you approached, she was quick to pull the two of you into a huge hug. "Y/N, how have you been?" She rubbed your back and pinched your cheeks.

"I've been good; how have you been?" "I've been amazing, missing my children and grandchildren as always, but I'm just happy we'll all be together again." Lucy smiled as she put the luggage into the car.

"Look, I got you two matching sweaters for Christmas Eve," she said as she held up the sweaters. You took it happily, muttering a 'thank you' and showing it to Lucy, who was smiling at your reaction.

After meeting her dad, Lucy could tell you were their new favorite child. You would sit with her dad and talk about sports, and her mom would teach you how to cook. 

Lucy took you around her home and showed you all the places she loved as a kid. You two had also gone last-minute Christmas shopping for everyone. 

You guys even spent all day eating ice cream and decorating cookies, something Alexia probably wouldn’t like since she didn’t like when you ate a lot of sugar. Lucy didn’t care, though; she happily dealt with your sugar rush. 

—————

Christmas Day was eventful. You were woken up by her nephew jumping on you. 

"Ow," you mumbled and groaned as you heard Lucy's laugh. "Come on kid, don't be a grinch," you sighed as you sat up. 

You could hear the kids giggling and shrieking downstairs, and Jorge running around, probably chasing them. 

"Carry me," you grinned at her. She rolled her eyes but listened, giving you a piggyback ride to the chaos. 

Christmas went perfectly. Lucy's parents went all out with their 'youngest child', who was you, and their grandchildren. 

When you got back home, all you could talk about was how great Christmas was. The team just listened and nodded along as they gave you their gifts. 

————

"It looks like you're going to have a permanent traveling buddy every time you go back home, Bronze,” Mapi joked.

“Mom will disown me if I don't,” Lucy responded, as she watched you chase Pina around, shooting her with the huge nerf mini gun Patri got you. 

[7ndipity]

Dating Namjoon headcanons

Warnings: swearing, suggestive, teeny bit of angst

A/N: I realized that I hadn't written anything for Joon in a hot minute, so let's change that, shall we?

Masterlist

Requests are open

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Dating Namjoon feels like one of those early 2000s romance movies.

Utterly frustrating but soo worth it.

He talks a lot of hype in his songs, but I think when he first meets someone he's really into, he's a fucking mess.

Like it's Joon, but it's Joon, you know what I mean?

Red ears, stumbling over his words(and feet), getting flustered every other sentence.

Probably walked into a wall while distracted talking to you.

Don't get me wrong tho, once he gets the butterflies to chill and gets comfortable, the rizz is BACK and in full force.

Big on eye contact

Stares at you with absolute heart eyes(if you've seen that clip of him watching Hobi from Bon Voyage, you know what I'm talking about)

But can flip the switch in the blink of an eye, and be looking at you like he's gonna eat you alive(we love a duality king)

Simp Romantic. Will randomly bring you flowers just cause he was thinking about you(but he's always thinking about you, so why was today any different?)

Writes soo many songs/lyrics about you, but rarely tells you about them directly. He just asks if you wanna hear something he's been working on, and then sits back and watches your faves as you catch the hidden meanings and references. At the end, he's just sitting there, grinning, asking "You like it?"

(Like, yes, I like it you fucking dork!)

Always remember important dates like birthdays and anniversaries( first date, first kiss, everything)

Museum and bookstore dates are a given.

Buying/sharing books with you is probably one his favorite forms of intellectual intimacy, because, for him, each one is a glimpse into your mind.

If you mention one of your favorite titles and he hasn't read it, he's gonna find it asap.

Would try to get you to workout with him and be gym buddies.(I don't know if I like or hate that idea tho?)

Random texts at 1am asking if you're up and wanna hang out?(may or may not be outside your place already, cause he's over-eager and forgot to text earlier)

Endless, late night talks about everything from music to the meaning of life to what jelly bean flavor is superior(it's watermelon)

Also random trips together. Could be to the beach, could be to Sweden, who knows? You bring out his spontaneity and are one of the only people who can get him to take a vacation anyway.

He is a workaholic though, so you have to look out for him sometimes, make sure he eats, sleeps, touches grass, etc.

You probably bicker and butt heads a lot, but y'all make sure it never gets out of hand and try to find a solution.

(Lowkey possessive, but won't admit it)

Not a fan of pda, but he *clings*.

He tries to be subtle about it, but fails because it's like there's a gravitational pull between the two of you from the way he's constantly within arm's reach wherever you are.

Same goes for when you're alone. He's not technically cuddling you, but he always somehow ends up pressed to your side or back, or has a hand on you in some way.

Another member of the 'Protective Squad'. Like, if anyone so much as looks in your direction the wrong way, he's got the death glare locked on them.

Pretty classic when it comes to nicknames for you. Things like 'honey', 'baby', 'jagi'. Adds 'my' in front of any of them when he's in the mood to fluster you.

Which reminds me, he is the BIGGEST FUCKING TEASE ISTG.

He knows exactly what riles you up, and then just gives you these soft, sweet little kisses like you're not about to combust. Has the nerve to then smirk and call you needy(I wanna fight him)

Finds the most random things you do attractive. The way you read. The way you make your coffee. The weird little face you make when your flipping through Netflix.

Although he seems a bit cautious, I actually think a relationship with him might move pretty fast. Like, he's fighting back from asking you to move in with him after five or six months type of fast.

Lives for domesticity with you.

Quiet, sleepy mornings together. Messy hair and glasses over tired eyes, resting against your shoulder as he brings you coffee while you cook breakfast.

I know he said he's not sure abt kids anymore, but I do see him possibly getting a pet with you to 'round out the household'. Something quiet and low maintenance though, like a couple hermit crabs.(would probably name one after a favorite artist/author and then name the other smth random like 'blue')

Again, I don't know how to end these. Just love him, please.

[sunshine-theseus]

World Cup Loses and Transfers | Frido Rolfö x Reader

Words: 3.2k Summary: you get knocked out of the wc but you meet the woman of your dreams (I’m giving Kristie the playing time she deserved at the wc), please pretend frido never got injured Warnings: slightly suggestive. i think that's it. barely proof read. Requested by - @realsociadadferminofan

Being called up to the national team for the first time when you’re 27, right before the world cup, was unexpected and terrifying. I only knew Kristie, Lynn and Kelly from playing with them at Gotham, closest to the Mewis due to both growing up in Boston and playing with her sister Sam for a few years in North Carolina. It was a national team that was relatively skilled and fluid with one another, and I felt like an unnecessary part in a smoothly working machine.

“This has to be a, a joke, right? It’s four.” Kristie runs her hand down her face as she holds her phone in a deadly grip. I stare out the window, looking across the city, trying to ignore the way my gut drops when her phone rings before mine.

“Is Y/n there too? It might be easier to do you both at once.” I hear the accent from across the room and solemnly stand, dragging my feet across the floor, and sit on the couch beside Kristie, waving at our coach.

“I wanted to talk to you, and just let you both know, that you’re both selected to go to the world cup.” I choke on the words of thanks I was about to spew out and don’t even try to hold the tears back.

I turn toward Kristie, who has a similar expression, and I pull her into me.

“We did it.” I whisper in her ear and she rubs a hand up and down my back before we pull away.

“Thank you so much, I’m so excited.” Kristie gives her thanks and I repeat a similar message.

“You deserve this, you both bring something to the team on and off the field and it’s exactly what we need for the world cup.” We thank Vlatko once more and bid him goodbye, and I break down.

Kristie pulls me back into her and I cry, I can feel her tears drop on the top of my head but neither of us say anything for a moment. We hold each other and feel the relief and excitement of it all.

“You deserve this more than anyone Kristie. We’re going to go to the world cup and show people we are worth it.” I wipe away her tears and we both agree to separate and call our respective people.

~~~~~

The beginning of the tournament is nerve racking, but we beat Vietnam 3-0.

Then we play the Netherlands, and Vlatko doesn’t sub on a single person, and I begin to get nervous for our time at this tournament. We tie 1-1 and no one is happy. We have to at least tie with Portugal to get through to the knock-out rounds.

Lynn starts, I get subbed on at half time for Andi Sullivan, and Kristie gets subbed on in the 54th minute for Lindsey Horan. We’re still 0-0 in the last 3 minutes of the game, but Rose makes a pass to Kristie, who manages to slip the ball to me, and I make a powerful shot from just outside the penalty box. The goalkeeper’s hand grazes the ball as it spins, but it still hits the back of the net.

I scream as I make a run for Kristie, jumping into her arms as Rose and Lynn and whoever else hugs us.

The whistle blows to continue, but barely a minute later it blows again, indicating the end of the game.

I fall to my knees and weep, players patting my back as they pass. Emily is the one who lifts me off the ground and hugs me.

“You fucking did it.” I cling to her for a long time.

I’m surrounded as we celebrate, and I finally feel like I belong. Being hugged and congratulated by veterans of the team, singing kid’s jerseys and signs. People care about me.

~~~~~

Neither Kristie nor I start for the game against Sweden, which hurts considering how well we played the other day, but we keep our hopes up.

In similar fashion to the game against Portugal, I’m subbed on at half time, Kristie joining me.

“Go out and make a fucking difference! We’ve got this girls!” Lindsey yells as we run back out onto the field, ready to win this thing.

We take our positions, Alex kicking off. I follow the ball with my eyes as I make my way to mark my player, almost running into her as she heads toward me. Fridolina Rolfö is one of the best players in the world, with a versatility that isn’t seen all too often, and she’s standing right beside me. I also try to desperately ignore my raging crush on the tall Swedish player as the ball falls to my feet and I try to manoeuvre around her.

I kick the ball through her legs and take on down the field again, making a pass to Kristie. She passes to Alex who takes a shot, but Mušović catches it and falls to the ground with ease.

After the full 90’, neither team yet to concede a goal, we prepare for an extra 30 minutes, possibly even penalties. Vlatko gives us the order before the extra time begins, and I begin to get nervous again.

We fight as hard as we can for a goal, while simultaneously trying to keep Sweden away. By the time the final whistle blows to indicate the extra time is over, we’re still at a stagnant nil-nil. Penalties will be the decider. We line up, Andi stepping forward to take the first kick for us. It drifts into the goal with ease, and I hug Kristie to my side in short celebration.

Frido steps up next, taking her spot in front of Alyssa. I try not to think about how arguably good she looks as she takes a deep breath. She lets it go and runs, slotting the ball into the right corner.

1-1.

Kristie takes our 3rd. In a calm fashion I’ve witnessed from her many times before, she places the ball on the spot, closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, and kicks. It flies into the top left corner, and I don’t waste a second in running out of the line and picking her up, spinning her around.

3-2.

Both teams struggle to convert another goal for a few shots, but we eventually end up 4-4. Then it comes to me. It’s up to me to get us through.

I line up with the ball, glancing to the left side of the net in hopes of confusing the keeper. I take three steps back, run, and kick the ball. It flies forward toward the right side of the goal and the goalie jumpers to the left. The ball looks like it’s about to go in, when it makes contact with the post, diverting it away from the net. I try not to fall to the ground, instead silently crying as Kristie holds me at her side, watching Lina Hurtig line up.

The world moves in slow motion as she kicks the ball. Alyssa gets her hands on the ball, but it flies back in the air and toward the net. She makes a dive to stop it before it crosses the line, sweeping it away. Both teams begin to celebrate in a moment of confusion, us hoping for a second chance to get through, Sweden believing they’ve knocked us out.

We wait in anticipation as the ref checks with the VAR, and I fall into Kristie’s arms, pulling us both to the floor as she announces the ball crossed the line.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I whisper apologies in her ear as we both cry, watching Lina run to her team.

“It’s my fault.” I can’t lift my head to look anyone in the eyes. I failed this team.

“It’s not your fault, it was bad luck. You did everything you could.” She comforts through her own tears.

“You should go talk to Lynn and the others.” I say, pulling away. Kristie nods curtly, hugging me once more before standing up and leaving me to wallow by myself.

“Ursäkta mig?” (excuse me). I turn toward the person looming over me and come face to face with Fridolina Rolfö.

“You played very well today. I’m sorry for your loss. It’s not your fault.” She offers me a hand which I take nervously.

“T- thank you. But I should’ve been able to make that penalty. You played well too.” I stare at the ground, far too nervous about who I’m talking to, and disappointed in my performance.

“Would you like to swap jerseys?” my head whips up to look at the tall blonde.

“W- with me? Frido Rolfö wants to swap jerseys with me?” I stutter as she smiles down at me.

“If you don’t mind.” I waste not a second more in pulling my jersey off and handing it to her, Frido copying me. We pull them over our heads and some photographer takes a picture. I smile despite my puffy eyes and the tears that have yet to dry.

“You really should be proud of your performance today. Despite missing the penalty, you played the best you could. Maybe we’ll see you at Barca one day.” She pats me on the back and heads back to her team. I do the same.

~~~~~

A few weeks later I get a rather shocking email. The world cup ended about a week ago, Spain taking the trophy over England, and the NWSL was about to start back up. This email put a stop to my plans.

“Dear Y/n L/n,

Barcelona Femeni has deeply reviewed your performance at the world cup and at Gotham FC, and we wish to extend an invitation for you to transfer to Barcelona before the start of our 2023/24 season.

Please get back to us as soon as possible. We may be open for discussion on your salary.”

I try not to scream in excitement, hyperaware of the newly engaged couple sleeping in the room next to me, and decide to take a day to think about it and discuss the idea with Kristie and my family. I get up and begin to make breakfast for the three of us, a simple poached eggs on avocado toast, to keep me distracted.

Eventually Kristie and Sam emerge, and I present them with the idea.

“You have to take it.” Sam tells me deadpan.

“Well hold on a second. Maybe you should take a few days to think about it.” Kristie counters, and I begin to get nervous.

“Offers like these don’t just hang in the air Kristie. It’s the best move for her career.”

“What about her family? And the NWSL? We’re so close to the final.”

“What about what’s best f-”

“I’m doing it.” I interrupt what’s inevitably going to become a fight if I let it drag on.

“I’m moving to Barcelona. Sam’s right, these opportunities don’t just wait for me to be ready, and they rarely come more than once. My family will understand and so will the club. I hope. I have to do this Kristie.” The girl simply nods in understanding, and I smile at Sam before heading back to my room to reply.

~~~~~

A week and a half later I’m stepping out of a taxi and standing in awe in front of the Joan Gamper training grounds. I came in yesterday to put myself in their system and take the signing announcement photos but being here for training made it seem much more real.

I stand watching the likes of Aitana Bonmati and Keira Walsh walk past me and into the building when a hand lands on my shoulder. Once again, Frido Rolfö towers over me with a wide, welcoming grin that spreads across her face.

“They took my recommendation!”

“What do you mean?” I begin to walk alongside her.

“I strongly suggested that Jonatan watch your performances at the world cup and the NWSL after we versed each other. We need a strong midfielder like you who can also make goals. Very similar to Alexia.”

“Me? Like Alexia Putellas? You’re lying.” The Swede simply smiles again as she pushes open the door to the locker room.

“Hola!” a chorus of voices greet us as we enter. We’re clearly the last here.

-

It takes me a few days to start gelling with other players. These people were the best of the best and I had to prove I belong here, so I did just that.

-

“Mapi, Mapi! Here!” I yell to the centre back, pointing to where I want the ball. 5v5s could be hard but they made it seem easy.

It flies through the air and lands against my chest before falling to the ground. I seem to be in an impossible situation, but I spot a gap and hit the ball through, managing to run around Lucy and tap it into the goal past Sandra.

“VAMOOOS.” Mapi, Frido, Ona and Aitana run toward me.

“You’re so good.” Frido taps me on the head affectionately as she pulls me into her side in some sort of hug. I blush and roll my eyes when I make eye contact with Pina, who was very aware of my crush on the forward.

“Thank you Frido.”

There must have been something in the air because I continued to bang in goals all session.

I tap the ball back behind me to navigate around Alexia and chip it over Sandra, right into the goal.

I make a shot from the boarder of the penalty box, and it lands in the top right corner.

Aitana shoots the ball into the air and before I can think, I’m jumping and throwing my leg in the air behind me. It connects with the ball, and I turn my head to watch if it goals in as I fall to the ground. The net ripples behind Sandra and I’m at the bottom of the dogpile before I can say anything.

“You just flawlessly executed a bicycle kick what the fuck?!”

“How’d you do that?”

“Can you do that again?” a new question is presented before I can answer the previous and I just laugh. Eventually everyone gets off and heads to lunch, but Frido helps me up.

“You’re performing goals like that but you’re not a striker? Why?”

“It just feels right. I’ve always been told I’m best midfield even though getting goals has always been something I loved doing.” She hums and takes my hand as we follow the others.

~~~~~

“We’re playing truth or dare! No complaints!” Claudia shouts over the groans spewing from everyone’s mouths.

“It’s the ultimate team bonding experience. Come on.”

“I’ll go first!” Ona volunteers and we all wait to see who she picks.

“Mapi. I dare you to knock on your neighbours door, accusing them on stealing Bagheera.”

“But Señorita Ruiz is so nice, and old.” Despite the complaint, Mapi gets up and walks out of her apartment, Ona following her, and knocks on Ms Ruiz’s door.

“María Pilar! How dare you accuse me of stealing Bagheera! I look after him every time you go away and take good care of him! I would never do such a thing.” The sounds of what one could only assume to be a handbag hitting Mapi, echo down the hall.

“Lo siento, lo siento Señorita! Por favor my friend made me I’m sorry!” the subject of the quabble meows and struts out of the apartment and toward Señorita Ruiz’s.

“Never accuse me of such things again or no more buñuelos.” Eventually the two come back, Mapi red faced with Bagheera in her arms, and Ona giggling in joy.

“My turn I suppose.” Mapi seethes jokingly.

“Y/n. I dare you to play seven minutes in heaven with Frido.” I stop, but Frido is already standing, and I can’t say no.

“Let’s do this.” I whisper, apparently loud enough for everyone to hear, as they cheer and laugh.

I follow Frido to Mapi and Ingrid’s bedroom and close the door behind me. As soon as I do, I’m pushed up against the wood. My breathing stops and I flush red, trying not to look at her lips.

“If you don’t want this, tell me now. Otherwise, I’m going to kiss you because I’ve wanted to since I first saw you.”

“I want you to kiss me so bad.” She surges forward, pressing her lips against mine, and I grasp at the loose fabric of her shirt to pull her closer.

I don’t even try to talk as we continue to make out against the door. I try not to think about how hot she looks with dishevelled hair and ruffled clothes, my lip-gloss smudged against her own lips, otherwise we won’t be leaving this room.

Then comes an aggressive bang from the other side, Mapi yelling time is up.

“This isn’t over.” She whispers in my ear as she reaches around me to open the door and walks out. I stand still in awe as I watch her walk away, and Mapi has to usher me back to the circle where I sit next to Frido.

~~~~~

I went home with her that night and woke up the next morning buried beneath satin sheets with an arm around my waist, skin on skin. Despite the deep want inside of me to freak out, I take a breath and take in the world around me. The sun streams through the window and lands perfectly on the face of the woman beside me, making her skin light up and her hair seem like liquid gold.

I spot the pile of our clothes on the floor and giggle at the memory of how hard they were to take off last night in our rushed kisses. But then I remember how the rush slowed down. There was no other word to describe it except love.

Frido’s eyes slowly open and she grins at me, leaning forward and pressing soft kisses to my shoulder and neck. I sit up urgently and reach a hand toward the spot she just kissed, then stand and head toward the bathroom linked to her room. There on the side of my neck, is a row of small, dark purple hickies. Frido follows me in and wraps her arms around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder, and continues to kiss every inch of skin she could reach.

“I have no way to cover these up before training.” I groan and throw my head back.

“Good.” She shrugs before kissing me on the lips, and then goes back to her room.

“You did it on purpose!” I whine.

“I will never admit that. Now join me.” She pulls me into the shower before I can protest.

Let’s just say we were nearly late to training. And I had to borrow her spare kit. And everyone most certainly knew what happened.

Ingrid was the first to point it out, poking a finger into the bruises on my neck and pointing them out to Mapi. I swat them away but it only brings more attention to us. Alexia is the next one over and she gracefully points out the 16 that replaces my usual 3. I look over to Frido for help but she just laughs.

“You know what? At least I’ve got a girlfriend. More than some of you can say.” I laugh along with some of them but Frido seems shocked. I tilt my head to the side in confusion, running my sentence through my head.

My smile drops but she leans over and kisses me.

“Yeah at least she has a girlfriend.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shoulder II

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: They're all hoverers

Sometimes, you think that your family can do no wrong.

Your mothers are loving. Your girlfriend adores you. Everyone gets on with each other, even though Magda and Talia pretend they don't.

Other times, you just want to live alone somewhere on an island with no other people around to fuss over you.

"Are you sure you don't want me to adjust your sling?" Talia asks, lips pursed in thought," I saw you wincing a second ago."

"I was wincing because my painkillers are wearing off."

After your win with Lyon, you had decided to travel back to Sweden with your mothers to finish off your recovery there. You'd told Talia to just return to Spain, to make the most of her days off from football before joining up with the Spanish team.

She'd refused and insisted on coming with you to make sure you're okay.

Nearly a week in now and all three of them were driving you up the wall.

"Should I get you more?" Her girlfriend asks and you roll your eyes, leaning forward to peck her cheek.

"You're sweet, Talia," You say," But I can't take anymore for at least another hour."

She pouts. "Is there nothing I can do to help? Do you want some food or something?"

"No food!" You hear Pernille shout from the kitchen," This is almost done!"

You rolls your eyes.

She's been slaving away on the stove since you woke up.

She'd already had breakfast prepared and lunch already prepped and ready to be cooked. She's making it now but she's also been making it for the past hour now.

You're pretty sure she's cooking dinner simultaneously but you're not too sure. That's the only reason it could be taking this long.

"Are you sure?" You ask," Not even a little snack?"

"No," Pernille says," Just a few more minutes."

You're a little worried, truthfully.

As a child, Magda had always been the one cooking the big meals and Pernille helped by doing little things like putting broccoli in the oven or taking the meat out when asked.

So, you're a little apprehensive at what Pernille's cooking now.

You hope someone gave her a recipe to follow rather than letting her make something that appeared in her head.

"Here," Magda says, appearing at your other side," To tide you over."

A handful of magic stars are placed in your hands.

You used to love these as a kid but they were only ever really bought when you went to the cinema because you never liked popcorn.

You don't know where Magda bought them in Sweden but you're grateful as you throw them into your mouth.

You think Pernille thinks you're going to ruin your lunch, like you're a little kid again that has eyes bigger than her stomach.

It's sweet, you think but a little annoying.

"Have some more," Magda says, shaking more from the bag straight into your hands," You need to keep your strength up."

"I hurt my arm-"

"Dislocated it," Talia corrects.

"-I'm not sick."

"Having chocolate doesn't have anything to do with sickness," Magda says," It's just making sure you have energy."

"You're hovering," You tease and Magda makes an offended noise.

"If I'm hovering then what's Talia doing?!"

"Hovering," You deadpan," You're both hovering."

"We're making sure you're okay," Talia says," You'd fault us for that?"

"No," You say," I fault you for being so overbearing about it. If I feel bad or if I ache or if I need some comfort, I can tell you. Don't you trust me?"

Talia's expression softens a little and she smiles.

"Yeah. I trust you."

"And Morsa?" You say, turning to Magda," Do you trust me too?"

Magda purses her lips, not responding for a few seconds. "I..." She sighs. "Yeah but you have to tell us, alright? No trying to deal with it on your own."

You roll your eyes. "Fine."

"Good girl," Magda says, a sot kiss pressed to your temple.

"Alright." Pernille appears out of nowhere. "Lunch is served!"

It smells alright, the soup that has taken her an hour to make.

You force down a spoonful.

It's horrifically salty.

"How is it?" Pernille asks.

You force a smile onto your face.

"It's amazing."

[milaisreading]

2p Axis and 2p Allies reaction to a guy giving Valentine's Day gifts to y/n before they had a chance?

🌱🩷: Here u go! Hope it is ok, and thank you for the request!

2p!Italy🇮🇹

2p!Italy: Bella, these are for you~

Yn, while looking at the flower bouquet: Thank you! I didn't expect you to care about Valentine's Day! These are really pretty

2p!Italy: You care about this holiday and so do I. Besides, I wanted to be the first one to give you the present.

Yn:Oh... uhm...

2p!Italy:What?

Yn: Well... Actually... Sweden already gave me a present so...

2p!Italy: Really?

Yn: Yeah- WHY DID YOU TAKE YOUR KNIFE OUT?!

2p!Germany🇩🇪

Yn: Thanks for the chocolate!

2p!Germany, all proud that she likes it: Nothing to thank me for. I heard from people you like this flavor.

Yn: Yep! It's one of my favorites, actually.

2p!Germany, confused as he thought she likes this one: One of? What's your favorite? I can get you that instead.

Yn: No need! Besides, Denmark already gave me that this morning.

2p!Germany: ... What? Wait, so someone already gave you a gift?

Yn: Yeah. This morning

2p!Germany:....

Yn: Why is your gun out?

2p!Japan🇯🇵

2p!Japan:...

Yn, worried as his glare intensifies and his grip on the present tightens: Are...are you ok?

2p!Japan:Yes.

Yn: You look constipated. Was it the food you ate earlier?

2p!Japan, embarrassed as he shoves the present into her hands: Just take this stupid gift?!

Yn: Thanks... *opens to see what's inside*

2p!Japan, trying to look like he doesn't give af: And?

Yn: Oh! This is a cute figurine! It will go well with the one Korea gave me!

2p!Japan:...

2p!Japan: When did he give it to you?

Yn: This morning.

2p!Japan: Ah... so someone already gave you a gift?

Yn: Yeah- where are you going?

2p!Japan: Out for a walk.

2p!America🇺🇸

2p!America: Hey there, dollface! Happy Valentine's Day! Here is your present.

Yn, jumping in surprise as she takes it: Thank you! The bear is cute!

2p!America, swinging his arm around her shoulder: Not as cute as you.

Yn, blushing:O-oh...

2p!America: Anyway, want to go and eat something?

Yn: No, I just ate with Norway

2p!America: Excuse me? What?

Yn: He took me out to lunch as a gift.

2p!America,thinking of all the ways to kill a country: Oh... lovely...

2p!France🇫🇷

2p!France: What is that?

Yn, looking at the small cake 2p!France was pointing at: Oh! This? It's a cake Finland made me for Valentine's Day! Want to try? He made it with my favorite flavor.

2p!France while tightening his grip on a gift he got her: Oh... And you accepted the gift just like that?

Yn, confused by the question: Yeah? We always give each other gifts.

2p!France: You gave him gifts as well?!

Yn: Yeah... Are you mad?

2p!France: Yes.

Yn: O-oh... I will put it away then...

2p!France: Please do.

2p!England🇬🇧

2p!England: Poppet! I made you my special cupcakes! Try them!

Yn, nervous as she remembers what his special cupcakes might have:I am not really hungry, so...

2p!England: They don't have anything bad in them, I swear!

Yn, slowly nodding her head as she takes them: O-Ok.

2p!England: I wanted to make this present special! Do you like them?

Yn, surprised they taste like real, normal cupcakes: Yeah... they remind me of the ones Switzerland got me this morning.

2p!England: What?

Yn: Switzerland gave me some as a present this morning *continues eating*

2p!England, thinking: I will turn him into literal Swiss cheese

2p!Russia🇷🇺

Yn: Thanks for the presents, Russia... Isn't this too much? *looks at the mountain of gifts*

2p!Russia, shakes his head while patting hers: Not really. In fact, there are more I need to give you.

Yn:?!

2p!Russia: Don't worry your pretty brain about it, but... Who gave you those flowers over there? *points at the tulips*

Yn: Oh! Netherlands gave me them as a gift this morning! They smell so good- Why are you taking the vase away?

2p!Russia: They have gone bad. I will get you better ones

Yn: What?

2p!China🇨🇳

Yn, admiring the Hello kitty plushie: This is so adorable! I never saw this one!

2p!China, while having a huge grin on his face: Well, it was a special I requested for you. Happy you like it.

Yn: Thanks! You didn't have to go through so much trouble for me.

2p!China: It was more trouble at all~

Yn: It will look great with that plushie Estonia gave me this morning

2p!China:...

2p!China: Someone gave you a present already?

Yn: Yep~

2p!China: Oh... Can you do me a favor?

Yn: Sure. What is it?

2p!China: Can you sleep with your window open for tonight? And put that plushie from Estonia as close as possible to the the window

Yn:...

Yn: What?

2p!Canada🇨🇦

2p!Canada, blushing as Yn thanks him for the chocolate: It's nothing. Just a small token of appreciation.

Yn: Still! Thank you for remembering me! I didn't expect gifts from both Iceland and you, to be honest.

2p!Canada: Oh, it's nothing. I am happy you like- What do you mean by Iceland?

Yn: Him and Mr. Puffin gave me those cute Valentine's Day cards. They are so adorable~

2p!Canada, agitated while she is smiling: Aha...

An hour later...

Yn, yelling from her room: My cards are gone!!

2p!Canada as he lights up a fire: How tragic

[svennomaani]

Hej Nordiska vänner and everybody

There is a thing called Runeberg.org that is like Project Gutenberg, but focusing on Nordic texts. They have scans of old books, from which a computer has extracted the text, and that automatic text needs to be proofread and corrected to match the scanned page.

Its a lot of stuff in Swedish but also plenty other languages too (Danish and Norwegian and Finnish, but also German, French, English, Latin...)

So if you wanna do some volunteer good work in the world you can help out with the proofreading. It's all done in the browser, I've been doing it on the phone, so it really doesn't take anything special.

Some stuff is in blackletter, which can be hard to read if youre not used to it, but there's also stuff in more modern fonts.

Here are the instructions in how to do it:

I'm currently proofreading a Finnish translation of Danish stories from the 1800s. You can arrange the titles according to language, so you can find the ones you can read.

There are at least a couple of "English-speaking person travels in Sweden and describes what's there" -books that are in English in the time period I looked at.