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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 1 year

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"The Kate Effect:" Often imitated, never duplicated 👑

Determined to help, Kate has now persuaded 19 British brands to donate more than 10,000 NEW items to more than 40 baby banks across the UK.

The Duchess of Cambridge donned a mask, apron and gloves today as she launched a major initiative to support vulnerable babies and children. On a visit to the baby bank charity Baby Basics UK in Sheffield, she revealed how she was moved to tears by the stories of families she met during secret lockdown visits to its West Norfolk branch near her Anmer Hall home.

As she unloaded pallets and unpacked the first deliveries at the charity’s temporary distribution centre, she told volunteers: "It can get very emotional. I remember a couple of the families I met from King's Lynn and I went home and literally burst into tears, their stories were so moving. The struggles they have gone through, the bravery they have shown...in extraordinary circumstances. Helping their families through extraordinary times."

Volunteer-run baby banks provide essentials such as nappies, clothing and bedding to vulnerable families who are referred by health visitors, midwives and social workers. But while baby banks across the UK have seen an increase in demand during the Covid-19 outbreak, many have been unable to accept second-hand donations because of health and safety concerns.The Duchess also spoke via videocalls to Amy Cotton, who fled a violent home with only her baby son Ricky, now three, and received a buggy, clothing and toys from Little Village. She is now a volunteer for the charity and has a 12-week old daughter, Ellie-Rose.

Kate told her: "It is brave and not often the easiest thing to do but it is really fantastic that you've reached out, that you are so open about your own struggles but also the fact that you are in such a fantastic place now. I suppose it is real credit to you, the journey that you've undertaken and the courage and strength you've shown to get there. So well done. And I love the fact that you are volunteering too."

She also spoke to Ella-Mae Michalski, whose 21-month-old twin girls Bella and Ruby were born prematurely with chronic lung disease. Little Village provided them with a double pram, clothes, muslins and other essentials.

"As a mum the one thing you want to be able to do is to provide for your children and it was difficult not to be able to do that but Little Village helped," said Ella-Mae. "It's something as basic as getting a cup of tea when you come here and people asking how you are and being able to offload without fear of what people might think."After learning about the situation during private visits to her local branch, where she helped to pack Moses Baskets with essential products for babies, the Duchess spearheaded a campaign to get UK companies to donate items to baby banks run by Baby Basics UK, London-based Little Village and Aberdeenshire-based AberNecessities.

Retailers taking part include John Lewis, M&S, Tesco, Sainsbury's, The White Company, Matalan, Trotters, Boden, Frugi, Mamas & Papas, Jojo Maman Bébé and Kit & Kin. Green People (Organic Babies), My Little Coco, Bloom and Blossom, Kokoso Baby, Childs Farm and Bramley have also made donations, while DHL Express is providing transport.

In Sheffield, Baby Basics CEO Cat Ross told the Duchess: "Often in a world where there is a lot of judgement and stereotyping about being poor, that additional stress can be even more difficult for parents who are doing amazing things to keep their families going with such strength, such determination."

"Yes," agreed Kate, "One of the mums I met was a nurse. These are families who do fantastic jobs and even they are struggling."Talking about community spirit during lockdown, she added: "It is those small volunteering acts that everyone can contribute to that make such a difference. That inter-generational support system has been amazing. Knowing that you can make such a big difference to another family is wonderful."

Kate also met Ali Wartty and Sahara Hamawandy, and their one-year-old triplets San, Shan and Laveen. An emotional Sahara told the Duchess how she was referred to Baby Basics after struggling to cope. The charity provided them with a triple pram, Moses baskets and starter packs, as well as clothes and toiletries as the babies have grown.

"I was living on the 12th floor of a block of flats and trying to cope with the three of them," she told the Duchess. "It must have been so stressful," sympathised Kate.

Sahara told her: "How do you take your three babies down from the 12th floor without a pram? We weren't able to go out at all." Speaking afterwards, Sahara said: "To give support to mum means giving support to the whole family. That’s why the charity has been so important to a mother like me. It gave me power. It transformed me. I just want to say thank you to everybody."A Little Village survey of more than 50 baby banks has found that 77% desperately need more nappies, mattresses and other products as demand for their services increases. The charity is set to support more than 6,000 children this year, double the number they helped in 2019.

Founder and Chief Executive Sophia Parker said: "The pandemic appears to be making the situation much, much worse for many families. Every child should have the right to a good childhood and this new initiative is a much welcomed step towards tackling child poverty in the under 5s."

Danielle Flecher-Horn, Founder of AberNecessities, added: "By providing parents with the resources to build a positive relationship with their children - from pregnancy and throughout the first years – we can make a real difference to a child’s development, health and overall happiness."Speaking aftewards, Baby Basics CEO Cat Ross said: "A lot of people have heard about food banks but don’t necessarily know about the baby banks and what we do. Having someone like the Duchess behind us is amazing and her helping us by getting in all these amazing brands has been incredible."

Announcing the initiative, Kate said: "Over recent months, I have heard from families who have been supported by baby banks through the most difficult of times and I have been deeply moved by their stories. Having somewhere to turn to for support is important for all families, and baby banks work every day, up and down the country, to provide immediate, tangible and practical help for parents and carers when they are most in need.

"Baby banks are driven by incredible volunteers, demonstrating the power of community spirit in supporting families and coming together to raise the next generation. Thanks to the generosity of the companies taking part in this initiative, baby banks across the UK will be able to support even more families through this particularly challenging time."

"In everything, then, do to others as you would have them do to you. For this is the essence of the Law and the Prophets."¹

@skippyv20 I remember when you told us to spot the difference. No photos of "the wife" out shopping with mom for baby items.🧐

¹Matthew 7:12

#revenge #tom bower #megxit #princess #princess of wales #duchess catherine #princess catherine #babies lives matter #the kate effect #baby basics #little village #carole middleton #moses baskets #prince george

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officialyourdailyinspiration · 3 months

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The Israelites Are Treated Cruelly in Egypt

1:8 Then, a new king, who knew nothing about Joseph, came to power in Egypt. 9 He said to his people, “These Israelites are so numerous and strong that they are a threat to us. 10 In case of war they might join our enemies in order to fight against us, and might escape from the country. We must find some way to keep them from becoming even more numerous.” 11 So the Egyptians put slave drivers over them to crush their spirits with hard labor. The Israelites built the cities of Pithom and Rameses to serve as supply centers for the king. 12 But the more the Egyptians oppressed the Israelites, the more they increased in number and the farther they spread through the land. The Egyptians came to fear the Israelites 13-14 and made their lives miserable by forcing them into cruel slavery. They made them work on their building projects and in their fields, and they had no pity on them.

15 Then the king of Egypt spoke to Shiphrah and Puah, the two midwives who helped the Hebrew women. 16 “When you help the Hebrew women give birth,” he said to them, “kill the baby if it is a boy; but if it is a girl, let it live.” 17 But the midwives were God-fearing and so did not obey the king; instead, they let the boys live. 18 So the king sent for the midwives and asked them, “Why are you doing this? Why are you letting the boys live?”

19 They answered, “The Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they give birth easily, and their babies are born before either of us gets there.” 20-21 Because the midwives were God-fearing, God was good to them and gave them families of their own. And the Israelites continued to increase and become strong. 22 Finally the king issued a command to all his people: “Take every newborn Hebrew boy and throw him into the Nile, but let all the girls live.”

The Birth of Moses

2:1 During this time a man from the tribe of Levi married a woman of his own tribe, 2 and she bore him a son. When she saw what a fine baby he was, she hid him for three months. 3 But when she could not hide him any longer, she took a basket made of reeds and covered it with tar to make it watertight. She put the baby in it and then placed it in the tall grass at the edge of the river. 4 The baby's sister stood some distance away to see what would happen to him.

5 The king's daughter came down to the river to bathe, while her servants walked along the bank. Suddenly she noticed the basket in the tall grass and sent a slave woman to get it. 6 The princess opened it and saw a baby boy. He was crying, and she felt sorry for him. “This is one of the Hebrew babies,” she said.

7 Then his sister asked her, “Shall I go and call a Hebrew woman to nurse the baby for you?”

8 “Please do,” she answered. So the girl went and brought the baby's own mother. 9 The princess told the woman, “Take this baby and nurse him for me, and I will pay you.” So she took the baby and nursed him. 10 Later, when the child was old enough, she took him to the king's daughter, who adopted him as her own son. She said to herself, “I pulled him out of the water, and so I name him Moses.” — Exodus 1:8 - 2:10 | Good News Translation (GNT) Good News Translation® (Today’s English Version, Second Edition) © 1992 American Bible Society. All rights reserved. Cross References: Genesis 11:3; Genesis 15:13; Genesis 26:16; Genesis 41:1; Exodus 1:7; Exodus 6:16; Exodus 8:20; Exodus 15:20; Leviticus 25:43; 1 Samuel 1:20; 1 Samuel 2:35; Psalm 105:25; Jeremiah 34:9; Acts 4:18; Acts 7:20-21; Acts 17:18-19; Jonah 1:9; Hebrews 6:10; Hebrews 11:23-24

#Israel oppressed by a new king #all newborn Hebrew males ordered slain #birth of Moses #Moses is hidden #Moses placed in a basket and left in the reeds #Pharaoh's daughter rescues Moses #Exodus 1:8 through 2:10 #Book of Exodus #Old Testament #GNT #Good News Translation #Holy Bible #American Bible Society

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cursed-clock-shop · 10 months

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Mortimer and John N actually had a wedding ceremony, but technically aren't legally married because they used Gerty's birth certificate

#she died in the private of the clock shop and was sent down the river in the most hodgepodge coffin to ever exist #so im half convinced that she actually isn't legally dead #and john n showed up in a basket down the river baby moses style #so he definitely doesn't even have a birth certificate #this makes the marriage conversation so much funnier in my head #because it makes it seem like the world's goofiest inside joke #inspired by that post of that guy who found out his mom and dad were the first people to get lesbian married in ireland #failure: a love story #failure a love story #autism #adhd #john n fail #mortimer mortimer #gerty fail #I'm so sorry to gerty

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jdsquared · 1 year

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Sotah 12b

#daf yomi #talmud #judaism #jumblr #sotah #miriam #moses #the incredibles #elastigirl #baskets #it gets the baby from the basket or it gets the hose

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casiotony · 1 year

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#basket case #moses #funny church signs

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pufftheninja · 1 year

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Saw the #artvsartist trend going around again, so I figured I’d hop aboard.

My reflection as an artist for 2022:

-I didn’t draw myself once this year (hence the pfp in the center). Maybe I’ll change that in 2023.

- Felt a lot of burnout. Wish I could’ve made more things for fun/for me…

- BUT! I’m getting to work on more cool commission work!

- Got to try new styles and make new products outta my work to share with more people.

- Got to be a vendor at my first art market and it was a wonderful experience!

- Started making some reels…still don’t like the algorithm.

- Got to work a lot on personal creative writing projects.

- I still favor blues, purples, greens, and pinks. Sue me.

- And finally, AI art sucks.

So yeah. I’ll have to see where 2023 takes me and the rest of the creative community. Thank you for your support! 🍙💜

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stuffedeggplants · 2 years

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Just discovered some parallels between Karna's birth in the Mahabharata and Moses's in the Torah.

Unable to keep their sons for different reasons, both their mothers put them in baskets as infants and send them down the river where the children are then found and adopted by other families.

Socially they both kind of end up in different positions too. Moses' parents were regular, non-royal people and he ends up adopted by the Egyptian royal household. Karna's parentage is royalty plus the divine (his father is the god Surya himself), but he ends up adopted by more regular people of mixed Brahmin-Kshatriya caste ('suta') and inherits their caste status rather than be considered Kshatriya, (at least where I am in the version I'm reading.) So neither Karna nor Moses grow up with the social status of their parents.

I have sooo many notes on my phone about Karna guys, the character analysis wheels will not stop turning.

#Also Vasudeva 🤝 Jocheved: the king wants to kill my son so I'll put Krishna/Moses in a basket in the river to save him #Probably a closer parallel between Krishna and Moses tbh but this is still all super cool to me #Common elements of these ancient stories #Mahabharata #Karna #Moses #Religious mythology #Mythology

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cavemanminiondiscoversfire · 2 years

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#wicker #weaving #wicker weaving #wicker basket #cottage #cottagecore #cottage life #poo #poomoji #pooemoji #emoji #apple #applecore #floating #sailorcore #moses #moses basket #ecofriendly #craft

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bartholomewfarquaad · 2 years

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If i see one more Superman Jesus allegory I'm going to absolutely lose my mind

#he's moses if anyone #put in a basket as a baby while his people were dying?#is jor-el not the burning bush?#clark doesn't get resurrected any more than anyone else in the comics world #looking at you zack snyder

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shotmrmiller · 6 months

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The start of a journey

A small drabble of a thought that had me awake at an unreasonable hour because how cute is HE PLEASE GOD.

Dadtobe!simon who when you told him you were pregnant, he sat quietly on the sofa without saying much. You were so worried he didn’t want the baby due to his history with his family— but in reality, he was so shocked. How can he deserve such a precious gift from life when all he does for a living is take them? He sees your eyes watery with unshed tears and quickly grabs your hands to reassure you that this may have not been planned but it is a gift unworthy of a bad man such as he and he already loves you both.

Dadtobe!simon is the one who looks up what foods help alleviate nausea so when you’re heaving over your toilet, he’s already in the kitchen getting some cold apple juice and saltines just in case you could stomach them this time.

Dadtobe!simon is pressed that you’re choosing to have a home water birth with a midwife instead of the hospital because “What if you need immediate medical attention? We’d have to get you to a hospital and that’s time wasted.”

“ The baby and I will be okay. The midwife will be keeping an eye on my vitals and if anything went south, they’d be getting us to a hospital before I really needed to be in one. Besides, I want an unmedicated labor in the comfort of my own home.”

“Alright, love. But if anything looks even slightly wrong, I’m getting you out o’ here. Clear?” “Crystal, sir.”

“Cheeky.”

Dadtobe!simon personally bought an at-home fetal doppler to hear the baby’s heartbeat whenever he couldn’t make it to the monthly OB appointments. He helps you lie down on the sofa, hips propped up on a pillow, and he’d get the doppler gel from the warmer because he CANNOT have you uncomfortable so long he can help it. Skin goosepimpling with the warm gel, he starts rubbing it on your lower stomach with the probe and puts light pressure— doing circular motions to try and find the distinct, rhythmic thumps of the baby’s heart. He catches it, a fast beating, _strong_ heartbeat, and ups the volume.

“There ya are, my little sprog.”

Dadtobe!simon gets up from the warm cocoon of the bed and out into the cold, rainy streets because the Missus is craving butter pickle spears and marinara sauce and he is a humble servant to your wants and needs. Butter pickles though, seriously?

Dadtobe!simon who has had all of the Sprog’s necessities ready to go from the beginning. The cot and moses basket, assembled. Nappies, baby bottles, and dummies are all bought and stored away. If the baby can use it, it’s in the house put together and clean. Ruthlessly efficient.

Dadtobe!simon doesn’t let you pick up anything heavier than a jug of milk because “You don’t need to be doin’ any heavy liftin’, it’s what you got me here for, love.” And you aren’t above _not_ being extra pampered because you’ve always hated putting the groceries up anyway.

Dadtobe!simon usually sleeps spooning you but now you’ve got the maternity pillow swaddling your front, a pillow in between your thighs and another underneath your hips and supporting your lower back because your heavy stomach puts so much pressure on your body, but your mountain of pillows helps you rest as best you can. Simon can almost physically see the aches alleviate when you lie down so he doesn’t complain about the lack of cuddles nor how he’s been essentially shoved into a space the size of a twin bed on your California king.

Dadtobe!simon who squeezes the heel, kneads the instep, and presses the pads of his thumbs into the balls of your swollen feet— you’re carrying extra weight after all, and as you’re groaning in relief you start crying because look at how large you’ve gotten. You not having puffy, achy ankles is a miracle and how can he still love you looking like this? He grabs both of your feet and peppers kisses from the toes to the ankle you seem to hate because how can he not love you. Especially like this. Your body is sacrificing comfort to bring his little babe into the world for him to meet. All the changes you seem to hate— the stretch marks, the extra weight, the not-so-tight skin— to him it’s perfection. You’re perfect. He’s never really lived before you and now he can’t imagine living without you. The both of you.

Adieu.

#call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #cod #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #geol ill carry all of his babies #dad!simon #dad!ghost #drabble

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madeintheniamh · 9 months

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baby, you're the end of june

stmf one shot #22

a/n: newborn baby daddy harry is back <3 the sleepy morning fic won my poll so this is the result of it hehe.

warnings: fluff, lovey dovey morning smut

You and Harry had been snuggled up together on top of the sheets, the warmth of his body and the late June sun being enough to keep you warm. Your newborn daughter had woken up at 5 o’clock for her first feed, like she always did, and Harry had obliged, but you still hadn’t managed to fall back asleep, the quiet hum of the aircon keeping you awake. He shuffled around on top of the mattress, his tattooed arm now resting on the side of your face. His eyes fluttered open slightly.

“Sleep,” he muttered, his lips struggling to form the words. “You need to sleep, my love,”

“Shhhh,” You pressed your lips into his to silence him.

It had been nearly a month since you had given birth to Tilly, but looking over at him every morning in bed- you couldn’t stand it. The way his new Daddy stubble was spread across his jawline, because he was still too tired to shave. The way his hair was ruffled and a loose strand of it would always rest on top of his forehead. The slow rise and fall of his chest, which made his butterfly look like it too was breathing with him. His eyes had now opened fully, and the green of them shone brightly in the early morning sun. You had tried so hard to stop yourself. Your midwife had even laughed when you brought up how you felt about it last week. All you could think about was him, and how you missed the feeling of being full with his love. She just laughed and told you that she would probably feel the same if she was married to Harry Styles.

“I know how you feel, mumma,” She sighed. “Believe me, I can imagine. But the last thing we want is for you to tear your stitches. Just a few more weeks, and you can have all the loving time you deserve,”

You could feel the sheets beginning to become slightly damp underneath you, and were now trying to avoid Harry’s piercing gaze as he was now holding baby Tilly on his chest, humming to her slightly.

“What’s that face, lovebug,” He sighed.

You couldn’t stand it. The way his biceps flexed every-time he held her in his arms. The way his lips always lifted in the corners as he looked at her. You knew being a Dad would look good on him- but you didn’t realise it would look this good.

“Need you, Harry,” You stammered, as you looked back up at him. “Need all of you, can’t wait anymore,”

Harry giggled slightly, beginning to place Tilly back in her moses basket before clasping onto your hands, tracing his thumbs across your knuckles.

“You do?” His eyes lit up as you nodded. “I do too, baby, but remember what the midwife s-”

“But Harry, I need you,” You pleaded, watching his cheeks turn to a shade of crimson as a sharp outline appeared underneath his briefs. “Need you,”

He tilted your chin up with his finger and sighed. “You’re going to drive me crazy, you know that,”

“Please,” You begged.

“Fine, but we’re going slow,” He moaned, allowing you to roll down the waistband of his Calvins. “Nice and gentle,”

You moaned slightly. “But H,”

“You just had a baby, my love,” He scolded. “We can have sex anytime, there’s no rush,”

“I want you,” You exhaled.

“I know, I know,” Harry smiled, as you flinched when you felt him enter you. “So you’re going to have me, sunflower,”

You felt him fill you up, albeit gently. He was right, there really was no rush, and you secretly were holding back your winces as you were still sore from where your stitches were. He groaned as he thrusted backwards and forwards, filling you up with his love. A tiny bead of sweat coated his forehead, as his eyes fluttered closed with exertion.

“You let me know how you feel, baby,” He grunted. “I want you to feel good,”

“Good,” You moaned, a slight roar erupting from your mouth. “So good,”

You felt yourself coating him as he glided back and forth on top of you, as your arms braced his strong shoulders. He cupped your face in his hands.

“Let me take care of you,” He whispered, pressing his lips against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin slightly. “You’ve been too good to me,”

“You’re good,” You gasped, feeling your eyes suddenly roll back, as you cried out, allowing him to fill you up fully again. “I love y-”

You were interrupted by the cry of your newborn daughter, who you had completely forgotten had been lying fast asleep in her moses basket next to the bed. Harry grunted slightly, beckoning himself to pull away. You grabbed hold of his shoulders and pulled him in closer.

“More, please,” You pleaded. “Stay with me,”

He smirked, letting himself fall flat on top of you, still filling you up slightly. This was exactly what you had been missing. He chuckled slightly, before collapsing onto the pillow next to you, as your fingers traced the butterfly on his chest. You both turned suddenly, as the crying became louder.

“I’m sorry, my love,” he sighed, as you allowed him to exit fully. He reached out to grab Tilly from her basket again, beginning to rock her in his arms. “Looks like you’ll have to share me,”

“Fine,” You groaned. “But we can’t have another one, the bags under my eyes are already dark enough,”

“Mmmmhmmm,” Harry chuckled, surveying his newborn daughter who had been soothed to sleep by the warmth of his chest, before gazing back up at you. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad,”

-------

sjdejdewodpokwowkdmkmwndkjqwns

i may have written this myself but i am obsessed.

ik i haven't been very active the past few weeks :/ i missed you all so much. work has sadly gotten in the way and i haven't really been feeling myself. but i am trying to make myself feel myself again and this exercise deffo helped. please send ur fic suggestions (i am feeling baby daddy harry recently) - my inbox is always open. love you all <3

this makes chapter 22 of my one shot dadrry series, slipping through my fingers! i have linked the masterlist here if you did enjoy <3

have a beautiful week my loves take care and look after yourselves <3

#harry styles #dadrry #harry styles dad #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #stmf #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut

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daydreamgoddess14 · 9 months

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Saturday Mornings

MASTERLIST

🤸‍♀️ Well , well, well, didn't take long to get me back on my bullshit, did it? 🤣 I bring you a Roy Kent smutty one shot. Enjoy the gorgeousness of this man 🥵

Roy doesn't have a thing for Phoebe's dance teacher. Until he does. 👀

For @littleesilvia 😘

Saturday Mornings

Saturday morning had always been for Phoebe. From the day she was born, Roy had dedicated every Saturday morning to her. In the first weeks of her birth, he'd let himself into his sister's house and picked up a squawking Phoebe from the moses basket and taken care of her from 6-10 am so his sister could get more sleep. In those early days, he'd spoken to her in his deep, gruff voice while she drifted in and out of sleep. Then they'd go for a walk to the shop, the neighbours peeping into the buggy until Roy had growled at them to "Fuck off and stop gawping at her, she's trying to fucking sleep." As she got a little older, it became cartoons and cereal - devoured together on the sofa, and then a trip to the park. He'd arranged everything for 9 years around his Saturday mornings with Phoebe. Even away matches with a midday kick off didn't stop him, it didn't matter if it was an hour, or five hours - match day or no match day, rain or shine, if he was single or not, Uncle Roy would be there. Their time alone together moved through her swimming lessons phase, gymnastics phase, and morphed into his coaching her kids team. He wanted to be on board with this next phase - really, he did.

After 8 weeks of lessons, he'd finally put his finger on what the problem was. The dancing was nothing new, Phoebe had tried ballet, tap, some weird toddler baby dance shit. 16 weeks ago, she'd switched to some kind of pop/tween dance class with a lovely older woman who mostly sat to one side and pointed to each move, each music transition. It had been great, 8.30-9.30am every Saturday, fucking wonderful. Then 8 weeks ago, that woman had switched classes and you had taken over. You, with your tight Tik Tok leggings and your cropped t-shirt. You who showed the kids each move over and over again. The number of dad's attending the class had suddenly gone up. It had been 6 months since he thought that he and Keeley could try again, but she'd made it clear that that was not the case. He'd been single for longer than 6 months before, sure, but not for a long time. Back then in his younger days, he'd thought nothing of a mutually convenient resolution with a friend until he met his next significant other. He’d come to the conclusion now that he was too fucking old for a friends with benefits situation.

If it was just Saturday mornings that were the problem, he could live with that. He started out by taking a book and ignoring the class completely, but Phoebe did not like that at all. So he switched to audiobooks, brought a pair of fucking ear buds so he could drown out the sound of your voice, your gentle encouragement and the giggles. If it wasn’t the leggings going to tip him over the edge, it was going to be the giggles. Or the praise. Weird, he didn’t realise he had a bit of a praise kink before. Then he heard you in a breathy voice saying something that definitely could apply to situations other than a 9 year olds dance class and nearly had to leave the room. No, it wasn’t just Saturday mornings anymore. You came to mind now at the most inconvenient times. Sitting on the bike while Jamie pulled him along at 5am when shouting at Jamie in the street would have been frowned upon and they instead trained quietly, whenever one of the kids dance routine songs came on the radio and he was forced to relive watching you teach them, at night in the dark when he was alone, in the shower… He absolutely had to stop thinking about you like this. Like you’d see it in his eyes when you waved good morning, or when he held his bank card over your little hand held machine to pay for the classes. He also couldn’t stand the very much married men who flirted so openly with you. Clearly telling their wives at home, no love, I’ll take little… Mabel to dance class, you stay here and have a lie in and a cup of tea.

It was funny how they’d migrated from the later morning class which was run by a woman who had the body shape of a fucking pencil. Beautiful, yeah she wasn’t bad. But she didn’t have the strong thighs you did, the sweeping curve of your hip into a cute little waist. He couldn’t go another week like this. Had to stop now, stop being so pervy. He was no better than the other blokes who came to watch their kids' class. Except he was slightly better, because he was actually single.

“Uncle Roy, we’re here, come on!” Phoebe was already half out of the car. He braced himself for another week of torture.

“Good morning guys! Come in, I’m just getting set up.” You called out from across the room. He was a bit too early really. Not intentionally, of course not. You were still in your hoodie, still setting up the portable speaker and drinking a Costa coffee. You put a song on in the background and he had to hold his breath while you pulled off the warm grey sweater. As it came off, it pulled the baggy cropped t-shirt up as well, exposing your sports bra underneath, the soft skin of your stomach. It was definitely soft whenever he thought about it anyway. You straightened yourself out and sat on the floor, stretching your legs out in front of you and reaching forward to your toes. Phoebe lept out of her seat, threw her coat at Roy and plonked herself down in front of you, mirroring your pose. “Joining me for a warm up Phoebs?”

“It’s important to warm up. My Uncle Roy is a football coach and he says it’s the most important part.”

“He’s not wrong.” You smiled, moving through some other poses and stretches. He was a dead man. This was it. The end, this was how it was going to go. You stretch your arms up as far as you can reach them, stretching out your back with a little pop. He tried to ignore the fucking Grecian vase shape your body made, truly. Until you’d made a noise a little too close to a moan for his liking, followed by, “Holy shit that feels good.”

Fucking hell. Fucking hell .

“Sorry Phebs, didn’t mean to swear.”

“It’s ok. I’ll let you off the first time, but you owe me a pound next time.”

“Aww thanks.” The class soon filled up, he wished he’d taken a seat way at the back, out of the way so he could either look at you without it being so noticeable, or ignore you completely. He totally respected your classes, he really did. It was a tricky thing, conducting an age appropriate class for 9 year olds which avoided sexualising dance moves but also made them feel like they were able to move their bodies how they wanted to. Of course, it’s not always the dance moves themselves which could be seen as sexual, more often it’s the person watching who makes that connotation. And he tried so, so hard not to do that. Tried desperately to not think about how your body would move underneath his, on top of his, the beautiful sounds he could draw from you. He needed to get out, feigned a phone call, holding up his phone as he got to the door so you knew he’d be right outside if Phoebe needed anything. He didn’t think you’d even seen him until you gave him a little thumbs up.

At the end of the class, you encourage the kids to just sit for a minute. You all usually end up sprawled on your backs, not having to make eye contact makes it easier for some of the kids to talk openly if they wanted help or an opinion on something. It was somewhat of an eye opener for the parents as well. This week, you had the kids sit up so they could see you,

“I thought I might take you on a little trip, if you guys fancy it? I was going to go and see the new Barbie film after class next week. If any of you want to come with me, with your grown up - of course - then we could have a really exciting morning! I’m not allowed to take any of you without another grown up though, ok? So you’ll have to check with them first.” You handed each of them a little pink party invite. He already knew before Phoebe asked. Their match next week was on Sunday so he was free all of Saturday morning. He had no excuse to not take her, he also didn’t think he wanted one.

He hoped you were a little bit dumb. It was a horrible thought, he knew that, to wish stupidity on someone. But if there was any chance of him making a full recovery and banishing you to the depths of his mind, never to turn up again - especially not when he was in the shower with his hand around himself, he really fucking hoped that you were dumber than a box of rocks. You weren’t. He already had an inkling of that, but he could still live in hope.

“Fancy the Barbie movie next week?” You’d asked brightly as he’d held out his card to pay, he wasn’t sure if it was the physical and mental turmoil of having to watch you for the last hour, but he thought he could detect a sliver of hope in your voice.

“Fucking probably, she won’t let me say no.” Phoebe held out a hand for her pound. “Add it to my tab.”

And of course, that’s how he found himself in a dark cinema the following week with a gaggle of kids around him. He was still trying to work out if it was a blessing or a curse that he’d ended up sitting next to you - it had certainly earned him glares from one or two of the other grown ups. As you laughed again at another joke aimed to sail just over pre-teen heads, he knew it was a curse. It had to be. Forced to listen to that laugh for two hours? Fucking torture. When you cried, he knew he was done for. He reached over, just a little and patted the back of your hand in comfort. Just a little there, there gesture. You’d only fucking gripped his hand and squeezed it, he stole a glance at you and you’d given him a watery smile and a little lopsided shrug. Then you’d let go of his hand, and turned back to the movie. He had to spend the remaining 45 minutes of the film trying not to think about your warm hands carefully exploring his body.

The following week, he did it.

“Would you like to go for a coffee sometime?” He asked quietly as his card payment went through. He didn’t think you’d heard him until you looked up sharply.

"Aren't you like way out of my league?"

"What league is that then?”

“Well, you're in the ridiculously fit footballer league? Y’know for people who date supermodels and influencers?”

“I wouldn't fucking know about that.”

“I'm sure you would, I'm sure they don’t kick you out once you retire. Once a fit footballer, always a fit footballer? Is that the name of it? The… F. I. T? Or is it just the R.F.F.L?”

“What's that stand for?”

“No idea, it's your league, you tell me. Footballers Into Tits?”

“That’s a shit acronym”

“I know. I can do better, promise. Give me a minute.”

“I'm sure you'd be alright in that league” He said quietly,

“Excuse me? That was very cheeky. Ohh, maybe it could stand for ‘Filthy rich but Impossibly Tedious’?”

“That’s pretty good, definitely suits some footballers I know. Alright, fine. What fucking league are you in, then?”

“Whatever the Conference equivalent of the F.I.T is.”

“Now that can’t be true.”

“Oh yeah? How do you know?”

“I just fucking do. Is it a yes to coffee?”

“I mean, I still think you’re way too high up the F.I.T for me, but sure.”

“It’s the R.F.F.L actually.” He smirks as you hand him a flyer for the class.

“My number is on there.” You tell him, then you’d walked away without taking his number, which meant he was going to have to be the one to contact you first. No, you definitely weren’t dumb. Shit .

This wasn’t supposed to happen. It was a combination of factors really, a busy week at work meant though he’d messaged you quickly, he wasn’t actually able to meet for coffee until the end of the week. So you’d spent all week in a message exchange which had ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous.

“Would you rather fight 100 tiny Jamie Tartt’s or 1 giant one?”

“100 tiny ones. I’d fucking stamp on them all.”

“Figured out what league you’re in.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Champions League.”

“Fuck off am I. I’ve wikipedia’d your dating history mate. Gina Gershon? I think I should cancel coffee now…”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Do you always try so hard to look like you’re not looking at dance class?”

“No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Uhuh. Ok.”

“Yes, I do. Every week is torture.”

“Jamie says I’m too old for the R.F.F.L.”

“Maybe that works in my favour. If I’m up against Gina fucking Gershon, I’d have no chance.”

“You’re not up against anyone.”

“I've been thinking about you all morning.”

“Was that flirting? Were you just flirting with me?”

“Shut up. See you later.”

And now… well. Coffee at 3pm on a Friday turned into dinner at 6pm, dessert at 8pm and a nightcap at 10pm in his kitchen. You tapped the edge of your empty tumbler,

“Another?” He asked, leaning against the counter just across from you.

“No, thank you. I should… go.” The lift at the end meant it could have been a statement, could have been a question. He nodded,

“Early class.”

“Yep. I think we lost track of time.”

“Or not,” he offered,

“Or not,” you bit your lip and he felt indecision fluttering in his chest. He pushed off the counter and closed the gap between you both in only one step.

“If I kissed you now, would you be mad?” He asked softly, he could see your body tremble with the breath you took.

“Think I’d be more mad if you didn’t.” He watched you hold his gaze for as long as you could before looking at his mouth. He took the tumbler from you and put it on the counter before placing a careful hand on your hip and leaning down to kiss you. The warm whisky taste of vanilla and honey mingled with the chocolate from your dessert and Roy realised that no, he hadn’t been tortured before, watching you teach a bunch of kids how to dance wasn’t the way he was going to go. This was. Right here in his kitchen with your arms winding around his neck and bringing him as close as you could possibly get him. Your fingers scratching through his hair. He pressed you into the counter,

“I’ve thought about doing this for a long time,” he whispered, kissing down your neck, making you gasp. He pulled away quickly, worried that it was too much too soon, “Shit, sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He went to move further back to give you space but your hands gripped his shirt to pull him back in,

“Please, I don’t want to stop,” you breathed heavily, “I don’t want you to stop.” You said, more firmly. He was against you again in an instant,

“Sure?” He asked, “You’re sure?” You stepped up to kiss him, making your feelings very clear,

“I’m sure.” Your fingers flew to the buttons of his shirt, undoing the first couple. He pulled you away from the counter, strong arms wrapped around your back and lifted you enough to move you both to the sofa. You stumbled against the cushions, falling backwards and pulling him with you so that he landed heavily on top of you.

"Oof."

“Fuck, sorry. You ok?” He sits back up on his knees, allowing you to automatically move your legs to either side of his and sit up,

“Never better,” his smile catches you off guard, “fuck, you’re gorgeous.” You mumble, reaching for him. The feeling is more than mutual. He needs to feel your kiss again, desperate to feel your skin on his. It’s better than anything he’d spent the last 8 weeks dreaming of. And the sounds you made as his hands and kisses explored your body were enough to drive him insane. He moves further down your body, pulling your skirt down with him and immediately turns to trail kisses and little bites along your inner thigh while his hand reaches up to link fingers with yours.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his breath hot against your hip. The simple request alone made your body turn to liquid against him. He’d spent so long thinking about (denying, debating, ignoring) the effect you had on him, he hadn’t actually considered that you would be just as affected by him. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he looked y’know, alright , for an older bloke. But still, seeing it first hand… seeing it first hand, hearing it first hand, from you was really something else entirely. You tugged his hand to bring up back up to you but he shook his head, his beard catching the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, “busy,” he said, his voice muffled. He focused on nothing but you, losing himself in each gasp, moan and clutch of your hand still holding his. He worked you through one bone-shaking orgasm without stopping, leaving you a shuddering mess as he went straight for another. Looking up at you, he could see the hand that wasn’t clinging onto him had covered your eyes. This time when you squeezed his hand, he made his way back up your body and settled between your legs. “You ok?” he asked, leaving soft kisses on your jaw before finally capturing your mouth in a filthy kiss. You didn’t speak, just shook your head. “You taste fucking incredible.” He kissed you again and you whimpered, finally moving your hand away from your eyes.

“I’ve got a problem.”

“Oh yeah?” He said, moving back to your neck, a hand slipping behind you to unclip your bra.

“Yeah I thought you’d only want a one night thing but that’s impossible now.”

“It was fucking impossible anyway. One night is definitely not enough time.”

“Oh,” you whispered weakly. “Good. Please-, oh fuck,” he caught a nipple lightly between his teeth, “please don’t stop.” So he didn’t, and he never would again if it was up to him. When he’d been (much) younger, he fully grasped the importance and concept of consent. He was a professional footballer - it wasn’t just important, it was crucial. But as he’d gotten older, he finally realised just how much better saying, and hearing, the words made everything. Being able to ask, “may I?” and “I need to hear you say it” and waiting, waiting, waiting, for the breathy response had never left him so wrecked before. He pushed into you in long, slow strokes while you met him with each roll of your hips. When you hold his jaw tightly to bring his gaze to yours, he nearly falls apart but he's determined to get you there first and he knows you're so close. "You feel so good-," you whisper, "So good."

"Fuck, I need-"

"I know, I'm right with you." His name is on you lips as you come and he thinks it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. When he joins you, he kisses you with such depth it's like you were made for him. You lay still together for a while as you catch your breath. He keeps his nose in the crook of your neck while his hand softly smooths across your ribs and the side of your breasts. Your legs no longer lock around him, you stretch out and enjoy the weight of his body covering you.

"'M crushing you," he mumbles. His voice so low in your ear makes you shiver and despite you not being ready for another round quite so soon, your hips buck, "Fucking hell, give me a minute," he laughs.

"You're not crushing me, and I'm not ready yet either," you grin into his hairline and kiss his temple.

"Hmm if you say so." He rocks against you, half hard again already, needing to hear the broken little moan that ghosts over his head. "Come on, I want you in a bed this time."

He wasn't happy when you had to tear yourself from his bed at 7am to go home. He wasn't happy when he picked Phoebe up at 8am. He wasn't happy in the drive thru Costa queue at 8.10am. He was happy at 8.20am when he finally got to hand you your coffee and see your smile as you stretched out on the floor of the dance studio. He was perfectly happy knowing that you'd be torturing his Saturday mornings for a while longer.

FIN

#ted lasso #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fic #roy kent #roy kent x reader #roy kent imagine #roy kent smut #roy kent x you #roy kent fic #roy kent fanfiction #roy kent fluff

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