#Like for my other jersey i saw they had some game worn jerseys and checked the size of one of those

[freebooter4ever]

So i drove home for lunch today mostly because i had to go grocery shopping but im glad i did because

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Something There (Chapter 11)

9.4k words

Roy Kent x Reader

Warnings: Language, fluff, references to smutty things, Roy and Bucky being bad at hiding their relationship, fluffy fluff

Series Masterlist

“Morning, Coach.”

I turned around, smiling when I saw Roy walking down the hall towards me. “Morning, Coach,” I repeated as I paused to wait for him. “How was training with Jamie?”

He rolled his eyes as we began walking towards our offices. “It was training with fucking Tartt. What d’you think?” He nudged my shoulder. “Plus, I’ve been having a hard time getting out of bed lately.” He raised his eyebrows at me and lowered his voice. “Especially when someone wakes me up with a-”

“Roy! Hey, Roy!”

With a growl, Roy stopped and turned to watch Nate shuffle over to us. “Yeah?” he practically spat. When I elbowed him, he rolled his eyes. “I mean, yes Nate?”

The assistant coach quickly started chattering to Roy about the lineup for their match the next day. I took advantage of the distraction to unabashedly stare at Roy; fuck, if he wasn’t the handsomest man I’d ever met. For the millionth time over the past week, I wondered how the hell I’d resisted him for so long. With his animated eyes and his little smirk and the world’s thickest eyebrows, I felt a blush creep up my neck as I gazed at him- especially when my eyes began trailing down his figure, remembering everything we’d been up to earlier that morning.

Once Nate walked off with a little wave, Roy turned to me, clearly amused to find me checking him out. “See something you like?” he teased as we resumed our walk.

“Absolutely not,” I said, sticking my tongue out.

“Shame,” he hummed. He glanced up and down the empty hallway before leaning in close. “Because I see something I like very much.”

Before I could think of some sarcastic comment, he ducked his head and stole the smallest kiss. Laughter bubbled past my lips as I chased his mouth, not ready to have him pull away from me yet. He chuckled and took a step back.

“Fucking needy,” he tsked, urging me to keep walking.

I rolled my eyes. “Fucking tease,” I countered. “And we’re going to get caught if you keep doing that shit.”

All week, Roy had found every opportunity he could to kiss me, or flirt with me, or touch me, despite my light reminders about being at work. And, despite my protests, I had to admit: it was heaven. And I didn’t care that everyone could see the way we smiled at each other and joked with each other, acting very much like kids with crushes. Roy Kent and I were giddy, and the whole Dog Track knew it.

It was even more obvious that night at the Whippets match.

Lucas and I were watching the team warm up before the game, making sure we were set to go, when a flash of white in the owner’s box caught my eye. Lucas followed my gaze and let out a scoff of a laugh.

“Is Roy Kent wearing a Whippets jersey?” he snickered, elbowing me. “Wonder who he’s wearing. Hope you don’t get jealous!”

Before I could threaten my assistant coach with physical violence, Roy turned back to talk to a smiling Rebecca and Ted, revealing a bright number six and those familiar five letters: BUCKY.

My entire body was immediately covered in a deep flush. Roy Kent was wearing my jersey. I wasn’t sure if any guy had ever worn my number. In college, I’d had a couple of boyfriends who were fellow athletes, and I liked to make signs for their games. At one point I’d briefly dated a professional baseball player and wore his jersey when I watched him. But to see a guy- my guy- wearing my name and number proudly?

Fuck, if that wasn’t the sexiest, sweetest thing I’d ever seen.

Ted leaned forward and said something to Roy, who immediately twisted back around. He looked in our direction and smiled, a real, glowing smile, the rare kind that lit up brighter than the stadium lights. All I could do was shake my head and offer up that little salute he always did; he just threw his head back in laughter and returned to his conversation with Ted and Rebecca.

When I turned back to Lucas, his smug face looked so damn punchable. “Well,” he hummed, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows. “What do we have to say for ourselves, Buckaroo?”

I tugged at my blazer, as if that would somehow hide my blush. “I don’t know,” I mumbled. “Maybe he just really likes the number six, Lucas. It is his number too, after all.”

“Or maybe he just really likes a certain coach.” Lucas bumped his hip into mine. “What about you? Do you like him?” He waggled his eyebrows at me. “Like, like him like him?”

I rolled my eyes. “Shit, what are you, twelve?”

“Bucky.”

Despite myself, a smile crept across my burning face. “If I say yes, will you shut up so we can focus on the match? Because I’d really like to win.”

Lucas wrapped an arm around me. “Oh definitely. Want to make sure we impress your crush, yeah?”

“Fuck off,” I laughed, allowing myself one last look at Roy- who was already smiling at me.

~

He knew he was practically drilling holes into her figure. But, despite being in the same room as both coaching staffs, Keeley, and Rebecca, Roy couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when she was wearing his favorite leggings and a particularly flattering sweater as she murmured something to Lucas, doing a much better job at acting casual in front of their coworkers.

“I won’t keep you long,” Rebecca began with a smile. “I just wanted to tell you all how… how very proud I am of everyone.” She gestured to the newspapers on her desk, giddiness crossing her face. “Everyone’s buzzing about the Whippets and Greyhounds, saying we’re going to… going to…”

“Win the whole fucking thing!” Keeley finished, shining with pride. “Sorry,” she whispered to Rebecca, who glared at her for stealing the moment.

Rebecca laughed and turned back to the gaffers. “Yes. We’re currently the top picks in both leagues, if you can believe it.” Her eyes shifted between the two managers. “Thank you,” she murmured. “I know it’s been… a journey, getting to this point.” Everyone shifted awkwardly, watching the two managers carefully. “But we are almost to the fucking finish line, Richmond!”

Everyone laughed and let out playful hoots and hollers. Roy couldn’t help but watch the joy on her face as she and Lucas did their little fist bump ritual. When she caught him staring, she rolled her eyes playfully, as if the blush on her face wasn’t obvious to him- and everyone else in the room.

“One more thing,” Keeley spoke up, bringing Roy back to earth. “With all the hype, there’s lots of press requests. And we’ve got this really great suggestion to have an interview with a coach from each team, to talk all about how successful both squads have been, the chemistry here at Nelson Road, the idea that both of our teams might be champions.” She smiled, eyes scanning the faces in front of her. “Any volunteers?”

To the room’s surprise, Roy spoke up. “Should be the managers, yeah?” He glanced at the Whippets coaches, noting the smug grin on Lucas’s face. “They’re our fucking teams.”

Those red lips that Roy had been kissing earlier that morning curved into a smile. “Agreed. If everyone’s okay with it, Roy and I can handle the interview.”

Keeley didn’t bother hiding the delight on her face. “Managers it is then,” she hummed. She waved her hands. “The rest of you can take off, just need these two to stay.”

Once the room emptied, the managers sat down in front of Rebecca’s desk. Taking advantage of the cover the wooden desk provided, Roy tapped his shoe to hers, pleased with the way she tapped back and left her sneaker pressed against his.

Smiling knowingly, Keeley began tapping at her tablet, taking notes. “Alright, well, of course they’ll ask about the clubs, about how the players get along, what it’s like sharing the Dog Track. They’ll ask about your opinions on each other’s coaching styles.” Her eyes flickered to their faces. “Anything… off-limits?”

The two managers glanced at each other, not sure what to say.

After a moment, Roy shrugged. “Just don’t ask us if we’ve had sex,” he joked, trying to diffuse the awkwardness.

Rebecca chuckled. “We already know the answer to that one anyways.”

The panic on both of their faces was evident; how the fuck did Rebecca know?

She stared at them with furrowed eyebrows. “Well, someone went and confirmed it in that press conference,” she reminded them, gesturing to Bucky. “Sorry, guess that was in bad taste.”

Keeley cleared her throat. “Well, if there’s no other concerns, I’ll go ahead and email The Richmond Star-”

Roy clenched his fists so hard, his knuckles were noticeably white. “The fucking Richmond Star?” he repeated, sitting up straight. “I fucking swear, if it’s that little twat Willows-”

“No, no,” Keeley quickly assured him, ponytail wagging as she shook her head. “No, that bastard got fired.” She glanced at Bucky. “Sorry, I know the two of you, I mean you were…”

“Nope, absolute bastard,” the manager assured her. “World’s biggest dick.” She realized the way she’d phrased it. “No, not- ugh, I mean he is the world’s biggest dick. Not that he has-” She shook her head, rolling her eyes. “You know what I fucking mean.”

Feeling amused by her flustered expression, Roy leaned over. “Who does have the world’s biggest dick?” he asked with a smirk.

She narrowed her eyes at him, wearing a playfulness only he could see. “Fuck off, Kent.”

“Oi, gaffers.” Keeley snapped her fingers at them. “Focus.” She nodded at Roy. “Leave her alone. We get it, she’s seen you naked.” She snorted. “Who in this room hasn’t?”

Rebecca raised her hand, wrinkling her nose indignantly. “Um, I haven’t seen Roy naked. And I would like to keep it that way, thank you.” She grimaced at Roy. “No offense.”

Keeley nudged Rebecca. “You’re missing out.” She winked at Bucky. “Isn’t she?”

Roy cleared his throat. “Alright, if we’re fucking done-”

“Oh!” Keeley tapped at her tablet. “No, one last thing.” She tapped again at her tablet, her expression suddenly shifty. “I just… wanted to ask if either of you had anything to say about this.” She turned her tablet, revealing a dark, blurry photo; it was the two of them at the club, the night of their first date, holding drinks and probably flirting.

Roy squinted. “Fuck is that?”

Keeley raised her eyebrows. “Supposedly the two of you. Apparently, you guys went to a club together, danced like horny teenagers, and left together.” She smirked. “Sound familiar?”

The Whippet shook her head. “Not really.” She looked carefully at the photo. “Kind of does look like you, Kent. Especially with that Johnny Cash, Man in Black outfit.”

Roy snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but that girl’s much prettier than you.”

“Dick,” she laughed, rising to her feet. “Well, if there’s nothing else, I’m heading to training.” She waved to the girls before turning to Roy. “Later.” With a little salute, she was gone.

With a smirk, Roy watched her leave, shaking his head as he turned back to his flabbergasted friends.

Rebecca leaned forward, her voice low. “Are you two fucking shagging?” she hissed, just as Keeley squeaked, “You’re totally sleeping together!”

Roy growled, wondering if they could see his face tint pink. “What the fuck?” He shook his head. “You guys are fucking lunatics.”

“Oh, come on,” Keeley scoffed, batting her eyes at her ex. “You’ve been attending her matches, you’re getting along better than ever, and you spent half that meeting undressing her with your eyes. Either you’re having sex, or you’re about to.”

“Right.” Roy stood, shaking his head again. “You two can go get fucked.”

“I bet you and Bucky can too,” Keeley cackled at Roy’s retreating back.

Waving his middle finger behind him, Roy left Rebecca’s office, slamming the door for good measure. He turned to the stairwell, pleasantly surprised to find a pretty smile waiting for him a couple steps down.

“Guess we got caught at the club,” she hummed as Roy approached. “At least it was dark, so it’s hard to be sure it’s us.”

“Yeah.” Roy touched her face gently, studying her expression. “You alright? With the photo thing?” He stepped close to her. “You okay?”

She nodded, a small smile on her lips. “Yeah,” she assured him as she placed her hand on top of his. “It’s different this time, you know? I’ve got you now.” She stood on tiptoe and quickly pressed her lips to his. “I know I’ve got you, so they can take all the photos they want.” She let go of Roy and started to walk downstairs. “Gotta head to the pitch, Coach. Let me know if you want to get into some trouble later.”

“With you?” Roy teased. “Always.”

~

I watched Roy’s knee jiggle as Keeley introduced us to the reporter- Mitch something or other- and walked us through how the interview would be. Keeley’d had the idea to have us sitting in the stands, Roy in his usual dark Greyhounds shirt and me in a white Whippets fleece; with a flirty wink, she’d said the contrasting colors looked great together.

“Alright, coaches,” Keeley squealed, offering us a thumbs up from next to the camera. “Let’s do this shit!”

Mitch, sitting in the row in front of us, did a quick introduction, mentioning the fact that both of our teams were in first place and showing no signs of slowing down.

He turned to us with a friendly grin. “Coaches, how are you feeling coming into the final stretch of your seasons?”

I looked over at Roy, offering to let him answer first. His eyes held the smallest bit of nervousness as he gazed back at me; I knew he wasn’t a fan of this kind of thing, but it finally dawned on me that he was probably worried about me, about us. With the tiniest smile, I pressed my knee gently against his, offering a silent We’ve got this.

I turned back to the camera with my best smile. “It’s exciting,” I started. “There’s a great energy here at the Dog Track right now, and we’re all just really excited and proud of all we’ve accomplished so far this season. We all can’t wait to see the Greyhounds and Whippets finish strong.”

Roy sat up straight, nodding in agreement. “The Greyhounds have been steadily building towards this, for a few seasons now actually. And the Whippets came right out of the gate strong as hell. It’s pretty amazing to get to experience this together.”

“It’s amazing to see the teams get along so well,” Mitch agreed. “How was the adjustment, sharing Nelson Road?”

Roy shrugged, keeping his knee pressed to mine. “The teams did great, actually. The guys were very welcoming to the Whippets, didn’t complain once about sharing the changing room and facilities. And the Whippets are fantastic.” He smirked at me. “Might miss them if they get their own training facilities.”

“Oh, no one told you we’re kicking you guys out?” I teased before turning back to the camera. “Yeah, the Greyhounds did a great job helping us feel right at home. Honestly, everyone at Nelson Road is amazing. Nate Shelley has been one of the great secrets of our success. Don’t tell the Greyhounds, but I’m hoping to poach him.”

Mitch laughed. “Good sportsmanship there.” He raised his eyebrows at us. “So, the teams got along great from the start. But rumor has it the two of you weren’t exactly best friends when the Whippets first arrived?”

We both paused for a moment. When I looked at Keeley, she was wearing a shit-eating grin. Stupid fucking Keeley.

“Well,” I started slowly. “We, er, had a rocky start, for sure.” I shrugged. “Growing pains. I think Roy would agree, we’re both very competitive and, well, stubborn. So it was a recipe for discomfort.”

Roy snorted, quirking a thick eyebrow at me. “Growing pains?” he repeated with a teasing scoff. “Fuck off, we hated each other.” He shrugged and turned back to Mitch with a grin. “Honestly it’s a miracle neither of us ended up buried under the pitch or something.”

I couldn’t help chuckling. “Yeah, he’s not wrong. We were… kind of awful. It’s a bigger miracle that the rest of the coaches didn’t all conspire to murder us both.” I gave Roy a gentle punch in the arm. “But we get along swell now.”

“What changed?”

“Well…” Roy gazed at the blue sky for a moment. “Honestly, I got to see her interact with my niece. We ran into each other one day, and she was just so damn nice and friendly. They’ve met a couple times now, and my niece just absolutely worships her.” He shrugged, ears tinted pink. “Kind of hard to hate someone when they’re your favorite person’s hero.”

Fuck. My heart hammered in my chest, listening to the affection in Roy’s voice; to anyone else, he was all soft because he was talking about Phoebe. But I knew that the tenderness he spoke with had quite a bit to do with his feelings for me. Feelings that were completely and totally mutual.

“And you, Coach Buck? When did your opinion of Roy change?”

Trying to keep myself from looking as giddy as I felt, I folded my arms and smiled at Mitch. “You know, I’m not one hundred percent sure,” I admitted. “We’ve had a lot of small moments of respect and friendship that I think added up over time. Before the season started, we had this team retreat, and the two of us had a great chat about how great it would be to both win the whole thing. And with the Whippets-Greyhounds game, he was fantastic with my players. And-” I sat up, grinning. “-we have this routine where we run together after work every day and watch crappy reality shows. I think just, over time, I came to respect Kent as a manager and enjoy our friendship.” I nodded towards Roy. “I’m really lucky to call him my colleague and friend.”

Roy’s eyebrows were impossibly high. “Fuck,” he chuckled. “Making my blush over here, Bucky.”

I loved the way my name sounded in that gruff voice.

Mitch was obviously amused watching us interact. “Clearly there’s a lot of respect and affection between the two of you. Especially since you’ve been attending each other’s games pretty consistently lately. Roy, you even wore a Whippets kit with Buck’s name on it the other night. Is there a reason you two’ve been so supportive of each other lately?”

In case either of us missed the not-so-subtle implication, Keeley made a circle with her fingers and slid her index finger in and out, winking at us dramatically. I battled the urge to roll my eyes at her and instead turned my attention to Roy, who decided to answer first this time.

“I mean, have you seen the Whippets?” he was saying. “They’re kind of fucking brilliant to watch. She’s a fucking great manager. ’Course I like watching them.” He turned to me expectantly, waiting for me to sing the Greyhounds’ praises.

Instead, I put on my sassiest smirk. “Honestly, sometimes there’s just nothing good on TV, so coming down here to watch this guy coach has to do for entertainment.”

When I looked at Roy, his eyebrows were raised cartoonishly, and his mouth was open in amusement. “Oh, sorry,” he laughed. “Didn’t realize your gold medal was in breaking my fucking heart.”

We sat there for a moment, eyes narrowed at each other dramatically, mouths twitching from trying not to laugh. Finally, Roy broke into a little snicker, the one that made my heart skip a beat, and I quickly joined him in uncontrollable laughter. Shoulders shaking, I leaned forward and instinctively rested my hand on his knee, trying to catch my breath and regain my composure. When I caught the mischievous sparkle in Keeley’s eye, I immediately withdrew my hand, realizing what I’d just done.

Luckily, Mitch kept things going. “So, with all the time you’ve spent watching each other coach, have you learned anything new?”

The interview went on, with more laughter and opportunities to compliment each other. As much as I tried to stay professional, I couldn’t help the way I gushed over Roy and the Greyhounds, although I did manage to keep my hands to myself for the rest of the interview. Some little part of me dreaded this interview coming out; it would be clear to anyone with eyes that Roy Kent and I were crazy about each other. But, as he talked all about how much his players admired my Whippets, I found that I didn’t mind people knowing that I liked this man. Not really.

“Alright, so, as the season comes to a close, I’ve got to ask the tough question,” Mitch wrapped up. “If one team wins and the other team doesn’t, will you still be happy for each other?”

I didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely. We’re one team here at Nelson Road. We celebrate each other here.”

Roy tilted his head towards me, holding out his closed fist. “Richmond til we die.”

“Richmond til we die,” I echoed, touching my fist to his, not bothering to hold back my soft smile.

Once Mitch wrapped up and the cameras stopped rolling, Keeley finally exploded, the way she clearly had been dying to do the entire time. “Holy shit,” she gasped, scrambling over the seats until she was perched in front of us. “You two should be arrested for public indecency, eye-fucking each other like that on camera. There’ll be children watching this, you perverts.” Her grin was wicked.

“Fuck off, Keeley,” Roy grumbled, standing up. He stretched his arms over his head, revealing a peek of tummy I fought hard not to stare at. “A fucking thank you for not fucking up the interview would be nice.” He nodded to me, almost smiling, before stalking off, leaving me alone with a still-smirking Keeley.

“You two’re pretty damn cute together,” she continued, raising her eyebrows at me.

“Fuck off, Keeley,” I sighed with an eyeroll.

Her smirk only grew. “Spoken like the future Mrs. Roy Kent.”

~

With no one around, Roy whistled a little as he sat in his office, looking over some plays Nate had left him. The Whippets had the late practice, so Roy was wasting time until they ended training and he could do his nightly routine of jogging with their gorgeous manager. He was looking forward to an evening of mocking reality show contestants and shamelessly gawking at the way she wore her sports bra and running shorts. Once, the ogling was so bad, the two managers went at it in the team showers; if Roy was being honest, he was kind of hoping for a repeat. He was sure that, with a few flirtatious words growled just right, he could convince her.

“Could we speak with you a moment?”

Roy looked up, immediately ceasing his carefree whistling. Higgins was in the doorway, wearing that nervous smile of his and adjusting his glasses, Beard crossing his arms just behind him. Both men looked ready for a chat- fuck, hopefully not some Diamond Dogs shit- as they entered the office and closed the door behind them.

After a quick glance to the still-empty Whippets office, Roy cleared his throat. “Need something, fellas?”

Beard gave a little cough into his fist and held out his phone to Roy. “Higgins, uh, saw something interesting on the security cameras the other day. We just wanted your thoughts on it.”

Frowning, Roy took the phone from his assistant coach and hit play on the screen. He squinted at the recording of the computer screen, recognizing his own office and wondering what the world was so important-

Fuck. On the screen, he and Bucky entered his office, still dressed from their run, laughing and shoving each other flirtatiously. Onscreen Roy tugged her close, his fingers greedily grazing over her bare skin as he pulled her into a deep kiss, one full of affection and joy, the kind of kiss that said I love you without needing to put those words out there. She threw her head back, obviously laughing, and shoved him away playfully as his lips tried to find her bare neck.

Roy remembered that evening clear as day. They’d gotten a little competitive on the treadmills, trying to see who could run the most before Lust Conquers All ended, and afterwards they lightheartedly argued about whether his knee or her ankle gave the bigger disadvantage. They’d finally called a truce, admitting they were both pretty damn broken, which was what prompted Roy to kiss her. She’d had the good sense to remind him that there were still a few people in the office, which prompted them both to hurry and gather their things to go home so they could pick up where they left off.

It had been a fun, flirty evening. Probably Roy’s favorite since they started dating, actually. But Roy wasn’t exactly thrilled to see evidence of it on his assistant coach’s phone. With a suddenly dry mouth, Roy glanced up at the two men. Higgins was still wearing that anxious smile, eyebrows raised expectantly. Beard, on the other hand, was gazing at Roy skeptically over the tops of his sunglasses.

“So?” the American prompted, snatching his phone back. “Anything to share with the class?”

“Ah…” Roy stared at the phone in Beard’s hand, as if his unwavering gaze could somehow erase the footage from the device- and his friends’ minds. “I mean, you fucking know…” He shrugged. “We don’t fucking hate each other anymore, I guess.”

Higgins’s smile became gleeful. “How long has this been going on?” he practically sang.

Despite himself, the corner of Roy’s mouth ticked upwards. “About two weeks,” he admitted. “Did that grand gesture shit. Took her on a real date.” He bobbled his head. “It’s… it’s fucking nice.”

“What was the grand gesture?” Roy was sure he could see a hint of a smile in Beard’s eye.

Fuck it. Maybe he didn’t hate gushing, at least not when it was about her. “Got her a ball signed by the 1991 U.S. women’s team.” He gestured towards her office, towards that poster. “The team Brandi Chastain played for. Left it outside her apartment, she chased me down in the rain, I confessed how I feel about her. Had our first date that night.”

The gasp that flew out of Beard’s mouth was almost inhuman. “Holy Nora Ephron,” he breathed. He gripped Roy’s shoulders tightly. “You. Did. Well.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Roy grumbled, shoving Beard’s hands off him, pretending he wasn’t pleased to receive such high praise. “Just don’t fucking tell anyone, alright? We’re trying to keep things quiet and shit. Got enough attention with those fucking photos, we’d like to just be able to date like normal people for a bit.”

“We understand completely,” Higgins assured him sympathetically. “You two should absolutely have your privacy, everything you’ve been through.” He let out the tiniest giggle. “But goodness, we are so thrilled for you!” He took Roy’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Honestly, Roy. You deserve to be happy.” His smile softened. “You both do.”

For once, Roy didn’t mind being doted on. Instead, he smiled and accepted his friends’ congratulations and promises to keep quiet. He was still being gushed over when that familiar pretty face appeared in the office next door, offering him a smile that had him thinking they might end up skipping their run and just get their cardio done in his bedroom.

~

Keeley and Rebecca couldn’t believe that Roy had actually said yes to this. I was a little less surprised, but only because I’d managed to convince him in the shower that morning.

Manager Mondays, Keeley had called it. Our Richmond Star interview had been a massive success; TikTok and Twitter had gone a little wild with clips of us gushing over each other, deciding that the managers of two soccer teams were their new ‘ship’. Keeley decided to capitalize on our newfound popularity by doing weekly videos of us answering fan questions on Instagram; she’d been understandably nervous to ask Roy, but, thanks to my private methods of persuasion, he’d begrudgingly said yes.

He already looked like he was regretting it as we sat together in the stands, Keeley leering at us as she started the camera. Sensing that Roy was tensing up, I gently pressed my knee to his, immediately feeling his body relax at my touch. He glanced at me with slightly raised eyebrows and a soft nod, giving in as he often did these days.

“Alright, coaches,” she said in her most professional voice. “First question: who is your favorite female footballer?”

A smirk appeared on that bearded face. “Gee, I wonder who you’re going to say,” he quipped.

Forgetting about the camera, I gave him a light shove. “Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled good-naturedly. I turned my attention back to the camera. “My childhood hero is Brandi Chastain,” I confirmed. “I’ve got her poster in my office actually.” I nodded to Roy. “Who’s yours?”

His smirk softened as he gazed at me. “Is it too cheesy to say you, Coach?”

“Suck up,” I mumbled, pretending I wasn’t blushing furiously at his very public praise.

Keeley giggled and read the next question. “Do you guys think it’s funny that, when you were playing, you both wore the number six?”

Roy raised his eyebrows in exaggerated shock. “Oh shit, we wore the same number? You’re fucking kidding.”

“Really?” I snorted. “You literally just wore my kit to my game last night, Kent.” I squinted at Keeley. “Can we edit his answer out?”

“Definitely not. You two are adorable,” Keeley chuckled. She looked down at her phone. “Alright, here’s another one: what is your type? You know, romantically?”” She waggled her eyebrows at us.

Roy frowned. “Did someone really fucking ask that?”

Keeley held her phone close to her chest. “Absolutely. All of these questions come from fans. Now, go on.” She nodded to me. “What’s your type?”

I snuck a glance at Roy, whose smug face had my mind racing. “Well,” I started, sitting up. “Guess I’d have to say I like blond hair and blue eyes. I’m not really into fellow footballers, if I’m being honest.” I wrinkled my nose. “Oh, and I think foul language is insanely unattractive.” I turned to look at Roy, whose eyes were full of amusement. We both just sat there for a moment, smirking at each other, enjoying our little game.

“Roy?” Keeley asked, sounding far away as I focused on those brown eyes I loved so much.

Turning back to the camera with an expressionless face, Roy simply said, “Whatever the opposite of Bucky is.”

My jaw dropped as he looked back at me with the most self-satisfied look on his face. He got me, I had to admit. We both broke into fits of laughter, shaking our heads at each other. This definitely wasn’t going to help our new reputation as “Richmond’s Sweethearts”, but neither of us seemed to care; we were just having too much fun together.

After a couple more questions, Keeley dismissed us with a proud look on her face, not needing to point out how far we’d come since our first disastrous photoshoot. As soon as we were alone, Roy’s hands were on me, laughter still in his eyes. Instead of returning the embrace, I shoved him away playfully.

“Oh no,” I reprimanded in a light voice. “Not your type, remember?”

“Come on,” he chuckled, gripping my hips and pulling me to him. “You know you’re the fucking dictionary definition of my type.” He pecked my cheek. “Darling,” he added, in that low voice he often used when he was trying to convince me of something.

And damn, if it didn’t work.

“Prick,” I breathed as his lips brushed against mine.

“You love it,” he reminded me before kissing me deeply.

Yeah. I really fucking did.

~

Phoebe watched her Uncle Roy and Coach Bucky carefully as, not for the first time in the last couple of weeks, they prepared dinner together. They’d been hanging out a lot, she’d noticed. It seemed like almost every time Phoebe was dropped off at Roy’s, Bucky was already there. The three of them would eat dinner, or watch movies, or kick the football around the backyard, or play Princess and Dragon with two dragons.

Not that Phoebe minded. She adored Bucky. Hell, she kind of worshipped the woman. She was sporty, and fierce, and funny, and kind, all things that made Phoebe excited to hang out together. But something in the way her Uncle Roy smiled at the American had her little mind turning and turning until finally, something clicked.

“Coach Bucky, are you Uncle Roy’s girlfriend?”

The two managers froze, exchanging tense looks before turning their gazes to the little blonde who gazed up at them expectantly.

“What makes you think so, Pheebs?”

Roy had never heard the Whippet manager speak in such a squeaky voice. It was kind of adorable, he thought.

Phoebe shrugged, leaning her elbows on the kitchen island. “Well,” she started slowly. “You’ve been hanging out with us a lot, and Uncle Roy has been in a very good mood lately, and you two smile at each other a lot.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “It kind of reminds me of when Keeley was Uncle Roy’s girlfriend.”

Again, the two managers stared at each other, neither quite knowing what to say. Roy cocked his head at the woman he hadn’t called his girlfriend yet, but who he definitely, absolutely adored, the woman who his niece idolized. She stared back, her red lips curling upwards, tempting him to kiss her and confirm Phoebe’s suspicions.

Instead, he turned to Phoebe and opened his mouth. “What would you think if she was my…” His eyes flickered back to the pretty American. “… girlfriend?”

It was the first time he’d said that word in a long time. First time he said it about her. And the way her eyes lit up told him he should definitely keep saying it. With a blush, he turned back to Phoebe, who looked just as thrilled, practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

“I think it would be wonderful,” Phoebe gushed. “And Mum would be happy too. She says that ever since the charity game, it’s been obvious you two fancy each other.” She blinked up at them. “So? Is she your girlfriend?”

Roy paused. They hadn’t discussed this, not really. They were clearly crazy about each other. They’d spent practically every day and night together since their first date. Roy wasn’t interested in seeing anyone else anytime soon, maybe not ever; he knew she felt the same, even if they didn’t say it. He was absolutely head over heels for the woman and definitely wouldn’t mind making things a little more official, even if it was a bit quicker than most people would.

“I think she is,” he finally murmured, leaning across the kitchen island to gaze softly at the pretty manager. “If she wants to be, that is.”

Fuck, her smile was fucking bright, so red and kissable. “She definitely wants to,” she teased, eyes sparkling as she raised her eyebrows at Roy.

“In that case-”

Roy zipped around the kitchen island to Bucky, grabbing her by the waist and planting a firm kiss to her lips, eliciting a joyful squeal from her throat. She laughed against his mouth before pulling back and nodding meaningfully towards Phoebe.

He rolled his eyes and planted one more kiss to her forehead. “Sorry, Pheebs,” he hummed to his niece, not sorry at all.

The rest of the night was spent enjoying dinner and watching cartoons. Well, Phoebe watched cartoons; the newly official couple chose to instead gaze at each other over the top of her head, exchanging smiles far too shy for two people who spent nearly every night in each other’s beds. Once Phoebe was picked up and had eagerly announced to her mother that yes, Coach Bucky was Uncle Roy’s girlfriend, the two managers made their way to the bedroom, choosing to just throw on pajamas and sleepily crawl into bed.

Roy turned onto his side, taking in the sight of her in an old Greyhounds sweater of his- a sight he could get used to. A sight he wished he’d gotten sooner. She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, mouth twitching upwards.

“What, Kent?”

He cleared his throat. “Was just… thinking.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Not already rethinking the girlfriend thing, are you?” she teased.

“Absolutely fucking not.” He reached out and gently traced the shape of her nose with his finger. “Just wondering… if you and I… if those fucking photos hadn’t…” He scrunched his eyebrows. “D’you think we’d have gotten together after the gala? If it wasn’t for… everything?”

There was a long pause before she turned onto her side to face Roy. “Honestly?” Roy nodded. “No.” She tugged at the sheets beneath them, thoughtfulness coloring her face. “Your reputation kind of scared me,” she admitted. “I figured, you know, that night didn’t mean anything to you more than ‘Hey, good sex with that really annoying but hot woman’. So, I’d planned on just going back to normal. Whatever normal was for us.” She offered an awkward smirk. “I mean, I would’ve definitely said yes to an offer to repeat that night, but I figured you would be up for a couple hookups and that’s it.” She shrugged. “Good hookups, though.”

“Right.” Roy stroked her face, the heat from her cheek practically burning his thumb. “No, I fucking get it. I mean, I figured you absolutely fucking hated me. That you regretted everything. And I, you know, tried to avoid things, but once I realized how I fucking felt and was ready to tell you…” He wrinkled his nose. “You weren’t exactly available.”

The two managers stared at each other in silence for a moment, their eyes trying to say everything their words couldn’t, trying to express how hurt they’d been after the gala, how badly they both wished they could go back to that night, how if only, if only, they could turn back time and not be idiots.

But sometimes, words work better.

“I’m sorry,” Roy finally murmured. “For all of it. That this took so fucking long.”

She nodded and turned her face to kiss the palm of his hand. “Me too, Roy. I’m sorry.” Her expression softened, that familiar playfulness gleaming in her eyes. “But hey, we’re here now.” She leaned forward and pecked his lips gently. “And I, for one, am pretty damn happy.”

The weight that had started to settle in his chest immediately dissipated, replaced with the bliss that smile of hers often gave him. “Me too,” he agreed, grabbing her hip to tug her against his chest, bringing her face towards his. “You were worth the fucking wait.”

~

After Roy and I explored the benefits of being boyfriend and girlfriend, we collapsed onto the bed, our huffs and breathy chuckles filling the room. As Roy reached around trying to gather the clothes we’d sloppily discarded, I turned over to grab my phone from its familiar spot on the nightstand that sat by what was now my side of Roy’s bed.

Hey! Dinner after the Greyhounds game tomorrow? Feels like forever since we’ve hung out.

Officially out of my post-orgasm bliss, I sighed and re-read Lucas’s message. He was right; it had been a while since we’d done something outside of work. I’d been so occupied with Roy, and hiding that I was occupied with Roy, that I’d been a pretty lousy friend. It was something I always swore I’d never do: neglect a friend for a guy. And even though Roy wasn’t just any guy, I still knew I needed to give Lucas much more attention than I’d been giving him lately.

“Oi. What’s wrong with you?” Roy handed me the sweatshirt he’d thrown across the room earlier and stared at me with perplexed concern. “Is it my turn to ask if you’re rethinking this ‘official relationship’ thing? Because I will fucking fight you if you think you can stop being my girlfriend already.”

A snort flew out of my mouth as I put Roy’s sweater back on. “Fuck off, you know I’d beat you in a fight, what with your shit knees.” I pecked his cheek and shimmied back into a comfortable position. “Nah, just got a text from Luke asking to hang out.” I shrugged. “And I’ve been a shitty friend lately, because you’re getting all my attention. And I know he’d understand why I’ve gone MIA on him, but…” I bobbled my head. “You know.” I sighed. “And I hate hiding things from Lucas. Especially because I know he still feels like crap after everything with George-”

“That’s a weird way to pronounce ‘Satan’,” Roy grumbled, earning an eyeroll from me.

“Anyways,” I continued, giving Roy a playful shove. “I just don’t feel like a good friend lately. And it sucks. He’d be really happy for us, you know? But, I mean, he’ll find out when everyone else does. And he can be excited then.”

Roy stared at me for a moment, a frown on his face. “Tell him.”

His straightforward reply had me blinking. “Excuse me?”

“Just fucking tell him.” Roy wrapped an arm around me and tugged me close so my head was on his bare chest. “Luke’s your best friend. He’s not gonna go fucking blab. Like you said, he’ll be happy for us.” He kissed the top of my head. “Fucking tell him.”

 “You sure?” I twisted around to look at him.

He rolled his eyes. “Just say you’re telling him before I change my fucking mind.”

I kissed his chest gently. “Thank you.”

Despite Roy’s assurance that it was fine to tell Luke about us, I felt incredibly apprehensive as my assistant coach and I sat on my couch, eating takeout and absently watching a Meg Ryan movie. As if he could sense my nervousness, Lucas sighed and set down his food.

“What’s up?” he demanded with a snort. “Don’t tell me you slept with Roy Kent again.”

Well, that was as good as an opening as I’d ever get. “Fine,” I chirped, casually taking a bite of my dinner, not bothering to look at my best friend. “I won’t tell you that I slept with Roy again.” I took the smallest pause. “And again. And again.”

Lucas snatched the food out of my hand and slammed it on my coffee table. “I’m sorry, what?”

It was challenging trying to hide my stupid smile all the damn time; this time had to be the worst. “Roy and I… we’ve…” I nodded, hoping my grin and raised eyebrows were enough for Lucas.

“You guys have been hooking up?” he hissed, eyes wide as he shoved me. “What happened to all that talk about not wanting to be a ‘Roy Kent girl’? What about all that ‘we’re just friends’ shit you tried to sell me and everyone else at the club?” He leaned in close. “This isn’t some rebound from the George thing, is it Buck?”

“Well, it’s one serious rebound considering he asked me to be his girlfriend last night,” I murmured, grabbing my food off the table and settling back onto the couch casually. “I said yes, in case you were wondering.” I smiled at the takeout container in my hand. “We’re… together.”

Lucas finally began to smile. “Together together?”

I nodded. “Together together,” I repeated with finality.

I knew Lucas loved me. We’d clicked so quickly when I played for him in college, we’d stayed in touch when I was playing professionally, he was my biggest supporter when I made the switch to coaching, and he didn’t hesitate to follow me to Richmond. He was my best friend, brother, soulmate, all rolled into one. But seeing the absolute elation on his face at this development reminded me all over again about the deep affection we shared.

“Buck,” he sighed, wrapping an arm around me tightly and giving my shoulder a squeeze. “You have no fucking… you don’t even know…” He shook his head with a light chuckle. “He makes you happy, right? Treats you well?”

“Really fucking happy, Luke,” I assured him, leaning my head on his shoulder. “Roy’s… fuck, he’s something, you know? We have so much fun together, and it feels so nice just getting to know each other like this. Like, he’s an amazing cook. And he reads so much. And he’s pretty silly and romantic when he wants to be. And he’s-”

Luke squeezed me. “Good in bed?” he teased.

I sat up with a smirk. “Fan-freaking-tastic,” I bragged. “And we know we’re moving kind of fast- making things official after just a couple of weeks- and we’ve spent literally every night together since our first date- but- I mean-” I shrugged. “It’s Roy. We’ve… This…” I shook my head. “It just feels like we’ve more than earned it.”

“You deserve it,” Lucas agreed. After a moment, he narrowed his eyes at me. “A couple weeks, huh? So that means… that day I thought your ankle was hurt… when you were walking funny…”

I bobbled my head. “We may have had our first date that Friday,” I mumbled, poking at my dinner with a sheepish grin. “And I may have spent that whole weekend in his bed. And his kitchen. And on his living room couch. And once in his shower.”

“Fuck,” Lucas laughed and grabbed his takeout box, shaking his head. “Remind me not to sit on the couch at Roy’s then.”

~

Roy didn’t know if he’d ever been in the passenger seat of his car before. It was nice, he had to admit as Bucky turned the steering wheel. He felt a bit spoiled, like he finally understood the whole “passenger princess” shit Keeley used to joke about. She pulled over and looked at Roy with raised eyebrows.

“I’ll pick you up at six?” she asked, stifling a yawn.

“Yeah.” He leaned over and pecked her lips, not caring about her morning breath. “Thanks for driving me, babe. Didn’t have to do that. You could’ve stayed in bed, gotten some more sleep.”

A shy smile crossed her tired face. “I just wanted more time with you, Kent.” She leaned over and kissed his lips again. “Shut up,” she mumbled, anticipating a teasing response to her sappy confession. “Have fun with Jamie.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “Fat fucking chance,” he grumbled. “One more.” He stole another kiss, stroking her unkempt hair, wishing he was still in bed, wishing they could have just a little more time together before another day of going to the Dog Track and pretending they weren’t crazy about each other. “See you later.”

Jamie stopped mid-step, jaw agape. After noting that Roy was already five minutes late, Jamie’d started his run, figuring if he showed initiative, Roy might be a bit lenient with him. He was a little surprised to spot the familiar Mercedes parked along his route, rather than near their regular meeting spot on the other side of the park; he was more than a little surprised to see Roy in the passenger seat, snogging the Whippets’ manager, who looked like she was wearing a Greyhounds’ sweatshirt.

He didn’t bother hiding the glee on his face when his coach got out of the car, still wearing a dopey grin as he waved at the black car driving away. That dopey grin disappeared when he noticed Jamie, standing with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” Roy hissed, taking in Jamie’s smug grin.

“Mornin’, Coach,” the striker hummed, looking as if he’d caught Roy with his hand in the cookie jar. “Have a nice pre-workout breakfast?”

Roy squirmed- something Jamie wasn’t sure he’d ever seen- and coughed into his hand. “I, uh…” He narrowed his eyes at a now snickering Jamie. “Fuck off, Tartt. Get running.”

An hour later, a more relaxed Roy and very sweaty Jamie sat on their usual bench, exchanging smirks.

“So,” Jamie was saying, “girlfriend, eh? Very official.”

“Yeah,” Roy chuckled, shaking his head, looking uncharacteristically light. “Fucking unbelievable, innit?”

Jamie shook his head. “Not unbelievable at all,” he argued. “The two of you… well, you know.” He nudged his coach. “Fucking inevitable. Meant to be. Like Romeo and Juliet. Becks and Posh. Lizzie and Darcy.”

Roy had to do a double take on that last one. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, I know shit,” Jamie boasted. “Gonna be a bit confusing around Nelson Road when we’ve got Coach Kent and Coach Kent both working there, don’t ya think?”

A snort flew out of Roy’s mouth. “Think she’ll be keeping her own last name when we get married. Hell, might even ask me to take her name.”

Jamie’s breath caught in his chest; Roy’s words came out so naturally, so casually. Jamie was scared that bringing attention to it would spook the gaffer, maybe even give the man a heart attack. “Yeah,” Jamie managed with a chuckle. “Bet she would, mate.”

It took about fifteen seconds for Roy’s eyes to widen in realization. “Wait, no,” he sputtered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “That’s not- fuck- we’ve barely started dating. That was a joke. A fucking joke, alright, Tartt? We’ve been dating for two fucking weeks. Keep your mouth shut, alright? We've only told a couple of people.”

"Including me?" Jamie laid a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’m honored.” He nudged Roy knowingly. “I assume I’m gonna be your best man, right Grandad?”

“Absolutely fucking not,” Roy grunted with a sneer.

“So you’ve already thought about it then?”

Roy could only mage two words as he tried to keep his idiotic smile and spreading blush under control: “Fuck off.”

~

Somehow, Roy and I managed to be on time for work every day for the first three and a half weeks of our relationship. Sure, there was some scrambling involved, and some close calls, and some flimsy excuses about why Roy was driving me to work so often.

But this particular morning? Jamie wasn’t feeling well, so Roy had a free morning for once; we spent the extra time in his bed, easily losing track of time so that we were rushing to throw on clothes and brush our teeth and sprint out of the house with coffees and bagels in hand.

“Damn,” I huffed as I dug through my workbag. “Forgot my jacket.”

“D’you need it?” Roy asked, eyes flickering to the clock. “Dunno if we have time to go back, we’re really fucking late.”

I began digging around the backseat. “Kind of,” I grumbled. “It’s gonna be cold today. Might even rain. It’d be nice not to star in a one-woman wet t-shirt contest on the pitch.” I narrowed my eyes at Roy’s smirk, opening to make some suggestive comment. “Don’t start.” My fingers brushed against a windbreaker. “Ah!” I tugged the jacket out of the backseat, frowning when I recognized the grey material. “Damn, it’s yours.”

Roy shrugged as he pulled into the parking lot. “You can borrow it. I don’t fucking care.”

“Thanks.” Without a second thought, I slipped the jacket on over my Whippets t-shirt. Making sure Roy’s eyes were focused on his parking job, I stole a moment to bring the material to my face; I loved that Roy scent the jacket carried. And now I’d get to spend all day wrapped up in it. Maybe I should forget my jacket more often, I thought to myself as I started to gather my things. Just as I grabbed the handle on my door, I stopped, thinking for a moment.

“Something wrong?” Roy furrowed his eyebrows at me, catching the pensive look I probably wore.

I wrinkled my nose at him. “I’m wearing your jacket,” I said simply.

He nodded, confused why this was suddenly a problem. “Yeah?” I could see the realization hit him like a punch to the face. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Roy studied me carefully, his brown eyes lingering on the Greyhounds logo that now rested over my heart. “Are you… okay with that?”

I thought about it for a moment. Was I? I liked Roy. I liked being his girlfriend and spending half my nights at his house and having him at my apartment the other half. I knew this wasn’t some fling like Lucas had worried about; already, this was something real. I could see it in the way he smiled at me in the mornings when I woke up. I could see it in the way he cheered for my team at matches. And I could see it now, as he waited for my answer.

“Fuck it,” I said, a smile creeping across my face. “Everyone already thinks something’s going on anyways. Don’t think I really care anymore.” I leaned forward, nudging his nose with mine. “Do you?”

Immediately he shook his head. “I don’t give a fuck what they think.” He closed the gap between our mouths with a gentle kiss. “Shall we?”

As we strolled through the parking lot, both ignoring the joyful heat on our faces, Roy reached out and took my hand in his, intertwining our fingers as naturally as he did at home. He gave a squeeze as we walked through the doors, as if to say It’s all good. I squeezed back, assuring him that I felt the same way.

It didn’t take a psychic to predict that everyone at Nelson Road would notice.

When Dani and Sam passed us in the hallway, they initially wore their usual bright smiles. But then they took in the sight of Roy’s jacket wrapped around my shoulders and his fingers intertwined with mine, and those smiles quickly became perfect little Os.

As soon we turned a corner, we could hear their squeals and the sounds of their feet hitting the floor as they jumped up and down, probably clutching each other like children.

Roy raised his thick eyebrows at me and brought my hand to his lips to plant a soft kiss to my knuckles. “This was a bad fucking idea,” he hummed, his teasing tone assuring me he didn’t mean it.

The walk to our offices felt much longer than usual, thanks to the gawking stares that greeted us. Everyone from the players to the custodial staff to the team doctors looked at us as if we were wearing West Ham kits or something equally shocking. Honestly, I couldn’t blame them; a few months ago, anything seemed more likely than seeing me and Roy Kent strolling down the hall hand in hand.

The only person not shocked to see us was Lucas, who merely smiled at us as we entered my office.

“Hey lovebirds,” he called out, eyes firmly on our clasped hands. “Making your public debut?”

I shrugged. “We kind of stopped giving a flying shit,” I admitted.

Roy released my hand in favor of wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “Fuck, love it when you talk like that,” he teased, planting a kiss to my temple.

Before I could respond, a chorus of joyful gasps came from the direction of the Greyhounds’ office. Ted, Nate, Colin, and a few more Greyhounds stared at us through the giant window, delight coloring each and every one of their faces. I swore, somewhere in the back of the crowd, Isaac and Jan were hugging and jumping up and down.

“My stars,” Ted murmured, shaking his ehad. He started tapping at his phone and held it to his ear. “Becca? Darlin’, you wouldn’t believe what just happened-”

Roy rolled his eyes and turned back to me. “Your fucking fault,” he mumbled, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. “Making me late, forgetting your fucking jacket.” Another kiss. “You’re lucky I like you so fucking much.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I hummed, trying to ignore the eyes on us. “Guess I kind of am.” I gave him a small squeeze around the middle.

He planted one more kiss to my lips, flipping off his team as he did so. “Have a good day, Coach.”

“You too, Coach.”

Taglist: @optimisticsandwichgladiator@reading-blogs@callmecasey81@ladygrey03@puckyou-forpuckssake@royalestrellas@shineforever19@rae4725@burnafter-reading@her-fandom-sanctum@infinetlyforgotten@giggling-sewer-ginger@whataloadofmalarkey@agentstarkid@kingleahhh@tortilla-maria1@geekgirl1996@amatswimming@meg-ro@spicyraccoonlordking@spaghetti-dad187@needlesthreadandbuttons@elissaaa@imsoluckyeverythingworksoutforme@reverieisaway@djskakakaksjsj-blog@thatonedogwithablog@allthetroubleiveseen@sunderland-6@netflix-addict@paranormal-is-my-life@jill2629-blog@itsbuzzfeedbitch@pretzelactivist@amieinghigh@kashee-h@beingalive1@mythicalbinicorn@needyomega@kno-way-home@janalustare@sssatorus@its-a-rich-mans-world@confessionsofatotaldramaslut@hesitant-alien33@katie-sheep-111@bonesbonesetc@seacactusplant@thebookwormlife @dreamscape22 @rae4725@timelordhunterandmysterysolver@littleesilvia @anonurs @itswhateveripromise @chewymoustachio @gcidrvsh @katdahlali @ohwauwdoritos @lemoonandlestars @perfectwhispersvoid@seatbacksandtraytables@kingleahhh@maackiimoo @isuspectitwasthenargles @bannsshheeebiittcchhhh

[ringanon]

Phone Call | Auston Matthews

Pairing: Auston Matthews x gn!reader

Warning(s): none

Word Count: 680

Summary: You call your boyfriend, Auston, before Game 6 of the 1st Round (2023)

---------------------------------------------------

"Hi, baby!" He had only been gone for a day, but you were still happy for the chance to talk to him. You set up the camera on your kitchen island, sitting on one of the bar stools.

"Hey, mi amor, we're about to head out, but I wanted to call you first." Auston's voice came over as somber: he was focused. There was intent in his voice. He set up his phone against the bed side table in the hotel room, grabbing the office chair behind him.

"Are we doing fit checks?" It had been a tradition of yours for every away game. Now that they were in the playoffs, it was crucial. He liked seeing you all pretty, you liked seeing him in formal attire.

"Obviously, whatchu rockin'?" He leaned forward in the chair, resting his elbows against his knees.

"So we went with something a little calmer today. A couple of the girls are coming over here, we're gonna crack open a bottle or two of wine and watch the game. The jersey is a one-of-a-kind game worn jersey given to me by a player of the Toronto Maple Leafs. I think his name is Auston? He spells it with an O, not an I, tryna be different, or something.

The jeans are a light-wash Lee's that I thrifted from my hometown. I am not wearing shoes since I will be inside, but in case I do need to go out, I will be rocking my blue and white Air Forces that I got custom-made." Auston tilted his head, not quite sure which ones you were talking about. You dipped out of camera and picked them up from underneath the island. You had commissioned casual shoes to wear for games and events from a guy you saw on tik tok. Auston had only seen them a handful of times.

"Ah, I forgot about those ones. Looking good."

"What are we working with?

"I ended up deciding on the tan one."

"Oh come on! I expect a presentation! Some Pizzazz please, Matthews!"

"Fine! God! The jacket and trousers are the Lardini suit from Farfetch, shirt is from Men's Wearhouse, and the shoes are white Air Forces."

"That's better, we'll work on it."

He laughed, "are you watching the game tonight?"

"Do you listen to these presentations or do you just stare at my ass the whole time? A couple of the girls are coming over to watch, I got a whole spread, do you wanna see?"

"I would love to see the fruits of your labor, sweetheart."

You grabbed your phone from the island and stood up. Flipping the camera around, you walked around to the other side of the kitchen, "I wanted it to be mostly snack stuff, but I think Steph and Aryne will be here early, so I wanted actual food-food, but nothing too insane. We popped out with sliders- ham and cheese, and then I made a couple vegetarian ones. I also made a salad, nothing too insane, just Romane, crutons, cheese, and a vinnagrette that I made, and some chicken on the side that I chopped up."

"Oo bougie."

"I try, thank you. Next, we got a little grazing board thing. Most of this side is all white wine pairings and this side is red wine pairings, because I'm a good host who cares about her guests."

"Is that a dig?"

"Just a little. We got shrimp with cocktail sauce, and this is the spinach dip my mom used to make all the time."

"How long did it take you to prep the shrimp?" You turned the camera around to face you again.

"So long, you know I'm picky about them."

The door in Auston's room opened, "hey man, you ready to go?"

"Yeah, give me one second," He sighed, "alright, sweetheart, I gotta go. I'll talk to you after the game?"

"Go win a series for me."

"I'll try, let me know how your food goes over."

"I will, I love you."

"I love you more."

"That's impossible."

-💍

I'm clearing out the notes app. Can y'all tell? This one's short and sweet, though

[justanobsessedfangirl]

Teen Wolf Preferences #5 -- You're a Wereleopard (Part 2)

Requested by anon: Can you do a continuation of the Wereleopard!reader headcanons with Brett Talbot, Corey Bryant, and Nolan please? No one else has done these headcanons and I LOVE THEM!!!

Author's Note: I've had this in my drafts for literally YEARS now so I figured I should just post it. I didn't include Nolan because I don't feel I know that character well enough. Hope you enjoy! You can check out Part 1 (which includes Scott, Stiles, Liam, Derek, Isaac, and Theo) here.

Masterlist

Brett Talbot

Brett could smell something different about you, something foreign and powerful and...seductive?

No, nope, he definitely wasn’t thinking that way about someone who was friends with Liam Dunbar for God’s sake

But when you quirked an eyebrow at him and smirked, he was pretty sure you knew that flash of impure thought he’d had

So while Scott talked to the gathering of werewolves and other supernatural beings, Brett stared at you

And you sat there, smirking and smug

He swore he was going to lose it when you stretched, arching your back and showing a strip of skin below your shirt

What was happening to him??

No girl had ever caught his attention so quickly

After the meeting, Brett was torn between going to talk to you and leaving to try and save some of his pride

You sauntered over to him before he could decide

“See something you like?” you asked

You’d thought it was going to be a simple game of cat and mouse, where you’d get to sink your teeth into your prey and then discard him like all the others

But Brett wasn’t a mouse

“I’ve seen better,” he said

The corners of your lips turned down, your eyes narrowing

This wasn’t the game

“I’ll see you around, sweetheart,” he said, his words dripping condescension 

You fumed, too distracted to even hear that Brett’s heart was still racing even as he walked away

The two of you ran into each other a few times after at various meetings

Brett had done some asking around and found out you were a wereleopard, so he was slightly more prepared for your antics

But still, every time you saw each other, the flirting seemed to turn up a notch, the teasing hit a little harder

It reached a new high the night of the Devenford Prep-Beacon Hills lacrosse game

He’d spotted you in the bleachers as soon as he stepped on the field (not that he was trying to find you)

You were wearing tight shorts (were those even allowed??) and someone’s jersey (which definitely wasn’t allowed in Brett’s mind)

Brett definitely did not immediately scan the field and see whose it was

It was Liam’s

And you definitely had not worn it on purpose to see if you could rile him up

But if you had: mission accomplished

Brett was an animal on the field, scoring 6 goals himself and a number of assists, propelling Davenport to a 20-7 victory

You didn’t like how many times he slammed into Liam, but you were a big fan of how he looked when he was all sweaty

And then when he took his shirt off after the game

!!!!

But you played it cool when you came down the bleachers, first checking in with Liam, Stiles, Scott, and Kira, and waiting for Brett to start looking at you

You felt his eyes after only a few seconds

But you made him wait a minute or two before you turned to him and smiled, deceptively innocent

He came to you like a moth to a flame

You smelled his sweat and warmth and lust

And you couldn’t stop yourself from smirking

“You sure you still want to wear that loser’s jersey?” he asked, reaching a hand out to pinch the fabric between his fingers

Your eyes sparkled with mischief. “You don’t think I look good in it?”

Brett met your gaze. “You’d look better with it off.”

And then you had him, the cat had caught her mouse

Or maybe the dog had caught the cat?

It was hard to tell who was in control, but neither one of you ever stopped fighting for it

Not after a steamy hook-up in the backseat of his truck, where he asked you out and you pretended to have to think it over; not after that first date, where you thought he’d kiss you goodnight and he’d only smirked; and not after the first year together, where neither of you wanted to admit that you were in love, but you both knew you were

Corey Bryant

(male reader)

Oh, you really couldn’t have asked for a better lab partner than Corey Bryant

The poor boy was putty in your hands, and the blush that filled his cheeks when you gave him a compliment (even a small one) always had you going back for more

One time you ran a hand along his jacket while you complimented him and he couldn’t speak for nearly five minutes

You loved it

But as senior year crept along and supernatural events picked up around town, Corey began to change

It was little things at first: asking you to wash the beakers, telling you directions, looking you in the eye after a flirtatious comment

You bristled against it initially

Who did he think he was, growing a backbone against a wereleopard? He was only a human

Or was he?

Because you’d started to notice a change in his scent (not that you’d paid a lot of attention to it -- this wasn’t serious, you were just flirting) 

But the new smell was so faint and so unusual for supernatural creatures, almost seeming to change every second, that you couldn’t be sure

And what if he was just a normal human? What then? How did you feel about him challenging you more?

You hated it

Kind of

(Although you did kind of like seeing Corey’s confidence grow, whether aided by powers or not)

But as quickly as it had happened, Corey seemed to fold back into the shadows again

He came to class pale, with dark shadows under his eyes, and he smelled scared

Not that you were concerned or anything

You just went to Scott McCall to make sure he, as the True Alpha in town, knew that something sketchy might be going on

And after learning about the Dread Doctors you only offered to help because you’re a wereleopard, the strongest, smartest, fastest supernatural creature around

“And the most humble,” Stiles had muttered

You’d winked and he’d gone wide-eyed, looking around frantically, but all you could think about was how Corey would have reacted instead

Would he still blush at something as small as a wink? Would he smile that sweet, boyish grin of his?

Now armed with the knowledge of Corey being a Chimera, you’d taken it upon yourself to be his bodyguard

And also test out what exactly his powers were

Was he stronger than you???

Well, as you found out in the Beacon Hills High School weight room, he could bench press 360 pounds

Easily

You weren’t sure if you should be bitter or turned on

Or both

“Thanks, Y/N, for helping. I know this isn’t something you’d normally do,” Corey said as he sat on the bench

You smirked (you didn’t really know how to smile) and leaned against a nearby squat rack, “I wouldn’t miss an opportunity to spend time with my favorite Chimera.”

There was that blush

And the boyish grin

And Corey looking at you shyly through his eyelashes

Were you blushing too?

“Do you think...Do you think I might be the Dread Doctors’ success?” he asked. “I just mean because I’m only getting stronger. And I’m healing faster.” Corey looked up at you nervously, then back down to the ground. “Nevermind, I don’t know--”

“I think you’re a success,” you said before you could stop yourself. You pushed yourself away from the squat rack and reached Corey’s bench in a few graceful steps. Slowly sitting next to him, you added, “I don’t know what the Dread Doctors are planning, but I think you check every box.” And then, because he wasn’t responding, just staring at you, red-cheeked and beautiful, you said again, “I think you’re a success, Corey.”

His kiss was nervous and excited and, underneath it all, dominant

When you both finally needed to pull away, Corey was the first to speak

“I like your smile.”

And you were smiling, because Corey was smiling too and you felt happy, not proud from teasing some guy, not accomplished because you made someone flustered, not superior because you were supernatural

You were just

Happy

[7r0773r]

There's Always This Year: On Basketball and Ascension by Hanif Abdurraqib

And besides, it might do all of us some good to reconsider what making it even means, or at least to honor a world where making it is not defined by the glamorous exit, not only by television cameras, not only by coming back with a pair of trophies riding shotgun. What, after all, do you call it when your name is good on every block you touch, or when kids gather around porches to hear stories of when you were great, even if you haven't held a ball in a meaningful game in decades. When you don't have to pay for a drink, when the guys at the corner store wave you off while you reach into your pockets. What do you call it when players who came after you fight back tears at the mere memory of you, at the mere mention of your life now, the path you made. Someone who ages, thank God. Someone who lives beyond their past selves. But someone who is also bronzed, a monument embedded in the emotional infrastructure of a place. People will remember you, sweat-slicked and twirling through two defenders, splitting the foolish ambitions of your enemies. People will remember you, swinging from a rim with your eyes wide open, as if you can't believe that you got that high and can't believe that you have to come down. People will point to a kid wearing an Allen Iverson throwback jersey or a pair of Kobe Bryant sneakers and shake their heads, and maybe they'll say Estaban smoked all those fools once. And that's it, I promise you. Once is all it takes. It takes you, and a ball, and someone between you and the basket. You have won once, a single time, and worn your victory around your neck until it grew rust, and then wore it for years after. Don't talk to me about any version of making it that ends with someone like Estaban Weaver being described as a failure. Not if you weren't here. Not if you don't know what it's like for a city to make you into a savior before you finish ninth grade. Not if, despite that, you survived. (pp. 88-89)

***

Sometimes there are funerals, and sometimes there is nothing. No portal through which grief can be passed, no housewarming for the new grief that furnishes the ever-growing tower that we carry, that we are responsible for, whether we want to be or not. Both landlords and tenants within our own sadness, and sometimes it just happens. Grows while you sleep. Death isn't the only way to die, though it can be argued that it is the most merciful. (p. 90)

***

The greatest engine within the machinery of deception is mercy. The mercy visited upon you by those who know something is amiss but don't say shit. Who know the machinery is what is keeping you going, granting you a little bit of dignity. And the deception that mothers all other deceptions I may try to finesse past you is the one that whispers in my ear and tells me I keep all of my heartbreak in the chamber. Zip it up before going out into the world. But oh, how it overflows, even when I have prayed that it doesn't. And so I suppose I should assume there are many people to thank for their mercies. The friends who never asked the questions I didn't want to answer about the same clothes two days in a row or why a new person opened the door of my apartment when they knocked once and then never again.

But yes, also, the kind woman who once handed me a key to a storage unit I couldn't afford and who also, surely, heard me rustling around in that unit on the mornings I couldn't get out in time and who never knocked and who, when her manager came to do inspections on a morning I was tucked, trembling, in my sleeping bag, steered him in another direction, telling him I've checked these already outside of my door, the faint echo of her lie breathing life into my own prolonged lie. And yes, the library workers who did not shake me back to the living when I had nodded into a dream where I was free, and I mean the good kind of free, a dream no storm could snuff out. And yes, whoever saw fit to open the doors of the downtown church a little early on the mornings, and whoever saw fit to leave blankets on the pews, and whoever saw fit to play the gospel so low it became a morning lullaby, women singing about God and those who have run toward God and been lifted up beyond the wreckage, and I am thankful, too, that I did not, in that moment, stand over the cauldron of my rage. I am thankful that I simply slept, bathed in the glow of stained glass and the hues of the pastel Christs. But there was rage. I came to God once. I made a deal. I said If you give me this, I will give you anything. We both knew I was a liar. I suppose God is under no obligation to be merciful about our deceptions. (pp. 125-26)

***

There were years before the fences crowned with barbed wire. Years before the monochromatic manufacturing plants began to sprawl, before concrete was poured over the grass, over the brightest shouts of the yellow flowers. Before the parking lots and the cars, flooding the lots so tightly one could barely walk among them. Mostly, though, it was the time before the simplest, most mundane pleasures could be governed by fear.

In those years, when I was still young, my father would take my brother and me to a field that pushed right up against the airport. It is hard to imagine now, because of all of the aforementioned architecture designed to keep people away, or at least keep people with idle time and idle intentions away. But you could walk right up to the airport in those days. The Greenbrier housing projects were next to it, and our complex was just down the street. We'd drive most days, but if one wanted to, one could, in fact, walk straight onto the field, sit in the tall grass, lean back among the flowers, and watch the planes take off.

We'd always go at sunset, mostly on Fridays after my father got off work. It was one of the rare times with my father that demanded silence. No speaking, no music pushing the limits of stereo speakers in a car or living room. You were so close to the runways at the airport that you could feel the ground tremble when a plane was preparing to take off. That is how you knew to look up. The soil would jump, slightly, brown specks spilling over onto the brown hand pushed against the earth. And then, moments later, the reveal. From behind the airport building or a single tower interrupting the sky, a plane would emerge, the front of it tilting back, a mouth drinking in the sun's final offerings, brightness collapsing atop another, more alarming brightness. A metal machine, large and loud at first and then smaller, smaller, smaller, silent, gone.

At that age, I never thought there were people inside of the planes. I never imagined anyone leaving anywhere, or who they might be leaving behind. It all just seemed like a show, no different than the explosion of fireworks. Temporary decorations before the sky went black. (pp. 169-70)

***

Though I suppose fire is a type of song, too. Some might say fire is the song that arrives after all the begging has exhausted itself and after all those who reasonably asked and prayed and wept rise from their knees and make use of newly idle hands. Don't know what good it is to burn a few cheap jerseys and a pair of sneakers, but fire sho' gonna have its say, one way or another. Just let anyone who has ever stood in front of a police precinct with fingertips reeking of gasoline, wrapped around a bottle, a lighter itching in their pockets, tell it. Just let anyone taping a bomb underneath a car tell it. Just let the niggas who want their hood back one way or another tell it, but definitely don't let the gentrifiers ever tell it. And look, I'm not placing a value or morality judgment on the shit (I suppose it depends on who and what is doing the burning and what brought the burning to life), but fire is a song, fire be a whole symphony if you allow it to be. And I don't just mean its sounds, the way it disrupts the sky with a snapping of fingers—rhythmic if you catch it on the right notes (I suppose it depends on who and what is doing the burning there, too). I mean the hands, I mean its makers, I mean the things that drag people to its urgent heat, to watch and to spread its gleeful damage. The people who bring every wayward feeling they've held behind a near-bursting door and throw it in the flame. People who bring what some might plainly call sadness but what we know as the dry and fraying pages of our past lives, peeled off and accumulating in all the places we can't avoid and so let's instead say haunting. Yes, bring your hauntings down to the fire and throw them in. Bring not just the trinkets and tokens of dismantled love but bring your broken hearts, the whole damn faulty machine. There are enough new ones to go around. There are those who might say fire carries a mercy with it, which I take to mean that it doesn't prolong the anguish. In the promised land, on the other side of this sometimes-wretched scroll of miserable, spinning days, I would guess that the decorum there will suggest that we not ask each other how we died or what dying felt like, the same way that those who have been locked up don't ask people how they got there. [paragraph break added]

But the living have thoughts on burning alive. Scientists say that it's the worst feeling imaginable at first. But then, nothing. The heat from the fire quickly chews through nerves, senses, renders the dying person without feeling. The dying person, they say, is transported toward a type of ecstasy. Forgive my wandering into the fantasies of no longer living, once again, but I would want to hear from someone who crossed over, who spun through the flame and ended up in the after-life. No telling how I'll go whenever I go, but I am skeptical of anyone living who suggests that any part of dying is less painful than it seems, in the physical sense or otherwise. But I want to believe. Knowing as I do that I absolutely will one day have both legs over the fence that divides living from whatever comes after, and knowing as I do that leaping from the top of that fence might not be my choice. I would like to believe in this idea of ecstasy, or at least a moment when there is awareness of what consumes us but no physical feeling to attach it to. I respect fire like I respect any song that bends to the desire of the person who summons it. The flame is political, of course, but it is sometimes mundane, sometimes romantic, sometimes simply a necessity, and not all necessities are political but some certainly are mundane and a few damn sure are something close to romantic. And speaking of burning for a brief, candescent moment before there is nothing left to be felt, this, too, is longing. This, too, is at least one stage of heart-break. The earliest stage, when any damage will do and it is seductive to watch some shit go up in flames, even though the burning won't bring back anything any of us miss or love. But that ain't the point. I get why the jerseys burned in Cleveland, I get why the men gathered around and sacrificed their once-beloved garments. How quickly can we get past the part where we feel everything and cross the other threshold, gasping and numb. (pp. 198-200)

***

Though I had been seduced back under the familiar covers of Ohio for far more trivial reasons than basketball, this time I didn't make the trip home only to watch a game on a TV in a pal's living room. On June 6, 2016, Columbus police murdered twenty-three-year-old Henry Green. Green was a victim of the city's newly minted Summer Safety Initiative, brought to life by the mayor, encouraging police to target "hot spots," places in the city deemed to be at risk for crime. 

The murder happened in the early not-quite-summer that hovers over central Ohio. The days are longer and gripped by an extension of twilight, but whatever real freedom summer can contain for anyone not beholden to the schedule of school hasn't been determined yet. At 6:30 p.m., Green was walking back to his aunt's house with his friend, Christian Rutledge. A white SUV with tinted windows swerved in their direction, and two white men jumped out. Plainclothes cops. Jumpout boys. Wearing shorts and T-shirts and pointing guns. Rutledge heard one of the men shout You gonna pull a gun on me, motherfucker? before firing. Rutledge ran; Green was hit seven times. He was taken to the hospital. His parents were not allowed to see his body. There was blood on the sidewalk where he was given CPR, where people would place lit candles in the days to come. In the immediate aftermath of this kind of violence and the tremors of grief that encase this kind of violence, there are logistics of healing that escape the grander designs of burial, of taking meals to a family's doorstep. How does a person's blood get washed away from a sidewalk on a block they lived and loved in, on a block where they waved to neighbors, carried groceries home? What of an early and humid summer where the clouds sit, overburdened with rain they refuse to release?

Whatever is left behind dries and turns a dark crimson, the wayward light from candles flickering over what remains—a strange kind of memorial, a strange kind of haunting. I got home, and before going to the store and then to watch the game, I went to the street where Henry Green was murdered. It was a street I knew, a street near where I'd played ball before, hustled on basketball courts before, near places where I'd slept when I had nowhere to sleep. When I got there, I had nothing to clean the ground with, and if I did, I'm not sure it would have been the most appropriate step for me to do such a thing. But I remember what was left

5:19

of the blood and I remember the light from a candle hovering over it as the sun began to set and I remember staring down at my shoes and I remember feeling like the concrete was opening up and I know this to be nothing but rage I know this to be what comes after swinging wild punches at the air and imagining the faces of your worst demons the cops the politicians who call the places you love war zones the helicopters that won't let you sleep that claw through the walls and wake up elders and children and goddamn I remember at my feet that blood-stained concrete just split right in half and opened up and I want a whole city underground if it does not love my people I want to bury the new condo developments instead of my people I want to bury the craft breweries and the barcades and the mixed-use helltowers instead of my people I want the statues melted down I want the mothers of murdered children to do it I want the heat to rise from a statue's vanishing and last for ten summers I don't want apologies anymore no not this time I want the mayor to walk through a place he called a war zone at night I want people to get real honest with themselves about what war actually is I want the schools to have heat I want the schools to have air I want the riot gear thrown in the river the river that was blue when I was a boy but now leaves brown streaks as it runs away from the city I want the brown river to carry the riot gear to some other hell and I want the babies to stop passing out in school do you hear me I want a whole city under the ground some days but I at least want the rain I at least want something to wash the blood away so that no one who loved him has to and somewhere beyond the blood what I don't remember is

5:00

when I learned not to run from the cops and I don't remember when I first ignored that advice. But I always laugh in movies when there are people running from cops, who stop abruptly, fear in their eyes, when they hear a gun cock, or hear a shot fired in the air. If there is a usefulness in being able to see what's coming, it comes when one feels like one has at least a little control over what the outcome might be.

But we're talking cops—motherfuckers you know are cops. Who roll up in the blue and whites or at least roll up on you wearing the uniform of treacherous empire. Easy to spot and easy to plan around.

Henry Green was murdered by what looked like two plain dudes hopping out of an SUV with blacked-out windows. There's a difference when one gets rolled up on that way. Running might be in the cards, sure, but you might stay fixed to the ground just long enough to see what's going on, even if it seems like it might be what does you in. This is, in part, what makes the jumpout boys exceedingly nefarious, operating in neighborhoods using tactics that have a very specific translation and more of reaction that shifts, ever so slightly, from how someone might react to sirens, to a badge. The officers that pulled up on Green were supposed to be acting as surveillance in the neighborhood, calling in a cruiser if anything looked suspicious. This stuck with me when I first heard the story in Connecticut. I don't trust anyone who isn't from where I'm from, who doesn't live where I live, to report anything as "suspicious" or "not suspicious," and yet this is the ecosystem that I've known and had to rely on, that people I love are subjected to. Tourists wandering through areas they don't have any connection to, speculating on people they couldn't care less about. Life and death, determined by the haphazard tourism of people who believe they are eternally at war with everyone but themselves. (pp. 278-82)

***

If I haven't made it clear yet, this is all about the good fortune of who gets to make it out of somewhere and who doesn't. Who survives and how. But let it be known that some of us

0:30

never once dreamed of leaving. Never thought about making it out of any place as glorious as this. Tell me if you have ever built a heaven out of nothing, and then tell me what it would take for you to look for a new one somewhere else. The people who circle this heaven from the outside wouldn't know this. Might think that everyone is trying to make it somewhere else, through ball, through music. That's another myth. Crack rock or jump shot. Courts and cages and caskets. Everyone getting out one way or another, or so some might say. Some with no imagination, who speed through the hood, who speculate about sneakers ornamenting telephone poles. Who read stories of gunshots dragging serenity from the arms of nighttime. Some who imagine a place with no fathers, who—relying on that myth—believe mothers and grandmothers incapable of the type of ferocious affection that might pull a child back from any ledge they run toward. I never wanted to be anywhere other than where I was, my two feet planted on concrete that was breaking, but satisfied to still be of use. I never wanted to stray far from the shitty speakers weighing down old trunks, the symphony of bass and rattling metal, the smoke that drifts from an open window, an arm swinging from it, a wrist dangling out the side, a gold bracelet on that wrist, the sunlight running its fingers along the links, the shine of it, echoing for blocks. My people are here, and my people built the here in their image, and at least for a few precious years, there was nowhere to make it out of. We built the impossible utopia. You can't see the fence, but it's there. It'll keep you out, too, if you don't come correct. The gangs were never our enemies, but the people who look upon where we stay and see gangs in every gathering certainly were our enemies. But I ain't never gonna complain about who don't come around. If that's what it takes, then yes,

0:25

gang everywhere. A gang of stars mobs the infinite, cloudless black. A gang of black blooms infinite through a mob of dripping light, which reflects off of the sweat mobbing the skin of the black kids who should be home but are instead ganged up on the dying summer, the night itself sweating out a gang of shouts that swallow the gang of sirens, the echo of a ball fired off of a backboard mobs the silence, which was hardly ever silence around here anyway. A whole gang of porches and mobs of good folk set atop them, a gang of shoes or bare feet stomping the old wood, beckoning a mob of dust to fly skyward before settling right back down where it was, where it has always been, the homie leans back in the grass while a gang of fireflies decorate the absence above our heads and he says I'ma have me a gang of kids, and my kids gonna have a gang of kids, and we ain't never leaving. We gonna own a whole block of houses, right here in the hood. (pp. 313-15)

[ssadumba55]

Binders (Looney Tunes X FtM! Reader)

A/N: Literally sorry if this is inaccurate as hell I have not started wearing a binder yet and literally have no idea what entirely happens when you wear one during sports I just wanted to write something cute. Also of course, this is set during Space Jam: A New Legacy so if you haven't seen that don't read under the keep reading thing (spoilers). I know I said a while ago I don't write Looney Tunes, but I have watched both Space Jams and fallen in love. I plan to delve further down the rabbit hole but for now my knowledge is limited to Space Jam so please be gentle if this out of character. Also you can make up a reason how/why you ended up on the team haha. I really didn't think this through I just wrote it. Either way, enjoy!

You looked at yourself in the mirror, it was the halfway point in the game and you were exhausted. You had to play like your life depended on it (because it did) but this entire thing was tiring. Not to mention you could feel the strain from your binder underneath the bright orange and blue Tune Squad jersey. It wasn’t meant to be worn during intense exercise and you were worried this whole ordeal might ruin your chances of getting top surgery.

But you couldn’t go out there without it on. You weren’t flat enough to pass and if they saw your chest there would be questions, questions you weren’t ready to answer. You loved the tunes, but they weren’t exactly the best at being discreet. The idea of being outed to thousands of people in the middle of a life or death basketball game made you shudder.

Glancing over your shoulder to make sure you were really alone, you decided to give yourself a quick break. You pulled the jersey over your head and then the binder, pulling the jersey back over your chest just in case someone decided to barge in. You could easily turn around and pretend to be busy so they wouldn’t see your chest. You sat down, leaning against the wall and closing your eyes.

The burning in your chest was still there but at least now you had room to breathe more than you had before. There was still 10 minutes of half time left (you’d booked it in here as soon as halftime was called), you just had to get through one more half-

“(Y/n)...?” A familiar uncertain voice called and you nearly jumped two feet in the air. Your arms immediately crossed over your chest.

“Daffy! Shouldn’t you be out there? You are the coach, right?” You laughed nervously, stepping in front of your binder still laying across the bench you’d been sitting on. If Daffy was here, it was only a matter of time before the other tunes and worst of all, Lebron James, noticed you two were missing.

The cartoon duck put his hands, wings?, on his hips.

“We’ve been looking for ya, ya didn’t hear tha new looney game plan. Is something tha matter?”

His question was genuinely curious. He clearly didn’t understand why you were hiding away from the rest of the group, he was just worried for his friend and you couldn’t blame him. It did seem a little weird that you were back here, hiding, when you guys were losing the game so badly.

“I- I’ll be right out, just let me finish getting ready,” you promised him, “catch me up on the way out to the court?’

He shrugged and nodded, walking away to give you your own privacy. You sighed, looking down at your binder. Things would’ve been so much easier if you’d just been born a male. You wouldn’t need to risk your body wearing this thing during sports.

You pulled your jersey over your head and began to pull the binder over your chest. Once it was back on, you could feel your body protest immediately, but you didn’t have a choice. You threw your jersey back on and headed out, checking yourself over in the mirror once before.

“Alright, guys. I’m ready…” You walked out, hands on your hips to greet your teammates, only to be met with unreadable expressions on everyone’s faces. It was as if they somehow knew what you were doing and disapproved. You only had a couple minutes before you all needed to be on the court though, so nobody said anything.

The group headed back out and you tried to match the energy, but you had to face the music. Your body was strained, even without the binder this would be a lot to put it through and with it, it was almost unbearable. You took a step toward the court to join the others, and the world felt a little fuzzy.

You must’ve fallen and blacked out, because the next thing you know you’re laying in a bed and somehow you’re not dead. Maybe that had all been a crazy dream. You’d never gotten stuck in a server forced to play basketball with an all powerful algorithm. You’d never worn your binder during it all, you’d never met the Looney Tunes.

For a moment you fooled yourself into believing that. And then a sharp pain came through your body.

You let out a cry of pain and the door was pushed open.

“You’re okay!” You hadn’t been expecting the Tunes to be on the other side of the door… or in this world in general but somehow seeing them made you relax a bit. If they were here that must’ve meant they’d won the game. No thanks to you, but they hadn’t been deleted. They’d defeated Al-G. Lebron had gotten his son back.

“I’m okay. What are you guys even doing here anyway?” You asked, slightly exhausted.

Daffy and Bugs both hopped on the bed, trying to fight for a spot to sit (that apparently needed to be the spot where the other was sitting). You watched them squabble for a bit before Lola pulled them apart.

“Stop that, you’re going to hurt him,” she scolded them, shoving them to the side, then turning to address you.

“We were worried about you. Mr. James was really nice and let us stay for a bit so we could be here when you woke up,” she explained.

“You weren’t supposed ta be wearing that thing on your chest, were you?” Daffy crossed his arms over his own chest and you laughed nervously. They all knew. You wondered who had explained it to them.

“Look, guys. I know you’re mad that I lied to you-”

They all blinked, exchanging looks as if the thought had never even crossed their minds. Your face heated up, had you said something wrong?

“We weren’t mad about your gender, (Y/n), if that’s what you’s thinking. We’re just worried about that chest thing. They said you was wearing it the whole game until you passed out. You know that’s not healthy, right?” Bugs' ears had flopped behind his head.

You laughed nervously. “No it’s not, you’re right. I should’ve known better, I’ll be more careful next time. Sorry guys.”

They seemed to genuinely accept this apology, though they still looked worried. You prodded them to tell you what happened during the game after you passed out and they did relay it in shocking detail, you wished you could’ve been there to see it. After a while, they were ushered out so you could get some rest, Daffy hung back.

“I saved this for ya. Thought ya might want it.” He handed something tattered, it was your binder. They must’ve cut it off to save time. It had cost so much to get and it was all down the drain now. You took it, tossing it across the room into the trash can by the door. You winced as you laid down but it had gotten in and you were satisfied.

“I’ll get a new one, thanks though, Daffy.” You smiled at him and when the two of you met eyes, you could see that genuine curiosity from before. “You want to hang out here for a bit? I know I’m supposed to be resting but I feel like I’ll go insane if I can’t talk to someone.”

Daffy placed his one hand on his hip and brought the other up to tap his beak as if deep in thought, then all of a sudden, he launched himself up on the bed.

“Let me tell ya something, (Y/n). I have been working on something I can’t show tha others yet and you’re tha perfect person to try it out on-”

You felt all warm and fuzzy as he continued to ramble. There was something special about being accepted by a bunch of cartoon characters you’d looked up to for so long. Even though you were certain they didn’t fully understand, having their support and friendship meant the world.

You’d be sad when it was time for them to head back to Looney Tune World.

Oh well, maybe you could visit them sometime.

[uwuwriting]

Wearing his jersey w/ Daichi, Kageyama and Osamu

Request: hi!! can i req the ‘wearing their jersey’ with daichi kags and osamu plss! i loved the one u wrote for kuroo akaashi and ushi. -anonymous

Okay I haven’t written for my Haikyuu babies for quite some time and that sucks. Everyday is Haikyuu day and I simp for a different character every hour of the day lmao. Although my new found obsession with Nanami is taking up most of my time. Oh well guess he’ll have to share my spare time with one of the Haikyuu boys every time. Love ya. 💖💖💖

masterlist II rules

warnings: fluff, I don’t think there are any warnings for this one. 

Sawamura Daichi

-Captain Daichi thirst is active 24/7 lmao. 

-He is used to you taking his clothes.

-From hoodies, to t-shirts to his sweatpants, it has become a regular occurrence in your relationship. 

-He loves seeing you in his clothes. 

-They are always too big on your body, his hoodies almost reaching your knees and it makes his heart go doki doki. 

-He just wants to hug you to his chest and never let go. 

-He has given you one of his t-shirts to wear to sleep cuz he loves the idea of you having a little part of him with you even if it's just a shirt.

-You two were having a sleepover before one of his major games and of course you were helping him unwind. 

-You helped him make his duffle bag and double check for his knee pads, gave him a massage for his sore muscles after a long week of non stop practices and finally forced him to take a self care evening after he asked you to help him practice with his receives. 

-While putting on his face mask you were going on about something random when you noticed the furrow of his brows. 

- “Everything is gonna be fine baby, you’ll see. You and the boys have practiced really hard for this match and you;ll make it I know you will.” 

-Smiling up at you he gave you a peck on the lips, careful not to smudge your own face mask in the process. 

- “I know or at least I think I do. I just feel off knowing you won’t be there.” 

-Oh that’s right….You weren’t sure you would make it in time to catch the beginning of the match due to a family obligation but you were certain you would get to see the later half of the game. 

-Though Daichi didn’t have to know that yet. 

-Kissing him again you reassured him that the team didn’t need you to be there to wipe the floor with the other team’s ass, that he didn’t need you there. 

-The pout on his lips said otherwise though but he didn’t push it. 

-When the time came for the match to begin, he kept glancing at the stands mainly out of habit but also because he half expected you to make it on time. 

-No such luck though, you were nowhere to be seen. 

- “Oi Daichi focus!!” 

-Suga nearly karate chopped him in the stomach when he didn’t stop looking for you. 

-Everyone could see that their captain was a little out of it but they chose to keep quiet.

-You on the other hand, were sprinting through the streets of Miyagi to get to your boyfriend’s game as fast as possible, his jersey spurring you forward as you pounded down the school’s courtyard. 

-In a flash you were in your regular seat in the very front of the bleachers, chest rising and falling frantically as you tried to catch your breath. 

-You took off your jacket and rushed to the railing, tracing the ball with your eyes as the opposing team spiked it right into your boyfriend’s arms. 

- “GO DAI!!”

-His eyes found you immediately, quickly shooting down to your chest where the number 1 of his dark jersey rested proudly flushing at the sight. 

-The game was over rather quickly after that. 

-Daichi was in top form, his receives being immaculate while his serves were on point. 

-The first thing he did when he walked out of the lockers was to hug you, hug you so close and tight you could barely breath as he thanked you for coming.

- “You r-really thought I w-would miss this???” 

- “........Baby I can’t b-breath.”

Kageyama Tobio 

-Flustered babyyyy.

-He will never get used to seeing you in his clothes. 

-You have worn his hoodies before and he has had a heart attack every time. 

-It reached a point where you thought that he hated seeing you in them and you stopped asking for his hoodies or jackets even if you were cold. 

-That caused the frown on his face to deepen and a very shy confession that he indeed loved seeing you in his clothes. 

-Ever since that day you always have at least one of his hoodies in your closet. 

-Now your relationship is a secret. 

-Considering who his teammates are, you both agreed that it would be wise to keep your relationship under wraps, neither of you want to go through their reaction in this lifetime at least. 

-Keeping that in mind, you never wore his clothes out in public so you wouldn’t draw unwanted attention to you. 

-You go to all his games of course, being his best friend before becoming his girlfriend does that to a person, plus he had convinced you to become a manager alongside Yachi.

-So even if you wanted to skip a game you couldn’t. 

-Now that you think of it this must have been part of his plan since now he can be near you all the time. 

-You couldn’t bring yourself to be even remotely mad at him, he was just too cute. 

-You were so proud of your boys for making it to nationals that you decided to hype them up a bit. 

-Convincing both Yachi and Kiyoko you stole three jerseys from the team while they were changing before you took your seats in the sidelines. 

-Many would think that you wearing Kageyama’s jersey was a mere coincidence. 

-You chose him because he is your best friend, not because something else was going on. 

-Sugawara and Tsukishima aren’t most people and you soon found yourself in some hot water with those two. 

-Apart from the fact that Kageyama couldn’t look your way without having a stroke, he whipped the floor with the other team, gasps and applause filling the stadium every time he dunked the ball on the other side of the court. 

-It got to the point where the other less observant member of the team started noticing the significant difference in his attitude. 

- “Kageyama why are you playing so aggressively the ball keeps going like WOOSH and BAM without me even hitting it.” 

-Poor boy almost chocked on his water at Hinata’s words and when you went to help him he turned 50 shades of red in a matter of 0.0005 seconds. 

-This whole charade ended with your relationship being exposed after Noya begged you to wear his jersey and Tobio wasn’t having it, three nosebleeds and a whole lot of teasing. 

-He moved to your room that night despite the fact that the third years kept teasing him about being safe and wrapping it before tapping it. 

-Held a small grudge for like five minutes. 

Miya Osamu

-Love of my life number 20.

-The superior twin and this will make it evident. 

-Atsumu is always being a little shit about your relationship and how you don’t look like a couple cuz you don’t make out in the hallways all the time. 

-Em sir excuse you!

-Anyways, you know to ignore him at this point figuring that he’ll get tired and stop but no such luck; he irritates Osamu to no end resulting in one of them needing bandages at the end of practice. 

-PDA is not something you are both comfortable with and you prefer small reassuring touches throughout the day. 

-This has led to many believing that you two aren’t a couple just like Atsumu says and other people have confessed to you or asked you out WHILE Osamu is with you. 

-It doesn’t bother him much since he trusts you but it still tugs at his insecurities. 

-And because of those insecurities you get a new wardrobe. 

-Literally a whole ass new clothing line made by none other than Osamu Miya himself. 

-What is in this new clothing line you ask? 

-Osamu’s hoodies and shirts in general. 

-Every time he stops by your house he brings a new item of clothing with him, something that he has worn recently and others have seen just to get his message across. 

-You aren’t complaining, you love wearing his clothes, they are always so big and they completely swallow you plus they smell like him. 

-It’s like you have him with you. 

-Now Osamu might not show it often but volleyball stresses him out, like a lot. 

-It means the world to his brother and despite their fights and bickering, he loves seeing him happy and if that means he has to play the sport like his life depends on it so be it. 

-Osamu would do anything for Atsumu. 

-So you can understand the pressure he is under as a spiker. 

-His distress is you basically and you give him a small pep talk right before he enters the court. 

-Imagine his surprise and pure childish glee when he saw you making your way to him wearing his jersey. 

-It reached just above your knee and it made you look so cute he wanted to bottle you up and keep you forever. 

-Atsumu and Suna could be heard in the background teasing the living shit out of Osamu who remained frozen in place, the whole stadium turning into white noise as the only thing in his view, the only thing that mattered in that moment, was you. 

-He noticed your glare as you told his brother off, saw the way you played with the hem of his jersey as you walked near him and the furrow of your brows when he didn’t answer your calls. 

-Wordlessly he enveloped you in a tight hug, picking you off your feet and twirling you around a little bit much to the dismay of his fanbase in the stands. 

- “Hi.” “Hey ‘Samu”

- “Whatcha wearin?”

- “Oh this old thing? I figured you might need the motivation.” 

- *cue kissing assault*

TAG TEAM AY:

Arcana-Fan-at The @-FIC @angelwritings @axerrri @reinyrei @dnarez @ storage11037 @ezoyscorner @letscheereachotheron @ wolfkid22 @ Dark-Thoughts-and-Red-Roses @threeamwriting @ysatrap @yashinosakura @yongboxerrr​ @meena-in-a-nutshell​

[honey-makki]

Firsts

Characters: Tsukishima Kei X Fem!Reader

Summary: Fate works in mysterious ways to bring people who are destined to be together, to actually be together. 

Warnings: Sex!! blow jobs, face riding, virginity loss 

Genre: fluff, smut

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Well this started as a drabble request but here I am a week later with a 5k fic about it. Soft tsukki inbound. I hope you enjoy @salty4tsukki bc I def enjoyed writing this.

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Being an only child is not a precursor to being lonely. Memories of family game nights, shared dinners and movies watched filled the air of your house letting you know that you were both never alone and, oh, so loved. 

You knew that having as healthy a home environment was unusual and that it was part of the reason that you are so emotionally intelligent. Many of your peers couldn’t stand their parents and found every excuse to avoid being home. Sure, you and your parents had arguments about curfew or the number of texts you sent every month. The last argument happened every time you brought home a grade that was unsatisfactory, which wasn’t often, but consistent enough that it was a recurring problem. 

“I’m just tired of them expecting me to be perfect! It’s unreasonable for them to expect perfect grades, being on a starter for the soccer team, and involved in other clubs! I’m only one person.” You ranted to Tsukki, sulking around his room before plopping on his bed, arms covering your sighing face.  Tsukki was the only person you came to with family problems because you knew he would understand and not push you. The usually sassy boy always softened these days, knowing that this was the one thing that you couldn’t handle being teased about. Today, he looked at you with soft pity, knowing the amount of work you put towards everything just to be told it’s not enough.

“I could tutor you in English if you want? I know we have our usual pre-exam study sessions, but I really don’t mind making them more regular if you think they would help.” Tsukki might listen to you complain but he still isn’t the best at empathy, rather resorting to problem-solving. He showed his care and compassion to you subtly. Offering his solutions in a way you could make them sound like your own, knowing that provided a semblance of comfort. Allowing you into his room whenever you needed to complain and not questioning your feelings. Always offering you a hoodie or jacket when you were worn out from crying, knowing that the warmth would lull you into a much-needed sleep

You knew he cared about you. Yes, sometimes you over exaggerated your feelings to take advantage of that, but only because you wanted his jacket on your body. The thought that it was his arms rather than just a Tsukki scented cloth surrounding you. Only crying a little harder with the hopes he would offer to have a movie night which always meant cuddles. No, you never faked your feelings to him, not wanting to lie to your best friend and consistent childhood companion, you just embellished them.

Relishing in the fact that for maybe, just ten minutes that Tsukki wasn’t just your best friend, that he grew past friends as he aged, and saw you like more, as his other half. The person he wanted to spend not only his childhood years with but also every single one he still had left. 

You aren’t sure when you fell in love with Tsukishima Kei.

It could have been his moment against Shiratorizawa when you saw him truly experience joy for the first time in the sport he spent so much time. It could have been the time he gave you his rain jacket when it was pouring before you walked home, knowing it wouldn’t do much against the downpour, but the barrier being symbolic. It could definitely have been the time you went over to study and you walked in on him singing to himself while studying, the soft tenor notes gracing your ears. You only really remember how his voice made your heart skip a beat, the flush of his ears when he turned around catching your eyes.

All you know is that you were hopelessly in love with the man who had been with you every step, every stumble of your life. The man who towered over you but never made you feel smaller than he, the man that laughed before checking on you when you tripped, but always ensuring you were truly ok. 

Watching him grow into his height and his body gaining muscles during highschool was both a blessing and a curse. Your eyes were drawn to his figure, shoulders hunched over on his desk, deltoids peeking out of the sleeves in a way that made you want more. Yes, you loved looking at him but sometimes it plagued you. 

Eyes scrunched shut and heavy breathing, all you can think about is what Tsukki might look like under those clothes. It was a curse, lewd thoughts of your best friend being the only way you could get off anymore. That didn’t stop you from plunging two fingers in and out for your dripping cunt edging yourself closer to your release. At the precipice, you pull your fingers out and eagerly circle your clit, the other hand moving from gripping the bedsheets to pulling at and groping your nipples. Tsukki’s name leaves your lips like a fervent prayer as you cum to the thought of him. You never felt worse about yourself than you did at this moment, but somehow you found yourself here regularly. 

You didn’t know that at that exact same moment Tsukki was in his room thinking about you. The way your smaller hands would fit around his dick, the hesitation you might experience but be driven forward by lust. The thought of being the first and maybe the only person to touch you always drives him to his release. 

He might have fooled around with some girls before, a handjob here and there, amidst a make-out session, but he could never find it in himself to go further. He couldn’t, no, didn’t want to be with anyone else, because he knew that the whole time he would be thinking about you under him.

As you had aged, sleepovers became less frequent but were something the two of you still cherished and actively made time for. Tonight is one such night, having just finished your final midterms and gorging yourself on celebratory ramen from your favorite shop. Tsukki’s parents were out of town for the week, but were used to your presence in the house and didn’t mind you being over. 

You being there should have been fine, nothing out of the normal but that's not how fate works. 

Once you arrived at his place you both changed into lounge clothes getting ready to binge the latest season of Game of Thrones. You went to the kitchen to grab you both some water, knowing neither of you will want to get up once you start.

Tsukki must have had the same idea because as you rounded the corner of the kitchen, you were met with a brick wall and a frigid wave running through your body. You realized it wasn't through your body when your nipples began to harden, peaking through your now translucent shirt. While you are still shocked at the chill, Tsukki looks down to see what happened. Instead what he sees is you, accidentally exposed, the white shirt clinging to the curve of your body like a second layer of skin.

He knows that if he doesn’t avert his gaze that he won't be able to suppress a rising tent in his pants. Committing the image to memory quickly, he apologizes for being in the way, “Shit Y/N, I’m sorry. Feel free to go grab one of my shirts to change into. I’ll clean the mess up.” With that, he moves towards the kitchen to grab a towel, brushing against your body in the narrow hallway.

You head up to his room and go to his dresser, you’ve watched him put his laundry away before, knowing exactly where he keeps his biggest and most comfortable shirts. You strip off your shirt, skin pebbling at the breeze from his fan. Blushing at the fact you are taking your clothes off in your crush childhood friend room, you strip off your lounge shorts now noticing they also have been soaked.

As you pull his practice jersey on you notice it reaches your midthigh, which causes a brief internal conflict. Should I grab a pair of his shorts even though I know they’ll be too big? This shirt is longer than my shorts were anyways, but it’s not the most decent thing. The deciding factor in opting for no shorts was nothing to do with you, rather with the man waiting patiently downstairs. It had everything to do with the glint of intrigue in Tsukki’s eye you spotted earlier, the almost imperceptible hitch in his breath, and the burning touch he left on your body as he passed you in the hallway. 

Tsukki was not even thinking about what you would look like in his clothes as he had more urgent problems. His cock was achingly hard in his sweatpants, the gray not doing him any favors of hiding how he felt about seeing your body. He was doing everything he could think of to suppress both the thoughts of you and blood rushing downstairs. 

After quickly cleaning up the spill, he got situated on the couch with a blanket hoping it would help hide his current problem as he got it under control. Tsukki spent the remaining time of your absence struggling to distract himself, reciting poetry meditating, anything to not think about it, think about you, think about the curve of your che- fuck he was failing.

His eyes shot open at your weight landing next to him on the couch. Subtly looking over your form, that he now has burned into the back of his eyelids, seeing you drowning in his clothes, his volleyball clothes. Wait, is she just wearing my shirt? His gaze lingering on the soft expanse of your thighs, knowing that he should be able to see the hem of your shorts with the way you are sitting. The thought of you in your underwear almost makes him moan, his already hard dick twitching with precum budding at the tip.

You shoot him a smile, apologizing for taking so long and say you're ready to watch if he is. After some time has passed, the air is nipping at on your still slightly wet skin, you scoot closer to Tsukki and get under the blanket with him. The slight abrasion from his sweats on your skin sent electricity tingling throughout your body and unknowingly did the same to him. 

Reaching forward to grab a glass of water after a particularly gruesome scene, your phone tumbled out of your lap. Not really thinking you lean forward and grab it, slightly raising your ass into the air to reach the last few inches. You plop back down with a grunt and throw your arms open, hoping Tsukki would know that this is your way of saying you needed to take a break from the show for a bit.

Neither of you expected the moan that escaped his lips as you brushed across his now very obvious erection. Neither of you knew what to do after either, he flushed red with embarrassment and hid his face, you with your arm still where it landed on his thigh, unable to move. “Y/N, can you please move?.” he barely chokes out. The obvious restraint in his voice was a sound you had only previously daydreamed of. 

Driven by lust, or excitement, maybe even fear that another opportunity would arise, you do move, but not in the way he had intended. You get up off the couch and he's sure that you are getting ready to leave, disgusted with him, but instead, you settle in on your knees between his thighs. Doey-eyes looking up through your lashes with hesitant excitement. “Ok, I’ve moved, what next?”

Is the one thing he dreamed about is really happening? The actuality of it seems almost incredulous. “Y/N, stop joking, I’m sorry about this. They just kinda, happen sometimes.” He can’t meet your eye because he’s sure he would cum just from the sight of you between his legs. 

“If you don't want me here Kei, I’ll move, but I’m serious.” As you say his first name, another moan comes from his throat, spurring you to action. Biting your lip, you move the blanket and hesitantly grasp his erection. 

Tsukki is hazy with confusion but simultaneously everything is crystal clear with pleasure, unable to focus on anything due to the duality inside his head. Even if he wanted to tell you to stop, to stop and think, he wouldn’t be able to choke out the words.

He notices you aren’t really moving which is driving him mad until he looks down and sees just how pure you look. “Kei, I don’t-- I don’t really know what to do. Just tell me what you like and I’ll do my best.”

“Princess, are you sure you still want to do this?” as he pulls you up to eye level, cupping your cheeks. Seeing your nod and nervous smile, he leans forward to kiss you. 

The chill that had previously permeated your body is replaced with warmth, the feeling of his soft lips moving in time with yours, his gentle but assertive grip on your back acting as heat sources. It’s a comfortable warmth, an invitation into him.

You plan on taking that invitation as he deepens the kiss, one hand in the hair at his nape, the other returning to palm him through his sweats. As he stops your kiss, holding in a groan you take that opportunity to return to your original position in front of him. Waiting patiently, looking up at him for instruction with an absolutely pornographic gaze. 

Tsukki thought the image of your chest was the best thing he would ever see, but this takes the cake. Your hands playing with the waistband, with slight hesitation before pulling both his bowers and sweats down with his assistance. 

You knew what a dick looked like, but that doesn’t mean you are any less intimidated when one is just a few inches from your face. Long and curved, a prominent vein running up to the head that is flushed red and slick with precum. His hand rests on your head with the other on his thigh. Seeing his excitement on his face gives you enough encouragement to kitten lick his tip two times. “Fuck Y/N, please don’t tease me,” his voice wavering between a moan and a whine, you’ve never heard him sound so dependent, so needy before. 

Knowing that you are the one doing this to him gives you the confidence to start taking his dick in your mouth. You pause at the head, moving your tongue around, unsure what feels good until his grip on your head tightens as you rub against the bottom, just before the shaft. “Fuck pretty girl, please move your head down, please I wan--” A groan cuts him off as you follow his command. Slowly starting to bob along a portion of his length, with increasing speed.

“Spit on your hand and stroke the rest, god your mouth is heavenly” after pulling off to follow his command, you finally notice the familiar Tsukki-induced burning in your stomach, but amplified by a hundred when you see his cock twitch as you spit into your hand. He watched you with half-lidded eyes as you positioned your hand under your mouth, whispering uncharacteristically gentle words of praise.

Soft moans fall out of his mouth as you swirl your tongue around his head on every upward movement. Your hand mimicking the speed of your lips, trying to give him as much pleasure as you can. One particular comment of his shoots straight to your core, “Y/N, I never imagined you would make me feel this good.” The implication of him thinking about this, the same way you have, makes you moan around his dick, which in turn elicits a sharp intake from Tsukki.

His grip has been tightening on your head slowly, but all of a sudden he pulls you off. “Don’t wanna cum in your mouth without asking, just hand me a tissue.”

You never imagined Tsukki making the type of sound he did when you artlessly stuttered out “W-Well you have my permission.” 

Returning your tongue to his tip, which is now angrily red and coated in both spit and precum, it only takes a few seconds before he bucks into your mouth as he orgasms. His cock reaches further than you expected resulting in you choking as he hits the back of your throat, unintentionally intensifying his orgasm.

He pulls you off of him, grimacing at the cold air hitting his spent dick, bending forward to look you in the eye.. “Pretty girl, I’m so sorry for that last bit, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Are you ok?”

The pressure of his thumb wiping off a few spare tears makes you wonder what his touch would feel like on the rest of your body. As your mind delves into lewd thoughts, you shift your thighs looking for some pleasure, and give him an absentminded “It was fine, unexpected but I wanna make you feel good.”

He carefully sits you in his lap and pulls you into a deep kiss, slow but hungry. He moves down your jaw to your neck before whispering “Well, I guess it’s my turn to return the favor huh.” You bite back your moan, but as he harshly sucks a spot at the base of your neck it slips out. “You don’t have to hide your noises, princess, let me know how good everything feels.”

He runs his hands up and down your sides underneath his shirt before they find your chest. “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve imagined these.” You tug your shirt off and do the same to him. Both of you are just marveling at the beauty in front of you with lust. 

He makes the first move, gently bringing your right nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, as his left-hand switches randomly between rubbing along your side and massaging your left boob. The warmth of his tongue flicking against your pebbled bud is miles better than your own fingers, endless breathy moans falling out of your mouth as you find purchase for your hands in his hair. 

You must be unconsciously rutting against him because he stops his ministrations and stills your hips with a harsh grip. “Feeling needy now? Let me take care of you.” Tsukki rolls you off of him and you expect him to get on his knees in front of you, making you clench your knees both out of excitement and embarrassment. 

So when he lays down on the floor in front of you and shoots you a smug smirk, “Come take a seat,” your jaw drops in shock. 

“No, Tsukki, you don't have- What if I don’t taste good, please don’t worry about it-I don't want to suffoc-”  excuses and concerns pour out of your mouth but your body betrays you at the thought of him licking your sex.

“Y/N. Get over here. I want to do this and I’ll ensure you enjoy it.” His tone was commanding enough that you moved from the couch to straddling his head without a thought, losing your panties along the way. Your mind is murky with lust and anticipation, thoughts of how many times you’ve imagined his tongue on your clit being the only thing breaking through the fog. 

His tongue pierces through the haze as he runs the flat of it along your entire soaked core. Your body wants to pull away from the pressure but buck into the pleasure at the same time but Tsukki makes the decision for you, wrapping his arms around your thighs so you are snug against his face. 

He repeats the action, trying to coax a moan out of you, adding a little more force each time. It isn’t until the bridge of his nose brushes your clit that you finally let out the noises you’ve held in. “Kei- hi- fuck- higher,” breathy moans coat your words in lust.

 “Your wish is my command, princess.” His smug tone would have been annoying except for the fact that he was pressing hesitant licks against your clit eventually circling it with the tip of his tongue. You have no control over the whines you are making, only broken up by saying “yes Kei, yes, fuck” and other words of praise

Knowing how it felt when you moaned around his dick, he tries humming with his lips surrounding your clit and if he wasn’t already hard, he sure is now after the way you lewdly moaned his name and fiercely tugged his hair. 

The view of your tits heaving along with your breaths drive him to be a little more aggressive with his tongue, mercilessly switching between toying with your folds to harshly drawing shapes into your clit. 

Your cunt is drowning Tsukki in slick, coating his face and chin and he’s never been happier. Sucking your folds and using his tongue to taste all of you. He can't believe that anything has ever tasted better than you do right now.  

He can tell by the legs squeezing his head, and the shake of your entire body you are close to your orgasm. Wanting to try something new, he slides his tongue into your hole, causing you to grip his blonde locks so hard, you probably pulled some out. 

The wanton moans reverberating through the room are the only encouragement he needs to keep pressing his tongue against your tight walls. Your cunt so desperately wants to be filled its almost sucking his tongue in, but you know that alone won’t be enough to make you cum.

“ ‘m close, fuck. Please my clit, Kei please” The loss of his pressure in your cunt is overridden by the shockwaves of his lips around your clit, paired with him tracing letters and a deep moan from his throat. That was all you needed to be pushed over the edge. His moan continues as you ride out your high, hips jerking forward at the intensity.

As he pulls you into a sitting position on his lap, “Obviously I didn’t need instructions on how to make you feel good. I’ve thought about this for years.” You aren’t clear-headed enough to slap him like you usually would. All you can think about is the painful tension already building again in your core and his painfully hard dick pressed into your thigh.

You pull him into a kiss that conveys your unspoken words. Full of need and lust and wanting to make up for all of the time you lost. Your lips meet his harshly, like if you stop that it might disappear, afraid to pull back for air.

As he moves to your neck you instinctively rut your hips against him, looking for some form of release. Growling into your ear, “Oh, so one wasn't good enough for you? You want another orgasm?” 

“Well, It’s obvious you want another one,” matching his smugness with another roll that causes him to groan.

Before you can recognize it, he's flipped you over on your back and is hovering over you, eyes committing every inch of you to memory, drinking in the sight of your body, pebbled nipples, slick coating your thighs, love marks he's left thus far. It’s almost enough to make him go feral. 

Almost. 

“Y/N, are you sure you want to do this? We can stop. I really don’t mind.” The concern in his voice is clearly fighting against the lust, just barely winning over his more carnal desires. His answer comes in the form of your hand grabbing his dick and giving it a few soft, needy strokes.

“Please Tsukki, I need you in me. I’ve thought about this for so long, no way am I stopping” 

“Alright pretty girl,” and with that he returns to your deep kiss, your lips feeling like a home he never knew he left. He brings his hand down to your core, ghosting his fingers on your lips before teasing one finger in slowly. 

You hiss at the pleasure, hands finding stability rooted in his shoulders. He takes your bottom lip in between his teeth to help distract you while he rocks it in and out of your pussy. Quickly, he could tell that you were ready for a second and slipped it in, being met with you clawing at his shoulders while letting out a wanton moan.

Tsukki moves to place wet kisses along your neck and down to your chest, sucking every once in a while and then following it with a swipe of his tongue. You miss the pressure on your mouth, but you can feel another orgasm building, and it's getting harder to breathe. 

You genuinely do stop breathing when he takes one nipple in his mouth and uses his free hand to start rubbing circles into your clit. Well, if this is the way I die, I don’t really have any complaints. The coil in your stomach is about to snap and the only warning you can get out is slapping his shoulders.

The wave almost knocks you out, back arching off the floor while also trying to get more from the man between your legs. Inserting a third finger stretched you so good, he watches you try to fuck yourself on his hand through the orgasm, greedily wanting more. 

“You ready, pretty girl? Ready to take my cock?”

“Shit yes, Kei, please fuck me. I’ve dreamed about cumming on your dick, please please--” you are reduced to babbling pleas when he runs his dick along your slit coating himself in your slick. The jolt of pleasure every time his head hits your already over-stimulated bud edges on pain but you don’t want him to stop. 

You see stars and hear symphonies when he thrusts into you. A duet of his staccato grunts and your euphonic moans, accompanied by the fortissimo sounds of your pussy as he slides in. After taking a rest for you to adjust to his girth, his pace starts off slow but gradually increasing as you beg him for more. 

“Fuck, please, fill me up, god I never thought your cock would feel so good, Fuck” 

Your babbling praise is reduced to a high pitched whine when he starts slamming into you harder than before. The heavy slaps of his hips into yours replacing your moans in the melody. You barely process his words as the tip of his cock slams into your cervix with no remorse, over and over and over again. 

“Did I just hear you say you didn’t think my cock would feel good? Do you want to go back to cumming on your fingers to the thought of me or do you want me to continue stretching your tiny little pussy out?” 

Tsukki never minced his words, but the sheer lewdness of them causes heat to rise in your face. “N-no Kei. Please help, shit, me. Wanna cum on your dick so b- so bad.” His answer is to push one of your legs back towards your shoulder, the new position and the curve of his cock has him hitting that spot inside you always struggled to reach. 

Every muscle in your body is tensed up, burning from the desire to cum. Shockwaves of pleasure radiating from your pussy reach the tips of your toes and through every hair on your head. 

Your walls are clenching around him, wanting him deeper, even though there isn’t really any room left for him. Your body is driven by lust and disregards any pain you should be feeling, rather interpreting it as a different octave of pleasure. 

You find your fingers on your chest, groping and tweaking your nipples, knowing that you get even more sensitive when you are ready to orgasm. “Kei, please cum in me, I wanna cum but I wanna, no I need to do it with you,” it sounds more like a moan or a plea than a request, but Tsukki was already struggling to hold back his own orgasm.

He took your lead, moving his mouth down to your chest and rolling your other nipple against his tongue. Simultaneously, he snakes a hand down to your vagina, to the spot you begged him to touch earlier and rubs meticulous circles on your puffy and neglected clit..

Your back arches off the floor at the first touch of your clit, and your cunt clenched around his dick, making it even harder for Tsukki to thrust in and out. Your orgasm is stronger than its ever been, you’re certain you blacked out for a minute, only coming to when you hear a hearty moan from Tsukki and another wave of warmth in your sex, this time coming from him.

His forehead pressed against your chest as he fucks you through both of your orgasms, hand still curling your clit, attempting to extend the euphoria you both feel for as long as he can. Your hands find their way into his hair and you gently tug and scratch his scalp, making him look up at you. 

Your face may be covered in tears, and spit but he’s never looked at you with more adoration. You continue to pull him up to your face, placing sweet kisses all over his face as you both ride out the last waves of your high, his dick still inside of you. Wincing as he pulls out to lay down on the floor, he ends up pulling you into an embrace.

You look over to his content face, illuminated by the television,  eyes closed with a ghost of a smile dancing over his lips before he murmurs, “I never knew Game of Thrones sex scenes were quite so realistic, but I’m not complaining.” 

“God, Tsukki you’re so annoying,” you say trying to shove him off of you with a laugh, but he just holds you tighter. 

“I like it better when you call me Kei.”

Tags

@ceo-of-daichi @roandtheroses @sugawara-sweetheart @nonexistent-social-life​

[milktyama]

— ☕︎ IF BY CHANCE

a/n: here are the imagines that anon gave me and gave me permission to expand with my own accord!! thank you anon i love this idea (and also added the song to my playlist thank you for that) ALSO longest work ever done!

— heavy reference to if by chance by ruth b.

synopsis: "if by chance... could you forgive me?"

pairing: 3rd year/adult!kageyama tobio x reader

genre: fluff to angst, hurt little comfort, in spain w/o the s

wc: 2.3k

thank you @kohi-zeri @snoozless for beta-ing! <3

❥︎ two swear words, most obvious n smallest manga spoiler

People like to emphasize how high school will be the greatest and the wildest years of your life. And a major part of high school is exploring first loves and small infatuations. High school love is so innocent and light-hearted and sometimes awkward, but that is what makes it so charming.

That is exactly how it felt being with Kageyama Tobio after meeting him in your final year of high school. Shy confessions were exchanged on the daily, pinkies linked as the main source of public affection, anything more flustering both of your young selves. 

You always thought that meeting your high school sweetheart in your last year was a sign of bad luck. It was way too late for any deep love to actually develop. It would almost feel forced or fleeting, the connection not having enough time to harvest and bloom.

Though, being with him proved that wrong. 

Having him in your life was a blessing from the moment you first encountered him on a rainy spring evening during your way home. You would’ve never expected that that day to become as significant to you back then as it does now. 

A small irregularity of Kageyama Tobio forgetting his umbrella when the weather forecast had explicitly predicted a 90% chance of raining during the evening. That night, you thought to yourself that he was  counting on the 10% chance that it wouldn’t rain, when in reality it was simply the fact that he did not check the weather forecast daily. 

Pft. You would think that being a senior in high school would mean taking up a little more responsibility, but that wasn’t the case with him. His mind still ran on the adrenaline and excitement of volleyball and volleyball alone. 

You saw him attempting to take shelter under a cherry blossom tree in the nearby park. The droplets of the rain reflected the sunlight as they landed on the light pink petals of the tree, giving it a warm and peaceful glow. 

Kageyama’s hair and clothes were damp from the minimal protection he had against the pouring rain. If you had not approached him that night and offered to share your umbrella, nothing would have happened between the two of you. 

You two would have remained as casual classmates, having small insignificant encounters that could be easily looked over: being assigned clean up duty together, collecting tests from people in your row — simple things that no one would ever think twice about. This encounter alone could have easily been part of the list of insignificant encounters… it was just a classmate looking out for another classmate right? 

But the warm kindness you showed him on that cold, rainy night had somehow reached Kageyama’s heart. What he at first thought was a mere act of kindness towards a classmate had sprouted into something a little bit more.

After that night, Kageyama found himself looking in your direction more often. His bright blueberry eyes would wander towards your figure who sat a few desks in front of him. You never caught him staring during class, but his presence was more than enough to burn through the back of your head. 

It seemed his not-so-subtle glances have rubbed off onto you because you would find your eyes starting to linger on him as well. His tall and lean figure captivated you. His raven hair, his blue eyes, his indifferent voice, and infamous “resting bitch face” were triggers your brain could not miss.

The more the days pass with your attention captivated by this man, the more you realize your feelings towards him. It was a rocky but surprisingly short journey, with both parties who faced difficulties with expressing their feelings to the other, but everything eventually fell into place, leaving it up to fate to bring both of your yearning souls together. 

And oh boy did fate put a strong magnetism between the two of you.

You fell in love with Kageyama Tobio through and through. Sure, it was a little awkward at first, with stiff movements and a sprinkle of miscommunication, but after speaking your hearts out, it became clear: you were in love with him just as much as he was in love with you. 

At least that is how it seemed. 

Even after sharing light kisses under the cherry blossom tree where you met for the first time, your hands held in his rough ones, surrounded by the smell in his clothes that you borrowed from his closet. Or passing small notes to each other during class and sleepless nights when you tried to tutor him in classes he lacked on. Or shouting from the top of your lungs whenever you attended any of his games while sporting his spare jersey. 

All these memories seemingly came crashing down a week before your graduation. 

Your ears rang after he utters a short phrase that had enough power to crash your world, enough power to make you feel as if everything you’ve done the past year had been a waste, enough power to leave you on your knees, helplessly clutching your chest as the pain starts to spread throughout your body. 

“I’m sorry. But… I think I’m in love with someone else.”

He continued to ramble endlessly. Maybe it was more apologies, or maybe he was reasoning what he’d been doing with you this past year. Maybe he was word vomiting in order to make this impact on you less heavy. Whatever it had been, you couldn’t hear it. You lost your grasp of your senses the second those words had reached your ears.

How did you not notice this? How could you not see how his glances towards you became less frequent, how his kisses grew more reluctant, how he wouldn’t reach for your hand first, how his eyes didn’t sparkle for you? You only now realized that he fell out of love. Or maybe he loved someone else all along? Or maybe you were just a game to him? You didn’t even want to consider the latter.

Your sight was blurring with tears that you desperately tried to keep in, but they had already fallen helplessly down your face. You didn’t even notice that Kageyama was no longer in front of you. 

When you finally  composed yourself, you could see his retreating figure in the distance with someone else at his side. They weren’t hugging or holding hands or kissing or anything of that sort. But watching the person you thought you could love for the rest of your life walk away with someone else was just too much for your poor heart to bear. 

It has been exactly 4 years since. You  graduated from university and did some intern work during your summers to distract yourself. You truly believed that you have finally picked yourself up and moved one. It was only after seeing him on TV, seeing that he had achieved his dream of going pro, that all the emotions came rushing back. 

You still loved him. You always have and never stopped. Your love for him was so great, so powerful, so unconditional that it never left your system, even after being broken in one of the worst ways possible. 

Maybe if he had loved you then you would still be by his side, cheering him on.  

He reached out to you a few months after your break up. With your wound still fresh, you had truly believed he called to get back together, only to get your hopes crushed. Well, not completely, at least. He called  to apologize again, figuring that back in high school you — actually, both of you — had been too emotionally distressed to properly deal with the situation. 

It was a very short call, 5 minutes at most. His apology was simple and to the point, but that was how he was. He swore he was sorry for ending things the way they did, and ended the call with a promise. He promised to never hurt you again. 

Although his heart may or may not have not been occupied by someone else during your time together, he still found comfort and familiarity when he was with you. Before he could hang up, you too apologized for how you reacted and dealt with the situation, swearing the same promise.

But that promise proved  harder to keep than you had thought. 

You encountered Kageyama once again, but this time he was with someone else. He seemed happy. It was hard to believe that even after all these years, your heart still beat for Kageyama Tobio. It hurt your heart to see him smile for someone else, knowing those smiles used to be for you. It hurt your heart to know that you were no longer the reason for his smiles being so wide, so genuine. 

You wondered if  he still recalled the memories the two of you shared. If he still sang along to the song  you two spent weeks choosing and claimed as “your song” or if he skipped it. If he still reacted to advertisements that featured your favorite lip balm, the one he loved tasting on your lips whenever you kissed. If he remembered the future plans you talked about, where the two of you would live in a comfortable apartment and how the interior would be decorated; how you would spend nights dancing around the living room. 

Either way, you were no longer part of his life. He had found someone else to dedicate his heart to. As if to confirm the dilemma that has plagued you for so long, Kageyama leaned into a kiss to the forehead of his partner, smiling as he pulled away whilst leaning his head onto his partner. 

Tears brimmed in the corners of your eyes. You ran, allowing your body to take you wherever it pleased, hot tears falling helplessly from your eyes continuously. 

So much for keeping a promise. 

Your feet finally stopped, tired, your eyes worn out from crying. You slowly took in your surroundings as you felt the warm breeze of a spring evening, soft petals tickling your sensitive skin. It was quite obvious where your heart belonged. 

You found yourself under the tree where you first met him. Where you two would often sit and exchange fleeting kisses or a small treat, feeding each other with fond eyes. The wind blew past you as the petals from the cherry blossom tree slowly fell, surrounding you in a cozy ambiance that left a bittersweet taste in your mouth. 

As your legs finally gave up at the memory that came rushing into your head, you heard footsteps that sounded like they were approaching your way. A piece of light blue cloth neatly folded entered your line of vision. Your eyes shot up to the tall figure that was now towering over you. His body faced you, however his eyes did not meet yours. 

You hesitated before slowly reaching out for the handkerchief in his hand,  avoiding his eyes as well. 

“I’m sorry…” was all that came out from his lips. There was a moment of silence, disrupted every now and then by a couple of sniffles. Kageyama tried speaking again. 

“I’m sorry for hurting you again, even after I promised you I wouldn’t.” 

“It’s fine…” you managed to choke out, voice slightly cracking. You thought you sounded pathetic. You two broke up four years ago, for fuck’s sake! A lump formed in your throat again, a mix of the remains of old memories and your own consciousness trying to bring some sense into your pained heart. 

“If by chance… could you forgive me? For breaking the promise I mean,” Kageyama asked. His words were gentle and soft, maybe a little sweet like honey, attempting to cover up any harshness. It was clear he did not want to hurt you for any longer. His blueberry eyes that you missed so much had a small sparkle to them. You wondered what that sparkle meant. 

Was it because he still loved you? Did he miss you the way you missed him? Or maybe he only felt pity for you. Maybe he was hoping for something more. What could he be possibly hopeful for? Your forgiveness? It wasn’t like you were mad at him. Afterall, it was your own fault for falling so deeply in love with him. As painful and bitter as it was, you tried your best to pull your lips upwards.

It was the saddest smile he had ever seen. 

Voices in your head screamed at the pain you felt in your heart, but your head reasoned that this was not his fault. You had to let go, once and for all. 

“Of course I forgive you.” 

The words vibrated through your skull. Your head forgave him, your self-conscious told your heart to forgive him, but in the end, it wouldn’t succumb to logic so easily. You thought with your heart rather than your head, and you absolutely hated it. You broke too easily and gave in to the way your heart beated instead of the words that were trying to break through your thick skull. 

The sun sets, warm yellow tones of the fleeting rays of sunlight shone upon the pale pink petals of the cherry blossom tree. The petals turned into a light orange colour as they fell ever so elegantly from the branches above you, surrounding your figure on the ground.

You clutched your knees to your body as you watched his figure stray from you, slowly getting further and further away. Memories from the first time you met under this same tree flooded into your head as a single tear droplet slid down your right cheek.

You felt a lump at the back of your throat. It was an awfully bitter yet mildly sweet feeling. You didn’t mean to be selfish with your feelings towards Kageyama, but if by chance, things didn’t work out with his current partner, then maybe, just maybe, he could be part of your world again.

[imagines-r-s]

sticking it - j. farabee

chapter 7

a/n: besties, it’s here. this is so wholesome, i swear to god. i don’t really have much else to say, but i do plan on continuing writing fics for the ‘sticking it’ universe?? (idk if that’s the right way to word that) so if you have requests for fics that still follow y/n and joel after the olympics or even throughout the series, i will gladly accept those requests. feedback is welcome, please enjoy

taglist: @butgilinsky @barbienoturbby @sunsetholland​ @lovenhlboys @sortagaysortahigh @hockey-racing-fubol @oopsiedoopsie23 @iwantahockeyhimbo @dreamsndior

warnings: high school musical, an annoying amount of fluff, maybe another your mom joke, bestie adrian

sticking it masterlist

wc: 3.0k

(gif not mine)

As soon as the boys got back from the roadie, everyone was ready to go home and sleep in their own bed. Winning two of the three games during the trip, most of the guys had been running on adrenaline, but were ready to crash. 

When Joel entered his apartment, still in his suit, ready to go to bed, he was shocked to see that some of his lights and his tv were on. He knew that he had double checked to make sure that they were off, but when he saw a pair of crutches leaning near where his couch was he quickly figured out why. 

He took note of the way you had fallen asleep on his couch, still in one of his jerseys, and with your phone still in your hand. “Hey, babe, wake up,” he spoke softly which caused you to simply groan in response and turn around, “y/n/n, c’mon.”

Turning back around to face him, you smiled, which quickly dropped seconds later as you realized you had intended to stay awake to see him, “oh my god, I was supposed to stay awake to surprise you.”

“Aw, don’t stress it. Seeing you here was a really good surprise either way.”

“Bee, can you do me a favor?” you asked, starting to get up. He simply hummed in response, “do you think you could step outside, act like you haven’t come in here yet, and act shocked once you get back?”

“You’re so dramatic, I swear.”

“Ah, ah, ah, I just want to know if you’ll walk back outside,” you said, smiling as he rolled his eyes before turning around and walking out of the door, “make sure you close the door for even more dramatic effect.”

Joel simply rolled his eyes once more before walking back into his apartment, “oh my gosh, babe, what a surprise to see you here. Never expected that one, that’s insane.” 

“Thank you,” you yawned, “I kinda missed you, not gonna lie.”

“Kinda?”

“Yes, I will not admit to anything more.”

“Ok, I missed you,too. C’mon, let’s go to bed though,” he grabbed your crutches from beside the couch and brought them to you. 

“I’m fine just going home,” you said, but once you yawned again, you knew he would immediately reject that idea. 

“You are way too tired to drive right now.”

“I have physical therapy tomorrow and if I stay here-”

“I’ll take you there tomorrow or at least just make sure you’re up in time, don’t stress it. Now, c’mon, you need some sleep,” he said, ushering you towards his room. As he started walking, he paused halfway through the hall, “wait, how’d you get in here?”

“I took a locksmith class once,” you said, shrugging, which only left him more confused. 

 “Um, alright,” he said as the two of you made your way towards his room. As you entered, you noticed the various pictures and hockey related things in his room. pictures of the team, along with pictures of his friends and family, pucks from his first nhl goal and his first hat trick sitting on one of the shelves. 

As you glanced around his room, you took note of how his room wasn’t a mess, but it wasn’t completely clean either. taking a seat on his bed, you set your crutches off to the side near his bed. “As much as I love seeing you in my jersey, I don't think it’s the best thing to sleep in,” Joel said, throwing you one of his shirts. 

“Awe, pretty boy. That’s very sweet. as much as I love seeing you in your suit, it might not be the best thing to sleep in. Might I suggest just sweatpants?” you asked, smiling sweetly. 

“Just sweatpants?” he asked, looking for confirmation that he heard what you said correctly. Taking the nod he got in response as confirmation, he grabbed a pair of black sweatpants from his dresser, “I’ll be back in a sec, you need anything?”

“No, I’m okay, but thank you, Bee,” as soon as he left, you got ready for bed. As soon as you laid down, you tried to stay awake to talk to Joel about his games, but sleep soon overtook you. 

When Joel got back, he smiled at seeing you asleep in his bed. After setting down the water bottle he got you, even though you said you didn’t need anything, he got into bed. Turning on his music, he turned towards you and wrapped his arms around you with his chest to your back. 

He quickly moved his arms when he felt you turn, only to smile when you wrapped your arms around him with your face nestled in the crook of his neck, “goodnight, Bee.”

“Goodnight, babe,” seeing as you had already fallen back asleep, he quietly whispered, “I love you.” 

When Joel woke up to an empty bed, he tried to avoid the assumption that you had heard what he said and had left him again. He knew it was bad to think, but that was the first place his mind went.

Getting out of bed to go to the bathroom, he heard music coming from the kitchen. As he walked closer to the kitchen, he heard the familiar soundtrack of High School Musical 3 playing, you singing along as you cracked an egg into the frying pan. 

As you listened to the last part of ‘A Night to Remember’, you didn’t even notice Joel standing in the doorway watching you. You were in your own little world. As you used the spatula as a microphone, you did a turn and you shrieked as you noticed him leaning on the doorway, “god, Bee, what the fuck are you doing just standing there?”

“I didn’t want to interrupt your karaoke session,” he stated, pushing off the wall to walk closer to you. 

“You weren’t supposed to see that.” 

“Don’t be upset, it was adorable.”

“I’m not trying to be adorable,” you scowled, turning back to the eggs that were still cooking. Feeling Joel stand right behind you, holding onto your hips as he dipped his head to kiss your neck, “better watch yourself, Farabee.”

“Babe, I’m just messing with you. Whatcha making?”

“Well, right now I’m making eggs and I was about to start the pancakes,” you said, listening as the song changed to ‘Just Wanna Be With You’, smiling as you heard Joel mumbling the words into the crook of your neck. 

“Babe, c’mon, it’s a duet. So you have to ‘do it’, you know?” he said, taking a step back from you, grabbing onto your waist once more to spin you around to face him, as he started obnoxiously singing the words. 

“Maybe you should stick to hockey, Bee. Singing is not your forte,” you said, laughing. 

“You’re ruining the moment, sweet pea,” he said, spinning you around. You joined him in the singing and dancing, laughing whenever either of you messed up the words. As the last words rang out, his lips met yours, you smiled into the kiss as you heard ‘The Boys Are Back’ start to play. 

“You guys should listen to this in the locker room, I think it’s perfect for game days,” you smiled, double checking the eggs once more. 

“Oh, yeah? I’ll make sure to mention it to them.” 

The two of you ate your breakfast in comfortable silence before getting ready for your PT appointment, you borrowing another one of Joel’s shirts to wear with the leggings you had worn the day before. 

“I want to warn you,” you started as Joel parked the car, “Adrian is kinda a handful. He’s super nice, but he’s, uh. He’s Adrian.”

“Got it, alright,” he said, genuinely unsure of what was about to go down. 

Lacing your hand in his, you led the way to Adrian’s office, walking right in as you saw that his door was open, “ooh, it’s my Olympic Superstar,” he said, quickly glancing behind you, “ooh, and the hockey superstar? Okay.” 

“Hi, Adrian,” you sat down on the bench, Joel sitting in the chair beside you, “ this is Joel Farabee. Bee, this is Adrian Michael.”

“I see why you were super nervous to text him, he’s pretty,” Adrian said, removing your knee brace, “she literally threw the phone right after texting you one day, it was so funny.”

“Adrian, your face is right by my leg, if I kick my leg hard enough, I could easily do some damage.”

“Awe, babe. Don’t be mean. Adrian, what else happened?” Joel said, smirking. 

“Oh, I like him, I approve,” Adrian said, glancing up to see you hiding your face with your hands, “I told her she was a dumbass for not talking to you about how she felt, but I’m assuming she did that since you’re here right now.” 

“Yeah, I agree, she is kinda a dumbass at times,” Joel said, trying not to laugh.

“You’re a dumbass, too, so don’t even,” you said, shooting a glare his way.

“Alright, kids. I can tell you’re the perfect match for each other, but good news is your knee is getting better. I can tell you actually listened to what I told you to do this time around,” he said, grabbing some athletic tape,” I know the two weeks aren’t exactly done, but you only have two days left, so I’m going to wrap up your knee for now. But you can start training, minimal pressure on your legs , no hard landings, no vault or tumbling,  you know the deal. But keep up what you’re doing, you’ll be all set to start training as soon as a week.”

“Wait, really?” you smiled as he nodded in response. 

“But you have to be smart about your training. Stick to mainly conditioning and drills for right now, only do pit landings if you need to work on any dismounts, actually use the athletic tape, and if you feel any pain, you let me know ASAP.”

“Ok, cool,” you smiled, ready to go to the gym now. 

“Knowing you, you’ll be at the gym later tonight, but don’t do anything dumb,” Adrian said, rolling his eyes, “and keep her line, pretty boy.”

“I’ll try my best,” Joel said, smiling. 

“Alright, you should be all set then. Good luck, superstar.”

“Thanks, Adrian,” you said as you walked out the door. 

…..

Joel knew that you wanted to go to the gym to at least do something since you were finally able to, so he took you to your apartment to get your gym bag right after lunch. As soon as you got there, you asked Michelle and Marcus if you would be able to have some time in the back gym - which was essentially the same as the main gym, it just held some of the older, but still safe, equipment. 

Setting your bag down, you decided to start on floor with basic skills, just to get in the groove of doing actual skills again. Stretching first, you made your way to the floor to get started. As you got back into doing some easy skills - with no harsh landings, obviously - you made your way to beam and bars, knowing that vault would be too hard on you right now. 

You were able to work on some of the skills that you had done for years now, there were only a few things that you couldn’t work on that weren’t dismounts or tumbling. You were just happy to be back to where you felt most at home. 

As you did your cool down workout, you had gotten your phone out, scrolling through twitter to see the usual mentions that you would see on the daily. But recently, there were a lot more negative things said, more comparison to your teammates and competitors, and people doubting that you deserved this. 

Joel quickly saw the way your face fell as you looked at your phone, he could only assume that you had seen something that had completely ruined how happy you were. He reached over to grab the phone from your hands, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Bee. Don’t worry about it,” you said, trying to grab the phone from his hand. 

“y/n/n, I know something is up, what happened?”

“Just people saying shit, it’s nothing.”

“See, on any regular occasion, it would be nothing. You block whoever, yeah, yeah, yeah. But we’re talking about the Olympics here, babe. Everyone here supports and believes in you, so what you do is, you go out there and you prove to those people that you deserve your spot. The only opinion that matters is yours at the end of the day,” he smiled, “so, are you going to let them get to you? Or are you going to prove them wrong?”

“I mean proving them wrong is probably the better option, you know,” you said, jokingly. 

“Let’s try that answer again. Which one are you going to do?”

“Prove them wrong.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, leaving you stunned for a moment as he helped you get your gym bag together. When he noticed you still standing there, he quickly turned around, “are you okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. You just said ‘my girl’, I just - I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Did I just make the y/n y/l/n flustered? Awe, and she’s blushing. Oh my god, are you guys seeing this?” he yelled out to the empty gym, “Hm, and there for a minute I didn’t think you felt anything.”

“Shut the fuck up, Farabee,” you said, rolling your eyes. 

“And we’re back to our regularly scheduled programming,” he said, mocking an announcer’s voice. 

“You’re an idiot, Bee.”

“I’m your idiot, though,” he said simply, leaving no room for debate. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you smiled, the two of you walking back towards his car with your hands intertwined. 

…..

As the days passed on, since you still had limited practice time, you were able to attend games and team celebrations as the Flyers got closer to the playoffs. Karly even convinced you to sit with her and the other WAGs at a few games. 

“Hm, it’s almost like I told you that you would end up sitting up here with us one day,” Karly said, rolling her eyes. 

“Yes, Karly, you did indeed say that,” you grumbled. 

“Awe, Sunshine, it’s okay to admit that you’re wrong sometimes.”

“I strongly disagree,” the two of you made your way back to your seats, smiling when you saw Joel messing around with Phil during warm up. 

“You are so in love with him, it’s crazy,” Ryanne said as she sat down beside you. 

“What? No- not today. I tolerate him more than I tolerate most people, but I don’t love him,” you rushed out, still in shock from what you had just heard. 

“Just because you don’t say it out loud doesn’t mean it’s not true, you know,” Karly added. 

“Yeah, but- that’s kinda scary,” you sighed, looking out onto the ice as you saw Joel laughing at something Nolan had said. 

“Love is scary sometimes, but with the right person, it’s super easy to do. It happens, but you better not run away from it this time. You both deserve it and you’re both happy, so don’t run,” Ryanne said, holding Gavin on her lap. 

You didn’t say anything in response, simply watching as the game started. This game was the last game that they had before the playoff games, so you could visibly see the tension rolling through the team as the game started. 

By the second period, the game was tied - Joel, Nolan, and Claude having scored . Third period was their make it or break it moment, so everyone in the stands was watching intently as the period started. As the period progressed, both goalies were doing a great job of keeping goals from being scored, meaning that by the end of the third period the score was still tied. 

With no points being made during overtime, a shootout was set to happen. Karly quickly gripped your hand as the two of you watched as Nolan skated onto the ice. “Nolan, c’mon, you got this,” you mumbled mostly to yourself. Watching intently as Nolan started skating towards the goal, watching as he made his way towards the goal, pulling his stick back and hitting the puck. Right into the goal. 

The whole arena erupted in cheers as the boys celebrated, you and the other WAGs smiling as you watched the team that had grown so much this season make more progress towards their main goal. As spectators left the arena, you made your way down to the tunnel to wait on Joel. 

You waited anxiously for Joel to exit, your eyes glued to the door every time you heard it open, “you watching the door isn’t going to make him leave any faster. Trust me, I’ve tried,” Ryanne said, smiling. 

“Yeah, I’m still going to try it though,” you laughed. 

“Figured.” 

You spent some time holding Gavin, trying to get him to sleep, so that Ryanne wouldn’t have to worry about it, “you know, you’re really good with kids.”

“Ah, ah, ah. You already brought up me being in love with Bee earlier, I’m not having this conversation,” you said, looking up to see Ryanne watching behind you. 

“You’re in love with me?” a familiar voice said from behind you, causing you to almost give yourself whiplash as you turned around. 

“Uh, hi, Bee,” the tension in your body immediately dissipated when you saw the smile that was now on his face, “yeah, Bee. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he said, softly before his lips met yours gently. “I don’t think this day could get any better.” 

“It would be a lot better if you didn’t kiss her in front of me, Beezer,” Kevin’s voice boomed from the other side of the hallway. 

“What was that, Hayesy? It almost sounded like you said something, I don’t know for sure though,” Joel said, wrapping his hand around your waist. 

“I’m proud of you, babe. You did it,” you whispered, leaning into his side. 

“Dude, imagine. ‘Stanley Cup Champion dating Olympic Gymnastics Champion,’ I like the sounds of that.”

“Hate to break it to you, but it would definitely be ‘Olympic Gymnastics Gold Medalist dating Stanley Cup Champion. You know the Olympics are kind of a big deal.”

[thatsamericano]

Alfred’s Evolving Fashion Sense Plus Some Meta about Matthew and Savino

Alfred’s style in this story starts off as extremely casual and lazy. He doesn’t have many occasions to dress up, and he dreads having to wear a suit in Rome. He gives very little thought to how he gets dressed in the morning and usually just picks out whatever is clean and comfortable. When he does attempt to show some stylistic flair, he usually does so by being overly loud and kitschy (like an ugly Christmas sweater that lights up because he’s so excited about Christmas).

This all starts to change in August during back to school shopping, because Alfred gets a crash course in fashion from a very fashionable Italian teen boy. Savino starts teaching him how to put some effort into his clothes while also showing him things that work in a fairly straightforward way and does try to make it easier on him by getting him neutral accessories like shoes that will work with his outfits. He does allow Alfred some room to play, like when he gets him a loud paisley tie in Christmas colors but avoids the specific Christmas tie cliche and balances it out with a subtler pinstripe and checked pocket square pattern. He also encourages Alfred’s interest in cufflinks and when he gets excited over the bomber jacket. The bomber jacket is very different from what he was showing him and does have some elements that could be problematic if Alfred had kept to his overall style aesthetic before (being very casual and having a boxier fit), but it’s purposeful and Alfred is obviously not just picking it because he’s lazy.

Alfred slowly begins to experiment with his style after getting that crash course from Savino. His dads are more fashionable than him in specific ways, but he starts to take an interest because he’s trying to impress the guy he’s in love with. At first he plays it safe with outfits Savino specifically picked out for him, but then he starts to do things in the vein of what Savino does. He fumbles at first, but he gets the hang of it eventually. The jacket is something he uses a lot and he also figures out how to style it with Savino-approved clothes via trial and error. The blue scarf Savino gets him at the mall also becomes something he works with due to his emotional attachment to it, and he tries to mix that in with his wardrobe in a fashionable way when it makes sense to add a pop of really bright royal blue. (He’s doing this right now with just outfits that have a lot of blue in them already, but he may get more adventurous later.) He’s now to the point of carefully planning out his outfits, and Matthew noticed the change when he carefully started coordinating a new outfit after the one he was wearing got damaged by ice skating, even to the point of changing his belt and shoes, which he never would have done before. Despite feeling like he’ll never get sprezzatura because he was so flustered when Savino was explaining it to him (because he unbuttoned a couple shirt buttons), he’s well on his way to developing his own unique style, heavily influenced by what Savino taught him.

Savino is still generally very snazzily dressed throughout this story, but there are moments where he’ll wear something casual because of Alfred with less attention to how it coordinates with the rest of his ensemble. When he can plan things out, he does incorporate things like the replica jersey he wears to Alfred’s football games, Alfred’s bomber jacket, and the hat Alfred got him into the rest of his outfit, but sometimes he’s wearing these things for emotional reasons that have nothing to do with fashion. He’s worn Alfred’s leather jacket for three days straight, both because it’s cold and he’s doing it as an act of defiance against Arthur and Francis as like “lol, you don’t want me being sappy with your kid in front of my extended family because it might look weird to them, so now I’m going to wear his jacket constantly.” The leather jacket often looks incongruous on him, because sometimes it’s paired on top of an otherwise formal ensemble if he didn’t have the time to style himself in a way where the jacket would make more sense. He’s also going to wear the beanie Alfred got him three days straight, even though it may not make as much sense all three days he’s wearing it. (The first day, he planned an outfit to make it look good, but on Christmas Eve, he’s stressed because of his cemetery plans, so he just throws on Alfred’s hat and beanie because it emotionally comforts him.) He’s developing not only the laziness but emotions that influenced Alfred’s fashion choices (like loving Christmas so much he wanted to wear a really loud Christmas sweater pre-story), but only in regards to the hat and beanie (not the jersey, so far, because he’s only wearing that to Alfred’s games and tries to plan out an outfit for that to the best of his abilities).

Matthew in this story was never as lazy as his brother, but he often prioritizes function and comfort over fashion, and nobody has influenced him otherwise because Feli just helped him with the suit, which was the one thing he asked for help with. At this point, I’d say Alfred puts a lot more conscious effort into his clothes than Matthew does. When Feli helped Matthew with his suit, I think he was trying to break Matthew out of his rut of the black suit, white shirt, and red tie he got as the one suit he had to go on dates with his girlfriend. That combo is serviceable, but it’s too stark on his pale skin tone and Feli thinks Matthew could do something more interesting than that. By contrast, Savino pretty much picked out Alfred’s suit for him so Alfred wouldn’t go completely crazy with colors and patterns (and when Alfred saw the paisley multicolored tie, Alfred actually got excited about the idea of wearing a tie instead of viewing it as a strangulation device like he did every other time he had to wear a tie). Alfred’s overall look will be more colorful and patterned than his brother, but not as bold in terms of styling as Savino or Feliciano (assuming I go into any detail about what Feli is wearing), because Savino was trying to get him basics for the suits and dress shirts first (and because he thinks Alfred needs to get used to relatively simpler looks before he attempts the kind of styling Savino does).

[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 33)

The large round eyes, belonging to the auburn fox, flutter from left and right, back to left, before it takes a deep breath and leaves its safe pot to seek food for the day. The night’s hefty downpour prevented it from going out, and now it’s hungry. The new world order has made it a lot easier to find food, which also means that the feeling of hunger is seldom reminded. But during the night, its stomach has been rumbling for something tasty, a bird or anything really. On soft paws, the fox hurries across the grass before stopping abruptly, to check that the coast is clear. But its home environment, a forest somewhere in Virginia, is deserted and free from danger. It had been a long time since this fox had experienced a hunting season, or heard the sound of quad bikes smelling of exhaust fumes pulling through its natural habitat. The fox hurries on, but just a few meters on it stops abruptly again, pricks up its ears when a rustle is heard. Silently, the fox hurries into a bush, at the same time as the grass is split some distance away by a pair of worn Keen hiking boots. The sun plays through the rustling foliage; a soft clatter, a result of the soft breeze that pulls through the forest.

After rain comes sunshine, it’s said. But the crooked male who stumbles between the tree trunks with trailing steps, has no idea of ​​the beauty of mother nature that surrounds him. Nor any idea that he was once a thinking, living being. Many months have passed and time has not been gentle on him. A piece, large as a clenched fist, of his cheek is ripped out, but it doesn’t worry him. He totally lacks the ability to feel, to reason about whether he needs to see a doctor or put a bandaid on it. That time is over. The only instinct that remains and clings to the man’s poisoned, dead consciousness is hunger. An incurable, constant hunger for meat. That’s what drives the man forward through the forest, without, unlike the fox, being on his guard. It’s also this inattention that is reminded when a 5.45 mm bullet penetrates his skull, between the ear and the eye. The loud sound makes the fox give up his attempted excursion and rush back to his burrow.

Daryl tears his eyes from the walker who collapses on the ground like a shattered house of cards, and glances to his left. 

“Home run.” He says as Mila lowers the rifle. “Ya’ wanna let me have a fair chance?” “It was you who said we should compete.” Mila threads the rifle’s shoulder strap over her arm and gives him a cheeky smile. “Gotta level up your game, Dixon. It’s not a contest if I let you win.”

“Hmpf...”

Mila starts walking and Daryl follows. He should have suspected that she was competitive. So far, she leads with eight hits against his three. 

They’re heading west. A few days earlier, Glenn, Rick and Sasha returned to the Safe-Zone after a run, announcing that they had passed a mall they hadn’t seen before. As it got dark, all three agreed that it would be foolhardy to go in and investigate. Instead, Daryl suggested that he take on the task; leave early and check the place out.

“Take someone with you.” was the only thing Rick said before heading off to bed. 

In front of Daryl, Mila’s trotting on towards their goal as fast as her feet manage. The untied boot laces bounces around her feet, whips up fallen leaves. They have accomplished about 2 miles which is halfway according to Rick’s description, made their way through woods and abandoned streets. Not taking the car was a conscious choice; Daryl wanted to do the walk. In nature he can breathe, he needs it and all its simplicity as if it were oxygen. He can not imagine spending the day with anyone else then her, on foot, on a mission to explore. Neither more nor less, yet everything.

“How far did they say it was?” Mila turns and looks at him; the long hair forms a fan around her face of the rapid movement. 

“‘Bout halfway.” He replies.

“And we’re supposed to do what again?”

“Scout the place for supplies, then go back another day if it’s any good.” Daryl offers Mila his hand as she makes her way over a big branch, lying in their path. “Ya’ had anything in mind?”

“Carol asked for some new fancy kitchen knives.”

“Course she did.” Daryl grimaces, amused by Carol’s request, and climbs the branch. 

“You go way back, you two, huh?” Mila squints at him.  

Daryl squints back at her; Mila’s sapphire blue eyes are curious and gleams in the dancing sunlight that penetrates the dense foliage above. He shrugs a little. 

“No more than anyone else.”

Mila lifts her eyebrows at him, she wants to hear more. Daryl sighs.

“We just-” He pauses, doesn’t really know what to say. “Get each other. Somehow.” How should he describe their friendship? Carol is one of his closest, most dearest friends. She’s warm, kind, fierce and she has a haunting ability to read his mind; knows what he thinks without him uttering a single word. Might be a mother’s instinct, or it might be something else, but Daryl values her ability immensely, not being very good with words himself. In the beginning, way back, he felt irritated, exposed and vulnerable in Carol’s presence. Could just as well be because he was a full blown ass to everything and everyone, but Carol made him feel human, made him feel like ‘someone’. She helped him find purpose and meaning in the group, never doubted him. Gosh, if it wasn’t for Carol, he thinks and looks at Mila, he would never be where he is; here, with Mila, being able to talk with her, not sounding like a buffoon or a total piece of shit. Crap, without Carol’s tremendous influence, Mila would probably have shunned him like the plague. He’d never in his life thought he’d soften up like this, but right now- He owes Carol everything for believing in him, not giving up. What if he’s been a good influence on her as well?

Out of nowhere, Mila says:

“You’ve gone through a lot together. Of course that must be more than friendship, that’s-” She searches for words. “-family. Strong bonds. Growing together, always having each others back. That’s valuable.”

“She’s great.” Daryl says and looks at Mila; wow, she really put words on his feelings. 

“Invaluable, I would say.” Mila smiles. “Who could have dreamed of having a babysitter in the middle of a zombie apocalypse? One who’s also chef, baker, friend- a hell of a soldier.” She chuckles and grins at him. “And here I am, with you. Hell, I might switch to Carol, now that I think of it. She’s awesome.”

Daryl takes up a handful of leaves and throws at her. Mila laughs and leans in, pulls him into a kiss, lips with a lingering taste of this morning’s breakfast; coffee black as hell and the blantest looking bowl of oatmeal Daryl’s ever seen. Her lips sweep over his and Daryl, still holding onto the crossbow, puts his arm around her neck and replies the kiss, feeling her soft hair brush against his arm. 

”I guess I get to work a little extra then.” He says with a smirk. “I won’t start baking though.”

“You sure?” She raises her eyebrows. “I'm pretty convincing.” 

For you and the kid I’d probably do whatever the hell you wanted, if you asked me to, Daryl thinks. Damn, he would go through fire and water for ‘em.

“Let’s get this over with.” He puts a loop of her hair behind her ear. ”come on, Jersey.”

With his arms still resting around her neck, they continue to walk. Above them the treetops rattle pleasantly in the wind. The birds chirp and some distance away two squirrels perform their dance for each other around a thick tree trunk, wiggling their tails and noses simultaneously. But something’s disturbing the overall peaceful atmosphere. Maybe it’s intuition, but something's not quite right. Something in the distance makes Daryl stop abruptly. All of his muscles tenses and Daryl pricks up his ears, just like the fox he saw earlier. Male voices, more than two. Like a laser pointer, his gaze moves from left to right, frantically scouting for the slightest movement, the slightest deviation from the green vegetation around them. Suddenly he sees it. Ten meters in front of where they have haltered, the greenery, scattered with a few trees and bushes, opens into a paved road. On the other side of the road lies two buildings. It’s the dirty, black pickup parked in front of one of the buildings that has caught his attention. That and the armed men surrounding it. 

“Down!”

“What?”

Before Mila has the chance to react, Daryl grabs her by the jacket and forces her to crouch. He raises a dirty index finger in front of his lips, as a sign that she should be dead quiet. Mila looks around, understands that he has seen something she has not seen yet. The sound of voices at a distance makes her look beyond the trees and bushes and she catches sight of the pickup. Carefully they make their way over to a pair of bushes that separates wilderness from domesticated. He pulls her down in the tall grass behind the foliage, out of sight, but the men in the parking lot don’t take notice of what’s happening in the vegetation at the other side of the road. Their attention lies fully on the boxes of ammunition they carry out of the run down building. They stack them on the covered truck bed, then return inside to grab some more, like a running band. Mila scouts through the foliage.

“Anyone you’ve seen before?” She asks in a low voice.

“Nah.” Daryl shakes his head while he follows a man with shoulder-length blond hair with his eyes. The blonde man disappears into the building and another comes out with yet another box. “Nah, they’re new.”

While five of the men fill the truck bed with boxes and cartons, the sixth man is standing on guard, armed with an automatic rifle, eyes searching the surrounding for any dangers, or other people. 

“Maybe we should lie low for awhile.” Mila states. 

Yeah, certainly feels foolish to make themselves known. Instead they lay low behind the bushes, watching the unknown group from a distance. Daryl looks at Mila’s profile; her forehead is furrowed and she seems to think, while biting on her lower lip. 

“Whatcha thinkin’?”

“There’s-“ She counts. ”-six of them. There’s two of us. And I’m not good at math, but-” Once again Mila peers through the foliage. “And one doesn’t need that much ammunition unless there’s a threat.” She mumbles. “Or if you yourself is the threat.”

Daryl doesn’t answer. He thought exactly the same. There’s two possible scenarios for the reason behind this hoarding and he doesn’t like any of ‘em. His thoughts wander back in time, to the prison and the Governor, beheading Herschel and splitting the group, which caused him to flee headlong with Beth. An unpleasant sensation begins to take shape inside his stomach, a bundle of painful memories cutting his insides like barbed wire. There can’t be another Governor situation, not another battle. No more losses.  

“Wonder where they’re staying.” Mila continues. “You think they have their own Safe-Zone somewhere?”

“More like Alamo.” Daryl replies, considering the heavy armor. “Ain’t lookin’ too good.”

“As long as we stay far away, we should be fine.” 

Mila pats him on the knee and turns her eyes away from the gun shop. She makes herself comfortable, takes off her backpack, opens it and takes out two plastic bottles of water, followed by a half filled bottle of vodka. Daryl grins.

“Ya’ got a problem, Jersey.” He says and receives a bottle of water. 

“I know.” She says. “If you happen to stumble across an AA meeting I promise you I’d attend, without hesitating.”  

“Been like this for long?” He drinks and looks at Mila over the clear plastic bottle. “The drinkin’ I mean.”

“My family has a long tradition of desertion, foolish luck and malicious alcoholism. I’m not exactly surprised.” Mila fiddles with the cap of the vodka bottle. “Luckily I have a quite high tolerance. Besides, I can’t really stop either. It’s considered a disease I’ve heard.” She grins amused. “Back in Russia they’d die of laughter if they heard.” She pauses and squints at Daryl in the sun. “You’d like me to stop, right?”

“You do you.” Daryl responds. Ain’t his business to tell her what to do. Nor his right to.

“That’s new.” Mila says. 

“Doesn’t seem to be that much of a problem, that’s all.” 

“Good for me then. I didn’t plan to stop, not yet at least.”

“Take ya’ time.” Daryl says. “As long as ya’ safe. And the kid. Ya’ doin’ fine.”

“Might be hard to put your head around, but I was actually quite deep in the shit a couple of months ago. Though-” Mila pauses. “I’d lie if I said I didn’t feel guilty. This-” She nods at the bottle. “No kid should grow up around it. I mean, I did and that didn’t go well. I’d throw myself over a cliff if anything happened to Juri, but-” She sighs. “I have flaws, demons. But I’ve sworn to myself, and Juri, that he’s safe, no matter how wasted or fucked up I am.”

Daryl reaches out his arm, pulls her towards him. 

“He wouldn’t be more safe with anyone else.” Daryl says and squeezes her a little. “Ya’ doin’ good, Jersey. Drunk or not.”

A bang, the sound of the door to the pickup’s flatbed closing, makes them both jump in the grass. They turn their heads and look through the foliage, seeing the men step into the car and onto the loaded flatbed.

“Let’s go.” They hear one of them holler.

The engine starts and they drive out of the deserted parking lot in front of the gun shop, turn left and disappear.

“Coast is clear.” Mila declares. “Let’s get going.”

[the-starsabove-you]

The Choice

Epilogue  A/N: Finally got around to making this part! it was highly requested! Easing my way back into writing slowly so expect one-shots! Thank you guys for your patience! 

The waves were crashing against the rocks, creating a smooth sound. The cliff side was high, a couple of rocks that were pointy while others that could be sat on, the sun was setting and the sky was an orange-pink color.. No clouds in sight and the California sunset was beautiful..

Taking a deep breath, Mat threw a small pebble over the cliff as he looked at the sunset, watching the waves crashing against the rocks, people were surfing in the distance while people were relaxing on the beach nearby. It was silent, just the way he liked it.

Hearing the soft engine of the motorcycle, Mat turned around and saw Her sitting on the bike, giving her signature smile as she turned off the bike and he gave her a look “Were you trying to scare me with the noise?” He said but had a smile on his face, his green eyes shining in the sunset, his dark hair shining as well that made him more stunning than usual.

“Thought it would work, I’ve failed I see” She said as she hopped off the bike and went towards him and sat beside him, wearing his flannel shirt with a t-shirt, resting her head on his shoulder and he kissed her temple

“I don’t think nothing scared me anymore, besides the look on my ex-fiance’s face when I decided to walk and not marry her” He said, memories of the wedding coming back, the gasps when he said he couldn’t marry his ex-fiance’s face.. The look of murder on her face as he ran off, meeting Y/N half way as she quickly got on her bike, giving him a helmet and both of them riding off to the nearest airport.. They would worry about clothes later, both were grateful that they had money and their IDs in hand.

They flew back to Mat’s house in Vancouver first, Mat grabbing some things and stuffing them in a suitcase before jumping in the car and them driving back to her place, her doing the same.. But were grateful that Mat’s family weren’t home at the time but Mat made sure to call and apologize for the damage control they were now facing as they had to speak with Mat’s former bride and her family.. A couple of friends, including Tito were slightly fist pumping that Mat finally opened his eyes and went with the choice of being with the love of his life.

It had been two months since the wedding… Well what would have been the wedding. The season was going to start soon and Mat needed to return to New York for the pre-season. So it was the last day they were going to spend in California, before both were returning to New York, both agreed that they were going to move into Mat’s apartment.

They spent the two months exploring the world.. They went to Italy, Spain and London.. Both of them waking up in the morning and deciding where to go next.. For the first time in years, Mat felt like he was free.. He felt like he finally found home with her and he didn’t intend on letting her go anytime soon.

“We need to get going soon, gotta check out of the hotel and return this rental bike before heading to the airport” She muttered and Mat pouted “I wanted to go back to the piers, I enjoyed getting the skate boards.. Even if we fell on our asses multiple times”

She laughed and kissed his cheek and he turned to look at her, a smile on his face as he leaned his forehead on hers

“You don’t regret this right? Being with me” She muttered as he looked at her and shook his head “I wouldn’t hesitate to make the same choice again, these past two months I felt like I’m myself again.. That I’m not living someone else’s life”

“Can I be honest about something” She said looking at him and he nodded “Please do”

“When I first met you all those years ago.. And when we were together, I had always had a dream that would occur, that we would live in some house in Vancouver, a couple of minutes away from your family.. We actually had made the house from scratch, we had built a home.. I had a dream that both of us would sit out on the porch, watching our kids.. Two sons, and they would be close like you and your sister and we would be watching them and you would be hinting you would want another one because you wanted a girl so bad”

Mat raised an eyebrow in amusement as he looked at her “Did dream me manage to convince you to try for another baby?”

“Yes, you actually did manage the convince me” She laughed and he smirked “Good, cause I wanna have like four kids, two girls and two boys.. So we got the best of both worlds”

“You would be an awesome girl dad, just so you know..” She said and Mat grinned “You would have quite the Mama’s Boys too”

“But all the kids would play hockey.. We could always go to their games and you would coach the teams but you would be that hot dad” She laughed and he nudged her a bit “I always wanted to be that hot coach-dad that all the moms would swoon over”

She gave him a look and he laughed and kissed her forehead “I’m kidding, I wouldn’t even look at the other moms.. Promise”

“You better otherwise I would throw you over these rocks right now” She said and he placed a hand over his chest “You can’t blame current me for future me and his good looks”

She smiled and went to kiss him and he gladly accepted it as he sighed in happiness when they broke apart, looking into her eyes

“I think the best day was me deciding to run off with you on that motorcycle, to many more adventures huh?” He asked and she looked at the sunset “I never stayed in New York for long, so I can’t wait to see what it has in store for me.. I mostly can’t wait to go to your games now”

“I’m more excited that you’re gonna be wearing my jerseys” Mat said as he looked prideful and she narrowed her eyes playfully “I’ve worn your jersey before at games, what changes it now?”

“Because you’re my girlfriend now, so now it’s different” He said and she laughed “Alright, fair point.. I can’t wait for that. To many more memories too”

“To making memories” Mat said softly as she rested her head on his shoulder and both watched the sunset.

They both knew it wasn’t going to be easy, there would be ups and downs but both knew that they had each other in the end.. And that’s all they really needed for them to be happy.

[piermanwalter]

I had a dream that my boyfriend took me on vacation to an island on the Marseille coast as an inheritance scheme. His aunts were extremely rich and lived on their own private island, and although he wasn’t very close with them, he felt like if he made amends early, he had a real chance to inherit the island after they died, since they didn’t have kids of their own. I thought this was a scummy thing to do, but I went along anyway for the free vacation.

Although the island was pretty far from shore, they didn’t own a motorboat because they were good friends with the coast guard and could ask them for a lift whenever they needed. That was how we got to the island. As soon as my boyfriend and I stepped off the bus to Marseille, we were surrounded by coast guards and I thought we were getting arrested.

The island was about half a mile long, shaped like a teardrop with a beach circling the fattest end and the pointy end tapering into a cliff. The mansion was built near the pointy end on the tallest spot on the island, looming hundreds of feet over the beach, which had a little pier on it with a couple of row and sail boats. There was technically an herb garden, but the Mediterranean sun caused the plants to grow out of control into a dense wild wall of rosemary, orange trees, myrtle, nasturtiums, lavender, and lots of other smelly things that perfumed the air around the island. 

It was awkward being there because I couldn’t speak French, and early on my boyfriend had to translate everything, but later we realised we could all sort of speak Spanish and things were a lot easier.

I found out the reason she was so reticent about leaving money and property to the rest of the family was because they collectively disowned her in the 70s after she refused to break up with her now wife, but she was starting to warm up to my boyfriend and I because we weren’t born then.

My boyfriend’s aunt belonged to a rich family, but after they cut her off, she got even richer off real estate on her own. She had red hair fading to grey and was pretty strong due to her insistence of doing all home repairs and boat maintenance on the island herself. Her wife was bedridden from an autoimmune disease that gave her severe arthritis. She mostly spent her time sorting the herbs my boyfriend’s aunt picked from the garden while watching Antonio Banderas movies, especially The Mambo Kings and Shrek. Every day her wife would wheel her down to the beach until the water came up to her ankles and they would watch the sunset together. Another thing she did was ask me to dress up in her old clothes and I would catwalk back and forth across the room while she commentated. My boyfriend’s aunt said she was jealous because her old clothes didn’t fit me and when she asked my boyfriend to model, he wouldn’t do it. Although her wife was in constant pain from arthritis, she never complained and would sometimes clap when I put together a particularly great outfit even though it hurt her hands. She said she felt great, but relied on painkillers to sleep.

The mansion had a generator, but electricity could only be used to power lights, the single wall phone, TV, fridge, some medical devices, and DVD player. The only way to charge our phones and laptops was to unplug the medical devices, which we agreed was morally unconscionable so we didn’t do it. Nothing important was out of reach of someone in a wheelchair. There was a bed in every room and peppers would be drying on top of the TV and bras would be hanging on the entrance doorway. It was obvious that the mansion was suited to the needs of two specific people, and we had to figure out how to live around this structure without disrupting it. 

Only five or six rooms, all on the ground floor, were regularly used, and the rest were a maze of racks of beautiful vintage clothes and stacks of cabinets of the outrageously tacky and opulent knickknacks old ladies like. One time I was digging around in a pile of faded beaded clutch purses because the aunts asked me to get a pair of kitchen scissors left there by accident and I opened one of them. Inside were many long flat rectangular lace-covered objects covered with little mirrors. I first thought they were folding fans, but I squeezed one and a digital display appeared in the mirrors. They were thermometers. I found a ridiculously flashy black alligator belt with a gold buckle that had ambers and onyxes set in it, and my boyfriend’s aunt’s wife said I could keep it because it went so well with my bikini. 

We spent most of the time taking the boats out, swimming on the beach, and helping around the house by doing dishes and laundry by hand and attempting to stop the herb garden from consuming the entire mansion. The food was always amazing because of the aforementioned herb garden and also because we could get mussels off the rocks whenever we felt like and if we ever got bored of that, my boyfriend’s aunt would put out a few lobster pots and octopus pots and mullet lines. Since we were always going in and out of the water, it was a hassle to change all the time, and I eventually got used to wearing a black and yellow bikini around the house, which was fine because everyone else was doing the same thing.

We were only supposed to stay for one week, but dangerously high waves and stormy weather stopped all civilian boat activity for longer than expected. This trip started out as an inheritance scheme, but my boyfriend and his aunts started genuinely liking each other.

Although the island was a fantastic place to live, some days thunderstorms confined us all inside and we were running out of food. We weren’t going to starve, but we were running out of regular processed things like wine, chocolate, and ham. More worryingly, my boyfriend’s aunt’s wife was running out of painkillers, but she said taking them during the day made her too tired to tell the difference between Seville and sweet oranges so she started cutting pills in half. She said she would be fine because she had plenty of immune and arthritis medicines.

One time when the weather was slightly better we went swimming far into the ocean and the coast guard came to check on us, yelled at my boyfriend for wearing a rival soccer team’s jersey, and then left to tell his aunts we were ok. I was upset because they just left us there. I could swim back fine on my own, but it’s the thought that counts.

Even the days spend inside weren’t too bad, since there were Antonio Banderas movies, with the added benefit of increasing our Spanish skills, and troves of vintage clothes and accessories to look through. 

His aunts said if we got married, we could live in a different luxury house in Europe every year for the rest of our lives and I threw a sock at him and said I’d only marry him if we played a different Mario game every year for the rest of our lives. This is an inside joke because he is extremely into Super Mario 3D World speedrunning and keeps trying to drag me into it. 

The weather got worse. Two weeks later, I was walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night when I heard my boyfriend’s aunt’s wife sputtering through the door. The painkillers must have worn off. I went inside to check on her and she grabbed my hand with crushing force, and when I asked if she was ok, she kept trying to apologise, and wouldn’t let go or calm down until she told me about something that happened 50 years ago. 

When she and her wife were the same age as my boyfriend and I, they were walking in the water along a beach on the Marseille coast when she saw a black and yellow sea snake and screamed. After they ran out of the water, her then-girlfriend kept running until she reached a beach house, took an oar, ran back into the water, flung the sea snake out of the water with the oar, and beat it to death. Her girlfriend’s family saw it all and it was the breaking point that made them demand her to break up.

She said I frightened her, but she didn’t know that her wife would kill me because of it. She said if I came to kill her in return, she would forgive me. It was obvious she was panicking and delusional, but I went along with it and said I didn’t mind getting killed if it meant being reborn as a human, and I didn’t want to kill her because she was so nice to me. She still felt she had to atone, so she asked me to bite her like I must have wanted. I refused, but she started panicking again, so I bit the back of her hand, not hard enough to leave indentations, and then she calmed down. 

After that, I left the room and woke everyone else up. I decided not to tell anyone about the snake story. After her wife got her to take another half pill, we all went to sleep. The next day, she didn’t seem to remember what happened.

Ten days later, she died when the sun went down as her wife wheeled her down into the water. Her family washed her body in the sea and wrapped her in sheets while I waited in the house. She called the coast guard and they said it would take them two days to prepare a boat big enough to safely transport all of us and a dead body off the island in bad weather. We coped by trying to do our daily routines as if she was still here, collecting plants from the garden for her to sort and not charging our phones because that would mean unplugging medical devices and changing out DVDs when the credits started. Antonio Banderas movies playing to a pile of herbs and flowers on a corpse. 

My boyfriend’s aunt was mired in grief and started treating me worse and worse. It started with petty things like opening a box of chocolates and saying her wife would have loved the chocolates I had eaten, and talking about the time so many unexpected guests showed up at a house party that her wife got sick after cooking for all of them. This was understandable, but then she found the alligator belt in my clothes. She was initially furious because she thought I was stealing, but when I got up from the bed where I was crying, she whipped me in the face with it and said a snake would always show its true colors. She said she bashed my brains into the sand once before and her regret was not being able to save her wife from me a second time. 

My boyfriend was able to shut the situation down and the dinner that night was nerve shredding. My boyfriend’s aunt only spoke French and glared at him whenever he tried to translate. Throughout the meal, she would say something and his face would flash a look of pure terror before he fake laughed to cover it up. He was sweating like mad. 

After dinner, he told me his aunt said how nice it was for her wife to see her clothes on someone who looked like her when she was young, and the closest thing she had to that was him. Then she told him about the snake and said she would protect him no matter what. Then out of nowhere he confessed he was trans and I was like, “I’m so glad you trust me enough to say this, and this doesn’t change how I feel about you at all, but your aunt wants to kill me because she thinks I’m a sea snake who killed her wife. This is not important right now.” Then he said it is important because when he came out and started transitioning, the whole family supported him, and she resented him for being accepted while she got disowned. He might be in as much danger as I am. 

We came up with a plot to recharge a phone on one of the medical device outlets, call the coast guard to say his aunt was unstable and we felt like we were in danger while leaving out everything about the sea snake, sneak out tomorrow when the coast guard were supposed to arrive, steal a sailboat, let all the other boats loose, and hang around off the island where we might drown before the coast guard rescues us, but we won’t get murdered.

My boyfriend’s aunt checked on him in the morning, so he stayed inside and called the coast guard while I changed into my bikini and went to the beach before making my way to the pier. I left all my clothes and phone and passport, to be less suspicious, but took the alligator belt because fuck her and also in memory of her wife. I waited for my boyfriend to finish calling and leave the house, but he didn’t. 

I got worried and went back to the house, but halfway there, his aunt calmly walked out of the front door holding a kitchen knife in one hand and an oar in the other, and said if I ran for the boats, my boyfriend would die in my place to atone for leading me to the island so I could kill her wife, so I ran towards the other side of the island.

If I tried to fight I might kill her but then I’d be a murderer. If I tried to stall until the coast guard arrived I’d definitely get killed. If I tried to swim away, I might look dead from a distance and survive. I took a running jump off the cliff on the tapered end of the island into the ocean and died. 

When the coast guard arrived, they found my boyfriend’s aunt on the beach, dead facedown in the shallows, and my boyfriend locked and barricaded on the second floor facing the cliff. 

Later autopsy reports showed my boyfriend’s aunt and her wife both died of sea snake venom, likely from snakes who were forced towards the land from bad weather. My body was never recovered. 

After an atrocious court case where half the family thought he killed everyone and the other half were elbowing their way in for a piece of the inheritance, it was eventually ruled that my boyfriend was innocent and got everything including the island, which was our initial goal but kind of a hollow victory considering his aunt died, and then he had to watch helplessly as his other aunt also died after forcing his girlfriend to commit suicide, who may or may not have been a vengeful reincarnated sea snake. 

I’m not sure what prompted this dream, since this guy isn’t my boyfriend in real life, nor is he trans or has rich French aunts, as far as I know. Also there’s no sea snakes in the Mediterranean.

[pucking-insane]

Nothin’ Like You - Cale Makar

Player: Cale Makar Word Count: 1544 Warnings: Vegetables

Mmm I remember when I first met you Sipping coffee in a corner booth You were twirling your hair And I just had to stare For a minute or two I was laughing at your stack of books Then you shot me that smile Hey beautiful girl, in your own little world And me in it

In a way, you could call Barnes and Noble your home. You loved to read. You read practically anything, from mystery to sci-fi, from fantasy to romance, non-fiction to adventure. 

Today, you were on the hunt for a book for your psych class. You were talking about mindsets in class and you were interested in the topic so you came to find the book your professor recommended.

“Dang.” 

When you located the book on the shelf, it was in the worst possible location. The top shelf. It was just out of your reach and of course there were no step stools around to help you get your book.

“Need a little help?” 

You turned around to see a young guy, no older than 25. He had blonde hair and rosy cheeks. He stood tall, maybe 6 feet.

“Yes please.” A blush creeped onto your face.

“Which one?” He asked you as he looked at the shelf.

“The one with the purple spine, paperback.”

He pulled the book off the shelf with ease, inspected the cover and handed it to you.

“I really enjoyed this one. I’m Cale, by the way.”

“Well, Cale, you into psychology?”

“With my job I kind of needed to know about the different kinds of mindsets. And you’re into psychology?”

“I’m studying at DU to become a child psychologist. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“You wanna maybe grab a cup of coffee sometime?”

You were taken aback by Cale’s question. Sure he was attractive. And he had this sort of mystery about him. Something that made you want to know more about him.

“I’ll go pay for this and we can grab something from the café?”

“Sounds wonderful.” He gave a smile, stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and walked towards the café.

You got all of my attention And you ain't even trying Yeah, you're my kind of different And I never seen nothin'

“So, Cale,” you said as you both sat down at a table in the cafe. “What do you do for a living?”

He sighed heavily. 

“Don’t laugh.” A blush spread across his already rosy cheeks.

“Why would I laugh?”

“I play professional hockey.” He bit his lower lip, awaiting your response.

“Oh my god.” You covered your face with your hands.

“What?”

“I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!” You whisper-shouted. “You’re Cale Makar!”

“Hockey fan, eh?” Cale smiled.

“Huge.” It was now your turn to blush. “I grew up in Minnesota so I spent my life on the ice. And I actually played for my high school, leading them to a state championship as a captain senior year.”

“Oh wow.” Cale took a sip of his coffee. “So you don’t play anymore?”

“No. I wasn’t good enough to commit, but I still love the sport. The Avs are my favorite team actually.” A blush spread across your face.

“You should come to a game sometime.” Cale smiled.

“I would love to.” You returned the smile.

Nothin' like you Shades on spinning in a summer rain Dancing in the rain no music Just the right kind of crazy, baby Something about you Rocking that rock 'n roll t-shirt We're at a party dressed up But you just doing your thing Ain't nobody ever seen nothin' like you

Over the next few weeks, you and Cale began to hang out more and more. He took you all over Denver, trying new restaurants, catching movies, or checking out the local museums. You also took Cale to a Broncos game, where you both donned the blue and orange of the football team. 

You had come to have sort of a crush on Cale. His rosy cheeks and killer smile were your downfall. He wasn’t like the hockey players you had known in high school. He was an intellectual. The two of you could have discussions about psychology and how the brain works. Cale would also help you study for your exams, quizzing you on terms and asking you study questions. How hot is a smart guy?

Your friends at school chirped you for the amount of time you spent with Cale.

“Y/N, your ‘I can’t, I have to study’ excuse has turned into ‘I can’t, Cale and I made plans.’” They would tell you. You would just blush and deny it.

One October afternoon, you were relaxing on Cale’s couch. He had just gotten home from morning skate when he invited you over. His hair was still wet and he was wearing a fresh set of sweats and a t-shirt. You were both reading books as you sat in silence. Your head was resting in Cale’s lap, glasses perched on your nose. You held your latest psych book find above your head, brows furrowed in concentration. Cale was reading a book you had recommended to him, and he found his fingers tangling in your hair as he played with it.

To be honest, Cale also had a huge crush on you. His teammates would chirp him for it, but he didn’t care. He wanted to take his time with you, make sure you knew that he cared (of course you did know that he cared about you). 

“Hey, Y/N?” Cale asked, breaking the silence.

“Hm?”

“Tonight’s the home opener, and it would mean the world to me if you came.” Cale said softly, a blush spreading to his cheeks.

“I would love to.” You looked up at Cale with a smile.

When you're wearing them worn out jeans Purple untied shoe strings You're a light in the dark And you're stealing my heart like a gypsy

That night, you found yourself at the will-call ticket office to pick up the ticket Cale had left for you.

“I’m here to pick up a ticket for Y/N.” You said when you got to the window.

“Alright.” You were given your ticket. “I was told to also give you this.”

“Thank you!”

It was an Avalanche jersey. You ran your fingers over the material. Unfolding the jersey, you realized it was Cale’s jersey. He had pinned a note to the material.

Thought you might want a jersey for tonight. I can’t wait to see you after the game. Cale PS come to the glass for warmups

You entered the lower bowl to go to the glass for warmups. Players were hitting the ice with introductions. Soon, they were whizzing around the ice. As soon as Cale caught your eye, he started to wave. He skated over to you.

“I like your jersey.” He mouthed to you with a blush.

“Thanks.” You smiled. “Someone very special gave it to me.”

He blushed again and sent a puck your way.

After warmups, you found your seat, which to your surprise was in one of the boxes. 

“You must be Y/N!” A blonde woman said as you entered the box. “Cale’s girl! I’m Mel by the way.”

You shook Mel’s hand and she introduced you to the other women and families. 

“Landeskog, 92, is my husband. He’s said that Cale never shuts up about you.” Mel explained.

“Oh, um,” You blushed. “Cale and I aren’t together.”

“Oh! I’m sorry!” Mel apologized. “He does like you though.”

“You think?”

“Oh I know. Gabe says he just blushes every time you’re mentioned by a teammate.”

You watched the game intently, eyes always on the lookout for number eight. You cheered so loudly when Mikko scored off of Cale’s assist. Soon enough the game was over and you were going with all the other WAGs down to the dressing room.

“Y/N!” Cale smiled as he saw you when he came out of the dressing room.

“Great game!” You smiled as you hugged him.

“Thank you! You look great in my jersey by the way.” He whispered in your ear.

“Oh really?”

“Of course.” He pulled away from the hug and looked into your eyes. “And I wanted you to be wearing it when I asked you this question.” He took a deep breath. “Will you, Y/F/N Y/L/N, be my girlfriend?”

“I would love to.”

I love the way that you kiss me In front of everybody So baby come and kiss me They ain't ever seen nothin' Nothin like you...

Cale leaned down to kiss you. It was cautious and gentle. Your lips fit together with Cale’s perfectly and they moved in sync. 

The guys all whistled when they saw what was happening between you and your new boyfriend.

“GET SOME CALE!”

“ATTA BOY!”

The ladies, of course, telling their significant others to shut up and let you have your moment, were also happy for the two of you.

“I’ll tell you what.” Cale said as he pulled away from the kiss.

“What?”

“I have never met anyone like you.” He placed one last kiss on your lips before taking your hand and leading you to his car.

[smokeysister]

The Stepford Game: Part 1

(This story features brainwashing, mind control, stepfordization, and unintentional reality warping)

Carrie wandered through the mall, trailing after her friends as they talked excitedly to one another. She was of average height for a 20 year old college student, albeit a bit plain looking. She kept her blonde hair in a pixie cut, and wore the bare minimum when it came to makeup. She didn’t even paint her nails or do anything with them beyond clipping them when they got long. Even her clothes were unremarkable. Just jean shorts, flip flops, and a red crop top. Carrie stuck her hands in her pockets and sighed. Normally she enjoyed mall crawling with the girls, and it was spring break too! But she just felt so listless and bored. Nothing could really excite her. Even her last few dates with her boyfriend, Kent, had ended with her going home early and wondering if she should just end the relationship. But out of the corner of her eye, Carrie saw something that did interest her, at least a little bit. There was a new store, or at least one that she had never seen there before. It looked like an old hobby shop, with dusty windows and old toys and games in the display. Little toy cars and train sets that seemed to be from the 1950s, all made of painted wood and metal. Probably lead paints, she realized with a wrinkle of her nose. Still, the store had caught her attention. All of the other hobby shops and toy stores in the mall had been closed down and replaced by tech stores years ago, so it was an odd duck out. And it seemed to be empty.

“Carrie? Why are you lagging?” Vivian asked. She was Carrie’s best friend, ever since they were little kids. If Carrie was unremarkable and plain, Vivian was anything but. She had ivory skin, with heavy black and red makeup that never seemed to leave her face. Her straight black hair hung down to her shoulders, and she was always wearing black leather and lace. Silver studs dotted her chin, cheeks, and nose, and she had large black gauges in her ears. She wore a black band shirt, which advertized one of the endless list of heavy metal bands she listened to, and which showed off her sleeve tattoos. She had ripped jeans and combat boots to complete the edgy look. And of course, she always looked dour and grumpy. “Huh? O-oh, I was just… Looking at something,” Carrie mumbled. The other girls turned around and joined her, looking the store up and down, with varying reactions. “What is this place?” Linh asked innocently. “Who cares? I gotta head to the apple store and get a new phone!” Mariah complained. Linh and Mariah were Carrie’s other closest friends. Linh was tall, asian, and had long black hair that reached all the way to the bottom of her back. She was wearing an oversized purple t-shirt that hung off of one shoulder and a pair of black and white gym shorts, as well as a pair of glasses with thin wire frames. Mariah was the shortest of the bunch. She was black, and wore her hair in bright, multi colored dreadlocks. The most athletic of the group, she wore a blue basketball jersey and a pair of mesh shorts, as well as some worn out sneakers. “Can we look inside first?” Carrie begged. She wasn’t totally sure why she wanted to check it out, but it… Well, it called to her. “Please?” “I’m with Carrie. It could be fun!” Linh agreed. “I don’t really care one way or the other,” Vivian said with a shrug. “...Alright, fine!” Mariah agreed. “But we’re going to the apple store after! I promised Mark I’d text him tonight when I need a ride home.” “I told you, my mom could give you a ride if you needed,” Linh offered. “Sure, she’s got work early tomorrow morning, but I could probably convince her if we really need to.” Carrie felt a pang of sadness when Linh mentioned her mother. Linh’s mom was always busy with work, ever since her dad had left them. As a result, Linh was just about always at home alone, or spending her time at their houses, but Carrie knew that she missed being able to spend time with her mom. But as much as she’d like, there wasn’t really anything Carrie could do to change that. “Let’s go inside then,” Carrie said, trying to shift over to the less serious topic. She walked into the store, and the other three followed after her. The inside of the shop was just as musty as the outside, and it seemed as though nobody had shopped there in years, if not decades. In fact, the only person inside, aside from themselves, was an old man behind the counter, keeping watch over an old metal cash register. “Talk about old,” Mariah said, wrinkling her nose. “I dunno,” Carrie said. “I think all this old vintage stuff is kinda cool.” “I was talking about the guy,” Mariah snorted. She looked down her nose at an old train set from the 1930s and rolled her eyes. “So what do you sell here?” Linh asked the owner. He was a short, stocky, warm old man, with thick rimmed glasses and a forest green sweater vest. “Oh, old toys and games, mostly,” he explained with a friendly chuckle. “I don’t get too many customers, but whenever I do, they always manage to find something to enjoy.” “I somehow doubt that,” Mariah snarked. If her remark offended the old man, he certainly didn’t show it. He just kept on smiling fondly, as though he were talking to his grandchildren. “I have to agree with Mariah,” Vivian said, speaking up for the first time since they had entered the store. “I haven’t met anyone, our age or younger, who has even a passing interest in a game that doesn’t involve a CPU.” “Ah, people can surprise you!” the man claimed. “Why, just last month, I had a little boy come in with his mother. Just like you say, he wasn’t interested in anything other than his fortnights or call of battlefield, but then he found this little wooden car, over on that wall. The second he laid eyes on it, he couldn’t think of anything else. He begged his mother to buy it for him, and then he ran right on past the game store down the way, because he couldn’t wait to get home and play with the car.” “Suuuure he did,” Mariah muttered under her breath. She gave up on even pretending to be interested in the store’s contents, and so she stayed by the front entrance and leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “I can believe it,” Carrie said, smiling at the old man. “There are still people who like this old vintage stuff. Collectors, you know? They’ve gotta start somewhere.” “I guess…” Vivian agreed, tentatively. Linh, however, seemed to be fully on Carrie’s side. While Linh and Vivian looked at a few old toy soldiers, Carrie wandered off, towards the back of the store, where there was an array of board games stacked in a pyramid. At the very top of the pile was one with a name she didn’t recognize at all. Even the brand on the box, the people who made it, didn’t ring any bells. Milton Bradley they were not. But the cover of the box is what caught her attention, as well as an odd name, which clashed with the date that it was made. “The Stepford Game?” she asked nobody in particular. Wasn’t that story from the 1970s? But the game, from it’s production date to the scene on the cover, dated the game to the early 1950s, roughly twenty years earlier than that horror film her cousin showed her. But the box seemed so interesting, so unique. It had an idyllic image on the cover, showing a group of six housewives chatting on a patio. They were all different races, which seemed surprising, given the era. But they also looked so happy. Genuinely happy, too, not that fakey happiness that old advertisements always involved. Carrie didn’t even have to think twice about it. She was going to buy the board game. Like the old man said in his story about the little boy, she was transfixed. She knew that it was now or never, somehow. If she walked out of the store without it, she would never find this piece of history ever again, no matter how hard she searched. She picked the box up and hugged it close to her chest as she raced back to the counter. “I’ll take this, please!” Carrie said with an eager smile as she set the box down on the glass countertop. “Huh? Really?” Vivian asked, looking up from a pack of baseball cards that the man had been showing to her and Linh. “Oh, cool! I haven’t played a board game in ages!” Linh said. “We can play it back at my house tonight!” Carrie nodded enthusiastically, happy that her friend was down with trying it out. “C’mon, Viv, play it with us?” Carrie asked. It didn’t take much encouragement. If it made Carrie happy, Vivian was willing to do just about anything, no matter how hokey. Vivian gave the box one last suspicious look, but then she sighed and relented. “Alright, I’m in. It’s gonna be weird, but whatever. Weird is my middle name.” What she didn’t admit was that the image of the happy housewives on the cover seemed almost… interesting? She didn’t have the faintest clue as to why, but Vivian had a hard time avoiding looking at them, no matter how many times she forced her gaze away. “That’s the spirit!” Carrie said. “So, um, how much do I owe you, sir?” she asked the man. “For that one? Just $5.” “Wait, really? Even Monopoly costs, like, $20, and that’s new. This has to be worth more than that, right?” Carrie asked, shocked at how cheap the offer was. “Everything here goes for the original sale price, dear,” the old man said with a smile. “And in 1952, that board game was $5, so $5 it is.” “Alright, awesome!” Carrie said as she handed the man a five dollar bill. “Seriously, mister, thank you so much!” “Thank you, my dear! Have a swell time!” “Believe me, dude, we will!” Linh said with a laugh as she threw her arms around Vivian and Carrie’s shoulders. Carrie picked the box up and hugged it close to her chest again as the three headed to the exit, where Mariah joined them. “You’re forcing me to play that dumbass game with you, aren’t you?” she asked, dreading the answer that she knew was coming. “Yes, yes we are,” Carrie insisted with a bright and cheery smile. She had a wonderful feeling about this game. She hadn’t been this excited in a long, long time. ********************* “Mom! We’re home!” Linh said as the four girls climbed out of Vivian’s black Tesla. Her mother was sitting on the front porch, typing away on a laptop. “Mhm. There’s some leftover pizza in the fridge if you’re hungry. But try to be quiet tonight, okay? It might be my day off, but I still have to review these case notes, and I don’t need any distractions,” Linh’s mother said coldly. “Right. Sorry, mom. We’ll try not to cause too much noise,” Linh said, looking a bit crestfallen for a moment, before she put a smile back on her face and led the others inside. They headed straight up to Linh’s bedroom, on the top floor of the house. She was the only one of the group who lived at home year round, since she lived close to their college, and so her room looked, well, lived in. The bed wasn’t made, and there was a pile of dirty clothes in the corner, which Linh shoved into a closet to deal with later. Meanwhile, Carrie set the board game box down on the white carpet, in the center of the room. Vivian sat to her right, Linh sat to her left, and Mariah sat across from her. Carrie opened the box and set the top off to the side, then pulled out the game board. It was set up to look like an idyllic 1950s suburban neighborhood, with white picket fences and green hedges separating rows of identical houses. The starting point was the local grocery store, and the ending point seemed to be a lively barbecue in someone’s backyard, attended by the whole neighborhood. There was also a small speaker set into the center of the board, though it didn’t seem to have any buttons connected to it. Carrie grabbed the rulebook and started skimming through it, reading aloud for everyone to hear while they all picked out a character piece to represent themselves. The tiny plastic figures were all identical, being little housewives with poofy skirts and beehive hairdos, but they were set apart by their colors. Vivian grabbed the black piece, while Linh grabbed the purple one, and Mariah grabbed the blue one. Vivian picked out the red piece for Carrie, knowing that it was her favorite color. “The Stepford Game. Two to eight players. Roll the dice, yada yada, pick up cards from the appropriate piles… Always read the card out loud… Event spaces, chore spaces, reality spaces, and wardrobe spaces… Fail a chore challenge, get a punishment… First to reach the barbecue wins, but the game doesn’t end until everyone arrives. Sounds simple enough, yeah?” “Yep. So who goes first?” Vivian asked. She still couldn’t believe that they were actually playing this thing. The things she did to make Carrie happy… “It says that we have to roll for turn order,” Carrie explained, after finding the appropriate rule. Carrie got a six, Linh got a five, Vivian a three, and Mariah a two. “Okay, so I go first!” Carrie said with an eager grin. She was hoping that she’d be the first one to get a turn. Carrie shook the dice in her hands and then rolled them along the carpet. She got a four, and so she picked up the little red housewife piece and moved it to the fourth spot, which was marked as a wardrobe space. After double checking the rules to make sure she was supposed to do so, Carrie took the top card off of the wardrobe deck and looked it over. The card had a drawing of a woman’s hand, with long, perfectly manicured nails, which were being lovingly painted. There was also text on the card, which Carrie read for the group. “Fresh Coat of Paint. You spent the afternoon taking care of your precious little digits, and now you’ve got a lovely manicure and a new coat of paint to go with it! Keep good care of those nails, dearie!” A second after she finished reading the card, the speaker in the center of the board played a happy jingle, and Carrie felt a little tingle on the tips of her fingers. When she set the card down, she noticed something peculiar. Her nails, which had been cut short and unpainted just a second ago, were now long, perfectly manicured, and colored cherry red. Her eyes went wide with shock, but she played it off as if nothing odd had happened, and set the card aside, then folded her hands in her lap. Nobody else seemed to notice the sudden change, but she had to wonder… What kind of game had she bought, exactly? “Alright, my turn!” Linh said as she snatched up the dice and tossed them again. A three. “One, two, three… Reality space? What’s that mean?” Linh asked once her game piece landed on the tile. “You’ve gotta draw a reality card,” Carrie said, reading from the rule list. “Here you go.” She picked the top card from that deck and handed it to Linh, who began to read it aloud. “Like Mother, Like Daughter: Being a housewife runs in the family. You grew up with a mother who is the spitting image of a 1950s sitcom housewife, and you’ve always wanted to be just like her when you grew up.” Suddenly, the lights in the room dimmed, and everything was swamped in a strange darkness. The hair on the backs of the girls’ necks stood on end, before the lights flickered back on and everything went back to normal. “Well of course I want to be just like my mom!” Linh said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. “She’s always been my role model!” Suddenly, a voice called out from the other room, and then Linh’s mother poked her head in to see how the girls were doing. “Are you girls having fun?” she asked in a voice as sweet as apple pie. Her hair was freshly permed from a trip to the salon that morning, and she was wearing a bright red shirtdress, with a ballooning skirt pushed out by several petticoats, and a white apron tied around her waist. In her hands, she held a tray of chocolate chip cookies. “I baked you some treats, in case you were hungry!” “Thanks mom! You’re the best!” Linh gushed as she took the plate off of her mother’s hands and set it down on her bed. The four young adults all began munching on the cookies with blissful smiles on their faces. Linh’s mom really was the perfect housewife! No wonder she wanted to get married and become a homemaker herself. It was all she ever talked about! Carrie was so happy that her friend had such a caring, doting mother. Even Vivian and Mariah liked Linh’s mom, even though she was so old fashioned. “Your turn, Vivian!” Linh said, handing her the dice. Vivian tossed the dice onto the carpet, and came up with a six. She moved her little black housewife piece six spaces, and ended up on a wardrobe space. Following what Carrie had done earlier, she grabbed the top card off of the pile and looked at it suspiciously. The card had a drawing of a cartoon housewife on it, with natural red hair tied back in a high ponytail. “Dye Job: You spent a day at the salon, and now you’ve got a brand new style. Being a redhead suits you, doesn’t it?” The little speaker on the center of the board played a jaunty little jingle, and all the girls watched Vivian with wide eyes, surprised by what they saw. A wave of light orange-red color swept across Vivian’s hair, from the top of her head down to her shoulders, until her jet black hair was gone, and she looked just like a natural redhead. Even her eyebrows changed color to match! And once that was done, a black ribbon seemed to appear out of thin air, and tied itself around her hair, pulling the bright red locks up into a ponytail, identical to the one on the card. “Uh… Did everyone else just see that?” Mariah asked, unable to break eye contact. It was just too bizarre. “I think she looks nice! You make a cute redhead, Viv!” Linh said with a giggle. “Yeah!” Carrie agreed enthusiastically. “It really suits you.” “No, seriously! Her hair just changed color!” Mariah exclaimed, pointing at Vivian, who was blushing a bit. “Well, yeah, it did. But it’s cute!” Linh giggled. “Maybe it’s a magic board game?” Carrie proposed. The idea had been swimming around in her head since her turn, when her nails had transformed. She took a deep breath and held up her hands for everyone to see. “My nails changed too, after I drew my card. See? They were normal before, but now they’re manicured, just like the card said,” Carrie explained. Vivian looked a bit relieved, seeing that she wasn’t the only one who had been affected. “Magic?” Mariah asked, baffled. “You think you bought a magic board game?” “Do you have a better idea?” Vivian asked. For her, the idea of a magic board game wasn’t absurd at all. She was Wiccan, and so magic was perfectly normal in her mind. “Old games like these, someone might have cursed it or something.” “So we’re playing a cursed board game, and you’re all just… Fine with that?” “Well… If you find a magic board game, why not?” Carrie asked. “It’s like something out of a movie!” “I guess…” Mariah said. Still, she wasn’t sure this was the best idea. “But if this game goes all Jumanji on us, I’m out.” “My only question is why nothing happened to Linh,” Vivian said, looking at their unaffected friend. “Carrie’s nails were painted, and my hair changed color, but Linh’s card just said a fact about her life. Right now, that’s the weird part.” “Well, it is a reality card, so maybe it knows something about the players, and is saying it?” Linh offered as an explanation. It made about as much sense as anything else. “But seriously, though, Vivian’s hair is SO. CUTE. I love it, Viv!” “Um… thanks, I think?” Vivian said. She could feel the change as it occurred, the tingle that swept across her whole body, wherever she had hair. But she wasn’t upset by the transformation, for some reason. Logically, she could just dye it black again if she really wanted to. And really, it just didn’t bother her. “My turn, then,” Mariah said as she grabbed the dice and rolled, scared of what might happen. With any luck, she’d get a reality space like Linh, and she’s just get a card that talked about how she nearly flunked her statistics course. But no, she got a one, and groaned in frustration. She moved the blue housewife forward one space, onto a wardrobe tile. Vivian handed her a card, which Mariah read out in a worried tone, cursing her poor luck. “A Gift From The Hubby. Your husband bought you a pretty new dress, and it would be terribly rude not to try it on for your date night!” Again, there was a cartoon housewife on the card, though this one looked more like Mariah, with long dreadlocks and dark brown skin. She was wearing a fancy, low cut evening dress, made of a seafoam green satin, with a full skirt and a sheer silver shawl. Once again, the speaker on the board played its jingle, but this time the effect was much more pronounced. Mariah’s clothing vanished in the blink of an eye, but she was only nude for a split second before the outfit from the card had entered the real world and wormed its way onto Mariah’s body. “What just happened?!” Mariah asked, alarmed. Carrie and Vivian were both similarly shocked, but Linh just smiled and patted Mariah on the lap. “What a gorgeous dress! It looks just like the one my mom wears when she goes out to dinner with daddy!” “Yeah, b-but what happened to my jersey?!” Mariah exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Girls, seriously, this game, i-it’s not normal! Just look at what it did to me! What it did to Vivian’s hair!” “I don’t really mind my hair…” Vivian mumbled, missing the point entirely. “Mariah, calm down, okay?” Carrie pleaded, placing her hand over Mariah’s. “I’m sure this’ll all go back to normal once the game is over, okay? That’s what the rules say, at least.” “Really? You’re sure?” Mariah asked, still very uneasy, and not at all comfortable wearing the fancy vintage dress. She sat down slowly, her petticoats rustling as she awkwardly sat down cross legged on the floor. Her skirt flounced upwards, and ruffly petticoats poked out from beneath it’s hem. Clearly, she wasn’t used to sitting down in dresses. “Yeah, I’m sure. Like I said… The rules say this is all temporary,” Carrie lied. She couldn’t wait to see what happened next.