#nike design team

[pablodelarcorey]

Nike / Alphafly 3 / Nike Design Team - Pablo del Arco Rey / Shoes

[indeedgoodman]

[freshthoughts2020]

[brennacedria]

I just saw the track and field Olympics uniforms I keep hearing about and holy FUCK

Apparently there's a "shorts" option as well but wtf was Nike & the team officials ever thinking with this design???????

[kimikitti]

In my ongoing effort to get better at character design and make more twst ocs. Here is Cami! She is twisted from Pascal from tangled.

Cami is a Chameleon Beastman coming from Sunset Savanah. Her friends would describe her as easy going with a penchant for mischeif. She is a 1st year Diasomnia student with a penchant for grafitti art. She tags up the walls of Diasomnia a lot. Sebek is usually the one to chew her out for this so they don't get along well.

Also, I borrowed Pierre from @figloom

Unique magic: Can you see the light?

This ability allows users to turn any painting or drawing into reality. The success of each painting depends on Cami's own appreciation of the work. An example of this is, that Cami can paint a door to another location that she is familiar with. When the unique magic is activated, the door becomes a portal to said location. This limit is strictly limited by the time and imagination Cami has to bring her creations to life.

Here's also a full sketch page for Nike! I also wanted to spout about her a bit too.

Nike is the remaining member of an isolated group of Harpy type beastman from the Lands of Pyroxene. She entered NRC a little later than most and is currently a third year in Pomefiore. Vil and Nike have a slightly tense relationship on account for their differing philosophies on dumpster diving. But Nike's talent for perfume making has bargained her enough respect to be mostly left alone. Despite what many people think, she's a bit of a clean freak.

In her free time, she helps coach the Magishift team, mainly as a flying specialist. (Also helping to supply more specialized hygenic products for beastmen students on the team, thing deoderant, dry shampoo for fur and the like).

I would consider her quite close to both Ruggie and Leona by the start of the game.

I hope you all enjoy me rambling about my girlies. I love them so much. If you are interested in learning more about them my inbox is always open.

[coochiequeens]

I know this blog focuses on TIMs invading women’s sports and locker rooms but Saving Women’s Sports means more than that. Like calling out sexist bs when companies give men real clothes to compete in and women get basically underwear.

The Nike Air Innovation Summit in Paris on Thursday.Credit...Dominique Maitre/WWD, via Getty Images

By Vanessa Friedman April 12, 2024

Ever since the Norwegian women’s beach handball team turned the fact that they were required to wear teeny-tiny bikini bottoms for competition into a cause célèbre, a quiet revolution has been brewing throughout women’s sports. It’s one that questions received conventions about what female athletes do — or don’t — have to wear to perform at their very best.

It has touched women’s soccer (why white shorts?), gymnastics (why not a unitard rather than a leotard?), field hockey (why a low-cut tank top?) and many more, including running.

So it probably should not have come as a shock to Nike that when it offered a sneak peek of the Team U.S.A. track and field unies during a Nike Air event in Paris celebrating its Air technology on Thursday (which also included looks for other Olympic athletes, like Kenya’s track and field team, France’s basketball team and Korea’s break dancing delegation), they were met with some less-than-enthusiastic reactions.

See, the two uniforms Nike chose to single out on the mannequins included a men’s compression tank top and mid-thigh-length compression shorts and a woman’s bodysuit, cut notably high on the hip. It looked sort of like a sporty version of a 1980s workout leotard. As it was displayed, the bodysuit seemed as if it would demand some complicated intimate grooming.

Citius Mag, which focuses on running news, posted a photo of the uniforms on Instagram, and many of its followers were not amused.

“What man designed the woman’s cut?” wrote one.

“I hope U.S.A.T.F. is paying for the bikini waxes,” wrote another. So went most of the more than 1,900 comments.

The running comedian Laura Green posted an Instagram reel in which she pretended to be trying on the look (“We’re feeling pretty, um, breezy,” she said) and checking out the rest of the athlete’s kit bag, which turned out to include hair spray, lip gloss and a “hysterectomy kit,” so the women would not have to worry about periods.

When asked, Nike did not address the brouhaha directly, but according to John Hoke, the chief innovation officer, the woman’s bodysuit and the man’s shorts and top are only two of the options Nike will have for its Olympic runners. There are “nearly 50 unique pieces across men’s and women’s and a dozen competition styles fine-tuned for specific events,” Mr. Hoke said.

Sha’Carri Richardson

Women will be able to opt for compression shorts, a crop top or tank and a bodysuit with shorts rather than bikini bottoms. The full slate of looks was not on hand in Paris but more will be revealed next week at the U.S. Olympic Committee media summit in New York. The Paris reveal was meant to be a teaser.

Anna Cockrell.Credit...Dominique Maitre/WWD, via Getty Images

Mr. Hoke also pointed out that Nike consults with a large number of athletes at every stage of the uniform design. Its track and field roster includes Sha’Carri Richardson, who happened to be wearing the compression shorts during the Paris presentation, and Athing Mu. And there are certainly runners who like the high-cut brief. (The British Olympic sprinter Dina Asher-Smith, another Nike athlete, told The New York Times last summer that while she opts to run in briefs, she also leans toward a leotard style, rather than a two-piece.)

What Nike missed, however, was that in choosing those two looks as the primary preview for Team U.S.A., rather than, say, the matching shorts and tanks that will be also available, it shored up a longstanding inequity in sports — one that puts the body of a female athlete on display in a way it does not for the male athlete.

“Why are we presenting this sexualized outfit as the standard of excellence?” said Lauren Fleshman, a U.S. national champion distance runner and the author of “Good for a Girl.” “In part because we think that’s what nets us the most financial gain from sponsors or NIL opportunities, most of which are handed out by powerful men or people looking at it through a male gaze. But women are breaking records with ratings in sports where you don’t have to wear essentially a bathing suit to perform.”

The problem such imagery creates is twofold. When Nike chose to reveal the high-cut bodysuit as the first Olympics outfit, purposefully or not, the implication for anyone watching is that “this is what excellence looks like,” Ms. Fleshman said.

That perception filters down to young athletes and becomes the model girls think they have to adopt, often at a developmental stage when their relationships with their bodies are particularly fraught.

And more broadly, given the current political debate around adjudicating women’s bodies, it reinforces the idea that they are public property.

Still, Ms. Fleshman said, “I’m glad Nike put this image out as the crown jewel of Olympic Team design,” because it may act as the catalyst for another conversation that has been long overdue.

“If you showed this outfit to someone from the W.N.B.A. or women’s soccer, they would laugh in your face,” she said. “We shouldn’t have to normalize it for track and field anymore. Time’s up on that.”

[bennyboyfics]

When in Monte-Carlo || Ben Shelton x fem!reader

A/n: sad Ben lost his match :( also kinda envisioned Alexandra when I wrote this but ofc u don’t have to xx

Wc: 2,296

Warnings: none really

MASTERLIST

-

The sun glinted off the Mediterranean, casting a golden sheen over Monaco’s postcard-perfect streets. You’d lived here for years now—long enough for the yachts, the champagne-soaked parties, and the quiet hush of wealth to feel almost mundane. But you still loved early mornings like this: quiet, with only the sea breeze and the promise of possibility.

You adjusted your handbag and wandered along the edge of the court at Monte Carlo Country Club. It wasn’t Grand Prix season, but the courts were alive with energy. A few top players had come early to train for clay season, and while you weren’t here for anyone in particular, watching athletes sharpen their game had always calmed you.

Probably because it reminded you of a lifestyle you’d left behind. You paused near the far court, your eyes catching on someone new. Tall, strong build, left-handed—his serve cracked like thunder. You tilted your head, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Damn,” you murmured to yourself, watching the ball whiz past the baseline.

“Not bad, huh?” someone beside you said. It was a girl, around your age, grinning at you. “That’s Ben Shelton.” You turned to look again, this time more closely. The name tugged at your memory. American. Young. Big serve. You vaguely remembered him from the last US Open—his energy, his showmanship. But seeing him in person was different.

He was focused, his brows furrowed as he wiped sweat from his face with a towel. When his eyes flicked up and met yours, you thought he’d look away quickly. He didn’t. Instead, he smiled. You felt something spark low in your stomach.

—

The next day, the stadium buzzed with energy. You’d dressed simply—white linen trousers, a navy blouse, and your hair pulled back in a soft clip. You weren’t trying to make a statement. But Monaco had other plans. You adjusted your sunglasses and glanced over your shoulder, walking beside someone who—despite your years surrounded by men in designer watches and private yachts—felt entirely new.

Ben Shelton. He was wearing a navy Nike tracksuit, tall and broad-shouldered, with that easy grin and tousled curls that the cameras would no doubt eat up. You hadn’t known him for long—just a day, really. A conversation that began over espresso and sunshine and laughter that felt like you hadn’t had in months.

It was impulsive, maybe foolish, to say yes when he asked if you wanted to walk into the tournament with him. But it was the kind of impulsive that made your heart beat again. You weren’t prepared for the flashing cameras. The moment the two of you stepped out of the black car outside Monte Carlo Country Club, shutters clicked like a storm.

The press had clearly been tipped off. A handful of paparazzi stood behind velvet ropes, shouting names and snapping photos. You hadn’t expected them to care—not about you, not when you weren’t the girlfriend of an F1 star anymore. But you’d underestimated Monaco’s appetite for scandal—and how interesting it might be that you were walking beside a young, rising American tennis star.

“Wow,” Ben muttered beside you, smirking at the crowd before looking at you. “You didn’t tell me they’d be waiting.” “I didn’t know,” you said under your breath, offering a small smile to the cameras. “But… welcome to Monaco.” He chuckled, then leaned in as if sharing a secret. “Guess they think we’re something to talk about.” Before you could respond, you heard your name.

Not from Ben. Not from the cameras. From him.“Didn’t think I’d see you here.” You froze for the briefest moment. Lucien’s voice was like a slap of cold water. When you turned, he was standing a few feet away—hair perfectly coiffed, team-issued polo tight across his chest, sunglasses pushed into his carefully styled hair. Of course he was here.

A local event, off-season press, plenty of social appearances. He never missed a chance to be seen. His gaze slid from your face to Ben’s, taking in the proximity, the matching lanyards, the small smile still playing on Ben’s lips. “You look well,” Lucien said, cool and casual, but there was an unmistakable edge there. You opened your mouth to respond, but Ben moved first.

He stepped closer to you—not possessive, not aggressive, just… there. Solid. Grounding. His hand gently settled at your waist, like it had always belonged there. You felt the heat of his palm through the thin fabric of your blouse. “Hey, man,” Ben said smoothly, tone polite but firm. “Didn’t catch your name.” Lucien raised an eyebrow. “Lucien.”

“Right,” Ben said, his tone neutral, edged with something just shy of dismissive. “I’m Ben.” There was no posturing, no need to impress. Just a cool, effortless confidence that made the moment all the more satisfying. You could feel a smirk tug at the corner of your lips. He didn’t need to say more—didn’t need to. The disinterest was the point.

Lucien’s gaze flickered back to you, settling there with a quiet calculation, like he was trying to piece something together he didn’t quite like. His lips parted, expression deceptively easy. “Last time we went to one of these, you were bored out of your mind.” You tensed, the remark hitting with the precision of someone who knew exactly how to needle you.

Before you could respond, Ben shifted beside you—barely, subtly—but enough. His hand slid lower along your back, fingers brushing just above the curve of your waist. The touch was light, but grounding. Reassuring. Protective. He eased you closer with a slow, deliberate pull until your shoulder met the firm warmth of his chest. Your breath caught.

“She’s been incredible,” Ben said smoothly, eyes still on Lucien but with a note of sincerity meant just for you. “Helping me adjust, giving me insight, keeping me sane during prep for clay season.” Then he looked down at you, voice softening. “I’m lucky to have her with me.” And in that moment, everything stilled. It wasn’t just a line. It didn’t feel rehearsed or convenient or for show.

It felt true, like he wasn’t just saying it for Lucien’s benefit, but because he meant it—even if he hadn’t fully realised it until just then. His eyes lingered on yours a beat too long, and you could feel the weight of it—something protective, something unspoken. It wasn’t possessiveness. It was claiming—but not in the way Lucien had once done, like you were an accessory to be shown off.

This was different. Lucien’s jaw ticked—just a flicker of tension before he masked it with a tight nod. “Well. Enjoy the match.” And without another word, he turned on his heel and disappeared through the VIP entrance, retreating like someone who had just lost ground he didn’t realise wasn’t his anymore. Ben let out a quiet breath beside you.

“You good?” he asked under his breath, head dipping toward yours. You nodded slowly, heart still thudding, the aftershock of tension mixing with the sharp thrill of being chosen—not for optics, not for legacy, but for you. “Better than ever,” you murmured, your voice just barely above a whisper. His smile returned, a little smug, a little satisfied. “He didn’t look happy.”

You laughed, finally, tension breaking. “Neither did you when he showed up.” Ben shrugged. “Didn’t like the way he looked at you. Like he still had some kind of hold.” You gave him a sideways glance. “So you pulled me in front of half of Monaco?” He gave you a sheepish smile. “Well. Yeah.” You shook your head, but the truth was… it felt good. Better than good.

For once, someone was choosing to stand beside you—not for PR, not for appearances, not to show you off. Just because they wanted to be there.

—

You followed Ben to the player’s lounge, tucked behind the main court. The cameras had been left behind, but the whispers were still very much present. People looked—some curious, some surprised. You were still her—Monaco’s former it-girl, the ex everyone had an opinion about. Whether you were yesterday’s news or still relevant in the right circles, you weren’t sure anymore.

But now, apparently, with a new man on your arm. Ben didn’t seem to care. He handed you a water bottle, let his hand brush your waist again when he passed you, and every so often, he’d lean in to murmur something just for you. “You know you’re the most interesting thing in this building right now,” he said once, low and amused. “And I’m about to go play a match.”

You rolled your eyes. “Please, they’re here for you.”“Maybe,” he said, gaze steady. “But I’m here for you.”

—

The match itself was electric. Ben’s energy was infectious—grinning between points, playing with swagger and confidence, feeding off the crowd. But he also kept looking up. At you. Every time he nailed an ace, every time he fought off break point, he found your eyes. The cameras caught it. Of course they did.

By the end of the second set, you could feel your phone buzzing in your bag. Messages. Mentions. Photos, already circulating. Who is the mystery girl with Shelton? Is Ben Shelton dating Monaco socialite Y/n? F1 star’s ex seen cozying up to tennis’s rising star.

You should’ve been anxious. But when Ben closed out the match with a brutal cross-court winner and threw his arms up, your first instinct was to stand, clapping, heart pounding. He looked at you—only you—and winked. And when he jogged off the court, towel around his neck, he made no detours.

He came straight to you. “No impromptu kiss today?” you teased as he approached, cheeks flushed from the heat. Ben grinned, pulling his cap off and running a hand through his curls. “Thought I’d leave something for the next match.” You raised a brow. “Planning to keep this up, then?”

He stepped closer. “You’re not tired of me yet, are you?” You bit your lip, tilting your head. “Not even close.” He glanced down, then looked back into your eyes, voice dropping a notch. “Good. ‘Cause I was serious when I said I liked having you here.”You swallowed. The noise of the crowd blurred in the background.

All you could hear was your own pulse—and him. “Me too,” you said quietly. “It feels good.” He nodded, gaze softening. “You’re more than who you used to be with. And honestly? I think Monaco needs to see this version of you.” You smiled, touched, and just a little shy under his stare. He leaned in. “Walk out with me again?”

“Absolutely,” you said. And when you left the stadium hand-in-hand, cameras flashing, heads turning, and Lucien watching from the corner of the player’s lounge with a bitter expression—well…You didn’t feel like a shadow anymore.

[kurzler]

you know what i actually want? i want a open world action RPG fully set in ancient greece where along the story you meet every god and famous hero in mythology (idk how that could work with the timeline, maybe some parts set in the underworld) AND it has a gacha system where you can pull for characters and weapons.

yes i basically want greek mythology genshin impact but. with more diverse character design.

there would be generic 4 star weapons but 5 star weapons would be character's signature weapons like heracles' poisoned arrows or the aegis.

there would be some artifacts from mythology to equip on characters to boost them, like hermes' sandals would give extra speed, or the nemean lion's pelt would greatly boost your def.

characters who have myths together/are allied in mythology would work better in teams together, like a athena/odysseus/diomedes team would work but not a achilles/hector one for. obvious reasons.

zeus would buff all the party characters who are his children so he would be a must have character. athena would be a sub dps and a support. hephaestus would be a tank. apollo would be the most versatile character ever and you could build him as a support, as a dps, as healer... i have this shit planned out.

athena would be the only olympian standard 5 star. nike, tyche and asclepius would be starter characters (dps, support and healer). hestia would be a free 5 star.

AND. the mc. would be an original character. as to not ruin any other pre-existing character's story. or go the hades game route and pick an extremely niche figure which we know almost nothing about and make up a story, that works too.

playing amphoreus in hsr gave me a taste of what i could have and now im gonna be obsessed.

[wileys-russo]

love love LOVE your mary & Delilah fics! was wondering if you could do one where little delilah is brought to a match and she sees mary interacting with young fans who are about her age and gets a little jealous and clingy because that’s HER MAMA

part of the a date to remember universe

my mama II m.earps x reader

"okay which one lilah? purple, black or green?" you questioned, holding up the choices and doing a little dance making your daughter giggle. "i wanna dress myself today please." she informed crossing her arms over her chest with a determined nod.

"okay baby. but its cold, so dress warm!" you chuckled, hanging the jumpers back up and moving to sit down. "no mummy, by myself!" she pointed to the door and hurried over, pushing at your legs.

"okay okay! god i thought i'd get a few more years before i got kicked out of your room, this hurts lilah." you gasped dramatically as she shoved you from her room, only met with a door slammed in your face.

"was that-" you turned around and nodded to your wife. "she wants to dress herself today." you informed with a chuckle, moving into your wifes waiting arms which wrapped around you.

"we've told her she isn't allowed to grow up right?" "nearly every day since was born my love, she just does not want to listen."

~

"delilah grace earps are you done now?" you called out with a sigh, leaning against the wall by her door which you'd tried to open several times only met with a yell and it pushed closed again, your daughter firmly stating she wasn't ready and you weren't allowed to see until she was.

mary had already been picked up as to not be late for warm ups and you shook your head as you checked the time again already knowing the two of you would be stuck in traffic and miss kick off if you didn't leave soon.

"okay lilah we have to go, i'm coming in." you warned, though before you could even grab the handle the door it flew open and a bundle of colour and blonde hair came tumbling out.

"do you like it!" your daughter beamed, bouncing happily as you bit your bottom lip taking in her choice of outfit.

she had on a pair of black and white light up custom trainers alessia had gotten her for her birthday, pale yellow nike joggers with a pair of green man united kit shorts over the top. on her top half she on a bright purple hoodie with an orange lionesses jersey that was far too big for her with toone on the back and a bright red man united beanie on her head, with its matching scarf tied around her hips like a makeshift belt.

"well...i'm not going to lose you in the crowd, thats for certain." you smiled, knowing no matter what you said or tried there wasn't a chance you'd be getting your daughter changed without a fight and missing the game.

"you don't wanna wear mama's jersey lilah?" you tried, knowing your wife would kick off and ella would be absolutely insufferable in your daughters current choice. "nope! aunty el was sad last time i saw her so i thought this would make her happy, cause you and mama always say orange is a happy colour!" she grinned and your heart melted.

the last time she had seen her favourite aunt and godmother was after a particularly rowdy team night out where both had wound up crashing the night at your place, mary their designated driver and apparently a key influence in just how many shots they'd downed which you'd told her off for afterwards.

the two had wound up crying crocodile tears as mary and you both disallowed them to see delilah, trying to remind it was hours after her bedtime and the two of them were very drunk. which had in turn woken your daughter who'd come to investigate, not understanding why she wasn't allowed to say hello to either of her favourite people.

mary had practically needed to sit on top of both your adopted daughters to stop them racing after you, reminding them over and over that your four year old didn't need to see them in their current intoxicated state and they could see her in the morning.

"we do say that don't we." you agreed with her words, shaking your head in amusement but giving in, not wanting to squash the independence you and mary were trying to instill in her.

"at least you listened about the cold and did lots of layers babe, now time to go!"

~

you sent polite smiles to the strange looks you received walking your daughter through old trafford, meeting up with marys mum and wordlessly shaking your head at her questioning stare as she scooped up her granddaughter and the three of you made your way to your seats.

normally marys siblings and father would be in attendance but all had fallen ill with a stomach bug so you laughed at the way your mother in law was so relieved to be surrounded by 'healthy non whinging human beings'.

"do you like my outfit nanna?" your daughter chirped for the third time in the hour as you waved to your wife who was very clearly looking around stressed that she'd not spotted you, sighing in relief once she had.

"don't ask!" you mouthed to her perplexed look toward your daughter stood up in your lap furiously waving her and her team mates down. "els!" you cupped your hands over your mouth to gain the midfielders attention as she began to walk off the pitch after warm ups.

maya heard you and grinned before tapping ellas shoulder and gesturing toward you as you spun delilah around to show her last name plastered on your daughters back as her face lit up and you laughed as she raced right over to jump on your wifes back and no doubt lay into her about it.

now delilah was older she'd become a different sort of handful to take to marys games. gone were the earmuffs, dummy and baby blanket she'd needed to settle previously, where she'd often sleep the whole way through happily budled up in someones arms.

nowadays as your mothers both liked to remind you two she was just like you and mary had been as kids, a little unstoppable bundle of energy who often required distraction or bribery of some sort to sit still for prolonged periods of time.

which is how you found yourself racing off midway through the first half to sort out some food, having left in such a rush you'd completely forgotten the bag of snacks and toys you normally carted along with you whenever you left the house with delilah in tow.

thankfully with her grandma more than happy to listen to her chatter and answer her millions of questions you made it through the entire match without a single issue.

the problems started when the game finished and julie had needed to rush off to get back to the family, catching mary quickly before ducking off and leaving you and delilah to patiently wait your turn.

it would seem patience today though was not on delilahs agenda.

"i wanna see mama now!" the girl whined, wriggling furiously to try and yank her hand out of your grip as you sighed and took a deep breath. "mama's just saying hi to some people first baby, thats part of her work!" you tried to explain, even offering her an ice cream as a last minute ditch to distract her but it was to no use.

not even alessia could capture her attention for more than a few minutes as your daughter grew more and more fussy and inpatient the more time passed.

"go! it'll be fine." you forced a smile toward your wifes team mates who'd all taken turns trying to distract delilah as the two of you stood in the tunnel, mary signing autographs and taking photos with a larger crowd than normal.

"wanna go kick a ball tiny?" millie offered in a last ditch effort and that seemed to work as your daughter nodded eagerly and latched onto the taller girls leg, her giggles echoing around as millie zoomed off back onto the pitch.

you kept her in sight as you followed after them, hanging on the sidelines and waving to a few fans who called out your name, mary glancing over apologetically as you sent her a smile and a nod assuring it was fine.

but that tiny lapse in attention was all it took for delilah to break away from millie, maya and ella, sprinting off toward mary who had her back turned and ignoring the older girls calls after her which gained your focus back toward them.

intercepting her you scooped delilah up into your arms and sat her on your hip. "no! i wanna see mama!” you winced as she smacked your chest a few times and pushed away ella who'd appeared to try and help, and you could tell from the wobble of her bottom lip that she was a few moments away from a meltdown.

"hey lilah, look at me please." you dropped to your knees and stood her on her feet, your hands on her shoulders stopping her from running off. "we don't hit people, okay? i know you're having some really big feelings and you miss mama but-" you started, yelping as your daughter suddenly scratched at your hand, racing away toward mary.

"delilah grace!" you called after her, mary looking up a second too late as her daughter barreled into her. "my mama! mine!" she snarled at a young girl who mary was trying to take a picture with as the keeper quickly picked her up and apologised to the fan and her dad right as delilah started to scream.

apologizing to the crowd still awaiting her attention mary hurried back toward you, the two of you falling into step as you made your way into the tunnel and down the hall toward the change rooms. "lilah baby-" you started as her screams turned into sobs and she buried her face in marys neck.

"no, get off!" the girl snapped again scratching your hand as you inhaled sharply and paused, catching your wifes eye who nodded in understanding as you stayed outside and she dissapeared into the change rooms to try and calm your daughter down.

"hey, you alright?" you glanced up to meet concerned blue eyes and nodded, exhaling deeply as the taller girl pulled you into a hug. "thanks less." you mumbled as she rubbed your back, assuring over and over that you were the best mum ever.

promising her you were okay but that you'd need a raincheck on dinner plans you all had tonight both her and ella gave you another long hug and headed off to see their families.

with another deep breath you headed into the change rooms, only a few of the girls remaining as you spotted mary by her cubby. you caught her eye again and raised an eyebrow as she nodded, your daughter still tightly wrapped around her.

"lilah what do we need to say to mummy please?" mary started quietly, bouncing her knee up and down gently to gain your daughters attention as she pulled her head out of marys neck.

"im very sorry for scratching and yelling mummy." the girl apologised softly, climbing off marys lap and moving into yours, warmth flooding your body as she hugged you tightly and you kissed the top of her head.

you melted even further as your daughter grabbed your hand, carefully kissing over where she'd scratched you before clambering right back into marys lap.

"i'll shower at home, or else little miss is gonna wind up soaked." mary chuckled, gesturing to the way your daughter clung onto her like a monkey, refusing to loosen her grip as you took your wifes bag for her and the three of you waved goodbye to the few girls left and headed for the carpark.

"mama in the back with me!" delilah ordered with a frown once you reached the car, mary having gained a lift with alessia this morning meaning she at least didn't need to drive herself back.

"okay baby, just this once." mary gave in clearly picking up that delilah was being abnormally clingy after seeing her interacting with other kids, something the two of you would need to speak with her about another time.

and for the rest of that night it was the same story, your daughter refusing not to have some part of her in contact with mary at all times. so much so that she'd stayed in the bathroom while your wife showered, insisting you sit with her as well as she held marys hand through the shower door making you smile in amusement.

"my mama." was all that seemed to be repeated, the possessiveness also something new but a conversation for another day as mary waved off your concerns, too thrilled with having your daughters full focus and attention all night.

"oh for god sakes." you'd chuckled later that night at the sight before you. your wife having spent an abnormal amount of time putting delilah to bed you'd wandered up to check in, only to find her dead asleep in the tiny single bed belonging to your daughter, long limbs hanging off the sides with delilah curled into her still very much so awake.

"sh! mama is very tired mummy." delilah warned as you entered the room. "you should be asleep little miss, not mama!" you reminded quietly as she gave you a cheeky smile looking far too much like her other mother and held up the book which was previously laid open on marys chest.

"one more story, please?"

[saintslewis]

❝ 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 - 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!reader

summary: when he comes back from arguably most demanding races of the season, he truly wants to be cuddled up with his girlfriend especially when they haven't seen each other in two weeks.

warnings: established relationship!, mild smut (18+ MDNI), cussing. the usual. typos.

wc: 2.6k

requested: yes | no ~ this lovely request right here!

saint team radio: i wanna scream, this was supposed to be out in SEPTEMBER!!! but now it’s here 🤭. lil one shot before releasing “Break my Soul” and i hope you guys enjoy this one. plus i’m getting used to writing smut now 😧 anyways bye! love ya!

taglist: @non-stop-imagines @lorarri @thisismeracing @httpsserene @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @planetmimi @alika-4466 @arshiyuh (lmk if you wanna be tagged!)

pls like, comment and reblog! 🫶🏽 (i’m watching you 🤨)

-

"I know what you are." You gasped as you watched Bella confront Edward in the forest. The morning sun was shining its rays through the large windows and sliding doors of the large house. The couch was slowly sinking you into it, the packet of cookies from your favourite bakery nestled next to your comfortable figure.

Understandably, it was quite early in the morning, 9 am to be precise, to be watching Twilight and munching on cookies but to be fair, Roscoe had woken you up for early morning snuggles. Deciding to check the time on your phone, you became distracted by your wallpaper of Lewis with you next to him with the green mountains of Bali right behind you both, flowers behind your ear to celebrate your birthday.

You truly missed him a lot, these past two weeks felt as if they dragged on and on the longer you waited to see him. Only being able to see him on your phone screen and tv, his fashion becoming a staple for you to follow almost every week. When his face appeared on screen for a post race interview, you would find yourself admiring him and completely closing off to whatever he was saying into the mics. Even seeing his car drive around gave you butterflies, just hearing his name would make you stop in your tracks every single time.

Lewis' face quickly invaded your mind, no longer focusing on the movie before you. Although you had tried to distract yourself with giving yourself tasks to do along with completing some work you probably missed, doing those things were just always better with your boyfriend around. Physically being on each other's space was something you needed desperately, a true connection when realising that you both had the love language of physical touch.

During these two week, you would resist the urge to touch yourself in thought of Lewis, deeming him to be the only one who could find your sweet spots so much better than you could. Embarrassingly enough, you had resorted to watching fan edits of him just for you to feel something. All you did was like a single video on your feed then you fell into the rabbit hole of his fans being extremely talented and feeling the way you felt but you would sleep better knowing that you had him all to yourself at the end of the day.

Snapping you out of your daily daydream about your boyfriend, your phone buzzed with a notification from the front gate of the house to say that a car has entered the driveway and you immediately jumped up in excitement, alerting Roscoe. "Come on boy, Dads is home." You smiled to the energetic dog who was eagerly waiting for you to put your slides on.

Opening the front door wide enough, Roscoe ran right past you to greet Lewis as the man was taking his luggage out of the trunk, giving his affection to his dog before standing up straight (with a bit of caution) to look at you standing just a few feet away. He studied you from head to toe, the Nike pro shorts were barely visible underneath the +44 sweater that you helped design. Your braids were fresh, nails done and from what he saw, a small but new tattoo on your hand and he swore his stomach flipped at the sight of you.

"Hey baby!" You expressed as you threw your arms around his neck, his head buried itself into your neck and your scent filled up his nostrils. "Hi." The tired voice vibrated through your skin, sending shivers down your spine. His large hands were resting on your lower back moving ever so slowly, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin. Moving your heads back, you gave him a sweet peck as he looked into your eyes afterwards. Studying his face a little, his eyes were a little droopy and his face wasn't as bright as you saw it on facetime hours ago. Letting go of the hug, you moved to help him with his suitcases but noticed that he seemed to walk a little funny as he walked into the house.

Finding him in the kitchen drinking a glass of water, you chose to lean back into the counter next to him. "Knowing you, I can tell you didn't eat so how about you go shower and i'll make breakfast?"  You suggested and all the man could do was smile and lean in to kiss you, tasting your strawberry chapstick before going upstairs with his hand on his back.

-

A hearty breakfast and him talking about how the race went in terms of strategy then a few discussions of random stuff, you both opted for chilling on the couch to catch up on a bit of TV. Lunch was ordered and you two spent the afternoon just being in each other's presence. You then decided to showcase the clothes you had bought during the two weeks he had been gone, each dress and skirt getting shorter than the last with his exhaustion preventing him from wanting to take you right then and there.

Changing back into the original outfit you had on, he quickly changed into his gym wear to work out in the home gym he had built in before you had moved in. "Will you be okay to workout, Lew?" You asked, filling the glass with small heart shaped ice cubes, ironically matching the tennis bracelet you were wearing. "I'm fine sweetie, I promise." He muttered as his eyes trailed down to your chest, the +44 sweater long gone as the day became hotter. "Eyes up here, babe." You giggled as he didn't even seem to hear you say anything.

"What?" He snapped out of it, making you laugh a little harder. "Go do your workout stuff, you dork. When you come back, we can do some skin care." You smiled as he held your hips with his grip tightened. "I can think of something else-"

"Lewis, I'm gonna bite you. Go." You narrowed your eyes at the man who walked away giggling as if he heard the funniest joke.

Nighttime was slowly approaching and dinner was already prepared, finding pesto really easy to make. Lewis was still in the home gym, your phone buzzing with instagram telling you that he posted on his story. Clicking on it, you saw how your boyfriend took a full body mirror picture with his shirt completely off and he looked a bit breathless. The lights glistened on his abs and tattoos, accentuating his tan even more. The v line was showing as his shorts sat quite low on his waist and you were left speechless, gripping the blanket so much that you could barely feel your hand anymore. Rubbing your thighs together, you tried to relax your thoughts by reminding yourself that he still has what seemed like an injury on his back.

But to be fair, nothing could stop him, not even an injury.

You tried distracting yourself from the instagram story by playing some music and doing some online shopping. Hearing his heavy footsteps enter the room, his sweaty self looked at you with a look you knew all too well but you decided to not do the deed tonight because you thought he needed to be well rested for this.

"You gonna go shower?" You stopped what you were doing and faced him with crossed arm with a little smile on your face. He came a bit closer and you backed up. "Lew, get away. You're sweaty." Your cheeks started to hurt from the smiling and all he did was open his arms as he came closer to you. "Lewis, I'm so serious. Babe wai-" You didn't even finish your sentence before you bolted, heading up to your shared bedroom and he chased after you with both your giggles filling the air.

"Baby, stop moving. I can't put on the under eye mask." You pouted, holding the cold cucumber scented applicator in your hand. "It's just cold." He muttered, holding the back of your legs as you stood between his legs. "C'mon gramps, it'll take like 5 minutes then you'll forget it's there." Knowing how he'd react to the nickname, you received the nastiest side eye you've gotten from him. Doubling down in laughter, you held onto the bathroom sink counter for dear life as you continued to laugh with him.

As the laughter died down, you fixed your braids into a bun and put your hand out for him to give up his hair tie that he has had on the whole day. "I like your earrings, love. When'd you get them?" He asked, now standing behind you as you made eye contact in the mirror. His eyes still had the same look as when he came out of the gym. "Remember that one bracelet you brought back from Milan last month? They opened a store in Central london so I think it was Thursday." You nodded as you told him, removing both your under eye masks to then fully wash and moisturise your faces.

Lewis opted to watch you complete your routine as you did like to take your time with it, the scented candles creating the perfect atmosphere. His left hand came around your waist, his other hand holding onto your hip and his head dropping into your neck with small butterfly-like kisses peppering your skin. You stopped everything you were doing to feel exactly what Lewis was doing to you, his large hands lowering down your body with each kiss.

"Lew, baby. You need to rest." You whispered, unable to speak from his soft kisses. "Missed you so much, just wanna feel you.” He whined into your neck. As he picked up his head to kiss even further, you already turned your head to look at him, your face filled with worry.

“Can you not make that face?” You slightly jutted your lip out, his face sending a completely different message. “Is it working?”

“No.” You tried your best to hide the smile from your face, your boyfriend’s face dropping at the answer. Backing away from his embrace, you walked into the bedroom, fully aware that he was following right after you.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, you watched as Lewis stood in front of you then locked eyes with you. “Love, can I at least eat you out?” His whiny voice sounded out and you were fully taken by surprise. You had yet to experience this side of him in the bedroom but if it meant hearing that voice all over again, you were all in.

Not even waiting for your words, the man dropped down onto his knees, holding your thighs as balance as he maintained the eye contact with you. “Please, please baby. I’ll be so good, I promise. Won’t tease you, I’m starving. Just wanna taste you.” He rambles, his eyes slightly closed as his voice drops the closer his face gets to your thighs.

You couldn’t believe what was actually happening, so much so that it took you a few seconds to even think of a response. His chocolate eyes looked up at you with such anticipation, eagerly waiting for you to say something, anything. All you could do was nod and within seconds, he began kissing up your thighs, silently thanking the universe for bringing the two of you together.

Between her slight panting, you remembered that his back was in pain from earlier in the day, giving you an idea. “Lew.” You called out, his head rising to stare at you once more. “Lie on your back, don’t need you to hurt it more than it already is.” You said, slowly guiding him to stand up with you then push him down onto the bed by his chest. He huffed out a slight chuckle at your eagerness.

Once the clothes were off, you crawled up to straddle him but catching him by surprise, your lower body was closer to his face than he thought. Your legs were on each side of his head, your dripping core was hovering right above his mouth, he could’ve sworn he was in heaven. Gently holding onto his braids, you lowered yourself slightly yet not fully sitting, afraid that he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“Y/n baby. Sit on my face, please.” Lewis groaned from underneath you, his breath hitting your core making you slightly shiver. His large hands creeped up onto your ass, bringing you down onto his face with a grip. Once you had gotten used to him devouring you like a touch starved man, you eventually found your rhythm and began moving in perfect harmony with his tongue, slightly pulling his braids when you felt the all too familiar knot into your stomach .

Your orgasm ripped through you, your moans bouncing off the walls of your shared bedroom. When wanting to lift yourself off of him, he continued to lick and suck on your sensitive clit, overstimulating you quite a bit. Your moans grew into whimpers and that’s when Lewis knew that you were beginning to feel tired, your body slightly shaking from the intense sensation of your release.

Now having a bit more energy, you actually lifted yourself up from his mouth and wanted to go down on him as you craved to have something that would give him the same sensation that he gave you. Before you could even reach his hard on, he held onto one of your hands. Kissing your palm, he spoke up. “Can you please just fuck me? I need to feel you around me, sweetie.” Lewis asked, the same look from before wooing you so easily.

You continued making your way down on him until he suddenly flipped the both of you. “Lew! Warn a girl next time!” You wanted to roll your eyes at him but he just smiled and leaned down to give you a breathtaking kiss, feeling butterflies in your stomach once more.

“I’ve got you, baby. Just let me make you feel good.” He smirked, holding your legs to go around his waist. Once entering you, it truly felt like this should go on forever, have this night replay in your mind like a broken record. His hips snapping against yours would bring you back to reality, seeing stars once the familiar knot returned to taunt you. With the way he was pounding into you, you would’ve never thought he had back pain the whole time.

You screamed upon your 4th release, your body flopping against the sheets as you tried to catch your breath. Lewis emerged from the bathroom with a warm and slightly wet towel to gently wipe your pussy, you sucked in a breath as your sensitive clit felt the material against you.

Once fully done with aftercare for you and himself, you looked up at the man as you layed on your front to look at him laying next to you. “I truly love you, Y/n. Couldn’t thank the stars enough for you.” He expressed, the look in his eyes sending a deeper message into your soul.

“I love you so much, Lewis.” You responded and you could feel the love radiating off of each other.

This was love and you could forever drown in this feeling with Lewis right by your side.

[foreverisntenough]

- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This story will contain fluff; maybe smut and angst- not sure yet!

Note: I was planning on keeping this just for myself so please be nice. I hope you like it! There will definitely be more than this part (don’t know many just yet though)

Chapter 1 - ‘You’re Mine’

It was a warm morning in July. You pulled at your Nike crew socks to fix them after you’d tied the laces of your white sneakers. Popping your AirPods in before heading out the door. You turned the key to lock your apartment and navigated on your phone to Spotify. The volume was too loud, it always was but you wanted to check out for a little. Focus.

You began your run; across a few avenues before hitting 5th Ave. It was your favorite part of the run. The sidewalks were wide, the juxtaposed calm of the busy upper east side raced with your heart. The sun splashing in between scaffolding. You made your way from the 60s into the 70s. At 78th Street you needed to cross to round out the loop.

You stood on the left side, waiting to cross right. You felt as if someone was watching you for some reason, as if you had eyes on you. Your long sleeve Lululemon shirt stuck to your body in sweat. You pulled it up and wiped your forehead with the hem. The pull showed your toned stomach reflecting in the sun. You sponged up a bead of sweat that raced down your long tan legs with your Nike running shorts that slit high on the sides. You tried to breathe as slow as you could and turned the music down as you stepped into the crosswalk. Your Isabel Marant hat covered your eyes slightly blocking your vision as you gazed at the ground but found yourself staring at an odd amount of designer sneakers standing at the opposite corner. In what felt like hours of inspection, actually fleeting seconds, you got closer to them. You deduced it was a group of men, given the size, styles… You’d be lying if you didn’t judge men by their choice of shoes often. Style mattered to you. Not necessarily brands or the price of something but the care someone put into how they presented themselves was important. You glanced up quickly clocking a group of 6 or so men around your age. Your heart faltered at the image so you kept your head down. Like a child, you told yourself if you couldn’t see them, they couldn’t see you. As you stepped up onto the sidewalk, the group now unbelievably close, you snaked through the other people waiting to cross the street to go further uptown. You lowered your headphones volume again…almost to a pause. You overheard the group talking; they were loud. Not obnoxious, they just were goofing around with friends. You clocked the distinct accent almost immediately. It was so specific, it was also so random. What are the odds you hear a Liverpool accent behind you. Sure not 0% considering you were on fifth avenue in New York City but your interest definitely peaked. You had a soft spot for the English city. You loved the people in Liverpool. You went to Liverpool every year, maybe even more often than that with your dad. It was special to you.

The first time you went to Liverpool was just to go to a football game with your Dad. Was it a little frivolous to travel to another country for a game, absolutely, but it was a lot of fun too. You always had an amazing time visiting your Dad’s native country and over time, like he was, became slightly attached emotionally to Liverpool Football Club. You followed from the US waking up early on weekend mornings to watch. It didn’t hurt that the team was cute. Not bad people to follow on Instagram. You found it easy to develop a crush on people you didn’t know. You could build them up, make them apologize for things they never did, deliver on every whim of yours all from the comfort of your head, sitting on your bed. You’d listen to the team’s interviews and memorize the annunciation or stress placed on certain syllables in their varied accents. You’d be quick to zoom in on Instagram holiday photos trying to deduce if they were with women or where they might be. It was addicting. It was also harmless, they didn’t know you, you didn’t know them but god, would you want to. Although you wanted to know one particular player. Get to know his face in real life. You wanted to get lost in those dark brown eyes, wanted them to flirt with you. He was beautiful. Like genuinely and objectively beautiful. There were a lot of physical traits about him that made your head spin, your heart race, you just wanted to lick and yet��� you’d never exist in that world, holding his gaze, his world.

The accents rang in your ears as you pulled one headphone out to eavesdrop a little, smiling at the familiarity and intricacy of words. You turned your head slightly back to the left looking to find the crosswalk counting down to see when you could start your run again. Before your eyes could land on the descending numbers flashing, your view was obstructed and found yourself looking directly into someone’s eyes. There was a glimmer in the strangers eyes, a warm honey hue. You snapped your gaze, looking back down at your sneakers immediately in shock. ‘What the fucks’ flew around in your head. You could feel he was still staring at you and you weren’t exactly sure what to do. Caged on the sidewalk; unable to cross as the cars proceeded to pass and unable to back away with the people waiting behind you. You laughed in your head at how ridiculous you were being about simple eye contact. ‘This is a complete stranger… relax’ you told yourself. When you mustered up the courage to pick your eyes up and your heart off the floor you got lost. Those eyes. You squint your eyes under your hat questioning what the hell was happening. There he was… in the flesh.. looking at you. He looked angel like. His skin soft, placing his hand on his forehead over his eyes to block the sun to take a closer look back at you. His amber smell wafted towards you. He was all consuming. You felt crazy. What honestly was happening. His plump lips pulled at the corner revealing the most beautiful smile you’ve ever seen. It sank in your stomach that this stranger wasn’t a stranger at all. An internet obsession genuinely was stood in front of you. You couldn’t help but smile back. A panicked confidence came over you. It was innate, instinctual, you had to; you reached out your arm and lightly grabbed at his. He looked at you slightly surprised but also smug. He knew he had a gravitational pull on people and he was not particularly upset that it worked on people that looked like you too. You felt the words slipping out from your lips but a static fuzz filled your brain.

“Sorry, are you Trent Alexander Arnold?” You already knew the answer.

His smile got bigger, he seemed flattered. He looked at you with sincerity. And then he spoke…

“Yeah, and you are?” His voice laced with his accent was smooth, heavy, beautiful.

You started to question your decision. Why did you say anything to begin with, you had nothing to say to him. You realized quickly your hand was still on him as he stared down at it. You rolled your eyes a little embarrassed and slowly pulled it down his arm. He was intrigued. Despite the internal chaos ensuing inside of you, you presented incredibly calm, smooth, and as your hand brushed over his, pulling back to your side, sexy. He stared at your collar bones and the dip in your throat, a drop of sweat ran down your tan skin. He studied its path. Watching it trace over the bone and then over a little scar, he observed it absorb into your top. He was embarrassed in his own mind that he wanted to watch the sweat keep rolling down your body, sans shirt.

“Y/N” you spoke quietly.

“This is kind of mad to run into you here, you know?” You babbled and he looked amused at the speed of your words as you continued. “I have been in Liverpool a lot, I guess just England in general a lot and never could imagine running into someone like you and definitely didn’t think I’d ever be here.”

“Yeah? Someone like me?” He asked.

It was flirty. Suggestive. Was he flirting with you? Maybe he was just being nice but you couldn’t stop your thoughts from running wild staring at the veins on his hands.

“What you doing over in Liverpool” he questioned you with a raised brow.

“Oh, erm” you weren’t sure how to phrase this. You were a fan, nothing wrong with that but you also didn’t want to freak him out.

“My dad’s from England so we go a lot and I follow the prem, I guess…We usually go to a game or two up north every year..” you explained. He seemed calmed by your honesty.

“See anything of interest up north?” your breath hitched at his words and his eyes boring back at you. You laughed a little, he was more charismatic than you maybe ever gave him credit for. Definitely reserved and quiet but he was entertaining the conversation pushing it in a direction you thought that you must’ve been dreaming.

“Had my eyes on something at Anfield, sure” you smirked. He watched your pink lips curl. It was enticing, he licked over his top lip then his bottom in response and hummed.

“Where are you staying?” you stopped his thoughts. “Sorry, you don’t have to ans…” you awkwardly tried to not pry.

“The Plaza” he cut you off. You returned his smile at the fact that he had been staying in such close proximity; right under your nose, blissfully unaware.

“Best area.” You spoke again. “Upper East Side will always be it for me but I’m biased because I live here.” You held your hands up in innocence.

“You live near here?” he asked, taking a small step towards you. His body so close to yours.

“A few blocks down and over on Park Ave” you pointed ambiguously, telling him. His eyes traced your body intently. It very quickly washed over you how sweaty you were. This isn’t the way you’d ideally want to look meeting someone you fancied, let alone him.

“I swear I don’t always look like this” you paused, shaking your head “it’s hot” you laughed defending your appearance.

“It is hot” he echoed cheekily, not talking about the weather anymore taking in every inch of your body in front of him.

“I would’ve really preferred having you see me in something else.” Your words were unintentionally suggestive. You slowly shut your eyes hoping he didn’t take your comment the wrong way. His mouth gaped open a little as he laughed

“Oh yeah?” He mocked you. His tease was endearing though.

“How long are you here for?” You needed to change the topic before you passed out from his intense gaze on you.

“Few more days...” he spoke, turning his head up to look at the street. The crosswalk sign had changed to’ walk.’ You felt your heart sink as your little interaction with Trent was going to end. One of the boys from his group walked by you two pinching in between Trent’s shoulder and neck. He winced at the feeling and the boy gave him a knowing look meeting back with the rest of the group. The boys crossed the street, you were stuck watching them so you failed to realize that Trent hadn’t budged. He returned his eyes to you and smiled softly. It made your heart flutter that he maybe still wanted to talk to you. In a panic to keep the conversation alive you blurted out an unsolicited offer without thinking…

“While you’re here, if you need someone to go out with, or just even need recommendations you should hit me up” Your face pulled into a childish grin. His eyes widened at your forwardness. You honestly were surprised at yourself too.

“I don’t really know you though, do I?” He questioned back at you.

You felt a little sick, a little stupid for maybe misreading the situation and conversation. You shyly laughed and rolled your eyes again embarrassed. This whole thing was ridiculous.

“Yeah, well… I don’t really know you either do I?” You mocked his question.

“You do though.” He leaned in a little closer to you.

“No” you paused at his face's closeness. “I don’t know you, I know your name and your face. That’s not really knowing someone is it?” He smirked at your rational. “And honestly, with that, it's only to your benefit. You’re going into this with the upper hand. You already know I think you’re attractive.” You should’ve thought your sentence through a little more but you were caught in the moment.

“Really? I didn’t know I knew that” he quipped.

He was funny, you’ll give him that. Your faux confidence was already dwindling preparing for him to turn you down. Letting a stranger down, rejecting a pass must be awkward and hard for him to do. Although he probably had a lot of practice doing it, his response wasn’t what you’d expected. It just about stopped your heart.

“And what if you knew I thought you were attractive” he almost whispered. It was sexy. Your brow furrowed genuinely because you had believed he was about to reject you.

“Are you sure?” you asked so quickly looking up at him in confusion. He thought your ignorance was cute.

“Yeah, I’ve got eyes haven’t I? I can see what’s in front of me. You caught my eye across the street before you even snuck your way next to me” You blushed at the idea he was already looking at you before you even had clocked him. You felt like someone might’ve been watching earlier but you couldn’t have dreamed it would be him.

It felt like it happened in slow motion as you watched his hand come closer to you. The back of his knuckle traced your highlighted cheekbone. Goosebumps arose all over your skin. Before he could remove his hand he heard a loud familiar whistle and was thrust back into reality that he was standing on the corner of the street. He gestured to the group he was with to hold on a second.

“Let me take you out tonight” he ask calmly

“You don’t really know me though, do you?” You quickly hit back making a smug face he wasn’t impressed with.

“Let me get to know you then” he cooed. You looked around you as if people might overhear you, like your response was just meant for him.

“Yeah. I’d like that” you said hush.

“Gimme your number” he said as he forced his phone at you. Your eyes stuck watching the group across the street monitoring the situation. Were they staring because of you, because he does this a lot? Or rather never does this? The questions poured into your head but the harsh sun reflecting off his phone into your face brought you back down to earth. You typed your number into his phone, saving your name with a little ‘🗽’ emoji as a contextual reminder and gave him his phone back.

The gears in your mind were still turning. What honestly just happened that you were holding a Liverpool football player's phone. Trent smiled seeing your name and the little emoji.

“Y/N L/N” he repeated.

“That’s me” grinning back.

He placed his phone in his pocket and lifted his arm again and reached to stoke your arm. You shivered at the touch.

You blew some air out your mouth in disbelief at the events unfolding. You weren’t sure what to do with the lull in the conversation now but Trent seemed comfortable in the silence.

“If you’re still heading up fifth, my favorite view of the city skyline is up at the reservoir. You ever been?” You softly suggested. He dragged his hand back up your arm.

“Nah, should I?” he asked. Focused more on the feeling of your skin than your words.

“It’s nice if you have the time. Good for the gram.” You laughed.

“Important” he replied as you stared at his hand continue to stroke your arm

“Very” you confirmed. He rocked backwards a little

“So I’m gonna see you tonight, yeah?” He said looking at your face once more as he dropped his hand from you.

“Yeah, yeah” you responded not totally sure that would actually happen but you were happy with this little conversation to hold in your mind forever. His smell, his gaze on you, saying you were attractive. Even if he was lying, you’d still take it from him. You bite your cheek before speaking again.

“If I don’t see you ” you paused and he looked at you confused. “It was nice to meet you” you said sweetly. He started laughing and shaking his head.

“I’m going to see you, trust me” he winked at you. It felt like you could fall over. Your legs felt like jello.

“Go on then, finish your run” he said tilting his head, gesturing down the avenue you were at.

“Absolutely not. You’re crazy if you think I’m going to let you watch me run down the block now” you were embarrassed by the idea of trying to exercise in front of someone who did it for a living.

“I like what I’ve seen so far, don’t deprive me of a nice view” his tone dripping with ideas.

You were shocked at the tone. You liked it. It was sweet and full of suggestion. You wanted to just listen to him talk for hours.

“I’m going to walk this way” you spoke up pointing down the street emphasizing the word ‘walk’ a little teasingly.

“See you, yeah?” He winked.

“Yeah, I trust you” you said, walking a bit away from him.

It felt like leaving a friend but also nothing like that. You craved so much more knowing he wasn’t one. You needed more of him. He was intoxicating, he felt like you took a shot of liquor. You felt light headed, the world blurred around you, giggling to yourself at the feeling in your chest. What the hell was wrong with you. You put your headphones back in and made your way down the street. You started to text your sister about the flirty encounter with the footballer but you didn’t want to jinx anything. Maybe you actually would see him later. That going to happen fell on Trent though; he was the one with your number, he was on his holiday. It didn’t seem likely to happen but he seemed so nice at the very least you’d hope he’d have the courtesy to tell you he couldn’t meet. You looked back towards where he was wanting to relive those minutes over and over again. Your eyes met again. He had his on you still. He squinted trying to follow your path and he smiled.

Trent crossed the street towards the group of boys nonchalantly, he was playing off how smitten he had just become with a complete stranger.

“What the fuck was that?” one of the boys looked at him as Trent embarrassingly bit onto his lip still watching you.

“Yeah, she was fit but like did you need to get the whole life story or…” another boy said.

“Did you know her?” The comments and questions came flooding in from the group confused at the interaction. To answer what you had wondered earlier. No, Trent didn’t do this a lot, igniting more of an inquiry. He kept to himself a lot of the time. Of course he’d get with girls back at home and on holidays and such but right now he was sober, it was in the middle of the day, on the street, and he seemingly was drooling over someone he’d never spoken to before. This was out of character.

“I honestly feel like I know her,” Trent spoke, trying to clear his throat. “Gonna see her tonight,” he informed them. The boys bustled with noise and confusion

“What about our dinner tonight?” Someone questioned

“You’ll figure it out. I’ll meet you after to go to that event.” Trent calmed the group still watching you as you looked back once more at him before turning the corner out of his view. He didn't like that he couldn’t see you anymore. He felt like he needed to study you more. The image of sweat dripping down your body had him down bad. It shouldn’t have affected him like that. He questioned why he was aching for you. He didn’t even know you. He exhaled confused. He could hear your voice replaying in his head. Soft and sweet, was it suggestive? Was he making it up?

“She didn’t even ask for a picture with me, ya know” he spoke quietly towards his brother in the group. Trent didn’t want to look like a melt to his friends so opted to confide in him. With his brothers he couldn’t really embarrass himself; they were so close.

“Maybe she doesn’t care about that,” Trent’s brother Tyler responded. Trent grunted slightly annoyed that you weren’t fawning and falling over him like he’d want. What he didn’t know was that you had actually been nauseous at the sheer idea of speaking with him. Tyler watched his face change.

“That bother you?” He asked. Trent looked back at him unsure.

“Don’t know… just not sure why I feel like this. Like I thought she was into me but the more I think about it” he paused reflecting “maybe I was just pushing a narrative in my head. She didn’t exactly seek me out, it was by chance, she was minding her business” his heart hurt a little at the thought.

“You just don’t stand that close to someone you don’t know and aren’t interested in” Tyler quipped back.

“Yeah?” Trent questioned his sincerity.

“She was grossly close to you. Made me a little sick not gonna lie '' a voice from behind them piped up. Their younger brother Marcel wanted in on the conversation, the gossip about the mystery girl was too good to miss.

“She from here?” His brother questioned

“Mmhmm, I felt like I was almost being played because she gave me everything up front. She told me her name, where she lived, about her dad, she follows footie, told me about visiting Anfield and that. Like I couldn’t build a more ideal woman, she’s a dream and she just stood there like she was somehow at a disadvantage.” Trent ranted.

“Oh” the brothers simultaneously echoed. Marcel looked at Tyler a little concerned about Trent’s vulnerability. Trent was independent and smart but it was often on everyone around him minds if people were trying to take advantage of or attempting to use Trent for something.

“She’s been to a game… of yours?” Tyler asked

“I assumed I was there playing. She didn’t really specify”

“The odds of meeting your dream girl like this on the street is mad but then again it’s you Trentski. If you really want to go find out more.. I guess shoot your shot.” Marcel tried to be honest but still support him…

“You think it’s bad to text now?” Trent cautiously asked. His brothers just laughed at him.

“Why are you being like this bro? You’re down so bad already and you don’t even know her. What did she do to you!” They exclaimed, clinging to each other continuing to give Trent shit for his lack of confidence.

“What am I doing?” Trent felt ridiculous; where did his conviction go? He needed to not let you get this in his head. Yet the only thing playing in his mind were images of you.

“What the fuuuucckk” he groaned.

“Relax bro, just go and maybe you’ll get to release a little” his brother joked about Trent’s obvious growing crush. The innuendo made Trent’s heads spin. His brothers kept talking but all he could think about was you peeling the sweaty clothes off your body at home. He wanted to be there for that. He needed the girl he didn’t know he would even meet an hour ago.

“This is embarrassing” he said despite hitting send on a text he was terrified of.

You sat on your bed after showering. If there was any luck in life for you he would text you. Your shower was long. The idea of you potentially seeing Trent tonight required you to look your best. The bathroom steamed, you washed your hair twice, exfoliating, shaving absolutely everything. You moisturized like you never had before. Your post shower routine was extensive and so was your skin and hair care. The idea of him even near your body had you giddy. You had to wonder if he was that clever and smooth with everyone. You felt the character you had built up in your mind from behind an on screen image had been torn to shreds by his unwavering confidence, his eyes glimmering, his composure. He wasn’t anything you imagined. He was much much better.

Your phone pinged, the screen illuminating with a new text. You tried to tell yourself to relax. It was probably going to be your mom to be realistic but there lied the unknown uk number on your phone. You squeezed your eyes shut, your leg now bouncing up and down a little. ‘What the fuck it’s just a text. You’re embarrassing’ you spoke to yourself. Your stomach dropped as you swiped to read the new message.

“The reservoir?”

It was so simple but you felt your heart racing. You wanted to be quick in response not knowing how he was with his phone and you didn’t want to miss your opportunity. You were trying not to think too much as you hit send.

“The reservoir.” You confirmed.

“Going to make me way there and let you know what I think” his response was quick in return.

“Please do 😉” you typed and deleted the wink emoji 1000 times but just said fuck it. Every moment exchanged with Trent felt like it could be your last so you decided you were going to try not to hold back.

A genuine full smile swept across Trent’s face.

“She responded I’m assuming” Tyler watched his brother’s expression change. Trent didn’t want to get into how excited he was feeling about something as small as an emoji.

“mmhmm” he hummed, not picking up his gaze from the wink you sent.

“Dinner with me tonight?”

“I wouldn’t be opposed”

“Got one condition though..”

You weren’t sure what the condition could be. As much as you two had joked, you really didn’t know him at all. You couldn’t predict anything he was going to do or say. It put you on edge but you loved the thrill of standing there.

“You have to pick the place because you’re the local” Trent’s message read. You smiled, it was sweet and more wholesome than you anticipated. You couldn’t stop trying to read into everything he has said though. Was this a date for him?

“Fine, I’ll be sure to pick something good then. 8:00 pm is okay, yeah?”

“All good. Also 8:00 pm… try 20:00?”

“No no no. None of that. You’re in my city now”

“Yeah? Going to show me a good time in your city”

He sent it and started to regret it. He still questioned if you were as into him as he was into you. He didn’t want to imply he was looking just a quick fuck. He definitely wanted to have sex with you, like embarrassingly so but might actually be a little disappointed in that alone because you peaked his interest. He wanted to listen to you. He wanted to watch your eyes flicker over him. He wanted to hear your accent accentuate words.

Contrary to his beliefs, you felt like you were going to scream. Like you were a 12 year old girl with a boy band obsession. Did he want you like that? What if you read his text with the wrong inflection? You threw caution to the wind at this point and you dove into sending him a response.

“Promise xx. Will see how you are on the date”

“Date, yeah?”

“Oh.. Is it not?” you immediately responded to him. You felt so nervous. Blood rushing to your face embarrassed you had misread everything.

“Nah, it definitely is. Can’t wait to see more of you later 🤤”

His response, especially the emoji, made your mind race with dirty thoughts. You understand he probably just meant ‘seeing’ you as meeting up again but you wanted him to literally see more. You wanted to have him drooling. You wanted his lips on yours. You wanted to have him thinking about you. You just had to get through this date successfully for that to even be an option.

•

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Please let me know what you think.

Moving slow but we’re just getting started xx

Next part is up - Chapter 2

[indeedgoodman]

[sunshine-theseus]

Bia | Kyra Cooney-Cross x Reader

Words: 2.8k Summary: you create your own boots and meet the most beautiful girl  - sorry I also used this to info dump about the necessity for boots designed specifically for women to lower injury risks Warnings: none i think. lemme know if there are any requested by - @hottiedogs375 i hope you enjoy, it's probably not my best :( definitely not as good as pequeña i think

My family was more of a cricket family than a football one. I wasn’t really fond of either, the shouting was always too much, and the food was somehow sloppy yet rock hard at the same time. Even when we watched at home. The living room would be full of sweaty angry men, sometimes my mum and sister would join if our team was actually doing well. Meanwhile you’d find me in my room at the very back corner of the attic, my room, with headphones on to block out the noise, usually designing something.

Despite the cricket background, I found myself intrigued by the design of women’s football kits. In my design and technology class in year 13, I fell down a research rabbit hole on football boots for women. It was then I discovered the lack of adaptation for the shoe. Women often just wear smaller sizes of boots designed for men, which has been one of the factors in the increase in injuries in the women’s game and I’d decided I wanted to fix that.

That’s how I found myself in front of a crowd, made up of possible brand ambassadors and sponsors, as well as a range of women’s athletes from across the world, pitching my idea.

“And that’s why brands like Bia are important to the growth of women’s football. The shape of the boot, the length of studs, the sole support, they’re all contributing factors to how players perform. When women footballers use the men’s boots, which is basically the only option, they aren’t going to grow used to the details designed for male anatomy. It’s causing stress on not only their feet but every ligament, every bone, every piece of them is suffering because they have to try and adapt to things they can’t possibly adapt to.” I felt like the closing of my speech was rather strong, especially as I watched players and possible sponsors stand to clap. The noise echoes throughout the auditorium and a happiness bubbles within me.

“Thank you for providing me this opportunity. Please, if anyone has any questions.” I gesture to the stand-up microphone in the middle aisle, and people rush to line up.

“What made you intent on creating a boot specifically for women, risking money and time on something people have tried to do before? Something you knew wasn’t guaranteed to work?”

“I know it’s funny, but my family was not a football one, so I didn’t grow up knowing much about the game. But in my a-levels design and technology class, we had to research an issue prevalent in an existing design, and I for some reason was just drawn to the idea that women don’t even get the choice of having a boot made for them. I found it unfair and uncaring. Everyone expects women to play at the same level as men yet won’t provide them with the necessary equipment to do so without them having to risk, quite possibly their career. And I couldn’t just move on after the class, I knew that I had to do something about it. So I’ve spent the past 3 years perfecting the design and building the brand, to be here in front of you all today.” Another round of applause is heard throughout the room before the next person steps up.

She’s a footballer, that I know. Young, no older than 21, my age. And very very pretty.

“This question probably isn’t quite as important as that one but, what made you pick the name Bia? It just seems like an interesting name.” people chuckle at the question, and the (newly discovered) Australian shyly looks around.

“No, I love this question. Bia is the Greek goddess of force and raw energy. She’s actually Nike’s sister, the goddess of victory and very obviously the brand. I think Bia resembles a lot of things within female athletes. They have this driving force and unbelieve power that they bring, and it just felt so right.”

“That’s sick. Can I also quickly ask, sorry, are these boots made for every female athlete? Like can someone in track and field use these or are they just for footballers?” the girl smiles brightly after her question, and I have to remember not to lose focus.

“While the primary focus is obviously footballers, I have researched the compatibility of boots between sports and yes, a professional sprinter like Sharika Jackson can use them just as well as you or Alexia Putellas could. And of course as the brand grows we’ll be able to develop even further and broaden our research further in creating boots fit for anyone.”

-

Questions carry on for a while, then I disappear behind the curtain that’s suspended behind me, rushing to remove my microphone. Eventually I slide out the side door and reach the separate room booked for ‘mingling’ after the panel.

Between talking to rich people desperate to make it seem like they care about others, and athletes who are very eager to know everything they can about the shoe, I try to keep an eye out for the nameless Australian. Every time I think I’ve spotted her; it seems she disappears. Bodies keep moving and she seems to be one of them.

Then I bump into someone. We both go stumbling but she catches me just before I head for the floor.

“I am so sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.” And there she was, the girl I’d been looking for.

“No, no need to apologise. I’m Y/n.” I give her a hand to shake.

“Kyra.” There’s a pause before she continues.

“I’m a big fan of your boot. It’s truly incredible.” It’s hard not to blush and sputter out random sounds at her praise.

“Thank you. I’m really hoping this function works out.”

“Well I was thinking, when it does, if you need ‘a face of Bia’…”

“Oh my god yes that would be amazing. Seriously you have no idea how cool that would be.”

We talk for quite some time, and she sticks by my side when someone else comes to talk and ask question. When it’s time to go home we exchange numbers and that’s the first and last time I see her for a while.

-

5 months later is the next time I see Kyra in person. We’d both been travelling a lot, me for sponsors, ambassadors, and athletes, her for work. I’d expected to meet with her a few more times before we kick started the ‘face of Bia’ photoshoots, but as the fates had it, we found ourselves in a large warehouse, photo equipment, and many boxes of my shoes filling the space.

It suddenly all started to feel very real, and that made me nervous. So I packed myself into a small room in the corner as I tried to calm down, hoping the isolation and quiet would help me feel better.

Not even 2 minutes in, someone is following and taking a seat next to me.

“You right?” the voice is familiar and smooth.

“Yeah, yeah of course I am. It’s not like the biggest thing I’ve ever worked for in my life is basically in its final stage of release in the next room and I’m freaking out about it. What if they aren’t actually good? What if th-”

“I’m going to stop you right there. You sent me a pair 2 months ago, and I told you I would test them before saying anything, and I did just that. I took them to training. Ran on the pitch, walked, kicked the ball, passed, made risky moves. And what did I tell you after that?”

“‘These are the best fucking shoes ever.’ But what if they aren’t?”

“Listen Y/n, how many other athletes, not just me or footballers, did you send a pair to for testing?”

“Like 43. Basically every one that came to the panel plus some more.”

“How many told you they were good?”

“43.”

“Exactly. So we’re going to go out there together, you’re gonna tell the photographer what you want to see, every opinion, every change, anything, and we’re going to finalise your fucking dream.” Kyra picks me up without me even agreeing, and basically carries me out to the set up.

Ali Kreiger, despite her recent retirement, was currently being photographed. She’d been the one to reach out to me when she heard from, someone, and wanted to be an ambassador. I probably screamed so loud my neighbours thought I was getting murdered that day.

“They’re going to want a couple photos of you too probably. Either with the shoes or with one or all of us. Okay?” Kyra rubs a hand up and down my back as I take it all in.

I nod vigorously and try to shake my hands to get rid of the remaining nerves, eventually taking a seat next to the photographer, Eve. She asks for my input on every shot and manages to carry out my vision without fail every single time. As players filter in and out, I begin to truly relax and allow myself to take in the moment.

Zimmorlei Farquharson and Poppy Boltz, two AFLW players for the Brisbane Lions, were being photographed together when Kyra slid into the spare chair next to me. She didn’t say anything but when I looked over, I had to quickly look away again. Her outfit wasn’t something out of the ordinary, a loose cropped top and bike shorts, plus the sage green boots she was promoting. But the strip of skin that was exposed between her shirt and shorts was enticing and it was hard not to stare at the way her muscles contracted every time she moved in the seat.

I’m certain she caught me staring.

As she stands to take over the Australian Football players, Kyra leans over and whispers in my ear. It takes me a moment to process her words and by then she’s already under the lights.

“Good thing we’re taking some pictures. They’ll last longer.” To say I was stumped was a rather big understatement. Was she flirting with me?

I don’t get to think about it too much, Kyra looking my way every time she changed position or began to play around with the ball provided.

Not long after, I’m asked to join all the girls in front of the camera for a few shots. I knew it was coming but my heart still dropped into my stomach, and I choked on my breath. As expected, it’s Kyra who grabs my hand and instructs me to breathe slowly. Her thumb runs over the back of my hand and the motion begins to sooth me.

I take a place in front of the camera and the group of athletes. I’m not quite sure how to stand, but Kyra takes the space behind me, resting an arm over my shoulder and the other around my waist. It forces me to lean back naturally and as the girls around us take a stance, Eve continues to shoot.

“You and Kyra have a lot of chemistry by the looks of it, and she’s who you’re most comfortable with. Use that. Make it natural. The girls around you will adapt.” I expect the comment from Eve, but it’s Ali who puts a hand on my shoulder and reassures me.

With that instruction, and a nod from Eve, Kyra jumps on my back. It’s a pose that helps with showing off the boot and making me laugh. She then jumps off and takes my hands, turning me to face her as she dips. I rush to catch her as she falls, our faces a hair width apart.

Before I can think, I close the gap. My lips press hard against her’s as the camera shutter repeatedly goes off, but I don’t think anything of it. Until I pull away.

I almost drop her once my thoughts catch up to me.

“I am so sorry. What the fuck did I just do?” the rest of the girls had already walked away, so it was just us.

“Nothing you should regret or feel bad for.” Kyra stands right in front of me, our lips basically touching again.

“And maybe you should do it again.” I pause for a moment before leaning back down, kissing her again.

~~~~~

It takes three more weeks for the official brand release. After years of designing, making, spending every cent I had on these boots, Bia was officially the first woman specific sports boot.

Kyra’s first Arsenal game wearing them was the day of the release. She ended up talking about them in post-match interview after being asked “how were you excelling so well in the midfield today?” Not only was Bia’s sale numbers skyrocketing and the media account blowing up, so was my own.

I’d of course attended the match, excited to see them as an officially released boot. Someone had spotted me in the crowd and tweeted about it, talking about ‘the creator of that new boot brand is watching Kyra rep them for the first time live’. Someone else had caught me hugging Kyra on the pitch after the game and giving her a kiss on the cheek.

The rumours could only be expected. They also couldn’t be denied. Not without lying.

“I’m so proud of you.” The smooth Australian accent almost lulls me to sleep as we rest in Kyra’s bed, the sheets hiding our bare skin.

Her fingers trace shapes on my hip as she holds me, and I kiss along her collar bones and neck.

“And also very, very grateful for your genius brain creating those boots. Not only for helping my game play, but for bringing you to me.”

“I’m also grateful for my genius brain bringing us together.” I tease before softly kissing her.

It’d been impossible to escape her charm after our kiss at the photoshoot, so naturally we went on a date. And another, before she asked me to be her girlfriend. Eve sent me those photos just in case we wanted them in the brand release post. They currently sat in my hard drive, but it was very tempting to post a couple.

Kyra wanted a moment of privacy before the world knew, but I knew it didn’t matter whether it was out or a secret, as long as I had her.

-

A new power couple is on the rise in the world of Women’s Football. Creator of new women’s sports boots brand Bia, Y/n L/n, spotted with girlfriend, Arsenal and Matildas midfielder Kyra Cooney-Cross at a café in North London this morning before the London Derby. The couple confirmed their relationship mere days ago with photos of the lovebirds kissing from L/n’s brand shoot.

I laugh at the article as Kyra pulls into the Emirates parking, hand in mine. I’d become rather acquainted with her teammates and they begged me to come to the London Derby on the weekend. I couldn’t refuse when my girlfriend pulled out the puppy dog eyes and promised to ban me from any sort of affection, specifically kisses, for the week.

“You better win. I have a bet going with Niamh that you’ll beat her and I cannot lose a bet against her again.” Kyra chuckles and leaves with a kiss, sending me into the friends and family section of the stands.

It was nerve wracking going alone, but it was for Kyra and that was all I cared about. Supporting her like she supported me.

-

Kyra doesn’t start, which had been expected. Despite it, the girls were playing well and were up 3-1 at half-time. No yellow cards for either team had most people shocked though. The derby was known to be rough and physical, yet it seemed things were rather calm for the situation at hand.

There’s a substitute at half-time that puts Kyra back on the pitch. I blow a kiss when she looks my way as she jogs out and she pretends to catch it and place it on her cheek. Both of us are unaware of the interaction being caught on the big screen while people wait for the countdown.

It’s when extra time is announced that everyone in the stadium knows Arsenal have won the game. The Chelsea players look tired and defeated and the Arsenal girls don’t look much different, apart from the massive smiles that grace each one of their faces. The final whistle blows, and the crowd erupts in deafening cheers for the gunners, and I can’t help joining in.

After congratulating the blues on their performance and huddling with her own teammates, Kyra comes running for me. The guard on the other side of the barrier grows wary when I stand, clearly about to jump it, but Kyra gives him the okay and grabs me by the waist, helping me join her on the pitch.

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” I whisper as she stands on her tippy toes.

Her arms wrap tightly around my neck and mine go around her waist as she pulls me in for a kiss. It’s deep and passionate and the crowd around us cheers, some of the girls joining in.

“We’re both kinda killing it aren’t we?” I let out a laugh as she hops on my back, pointing me in the direction of her Matilda’s teammates, even Sam, who are grouped in the middle of the field.

She sprinkles kisses around my face as they talk between each other and I’ve never felt more content.

Fuck cricket, football is the sport for me.

[ilovebuckers5]

*•♡never be like you pt 3 ♡¸.•*'

nika muhl x cheerleader!reader

"I'm falling on my knees. forgive me, I'm a fucking fool "

word count - 2.3k

themes :

-angst if you squint

-smut

warnings :

-public sex

-fingering

a/n - sorry for how long it took me to post this. writers block was biting me in the ass. enjoy the smut!!! ( I did not spell check sooooo sorry)

the days between when I asked Nika to the concert and the actual concert were hell. all I could think about was her. and the occasional thought about what Farah was planning for fucking over Asher but that's for another day.

finally, it was the day of the concert. I had already ordered an outfit from about a million different websites but it came together perfectly. I was going to be basic and just where a purple skirt and a white top but the more I looked in online stores, the crazier (and shinier) my outfit got. I decided on a sparkly purple blazer and a black mini skirt with a matching black tube top. the only shoes I could find were purple doc martins so that's what I went with.

the moment I stepped out of my closet to show Farah my outfit, I was convinced that she dropped dead. her hands slammed on the desk she was sitting beside. she stood up and ran her hands over the shoulders of my blazer. "its so fucking good oh my God. I'm kind of mad at you actually. I wish I came up with this." her eyes and hands traced over my entire outfit in awe. before I could even look at myself in the mirror, Farah began taking way too many photos. "I'm sending these all the Nika." that's when I slapped the phone out of her hand.

i almost broke my nose diving for her phone to delete all the pictures. the last thing I wanted was for Nika to see me in a ridiculously glittery outfit with anything else done. if I was doing a big reveal for her then it would have to be when I'm fully ready.

while Farah changed into her outfit, which was a mystery to me, I started doing my makeup. the concert was in 3 hours from now and the venue was 1 hour and 30 minutes away. so as long as Farah didn't take forever getting ready, we would be fine. of course that's as long as Nika was ready.

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

nika's pov

to be honest, I've only heard one Olivia Rodrigo song in my entire life. and its not like I hated it but it wasn't my type of music. but because I love concerts and y/n, I turned on a playlist with her music and started getting ready. me, Farah, and y/n had made a group chat just for this occasion. we barely talked in it, more of just updating each other on where the concert was at and what time it was. the only appropriate outfit I could find was a pair of black jean shorts and a purple tank top. when I tried showing a couple of the girls on my team, I've never gotten more disapproval. they forced me to get letters and designs ironed on the top so once the outfit was put together I had a purple tank top with the words 'sorry my guts spilled' on it with my shorts and a purple pair of Nike dunks that I had to borrow from Paige. oh yeah, the group chat was also used for outfit checks. so I got sent pictures of outfits on racks, hangers, beds, floors, and people. I couldn't care enough to do all that so I just sent a picture of my outfit once it was on me.

farah and y/n had to have been the most hyped up girls I've ever met. they couldn't stop spamming the group chat when they saw my outfit. it honestly felt nice. I didn't do much makeup because I knew how hot those stadiums got. I just put on some mascara and lip liner and I was ready to go. I didn't want to end up looking a mess afterwards, I guess the girls did though.

when I was getting ready, one song sort of stuck out compared to all the others. love is embarrassing. I kind of related to it. loves was never really my thing. at least in college it wasn't. love seemed like something that would get me distracted. as much as I adored seeing other couples out on dates and couples going to each other's event like sports games, it seemed well, embarrassing to me.

i tried to keep it like that.

the time that the girls spent getting ready on seemed to go by slower than ever. i found myself sitting on my bed and my couch and every other surface ever. when finally i got a text.

'we're here!'

i launched myself off of the ledge of my counter and grabbed my bag. i made sure to bring a couple extra water bottles and other necessities so that if anyone ran out, that actually wouldn't.

the moment i sat in the car, the energy shifted.

when i looked from afar, the girls were going back and forth with no music playing. as if one or the other was panicking about something. but when i got there, they acted normal as ever. weird.

"heyyyy! you ready?"

fatah squealed, shaking my shoulder. i smiled in return while nodding my head up and down.

"yess! let's go!"

i wanted to talk to y/n but she barely looked at me. i couldn't tell if it was out of fear or if she just forgot to say something but i knew it didn't feel that good.

the entire car ride was filled with the two girls informing me about olivia rodrigo's songs and who they are about and who she's dated. and to be honest i was pretty invested. more than any other artist. the girls knew every lyrics to every song and it made me feel out of place but i knew i'd settle in once i heard her live.

"oh my god and just a little while ago she released guts spilled!"

i couldn't help but tilt my head in confusion.

"what's that?"

the girls gave eachother a look as if they were about to stop the car and put on a performance of what 'guts spilled' is.

"it's like a bonus to guts! it has five new tracks that basically everyone was waiting for!"

i could tell that this was something y/n had been waiting to be asked about. the pure joy in her face and voice brought a light smile to my face. her eyebrows were raised and her eyes were open wide.

"i think you'll like obsessed and girl i've always been..." farah leaned back to look at me and whisper.

the rest of the car ride was pretty fun actually. we spent time memorizing lyrics. well. they spent time helping me memorize lyrics and eventually i got lost in the music, making the time on the road go by extremely quick. by the time we were at the stadium, i had basically learned all the lyrics to both of olivia's albums. farah and y/n were so proud.

this parking lot was more packed than any concert lot i've ever been to. i mean every single spot was taken. we had to park on the street and speed walk to the stadium. we got in after what felt like hours of checking bags and tickets and whatever. and once we were in? it was cold.

cold and mildy empty. we had gotten there around 40 minutes early so we found the pit and hung around until the entire stadium was full.

when the light went off, i felt the entire aura switch very quickly. there was a different artist opening. and while i had heard of olivia once or twice around social media, i had never heard of chappell roan. of course farah and y/n had because they began screaming every single lyrics. the music actually was bad so i started to dance along and hum to as much lyrics as i could understand.

finally there were purple lights flashing and olivia came out. i couldn't help but scream along with everyone because as much as i tried to hide it, i was pretty fucking excited.

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

y/n's pov

i don't think i could express how badly i want to wrap my arms around nika just for her coming. we were basically strangers and she came to a whole concert with us. a normal person wouldn't just do that. nika would.

i won't lie, the way our shoulders bumped up against eachother while we were dancing and singing felt even better than hearing olivia rodrigo live.

there were even moments where the air was steamy but bearable. i'd take a second to look to the side and there nika would be, already looking at me as if she was waiting for our eyes to meet. she would nod her head, asking if she could take my hand without speaking. and of course i never denied. she held both of our hands in the air and jumped around to all-american bitch. i know she meant it in a "this is a girls moment" way but my head told me that she was holding my hand the way i had been wanting to for the past week.

none of this could leave my mouth of course. because one ; it was too loud for anyone to even hear my words and two ; it wouldn't be the best choice to confess my love to nika in the middle of a concert. so i shoved my thoughts and fluttery words right back down my throat and replaced them with song lyrics.

all of the thoughts in my head were bringing me to tears. the fact that i was actually in the same stadium as olivia rodrigo and the fact that i was in the same arm distance as nika muhl. and i couldn't even hold her how ive wanted.

then the scream happened. right before the scream in all-american bitch was about to happen, olivia stopped and told everyone to scream for themselves. and i knew exactly what to think about when i screamed.

i screamed about having to wait for nika even though it might not work out. i thought about the fact that our bodies were pressed together in the most platonic way possible. i screamed about the fact that i still had to sort shit out with asher when i got back to campus. and i screamed about the fact that nika had no idea.

in my head i was the loudest person there but i know i wasn't when all of the screams melted together into one.

then she played obsessed. my favorite. there were a good amount of Olivia Rodrigo songs that I did relate to and this was not one of them. I've never been obsessed with anyone's ex. I've never really...cared.

i remember when the song was first leaked on a podcast on Spotify it was the only thing I listened to for a while. I knew every lyric like the back of my hand even if I didn't associate them with my own life.

olivia had changed into a red body suit and she looked amazing. it shocked me how she sounded so perfect while dancing but that's just Olivia Rodrigo for you.

i noticed Nika getting even more loud during this song. she actually was singing the lyrics as if she had known them for months. I felt proud as fuck. are hands met again. we were jumping up and down to the beat of the drums, screaming together like we had been friends for years.

everything went by so quickly.

next thing I knew she had her hand around my waist while she tried to catch her breath. her head was closer to my hands then my face and she had a death grip on her own knee. her back lifted and fell as her heavy breaths slowly went away. i had my hand on her back, trying to make sure she was ok while the song continued.

when her head was back up at eye level the first thing she did was lean into my ear and whisper. "can I try something?"

i had never been more confused in my life until I nodded and felt her hand still lingering around my hips. her fingers grazed the skin that was open in the air. she had been pretending to be focused on the music while her hands slipped down my waist and under my skirt. my breath hitched when she used just her pinky to slide my underwear to the side.

"w-what are you doing?" I questioned, trying to pretend like I didn't want this to happen.

"oh shut up I know you've wanted me too."

i couldn't form words before she dipped two fingers in my pussy. I knew that I could be more vocal since the music was loud enough to drown everyone out but I still felt the need to stay quiet. from anyone elses view, you'd think we were just holding each other or holding hands while singing. Nika quickened her pace, already making me close. it felt like a dream. and it felt like three songs had already passed but by the time it was the bridge of obsessed, I was dripping all over Nika's fingers.

"f-fuck!" I whined out, making Nika cover my mouth with her lips. she didn't stop pumping her fingers in and out of my cunt but it felt like we were only kissing. like the only thing I could feel was her lips on mine and her tongue tangled with mine.

just as I was about to finish for the second time within 1 minute and 30 seconds, Nika pulled her fingers out of me and laid them on her own tongue, sucking them clean.

part of me was in disbelief of what just happened and the other part was fully aware.

"can we continue at home?"

i nodded eagerly, still not knowing what to say to her. I could tell by the smirk on her lips and how her hands were placed on her hips that she was real fucking proud of what she just did.

the rest of the concert was a blur to me.

[louisupdates]

The Grenfell Tower fire was one of the most appalling tragedies in recent British history. The two-day blaze killed 72 people and in turn, led to a national uproar. Still to this day, millions of Brits remember those who lost their lives during the fire, with communities regularly coming together through a slew of different mediums. One community-driven collective that was launched off the back of the Grenfell fire is Grenfell Athletic FC, a local grassroots football team that was founded to help young men come together. The football club — launched by Rupert Taylor — has just unveiled a brand-new football kit, made in collaboration with Nike and Kitlocker, that features cuts of fabric donated from items of clothing that survived the Grenfell fire, including some garments worn by the survivors on the night of their escape.

The new kits have been launched under a project titled “Fabric of the Community,” with each shirt designed to include a subtle perimeter area surrounding the club crest, reserved for a bespoke cut of fabric. One survivor from the Grenfell fire was Nick Burton, whose wife was tragically the 72nd victim of the fire. He donated the shirt worn on the night of the fire, using this project as a moment to gain further closure from the incident.

Commenting on the donation of his shirt for the “Fabric of the Community Campaign,” Mr Burton said: “This is one of the only connections that I have to my home. I feel that it’s time to let go and now it will live on as part of the fabric of the community – the community that is everything to us.”

The clean-cut shirt, which will be worn by Grenfell Athletic’s men’s and women’s teams during the 2024/25 season, is designed with NFC technology that’s intricately crafted into the shirts by Kitlocker, allowing fans to digitally interact with the kit, as an NFC chip is embedded behind the club badge, thus linking to a touching video that relates to the shirt’s donated fabric.

Along with victims of the Grenfell fire, several non-local supporters of the club have also donated to the campaign, including Hector Bellerin who donated a match-worn shirt from his time at Arsenal. One Direction star Louis Tomlinson has also donated one of his treasured Doncaster Rovers shirts.

Take a closer look at the Grenfell Athletic jersey above and be sure to buy yours now via Kitlocker.

[LINK TO ARTICLE]

[se-dissimuler]

i think there’s a disconnect between nike’s advertising and their design team because nike’s aurafarming for well known aura-less loser jannik sinner with lines like “Business as Usual” and encapsulating madi’s cinderella run with “It doesn’t happen overnight, until it does” BUT THEN you see their kits and its so. its pretty but its LACKLUSTER.