#football player hand signed memorabilia

[thewul]

Ace full of Kings

Welcome to suburbia land and the wealth of suburban lifestyle, although on the surface it may have looked like nothing, boring even, there was good poker players and poker nights, Sunday baseball games were always fun even if it's just kids, and every Wednesday at the local bar karaoke nights entertained the best and worst singers the neighborhood had, there was different stuff once you started digging in it, once you got acquainted with the place and its people most of all, and you know anywhere is worth it if you find good poker players

Tonight we are having a poker night in a dimly lit small backroom at Harris, smoke filled with the cigars that Barnes procured from an army buddy selling them on the low from Puerto Rico where he was posted, the room had every kind of Seahawks team memorabilia you could think of, signed jerseys and footballs, players cards, framed press articles, and a heap of photographs with the players and staff plastered the walls almost entirely, a lifetime collection that spilled to a few large boxes stacked one on top of the other, as a cop Harris had his entries, originally from Seattle before he bailed after getting in serious trouble with organized crime, it even had trophy replicas on a shelve, complete with Seahawks branded coffee mugs and coffee machine

Seahawks was "the coolest name for a football team" and the retired street cop was a huge fan, and of course it had the crackling police radio noise in the background because that's what you would expect from a retired street cop, to stay put even if, a couple of years ago we had invested in a proper poker table, our pride and joy, professional green mat and cup holders, the bar well it wasn't much, but Harris kept it filled with his rake although he didn't like to hear that word

Meet the players, or the demonstration that maybe prosperity isn't what it used to be, that the neighborhood isn't what it used to be, life in general, but that poker can heal all wounds, imagine that a poker night at your neighbor's poker room, a bottle of the finest whiskey money could buy for under 100 Dollars, put together around the fine looking table more than a hundred years of life experience, retirees, O’Brian retired fireman, Harris still on police radio, Brown a retail store manager, a black man who fought his way in life arguing to too many customers that he was the store's manager, and Barnes a Vietnam vet with two rounds of duty under his belt and the scars to prove it

Billy Perkins wasn't half their age but they made a place for him because he was good at poker, above all they wanted to know why he wasn't not good at money other than the chips that he racked often, and above all if he realized that a man his age of his character can be anything he wanted in life, he was on to something big that's what they all thought of him

I'll have that widow hand, No Billy Perkins you can't have that Why not? You're not even married, Well look at me it's my winning hand, What do you know it's your winning hand? See it's two pairs already, say I score a full and a pair, I don't say nobody says that replied Barnes, Or 4 of a kind, ace high Come on now, Why come on, you're not even looking at your hand, don't like what you see? I have a better hand! What you're raising now, Of course am raising, am raising your better hand, Watch out the kid is on a roll

That fishing contest Billy how did it go? asked Harris, We won it, uncle Joe is the best, sold the fish for ten grands I made half of it, That's good money what are you going to do with, repaint the house I guess its been due for a while, Get a new lawnmower too your front yard looks like a jungle he added while fetching a couple of new cards, I was thinking of fixing it, That's what you said last week and the week before that

O’Brien took a long look at Perkins before deciding to share what he had in mind, tell me Perkins that O'Connor guy he's a big shot at the company where you work right? A big shot he's The big shot, used to be president and chairman of the board, Something is fishy about the whole thing, Such as? I've been told that propane tank was installed by a top notch utility business, checked it regularly, last time they did they replaced every joint gave the installation a clean bill of health, 3 months later the whole place blows up like a gas station on fire, wasn't supposed to happen like that

Retired Lt Harris who had listened on while staring at his hand paused his drink, see what you just described is murder for hire, come on now are we saying that rich folk homes don't blow up Brown interjected Brown, listen to the man Harris replied he said wasn't supposed to happen, But still it was a gas leak that did it am I correct, atleast that's what I read on the newspaper, Well there's guys that are into that stuff and they're paid big bucks to make murders for hires look like an accident

I didn't say a word more and kept focused on building my hand, thinking about what just been said, how O'Connor, Sullivan and Richardson had died within weeks, and so who benefited the most, Dillinger and again Dillinger who had an opening for president and chairman of the board, meanwhile he could push back indefinitely his retirement on the grounds that his succession had been hampered

Maybe if they fixed it wrong Brown went on, a botched job, you guys are always trying to make the stuff that happens in this city into a police movie, what do you know about gas Clayton replied O’Brien, what do I know about gas I used to run a retail store, it smells Clayton gas smells, see said Harris, the botched job might be O'Connor instead, did cops drop by at the company? They did answered Perkins coolly, keeping to himself that it wasn't about O'Connor that they showed up and that the murder count at Allstate was already 2 or 3 now by the looks of it, See no wonder, you have two guys who spent too many time doing this and they're saying that somebody punched that propane tank, Not the tank no that can leave traces remarked O'Brien, the joints are more likely

Because they would burn in the fire? Right it's not your everyday plastics but with that kind of temperature they will, If they don't catch who's behind this it's going to be another perfect murder, Perfect murder? That stuff exists? replied Brown, Oh yes it does and it's nothing that we advertise to people, Because you guys can't catch the murderer? No it's worse than that Clayton, we can't prove that it was a murder

Hey Barnes pour me a drink What's the occasion kid, Am doubling the raise, What for? For everyone's been throwing cards like they're yesterday's newspapers, But not the cards you want now Perkins, True haven't seen those, madam widow here is going to hand them right next, Ugly little weasel, Now now what's wrong with having a little drink

What on earth was he up to, a bigger pay no he was already well off, they all were, there had to be something else far more potent and sinister to justify his deadly power play, most of all the risks he took, Allstate was no small fish, 3rd largest insurance company amongst those who operated solely in the U.S, worth tens of billions

Am going all in gentlemen, Are you kidding us! It's several rounds we've been doubling that raise! Sergeant It's time to suck in the pain, What is it with suck in the pain, My favorite part, the single most telling line about war and about life, it's in the movie, What movie again? Barnes movie war movie, tell us about the alligators Barnes, There was no alligators in Vietnam, You sure look like you've been bitten by one, How come you're not a rich guy already since you're so cocky asked Barnes? Am hood rich, every week I come here and rack those chips Not always no, True sometimes I sit next to the bottle, Ouch

So? Am folding, Same here, Same, Barnes you're in? Let's see what you have, what I have is all in want to go all in? Not this time but I'll get you next time ugly weasel, I guess that's it, was nice playing you gentlemen partners, always a pleasure, Not so fast partner Perkins you have to pay the house, There you go Harris make my day, It's every other week that you always keep forgetting, But you don't

Let's see that hand you have, Does anybody look into a grave before getting in, That's it he had nothing but those two pairs, who let you sit next to the dealer anyways, The dealer sat next to me what should I do tell him to bounce, You think you're so clever, Look at you, you sat next to the bottle, Bluffers come with big mouths, Well you should have known Harris, He's been robbing us like that when he has nothing going he bluffs, Then I might have something going, Keep bluffing Perkins

How much did you make? Let's see there's a couple of upcoming games and I have to fork the beer cases at Barnes, Clayton asked me to take his car to the car wash stick me with bill plus extra for the leather chairs, O’Brien well what do you know he's got groceries he wants me to pick up any given Sunday, and Harris just raked me, Don't say that word, Why it's true, Keep things going for the club, Oh it's a club now? What do you think look at all the decoration

Was he after all of it why… Pretty much anyone else could arrive to the same conclusion as I did, police included especially the police, making him the prime suspect, or maybe in the back of his mind he thought he was so cunning that he could pull his moves without so much as a citation, so far he had succeeded that's the thing… The papers said the blast was an accident, and Richardson and Sullivan seemingly killed each others

That hand Perkins? It's there on the table, Can we? Go ahead what's the poker night for, What does he have? Aces full of kings!, Ugly little weasel, Keep going Perkins you'll get places, So he wasn't bluffing after all? Yeah it's the same to me Clayton, He's got something this young fellow, We agree on that, we said it over and over again, but he doesn't seem to know what it is himself, He's a good kid Harris he will find out when it's time, He doesn't look in a hurry and what do you know about time, it flies

Look at the hand that he has continued O'Brien, didn't even show it what does tell us about him Harris, Keeping his cards close to his chest, knows best in life than to show his cards and when you know that his age in life you already know a great deal, I think paused Clayton, no I am convinced that he can be anything he wants in life, Well he's got us posted about what it's going to be replied Harris

[aafriskaa]

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[obsidiancreates]

Master's Degree (Part Two)

The RV speeds through the open gate, Jack leaning out of his seat to press on the gas as much as possible.

Danny looks out the window as the mansion- castle, really- comes closer and closer at frankly alarming speeds. He notices the front door open, and a shadowed figure waiting in the doorway.

Not surprising, given how loudly they're roaring into his driveway.

Jack screeches the RV to a halt, throws the door open, and runs up to the entrance! Vlad steps out, and Jack immediately crushes him in a bear hug! Vlad coughs, taken by surprise.

"Vladdie my man!"

Vlad coughs again, starting to turn blue from lack of oxygen.

Maddie clears her throat, tapping her husband's should. "Jack, sweetie?"

Jack opens his eyes, and laughs. "Oh, right." He lets Vlad go, leaving his old pal heaving for breath.

"Thank you, Maddie," Vlad says with a cough. "He still doesn't know how to draw the line between 'tight hug' and 'death hug', I see."

"Well, you know Jack," Maddie says, holding her husband's hand (both out of love, and to keep him from nearly suffocating their host again).

"Yes, I'm glad I still do after all these years. I was worried you'd both be so different now, after being married and having kids... speaking of, nice to meet you both."

He shakes Jazz's hand, and then Danny's. Danny's a bit surprised by how cold Vlad's hand is.

"Come inside, come inside!" Vlad steps out of the way and lets everyone in.

Jazz cringes when they get inside. "Oh wow, what's with the green and gold? You're a billionaire, sure you can afford an interior designer."

Danny looks at her like she's grown a second head. "Jazz, hello? Football helmets, jerseys, cheeseheads! He's a Packers fanatic!"

Vlad grins. "You know the Packers, dear boy?"

"Danny," he says. "And yeah. I mean, I don't watch sports super often, but Dad used to put the games on and cheer for them even though they weren't our team."

"Just wanted to support my old chum's favorite players!" Jack says, hand on his hips proudly.

"How sweet," Vlad says, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Jazz still looks confused. "I don't understand. You have billions of dollars! Instead of buying this stuff, why don't you just buy the team?"

"Because they're owned by the city of Green Bay, who refuse to sell," Vlad spits.

Everyone looks at him with slight shock.

Vlad laughs a bit sheepishly, straightening up. "But it's fine. Money can't buy everything one could want. Like more time with my old friends."

He puts his arms around Jack and Maddie, but his eyes focus on Maddie herself.

"Though I suppose now, it has." Vlad pats them both on the back. "And more!" He gestures at the kids. "So lovely to have you all in my home! Feel free to look around."

Jazz starts taking some notes on how she would improve the decorations, while Danny looks at all the memorabilia. He comes upon a signed football on a stand. "Whoa, cool!"

"Indeed!" Vlad picks up the ball. "This ball was signed by the legendary Ray Nitschke himself! It's my most prized possession. You have an eye for value, Daniel."

"Danny," he corrects again.

"Yes, right. I'm just so pleased to find that we have things in common." Vlad's smile is a bit... wide. Almost knowing. But before Danny can think further about it, Jack runs at Vlad.

"HEADS UP, V-MAN!"

He slams into Vlad, crushing him into the ground. Jack laughs. "I see you've still got the old moves!" He picks the ball up off the ground and stands.

Vlad stands as well and snatches the ball away. "Give me that!" he says, panicked. He checks it for damage. "I never had any old moves, all those years in the hospital robbed me of-!"

He looks up form the ball. Everyone is staring again.

He sighs, adjusting his bow tie. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just very protective of my memorabilia. I know you didn't mean anything by it, Jack, you just weren't thinking."

Jack rubs the back of his neck. "I wasn't, was I? Sorry, Vladdie."

"It's fine." Vlad carefully put the ball back on it's stand. "Like I said, it's good to know you're still the same you from college. Always so well-meaning, but not always thinking it through. Despite it all, though, things always turned out fine in the end."

Danny finds himself nodding. Yeah, that's... pretty accurate.

"And still, it gave me time to chart out a course for my life, didn't it all? Let me plan, make well-thought-put decisions that helped me become very wealthy astonishingly quickly." He smiles again. "All thanks to you, Jack. If it weren't for those calculations being wrong, my life would be completely different now."

"Thank goodness for mistakes," Jack says with a wink.

"Yes, yes. Thank goodness for them. And actually, that's why I'm throwing the reunion here. I wanted to show there were no hard feelings, and let you all stay here with me."

Maddie frowns. "Oh, I don't know. We brought the RV with us."

"But it's such a gorgeous estate, isn't it? It used to belong to the Wisconsin Dairy King, it's a very historical property. I had the guestrooms all touched up and remodels just so I could reconnect with you!"

"Aw, you missed us that much?" Jack gives Vlad a friendly noogie. Vlad pulls away, patting his hair back into place.

"Yes, I missed you both so painfully. And I thought I should get to know your children better, too. I missed out on so many years of being their honorary uncle, like we'd always talked about before The Accident."

"Honorary Uncle?" Jazz crosses her arms. "Let me get this straight, you guys were that close, but still had no contact for twenty years?"

"Well, my dear, sometimes friendships grow apart. Especially after such a horrible, guilt-inducing accident." Vlad looks at Jack, eyes searching.

"But it's all in the past now!" Jack declares happily.

Danny thinks he sees Vlad's smile drop a bit. Not that he blames him. His dad isn't the most... sensitive, sometimes. And Vlad was pretty clearly looking for an apology there.

... It makes Danny grateful for Sam and Tucker. His parents just... left Vlad on his own after the accident, and it only gave the man ecto-acne. Danny got ghost powers and his friends still stayed by his side. He doesn't always remember how big of a deal that is. How their support helps ease the isolation his powers can make him feel.

He looks at Vlad again when Vlad sighs. "All in the past," Vlad echoes from Jack. "... Anyways, I insist you all stay. We have a king-sized mattress in every bedroom, and personal space heaters and AC-"

"Let's stay here!" Jazz coughs.

Danny gives her an unimpressed look. "Smooth."

Vlad's eyes light up. "Not to mention, Jack, that the Dairy King's ghost could haunt these very halls." he nudges Jack's stomach with his elbow. "A chance to capture a royal ghost."

Jack is already to the door. "I'll get the bags!"

Maddie sighs, and then smiles at Vlad. "Well, I guess we'll be staying after all."

"I'm so glad." Vlad gives her a hug. "It's been far, far too long apart."

Maddie hugs back. "It really has."

Vlad pulls away, and looks at Danny. "And I especially look forward to getting to know you better, Daniel. It's not often I meet someone who I can relate to. I have a feeling we'll get along swimmingly."

Danny smiles a bit. "Yeah. Me too."

[shhhlikeme]

Getting Railed By Your Jealous Bf Ushijima After He Meets Your Childhood Ex (Who Wants You Back!)📱📞

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Birthday Event Req By @juminly :

So I was trying to request the following >.<: a NSFW Ushi drabble with f!reader. Ushi being triggered by jealousy or something that happened between f!reader and someone else? I initially wrote a few kinks and you could go ahead with whatever inspires you! [cockwarming, face-sitting, blowjob, mirror sex, bondage, dirty talk or anything else tbh... and soft!dom!ushi]

———————————

A/N: I’m glad we overcame the technical difficulties for you to eventually send this req. hope you like it babes. I still have 2 more reqs from the event that shouldn’t take too long, thanks for being patient!

(NSFW 18+)

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Getting Railed By Your Jealous Bf Ushijima After He Meets Your Childhood Ex (Who Wants You Back!)📱📞

———————————

Sooooooooo

It’s canon that Ushi is a very calm and collected bf

Your friends love him 💕

Your pet loved him 💕

And your family loves him

Or that’s what Ushi always thought...... until tonight.

You and Toshi went to your parents house for an elegant middle aged people dinner party they were throwing with all their friends from the neighborhood

Ushijima wore a suit and everything 💜💜💜 you wore in a beautiful green dress and small heels to match him

CUTIES

The dinner party was great: 🎶 classy , bougie, ratchet extremely classy haha 💎

Until.......

your parent’s best friends’ son—Jeremy—happened to be home too.

Actually , he surprised everyone, crashing the party unexpectedly

And he brought gifts🤨.

Making a huge entrance that had everyone screaming in delight and hugging him, Ushijima couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the way your family fawned over your childhood friend

Your parents can’t help but gush over Jeremy, because they’ve always wanted you to marry him and move with him to America to study cosmetic surgery

In high school you two dated a little, but then you realized it was all for the benefit of your parents and you agreed to break up but remained distant friends

You were good with that , as you thought it was a mutual decision

But it wasn’t. Jeremy truly had feelings for you and they hadn’t stopped just because he moved away and finished med school

“These are for you, Y/N.” Jeremy smoothly handed you a bouquet of your favourite type of flowers

You hadn’t the heart to tell him your favourite type had changed since high school :S

“And Wakatoshi-san, I didn’t know you would be here. Apologies.” He shook his hand.

Ushijima’s face was hard. “I don’t know why I would not be.....?” He answered with a slight eyebrow raise, squeezing Jeremy’s hand right back.

Hose down that fire Y/N

Anyway, even though your parents like Ushi a lot, it was pretty obvious to you AND your boyfriend that both them + Jeremy’s parents never gave up hope that you two would one day get back together

Not to mention They were as subtle as elephants in a library

They got the fucking photo album, showing everyone including Ushijima pictures of you and Jeremy bathing together as babies and kissing before prom

SMFH!

“Oh, you live in Beverly Hills, now?” Your mom’s eyes sparkled at Jeremy as he showed her pictures of his mansion on his phone. “Y/N looooves that part of Los Angeles, don’t you, honey?”

You noticed Ushijima stiffen. He was thinking about the love of his life, you, living in LA in Jeremy’s ugly mansion and it pissed this Ace off.

You nodded slowly, giving your mom a warning glance. “Sure, when I was 15.”

“Hey Jeremy, your father told me last weekend that you know of bunch of players on the LA Rams?”

Jeremy nodded proudly. “Yes sir. A lot of their wives and mothers are patients of mine, so the starting line up usually sends me Christmas cards with season passes and signed memorabilia so that I up their women on the waiting lists. Whenever you’re in America and you’d like to go see a game, just let me know.”

You rolled your eyes at how loud your father exclaimed in joy. “I keep telling you to call me YF/N!” He clapped. “And that’s a real sport right there. Football, Baseball, Soccer. Everything else is a joke to real men.” Your father finished.

“DAD!” You chastised, stomping your foot under the table.

“What—?”

You glowered are him. “In case you FORGOT.....Ushijima happens to be a professional volleyball player.”

Your dad had clearly forgotten, trying to blubber out an apology. Ushijima interrupted him, putting a hand on yours to settle his furious girlfriend.

“That’s quite alright, sir. I took no offence to it.” Ushi was used to other men not recognizing volleyball as a manly sport—he is very confident so that didn’t bother him. Rather, what stung was the fact that your father had never asked Toshi to call him by his first name before, and you two had been dating for three years.

To your dismay, Yours and Jeremys parents continued to say annoying shit like that all night

Jeremy loved it 🙄

You hated it, and defended your man at any chance you got

Ushijima stayed silent through it all, trying to calm you down actually.

Like I said he’s confident and not easily shaken

He only had had enough when the conversation changed to Jeremy’s explanation of liking his life and his career but it all never seeming good enough because of “the one that got away” and how “she seems happy in a relationship now” but “he would do anything to get her back”

Meanwhile he’s sneaking heartfelt glances at you 🤬🤬🤬🤢

Your mother and father were doting, looking at you and eachother as if to say “come onnnnn Y/N give him another chance”

Ushijima picked up on it all.

At one point during Jeremy’s explanation of ‘the one that got away’ you stuck your finger down your throat to make a gagging noise childishly

YOUR PARENTS WERE NOT HAPPY LMAO

anyway, at the end of the night you said bye to everyone..... and Jeremy asked to speak to you in private on the empty porch

Ushijima watched with a locked jaw by the car, leaning on it so he could stare openly

He was justly heated as he watched the conversation (but couldn’t hear anything) happening on the porch at night

He witnessed Jeremy write down what had to be his number and hold it in front of you for you to take

You hesitated, not sure if you should take it just to avoid causing more waves with both parents or to stomp on his foot

Luckily you didn’t need to do either because Ushijima had silently stormed over in a millisecond, whisking the paper from Jeremy’s hand, staring at his number written on the paper before crumbling it and throwing it over his shoulder.

“She doesn’t need it. Goodnight, Jeremy.”

Ushi grabbed your hand and walked you to the car angry af, you had to jog in your heels to keep up with him

This man was maaad and silent the whole way home, thinking about how everyone seems to be so sure that your ex could have given you a better life

He still held your hand the entire drive though, so clearly he wasn’t mad at you ❤️

He hated that everyone liked this Jeremy better all because he went down the conventional path to success:

Hadn’t Toshi paid for everything? Hadn’t Toshi massaged your feet? Hadn’t Toshi made you extremely happy? Hadn’t they seen how you were treated? Did you believe someone could do better?

Nonsense.

Toshi knew that he was the BEST boy and that no one could dare love you more or treat you better....... and you tended to agree

But Toshi needed to hear you say it.

He needed to feel it, too.

Upon arriving at yours & Toshi’s gorgeous modern home:

Toshi hurriedly closed the door

you hadn’t even fully taken off your heels yet when you felt your boyfriend pressed himself against you from behind, lifting your dress up and rubbing his long hard cock print on your pantied pussy lips as you bent over

You moaned and started to get wet immediately

“Take off the panties.” He ordered.

you did obviously 😭 almost tripped with how fast you did it

Horny bish lol

Your boyfriend then picked you up in his strong arms and walked a few steps into the foyer, placing you so your ass was sitting on the 7th marble stair. He knelt down in between your legs and spread them while you sat on the staircase

He squeezed your ass in his large hands and dove into your pussy with his lips then tongue, immediately skipping the gentle licks... and tongue fucking your entrance into oblivion

His tongue was wet, strong and needy and fuck you choked on your own cries

You threw your head back, already screaming Ushi’s name

“Mmm scream my name just like that. Let everyone hear who you belong to.” He paused tongue fucking you to order.

you shuddered as you felt his warm breath on your clit and Ushi expertly enclosed his mouth around your sopping cunt, French kissing your clit into his mouth and sucking on it like a tiny lollipop

You tugged on his hair and screamed his name louder, feeling your interior walls clench

Once your legs started shaking because you were about to fall over the edge, Ushi picked you up again, making you wrap your legs around his waist

Toshi bent down quickly to empty his pockets which consisted of his keys, wallet, and his phone, placing it where you were just sitting when he was eating you out

Ushiwaka pressed your back against the wall beside the staircase.....

He held your entire body weight with one arm as he leaned in to kiss your neck, using his other hand to unbuckle his belt and kick his pants off

When he was freed & nude, he asked you kindly if you were ready and once you nodded he put one of his feet on the sixth stair, the other on the fifth, then thrusted deep into your soaking heat

He wasted no time in pounding you into the wall, the slight pain of the hard wall and your boyfriend’s hard dick somehow heightening the pleasure factor

Ushijima took both of your wrists in his gigantic hand and locked them above your head as he gave you nice and deep thrusts the way you both like it

“So fucking wet. All because of me, correct? I’m the only one who makes your pussy drip like this.”

Your pussy answered:💧 💧💧💧💧💧💧💧

Your vaginal walls squeezed around his dick and you bit his shoulder because the pleasure disallowed you to speak and Ushi groaned out

“Say. This. Tight. Pussy. Is. Mine.” He grunted as he circled his hips a bit while pounding, his voice grave.

Toshi picked up the pace as your soaking wet walls clenched around him even more from his dirty talk.

“Say. Who. This. Pussy. Belongs. To. Beautiful.”

You were being fucked too well, you couldn’t speak, you could only moan ... like usual

But your boyfriend wasn’t having any of that tonight.

He let go of your captive wrists and held you with both hands again, stepping downstairs and stopping in front of the large mirror in your foyer, turning so that only you could see yourself poking over his large shoulder, along with your boyfriend’s fine juicy ass and back calf muscles 🤤

Ushi grabbed the back of your neck (not enough to hurt) but just enough so that your head was up and you were looking at yourself in the mirror. He began to fuck you again, getting nice and deep in your pussy as he made you bounce on his dick in his arms

“Are you seeing yourself?” He laughed sexily. “Getting dumb-fucked, Princess? Whose dick are you taking, Y/N?” Wakatoshi groaned as your pussy clenched around him even more. He could tell you were about to cum and that he wouldn’t be long after. But he needed to hear you say something first.

“Who is your first choice, Y/N? Who fucks you like this every night? Who’s dick can you never get enough of? Me? Or Him?”

In your stupor, you watched yourself in the mirror: Toshi’s delectable ass flexing as he pushed in and out of you, feeling his strong hand gripping your neck. You weren’t a big talker during sex and bae knew that, but the amazing feeling of this angry jealous sex was too much, his big dick felt too fucking good..... and one particularly hard thrust from him that grazed your g-spot in the besssst way gave you the energy to cry out;

“YOU, TOSH. FUCK THAT JEREMY, HE COULD NEVER FUCK ME LIKE YOU DO. OR TAKE CARE OF ME LIKE YOU DO. I DON’T WANT OR NEED ANYONE ELSE BUT YOU. YOU’RE THE BEST BOY WITH THE BEST DICK. NO ONE CAN EVEN C-COME CLOSE TO YOU. YOU —OH, OH, OH MY GOD, I’M GONNA—“

Wakatoshi let go of your neck, landing soft kisses on your neck while he returned to gripping your ass with both hands now, sliding you up and down his long, hard, soaking wet dick from your juices.

It felt so fucking good 😩

“That’s right princess. I’ve heard enough, baby. I knew it: I just needed to hear you say it. Now cum for me.”

when you did, you made sure to scream out all the praises you always told toshi when you weren’t getting fucked, making him feel like a King, reassuring him that your mind, body, and soul belonged to him and NO ONE else.

Wakatoshi found his release soon after from your pussy but also from your words, shooting his thick cum up inside you for you to take as he caressed your back and whispered how much he loved you in your ear.

Then, as you laid limp in his arms, he left his cock to stay warm inside you and went back to the stairs, fully prepared to go head up and bathe you, then put you to bed.

But as he passed the sixth step, though, Toshi bent down to pick up his keys, wallet and phone that he’d set there.

As you fell asleep on his shoulder, Ushi grinned at his phone screen, pressing send to the voicemail message he’d just recorded.

Whoops 😏 must have accidentally butt-dialed someone before fucking you and left a long message by accident

😕ohno😕

With a photographic memory, it wasn’t difficult for the Ace to remember such a plastic surgeon’s phone number when Ushi saw it on the note.....

And Toshi could explain to you how sorry he was that he’d accidentally dialed it before railing you to sleep on the stairs and in the foyer

But truth be told, your boyfriend’s only real regret would be not being able to see the look on Jeremy’s face when he listened to it on his flight back home.

Bday Event Masterlist

[aaasportsmemorabilialimited]

Kenny Dalgish Player Hand Signed Memorabilia

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757 Sports Collectibles Review: Top Choice For Sports Autographs

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[beinglibertarian]

Scoring For Liberty: A College Football Allegory

Two fans of the Southeastern Conference of the United States Collegiate Football League sit in their man cave, a spectacle displaying memorabilia from the University of Missouri, Florida, Mississippi and neon Budweiser signs mixed in with leather decor and a 97 inch high definition television discuss who they’re going to cheer for in the upcoming 2018 National Collegiate Athletics Association Football Championship.

The playoff committee has selected the University of Alabama and the University of Georgia among the top 4, two teams that the gentleman both despise beyond measure. The thought of both teams making the final, a likely scenario, makes their blood boil and their heads filled with anguish.

“I can’t believe two of these devils made the playoffs,” exclaims person A (let’s call him Sick Naban), “Maybe I just won’t even watch the championship this year. It won’t matter who I root for, either way, I’m not going to be happy.”

“Well what about Oklahoma, or maybe Clemson?” inquires person B (who shall be dubbed Smirby Kart). “They could go to the championship.”

“Clemson will never get enough points to win,” moans Sick continuing, “they just don’t have the players or the support of Alabama or Georgia, and I don’t see any way they can compete.”

The two fans rise from the couch to obtain more beers and potato skins. While waiting for the microwave to cook the cheese-laden spuds, Smirby again encourages Sick to look at the other options.

“Well how about Oklahoma? Their quarterback is breaking all sorts of records and is surely going to win the Heisman,” Smirby suggests, “perhaps they have a good shot at making the championship?”

“No way, despite Baker Mayfield having a great year, he’s swore at fans and grabbed his crotch at other teams and just, in general, seems like an odd guy,” Sick declared with fervor.

“Sure he may be a little odd, but just imagine what he could do if he got the support of everyone who hates Alabama and Georgia,” says Smirby longingly.

The microwave pings as the frozen potatoes finish cooking, and Sick grabs them quickly, burning his hand and nearly throwing them at Smirby, in order to avoid responding to Smirby’s suggestion. They return to the couch with the TV tuned to Sportscenter discussing the rest of projected bowl game contenders.

“If I decide I’m going to watch the championship game, I want to at least have a shot at supporting a winning team,” explained Sick. “I’ll probably end up doing that anyway since I know neither Clemson or Oklahoma are going to win.”

Sick lowers his head and depressingly stares at the potato skins. Smirby places his hand on his friends back in support.

“Maybe you can still feel satisfied rooting for a team that you know might not win. Maybe the point of watching the playoffs isn’t to be a part of a winning fanbase, but cheering for a team you truly feel is the best. I think it’s more important to have your voice heard and display to the world why your team can win because they are who you believe in. Because they are who you believe deserves to win.”

Sick Naban lifts his head slightly and turns it towards Smirby with a faint glimmer of hope.

“And maybe next year your team will be back and they will make it to the championship this year without Alabama and Georgia looming. It’s not so much important that you support a team you know has a chance to win, but that you do so for one that you know deserves to win even against insurmountable odds,” exclaimed Smirby leaping to his feet in exuberance.

A smile creeps onto Sick’s downturned face as he looks up at his friend, and he states “you’re right, you’re right. I was so worried about being left out and wasting my support that I was willing to sacrifice what I believe in. I love Baker Mayfield, and I’m going to cheer for the Sooners! Odds of making the championship be damned!”

Sick lunges at his friend to embrace him. After a moment, they both return to the couch, a new sheen of optimism painted upon their faces. They watched through the rest of the bowl selections in silence knowing that they were satisfied with their choices.

“I guess we should go get some Oklahoma threads to support them,” said Sick.

“Oh, I’m actually hoping Clemson makes it,” shockingly said Smirby, each word getting quieter in anticipation of his friend’s reaction.

“Wait, what!?!?”

The collegiate football playoffs arrive. Georgia defeats Oklahoma in a stunning, high-scoring display while Alabama gives Clemson a thorough beating. Sick and Smirby sit in a booth at G. Johnsons pub, enjoying the pregame festivities for the championship game.

“So, here we are,” said Smirby. “Neither of our teams made it to the final and the two devils are competing to see which is king.”

“Indeed. I’ve seen many of my friends say they’re going to root for the Bulldogs because they’d rather see them win than have another Crimson Tide champion,” states Sick. “And you know what, I almost considered doing the same, but I know Oklahoma will be back and when that happens, I’ll be the loudest fan there for their playoff run.”

Smirby smiles and gives a quiet chuckle.

“You’ve grown my friend, even if you do support the wrong team,” quipped Smirby.

“We’ll see who has the wrong team next year,” replied Sick.

The fans returned their games to Johnson’s television and waited to see who would rule the college football landscape for another year.

The post Scoring For Liberty: A College Football Allegory appeared first on Being Libertarian.

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[180abroad]

Day 111: Anfield

Today we visited Anfield, home turf of Liverpool Football Club and Jessica’s personal sports Mecca. We arrived early, with plenty of time to walk around the grounds and have some lunch before our scheduled tour of the stadium.

We entered through Paisley gate, named for legendary Liverpool player and manager Bob Paisley. Three trophies above the gate represent the three European Cups that LFC won under his management--a record only two other European managers have ever tied--and the crest on the left half of the gate is of Paisley's birth town, Hetton-le-Hole in northeast England.

Just inside the gate is a statue of Paisley's predecessor, the equally if not more legendary Bill Shankly. With Paisley as his assistant coach, Shankly ruthless rebuilt the team (and much of the stadium) from the ground up and dragged it from B-list ignominy into the spotlight as one of the greatest teams in all of Europe.

Shankly was famous for his relationship with the Liverpool fans. From the beginning, he insisted that the fans are the most important members of any team, and he saw their faith in him and the organization as sacred. He understood how much the team meant to the people of Liverpool, and always worked hard to show them how much they meant to him in return.

He’s also the one who picked You’ll Never Walk Alone to be the team’s anthem. It was a spur of the moment decision, but it proved momentous. It remains one of the most iconic and beloved anthems in all of sports, and it has since been adopted by numerous other teams around the world, including Celtic FC in Glasgow, Borrusia Dortmund in Germany, and FC Tokyo in Japan.

As the statue says, he made the people happy.

The Liverpool Football Club is rich in history and lore, and every corner of this place honors that heritage with pride, including a monument to one of the darkest chapters in the team’s--and the city’s--history.

ESPN has an excellent "30 for 30" special on the Hillsborough disaster--Jessica had me watch it when we were in York--but I'll do my best to summarize it here.

On April 15, 1989, Liverpool was playing a semi-final match against Nottingham Forest at Hillsborough Stadium in Sheffield. Shortly before kickoff, a surge of fans entered the already overcrowded pens at one end of the stadium. The pens were standing-room-only sections of the stands that were fenced off from the rest of the stands, with only a single gate for entering and leaving.

Panic ensued, and fans and police alike scrambled to tear down the fences and help people escape the crush. When the dust settled, a horrifying 94 people were found dead from crushing or asphyxiation--over a third of them children and teenagers. Over 700 others were injured, including two who would later die form their injuries.

Almost immediately, the police and the Sun newspaper released the story that the disaster had been caused by Liverpool fans who had broken down the gates and recklessly stormed the pens. The rest of the country already thought of Liverpool fans as a bunch of drunken hooligans, so the story was easy to believe.

But it was a lie. Having failed to sufficiently prepare the grounds and his officers to handle the massive crowds attending the game, Police Chief Superintendent David Duckenfield--the man who officially blamed Liverpool fans for breaking down the gate--ordered himself that the gates be opened to relieve the restless crowds, having apparently forgotten that doing so would lead the throngs directly into already full pens of Liverpool supporters. Even as the bodies were being laid out on the pitch, Duckenfield was calling reporters and debriefing his lieutenants to ensure that only the “correct” officer statements made it into the official record.

False reports were leaked to the press, including absurd claims that Liverpool fans robbed the bodies of the dead, urinated on police officers, and attacked medics trying to resuscitate the victims. For years, Hillsborough survivors and the victims’ families were not only unconsoled but actively villainized as scum.

The Sun is still firmly boycotted throughout the city, and anti-Sun posters are still proudly displayed on walls and taxis.

The Sun finally apologized and recanted the false stories in 2012, but for the people of Liverpool, it was far too little, far too late.

The government inquest that followed the disaster took three years to complete and ultimately ruled all the deaths to be accidental. The inquest declined to accept testimony from two practicing doctors who had been in attendance at the game and were critical of the emergency response provided. The only doctor whose testimony was admitted was that of the hosting stadium’s club doctor.

Meanwhile, an independent government investigation into the police handling of the incident thoroughly and definitively contradicted the official story, clearly exposing the cover-up and laying the blame squarely upon the police and the stadium’s design flaws. The report led to major safety improvements in stadiums across England, but no one was held accountable for the 96 dead Liverpool fans.

Years later, in 1997, the Labor party won control of parliament from the Conservatives. One of their campaign promises was to reopen the investigation into Hillsborough. The result was little more than a sham. The justice appointed to the investigation was openly hostile and derogatory of the people of Liverpool, and he declared that only new evidence would be admitted for consideration.

Since the facts of the police incompetence and cover-up were already available during previous investigations--albeit ignored--they were deemed inadmissible. Unsurprisingly, the investigation upheld that Hillsborough was an accident and no one was at fault.

Finally, after years of bitterness and failed civil suits--funded by the people of Liverpool themselves--a new independent panel was commissioned by the government in 2009 and in 2012 ruled that the Liverpool fans were in no way at fault for the disaster.

Nothing was done about it, but it was the closest thing to justice that Liverpool had gotten in over 20 years since the disaster happened.

Subsequent investigations uncovered the fact that police reports from the incident were not only curated by the brass but forged wholesale. Over a hundred officers’ statements were found to have been either edited without their consent or fabricated entirely, the originals lost to the void.

The story isn’t over. To date, not one person has yet been held accountable for in a court of law. Just this year, charges were brought against chief Duckenfield for gross negligence and manslaughter, and his trial is currently set to begin in January 2019.

Hillsborough is more than enough of a tragedy in its own right, but it’s also a case in point for the relationship between Liverpool and the rest of England. And it’s not hard to see why so many people here see themselves as Scousers first and English a distant second.

Speaking of Scousers, it was high time for something less somber: lunch.

I had my first taste of scouse, a local specialty consisting of spicy meat stew with beets and red cabbage mixed in. Scouse was a popular dish among British sailors, so naturally it became popular in the major industrial port city of Liverpool. Nowadays, the dish is so strongly affiliated with the city that the people of Liverpool are called Scousers and their unique dialect (a blend of English, Irish, and Welsh) is called Scouse.

Our hearts and bellies warmed, we headed into the club museum, which was filled with stories and artifacts from the team’s founding in 1892 up through the current year. One room was entirely filled with personal memorabilia from recent team superhero Steven Gerrard, and another was occupied by the team’s five European Champions League cups--two more than the next-best team in Britain, Manchester United.

One room in the museum was made up like a section of the stands, with screens and speakers recreating the experience of being at a game while fans around you sing the team anthem, “You’ll Never Walk Alone.” Even as an outsider to football fandom, it was an incredibly moving experience.

Finally, it was time to tour the stadium itself. Jessica had visited the stadium twice before, but this tour was different. Much of the stadium had been recently renovated, and because it was the off-season, the tours were all given on self-guided tablets that we could use to scan various signs and displays for more information. Stationary guides were posted at intervals to answer questions and make sure we didn't get lost.

The tour starts on the top floor with a rundown of the team’s best managers and the victories the team earned under their leadership.

Then we turned a few corners and came out into the sunlight and glorious green pitch.

Jessica couldn’t have been happier if she was in Disneyland.

The stands on the right-hand endzone are called the Kop and where the most diehard Liverpool fans sit (if they ever do sit) during home games. The name is used for similar sections in stadiums across England and dates back to the Second Boer War of 1900. Many fields, including Anfield, had hills nearby where people could sit and watch the game. Returning soldiers compared the hills to a South African hill named Spion Kop, where a major battle took place. The hill at Anfield became known as Spion Kopp, then just Kop. Eventually, the hill was leveled to make room for larger stands, and the stands that took its place took on the name as well.

After taking it all in for a good few minutes, we continued on inside the stadium for more displays covering the history of team and stadium.

One large window looks out toward the shockingly close Goodison Park, home turf of the rival Everton Football Club.

Our tablets filled us in on the history of the rivalry, but of course, Jessica already knew it all and had long since enlightened me.

Anfield was originally used by Everton, the city’s first professional football team. But as Everton became more and more successful, Anfield’s owner tried to get more and more money out of them. He also wanted to sell booze in the stadium, which the church-owned Everton FC opposed. Eventually, in 1892, Everton got fed up and built themselves their own stadium on the other side of Stanley Park, less than a mile away (and in the backyard of a church).

Left with an expensive new stadium and no team to occupy it, the owner decided to make his own team. And so Liverpool F.C. was born.

Along the way, we ended up talking with one of the stationary guides for a good while. It turned out that the first game Jessica went to at Anfield was also the first game that the guide took his grandson to. They reminisced over the great last-minute goal by Stevie G to win the game.

Somehow, though the conversation kept turning to sad things. When he asked us where we were from, we ended up talking about the terrible fires up in Napa and Sonoma the previous autumn.

Downstairs, we saw the newly renovated dressing rooms, where Jessica was able to get her picture taken with the jerseys of some of her favorite players, including Gerrard and Mané. Using the guide tablets, we were able to scan each jersey to bring up a short interview or highlight reel about the player.

Whereas the home dressing room is warm and cushy, the visiting teams’ dressing room is drab and spartan. A selection of jerseys in the niches showed an all-star team opposing players who've visited Anfield, picked out by former Liverpool defender and local Scouser Jamie Carragher.

We didn't go onto the field itself--stepping onto the grass of that holy of holies is literally a crime unless you are a player or a groundskeeper--but Jessica got to touch the famous “This is Anfield” sign that the Liverpool players tap every time they go out onto the pitch.

Sadly, we didn’t get to go into the dugout or the Kop since they were both closed for maintenance.

Leaving the stadium, we walked around for a bit and went into the massive new Club Shop. Jessica got some LFC stickers for her laptop, and we both got some refreshments--it had gotten surprisingly late in the day, and we’d done a lot of exploring.

While we were there, a giant-screen TV showed France knocking Argentina out of the World cup, ushering in the Round of 16.

Before heading home, we took a quick stroll through Stanley Park and caught another glips of Goodison.

On the bus back to our Airbnb, we saw another sign of city’s socioeconomic standing.

We ended up missing our stop and wound up back in central Liverpool. Getting home would take another good bit of walking--plus a major detour in search of a convenience store that actually sold decent food--but it all worked out in the end.

Back home, we watched Pirates of the Caribbean 3 and tried to ignore the obscenely loud birthday party next door that went absurdly late into the night for a kid’s party.

Next Post: The Magical Mystery Tour (and a Cathedral, too!)

Last Post: To Liverpool (With the Beatles)

[terencehawkins]

LETTERS. FROM THE AFTERLIFE

For Halloween, I thought I’d share this ghost story. It originally appeared in Calliope Crashes in 2016.

After my father died in January I had his mail forwarded to me. There wasn’t much. He was a long-retired mailman and an increasingly hermetic widower of seven years. By August it had become a trickle of fundraising pleas from the Disabled American Vets and his local Catholic church.

Yesterday his mail contained a personal letter. Unprecedented. The few people who’d attended his funeral all said they hadn’t seen him in years or spoken in months. Correspondence was out of the question.

I showed it to my wife. I had immediately recognized the handwriting on the envelope as my brother’s. So did she. The forwarding label said that it had been sent to me on August 11. It had originally been mailed on August 2, my brother’s fifty-eighth birthday. There was no return address.

I slit the envelope. It contained only a Topps football card for Pittsburgh Steeler Heath Miller. Signed by the player.

It made a degree of sense. My father and brother were both Pittsburgh fans to the marrow. And both were former mailmen with time on their hands. Less logical was my brother sending the card to a man eight months dead.

And less logical still, my brother himself had died in 2014.

I didn’t break into the cold sweat of a ghost story. Nor did I scoff like Holmes and pluck reason from a cesspool of superstition. Instead I sat stunned by the evidence that two dead mailmen were sending letters in the next world.

While the explanation I learned today wasn’t supernatural, neither was it entirely rational. After he became disabled, my brother had whiled away his days expanding his imperial sports memorabilia collection. It was a campaign as well planned and executed as any of Caesar’s. He had bought a guidebook with the address of every player in the NFL and NBA. He sent each a packet containing the appropriate sports trading card, a letter requesting an autograph, and a stamped self-addressed envelope.

The address books made it clear that autographed cards were strictly one to a customer. To circumvent this rule, and to build up a trading surplus, my brother had sent out requests in not only his own name but his wife’s, my mother’s, and evidently my father’s. Athletes notoriously got to them when they got to them; Heath Miller had just retired from the team, Google advised, which explained why he now found himself with the time to respond.

I don’t know what it means that I wasn’t on my brother’s mailing list of straw men. I do know that I wish there had been no explanation, at all, that my brother had somehow reached out to my father knowing that he would be there to respond.

I had never said goodbye to my brother. The last time I saw him was on a trip to our hometown for a family visit. I saw him in the hospital, where he spent more time than at home. He was so ravaged by the diabetes he refused to treat that the nurses asked whether he—two years younger—was my father. It was the first time I had seen him without his legs. The prostheses, absurdly shod in black Keds high tops, stood in the corner, and without them he looked like a human caterpillar. His teeth were mostly gone; when they loosened, he told me, he simply yanked them out with his fingers. But when he smiled he still had the eyes of a happy child. So much so that when I got the call that he had died, a few weeks later, I kept repeating, “He was just a little boy.”

To impose meaning on coincidence is to believe that there really are faces in the clouds, that the universe sends us private messages by driving school buses over Mexican cliffs. Yet my brother, sitting in his kitchen years ago, had set in motion a chain of events that would include a professional athlete mailing a letter on a birthday my brother would never see to a father already dead to be intercepted by a brother long absent. Had I received it during a fat, languid time of achievement and safety it would have remained an anecdote for the second beer.

But I hadn’t. Instead it slid through a mail slot into a house whose contents were evaporating into consignment stores and storage units and Goodwills. To inform a future whose only certainty seemed to lay in its bleakness.

Yet it was at that moment, from the other side of an abyss even deeper than my own, that he managed to say hello.

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[ritebeforeyoureyes]

Confessions

This chapter was hard to write and I don’t even know why x 

Plot: Celebrations ensue for Harrison’s birthday.  

Confessions (Chapter Ten) 

“Hey, look at me.” Zendaya was nestled into Tom’s side, her head resting against his chest. “We just have to try and enjoy today, okay?”

Harrison had been planning his birthday weekend for a few months now and it was a day that everyone had been looking forward to. But with Zendaya’s lurking stalker, she couldn’t muster the courage to truly enjoy anything. She didn’t know how far this person would go now that he’d been true to his word and contacted Tom - what was this guy capable of doing next? It was why, with much secrecy in regards to placating his mum, Tom had managed to spend the night at Zendaya’s. He had had to tell her he was staying with Harrison but, it had worked, and Tom had held Zendaya in his arms last night.

It had been one of those nights where Tom gotten to be a proper boyfriend. He knew she needed him and he had to be supportive and nurturing. The two had watched movies and eaten ice cream before passing out in each other’s embrace. The night had been perfect, perfect enough to distract Zendaya’s raging mind. But, here they were, in the morning and Zendaya was scared again. She just wished her life could be like the night before; carefree, stress free … just her and Tom. But, now that the sun was up, she knew she had to come face to face with the bitterness of reality.

“I know, and we will.” Zendaya tried to put on her biggest brave face … for Harrison. It was his twenty-first birthday, after all, and she didn’t want to put a damper on that fact. He was young, and he was single, and he was in a foreign country with most of his friends flying in from back home – Zendaya was going to try and enjoy herself for her friend’s sake. “What time are we meant to be setting up?”

The first part of Harrison’s birthday extravaganza was a pool party. He had rented out a Villa in LA with a pool the size of Kingston’s local one. Today being his actual birthday meant that the party was just close friends and family, whoever could make it to the States for the affair. There was going to be food, music, booze – he was just going for a chilled-out kind of vibe. Zendaya and Tom had volunteered to help Haz set up, because it was his birthday, and they didn’t want him stressing out about the little details before his guests arrived. But Zendaya was tucked comfortable into Tom’s frame and she was hesitant to get up.

“About an hour?” Zendaya glanced at the clock before nodding, her head nestling its way deeper into Tom’s skin. She smiled softly as Tom took to playing with her hair. There was just something about her when she was like this … natural, that made him wildly attracted to her. They sat in silence for a while, just relishing in each other’s company before Zendaya spoke up again.  Her voice was quiet but projected loud enough in the silence that they had quickly grown accustomed to.

“Tom,” Zendaya shifted her position slightly, her chin lifting so she could maintain eye contact with him. “I … I think I’m going to leave Disney.”

“What?” Tom was surprised by Zendaya’s random declaration. From what he had seen and heard, Zendaya loved her Disney family. Tom had gotten the pleasure of meeting most of her cast and crew and he could honestly say it was such a humbling experience to see them all interact with one another. They joked around but when the going got tough, they had each other’s backs. Zendaya loved them. “I thought you loved being a part of KC Undercover.”

“I did, I do.” Zendaya had put much thought into the decision but after Spider-Man: Homecoming and The Greatest Showman, she didn’t think Disney was the place for her anymore. It had started her career, yes, but, it wasn’t something she wanted to do for the rest of her life. Her contract was up and she just didn’t think there was any point renewing it. She wanted to go out into the more eloquent world of Hollywood and acting. Zendaya wanted to challenge herself and she couldn’t do that when confined by the constraints of contract after contract. Zendaya was ready for bigger and better. “But, I just think I need to move on, you know what I mean?”

“You’re not doing this because of-“ Tom trailed off, Zendaya knew he was referring to the creep who was watching her. Tom didn’t want Zendaya making life altering decisions because she was scared of what some punk might do. If Disney was what she loved to do, he wasn’t going to let her stalker get in the way of that.

“No, no, I think it’s just time for a change.” Zendaya shrugged. Honestly, she hadn’t thought about the consequences of her nudes leaking. Disney weren’t going to be happy, that was for sure, but that hadn’t crossed her mind when making the decision. Zendaya was growing up and she didn’t want the labels that came with being a Disney actress anymore.

“You sure?” Zendaya nodded, pecking Tom’s cheek lightly before returning to her prior position. With her head pressed tightly against his chest, she could feel his heartbeat slow down as they both just got some well-deserved rest. “Babe?” Zendaya hummed, her eyes were closed as she revelled in Tom’s presence. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” That had sparked Zendaya’s interest and she pulled away from his chest to look him solely in the eye. “What are you apologising for, idiot?” She slapped his shoulder playfully, only to have Tom seize her hand in his own.

“I’m sorry this is all happening. That I can’t stay here and protect you all the time, that I can’t stop this douchebag from hurting you. I just wish I could be here, you know? Make sure you’re safe-” It saddened both Zendaya and Tom that they currently had to be here, speaking in monotone voices because some asshole wouldn’t leave them alone.

“Stop it.” Zendaya squeezed his hand in reassurance. “Tom, one of the things that made me fall for you was the fact that your drive matched mine.” It was one of the things on Zendaya’s list for her perfect man – a man with drive. She couldn’t date anyone who sat at home and did nothing. A man with ambition was such a turn on, in her opinion, and Tom was that. He was always fixated on doing better, being better and Zendaya had witnessed it first-hand. She had seen him do retake after retake, she had admired as he changed his diet and his exercise to prepare for the role of Spider-Man, she had watched him as he tried to get grips of the whole Hollywood world. Tom was doing everything in his power to be more successful and Zendaya adored that. “You can’t be with me all the time because you’re out there, doing your thing and that’s all that matters.”

“But it doesn’t, not when your safety is compromised-”

“I’m fine.” Zendaya’s retaliation was weak and Tom just stared at her as if she had the words ‘stupid’ plastered across her forehead. She chuckled dryly before rephrasing. “Okay, my physical safety hasn’t been compromised as of yet, so can we just be normal for today?”

“Yeah.” Tom sighed. “Normal, okay, we can do that.”

“Good. Let’s go get ready.”

Getting ready for a pool party didn’t take much work and within the space of half an hour, Tom and Zendaya were in Haz’s villa. The weather in LA was perfect at this time of year. The sun was bright, but the temperature was surprisingly warm; it was the ideal set up for being in the water all day.

“Harrison!” Tom hollered as they walked through the picturesque building. White walls and white furnishings were spruced up with elements of orange and red, a few of Haz’s things littered around to make the place more familiar. Tom led Zendaya through random rooms, following noise before finally finding Haz in the kitchen. “Happy birthday, bro!”

“Thanks, man.” The two best friends hugged, Tom slapping Harrison on the back a few times.

“Happy birthday, Haz.” As Tom and Haz pulled away, Zendaya was quick to jump in for a hug. However, their hug was slightly awkward due to the big present in Zendaya’s hand. It was skilfully wrapped, and Harrison just glared at her; the thing was huge! “Oh, stop looking at me like that! It’s from me and Tom.”

“We were slacking on ideas so … we hope you like it.” Because guests were scheduled to arrive in an hour, Harrison had time to leisurely open the present in front of Zendaya and Tom. It was wrapped so nicely he was wary to open it at first but Zendaya’s giddiness made him move faster.

“You guys-“ Haz opened the box and was lost for words. He opened his mouth and then closed it a few times, unsure of how to respond to a gift of this magnitude. It was a signed and framed shirt of his favourite football player. These things weren’t cheap, and he had been looking for this particular piece of memorabilia for years now, he’d just never been able to afford it. “It’s too much, I can’t take this.”

“Yeah, because that soccer shirt will look great in my closet.” Zendaya spoke sarcastically as she rolled her eyes. She didn’t understand Tom and Harrison’s obsession with soccer but apparently it was a British thing, and from the look of gratefulness on Haz’s face, she knew this gift truly meant a lot.

“It was Z’s idea.” Tom nudged her side and Haz couldn’t help but envelope her into another hug. Zendaya squealed lightly by the quick gesture and then laughed as he continued to thank them for a gift that had honestly brightened his day.

“Stop saying thank you! We’re glad you like it.”

“I love it!” Haz held the frame up against him and the smile on his face became etched. Everything he did for the next hour he did with a hundred-watt grin. Tom and Zendaya watched as he grilled some chicken and made some punch, all with that killer smile.

But, behind that smile Harrison was panicking and as more guests arrived, his panic grew more and more prevalent. He knew he needed to speak to Tom about Elle, and soon, but he couldn’t bring himself to put a damper on the mood that had been significantly lifted. He had been genuinely happy with the gift he had received and consequently, that had made both Tom and Zendaya happy. Everything was going well … too well and Harrison knew it was time to confess.

“You all right, man?” Tom and Haz had gone into the basement for more beer, leaving Zendaya and Jacob in charge of setting the table upstairs.  

Despite how skilful Haz had tried to be, his smile had faltered as time progressed and Tom – who was practically like his brother – had picked up on it. Of course, he had – he knew Harrison better than anyone.

“Tom.” Harrison set down the crate of beer and his whole body went stiff, definitely not a good sign. Tom did the same, mirroring his friend’s gestures as he listened intently. “I have to tell you something.”

“What’s up?” Harrison’s sombre tone made Tom panic a little.

“I got a message the other day and-“

“Wait, this guy is messaging you too?” Tom’s anger flared up unhealthily. He couldn’t believe that Zendaya’s stalker had managed to infiltrate her life to the extent of messaging Harrison. In the grand scheme of things, Harrison and Zendaya weren’t that close which made Tom wonder … who else had this guy contacted. As a heated response, he leaned over and hit the wall. His hand went pink suddenly and Haz jumped. He hadn’t expected such an abrupt reaction, especially one that jumped to a conclusion that was false. “I’m going to kill him, I swear to God-“

“No, no, no … I didn’t get a message from Zendaya’s stalker, it was from-“ Harrison went silent, hoping Tom would calm down a little before he confessed. With him already angry, Haz didn’t want to add fuel to an already burning fire.  

“From who, Harrison?”

“Elle, I got a message from Elle.” As profanities dripped from Tom’s mouth, Haz had to sucker punch him in the gut with some more bad news. “And, she’s here.”

“What do you mean, she’s here?” Every word was over pronounced as Tom tried to wrap his head around the fact that his ex-girlfriend had contacted his best friend and that she was in LA.

“She’s upstairs.” Haz looked down at his shoes guiltily, his toes wiggling as he stood there, both sheepish and confused

“Fuck!” Tom cursed, beer forgotten, as he skipped up the stairs, only one thing in mind – Zendaya.

[aaasportsmemorabilialimited]

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