#cameras from Sweden

[dancuny]

Hasselblad 1600F Camera

Looking through my collection, I had a couple of different cameras in mind, but they use 127-size film, which I ordered a few days before the intended day to take photos. Unfortunately, the film hasn't arrived in time for me to shoot photographs when the weather is nice and sunny, so I'll put them off for the next blog. 

 As I gazed at the items in my collection, the Hasselblad 1600F caught my eye. I had purchased it many years ago, and the last time I had the pleasure of using it was a couple of years ago. The thought of loading a roll and exercising the focal plane shutter in this early version of the Hasselblad camera filled me with anticipation. 

 I generally use the Zeiss 80mm f2.8 lens on the camera, but looking through some of the lenses I have for this and the 1000F, I do have the Kodak Ektar 80mm f2.8 lens, which was the lens initially sold with the 1600F here in the US, and later the Zeiss 80mm f2.8 was available. For this shoot, I got out a roll of Ilford FP4 125 film, which I loaded into the film back, and I put on the Ektar lens to see how it would work. I was pleasantly surprised.

The Company:

When I think of cameras that have made an indelible mark on the field of photography, Hasselblad undoubtedly comes to mind. They are known for capturing iconic moments on Earth and beyond. Hasselblad cameras are synonymous with precision, durability, and unmatched image quality. At the heart of this remarkable brand is the story of its founder, Victor Hasselblad, and his relentless pursuit of excellence.

 Victor Hasselblad was born in Gothenburg, Sweden, in 1906 into a family with a photography and photographic supplies background. While Victor initially followed in his family's footsteps, he soon developed a desire to innovate and improve upon existing camera technology. At 18, he traveled to Dresden, Germany, to work with the best optical manufacturers of the time, gaining invaluable experience in the technical aspects of cameras and photography. This laid the foundation for his future endeavors and innovations.

 During World War II, Victor's knowledge of cameras caught the attention of the Swedish Air Force. They approached him with a German aerial surveillance camera they wanted to replicate. Victor accepted the challenge and famously responded, "I don't want to make a copy of it—I want to make a better one." This led to the development of the first Hasselblad camera, the HK7, designed explicitly for military aerial photography. Victor's ingenuity soon proved invaluable, and his cameras became crucial tools for aerial reconnaissance.

 After the war, Victor focused on developing cameras for the consumer market. In 1948, the first consumer-oriented Hasselblad, the 1600F, was introduced. This camera was revolutionary for its time, featuring a modular design that allowed photographers to change lenses, viewfinders, and film magazines, making it highly versatile. The 1600F also used medium-format film, which produced images of superior quality compared to 35mm film cameras available at the time. However, the early models faced technical issues, particularly durability, and required further refinement.

Despite the initial technical issues, Hasselblad was committed to improving its designs. By the 1950s, Hasselblad cameras had developed a reputation for being highly reliable, and photographers worldwide began to take notice. In 1952, Hasselblad introduced the 1000F with an improved shutter and slower maximum speed of 1/1000. The camera also came with a Zeiss 80mm f2.8 lens, marking a significant improvement in the brand's offerings.

 The subsequent 500C model, released in 1957, solidified Hasselblad's place in the professional photography world. With its leaf-shutter system and modular components, the 500C became a workhorse for studio photographers, renowned for its reliability and image quality. This camera design remained in production, with upgrades, for decades and became the foundation of Hasselblad's success.

 Hasselblad cameras are most famous for their role in space exploration. In 1962, NASA astronaut Walter Schirra brought a Hasselblad 500C on the Mercury-Atlas 8 mission, sparking a long-standing relationship between Hasselblad and NASA. The camera's build quality, high resolution, and adaptability made it an ideal choice for capturing images in the challenging conditions of space.

 Hasselblad worked closely with NASA to modify the cameras for space use. The resulting 500EL model was specially adapted for the Apollo missions, where it would ultimately capture some of the most iconic images in history, including the first steps on the moon by Neil Armstrong in 1969. The modifications included [specific modifications], which allowed the camera to function effectively in the challenging conditions of space. To this day, the image of Earth from space, known as the 'Blue Marble,' remains one of the most famous photographs ever taken, and it was captured with a Hasselblad. The brand's involvement in the space program elevated its reputation further and established Hasselblad as a premium name in photography.

 With the arrival of digital photography, Hasselblad continued to innovate, embracing the transition while retaining the high standards that defined its analog cameras. In the early 2000s, Hasselblad launched the H-System, a line of digital medium-format cameras that maintained the quality associated with the brand while integrating advanced digital features. This line set new benchmarks in the industry, offering extremely high-resolution sensors, modular components, and sophisticated imaging capabilities that appealed to professional photographers and high-end studios alike.

 More recently, Hasselblad has also embraced the mirrorless trend, launching the X1D, a compact digital medium-format camera that balances portability with the image quality of medium format. This new direction has helped the brand stay relevant, catering to a new generation of photographers who demand portability without sacrificing image quality.

 Today, Hasselblad remains a symbol of excellence in photography. Known for its attention to detail, superior image quality, and dedication to craftsmanship, Hasselblad has cultivated a loyal following of professional photographers, collectors, and photography enthusiasts. While the digital age has transformed the landscape of photography, Hasselblad continues to adapt and push the boundaries of what is possible, ensuring that its legacy endures.

Victor Hasselblad's legacy is a testament to the power of innovation, and his vision inspires photographers worldwide. From capturing wartime reconnaissance to the moon's surface and beyond, Hasselblad has not only documented history but has become a part of it.

My Camera:

My Hasselblad with the Kodak Ektar 80mm f2.8 lens is 6.5" long by 4.5" wide, including the winding knob, and is 4" tall with the waist level finder closed. The camera weighs in at 2 lbs. 15.9oz. This camera is in excellent condition for being around 75 years old. Hasselblad made this camera with a maximum shutter speed of 1/1600, which was very ambitious for a medium-format camera. There is some minor tarnish on some chrome, a small dent in one of the shutter curtains,  and the leatherette is starting to come loose around the waist level finder, but that seems to be it. It's also important to know that the 1600F and the 1000F use focal plane shutters. After these models, the 500c and model moving forward have leaf shutters in the lenses, not the camera body. The exception was the 2000FC model.

Having owned several different Hasselblad models, the camera operations are similar to mine. The film back on my camera is the older C12 film back. To load the film, you need to take the film back off the camera. Well, you don't need to, but I've always done it. You have to have the dark slide in the slot on the left to remove the film back from the camera. The dark slide in the holder presses a pin within the film back that allows the back to come off. If the dark slide isn't in the film back, you cannot take the back off the camera. To remove the film, on the top of it is a sliding circle with a Hasselblad "V" logo that you slide to the right and pull back down to remove it from the body.

 On the left side of the film back is the lock. Pull up the tab on the lock and turn it counterclockwise until it stops, then pull it away from the film back, and the insert will pull out. The film insert is what you load the film into. With the lock on the left, take the empty film spool from the bottom holder by pulling out the roll holder on a hinge to quickly load and unload the rolls of film. Put the empty spool onto the top. The top has a knurled grip on the hinged holder to wind the film before loading it back into the film back to shoot. Put your fresh roll of film into the lower holding area, pull the paper over the black pressure plate and slide the leader into the empty spool and turn the knurled knob to load the film onto the reel. Keep turning the knob until you see the "start" word on the paper backing. 

 Slide the film into the body portion and lock the back securely into the body. On the right side of the film back is a winding knob. Lift one of the handles and wind. On my film back, which is a C12 back, there is a hinged door where you can see the frame numbers as you turn the winding handle. Open the backdoor, watch for "1" to appear, and stop winding. At this point, turn the winding lever in a counterclockwise motion, and the frame counter under the winding knob will reset to number 1. Put the back onto the camera and prepare for the first photo. As you take photos, the film will advance back in, and you can check the frame counter on the film back to see what frame you're on.

Now that the film is loaded into the camera let's go out and shoot a few frames. Remove the front lens cap to focus the camera and pop up the waist level finder. A smaller "V" Hasselblad logo slider is on top of the waist level finder to open the finder. Slide that to the right, and the waist-level finder will pop open, showing an image you're pointing the camera toward. Turn the focus ring on the lens to get a sharp image. If you want a more critical focus, you can slide the slider to the right again, and a magnifying lens will pop up. You can put your eye closer to the magnifying lens to see an enlarged area of the focusing screen to fine focus on your subject. To close the waist level finder, one by one, flip down the side panels over the focusing screen, then the back panel, and close the top, which will click when closed.

 Before you press the shutter button on the front of the camera in the lower right corner, as you're holding the camera, you need to take out the dark slide from the film's back. The camera will not fire if the dark slide is engaged in the film's back. Be sure the shutter is cocked and ready to shoot. To cock the shutter, there is a large knob on the right side of the camera. Pull out the dark slide and turn that knob in a clockwise motion, or so the knob is going forward. This cocks the shutter. Set the shutter speed, which is on the right side of the camera, on the knob that cocks the shutter. 

 Because this model and the 1000F cameras use a focal plane shutter, it's VERY IMPORTANT: DO NOT SET THE SHUTTER SPEED WITHOUT COCKING THE SHUTTER FIRST. If you do, the camera can jam, and with this and the 1000F models, it's extremely expensive to service and, due to the age, possibly not able to be serviced due to lack of parts.

On my Eastman Kodak Ektar lens, the aperture is entirely manual, meaning you need to open the aperture for focus and then stop down to take the photo. Being used to "automatic" apertures where the aperture closes during exposure and opens after the exposure, it's easy not to remember to stop the lens down before taking the photo. Being one that uses a myriad of different cameras, I'm getting used to checking before, but every once in a while, I forget and need to retake the photo.

 If you want to change the lens on your camera, as you hold the camera, there is a button on the front of the camera in the lower left corner, opposite the shutter release. Press the button and turn the lens in a counterclockwise motion to release the lens and put on a new one. To put on a different lens, line up the red dot on the lens and the red dot on the camera body and turn the lens clockwise until the lens "clicks" into place and is secure on the body.

 Now that you've shot the 12 frames on the roll of film, it's time to take the film out, get it processed, and see how you did. To do so, take the dark slide out of the film back, remove the film back from the camera, open the film chamber, unload the film, and put in a fresh roll to shoot some more.

My Results:

After walking around my block taking photos on a sunny afternoon, I wanted to see how the lens would handle and the image quality it would produce. The lens focuses close, down to 20" from the film plane, so I was able to get in close for detail. Here are the results from the Eastman Kodak Ektar 80mm f2.8 lens.

   Conclusion:

I'm��a photo nerd. I love using cameras, especially the older mechanical versions. There's something gratifying and calming about having a mechanical camera in my hands. Whether looking through an eye-level or waist-level finder, taking photos is an absolute joy.

 The Ektar 80mm f2.8 lens is terrific. I liked how the focus was fluid and easy to turn, the ease of opening and closing the aperture, and the picture quality was better than expected. The older Ektar lenses are superb, like those on the Ektar 35mm camera.

 Thank you for taking a few minutes out of your day to read about this early Hasselblad camera. I plan to use it for more shoots in the upcoming months.

 Until next week, please be safe.

Reference:

Hasselblad Website: https://www.hasselblad.com/about/history/first-consumer-camera/

[cowes]

[mrsmandalorian]

short n' sweet tour

--pedro pascal x singer!f!reader

summary: on the debut night of your arena tour, you pull out all the cheeky tricks to grab Pedro's attention while the crowd goes wild.-this fic features a tiny bit of 'Bed Chem" and the whole song of 'Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter !!

lyrical genius masterlist / main masterlist / wc:4.9K

warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, smut!!!, and fluff!, p in v, hard and quick FUCK, sexual TEASING, pet names, pillow humping, dry humping, wandering hands, makeout.

a/n: the next part is finally here! thank you for all the love on this series. hope you guys enjoy this part! pls leave some feedback and let me know what you guys might be interested in seeing in the future! much love, maddie <3

The electricity from the crowd vibrates backstage as you nervously wait for your cue to run onstage. All the hard work throughout your career has led to this moment—the first concert of your North American leg of the arena tour. It started in  Staples Center in Los Angeles and concludes in Sweden next year. 

The pre-show recording starts as your team quickly helps you with your earpiece and offers words of encouragement. Take a few deep breaths to calm your nerves as you hear the team start a countdown to your entrance over the earpiece. 

“Three, two, one-go, go!” the stage manager says from behind you.

As the crowd roars, you dash onto the elaborate stage to begin the show with one of your many comedy bits, acting as if you are half-ready for the show to start, still in your sequined bath towel. You finally end up center stage to find your microphone and strip from your fake towel to a custom sparkling bodysuit with sheer sparkling tights, which causes an uproar from your fans. 

Looking into the sea of people and phones, you give your best smile and take the moment as best as possible. The tune of your first song starts as your dancers slowly come out to join you on stage. It was showtime. 

The crowd was whole of thousands of fans and familiar faces from family, friends, and celebrities. The cheers and joy in the room made all the struggles and hard work behind the music worthwhile. The impact your music has on people truly makes it all significant. You released your album, and it was a fantastic experience; it topped the charts for weeks and went viral on social media. It has undoubtedly been the best year of your life. Your career has already taken off, but the overwhelming success you've experienced in the last six months has been remarkable in more ways than one.

Your nerves disappear as you sing through the setlist and entertain your fans with your cheeky comedy bits and lovable personality. Your setlist consists of songs from your new album, older hits and gems, and karaoke from your favorite artists. Much like your most recent singles, your latest album is very sex-positive and cheeky, which sets your performance to the same tone. You were expecting a good reaction from the crowd, especially someone. 

After a few songs and the addition of a sheer robe, it was finally time for one of your more sexual songs off your album, Bed Chem, which had a very sensual tone of dance to it. The lights dim as you get into position on a retro circular bed part of your elaborate makeshift apartment stage. You position yourself seductively in the middle as you stare up at the camera above you, which will project onto the large screens for the audience. 

The song starts as you twirl your hair with a massive smirk. As you go through the first few lyrics on the set bed all by yourself, you can't help but imagine your bed chemistry with your lover, Pedro, which causes you to blush heavily. 

Your imagination halts as your dancers join you on the bed to continue the song and choreography. The canopy opens to the audience, but you have been so caught up in your performance that you haven't taken a second to look at those chocolate eyes in the audience. 

As you continue the song sensually and playfully, you are met at the edge of the bed with your dancers. Staring into the crowd to find his eyes, you meet them with a large smirk, holding them as you sing the following few lines. 

“And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time (bed chem)

And I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine (bed chem)

And I bet it's even better than in my head (my, ooh).”

Your gazes hold until you give him a wink, which earns you a smirk and wink back from him. The tension between you and him burned hotter than the stage lights, igniting every inch of you—even in a room packed with thousands. You were so smitten with him as you continued your choreography with your female dancers. 

During the song's outro, the ladies leave you to dance with the guys as you kneel on the bed. One of the male dancers joins you, holding a camcorder that projects onto the screens, and he joins you on the bed. Playfully actingout a scene with him until the canopy curtain closes and your reflections show you both undress and embrace onto the bed as the lights dim to darkness. 

After the song ends, the crowd erupts, and you run backstage for your first outfit. As you change, one of your few mini videos and dancers entertain the audience. Touching up your makeup and dabbing the sweat from your brow, you quickly grab your phone to send Pedro a selfie of you winking and making a kissy face: “All for you, baby.” 

The concert flows on—another outfit change, playful banter, and electrifying moments with the crowd—all in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the thoughts of your irresistibly fine man. After an intensely emotional song, your setlist picks back up with cheerful, fun music that has gone viral for your whole tour. You walk yourself down in your long, custom, sexy dress down the catwalk of the stage as you talk with the crowd. You compliment and express your gratitude to your fans as you prepare for the next song. Before the song, your team and you have been doing a comedy bit before to give the spotlight to a fan. 

You complimented the crowd on their fabulous outfits, which you knew took them a while to pick out or make. The best part of the bit happened once your dancers joined you just off the main stage onto the catwalk. 

“Oh my, everyone, look! Who is this hottie in the front row right here?” You let out a shocked expression as you fan your face dramatically. The camera for the large screens directs the camera to the person you are referring to, who happens to be Lux Pascal. The crowd goes wild as Lux starts to blush. “ You are breathtaking! Whoever made you, God bless them. God bless their genetics.” You joke with her as you twist your hair in a fake, flirtatious way. “Um, what's your name, gorgeous?” 

The camera pans back to Lux, where she plays her part and screams, “Lux!” to you. You both laugh together. “Such a beautiful name! Our names would be perfect for us to be in a relationship together. Oh my god! My clothes just fell off thinking about us. I will have to arrest you for being too hot!” You say as your long skirt falls to reveal your shorter skirt underneath. A brief glimpse of Pedro standing beside his sisters and your friends sends the arena into a deafening uproar, the sheer volume making you giggle into the microphone.

Your dancer hands you a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs, which you give to the security guard with a wink and blow a kiss to Lux before you start to get into position for the next song, which the intro has begun. 

The dancer brought a chair for you to sit in between them to start the song. They all still wave and send Lux flirtatious signals as part of the bit. The music begins, which causes you to smirk because of the context. 

“Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing

Oh yeah, you just get it (get it)

Whole package, babe, I like the way You don'tt

God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh”

You promise yourself just one glance. Flashing him your brightest grin, your eyes meet him—and the instant connection sends a deep blush rushing to your cheeks. It remains on your face throughout the song as you continue to sing. 

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?

Oh, I hear you knockin', baby, come on up”

“I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love (Oh)”

Your blush never fades as you pour yourself into the sultry song about your lover, every lyric a teasing confession. Your movements are sensual and playful, and the choreography pulls the audience deeper into your world. They sing along to every word, their energy electrifying, reminding you that moments like this make it all worth it.

“I showed my friends, then we high-fived (Ah-ah)

Sorry if you feel objеctified (Ah-ah)

Can't help myself; hormonеs are high

Give me more than just some butterflies”

You quickly make your way down the catwalk as you sing and dance, smiling at the sea of people around. You get right to the tip of the heart at the end of the stage and give your cheekiest smile. 

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out some freaky positions?

Have you ever tried this one?”

As the lyrics leave your lips, you drop to your hands and knees at the center of the heart-shaped stage, rocking your hips in a slow, sensual tease. With a playful bite of your lip and a cheeky wink to the crowd, the message is crystal clear. The arena erupts at the bold display, but you’re already back on your feet, slipping seamlessly into the next move. The cameras cut to Pedro—his head shaking, a knowing smile on his lips as he chuckles with your friends. The stage slowly rises above the crowd as you continue to sing. 

I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love

“Alright, LA, sing this next part with me at the top of your lungs!” you exclaimed to the crowd, shimmering in the air. “Let me hear every single one of you!” You seamlessly kneel and place your hand on your chest as you sing the bridge. 

“Adore me

Hold me and explore me

Mark your territory (Ah-ah)

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one (Ah-ah)

Adore me

Hold me and explore me (Ah-ah)

I'm so fuckin' horny

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one”

Behind you, the screen flashes the song’s lyrics in bold, glowing letters, each word pulsing with the rhythm. As you reach the bridge, your mind drifts—those lyrics, once just melodies, now feel like a private confession, each line a tantalizing reminder of your lover. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you keep singing, letting the emotion seep into every note.

“(Oh, I) I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might (Might)

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love”

The concert rolls on for a few more songs, each moment more electrifying than the last. A hint of sadness creeps in as the night nears its end, but the thrill of an unforgettable show lingers. Still, excitement bubbles within you—soon, you’ll be backstage, ready to celebrate a night that was nothing short of magic.

“LA, this has been the most unforgettable night of my life. My first big tour, my first night, and I got to spend it with you. I can’t even put into words how much this means to me—how much you mean to me. Thank you for believing in me, for screaming with me, and for making this dream a reality. I’ll never forget this night… unless the adrenaline wears off and I completely black out. But seriously, I love you all more than words can say. Thank you for everything!” You express your gratitude, trying not to get too emotional about the overwhelming feeling. You gently wipe your few happy tears from your face.

You blow kisses and wave as you gracefully go backstage with your dancers. Your team is waiting for you to help take your earpiece out and celebrate with you. They all give you compliments and congratulations. If there is any criticism, they will let you know tomorrow. 

After returning to the greenroom, the energy from the performance is still buzzing through your veins, and your friends and family pour in from the audience. Laughter and praise fill the space as they hug you and gush about their favorite moments of the show. Their words warm your heart, but before you can respond to them all, a familiar touch sends a shiver up your spine.  

Strong, warm hands settle on your hips, grounding you instantly. You turn swiftly, already knowing who they belong to, and are met with Pedro’s soft, adoring smile. Before you can say a word, he pulls you into his embrace, his scent wrapping around you like a comforting haze.  

“You were incredible, baby,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with pride. His hands trail down the fabric of your outfit, savoring the texture beneath his fingertips. The simple gesture sends a wave of goosebumps across your skin, and you can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch.  

Still basking in the moment, you slowly pull away just enough to meet his gaze, your voice warm with gratitude. “Thank you,” you whisper, the connection lingering between you.  

With his presence still humming through you, you turn back to your loved ones, laughter, and conversation effortlessly filling the space once more.

As the last of your friends and family trickle out of the arena, heading off to prepare for a celebratory late dinner, you stay behind in your dressing room, savoring the moment. Pedro remains by your side, a comforting presence as you decompress from the night. The air between you crackles with unspoken energy, and it’s clear you both can’t keep your hands to yourselves.

“You were quite the tease during your set, angel,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. His warmth envelops you as you sit on the small couch, his hands exploring your body with a playful familiarity. You giggle at his words, nodding in agreement, the tension between you both palpable.

“You knew exactly what you were doing to me,” he adds, his fingers dancing along your waist, drawing you closer. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that sends your heart racing. “I’d love to see your stage set.”

A rush of excitement floods through you, your smile growing as you meet his gaze. “I’d love to show you,” you say, your voice soft but laced with promise. Taking his hand, you lead him toward the stage door, the lingering buzz of the night still thick in the air. A few crew members move about, cleaning up and prepping for tomorrow’s show, but your focus is entirely on him.

Waltzing onto the stage, you gesture to the elaborate setup, walking him through the details as you chat about your performance. His hands never leave you, fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin as he listens intently, slipping in jokes that send both of you into laughter.

But as you near the infamous round-shaped bed at center stage, warmth floods your cheeks. His smirk deepens. “You looked blissful the whole night,” he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. “But there were two moments you looked absolutely delectable.”

His lips brush your neck, trailing soft, lingering kisses that send a shiver through you. A nervous giggle escapes as you instinctively tilt your head, granting him more access. Slowly, he eases you back onto the bed, his touch growing more assured, guiding you into surrender.

That’s what you do—surrender to him. It had been weeks since your schedules aligned, since you’d had a moment like this, and you weren’t about to waste it. You let him take control, guiding your body with ease, his fingers threading through your hair as his lips capture yours in a slow, lingering kiss.

A soft whimper escapes as he presses closer, his hands trailing down the front of your body, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “You were such a tease tonight, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and thick with amusement. His grip tightens around your thigh as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The warmth of his body and how he moves against you sends a shiver through you, the anticipation crackling between you like electricity. “I think you might have been trying to get a reaction out of me.”

His hips dip into yours as you feel his warmth glide against yours, which causes you to squeeze your legs around me. His hands wander down to your bum, and he holds you close for a moment. With one swift movement, he flips you and positions you on top of him. Gripping your ass before giving a quick slap against your behind, which causes you to let out a yelp. You bury your head into his chest because you are embarrassed by being too loud and getting caught.

He gives you two more slaps that make you whimper against him and cause him to snicker. “Two can play the game, love,” he says as he grips your hips and pushes you against his clothed member. You buck your hips to create some friction between the two of you, which makes you let out the slightest whimper in need. His hand remains on your hips as you throw your head back as you let yourself hump him against him. He enables you to ride him as his hands roam towards your breast and knead them roughly, which causes a noise of frustration to erupt out of you. The slickness in your panties makes your determined hips work furiously against his hardened member. 

You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice Pedro’s smirk, the glint of mischief in his eyes. He had a plan—one carefully crafted to make you pay for every playful tease, every bold move you pulled on stage.

Your breath hitched as his hands moved with deliberate slowness, his touch both gentle and commanding. “You had your fun tonight,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Now it’s my turn.”

With a wicked smirk, he tightens his grip for just a moment before effortlessly sliding you off his lap, the loss of his warmth sending a desperate ache through your body. His hands linger—slow, deliberate—tracing over your skin as if memorizing every inch of you. Then, just as your breath catches in anticipation, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. It’s tender, almost reverent, yet it only leaves you craving more.

As he rises, his gaze locks onto yours, dark with satisfaction, knowing exactly what he’s done. Without another word, he strides off the stage, vanishing into the shadows, leaving you there—breathless, flushed, and utterly undone, your body still humming with the need only he can satisfy.

For a moment, you lay there, catching your breath, your mind racing. You wouldn’t let this old dog win—not yet. Your teasing wasn’t over. But damn him, he’d left behind something deeper than just a game. The ache he ignited wasn’t one to be toyed with; it demanded more than just playful taunts. It needed to be answered.

Your body still burned from his touch, every nerve alive with the memory of him. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on your skin, the soft press of his kiss on the top of your head—a contradiction of tenderness and control that made your pulse quicken.

No, this wasn’t over. But first, you had to deal with the fire he’d so effortlessly set ablaze.

And that’s just what you start to do. 

Slowly, you push yourself up, your body still humming with the aftershocks of his touch. A quick glance around confirms what you already suspected—the crew has cleared out for the evening, leaving the stage bathed in dim, moody light, the perfect setting for what you’re about to do.  

A wicked smirk tugs at your lips as anticipation curls low in your stomach. If he thought he could leave you like this, aching and undone, he had another thing coming. This wasn’t just about need; it was about control and claiming the upper hand. And what better way than here, on his stage, where every move was meant to captivate an audience?  

Especially when that audience was him.  

With a slow, deliberate breath, you step back onto the fluffy pillow-covered bed, already imagining the look on his face when he realizes just what kind of show you’re about to put on.

You glance across the bed, your eyes drifting over the pleasurable options laid before you, each a temptation, a promise. The sight alone tugs you back to past nights, to the moments when distance kept you apart but never truly separated. You’ve performed this wicked little act for him before, in the privacy of your own home, a sinful display meant only for his eyes—his voice in your ear, coaxing, commanding, praising.

But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, this is your stage. Your domain.

The empty venue hums with silence, the stage lights casting a soft glow, illuminating the space where you captivate crowds with every note you sing. But now, there’s only one audience member you care about. He thinks he’s won, leaving you breathless and aching, but you smirk to yourself—this game is far from over. 

Your hands find the subject to your pleasure, which happens to be the firmest and fluffiest pillow on the bed. You mount the pillow as you had just previously mounted your lover. Your determined hips start at work again, creating your own friction against the softness of the pillow against your soaked panties. You couldn't hold back your soft moans as you rode in a familiar rhythm. 

Caught up in your own pleasure, you barely registered the weight of unseen eyes on you—though deep down, you felt it. That familiar heat, that electric prickle along your skin, warning you that you weren’t alone. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.  

The game, the teasing, the push and pull—it all faded into something raw, something uncontrollable. You weren’t performing anymore. This wasn’t for show. This was need, pure and aching, a fire burning too hot to be tamed.  

Your breath hitched, your body surrendering to the moment, lost in sensation, in the hunger that refused to be ignored. And somewhere, hidden in the shadows, he watched. Silent. Waiting. Taking in every movement, every sound, every unguarded moment of you unraveling before him.

Before you knew it, rough, familiar hands were on you—firm, possessive, claiming what had always been his. A sharp gasp slipped from your lips, quickly followed by a frustrated groan. You had been so close, teetering on the edge, almost lost in your own pleasure, only to have him interrupt just as you were about to tip over.

But even through the frustration, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

His touch and presence were precisely what you had been craving all along. The heat of his body pressed against yours, the unmistakable dominance in his grip, the way his breath fanned hot against your skin. He had been watching, waiting, letting you think you had control. But now, he was done watching.

His lips ghosted along the shell of your ear, his voice dark and dripping with satisfaction. "Did you really think I'd let you finish without me?" His fingers tightened, his body caging you in, making it clear—you weren’t going anywhere. "You put on quite the show, sweetheart… but now, it’s my turn."

Hands worked quickly, rough and unyielding, as he maneuvered you with ease—his strength undeniable, his intent unmistakable. Before you could catch your breath, you found yourself in the position you had so proudly displayed in your performance tonight, the one meant to tease, torment, and tempt him beyond reason.  

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, his grip firm as he held you there, ensuring you understood exactly what would happen. His lips barely grazed your skin, his breath hot and taunting. "You wanted my attention, didn’t you?" he murmured, his voice laced with hunger. "Now you have it. Let’s see if you can handle what you’ve been begging for."

His boldness caught you off guard as you felt your slickness become bare, and the sound of pants unzipping rang through your ears. Before you knew it, his thickness probed at your walls, determined to finish what you both had started. His fingers make quick work to find your bundle of nerves, forcing you to moan deeply into the pillows. 

His hands gripped your hips firmly, but his eyes flickered to the pillow beneath you—still damp with your wetness, carrying the intoxicating scent of your need. The sight of it, the evidence of just how lost you had been in your own pleasure before he caught you, sent a dark, satisfied smirk across his lips.

"Look at this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as his fingers ghosted over the damp fabric. "You were really putting on a show for me, weren’t you?"

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as his hands worked quickly, positioning you exactly how you had so boldly displayed yourself during your performance. "But now that I’m here," he continued, voice dripping with wicked promise, "let’s see if you can handle what you were begging for."

His promise was quickly answered as his hips brutally thrust into trying to relieve his ache of desire as well as yours. All at once, his thrust and fingers worked you up to mold effortlessly beneath his movements. You were moaning and gripping onto the fuzzy bed before you knew it. You heard his groans as you both were about to finish in sync. There was no more game at play, so you relinquished it and rode out your high together as he moaned heavily into your ear. His heavy moans are replaced with deep gasps from exhaustion, which match yours, and an adoring smirk on both of your faces. 

"I guess this means the war is over," you murmur, your breath still uneven as he eases away gently, cleaning himself off with slow, deliberate movements.

He exhales a quiet chuckle, his smirk softened but still present. "Maybe," he muses, casting you a knowing glance. "Or maybe we just found a new way to fight."

His fingers trail over your skin one last time before he leans back, watching you with the kind of satisfaction that promises—truce or not—this was far from the end.

In quick motion, he finds your discarded panties, using them to clean the two of you the best for the situation. He leaves kisses down your body as he does so, being the gentle lover again. He might fuck hard, but he is always a gentleman in the end (literally). 

The two of you return to your dressing room, the air still warm with the remnants of what just transpired. There’s a quiet intimacy in how he lingers, watching as you slip into something more comfortable, his hands occasionally brushing against you in small, affectionate gestures.  

You take a moment to clean up, smooth your hair, and touch up your makeup while he stands behind you, his presence steady and familiar. Every now and then, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, a silent reminder of just how deeply he adores you.  

Falling into your usual rhythm, the playful teasing and gentle touches return, the two of you wrapped in the sweet comfort of each other. As he helps you fasten a necklace, his fingers grazing your skin, he meets your gaze in the mirror, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Ready, beautiful?"

With one last glance at yourselves, you take his hand, feeling nothing but warmth as you step out together, heading off to meet your loved ones for a late dinner—still lost in the afterglow of the night and of each other.  

As you settle into the car, the city lights flickering past the windows, he suddenly turns to you with a smirk, his tone light and teasing. “I do have a question: why are all the songs you write about me pertaining to  sex?” 

You roll your eyes, laughing as you shove his arm playfully. "Oh, shut up and drive." 

His chuckle fills the space between you, the perfect sound to end a perfect night.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

The Prodigy - Smack My Bitch Up 1997

"Smack My Bitch Up" is a song by English electronic dance music band The Prodigy. It was released in November 1997 as the third and final single from their third album, The Fat of the Land (1997). In 2013, Mixmag readers voted it the third greatest dance track of all time. The song caused considerable controversy because of its suggestive title and explicit music video. The video, directed by Jonas Åkerlund, was rarely seen on television due to its controversial subject matter. It was filmed entirely in first-person perspective and depicts a drug-and-alcohol-fueled night out through the eyes of a mostly-unseen character, and utilises different camera movements corresponding with the protagonist's altered state of mind. Despite the controversy, the video was nominated for four awards in the 1998 MTV Video Music Awards, and eventually won Best Dance Video and Breakthrough Video. In 2010, the song was voted as the most controversial song of all time in a survey conducted by PRS for Music.

The lyrics "Change my pitch up/Smack my bitch up" are sampled and altered from the song "Give the Drummer Some" by the Ultramagnetic MCs. The female vocals were performed by Shahin Badar. Her vocals and harmonies are based on "Nana (The Dreaming)" performed by Sheila Chandra. Initially Liam Howlett used a direct sample of Chandra's song, but later had the vocal resung after sample clearance issues. The track also contains samples from "Funky Man" by Kool & the Gang, "In Memory Of" by Randy Weston, "House of Rising Funk" by Afrique, "Like This" by Mixmaster Gee and the Turntable Orchestra and "Bulls on Parade" by Rage Against the Machine.

In the UK the song peaked at number 8, ultimately spending 16 weeks in the top 100, despite limited air time. The song reached the top 15 in several countries, such as Canada, New Zealand, Norway, and Sweden. The song performed best in Finland, securing the band their third Finnish number 1 hit alongside "Firestarter" and "Breathe" (poll #112). It peaked at number 22 in the Netherlands, 41 in Australia, and 89 in the US. The single also returned to the Billboard charts after Keith Flint's death, entering number 23 on its Dance/Electronic Digital Songs Sales chart in March 2019.

The song appeared in a fight scene in the 2000 film Charlie's Angels. In 2020, a cutscene in the game Cyberpunk 2077 had a corresponding song on the soundtrack titled "Smack My Chip Up". Released the same year, Assassin's Creed Valhalla includes a sidequest called "The Prodigy", where the player character boxes a clergyman, prompting a character named Keith to sing "Smack my bishop!"

"Smack My Bitch Up" received a total of 57,2% yes votes! Previous Prodigy polls: #8 "No Good (Start the Dance)", #112 "Breathe". (Maxim & Skin: #245 "Carmen Queasy")

[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!"

[crosbyism]

the four nations face off has everything: a stupid, made up tournament format, booing of the US national anthem, sexual tension between players you didn’t know even knew each other, overtimes, the entirety of team canada being in love with their captain, CAREY PRICE AND PK SUBBAN!!!, the highest political tensions in ice hockey since the cold war, sweden and finland just chillin and having fun, whatever’s going on between mike sullivan and john tortorella, LINE BRAWL IN THE FIRST MINUTE??, sidney crosby and nathan mackinnon being two seconds away from making out with tongue live on camera,

[enwoso]

Alessia Russo + reporter!gf, where Alessia is nonstop flirting with Reader on national television when you're trying to interview her

live to all | alessia russo

masterlist

you were a sports journalist for itv, travelling up and down the country as well as across the world each week to cover matches as well as try and get some of the players thoughts and opinions on the game.

today was the england lionesses vs sweden at home, at a sold out wembley. the game being tense but the girls pulling out a win by one goal and of course it being scored by non other than the alessia russo who just happened to be on your radar to interview.

normally it would take some convincing from some players to get them to do a quick post match interview, most players after a win wanting to celebrate and after a loss was when it was even harder to get players to interview as they just generally weren’t in the mood, understandably.

however luckily you wouldn’t have to do much convincing to get england’s star girl for an interview as she just so happened to also be your girlfriend. so one little bat of the eyelashes and a flash of the smile and the blonde would be right over.

so as your team handed her a mic as she walked over from the pitch hugging you tight as you sent her a loving smile trying your best to remain professional but the girl just looked so gorgeous even after running around a pitch for ninety minutes, her hair slicked back a few flyaways had came loose above her as well as her cheeks being slightly flushed pink probably from the amount of running she’d done.

“so alessia another sold out wembley for the lionesses, does the feeling ever change walking out and seeing that many people in the stadium?” you began the interview as alessia nodded along with what you were saying, her bottom lip inbetween her teeth as you watched as her eyes roamed your face as she held her eye contact with you instead of the camera like she was supposed to.

there was a slight pause between your question and the blonde starting her answer, “oh um it definitely helps to keep us motivated whilst we are playing- as we love seeing our fans pack out stadiums and creating as much noise as possible!”

“speaking of motivation, what helps to keep you fired up especially when your playing top teams like sweden?” you asked as you seen alessia giggle to herself, you being thankful for the fact that the camera can’t see the look your throwing alessia right now.

“well away from football there’s definitely someone who does that for me-” the blonde making direct eye contact with you as a smirk crept onto her face. you knew exactly what she was insinuating on and while the your relationship wasn’t exactly out there it wasn’t a big secret either fans definitely had their suspicions and alessia right now was definitely adding fuel to that fire.

she carried on, you sending the blonde another stern look that told her to behave, “but the staff at england as well as the girls we all do our part to ensure that’s we can all play to the best of our ability to ensure we get the result that we want as a team and as a nation” she smiled innocently as she finished awaiting your next question.

you began to explain the importance of the goal that alessia scored to start off the lionesses euro qualifying campaign while alessia well she was just staring at you, totally zoned out as she licked her lips. her eyes scanning your outfit as she imagined maybe what it would look like on the floor of your shared bedroom…

“and finally how does it feel to finally get your first goal at wembley especially the one that sealed the win for you guys” you finished with a quick smile, slightly kicking the blonde which wasn’t able to be seen by the camera which shook the blonde from her daydream.

“oh- um, wait i- sorry what was the question?” alessia flushed red with embarrassment as you were the one now with a smirk, knowing by her face she hadn’t been listening and also having a suspicion of why she hadn’t been but nevertheless repeating the question again for her.

“yeah, it’s always a good feeling to score at wembley makes it that little bit special but anything to help the team out”

“well thank you alessia and well done for tonight!” you applauded with a smile as alessia nodded, “thank you babe” alessia said so causally, you quickly spinning around mouth wide open as you eyes widened.

the interview already been finished as your team off-mic’d you both. alessia with a smirk which was widening on her face, you knew she had done that on purpose.

“i love you?” she whispered, as she looked at your less than pleased look on your face.

“your on thin ice miss russo!” you warned narrowing your eyes at the blonde as she slung her arm around your shoulders guiding you both down the tunnel as you knew she was rolling her eyes at your stern tone.

“hey! it’s not my fault the person who was interviewing me happened to be my really sexy, beautiful, gorgeous girlfriend!”

[michaelnordeman]

My journey is coming to an end. Tomorrow, I will drive home to Värmland. I’ve seen and experienced so much on this trip, capturing some of it with my camera, while other moments remain only in my memory. It’s been an amazing adventure! But now, I can’t wait to reunite with my family, both human and non-human. You can soon expect the usual mix of squirrels, birds, and roe deer on my Tumblr! Here are some pictures from Billtjärns urskog Nature Reserve in Jämtland, Sweden (May 30, 2024).

[nadvs]

Hello! Im the anon who asked for a fic with rivaly at college 😍 OMG! I love what this turned in to. You are an incredible writer!! I hope you know that. You have me hooked. You write dialog amazingly. It feels so real. Never stop writing!!

Can you write something about when she get jealous? Maybe when he is in the NBA?

Hope you have a great day!

Love from Sweden

HIII omg it’s such a good premise!! i remember being in love with it the second i read your ask 🙂‍↕️ thank you so much 💘 i’m so touched that people like the au and want more of it 🥹

based on this fic

» au masterlist

rafe can get wildly, intensely jealous. and while they often joke about how similar they are, that’s one trait she doesn’t share with him. until he gets signed and moves away.

he doesn’t have as much time for texts and calls. he’s training with his new team, working up to the season. she gets it. or at least, she tries to.

she already had unwelcome thoughts swimming in her head when he had been signed to a team states away about him getting lost in the fame and potentially being unfaithful. she never worried about him cheating before. and she hates that she’s doing it now.

but she tries to keep it in. things between them are already tense. accusing him of something just because she’s insecure isn’t fair and will likely just push him away.

then, she visits him. they share their first i love you’s. they’re in a good place.

but when the season starts, that’s another story. it’s surreal seeing her boyfriend play on tv on such a massive scale, thousands of seats surrounding the court filled. she’s so happy for him and whenever the camera focuses on him, she can tell he’s nervous and she loves that she’s the only one in the world who knows it.

but then between periods, she catches glimpses of his team’s cheerleaders before the cuts to commercial. and she can’t lie to herself that these girls are beautiful. and she wonders if maybe he already lived out the college fantasy. maybe now that he’s a professional player, he’ll have his eyes on professional cheerleaders. or really, any girl, because she’s sure he could get any girl he wants.

as the season goes on, because she likes to keep up with the nba on social media, specifically him and his team, her tiktok automatically shows her videos and edits of her boyfriend, some comments from fans about how he’s the next best thing, but most from girls going crazy over how hot he is.

it puts her into a funk. he sees gorgeous cheerleaders at every game. he gets comments on his instagram from beautiful girls. the internet is losing their mind over him. how can she possibly compare?

so, the next night she’s on facetime with him, she can’t hold it back any longer. after they talk about their days, she starts to pick at a string on her shirt, looking down.

“so…” she says. “do you ever get a chance to talk to the cheerleaders?”

rafe looks at her with knitted brows. she’s been off since she picked up the phone, seemingly mad at him. it’s not like them to not be direct.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he asks.

“nothing,” she lies. “just wondering if you ever talk to them. they’re good dancers.”

he hates the way her lips are turned into a frown, her eyes off the screen.

“i only wanna talk to one cheerleader and she’s pretending she’s not mad at me right now,” he says.

this earns a smirk from her.

“they’re all so pretty,” she says. “i’m not blind. and you’re not, either. there’s no way you haven’t noticed them.”

“i moved here to play,” rafe tells her.

“and you know girls online are going crazy for you,” she continues. “don’t act like you haven’t seen all the comments on your instagram.”

rafe studies her image on the screen.

“you know you have nothing to be jealous of, right?” he says. he hates to admit it, but it’s kind of flattering, especially because she isn’t usually the intensely jealous type. it shows him she still wants him.

she sighs. of course he sees right through her. not like she’s being subtle anyway.

“i do, though,” she says. “and maybe it’s stupid to talk about because i’m annoying you and making you feel like i don’t trust-”

“you’re not annoying me,” he interrupts. “you’re being really cute, actually.”

“cute,” she scoffs, her eyes still low.

“look at yourself on your phone,” he says. she rolls her eyes and obliges, gazing at her reflection on the screen.

“now what?” she mumbles.

“if you can’t see how beautiful you are, maybe you are blind,” he says.

“stop,” she laughs softly. “it’s not that i don’t trust you. it’s just that… it has to feel like a waste to be getting all this attention and ignoring it all because of some girl back home, doesn’t it?”

“some girl,” he echoes. “you think you’re just some girl?”

she shrugs. his chest aches.

“you’re my best friend,” he says. “i wouldn’t fuck this up for anything or anyone in the world. you’re it for me.”

her vision blurs with tears. she flattens her lips together and finally nods.

“sorry,” she says weakly.

“for what?”

“for being so jealous.”

“i already told you it’s cute,” he says. she smiles again.

“i love you, okay?” she mumbles.

“i love you, too, okay?” he teases.

they talk for another hour, then she tells him she needs to go to sleep so she’s not totally exhausted for her morning lecture. he has the day off the next day, so he stays up a bit longer on his phone after they hang up.

when she wakes up, she sees hundreds of instagram notifications on her phone. rafe posted a photo of them from the last time she visited, tagging her with the caption: All I need.

before she even gets out of bed, she’s crying. because of how good he is to her. because he’s telling the world he belongs to someone already. because she’s sure that he loves her just as much as she loves him.

[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.

[mrchiipchrome]

Work

W.C. - 1.2 k

a/n: I’ve been having so much fun dealing with migraines, a break up, exams and getting an eye infection that I’ve totally forgot to write, so take this as a sort of apology:)

———————

It wasn’t hard to be the best footballer in the world’s girlfriend. All things considered, life with Aitana was pretty good, amazing even, if it weren’t for Aitana’s incessant need to ask people if they were employed.

It started small, when Aitana first met your family in Sweden, she had asked your brother whether he worked or not, happy when he started raving about his work, happy to find someone as passionate about their work as her.

Since that interaction it seemed like she searched that passion out in every interaction she had, going as far as to climb over rows of seats in order to speak to people.

She was nothing short of a social butterfly, and you were her anti-social caterpillar. The Swede in you was drawn to the Spanish affectionate nature even if it was vastly different from your own.

Your tiny girlfriend was as much of a magician on the pitch as she was off it, her ability to simply vanish the second you took your eyes off her was quite impressive, but not very enjoyable on your part. You almost had to invest in a private investigator to figure out how she did it, the way she always fooled you simply driving you crazy to the point of oblivion.

Still, you loved her strange habits simply for the fortune of having her, having her in every way imaginable.

You loved getting to hold her even as she squirmed to get away, kisses raining down on her face after a long game, using your substantially taller frame to put some space between her feet and the ground so that she wouldn’t be able to get away.

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Your muscles ache as your feet thump against the ground, the last game before a small break one of great performances, you yourself slipping 4 goals past the keeper, all of them assisted by your wonderful girlfriend.

Still, despite your obviously tired appearance, you were still ushered away to the corner of the pitch for an interview, being handed a man of the match award for your efforts during the game. This meant that your girlfriend was left unsupervised, your tired mind mixed with needing to seem professional before the camera completely taking up all your attention, meaning you didn’t immediately notice your girlfriend beelining for the stands.

“So, how does it feel to be back in the squad after the hamstring injury?” The reporter looks at you intently, trying her hardest to stare into your soul, or that’s at least what it seems like.

“Yeah, I mean it’s always special to be part of this squad, I’m not even going to lie and say that it’s been easy sitting on the bench when all I wanted was to jump on the field and score again but ultimately I got through it. I’m really happy with the performance as well, my beautiful girlfriend assisted all my goals so that makes it even better.” You smile widely when you mention your girlfriend, seeing through half-lidded eyes as the reporter's smile drops before she plasters it back on.

‘No need to be unprofessional now’ you think to yourself, looking away from her in search of that girlfriend to see if she could save you from the creepy situation.

But in your attempt to catch your girlfriend’s attention, you see her about to climb over the railings to talk to fans. You know that it’s dangerous, not only because of the altitude, but also because you never knew the intentions of some fans.

Somewhere in the background you can hear the reporter speaking to you, but you don’t pay her any mind, simply getting more anxious the longer you are standing there.

“It has to be special to be back with your teammates-”

“Perdón!” Is all you’re able to get out before you take off in Aitana’s direction, your legs no longer aching thankfully enough.

Your hands latch around her hips, tugging her softly away from the railing like you would a cat that had burrowed its claws into the couch. Aitana yelps as she looks back at you suspiciously, her hands coming down to rest on your shoulders when she realized that she didn’t have any plan of escape, seemingly just accepting her fate.

There are multiple cameras pointed at you, including the social media manager’s, so you just know that the interaction would find itself on the internet by the time you would be sitting in the bus.

Strangely enough, you didn’t mind that fact all that much, liking that the world would see how much you loved your girlfriend, maybe it would discourage reporters from trying to shoot their shot with you.

“Hey there pretty lady, whatchu’ doin’?” Aitana smiles at you innocently, acting like she totally didn’t try to climb over the railings. She presses a quick kiss to your cold cheek, enjoying the way your face darkens a few shades, the red spreading up your cheeks like food coloring in water.

It leads her to continue, kisses soon being placed on every single space on your face, with you soon blending in with the tomatoes you were growing in your garden.

“You are very cute.” She whispers lowly, her eyes flitting over your face as she smiles, keeping the words between the two of you like it was a secret only meant for your ears. Perhaps it was, you never knew with Aitana.

“And you are trying to distract me from the fact that you were totally trying to climb up into the stands. You’re lucky to be adorable, because Jona is one more abandoned interview away from benching me.” You boop her nose, shifting her body around so that your left arm was the only thing holding her body up, her arms still around your shoulders.

Walking back towards the interviewer, her professional smile drops from her face the second she sees Aitana perched on your arm, but nonetheless you approach her civilly. Aitana smiles brightly at the camera soon pointed at her again, media training mixed with the attention she’s getting from you being the perfect situation for the camera.

“Hola, lo siento, this one was getting herself into trouble. Had to get her out, don’t want the gaffer to bench the superstar now do we?” You motion towards Aitana with your head, the girl still sitting perched atop your arm slapping the back of your head lightly. Switching her around again, you quickly put her down back on her own feet, Aitana’s arms coming down to wrap around your waist tightly, almost possessive in a way.

“Thank you for today, that was all we needed. Here’s your man of the match trophy.” You get handed the trophy, turning to your girlfriend to brag, only to find her gone once more, her small body shooting across the pitch to get as much space between you two as she could.

It was almost as if you could see into the future as she jumps up and throws herself over the railings, giggling madly along the way.

You start to laugh too, the high speed chase the biggest highlight of the day, because not even scoring 4 goals could overshadow spending even a second laughing with your girl.

And even though Mapi would be teasing you for weeks about the absolute lovesick actions that day, you wouldn’t have it any different, besides you had more than enough ammunition to be able to blackmail her for eternity, so it didn’t really matter anyways.

[allgarbo]

One afternoon Greta started once or twice to ask a favour, then decided against it: ‘Perhaps another day I’ll mention it.’ I was most intrigued. Then she continued hesitantly: ‘If only you were not such a grand and elegant photographer…’ I finished the sentence for her: ‘Then you’d ask me to take your passport photograph?’ She looked astounded. ‘How did you know?’ Greta had told me she was planning to leave for a holiday in Sweden, and I realized it would have been impossible for her to go to any ordinary passport photographer without the results being displayed far and wide. Knowing her antipathy to publicity of all forms, resulting in her terror of cameras, I had purposely never suggested that she should pose for me. To take pictures of her has always been my greatest ambition, and this opportunity was unique. However, the sitting must be as simple and private as possible, for to have an assistant with lights would be to overload the occasion. The following afternoon a screen was placed near a window, while on the outside door of my apartment a notice was pinned: ‘Passport photographs taken here.’ The sitter arrived wearing a biscuit-coloured suit and polo-collared sweater, her hair a lion’s mane. At first she stood stiffly to attention, facing my Rolleiflex full-face as if it were a firing squad. But, by degrees, she started to assume all sorts of poses and many changes of mood. The artist in her suddenly came into flower. She was enjoying the return to an aspect of the metier that had been her life’s work, and I could only click the trigger in an effort to capture yet another marvellous moment of her inspiration. Could I believe my luck? By degrees I was emboldened enough to ask if she would take off her habitual sweater. Then I brought out some ‘prop’ clothes — a pierrot’s ruff and white pointed cap — that I had secreted just in case… Greta became Dabureau. A man’s top hat was discarded on sight, though a Holbein tam-o’-shanter was approved once it was bashed into a Chinese mandarin’s hat. Every now and again my ever-growing euphoria would be interrupted by Greta’s saying: ‘That’s enough now — got to go.’ But by the time I took her word as ‘gospel’ a vast number of pictures had been made. The results formed a prized collection — though few of them were suitable for passports. When shown the small contacts, the sitter was pleased. She pronounced them ‘strong’ and clean-cut and of a good quality. Together we went shopping for a folding leather frame so that I could have my favourites by me wherever I travelled. She put a pencilled cross on the back of those of which she approved and would allow me to publish in Vogue magazine. When the selection was sent to my good friend, Alexander Liberman, the Art Editor, he could hardly believe his eyes. Here was a precious windfall of a dozen different pictures of someone who for ten years had resolutely refused to be photographed. From the rich hoard Alex chose a laughing head to be used across two pages. Surely this did not do justice to the full range of Greta’s beauty? I cajoled him into publishing a variety of moods and guises. Greta Garbo photographed by Cecil Beaton (1946) The Happy Years: Diaries 1944-48 by Cecil Beaton

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝚂𝙴𝙲𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚂

𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚝𝚠𝚘

description: the times that convinced the account y/n.bronze that they were right about the captain and Lucy Bronze's relationship

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lucy bronze x female reader

disclaimer: this is all fiction - do not take any of this seriously!

warnings: fluff, slightly suggestive, cuteness

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y/n.bronze: Here is a thread of instances which confirm that Lucy and y/n are together in my mind - the bottom of the thread is where it gets good.

1. How Lucy looked at her during the post match interview after beating Spain??? Like, her eyes were literally heart shaped??? I want that!

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y/n was absolutely knackered, it had been a very eventful game and while victory was in the end a 3-1 win for them, it didn't feel as if the game was easy.

The England captain was being practically held up by her midfield counterpart Keira, the woman well aware their captain would get player of the match, having scored England's first and third goal of the game.

y/n had been everywhere that game, hardly stopping and continously talking and shouting to her girls so much her voice had gone hoarse. She was sipping at her drink slowly, trying to regain some feeling in her body.

"y/n, you and Lucy are up for interviews." Sarina informed her and the captain groaned, her teammates laughing at her as Sarina shook her head playfully.

y/n forced herself away from Keira's warm hold and toward her lover who had her coat in her hands. Lucy and y/n had been dating four years, and while over the past year there had been speculation of their relationship the two had never confirmed it.

They hadn't felt as if they needed to, being happy enough and secure enough to just need themselves and their teams to know. But ever since y/n made the move to Barcelona from her childhood team of Arsenal and her best friend, the rumours had only grew.

The England team adored the two's relationship, finding the 32 year old and 27 year old truly adorable and hilarious in their relationship and had done a considerable amount to help them keep it quiet.

Lucy and y/n made their way over to the interviewer, hands brushing one another's as they smiled at the woman who handed them their microphones and began asking questions.

"No completely." y/n said in agreement to the interviewer, smiling kindly as Lucy paused, her eyes softening as she watched the love of her life discuss their team.

Lucy was looking at her as if she had just placed the stars in the sky, and the camera did nothing to hide the look of pure adoration and love the right-back was looking at her lover with.

"The English are never done, and the girls worked so well today to remind everyone of that, and prove that we have a lot more to give." y/n smiled and her eyes moved to Lucy's.

The look in the older woman's eyes was one y/n say often, and she returned it with just as much love as Lucy began to answer a question, knowing full well, social media was about to go insane.

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2. When y/n was knocked over during the Sweden game and Lucy didn't even hesitate to square up, her face was so worried, and she only stopped when y/n GRABBED HER HAND?!

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y/n knew this game was going to be tough, violent, but she had not quite estimated how much. Her girls were fighting and fighting hard, and they had been rewarded for it. They were 3-0 up, the first goal was her own.

y/n looked up quickly, the ball at her feet as she danced past another player and sent the ball toward Lauren who was making a quick run. Just as Lauren recieved the ball, y/n was thrown.

Her small frame shook and she practically flew to the side as the shove and ankle which caused her fall threw her onto the ground harshly, rolling in the grass y/n coughed out, the air sucked from her lungs.

The whistle blew but Lucy was seeing red. The older woman had always been protective of her girlfriend, the small midfielder usually the victim of harsh tackles as she was too quick to catch.

Lucy's body was instantly covering y/n's her eyes glaring at the Swedish player who had made the tackle, Lucy wasn't foolish enough to do anything, but it didn't stop the anger rolling off her.

"What the hell was that?" Lucy spat at her, the Swedish player trying to come up with an answer as the referee finally made her way over, a harsh look on her face.

y/n groaned as she heaved a breath in, Lucy still shouting at the player in anger, the referee trying to keep the players crowding around her calm.

The medics helped y/n to her feet, the woman confirming she was okay, just momentarily winded. Lucy stepped forward in anger but y/n darted forward.

Her hand gripped Lucy's fingers, turning the right-back to face her as the referee carded the player who had tackled her, her teammates trying to convince the referee for a red.

"Hey, I'm okay, Calm down." y/n whispered to her lover, her own hand gripping her hand tightly.

Lucy's eyes scanned her, trying to see if she was lying or trying to hide any discomfort, but when their eyes found one another Lucy knew she was telling the truth.

"Okay." Lucy whispered, squeezing y/n's hand before walking away, the two both aware that everyone will have noticed the interaction.

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3. Ellie, in a livestream for City YESTERDAY saying that she would stay with Lucy and y/n, confirming they live together - which we already thought!

Then going on to say they have a spare room - even though Lucy has said multiple times she lives in a two bed apartment and y/n has never said anything about her 'place'!

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Ellie Roebuck and Lauren Hemp sat on two chairs, doing a video for the man city women's you-tube of being asked questions and answering them on whiteboards.

The two had just been asked out of all their teammates international and club level who would they like to live with most. Both turning their boards around, Lauren saying 'Alex Greenwood' because she was motherly and cooked well.

Ellie on the other hand had said 'y/n and Lucy' the two in Barcelona but on the same international team as the blonde goalkeeper, Lauren laughed in agreement.

"Well, they have a spare room, y/n cooks such good food and I feel like I would be looked after." Ellie laughs, Lauren chuckling along.

"Their spare room is lush, super homey with all the blankets." Lauren agreed.

"And the weather in Barcelona is all hot and nice." Ellie added. "So yeah, definitely the skipper and Luce!" Ellie adds smiling.

It was only as the two blondes walked away from the end of filming did they realise what they had done, because Lucy had stated several times she lived in a two bed apartment.

And the two had managed to spill the fact the two lived together and they had a spare room, they instantly facetimed their captain, but the woman wasn't worried.

Both her and Lucy weren't overly worried about hiding their relationship anymore and to Ellie's relief she was invited to stay with them during the off season to taste more of her captain's delicious cooking.

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4. The fact when y/n scored in the Sweden game she ran at Lucy first??? AND JUMPED ON HER

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It was ten minutes into the semi-finals of the euros. Sweden were a fantastic side, everyone knew it and as y/n waited on the outside of the box, she hoped one of her team had the ability to head this corner in.

The ball was sent in, it bouncing from a Swedish head and landing at y/n's feet. The woman hardly thought, she just reacted and fired it at the top corner, the net shaking from the strength of her goal.

y/n grinned, shouting in happiness as she ran at her lover, to estatic to care in the moment as she jumped at Lucy, the brunette catching her easily.

y/n's legs locked around her torso as Lucy's hand went under her arse and the other around her back to keep her stable. Lucy buried her head into her stomach as the team swarmed them.

y/n jumped back down the team crowding her in a hug, and as they ran back to restart she shared another loving smile with Lucy, the two both loving the eventual photo which came from that celebration.

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5. The fact y/n left ARSENAL - her childhood team - to go play for Barca only months after Lucy had and she even admitted in an interview LUCY WAS A BIG PART OF THAT DECISION

6 When Lucy called y/n in an interview the other day and she answered with 'hi my love???' LIKE????

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y/n smiled as she listened to the interview asking her how it was to leave Arsenal for her new team, the reds having been such a massive part in her childhood.

"It was so hard, yes, it was great to know Keira and I were going from our respective clubs together, but I definitely left a big part of me in North London." y/n nodded.

"I came through that academy, my best friend is there, my co-captain through it all. So yeah, it was a tough decision." y/n nodded.

"And what helped that decision?" The interviewer asked.

"The sun here definitely." y/n laughed and the interviewer joined her in her laughter.

"Well, you are half Italian. Anything else?" the interviewer asked, but her phone began to ring and y/n muttered an apology as she answered it, Lucy's name on the screen.

"Hi my love. You okay?" y/n asked into the phone, her lover replying with a yes and asking where she was. "i'm just at an interview Luce." y/n hummed.

"Shit, forgot, sorry, I'm going." Her girlfriend gasped before hanging up the phone. y/n chuckled and apologised again, the interviewer waving it off as she asked about the right-back and y/n felt the honesty flow through her.

"Yes, Lucy Bronze was a big part of it too, obviously she has been at Barcelona longer than I and we talked a lot about the move, she was such a help in me deciding." y/n explains.

"She understood my worry, but also helped me ease them and for me it was about learning a new way of football, and Lucy has been such a help in me getting used to it here." y/n smiled again.

And when that interview would eventually come out, Lucy Bronze would be holding her lover, letting the tears fall as she pressed her lips to y/n's continuously telling her how much she truly loved her.

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7. THE FACT THAT THE MOST RECENT BARCA TRAINING PHOTO Y/N HAS LUCY'S TRAINING TOP ON - AND WHEN KEIRA NOTICED SHE MOVED SLIGHTLY TO PLACE HERSELF IN FRONT OF THE NUMBER SO THE CAMERA COULDN'T SEEE

^

fr I need friends that dedicated to hiding my relationship

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y/n huffed as she tugged her shirt up again, the marks on her collarbone hidden well enough for now by the shirt which seemed far to big for her today.

The right-back chuckled as she pulled the car to a stop in the car park, leaning over the console to cup her girlfriend's face. Her hand gripped y/n's jaw, turning her to face her.

"Stop huffing." Lucy chided, leaning forward to peck the pout from her lover's lips.

"If someone sees these Lucia, you won't have any sex for a week." y/n warns the woman.

Lucy instantly whines in protest her hand reaching down to unclip her lover's seatbelt and pull her sideways across her lap, y/n letting out a panicked yelp as she did so.

The two despite being in a relationship for nearly four years, they were still parallel to teenagers, hardly ever able to keep their hands from one's another's body and their lips from each other's mouths.

"I don't remember you complaining last night baby." Lucy hums lowly, her accent thickening with the gruff in her voice, the sound of her lover's moans, the arch of her back engrained in her brain as her favourite movie.

Lucy's lips pecked down the side of y/n's neck, the girl instantly bending her head back to give Lucy more free skin to work with which caused the brunette to smirk at the hold she had over her.

"In fact, I remember the words, 'faster' and 'more' coming from your mouth a few times last night." Lucy continues.

y/n's eyes roll back slightly from the pleasure inducing tension, but she pushes herself up and off Lucy, glaring at her lover who she realises is just trying to seduce her.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" y/n asked as she leans down to get her bag, jumping out of the car, but as she turns she feels herself pinned, Lucy's hips stopping her moving as the brunette leans over her easily.

"Would you like me to seduce you?" Lucy asks, her lips brushing the shell of y/n's ear. The player shivers, leaning up to press her lips against her lover's who matches the fierce force of her kiss.

"Ay ay ay!" a shout echoes and the two pull away to see Mapi and Patri grinning and cheering, y/n rolling her eyes as she drags her lover inside.

"Lovebirds, no having sex in the car park." Alexia warns the two, but there is an amount of amusement in her eyes as she hugs y/n in greeting.

"Too late for that then." Lucy hums innocently, causing Mapi to spit out her water.

"Que??" Mapi shrieks and y/n shrugs at her friend.

what

"It had been a long week." She hums and Alexia wrinkles her nose in disgust.

The group laugh it off and walk to the gym, Keira and y/n discussing the newest episode of Queen Charlotte they had been watching together with bright excitement.

Just as they started working out, the usual social media team moved inside and the group cheered them in welcome, having known them well by this point.

y/n was doing her usual stretches, chatting with Aitana when she felt it. A body behind her, blocking her back from the camera and y/n turned to see Keira.

"Hey, you okay?" y/n asked as she turned to face her friend, the camera moving off them.

"Yeah, just, didn't want anyone to think you've changed numbers." Keira hums and y/n's eyes widen as she looks behind her and sighs at Lucy's number on her back.

"Thought this was too big for me." y/n sighed and Keira chuckled. "Must have grabbed her extra this morning." She adds, before she pauses and looks over at her girlfriend who was grinning happily.

"She gave the top to you this morning didn't she?" Keira asks, already knowing the games Lucy liked the play.

"Yep." y/n sighs before she walks over to her girlfriend and Keira laughs as Lucy shrieks.

"Ow!"

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LASTLY - the fact they went on holiday together after the euros after Ibiza, and the photos ... the PHOTOS

okay, I'm done, they're soooo dating, thank you.

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y/n giggled as Lucy's hand tugged her toward the villa they were staying at. The team who had gone to Ibiza after the euros had rented three villas for them all, and Lucy's and y/n's room-mates were still out partying.

Due to the fact, Leah, Georgia, Jordan were planning on not coming home for several hours, Lucy saw the opportunity to steal her girlfriend away and spend some time truly celebrating her lover.

"Come 'ere." Lucy hums, leaning down and connecting her lips to her lover's. The villa just in sight as y/n sighed into the deep kiss, her hands gripping Lucy's shoulders.

Lucy's hands trailed down y/n's bare back, burning the skin with her soft touch. Lucy nipped at y/n's bottom lip causing her to moan into her lover's mouth.

"Come on, we're nearly there." y/n gasped at Lucy and the woman nodded, fumbling to get the door open and tugging her lover in. Quickly the right-back pressed her lover against it.

With her strength Lucy easily held the power as she pressed a dangerously loving kiss against y/n's lips. As they continued and the noises got louder, neither of them noticed their phones going crazy over a very shadowy photograph.

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"Smile!" y/n chimes, Lucy turning her head just as y/n snaps a photo of her lover, the two now in Spain for a private holiday of their own before returning to their club.

Lucy chuckled as y/n smiled at the photo, leaning over to pull her lover closer, y/n sighed as she settled into Lucy's shoulder, turning on her front to let her back tan for a bit.

Lucy's hand wrapped around her, landing on the skin of her ass which was bare due to the thong swimsuit she was wearing. Once again the two had rented out a small house.

Therefore no one was near, no one could see their back pool or garden and no one could make any noise complaints over the next seven days.

Lucy's hand squeezed for a moment before letting her hand settle, still gripping slightly and y/n huffed, trying to push her lover's hand off.

"Stop, I'm going to get a tan line." y/n scolds, trying to pull Lucy's hand off.

"Is that supposed to stop me?" Lucy asks lazily, y/n scoffs and biting her shoulder in response. "Ow!" Lucy yelps, sitting up.

y/n makes a noise of pride, shuffling her sun bed away from her lover and closing her eyes as she continued to tan, her lover going suspiciously quiet.

Suddenly, there was a faint pull from her back and she was lifted over someone's shoulder. y/n let out a call of shock, especially when she realised the pull was Lucy discarding her bikini top.

"Lucia!" y/n called, but the brunette just ignored her and threw her onto the bed, jumping on top of her quickly so she couldn't scramble away.

"We have a few hours before dinner. I've got time." Lucy said simply, before her mouth found y/'s nipple and the woman lost all fight in her body.

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After dinner, and y/n once more taking photos of her lover who she continuously told was the most gorgeous in the world. The two walked slowly back to their place.

The two walked across the beach, feet sinking into the sand as they talked, hands connected shoes in Lucy's bag. Eventually Lucy pulled her lover to a stop, just outside the house, the sun only just setting as she did so.

"I'm so proud of you love, you know that?" Lucy asks the Lioness captain. "You took us to that win." She adds and y/n sighs as she leans forward.

"I did it for you." y/n said simply, forehead's connected. Lucy did not fight that, because she knew it was completely true.

"I love you." Lucy hums.

"I love you too." y/n replies, leaning up to kiss her lover in the shadow of dusk. The light kiss so quick, it hardly happened, but both felt every spark it created.

Lucy led her in the night being filled with loving and soft touches, whispered nothings and soft moans, neither noticed the camera which had caught the kiss moments ago.

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END

[skamenglishsubs]

Subtext and Culture, Young Royals, Season 3, Episode 2

Episode 2 starts days or maybe a week after episode 1. The curfews and phone ban is in place, so Wilhelm and Simon make the most of their one hour of phone sex talking.

Blink and you miss it: Wilhelm snapped a quick instant picture of himself and Simon at the palace in the last episode, using the camera we saw on his desk. The heart is still on his hand, so maybe it's the next day, or maybe he's been filling it in every day.

Cinematography: Intense red light typically symbolizes their mutual love, and this scene is overflowing with it.

Lost in translation: They both finish the phone call with "puss", which means kiss, but not exactly. It's more platonic, something you can say and do with your parents, or your kids, or end phone calls with. The other word for kiss, "kyss", is more romantic/sexual, and would be super weird to end a phone call with. Simon is using that word when he says he would kiss Wilhelm's collar bone birth mark.

Subtext: Of course Vincent doesn't believe anyone was bullied. He's the biggest bully, but what he does is just a joke, or the other guy deserved it. This is gonna be a recurring theme™ in this episode, how various characters look back on and remember, or choose not to remember, what happened to them.

Subtext: If you didn't pick up this meaningful glance, you're blind. The initiation porno was totally real, and Nils and August clearly remember it, and weren't as flippant about it as Vincent.

Culture: In Sweden, inner city schools are typically better and have richer students than the poorer schools out in the suburbs. This is the exact opposite of the typical US school demographical pattern.

Subtext: Wilhelm avoids Farima's question by evading it. Note that it does make sense that she doesn't know what's going on at these schools since she's an employee, she's not upper-class herself. Wilhelm's parents know though since they attended Hillerska, but they would of course never admit it either.

Culture: Ironically, this is exactly how the real-world Danish royal family handled the Herlufsholm scandal in 2022 involving prince Christian. Only when the media storm in Denmark got too intense did they pull him out of the school, while furiously denying knowledge of the abuse or that he was involved in any way.

Cinematography: We're in the cursed music room, but the light is soft and golden, and the scene is just cute. No fight this time.

Subtext: We're touching the theme™ again, but from Simon's perspective. He has the same outsider perspective we have; speaking up about abuse is always good, and if the school's closing because of it, that's an obviously good thing. There's plenty of scenes in this episode showing that most Hillerska students don't share this perspective, they really love their school, as fucked up as it is.

Subtext: Although it sounds like a rehearsed PR line and Felice is thinking about her girl group here, it's gonna come true for her and Sara.

Subtext: Yuck. No further comment.

Cinematography: The immediate cut to Felice getting her aggressions out in gym class shows us exactly what she thought of what the principal said and how much it pissed her off.

Blink and you miss it: Simon audibly sniffs Wilhelm's hair.

Blink and you miss it: Micke made dinner for both of them, but in her depression, Sara ignores the cooked food (Pyttipanna, btw), and makes herself a cucumber sandwich instead.

Subtext: Micke is a man on a mission, and he is constantly steering the conversation towards helping Sara get her driver's license. For him, it's a way to make up for having been a shitty parent.

Culture: Sweden has long been a holdout of stick-shift cars, and if you don't do your practical test in a stick-shift, you'll get a restricted license, so it's not out of the ordinary for Micke to be teaching Sara how to drive one. However, automatics have seen a sharp rise in the last decade, and in 2024 automatics will finally overtake them.

Culture: The green ÖVNINGSKÖRNING sign is compulsory in Sweden if a car is being driven by someone on a learner's permit, with a parent or friend as the instructor. There's also a red version of the sign, which indicates it's a student driver with a professional instructor in a dual control car.

Cinematography: The room is filled to the brim with things to do, there's a bazillion board games, they have books, magazines, fidget thingies, they're drowning in stuff, and yet the girls are still soooooo boooored just because they don't have their phones. Except Madison, who is knitting.

Subtext: Here comes the theme™ again, and Fredrika is firmly in camp denial. Everyone else is just lying and exaggerating! The wheels are starting to turn in Felice's head though.

Subtext: Nils and August are finally talking about the initiation without Vincent being present, and they can finally be honest about what they actually thought about it. It happened, they didn't like.

Subtext: Their idea of fixing it however is not to go out publicly and talk about it, but to just quietly stop the tradition, hoping they'll be the last ones. (Since there are no second-year students in the show, we have no idea what happened to them, so we're just gonna ignore that.)

Subtext: And here comes the reason that August wanted to put a stop to it. He was completely humiliated by it, and he doesn't want anyone else to know that he was humiliated, because that just makes it worse. This is also the reason that traditions like this keep on going, no-one wants to blow the whistle on it, because everyone was abused, everyone was a victim, it's hard for abuse victims to speak up.

Cinematography: The talk with Nils triggered an anxiety attack for August, and being inside his small room doesn't exactly help. Him going so close to the camera that he almost bumps into it really shows how he feels like the walls are closing in on him.

Culture: This, kids, is a standard Swedish landline telephone jack. For the longest time I thought phone jacks looked like this everywhere, but it turns out that this particular design was only used in Sweden and Iceland(!?!). You won't find these in newer buildings because landlines are pretty much dying out, and if there are phone jacks they'll probably be using the much more common RJ-11 standard.

Culture: This, kids, is an Ericsson Diavox phone. The former government phone monopoly in Sweden, Televerket, only allowed certified and approved phones to be used on the network, and they only approved a very small set of phones, so everyone had pretty much the same phones in their homes. However, in the 1980's the market started getting flooded with "illegal" phones from other countries, so the monopoly simply stopped enforcing the rule, and you could finally, finally, plug in that novelty Garfield phone that you always wanted.

Blink and you miss it: Sara is studying for her driving test, and she's reading about driving in the dark.

Subtext: We're gearing up for the main plotline of the season, dropping more hints that maybe Wilhelm's image of Erik wasn't complete, and what August says sows some seeds of doubt in him.

Subtext: This song is objectively not very good, please don't kill me, but it is very sixteen-year-old-boy-just-singing-from-his-heart, not thinking about the text.

Subtext: Simon isn't wearing anything purple, but just after he posts his song video, he picks up a purple shirt, drops it immediately, and then the camera lingers on it. Colour theory goes brrrrrrrr. He thought about Wilhelm, and then stopped because his music is more important to him or something?

Subtext: Unlike Simon, Wilhelm immediately understands how problematic the text is for him, and how people will interpret it...

Subtext: ...but since he doesn't want to hurt Simon's feelings, he lies about why he thinks the song was a very, very bad idea. And he cushions it by telling Simon that he thinks the song is jätte-jätte-bra. Giant-giant-good.

Subtext: Yes, but also no, and someone from the court really should have given Simon some media training and explained to him why he has to be very careful about what he posts. But it's drama fuel, which is why this disaster is allowed to happen.

Subtext: A nice little throwback to season 1, this is exactly what Erik told Wilhelm in the first episode, about making sure that their public image is carefully curated.

Subtext: That's some on-the-nose foreshadowing there, since Felice is one of the main causes for the school ultimately closing.

Subtext: We're back to the theme™, Fredrika is saying pretty much the same thing as Vincent. It didn't happen, and if it did, it wasn't that bad.

Subtext: However, Felice isn't playing along this time, she's starting to speak up about the issues, and the result is a long, awkward silence, because her friends are not willing to do the same.

Subtext: Wilhelm and the rest of the rich kids are of course all wearing pretty expensive high-end hiking gear, in contrast with Simon who is simply wearing one of his usual hoodies and his usual winter jacket that we've seen before. That's a damn fine jacket from Fjällräven, btw, the same company that makes the weirdly globally popular Kånken backpacks.

Blink and you miss it: Henry is getting dragged for his actually quite reasonable objection to the tent groupings.

Subtext: Felice physically distances herself from her friends, and joins Simon and Wilhelm, in a nice little foreshadowing of the show's ending.

Blink and you miss it: Did you miss the line in last episode where Ayub said they were also gonna go camping at Talludden with their classmates from Marieberg? Well, here they are, because they pitched their tents nearby, and decided to go check out the Hillerska camp. It's not just Rosh and Ayub randomly walking through the woods.

Subtext: In season 2, we learned that Stella has a crush on Fredrika that she thinks is one-sided, but Fredrika sure has some kind of reaction to seeing Stella being close with Rosh. Jealousy, perhaps? Not clear at this point in time.

Subtext: Read the room Fredrika, for fuck's sake. At least Wilhelm has started learning to recognize privilege. The other rich kids probably recognize their privilege, but they're mostly just enjoying how much better they are than the poor regular kids.

Subtext: But Wilhelm's still got a lot more to learn. Yes, technically he is forced to spend his summer studying, and technically it is a kind of work, but the underlying reasons are completely different. If he skips it or fails, nothing bad will happen to him, unlike the Marieberg kids who rely on their summer jobs to have any sort of spending money.

Lost in translation: Wilhelm's dad says that the queen is going to be "sjukskriven", which is more serious than someone deciding on their own to take some time off or to use some sick days. It means that a doctor has evaluated you and decided that you are not fit to work, and that if you're a regular person, you are eligible for sick pay for the foreseeable future.

Cinematography: Yeah, mommy is really sick and Wilhelm is feeling the weight of responsibility, but take a look at that sunrise! It's so pretty! Wilhelm is completely in shadow because trouble whatever, but look at how that light just pops, with the sky and the water and the sun on the trees! Beautiful!

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Janet Jackson - If 1993

"If" is a song by American singer-songwriter Janet Jackson from her fifth studio album, janet (1993). Jackson co-wrote and co-produced "If" with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis, with Harvey Fuqua, John Bristol and Jackey Beavers receiving songwriting credits for the sampling of their composition "Someday We'll Be Together", performed by Diana Ross & the Supremes. "If" was released as the album's second single on July 13, 1993. It fuses various genres, including rock, trip hop and industrial music, with elements of new jack swing and hip hop.

It received a BMI Pop Award for Most Played Song and was also ranked among Slant Magazine's "Best Singles of the 1990s" list. It peaked at number four on the US Billboard Hot 100 and was certified gold by the Recording Industry Association of America. It reached number three on the Hot R&B/Hip-Hop Songs chart and peaked atop the Hot Dance Club Play chart. It peaked at number 3 in Canada and 14 in the UK. It reached the top ten of Sweden, the Netherlands, and New Zealand, also peaking within the top twenty in Australia.

The accompanying music video for "If", directed by Dominic Sena, portrays voyeurism, sensuality and intense choreography, while depicting technology that was unavailable at the time, such as touch screens and web cameras. The video received various accolades, including Best Female Video and Best Dance Video at the MTV Video Music Awards, and a Billboard Award for Dance Clip of the Year. It was also voted the second best female video of the decade by Idolator.

"If" received a total of 63,1% yes votes! Previous Janet Jackson polls: #146 "Got 'til It's Gone".

[woso-dreamzzz]

World Cup VI

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: It's heartbreaking

It's the worst kind of pain imaginable.

The kind of pain that lodges in a chest, in a throat, in a mind. The kind of pain that radiates throughout a body, weighing on someone, eating away at them until there's nothing left.

Eaten from the inside out.

Until there's nothing left but an empty husk of a person.

To be so close to a dream that will never be reached.

Not now.

Not ever.

It chokes someone from the inside, suffocating them until they can do nothing but accept their fate.

There's not much else to say about it.

The kind of pain that is only really experienced once in a lifetime.

The kind of pain only experienced in extra time of a football match as one last substitute is made.

The board goes up.

"On for number fourteen, number one for Sweden, Harder-Eriksson."

The final of a World Cup.

Sweden, two.

Spain, two.

And the worst person to take penalties against is subbed on.

"No," Talia says as she watches you run on," No, please. Please."

You'd taken a knock in the semifinals against Colombia, a bad one that had you sitting out most of the final.

Selfishly, Talia was glad for it.

The two goals she had scored wouldn't have gone in had you been standing between the sticks.

Had you been on in the beginning, there would have been no extra time.

You are the greatest goalkeeper in the world and you're never out of control in finals.

You thrive under the pressure, under the pressure of the whole world watching your every mood, under the pressure of Magda and Pernille's legacy.

You rise to the occasion every time.

You show why you are so sought after.

Extra time leaks away and the tears already fall as penalties are announced.

Your Sweden team isn't known for their penalty-taking abilities but it hardly matters. All it takes is one penalty to win.

One ball in the back of the net.

You can delay that for as long as you need to.

One goal to win a match.

One goal for a childhood dream to shatter.

One missed save to return to Spain as a World Champion.

But you have never let a penalty passed in your entire career.

Not at Linköping. Not at Arsenal. Not at Barcelona.

Not for Denmark. Not for Sweden.

No penalty has ever escaped you.

The shots are taken in quick succession.

You don't let any pass but neither does Spain's keeper.

The anticipation swells. The tension builds. The camera flashes to fans in the crowd.

To Patri, sitting in the stands with her hands clasped in front of her and a nervous look on her face. Talia has never seen her cousin so shaken before.

She cuts a striking picture against the complete calmness of Magda and Pernille when the camera switches again. They don't look worried in the slightest.

They've always been your biggest supporters, the biggest believers in your ability to do anything you set your mind to. They've seen the talent in you for years.

There is no reason for them to be worried.

Talia takes the ball, the last penalty for Spain.

She steps forward.

You come out of your goal, walking forward towards her until you're face to face.

The conflict is clear on your face.

To anyone else, you look deadly calm. Magda's feature on your face matches your mother's expression in the crowd but Talia can see through it.

The slight furrow of your brow, the downturn of the corner of your mouth. The way that you can't quite meet her eyes.

"I'm sorry," You say as she places the ball on the penalty spot.

"I know," Talia replies.

"I am really sorry, my love. I...I didn't want it to end like this."

"Don't be. Go do what you do best."

Talia's dreams of a World Cup slip through her fingers in an instant. She usually shoots right, in the top corner. This time though, she'll shoot left to the bottom.

Pernille sits up in the stands as you back away from Talia, returning to your line.

The stadium holds its breath.

A home World Cup win would mean the world to Sweden. To defeat the hosts would mean the world to Spain.

But you stand in their way.

A formidable force between the sticks with more experience than most your age and an unshakeable spirit that intimidates by just your mere presence on the pitch.

"She's got this," Magda whispers to her, clasping Pernille's hand tight," Even if it is Talia."

The stadium ripples with anticipation, shouts escaping throats as Talia lets the ball fly...

Your familiar red jersey moves, your black gloves reaching out.

Your body crashes to the ground.

A millisecond too late and the ball would have gone in.

Your fingertips manage to brush it away though, forcing it away from your line.

The knock to Spain's confidence is big.

It can be felt all around the stadium and just a box away, Pernille sees Patri bury her head in her hands.

Sweden's last penalty is taken quickly.

Scored even quicker by your captain.

A title defended on home soil. The triumph of Sweden over Spain.

The crowd is electric and Magda pumps her fist into the air, screaming like she'd just won this herself and Pernille hauls herself out of her seat to head down to the barriers with her wife to greet you.

The crowd is nothing compared to the roaring in Talia's ears as that pain settles into her bones and gnaws away at her muscles.

She falls to the floor, breathing in a ragged breath as a childhood dream slips away from her.

"I'm sorry," She can hear over her sobs," My love, I'm so sorry."

Familiar arms wrap around her. A familiar smell filling her senses and she grabs onto a familiar red jersey, pulling at it and forcing herself even closer.

"Go," She says," And celebrate."

"No," You reply, sitting down next to her and guiding her head to your shoulder where she could cry without cameras watching her," I'm staying right here."

"Your mothers-"

"Can wait," You insist," I want to be here. With you."

You've singlehandedly ruined Natalia's dreams. You had dangled a World Cup in her face and snatched it away again.

It was so close.

She was so close to being the first person to ever score a penalty against you.

Mere inches sat between her and the World Cup.

But you'd ruined it. You anticipated her change. You pushed away her penalty.

Last time, you'd scored Sweden's only goal. This year, you'd saved all of Spain's penalties.

You are Sweden's hero. Sweden's golden girl. Sweden's vice-captain and the greatest goalkeeper they've ever produced.

There is no hope of competing against you.

A World Cup won and a World Cup lost.

Magda and Pernille wait by the barrier. Talia can see them, ready to celebrate with you.

But you don't go anywhere.

You just hold her as she cries.