Hi, my lovelies. I had this idea of a grumpy!R with G and thought it was cute. Hope you enjoy.
Ouch
Georgia Stanway x Eriksson!Reader
Description: A typical Black cat Golden Retriever relationship, but you’ve broken your arm.
TW: Discussion of a broken arm
“I’m fine,” you spat out, voice rough, sharp. It was a tone that everyone in the room immediately recognised, the kind that screamed I’m absolutely not fine as loud as the words themselves.
“It’s totally okay if you’re not, though,” Pernille offered, her smile soft but sad. She was trying, trying so hard to make things easier, but she knew that no amount of comfort from her could change what was happening.
The evidence was there, in black and white on the x-ray pinned to the wall before you. A massive crack running the length of your ulna. It was obvious. Everyone saw it, but no one wanted to say it out loud.
Everyone knew it was bad as soon as it happened.
Because you didn’t get back up.
That’s not you. You’re the one who takes tackles in stride, the one who wears bruises like a badge of honour, the one who shakes off injuries with a huff and moves on. You were the brick wall, the unshakable force in the centre, a protector, a presence.
The others on the pitch? They got better by simply being near you. Your game was more than just skill; it was raw, unrelenting determination. It was leadership that didn’t need to be spoken but was felt by anyone who played alongside you. You didn’t need to be polite, didn’t need to ask for attention. You demanded greatness, not just from yourself but from everyone else around you.
Whereas Magda had softened with age, and Pernille’s calming influence had played a big part in that, you had stayed resolute, unflinching. Stoic. Grumpy. Moody. It had become almost your identity: the surly centre back with the perpetual scowl.
“Does it hurt?” Magda’s voice was concerned, but tinged with that ever-present dry humour. She couldn’t decide if she should laugh or cry. You were here baby sister - it was her duty to protect you whilst making sure you knew she could take you down before you could even blink.
“No,” you gritted out, a wince flashing across your features.
Pernille’s brow furrowed as she pursed her lips. The familiar expression reminded her too much of Magda. Both of you, two sides of the same stubborn coin. Refusing to admit weakness. Neither one of you would ever acknowledge the truth until it smacked them in the face.
“Is she coming?” you asked, finally breaking the silence that had fallen over the room.
“Is who coming?” Magda smiled, the sly gleam in her eye betraying that she knew exactly who you meant.
“Never mind,” you muttered, voice barely more than a whisper.
“She’s on her way,” Pernille supplied. “She was at media, but she’s coming now.”
You couldn’t help the flutter that swept through you at the thought of her. Of Georgia. You were a stoic, grumpy, moody centre back … until it came to her.
You’d been with her for years now. From the first time you’d crossed paths at Manchester City, when you towered over her like a literal giant. You had laughed when people made the “opposites attract” joke. A six-foot Scandinavian and a five-foot-something English midfielder. But Georgia had found a way into your heart that no one else could, chipping away at your carefully constructed walls until there was nothing left but raw, unfiltered love.
Magda had teased you relentlessly when she found out. It had been non-stop, her love for you translating into endless mockery.
It was entirely accidental on your part for her to find out when she did. It had been a Chelsea-City game. The match was as heated as ever. You’d gone through your usual pre-match routine. Redoing your hair at least 3 times. A final spritz of deodorant. Re-tying your boots for the umpteenth time. And of course, getting a quick hug and a kiss from Georgia before you came into view of the cameras.
Still, to this day, Magda blamed the shock of seeing her little sister locking lips with someone for Chelsea’s loss that day.
Eventually, Magda had come round. She adored Georgia like another sister, but that didn’t stop her from teasing you both like it was her job.
“It’s okay to be in pain, skat,” Pernille’s voice broke through your thoughts, her hand resting gently on your uninjured side, offering what comfort she could.
“Well, I’m not. So it’s fine.” You kept your tone steely, your voice much harder than either of them had heard it in a long time.
Magda’s eyes flicked to Pernille’s with a silent conversation passing between them. The both of them knew you. Knew your stubbornness. But they weren’t going to let it slide this time.
“Seriously, Älskling,” Magda’s voice softened, but her eyes were unwavering. “Broken bones hurt.”
You blinked hard, gritting your teeth, desperate to keep the tears from spilling. You could feel them threatening, but you pushed them back, forced them down.
“Jag mår bra,” I’m fine. you muttered.
Magda sighed in exasperation, rolling her eyes. So stubborn.
“Älskling, you’re going to have surgery tomorrow morning.” Magda’s voice was insistent, even as Pernille shot her a quick warning glance.
“Stop,” you snapped, even though the fight was starting to fade, your strength beginning to crack.
“Magda,” Pernille warned again, her tone firmer this time.
Magda didn’t stop. “It’s okay to admit it hurts. You aren’t being brave right now. You’re being stubborn. And that’s just-” Her words were cut off by the door slamming open.
Georgia came rushing in, breathless, her face flushed from running, her eyes wide with concern. She took one look at you and froze, eyes scanning the scene in front of her. You. Hurt. Trying so hard not to show it. Magda sitting at the foot of your bed, her face a picture of Big Sister Disapproval, and Pernille standing with arms crossed, giving a look that mixed love and exasperation in equal measure.
“Hey,” Georgia said after a moment, her voice softer than usual, more tender. You didn’t respond, your lips pressed tight, jaw clenched.
“Hi, Georgia,” Pernille offered, her smile a small comfort in the midst of the tension.
Your eyes stayed on your knees, and you didn’t dare look up. But you felt Georgia move closer, felt her presence at your side. She was close now, standing beside you in the quiet that stretched between you both. You could smell her fresh coconut scent and that stupid fancy lotion she insisted on using.
“Älskling,” Magda’s voice cut through the moment, but it was softer now, almost pleading. “You need to tell Mamma and Pappa.”
“No,” you spat out again, more weakly this time, your resolve beginning to slip.
Georgia’s hand reached out to gently brush your shoulder. You could feel the warmth of her touch through your shirt.
“You need to tell them,” Magda pressed, her voice soft yet persistent.
“No,” you whispered again, barely audible, your throat tight as the tears you’d fought to keep in check finally broke free. One singular tear slid down your cheek, betraying the strength you had fought to maintain. “G…” you whispered her name. It was barely audible, but Georgia heard it.
“Hey, hey,” she murmured, and before you could stop her, Georgia surged forward, wrapping her arms around you. You couldn’t stop the sob that tore from your chest as you sank into her embrace.
Magda stepped back, her eyes wide as she watched the tender moment unfold, Pernille attempting to give her a pointed look.
“Älskling,”
“Enough, Magda,” Pernille snapped, the calmness in her voice making the command all the more effective.
And for the first time in a long time, you let go. You weren’t the unbreakable wall anymore. You weren’t the stoic defender who refused to let anyone see your pain. Georgia was here, and in her arms, it was okay to feel.
“Hurts,” you whispered, the words coming out strained and fragile.
“I know,” Georgia replied softly, her voice full of warmth. “You’ve been so brave, my love.”
Magda watched from the side, her face a mixture of disbelief and empathy. She had never seen you like this. Never seen you so vulnerable. Your prickly, unshakable exterior was gone, and in its place was someone she hadn’t known you to be: a girl who could be broken, who could hurt, who could let herself feel.
“Let me be brave for a bit, yeah?” Georgia pressed a kiss to the top of your head, her voice a gentle whisper. “I’ve got you.”
It was as though, in that moment, Georgia had given you permission to finally fall apart. And as the wave of pain washed over you, starting in your arm, you let yourself feel it. Every bit of it.
⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎Prompt: Movie night
⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎Warnings: SMUT - MINORS DNI!, fingering (R receiving)
⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎WC: 1.1K (FIC)
⋆⁺₊❅.☃︎ficmas masterlist
The sound from the TV filled the room; a Christmas movie was playing in the background. You and Stina decided to spend Christmas Eve having a Christmas movie night, and you were currently on your third movie. This one was one you had picked out, thinking it would be a fun watch.
Though neither of you was truly paying attention. You were leaning back against Stina with the forward’s arms wrapped around your waist. But her hands were currently absentmindedly playing with the drawstring of your sweatpants.
You did your best to keep your eyes locked on the TV in an attempt to watch the movie, but it was useless. Your mind was anywhere but the movie, too focused on how Stina’s hands were now slipping under your t-shirt.
“Baby,” you murmur, swallowing softly.
Stina made a noise of acknowledgement, but her nails lightly scratched at your stomach.
“You’re… missing the movie,” you exhale with a shaky breath.
“Oh well,” she teases, her lips right by your ear.
Your chest rises and falls faster than before. Stina’s lips fall to your neck, leaving soft kisses on every piece of your skin she can reach. You tilt your head to the side, giving her more room to work with. Stina nips at your pulse point, and when a moan falls from your lips, you can feel her smirk against your neck.
Her hands move back down, her fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants to tease you. One of her fingers slips past the elastic slightly, tracing the top of your underwear, but never quite moving further down.
“Stina,” you whimper, chest heaving. “Please,” you whisper.
“What was that, baby?” The blonde grins into your neck.
A frustrated whine falls from your lips as your hips buck slightly. “Please,” you say a bit louder as your head falls back against her shoulder.
“Ask properly,” Stina murmurs in your ear before nipping at your earlobe.
A small cry left your throat in response. “Stina, please fuck me,” you beg, your legs spreading as much as they could in the position you were sitting in.
“Better,” the forward smirks as her hand slips into your underwear.
Her free hand moved to your face to turn your head to face her. Her lips met yours in a messy kiss just as one of her fingers traces small circles on your clit. You gasp into the kiss, giving Stina the chance to slip her tongue into your mouth.
You try your best to pay attention to the kiss, but every so often, Stina will press harder in her circles. You break away from the kiss as a loud moan falls from your lips.
“M-more,” you say with a shaky breath, your legs wider.
“Say please, baby,” the blonde smirks and stops her finger.
You could feel tears welling up in your eyes. Stina had been teasing you all day, and you thought that when your movie marathon was going on, she’d give you a break. How mistaken you were. You bite your lip to stop an exasperated cry.
“More, please,” you murmur after a moment.
“See, that’s not hard,” Stina grins down at you before two of her fingers dip further down.
Her fingers ran through your soaked folds, doing just enough to tease you. Your hand moved to grip her thigh, your nails digging into her pajama pants. Your head falls back onto her shoulder once again, just as her fingers push into you.
“Fuck,” you whimper, fingers tight around Stina’s thigh.
Stina grins as she dips her head back down to your neck. Her teeth nipped at your skin, sucking after, leaving what will be hickyes to form later. Her two middle fingers were slow in their thrusts, driving you crazy.
“Does that feel good, baby?” Stina mumbles in your ear.
You nod your head as best as you can and a whine falls from your lips when her fingers stop moving. “Yes! So, so good,” you rush out, knowing she stopped because you didn’t use words.
Her fingers move once again, this time faster than before. Moans of her name and swears fall from your lips, drowning out the movie that was now almost over. Your eyes fall shut in pleasure, jaw slack as Stina’s fingers angle deep inside you. Stina’s free hand moves to prop your leg up, opening you up even more for her.
“Please,” you start, voice weak. “Fuck me faster.”
Stina complies, her fingers drilling into you now with a third added. Your hips roll up in time with her thrusts, pulling her fingers in deeper. Stina groans softly in your ear when you clench around her fingers. The sound of her pleasure spurs you on, and your hips buck faster.
“Are you close?” Her voice was raspy against your ear.
You both knew the answer; you could both feel it.
“Yes!” you whine, back arching off her body.
Stina let out a soft moan into your neck and started leaving harsher kisses along your skin. “Cum, baby,” she groans into you.
With a few more harsh thrusts of her fingers, your body jerked as your orgasm hit. You came with a loud moan of Stina’s name. The blonde kept her fingers drilling into you, in search of another.
“Stina,” you whine, overstimulated.
“One more,” Stina purrs, her voice low and thick with arousal.
A soft cry falls from your lips as you fuck yourself on her fingers, your hips doing their best to grind against them. A tear falls from your eye as the pleasure rises. It didn’t take long for a second orgasm to hit, this time with an even louder moan.
Now, Stina’s fingers slowed, helping you ride out both orgasms. You whimper when the overstimulation truly hits, and Stina gives in, pulling her fingers out. Your eyes flutter open at the empty feeling, and you watch as Stina brings her fingers to her mouth.
The blonde moans around her digits at the taste of you. You let out a shaky breath at the sound before moving to sit up slightly. Once Stina’s fingers were out of her mouth, your lips were on hers. You moan against her lips at the lingering taste of you, and with shaky legs, you move your body to straddle her lap.
“Your turn,” you murmur against her lips before reconnecting them, this time with a hand tangled in her blonde hair.
Given the day you had, you should have known what the night would lead to, and you weren’t complaining. This was certainly one way to celebrate Christmas Eve.
okay, i must admit...i've been away for far too long. i've been busy at college, with the club organizations that i'm in, student council business, and the classes i've been taking to graduate, and transfer to a new university.
the writer's block has been hitting me, for a while actually. i've wrote bits of pieces from here and there. but i am actually working on one right now. i wanted to give a sneak peak.
“…not yet.” and even more silence had occured. “there's more you should know, älskling” he adds. a bitter laugh has slipped through your mouth, your father disregarding it. “when is there never more news?”
“your sister has abdicated.” to which you didn't reply to, his finals words delivered the blow. “she’s relinquished her claim, and i accepted her decision.”
“you accepted it?” your voice had sharpened, it wasn't so quivering anymore. how could it? “father, i was told there wasn't a chance of me being in line of succession.”
"i know, älskling. but you must come home, i'm sorry to ruin the news, i heard you had secured the bronze medal with the team."
the call just drops, no goodbye, not even an "i love you". it was as if your parents was allergic to those words, never heard before. and for a second, you freeze, not moving. the phone still at your ear, and your hand locked in a place, as if your body hasn't caught up to the news. the noise heard through the tunnel, cheering, laughter, the afterglow of the match, winning the bronze medal, it turns into something distorted, too loud and at the same time, too far all at once.
Summary: The fourteenth of March brings back some rather difficult memories, and you don't always make the healthiest decisions. Stina intervenes.
Word count: 4.4k
A/N: sorry it's been a while, I've started uni again which means my writing is somewhat slower! With some luck I'll be able to get things up once a week? But that remains to be seen... I promise this is hurt/comfort and not just pain btw.
You woke up that morning to a text from Jonas saying you didn’t have to come to training.
It felt weak to admit it, but part of you was relieved. You knew Katie must’ve talked to him, which was mortifying if you let yourself think about it too much, but she knew you needed this day to yourself.
It was the anniversary of your best friend’s passing—five years in the making. You hadn’t told many of your teammates what happened, or why you became so withdrawn and somber the week around the 14th of March. It was too difficult to explain. All of the dramatics that surrounded the event, the pain, what you had done wrong, what she had too, it was all still too delicate for eyes you didn’t completely trust.
You hadn’t even told your girlfriend Stina yet. You’d meant to, really, you had, but the days slipped by and there never seemed like a good time to do it. You knew it would ruin any good mood you were in, and honestly you enjoyed having Stina as your respite when the rest of the world seemed to be knocking against your skull. But it felt wrong that she didn’t know. It felt as though you were hiding something from her, even if it wasn’t intentional.
“Hi baby, I’m not feeling well today so I won’t be at practice. Don’t worry your head when I’m not there. It’s nothing too serious, though, so I’ll be back tomorrow.” You spoke into your phone, recording a voice note to send to her so she wouldn’t be left in the dark about where you were.
Stina was a worrier, something you yourself could understand, so you always made the effort to let her know if you were running late or not going to something. Otherwise you’d inevitably get a call with her anxious voice on the other line.
It was early, too early for even Stina to be up. The sun had barely begun cresting over the horizon, casting a slight glow to everything. You wanted to go back to sleep, particularly since you hadn't slept all that well to begin with. Your back hurt from being tensed all night as you were plagued with anxious dreams. On your palms were the remnants of nail indentations—some of them bloody from how hard you had been pressing.
You turned on a podcast and closed your eyes, hoping the sound of human voices would lull you to sleep. It must've worked for a little while, because the next time you opened your eyes it was truly morning, and the podcast had switched to another episode.
The dreams had continued, unsurprisingly considering your waking mental state, and the extra hour of sleep you might be able to get if you closed your eyes wasn't worth it. So you got out of bed, throwing on a pair of leggings and a sweatshirt to go for a run.
You weren't typically a runner—in fact you were practically ethically against doing it as a hobby—but it was useful for clearing your head. And with no training today, it would feel good to get out for at least a little while. So you blasted your music and took off into the streets of London, completely lost in your own world. Nobody spoke to you, nobody looked at you.
By the time you had finished, you were sweaty, red-faced, and exhausted. The endorphins began to flood your system as you stripped and started the shower. You turned it almost as high as it could go, hoping for the burn against your skin. You hissed, stepping under the spray, and tears sprung to your eyes. Your skin immediately began to redden. But you didn’t move to lower the heat, instead grabbing your shampoo, gritting your teeth, and bearing it.
—
“Morning, Blackstenius.” Beth called, clapping her on the back soundly as she wandered into the locker room.
Stina expected to find you there, sitting by your locker getting changed into your kit and reading your book as you always did, each morning. But you weren’t there. Your locker hadn’t even been touched. She furrowed her brow, then remembered that you had sent her a message earlier. Maybe you had asked her for a ride and she hadn’t seen? Maybe you were going to be late today? Maybe you had some kind of appointment you’d forgotten about until the last minute—you were notorious for that.
“Morning,” Katie said, sitting down next to Stina on the bench and pulling her kit out of her bag.
“Morning, Katie.” She replied, opening her phone to look at her message.
She brought the phone to her ear, confusion and concern filling her chest as she listened to your voice. Though your words weren’t all that worrying, she could hear in your voice that things weren’t right.
“How’s she doing?” Katie asked, having heard your voice coming from the phone. Her voice was cautious, something unusual for the Irish captain.
“Did you know she wouldn’t be here today?” Stina asked, confused as to why Katie seemed to be clued in to your mood before her. Maybe you had sent her a similar message? She was your best friend, after all. The two of you made a ridiculous pair—her loud and aggressive, you nearly silent and composed—but you’d known each other longer than anyone else on the team, and everyone knew Katie would do practically anything for you.
Katie was quiet, glancing around at the other girls in the room. Now Stina was worried. Even though you had told her not to be, that it wasn’t anything serious, she couldn’t help it now that Katie was acting so strangely.
Once it was just Stina and Katie in the locker room, Katie answered her question.
“Listen, it isn’t my place to tell you anything. You know how private she is…” Katie sighed, rubbing her temples. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell you, probably didn’t want to worry you, the idiot,” she mumbled under her breath to an increasingly concerned Stina.
“Katie.” Stina said firmly, “What the fuck is going on?”
She wasn’t usually one to swear. But where you were concerned, the possibility that you were hurting, and had hidden it from her, that warranted much more than cursing.
“Today is difficult for her, very difficult. That’s all I feel comfortable saying. But if you want to go, Jonas is going to understand.”
Stina’s heart was in her stomach. Images flashed through her mind, a thousand different horrible things this could mean.
"Difficult?" She questioned, "Katie, is she safe? Do I have to be prepared for—"
"It's not like that, she isn't in physical danger."
The answer wasn't reassuring to Stina, who now felt a little ill at the thought of you home alone today. She should be there with you. Someone should be there, if you didn't want her (God, she hoped you wanted her, trusted her). The urge to press more information out of Katie was strong, but Stina held herself back. Katie was right—you needed to tell Stina yourself. Otherwise any insight into your head would be forced entry, a violation of the trust you had both with Katie and with her.
So Stina simply nodded and looked back at her phone to reply to your message.
Okay, I hope you're feeling all right. Can I swing by later and bring you something? I'd love to see you <3
She wanted to give you an option to say no to her visit—though she would prefer to just go over there now. At least now if you didn't answer before she showed up she could say she had reached out.
—
You waited until the water ran cold to get out of the shower. Your skin was raw to the touch, and still a subtle red color after you had dried yourself off and began braiding your hair. You could hardly stand to look at yourself.
You threw on the only clothes you could stand on your skin—a pair of soft sweatpants and fuzzy socks—along with Stina's old Häcken hoodie she left at your place a few days ago. It smelled of her which comforted you even if she wasn't here.
Your phone dinged with a message. Upon opening it, you saw Stina and Katie had messaged, and that you had two missed calls.
"Eat something." Was all your message from Katie said.
She knew you, and knew you wouldn't want to eat today. But you had to.
You went to open Stina's text when your phone lit up with another incoming call. It was from Sandra, the mother of your friend. She did this every year, and every year you told yourself you wouldn't pick up. It wasn't healthy for either of you—it reopened wounds that were barely scabbing over as it was. She inevitably cried, and asked why you had left her daughter alone that night, and you bit your lip raw trying to keep quiet and apologize.
But even though you knew the script, you picked up the phone.
"Hi," you said, your voice noticeably smaller.
You heard a sigh of relief on the other end.
"How are you, Sandra?" You continued, your fingers picking at your lip anxiously. You felt it start to bleed and did nothing.
"Are you still in Limerick?" You continued your flood of questions, waiting for her onslaught to begin.
A few minutes later, once you were on your tenth question and you'd switched from your lip to pressing your nails into your bloodied palm, you heard her begin to cry.
You weren't sure how you managed this every year. Memories of the funeral flashed behind your eyes, and how you hadn't been allowed to stand near the front with the rest of the friends and family. How Sandra had wailed, and smacked you across the face in the parking lot. You stared at your kitchen backsplash and just listened.
"Why, why did you do it?" She cried, and you bit the inside of your cheek.
"I'm sorry." You whispered.
"You left her alone, you killed her, you always brought her home expect that one fucking night and look what happened. It should've been you, it should've been you, you don't deserve this—"
And so it continued. Tears streamed down your face as your brain began to shut down as a defense mechanism. You just felt numb. Nobody else existed in the world except for you and this woman whose life you had ruined. No Katie, No Stina, Nobody that gave you their love and wanted you here. You didn't deserve what you had, not your success where it should've been your friend's, not your team, not your girlfriend. You were an imposter on this planet, a thief.
—
It turned out that going over to your place wasn't as simple as it seemed. Stina tried asking Jonas if she could be excused from practice, but he insisted that she stay just for an hour. Arsenal had a match with the Spurs in four days and Jonas wanted to go over strategies with the forwards. No skipping.
So Stina stayed—looking at her phone every thirty seconds for a text from you. There was nothing, and it freaked her out even more.
Whatever Jonas was saying, none of it was registering. She would ride the bench if she had to, it didn't matter to her now. Her leg bounced nervously, and Viv looked at her with concern on her face every couple of minutes. When Jonas went outside to take a quick call, she turned to Stina and immediately asked after her.
"What's wrong, is it something with Odi?"
Stina nodded, her tight lipped expression telling Viv all she needed to know. She gave Stina a look of sympathy and glanced at her watch, clearly wondering when the meeting would be over as well.
"Odi, something's wrong with her?" Beth butted in unabashedly.
You'd gotten the nickname for a few reasons: you'd danced for years as a child as a ballerina, which showed in your play. You were showy, and graceful, not the aggressive type. Like a swan, someone had once said to you—and the swan lake association stuck: Odette, or Odi for short. Arsenal's dancer.
Jonas re-entered the room before Beth could ask any more questions, saving Stina the struggle.
"For Christ's sake, let the poor girl go," Beth called out as Stina checked her phone for the hundredth time.
Jonas sent a look Beth's way, but decided to be merciful.
"Alright, Blackstenius, you're excused. But I'll be seeing you tomorrow."
Stina practically ran back to the locker room, throwing her kit into her bag and getting changed as fast as she could. A steady sense of dread was building in her. She decided to call you as she left the training grounds and walked to her car, hoping she could catch you and tell you she was coming. It would soothe her mind just to hear your voice.
But instead of your voice on the other end, Stina was met with the busy signal. That confused her even more—you weren't a fan of phone calls necessarily, and she knew your parents would be working now, so it was unlikely they would have called you.
She tried once more, hoping she had just happened to catch you at the tail end of a call, but you still didn't answer.
—
You had barely hung up the phone with Sandra before the tears began to pour from your eyes. It was as though time had made no difference and you were hearing of your friend's death for the first time. All the pain, all the self loathing that had fallen down upon you then still crushed your shoulders with its weight.
Your phone dinged again—a message from Katie.
Respond to me or I'm coming over there myself.
You didn't want Katie here. She had been there in years past, and for her to see you no better despite the time and therapy you put in, well you couldn't handle the shame.
I'm alive and well - see you tomorrow at training
You replied, knowing if you told her you were fine and left it at that she might kill you herself.
You giggled at the thought of her huffing and puffing at you, demanding you take better care of yourself like a surrogate mother. When your mother wasn’t around, Katie did a damn good impression of her. You never got away with anything if Katie had a say. You laughed through your tears, feeling like every nerve of yours was on a razor's edge.
A knock at the door barely registered in your mind as you wandered over to the couch, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and waste away for the next twelve hours. Your head was beginning to hurt from all the crying, which only soured your mood further. For the first time you had the thought: I don't want to be alone.
You thought it must’ve been a hallucination, the way Stina appeared in front of you.
—
Stina wasn’t sure what to expect when she knocked on the door of your apartment. She had spent the entire drive over worrying about how she could find you, partially cursing Katie for giving her just enough info to get her mind going in a million unhelpful directions. The fact that you weren’t texting her back hadn’t helped either. The road before her blurred as she drove without thinking, her body getting her to your apartment building on instinct.
The elevator dinged at each floor and with it her heartbeat increased.
When you didn’t answer the door it dropped.
“Hello?” Stina called out, having opened the door with the spare key you had given her a few months ago. She cursed herself for not staying with you last night when you looked so weighed down, so tired. She’d let you convince her you were fine—something she wouldn’t do again anytime soon.
When she turned the corner from your kitchen into the open space of your living room she spotted you. There you were, curled up on the couch in a small ball, silent.
“Did you hear me knock?” She asked softly, approaching you.
You didn’t reply, didn’t even look at her.
She slowly reached out a hand to place it on your head gently, when you turned and looked at her. It frightened her—the look in your eyes. She hadn’t ever seen them so empty.
“Stina?” you whispered, confusion present in your tone.
“Yes, min kärlek, jag är här.”
She put a hand softly on your face, cupping your cheek.
“You’re really here?”
There were tears beginning to gather in your already red eyes. Stina felt her throat constrict. You’d been crying, clearly a lot by how swollen your face was.
Stina pulled you up and into her arms easily, shifting you so she could sit on the couch with you in her lap.
“What’s wrong?” she asked gently, remembering that you had said once that hearing her speak her native Swedish calmed you down.
You wiped your eyes, lip still trembling slightly.
“Did Katie say something? Or Jonas?”
Stina wiped your cheeks with the pad of her thumb, brow creased with worry.
“Katie said today was hard for you, that’s it. Promise.”
You went silent, thinking.
“I was going to tell you. I promise, I meant to. But it just never seemed like a good time, or I just wanted to avoid it as long as possible…you see, Katie met me not long after it happened, she was there, it’s different. I didn’t trust her with this and not you on purpose. She can’t help but know.” You shifted off of Stina’s lap, curling in on yourself next to her so your skin wasn’t touching.
“I hate myself for it. I do, really. And every time I tell someone, they might hate me too, I know that. And I just couldn’t bear it. I couldn’t give you the chance to hate me.”
Stina put a hand on your shoulder, biting her lip to contain a small sob when you flinched away from her. It was as if you weren’t even there in front of her. All of the grace and kindness and light that had been there just a few days ago seemed to have been swallowed by darkness. To hear you say the words ‘I hate myself’? Stina could cry at the thought of it. Those were words that should never come from your mouth. It was like a knife in her ribcage.
“Min söta… älskling”
“Don’t call me that,” you sobbed, putting your hands over your eyes and hiding your face from her.
"Snälla, låt mig hjälpa dig, please, I want to help.”
You shook your head, face still obscured from Stina’s view.
This was horrible. Stina felt as though she’d eaten something rotten the way her stomach churned. She was helpless, completely in the dark. Here she was, the person who was supposed to take care of you and love you, and she could hardly do anything. All she could think to do as you cried quietly was pull you into her side and rock you slowly. A melody popped into her head—one her mother had sang to her as a child when she was ill.
Stina softly sang, trying not to feel embarrassed by her voice. You were beginning to calm, your hands dropping from your face to her shirt, holding it close. By the time she was finished, the room was quiet, empty of your cries. You were clinging to her, your face buried in the crook of her neck as if you were ashamed of the comfort you needed.
“What was that song?” you asked, voice hoarse.
“It’s a lullaby. I can’t remember the name.”
Stina felt you nod against her skin.
She opted not to say anything further. You were exhausted, she could tell. Anything you wanted to say, you needed to volunteer.
After a few moments, she felt your grip on her shirt tighten.
“When I was nineteen, my best friend died.”
Whatever Stina had been expecting to come out of your mouth, that wasn’t it. She sucked in a breath, trying to remain unaffected. You needed her strength.
“We had been friends for years, since we were kids. And we’d gotten in this huge fight over something… uni I think. I had an offer to play professionally. I had been drinking, so had she. And I always walked her home, always, when she had been drinking. The way to her house was a bit sketchy, you know? So I figured two people were better than one if anything happened. But the things she said to me that night… I’d never been so upset in my life.”
You took a breath,
“So I refused to walk her. She didn’t press, just turned up her nose and walked away, didn’t even say goodbye. And I waited for my bus. The next morning I get a call from her mum—she’s been killed.”
Stina could barely trust herself to breathe.
“I let it happen, I’m the reason she died.”
“No—” Stina began, but you cut her off.
“When they held the funeral, I wasn’t allowed to say anything. I wasn’t allowed anywhere but the very back of the church, because they all knew it was my fault. And still, they know it, they remind me of what happened, what I’ve done. I stole her life!”
“Stop!” Stina demanded, her face flushed with anger. You were taken aback by her passion, and quieted. “You did not steal anything, you didn’t kill her, it isn’t your fault!” She grabbed your hand as you pulled back from her.
“You lost your best friend in such a horrible way, and nobody checked in? Nobody held you?”
You opened your mouth to speak, but this time Stina silenced you.
“I want you to tell me what you mean by ‘they remind you’ of what happened.”
You refused to meet her eyes.
“It’s not good. Not for me or her… she calls me, my friend’s mom, to talk.” You hesitated, but explained the routine to your girlfriend when she fixed you with a look.
“That’s…” Stina seemed at a loss for words, “you are the strongest person I know. And you rake yourself across hot coals for a crime that isn’t even yours. For a woman who wants to see you suffer, who can’t accept your healing. That isn’t right. You did not kill her. That is someone else’s burden to carry.”
You burst into tears again.
—
You must’ve fallen asleep at some point, because the next time you wake up you’re in bed, and Stina is wrapped protectively around you. Her warmth encases you; she holds you more protectively than usual, her arms shielding you from the world.
Eventually the two of you get back up, though not before Stina wraps you in a crushing embrace and lets you know she’s staying for a couple of days. No negotiating.
She makes dinner, you clean. It’s the first time you’ve eaten all day, and you think she can tell by the way she watches you intently. You feel cared for, and it’s a little overwhelming. Stina doesn’t let you out of her sight save a few trips to the bathroom and one brief call from her sister that she has to take.
You didn’t expect things to shake her up so much.
She helps you clean the wounds on your palms, grimacing at the sight of them once you unfurl your fingers for her. You try to tell her you can deal with them yourself—especially with how much it seems to upset her—but she isn't having it. You see her set her brow and concentrate on cleaning and bandaging the damaged skin, tears only glazing her eyes as you hiss in pain.
Eventually you convince her that you're fine enough to settle down on the couch and watch a movie. She insists on having you in her lap—something that you find equally as comforting. Stina isn't typically all that tactile, but now each moment apart from you seems to worry her.
You're about halfway into the film and slowly drifting off into her chest when you feel her whisper something into your skin. You think she assumes you're asleep (and you nearly are) but you make out her voice slightly.
"Tack Gud att du är här." She repeats it, and soon you can feel the drops of her tears hitting your shoulder.
"Stina…" you whisper, repositioning yourself to face her.
"förlåt" she says, wiping her eyes.
"You don't have to be sorry… It was an intense day." You press a kiss to her cheek.
"I was so worried," Stina starts, and you figure it's best not to interrupt her, "when Katie said that you might be struggling, I couldn't think of anything else. You can't hurt yourself anymore, please." Stina takes your bandaged hand.
"If you were gone one day, I don't know how I'd cope."
"You don't have to worry about that, ever."
"You are the most important thing in my life." Stina's lip trembles, and you wonder how you're managing to keep it together.
You pull her into another kiss, lips sore from how you had abused them earlier. The pain reminds you of the struggle of the day, but Stina's hand holds the depths in front of you at bay.
"I'll always be here." She promises.
You begin to think of something lighter. Of an ounce of forgiveness. Of a year that does not revolve around the rising and setting of the sun on this one day. A moment of peace afforded to yourself. The thought passes your mind—you do not deserve this. You instead think of love.
a/n: let's start this world cup with a little thing...
*not my GIF*
Pairing: Fridolina Rolfo x NORWNT!Reader: NORWNT + SWEWNT x Reader
Summary: You have a secret realtionship with a certain Swedish player and you come out public after her final against Wolfsburg
Type: Fluff
Warning: nothing
word count: 2154
-----------
Opposites attract each other; that is what a lot of people say. In your case, it was totally true. You married a woman who was your opposite in every aspect, even the professional one, Fridolina Rolfö. You both play football, but since you first met at a professional level, you have never played together.
You faced her for the first time in your first season in the Swedish league; she played for Linköping and you for Rosengråd. It was surprising how quickly you became friends after your first match and more a few months later. Except for some teammates, nobody knew about you two; they just assumed you were good friends because you didn't show too much in public, but that didn't mean you weren't there for her. To be honest, you were her number-one fan. Always here when she played, not so far from Malmö, and always cheered for her.
Then 2017 came, and you both received an offer to play for a different championship, the Frauen Bundesliga. It was a great opportunity, but you were a little sad when you learned that Fridolina wouldn't play with you again because she chose Bayern München, where you chose to play for Frankfurt. Even if you were always enemies on the pitch, when you were off, nothing could be better than when you asked her to be your wife one season after she moved to Wolfsburg.
After three years in Germany, you left the country to join one of your favorite clubs when you were younger, Real Madrid. Your first season, even if it had been interrupted, was very great, and you were ready for the next part of history until your wife joined your rivals, FC Barcelona.
Two wives playing for two rival clubs but also playing for two different countries, and that leads us to this day. A friendly game opposing Sweden and Norway—honestly, you loved this type of match; you always found her very attractive when you played against her, but it was on another level when she wore her national colors.
You were in the locked room, preparing yourself for the match in a few minutes, when your phone buzzed next to you. It was a text from Frido. A few moments later, you were so focused on your conversation with your blonde girl that you didn't notice that everyone was waiting for you for a captain's speech. Maren Mjelde cleared her throat, but you just giggled, visibly whatever the Swedish said was more interesting than this.
"You giggle like a schoolgirl," Ada Hegerberg commented, and you finally looked at your teammates.
"Oh, shut up, Hegerberg," you replied, rolling your eyes. "So, are you finally ready?" you dared to ask.
"Are we....?" Guro Reiten repeated a little offended "I swear I'll..." She didn't have time to finish before she got interrupted by Maren.
"We were actually waiting for you." the defender said, and you looked at everyone.
"Oh sorry. So let's go," you said, standing up and extending your arm, waiting for them to form a circle to start your usual speech.
In the other locker room, the Swedish team was impatient to play—a certain player more than others. "You looked excited." Magda commented, and Frido looked at her, confused.
"Yes, I mean, aren’t you?" Your wife asked.
"Yes, of course I am; I like to play against Guro even if I prefer to play with her." the captain replied.
"I totally understand you; it’s really cool to play with Ingrid, but I don't like to play against her, even if it’s fun," the forward said.
"Oh, I’m a little disappointed. I thought you were talking to Y/n." Kosovare commented.
"What do you mean?"
"We saw you glued to your phone when Magda was doing her usual captain's speech. Great speech, by the way." Zećira said this time getting a little ‘thank you’ from her Chelsea teammate.
"I think it’s Y/n!" Kosse said across the changing room, gaining the attention of everyone. "What? It’s true," she added when she felt every gaze on her.
"Yes it’s true, but—" The forward tried to defend herself but was cut off by Sofia Jakobsson.
"Why don’t you ever think about playing together? We wouldn’t have to support you missing each other."
"You’ve got a point." Zećira said.
"It’s not that easy. It’s not like she can play with us suddenly." Your wife said.
"Yes but you can always play for the same club. And I don’t want to force you to do anything, but I heard that a Londonian club wouldn’t mind having a new power couple in her team." The goalkeeper commented.
"I need to stop you right now; if they need to play for the same team in London, they will definitely play for Arsenal." Stina protested.
"And why?" Magda asked, raising her eyebrow.
"Because we all know that Y/n considers Frida like her little sister, and according to that, she’d choose Arsenal." Unfortunately, the conversation couldn’t go further because it was already time to enter the pitch.
The match went pretty well; well, it ended in a draw, but 3-3 is a pretty draw. After the game, you thanked the supporters and made your way to the Sweden team. Even if your relationship wasn’t public, it was not uncommon for the fans to catch you being touchy with the Swedish player; honestly, they loved it. That's one of the reasons they loved when you faced her, of course there was also the sportive part, but they couldn't help themselves every time you interacted together, and it didn’t take a lot of time before some edits shipping you two appeared online.
After a little session of sweaty hugs with Ingrid, much to her dismay, you finally made your way to the third Barcelona player in this match. Some cameras were still recording, and they didn't miss the goofy smile the tall forward gave you—definitely good content for the fans later. "Hey pretty girl," you said, and the captain of Chelsea next to you two rolled her eyes.
"Good game, girls. You played very well." Ingrid said, giving her club teammate a little side hug.
"You too, even if I'm better." Fridolina replied, and you playfully hit her arm. "What? It's true."
"Your only goal was when I didn't defend on you." You reminded her.
"Yeah, I know, but it's still a goal," she said while she opened her arms, and you fulfilled the gap. "You played very well." she whispered before landing a quick kiss on your head.
"Even when you try to be sneaky, you are still so obvious." Frida said.
"Are you jealous?" You joked, "You can come here." You opened your arms, and even if the midfielder tried to resist, she knew she could never deny your hugs. You looked like a little family, and you obviously knew that the fans would edit it, but you were too comfy between your wife and your claimed little sister.
When you broke the hug, you made your way to the changing room with Ingrid and Rolfö, not too far from Frida and Stina. You were talking about anything and everything when the Arsenal forward called you. "Y/n do you ever think about playing with Frido on the same team?"
"Uh uh, don't start that." Zećira said, coming out of nowhere.
You looked at the Sweden players confused. "Don't listen to them; they're just arguing about which is the best team between Arsenal and Chelsea." Fridolina said.
"It's more than that." the keeper protested.
"Let me guess, you just want us to join Arsenal or Chelsea?" you asked.
"Yes." Magda and Sofia said rolling their eyes.
"No!" Stina and Zećira countered, "It's more than that; imagine being with your wife 24/7, training with her, playing with her, and just wearing the same jersey."
"Okay let's not talk about it right now because I'm exhausted, but we'll think about it." you said before heading to your locker room.
The next few weeks you came back to Spain, and you managed to spend a lot of time with Frido after the end of the season before her final at Eindhoven. You tried to not attract attention in the stadium, but it was almost impossible. You couldn’t enter the stadium before some fans of both teams recognized you. And there you took some pictures with them, some of them questioning you about who you were supporting. You were wearing a light jacket, so they couldn’t see your Rolfö’s national jersey. Of course you were there to support your wife, but as a Real Madrid player and fan, you couldn’t say it loudly.
"I’m just here to see some teammates play." You replied with a little smile. Thankfully for you, they let you leave rather quickly. In your seat, you were mentally preparing for the next ninety minutes.
After those ninety minutes, FC Barcelona were sacred European champions for the second time, and Frida scored a goal. You were ecstatic in your seat during the game, acting like a groupie when your blondie touched the ball. When a member of the security came to escort you on the pitch, you were a little shocked because you didn’t really think the Swedish forward would spot you in the crowd, but she definitely did.
On the pitch, you came to congratulate your national teammates, and Ingrid gave you a sweaty hug, making you quickly pull away with a grimace. "You look good in yellow," the midfielder commented.
"But something tells me she would look better in blue and red." Caro Hansen added, and you rolled your eyes.
"Let’s not start it now." You didn't have time to say anything else until you felt arms wrapping around your waist from behind you. you didn't have to turn to know who they belonged to.
"Oh no, the lovebirds are reunited again," Caro said, faking annoyance.
"Hey, don’t you have some Spanish girlfriends you want to see?" You said making them leave, but not before they mimicked how the Swedish player was clinched to you.
"Why do you wear my national jersey?" Your wife asked while her head found her space in the crook of your neck.
"Are you kidding me?" you asked, a little offended.
"I’m rather on the girl’s side this time."
"Oh no, we’ll not start that, not today." You groaned and turned around to finally face her.
"But I really think about what the girls said the last time, and, well, it’s been like, what, six or seven years since we started to play against each other. I know you would rather die than wear a Barcelona kit, but if one day I leave, would you come with me?" She asked with a pout.
"Honey, one day I asked you if you wanted to marry, and you made the mistake of saying ‘yes’ so unfortunately for you, you’re stuck with me wherever you go." You joked.
"Even if I receive a proposition from Chelsea?" she tried.
"Okay don’t push your luck, Mrs.Rolfö." You replied dramatically, pushing away from her grip. The tall woman obviously didn’t give up and wrapped you close to her again.
The two of you were so much in your little bubble that you forgot that her team was celebrating and that the stadium was not totally empty when you pushed your toe to land a passionate kiss on her lips. When you heard some wolf whistles from Catalan players and the public cheering loudly, that's when you came back from your trance and remembered that you were not alone.
"Oh my..." you mumbled, hiding your face in your wife’s chest, who was laughing at your action.
"Don’t be shy, I think most of them already knew; it’s not like we’re good at hiding our behavior every time we’re together." Frido joked, "And at least now, everybody would know that you’re off the market, Mrs. Rolfö."
This night, like you assumed, you broke the internet, and a photo of you and Fridolina kissing was on almost every Woso fan’s Instagram stories and some of your teammates’ too. You received a lot of support from some teammates and even other celebrities. Magda and Pernille shared a cute picture of the four of you on a double date just after the Euro, and things went more crazy when Z posted almost all the cute pictures she took of you when you didn’t notice.
"I think that after today, if someone decides to sign one of us, they will definitely have to sign the other." The Swedish player said while she came to lay beside you.
"I still think we could have announced it in a better way." you said after you left your phone on the nightstand.
"Yes, maybe, but right now it’s just the two of us." she said, pressing a shy kiss on your head.
In the corner of your eye, you saw her collapse to the ground, arm in the air, frantically waving in the sky.
You stopped running towards the opponents goal, you stopped every movement. You ignored the ball that was passed to your feet - Becks was laying on the floor and not getting up. "Rebecka" you breathed out. It was like something in your mind switched, your brain wasn’t working anymore, you ignored everything around you, just started running.
"Becks?" you asked as you sat down on the grass, wiping her hair out of her face. "It hurts" she said, no tears leaving her eyes. The medics were doing their best to examine her knee but it seemed pretty obvious.
The three little letters that every footballer, every coach, every fan - simply everybody hated: ACL.
Your eyes followed the blonde as she was supported by the medics. You had seen people tore their ACL before and it never affected you as much as it did now. This was Becks, the Swedish sunshine.
That day, her brightness and sunshine was robbed.
After the game, you almost sprinted to the physio room but Becks didn‘t want to see anybody. Jule and you stood in front of the room, arguing with the 'bodyguard' who was actually a staff member, to let you in but with no luck, "please respect her wishes" he told you sternly, pointing to the changing room.
While Jule sighed, you huffed before you grumbled angrily, marching to the locker. What the fuck? You had to see Becks! How was she feeling? Did you need to hold her hand - did she need a shoulder to cry on?
-
She went radio silent after that. Your calls went straight to her mailbox, texts were ignored. You didn‘t know how she was feeling nor did any of the girls. The only people who knew something about her condition were the coach, doctors and staff members yet just physically. No one knew how she was mentally.
It wasn‘t until her surgery that she went 'online' again - she arose from the dead.
Becks🌞
surgery went well.
The relief you felt at her text was nothing compared to the moment when her caller id popped up. Immediately, you accepted.
"Rebecka" you whispered, stopping your movement in the kitchen. There was silence on the line, only light breathing could be heard.
"Can you come here?" she asked with a small, timid and tired voice. With no hesitation in your voice, you asked, "where are you?"
Not even half an hour later, you were at the hospital, sitting in Becks room as she slept peacefully. Her blonde hair was splayed across the pillow, her leg prompted up as it was covered in plasters and more.
"Did I fall asleep?" she asked groggily, exhausted eyes looking at you yet a small smile displayed on her lips. She was happy to see you.
"Yeah but that‘s okay" out of reflex, your hand went to the side of her head as your thumb caressed her cheek, "I’ve brought you your favorite candy. Thought it might be better than the hospital food"
Gratitude was written over the swedes face as she looked at you, smiling. "I can leave tomorrow at 12 pm. Please pick me up?" you nodded at her request, the blonde slowly falling into a slumber at the comforting touch of your hand. You continued your actions for a few more minutes to be sure she was deep asleep before you left.
-
Exactly at 12 pm, you picked Becks up, her crutches laying on the backseat as she sat in the 'passenger princess' seat, her phone already connected with the aux.
The two of you hummed or sang to the songs that played, one better than the other.
When you arrived at her home, you jogged around the car, quickly grabbing the crutches as you opened Rebeckas door as well. "Here" you stated, holding out your hands to gently pull her up. Standing in front of you, you handed her the crutches, making sure that you could let go of her waist. Wordlessly, you grabbed her bag as you followed her to the front door.
-
"I hate these stupid things" she groaned as she flopped on the couch, the stupid things crashing on the floor.
Ignoring her complain, you walked in her kitchen, a place you knew well enough as often as Becks had cooked for you and Jule. You filled a glass of water, walking back to Rebecka as you gave it to her before you walked back in the kitchen. Opening the fridge, emptiness stared back at you. You would change that.
"I have to go but I’ll be back" you stated as Becks laid on the couch, eyes focused on the tv.
"Take your spare key"
Not even an hour later, you walked back in her home, hands full with shopping bags, "went grocery shopping" you smiled. The blonde hadn‘t moved an inch - she laid in the same posture as she was when you left.
"What?" propping her body weight on her arms, she stared blankly at you, "why did you do that?"
Sorting the things on her kitchen counter, "don‘t you think I can do it on my own? Do you think just because I’m on crutches I can’t do stuff alone?!" You didn't respond to her negative and irritable energy. She had a free pass due to the recent injury and being released from the hospital just today.
"Just sit down and let me cook for you" you replied instead, as you put the last few groceries in the fridge.
-
You visited the Swede almost everyday. Sometimes before training, sometimes after training. At matchdays, you would visit her after. It became your routine to check on the blonde.
As her rehab started Becks got very annoyed - to a point where she was mad 24/7 because her knee didn‘t work the way it should - the way she wanted it to work.
After her rehab sessions, she was in the worst mood, she was irritable and exhausted, one wrong move and she would blow up. The crutches didn‘t help either, they just reminded her of the miserable state she was in. That she couldn‘t do the thing she loves: play football.
Becks was standing the kitchen, one crutch laying on the floor as the other one supported her weight. She tried to grab something from the top cupboard but just couldn’t reach it which drove her mad. Unfortunately for you, you walked through her apartment door just then. When you saw the blonde balance like that, her leg swinging in all directions, you rushed to her. "Let me help you" you said - wrong move. Very wrong move. As soon as you laid the item she wanted on the counter the girl snapped, throwing insults at you. "Stop! Just fucking stop! You‘re so fucking annoying with your helper syndrome! Cleaning my mess, doing the dishes and my laundry, I’m not 7 anymore!" the Swede spat, steam radiating off her body. You were taken back, offended, maybe even hurt - your only intention was to help her, so she could concentrate on her rehab, so she could be back on the pitch again. She shouldn't worry about her household. Her first priority should be to walk again without crutches and then her household. She should slowly get back to everything. The thing was that you didn’t even mother her, you were a support, nothing more. You cooked with her, did the laundry with her - you carried it into the living room while she would fold it . You did everything with her. Only to get it thrown in your face.
"Okay" you took a step back, creating distance, "I’m sorry"
You left after that, feeling hurt and disrespected.
"Fuck" the Swede cursed as she saw you walking out of her flat. Why did she do that? Angrily, she threw the crutch away, slowly sinking down to the floor. Her back was leant against the counter, face hidden in her hands as the tears started falling. She didn‘t mean to yell at you. She didn‘t mean anything she said. She just felt so helpless.
She was angry at her injury, angry at herself but never at you. She appreciated you so much even if she doesn’t tell you it.
When she thought about what made her happiest, the answer was simple: you. You were the only one who could put a smile on her face.
You were the only one who was allowed to use her apartment the way you wanted - the only one with a spare key.
You were the only one who got to see her so vulnerable and at her weakest. She was still radio silent for everyone else on the team - they only got their information because of you. Except Jule, the blonde would text Jule every now and or call her. Sometimes the Swede was seen in the building, but her team rarely spoke to her and then didn't talk about how she was doing. Her sunshine was gone and it only came back when you were there - you were her personal sunshine.
Later that day, she tried to cook but it was way to annoying to move around the kitchen with crutches and then place the ingredients on the counter without something falling down or herself loosing balance. She ordered some takeout - which was also hard to carry to the kitchen or even the living room as two crutches supported her weight.
The same was the next day with the laundry. She physically couldn’t carry the laundry basket out of the bathroom. So the only solution that came to her mind that didn‘t involve you was to push the basket along the floor while she pulled her body across the floor. When she arrived in the living room she was exhausted, her arms heavy. She started to fold her laundry - she couldn't be bothered to iron it but at some point her eyelids simply closed. Her body collapsed against the couch, piles of laundry around her as soft snores filled the room.
All night you had been thinking about whether you should visit her or not. If she wanted to see you or not. If you wanted to see her or not. And even though she hurt your feelings, you wanted to see you. You had to see her. You had to check if she was okay.
In front of her flat, you waited a few minutes, not completely sure if you should walk in - but you did. You opened the door with your spare key only to be met with the sight of a sleeping Rebecka on the floor, clothes around her as there was takeout trash on the living room table. Smiling to yourself, you closed the door quietly. Becks looked at peace, no furrowed brows, no scowl on her face, no anger. She looked tranquil.
And maybe she was right about your helper syndrome. As you saw the mess around you couldn‘t ignore it. She was laying on the floor, probably exhausted from the work she thought she could do alone. Every movement of you, was thought trough and quiet. You didn't want to wake her up, even if she was a heavy sleeper.
As you collected the laundry items, you silently folded them and sorted them in her wardrobe after you had covered Becks in a blanket.
When her flat was tidy again, you left. No note, no text, nothing.
The blonde woke up 3 hours later. She was confused, didn’t she fold the laundry? Where was it? Where was her empty takeout?
Did you visit her? This was you, right?
The confirmation came when the smell of your perfume hit her nostrils, a smell that she could recognize from miles away.
She felt even worse than before - why did she be so mean to you?
-
Becks stood in front of your apartment, knocking rapidly against the door.
"Hi-"
She didn't let you say anything and just walked in. "Take a seat-" you tried again, the way she balanced on her foot and the crutches gave you anxiety.
"You‘re always so nice" she stated, turning around. "you‘re amazing to me and i yelled at you"
"It‘s oka-"
"Stop talking, please" she whispered, taking a step towards you. She dropped her crutches and out of reflex your hands went to her waist to support her, she knew you would do it. She felt safe with you.
Your hands held a firm grip on your waist as you looked her in the eye. "I‘m sorry for saying those things, you didn‘t deserve that." Her arms went around your neck as leant slightly towards you with her body, "I'm trying to do better for you, to handle my-" her breath hitched as she inhaled sharply, those three letters leaving her mouth for the first time, "to handle the acl better"
"For me?"
"For you" she smiled shyly, her eyes never leaving yours as she leant forwards, this time with her head. Her lips ghosted over your own - it was a gentle peck, nothing more. Neither of you moved, it was simple and quick yet it held so much emotion. She would do better for you and come back stronger.
Resting your forehead against hers, you closed your eyes, "you need to focus on your recovery. I'll wait" you muttered, "I’ll wait as long as it takes"
-
335 days later, Becks was back on the bench.
After your little meet up at your home, there was no romance at all. You supported her at each step, were there at her first step without crutches and as she started to run again. As she said, she tried to better and she did. She started to watch the girls train, talked to them, laughed with them and joined team bondings. Slowly but surely her sunshine was coming back, it shone brighter than before - thanks to you. Becks was not only her smiley self again but did realize how much you meant to her. That kiss? She couldn‘t think about anything else. It was her motivation to fight. I‘ll wait - she was determined to kiss you again. She wanted to return the favour as you were with her every step of the way, she wanted to take you out on a date.
You couldn‘t have been prouder to see Becks back in the squad, every single cell in her body fought for it.
The fans were chanting her name, shouting for her the make her comeback.
It was the 89‘ minute when it finally happened. You walked to the sidelines, raising your arms, so the fans would cheer louder as they already did. Rebecka looked breathtaking in the kit. You high fived her and hugged her before you pressed a kiss to her forehead. You can do it.
You didn‘t bother to put on your jacket or drink something or anything, you only focused on the sunshine girl. The subs tried to talk to but it fell to deaf ears, as some people might say: you watched Becks with heart eyes, as if she hung the moon. And maybe she did because she was the sunshine.
Rebecka was officially back and showed it with her assist.
After the final whistle blew, the girls huddled around her, singing her name but she only had eyes for you. In the group hug, it was your hand which she held, your eyes that she stared into.
-
You watched her walk around the stadium, taking her time with each fan - it made your heart swoon. Her sunshine shone across the pitch.
She was the last one to walk back in the tunnel where you had waited for her.
"You waited?" she asked suprised, she thought everybody would be in the showers by now.
"I told you, I would"
her grin couldn‘t have gotten bigger. She knew what you meant, what you were referring to.
"As long as it takes" she whispered.
Everything disappeared, it was just the two of you in the tunnel of your club stadium. The last fans were escorted out, the pitch covered in darkness.
Just the two of you.
Both of you took a step towards one another, small giggled escaping your mouths. Her hands went to cup your jaw, thumbs caressing your cheeks as your hands found their way around her waist - a place they had enjoyed before.
Becks leant forwards, eyes closed as you did the same. Everything felt amazing. You could feel her breath against your lips, an inch away. You waited so long for this.
When your lips finally met, a content sigh left the both of you, lips interlocking perfectly as they moved in sync although not for long as the one and only Jule Brand stumbled in the hall.
Three’s Company (Magdalena Eriksson x Pernille Harder x Reader)
Smut.
You didn’t know that Pernille was visiting Magda. If you had, there was definitely a bigger chance that you would have made yourself scarce during her visit. You’d hang out a little bit and get a bag packed so you could stay somewhere, but other than that, you wouldn’t have hung around the apartment. You knew what happened when Pernille came to visit and you believed that you were too innocent to hear those noises coming from your roommate’s girlfriend.
“Fuck Magda, don’t stop!” Pernille screamed out and you paused where you were standing. You were in the kitchen, getting yourself a snack. The moans got louder and louder until they finally stopped. You were in complete shock, enough so that you didn’t notice Magda coming into the kitchen half naked with Pernille following her, wrapped up in a robe.
“Hey Y/n,” Magda said as she reached past you to grab an apple. Your eyes slowly moved up from the point on the wall where you’d been staring over to her as she smirked at you. “When did you come in?”
“D-don’t know,” you stuttered out and Magda placed her hand on your hip. She glanced back at Pernille, who was biting her lip as she watched the two of you.
“Did you know Pernille’s always thought you were adorable,” Magda said and you blushed. She leaned in very closely and whispered into your ear, “But I‘ve always thought you were so hot. Pernille’s got a new toy she’d been dying to try out. I think it’d be the perfect opportunity if you’re up for it.”
“Y-you want her to fuck me?” you asked and Magda nodded. “Is this what she wants?”
“I’d absolutely love to,” Pernille assured you. She pushed Magda away from you and pressed her lips to the side of your jaw. Magda leaned over Pernille to press a soft kiss to your lips before she led you back into their bedroom. Magda sat back on the bed as Pernille took charge. Your head was tilted back as she left kisses all over your neck.
“Careful, you don’t want to leave too much to be covered up,” Magda warned and Pernille shot her a glare. Pernille could do whatever she wanted to your body and it would be completely fine.
“It’s fine, keep going,” you told Pernille. Magda sighed and watched as Pernille continued with what she’d been doing before. This time however, her hand slipped under your shirt. You felt her palm your breasts before her hands moved down to dip below the waistband of your pants. She got them off of you fairly easily before she laid you back on the bed. Pernille could see that you were wet from your underwear and she bit your lip.
“Fuck,” Pernille said and you glanced up at Magda. She joined Pernille closer to the end of the bed so she could also see how wet you were. Magda pressed a soft kiss ot Pernille’s lips before she whispered something you didn’t understand. Languages had never been your strong suit, so you hadn’t been able to venture out much in that department.
“Can I touch you?” Magda asked and you nodded. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” you said and Magda laid herself on top of you to kiss you. Her weight on top of your body helped you to relax. Pernille was no longer in the room, but you wouldn’t have noticed. Magda settled in between your legs and began to eat you out. Her tongue pulled your clit in between her lips and she began to lightly suck. You threw your head back and moaned loudly. Pernille had come back while Magda was eating you out and you watched her just stand by the bed and watch Magda pleasure you. “Fuck, Magda!”
“She’s more than ready for you,” Magda said as she turned around to face Pernille. Magda slid off of the bed. Pernille got onto the bed and situated herself to enter you. She slowly slid inside of you until you were full.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Pernille noted. “Tell me when it’s okay to move.” You wiggled your hips a little and then you gave her a small nod.
“Words, use your words darling,” Magda instructed you as she settled up by your head. Magda leaned down to kiss you as Pernille began to move. She started off slowly, but eventually she got lost to the sounds of your slightly muffled moans and mewls. Magda’s hand moved down in between your legs to rub your clit as you began to approach your climax.
“Cum for us baby,” Pernille commanded and you let yourself fall completely over the edge there. Pernille kept her thrusts shallow as Magda’s touches became lighter before they were finally gone. You were absolutely spent as you laid there with Pernille halfway on top of you as your head was in Magda’s lap.
Hi my lovelies. This is part 3 of the Kiss Me semi-series. Each one is a short little thing with a different player about a different type of kiss inspired by a post I saw on her a bit ago. I hope you enjoy.
Hands in you Hair
Magdalena Eriksson x Reader
Description: it’s your first night out in a while and you know you look good.
Kiss Me masterlist
The mirror was still slightly foggy from the shower you’d taken, your hair still damp as you adjusted the last curl and leaned closer to check your eyeliner. The playlist you’d put on thumped softly. You tugged at the hem of your shirt, checking how it sat for the fifth time, fingers brushing the little bows absently.
“Stop fussing,” Magda called from the kitchen. “You look hot already.”
“I’m not fussing,” you shot back, tilting your head and redoing the same flick anyway.
“You are,” she replied, entirely too smug.
You were just reaching for your earrings when the wolf whistle cut through the room, loud and sudden enough to make you jump.
“Fucking hell,”
“Looking good, mitt hjärta.” Magda’s voice followed, smooth and amused, like she’d been waiting all evening for that reaction.
You turned around, hand still at your ear, heat creeping into your cheeks as you faced her leaning against the doorframe. Her arms were crossed, eyes slow and appreciative as they dragged over you.
The shirt wasn’t anything too special, but you knew exactly why she liked it — loose enough to move, open enough to tease, nothing but a few delicate bows keeping the front together.
“Don’t look too bad yourself, baby.” You laughed, nodding toward her outfit.
She glanced down at herself, then back up at you. “I know.”
You snorted.
“Best looking couple out there, I reckon,” she added, pushing off the doorframe and walking over to you. Her hands settled on your hips like it was instinct, thumbs hooking just slightly around your waist.
“Definitely,” you agreed easily.
Her hands slid under the hem of your shirt, finding bare skin, smoothing slow, absent-minded patterns like she had nowhere else to be. She tugged you closer, and you went without resistance, folding into her solid warmth, your nose brushing her neck as you breathed her in. Cinnamon. Always cinnamon.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” you murmured.
“Doing what?” she asked innocently.
“Distracting me.” She grinned.
You lifted your arms, fingers threading into her hair, giving it a small tug that made her inhale sharply. Her eyes darkened immediately, gaze dropping to your lips, then flicking back up again.
“Careful,” she said lightly. “We’re meant to be going out.” The kiss that followed made that statement feel like a lie. It was hot and lingering, her mouth confident and unhurried, one hand sliding down to squeeze your arse like she couldn’t help herself.
You moaned softly, fingers tightening again, and she broke the kiss just enough to breathe.
“How…” Magda murmured, lips brushing yours. “How about we don’t go?”
You barely had time to register the words before she kissed you again, deeper this time, like she was already celebrating the idea.
“But it’s the first night out with the team in ages,” you managed between kisses.
“So?” she replied, pulling you closer. “You look sexy.”
You laughed, cheeks burning.
“I’ll still look sexy when we’re at the club dancing.” You leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow at her.
Her eyes narrowed as she pretended to think it over. “I…” She cleared her throat dramatically. “I think I may be coming down with something.”
You stared at her.
Her voice dropped, raspier now. “Yep. Definitely. Wouldn’t want to spread it around.”
“Magda.”
“Yes?”
“If you want to stay here, that’s fine,” you said, tugging her hair once more before stepping back. “But I’m going out.”
You turned to grab your wallet from the dresser.
You didn’t get far.
“But, mitt hjärta,” Magda murmured right by your ear, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you back against her. “Your top.”
You felt her fingers find one of the bows.
“It’s broken.”
With one easy tug, the knot came undone. The fabric parted, cool air brushing your skin as you gasped.
“Magda,” you whined, though it came out breathless and weak.
“And all of your other tops are in the wash,” she continued cheerfully, fingers slipping just under the band of your bra. “Tragic, really.”
She turned you slowly, deliberately, pressing soft, playful kisses along your jaw, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.
“I guess we can’t go out after all.”
It was embarrassing how easily you folded. “You’re explaining why we aren’t there,” you said, hands sliding up her arms.
“Oh, I’ll make it very convincing.”
She guided you back until the backs of your legs hit the bed, and you sat without protest. She stayed standing between your knees, hands cupping your jaw, thumbs brushing lazily like she had all the time in the world.
“You’re impossible,” you muttered.
“And yet,” she said brightly, “you love me.”
You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.
She leaned down, forehead resting against yours. “Besides,” she added softly, “you’ve been running around all week. One night in won’t kill us.”
You exhaled, tension easing out of you. “They’re going to complain.”
“I’ll send them a message,” she said. “Something vague. Mysterious.”
“Mysterious?”
“Very.” She kissed your nose.
You laughed, giving in fully now, hands slipping around her waist. “You planned this.”
“Maybe,” she said, unapologetic.
She reached up, carefully pushing the top off your shoulders, fingers gentle now, reverent. “There,” she murmured. “Now you look even sexier.”
You leaned forward, stealing a kiss, slow and warm.
