#I’ve been thinking about football since the last 2 days

[tropicalflowers]

My favourite animal is me after re-reading the blue lock manga for the nth time

Like, it’s SO good?!

[a-pute11as]

stubborn

r has a hidden relationship with one of the team physios, but texts from an unknown number reveal she's being used and alexia isn't happy about it.

warnings - 18+ MDNI suggestive smut themes, stalker texts, angst

words - 2996

part 2

my phone pinged. 

unknown number : she’s taking advantage of you, she’s done this with other people and she knows you’ll say good things about her to other staff so she’ll keep her job 

i furrowed my eyebrows, surely this wasn’t a text for me? the number wasn’t saved in my phone and i had no texts from them before.

me : i think you may have the wrong number 

i shut my phone off without thinking about it much after that, i knew it wasn’t for me but i very much felt sorry for the person it was intended for. 

i pushed myself up off the sofa to get myself ready for the evening training session, as nice as it was to train when it wasn’t as scorching hot, though i still preferred morning sessions. i stepped into my bathroom, standing in front of the mirror to slick my hair back into a ponytail, doing the same hairstyle i did most days. all of a sudden a pair of arms wrapped around my waist as i began brushing my hair, causing me to smile at the contact.

“we could do this every morning” she whispered before placing a peck on my neck, instantly having a calming effect on me, though it didn’t last long, “if you changed clubs”.

my face dropped and my body tensed up, she knew how much i hated this conversation and yet she never saw how ridiculous it was to ask me to leave a club like barcelona just for a casual fling to become something more. 

“mhm” i couldn’t say anything more, no matter how many times i tried, she would never actually listen to the words that were leaving my mouth. i was constantly fighting a losing battle.

“don’t be like that” she said, dropping her arms from me and stepping back. “this is my job just as much as it is yours, why should i risk my career so you can play football for another year at the ‘best club in the world’ before you go back to a half decent club”, her argument was stupid, but the audacity to use air quotes when referring to barcelona as the best club in the world stung. since we met i would always talk about how playing for barca was my dream, and how excited i was to be living that everyday, she knew exactly what this club meant to me. 

she leant against the bathroom door, staring me down, waiting for me to fight back and challenge the hurtful words she spewed at me, but she made it clear that she didn’t respect me and i was getting tired trying to gain a half-arsed apology from a person like her. 

“ana” i took a deep breath “if that’s how you feel then that’s okay, but i won’t be looking for a transfer just to please you” i sighed, continuing to put my hair back, “you know what this means to me”.

she rolled her eyes, “im not doing this, it’s always about what it means to YOU and never to us” she dramatically flung her arms in the air but i knew to stay quiet to avoid the same fight repeating itself. “you’re going to put me in a bad mood for work again, and don’t you dare think about going to isabel for a massage during recovery” with that she picked up her bag and left for work. 

peace and quiet, finally. 

i finished getting ready before grabbing my bag and heading down to my car, normally i’d go to training with keira, but she’d been out all morning so i assumed i’d be meeting her there. as i sat in my car i checked my phone, assuming it would just be a couple of texts i wouldn’t need to pay any mind to. 

unknown number : this is y/n, isn’t it? 

me : yes? why? 

unknown number : i know you’re with ana, she’s taking advantage of you. you aren’t the only person she’s with and she’s done this with multiple girls before you

my eyes widened.

me : who is this? how do you know this?

unknown number : i’ve been watching you, ive seen you leaving training together. i hate the way she looks at you and the way she touches you during recovery, it makes me sick.

i know she doesn’t give you what you deserve. i wouldn’t keep you hidden like this. 

i could give you so much more, i’d never hurt your pretty heart like this. 

i sat in my car, not wanting to move, i couldn’t care less about it being Ana or that i was receiving slightly stalker-like but somewhat hot texts from a random person, but i did care that i’d been used for someone else’s advantage. i knew i couldn’t let it go on any longer, not just so it would benefit her career and ruin mine. i swiped onto ana and i’s messages.

me : i’ll talk to you after work but we aren’t doing this anymore  

ana : don’t be like that, it was just a silly argument this morning, i’ll talk to you at work

me : can you read? i said after work. we aren’t doing this anymore, find someone else. 

i closed my phone and blasted music as i drove, assuming it would help re-centre my focus before i got to training, i couldn’t have something like this affect my performance. as i pulled into the car park i took a minute to collect my thoughts, somehow i had to remain professional but how could i when all that was swirling around my mind was finding out i was being fucked over and stalked in the same day. 

i finally got out of my car, grabbing my stuff as i headed towards the door. 

“alanna! stop ignoring my texts” i heard a small shout from behind me, i knew it was ana but i wasn’t about to give her the time of day. 

“what’s that about?” cata asked, standing at the door, clearly waiting for me to catch up to her. 

“we were sleeping together, not anymore though” i said blatantly, i had mentioned i was seeing someone but i never gave any more details than that, the only person who knew the true picture was keira but that was only because we lived together. 

“woah, i didn’t expect that” cata said, standing still for a moment, assumingly trying to process the information, as i continued to walk to the locker rooms. she quickly caught up to me and wrapped her arm around my shoulder, “im here if you want to talk about it, but not if you wanna test out your advanced spanish, thats way too painful” she added, with a small laugh, causing me to laugh too. 

we walked into the changing room, which was already filled with our fellow teammates, i quickly greeted them before heading to my cubby to put my stuff down, giving myself a minute to sit down and check my phone.

unknown number : you look so good today. dios mios the things i’d do to you… 

i quickly looked around the room to see if anyone was on their phone, no one was, all the girls were engaged in conversations with each other or had already left to go to the training pitch. i put my head in my hands for a minute, my attempts to refocus had failed. i wanted to wait until i was the last one in there, either so i could scream or cry, with no one else around. 

“habla con ella ale, tu eres la capitana” cata mumbled, trying to be quiet enough that i wouldn’t hear, but she was never very good at being quiet. 

“no quiero hacerla sentir peor” alexia mumbled back “nosotras no estamos tan cerca después del incidente” she added. 

the ‘incident’ was a very drunk champions league after party, which ended with alexia and i finding our way to the club bathroom to make out. we somehow made it back to her flat together, and whilst we didn’t sleep together, we certainly got close to, so close that we woke up naked. i didn’t regret anything about that night, not the drunken flirting, the incredibly close dancing or the bathroom make out session, i didn’t even regret making it back to her flat and taking off each other's clothes before we passed out. i regretted how i dealt with the situation, but i knew alexia held that same guilt too. 

they continued mumbling between themselves as i reached for my phone to text this unknown person. 

me : can you send me some kind of proof? for some reason i believe you, i just want to see it with my own eyes

moments after i hit sent, a phone within the locker room pinged. alexia’s phone. i didn’t think anything of it, she was one of the biggest names in women’s football, her phone was constantly going off.

as i put my phone back into my bag i noticed cata had left, leaving just me and alexia alone in the locker room. she was stood in front of me, maybe 6 feet away, one hand rubbing the back of her neck as her eyes darted about the room, making me realise just how awkward the situation was. then the realisation hit, this was the first time we had been alone in a room together since the incident, at least we were fully clothed. 

“ale, you don’t have to do this” i said, standing up so there wouldn’t be the awkward tension that happens when someone is looking down on you.

“i’m your captain, i should be here for you if you need someone to talk to” alexia said, meeting my eyes. 

whilst things had been awkward between us for the last couple of months, we actually hadn’t seen each other much, i was back home, playing a couple of games for england but ale was representing spain in the olympics, so we never really got the chance to talk about things. 

“it’s just something personal, honestly it means nothing, you don’t have to worry about me capi, i’ll be focused” i awkwardly shuffled the bracelet around my wrist and forced a smile. 

“i’m not worried about you being focused nena, y/n im worried about you being okay”

my name rolled off her tongue like it was made for her to say, so perfect and effortless as if english wasn’t her second language yet it was like hearing an angel. she never really knew the soft spot i had for her. before that night, we were close, of course people thought we were together and some of the girls would joke about it, but in reality we just enjoyed each other’s companies. she made me a better person and i challenged her in every aspect, especially when it came to who could cook a better paella. it was always her, but i enjoyed teasing her about it. 

“someone i trusted was using me, that’s all, it was nothing serious but it just hurt so i’m in a bit of a shit mood, so if you’ll excuse me i’m going to train” i said, adjusting my socks as i headed towards the door. 

but all it took was one very quick, and smooth, movement from alexia for her to be standing in front of the door.

“who” she asked so simply yet her eyes had shifted, they seemed darker, the eye contact she held was so intense yet i couldn’t escape it. 

“you wouldn’t know them” i said, my breath hitched slightly, realising how close we were stood to each other, yet i don’t think she realised. 

“ahora no es el momento de ser terco” she responded, huffing at me slightly “give me a name”. 

“i’m the stubborn one?” i questioned, my eyebrows raising as i got irritated “you wouldn’t know stubborn if it hit you in the face. you’re so much more stubborn than me, everything happened and every time i tried to make things right you ignored my calls and my texts, i had to show up to your door just to be told you wanted space. i flew to france to watch you play and all the other girls came over but you, that hurt ale because the only person i really wanted to come over was you” tears threatening to spill from my eyes as i spoke “you are so stubborn alexia putellas, i tried to fix this but you were the one stopping that, so don’t act like you want to protect me all of a sudden” i added, tears now rolling down my face.

alexia took a step back and took a minute before attempting to speak, but i quickly cut her off. 

“please, just go out to training, i’ll be there soon, i just need a minute” i said, with that she walked out the door leaving me in the locker room alone. 

i took the time to compose myself before heading out to train, putting on a very fake but very convincing smile. at this point i needed the distraction and being on the pitch would offer me a retreat. i quickly apologised to pere blaming my lateness on a personal emergency before joining my group for training. 

and to my joy, the distraction did work. by the end of training i was genuinely smiling and laughing as if nothing had happened at all. we all headed inside to recovery where i promptly made my way over to isabel, another team physio, knowing exactly how it would make ana feel. surprisingly, i was feeling extra flirty today, even if it was superficial.. 

“how can i help y/n?” she asked, as i perched myself on the edge of the table. 

“my thighs please, they’re feeling quite tense after training, so i definitely need your magic hands to do some work” i said with a small smirk, laying down on the bed. i glanced over at ana who was working on cata on the table next to me, her face already showing the effect i was having. 

“i can definitely put my magic hands to work” isabel said with a wink, before getting to work on my legs. 

throughout the massage i showered her with flirty compliments, telling her good my legs felt after she worked on them and how she was the best with her hands. she knew i was doing it to rile up ana, yet it didn’t stop her in returning the flirty comments back to me. 

“jesus ana, that hurts” i heard cata remark, turning my head to see a red mark on her leg where ana had gripped it too hard. 

recovery was quickly over and surprisingly i felt a whole lot better. something about purposely making the person that used you intentionally angry felt like a release.i packed my things up and changed back into my normal clothes before heading out to my car, i hadn’t even made it half way across the parking lot before i heard my name being called. 

“don’t walk away from me when i’m talking to you” ana called out, causing me to pause where i was standing and turn around. 

“ana, i’m not doing this in public” i said, i wanted this to be over and i definitely didn’t want it to happen in front of my teammates. 

“i told you i wouldn’t be impressed if you went to someone else in recovery, and i specifically said not isabel, so why are you acting like a whore now?” she questioned, raising her voice so anyone close by could hear. 

“a whore?” i questioned, before shaking my head to refocus on the actual situation “i’m not doing this here, you can call me when you’ve calmed down” i added, turning around to walk away.

all of a sudden i felt a hand grip my arm and pull me back, making me lose my balance slightly, ana had gripped my arm so tight that her nails were beginning to grip into my arm. 

“let go of me ana, you’re making a scene” i said, my chest getting heavy as i became aware of the amount of people who were around us, tears instantly started to form in my eyes as my anxiety increased. 

“i’m not letting you leave until we talk about this” she said, refusing to let go of my arm. 

“get off of her” mapi said, quickly dropping her bag and running over to us. the other girls, who were leaving training at the same time, weren’t far behind her as they all instantly diverted their attention to the situation. 

ana was quick to drop my arm when she saw the attention she had gathered. 

“this isn’t what it looks like, we were just having a conversation” ana said, trying her best to defend her actions. 

“i think it’s best if you leave” cata said, before taking me by the shoulder and walking me towards my car. 

whilst there was some distance between us, i could still hear a few of the girls interrogating ana, and she wasn’t doing a good job at defending herself. 

“hey it’s okay, why don’t i come round for a bit and we can just sit and chill for a bit” cata said, giving me a reassuring smile, causing me to nod in response.

before getting in my car i looked back at ana to see a very heated conversation between her and alexia. 

“you’ve taken advantage of her for too long now, go and pack your stuff, you won’t have a job to come back to” alexia said, her voice as clear as anything. 

her words repeated in my head, i could’ve sworn i heard those words recently to describe this whole situation. the messages from that unknown person said i was being taken advantage of, the exact thing alexia said. 

any spelling/grammar mistakes, please let me know x

[bee-wg]

Year 2:

“Jay! What the Flip?” It’s the ass crack of dawn, and Theo is already trying his best SpongeBob impression.

“Whaaat?” I yelled back with a mouth full of pancakes.

“You put your dirty clothes on my bed again!” He squealed.

”Dude, you asked for it. What are you whining about?”

“Boys, What did I say about yelling in the morning?” She yelled.

“Yewn, bwintow!” I think Dad was telling us to break it off, but he’s too lost in the Cream Cheese Danish.

Can’t blame him. Delicious and high protein? There’s nothing better.

Theo rushed down with a constipated face. 

“Ewww. They’re still wet to the touch. Wait. Is it dripping sweat?”

Okay. I overlooked the wet part, but he asked me to have it. 

I’ve been cleaning out some gym clothes that don't fit anymore, and Theo wanted some. I’ve decided to fully commit on football and my stocky phase, so I gave that shirt one last try yesterday. It was definitely not made for a more rugged build person. As I walked around the house, I unknowingly soaked it. I used to be disgusted with sweating. I would shower and wash the clothes by hand after each morning run. Recently I’ve been sweating a lot easier, but Dad told me to look at the bright side of things, and I do see it. Usually I would only sweat when I get a real good workout. Since it's easier to sweat buckets, that means I’m getting lots of exercise.

That leads back to this. I don’t feel as compelled to wash them anymore. They’re the result of my hard work on the journey back to being shredded. 

“No more pancakes in the morning for the month.” He said.

“What?…But…You can’t do that.” 

His face tells me, “Yes, loser. I can.”

***

“What happened, dude? Your cat died?” Brad asked.

This is supposed to be an easy practice because it’s the last before the summer. I guess Coach woke up and chose violence. 

I’ve been only doing a few yards of Quick Steps and Sumo squats. My lungs are now collapsing.

I’m only 230 pounds; there are players heavier than me doing better. I’m doing something wrong. It must be because I didn’t have protein pancakes for days.

“Dude, you there?” Brad asked.

Trying not to wheeze, I replied.

“Yeah, S’all good. I’m just hungry.” 

It would be an understatement. When you’re used to protein goods pumping your belly full of energy every morning, what does five English muffins and some hash browns even do?”

“Hahaha, classic Jay. You’re the man.” Brad answers with a slap on my back.

“Gosh, you’re getting sweatier than Aiden.” He said in disbelief.

“Oh, by the way. Aiden’s going to Costco to buy a speaker for our dorm. You mind giving him a lift?” Brad asked.

“Bad timing man, my dad broke the old Toyota. It’s taking a long time to repair.”

“No problem. I’ll see you next semester then. Take care!” Brad waved as he sprinted out of the field.

***

I felt like I could eat a horse when the bus arrived. I passed through the usual stops, and finally.

The warm smell of chicken nuggets invites me.

I pull out my phone and check. Ten consecutive days. I can definitely redeem a free meal today.

“Welcome, what can I get you?” The cashier asked.

“Can I have the Double Western Deluxe Combo?” “ I have the loyalty discount.”

“Thank you, here’s your number.”

After what felt like forever, they finally called my number. 

It’s a pretty big meal, but today’s situation calls for it. 

I’ve been doing pretty well sticking to a fries-only diet when I’m here. With some occasional burgers and soda thrown in, I’ve accumulated a few thousand points to have meals like this once in a while. The only downside is the bus here takes way too long. I guess it’s better than the neighbours knowing I’m a regular customer. 

As I finished the fries, I saw a guy wandering outside with my university’s gym bag.

Wait, is he from the team? 

Wait, is that Aiden?

No. Shit, Is Aiden waving to me?

He’s probably waving to someone else.

Then the door’s jingle chimes.

“Yo, I didn’t expect to see you here!” Aiden said.

My alone time is ruined.

“Yeah man, me too. What brought you here?” I asked.

“Just bought the speaker and couldn’t find any restaurants here. I thought Costco had a food court.” He looked down at my plate.

“Whatchu havin’? Oh Damnnn, that’s a chunky burger!” He said in excitement.

“Haven’t had them in years, my mom hates that shit.” 

I just wish to crawl into a hole at this point.

“Yeah, my mom hates them to-” 

“I should have one too.” Aiden interrupted.

”What?”

Then he came back with a smaller combo with a box of salad.

“Oh man, I’ve been wanting to have a taste for so long,” Aiden said with glittering eyes.

He got a few bites of the burger and fries, then moved on to the salad.

“So what are you doing this summer?” I asked.

“Oh, not much. Probably hang out with the guys. My dad wants me to go to a training camp though. It’s not like I will play football after college anyway, so what’s the point?”

Then we talk about dorm drama and who the coach is going to recommend to the NFL scouts.

He is actually quite chill to talk to. 

“You don’t like it?” I point down to his unfinished burger.

“No, it’s the best thing I’ve had in years. Definitely beating celery or carrots. I just have a diet going on, and I kinda impulse bought this.”

“I could finish it for you.” I offered.

“Really? Thank you so much dude!” He said.

“You’re actually pretty fun to hang out with. I always thought you had a stick up your ass.” He added unhelpfully.

By the time the last of his burger and fries disappeared in my stomach, I was ready to sleep it off when I got home. 

My phone rang, waking me up from sleep. It’s 2 AM.

Probably Number Seven. He always calls at an odd hour. 

I picked up the call.

“Duuuuuuude, I didn’t know you go to fast foods. I thought we don’t keep anything from each other.” Instead of number seven, Brad said.

“Jay, knock it off,” Theo grumbled on the other side of the room.

“Keep it down, Brad. What is it?” 

I knew shit would get out of the bag sooner or later. At least I had two weeks of peace.

“Next time let me join too!” Brad said.

What the hell is up with these people? 

“Fine, whatever. Let me go to sleep.”

“Thanks a lot, man. I’ve never had fast food before!”

I have the feeling that this is going to bite me in the ass later.

Brad is calling me. Again.

“Dude, what?” I asked calmly.

“Woah, no need to get so worked up.”

“I asked some of my mates, they all agreed to meet up at the mall’s parking lot,” Brad said.

What is going on? It’s only been five hours since he last called me.

“Don’t forget to bring your laptop and an empty stomach! It’s gonna be an epic summer.” Then he hung up on me.

I should be used to Brad’s bullshit by now. He’s been like this since high school.

The bus on the way there is as tedious as usual. 

Why did he tell me to go with an empty stomach? Didn’t he know that I get really grumpy without any breakfast? It’s worse now without pancakes.

He looks at me eagerly, like a dog finding its treat.

“What is it, man?” I asked as he led me to the back of the restaurant.

Then, no Harry Potter bullshit, he opened the wall.

“What the hell? There was a room back here all this time?”

“Wait, Brad. You rented a party room?”

“It’s sick, right? I thought we could chill here for the summer, and go to the river nearby when we’re bored. Oh, I also brought the guys here. And a projector!”

“How did you afford this? I didn’t know you were rich.” I look at the big ass room with my friends in there already playing video games. Even Aiden the snitch is here.

“Oh, I have a pretty successful OnlyFans account. I thought I could spend it on you guys.”

“…”

“…”

“Good for you, man. Gotta hustle in this economy.”

He ordered a party combo with a bunch of salad. Then we started playing video games. It wasn’t until I was on a losing streak playing Yoshi on Mario Kart, I realized. They were staring at me expectantly.

“What?” I asked.

“So…Can you help us finish?” Aiden said.

Oh no. Not again. I turned to look at Brad.

He responded with a toothy grin.

“Please Jay, you have, like, the biggest appetite out of all of us. Look at all this free food going to waste. I bet you’re still hungry.”

“There are five of you,” I said.

“Marcus can help,” Brad added.

“Wait, me?” Marcus said.

He’s the team’s linebacker. The only guy bigger than me.

“Fine. At least it’s free.” I said reluctantly.

The fact that all of the juicy meat is screaming for my attention might be clouding my judgment.

We continued playing games, watched some movies while I munch

It was pretty fun. I got to talk to the people I wouldn’t usually talk to.

For example, I didn’t know Braxton played piano or Oscar was a hardcore Pokémon card collector.

The rest of the summer continued and the guys would meet up about three times a week.

I should’ve said no the second time Brad asked. But how can I let the food go to waste when the guys need me?

Marcus doesn’t come often because he’s occupied with his boyfriend. So the guys developed a way for me to eat all of their share. I would drink a dubious amount of water to expand my stomach in the morning, giving me more space. 

It was incredibly stupid, but when the guys cheered me up while I devoured the last of the remains, I felt pretty proud of myself.

By the end of the summer, not wanting to waste the last of our freedom. Everyone has been scrambling for things to do.

That’s where Brad’s dad comes in. He organized a BBQ party by the beach and invited all the football Dads from high school who were still in their little group chat. Of course, we are invited too.

“Oh come on, Jay Jay. You have to go, or else I’m gonna be all alone.” Brad whined.

“No Brad. You’re gonna be with twenty people, you won’t be alone.” I replied.

“If you’re worried about not having any swim trunks that fit, you can borrow from my old man, or we could go shopping together.” Shit, he’s awfully insightful.

“Your dad is like, 500 pounds. I’m not that fat, dude.”

Then Theo asked me if he could join cause he had grown out of his swim shorts too. Whatever that means.

That’s how we ended up here with Brad showing me an ugly Hawaii print speedo with a blue Jay on it, and Theo laughing his ass off with him.

“No, I’m not going to wear that,” I said for the final time.

“You’re no fun, Jay,” Theo said.

“Right? This guy gets it.” Brad replied to him.

“So you’re the culprit who made Jay fat,” Brad asked.

”Dude, you don’t know the half of it. I basically sacrificed myself to advance his cooking career.” I added.

“I don’t know. I would think taking care of his laundry, dishes, and meals, just to have him burp in my face and snore at night makes up for it. If anything, I'm doing too much. I should stop doing the protein pancakes agai-“ 

”Theo! You’re literally the best chef in the world. I am honoured to be your Guinea pig for the rest of my life.” I said.

He smiled 

Yes! Crises subverted.

“Hahahahaha you two are so strange.” Brad, who is still listening, said.

The possibility of protein pancakes being taken away from me sends shivers down my spine. I try to refocus on Brad’s shenanigans.

He came out of the fitting room with a professional swimming Jammer.

Why did he even take his shirt off? Goddamn washboard abs.

“Don’t you think it’s too extra for the beach barbecue?” I asked.

“I think it fits him nicely,” Theo said.

“Theo, you get me,” Brad said, then winked at him.

Is he trying to rizz my cousin?

“It’s my turn!” Theo said, grabbing a few trunks he chose.

Then he came out, without a shirt too, wearing a bright orange swim shorts.

“I see you’re putting my gym membership to good use.” Goddamn washboard abs, where did that even come from? Now that I think of it, he’s been fitting my old gym clothes better.

“You look awesome, Theo. The orange fits you nicely.” Brad said.

“I guess it’s my turn,” I said without enthusiasm.

After struggling to pull it up my ass. I walked out with the ugly print forest green trunk that’s wedged between my inner thighs; with a shirt on, thank you very much.

“Woah, look at those hefty thighs,” Brad said.

I’m out of options, and there’s no way I’m walking into another swimwear store again. So we made our way to the counter.

The day for the beach finally arrives, and I can already feel the swim trunks digging into my ass.

What’s more annoying is that Mom and Dad are now angry at me.

I would be angry at myself too.

Now I’m in a car with no AC, listening to how I should make better life choices.

“Jay, I didn’t think you would sneak off for fast food without telling us.” Mom said.

She caught the extra burgers I sneaked in to munch on at night this morning.

“Jacob, don’t you remember what I told you about garbage food?” Dad asked.

He said my full name. He never says my full name.

“If you want fried chicken you could ask mom to make it. You know it’s healthier at home.” Dad said.

“Am I not making enough, Jay?” Mom asked.

“I’m sorry Mom, I know I shouldn’t go,” I said.

“Don’t worry about it, honey. We can get through this together. If you want more fried food, Theo and I will make lots of it at home.”

“I got you, Jay,” Theo said, patting my shoulder.

We finally got to the beachside. After finding a shade to park our car, Dad struggled a bit to get out of the car. It seems like the old Toyota is seeing its last days. We might need to upgrade the car soon.

I know Dad is probably not mad at me, but his disappointment was worse.

Hopefully he can forgive me after getting some barbecue in his stomach.

We started setting up the chairs with Brad’s dad as more of my high school friends and their dads started coming in. I haven’t seen most of them since we graduated.

Dad went to greet them and it looked like he fit right in.

He was the Dad everyone’s dad was jealous of but couldn’t help to like him.

I was pretty shocked when I heard Dad wanted to come because he always declined their barbecue invites. 

He was the fittest of the group, but it looks like he is one of the heavier guys here. Dad told me he’s almost 260 pounds now, so Theo and I will probably lose again this year.

I feel conflicted. I wanted to look like Dad before when he had chiselled abs, but I also want to look like him now when he has a much larger presence with the same amount of confidence. I can’t do either correctly.

“You daydreaming, bro?” Brad said.

“It’s nothing. Let’s get the boxes out,” I replied.

“Just so you know, you can tell me whatever you want, Alright?” He said.

“Thanks man, appreciate it.”

He’s too pure to know about my problem with how my abs or belly doesn’t look right.

We got the tablecloth pinned in place to withstand the wind, then set up some disposable tableware.

“Good job, son,” Dad said as he patted my back.

I smiled for the first time today.

Brad’s dad put us on watch duty for the grill while I fought not to drool on the food. 

I’ll get my share. Old people first.

“Jacob? You’re all grown up! You’re a big boy now, almost as big as me. I bet you made your father proud.” Mr. Lancaster said. 

“Mr. Lancaster, you’re here! I didn’t know you were coming.”

He used to take me to his house with Ms. Lancaster when my mom was busy, or when Dad was substituting for other teachers.

Avery and I used to-

Wait, Avery is here?

I looked around to scan everyone.

“Oh, my boy is having a problem with his car, so he is probably not coming.” Mr. Lancaster said.

“We have the same issue too; it’s been a mess. Say hello to Avery for me, eh?”

“Of course, good to see you, Jay.” He replied.

I sighed in relief. I don’t know what to say to Avery if he comes. I missed him, but I also ignored him a couple times when I spotted him at the fast food place.

We served for an hour and a half. I probably lost the 60weight pounds I’ve gained, and my stomach is definitely deflated now.

Note to self: If I ever need to lose weight again, just stare at tasty barbecues all day just to have none of it.

“Ahem. Woah cool! Look at that shiny thing over there. I’m going to go fetch it!” Brad said suddenly, then ran off.

“Wait, you still have your-“

He ditched me.

I tried to flip over both of our grills to no avail.

“You need help?”

“Ahhhhhh!”I yelped.

Ave laughs with his usual lopsided smile.

“I thought you were,” I said.

“Dead? No. I caught an Uber.” Avery said.

“Right. Long time no see.” I reached out my hand for a shake.

“Seriously, Jay? When did you start doing that shit?” Ave said.

Same old Avery then. I took my hand back and hid a grin.

He looked so different I didn’t know how to react. By the looks of it, he’s almost doubled my weight, maybe around 450s. 

“Haven’t seen you in a while. You look good.” He said.

“You looked good too.” Now that I see him closely, it suits him, makes him look sturdy. His ass is hanging out in the back like a bra though.

“What were you up to this past year?” I asked.

“Well you know, I screwed up the football scholarship. But it’s the best thing that could’ve happened to me.” He said.

“I was pretty depressed for a bit, so I decided to go on one of the self-searching trips to some countries and states...”

Then he told me about the kind people and assholes he met on the way, as we finally sat down with our share of Barbecues.

Ave said that he got to eat food he never imagined existed, learn about cultures that changed his perspective on things.

He said he has never felt freer of any emotional constraints than he is now. I couldn't stop my smile from forming. I’m really happy for him.

He has always been harsh on himself. When school didn’t work, he dedicated his all to sports. On his way there, I felt like I lost a friend.

We talked for hours about the airplane seats being a bitch and how he’s sorry for whoever sat next to him, or about how I am addicted to fast foods and pancakes. He’s probably the only one I know that can relate.

I was lost in the conversation, with Brad interrupting occasionally with strange looks of wiggling eyebrows or smug smiles. I really don’t know what he’s on.

It’s when Dad is folding up the seats, and Brad’s dad cleans up the grill. Ave asked me.

“Wanna do this again sometime? My dad’s coffee shop has a new brownie coming up that he’s really proud of.”

Yes, of course. I wanna learn more about you and be friends again.

“Sorry, men. School is going to be busy. I also need to focus on football more this year, or I will get too fat to play.” I said.

“No problem Jay. You know I’ll always be there for you.” Avery said.

I tried to one arm hug him and he fully embraced me. His body is so warm and unbelievably soft.

For a moment, I wished I was proud like him. But I’m not free like him

Gathering supplies Dad brought, I walked back to the car, forgetting to ask for his number.

The school year started without much fanfare. But the feeling of estrangement grew.

Hanging out with the team was fun, but playing the game just doesn’t bring me the same amount of rush and anticipation anymore, instead, I look forward to the meal after the game that brings me the rush. It’s not like I was playing the game much anyway; I’m a glorified Waterboy now. My job is to refuel the Gatorade or water, then squirt it into the guys’ mouths. After that, I just need to hand them the towel and sit back to finish my hot dog. 

I know the team appreciates me. I would keep doing it for them if not for Coach’s disappointing stares. He probably thought I would be a star player like Dad, but I ended up fatter than the linebacker. I would be disappointed too.

My decision was made following the buzzing call of our defeat.

Chapter 3 ->

[feeder86]

Aaron's Empire

“Yes?” Aaron asked abruptly, seeing that Kirk was calling him yet again.

“He says he’s full already,” Kirk replied. “He’s only had three doughnuts and now he just wants to sit and watch a movie.”

Aaron sighed. As one of his newest recruits, Kirk was more than a little needy when it came to applying the skills that Aaron had tried to instil in him. Every year it seemed like there were more and more guys moving to the city with a kink for fattening up. Although Aaron hadn’t liked it, it had always been necessary for him to outsource to other feeders when he became overrun. He simply did not have the time to tackle all the boys who got in contact with him, desperate to be fattened and submit to him.

“Did you try the trigger words?” Aaron asked. “I made a list of the nicknames Jay gets the most aroused by. They’re all on the file I sent you: ‘Fatso’, ‘Piggy’… I think he even got pretty hard at ‘Lardass’ as well,” he rambled on, trying to recall his observations from the initial feed he had done himself with Jay, three months back.

“I tried them,” Kirk shot back. “Can you come over? I really don’t know what else to do.”

Sighing in frustration, Aaron ended the call. On paper, Kirk looked set to be an awesome feeder: good looking, athletic and masculine-looking. He was one of the star players in the college football team and seemed to have that natural air of authority about him. Feeding a short, little chub like Jay should have been simple. But this was the fourth time he’d got in contact, wanting more support. Perhaps he would make a good feeder one day, but that still seemed like a long way off.

“Thanks for coming,” Kirk smiled, opening the door to Jay’s apartment and seeing that Aaron had picked up a couple of pizzas along the way. He was whispering, having not told Jay that he had needed to get Aaron over to help him.

“Is that what you’re wearing tonight?” Aaron asked, indignantly, seeing the feeder’s attire. “What is with that sweater?” “It’s cold out tonight,” Kirk mumbled back.

“So?” Aaron grumbled, taking his own shirt and pants off as soon as he was through the door. “If you want these fatties to eat, you sell them the fantasy,” he pointed at his own staggeringly built and athletic body. “They don’t need the wholesome ‘boy next door’ look putting them off,” he sighed, still amazed by how average such a sexy guy could look in something so ill-fitting. “And would it kill you to put some product in your hair?” he continued, noticing that Kirk must have come straight from the showers after his football training. 

Kirk nodded, seeming to agree that he hadn’t made enough effort. He followed Aaron’s lead, removing the offending sweater and taking off his pants, despite the slight chill in the apartment. Then he went to the tap and brushed some warm water through his hair to fluff it up a little.

“Hello there, Fatso!” Aaron smiled, leading the way into the lounge area with the pizza boxes.

“I didn’t know you were coming tonight as well!” Jay smiled, actually getting up from his chair. Back when Aaron had been feeding the guy himself, the chub had been well trained to stay sitting on his blubbery glutes the entire time he was there. His shirt wasn’t even off and he was wearing actual slippers on his feet, like an old man. Had Kirk really tried to initiate a kinky feeding session when the pig wasn’t even stripped? Just how many other rules like this had the boy been letting slide?

Aaron pulled Jay into a passionate kiss. He allowed both of their hands to roam freely, and by the time they came out of it, Aaron had successfully removed both Jay’s shirt and pants. “You’re looking so big now!” Aaron smiled, taking in Jay’s fattened physique: 350 lbs of tits, belly rolls and blubber.

“I’ve gained another 2 lbs since I saw you last!” Jay boasted, grinning with pride.

Aaron smiled, despite the irritation he felt. Two pounds in an entire month? Did he really think that was acceptable? Did Kirk not challenge him on such mediocre gains? After all the hours Aaron had put in training up the guy’s appetite, back when he was little more than a twink, a two pound gain should have been just a normal part of life for him now.

“Kirk tells me you’ve not got much of an appetite tonight?” Aaron went on, sitting the fat boy back down in his chair, where he belonged. “Is there any reason why?”

Jay looked a little awkward, but smiled as he saw Kirk coming to stand beside Aaron; his toned athlete’s body now on show. “The truth is,” Jay mumbled, “I’ve got my dad and step-mom coming to stay with me this weekend. My dad’s always been somewhat critical of me since I started getting fat. I guess it sort of dampens the appetite,” he sighed.

Aaron nodded sympathetically. “I understand,” he smiled sweetly. “Thank you for being so open with me. It must be incredibly hard for you. As kinky as it is to get this fat, explaining it to your family is never easy.”

“That’s it,” Jay agreed, visibly relaxing now he had shared his concerns aloud. He sat back a little more in his chair and rubbed his tummy. “It’s hard to eat tonight when I know my dad is going to be even more disappointed in me.”

Again, Aaron smiled. He tapped Kirk’s tight butt, silently ordering him into his position, behind Jay’s chair. The next movement was about to begin.

“I really do understand,” Aaron offered lovingly. “As you can imagine, I see it time and time again with all my boys.”

Jay smiled back, with little comprehension of how many guys across the city were actually fattening up under Aaron’s watchful eye.

“But, do you know who doesn’t care?” Aaron asked next, slipping off his underwear and letting his erection spring out. “This guy here,” he pointed at his already pulsing hardness. “He couldn't give a shit about all that sort of crap. The fat boys whinge about how full they are, or how none of their clothes fit. They bitch about their families, their friends not being supportive. They talk about how much they sweat now, how out of breath they get…” Aaron went on, rubbing his boner and seeing that Jay simply could not take his eyes off it. “But this guy…” Aaron emphasised again, “...he just couldn’t give a fuck! He actually gets off on it; their complaints and genuine concerns. He just wants to see them eat and grow, fatter and fatter every single day.”

Aaron nodded to Kirk, letting him know that it was time to tap the newly aroused fatty on the head, ordering him to start sucking. Then, only a few seconds later, Jay’s mouth enveloped as much of Aaron’s dick as possible, moaning with lust as he did so.

Kirk, who was now rubbing Jay’s back encouragingly, looked across at Aaron, clearly impressed at how quickly he had turned the situation around. However, Aaron merely stared back at him in annoyance. It wasn’t just the fact that Jay had always been so pathetically weak at giving blow jobs, but why hadn’t Kirk done this? How many times had he been told these strategies to get the pigs eating when they were less keen? Sometimes their mouths just needed a little warm up; a little lubricating. “Go get the pizzas,” he ordered sternly, about to begin yet another demonstration of how to stuff a pig to his absolute limit.

After that evening, Aaron assigned Jay to another of his feeders, hoping that Jay was simply a poor fit for him. In his place, he gave Kirk a new and highly motivated second year college student who had impressed him a lot when he’d interviewed him about why he wanted to be fattened up. Perhaps seeing the fattening process from scratch might give Kirk the kick up the ass that he needed.

“Five pounds?” Aaron asked, feeling exasperated. “You’ve had three months and that;s all you’ve done to him? He’ll lose that in no time now he’s gone home for the summer!”

“He had exams and stuff, though,” Kirk tried. “I didn’t want to get in the way.”

“Oh, come on, Kirk! How many times have I talked to you about stress eating? You missed a golden opportunity to really push some weight onto him there! He also tells me he’s working on a farm over the summer. How the hell did you let that happen? You know that’s too much exercise!”

“I didn’t really think it was my place to say anything…” Kirk mumbled, realising that he had messed up yet again.

“You’re the fucking feeder!” Aaron shouted, finally letting his frustration get the better of him. “Of course it’s your place to say these things to the pigs!”

Kirk sighed, disappointed with himself. “I’ll do better when I see him next. I promise.”

Aaron shook his head in disappointment yet again. He liked Kirk, he really did. He had all the hallmarks of a good feeder, with a pretty face that made everyone stop and stare. He had the sex appeal to make a guy eat if he really wanted them to. But his application of the basic feeder principles and training were utterly lost on him.

“Look, let’s just take this time as a little breather,” Aaron suggested. “I have some time off at the end of this month. You can come over to my place and we’ll do some little role plays and scenarios; stuff that should help you when your pig gets back for the new semester.”

Kirk nodded gratefully, knowing that he still had so much to learn.

“So, what is a feeder’s main objective?” Aaron asked a couple of weeks later as he led Kirk into his apartment.

The question clearly caught the football player off guard and a long pause followed before he finally answered. “That the pig eats everything we give them,” he offered, seeming confident.

Aaron shook his head. “You’re thinking too short term,” he shot back. “A feeder’s goal is, and always will be, the results: the tight pants, the fat gains, the number on the scales. That’s all that really matters. There are different ways to get there: meal plans, submission, dominance, you name it. But the feeder’s goal is always in the blubber he can pack onto his prey. Is that clear?”

Kirk nodded.

“That means that it really doesn’t matter if you never even use some of the strategies we’re going to revise today. As long as you get the results, that’s all I care about.”

“Okay. That makes sense,” Kirk agreed.

“Feeding is a sensual exercise,” Aaron began, taking his shirt off and removing his pants; still pumped from his gym workout that morning. “You’re never going to feed a pig to his full capacity unless you get the support you need. So where do you find that support?”

Kirk, who had been following Aaron’s lead and undressing, sat himself down in the guy’s feeding chair and pondered the question. “You mean I should call you?” he asked.

Again, Aaron sighed. None of this information should have been new to him. “No, Kirk! The best feeder a pig’s ever going to have is always right between his legs.” He reached out, holding the football player’s semi. “It’s the reason he first fell into gaining and it’s the thing that led him straight to you, so always make sure that you use it in the most effective way that you can,” he explained, rubbing Kirk’s dick until it stood firm and erect. “If fatty stops eating or starts slowing down, give some attention to this thing and you’ll soon see him getting hungry again.”

“Should I suck it?” Kirk asked keenly.

Aaron frowned at the silly question. “It’s entirely up to you. Just…get it hard and keep it that way. That’s all you need to worry about.”

Kirk settled a little more into his chair, enjoying this training more than the other sessions he had had with Aaron. He’d always done better with practical exercises, rather than trying to memorise the theory behind principles.

“Now, most of the time, your pig will buy his own food that he wants you to feed him. But, if ever you’re doing it, you’ve got to choose it all very carefully, thinking about the feeder’s goal… which is?” he quickly questioned.

“The results!” Kirk parroted back to him, pleased that he had remembered something at last.

“Exactly,” Aaron nodded, now pointing to the vast selection of food he had set up on the coffee table for his date with a long-term fatty who was coming over later. “Everything here is from the list I sent you back when you first started. These particular brands are all staggeringly high in calories and quickly digested.” He looked at Kirk’s blank face. “I’ll email the list over to you again then,” he simply stated, deciding not to pull Kirk up on his lack of studiousness.

“What would you start with?” Kirk asked, seeing it all spread out and presented so nicely.

“Well, that depends on your fatty’s preference. You should know what his favourites are; the things that are best to get him started. For example, what is it that catches your eye the most?”

“The cream cakes,” Kirk replied instantly.

“Very well,” Aaron smiled, picking one up. “Before I start, I look down. Is his dick hard? Yes. Are his eyes fixed on the food? Can I make him salivate?”

At that moment, Kirk swallowed a build up of saliva in his mouth.

“Pigs love to be played with. And, at the start, that’s fine. You can waft it under his nose,” he demonstrated comically. “You can dip your finger in the cream and tap it on his piggy little snout,” he joked, doing just that with Kirk. “But when the time comes to feed, you let them know that you’re serious,” he stated sternly. “Because this isn’t a game, is it? And you can’t let the fat boy treat it like one.”

Kirk slowly nodded his head.

“You get their eyes fixed on you now,” Aaron continued, ensuring that Kirk was doing just that. “They realise, you are the feeder. You are the one they are doing this for. During this time, only the two of you exist in the entire world. Pleasure and greed are the only things that have any consequence now. Nothing else.”

Kirk was absolutely silent, taking all of the information in like never before. He looked entirely fixed within the mindset of the boys he would someday feed. Out of a simple curiosity, Aaron brought the cake a little closer to the guy’s mouth, hardly believing that the jock’s jaws were unhinging. His mouth gaping open, Aaron pushed the cake beyond the point of no return, until it squished and fell upon Kirk’s tongue.

Suddenly Kirk was chewing, with his cheeks filled with cream. Had the guy completely misunderstood the concept of role-playing? Sure, the boy was always prettier than he was intelligent, but feeders didn’t do this. This food wasn’t for him. Yet his hardness throbbed every bit as much as the countless others Aaron had done this to in the past.

“Now you praise your pig,” Aaron explained, deciding to take the strange turn all in his stride and act like this was as he had planned. “You tell him how greedy he’s being; how large and fat this will all make him; how he’s going to struggle to get into his pants tomorrow.”

Kirk moaned with pleasure as the last of the cake was pushed into his mouth. He licked Aaron’s fingers clean; his greedy eyes now turning to the other items on the table. Intuitively, Aaron reached across and found the next item, holding it until it was ready and then pushing it deep inside the athletic boy’s mouth.

“Your pig is going to get thirsty pretty quickly, so you need your drinks to hand. These need to be equally high in calories,” he smiled, cracking open a can of soda. “Not too cold,” he stated cautiously. “Everything should flow. We hit them hard and fast while they’re in the zone.”

Kirk took the can of soda and chugged it in one.

Still determined not to show even the slightest bit of surprise, Aaron simply continued his tuition. “Don’t be tempted to just feed the pig what he likes,” he cautioned, seeing that Kirk’s eyes had fallen back onto the cream cakes. “We want to keep mixing up those flavours and textures, pouring in the liquid calories and making the pig wait for those favourites.”

Kirk nodded, accepting whatever was fed into his mouth.

“Always, ALWAYS keep an eye on his dick,” Aaron insisted, taking his hand to Kirk’s hardness and rubbing it for short, gentle periods. “He’s going to want to climax, but it’s your job to make him wait. You do not let him touch himself! His dick belongs to you. You call the shots. And the pig isn’t getting his pleasure until he’s completely stuffed.”

At this, Kirk seemed to redouble his efforts, eating faster and greedier than even before. He’d slipped perfectly into the role; indistinguishable in his apparent lust to feed. His stomach was bloating up, yet still he feasted.

“By this point, your pig is going to be completely disoriented. He’s lost track of what he’s eaten and he has no idea what’s coming next. He’s already massively overdosed on calories, but because of the speed you’re delivering it all to him, his brain hasn’t caught up yet. This is the stuffing ‘window of opportunity’, and you’ve got to push the fatty hard until it closes.”

The food on the table was quickly disappearing. It had been a few months since Aaron had fed a young athlete of Kirk’s stature; almost forgetting how much boys like this could gorge.

“You’ll know when it’s time to stop. The pace slows and they wince at the stretch. But any sign of heaving and you’ve already taken it too far,” Aaron stated. “You make them look you in the eyes again as you take their dick in your hand. You make them say ‘thank you’ for doing this to them, even though they might, even now, be starting to regret how much they have eaten. You tell them what a greedy pig they have been; what all those calories are going to do to their body.”

Kirk was already pulling a face as he felt his orgasm building.

“Now you make them rub their big ol’ tummy,” Aaron ordered, grabbing at Kirk’s limp wrist and placing the boy’s large hand on the top, and most swollen part, of his bloated stomach. 

Immediately, the jock’s hand began to explore that new, tightly-packed and solid shape; all so beautifully timed as his pleasure was about to peak.

“And as tough as it is to admit… this moment… the fatty’s actual climax; it’s really not about the feeder,” Aaron whispered now. “It’s about the pig realising what he’s done to HIMSELF; how completely fucked he is for getting so turned on, eating like he has for you.”

Kirk’s breathing was so erratic, with short, squeaking moans escaping from his lips every couple of seconds.

“You make the fat boy look you in the eye. Do what you want inbetween. You can make him promise to get fatter for you, make him oink like a pig, or force a final doughnut into his greedy little mouth; it really doesn’t matter,” he breathed, holding Kirk’s stare with a vice-like grip. “Just let the pig know that you see him for exactly what he is; that he can’t hide it anymore. That he is, and will always be, your greedy hog.”

A massive jet released from Kirk’s crotch, followed by several others, until an almost unfathomable amount of the boy’s excitement had covered his chest and splashed itself all over Aaron’s feeding chair. Yet more stains that would never come out.

Kirk’s charge was assigned a new feeder when he returned to college after the summer. Aaron had made the decision that the boy, who had been so keen to fatten up when Aaron had interviewed him, had been messed around enough by an inadequate feeder. In fact, Aaron had come to realise that Kirk wasn’t even that. Sure, Aaron had flipped feeders into gainers in the past. He even joked that most feeders came with an expiry date, when it would all become too much for them and they’d long for the blubber to be added to their bodies instead. But, Kirk was such a simple boy. Did he even realise yet that he was destined to become a fatty?

“I’m guessing you’ve played some good football in your time,” remarked Kirk’s football coach, heading over to speak to Aaron after he had seen the guy watching his boys play.

“Is it that obvious?” Aaron smiled, knowing that most people assumed he was some sort of football player, given his statuesque height and build. He shook hands with the guy, knowing just how to handle men like these, immediately inventing a backstory for himself in the game that would give him a lot more credibility with the coach. He folded his arms in the same way as him, mimicking the body language and slowly engaging the man enough so that he visibly relaxed more in his company; believing every word he said.

“So just one little broken ankle and that was your entire future NFL career gone?” the coach asked, full of sympathy.

“I think about it every single day,” Aaron lied, shaking his head bitterly. “But you’ve got some decent talent on the field here,” he smiled, pointing to the spot where all the young guys had last stood before heading in to shower.

“They’re okay,” the coach agreed, sounding unconvinced. “We’ve certainly had stronger teams in the past.”

Aaron nodded, as if he knew what he was talking about. “There was one who really caught my eye; the really tall one who spent most of the time over there,” he pointed.

“Kirk?” the coach asked. “Yeah, he’s a good player. Not necessarily the brightest guy I’ve ever come across. He’s quite versatile and plays in a variety of positions. I wouldn’t say he exactly excels in any of them though.”

“Have you ever thought about playing him as an offensive tackle?” Aaron asked. “From what I saw today, he looks more suited to that than anything.”

At this, the coach winced. “You should see some of the guys from the other teams in our league who play in that position. Kirk may be tall and strong, but he’d be dwarfed if he had to go up against them.”

“Bulk him up then,” Aaron shrugged, deciding to lift his arm and show off his bicep. “It’s what my coach did for me. It was the best thing that ever happened for my career. Before the ankle…” he added.

The two men discussed the idea for a little while longer, but Aaron had no intention of hanging around just in case Kirk came out and came over, giving the game away that they knew each other. Instead, he simply planted the seed and left it there to grow.

“When am I getting a new pig?” Kirk asked a couple of weeks later, settling into Aaron’s feeding chair.

“When I think you’re ready,” Aaron lied. “Which reminds me,” he smiled, pulling out his phone and playing a video to the football hunk. “Your last assignment’s new feeder sent me this. He’s getting great results with your old pig. Look at the blubber in that tummy now. His six pack is completely gone!”

“He looks completely different!” Kirk marvelled.

“That’s not even the best part,” Aaron chuckled, waiting for the section in the video when the pig turned and bounced his butt cheeks. “His new feeder says he’s never seen anything like it. It’s like the muscle just completely vanished and been replaced by pure blubber. Look at those thighs too! He’s going to be so bottom heavy!”

“That can’t be the same guy,” Kirk protested. “He didn’t gain like that for me.”

“Well, it’s all about finding the right technique that works for your pig,” Aaron explained, undressing himself and grabbing the supplies from the kitchen.

Kirk had followed his lead, kicking his shirt, sweatpants and underwear to the side and sitting himself back down again. An obvious coating and ring of light blubber sat around his middle from all the sessions Aaron had conducted with him in the last few weeks, but it wasn’t time to acknowledge that with him just yet.

“This is the shake and suck technique,” Aaron went on. “It’s the method that helped your old pig get that huge ass of his. I made this shake up this morning, so it’s had plenty of time to lose the chill.” Aaron heaved, lifting a huge gallon container of thick liquid and putting it on the coffee table with a bump. “You’ve had it plenty of times before. You know what’s in it,” he smirked.

“Yeah, but…” Kirk mumbled, looking at the size of the container. “I’ve only had the odd flask of it when we’ve been training. No one could drink that much of it.”

“That’s where this funnel comes in so handy,” the feeder smiled, lifting it up for Kirk to see. “It stops the pig from ending the chug the moment he starts to feel a little uncomfortable, and so it gives us a lot more control over how much we want the fat boy to take down.”

Kirk’s erection had returned. His legs twitched and he looked down suggestively at it. “What about the sucking part of this method?” he asked, knowing that no one gave a blow job like Aaron.

“It’s called the ‘shake and suck’ technique,” Aaron laughed. “As in… one BEFORE the other!” he teased, noting that Kirk appeared aroused enough to begin. “All you need to do is hold this flask, like this,” he instructed, resting Kirk’s head backwards into the chair at the same time. “Then just, chug away until the funnel is emptied.”

From his position, standing behind the feeding chair and looking over Kirk, Aaron could fully appreciate the gentle loss of definition in the boy’s stomach muscles. Today’s session was going to do so much more serious damage! He lifted the container and let it glug outwards, filling the funnel held steady by the athlete underneath. Just as instructed, the naive boy began swallowing it all up, even as Aaron continued to pour; never letting it get below half-way.

At the first break, Kirk moaned loudly, rubbing his enlarged stomach. Then he burped, long and coarsely, until he at last felt more comfortable. “Fuck!” he sighed. “How much of that stuff did you just pour in? I thought it was never going to end!”

“There’s plenty more, don’t you worry!” Aaron laughed, turning so that he could feed his own erection into Kirk’s mouth. “This is something you can only do at the start of this technique,” Aaron explained. “And you’ve got to go gentle. You can’t be making your pig gag when there’s all that fattening liquid in his stomach.”

Aaron could tell that Kirk was at last starting to learn some of the blow job skills he’d been taught in recent weeks. Aaron exhaled and felt his eyes widen. Shit, this guy was actually pretty good!

“And that’s enough of that,” Aaron smiled, pulling out before he lost his composure. “Back to business!” he ordered, placing the funnel back into Kirk’s hands. “This second chug has to be shorter, and the next one will be shorter again,” he explained, already pouring from the now considerably lighter container and looking down to check that Kirk’s hardness wasn’t faltering.

At the end of the second chug, Kirk moaned once more and gave off a long fog-horn like burp. However, this time his stomach was so rounded and stretched, actually resembling a belly for the first time. Without even prompting, Kirk’s hands began exploring it as Aaron engaged in a gentle first suck in his crotch. Not that Aaron would ever have told him, but already over two thirds of the gallon of gainer shake was gone.

“Depending on your pig, this method can take all day. And that’s fine,” Aaron nodded. “The main thing is, we want that shake inside them.”

Automatically, Kirk rested his head back again the moment he felt ready. The third session began and Kirk was soon enjoying the rewards of having Aaron’s lips around his erection once more.

“A pretty effective technique, huh?” Aaron laughed, just stopping as Kirk seemed about to climax.

“Let’s finish this thing!” Kirk grunted, throwing his head back and knowing that the end was near. Fuck the consequences. He needed that orgasm soon.

“You want me to take on another pig?” asked Jack, one of Aaron’s most capable feeders, a few weeks later. “That’s two in the last six weeks!”

Aaron nodded apologetically. “I know. I would do it myself, but I just don’t have the time. His name’s Peter; twenty-two, already chubby; great little appetite when I interviewed him. He wants pushing hard, and he’s kinky as fuck. I think you’ll have a lot of fun with him,” he summarised, showing Jack a picture before sending over the contact details.

“Cute!” Jack smiled. “Are you sure you’re okay with letting me have all the fun?”

“I just know you’ll do a great job,” Aaron chuckled, slapping the guy on his back.

Jack simply smiled back knowingly. “I bumped into Kirk the other day. He told me you haven’t given him a pig in months.”

Aaron raised his eyebrows. “Well, there are reasons for that.”

“You’re flipping him, aren’t you?” Jack pressed. “Kirk tried to tell me that his coach is bulking him up to play a new position on the field, but there’s no denying your handiwork on that little paunch of his. That’s where most of your time is going these days, isn’t it?”

“Possibly,” Aaron smirked, liking how direct Jack could be at times. “I’m throwing everything at him and I’ve yet to find a single one of my moves that doesn’t work on him.”

“Does he realise?” Jack asked.

“What do you think?” Aaron laughed, knowing that he didn’t need to hide his wicked side with a guy like Jack. “I’ve even got him writing up an assignment for me on the ‘feeder training’ he’s had in the last few weeks! He’s coming round this evening for the ‘Funnel, Fuck and Flip’ exercise.”

Jack chuckled. He’d only met Kirk a handful of times, so could hardly pity the guy if he had fallen into one of Aaron’s typical games. “So when are you going to make your move on him?” he asked.

“Soon,” Aaron smiled. “He’s almost ready now… Just one last little push!”

Later that evening, Kirk bent himself against the table with his legs stretched. His stomach was hard and swollen with gainer shake, drooping down as his head was held only inches above a decadent three-layered chocolate cake.

“Not many guys can hold an erection like I can,” Aaron explained, having pushed himself inside Kirk’s tight butt hole with a lot less wincing from the athlete than in previous weeks. “So don’t worry if you struggle with this move when you’re feeding a fatty this way.”

“Okay,” Kirk mumbled back, breathing deeply as his body tried to get used to the sheer size of Aaron’s thick hardness inside of him. “I think I’ll be ready in a second,” he whispered.

“Good,” Aaron replied, trying not to laugh. He leaned a little more over Kirk’s broad back. “Now, messy pigs adore this one. All I’m going to do is gently lower your head into the cake before I start fucking you.”

“So the pig has to try and eat whilst he’s getting pounded?” Kirk asked.

“That’s the idea,” Aaron smirked.

“Is that even possible?” Kirk asked again.

“I guess you’ll soon find out,” Aaron chuckled, checking that Kirk was ready and then pushing his head gently into the cake so that his entire face was covered in frosting. “Good Piggy!” he called out, already starting to fuck him. Despite the many fatties he’d worked on over the years, few were ever as thrilling as this!

A few weeks later, Kirk had arrived at Aaron’s in a somewhat distracted mood. “Coach says I’ve put on too much fat in my bulk, and that it’s affected my performance on the field.”

“Of course you have,” Aaron shrugged, getting himself undressed as Kirk did the same. “How else am I supposed to teach you about how to tease a fat ass properly? You can’t make an omelette without cracking a few eggs.”

Kirk seemed to consider this.

“Now is the time when you can really get to grips with your pig’s trigger words. Some of them love being called out on being a pig, whereas others are not keen. Some don’t even like teasing at all.”

“So you ask them what words they like to be called?” Kirk asked.

“No,” Aaron sighed, wondering how he ever thought that Kirk could make a good feeder. He simply had no intuition at all. “You try the words out and see what works best. Which ones suit them? Which ones get them the hardest? That’s the way I figured out yours.”

“I have trigger words?” Kirk shot back in surprise.

“Of course you do. All FAT BOYS do,” Aaron smiled, poking Kirk in his doughy middle, making the guy’s hardness bounce. “‘Fat Boy’: the name works on you every time. I never could have got you to complete that pot of whipping cream last week without it.”

“Fuck!” Kirk marvelled, perhaps realising for the first time just how much Aaron had actually burrowed into his head. “Are there more?”

“Of course there are,” Aaron nodded. “There are movements too. Like when I cup your glutes and give them a little bounce,” he demonstrated, giving Kirk’s butt cheek the lightest of wobbles. “See?” he asked, nodding down at Kirk’s weeping erection. “You’ve been so firm and athletic your whole life, this is a completely new experience for you. The feeling of fresh fat invading your body. It’s why being called a ‘fat ass’ works so well on you too.”

Aaron kissed him deeply as he continued to jiggle the boy’s glutes. Kirk’s breathing was hot and heavy; more aroused than ever he had been so early into their sessions. This was new and exciting.

“Few people would spot it in you; partly because you're so broad and muscular. But you’re also a very submissive boy,” Aaron continued.

“I am?” Kirk asked. “I thought feeders had to be mostly dominant?”

At this Aaron sniggered. “Oh, come on, Kirk!” he smiled, still bouncing the soft glutes. “You’re no feeder.”

Kirk closed his eyes to appreciate the feeling of his jiggling butt cheeks. “What am I then?” he whispered, sounding like he was finally ready to hear the truth.

Aaron placed his mouth right next to Kirk’s ear and whispered back, deploying the boy’s ultimate trigger word. 

“You’re my big, fat HOG!”

Just like that, Kirk moaned like he had been shattered into a thousand pieces. He pulled Aaron into him and kissed him with more passion than ever before.

“You’re going to quit football for me,” Aaron demanded, immediately seizing the moment as Kirk had surrendered himself; a part of him released and fully conscious for the first time.

“I’ll do anything!” Kirk agreed, allowing himself to be pushed into the feeding chair; another stuffing about to commence.

“Good!” Aaron grinned. “Because you’re moving in here with me too. I’m taking a six month sabbatical from the other fatties. I want to see what I can do when I just devote myself to one little hog, twenty four hours a day. How far can I take them?”

Kirk looked down at his stout little belly and his eyes filled with lust. “I’m all yours!”

[dylsluvrs]

ryomen sukuna x reader | college au [18+]

touchdown ch.2 boundary king!

ᡣ𐭩 pairing. football player! sukuna x journalism major! reader

ᡣ𐭩 summary. ryomen sukuna. your best friend’s frat brother. he’s tall, hot, suave, not to mention the best thing to happen to college football since…well, ever. he’s in a world completely different to your own. while he spends his nights partying and racking up his body count, you spend your nights reading and racking up your word count. but when the two of you decide to come to a mutually beneficial agreement, you realise you aren’t so different after all.

ᡣ𐭩 warnings/tags. 18+. fem!reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, alcohol consumption, weed consumption, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, fake dating, opposites attract, acquaintances to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, sukuna being an asshole, best friend gojo.

ᡣ𐭩 chapter. 2/?

ᡣ𐭩 word count. 1.5k

ᡣ𐭩 a/n. hi my babies!! official chapter 2 of touchdown is out now! i’ve had a lot of uni assignments to do so i haven’t been able to update, but i’m done for christmas as on the 17th so i’ll have more time to write! i hope you all enjoy this chapter and pls know all your reblogs mean so much to me!!

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Your hands shook steadily from the cold of the November air, your mind having skipped over the mittens laying on your dresser ready to be worn, thus leading to your predicament. You struggled holding onto the files, notebooks and tape recorders you needed for the day’s interviews, and your brain was so scattered you didn’t register the sight before you. The football field. The exact place you were looking to avoid after last night’s run in with the king of assholes. “Hey! Princess!”

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You began to move quicker, willing your legs to carry you as far away from the football field as humanly possible. But he was quicker. he caught up to you instantly, with a tap on your shoulder. You spun around, and there he stood, his signature cocky smirk gracing his lips as he stared down at you. “What do you want, Sukuna?” His smirk twisted into a scowl at your attitude. He huffed, taking a side glance towards the rest of the team packing up their gear to leave practice. “Come on, l/n. I told you I needed a favour.”

“And I told you i’m not interested. Get one of the sorority girls to do it.”

“You and I both know if I give one of those bitches a chance, they’re gonna think it’s real. I need someone who won’t get attached.” As much as you wanted to let out a snarky comment at that, there was logic in what he was saying. You wouldn’t be interested in Sukuna if he was the last man on Earth. So instead, you let out a resigned sigh, finally meeting his gaze. “What’s in it for me?”

“You wanna interview the team, right? I’ll make it happen.” Your breath hitched, and you hoped he didn’t notice. (He did.) You’d been wanting to interview the football team for your class for months, and the only person you could get to agree was Satoru, under the ‘best friend privilege’ category.

“Does that include you?” You needed the captain to be in on this or you may as well not bother with the rest of the team. “I’ll be first in line, princess.” You rolled your eyes at the pet name, but held your hand out anyway. “Okay. I’ll do it. But we need rules, Sukuna. I’m not doing this without them.” He kissed his teeth, but nodded nonetheless. And thus came about the rules of your game.

Princess and Sukuna’s Rules:

1. Attend all parties together

> attend most parties together

2. Minimal PDA - hugs, hand holding, ass grabbing, SOME GROPING

3. NO KISSING!!!!

“Are you fucking kidding? Have you ever been to a party? No one in this fucking place is gonna believe this shit if we don’t make out at parties.” The urge to punch him was getting stronger as your arguments about the rules went on, and you were close to losing your shit with him. “It’s non-negotiable, Sukuna. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine. No fucking kissing.” His hands fell across his face, eyes practically rolling into the back of his head. “Okay, I’ve got another one. You can’t flirt with other girls like Ronnie did in can’t buy me love. It’s gonna be too obvious this is fake if you do that.”

“What the fuck is can’t buy me love?” Your jaw dropped. This son of a bitch didn’t know one of the greatest love stories of all time. “Are you kidding? How have you never seen that movie? It’s pretty much the same thing as what we’re doing, but Ronnie, who’s the nerd version of you, gets too big for his boots and starts trying to fuck Cindy’s friends, and that’s how everyone finds out it was all bullshit.”

“So you’re getting possessive over me already?” His smirk only grew as he looked at your flushed cheeks, and you could feel the tips of your ears burning under his gaze. “You want everyone to know this is a load of shit? No fucking flirting. And no snitching.”

“First rule of fight club, princess.” Your brows furrowed as you looked at him. He could see the confusion in your eyes and it only served to anger him.

“You’ve never seen fight club? Right it down, woman. I’m so making you watch it.” He ripped the notebook from your hands, scribbling down ‘make princess watch fight club’. In turn, you snatched the notebook back from him, your neat handwriting a stark contrast to his. ‘make asshole watch can’t buy me love.’ You both nodded. A silent agreement that a movie night was in order for the two of you.

“You drive?” You shook your head without looking up from your notebook, beginning to draw small doodles hearts around the words to pass the time. “I’ll pick you up for my games. Got a practice jersey you can wear.” You nodded, a quiet agreement that this should be added to the list of rules. You begin to write it down, before stopping in your tracks. “Wait, when are your games?”

“Friday nights, why? Got something better to do?” He had a teasing grin on his face. He knew what the answer would be. He’d seen you creeping out of Gojo’s room in the early hours of friday mornings before. “I work till five, is that okay?” He nodded, stuffing some chips in his mouth that he’d stolen from your bag.

“Games don’t start till seven, girl. Thought you’d know all this, miss journalist.” You huffed, ripping the chips away from him and eating them yourself, a sly smirk on your lips. “They were on saturdays at five last year, asshole.”

“I’m impressed. I still think we gotta kiss though, princess. Make it real believable.”

“Choke.” You grinned at him. His eyes narrowed but you could see the slightly playful glint hiding behind his red irises.

“Fine. But you gotta let me at least grab your ass. I’m a physical guy.” You offered him the rest of the chips, slightly smiling at the way his laidback expression faltered into happiness at the sight of food. “You can grab my ass all you want, Sukuna. It’s probably the only time in your life you’ll touch one that isn’t made of silicone.”

“Ouch, babe. I don’t like fake girls. The fake girls like me. All girls like me.” You scoffed, placing your notebook in your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. He followed suit, throwing his gear bag over his body and following you away from the football field. “There’s a party tonight, you gotta come. First step to making everyone think we’re fucking. I’ll take you with me, sit you all pretty on my lap, get everyone thinking you’re my girl.”

“Okay. My roommates going so i’ll get a ride with her and see you there, yeah?” He nodded along with what you were saying, constantly tugging the strap of his gear bag from under his armpit. “Sounds good, princess. Who’d you wanna interview from the team first? Me?”

“I’m gonna leave you until last, if that’s okay? I wanna go for Geto first, he’s probably got the most going on with the tattoo shop, the team and being an art major.”

“Make an order, send it to me, i’ll get it done. You won’t get no problems from the guys.” You smiled, before leaning over to grab his face, planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek, leaving a bright lipstick mark just under his cheekbone. His hand instinctively went around your waist, as his head tried to turn to capture your lips with his. “What the fuck?”

“Look to your right. No! Don’t make it obvious, asshole!” His eyes fell to his right, spotting Choso and Nanami not too far from the two of you, watching you with surprised eyes. “Gotta make it believable right? Speaking of…I need a nickname for you. No girl calls their boyfriend by their last name.”

His eyes narrowed. There was only two nicknames he ever went by, and one of those, you definitely weren’t allowed to use. The other, appointed to him by the rest of the team, and commentators watching the games. The king of curses.

“Just use my first name.” You groaned, wrapping your arm around his bicep as you walked when you realised the two team members were still watching the two of you. “Ryomen is such a mouthful.”

He smirked down at you. “Damn right I am.” You shoved his chest with a small laugh bubbling in your own. “What about Ryo?” He hated the way he enjoyed the sound of the nickname rolling off of your tongue. It made him think how he could get you to say it more often. And how desperately he wanted to hear you say it in a sickly sweet voice as you fell apart—NO!

“Okay, princess. You can call me Ryo. I’ll see you at the party, yeah?” You nodded, giving him one final kiss on the cheek, ignoring the tingle it sent down your spine.

“See you later, Ryo.”

taglist: @kyo-kyo1 @kenmacantakemeaway @coldluminarykoala @sukubusss @clp-84 @ieathairs @toratsue @mocha-the-muse @livinggxd3adgirl @gojoscumsluttt @sukuxna0 @gaychaosgremlin

[burreauxsworld]

Locked In (1) | Joe Burrow

Joe Burrow x Singer!Reader

Exboyfriend!joshallen x Exgirlfriend!reader

•••

Being in the spotlight isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Yeah, there’s glitz and glamour and getting to live out your dream you’ve had since you were a little girl, but deep down you’re still human, with normal human emotions. Emotions that are completely normal, even when people tell you to never show them. You honestly were doing so well considering the circumstances you were left with. A completely shattered heart, an album that had just dropped (full of love songs written about the person that shattered your heart), and a sold out stadium tour that would take place over the entire summer. You were thriving. Slowly but surely, your heart mended itself back together every time you took the stage. Nothing could stand in your way.

Then football season rolled around and people started noticing that you weren’t in your normal spot, in a suite at Highmark Stadium. Supporting the man you believed you would spend the rest of your life with. Even had the ring to prove it. But it all came crashing down the night you walked in on him in bed with his ex from college. It absolutely crushed you. Especially because Josh Allen seemed like the perfect guy. He treated you well, showed you off in public, spoke about you in post-game interviews, the whole nine yards. You never would have saw this coming in a million years. But it did, and it felt like the worst day of your life.

Pre season wasn’t too bad, people just assumed you were busy. Then week one came and you still weren’t there, and people started to question things. Headlines quickly made their way into the world, it was mentioned in sports news all over the country, and you and Josh had started to trend on Twitter. It was all mixed feelings. Mostly just men that were happy to see you go, the women tearing Josh down, and some fans that were devastated about the split. You never commented on the topic. You figured you’d let it die down, and at some point it would be addressed in a normal adult way.

Josh had other plans.

He’d gone on a podcast for barstool sports, and when asked about the topic he didn’t shy away from lying to the entire world. “We both have pretty busy lives. She was going to be starting her tour and didn’t really have a lot of time on her hands. There’d be times where she’d go days without reaching out to me. I just couldn’t live that way anymore”

You were dumbfounded. Completely and utterly baffled. “Brittany and I reconnected last season when we played the Chiefs. It had been such a long time since I’d seen her. We kept in touch. But assure you, there was no crossover. I’d never even think about cheating on a woman”

Blow number two. The cheating had went on far longer than you’d realized, and right under your nose. You were too busy catching up with Taylor Swift in the suite to notice that your fiancé met up with his ex. “I think I’m the happiest I’ve been in a while. I can’t speak for Y/N but I can honestly say for myself that I checked out of that relationship a year before it ended. I could not physically live that way anymore”

You couldn’t watch anymore. You powered your phone off and threw it to the end of your couch. Tears streaming down your face, your heart feeling like it shattered all over again. He’d just proposed to you in July of last year, the two of you started planning your wedding for the off season. It was all a lie.

You thought about retaliating. Putting him on blast the same way he did you, but that wouldn’t make you feel better. At this point, you weren’t sure what would make you feel better, but you knew you couldn’t be sad over him anymore. You needed to pick yourself back up.

•••

2 days later

You laughed hysterically as you threw your head back. When you realized your management team wasn’t laughing with you, you slowly stopped laughing. “Oh you guys are serious?” You question, dumbfounded. “Absolutely not. I’m not stepping foot into another football game for the rest of my life” you say firmly. “Y/N, it’s just to sing the national anthem, and then you can leave. You don’t have to stay for the entire game” your manager, Ryan, tells you with hope in his voice.

“And what reason am I going to give the media for leaving? That I was a heartbroken little child so I couldn’t stay? That’ll do more harm than good and you know it” you rant, letting out a sigh. “I don’t have a choice, do I?” You question, and put your head down when Ryan makes a face.

“It’s out of my hands. The record label won’t produce your album if you say no”

“When and where?” You say, reluctantly. “Sunday, October 6th, and in Cincinnati. This is the first AFC North divisional. There will be a lot of viewers and attendees already but you singing the national anthem would raise those numbers. The NFL is paying you very well to do this, plus you have a private suite with your name on it if you would like to stay,” Ryan explains, not tearing his eyes from you. He knew how hard this would be for you. He hated even having to ask you to do this.

“I’ll be there. But only because the future of my album rides on this. The NFL literally makes me sick to my stomach right now” you rant, rolling your eyes. “You can’t let one guy deter you from your passion of football. You loved football even before he who shall not be named. Besides, I will be there the entire time, and so will Megan. Megan is kick ass at what she does. All this Voldemort nonsense is gonna be put behind us. Clean slate, Y/N/N” Ryan assures you, and you crack a smile. “Voldemort?” You question.

“Oh yeah, he sucks. He’s lucky you’re giving him the grace that you are, and that you held me back from beating his ass that night” Ryan rants, and you laugh. Grateful that not only is he your manager, but one of your best friends. “But seriously, I’ll be there, next to you the entire day. And a little birdie told me you have some fans on the Bengals. Who knows, you may find a hotter guy that’ll be an upgrade from shit-for-brains” Ryan teases, and you scoff.

“I doubt it. I’ve sworn off athletes. Especially ones that play professional football”

“You say that now,” Ryan winks as he leaves the room, and you roll your eyes, yet again.

•••

Sunday October 6th, 2024

You heard the whispers as you walked past people. The judgmental comments about you neglecting your relationship, how you were the reason for its demise. The awful things people were saying about you, and screaming at you, almost made you want to crawl into a hole and never come out. The worst ones, were the looks of sympathy you got from the women in the stadium. You knew you shouldn’t have agreed to this.

“Ryan, I don’t know if I can do this. They all hate me” you stress, and he’s already shaking his head at you. “They don’t hate you-“

“Slut!”

“Seriously?” You say, with a flat tone. “Okay, so some macho men are just mad that you’re here. Who cares? Y/N, your career is literally riding on this”

“I can get a new label” you retort and Ryan sighs. “Y/N, you got this. You’ve literally dealt with so much worse than this-“

“Y/N, you’re on in 10” an NFL official says, walking past the two of you. You feel like your throat is closing up. There’s a lump that wouldn’t go away. In all the years you’ve been performing for big crowds, this one had you nervous. “Josh turned me into a social pariah when it comes to the NFL. He literally blamed me for everything, Ryan. I shouldn’t be here” you rant, tears brimming your eyes. “You absolutely deserve to be here. And for what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have been upset if you spoke your truth. Damage control is my job, let me worry about that. You just go out there and sing your heart out” another voice chimes in, and you turn your head to see Megan, your publicist.

“It’s time,” Ryan says. “Y/N, keep your head held high. You can do this. I’ll be right over on the Bengals sideline waiting for you to finish” Ryan assures you, as the three of you walk toward the opening to the field. Here goes nothing.

•••

After The Game

You should’ve known that staying at the game would mean Ryan would convince you to go to the after party. Although the game ended in a Ravens win, the team still seemed to be in good spirits. A lot of them were actually a lot of fun to be around. You were originally invited by Ja’Marr Chase, who made a point to come up to the suite and invite you personally. Letting you know that he and a few other guys were big fans, though part of you thinks he was just being nice.

You came in and conversed with him and a few other guys before making your way to the bar, then to an empty booth in the corner of the room. Ryan was mingling with some of the coaches and Megan decided not to attend the party, so you were pretty much left to your own devices. You nursed your dirty shirley as you scrolled through twitter. A lump forming in your throat at the harsh things being said about you.

“You really shouldn’t look at that stuff. I’ve learned that the hard way”

Your head snapped up at the sound of the unfamiliar voice, as the couch dipped next to you. “I hope this seat isn’t taken, though you’ve been sitting by yourself for the last half hour. Not that I was watching like a creep. I promise. I just got tired of standing at the bar” the deep voice rambled. “You’re okay. The seats not taken” you say, a small smile gracing your features.

“I’m just not very popular at the moment” you admit, taking another sip of your drink. “You played really well today, by the way. If you ask me, the Bengals had that in the bag” you say, changing the subject and he scoffs. “Always room for improvement,” he says, sipping his drink. “I’m Joe, by the way” he says, extending his hand to you.

“Y/N,”

“And since we’re voicing opinions, you didn’t deserve to be dragged down in the media. I’m not sure what actually happened, and by no means am I asking you to tell me, but I think it should have stayed private. Josh seemed like a nice guy, but that was a low blow” Joe says, not looking at you, as he yet again sips his drink. You frowned at the mention of Josh, and sank back against the couch. “Thanks, I guess,” you mutter, bringing your glass up to your lips. Joe looks over at you, and mentally face-palms.

“I’m so sorry. I overstepped. I shouldn’t have commented on something I know nothing about,” he says, a sense of urgency in his tone. “I literally came over here with liquid courage, with the intention of getting to know you and I fucked it up by bringing up your ex. I’m such an idiot” Joe rants, leaning back against the couch. You look over at him, a strange feeling in your stomach.

“Joe, it’s okay. You were trying to make conversation-“

“But I could’ve asked like what your favorite color is, not brought up your ex” Joe says, internally beating himself up. “It’s yellow” you answer, and he looks over at you confused. “My favorite color is yellow” you say, and he smiles. “Let’s start over. I’m Y/N Y/L/N,” you say, extending your hand with a smile.

“I’m Joe Burrow. It’s nice to meet you, Y/N”

[theuntoldstorythatneedsawriter]

Close Despite the Distance pt.3 ✈️🌍

Mapi León x reader

warning : fluffy 💭💗

pt.1 ; pt.2

summary :

You and Mapi are in a long-distance relationship, juggling between the demands of her football career and your life back home. Despite the distance, love always finds a way.

You sit on your bed, phone in hand, scrolling through pictures of Mapi. It's been weeks since you last saw her in person, and the familiar ache in your chest returns. Long-distance relationships are never easy, especially when your girlfriend is one of the best football players in the world, always traveling from one city to the next.

As if on cue, your phone buzzes with a video call from Mapi. Her name lights up your screen, and you can’t help but smile as you answer.

"Hola, cariño," her voice is warm and familiar, a comfort even across miles of distance.

"Hey," you reply, your heart lifting at the sight of her. She looks tired, but the smile on her face is enough to make you forget your loneliness for a moment. "How's Barcelona?"

"It's good, busy as always. Training's been tough, but you know me—I love a challenge," she grins, the playful spark in her eyes making your heart flutter. "I miss you, though."

"I miss you too," you admit, leaning back against your pillow. "It’s been hard not having you here."

Mapi’s expression softens. "I know, I hate it too. But hey, it's just a few more weeks, right? Then I’ll be back, and we can spend some real time together."

The two of you talk for a while longer, catching up on life. You tell her about your day, the small, insignificant details that you know she loves to hear. She shares stories from training and the team, making you laugh with her witty comments and infectious energy.

But as the conversation slows, the reality of the distance creeps in. The calls are wonderful, but they never truly fill the void of her presence. You miss the way she would tease you in person, the way she would drape her arm around you and kiss your forehead when you were feeling down.

"You know," Mapi’s voice breaks the silence, "I’ve been thinking. After the season ends, I want to spend more time with you. Proper time. Not just these short visits."

Your heart skips a beat. "What do you mean?"

"I mean… maybe I could stay with you for a while. You know, a couple of months. I’ll talk to the team, figure something out." Her eyes are sincere, filled with a hope that mirrors your own. "I don’t want to keep doing this forever. We need to be together."

The thought of having Mapi around for more than just a fleeting visit makes your heart soar, but you're also cautious. "You think that'll work? I mean, with your schedule and everything?"

"I’ll make it work," she says firmly. "You’re worth it."

You smile, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. "You’re worth it too."

The call eventually ends, and though the distance remains, so does the hope. The days ahead might be tough, but knowing that Mapi is just as committed to making this work as you are brings a sense of peace.

And in the end, love is always worth the wait.

💕 @lovewomensfootball 💕

[rhyrhy]

Slut me out˚ · .˚ ༘🦋⋆｡˚

Football! Fuckboy! Abby Anderson x female reader!

Cw: fingering, pussy slap, manipulation: gaslighting, toxic behavior, college/ modern setting Abby!, no talks on body or race specifics! Part 3 at the bottom!

MDNI!

Chapter 2 : radio silence

All seven parts here

Anderson got what she wanted, The chase was over. what did you expect, Her to keep in contact? Pfft.

As the weekend passed, No cute texts. No calls. No more flirty Snapchats. Nothing. you sighed, tossing your phone onto the pillow beside you. disappointment washing over you.

After all, You knew her game. You weren’t special.

Then it buzzed—You picked it up and saw

Your stomach twisted

she hadn’t talk to since that night, and this was all she had to say, seriously?

No hi, hello , how are you? or apology for ghosting..

As irritated as you were, The mirror selfie turned it into a small stomach flutter. Her toned torso, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on her hips. damn it damn it! Despite better judgment, You were texting before you could gather your thoughts. Deleting the other one and sending:

She had her way the first time, but you weren’t a damn doormat. So, You gathered yourself, and headed over…Maybe she just didn’t want to text it?

——

“Hey, you” She said looking up from her phone. Her voice low and sweet, like she hadn’t just disappeared on you for days.

“Hey abs” you said with your arms crossed, entering her dorm.

The night you had together came back in vivid flashes. Her kisses trailed along your skin , soft and intoxicating. Then Afterward, when you laid tangled together in her twin sized bed, your fingers combing through her dirty blonde hair as she rested against you. Her long lashes fluttering in her sleep. You knew you had broken your own rules for yourself. Yet, It was so good..so head-spinningly good..the way she talked you through the whole thing. It almost drowned out every rumor you’d heard about her on campus. It was almost enough to drown out the sting of the last few days. Almost.

Her smirk widened. She tossed her phone and gestured toward her bed.

“Aw, don’t look at me like that,” “Come here.”

she teased, patting the spot next to her on the bed.

“Aren’t you missing something first?”

You leaned on her door, knowing if you got closer you’d fold. You stayed put, arms tightening across your chest. She tilted her head, her smile softening in a way that you knew should’ve been comforting, but wasn’t.

“What?”

“You ghost me all weekend, then send me some thirst trap like I’m supposed to just… come running? You think that’s cute?”

You swear you seen a small eye-roll but she just straightened up and said,

“Look, I didn’t mean to ghost you, okay? I’ve just been… busy. You know how it is. Practices, classes, the team stuff. It’s not personal.”

“Not personal?” you echoed, this was your body, your time, taking up space in your brain. It’s more than ‘personal’

Her face softened further as she stood, crossing the small space between you and placing her hands lightly on your arms. “Hey,” she said softly, her voice dripping with practiced sweetness. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. You’re different. I like you.”

You wanted to pull away, but her words…the soft tone, they hit you in just the right places. She tilted her head, her dirty blonde hair falling into her face. “You know me,” she continued. “I’m not great at this kind of thing, but… I missed you.“

“You didn’t text me once,” you muttered, your voice faltering. You were letting her back in.

“I know, I know” her hands sliding down your arms until they reached your hands. She laced her fingers with yours, giving a light squeeze. “I’m sorry. Let me make it up to you?”

You hesitated, torn between the warmth of her touch and the cold of her actions. “Abs…”

you sighed, your resolve crumbling. Her lips curled into a soft, apologetic smile, and you felt yourself slipping, even though every fiber of your being told you not to. She had you right where she wanted you.

“I won’t do it again,” she said tugging you closer. “Promise.”

—-

that is how you found yourself with your lips crashed back into hers.

she practically dragged you onto her bed, not that you were complaining. Propping herself on her pillows and patting the space between her legs. You crawled on the bed, sitting with your back pressed against her chest. Her arms around you beginning to flush out any doubt you had, you were fighting to convince yourself that her words were genuine.

“Mm, Missed you” Abby said pressing butterfly kisses on your neck. Hands moving to grope your chest through your shirt.

“you didn’t act like it, abs” you felt a small frown form. Still leaning into her. Stomach fluttering at her arms on your waist, and her chin on your shoulder. Did she really miss you? How busy could she have been to not check in?

“I know, I know. I’m sorry”

She let a half assed apology fall out her lips while her hands roamed over your body. Groping anywhere she could reach.

“You’re gonna forgive me though, right?”

She mumbled kissing along your shoulder. One of her hands coming down to rest on your thigh. Fingering gripping the soft flesh. Your mind began to swirl. Did you really forgive her—? but the thoughts vanished as her hot mouth started to suck at your neck, she found your weak spot. You groaned and your eyes fluttered shut. Her body pushed closer against yours. She continued to leave kisses on your throat. A hand still roaming beneath your shirt. She squeezed at your hips and stomach, you whimpered as her touch left fire in every spot she traced.

“Mhm, there you go….see? I’m sorry” she muttered against your shoulder. Hearing your body give into her touch. Her hands slipping the hem of your Shirt up. Guiding it off your body. You loved-hated this, here you were again. one little apology and a few kisses had you eating right out of the palm of her hand. “still mad?” Abby whispered the words against your skin. You could hear the smirk in her voice. as her hand began tracing small circles on your stomach. Soft touches that had your breath hitching in your throat.

“A little” you said, feeling that guilt pour back in. Cut off by Her fingers began to free the buttons of your jeans. “Abs I—“ you said hearing that nagging voice.

“Relax, Ima show you I’m sorry” She continued to undo the button of your pants. Her mouth moving back to your neck leaving more kisses. She made no move to take them off but pushed her hand in, letting her fingers brush the skin of your pelvis. her hand started a slow rhythm rubbing over your underwear. Feeling the fabric grow damp against her fingers.

When your hips rolled against her hand, asking for more. She hooked a finger on the edge of your underwear shifting it to the side. You didn’t even need to look down, you felt the heat radiating off yourself. folds glistening with Arousal which contrasted your mind, full of uncertainty about her intentions, if the date you werent on meant anything—Almost as if she could read your thoughts Abby cut them off.

“mmn!” Your eyes widened as The back of your head fell back on her shoulder. You shivered at the sudden push of her index finger inside sopping entrance of your tight walls. without giving your brain to process she pumped her middle along with the first.

”Shiiitt, yeah you aren’t mad” Abby said biting her lip. Cheek pressed against yours, feeling you lean back further into her chest. Lips ghosting a smile.

“Abby, I am—“ you yelped feeling her finger rip out of your cunt and a sharp sting on your folds. Her hand slapped against the skin, not wanting you to continue your distaste for her behavior. A small eye-roll following behind it.

once she placed a few ‘I’m sorry’ kisses back on your shoulders she continued. Returning her pads into your dripping entrance.

Those fingers cascaded, in and out. Down the the knuckle and back out until only the pad of her fingers were left. Over and over relentlessly. Lazy sloppy Kisses on your neck occasionally.

“Mmngh-!” You choked out a moan. She wasn’t being gentle, her fingers felt so, so good. sorry or not, she was turning your doubts to mush. It was embarrassing how close you already felt.

“Mhm, thaaats it” “look at you, wet as hell, forgivin’ me” she mumbled sucking on a sensitive spot on the pulse point of your neck.

Her fingers curling towards your front, pressing into the spongey walls, continuing her onslaught on your cunt. toes curling at the sudden pleasure. The heel of the palm nonstop brushing your aching clit.

She was going to make you forgive and most importantly..forget.

Jesus her fingers were deep and hitting the right places. Eyes rolling back as you continued to cry out into the air, rutting your hips into her hand. You were so close.

“Oh my god—…” you whimpered out, voice high pitched and loud. The coil in your belly beginning to snap. Your stomach tightening as your breathing was replaced with “ah, Ah, ah’s” bouncing off her dorm walls. All you could do was grip onto her free arm for dear life as she wasn’t easing up. Her eyes glued to her coated fingers disappearing and reappearing inside of your cunt. The pace only grew as she was determined for you to cum, determined for you to forget about the past few days of going cold turkey. making you feel special again. like you were the only one on her mind, the only one wetting her sheets with your juices.

‘You’re different’ ‘I’m sorry’ ‘I do like you’ her words replaying in your head, coaxing you to let your body give into the orgasm you desperately needed. When she bring her free hand to give your clit a few circular strikes, you let out a loud final cry into her room. Head thrashing against her shoulder, back arched off her chest. seeing specks of white as you squeeze your eyes shut and let the body shocks of your orgasm hit you like a truck.

“Thaaats it..There you go..mhm”

Her fingers slowed, feeling your walls gush and clam onto them.

You shuddered as she pulled her fingers out. Pressing a few half asses kisses on your shoulder.

“Ima do better, promise”

Abby who’d let you rest like that for awhile holding you tenderly…knowing she had zero intention of texting you tomorrow.

———

[joeys-babe]

Joey B Imagines: #6 and #9

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summary: despite your love for joe, you absolutely detested his fashion sense. you and him take up a little bet and if you win you could pick out one of his game day fits.

warnings: none, fluff

pairing: joe burrow x reader

imagine universe: into the mystic

————————————————————————-

(y/n’s pov)

"joe. i love you more than anything, but i'm not letting you wear that in public." - you

"what?! i was expecting you to say something along the lines of 'oh god joe, you'll look so sexy in that. i can't believe you're my husband.’" - joe

after the twins were asleep joe and i would usually savor our alone time because with 2 toddlers, it doesn't happen often. we'd either cuddle up on the couch and watch a show, or lay in bed and just talk. 

currently we were sitting on the couch, joe was online shopping for game day fits and i was texting my dad. i wasn't really paying attention to what joe was looking at until out of the corner of my eye i saw one of the most atrocious suits i had ever seen.

"baby... i'm so sorry but i'm not letting you wear that." - you

"why?" - joe frowned

"joe, do you actually like that?" - you

"yes." - joe

"it's a little much, babe.." - you

"i get it. you'll be embarrassed of me." - joe

"what? no of course not. joe i'm never embarrassed of you-" - you

"you know people will say stuff about it so you don't want me to wear it knowing you'll be embarrassed of me." - joe

"are you kidding me? do you literally hear yourself? if this is the kind of mood you're in i'm going to bed." - you stood up from the couch

"y/n wait.." - joe sighed

i pretended that i didn't hear him and kept walking towards the stairs.

"baby!" - joe

when he noticed that i wasn't going to stop i heard him mumble a silent "fuck" out of defeat.

he knew he shouldn't think of me like that. joe knew that i'd never be embarrassed of him no matter how colorful and outgoing some of his game day fits were.

once i was upstairs i brushed my teeth and then slipped into bed. it wasn't long after that when i heard joes unmistakable footsteps in the hallway.

i heard him shuffling around the room; probably changing out of his clothes since he just slept in boxers. soon after, the bed dipped and i felt his arms wrap around my waist.

"baby?" - joe whispered

since i was facing away from him i thought i'd be able to hide the fact that i wasn't actually sleeping.

"i know you aren't asleep, honey." - joe whispered again

all i did was nudge his arms off, to which he let out a defeated sigh.

"please don't be upset with me, i don't want to argue.." - joe

i rolled over to face him, and as soon as i did he knew he was going to get a talking to.

"do you know how much it hurts when your partner questions if your embarrassed of them? it makes me question how i’ve been as a wife." - you

"i'm sorry.." - joe

"joe you should know better. i've never and will never be embarrassed of you. i'm so proud to be your wife, even if you have questionable fashion sense." - you reached forward and rubbed his cheek

"i know you are. i was just kind of annoyed in the moment. if you don't think i should wear it i won't, do you have any outfit ideas you'd like me to wear?" - joe smiled when he asked the last part

"how about a cowboy hat, some nice boot cut jeans partnered with boots, and a fitted white shirt." - you

"anything but that." - joe

"please, joey?" - you

"nope im not doing it." - joe

"how about we do a bet. if you win you can wear that suit you wanted, but if i win then you have to wear my suggestion." - you

"okay, i like how you talk, burrow. what kinda bet are you thinking?" - joe smirked

"how about we do a scrimmage at the practice fields?" - you

"like a football scrimmage?" - joe chuckled

"yeah." - you

"sweetheart that's like an automatic win for me, i'm a professional." - joe

"i'm better than you think, j" - you

"we'll see about that.." - joe

*a week later*

"okay so i asked zac if we could have a scrimmage and he agreed. it's gonna be in 3 days, after practice that day." - joe

"okay sounds good, am i gonna get my own jersey?" - you

"cant you just use one of mine? it's already got your last name on the back." - joe grinned

"i'd prefer to have my own, i think itd be less confusing for the team if i had a different number." - you

"okay fine. i'll get you a jersey, do you want a specific number?" - joe

"nope you can pick, just not 9." - you

"okay sounds good." - joe smirked to himself as he got his phone out to pull some strings and get you a jersey

the day of the scrimmage i walked over to the practice fields 15 minutes before practice ended.

joe wasn't doing a drill at that time and immediately spotted me.

"hey beautiful!" - joe walked over and kissed you

"flirting with the competition?" - you

"that's what happens when the competition is my gorgeous wife- oh also i have your jersey." - joe

"where is it at? i was thinking about changing early." - you

"my locker. it shouldn't be too hard to find, it's the only jersey that doesn't have a 9 on it." - joe

"what number did you pick?" - you

"you'll see when you get it." - joe smiled

"cmon babe, tell me!" - you

"nah- oh i think coach needs me." - joe

"i didnt hear him call for you?" - you

"is that a whistle i hear?" - joe jogged away

"you're so stupid!" - you grinned as you watched joe run away

i made my way over to the locker room and over to joes little corner. after digging through his messy ass locker that i've been begging for him to clean for days, i found my jersey. it was pretty easy to find since it was significantly smaller than the rest of the ones hanging up.

"burrow, #6" is what the jersey read.

i wouldn't find out till later the reasoning behind why joe chose the number but in the meantime i thought it was because it was an upside down 9.

after i changed and put my hair into a ponytail, i walked back over to the practice fields. the team has just gotten done with their final huddle so was able to talk to joe before he became my opponent.

before the game started i told some of the players on my team what the bet was so they made sure to play their best.

joe naturally was quarterback for his team, and i was qb for mine. joe wouldn't admit it during the game but he was actually surprised with my throwing skills.

long story short; my team ended up winning.

i'm not even gonna lie, i was definitely surprised that i won.

even after losing, joe congratulated me with a smile on his face.

"good game, burrow." - joe smiled and stuck his hand out

"good game, burrow." - you smiled back and took his hand shaking it for a second and then pulling him into a hug

later on after all the guys had showered, everyone was walking back to their cars. joe and i held hands as we followed behind the other guys. all of a sudden i had the urge to ask him the question i had been asking myself ever since i got my jersey.

"why'd you pick 6?" - you

joe shrugged with a slight smile on his face but some of the other guys just laughed to themselves.

"what?" - you looked into the direction of tee and jamarr who were dying laughing

they didn't say anything back to me, instead ja'marr whispered something to joe mixon. i'm guessing explaining why joe picked the number that he did.

"that's pretty funny burrow!" - joe mixon

"anyone care to explain it to me?" - you

"y/n why do you think joe made you stand on his left when a photographer got a picture of your backs?" - tee laughed

"i'm confused.." - you

joe stopped walking and pulled his phone out, he pulled up the picture tee was referring too and zoomed in on our numbers.

"6...9..69?! joseph lee!" - you shoved his shoulder as him and the rest of the guys laughed

"that's so immature!" - you

"it's so funny though!" - joe chuckled

"oh my god." - you rolled your eyes

"cmon, you know it's funny y/n." - tee

"whatever." - you rolled your eyes and tried your hardest not to laugh

joe slipped an arm around my waist and pulled me into him more.

"i love you" - joe

"i love you too, but i think for now on i'm gonna leave the football to you. i need a hot bath after that." - you

"sounds good to me." - joe smiled

"EW. i'm out. goodnight guys." - ja'marr

"i think you guys are cute, but i'm out too." - tee

"y'all have a good night. tell the twins that uncle tee loves them." - ja’marr

"we will. remember you're always welcome to come over and have a play date with them." - you

"i appreciate it, bye guys." - tee walked away

"bye tee!” - you

"see ya higgins!" - joe

on our way home i ordered joe’s cowboy game day outfit even though he complained the whole time.

"you're gonna look so handsome." - you

"oh whatever." - joe

"you are!" - you

"i think i'd look straight up sexy in the outfit that i wanted to get." - joe

"absolutely not." - you

"you're missing out, baby." - joe smiled

"oh my lord, just shush it and drive" - you

joe laughed before turning up the radio and putting his hand in my lap, lacing his fingers with mine.

"i love you." - you rubbed the back of his hand with your thumb

"i love you too." - joe

————————————————————————-

authors note: fic to wrap up today’s win!!!

hope you enjoyed! ❤️❤️

[mulletpermsicantlookaway]

The Jockification of Jeremy, Part 2: Jeremy in Love

(For Part 1 and the earlier stories this is a sequel to, see the earlier posts.)

The next day when I got up, I was already looking forward to wrestling practice. I had to go to school in the same shorts from yesterday, though, because nothing in my closet really seemed to fit me anymore, which was odd. I had kind of forgotten about all of Chase’s messages from the night before. In any case, I wasn’t going to go to a bunch of trouble trying to track him down. It’s not as if I could be seen spending all my time hanging out with a geek. What would the bros say? But Chase found me by my locker before lunch.

He came up to me and said, “What the hell happened to you? I almost didn’t recognize you with that outfit – and that haircut. Why’d you cut it so short? And where have you been? I thought someone had stolen your phone or something. You didn’t answer any of my texts, except for one message that didn’t even sound like you.”

“Chill out, bro, I’m fine. I was just busy. After basketball practice, I went over to Derek’s to watch the game with some of the bros; I told you that. And when I got home, I was so wiped out I almost fell asleep in my clothes.”

“You’re not making any sense, Jeremy. Derek? From the football team? Watching the game? Since when do you hang out with Derek? Or watch games? And since when are you on the basketball team?”

“Since practices started up. I talked to Coach Sanders yesterday. It’s fucking awesome, bro. You should think about joining. I’m sure I could talk to the coach about giving you a tryout.”

“Uh, I don’t think I’m exactly cut out for basketball, and I’m not interested, anyway. And I’m surprised you are. What is wrong with you, Jeremy? I mean, lately you’ve been starting to look like a jock. Now you’re talking like one, too, and hanging out with them, and wearing basketball shorts to school. At least your clothes fit now, but – you look different. Bigger. And taller. What the hell happened to you? Did you turn into a jock overnight? Where were you all day yesterday, anyway?”

“Bro, I already told you. I just went down to talk to the coach, and then I went to practice. Then I did some lifting and went over to Derek’s. Nothing to get your panties in a bunch over.”

“My panties are not in a bunch, you dumbass, and I’m not your bro. Seriously, did they do something to you? That’s it, isn’t it? I didn’t see it before, but somehow they turned you into one of them, didn’t they?

“Dude, do you realize how ridiculous that sounds? Look, I realize I’ve been going through some changes recently, but this is what I want, and I’m sorry you’re not okay with that.”

Just then, Derek happened to pass by. I gave him a fist bump and said, “Hey, Derek, bro, thanks so much for having me over last night. That game was fucking epic, man!” Derek and I talked for a minute. Chase stared at us the whole time. Derek ignored him completely.

As soon as Derek had left, Chase said, “You’re not kidding. You really are hanging out with that blond Cro-Magnon! Now I know something’s wrong.”

“What’s wrong with Derek, bro? He’s a nice guy.”

“To other jocks, maybe, but not to me. You really have turned into one of them, haven’t you? Jeremy, you’ve got to listen to me: this isn’t you. Somehow they did something to you. You’re totally acting like a dumb jock now!”

“Bro, I told you I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, what’s two plus four?”

“Bro, those are, like, two different numbers,” I chuckled, but Chase didn’t laugh. “Okay, sorry, that was a dumb joke. I do know how to add. But seriously, what’s wrong with you, Chase?”

“What’s wrong with me is that I’m apparently the only one of us that can see that you changed overnight, and it doesn’t make sense.”

“Look, bro, I get that I’ve been changing, but I just wish you could be okay with it. I mean, we’re friends, aren’t we, bro?”

Chase stood there a minute, fuming, and then he said, “Okay, Jeremy, I give up. I still think something happened to you, but I guess there’s nothing I can do about it; at least, I can’t think of anything. I’m sorry, Jeremy, but could you just leave me alone, at least for now, okay? You’re my best friend, and you used to be, well, you used to be so cute, but I can’t stand looking at you and seeing some knuckle-dragging neanderthal. And quit calling me ‘Bro’. It makes you sound like a douche. I’m sorry. Please, just leave me alone.” And then he took off.

I let him go, but it honestly pissed me off that things were going so well for me and he couldn’t be okay with it. I mean, I try to be nice to the little dude, and he throws it back in my face, calling me a neanderthal! I seriously wanted to mop the floor with the little shit. I thought about it the rest of the day in class. I knew I should just let it go; I had plenty of bros to hang out with, and I didn’t need Chase. But I found myself missing him. I hadn’t been able to admit it to myself before, but I think I’d been in love with Chase for a long time. Now that I had finally figured that out, he didn’t want to have anything to do with me, and I didn’t know how to make things right. Suddenly I got an idea: I could talk over my problem with the coach. I was sure he could help. Today I had wrestling, not basketball, but I felt I knew Coach Sanders better than I did the wrestling coach. I should be able to catch him in his office before I had to go to practice.

When I got downstairs by the locker rooms after school, Coach Sanders’s door was open, and he was in his office. I knocked on the door.

“Jeremy!” he said. “Come in, big guy. Boy are you getting tall! But you look like you just lost your best friend. What seems to be the trouble? Girl trouble? Oh, I’m sorry, Jeremy; in your case it’d be boy trouble, wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah, Coach, you nailed it. I guess it is boy trouble. I have lost my best friend, I think. He and I have been friends since, like, grade school. But now he really seems to have a problem with me going out for sports and hanging out with my bros. And I don’t get what his problem is, but I feel bad, because we’ve been friends for so long. I know he’s just a skinny little dude, but I’ve always, you know, liked him, and I thought he, you know, maybe liked me, too. And I thought it would be really cool if he could, you know, join the team, and then we could hang out more together. But when I suggested he try out for basketball, he just about flipped his lid. He called me a dumb jock, and now he won’t even talk to me.”

“Jeremy, one of the things that happens to young men your age is that you’re all going through huge changes, but you don’t all change at the same time or the same pace, even if you’re the same age. Every guy’s body is different, you know. It’s like that for you and Chase right now. You’ve just gone through some rapid changes, and that’s something normal for guys your age. Your friend Chase isn’t changing the same way or at the same time, so he’s having a hard time dealing with you changing so quickly. And, realistically, Jeremy, you two may both change in such different ways that you won’t be able to be friends anymore. That happens a lot to guys your age. But then again, Chase might suddenly start changing in ways that will bring you two closer. You have to understand, Jeremy, that as you’ve changed physically, your interests have changed as well, but your friend Chase is still in the same place he was before. If he starts catching up to you, you may find you two have a lot more in common, even though right now you’re both in different stages of development.”

“That makes so much sense, Coach. Thank you, I really couldn’t figure out what the problem was. It’s as if he’s still twelve years old and wants to do little kid stuff, but I’ve grown, and I’m not interested in little kid stuff anymore.”

“It’s exactly like that, Jeremy. Maybe you two already went through something like this when you were both twelve years old and starting to become teenagers.”

“Yeah, I suppose we kind of did have some struggles back then, but not this serious. Thanks so much for helping me, Coach. I feel a lot better. It’d be so cool, though, if you could talk him into going out for basketball or wrestling or something. I mean, I wasn’t really interested in going out for any sports until after you talked to me. I just wish Chase, could, you know, feel how awesome it is to be a jock and hang out with your bros. I’m sure you could persuade him the same way you did me.”

Coach Sanders got up from his desk then and closed the door. “We should maybe have a little privacy,” he said. “I appreciate your confidence in me, Jeremy. Maybe I could persuade him the way I did you. I can try, but I can tell you from where I sit that peer pressure is a lot more persuasive to guys your age than anything their teachers or coaches tell them. Don’t underrate your friendship, even if Chase seems mad at you right now. If he sees how happy you are, he might come around to your way of thinking. And even if he doesn’t, I might still be able to help you.”

He rummaged in one of his desk drawers, got out a key, and unlocked one of the filing cabinets. He took some object out of one of the bottom drawers and sat back down at his desk, still holding whatever the object was in his hand.

“Jeremy, do you remember me telling you about how our former football coach had developed some amazing conditioning programs for helping young men like you reach their full potential?”

“Yes, Coach, I do. You had me watch one of his videos. It was great. I don’t totally understand what it was all about, but I liked it a lot.”

“Well, Jeremy, that was one the materials that we managed to save when he left. We don’t, unfortunately, still have everything he developed. That video is very effective, and I’m happy to share it with any young man that can benefit from it. What I’m holding in my hand right now is another one of his materials. It works in a different way, but it’s extremely effective. And it’s very special, because we unfortunately have only a very few of these left.”

He put the object he was holding on his desk. It appeared to be some kind of athletic cup, the kind you might wear with a jockstrap. The cup was sealed in a plastic bag with a tear-off top. It was unusual looking for an athletic cup, however. It was quite large, and it appeared to be made of some kind of carbon-fiber or other high-tech material, orange and black and grey.

“This, Jeremy, isn’t an ordinary athletic cup. It’s a conditioning device that can help young men like Chase reach their true potential as athletes. If you want, and if I can trust you to not talk about this with anyone else, I will give it to you. Talk to your friend again. Don’t mention anything about this. It’s possible you won’t need it. But if Chase still doesn’t see the advantages of becoming more like you, this will help him.  And if you don’t feel comfortable giving this to him yourself, there are students on the football team that have experience with these devices; just let me know, and I could have one of them help.”

I stared at the cup, wondering exactly what it did and how it worked. The idea of watching Chase develop into a jock enticed me, but I was missing something. “Coach, there’s one thing I don’t understand. Why would Chase need this when I didn’t? Wouldn’t the video help him?”

“It would, Jeremy, but it likely would not be enough to help him to reach your level of development. The video you refer to primarily conditions the mind to develop the routines needed to be an effective athlete. It helped you, for example, learn practice and workout routines that otherwise would have required weeks of drilling. And those mental routines help to condition you physically, which is critical to an athlete. However, physical conditioning can take considerable time, and the athlete has to be highly motivated in order to succeed. Even then, many young men, no matter how motivated they are, are at a genetic disadvantage and are just not capable of the physical development needed. That, Jeremy, is precisely why these devices were developed. They help those who otherwise would be unable to reach the necessary level of physical development. Now you, Jeremy, were a special case. You didn’t need a device like this. You got your physical conditioning from another source, from another young man who had already been conditioned thanks to one of these devices, and who was then able to pass that conditioning on to you. And because you had already been conditioned physically, you were primed, so to speak; you were willing and able to undergo the mental conditioning that allowed you to start becoming the athlete you wanted to become. Do you understand now?”

“Well, Coach, sort of, but the whole thing is a bit over my head. You’re saying that because I made out with…” I stopped, embarrassed.

“You don’t need to say anything more about that, Jeremy. I’m not trying to pry into your private life. But yes, having the kind of relationship you did started to condition you physically. And once we noticed that that process was happening to you, there was nothing left to do but complete the physical process by helping you to condition mentally. Otherwise, you would have been a very unhappy and confused young man. You’re perfectly happy now, aren’t you, big guy?”

“Perfectly, Coach. Happier than I’ve ever been. I know I’m, like, different than I was before, I suppose, but I would never want to go back. Honestly, it’s hard for me to remember now that I wasn’t always a jock. But what about Chase? I want him to be happy. This thing won’t hurt him, will it? He’s my friend, after all, and I wouldn’t want him hurt.”

“No, Jeremy. No one wants to hurt Chase or anyone else. Remember that these devices were developed to help young men reach their potential. But I want to be completely honest with you: it will cause him some physical discomfort. How much depends on the person. So, Jeremy, technically it can hurt him, but think of it like weight training. You’re still sore from yesterday’s workout, aren’t you? It hurt you, right? And yet you know that the pain is necessary for your muscles to grow, and that it will soon go away, and you’ll be stronger for it. If you really care for your friend, Jeremy, then you want what’s best for him, don’t you? I’ve seen Chase, Jeremy, and he’s a very slight young man. As he is now, he might have some potential as, say, a lightweight wrestler, but without the physical conditioning that this device can provide, he would be extremely limited in what he could accomplish as an athlete. But if you like him and he likes you, just imagine what it would be like to be a couple like James and Steve, both of you strong and powerful. Wouldn’t that be worth some trouble, Jeremy?”

“Yes, it would, Coach. I think I understand now. How long would he have to wear it?”

“It varies from person to person. Usually about a week or two, but sometimes longer. But you don’t need to worry about that. All you have to worry about is giving this to him. And remember, Derek or another one of the experience students can give it to him if you’re not comfortable doing it yourself.”

“I appreciate your wanting to help me, Coach, but I think that if I really want what’s best for Chase, I’m the one who has to do this. I can’t pass that responsibility on to someone else.”

“Then I respect your decision, son. Here, take it, and keep it safe. And remember, don’t mention anything about this to anyone. When you’re ready, you open the package and quickly place it over his privates. It doesn’t matter what he’s wearing at the time.”

“Oh, one other question, Coach. It won’t make him dumb or anything, will it? I mean, Chase called me a dumb jock, but I don’t think I’m any dumber than I was before.”

“Jeremy, ‘dumb jock’ is a stereotype. Most jocks are just a smart as anyone else. Some are smarter. Some aren’t. Many young men who’ve gone through this conditioning process have had some struggle with grades, but that isn’t necessarily because they lost intelligence. It’s because their interests and focus changed, and they ended up less motivated by academics. That’s why I warned you not to neglect your studies. I don’t think you need to worry about Chase. He may end up more interested in sports than English class, but that doesn’t make you an idiot. Any more questions?”

“No, Coach.”

“Then you’d better get to wrestling practice before I have to explain to Coach Halvorson why you’re late.”

The coach had given me a ton to think about, but I had no time to think right away. I had wrestling practice, and that took all the concentration I had. Both James and his bro Tyler went out for wrestling, but I didn’t spar with either one of them. They’re both heavyweights. I may be taller than both of them, but I don’t have anywhere near their muscle mass or weight. They’re both scary in a singlet, with their huge muscles, thick necks, and massive packages. Tyler’s the bigger man, but I think James has the bigger tool, not that Tyler’s isn’t obscene enough. But I didn’t realize how big I had gotten down there until I saw myself in my singlet again. I’d almost be too embarrassed to walk out into the gym like that, except that I’m not the only guy who’s showing. My balls must be nearly the size of chicken eggs by now. I wondered what Chase would think seeing me in this outfit.

Chase. It wasn’t until after practice, hitting the weight room, dinner, and a long night of catching up on homework that I allowed my thoughts to drift back to Chase. I missed him, and I couldn’t believe he was happy. I sent him a text, just saying “Miss u”. He didn’t answer, but at least he hadn’t blocked my number.

I knew I needed to talk to him again, but he was avoiding me. I wouldn’t let that stop me, but it was hard to find a moment to catch him without a bunch of other bros around, you know? And I had other worries. Clothes were getting to be a problem. My parents seemed to think I was just going through a phase of wearing workout clothes; somehow it hadn’t gotten through to them how much I had grown or that nothing in my closet fit me anymore. I was borrowing stuff from the other bros. I had maybe one or two pairs of shorts that fit, and some sweatpants that barely fit. I mean, I was almost 6’ 2” at this point, which means I had gained something like 6 inches in a few weeks. I was starting to pack on a lot of muscle, too. I finally had to tell them outright that I really needed some new clothes. My older brother was away at college, and I did find a couple of things in his closet that worked up to a point, but we weren’t really the same size. I stuck to basics for the new stuff, mainly loose shorts, athletic pants, and T-shirts. I still had a lot of growing to do, and I didn’t want to get things I was just going to grow out of in a hurry. I knew at this point that I looked, dressed, and acted like a total jock, but I was a total jock, and everyone except Chase seemed to forget that I’d ever been anything else.

To be continued

[doomed-qpr]

for every character i’ve ever liked there are a minimum of 2 interpretations of a transgender version of them and ponyboy curtis is no exception.

Pony, who’s been weird and different since she could talk. One day, she stole the kitchen scissors and chopped her hair up to her ears. (Her mother was horrified, but when she saw how Pony couldn’t stop smiling at her jagged “boy hair,” she let her keep it a little shorter from then on out.) Her parents were so worried about having to either pay for little girl clothes or force her into her brothers’ hand-me-downs—turns out, Pony would rather wear tattered jeans and hoodies that Soda’s outgrown. (Her mother tried to take her shopping at age five, and decided it was a lost cause when she kept wandering into the boy’s section. They had plenty of boy’s clothes at home, anyway.) Pony follows her brothers’ gang around, inserting herself into the wrestling and calling them names just like any smart-ass little brother would. she climbs trees to watch them play football, and she learns the rules well enough that they let her ref sometimes.

at age ten, he tells everyone that he’s a boy. and they laugh at him and don’t take it seriously, but in the backs of their minds they think, “wow, this tomboy phase sure has lasted suspiciously long...” And pony’s stubborn about it. and soon enough, three years have passed and there are three curtis brothers instead of two, and the gang’s memory of a little sister has grown kind of foggy, because in every way except title he was always their little brother. and soda shows him how to grease his hair, and darry shows him how to throw a punch. (and they were all soooo happy at the end!!!! and nothing ever went wrong)

(side note: pony’s name as a concept for transgenderism is so fucking funny. did his parents name their afab child ponyboy? was his deadname ponygirl, and the obvious name change was to just. switch the ending? was his name originally just “pony” but in a dumbass attempt at being supportive people started calling him ponyBOY?)

[fortheunsungheros]

Out of curiosity- How much do you know abt ur fav character in The Outsiders?? My fav is Dallas, who was the sixth character to be introduced by pony in the book- hence my blog name lol

Dally’s full name was Dallas Tucker Winston (as we know)

was 17 (also as we know) and died just two months short of his birthday, which is November 9th, meaning the book begins in September on a Friday

got his disc memorized- you know the drill with him so I’ll keep it shortish: described as tow-headed with an elvish face, with high cheekbones and a sharp chin, small sharp animal like teeth and ears like a lynx, his hair was almost white it was so long, but he didn’t like haircuts or hairpins either so it went over his forehead in wisps and kicked out in the back in tufts along the nape of his neck and curled behind his ears. The shade difference between a greaser and a hood wasn’t present in Dally, he was a wild as a brumly boys, like Tim Shepard’s gang. He had pale icy blue eyes, cold with a hatred for the whole world- he didn’t have anything specific to hate. (So much for short- Read it 217 times since 7th grade)

gave pony the letter from soda and didn’t want to get beat tf up by Darry for giving pony the money and the gun

bought pony and Johnny food at Darry Queen :D

he showed up to the rumble with his arm burnt tf up and fought anyhow

Took Ponyboy to see Johnny because he knew he was dying in the hospital and wanted pony to seem him one last time too

he was born in 1948- since the book was finished in ‘65, I just subtracted 17 from there- so he would’ve been 76 this year :,(

on a lighter note, S.E. Hinton confirmed that he was most likely out of the gang to be scared of spiders- had me rolling 🤣

Lmao it got to the point where I gaslit myself into thinking he lived and Johnny lived based on a fic I read years ago and when I reread it this past month my whole reality with him shattered- please send help I can’t be the only one obsessed with a character to this degree🫠

Wow I think you’re more obsessed with this book than me 😭 HOW HAVE YOU READ IT 217 TIMES? I’m on my 3rd reread in the past 8 months or so.

But seriously wow! I’m glad I found someone who is as obsessed - if not more than me lol. Dallas is probably my 3rd favorite character (ik don’t come and find me lol) behind 2. Johnny and 1. Darry

Darry has always been my favorite character ever since I read the book for the first time. He just stuck out to me and I love his character so much. He also is played by Patrick Swayze and he is the finest man to ever walk the earth sooo. (Like seriously I’m obsessed with this man I’ve watched almost every movie he’s in please send help)

Even though Darry’s my favorite character I don’t know everything about him off hand lol. I’m just gonna make a list of everything I know off the top of my head about my favorite character (yes out of every book I’ve read he’s my favorite character, secondly being Katniss Everdeen if you would like to know lol)

• He’s 20 years old

• His full name is Darrel Shayne Curtis Jr (I say this at least twice a day idk don’t ask why)

• Don’t quote me on this but I think he was introduced last in the book

• He works as a roof repair man person

• His birthday is January 5th

• He’s the oldest brother (obviously)

• He is said to not be a greaser if it weren’t for his brothers and the rest of the gang

• Darry was a MESS when Johnny and Pony were at the church (DARREL STAYS UP ALL NIGHT LONG, TILL HE FINALLY FALLS ASLEEP BY THE TELEPHONEEE - Sodas Letter from the musical)

• Also he was the football captain in high school and was voted boy of the year

• Don’t ask me how I know this offhand (I need a hobby) but in the book Darry is one of the tallest if not the tallest greaser but Patrick Swayze isn’t crazy tall so in some of the photos you can see him standing on bricks to make him look taller lol

Okay that’s all I remember right now but I know more will come to me later lol. And also I sincerely believe also that the events in the book are fictional (well no shit) but like FICTIONAL in a FICTIONAL way. Like Ponyboy definitely just needed a good grade so made up a bs story lmao. I really have tricked myself into thinking both Johnny and Dally are alive and well and the gang is still partying in Tulsa.

ALSO thank you for this ask it was really fun to do!

[im-not-a-l0ser]

Hi! I do have a question or two about the American public school system (as a Canadian). First of all, are football and cheerleading really that big? No school I’ve gone to has ever had football. I don’t think I’ve ever played football. Second, how many periods are in a day and how long? For us it’s four 1h20m blocks, two in the morning and two in the afternoon. And what is a passing period? And are your bells really like the brrriiing! that we see? ok thanks :)

Firstly- I mean, sort of? At my school, we have numerous sports posters in the hallways, and then we have banners of senior (final year) athletes there too, but those are for all sports, and the marching band. And usually the jags in class are football players. Cheerleading is a bit more neutral. I know people on the cheer squad who I get along with and others who I really don't. In reality, the athletes generally are the worst. I guess that's not really what you were asking, uhhh. Okay, in regards to NPMD specifically, the big game, people being very into that? It's very likely. While my school doesn't have like 'rivals,' in the soap operatic universe, it makes perfect sense to me that they'd get more into the Clivesdale game than into the HoCo game, which we don't even get to see the prior of. Most schools have pep rallies for the HoCo and final games, I believe. I'd say the first game too, but I actually think football games start before a lot of school years. The biggest sports, at least at my school, are Football and Basketball. I hear a little bit about soccer and swim too, but barely. I believe that Football, Basketball and Soccer are generally the only ones with cheerleaders, while Football and Basketball usually have both cheerleaders and the band.

Secondly, the periods here are about 45 minutes. At both of my high schools, we've had three different lunch periods, A, B and C. So, for example, I had A lunch for my freshman year at my homeschool, and my junior year at my vocational school. At my home school, during my B and C periods, I'd spend the entire time, and hour and a half, in a single class. At my vocational school, you just keep switching classes like normal. I believe that both my home and vocational school have 9 periods, although it's technically 8 at my home school since it goest 1, 2, 3, 4, 5A, 5B, 5C, 6, 7, 8, while at my vocational school it's 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9.

Third, Passing Period. This one is quite simple. Most schools have 3-5 minutes to move from class to class. A bell goes off signifying the end of your current period, and then after a few minutes, a second bell goes off signifying the beginning of the next class. That's when teachers take attendance, and that bell it what let's teachers know when a student is tardy. This is a special case, so I don't think it's super common, but during my freshman year, the pandemic was still a pretty big concern, so we technically had a 6 minute passing period. Bell one: Freshmen and Sophomores (9-10) would go to their next class; Bell two: that's when 9 and 10 classes should be in their next period, and when Juniors and Seniors (11-12) left the classroom. Bell three signified the end of passing period, and when Juniors and Seniors had to be in class. It was to avoid so many people in the halls at once.

Fourth, the school bell: it depends on the school to every degree. At my elementary school (kindergarten-6th grade) there was no bell at all. In my middle school (7-8), it literally sounded like a hockey buzzer when I went, but is much more calm now, just a prolonged key. At my home high school (9-10) it is like four or five quarter notes of the same key. At my vocational school (11-12), it's much more... inconsistent? The building is quite new, so things are still shifting. Last year it was just a prolonged key as well, but most days this year it's been like a bunch of sixteenth notes? It sounds like you shoved the speaker for the bell underwater and it's just bubbling out in chunks. I am very sure that there are still schools with the classic briiing bell sound. My first couple visits to the high school in my town (my home high school) there were still the bells on the wall, they just weren't active.

(PS: A vocational school is a school that you attend specifically to study a specific career path during your high school years, usually to avoid the need for college.)

[whitehartlane]

3, 8, 24, 30 💛💙

thank you carooooo!! 🥹💙💛

3) 3 films you could watch for the rest of your life and not get bored of?

this is such an interesting question! you already know that one of them is thupparivaalan, that film is undoubtedly my most rewatched one. i’ve stopped logging all my rewatches on letterboxd bc it would literally be too often; they would have to call the police on me 😭 i think apart from that i’d say moonlight (i find something new to say about that film every time i watch it… it’s such a gorgeous film!) and those glory glory days … that last one i’ve been rewatching my entire life. it’s about this group of teenage girls who are tottenham supporters and watch the club do the double in 60/61, and one of them who ends up working in sports journalism reminisces on that era. written by our very own julie welch who has written a ton of spurs books! it means so so much to me. says everything i feel about football and tottenham in such a gorgeous manner.

8) any reacquiring dreams?

i assume this is supposed to say recurring? and yep! i have a couple of dreams i’ve been dreaming since i was a kid but they’re rly difficult to describe or even remember … i just know when i’m in the dream i’ve dreamt it before. i do vaguely know that one involves a house that has an unused wing that only i know the way to and it always ends with me running away from the house through a huge field. no clue what that’s supposed to mean 💀

24) what’s one thing you’re proud of yourself for?

look at you sneakily trying to get me to say something nice about myself … 😭 this is honestly rly difficult to answer. this year has been so tough that i feel like a failure in many aspects. but i want to combat that and give you not one but three things i’m proud of myself for: 1) my proficiency in german, 2) my kindness, 3) my ability to adapt in tough situations. these are all things i’ve worked immensely hard at and i think i can be proud of myself regarding all of them!

30) what’s one thing that never fails to make you happy/happier?

ah … to keep it thematically in line with this blog, tottenham hotspur. even when we’re doing absolutely shit and i don’t want to touch any content to do with the club, my spurs stuff around my flat still makes me smile. to know that even when i have nothing i will always have my football club makes me happy. tottenham’s been the one constant in my life and this club’s always made me happy no matter what stage of my life i’ve found myself in 🥰

[brightlight-dazzlingeyes]

between the lines | chapter 02

rúben dias x original female character [+18]

synopsis: isabella is a sports journalist covering the premier league. she has sworn to never get involved with a football player. that is, until she meets a handsome portuguese defender. warnings: incorrect journalism references; timeline of events are not faithful to real life; i have never been to england; mutual pining; romantic comedy;  minors dni.

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Chapter 02 — There’s only one F in Fulham

The very first Premier League game that I’ve covered was at Craven Cottage; it was a sunny day on the riverside and the home team tied with Liverpool, 2-2, on the first matchday of the season. Ever since then I’ve held an over sentimental feeling for the Fulham stadium and the press boxes where you can’t really see the field thanks to the structure poles. On colder days, the Cottage is not as charming and I’m reminded that I actually chose to work in England so I just have to deal with it.

Regardless of the weather, it was always nice to watch City play on a Sunday. Makes the rest of the week feel normal. Melissa, who accompanied me on the way in and on the way out, was having a great day planning what I should wear and what kind of makeup I should put on for my date the next day.

“You have to shave. Full brazilian!" She said, way too loudly, as we were leaving the stadium.

“It’s a first date with a stranger.” I emphasize.

“You never know, honey, better to be prepared.”

She lent me a red dress and a pair of black Louboutins, and it took hours for me to convince myself to wear them. I do look hot, the type of ‘hot’ I'm constantly trying to avoid looking given the circumstances of my job. The dress is tight on the top, with thin straps and it flows to right above my knees.

“Oh my god, I feel like I’ve been standing here for three years.” I speak to myself in the mirror. It was almost time to leave and I didn’t have a second outfit option. Alright, what did Mel say? I’m interesting? I can fix Chelsea? Yes, I can wear a red dress and go on a date. Okay. I call an Uber. It was a penthouse restaurant, and we were supposed to meet at the table. To my surprise, when I reached the elevator, the last person on earth I wanted to see at that moment, was right by my side.

“Oh. Hi.”

“Hi, Isa!”

We both look at the elevator and then back at each other, as if we were waiting for the other to make a move. Neither of us do. Instead, Rúben says:

“I didn’t see you yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah, I was interviewing the Fulham players.”

“You should be interviewing the winners.” He smirks and I smile at him. He looks at me from head to toe and I glance back to the elevator, embarrassed. 

We both decide, at the same time, to press the button. Our hands touch. Barely, but they do. I pull my hand away from him immediately, on instinct, and I hear myself gasping. My face is bright red and the situation becomes even more awkward because I realize he had the exact same reaction as I had. So I stare at him, partially waiting for him to smile again and tell me another joke, partially waiting for him to mock me and reject me. But he just stares right back. The interaction lasted for less than a minute, maybe less than a second, maybe for just a moment. The elevator door opens up and I’m just standing there wondering who the hell pressed the button.

“I think we’re supposed to go in.” Rúben says holding the door open.

We walk in together and I know for a fact that my face matches the color of my dress. I try to avoid looking at him or thinking about how hot he looks. Is he here for a date also? Well, fuck me. At least it is a pretty big space, there’s no way we’re seating close to each other. Right? We don’t say another word to each other until the door opens again, finally at the restaurant entrance hall.

“I hope you have fun on your date.” Rúben is not really looking at me when he says that.

“You too.” I reply and we finally make eye contact again. He shakes his head.

“Oh, no. I’m not on a date. It’s a business lunch.”

“Okay, have fun on your business then.” I wink at him and he smiles, agreeing.

We go search for our tables and of course, of course, we are sitting close to each other. In the horrible angle where I could, if I wanted, to spend the entire lunch just looking at him. I won’t do it, of course, but it pisses me off that I could. Sexy doctor is very sexy in real life so my anger lessens for a second.

“Hi.”

“Hi, you must be Isabella!” 

He has a beautiful voice. We shake hands and start to make small talk. About my sister-in-law and my little niece, about the weather and what it's like to live in Manchester. I have to hold back and not just straight up point at the table at the back to our left and say: ‘Hey, Rúben Dias is sitting right there. And yes, I have a crush on him. So this date is going great.’ Instead I just nod and listen to him talk about his work. Are business lunches supposed to last longer than a date lunch? Who knows, but my brain just turned that into a competition. I’m not leaving this table until he leaves. I’ll show him, for some reason, that I’m having more fun than he is. Fuck, what’s the name of sexy doctor? 

“Turns out it was a racoon the whole time!” He laughs and I accompany him, even though I completely lost the start of the story. “Can you believe it?”

"Unbelievable!" I’m still laughing with him. “A racoon!”

Our order arrives and thank God for inventing the culinary arts. The food is delicious and, at least while I’m eating, everything else seems unimportant. I decided to try once again. He seems like a nice guy and he could be funny if I paid attention to what he was saying. So I excuse myself to the bathroom and text Sienna.

Isabella: girl  whats sexy doctor called?? help

Sienna: oh my god his name is peter warren lol

As I walk back to the table I make the mistake of making eye contact with Rúben. He smiles at me, that handsome jerk, and I smile back, instinctively. When I sit down, I’m blushing again. Peter Warren, huh?

“Sienna told me it was your favorite restaurant.” Peter says.

“Yes, it is!”

“I’m loving it, honestly, the food is heavenly. How did you find out about it?”

He asks and I have to physically hold myself back from facepalming. “Oh. It was through work. I come here a lot with my colleagues.” I answer. Yes, me, my colleagues and literally everyone in Manchester that works with football comes to this restaurant. What an idiot, why did I agree to come here on a date? You know what, at least, is Rúben. It could have been my boss seeing me in this dress. I relax with the realization.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it, Peter!” I speak, casually making him aware that I know his name.

“We could go to my favorite restaurant next? I mean, as far as blind dating goes, I feel like this is worth a second date?”

“The racoon story definitely earned you a second date.”

Peter laughs loudly when I say that. I really wish I understood the context, though. We’re having dessert and as I look over, Rúben is still talking with God knows who, his agent, maybe? They don’t seem like the’yre leaving the table anytime soon. So I convince Peter that I always order a second dessert, that is a tradition. That buys me more time. Rúben gets up to leave when I’m in the middle of my second tiramisu slice.

As he leaves, I look at him again. Just to make sure, I guess. But he notices, and waves goodbye. Handsome and polite jerk. I can’t help waving back at him, and of course Peter notices.

“You know him?” He asks.

“Just a football player.” 

I take another bite.

Mel: so how was the date?

Isabella: terrible but we already agreed on the second one

Mel: did you kiss :(

Isabella: no but he shook my hand? is that something?

Mel: :(

[hannahssimblr]

Epilogue (Part 2)

I wake at six with some noises and banging in the hallway. Groggily I climb to my feet and hobble to the door to see what all the fuss is about. It’s the makeup girl. The wheels of her cart of palettes seem to have gotten stuck on the high pile carpet and she’s careened the whole thing into the wall. “Sorry! I’m so sorry,” she whispers as I emerge, “I was looking for the bride’s room.” 

Another door in the hallway opens and Shane pokes his head out. He’s fully dressed already in his suit, meaning that sleep didn’t come in the end. “You’re at the wrong end,” he hisses, “Bridal suite is down in room six, Evie, would you help her?”

She looks at me pleadingly, “Oh, would you mind? I’m doing a bad job of pushing this yoke in a straight line.” 

I do, I go with her to the room, and when I knock Claire throws the door open looking perfectly serene in a silk dressing gown and matching slippers. “Evie!” 

“And the makeup girl!” I say, “I was helping her with her stuff.”

She throws her arms around me and kisses both my cheeks, “I’m so happy to see you! I can’t believe you made it.”

“Oh God, come on, I’d hardly miss it.”

“Come in, come in, both of you, it’s so early.” 

Inside the room her bridesmaids have already gathered and are lolling around a little fireplace, half asleep in their satin robes. The only one I know is Jaz from college. The others are close cousins from Tullamore who I’ve never met before. 

“Everyone, this is Evie,” she says to them, “My should-have-been-bridesmaid.”

“Who has been a terrible friend,” I add, “I’ve just been working too much to commit to this, I’m so sorry.”

“No!” She says as she cups my face, “You’ve been doing amazingly, Shane and I followed the articles about you all across the world for the last six months, you’ve been a busy lady.” 

“A tired lady.”

“Oh well maybe you can relax this weekend, do you think?” She climbs into a seat as the makeup artist begins to prep her face.

“You look amazing,” I tell her, “Your skin- What is that? What’ve you been using?”

“I’ll tell you a secret if you swear not to tell anyone else,” her lips curl into a smile, “it’s botox.”

I gasp and come closer to inspect her skin. I want to reach out and touch it but it’s already being wiped with a cotton round, “that’s amazing, you look twenty.”

“I wish, look,” she raises her eyebrows and her forehead is completely frozen, “No lines, isn’t that really weird?”

“Wow, keep doing that and you’ll make me want it too.”

And she rolls her eyes, “Oh come on, no, you don’t need to. You have those amazing genetics from your mam. How is it that she’s sixty four and doesn’t have a single wrinkle while my mam started getting lines at forty? Botox is something the O’Gorman women will have to invest in, the Kilbrides do not need botox.”

“News to me that your mam gets botox.”

“Oh Lord, yes, of course she does. It’s a lot of pressure to be the most glamorous woman in Tullamore, don’t you know? Now that it’s going to be me I need to step up my game,” She fists her hands with determination, “No slacking.”

In the three years since she and Shane have come back from Sydney, Claire has been busy too. She works at her dad’s office during the day – doing what I’m not exactly sure – and at night she takes classes in the local college so that she can get her degree in childcare, which might be useful seeing as she’s planning on having four of her own. Shane works in the lab at the pharmaceuticals company, his chemistry knowledge being put to good use, and he swears he really doesn’t mind it. It pays well, it doesn’t require him to travel and he leaves at five on the dot every evening to make his way over to the site of their new house across the lane from his childhood home and supervise the work. They should be moved in by Christmas, all going well. He hasn’t hung up his football boots yet, even since being dropped by the Swans. He coaches the girls’ under 10s and 12s football team two evenings a week at the local club. 

I hang out with Claire and the sleepy bridesmaids for a while before deciding that I should probably get myself ready, or eat something, so I do. I throw on something to cover up my pyjamas and go down for breakfast on my own. 

The snow is deep now, completely covering the landscape in a thick blanket and as I gaze out at it and eat my eggs and toast I wonder what would happen if it all got so bad that the roads closed down. What if it stopped us all from leaving? Maybe then, I think, I won’t have to think about work for a while, and I can take a holiday away from it all. “Sincerest apologies” I’ll write to my agent, “I’m trapped in a snowstorm away from my computer at the moment and there’s nothing I can do. I’ll send on the illustrations as soon as I can but really, I can’t make any estimation as to when that might be,” I smirk with delight and take a sip of my tea, thrilled by the idea of getting to do nothing. 

The hotel is quiet now but I know that frantic preparation is happening behind closed doors, and within an hour it spills out into the hallway. I can hear it as I do my makeup at the dressing table; the disorder of that crucial hour before Claire walks down the aisle and it all suddenly comes together. Caroline’s voice, directing someone somewhere, she’s straightening Shane’s jacket and ordering him downstairs. There is someone else, Will O’Connor, pacing back and forth rehearsing the lines of his best man speech. A woman is talking about the temperature of the room, the tuning of her violin, or something like that, and I swear that somewhere among the chaos of it all I hear a voice, deep, smooth, American, and as he passes by my door I freeze, knowing I should open it, stop him and say hello but I can’t because I’ve smudged my lipstick now. I grab a tissue and wipe it away, and then it’s too late.

I head down to the reception room just a few minutes before the ceremony begins, feeling nervous, though I know I shouldn’t because it’s not my wedding day. Shane is at the altar already, fidgeting, and Will is beside him looking spaced out, hands in his pockets and looking at the Christmas tree at the back of the room. I smile at Shane, and he smiles at me. Ivy is there too, with her violin playing friend from the music academy, they’re playing a gentle tune as the guests come in. And there’s Kelly and her parents, and Claire’s mother… and there’s Jude, and it’s like he can recognize my footsteps because he turns around to look at me the moment my feet hit the floorboards, and just like that we’ve just made eye contact for the first time in nine years. And I haven’t died because of it. I breathe. I’m fine.

Choosing a seat somewhere near the front seems like a wise idea. That way I can’t stare at the back of his head and that cute, short haircut for any length of time and I can think about other things, like how Claire’s mothers dress is just a little bit too close to white, but really, I don’t have much of a chance to think about it anyway, because the musicians begin to play Pachibel’s Canon and the door opens and we all turn around as Kelly’s daughter comes bounding down the aisle chucking fistfuls of white petals onto the ground. Everyone coos at her and whispers about how cute she is, and then the moment that she throws the basket onto the floor and sends it rolling under somebody’s seat I spy Caroline pursing her lips. 

“Fiadh,” she hisses, “Pick that up!”

Fiadh does not pick it up. She runs back down the aisle again and then Kelly is scrambling from her seat trying to grab her, now shrieking and weaving in and out of the seats. Someone captures her and holds her up, her fat little limbs squirming in mid air. I don’t know why I have an urge to look at Jude at this moment, as though I know him at all well enough to make a face and laugh privately about what’s just happened, so I try very hard not to, and anyway, I can’t. The bridesmaids are coming next. 

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