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#on my way to take over Denmark
super-oc-creator · 1 year
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Apparently it’s Ace Awareness Week according to @synthace, so if it isn’t and I’m making a fool out of myself I blame them. Other than that, enjoy this meme I made with the funny joke (iykyk) and happy Ace Awareness Week!
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hetalia-club · 26 days
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You forgot to wish England a happy birthday this year 😞 I was hoping to see a post from you saying somthing depraved.
I did not forget. Ignoring his birthday was deliberate and HE MAY NOT HIT IT SLOPPY STYLE idc if it was his birthday.
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woso-dreamzzz · 6 days
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Hurt V
Hardersson x Child!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: Morsa's operation
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Morsa has to have surgery on her foot because she hurt it really, really bad. Bad enough that she's out of the team while she recovers. Bad enough that you have to visit her in hospital.
Momma takes you into her room when Morsa wakes up from her surgery sleep.
"Morsa," You say," You've got Sweden on your foot."
On her bandaged foot is the Swedish flag. You recognise it because Morsa tried to make you learn it before you learnt the Danish one. She failed at that second bit but she did make sure you learnt the flag.
"Yeah," She says," I do have Sweden on my foot."
"Is Sweden making your foot better?"
Morsa laughs a little while Momma puts you up on her bed. "It is."
"You should take a picture," You tell her," So the team can know Sweden's making you better."
"Alright, princesse. I'll take a picture for the girls."
You make sure Morsa takes a lot of pictures to show both the Bayern girls and the Sweden girls so they know she's okay.
The doctors keep coming in all day to check on Morsa and her Sweden foot and you get to watch Morsa get poked and prodded before being taken home by Momma.
Morsa's got to stay in the hospital for another day to check that her Sweden foot isn't going to fall off or anything but she's welcome to come home the next day.
She comes home on crutches, hobbling up the front doorstep before practically melting into the sofa. You bring her a drink and she captures you quickly, tugging you onto the sofa with her before crushing you into a hug.
"Morsa!" You shriek as ticklish kisses attack your face," Stop it!"
"Hey, now," Magda laughs," Don't kick out. I'm injured, remember? You don't want to hurt me more."
"You're doing this on purpose!" You tell her as one of her hands winds around your legs so all you can do is wiggle your body.
"Doing what on purpose? Giving love to my favourite girl?"
"Make Momma your favourite!" You tell her but she doesn't listen, dropping more kisses all over your face as you try to escape.
"Magda," Pernille says reproachfully as she returns from the kitchen," You're still injured. Take it easy."
"I am taking it easy," Magda replies whilst standing and dangling you upside down by your ankles.
"Magda," Pernille says again," Holding our child hostage is not taking it easy."
"I beg to disagree."
"Magda, I mean it. Sit down."
Magda sits down, releasing you as she does so and you hurry off to your toy corner and beanbag chair to catch your breath.
"Have you still got Sweden on your foot?"
Magda pulls off her sock to triumphantly show her Sweden bandage. "I do still have Sweden on my foot!"
"You should put Denmark on your foot."
The grin on Magda's face drops as she stares at you, mouth hanging open. "What?"
"You should put Denmark on your foot," You repeat," Because Momma's from Denmark and she always makes me feel better when I have ouchies."
"Princesse," Magda says," I can't just change it to Denmark. That's like...treason or something."
"Why's it treason?"
"Because...er...Because..."
"Because your Morsa is very silly and takes a rivalry a bit too seriously even at home," Pernille explains to you.
"Oh," You say, nodding in understanding before turning back to Magda," You're very silly, Morsa and you really should put Denmark on your foot because then Momma's Denmark magic can help you."
Magda still looks stricken and Pernille forces herself to cough to cover her laugh.
"That's a very good idea," She says," We've got to change Morsa's bandage anyway. I managed to buy a red bandage. Can you get some of the medical tape?"
"Is it in the ouchy bag?"
"Yep, in the bathroom."
You scamper off and Magda gives Pernille the biggest, wettest puppy eyes she can manage.
It doesn't quite work the same way as when you're doing it.
"Pernille," She says," Please?"
"I don't know. Maybe my fancy Denmark magic will help," Pernille teases just as you come back in with the white medical tape.
"We're making the Denmark flag," You tell Magda as Pernille unwinds the bandage," So you can get better soon."
Magda forces herself not to grind her teeth in annoyance and smile at you instead. "Thank you, princesse."
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dalliancekay · 3 months
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The 'Aziraphale Still Believes in Heaven' Take
Is one that I see so often. Too often. The way many fans (still) say Aziraphale is so naïve, he's never learned anything, he never changes, Metatron just offered him a promotion and he happily jumped on it. Happy to go back to Heaven. Still in their clutches. Leaving Crowley behind. Cos nothing lasts forever. Amirite? Poor long-suffering Crowley. So patient. Goes through so much. Aww. Takes that say that because Crowley never told Aziraphale about the venom in Gabriel's "Shut your stupid mouth and die already", Aziraphale has no idea that Heaven is not the good guys, that he still believes they are on the side of truth and light.
Takes that claim Aziraphale wants Crowley to come to Heaven and be an angel again so they can be happy like in the good old times. Takes that basically say that Aziraphale is stupid. And blind. LISTEN Do you mean this Aziraphale:
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Who knew before Crowley did that something is rotten in the state of Denmark, that things are wrong and one can get in a lot of trouble for a thing as minor as a suggestion to improve things. Is this the Aziraphale that would seriously suggest to Crowley, who he was immediately deeply anxious over, to go back to 'good old times'? What good old times? How is Heaven a place of light when:
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A bunch of angels comes down to Earth to bully and PUNCH ONE OF THEIR OWN?
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Why would he think they are the light when they shame him for being who he is?
Yes, I HC is that ultimately, Aziraphale still believes in God, in Her inherent goodness, even if Her tasks were often odd... and not lining up with what he thought was right. He thinks (remember my own HC) something somewhere went wrong with the what She wanted and the how it was understood and executed. And yes, Aziraphale wants to do good. But that's not tied to him being an angel. And it's not a bad thing ffs! Crowley does good as well. Aziraphale might be the only one who knows, but he knows. Maybe getting humans out of the Garden to seek knowledge was always a (certainty) possibility, and maybe not, but it was Aziraphale's decision to arm them.
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And She didn't make him Fall for it. And do you remember when:
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Aziraphale first openly questioned that Heaven was actually doing what God actually wanted? He had a think after the Flood, didn't he. He did what he thought was right. He trusted Crowley over his fellow angels, with his own sense of rightness. He and Crowley saved the kids that Aziraphale triple checked the Archangels saw no problem in letting die to make things easier. And She didn't make him Fall for it. In Edinburgh:
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Az re-evaluated the thinking he was taught and did a full 180 degree turn, trying in few hours to save the grave-robbing girl AND the possible future lives of children that could be helped via more learning. And when we come to Metatron and his threats, we don't see the full conversation, but don't we see enough? Aziraphale says that he's not interested. Metatron keeps nagging at him. Pushing the symbolic coffee from Coffee or Death at him. Flattering him with obvious untruths. After all, Aziraphale knows what Heaven thinks of him. He tried to reason with Metatron before. Metatron tells him they know how deep his disobedience lies:
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Aziraphale is not a fool. He knows this is an offer of come quietly or we will find a way to destroy you and your demon this time. Aziraphale didn't have to hear Metatron's quip of: "For one prince of Heaven to be cast into the outer darkness makes a good story. For it to happen twice, makes it look like there is some kind of institutional problem." He knows the system is rotten. He knows for a LONG time. Did you see his face when he met Muriel and realised what a lonely sad existence they lead.
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AND Crowley doesn't love Aziraphale despite the fact that he's being used to get out of trouble, being made to listen about random things the angel enjoys from symphonies to food and plays, and who continues to believe in goodness and kindness. CROWLEY LOVES AZIRAPAHLE BECAUSE OF THOSE THINGS AND because he sees Aziraphale for what he is, an angel who thinks for himself, changes his mind, learns, angel who is brave, who stands for the right thing, who sacrifices his own happiness for the safety of others, especially the demon he loves. They are the same. They are lonely. They are one of a kind. And they love each other.
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Aziraphale wants to stay at home. In the home he built for himself and Crowley. On Earth where he's found so much to love. But he knows it is impossible. As Crowley confesses his love, Aziraphale struggles to stay on his plan to push him away, to make him stay. He'll miss Crowley terribly. He wants them to be together. For him, they were an 'us' the whole S2. However tenuously. Fragile existence and all that.
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But even this was ripped away from him. And whatever he's planning, he knows he needs to do the first steps on his own. He can't submit Crowley to the torture that being in Heaven is going to be for him, an unwanted, despised angel. And that would be even worse for an unwanted demon. He had to push him away.
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So he leaves. Furious. And determined. Whether it is to burn the place down or find God and ask Her all the questions to Her face I don't know. But his love will push him through.
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And if I see one more simplistic take of the snarky demon is really good isn't he, so that means the stuffy angel is bad (and needs to change to be worthy of the demon) I will curse their dreams with lines about shades of grey. AZIRAPHALE AND CROWLEY ALREADY LOVE EACH OTHER
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sadqueermess · 19 days
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MY COMRADES IN BATTLE AGAINST THE BOTS!!
NEVER FORGET THAT THEY ARE JUST DISTRACTIONS MADE FOR US TO FORGET ABOUT OUR BIGGER GOAL, TO INVADE DENMARK!! THESE BOTS ARE ONLY OUR TRAINING, WHEN WE HAVE DEFEATED THEM, WE WILL BE ABLE TO DEFEAT ANYBODY WHO IS IN OUR WAY!!
LGBTQIA+ COMMUNITY, I‘M HEREBY REQUESTING YOUR HELP AGAINST THE VILE ARMY OF BOTS THAT IS TRYING TO TAKE OVER OUR BELOVED TAG!!
Also, stay safe and take care please!! Take breaks from hunting bots!! And stay hydrated <33
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mariespen · 4 months
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The Love in Pain ☾ ゚ 。⋆
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jj maybank x fem!reader - hurt/comfort ✩°。 summary: the one and only time JJ wasn't there. warnings: mild description of nausea, description of injury, hurt/comfort, mild swearing
╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮
Your legs intertwined with JJ’s as you relaxed onto his body. The two of you sat together at the chateau, half-listening to what Pope and John B were rambling about. You felt JJ’s soft touch absentmindedly drawing shapes into your thigh while your fingers danced across his own. 
“It belonged to one of Denmark Tanny’s close friends, maybe it’ll connect the dots.” Pope said, looking around the room at you, JJ, John B, Kiara, and Sarah.
“It’s far fetched, Pope.” John B replied.
You perked up at the spark of an argument, starting to listen in more to what they were saying. JJ looked at you, confused, until he listened in too and made the same connection that you did.
“It’s not!” Pope protested, opening his mouth to start reasoning again before John B cut him off.
“It’s an old abandoned house, man. There’s been nothing there for years.” He sighed, still feeling let down from their previously failed attempts to find out more about the legendary gold.
You sat up, squirming out of JJ’s hold on you to listen in, hearing Pope slowly convince John B. Your first reaction was the urge to go with them. JJ hasn’t let you go on any of the adventures yet, but you were ready to fight him on it.
“I’ll go.” You announced and JJ immediately sat up after you, looking at you with immediate denial. 
Pope’s eyes shot up and the rest of the pogues looked at you, waiting for JJ to say something. JJ met your eyes, looking at you like he was looking at a crazy person.
“No, we already talked about this.” He said, grabbing your cheeks with his hand and pinching them softly, turning your face to meet his eyes when he sensed that you weren’t listening, “Baby, look at me. Absolutely not.” 
“Jayj-“ you started trying to give him the most innocent look you could muster up.
“No! Completely not okay.” He repeated, letting you go and sitting back on the couch, arms crossed at his chest.
“C’mon dude.. if she wants to go..” John B said, smiling at you.
“Really not helping my case here, man.” JJ said, rolling his eyes and pulling you back down to his chest, holding you close before you sprung back up.
“JJ come on! I’ll stay out of your way I promise!” You protested, looking at him like your life depended on this.
“Absolutely not,” He said, shifting to pick you off of his lap and standing up, “You’re damned if you think I’m bringing my girl into this.” He finished, walking off.
“He’s happy tonight.” Kiara scoffed, crossing her legs and giving you an apologetic smile, “If it helps, he’s the only one who doesn’t want you to go with.” She said, shrugging it off.
But you clung to it, rolling your eyes and laying back down on the couch, feeling lonely without JJ. While they kept talking, you got up, going to find out just how pissed off your boyfriend really was. You found him in the kitchen, a beer in hand while he zoned out at the wall.
“JJ.” You said, making yourself known and trying to stifle a smile when his eyes lit up at your presence.
“Hi, ma.” He said, setting his beer down and starting towards you with a slim smile.
“C’mon, baby.” You said, meeting him in the middle of the kitchen and draping your arms around his shoulders.
He looked at you with doubt in his eyes, his hands finding your hips as he let his head drop to the crook of your neck. The two of you stayed like that for a while, taking in each other's presence. Eventually he pulled away, his body towering over yours as he kissed you gently, savoring the taste of your chapstick.
“It’s dangerous, I won’t let you get hurt.” He said, sticking to his decision on the outside but slowly being worn down by each second.
You knew how to get what you wanted.
“I’ll stay right by your side, yeah? You can protect me, Jay.” You said quietly into his ear, softly tracing his face with your fingers.
He sighed, letting his head fall to your shoulder as he thought about it. You kissed his hair gently and let him hold you for a while until he emerged again, looking at you with a defeated face. You smiled innocently at him, hope rising in your chest.
“You can’t get hurt, you have to stay with me.” He said and you nodded eagerly, kissing him and smiling with excitement.
“Yes, yes of course. I’ll stay right by you. Thank you!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around him again as you felt him ease up at your excitement.
You walked proudly back out to the rest of the group, dragging JJ behind you as he looked at everyone like he just lost the fight of his life. They all looked back at you, mostly out of amazement that you won over JJ (again). You tried to listen for the remainder of the night, trying not to fall asleep in JJ’s arms as John B and Pope attempted to figure out a plan. He kissed the top of your head, squeezing your hand to reassure you, but mostly to reassure himself.
The next morning you were woken up by JJ making every attempt to be quiet. You opened your eyes, seeing him frozen in his last position, trying not to wake you up.
“Sorry, pretty girl.” He mumbled, a little disappointed that his plan to sneak off and leave you in the safety of the house had failed.
“Jayj..” You groaned, getting up and dressed in the clothes Kiara had let you borrow. 
You put them on, a fairly basic outfit with nothing insufferably tight. The shirts and pants were stained with dirt, like most of their clothes were. You got dressed, the fitting purple t-shirt and jean shorts complimenting your body in an odd way. JJ sat at the edge of the bed in his normal sleeveless tee with cargo shorts. He smiled at you as you walked over to him, straddling his lap and kissing him softly.
“So pretty, m’lady.” He said with a joking grin, standing up and spinning you around.
You headed out, meeting up with the rest of the group in The Twinkie. The drive was rocky and JJ kept a death grip on you, checking to make sure you didn’t want to turn back at least every five seconds.
“Dude, she’s fine.” Kiara said, rolling her eyes when he asked you if you ‘were completely sure’ for the 14th time.
“Didn’t know it was a crime to care.” He mumbled, rolling his eyes and looking away, trying his hardest to seem unbothered.
The six of you eventually got to the site of the old and abandoned house. The walls looked like they were rotting off of the structure and the house itself seemed to be at a permanent tilt. “Jesus..” Sarah sighed, letting John B help her out as JJ held your hand tight, following them. Pope and Kiara came out last, surveying the area with the four of you.
“Not looking too promising.” John B said and Pope sighed, shaking his head and walking forward.
The front door was hidden behind thickets of overgrown plants, but once Pope fought through the guarding vines, the door popped open easily. Everyone began to walk in, wielding a flashlight and the occasional knife. JJ pulled you aside before you could even step foot in the house, looking incredibly nervous.
“You have to tell me when you want to go, m’kay? Stay next to me at all times.” You nodded, smiling and kissing his cheek.
“I got it, JJ.”
You walked into the house behind JJ. He held your hand so tightly that you could almost feel yourself losing circulation. You weren’t in any place to complain, though, so you kept walking next to him.
The house was old and it smelled moldy and wet. You could’ve sworn you felt water droplets on your back at least five times. The walls were clearly rotting and you couldn’t look at them without accumulating a feeling of dread. Slowly, you were regretting your decision. That was, until, Pope spoke up.
“I found something!” He yelled from the opposite direction as you and JJ. You started to turn back with excitement before JJ squeezed your hand tighter and pulled you behind him once again. 
JJ led you back through the hallway, obviously a little skeptical as to how Pope’s plan was going to play out.
“Hey uh.. Pope, buddy.. what the fuck is this place?” JJ asked as the two of you stumbled across a dark hole with steep stairs leading down to another floor. Pope’s voice echoed from below, along with a few comments from John B and Sarah. 
“Come on, man. Be brave for your girl.” John B teased and JJ scrunched his face in frustration.
“Whatever, dude.” JJ said, starting down the steep steps first, helping you down every chance that he could. 
The basement smelled even worse than the first story. You nearly puked the moment that the scent of something rotten hit your nose. It took you aback and you stumbled a bit before JJ caught you, keeping you up with one of his big hands on the small of your back.
“JJ.. I need to sit down.” You said, the nausea returning as you inhaled again. 
You found a pile of old hay bales in the corner of the room, not far from where Pope and Kiara were trying to figure out the map, and took a seat. JJ started to sit down next to you, but Pope called him over for his flashlight. JJ got up, looking back at you quickly before going to Pope with hesitant steps. 
The hay bales didn’t make your sickness any better, and you held your head in your hands, regretting this already. After a bit of listening to them talk, you could’ve sworn that the floor was sinking. Hoping it was simply your stomach getting to your head, you decided to brush it off. However, the sinking feeling persisted and eventually you felt significantly lower than before. You went to move off of the hay bales and to ask JJ to take you back to the van, but you heard a deep crack below you.
The sinking feeling became all too real as you felt yourself plummeting down, the hay bales dropping much faster and leaving you free-falling. You felt minute after minute pass as you fell, your sense of time crumbling with the rise of your fear. In all reality, the fall lasted just around 5 seconds. Your ears rang as you crashed against the broken pounds of hay and hard concrete floor, your head pounding as you laid back, unable to move as hay scattered your body.
You didn’t hear JJ yelling your name or the creaking of the old ladder that John B set up to try and save you. Eventually, you didn’t see the light of your own flashlight anymore or the hay beyond you. Your fingertips started to go numb and you felt frigid with cold until you eventually saw black.
On the surface, JJ watched as you fell with utter horror. He ran to you as the floor gave out, watching you plummet down into an old secret storage room. He yelled and screamed for you, deciding to try and jump down but immediately being stopped by a very panicked John B, eventually getting a ladder and rushing down it. His tears spilled over your body as you flicked in and out of consciousness. He tried to keep himself together, attempting to talk you through it.
“C’mon pretty girl.. let’s get you safe and sound, yeah?” He whispered, wiping his own tears as John B and Pope helped him lift you from the spot you fell at.
You didn’t fully come to yourself until you felt JJ’s arms holding you to his chest like a child as he panicked and brought you back to the Twinkie. 
“Jayj?” You whispered, holding your face in your hands as he sat you on one of the seats, scrambling for anything that could resemble a first aid kit.
“Shh.. shh baby. M’here, JJ’s gonna keep you safe.” He rambled, trying not to look at your injuries. 
“Baby..” You said, voice breaking as the pain hit you.
He looked at you after grabbing a half empty bottle of a wound disinfectant, a slightly stained cloth, and a few bandages. You became more afraid when his gaze lingered on your face as his eyes welled with tears and he winced from simply seeing you in such pain.
“It’s okay, princess. S’okay.” He mumbled, trying to keep his hand still as he poured water on the cloth and padded away some blood from the smaller scratches.
“It hurts, JJ!” You cried out, tears burning the cuts on your face.
“I know princess, I know.” JJ replied, looking up at you and carefully picking you up to set you on the floor of the van instead, becoming level with you, “I got you.” He whispered into you before setting you in his lap.
His cautious touches lingered on your sensitive skin as you relaxed into him, trying to distract yourself from the pain of your own tears. You could feel his short breaths and soft sniffs from above you.
“Scared me, pretty lady. Scared me so bad.” He admitted, holding you a little tighter, grasping onto your scarred body like he wouldn’t ever be able to hold it again.
“S’okay..” You whispered to him, kissing the side of his head.
He gave you a sad smile before letting you relax into the base of a seat, cleaning and bandaging the injuries that he could.
“I love you, JJ” You said, holding his hand for comfort.
“I love you too, princess.” He said, kissing your cheek and brushing hair out of your face.
After a little bit, the rest of the group emerged from the house with boxes of papers and other things with the same moldy smell. JJ held your mouth and nose in his hand as your headache came back during the drive. When you finally got back to the chateau, JJ brought you inside and seeked out help.
He left a kiss on your forehead before whispering sweet nothings into you and promising to always keep you safe. You believed him, holding his shaking hands to your body, trying to let his love heal you.
╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯
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wileys-russo · 5 months
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stanway x reader where r is basically the back up cdm for england, only really plays that last few minutes of games if any so when keira gets injured at the wc, r freaks out because they have to go on and then play after until keira is back. maybe have georgia trying to comfort and hype up r before and then in one of the games where r plays the full 90, r makes like a big game saving tackle and georgia is super proud and happy for r after (you’re like carrying the woso fics on this app rn so thank you!)
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crucial touch II g.stanway
"babe i'll be lucky to even see the pitch this tournament, i'm the back ups backup and i know that. i knew it when i accepted the call up!" you smiled at your girlfriend who frowned back at you from where she stood at the end of your bed.
"but i'm just sayin maybe if ya just talk to sarina and make your case you could get a start!" georgia pushed, knocking your legs apart and crawling up the bed to sit herself between them looking down at you.
"are you telling me to go behind your best mates back to try and get a start over her? harsh." you whistled teasingly, panic flashing across your girlfriends face as she stammered out that wasn't what she meant.
"gee! baby relax, i'm only teasing." you laughed, sitting up and grabbing her hands to still her.
"i love you and i appreciate you going to bat for me but i promise i am just happy to be here. would minutes under the belt be amazing? of course. but is being in australia, training with the squad and being with some of my best friends and girlfriend every day also amazing? yes!" you squeezed her hands with a smile of assurance, frown still dented into her features.
"but you've had such a great season and moved to the european league baby and-" "no more buts, i'm not going out of my way to plead for minutes with sarina. i trust that she always knows whats best for the team, that was well proven in the euros and i felt so much pride even just watching from the stands." you'd torn your hamstring mid last season which had unfortunately meant you weren't fit for squad selection, but despite how hard it was at times to watch your friends and wish you were in their position you learnt a whole new set of valuable lessons.
"babe i promise i am okay." you continued when once again your girlfriend opened her mouth to argue, finally giving in with a sigh and a nod.
"georgia!" you laughed as she pushed you back down onto the bed and flopped her body on top of you. "m'tired baby, lets cuddle and have a nap." the girl patted your head as her own settled on your stomach and your hands threaded her hair tugging it out of the bun it once was.
"what happened to going to watch the sunset before dinner?" "well, it rises and sets every day doesn't it? i'll take ya tomorrow."
~
"did she just say its her knee?" you whispered to lotte who was sat beside you, eyes flashing with the same fear you knew was conveyed in your own as she nodded. "shit." you mumbled, biting your lip nervously as the medics rushed on toward keira.
your leg bounced anxiously as they called for a stretcher, your stomach falling as sarina gestured for laura to start warming up as one of the coaching staff hurried over to run her through the plays.
all of you on the bench sent smiles to keira as she was stretchered off and disappeared down the tunnel, the sub made official as laura ran on and everyone tried to shake off what happened.
"they could have given us a small break of time to reset, they're clearly shook up." you mumbled to lotte who hummed in agreement, both of you watching on with limbs locked tight in stress.
thankfully the girls scraped by taking the 1-0 win against denmark and you didn't think you'd ever held your breath as long as until that final whistle blew ending injury time and the game.
you walked in between ella and georgia as you did your lap, thanking the fans, but you could tell that despite the smiles on everyones faces nobody was thinking about the win and rather worrying for how keira was.
and in particular if the team would see yet another victim to that dreaded three letter curse.
~
despite keira thankfully not having done her acl, she was under forced rest and a careful rehab program, and wouldn't be playing in the next game against china.
knowing that your teammate was okay had eased the mounting tension within the team and after a bonding day at the local zoo everyone was in high spirits.
which was likely what lead to the following 6-1 domination over china a few days later, everyone in even better spirits that night which was filled with karaoke, dancing and cheese boards much to lottes delight.
things took a more serious turn two days later at training when laura took a rather abrupt tackle from millie and headbutted the goal post, winding up with a concussion and with keira still not cleared to play that was how you found yourself sat across from sarina in one of the hotel meeting rooms.
she informed you'd not only be getting your first minutes of the tournament but would be in the starting eleven in tomorrow nights game. you had to ask her how to repeat herself making the dutch woman laugh and congratulate you, making a point to say she'd noticed that despite not playing you had still played a very crucial role within the team lifting morale.
still slightly in disbelief and pinching yourself with a sharp hiss you exited the room, making a beeline right towards your girlfriend who was mid darts game with niamh, ella and lucy.
with a wordless shake of your head you grabbed her hand, ignoring all of her questions and your friends teasing remarks behind you as you dragged her away from the game, staying silent right until the two of you were back in your room.
"baby whats goin on? you're bein very weird has somethin happened?" georgia asked for the tenth time, taking a seat on the edge of your bed as you shook your head and paced back and forth.
"oi, sit down and speak to me love ya gonna wear a hole in the carpet." georgia grabbed your hoodie and pulled you to stand between her legs, hands on the small of your back holding you there.
"i'm starting tomorrow." you blurted out with wide eyes, georgias own bugging nearly out of her head as her grip on you tightened. "you what!" she gasped out as you nodded firmly. "yeah, coombsy's still not cleared and neither is kei." you shook your head in disbelief.
"baby! you're starting in the fuckin world cup!" the breath was stolen from you as your girlfriend lovingly slammed you down onto the bed and jumped on top of you, kissing all over your face and mumbling how proud she was as you couldn't help but grin.
"wait!" you pushed her off and sat bolt upright. "what if i get injured? or i let in a goal? or i cause a penalty? or-" all of the worse case scenarios flew through your head, slamming around and around like a pinball machine.
"hey hey, stop that." georgia frowned, grabbing your face in her hands and forcing you to look at her. "you won't. you are so so brilliant, and hardworking, and passionate. it doesn't matter if this is your first start in a world cup or another match for bayern love, you tackle it the exact same way you enter any game. with your whole heart and ya head screwed on right!" georgia gently squeezed your cheeks and placed a tender kiss against your lips as you exhaled and collapsed into her.
"i'm starting tomorrow." "you're starting tomorrow, and you are gonna smash it baby."
~
the day of the match itself you were still a nervous wreck. word had spread of your start and in small groups all of the girls came over to congratulate and hype you up.
and as much as you appreciated each and every single one of them all of their hope and praise was just adding onto your existing nerves, which your girlfriend seemed to pick up on as she gently shooed everyone away, tucking you into her side at breakfast and changing the subject.
she made sure to sit beside you on the bus and walked you around the stadium for the pitch check with your fingers interlocked tightly with hers, swinging your hands together and distracting you with kisses when she noticed your mind start to wander.
right before warm ups your phone rang and you lit up seeing it was leah, you'd played with her for years at arsenal before taking the plunge to germany when both frankfurt and bayern came knocking.
so stepping out of the room the blonde gave you a stern talking to about believing in yourself and making the most of the opportunity the situation had presented you no matter how it came about.
and with that in mind you reset your headspace and tuned in, georgia sending leah a quick text thanking her as whatever was said worked as you now seemed your confident self when walking out for the line up.
unlike last match against china the game against nigeria was anything but easy. they were a fast and agile side and came out aggressive, so you did your best as a team to meet them like that but after a brutal 90 minutes it was still deadlocked at 0-0.
mary had been putting in a shift, everyone had, and with lj earning a red card you were down to 10 when they announced there would be extra time as a break was called and everyone huddled together on the sidelines.
sarinas words ringing in your ears you sucked up how much your body ached and readied yourself to go again, vowing to leave absolutely everything on the pitch as if it was the last game you ever played.
your chance came in the 118th minute as you missed a crucial tackle and one of the strikers snuck past you. you knew from watching her throughout the game where she'd likely shoot from so you diverted tactics.
you knew it was a risk but you had to trust your gut like always and sprinting down the length of the field on the opposite side your legs burned and ached but you just used that to spur yourself on.
sure enough it was a risk that paid off as the striker slotted the ball past mary who watched in horror as it slipped beneath her thigh and she crashed to the ground.
but you were there without even a millisecond to spare, the ball clipping the edge of your studs as you slid your body across goal and tapped it out earning them a corner but preventing the winning goal.
you only breathed once the referee signaled for nigeria to take their corner, your head slumping against the ground as you took a moment to reset and marys gloved hands hauled you up off the ground.
"you are a fucking superstar for that one mate." she grabbed your face and kissed your forehead with a loud mwah, brushing the grass off of you as you grinned and everyone set in for the corner which would be the last play of extra time.
your hands falling to lucy's waist you felt millies grab yours from behind, a defensive tactic which was yet to fail you as once again a goal was prevented with mary jumping to tap it over the top of the goal as the whistle blew yet again signalling the game would go to penalties.
you watched with baited breath, squished in between beth and millie as each kick was taken. you winced as your girlfriend missed, watching her face fall but sending her a reassuring nod and mouthing that you loved her.
beth, rach and chloe were next all sinking their kicks as chloes hit the back of the net with record speed and the stadium erupted into cheers, you'd done it and you lived to see another day, you'd won.
you raced right over to your girlfriend amid the celebrations who had the same idea, jumping onto her and wrapping your legs round her waist, both of you forgetting you'd just played over 120 minutes as her legs buckled and the two of you crashed to the ground.
"i am so so so fucking proud of ya!" georgia beamed, pressing her forehead against yours as you lay on the grass tangled up with one another. you were well aware of your surroundings but in her arms and by her side everything else slipped away, the two of you lost in one anothers eyes which shone with pride.
"can i kiss you?"
your girlfriend seemed taken aback by the question and your eyes widening you went to stand but your body locked up in surprise as her hand balled your jersey and tugged your lips to meet hers, neither one of you caring for a single moment what anyone thought.
in that triumphant moment all you had eyes for was each another.
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iinsertblognamee · 7 months
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bluey and phonecalls
summary ― your son misses sam
pairing ― sam kerr x foord!reader
warning/s ― fluff, mentions of pregnancy
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“Mama?” 
Theodore looked up at you, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes as he let out a small yawn. You let out a small ‘coo’ as you ran your fingers through his hair and placing his bowl down in front on him. His younger sister, Hazel, was giggling to herself as she smashed her cut up fruit all over her highchair. 
“Yes baby?” 
“Where’s mummy? I wanna watch Bluey with her?” 
It was no secret that the last few months have been pretty hectic for your growing family. Sam helping Chelsea win the FA Women’s cup and then moving straight onto getting for the World Cup. During all that madness Theo had celebrated his fourth birthday and you had found out your were expecting yours and Sam’s third child. 
With all that, Theo had started to notice that Sam wasn’t around as much but still didn’t quite grasp why. Sam was currently at training getting ready for their game against Denmark. After being put on the bench due to her calf playing up, Sam had made it her mission to enure she would be back on that field as fast a possible and as much as you knew how important this World Cup was for her and the team, you couldn’t help but feel sad. Your children were missing out on spending time with their mummy and you were missing out on spending time with your wife. 
“She’s at training baby, but we’re gonna go watch her play tonight with Nana!” You let excitement fill your voice, knowing that the uplifting tone would get him more excited for tonight. 
“With Aunty Cat-Cat?” A smile fills your lips, as you run your fingers through his hair once again before placing a kiss on the top of his forehead. “Yeah baby, Aunty Cailtin will be there too!” 
It was no secret that Sam was his favourite person in the whole wide world, from the second he could kick in your womb, it was very clear that Sam was his person. Her adore everything she did, whether it was kick game-winning goals or flip pancakes in the morning - Theo didn’t care, she could do no wrong. The pair were two peas in a pod, Theo demanding that Sam teach him anything and everything about football (which, of course she loved). 
Although Sam was his everything, there was one other person on this planet that Theo loved almost as much, your sister, Miss Caitlin Foord. Whether it was the football or the fact that she spoils him rotten anytime she’s around he loved her. 
“Can they come over now mama? I just wanna watch one show” His small voice breaks your heart a little, his plead with those big brown eyes starring up at you. A small frown appears on your face, as you shake your head “I’m sorry baby, they’re busy at the moment but we can still watch it together?” 
He lets out a small okay, as he takes a few bites of cereal. Hazel let out a squeal as she continued to bang on the highchair, your attention turning away from Theo and onto her. 
“Oh my goodness! Look at my messy baby” Hazel giggles even louder as you make your way over to her - wiping off the fruit and picking her out of her highchair. A small grunt leaving your lips - your pregnant belly making it difficult for you to hold onto her. 
“Mama be careful!” Theo jumping down from his chair and running towards you - his arms up, ready to take Hazel out of your arms. “It’s okay baby, I got this”. You made your way, slowly, to the living room - Theo watching your every move (just like his mother). 
You placed Hazel in her play pen, before settling yourself down on the couch next to your son. 
“How bout we watch some bluey together? Would that be okay?” You watched Theo think about it for a few seconds, his eyebrows frowning for a second before he nods his head. “Okay mama, we do that” 
You let out a small laugh as you pull him closer to you and place another kiss on his forehead. Bringing the blanket from next to you over both your bodies, Theo got himself comfortable around your bump - his little hand placed right where Sam would normally have it. The sound of the Bluey intro was enough to pull his attention away as you pulled out your phone - clicking on Sam’s contact. 
yn; hey baby, you busy? 
You bring your attention over to Hazel for a few seconds, would was happily playing in her pen with all the toys your mum and sisters had spoilt her with when you had arrived back in Australia. 
The buzz of your phone takes your attention away. 
sam; having a break for some food
sam; i got about 15 minutes
yn; hows your calf? 
sam; much better
sam; the physio did wonders on it 
sam; reckon i could be playing tonight 
yn: that’s so good baby!
yn: we’ll be in the crowd cheering you on
sam; my favourite thing in the world 
sam; did you see what i left out for you to wear tonight? 
yn: the jersey with foord on it? 
sam; funny. 
sam; last i remember the ring on your finger means youre a kerr now 
yn: i love you mrs kerr
sam; that what i thought 
yn: you nervous ? 
sam; a little 
sam; i wanna do right by the team
sam; and i feel like i’ve let everyone down the past couple of games 
yn: you haven’t baby
yn: I promise 
sam; how’s the kids going? Not giving you trouble are they?
yn: nah
yn: they’re being good
yn: Theo is missing you lots though 
yn: he wanted to watch bluey with you 
sam; my poor little man
sam; give me a second and i’ll call 
yn: okay, i love you 
sam; i love you too 
You turned your attention back to the screen, the intro of a new episode was playing, Theo’s attention glued onto his favourite show. The intro hadn’t even finished before your phone started ringing, Sam’s name flashing across the screen. 
“Baby look! It’s mummy!” Theo’s face lit up, the phone leaving your grip in an instant. 
“Hi Mummy!” Theo squealed, his body jumping up and down with excitement. The loud squeals were enough to set Hazel off, wanting to be apart of whatever she felt she was missing out on. You triple check that Theo was okay on the couch before getting yourself off the couch. 
“Hi Baby! Whatcha doing?” You hear Sam’s voice follow through the speakers as Hazel claps her hands and looks up at you. Picking her up once again, a small grunt leaving your lips brings the attention of both your wife and first child. 
“Mama!” 
“Love?” 
“I’m okay!” you assure them both as you bring you and Hazel back to the couch, your daughter squealing once again once she sees Sam on the phone. 
“What are you guys doing?” Sam asks once again, both kids attention completely on the phone screen. 
“Watching Bluey with mama” Sam lets out a small chuckle, as you shake your head in the background. You and Sam had seen every single bluey episode there was. It being a fan favourite in your household (and the main attraction for the 24 hour plane trip from London to Sydney). 
“That sounds fun! Have you been looking after our girls for me bubs?” Theo nodded his head, with a very serious look on his face. Your heart beating just that little bit faster. Sam was very protective over her family, which your son had noticed and of course copied. 
“Of course mummy! I even helped mummy get Hazel ready” 
You nodded your head in agreement, as you placed a kiss on the back of his head before adding “He did. Such a good big boy aren’t you baby”. 
You catch the sound of Sam’s teammates in the background, already knowing that Sam would need to say her goodbyes soon enough. Looking down into your arms, Hazel was fast asleep. 
“Are you coming home soon?” His little voice breaks both yours and Sam’s hearts, knowing this wasn’t going to end well. 
“I’m sorry baby, i’m at training getting ready for tonight’s game” You could see Theo’s shoulders drop in disappointment, Sam noticing as well. “But! But baby, you and mama and Hazel are coming to watch us tonight so i’ll get to see you really really soon at the stadium. How does that sound huh?” 
You could see that Theo was torn between his emotions, the noise of the matidlas getting louder and you could see Sam watching Theo - waiting for his response. “We watch bluey together tomorrow?” He shyly asks, looking between you and the phone. 
“Of course baby! We can watch Bluey all day long tomorrow, but only if your promise to look after mama for me tonight and cheer for us!” 
Yet again, Theo nodded his head with purpose, these new ‘comands’ practically written in stone for your son. “I will mummy, I’ll cheer the loudest” 
“I know you will baby, but look. I need to go back to training but I can’t wait to see you tonight okay. I love you so much” 
“I love you mummy” 
“Love you Sam” you add on, as she blows you both a kiss before the call disconnects. 
Theo waits a few seocnds after the call to end before turning his body towards yours “Mama”
“Yes baby” 
“Can we wait Bluey until we go watch mummy play” 
This was going to be a long day.
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cheriladycl01 · 3 months
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Come train with me - Sebastian Vettel x DaneOlympicAthletics! Reader
Plot: Sebastian Vettel asks to train with his Olympian Girlfriend for one day to see the difference in Formula One training and decathlon training.
Credit to wendigoactivities for the GIF
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"Okay, so what do you do when I normally am on a race weekend. I want to do your training with you!" he smiles looking at you.
"Are you sure it's pretty intense!" you say, knowing that your routine could end up being a whole day thing.
"Leibling! You forget that I'm an athlete myself!" he says, pulling you into a kiss before ripping the covers off the pair of you and getting up.
"Okay, get your running gear on baby" you smile before entering the bathroom and washing your face with some water. You change into shorts and a sports bra and ended tying your hair up in a low ponytail.
"I'm ready!" he smiles zipping up his long-sleeved running shirt. You walk him down to the kitchen and pour two glasses of orange juice for the pair of you.
"Drink up" you smile and he does, pretty much taking the small glass in one long gulp whereas you slowly take it down.
"Okay, we're going out on a run 5k, and do 5 100m sprints at each 1000 bench mark!" you say as you lead out the back of your home to the woodland trail you used for running.
"That doesn't sound too hard!" he smiles, pulling you in for a kiss before you dart off starting the first 100 meter sprint. He does struggled to keep up with you during the sprint to the point you had to jog on the spot to wait for him after the check point.
He wasn't out of breath when he got to you, and both continued on with the run.
"Okay, finished that awful run, what next?" he asks.
"Go to the home gym, do some squats and lift some weights before showering and time for some breakfast!" you smile and you both walk down the trail and into the back door. Your dog, Polly comes running up to the both of you and jumps into his dad's arms.
You cheekily snap a picture of them before you make your way over to the gym.
You hop in the home gym bathroom to wash while Seb goes upstairs into the ensuite.
Once you've finished you go to the kitchen, pulling out the porridge your nutritionist and private chef made for you along with the pre-cut fruits to add to it.
You hand Sebastian the other portion which he thanks you for, he mixes his fruit into the porridge whereas you leave yours alone on the side.
"Now where do you go?" he asks.
"Well, I go to the training centre. I have two separate days when doing a decathlon and I try to train for the event I'd being doing on that day! So, we just did the 5k with the sprints in it for the 100m sprint I'd complete first. Now we'd be training for discus throw, then pole vault which we both know I'm terrible at, then we'd break and have lunch. Then my fav which is Javelin throw before rounding of with the 400m which again we class a this mornings run!" you explain the daily plan for day 1.
"Oh! That sounds good to me!" he says and you both pack up a lunch to take with you before leaving for the car.
He drives both of you to the training center. It was very large holding an athletics field in the back that had the perfect running track with a centre piece where you could do long jump, or throw javelin spears. And then inside there was things for high jump and pole vaulting.
You spend the afternoon there, taking a break halfway through for lunch where you introduced Seb to anyone he hadn't actually met yet.
"Thank you for bringing me back home!" you'd smiled at him happy to be back in the homeland.
Denmark, specifically Copenhagen always had a special place in your heart, but you'd moved to Germany with Seb after 8 months of dating.
So when he said that you guy's should get a home in Denmark it was all too perfect that you parents were attempting to downsize your childhood family home. You brought it from your parents and made some renovations a few years back but predominately were in Germany.
However, now that you were back for the summer break, on a little holiday you felt almost refreshed.
"Any-time, this is your home!" he smiles softly picking at his lunch trying so of the chicken.
"Mmmmm that's not true, my home is where-ever you are Skat!" you smile at him, pulling him in for a kiss which he kindly returns.
"I really really love you Y/N!" he says looking in your eyes holding that contact.
"Yeah? Well... I love you too" you smile, placing a kiss on his lips your fingers running through his hair.
"I know you do" he smiles.
You guys end up getting back on with the exercises and by the end he's lying on the mat needing a five minute breather.
"Come on old man, I know you've got more stamina than that!" you tease looking at his as he looks up at you.
"I think we've got to call it a day, home time?" he asks and you shake your head before nodding!
You end up driving you both home, him using the excuse that his legs were on fire after the amount of squats you'd made him do. Which you didn't mind, your husband had a fantastic array of vehicles. They ranged from a Porsche, to a Ferrari, to a Aston Martin his latest to the collection and you always loved driving his flash cars around.
You crank up the radio signing along to the radio while Seb leans his head against the window with his eyes shut lightly humming to the music.
This right here was the life you'd always dreamt off.
y/user
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Liked by sebastianvettel
y/user: Showing my husband how an Olympic Athlete trains everyday. p.s he struggled :)
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sebastianvettel: I didn’t struggle! You liar! <3
6hours ago
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Your Instagram Story:
another day, another run
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nolita-fairytale · 10 months
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burn your life down | chef luca x fem!reader | chapter ten
summary: you and luca spend the first weekend of september on holiday in skagen, and luca reflects on the impact your relationship has had on him.
warnings: smut (18+ only) fluff, eventual angst not use of y/n, conversations about divorce, slow burn, second person pov, swearing, danish inaccuracies, very little connection to the storyline of the bear.
word count: 3.3k
listen to: the official 'burn your life down' playlist
a/n: a shorter, smutty, yet pivotal little chapter to get us through the week, friends. let me know if you'd like to be added or removed from the taglist.
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part nine | masterlist | part eleven
As the season begins to turn, Luca remains a constant in your life. It’s not like you expected anything to change about it. The relationship has been good – like, really good – and yet you somehow still find yourself surprised that he’s so easily woven himself into your life. 
It takes you a few weeks to pull it all together: the time off, a trip, accommodations, like where you’ll stay. Change is in the air – a reminder of how far you’ve come – that a romance that started in the summer has flown so effortlessly into the beginning of Fall that it’s almost gone unnoticed. 
You’ve been looking forward to the first week of September for almost all of August, eager to go on your first holiday with Luca. After suggesting the idea, you got right to work, pulling off some fancy footwork to get coverage between everyone else’s end of summer holidays, and now that it’s here? 
What’s another five-ish hours in the car?
You can’t wait to get to Skagen, and at the same time, you want to savor every single moment of this, as you listen to Luca sing softly along to Elton John while he drives. It’s in the way the sunlight hits his golden locks so perfectly, the way the soft low hum of his voice reaches your ears with such a gentleness, the way his fingers fit so perfectly entwined with yours. 
And five hours later, you arrive at your airbnb, a rented cabin designed for romantic getaways in mind, not too far from Grenen Beach. You and Luca take your time unloading the car, hauling your bags from the car port and into your home for the next few days. While you’re not in a hurry, Luca, for the first time all day, seems a little impatient, hasty to get the car unloaded as soon as possible. 
You don’t blame him. He has done all the driving. 
As part of the agreement you made, he proposed to do the drive on the way there (since he’s lived in Denmark for longer) if you did drive home. 
“What do you want to do first?” you ask curiously, wrapping your arms around his neck as Luca sets down the last of what was in the car. 
“Well, after five hours in the car with you, my love,” he begins with a sigh, as he melts into your touch. “I’ve only got one thing on mind.”
“Oh yeah?” you smirk, picking up on his more-than-suggestive tone.
“Yeah,” he grunts, hoisting you up off of the floor so that it’s all too easy to wrap your legs around his waist. You laugh, squealing as he does, ghosting your lips teasingly over his as Luca murmurs, “I can’t wait to get you naked, my love.”
And of course, you let him, giving him exactly what he wants as you strip your clothes off, letting him chase you upstairs and into the lofted bedroom. The hour spent in an unfamiliar bed making love to the man that makes your stomach flip, leaves you breathless, boneless, and bewildered that he’s yours. 
It’s not until he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, that your eyes begin to flutter open, snapped shut in response to the way he made you come. You begin to come back down to earth, the reality that you have consecutive days of this to look forward to. 
“You’re amazing,” Luca murmurs against your skin, watching your body react to the way his fingers drag across your skin in soothing patterns. 
“I could say the same thing about you. I think I lost my mind for a second there,” you sigh, letting out a satisfied chuckle because you’re only half-joking. 
He grins, letting out a small laugh as he shakes his head in pure disbelief that you’re here and that you’re his. 
You swear you’ve got stars in your eyes as you look at him, as you open your mouth to ask:
“So… what do you want to do next?” 
-------------------------------
You had been antsy to get out to the beach, and who was Luca to deny you that? 
Right before dinner, you’d discussed. 
That’s when you’d go. 
Luca watches as you play around with your film camera, the sleeves of your Northwestern University sweatshirt pushed up to your elbows as you mutter something about how perfectly the textures of the beach will work for what you’ve been playing around with: double exposure. With wet sand pushed between your toes, you direct your camera lens from the waves of the ocean over to Luca. 
As soon as you catch him staring, a half smile spreads across his face as his eyes land on you, and with a click of the button, you’ve taken the photo. 
“Watcha thinkin’ about, babe?” you ask curiously, looking up from behind your small film camera. 
He shakes his head, the smile becoming bigger as he answers, “You.”
Luca’s heart pounds in his chest as he watches the wind whip through your hair, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore filling his ears as you smile back at him. Your eyes are filled with such love, such adoration, that he almost says it – almost blurts it out – the three words that have been weighing so heavily on his shoulders as of late. 
Lost in a shared look of love, the feeling of the wild waves slapping against the cuffed hem of your jeans hits you, startling you as it soaks the denim material. 
“Holy shit!” you shriek, taking a few steps back. As you run away from the wild and out of hand crash of the waves, Luca leads you into the other direction, realizing that you’re being chased by the ocean. 
You giggle, because it feels playful, joyous, free, and as you jump a few feet, using the momentum of your running pace, Luca is there to catch you. Like earlier before, but under different circumstances, you wrap your arms and legs around him again, holding onto your film camera for dear life. 
“You got me,” you grin, your voice soft as he holds you in his arms. 
“Yeah,” he replies, certain as the word leaves his lips. 
“It’s good to be gotten,” you say, knowing that the double meaning isn’t lost on either of you. 
-------------------------------
You spend your mornings waking up slowly, exchanging lazy kisses and soft touches, whispering promises to each other of ‘five more minutes’ that are more like thirty (but who’s counting, really?). 
Your days are bright and sunny, spent exploring with Luca as you search for adventures: trips to the museum, walks along the beach, exploring the little downtown area. 
And tonight, on your last night, you don’t want to leave.
Yes, you love the life you built for yourself in Copenhagen, and yes, of course, it’s not too far from what you and Luca do in your spare time when you’re home. 
But there’s something different about the quiet beach town that’s left you devoid of any distraction. It’s just you and him and the love that grows between the two of you. It’s undeniable, unignorable, its sound like a siren in every silence, an alarm clock that wakes you in the middle of the night, shaking you to your very core.
It’s also a kind and a safe love – something you never knew could still feel this enormous, this all-consuming too. 
Luca moves his lips over your jawline, nipping at the skin as his tattooed hands wander, sliding underneath your sweatshirt. You’re more than eager to help, slipping the knit material right over your head before you’re pulling him back down to you, your lips drawn to his like magnets. 
He hadn’t bothered to put a shirt back on after your shower together, and it hadn’t taken long for you to push his sweatpants over his hips, knowing very well the effect his shirtless showboating had on you. It’s no surprise that you’ve found yourself here, underneath his body, gasping as heat pools between your legs. 
Luca’s more than happy to discover that you’re not wearing a bra, groaning into the kiss, as he stacks his body on top of yours. Your legs wrap around his waist with practiced ease and you're left only in your panties. 
You arch your back as his mouth continues its journey south, his blue eyes stealing a glance up at you as he takes one of your erect nipples into his mouth, earning a gasp that escapes your lips. You can feel him smile against your skin as you sigh his name, your body shifting underneath his. 
“Luca,” you repeat, completely at his will as you let him consume you. 
He gives equal attention to both breasts before leaving hot, open mouthed kisses down your belly. His hand with the ‘A’ tattoo slides into your panties, dragging two fingers through your slick. 
“You’re so wet for me, love,” he coos, pressing his index and middle finger just enough into you before withdrawing them, teasingly. “Always so wet for me.”
“Yes,” you gasp, as you feel Luca’s steady hands dragging your panties down your legs, your wetness leaving a trail down your inner thighs. 
You’re eager to kick off your panties, and as Luca tosses them behind you, his hands are back on you in an instant, smoothing up your legs and pushing them open so that he can fit between them. Your eyes flutter closed as he uses his skilled tongue to lick a broad stripe up your hot, wet heat. You cry out, bucking your hips up into his mouth as he eats you out. It’s like he’s memorized every single thing you’ve ever liked, every single thing that’s ever made you scream, that’s pushed you to pull at his hair while you came on his tongue, and created a cheat sheet of how to get you to your orgasm fastest. 
“Baby,” you pant, your hands tangled in his hair as he drags his tongue over our clit, tracing tight circles over it as your body twists itself underneath his mouth. “Fuck, you’re so good at this. You’re-, OH!”
You shout in pleasure as he slides his fingers in and out of you, and Luca has to admit that he loves the way you feel squeezing around him. He’s rock hard, the sounds of your moans, of your cries, of his name on your lips, unbearably beautiful. He ruts his hips into the bed as he can feel you getting close. 
He knows. 
He knows exactly when you need two fingers instead of one. That when your voice raises in pitch, it means he’s found the exact right spot. That when a string of curses leaves your mouth because it’s all too much and not enough at the same time and that if he keeps going, you’re sure to explode, topple over whatever mountain you’re climbing, ready to fall off and fall with him. 
“Luca, fuck, I’m coming, god, baby, don’t stop, fuck, it’s so good, you’re so fucking good,” you chant, lost in the pleasure he brings you.
You’re not sure that the string of words are even English anymore as they tumble out of your mouth. Luca takes you higher, then higher, the crest of pleasure peaking and crashing around you, as you cum on his tongue. 
Luca takes his time, cleaning you up with his tongue before making his way up your naked body, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. He kisses you with a passion, a fervor, a desperateness that tells you he needs you just as much as you need him. 
“You are so beautiful,” he says against your lips. “When you cum like that.” Another kiss. “So out of control.” You reach up to catch his mouth once again. “So lost in how you feel.” His tongue slides against yours this time as he manages to complete his sentence this go round. 
“And all for me.” 
And with that you’re rolling him onto his back, your mouth trailing over his neck, his shoulders, his chest, and then the hard planes of his abdomen as you make your way down to the top of his briefs. You drag the waistband of his briefs down, up and over his hard on, tossing them somewhere on the floor after you finally get them off. 
Your eyes meet his, catching his gaze as you look up at him, your tongue snaking out just over the head of his cock. Luca hisses, his hands propped up behind his head so that he can watch you as you take him into your mouth. 
“My god, babe,” he groans, as you suck on the tip, sliding your mouth down a little further this time. 
“Fuck.”
You take your time using your mouth and saliva to get him ready for you, bringing your hand up and around his shaft for what can’t fit in your mouth. You use your hand and your mouth to take him, setting a pace that Luca really seems to like. 
You can hear it in the way he moans, the way he seems to be holding back, trying his best not to thrust his hips into your mouth, in the way that he gathers your hair in his hands, moving it all to one side so that he can watch you take him. 
It’s not until you feel him tug at your hair, his hands used as a makeshift ponytail holder, that you lift your head to look at him. 
“Get up here,” he rasps, and you’re more than happy to oblige. 
Your mouth is on his instantly, swallowing his moans as you continue to stroke him in the palm of your hand. 
“How do you want me?” you ask him, your voice low and desperate with need. 
Instead of answering, he flips you over so that he’s on top again. You part your legs so that he can fit between them, and you feel him jerk your body down towards him, causing a small laugh to escape your lips. The laugh turns into a moan as Luca presses his thick tip at your entrance, pushing in. You both gasp, sharing a look, a moan, a breath as he stretches you open. 
It doesn’t matter how many times you take him, you swear. You’re:
“Always so tight, fuck,” Luca murmurs, sighing out your name as he buries himself in to the hilt. 
He pauses for a moment, his mind short-circuiting as he feels the way your walls pulse around him. 
With each slow drag of his cock, you keen, feeling every single inch of him as he takes his time teasing you. Without setting any kind of pace, Luca lays one of your legs over his shoulder as he sits tall, grinding against you in a way that makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. 
He watches as he grinds himself into you, his gaze fixed to where you’re connected, unable to tear his eyes away from how you take him. 
“So deep,” you mumble, lost in the way he feels inside of you. “You’re so deep.”
Luca begins thrusting his hips this time a little faster, earning another keening sound that escapes your mouth. And soon enough he’s folding his body over yours, testing your limits of flexibility as he keeps your leg bent over his shoulder, your thigh pressed towards your chest as he pounds away inside of you. 
You can tell that he likes it – what you’ve said so far – so you decide to continue as he fucks you. 
“I love it when you’re this deep. Inside of me,” you pant through each thrust, sure you’re so close to cumming again. “Stretching me.” Another moan. “Filling me.”
Luca can’t help himself. He pauses, wrapping both of your legs around his waist this time as he chases that high pitched gasp he knows means you’re about to come. 
“You fill me so well,” you gasp, your voice getting higher as you squeeze around him, your walls contracting, building a tension that means you’re on the cusp of release. “Feels so good.”
“Luca, I’m gonna cum. Please don’t stop,” you beg him, as you hold onto his biceps. 
And he wouldn’t dare. 
With a few more deep thrusts, you’re cumming, squeezing around him, grasping at his back like you’re holding on for dear life. 
Luca slows down his pace, giving you short thrusts as he stays deep, letting you come down from the pure euphoria you just experienced. He leans down, pressing a searing kiss to your lips as you catch your breath, your hands exploring his shoulders, his upper back, his arms. 
“You like me deep, hmmm?” Luca asks, his voice low. There’s a quiet dominance – there’s always a quiet dominance – with the way he talks to you, the way he praises you, the way he calls you his. 
“Yes,” you nod, your eyes glassy as you look up at him. 
With a knowing shake of his head he kisses you once more before giving the order:
“Get on your knees.”
Your body shaky, still reeling from your orgasm, you nod in agreement. Your arms may feel like spaghetti, but you somehow make your way onto your hands and knees, immediately feeling Luca’s warm hands smooth over your ass. You push your body backwards, offering more of yourself to him as he sighs in pleasure, remarking once more about how fucking sexy you are like this before pushing himself back inside of you. 
From this position, Luca feels unbelievably deep, and unbearably good. With his first thrust, you fall to your forearms, resting your head against them like all you can do is moan and push your ass back against him. 
“Luca!” you cry out, as he begins to speed up the pace of his thrusts. 
“You are so fucking sexy, baby,” he grunts, noting that he’d die a happy man with the view from where he kneels behind you. 
Slow deep thrusts turn into fast jerks of his hips and yours, chasing your highs simultaneously. You know he won’t last long in this position – everything feels too good. Stilling his hips inside of you, Luca gently guides you so that you're laying on your belly while he lays on top of you. It’s his scotch bonnet hand that goes to your clit this time, reaching around your body to rub feverish circles as his thrusts become sloppier, more unpredictable, always a sign that he’s on the edge. 
“Where do you want me?” he asks, his voice strained as he maintains his furious pace. 
“Inside of me,” you managed to get out in between high pitched whines, moans, and heavy breaths. 
“Inside of me, Luca.”
He grunts, because your words alone might get him off right here. 
“Make me yours.”
“Yes, love.”
It doesn’t take long, just a few more thrusts before Luca is spilling himself inside of you with uneven breaths and tense grunts as you both cum, riding out your highs together. 
Whispers of ‘so good’ and ‘incredible’ and ‘yes, baby’ are met with ‘unreal’ and ‘fucking beautiful’ and ‘my love.’ 
Luca leaves, only for a moment, to grab a towel and get you both cleaned up. You lay in each other’s arms for what feels like forever before you begin drifting off to sleep. Luca runs his fingers through your hair as he feels your body relax into his. He’s fallen asleep with you enough times to know that you’re probably no longer listening, off to dreamland. 
As Luca watches the rise and fall of your chest, he smiles to himself, the words on the tip of his tongue. He’s known great love in his life: once in his early twenties and once more, a few years before he met you.
But nothing was this – nothing’s compared to this. 
Almost as if it were a practice round, because he’s not sure whether or not you’ll even hear him, he opens his mouth, trying his best to formulate the words. He turns them over in his head, delicately, gently, then mouths them silently, before finally saying them out loud:
“I think you may be the love of my life.”
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End of the line for corporate sovereignty
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I'm on tour with my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me next weekend (Mar 30/31) in ANAHEIM at WONDERCON, then in Boston with Randall "XKCD" Munroe (Apr 11), then Providence (Apr 12), and beyond!
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Back in the 1950s, a new, democratically elected Iranian government nationalized foreign oil interests. The UK and the US then backed a coup, deposing the progressive government with one more hospitable to foreign corporations:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nationalization_of_the_Iranian_oil_industry
This nasty piece of geopolitical skullduggery led to the mother-of-all-blowbacks: the Anglo-American puppet regime was toppled by the Ayatollah and his cronies, who have led Iran ever since.
For the US and the UK, the lesson was clear: they needed a less kinetic way to ensure that sovereign countries around the world steered clear of policies that undermined the profits of their oil companies and other commercial giants. Thus, the "investor-state dispute settlement" (ISDS) was born.
The modern ISDS was perfected in the 1990s with the Energy Charter Treaty (ECT). The ECT was meant to foam the runway for western corporations seeking to take over ex-Soviet energy facilities, by making those new post-Glasnost governments promise to never pass laws that would undermine foreign companies' profits.
But as Nick Dearden writes for Jacobin, the western companies that pushed the east into the ECT failed to anticipate that ISDSes have their own form of blowback:
https://jacobin.com/2024/03/energy-charter-treaty-climate-change/
When the 2000s rolled around and countries like the Netherlands and Denmark started to pass rules to limit fossil fuels and promote renewables, German coal companies sued the shit out of these governments and forced them to either back off on their democratically negotiated policies, or to pay gigantic settlements to German corporations.
ISDS settlements are truly grotesque: they're not just a matter of buying out existing investments made by foreign companies and refunding them money spent on them. ISDS tribunals routinely order governments to pay foreign corporations all the profits they might have made from those investments.
For example, the UK company Rockhopper went after Italy for limiting offshore drilling in response to mass protests, and took $350m out of the Italian government. Now, Rockhopper only spent $50m on Adriatic oil exploration – the other $300m was to compensate Rockhopper for the profits it might have made if it actually got to pump oil off the Italian coast.
Governments, both left and right, grew steadily more outraged that ISDSes tied the hands of democratically elected lawmakers and subordinated their national sovereignty to corporate sovereignty. By 2023, nine EU countries were ready to pull out of the ECT.
But the ECT had another trick up its sleeve: a 20-year "sunset" clause that bound countries to go on enforcing the ECT's provisions – including ISDS rulings – for two decades after pulling out of the treaty. This prompted European governments to hit on the strategy of a simultaneous, mass withdrawal from the ECT, which would prevent companies registered in any of the ex-ECT countries from suing under the ECT.
It will not surprise you to learn that the UK did not join this pan-European coalition to wriggle out of the ECT. On the one hand, there's the Tories' commitment to markets above all else (as the Trashfuture podcast often points out, the UK government is the only neoliberal state so committed to austerity that it's actually dismantling its own police force). On the other hand, there's Rishi Sunak's planet-immolating promise to "max out North Sea oil."
But as the rest of the world transitions to renewables, different blocs in the UK – from unions to Tory MPs – are realizing that the country's membership in ECT and its fossil fuel commitment is going to make it a world leader in an increasingly irrelevant boondoggle – and so now the UK is also planning to pull out of the ECT.
As Dearden writes, the oil-loving, market-worshipping UK's departure from the ECT means that the whole idea of ISDSes is in danger. After all, some of the world's poorest countries are also fed up to the eyeballs with ISDSes and threatening to leave treaties that impose them.
One country has already pulled out: Honduras. Honduras is home to Prospera, a libertarian autonomous zone on the island of Roatan. Prospera was born after a US-backed drug kingpin named Porfirio Lobo Sosa overthrew the democratic government of Manuel Zelaya in 2009.
The Lobo Sosa regime established a system of special economic zones (known by their Spanish acronym, "ZEDEs"). Foreign investors who established a ZEDE would be exempted from Honduran law, allowing them to create "charter cities" with their own private criminal and civil code and tax system.
This was so extreme that the Honduran supreme court rejected the plan, so Lobo Sosa fired the court and replaced them with cronies who'd back his play.
A group of crypto bros capitalized on this development, using various ruses to establish a ZEDE on the island of Roatan, a largely English-speaking, Afro-Carribean island known for its marine reserve, its SCUBA diving, and its cruise ship port. This "charter city" included every bizarre idea from the long history of doomed "libertarian exit" projects, so ably recounted in Raymond Craib's excellent 2022 book Adventure Capitalism:
https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/14/this-way-to-the-egress/#terra-nullius
Right from the start, Prospera was ill starred. Paul Romer, the Nobel-winning economist most closely associated with the idea of charter cities, disavowed the project. Locals hated it – the tourist shops and restaurants on Roatan all may sport dusty "Bitcoin accepted here" signs, but not one of those shops takes cryptocurrency.
But the real danger to Prospera came from democracy itself. When Xiomara Castro – wife of Manuel Zelaya – was elected president in 2021, she announced an end to the ZEDE program. Prospera countered by suing Honduras under the ISDS provisions of the Central America Free Trade Agreements, seeking $10b, a third of the country's GDP.
In response, President Castro announced her country's departure from CAFTA, and the World Bank's International Centre for Settlement of Investment Disputes:
https://theintercept.com/2024/03/19/honduras-crypto-investors-world-bank-prospera/
An open letter by progressive economists in support of President Castro condemns ISDSes for costing latinamerican countries $30b in corporate compensation, triggered by laws protecting labor rights, vulnerable ecosystems and the climate:
https://progressive.international/wire/2024-03-18-economists-the-era-of-corporate-supremacy-in-the-international-trade-system-is-coming-to-an-end/en
As Ryan Grim writes for The Intercept, the ZEDE law is wildly unpopular with the Honduran people, and Merrick Garland called the Lobo Sosa regime that created it "a narco-state where violent drug traffickers were allowed to operate with virtual impunity":
https://theintercept.com/2024/03/19/honduras-crypto-investors-world-bank-prospera/
The world's worst people are furious and terrified about Honduras's withdrawal from its ISDS. After 60+ years of wrapping democracy in chains to protect corporate profits, the collapse of the corporate kangaroo courts that override democratic laws represents a serious threat to oligarchy.
As Dearden writes, "elsewhere in the world, ISDS cases have been brought specifically on the basis that governments have not done enough to suppress protest movements in the interests of foreign capital."
It's not just poor countries in the global south, either. When Australia passed a plain-packaging law for tobacco, Philip Morris relocated offshore in order to bring an ISDS case against the Australian government in a bid to remove impediments to tobacco sales:
https://isds.bilaterals.org/?philip-morris-vs-australia-isds
And in 2015, the WTO sanctioned the US government for its "dolphin-safe" tuna labeling, arguing that this eroded the profits of corporations that fished for tuna in ways that killed a lot of dolphins:
https://theintercept.com/2015/11/24/wto-ruling-on-dolphin-safe-tuna-labeling-illustrates-supremacy-of-trade-agreements/
In Canada, the Conservative hero Steven Harper entered into the Canada-China Foreign Investment Promotion and Protection Agreement, which banned Canada from passing laws that undermined the profits of Chinese corporations for 31 years (the rule expires in 2045):
https://www.vancouverobserver.com/news/harper-oks-potentially-unconstitutional-china-canada-fipa-deal-coming-force-october-1
Harper's successor, Justin Trudeau, went on to sign the Canada-EU Trade Agreement that Harper negotiated, including its ISDS provisions that let EU corporations override Canadian laws:
https://www.cbc.ca/news/politics/trudeau-eu-parliament-schulz-ceta-1.3415689
There was a time when any challenge to ISDS was a political third rail. Back in 2015, even hinting that ISDSes should be slightly modified would send corporate thinktanks into a frenzy:
https://www.techdirt.com/2015/07/20/eu-proposes-to-reform-corporate-sovereignty-slightly-us-think-tank-goes-into-panic-mode/
But over the years, there's been a growing consensus that nations can only be sovereign if corporations aren't. It's one thing to treat corporations as "persons," but another thing altogether to elevate them above personhood and subordinate entire nations to their whims.
With the world's richest countries pulling out of ISDSes alongside the world's poorest ones, it's feeling like the end of the road for this particularly nasty form of corporate corruption.
And not a moment too soon.
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If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:
https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/27/korporate-kangaroo-kourts/#corporate-sovereignty
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Image: ChrisErbach (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:UnitedNations_GeneralAssemblyChamber.jpg
CC BY-SA 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/deed.en
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Hi hun, would you be in the mood to write something about dadrry dealing with his kids terrible twos pls
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The Terrible Two’s.
masterlist || ask me anything <3
blurb masterlist is here.
authors note - something about lhh being a dad does something to me i simply cannot describe so enjoy my loves…!
word count - 1.4k
in which, travelling with your husband around europe hasn’t been the most smooth sailing, especially when your daughters currently experiencing her terrible twos.
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Faith Anne Styles.
After dating your boyfriend Harry for just over a year, you fell pregnant at the lovely age of nineteen and now both of you are at the age of twenty one and had a beautiful baby girl.
The perfect mix of both of you.
But life wasn’t all that swell.
As you stand backstage at the One Direction concert in Oslo, Denmark ,the pulsating excitement of the crowd seeping through the walls from the support act McBusted.
You watched as your boyfriend, the charismatic Harry Styles, attempts to navigate the treacherous waters of your two-year-old daughter Faith's terrible twos.
It seems that tonight, the tantrum monster has reared its head, threatening to disrupt the carefully choreographed chaos of the concert.
Great timing there, Faith Baby.
You glance around and notice Niall, Louis, and Liam, all observing the situation with wide eyes and amused expressions.
Harry, ever the doting father, crouches down to Faith's level, his brows furrowing in concern.
"Hey, baby love," Harry cooed gently, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of the chaos. "What's got you feeling so gloom and doom, eh?"
Faith's tiny face contorts, her little fists clenched tightly as she lets out a shrill cry. The sound reverberates through the backstage area, drawing amused glances from the rest of the band.
Louis, unable to resist a cheeky remark, leans over to Liam and whispers, "I think little Faith here is giving Harry a taste of his own teenage rebellion. Karma's a funny thing, innit?"
You never knew Harry in his pre teen years, however from the stories that you had been told by his family and fellow bandmates, he was a bit of a cheeky chappy.
And you couldn’t help but think that Faith, at just two years old, had developed some of his cheeky persona.
Before going down for naps, she would negotiate about how she wasn’t tired and then proceed to jump out of her crib, running through the house the same way that Harry would.
If you ever went to the shops or the park, then you would often catch her talking to random strangers as she held onto your hand or sat in her stroller, waving at them and being the kind girl she is and due to her father most likely doing the exact same thing.
You knew your two year old shouldn’t be interacting with strangers but she was just simply too adorable.
Liam chuckles and nods in agreement, but their attention is quickly pulled back to the unfolding drama.
Harry tries a different approach, his voice filled with patience and understanding. "Faith, darling, let's try to use our words, yeah? What's making you so upset?"
But Faith's wails persist, growing louder and more intense with each passing moment. She falls to the floor, kicking and flailing her arms, her cries echoing through the backstage area.
You watched as Harry ran a hand through his shoulder length hair, you could see slight stress lines appearing on his forehead.
He took it exceptionally hard when Faith would be upset, no parent liked to see their child sad but Harry absolutely hated it. He would always sit with her until she felt up for talking and although she was only a two year old and could hardly form a coherent sentence he would nod his head and listen to every word she said.
Faith idolised him.
Niall chuckles, watching the spectacle unfold. "Well, she's certainly giving us a show, isn't she? The drama of the terrible twos."
Tell you about it.
Harry shoots Niall a slight glare, finding absolutely nothing about the situation taking place funny in the slightest,before refocusing his attention on Faith.
He kneels down beside her, speaking softly amidst the cacophony. “Hey, my love, I know it's frustrating. Let's take some deep breaths together, okay? In and out."
But Faith's tantrum continues to escalate. She starts throwing toys and objects around, her frustration seemingly endless. The backstage area is filled with the commotion, drawing curious glances from the crew members and dancers nearby.
One thing you hated was gaining unnecessary attention.
Louis leans closer to Liam, a mixture of amusement and awe on his face. "I never thought I'd say this, but Faith might just give us a run for our money in the energy department."
Liam chuckles, nodding in agreement. "That she does. But Harry's got this. He's a patient one, that lad."
Harry tries different tactics, attempting to distract Faith with a toy or a silly face. But her cries persist, and the tantrum shows no signs of abating.
The band members exchange glances, a mixture of amusement, sympathy, and mild concern. This is uncharted territory for them, witnessing Harry deal with the full force of a toddler tantrum.
Harry's voice remains calm, though a hint of exhaustion seeps in. "Faith, sweetheart, I understand you're upset. Can you tell daddy what's wrong?"
But Faith's words are muffled amidst the tears and screams, her frustration rendering her temporarily speechless.
She continues to lash out, her tiny body wracked with sobs.
You step closer, offering your support. "Harry, maybe it's best if we take a break. Find a quiet spot for her to calm down."
Harry nods, his eyes filled with determination. "You're right, love. Let's find a quiet room where she can settle."
Together, a crew member leads you as well as Harry and Faith away from the backstage chaos, seeking Together, you lead Harry and Faith away from the backstage chaos, seeking refuge in a nearby dressing room.
The familiar scent of hairspray and the faint echoes of music provide a contrast to the storm of emotions still raging within Faith.
Gently closing the door behind you, you find a comfortable corner where Harry can sit with Faith in his arms. The room is dimly lit, allowing a sense of tranquillity to settle in.
Harry cradles Faith, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Shh, my love. We're here in our little haven. Take your time, sweetheart. We'll wait until you're ready to talk."
And if it was up to both you and Harry, you would both wait an eternity.
Faith's cries gradually subside into sniffles, her breath hitching as she tries to regain control, gripping a strand of her fathers long curls whilst the other grips onto the hem of his shirt.
Harry's soothing presence provides an anchor in the midst of her emotional tempest.
You sit beside them, offering a comforting smile. "It's okay, Faith. Mommy and Daddy are here for you. We love you, no matter what."
Faith looks up at you, her tear-stained cheeks glistening in the soft light. Her eyes search yours, seeking solace and understanding. You gently stroke her hair, allowing the silence to envelop the room, giving Faith the space she needs to collect herself.
Minutes pass, and the tension begins to dissipate. Faith's breathing steadies, her tiny frame relaxing against Harry's chest.
The storm of her tantrum has run its course, leaving behind a weary calm.
Harry speaks softly, his voice a comforting lullaby. "Sometimes, my love, we get overwhelmed. It's okay to feel angry or frustrated. But remember, we're always here to help you through it."
Faith nuzzles closer to Harry, finding comfort in his words. She wraps her tiny arms around his neck, seeking solace in his embrace.
The best father daughter duo.
The door creaks open, and Niall peeks inside, his eyes filled with concern. "Is everything alright?"
You nod, a sense of relief washing over you. "Yes, No, Faith just needed some quiet time. She's calming down now."
There was no doubt that Niall was Faith’s favourite uncle when it came to the four boys.
Niall steps into the room, his face softening as he gazes at the scene before him. "You're doing a great job, you guys. Parenting isn't easy, especially in the midst of all this craziness."
Harry smiles, gratitude and weariness mingling in his eyes. "Thanks, Niall. It's a learning process for all of us. But moments like these remind us why it's all worth it."
The sound of music drifts through the door, a reminder of the support act performing still in full swing. The energy of the crowd and the rhythm of the songs pulse through the walls, but in this small sanctuary, you find a moment of calm amidst the storm.
As Faith's breathing evens out and her grip on Harry loosens, you lean in and plant a tender kiss on her forehead. "We love you, Faith. And we're here for you, always."
Always and forever.
For eternity.
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rqgnarok · 1 year
Text
music to my eyes - jamie tartt
fandom: ted lasso
wc: 4,266
warnings: spoilers for the season 3 finale of ted lasso, jamie being a lil self deprecating. reader uses female pronouns.
summary: jamie has a crush on the band’s bassist. 
author’s note at the end!
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Jamie’s so, so late.
Roy’s gonna have his balls. It’s the first training for the Queen’s Cup final against Tottenham– their first one without Ted, a little something before the freaking Champion’s League starts next year– and Jamie’s having the worst morning of his life.
He woke up late for his 4 am training that ran long, traffic was absolute shit and now he’s sprinting– not running, cause he’s not allowed to after he and Colin almost ran over the Prince of Denmark while racing each other to the locker room, a story for another day– down the hallway with Roy Kent’s fury just waiting to find its rightful owner. 
He didn’t even have time to comb his hair today. It still looks amazing, but it’s the routine that matters. For his mental health or whatever. 
Maybe that’s why he feels so jittery and doesn’t look where he’s going as he makes his way to the locker room. Jamie’s got his bag clutched to his chest and his headphones hanging around his neck, his jacket halfway on before he gave up and left it trailing down his side like a sad blanket. 
He’s cursing whatever Gods control alarm clocks and traffic and hairbrushes when he knocks onto someone. It’s so forceful it sends them both to the ground with a grunt and a little ah! of surprise. Jamie tries not to grow annoyed and fails. He considers laying on the ground and becoming one with the carpet so he doesn’t face Roy’s justified punishment and sighs out his nose, pushing himself to a sitting position.
“–so sorry,” and it’s a woman, Jamie just knocked out a woman in his rush to work. What’s next? Is he gonna hit a cat with his car? Maybe spit on a kid’s face? She keeps babbling apologies, unaware of Jamie’s foul mood. “–supposed to be at her office but there’s just– there are so many hallways–”
“‘s alright,” he cuts her off harsher than he means to, guilt stabbing at him when she looks at him with wide, remorseful eyes. Jamie sighs, dusting off his clothes and standing, offering her a hand. “Me fault for bein’ in a rush. Should’ve seen where I was going.”
“Oh, god, you actually know where you’re going,” she says with a grimace, accepting his hand. She’s on her feet and standing too close to Jamie for a second that feels like a lifetime– almost nose-to-nose with Richmond’s greatest. Her laugh is stuttery and nervous when she steps back, barely meeting Jamie’s eye.
She’s cute. Jamie’s not planning to do anything about it, especially not with his fine for being late slowly becoming one for missing training but she is. Cute. His mouth lifts in a half smile at the thought, charmed. 
“I was looking for Rebecca Welton’s office but I only got myself lost,” she says sheepishly, putting her hair behind her ear every couple of seconds since it keeps stubbornly falling out of place. Jamie’s fingers twitch a little but no. No, absolutely not, he’s not doing this to himself, no sir. “Is there any way you can give me directions without having to go with me? I don’t want you to be late for– shit. Practice, huh?”
Jamie thinks she’s the smartest woman that’s ever walked the face of the Earth until he remembers where they are. At Richmond’s training facilities. She’s looking at a disheveled man in a sports outfit. The story kind of tells itself.
“I– yeah,” Jamie stutters a little, clearing his throat to disguise it. “There’s, um, it ain’t a problem. I can take you there if you want.”
Her entire posture screams relief as soon as he offers, and it’s enough for Jamie to make up his mind even if she hasn’t said yes yet. “Would you? They said in the group chat not to be late and, like, they weren’t specific about it but you just know when a message’s for you, you know. And here I am, late–”
A beat.
“–and rambling,” she smiles at him again, the sight tugging at Jamie’s chest as he stands there like an idiot, his brain rebooting whenever she does it. “Yes, please. I’d really appreciate it.”
And so Jamie asks a kitman to take his stuff to the locker room while he walks her up to Rebecca’s office. His hand hovers but doesn’t quite touch the small of her back while he blabbers his way through small talk. Nice weather, today, innit, traffic was absolute hell though. Oh, you’re not from around here, that’s nice, do you plan on going sightseeing?
He delivers her to Rebecca’s floor to a thankful, ecstatic Higgins, who welcomes her with a hearty shake of the hand and promises that she hasn’t missed anything important. She’s barely able to spare him a smile and a quick thanks before the door’s closed behind them and Jamie’s standing there on his own, smiling at nothing.
He’s still wearing a dopey grin when he finally finds himself on the field, Roy yelling at him to run laps until sundown for being late. His legs are killing him, he’s £200 poorer, and he didn’t even get the woman’s name; but nothing can drag him down from his high and make him forget how she’d squeezed his arm in gratitude, touch warm and calloused against his skin. 
The next day Rebecca’s there before practice starts, looking tall and pleased as she claps her hands and shares the big news: since the final of the Queen’s Cup is being held right here at Nelson Road, she managed to get a band to play during the halftime show. They’ll be here the entire next two weeks for rehearsals and staging, so everyone must be on their best behavior if they don’t want their name in the summer transfer market.
Jamie doesn’t connect the dots until he sees her again, this time at a local bar big enough to house less than two thousand people. Keeley hears from Roy who hears from Beard, who heard from Higgins that Rebecca said the secret band was gonna hang around the city for a couple of other smaller, quick gigs. 
Jamie manages to excuse himself from video games at Colin’s with the guys and offers himself to Keeley as a buffer between her and Roy at a bar tonight. Though, in Jamie’s very humble and very right opinion, they’re already on their way to getting back together for good.
The band’s gathered a nice crowd, the lighting low and the thrum of the music hammering on Jamie’s teeth. He’s nursing the beer Roy bought him, the man charmed enough by Keeley’s presence that he let Jamie bend his rigorous diet regime. Just for the night. 
It takes three songs for the bassist to speak up, a makeshift spotlight landing on her, sweaty and delighted at being onstage. Jamie’s blood rushes to his face and his vision blacks out for a second. 
It’s her. No longer is she lost and out of her element, shyly asking a stranger for help. Both of her feet are steady on the ground, the strap of her bass snug around her neck. Her fingers are toying with the strings even when no song’s playing, an air of rightful confidence washing over the room as it takes her in. Jamie isn’t the only one suddenly breathless.
She grins against the microphone, coy. “Thank you so much for having us, Jaded Joker. We’re Karma Police, and we hope you have as much fun hearin’ us as we do playing for you.”
They fall into another song with that quick introduction and Jamie can’t take his eyes off her, barely hearing the song as the world around him slows down. Her clothes and jewelry sway with her to the rhythm of the music, the lights shifting seamlessly into different colors making her look ethereal. 
Keeley clocks it in immediately.
“She’s good, huh?” she nods at the stage where Jamie’s stranger is moving to the beat of the bass like no one’s watching, shamelessly enjoying herself and making funny faces at her bandmates. “Fuckin’ smoking, too.”
Jamie only hums in a very Roy Kent-like way, knowing there’s no fooling Keeley fucking Jones. The last thing he needs is to give her details and have her dip a toe into Jamie’s nonexistent love life.
Of course, he doesn’t take into consideration that Roy’s a brazen gossip.
“So,” Sam elongates the word as he’s spotting Jamie on the press the next day, happy watching him grunt at the effort. “How was the band last night?”
Jamie almost drops the damned thing on his chest.
“Roy said you enjoyed it,” he continues giddily like he didn’t almost commit accidental manslaughter by catching Jamie off guard. “Especially the bassist. What was her name?”
Sam fakes confusion for less than a minute before Jamie gives, mumbling it under his breath. He’d been weak and googled Karma Police in the privacy of his car before going home, swiping through the images that popped up until he recognized her face. 
(Y/N) (Y/L/N), the article he clicked on informed him. Jamie had repeated the name under his breath just to see what it felt like on his tongue for an embarrassing amount of time. 
Thanks to Karma Police’s bassist and lyricist (Y/N) (Y/L/N), the band’s sophomore album New Perspective has found a home in people’s hearts and high on the global charts.
Keeley wasn’t kidding. She’s good. 
“Oh,” Sam realizes, some of his amusement softening into genuine interest when he watches Jamie’s face do whatever the fuck it's doing. “Oh, you like like her.”
Jamie immediately flushes under Sam’s gaze, making sure the weight is safe in its place before physically fleeing the conversation. Sam doesn’t mention it to anyone, which Jamie appreciates so badly he could cry a little, but he does find his eyes across the locker room later when Rebecca comes in, four people in tow.
“Everybody, these are the wonderful musicians I spoke to you about the other day,” she says it in a way that screams I’m a pleasant human being and embarrass me and I will end your career right where you stand all at once. “We’re on a little tour of the installations and I thought we’d all come to say hi to wrap it up.”
The boys are charming and welcome them with ease. They’re not one of the most liked teams in England despite their bad runs for nothing, but Jamie’s frozen the second he catches sight of her. She’s a step behind one of her bandmates, shaking hands and smiling politely at conversations while staying slightly in the background, the stage persona from the previous night gone like taking off a jacket. 
Jamie takes pride in the way their eyes meet and her tight expression loosens, her smile blossoming into something more genuine, less unsure.
“Hey, stranger,” she says a little awkwardly after having gathered the courage Jamie couldn’t to cross the room and say hi. It feels like they’re alone in a room full of people, and for a second Jamie thinks he sees Sam stealing a few looks, making sure he keeps the others away and distracted for a little privacy. “Did you make it to training the other day?”
“What?” Jamie blanks like an idiot, then shakes his head when he remembers how they met; both of them, late for their respective responsibilities. “Oh! Oh, yeah. I– yeah. I had to run for me life to make up for it, but I made it.”
“Good,” she smiles, shifting in her place. “I, um. I’m glad we get to play for you guys. What you’ve done this past season, getting back to the top, has been unbelievable.”
“You’re unbelievable,” he replies, awestruck, and backtracks when she looks a little apprehensive. She’s doing the hair thing again, combing it back while it stubbornly escapes its place every couple of seconds. A nervous tic, maybe. “I mean– some friends and I, we saw you last night at the Jaded Joker. If anything, it’s an honor we get you guys to play for us.”
“Oh!” she seems pleased, ducking her head at the compliment. Her shoulders loosen again, and Jamie tries not to feel like he just scored a goal against Man City. “Oh, you should’ve said hi! Did you enjoy yourselves?”
“I did,” he says, too soft, and it feels like an admission of something when her eyes search his face, for a moment landing on his mouth before putting herself back together. “Up there, it’s like– it’s like you forget everyone else. You’re made for the stage.”
If anything, (Y/N)’s delight only strengthens, tugging at the neckline of her shirt. Jamie finds himself trying to follow the trail of new skin and flushes as well when he catches himself just in time. 
“Thank you,” she matches his tone. “You’d think it’d be nervewracking but it’s… silence. In my head. Does that make sense? I feel like it doesn’t.”
“It does,” Jamie agrees, breathless. It’s exactly how he feels when he gets the ball on his feet, every anxiety and worry and part of him he doesn’t like quieting the minute he steps on a pitch. “I get the same when I play. Peace in the chaos, I guess”
(Y/N) looks at him like she’s discovering the world’s eight wonder. 
“Kids!” her bandmate breaks the moment by coming over, arm draped around (Y/N)’s shoulder. (Y/N) blinks, looking a little shell-shocked. “Sorry to interrupt this party, but rehearsal awaits.”
Disappointment claws at Jamie’s belly, but before he can let it fester the conversation continues, bubbly and loud. “Alas! We’ll be done around 5. You’re welcome to visit then. We’re going to the third floor, I think.”
(Y/N)’s only amused at her friend’s antics, even if Jamie’s back to having a knot in his throat out of nervousness alone. Jesus, what’s wrong with him? It’s like he’s eight again and crushing on the cute boy that lived in the apartment in front of the Tartt’s. 
“See you then?” (Y/N) says, hopeful, and Jamie thinks it’s only fair he’s brave as well and nods as resolutely as he can. 
“I’ll be there.”
He ends up having to ask Higgins for directions, after promising he’s not gonna stir up any trouble at least four times. It takes Roy passing by and giving a few reassuring grunts, guaranteeing Jamie’s best behavior before Higgins gives him the location. When Jamie goes to thank him, Roy only points at him menacingly, though lacking his usual frown, and says don’t fuck this up. 
Rehearsals are just wrapping up when Jamie gets there, instruments being packed and people saying goodbye to each other when he makes his way into the room. He immediately finds (Y/N) sitting on the piano playing a complicated melody.
She lights up when she sees him, the music seizing. “You made it!”
Jamie stops her from standing up, instead sitting next to her after she scoots over to give him room. “That was nice. A song of yours?”
(Y/N) shrugs. “Hopefully soon. You never know, when you’re writing. You start working on a song and it ends up being a completely different thing from when you started.”
“Sounds messy,” Jamie says, a little consternated at the thought. Fortunately, (Y/N) laughs.
“It is. Do you play?”
“Fuck no,” he says quickly, then tries to explain himself as she splutters in amused surprise. “I mean, I don’t think I can. It seems pretty complicated. I’ve always been better with me feet.”
He reaches for the keys and begins playing some nonsense, loud and offkey, knowing it’ll make her laugh again.
“No, you gotta–” she cackles, placing her hands on top of his and quieting the dissonant echo of the keys. Jamie feels the tug at his lips, insistent, automatic, the same rush of delight that courses over him whenever he’s in her presence. “Gentle. Be gentle about it, jeez.”
She lines up their hands so her fingers move his and begins playing a quiet, fun melody. Jamie’s doing shit other than staring at her face, slightly twisted in concentration as she mumbles the notes under her breath. G, G, G, F, G, B, G, G…
“I know this one,” Jamie mumbles in recognition. (Y/N) turns her head to smile at him, pleased. “‘s from Nottin Hill, innit?”
“And a million other movies,” she murmurs back, unable to break the spell that’s fallen over the room. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a romantic.”
“‘s my favorite film,” he concedes, finding it incredibly easy to be honest when they’re sitting side by side like this, alone, their sides warm against each other. He loves his teammates, but (Y/N) didn’t know him when he was awful and arrogant, too cocky. There’s nothing she holds against him, no standard he needs to meet for her to be happy in his company. “Cried me eyes out at the end. Though I’ll deny it if you ever ask in front of anyone.”
(Y/N) laughs. “I promise I won’t. It’s a good movie. Doesn’t beat While You Were Sleeping, though.”
Jamie’s expression remains blank. (Y/N)’s face falls into disbelief, her hands tightening against his. “You’ve never watched While You Were Sleeping.”
He’s heard of it, but it’s hilarious to watch her forget herself, any sign of nervousness or polite shyness finally out the window. Jamie likes it– likes her, wants her to be comfortable with him and stop holding herself so tightly whenever she’s off the stage. 
“You poor, sheltered boy,” she exhales, aghast. “Holy fuck, I can’t believe I’m about to introduce you to the best romantic comedy ever made.”
Jamie goes to take the opening but stops himself at the last second. He knows this process; the flirting, the leaning in for just a moment so she smells his cologne then pulling away, leaving her wanting more. The asking for a date, a fancy dinner, then taking her home. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, dodging calls until she stops trying to reach him. 
He’s been doing it for years. He wants to desperately break the cycle and he wants to do it with her, but does he have it in him? Jamie’s been working on himself harder than he’s worked for anything else in his life, but what if he’s one slip away from becoming his old self? From turning out like his dad?
Sure, the old man’s changed, or– well. He’s trying to. But whether Jamie likes it or not he sees a little too much of him in himself sometimes, and he can’t do that to her. He’s known her for less than a week and he knows she deserves better. Everyone does. 
Roy told him not to fuck it up. Maybe this is what he meant. 
His expression stutters, shatters, and reestablishes itself in a matter of a moment, a blink of an eye. Jamie knocks his shoulder into hers gently, leaning back into place after a second. He teases: “And who made you the expert, eh?”
Rather than letting it drop, (Y/N) takes the bait just like Jamie knew she would. They stay there until a security guard comes to kick them out for the night, and they talk about everything and nothing. Movies, songs, bands they like, and foods they don’t. Jamie’s favorite players when he was a kid, his hero-like worship for Roy Kent, and how he’s made him a better player, a better man.
(Y/N) shares with him the first time she held a guitar in her hands, the albums she listened to when she was a kid that changed her as a person, realizing she could create magic through words and music. Her favorite cities to tour, how long she’s known her bandmates, how she’d die and kill for them if necessary.
By the time he’s walking into the pitch at Nelson Road two weeks later, the roar of the crowd around him swallowing every other sound, Jamie’s spent every free moment of his time with (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It was unavoidable, helpless as he is in his attraction to her, but Jamie doesn’t know what to do without, as Roy so carefully put it, fucking it up.
It hadn’t helped when (Y/N) snuck into the locker room to wish him luck, showing him the Richmond bracelet she was gonna wear onstage with a roll of the eyes. “Our stylist wouldn’t let me wear the jersey, but don’t you doubt for a second that I’m rooting for you, Tartt.”
Jesus Christ. Jamie had felt his cheeks warm up and dared to thank her with a loud, exaggerated kiss on the forehead that left them both grinning like idiots and Roy staring at them knowingly.
Before Jamie followed his teammates into the field, Roy had pulled him aside with a hand on his shoulder. “Tartt–”
“I know, I know,” he answered a little too self-deprecatingly. “Don’t fuck it up.”
But Roy only raised his eyebrows, realization dawning on his features. “You think I say that because I think you will?”
Jamie mumbled some not-words under his breath and Roy cursed. “Prick. I say it because you deserve good things, dickhead. And you should let them come to you when they do.”
Good things, Jamie thinks after one of his passes gives Dani the first goal of the night. The younger man jumps into his arms while hugging him tight and laughing into his ear, their teammates joining their embrace less than a second later. 
He looks towards the general area of the VIP seats where he knows (Y/N) and the rest of the band are cheering them on. He pictures her screaming at the top of her lungs, arms in the air, and being happy for him like she’s known him for all his life.
She might be the best thing. Whether he deserves her or not, Jamie wants her. Wants to be with her, watch romantic comedies until they both cry and spend his free afternoons watching her play the piano while he plays FIFA in the living room. He wants songs written about him that have him blushing whenever he hears them in public and for her to come to his games and be able to dedicate every goal to her he ever scores.
Good things. Yeah, Jamie can get down on that.
“You fucking asshole!” she jumps into his arms the second she finds him on the pitch after the game, a medal hanging from his neck and sweat sticking to his skin. (Y/N) doesn’t seem to care as she lets him lift her in the air, holding onto each other tight. “You did it! You fucking did it!”
“I missed your show,” he replies instead, only a little bummed. He’s seen her play live before but there was an itch under his skin the entire half-time, knowing how close she was and being unable to get to her. Jamie grins. “And stole it, too.”
“There he is,” she teases gleefully. “For a second there I thought you were gonna be humble about this.”
“I don’t even know what that word means,” he says cockily.
“And how’s Mr. Man of the Match gonna celebrate, huh?” she wonders, hitting him lightly on the chest now that he’s put her back on the ground. “A fancy club? Getting shitfaced with the boys? A date with your left hand?”
Jamie puts his hand on hers at the last second, stopping her from pulling away. She sways into him, all traces of joking vanishing from her expression. He forces himself to stay on her face, the urge to look away defeated by how she’s looking at him. In wonder, open, hopeful.
She deserves good things, too. Jamie is determined to be the one to give them to her. 
“I was thinking dinner?” he asks, fidgeting a little on his feet. “Maybe a movie? Thought I could see what While You Were Sleeping’s all about.”
(Y/N)’s mouth is fighting against a smile, somewhat hesitant still. Jamie doesn’t blame her, he’s been beating around this bush the entire time they’ve known each other.
“You want any company?” she wonders.
“Well, what kind of date would it be if it was just me?” he forces his features into faux confusion, watching her finally lose the battle and beam like a kid on Christmas. Her fingers twitch where he’s holding onto her hand.
“Not a great one,” she concedes, looking like all of Jamie’s dreams. “How do you feel about Mexican?”
Awful. Jamie feels awful about Mexican. He’s a white sexy boy in all the ways that matter and his taste buds punish him for eating spicy food no matter how much he likes it. But he can compromise. He’s starting to realize there’s very little he wouldn’t do for (Y/N) (Y/L/N).
“I feel fantastic about anything you like,” he answers truthfully. “I’m sure me tongue will forgive me eventually.”
(Y/N) laughs, fingers in Jamie’s hold shifting so she can hold his hand. “I think there’s a good lyric somewhere in there.”
“You plannin’ on writing me a song?”
She smirks. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t yet.”
Jamie squeezes her hand, leaning in to kiss her cheek. 
“Can’t wait to hear it, love.”
___
there’s an ache in my bones to make a series out of this fic omg
i can’t believe the show’s over (is it tho????) so here’s some jamie fluff to heal our tender, mourning hearts. as always you’re welcome to tell me what you think and chat jamie and ted lasso as much as you’d like! thank u for reading AND for all the love on my last jamie piece that you can read here!
<3
masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi
652 notes · View notes
woso-dreamzzz · 4 months
Text
Barcelona
Hardersson x Daughter!Reader
Part of The Big Adventures Universe
Summary: Your first day at Barcelona
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Your first day at Barcelona starts a week after Momma and Morsa give you Prins. He's an absolute sweetheart and you coo softly at him after getting back from your morning run.
You're trying to get yourself into a routine so a morning run was what you settled on - even though you weren't really a morning person.
Prins' tail wags happily as you unclip his leash and he runs off to lap at his water bowl.
You check your phone as you go to grab your training bag.
There's a few texts from Tia Tana and Alexia, both wishing you good luck on your first day that you shoot off thank yous to before you crouch down to run a hand through Prins' fur.
"I'll be home soon," You promise him," Don't tear apart my stuff."
He yips at you and you take that as agreement, slipping out the front door.
You live close to the training ground and take a deep breath. You've already signed your contract and done the media commitments so this is your first day actually training with the team.
You stand outside the changing room and take a deep breath to calm your nerves, clenching your fist to steel yourself as you head inside.
There's blur in front of you and suddenly you feel like you're being crushed. You recognise this feeling though and hug back, resting your head in her neck.
"I've missed you," Natalia says, pulling back to cup your face.
You feel your cheeks go red and hope she doesn't notice. "I missed you too," Is what you say back.
She pulls you in for another hug, kisses raining down on your head inbetween a desperate slur of English and Spanish.
Natalia keeps chattering away to you as you change. You think her eyes linger a little bit when you've got your top off but you don't want to give yourself hope so you try to ignore it.
Natalia's just a touchy person. Whatever feelings you have for her shouldn't be projected onto what she may feel for you.
Her hand grips yours as she pulls you out onto the pitch, making brief introductions to everyone for you.
"I don't know how you expect me to get to know everyone if you keep dragging me away," You laugh.
"I want to keep you all to myself for a little bit longer," She says, her eyes boring into yours like there's something else she wants to say," Is that so wrong?"
You shake your head, lacing your fingers with hers. "No. There's nothing wrong with that."
"Good." Natalia steps further into your space until you're close enough to feel her breath on your lips.
It takes you back to your first kiss with her, when the Spain team had made the journey all the way over to Denmark again and you took her to a little café after the match. You had a nice afternoon snack and then walked with her to the park where you confessed you had never kissed someone before. She had pressed her lips to yours in that instant.
Because she was a good friend and good friends helped their friends when they're feeling nervous.
Your heart had sped up in that moment just like it was speeding up now.
"I'm selfish," Natalia continues," I like having you all to myself. The others can have you next week. This week you're mine."
You smile at her shyly as her own grin widens and she tugs you over to where the manager is gathering everyone around.
Barcelona training is a bit more intense than Arsenal training but you're still running off your World Cup fitness so you adapt pretty quickly. Your Momma said once that you're good like that, that you can adapt to anything and blend in with a group like a little chameleon.
Admittedly, she said that to you when you were a lot younger but you're happy to keep the comparison even now.
There's only a few breaks in the pace of training and, every time, Natalia comes back into your orbit. She's always touching you in some way but her preferred position is standing behind you, arms wrapped around your waist and chin hooked around your shoulder.
Having her so close makes goosebumps rise on your body and your heart thumps so hard that you're a little bit scared she's going to hear it.
You write it all off as her being Spanish though, even as soft little kisses are pressed to your neck. They're a bit ticklish and you flinch away.
"Stop it! I'm sensitive!"
"Oh?" Natalia quirks a brow, smiling like a wolf," You're sensitive, are you? That's nice to know."
Like usual whenever Natalia's around, your face burns red and you distract yourself by chugging half of your water in one go. But, despite your embarrassment, you lean back into her body, allowing her to support most of your weight as you both sway slightly as you wait around for the gym equipment to be set up.
"Hey," Natalia says softly, directly in your ear like you're the only two out on the pitch," Do you want to go to dinner tonight? There's this nice place near my apartment."
"What did I do to deserve dinner?"
"Survived your first day?" Natalia teases," Pulled of an incredible save against a goal that should have been mine?"
You laugh. "I'm wise to your tricks. You're not putting one past me."
"Oh, come on! Not even a little one?"
"No chance."
"Fine. But, really, dinner?"
"I would," You say," But Prins-"
"Bring him with. I'd love to meet him in person. Come on, what have I got to say to get you to agree?"
"Fine," You say," Dinner with you and Prins. Send me the address."
"I'll pick you up," Natalia replies with a wink," Can't have such a pretty girl walking around alone."
That moment, along with many others, get captured by the media team documenting your first day.
When Magda wakes up the next morning, it's to notifications from the Barcelona Instagram page and she scrolls through it to see if you're featured.
She doesn't know if it's anger or relief that bubbles up in when she sees your face in the pictures but it's definitely anger when she spots Natalia holding you tight against her body.
Your head is tilted back on the other's girl shoulder and you're beaming up at her as one of her hands is under your arm, holding your shoulder and pressing you back against her while the other is splayed out on your hip.
You're both smiling.
She flicks to the next picture and the next, each of them showing you and Natalia in various positions, curled around each other like you're the only two people there.
"Hmm," Pernille says as she rolls over and begins to wake up," Magda? What is it? Has something happened?"
"Is Natalia sleeping with our daughter?
"Huh? What?"
"Is Natalia planning on sleeping with our daughter? I mean, look!" She shoves the phone into Pernille's face.
"I won't lie but she's probably thought about it before. You know what Natalia's like. She's smitten."
"Smitten?" Magda scoffs," That's what you're going with?!"
"I could say patient as well," Pernille replies," I don't know many girls who would pine over someone for so long." She sits up and properly looks at the photos. "Although, I don't think she'll have to wait much longer. Princesse is smitten too."
642 notes · View notes
words-4u · 11 months
Text
right person (1/3)
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pairings: luca x reader, marcus x reader (platonic)
wc: 1.4k
a/n: immediately started planning a three part series on luca while watching the bear s2. that's what a tatted will poulter does to me (the bear is an incredible show btw pls watch if you don't)
warning: swearing
part 2 / part 3
"denmark?"
"yes! we are sending you and marcus to denmark for two weeks to stage at this really great restaurant. you're gonna learn to do three new desserts for us. carmy knows the head pastry chef. says he's really cool so it should be fun, right?" sydney explained.
"that does sound fun! i'm in!" you smile.
you look at marcus who was deep in thought. if you had to guess what he was thinking, his mind is probably on his mom who was currently bed ridden at a hospital.
you put a hand on marcus' shoulder. "you good with that?" you ask your co pastry chef.
he broke out of his thoughts and nods. "yeah, i-i'm great. i'd love to."
"great! cause you guys really didn't have a choice. your flights are already booked for tomorrow afternoon sooo thanks!" sydney offers two thumbs and an awkward smile before she leaves what used to be the kitchen.
"holy shit," you whisper in shock. "staging at a michelin star restaurant in a country i've always wanted to visit. could this be any better?"
"i have to go tell my mom but give me a call if you need a ride to the airport tomorrow. chester will probably take me and we can swing by your place if you want?"
"dude, yes! that'd save me a shit ton of money that i would've spent on uber."
"cool, see you," marcus grabs his bag and heads out the door.
after helping fak, riche and gary with fallen ceiling debris, you decide to leave a bit early to pack and clean your apartment before your travel.
it was noon on the dot the next day when marcus calls to check if you were ready for the airport. since you packed the night before, you had a rather peaceful morning. chester talks your ear off the whole way to the airport and you guys get there he demands to see your passports because he wants to make sure you and marcus actually had it on you.
"chester, can you do me a favour and check in on my ma when you get the time?" marcus asks.
"dude, i'm way ahead of you. gonna check on her every morning on my way to work,"
"i appreciate it."
chester looks at both you. "now, i want you take a deep breath and let the good in. you guys are gonna kill it."
you grin at marcus' friend. "thanks chester. okay we're gonna have to leave now before we miss our flight."
marcus says his farewell to his best friend and the two of you head to your gate.
the plane ride to copenhagen was smooth despite marcus' worries. you guys hop on a train to explore the city before heading to where you were staying.
"trains here are way cleaner than the ones in chicago," marcus leans over to whisper.
"waay cleaner," you agree.
the two of you exited the station and stood in awe of your view. clear blue skies. cool fresh air. colourful buildings. and the smell of hotdogs which was incredibly appealing after your long journey.
you and marcus lock eyes. "oh yeah."
marcus got a hotdog with dried onions and pickles on top while you had a plain jane moment with just ketchup.
"this is the best thing i've ever put in my mouth," you say with in between bites.
"just what i needed honestly," marcus says.
after your quick meal, the two of you continue to wander the city taking in the architecture most of all.
marcus was using the maps feature on his phone to find the place you were supposed to be staying at.
"uh i don't see any apartment buildings near," you say. "are you sure we are in the right place?"
marcus led you to a canal where some boats were docked. "i am 99.9% sure. you're staying in 286 and i'm in 287."
you glance at the boat in front of you and saw the gold numbers plaque on the side. "well, mystery solved. this is your place and i'm guessing this one is mine." you moved further down to the boat behind marcus' one.
"sick," he smiles.
"i'll see you tomorrow, yeah?"
"night, y/n!"
you walk down a couple of steps before unlocking a door that lead to a kitchen and dining room. it was spacious and you were grateful for the many windows it had. the stairs to the left led up to the bedroom which was a lot smaller than you anticipated having only space for your bed and a small cabinet for clothes.
you flop on your bed and exhaled. you didn't realize how tired you were until your head hit the soft mattress and while everything in you wanted to knock out, you knew you had to get up and unpack because you wouldn't have time tomorrow.
one thing you were not was a morning person and yes you should have gotten used to it by now working in the restaurant industry but getting up at 4 a.m. will never feel natural. regardless, you had a twinge of excitement for your new job and excited to learn under this new chef that carmy spoke so highly of.
once you got ready for the day, you hear three soft knocks.
"morning," you say. "you ready?"
"born ready," marcus says as you lock your door and head to the restaurant.
it was only a 15 minute walk from where you were staying so the two of you arrive with time to spare.
you walk into the bright kitchen and suck in a breath. the kitchen was stunning with it's high-end equipment, gorgeous green tiling and the young hot chef moving bags of flour from one table to another.
"chef. i'm marcus brooks and this is y/n y/l/n," marcus begins. "and we're from-"
the chef looks up for a quick second. "i know. i'm luca, pastry. we start at 5 a.m. your section's at the end of the bench."
the english accent takes you by surprise. your knees could have buckled right then and there.
"yes, chef," the two of you say in unison.
now your excitement turned into nervousness. not only were you to create three star-worthy desserts for the bear, you had to learn from someone who is so extremely good looking it hurts.
marcus and you head to the back to change into your uniforms which was a basic indigo t-shirt and a green apron like luca had.
when you went back out, you immediately wash your hands and got ready for whatever luca had in store for you guys.
luca had marcus rollout croissant pastry while he led you to a table where he had prepared a dessert. your task was to place pieces of peanuts at a certain angle as part of its presentation.
you study luca as he shows you what to do. he had small black tattoos scattered up and down his arms. that alone is having an effect on you.
"here, you try," he says passing the tweezers to you.
your fingers brush as you took the small tool from him. luca didn't make eye contact but you did notice his jaw clench.
"nuzzle that sliver into the pudding just to lock it in."
"yes, chef," you say.
taking one of the small nuts from the bowl, you place it on the pudding but it slipped last second.
"no. again, chef," he says in a calm yet assertive tone.
"sorry," you say and try again and it's worse which luca picks up on.
"hm, worse."
he takes the tweezers from you and picks up the piece. "don't be afraid to just stick it in there, you know," luca takes the nut and slides it in perfectly. "just be confident about it."
"don't second-guess yourself," he says finally locking eyes with you.
you nod. "yes, chef."
you took the tweezers back and third time was the charm because you placed the nut in the pudding just like he'd showed you. smiling to yourself, you put the tool down.
luca's face stays expressionless. he looks up from the dessert. "you know how to make shiso gelee?"
you absolutely do not know how to make whatever he just said but there was no way you were gonna let him know that.
"yes, chef."
"alright."
luca steps away to grab some ingredients which gives you the opportunity to whip your phone out and google the gelee. "dextrose? what the fuck is that?" you whisper to yourself.
luca came back and places a tray in front you. "recipe," he says tapping some blue index cards.
you felt your face burn. "thank you, chef."
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end of part 1 omggg. not much luca x reader but it’s warming up trust me. i already have ideas for part 2 and 3 with some potential alternate endings... stay tuned
if you enjoyed, please let me know (through my bio) if you have any the bear requests, send them my way!
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noellawrites · 10 months
Text
Souvenir - Yandere!Luca x reader
summary: Luca just can't let his rivalry with Carmy go, so he leaves a permanent reminder inside of you. afab reader but no specified pronouns.
warnings: smut, baby-trapping, condom sabotage, forced breeding
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You weren't even supposed to go to Copenhagen. The trip was booked for Marcus when his mother took a turn for the worse. So here you were, the recipient of a non-refundable flight, standing in front of Denmark's most renowned kitchen. As The Beef's only waitress, saying you had a lack of food prep knowledge was an understatement. But with Tina and Ebra back in school, the task was left to you.
"Carmy taught me everything I know about good service. Really, I owe everything to him. I thought he'd boot me after taking over The Beef but thank god he didn't," you rambled.
"Sounds like he means a lot to you," Luca spoke quietly as he prepped an example dessert.
"He's the best chef I've ever worked with. Maybe not as intense as your rival chef, but he definitely challenges me. For example, sending me here with no experience," you laughed, picking up a tub of diced almonds.
"Seems like a real bond," Luca said simply. He reached across to the other side of you and his tattoos crossed into your line of vision.
"He's like my mentor, brother, work husband and hero all in one. Actually, that sounds stupid when I say it out loud," you laughed nervously.
"I know what you mean. To be so consumed by someone's talent that you just want to seep into their skin," Luca agreed.
A comfortable moment of silence hung between you both as you kept working. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him staring at you with an unreadable expression before he turned away to grab some dough.
"Your lips taste better than any dessert," Luca whispered in your ear as he traced his fingers down your stomach. Pleasure tickled down your spine and he pushed down your shorts, reaching into your panties and tracing your clit.
"Ah--ahh, Luca!" you moaned, and he clamped a hand over your mouth.
Through the dark, you could just make out his pepper tattoo on his hand, which oddly enough reminded you of Carmy. Come to think of it, the patchy placements of his tattoos reminded you a lot of Carmy's. And his entire apartment was bare just like Carmy's was, too. Even Luca's intense expressions sometimes mirrored Carmy's.
I really shouldn't be thinking of Carmy when I'm about to have sex with this hot pastry chef, you thought.
As Luca started pulling his boxers down, you held your hand out to stop him.
"Do you have a condom?" you asked, sitting up and looking around.
"Dresser, top drawer," he said, sounding a bit irked. You handed him the small plastic square and laid back down.
You could hear him ripping open the package with his teeth and stretching the condom over his cock when he suddenly pulled your panties down the rest of the way.
You were lost in pleasure as he dove into your pussy, licking and sucking with his expertly trained tongue.
Luca held you against him with his strong arms as you both reached orgasm together, a mess of sweat and pleasure and moans.
"Oh shit Luca, did you just cum in me?" you gasped, wriggling away from him as post-sex clarity struck you.
"The condom must've broken," he said, but you pulled away from him too quick and managed to see what he was trying to hide: the empty, fully intact condom next to him. His hard cock pulled out of you, covered in a mix of your cum, no condom on him at all.
"What the fuck, Luca?!"
"Stay here. With me."
Luca's kind eyes had turned dark, an ulterior motive lurking underneath the surface. You didn't know what he was up to, but you knew it couldn't be good.
You quickly gathered your clothes from the floor and tried to yank your pants on. Luca stood, still completely naked, and moved to stand in front of the door leading outside his flat.
"Move, I need to go pick up Plan B. I'm ovulating, you fucking asshole!"
"You're not leaving. Not until your flight."
"Oh my god, this is so fucked up! I-I barely even know you!" you cried.
"You knew me enough to let me fuck you," he laughed, pulling on his boxers. As much as you hated to admit it, he had stretched you better than anyone else had before.
"I hate you, Luca."
You took a Plan B when you got back to Chicago, but by then it was too late. Not only did you bring back three desserts for The Bear's new menu, but you also brought back a tiny baby in your stomach. A little bundle of cells forever tying you to the British pastry chef. You sobbed as you told Carmy, who then gave you the entire story about how he and Luca had met. Rivals, but Carmy was clearly more skilled, more talented, more ambitious.
But now, Luca had finally bested Carmy at something. He left you a permanent reminder, a souvenir from your travels, a big 'fuck you' to his former rival chef.
part two
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