#dark halftime

[martinofthepark]

[explodingcelebi]

Last but certainly not least of the Halftime pub employees, a familiar and yet so very different face. She is a what-if character inspired by @sparklingdemon's "Explorers of Death" creepypasta, not appearing directly in the story, and whose design was first drawn by @braindeaddragulj-blog, used and changed with permission into the above. Essentially an OC of a non-OC in a creepypasta.

In a word, and because it's relevant, the past is doomed. And if the past was doomed, so too was the future doomed. Thus...the name, Doom. Original. She might have experienced the loss of her lover and killed a time god, eh, nothing to write home about. Questions, doubts and pain swirl in her mind and the one thing she knows is battling and exploring the world takes the edge off. She's loud, boisterous, and egotistical, but after pounding the drinks her soft inner self comes out. Those tears never stop flowing, by the way. You'd be agitated too if you never stopped crying...

More under the cut.

She waited for her world to be saved from the past. But the past was doomed...and so, she continued to live on the run. Knowing it would never stop. It would have kept going like that, forever and ever; Passages of Time becoming more guarded, Primal Dialga's attempts at ending her life becoming more desperate and harsh. It would have been an entire Celebi's lifetime of running, or getting caught...and she chose to stand and fight. When her loved one eventually could not run anymore, she took it upon herself to defend him as best she could. But it was to no avail...and after his life passed, so too did the lives of his killer. All at her hands.

To say that she was driven mad would be apt, but it was more frustration than frenzy. The past was doomed for reasons beyond her control. She held onto hope as long as she could, believing something would change...but what changed was her. If there were no heroes coming, she would have to become one. It was then that she proved that a simple traveler of time could best the embodiment of time - even if it would cause her world to become unstable, why would she care? She has time running through her veins, and all that she cared about was already taken from her. What did she have to lose by not holding back her rage?

Paths began to open. The frozen world she was used to began morphing, bringing new landscapes, new people. Where once there were wild, unruly, savage Pokemon, there sprung up communities, cities, entire biomes set in their own time and space. Such was the effect of the defeat of Primal Dialga. And yet her loss remained, and got heavier with every passing day. Her tears flowed so much and so freely that her tear ducts ruptured; rivers of tears became rivers of blood. Her body became paler from this, and her eyes took on a near-permanently bloodshot look. Living in the wild cause her hair to become unkempt, and while she never stopped running even after Primal Dialga's defeat, she kept mentally mapping the landscape, thinking she would have to return to these new locales.

It was when she was traveling through one of these newly-created biomes that she happened across a group of Celebi trying to start a business of their own...and she thought to lend them a hand. From what it sounded like of their pasts, and of their looks, they were sent here half-dead, but with enough regrets and experience to want to make something positive of their lives - or however much they had left, anyway. With her mind now warped by her losses and stained by her thirst for battle, she still reached out to help; with her likely being the only one experienced enough in the world they live in to travel the long distances necessary to bring the supplies they needed, she gladly took on the responsibility. Her time in this doomed future could then at least be of use to someone, and especially if it helps others drown out their sorrows in drink rather than turning to battle like she did.

Doom helps out the pub more than any of them give her credit for, despite her overwhelming presence and personality that molds the mood of the pub to what she sees fit, with most seeing that as a negative. It is, after all, her responsibility for ensuring the pub is stocked with everything it might need; while she might not always need to scale mountains or cross great ravines to achieve this, she still treats it like an adventure. Her aptitude for exploration and fighting means she is more than capable of securing supply routes and getting what she wants from those that have it. While sometimes this means going out and picking apples or simply shopping, sometimes it might mean haggling, fighting for a claim, or doing tasks to be rewarded with what she wants. She's always finding excitement whenever she heads out; she might be accosted by a group of still-wild Pokemon, find a new community to do business with...and with her world like a maze, she knows exactly how to exploit it for herself. One might say that with that worn-out bag slung around her shoulder that she evokes the image of an explorer...but she thinks of herself as an opportunist and a deliverer of justice, nothing more.

It was Ellis's plea that struck her the most from their initial meeting. Despite looking the worst of the group of Celebi, he had a certain...sense to him. Something that she felt they shared: the loss of a loved one. She could see it in his eye. A part of her feared what powers he might have to not just live in his current state, but also what thoughts of revenge or pain he might yet have. She treats him the most normal of the group, and tries not to upset him too much. It's his presence that makes her think twice about what she says or does more than any of the other Celebi.

Mute was brought in after progression on the pub gained traction, but like Ellis, the pale Celebi hasn't bothered with antagonizing her too much. It might be her heightened senses, or just that she doesn't trust anything that looks half-dead, but she looks...too innocent. Not that it has any bearing on one's past or experiences, but Doom feels she's hiding something behind that sorrowful look. Mute's optimism falls flat on Doom; it's often she that cleans up after her, including her bloody tears on the countertop. Snowy was among the Celebi that Doom met when the pub was first starting, and they initially had a solid relationship as the two shared their knowledge of the harsh climates they lived in. That soon fell apart when he became a little too social for her, and when, after a few less-than-stellar outings, she was confronted about the lack of product. It was something out of her control, and considering what had happened up until this point, she did not feel like being a scapegoat, and thus came to dislike Snowy for being too pushy and accusing her of things she hasn't done. Still, when she does drink, it's Snowy's ear that she has to tell of her woes, so even she doesn't know if she's just playing hard-to-get or just what their relationship really is. On the opposite spectrum is Anne, another Celebi that was there when the pub began. Their relationship shattered faster than hers and Snowy's, as the green 'bi was quick to show just how untrustworthy she is. Doom has advocated for Anne to be replaced, but that has since fallen on deaf ears, with both Celebi being extra wary of each other whenever they're in each other's presence. On one hand, if she gives Anne what she wants, she's letting her win; on the other hand, if she doesn't, customers suffer. As much as Doom wants to show her up, she hates lying and she hates breaking promises even more, so she still holds up her end of the business bargain. The two's arguments are enough to shape the mood of the whole pub, should it be a quiet night. Max is usually the most forgettable Celebi to her; their day-to-day paperwork is boring, and while he's usually saving her from getting into fights she shouldn't pick, she's also quick to change her mind to complain or vent about something else. Despite not even registering his presence half the time, she still tries not getting on his bad side, but she has seen enough to respect his powers. The two barely share words otherwise, and any inventory disputes between the two are easily taken care of. One might say their relationship is the most positive in the entire pub, but Max begs to differ, and they usually meet outside where no other eyes are. ...On Doom's travels, she's happened upon quite a lot of things. A broken badge of some sort caught her attention, as it reminded her of the Celebi she worked with. Its design reminded her of something, so she kept it with her. It's rumored that this badge inspired the logo for the pub...

[batshit-auspol]

have we talked about the woolworths debacle yet?

Sigh.

Alright kids strap in, because the culture wars are back and stupider than ever.

So there are two characters you need to be familiar with in this story before we continue:

Woolies (i.e. Woolworths) - One of two supermarket chains in Australia. Not related to the giant Woolworths chain that used to exist overseas, other than the Aussie one swiped the name because the original forgot to trademark the name 'Woolworths' here. Biggest company in Aus, and also the biggest employer. Not a brand anyone with more than two braincells would pick a fight with.

Peter Dutton - Man with less than two braincells, and current leader of the political opposition in Australia. Best known for bearing a passing resemblance to a potato and once demanding that a homophobic song get played for balance when a football halftime show performed 'Same Love'. His reputation is so bad that if you told an Australian that Dutton's favorite pastime was drowning puppies, they probably would believe you.

And to prove our point, here's the best headline a friendly newspaper could come up with to try spin his image:

The third thing you need to know is that in Australia we have a national holiday called "Australia Day" which is basically a scheduled day for everyone to get into a giant argument.

This is because for the last 30ish years it has been held on the anniversary of the British claiming the land around Sydney as a colony which was:

a) More the founding of an English prison then the founding of Australia, and more importantly

b) from the perspective of the people who were already living here, kindof a very shit day

Now not everyone agrees on this, and even those that don't 'celebrate' will often still have a get together with friends, but it can't be denied that we've shifted a long way from the days when the country used to celebrate Australia Day by kitting ourselves out in Aussie flag budgie smugglers, drinking enough beer to drown Harold Holt, and partying like it's 1789.

(Now a brief break for a real photo of Peter Dutton at a press conference)

Good luck sleeping tonight. Anyway back to the story.

As a result of this shift away from the trend of showing your patriotism by wearing Australian flag underpants, this year Woolworths decided that they were no longer going to be rolling out their box of southern cross thongs - on the grounds that "this kitschy shit never sells" and they are far too busy with more important things like blaming price gouging on inflation and installing self-checkout machines that think your canvas bag is a crime against humanity.

Never a man to miss an opportunity to act like a massive twat, upon hearing that Woolies had dumped their flag merch, Peter Dutton rushed onto the airwaves to declare that Woolworths had "gone woke" (paging 4chan circa 2009) and called for the country to boycott the store, a story which Australia's media have gleefully put on loudhale for over a week now in order to drive outrage clicks.

We at this point remind you that Woolworths is a company which, as we previously mentioned, basically has a monopoly on selling food in this country. Not exactly something you can boycott.

(Another real Dutton photo break)

Needless to say Dutton's dumbass plan did not immediately put Woolies out of business, however the relentless media campaign by Rupert Murdoch's minions did result in a bunch of innocent low-wage floor staff being harrassed by The Dark Lord's fanboys and a few Woolies stores were graffitied.

Allegedly being the 'free market' guy, Dutton also kindof snookered himself by demanding the free market not decide the fate of Australia day, but logic was never one of his strong suits.

Anyway, in the end we're just going to keep having this dumb circular argument every year, fulled by a media who love fanning the flames, until a politician has the guts to shift the date to May 8 (pronounced m8), and everyone promptly forgets this was ever a thing.

All in all, that's the long and the short of it. As a final touch we'll leave you with this real tweet by Opposition Leader Peter Dutton, in all its batshit glory.

We look forward to the absolute dumpster fire of comments this post is going to generate - as is the Australia Day tradition.

[kisses4kaia]

superbowl tn who loves football !! luke def does .

just imagining loser!luke get soo mad when his favorite team fumbles a touchdown, or when the ball is taken from his fav player and he just needs to calm down. and what a better time than halftime?

so like the sweet girl you are, you make no complaints when luke wordlessly and unexplainedly manhandles you onto your back spreading your legs. he kneels on the ground before you and throws your calves over his shoulders which are clad in a jersey reading his favorite tight end’s name on the back as he pulls your pretty little panties to the side.

usually, he would take his sweet time prepping you, teasing a little cruelly, but right now? right now he just wants to bury his face between your plush thighs, slobber a little mindlessly all over your pretty cunt. god, he’s so messy, too ! he’s paying little to no mind to your squeals and writhes as he just holds a strong arm to your pelvis, restraining you from trying to run away from him any further. “please, luke! slow down, sh-shit!” you moan in a high-pitched tone, the pop singer’s half-time performance on the tv now background static over the disgusting and bestial ways he’s devouring you like a wolf would prey.

everything is so primal and animalistic with the way his tongue fucks into you—because, its not because he’s desperate to drive you to pleasure, but because he’s found a vaguely familiar, warm, place for his worked tongue to dwell. he’s made you cum, what, thrice now? and not once has he stopped or even seemed to notice.

worse for you, he hasn’t resolved his anger yet, and as retribution for when you try to tug at his dark curls to dispel the achy overstimulation he’s caused, he slaps your agonized cunt and utters some filthy degradation before returning to his ministrations.

and when he realizes halftime has come to a conclusion and the game is back on, he simply presses a parting kiss to your sensitive little clit, sits back up onto the couch next to a heaving, crying, you, and glues his eyes back onto the screen in front of him; leaving you to limp off to take care of yourself.

“grab me another beer while you’re up, hm baby?”

[42frankee]

emjulate - Pestilence (d:enigma Remix) by VALE https://ift.tt/Iw7iutD

[randomshyperson]

Favorite Star - Elizabeth Olsen x Reader

Summary: During halftime at the Golden Globes, two guests find an empty room. Or the one where Lizzie's dress is driving you crazy.

Warnings; (+18), semi-public smut, bottom!Lizzie, dirty talking, implied secret relationship, just sinful. | Words: 1.437k

A/N-> This is actually fluff because I'm a sweetheart and Lizzie's face after losing another award made me very upset. And as the saying goes, the devil works fast but fanfic writers work faster.

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

-&-

You've been teasing her.

All day, even before the awards began, you filled her cell phone with selfies and short videos of getting dressed in your attire - A dark green suit that hugged your body just right and was chosen to match her eyes, giving plenty of material for every rumor that has been circling about the two of you. Then on the red carpet, with intense stares and hidden smirks in her direction that your Agent probably wouldn't approve of. When you finally greeted her, you even dared to whisper how breathtaking she looked next to her ear and Lizzie should have won an acting award right there for covering the way her body shook at the compliment. 

The Golden Globes party was as full as usual, and it was blistering hot and tedious. She still had to deal with an annoying host, and when the break finally happened, Elizabeth wasn't the only one who breathed a sigh of relief that the performance had been interrupted.

She made her way through the crowd towards the toilets, offering polite smiles to any of the known guests she crossed glances with and somehow, perhaps because she caught your eye before standing up, Lizzie knew you were following her.

Her heart leaped in her chest when she felt her wrist being gently grabbed. She caught a glimpse of your dilated pupils before you took the lead, holding her hand and guiding her into the first empty room you could find.

You let go of her hand to wrap your arms around her waist, a gentle push to have her against the closed door. Lizzie was still blushing because she was sure Meryl Streep had seen the whole thing.

Your lips were on hers in the blink of an eye, and all she could do was sigh, her eyes closing on instinct. Fuck, she missed this. It seemed like forever since you last kissed, Lizzie was almost beginning to think she'd imagined it.

When you broke apart, you were a little breathless, your eyes shining in her direction filled her stomach with butterflies.

"Hello, gorgeous." You greeted her with a smile, your hands stroking her sides. "Lizzie, this dress is... fuck."

She blushed at your affected tone of voice, smiling shyly. Her hands went to the collar of your dress shirt, and she stared back at you with the same intensity.

"I'm glad you like it." She whispers even though the room is empty and the noise of the party outside is enough to drown out the sounds inside. "Do you know what the best part is? How easy it comes off..." She teases naughty an inch away from your lips, pleased with the shaky sigh that escapes you. Your hands tighten a little more firmly around her waist and Lizzie bites her lip before instinctively thrusting her hips towards you. The cue is answered immediately - You grab her dress to put up a little so your thigh can fit between her legs, giving her something to grind against. But instead of giving in completely, she’s all too aware of where she is and the short time you both have before the end of the break. So Lizzie fiddles with your tie. "We can't. Not here."

You pout, the hands on her hips giving a tentative pull, forcing her to grind down into your flexing thigh, and her determined gaze falters into an aroused expression, the blood flowing not only to her cheeks but down her body, at a speed that makes her gasp for air. The hot knot on her lower belly making her dizzier by the second.

"Why wait, when you want it so badly?" You challenge back as if you knew how about the ache between her legs. You lean in to attack her collarbone with kisses that turn her into a panting mess, struggling to keep her eyes open. You gently bite the most sensitive spot behind her ear that you have learned to memorize and Lizzie lets out a soft whimper, her hips thrusting forward on instinct.

But there's movement outside. Footsteps and a soft bell. Break time is about to be over. Lizzie grumbles, the firm hands on your shoulder pushing you gently.

"We have to go." She says, but you don't let go, you pull her face to yours and kiss her hard. Your tongue makes her knees go weak and the only support is your thigh between her legs. She whines again, wishing she wasn’t wearing a dress at all. "Baby, they'll notice-" She manages to pant between your firm kisses, but she's grinding against you with a little more frenzy in the next second. Your hands move under her dress and Lizzie lets her face fall into the space of your neck, unable to care about the lipstick staining the collar of your shirt.

She choked on a moan when suddenly, your fingers reached forward - you just pushed the fabric of her already ruined panties aside and sank them inside her without warning. The throaty moan that escapes her is muffled on your skin.

It's ridiculous how helpless she is; riding your fingers in chase of her climax in near despair. And you're not gentle either, your thrusts are deep and quick inside her because you can't afford to prolong this and the second warning bell will ring soon. The cameras will be turned on again, your chairs will be empty, and more gossip about a possible relationship between the Marvel stars will surface in the media.

But Lizzie is coming hard against your hand, so she can't care about any of that right now.

It's one of the quickest orgasms she's ever had in her life, but she doesn't have time to feel embarrassed about it. You remove your hand to suck your fingers clean as she tries to breathe normally again, her hands gripping your shoulders so she doesn't slip to the floor due to her shaky legs.

You turn your face to her next, kissing her intensely and Lizzie moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. You smile as you break away.

"I kinda wanna skip the party and take you home, Miss Olsen." You let her know sweetly, and Lizzie lets out a short, breathy chuckle. 

But the second bell rings, and the cameras have been turned on. She curses quietly, and you help her to stand up properly.

"Come on, let me help you with this." You ask, your hands pulling her face to lessen the mess that has become her lipstick as she tries to do the same with you. 

But she knows, she knows for sure that her worn-out dreamy expression, the mess in her hair, will give away what she’s been up to. And that not only the other guests, but the fans will know too.

She swallows dryly, tugging at your hand. "They'll know."

You hesitate before giving her a small smile. "Is that so bad, Lizzie?"

She takes a deep breath, her lips cracking into a small smile. "I just... hoped to share the news in a different way."

You absorb her words for a moment, trying to ignore the warm happiness blossoming in your chest. Lizzie wants to go public. You steal a glance at the door before looking back at her and sighing. "Okay, I have an idea."

The whole thing goes very quickly; you pull your cell phone out of your pocket and take a picture of your lipstick-stained shirt collar. She looks at you with a frown.

"What...?"

"Well, you're not on Instagram so this is as good as it gets." You explain, letting her see the photo and the small caption that simply read “a good-luck kiss from my favorite star”. Lizzie felt her face burn, and she giggled nervously. This would cause some commotion, she could already imagine Twitter going insane trying to guess who you were talking to. Knowing her fans, they probably already knew.

She stares at you to say; "Your agent is going to kill you. Not only that, they'll drown you with questions when we are out of here."

You chuckled, offering her a wink. "It was totally worth it."

She approaches again, stealing a short kiss before touching the door handle. "I'll fix my makeup, you go ahead."

You pout. "But my picture was so nice..."

Lizzie rolls her eyes with a laugh. "I never said you couldn't post it." She teases, and it's her turn to give you a wink before walking out the door.

This woman is still going to be the death of you. Honestly.

[5ueckers]

but i'm a cheerleader

pairing : paige bueckers x cheerleader!reader

warnings : smut. semi–public sex.

notes : this is highkey unrealistic af so don't think too hard abt it! also i got kinda lazy while proofreading and editing, so there may be some errors/might feel a bit clunky at times, sorry in advance 🫠

words : 2148

xl center erupts with screams and applause as the final buzzer rings out— the university of connecticut’s women’s basketball team, for the tenth game in a row, has come out victorious, winning with a whopping forty–seven points over their competitors.

you jump up from where you’ve been sitting cross–legged at the baseline of the court and shake your bright red pom–poms, yelling out one of your cheers. the rest of the girls follow suit after you, their captain, perfectly in sync as the pep band begins to play the uconn husky fight song.

you’re never not tired as hell at the end of a game— the exhaustion from your halftime performance starting to set in and your head dully aching from your tight half–up–half–down hairstyle— but none of that ever deters you. you’re captain for a reason, bringing sharp precision, clean lines, and high energy to every performance, whether its on a court, field, or stage.

but of course, even the best of best have their weaknesses.

yours has actually landed you in trouble before, just once— you missed a whole count because you were distracted by a pair of icy blue eyes watching you intently from uconn’s bench, her intrigued expression being replaced by a smirk once she realized she’d caused your mishap. coach really chewed you out next practice, but you got got the blue–eyed girl’s number after that game, so it was honestly kind of worth it.

your post–game cheer earns its own round of applause from the remaining fans in the stands, and you bow, shaking your poms the whole way back to the baseline, where your coach awaits you. she offers a few nice jobs and back pats, as well as a fair share of critiques, before finally telling you all you’re free to go.

while the rest of your team head for the cheer locker room, you start toward the opposite direction. “y/n?!” one of your teammates calls out after you, confused.

“go on, i’ll meet you guys later!” you reply, before running to meet paige at the other side of the court, by the stands.

there’s still a large crowd of fans waiting to take pictures and have their jerseys signed by your girlfriend, but once she notices you approaching, she yells out, “alright, y’all, that’s it for tonight! thanks for coming!”

her voice softens when she turns to you and smiles, “hey.”

“hey, you,” you say gingerly, hyper–aware of the cameras fixed on paige, and so also you, by extension.

she nods her head in the direction of the arena’s large exit doors, silently instructing you to follow her.

you keep a safe distance while you’re still in the presence of the fans and cameras and the media, but as soon as you’re both in the tunnel, so dark that no one can see you, paige is all over you. her hands fly to your waist if they’re under the control of a magnetic pull as her lips press to yours, gasping into your mouth. you shudder as you melt into the kiss, into her, throwing your arms around her neck. you part your lips, allowing her to lick into your mouth— you want her to eat you alive.

“you were so good out there,” you tell her once you part, voice breathy.

paige grins cockily, already knowing that she played well, and you can see that your red lipstick has transferred onto her mouth, making you laugh. “what? what’s funny?” she questions, confused but chuckling a bit herself.

you shake your head. “nothing, just—” you point at your own lips, which you’re sure have also gotten smudged. “you’ve got something.”

“ah,” she rolls her eyes, genuinely sounding irked, which only makes you laugh harder. “well, you’ve got something—”

she cuts herself off by simply kissing you again, a light peck, taking your hand into hers soon after she separates your bodies.

high on the rush of the win and each other, you two walk hand–in–hand to the women’s locker room— only to be met with aubrey, crouched at her locker as she finishes packing up her things. if not your lipstick literally being smeared all over paige’s lips, then the flush on both of your faces and the way you freeze and suddenly drop each other’s hands, even though both of your teams are aware of your relationship and you have nothing to hide, certainly tells the older girl everything she needs to know.

she simply stuffs a few more of her things into her bag before heading out, lightly punching paige on the shoulder and laughing as she passes by, “see y’all!”

one you hear the door close, you and paige just look at each other before bursting into giggles at the interaction. “she’s never gonna let me live that down.” the blonde groans, wrapping her arms around your waist again.

you just laugh, falling quiet as you find yourself lost in her eyes for the nth time since you first met her. those eyes will be the death of you, you’re sure of it. she gets kind of sheepish whenever you look at her for too long, avoiding your gaze and blushing— you’re not sure why, she’s the most beautiful person you’ve ever seen. “i love you.” you say, very seriously.

“i love you, too, y/n,” she responds, just as earnest, and leans in to kiss you, only to be stopped.

“wait,” you say, reaching up and finally taking that godforsaken ponytail down, feeling all the tension in your head release as soon as you do. you drop the hair tie and bow to the ground, haphazardly brushing your hair out of your face with your fingers as it falls out of the style.

“god, you’re so fucking pretty,” the blonde marvels aloud, before finally kissing you again.

your lips move together languidly as her hands move down until they’re cupping your ass, kneading the soft flesh in her palms. “paige,” you whine into her mouth, allowing your head to roll back as her lips trail wet, open–mouthed kisses from your jawline all the way down your exposed collarbones.

“yeah, baby?” she replies and then sucks harshly at a particularly sensitive spot, making you whimper.

“want you,”

“here?” she pulls back slightly to scan the locker room— everyone else’s belongings are gone, it’s just her bag and shoes left in front of her storage space. still, someone may have forgotten something and could easily walk in on you while trying to find it. “someone could see—”

you don’t care. you pull paige back in, connecting your lips again, pushing your tongue into her mouth and kissing her with the kind of fervor that makes it impossible for her to deny you. she guides you backwards until your back is pressed to the one navy blue wall that isn’t lined with lockers, her hands feeling you all over.

her fingertips find their way to the hem of your tiny skirt, pulling up until the fabric is bunched up high on your hips, revealing the even smaller red safety shorts you’re required to wear under your uniform. she steps back briefly to give you some space so you can push them and your panties down your legs, kicking them aside, before she slots her thigh between your legs. already knowing exactly what to do from experience, you grind down against her thigh, and it feels so good when you clit drags against her bare skin, you whimper and repeat the motion again and again.

paige uses one hand to hold you steady with a strong grip on your waist, while the other works at pushing up the top piece to your uniform and bra, exposing your breasts to the cool air of the locker room. she immediately leans down to suck and lick at one of your firm nipples while rolling over the other with her free thumb. the sounds are obscene— your moans, paige’s slurping, and the squelch of your wet pussy rubbing against her thigh all coming together to fill the room.

“fuck, p,” you moan, eyes squeezing shut. “so good.”

paige releases your nipple from her mouth with low groan, briefly licks at the other, before standing upright. she leans in, dangerously close and she whispers into your ear, “i can feel it, y’know. you really want my fingers that bad?”

you blush, flustered by her referring to the way your pussy keeps clenching against her thigh, showing how needy you are, but still nod. “need it, paige, please,” you whimper, hoping she’ll give in quicker if you beg for it.

you’re proven correct, because your girlfriend plants a quick kiss on your cheek, murmuring, “anything for my girl,” before removing her thigh from between your legs, dropping down to her knees and crouching in front of you. ever the tease, she starts by kissing at your thighs, whispering sweet nothings into your skin— beautiful, so pretty, good girl, all mine.

and then two of of her long, slender fingers are prodding at your entrance, easing in nice and slowly. your pussy clenches around the digits, welcoming her inside like an old friend, your walls slick and velvety.

you allow your head to tip back against the wall, eyes closing again, “oh my god.” paige knows your body so well, knows just how to angle her fingers and jab at that sweet spot inside you, the one that makes you cry every time. she adds her mouth to the mix, kitten–licking at your clit before sucking it into her mouth, sending shivers up your spine.

“i’m close,” you cry out, and paige hums against you encouragingly, sending vibrations all throughout your core.

what really has you tipping over the edge is the look in her eyes when you finally will yours open, staring up at you with such adoration as she gets you off. you always said those eyes would be the death of you; your kryptonite. you nearly fold over as your orgasm hits you, legs shaking as the pleasure ebbs throughout your whole body, sobbing out your girlfriend’s name.

“you good?” paige chuckles, amused by your struggling. her lips, covered in your cum and arousal, plus your lipstick from earlier, are glistening in the fluorescent lighting of the locker room— the sight is so hot, you almost feel ready to orgasm again. almost.

“y–yeah, i just—” you swallow thickly, heaving. “need a minute.”

paige’s hands grip your hips, holding you steady until she feels you’re able to stand on your own. only when she’s certain you won’t topple over does she let go of you, sweetly kissing you on your forehead when she stands up. “i’ll be right back, wait here,” she tells you, disappearing momentarily.

“dude! i look fucking insane!” you hear her yell out, making you laugh weakly. you figure she’s found a mirror.

she returns with a wet hand towel, having washed off her mouth, hands, and thigh. she’s gentle as she cleans you up, knowing you’re still sensitive. then, she grabs your panties and shorts from off the carpeted floor, bending over and holding them at your ankles to help you re–dress.

“wait, but i wanted to do you, too,” you whine, a genuine pout setting in on your face as you step back into the panties.

paige shakes her head. “when we get home,” she offers. “i don’t wanna… defile this place any more than we already have.”

you laugh, again, at her choice of words. paige helps you get back into your shorts, as well, and you pull your skirt, bra, and top back down to their regular positions, smoothing over your uniform with the palms of your hands, trying to look at least a little bit presentable for when you walk out of here. paige wanders off toward her locker, changing out of her uniform.

finally feeling stable enough to walk, you find your hair tie and bow on the ground, rolling the former onto your wrist. “wait, c’mere,” you wave paige over, just as she’s pulling a fresh t–shirt over her head.

“hm?” she hums as she approaches, but you just motion for her to lean down a bit. she complies, and you place your bright red bow in her hair, right at the top of her ponytail.

“awww,” you gush at the sight. paige just looks at you, trying her best to appear unimpressed, but you can see the smile playing at her lips. “so pretty! cheer captain!”

she spends all of thirty seconds pretending like she’s not enjoying this, before breaking out into a dance, very poorly imitating your cheer routine from earlier. you encourage her, nonetheless, clapping and cheering, “go paige! go paige!”

she finishes with a ridiculously complex move that you’re pretty sure belongs to some tiktok dance learned recently with kk, grinning, “how was that?”

“10/10, hands down!”

[steddieas-shegoes]

Wayne first saw Steve Harrington when he was on a class field trip to the plant. He couldn’t have been older than 9. Eddie hadn’t come to live with him yet.

He only saw him for a minute, but it only took a minute to see that the boy had dark circles under his eyes that rivaled his own.

It took him a while to forget about the exhausted child in front of him and how much he reminded him of his nephew.

*****

He attended one of the Hawkins High basketball games during Eddie’s first senior year, took the night off for it, even. Eddie was never one for sports, so the fact he agreed to play with his band during their halftime was something Wayne couldn’t pass up watching. It had to have meant something to his boy for him to even mention it, so he played the part of proud parent and sat through the first half of the game.

But when he saw Steve Harrington out there, he couldn’t help but check for those dark circles or the same exhausted slump he saw in a child much too young to show physical signs of exhaustion.

He appeared to be fine, though Wayne couldn’t help but notice how he kept searching the stands for something or someone during every pause in the game.

Wayne had a gut feeling he knew who he was searching for, and an even stronger one that he wouldn’t find them.

After the game and the show, Wayne helped Eddie pack his guitar and amp into the back of the van.

“Hey, you ever talk to that Harrington boy?”

Eddie’s face was answer enough.

*****

To know Eddie was alive wasn’t enough for Wayne, he needed to watch him breathing, watch his fingers twitch while he slept. He needed to know that Eddie was real, was safe, was right in front of him.

But apparently Steve Harrington needed the same reassurances.

Steve had been by Eddie’s side since they let visitors into the room. As far as Wayne knew, he’d only left once for an hour to visit that Max girl’s room.

He was hesitant to say anything beyond kind greetings and goodbyes when he had to head to work. Steve looked one second away from breaking down.

He held Eddie’s hand like it was a lifeline, and maybe it was for him. Whatever they’d been through was serious, proof of that being the injuries they both were dealing with and the fact that Eddie hadn’t opened his eyes yet.

As much as Wayne wanted explanations, he wanted Steve to find comfort in being with Eddie more.

The dark circles under his eyes remained.

Wayne watched the way Steve would stare at Eddie, wordlessly begging him to open his eyes, and wondered what had changed between them. Was it just the trauma of the situation or something else?

He’d known Eddie liked boys for years; hard to hide when you get caught sneaking out of the house to go to a “special” bar in Indianapolis on a school night. He hugged him, told him he loved him no matter what, and offered to drive him out there himself the next weekend he had off if he promised to not go alone on a school night.

But Steve didn’t seem the type. Wayne had learned how to spot them, mostly so he could protect Eddie, and Steve had never seemed like he’d strayed or even thought about straying from girls.

He shouldn’t assume, though.

He knew how Richard Harrington was.

So he sat silently, guarding the two boys who needed it most.

On the sixth day, Wayne asked a nurse if Steve had left the hospital at all.

“No. Poor boy’s been glued to his side. The doctor had to stitch him up in the room because he wouldn’t leave.”

“Stitch him up?”

“Oh, yes! He had a large wound on his side and his chest had a few areas that needed stitches. He wouldn’t let anyone bandage his neck, but they prescribed him penicillin to try to prevent infection.”

Wayne shook his head. So Steve was a self-sacrificing idiot. Time to address that.

“Thanks, Janet. I owe ya a coffee for takin’ such good care of Eddie.”

Janet blushed. “Stop it! I’m just doing my job.”

Wayne smiled at her before making his way into Eddie’s room.

As usual, Steve was in a chair by his bed, hand in hand with Eddie.

The unusual part was that Steve was fast asleep, head nestled against Eddie’s leg.

It couldn’t be comfortable, but going off of how Steve had looked the day before, he was probably too tired to care about comfort.

Wayne looked at the scene in front of him.

Something else was different, too.

Eddie’d moved.

Only someone who’s been in this room for hours on end every day would have noticed it. Eddie’s head was turned towards Steve, and his other hand had found it’s way to Steve’s hair.

Oh.

So it was like that.

Wayne let out a shaky breath, too many emotions trying to escape at once. His boy had woken up, and had found comfort in someone who hadn’t left his side for almost a week. He couldn’t ask for more.

He slowly made his way out of the room, catching Janet just as she was passing to check on another patient.

“Did Eddie wake up?”

Janet’s eyebrows furrowed. “No, Steve hasn’t come to get us. Why? Is everything alright?”

Wayne nodded. “Everything’s fine.”

She smiled at him and continued on her way.

Wayne smiled to himself as he made his way down to the cafeteria to get Steve some food.

It looked like Steve Harrington was finally getting some rest.

Supportive Uncle Wayne Series Part 2

[putellasawfc]

Hey, loved your latest fic! Don’t know if you’re taking requests but if you are could you do one with Lucy Bronze where you play together at England and have been dating for years? Maybe you used to play overseas (at Barca maybe?) and now you’ve moved back to the uk to play for Chelsea. Reader has fight with Katie McCabe in a Chelsea V Arsenal game and people online start shipping them and saying they’ve got sexual tension on the pitch and Lucy gets jealous/possessive. Obvs only if you wanna write it. Love your writing! <3

twitter fingers !

lucy bronze x chelsea!reader

-

as you stood on the pitch with the rest of the chelsea girls, awaiting the whistle that would commence the game, your eyes wandered to the sea of colours in the crowd, seeking the presence of one person specifically. it was a rare occurrence that your girlfriend managed to attend one of your games in person, but with an england game three days away, lucy had flown in the previous day, thus meaning she was able to be here today. which you were over the moon about. you always argued that you managed to play better when you could hear her cheering for you in the crowd.

it didn’t take long for you to find her, with her hair in its usual bun and a dark blue chelsea shirt on her shoulders, you grinned at the vision, feeling a little giddy when you remembered that she currently had your last name sprawled along her back. the woman in question eventually looked up from her drink and quickly set her sights on you, a matching smile adorning her bare features. she raised her hand, two of her fingers interlocked, letting you know she had her fingers crossed for you to win, and successfully earn an extra three points that you needed. you quickly blew her a kiss in response, and just in time as the whistle sounded not even a second later and the ninety minutes began.

-

the first forty five minutes went by pretty quickly, both teams had equal opportunities to score a goal but none yet had been made which was both a relief and frustrating (especially when you watched lauren james’ shot bounce off the crossbar, just an inch away from flying into the back of the net), but you still had four minutes of extra time to get a goal before you went in for halftime. something you were determined to achieve, wanting to give your team something to boost their confidence before you all came back out again. so when the ball fell at your feet after being passed to you by jessie, you ran forward with it towards the arsenal goal with determination.

infuriatingly, just as you had gotten yourself in the perfect position to shoot for the goal, a foot slid beneath your feet causing you to stumble in your spot and fall on your side with a groan. the ball flew forward off to the sidelines and you watched it go with furrowed brows, returning your gaze to the culprit who had tackled you to the ground, in your opinion, unfairly. when your eyes landed on the irish brunette, you weren’t surprised that it was katie mccabe of all people who had sent you flying to the ground, she did have a reputation for being an aggressive player after all. she didn’t even bother to check if you were okay, which didn’t shock you really but you couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing in disbelief.

instead, it was mia who lent you a hand, one which you gratefully took as you forced yourself to your feet.

“you good?” she questioned, her spare hand clamping down on your shoulder.

you nodded, “yeah, thank you.”

she smiled, patting you on the shoulder twice more before jogging away, both of you getting back into position as you waited for the ball to be thrown in so the game could continue.

-

halftime came with no goal from either side, after your close call at shooting for the net, mccabe had been breathing down you neck and it was beginning to bug you. yes, you understood that it was literally her job to watch her opponents and make sure they don’t score any goals, but christ she was practically standing on your feet at this point, you barely got a breather. you were half tempted to push her to the floor and take the yellow card if it meant she’d get the message and leave you be. something you had expressed to your squad at halftime.

“don’t let her get to you like that, that’s what she wants.” millie had gently nudged her shoulder against yours as you drank from your bottle.

“wouldn’t surprise me.” sam piped up. “think you scared her when you almost scored, she’ll be doing it on purpose to antagonise you so you eventually retaliate and get sent off.”

you took their words into consideration, knowing they were most likely correct. “i know, i know. it’s just really pissing me off, she’s like my shadow! always in the corner of my eye like we’ve been handcuffed together or something.”

they laughed at that, and you couldn’t help but smile too at your own exaggerations.

“maybe if you pay her no attention she’ll get bored and move onto someone else.” ashley suggested, leaning against the wall opposite the one you were leaning on.

you sighed and nodded, placing your bottle back down with the rest. “yeah that sounds like the best idea. either that or i kick the ball straight in her stupid face and knock her out cold … can’t follow me around then.”

“oi! none of that now.” emma called out and you winced at being caught by your manager, turning around in your spot to glance at the blonde woman who was staring you down like a parent would a naughty child.

“i was only joking.” you muttered sheepishly, “promise.”

“yeah, you better be joking. can’t have any of you getting any red cards now.” she told you, ruffling your hair to show she wasn’t mad, but she was being serious. “ashley’s right, just ignore her. she doesn’t need to know she’s upsetting you or else she’ll thrive off it.” she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, “now come on it’s time to get back out there.”

-

ten minutes into the second half and your patience was running out, fast. it was as if katie’s mission for the match was to get to you, and you were beginning to think that her manager may have actually assigned her to piss you off until you exploded.

every step you made she was either behind or in front of you, everywhere you looked you saw a flash of red and the number 15 in your line of sight, everytime you miraculously managed to gain possession of the ball, her foot was sliding between yours and kicking it away either off pitch or to one of her own teammates and you had about enough at this point. she was making you feel like a useless player, like there was no point having you on the pitch anymore. you couldn’t move anywhere, and everytime the ball entered your personal space, you acquired it for about ten seconds before it was gone again.

you received many sympathetic looks from a few of the chelsea girls the longer it went on, they had heard you ranting and raving at halftime so they knew you were beyond fed up at this point. you had even gotten a pitiful look from alessia russo, one of the arsenal girls and your fellow lioness. even she could sense your forever growing agitation at the situation.

fifty seven minutes in and you were spared a couple of seconds to catch your breath, the ball had been kicked out of play and caitlin foord was waiting for it on the sideline so she could throw it in as it was an arsenal ball. waiting patiently, you couldn’t help but spare a quick glance to the crowd watching, where you knew lucy was sat. your eyes met instantly as the barcelona player was already eyeing you up with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth and her elbows resting on her knees. not being stood too far away from where she was seated, you were able to see the wink she sent you when she realised you were now looking back at her, one which made you grin as the stressful match you were partaking in flew to the back of your mind for a split second.

you knew that even when she wasn’t present at any of your matches that she was backing you all the way. if she wasn’t busy with her own club, she’d call you, or facetime you before any games you had and give you a pep talk. telling you how amazing of a player you are, how proud she was of you and how she knew you were gonna be great. and even if she was busy, you could guarantee a quick message at some point. whether it was before a match or during halftime, or even a message after from her talking about how good you were on the pitch (if you were benched for any reason she’d tell you she couldn’t wait to see you back on for the next game), but to have her here in person, real flesh and blood, was one of the best feelings.

it relaxed you in a sense, knowing that no matter how the game went, good or bad, that you’d have her there to praise you or comfort you with not only her words but also her touch. she’d shower you in hugs and kisses, give you a massage if needed, and spoil you rotten whether that be with affection or a cute little night in that she’d set up. it was something you’d always look forward to when your plans aligned and you’d end up in the same country, which unfortunately didn’t happen as often as it used to when you were signed at barcelona yourself.

a whizz of blue flying past you in your peripheral vision pulled you from your lovey dovey thoughts, and you realised that ball had been thrown back into play. getting back into the right mindset, you chased after the ball which was currently at the feet of steph catley, as she looked for someone to pass it to. wanting to get into a position where you might be able to intercept the ball and gain possession, you were quick to move, running a meter infront of the arsenal player. but just as you predicted, as soon as you were about to jump forward and reach your foot out for the ball that was currently rolling at some speed towards another arsenal player, a player you had become very familiar with this game pounced.

her body barged into yours with force, the velocity sending you falling backwards with a thud that shot pain spiralling down your spine as you coughed at the sudden collision with the ground. the whistle blew and you rolled onto your side to relieve some of the discomfort you were feeling, just grateful it had been your back that had taken the brunt of the fall and not the back of your head. players approached you to ensure you were okay, as well as the ref who stood at a short distance watching you carefully. you were pulled to sit up by sam, who kneeled down on the grass beside you.

“you okay? do you need medics?” she asked, her eyes swimming with concern.

you shook your head, stretching your back with a small groan. “no, just gonna hurt like a bitch later i think.”

she nodded at that, glad to see you weren’t suffering too bad. but both of your attentions turned to the commotion that began to take place to the side, a pissed off looking katie glared at the ref who now held up a yellow card in her hand. finally.

“are ya fuckin’ havin’ a laugh? there’s nothing wrong wit’ her! look!” she shouted, her irish accent thick as she pointed towards you sat on the ground.

you frowned at that, pushing yourself up with a little help from sam before you moved to stand infront of katie, “you could’ve given me a concussion! you can’t just barge into people because you feel threatened by them.” you spat.

katie, clearly not liking what you were saying or how you were speaking to her was quick to jump to her defence. she took a few step towards you, in what you assumed was an attempt to intimidate you but with yourself standing a few inches taller than the woman, you couldn’t help but scoff.

“a concussion? i barely touched ya, ya just thought if you rolled around like a ditz you’d get a free kick or somet.” she laughed, though it lacked humour.

by now players from both teams had come to stand between the two of you, wanting to put some space between you both before something stupid happened.

you rolled her eyes at her accusation, throwing her a dirty look. “i don’t play dirty like you mccabe.”

that was the last thing you said before you were led off by lauren, the james sibling held onto your upper arm with a gentle grip. “crazy girl that one.”

you hummed in amusement, “yeah, think she’ll back off now she’s got a yellow?”

the striker nodded instantly. “oh yeah. unless she’s wanting to get sent off, but i can’t see that happening.”

you nodded in agreement, giving the girl one last smile before you walked off to an empty space just a few feet away ready to get back into action. now, without katie at your feet with every second that passed, you were feeling more confident within your abilities and were eager to help your team get the victory you had been craving ever since the first whistle.

-

ninety eight minutes had been played overall, and your team was victorious in the end. with a 2 - 1 finishing score, you guys were very happy with the result. you knew going into the match that this was going to be a close game, something that had pushed you to push yourself beyond your usual best at training and thankfully so, as it seemed all your hard work had paid off in the end. even if you were hoping for a bigger gap in the win, you did win at the end of the day.

you had just finished doing your rounds at the stadium, greeting fans and taking pictures with those who asked, as well as signing shirts and giving away your own shirt to a little girl who held a sign that told you it was her eleventh birthday and all she wanted was your shirt - how could you say no to that? you were just giving a few hugs to the arsenal girls, praising their efforts when a weight pressed on your sides and you swivelled your head around in surprise, coming face to face with a grinning lucy.

you grinned back at her, wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her against you in a tight hug, her welcoming the embrace immediately.

“congrats gorgeous. knew you could do it.” she pressed a kiss to your temple, and you melted at the affection.

“thank you.” you hummed, echoing her actions and pressing your own kiss to her temple. “sorry, i probably stink right now.”

she laughed at that, running her hand up and down your back. “yeah, just a bit.”

you pulled away from the hug with a playful roll of your eyes, noticing the way your girlfriends face fell serious for a brief moment.

“you alright though? look like you had a bad fall earlier.” she asked, her hand moving to massage your shoulder.

you sighed and nodded, “yeah, i’m alright. just have to be careful next few days i suppose.”

she nodded at that, and you both began the journey to the showers, eager to get clean so you could leave and head home with your girl. “was kinda sexy seeing you get in mccabe’s face like that.”

lucy’s admission had you laughing in surprise, eyeing her up with a look of pure amusement. “really?”

she nodded, eyebrows furrowed like she couldn’t believe you thought she could be joking. “yeah! course. never see you get like that, must be my lucky day.”

“mhm, something like that.” you beamed.

-

the next morning came by sooner than you had liked, the light finding it’s way into your room through the cracks of your curtains was enough to bring you from your slumber with a groan. you stirred in bed for a little bit, stretching out your tired limbs and running your fingers through your slightly knotted hair as you began to wake up properly. it was when you finally came to, that you noticed the familiar weight beside you that kept you warm during the night was not present, the realisation had you cracking open an eye to see if your suspicions were true. and true they were.

the only thing to your left was an empty spot that your beloved girlfriend occupied on a night, and sometimes during the day too. you frowned, pushing yourself up onto your elbows as you encouraged yourself to slip out of the warm cocoon you were clinging onto, to go and find lucy who should’ve been laid beside you, tickling your back and whispering sweet nothings into your ear in an attempt to wake you up. eventually you came to the conclusion that the pros outweighed the cons, and moved to stand with a wince as your bare feet met the laminate flooring that held a slight chill to it. not wasting anymore time, you continued on your way and began exploring the house for the older woman.

the bathroom was free, the door left open and the light off with no signs of life within. so you ventured downstairs, checking the living room that was also empty, as was the kitchen and the downstairs bathroom. eventually you made it into the dining room, beginning to think lucy had left the house without saying anything, something that was unusual to you as a couple as you usually let eachother know if you had to be anywhere the next morning.

just as you were about to give up, hand already reaching for your phone in your dressing gown pocket to call the footballer, a movement in the back garden caught your attention and you turned to the patio doors that were opposite the dining room table. there lucy was, sat at the patio table with her own phone in her hand and a noticeable frown on her bare features, looking troubled by whatever she was seeing on her mobile screen. you smiled in relief, knowing where you girlfriend was causing the minor stress that had built up to melt away in an instant.

you made your way to the sliding doors, pulling them open which had lucy looking up from her phone at the sound, you smiled at her when she made eye contact, but the gesture faded when she didn’t return it. okay she’s not in a good mood.

“hey you.” you spoke, shivering slightly at the morning chill that hit you through the layers of clothing you had on. “how come you weren’t next to me when i woke up this morning?”

you sat beside on her the empty chair, growing even more confused at her peculiar mood when she refused to make eye contact with you. “just couldn’t fall back asleep. thought it’d be better to come down instead of waking you up.”

“but you always wake me up when you can’t sleep.” you pouted. which was true.

usually, no matter what, lucy would usually prod and poke you when she was unable to sleep. whether it was because of a bad dream that had woken her, she was feeling restless or was stressing about something. she’d always pull you from your sleep and force you to keep her company even if you spewed a variety of excuses and complaints her way.

“i didn’t wanna bother ya.” she mumbled, still scrolling through her phone without a glance in your direction.

you eyed her for a moment as silence washed over you both, noticing the furrow of her brows and the clenching of her jaw, both signs that she had something brewing in her head, something that she didn’t want to share with you. moments like this were tricky. lucy was someone who would shy away from any attempt at trying to get into her head to figure out what was going on. if you went too far she’d pull back, try to build her walls back up and avoid you for awhile, which you had learnt at the beginning of your relationship. but now, four years later you liked to think you had a better understanding of the woman you were sure you were going to marry one day. which meant you had a better chance of getting her to open up to you, you just had to go about it the right way.

“i know there’s something bothering you, i can read you like a book you know.” you told her, noticing the way her thumb paused mid scroll. “and if you didn’t wake me up to talk to me about it you’re obviously not ready to talk about it yet, and i won’t push you. but you know i’m here, yeah? always. i love you so much, and i don’t want you suffering in silence at whatever’s got you so closed off today.” you leant over the glass table and pressed a gentle peck to her cheek, careful of the glasses that knocked into your own cheek. “always here for you, no matter what. don’t forget that.”

the defender remained still for a moment and you waited patiently to see if she made any move to let you in, finally tell you what was plaguing her mind. and it only took a total of two minutes for her to finally lock her phone and place it down onto the table, a hand running down her face as she shook her head.

“it’s silly really, i just let my mind go into overdrive and it hasn’t stopped since i got outta bed.” she told you, her hand reaching out to grip onto yours.

her cold rings met your bare skin, the temperature difference sending a small shiver down your spine. “well maybe you’ll feel better if you get it out.”

she sighed, her blue eyes lowering to the trainers on her feet as she debated on how to even start. “i just, decided to check my phone this morning and people on twitter were saying stuff and it’s put me in a mood.”

“oh luc.” you frowned, hand squeezing hers in a comforting gesture. “you know you shouldn’t listen to what people say online. they don’t have anything better to do than sit back and put down people to make them feel better about themselves.”

“no, no. it’s not anything like that.” she reassured you, and you furrowed your brows.

“then what is it?”

“people were talking about the game yesterday. saw some say that you and katie had some sexual tension thing going on during the match. with the fight and everything. and then a bunch were agreeing and saying you’d make a good couple, that you’d be fit together. as if we haven’t been in a very public relationship for the last few years.” she grumbled, an annoyed grimace settling onto her face towards the end.

you let the newfound knowledge settle in, not really surprised with what people were saying online. you’d seen it happen often with the women in your line of work. for some reason, whenever two girls were a little cozy together infront of the camera, whether it be a simple hug or a hushed conversation, or even just a smile sent in another’s direction, social media seemed to go wild with accusations and theories about whether or not they were dating. you’d been taught by a few players back when you first made it big to not let it get to you, or else it would ruin friendships that you held near and you didn’t want that.

“let them say whatever they want to babe, you know where my love lies and that’s with you.” you told her, meaning every word with every bit of your heart. “they don’t know me, or us, or even katie for that matter. by the end of the week i bet they’ll have all moved onto some other wild theory, you know what imaginations can do.”

you stood up from your chair and moved to sit down on her jean clad thighs, manoeuvring your body so that you were sat sideways, your feet hanging in the air. you ran your hands through her hair that was hanging down by her shoulders, free from any hair band or clip which was a rare luxury with how often she was either training or playing on the pitch. when her body relaxed and her eyes drooped slightly at the feeling of your nails scratching at her scalp just how she liked it, you grinned and leaned forward to connect your lips with hers, giving her three short but sweet pecks.

“i love you silly girl. don’t let anyone let you doubt that, especially people who don’t even know us.” you told her, your voice stern but still gentle so she knew you weren’t mad or upset.

“i know, ‘m sorry. i love you too, to bits. just got in my head a bit, you know how i am.” she rubbed your thighs with her hands. “and i don’t really enjoy the thought of you with anyone else.”

your eyebrow quirked at that, a teasing smile now on your face. “jealous were we, miss bronze?”

she rolled her eyes playfully, fingers digging into your thighs now which made you squeal at the ticklish feeling. “maybe a tad.”

“oh just a tad? so you wouldn’t mind if i messaged katie right now? asked her if she wanted to play on these fantasies that are brewing on twitter?” you asked, with absolutely no intention of doing so.

“you wouldn’t dare.”

“hmmm, might have to. after all you did have me waking up to an empty bed this morning, no way to treat your lady.”

you squealed in surprise as lucy rose to her feet, her grip on you tightening as she held you bridal style in her arms. your own hands gripped at her shoulders, and you looked at her with your mouth agape in shock.

“lucy!”

“you want me to show you how i treat my lady? gladly.” she told you, her lips dangerous close to your own, the small gap and the meaning behind her words leaving your heart racing in your chest.

-

it was no surprise when you awoke from your afternoon nap, the long morning you’d spent rolling around under your sheets with a very eager lucy having worn you out, that the first thing to pop up on your phone when you looked at it was a notification.

lucybronze tagged you in a post.

the post being two pictures from the previous day. the first one was the back of the chelsea shirt she was wearing, showcasing your last name, her built frame and her infamous bun, making it very obvious who it was wearing the shirt. and the second was of the two of you on a date, the night lucy had flown in at a restaurant you frequently visited together. you were sat beside eachother in a booth, cheesy grins on your face and a drink in both of your hands.

you admired the pictures with a grin similar to the one staring you back in the picture, heart warming at the sight of your girlfriend looking so happy to be with you. your eyes flicked to caption and you couldn’t hold back the eye roll at the words she had written.

lucybronze glad to be reunited with my love. can’t wait to spend the next week together - on and off the pitch.

[thebirdandthebee]

Back to Sleep (18+)

A little something to try to get back into writing - let me know what you think! 18+ only! This is not edited, so please excuse any glaring issues.

Title: Back to Sleep Ain't sorry that I woke ya. WC: 1839

“Baby, you almost done?” Jake asked from the kitchen, where he’s just finished loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. “Come on, let’s be couch potatoes,” he insists.

It’s tempting, it really is, but you’ve got so much work to get done to stay ahead of schedule. Perched at the dining room table, your hair was tossed up in a ponytail as you focused on the laptop ahead. Yes, you were first in your class in your occupational therapy program, but final exams were coming and you were gunning for the number-one spot.

“You go ahead and I’ll meet you,” you said, tipping your head back for your fiancé to plant a quick kiss on your lips.

“You’ve been studying like a maniac for weeks,” Jake pointed out, one hand gripping the back of your chair and the other braced on the corner of the dining table, “one night isn’t going to break your streak – exam isn’t for a few weeks, still.”

“I know, I promise, give me thirty minutes,” you insisted, looking up at him through your blue light glasses that you knew he loved.

“Thirty minutes,” he repeated, kissing you again.

But thirty minutes came and went, and you were still staring intently at your computer. Admittedly, Jake got swept up in Thursday Night Football, and at halftime, he shook out of it.

“Excuse me,” he called from over the back of the couch, “Where is my fiancé?” He asked. You peeled your eyes off of your study cards, pushing your glasses up the bridge of your nose.

“Twenty more minutes!” You called back, tucking your hair behind your ear. But as twenty minutes passed once again, you found Jake dragging your chair back from the table. “Jake, please, I’m on a roll,” you whined. You barely had time to grab up your notecards before Jake lifted you from the chair to bring you over to the sofa.

“You can study from the couch if you must,” he said, only somewhat dramatically.

And that’s how the evening progressed, with you flipping through notes and Jake’s arm firmly around your shoulder as the clock ticked later and later. Soon, you were yawning and focusing more on the back of your eyelids than your flashcards.

“Jake,” you murmured, eyes still shut. “I gotta sleep,” you said, reaching over and patting him on the stomach twice. 

“I’m going to finish the game, be up in a second,” he assured. You dropped another sweet kiss on his lips before making your way upstairs, flashcards in hand. After changing into a pair of Jake’s boxer briefs and a big t-shirt, you crawled into bed, still flipping through your notes.

Jake was surprised to see you still awake when he came up to bed about forty-five minutes later. Leaving the bathroom door open, he quickly showered and brushed his teeth

“Baby, time for bed,” he gently plucked the cards out of your fingers, tossing them onto his nightstand. You groaned quietly but snuggled up to his side instead. You’d been hitting the books hard and it was finally catching up to you. Jake’s warm, vetiver skin lulled you quickly to sleep.

However, much later, during the wee hours of the night, Jake awoke to find your side of the bed empty. His eyes strained in the dark night and if he listened carefully, he could hear the soft clicking of a keyboard.

“You gotta be kidding me,” Jake muttered, wiping at his eyes as he rolled out of bed, lazily pulling his sweatpants up his hips to pull the drawstring tight. He padded down the stairs to see you yet again perched at the dining room table, the chandelier above dimmed to the lowest setting. “What are you doing?” He asked, eyes still adjusting to the light, “it’s almost three in the morning.”

You jumped at the sound of his voice, turning to see your fiancé frowning at you in the soft light.

“I know, but I had a dream that I showed up for exam day and couldn’t remember the steps to the malleability scale and I woke up panicking,” you listed off. “I just thought if I could re-arrange some of these class notes into a more visual aid, it would help me remember,” you gestured to the computer, a giant yawn overtaking your face.

“Babe, it’s time for bed,” Jake said, stepping closer. You protectively splayed your hands across your notebook on the table.

“I’m not done,” you said quietly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

Jake reached over closing your laptop.

“You’re done. Bed, now,” he ordered, which gave you a little shiver, but you complied nonetheless – dragging your feet down the hall. Luckily for you, you could turn the brightness down on your phone and run through the study guide your leading MD sent out.

After tucking into bed yet again, Jake rolled over, invading your space.

“Phone,” he said, holding out his empty palm.

“Jake,” you began to protest. He tipped his chin up in a challenge. “I need it for my alarm,” you weakly argued.

“We have an alarm clock and I’ll make sure you’re up,” he reassured as you reluctantly placed your phone in his hand. Jake rolled over, his back to you as he set your phone on the side table before snuggling down into the mattress.

“M’not even tired,” you lied with a petulant tone. Jake rolled his eyes, not that you could see it. You spent the next minute being dramatic, sighing heavily and flipping all around to find a comfortable position.

“Baby, go to sleep,” Jake grumbled. You glared at his back for a moment before flopping on your back, arms crossed over your chest, staring at the ceiling. You wondered if you could remember what the study guide looked like from memory.

A few beats passed.

“I swear to god just you being awake like this is keeping me up,” Jake said with finality, rolling over to face you, a stern expression on his face.

“You could have kept sleeping if you just left me alone at the table,” you pointed out.

“You have to sleep or that pretty little brain aint’ gonna remember shit,” he countered, nearly taunting. With a huff, you turned to face away from him, lying on your hip with one knee bent up.

“M’not even tired,” you mumbled again. Ten seconds later, you jumped when you felt Jake’s full body pressing into you from behind.

“You’re not even tired, huh?” Jake asked, knowing damn well you were just being a brat.

“No,” you grumbled, trying to keep in a squeal as his stubble scraped against your neck.

“You want me to put you to sleep?” He breathed into your ear, big hand landing on your upper thigh, just below where his boxer briefs had ridden up your leg with all your tossing and turning.

“You can’t,” you replied, still feeling put off by Jake confiscating your flashcards.

“Sure I can,” he said, hips shifting so you could feel his soft erection against you.

“Bet I can get you to sleep in twenty minutes,” he murmured, pressing a kiss behind your ear.

“Not even tired,” you tried not to gasp as his fingertips slipped below the stretchy band of your borrowed shorts.

“How can you be tired when you’re this wet?” He asked, swiping his fingers through your sex, making you huff.

“You know I like those boxers on you,” you muttered, embarrassed, but at least you were honest. “You’re on the clock, Hangman,” you reminded. Jake gladly cradled your clit between his two fingers, rolling them up and down against your skin. The way you almost avoided his touch by pressing your hips down into the mattress made him grin. Sometimes it was almost too easy. You frowned softly into your pillow as you felt Jake’s hand retreat from your body, but squealed as he quickly dragged the waistband of his boxers all the way down to your ankles.

Jake softly huffed as he pressed his blunt tip against your sex, jaw clenching at the resistance as he sunk in further and further. Turning him further beneath you, your front was pressed down into the mattress.

“How’s that, hmm?” He murmured in your ear. “Gonna listen to me when I tell you to go to sleep, smart girl?” You simply whined gently at the feeling as he filled you. “You hear me?” He asked, knowing he was being haughty.

“Yeah,” you whispered, pushing your hips back against him. Jake reached underneath you, palming your breast in his hand as he continued to fuck you gently down into the mattress. “Jake,” you huffed softly.

“I know, pretty girl,” he cooed patronizingly. “Put you right back to sleep tonight,” he snapped his hips, making you jump. His hand traveled down your stomach, the other braced against the bed so he didn’t squish you entirely, to find your clit again, and gently circling it.

You could feel it start to tickle at the soles of your feet – a telltale sign of impending orgasm.

“More,” you murmured, eyes shutting gently both from pleasure and pure exhaustion.

“More?” Jake asked, pulling his hand out from between your body and the mattress, dipping his fingers in his mouth as his hips continued their steady thrusts. Zeroing in on your clit once more, he knew you were getting close – after this long together, he could read you like a book. He didn’t mind, he was close as well. “Going to fill you right up with a sleeping pill,” he didn’t care that he sounded corny, he was putting his money where his mouth was. One more strategic roll of his fingers and you were fluttering around Jake’s cock, toes curled tight at the end of the bed.

“There we go,” Jake grunted, meeting his own orgasm as he pumped into you dutifully. “That’s a good girl,” he exhaled.

You hated it when Jake was right, because now, your eyelids felt like they were being weight down with bags of cement. Whining once more as he withdrew, you jumped when he tapped the head of his spent cock against your clit.

“Wait right here, precious,” he said, pressing a kiss to the round of your hip.

As if you were going anywhere now. Somewhere in the recesses of your mind, you knew an alarm was set for the morning, because now you simply couldn’t be bothered to lift your head from the pillow.

“Warmed it up for you, baby,” Jake murmured as a warning before a wet washcloth swiped through your folds. “I know, I know,” he hushed. Jake wiped himself down before padding across the room to drop the towel in the laundry hamper.

Crawling back onto the mattress, he threw a blanket over the two of you, double checking his alarm once more before tossing an arm over your waist. Your lashes laid across your cheekbones in pure serenity as you entered deep sleep.

“Thought you weren’t tired, huh?���

[billboard-hotties-tourney]

Bruce Springsteen (1949-) solo; leader of the E Street Band Songs: "Born to Run," "Blinded by the Light" Defeated Opponents: Lindsey Buckingham, Rick Danko, Otis Redding, Cat Stevens/Yusuf Islam, Syd Barrett, Billy Preston, David Bowie Propaganda: "Nobody has ever looked hotter than the Boss in the video for 'Dancing in the Dark' except maybe Bruce in the video for 'I'm On Fire'" "Bruce from the 70's to HIS 70's...enough said" "BRUUUUUCE! (Yes, I am from New Jersey.) But really 70s-Stone Pony-Asbury Park Springsteen is truly a sight to behold."

Prince (1958-2016) solo, leader of The Revolution Songs: "I Wanna Be Your Lover," "For You" Defeated Opponents: Donovan, Miles Davis, Marvin Gaye, David Byrne, Al Green, Clarence Clemons, Jimi Hendrix Propaganda: "His music sounds like no one else's. He was able to make a guitar sound magically different to how guitars are supposed to sound. And his voice. He could go from squeaky, almost childish sounding, to a soulful, balladic powerhouse performance all while making it look easy. He was one of the greatest singular performers and musicians ever. And he was a short king to boot." "Most photos of Prince don't really do him justice because, like Jimi Hendrix, he was at his hottest when he played guitar, and to me that's something you have to actually hear to understand. Also he had a great, super energetic stage presence, which is also extremely sexy and hard to convey in pictures alone. What I'm trying to say is that everyone should just watch his Superbowl halftime performance and I dare you to tell me that he wasn't the sexiest man alive that night." "Prince was the only guy who could show up at your party, in frills, and steal your girlfriend. Then steal her clothes, then steal someone else's girl in your girlfriends clothes."

Visual Propaganda for Bruce Springsteen:

Visual Propaganda for Prince:

[caashmoneynae]

HALFTIME.

JORDAN POOLE x BLACK!FEM!OC

SUMMARY: in which Teja goes to one of Jordan's games and ends up engaging in sexual activity in the locker room. ✨

❦

"𝗜 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗧'𝗦 𝗥𝗜𝗚𝗛𝗧, 𝗕𝗔𝗕𝗬!" Teja exclaimed, a smile on her face, as her dark brown eyes sparkled at seeing Jordan make a three-pointer and she clapped her hands loudly, the area she was sitting in erupting in loud cheers while she watched her man and his team travel down the basketball court.

(A/N: pronounced 'TEA•JUH')

"let's go, Poole!" Monaé, Teja's best friend, exclaimed, hyping the man up and boosting his ego, as she and Teja smiled in sync and they watched their team play defense.

the teams were in the second quarter and there were only 5 minutes left on the clock. the Golden State Warriors had 56 points — leveling up from 53 due to Jordan's shot — and their opponent had 53 points, diminishing their tied score and causing both crowds of fans to get antsy since halftime was coming up and they wanted their team to be in the lead.

Teja and Monaé both dressed in Golden State Warriors apparel, but Teja's was more customized because Monaé did it for her. her shirt was long-sleeved and royal blue and on the left side of her chest, it said "Basketball Girlfriend" as "Warriors" sat on her left sleeve. on the back of the shirt, it read "Poole Belongs to Me" and under it read his jersey number as all of the words were spelled in gold letters since royal blue and gold were two of the team's colors.

her brown legs adorned black jeans and her feet held white Air Force 1's as a gold anklet dangled around her left ankle and gold hoops sat in both of her ears, a gold 'T' necklace sitting comfortably around her neck while a gold necklace that read 'Jordan' in cursive sat there as well. her black silk-pressed hair was side-parted and swooped to the right side as a few bobby-pins sat in her head to make sure her swoop stayed in place, her lips glossy with Vaseline and adding a 'pop' to her appearance.

it was clear as day that Teja knew she looked good, and though she preferred silver jewelry over gold, she always made sure to wear some gold to all of Jordan's games.

hearing cheers, Teja's eyes averted to the clock, and she realized that not only was there one minute left before halftime, but the other team had tied with the Warriors for a second time. she looked back at the court and her gaze intensified as she lightly chewed on her bottom lip, the time running down quickly while the Warriors traveled down the court with the ball.

Draymond Green passed the ball to Stephen Curry, and Stephen passed the ball to Gary Payton II, and Gary passed the ball to Jordan, who passed the ball to Andrew Wiggins. it seemed as if the time was only winding down quicker and quicker, and this caused Teja's palms to grow sweaty while her eyes flickered between the clock and the court.

as if on cue with the clock hitting 10 seconds, Andrew began making his way to the basket, swiftly dodging the opponents that tried to stop him while his teammates played excellent defense, as he suddenly jumped up and dunked on the men below him, the ball going through the net with ease and the buzzer sounding out into the lively court while Teja and the other fans began cheering.

"can't wait 'til our boys take home that dub, Mo'!" Teja smiled, the two women standing up from the stands, as Monaé smiled with her and the two began to walk down the staircase behind the other fans.

"girl, who you tellin'? one more win and we goin' to the playoffs, baby! ooh, i can't wait to celebrate!" Monaé smiled, holding onto Teja's hand so they wouldn't be separated by the large crowd, as Teja looked up at the scoreboard and read '58-56', making her smile slightly widen while she looked back at Monaé and the duo made their way to the concession stands.

"oh yeah, we fa'sho' gon' celebrate this win. and then after that... i'ma give my baby his reward, ya feel me?" Teja smirked, playfully raising her brows, as Monaé laughed and shook her head, playfully shoving the woman's shoulder while Teja laughed.

"T, you a trip! but i feel you, girl, no doubt." Monaé smirked as Teja stuck out her tongue and the two did their handshake, their pinkies locking at the end while they giggled.

"ooh, hold up. Mo', hold my purse, i'ma go to the bathroom real quick," Teja announced, taking her phone out of it and putting it in her pocket, "i'll be right back before halftime ends."

"you sure you don't want me to go with you?" Monaé asked, grabbing the purse from the woman's hand and slinging it over her shoulder.

"nah, you good, 'Naé, i'on want you to lose your place in line," Teja assured, looking down and checking the time on her Apple Watch, as she looked up at Monaé and gave her a small smile in reassurance, "make sure to buy me some nachos, mama! you know how i like 'em."

"will do, Mrs. Poole!" Monaé smirked playfully, watching Teja jog away from her, as Teja laughed and shook her head, a wide smile on her face while she made her way to the restrooms.

the farther Teja was from the crowd of fans, the more the loud sounds of them began to turn into low murmurs, and she tucked her phone into the back pocket of her jeans as she made her way to the woman's bathroom. before she could walk into the restroom, however, a large hand grabbed her by the arm and yanked her into a room, making her squeal out of surprise, as she watched the door to the room shut and she saw lockers in the corner of her eye, making her realize she had been yanked into the Golden State Warriors's locker room by no one other than Jordan.

"you know i hate when you do that shit!" Teja exclaimed, punching the man in his arm, as Jordan laughed at her and pressed her up against the door, kissing her lips while he sneakily locked the door.

"you still love me tho', girl," Jordan chuckled, a small smirk on his face, as he eyed her down and ran his tongue over his plump lips at the sight of her attire, "mm, you look good. who you lookin' this good for, baby?"

"nobody but my man," Teja smiled, cupping his face in her hands, as she placed a few pecks on his lips before giggling, "now why you bring me in here? you got 8 minutes left before it's time for you to go back on the court."

Jordan didn't respond to her question. instead, his smirk only widened, and his nonverbal answer immediately clicked in Teja's mind as to why she was pulled into the room so abruptly.

"uh-uh, Jordan, i know you not tryna'..." Teja trailed off, raising a brow, as Jordan chuckled softly and his brown eyes looked into her dark brown ones while lust started to cloud his pupils.

"oh, i'm definitely tryna'..." Jordan smirked, mimicking her past statement, as he let out a low chuckle of mischievousness before kissing her lips, the kiss oozing with passion and causing Teja to procrastinate on kissing him back while his hand latched around her neck and pulled her closer to him.

falling into the temptation rather quickly, Teja kissed Jordan back and she soon melted into the kiss, making his lips curl up into a smirk, as he let go of her neck and tugged at the waistband of her jeans, pulling away from the kiss and trailing wet kisses down her jawline while Teja's breathing turned uneven due to rising arousal.

"you movin' real slow like we ain't got a lot of time in here." Teja breathily mumbled, kicking off her shoes, as Jordan chuckled softly and his hand slipped into her pants before he swiftly removed them and made sure her phone remained unharmed.

"i know what i'm doin', mama," Jordan muttered, his voice slightly deeper due to sexual desire running through his veins, as goosebumps spread across Teja's skin at the tone of his voice and Jordan noticed this, a smirk crossing his lips while he placed a few wet kisses on her neck before tapping her left thigh, "jump."

wrapping her legs around his waist, the two kissed for a final time before Jordan hoisted her up onto his shoulders, carefully lifting her smooth legs onto his muscular biceps while she lightly scooted up on the smooth wooden door so her hips would be level with his face.

it was definitely safe to say that this wasn't their first rodeo.

"pull these to the side for me, princess." Jordan spoke lowly, his eyes flickering up to her, as Teja bit down on her bottom lip and gripped the right side of her panties, pulling them to the side and revealing her soaked sex while Jordan licked his lips at the sight.

not wasting any of the short time they had left, Jordan immediately dug in, his pink lips wrapping around her swollen bud while he gently sucked at it like he was a baby and her clitoris was his pacifier. moaning softly, Teja gently laid her head against the door as she ran her fingers over Jordan's head, her brows slightly furrowing while his hands squeezed her thick brown thighs.

"sh-shit, Jordan," Teja moaned airily, her brows slightly furrowing, as she felt his tongue slither and wiggle inside her folds and her hips lightly jolted against his face, "mmh, eat this pussy, Daddy... eat your pussy just like that, baby."

"like that, mama? hm?" Jordan hummed against her, sending vibrations through her core and up her spine, as Teja shakily whimpered and her back slightly arched off of the door, her grip on her underwear tightening while she rubbed the nape of her boyfriend's neck.

"yessss— o-oh, shit!" Teja gasped, feeling his middle and ring fingers slide inside her walls, as her palm gently smacked the door she was pinned up against and her eyes rolled back, feeling soft kisses be littered around both of her inner thighs while her juices began to drip down Jordan's hand.

moans, whimpers, and whines fell from Teja's two-toned lips and sounds of her gushiness aired out into the room as her eyes fluttered closed and her hand moved from the nape of his neck to his hand on her right thigh, gently squeezing it while she shakily exhaled. Jordan's fingers thrusted inside of the woman at a slow and semi-deep pace and he laid kisses around her vagina, occasionally laying some on her clit and causing her hips to jolt.

suddenly, Jordan's fingers curved, and Teja's whole body jolted as tingles almost immediately dispersed through her body, her grip on Jordan's hand tightening while she gasped loudly.

"oh, fuck, t-that's my spot!" Teja cried, feeling Jordan's hand slither underneath her shirt, as he pulled one of her breasts out of her bra and kneaded it in his palm, his index and middle fingers fiddling with and tugging at her sensitive nipple and earning feeble whimpers from her parted lips.

"right there? huh, pretty?" Jordan cooed, his eyes staring up at her with a combination of lust and mischief, as Teja vigorously nodded her head and her eyes rolled back, "ooh, you 'bout to cum, ain't you, baby? i feel that pretty pussy clenching, mama, you 'bout to wet my face up?"

Teja felt the pace of his fingers start to pick up and each thrust had him poking at her g-spot as her stomach muscles tightened and she let go of Jordan's hand, her hand sliding underneath her shirt and gripping her second breast out of intense pleasure while she practically gripped the life out of her underwear. her thighs began to tremble and her lips rested agape as Teja suddenly gasped and her stomach caved in, her body jolting and her brows furrowing while her legs locked on the man's shoulders.

"y-yes! oh, yes, yes, yes— fuck, baby, i-i'm cummin'!" Teja whined loudly, her hips grinding against his fingers, as Jordan laid his tongue out flatly and caught her nectar atop his pink muscle, causing a shiver to go down Teja's spine while she rode out her orgasm.

"there you go, beautiful. ride that nut out." Jordan cooed, a small smirk on his face, as he licked his lips and gently pulled his fingers out of her erogenous walls, slipping them in his mouth while he sucked her juices off of them and looked up at her.

sighing softly, Teja raised her head from the door and looked down at Jordan, noticing the smirk on his face instantly, as she let out a soft laugh and shook her head, removing both of their hands from underneath her shirt while she put her breast back into its cup.

"we ain't never doin' this again." Teja chuckled softly, letting go of her underwear, as Jordan chuckled and lowered her legs back down to his waist, her legs loosely locking around his hips while he kissed her lips.

"You know damn well this shit gon' happen again, T."

[artificial-transmutations]

Two sides of the same coin - MVP

"Come on! That shot was easy! Even a baby could have done it, even Cedric here!" Buck shouted in full voice.

Cedric tried to crawl into the plastic seat he was sitting in even further. If there was a dictionary entry for "cringe", there would be a picture of his father right next to it. The older man had been drinking heavily since noon, and when he wasn't shouting about how much better he was than everyone else, he was busy humiliating Cedric. Sometimes, like right now, he even managed to do both at the same time.

His dad, Buck, was the very definition of a redneck. From drinking during the day to the pickup truck he drove, everything about that 40 year old man fit together to form one big cliché. He was loud, drunk and always ready to pick a fight. He never missed an opportunity to tell you that you were doing something wrong or that you should try harder. And of course, he was always better than everyone else, at least in theory. The very definition of the Dunning-Kruger effect.

Cedric, on the other hand, was nothing short of a nerd. He had been raised by his mother after his parents divorced when he was three years old and was a smart guy. With his 20 years, he was already half way through university and working towards a Master's degree in computer science. But all that meant little to Buck. He couldn't stand anyone who wasn't as dumb as he was, and he especially hated nerds. Of course, another thing that made their relationship difficult was that Cedric was gay - a fact that Buck knew and constantly made fun of every chance he got.

Every now and then, Cedric tried to better his relationship with his dad, like today, where they went to a hockey game together. Cedric hated every second of it. The mind-numbing sport, the shouting, the drinking, the cliché male atmosphere... and of course his father. Well, it was halftime already, not much longer to endure.

"Hey, are you listening, boy?" Buck's pronunciation was slurred slightly, as he leaned closer.

"I said that I need to take a piss!" Buck said more loudly than necessary. "Come!"

Cedric didn't know why he had to come along, but he groaned and followed his father.

Since it was halftime, there already was a long line of men in front of the public restroom.

"See, that's what I'm talking about, they don't teach you the useful shit in your fancy school." Buck grumbled and pointed at the line. "Now look at them. They're all waiting their turn like good little boys. And they're gonna miss half of the game. Come on, this way."

Buck led Cedric through maintenance corridors until they arrived at a door, which he opened with a grand gesture.

"But this locker room here is never ever used. The players are all out in the field now and the door is always unlocked. If I were the manager here, I'd fire the janitor."

Buck shrugged his shoulder and walked to one of the steel urinals on the wall.

"You stand watch while your old man does his business!"

All of this made Cedric really uncomfortable. This was basically breaking into an area they were not supposed to be in, and he had to stand here and watch over his horrible dad.

Something on the ground caught his attention and he bent down to pick it up. A curious coin was lying on the floor. He pocketed it to show it a friend who was into collecting later. Perhaps at least something positive would come out of this.

He was interrupted in his thoughts by his father shouting loudly: "What the fuck!"

As he looked over, he saw that Buck was looking down at his crotch. At first, Cedric thought it was some kind of bad joke, but the surprise seemed genuine. Curiosity got the better of him and Cedric looked over. At first, he didn't understand what was wrong until he saw his dad's cock. It was really big, really dark and really stiff. Cedric didn't know why Buck was so aroused all of a sudden, but then he noticed something was clearly wrong. As he was watching, the stiff member got even darker and, more importantly, even longer. It was growing out in a frightening speed and looked less and less like flesh by the second.

"What's going on? Hold on, I'm gonna call the ambulance." Cedric took out his phone and cursed under his breath. No reception. Then he froze. The hand that was holding his phone was wrong. It was not his hand, but it was much bigger. His whole body was tingling weirdly, as his frame shot up in height and width. All of a sudden, his clothes felt tight and uncomfortable, and Cedric struggled to get out of them.

"What the hell?" He muttered, as he watched himself grow larger quickly. He was still wearing his jeans, but they were too small for him now. He quickly pulled them off and threw them away before he looked over to his dad again.

The older man had his own troubles. His cock had grown to at least 75 cm length by now and was obviously made out of blackened wood. The tip was larger and bent. Overall, it looked like a hockey stick that was firmly attached to the older man’s groin and just finished growing into the full size.

Just then, a clacking noise was heard as something fell down to the ground below Buck. He looked down to see a hockey puck between his legs and his face went white as he grabbed between his legs with his left hand.

"That's my balls! That's my freaking balls!"

Meanwhile, Cedric's body was becoming more and more muscular. His bi- and triceps grew huge, and his legs got stronger with firm muscles as well.

A slight coating of hair grew in on his pecs that became more manly and impressive by the moment. Impressive was also a good word to describe his crotch! A large cock and balls surrounded by some curly manly hair hung proudly between his massive legs.

Meanwhile, Bucks cock had finished transforming into a hockey stick. His clothing dissolved and revealed a most unusual sight: The skin on his upper body was getting redder, unnaturally so. However, below the waistline, his legs turned a bright blue. His whole body puffed out and looked more and more like synthetic fabric, probably polyester. His head on the other hand, became red and shiny metallic with his face forming into a protective metal grate.

Buck's crotch, which was already cock- and ballless turned into a protective cup, complete with jockstrap.

Cedric could only watch in shock as his former father collapsed to the ground, now nothing more than a heap of protective gear for a star hockey player. A hockey player like... Cedric? Cedric held his head, which squared out into a manly, rugged face. Yes, that seemed right. He needed to hurry, halftime was nearly over. He needed to get back to the ice, to bring his team to victory!

Cedric briefly wondered why he had stripped completely just to use the urinal, but he finished pissing quickly and got dressed again.

The bulky hockey uniform that was once Cedric’s father felt proud of his son for the first time as he tightly wrapped the large masculine body. His son was a star ice hockey player, and his job was to protect his body and be his tool - a task he felt most useful and content in.

If you enjoyed this story, perhaps the other ones of the series are also something you'd like.

[owl127]

So I was at this women’s basketball game—it being March Madness and all—and this player that I find really really cute (she actually kinda looks like Lexa), wasn’t warming up. When the game started she went through the tunnel and back into the locker room which is kinda weird because even if you’re injured normally you still sit on the bench. But at halftime she came out and I noticed she had earplugs in and after a little Google I found out she has a concussion so she was probably in the locker room because it was too loud on the court. The rest of the game I was thinking about how someone could totally write a fanfic where Lexa is on a sports team, gets hurt, is sad she has to sit out, but has a little mid game locker room rendezvous to cheer her up and give her a thrill. Would you please please pleaseee be that someone?

(Ao3)

Lexa’s ears itched to remove her headphones, but the shadow of a headache had started behind her eyes, so she let the noise canceling headphones do its magic. She walked behind the starting team and watched with a frown the pile of windbreakers grow at her feet on the bench while she remained covered. She fiddled with the dark red zipper, the squeaking of rubber against shiny vinyl grounding her while the visiting team entered the arena. Lexa looked away, her eyes darting at the faceless crowd of silver and maroon. The muffled noise of the fans, something she looked forward to at each game, mounted on the pain growing between her eyes. The blinking lights of the stadium did not help with the building dizziness, but she forced a smile as she waved back at a bundle of little girls with signs with her name shining in bright silver glitter.

Lexa Woods.

She bit her lips at the thought of disappointing little girls.

On the other side of the court, the away team warmed up. Lexa looked for a familiar blonde braid, but they were in a huddle, and the amount of blonde heads was borderline offensive for basketball.

“Oi!” A ball came in her direction and Lexa held the pass in pure reflex, but that didn’t stop her frowning at Anya. “You look miserable. Smile for the cameras. It’s the fucking final fours, Lex.”

Their team captain’s shouted words were not as encouraging as Anya thought, and Lexa threw the ball back on the court.

“I’ll be out of here in a minute,” Lexa said and pointed to her headphones. “These are not working as expected.”

A rare sight of kindness flashed over Anya’s face, but it was gone just as fast. She sat next to Lexa, her mouth close to Lexa’s covered ears. “We’re here because of you. No one doubts that. We’ll win this so you can crush it at the final.”

Lexa bit her lip. They needed to win, and her concussion needed to be fully recovered for that to happen, and none of that was a guarantee. She nodded, and the movement didn’t help with her growing headache.

“I’m going back in,” she excused herself, standing up. Anya’s face softened, nodding.

“Your head okay?” Anya asked at the same time a wave of nausea hit Lexa.

Lexa moved her palm in a so-so pattern, and before their couch yelled at her, she backtracked her steps into their home locker room. She didn’t look up at the calls for her name while ducking into the tunnel, focused on escaping the noise.

The locker room was messy, with open bags and unfolded clothes littering the floor. The smell of bleach and foot powder was familiar, with a hint of synthetic eucalyptus from the shower row. Lexa finally took off the headphones, her ears popping in relief. Layers of concrete and tile protected her from the loud crowd, and Lexa closed her eyes. 

She could have made history tonight. Instead, because of a single nasty call at her last game, she cannot even watch from the bench.

“Fuck,” she mumbled, her lips trembling in frustration. She wanted to punch something.

“I know, right?”

Lexa’s neck turned at the voice, her vision blurring for a second as she focused.

She must be hallucinating, because in front of her was Clarke Griffin, point guard of the Arkadia Comets, and the usual pain in Lexa’s ass whenever they played. But why was she here and not on court? Her brain finally caught up with the full image and she noticed the clutches under Clarke’s arms and how her left foot didn’t touch the floor.

“I watched your last game.” Clarke’s dimples showed at a half smile. “I’m surprised you made it to the game tonight,” Clarke said as she sat heavily next to Lexa with a long sigh and the clacks of her crutches against the wooden bench. Her hands immediately massaged her injured thigh.

“What are you doing here?”

“There are stairs to the visitors’ locker room, and I really needed to pee. Can you believe they built this building for like, healthy people? There are stairs everywhere.” 

“I meant…” Lexa pointed at Clarke’s whole deal, and differently from Lexa, the other player didn’t wear a uniform or a windbreaker, just a hoodie with her university’s colors.

“Pulled muscle. Bad enough to knock me out. I didn’t want the sponsors to see me with the crutches.” Clarke nodded in the direction of the plastic supports. Lexa noticed a bright blue athletic tape poking out from Clarke’s joggers all the way to her lower abs visible under the hoodie. Her cheeks flushed, and when she looked up, Clarke smirked at her.

“How did it happen?” Lexa cleared her throat, ignoring the way blue eyes went up and down her body.

“Not as hilariously as the block that took you down,” Clarke said with a shit-eating grin that Lexa wanted to wipe off.

“That was a fault!”

“Sure, babe.” Clarke adjusted in her seat, massaging her thigh again. “I’m sorry you can’t play tonight. I was looking forward to destroying you.”

That made Lexa smile. “In your dreams, Griffin.”

“Oh, but my dreams about you are quite different, Lex.”

And there she was. Griffin always played the mind game to destabilize Lexa. Whispers on the court, faces from the bench; Lexa hated it. She also felt a little joy in it, but ultimately, Clarke Griffin was a distraction.

“I’m sorry you’re missing the game, too,” Lexa said, unsure if her face showed her reaction to Clarke’s comment. By the way Clarke lounged on the bench and shifted closer, Lexa must have blushed.

“It was a good run,” Clarke said.

“You don’t think you can win?” 

Clarke snorted. “Do you?”

“I trust my teammates,” Lexa said and crossed her arms. If Griffin didn’t have any loyalty to her team, that was her problem.

“Don’t get me wrong, darling—” the thin hairs on Lexa’s neck bristled at the pet name — “I love those bitches. But I dragged a bunch of future dentists and teachers to two final fours. You have other girls making draft picks in your team while I average astonishing zero bench points every game.”

“But you’ll be the first draft pick.” The truth rolled out easily on Lexa’s tongue, and she suppressed the bite of jealousy at the thought. 

“And you’ll be second, unless they go insane.”

And here they were, top two draft picks dusting in the locker room while the semi-final roared above them.

Lexa shrugged, running a hand over her loose hair. Her usual braid or ponytail was a no-go with her headache, and her hair kept falling into her eyes. “If I get top four, I’ll be happy.”

“You will.” There was certainty in Clarke’s voice. “We are one of the lucky ones.”

“I know.” There was no hiding the struggle of women’s basketball. Sure, the league had promise and potential, but it was a shadow of the sponsorship and compensation of the men’s league. With limited teams, getting a spot as a professional was already an achievement.

“So, can you help me back to my locker room, princess?” Clarke asked, pointing to her crutches. Heat rose to Lexa’s cheeks, and she crossed her arms.

“Why are you always like this?”

Clarke, halfway to standing, sat back down on the bench. “Like what?”

“Why are you so, so…” Lexa searched for a word, but unwelcomed suggestions jumped to the front of her mind like “hot” and “sexy”, and she ended up going with, “infuriating! Why do you flirt with other players only to mess with their game?”

Clarke huffed, an unusual pink dusting her cheeks. “I don’t flirt with other players.”

“You’ve been pretending to flirt with me in every game for a year!” Lexa didn’t know she needed to vent about something tonight, but Clarke gave her the opening she needed.

“Wait, wait,” Clarke said, raising her hands in surrender. “One, I don’t do that to other players. Two, I mostly do it with you because I know it won’t affect your game. I need to have something against your resolve, and flirting with a straight girl is harmless enough. Besides, you’re hot, Lex. Wow, why don’t you react like this on the court?”

Lexa’s cheeks burned, and she rolled her eyes. Once she stepped on the court, nothing else mattered and Lexa would be hyper-focused on the game. But tonight, not being under the spotlight and off her game, Lexa was not immune to Griffin’s tongue. Compliments—Griffin’s compliments! She needed to change this line of thought.

“What on earth have I done for you to think I’m straight?” Maybe that wasn’t the correct shift in the conversation. Clarke lit up like a Christmas tree, her mouth opening for a second, then closing again, settling on a half smile.

“You never reacted to me before.” Clarke’s voice was a full octave lower, and Lexa might be in trouble. Lexa swallowed and fidgeted with her jacket zipper. “And maybe, yeah, I’ve been flirting with you not only because of the games,” Clarke confessed, the heat in her cheeks darkening.

Was Clarke flirting with her again?

“I was kind of hoping you’d be able to play tonight,” Clarke continued, “so I could watch you all night instead.”

Yes, that was flirting, Lexa’s concussed brain detected. She didn’t move as Clarke shuffled closer, their thighs touching.

“I tried to find you early on, but all your teammates were wearing braids,” Lexa said. At 21, Lexa should have a better control of her mouth, but alas, there she was confessing her charms to her rival.

“They wanted to show me support.” Clarke’s voice was close, and closer still as she said, “So you were looking for me?” But the expected grin or tease was not behind her words. Lexa gathered the rest of her courage and chanced a glance at the fellow point guard, finding nothing but… admiration?

Kiss her, Lexa’s obviously concussed brain offered, and Lexa’s heart race in adrenaline as she ignored the thought.

“You’re the best player,” Lexa reasoned, swallowing as Clarke invaded her personal space. “Of course I look for you on the court.”

“Well,” Clarke said, and her hand, a tad larger than Lexa’s, reached for Lexa’s own. “I look for you outside of the court, too. I watched the video on your channel about your work against bullying in your town’s high school. That was inspiring.”

Lexa’s heart swelled with something akin to fondness, but she blamed that on the concussion. “Thank you.” Lexa whispered, the moment asking for softness.

“You, Lexa Woods”—Clarke’s large hand closed around Lexa’s, warm and steady—“You are inspiring.”

It wasn’t every day that the league MVP said she was inspiring.

Kiss, kiss, her brain supplied.

Lexa didn’t have to wait for her body to listen to her brain. Clarke was MVP for many reasons, and not hesitating was one of them.

The kiss was soft and warm, and Clarke’s hand tugged lightly at Lexa’s neck. For the first time that day, Lexa breathed easily. It lasted a moment, as Clarke showed to be dexterous with her tongue, and then Lexa was breathless.

“My team will be here at half-time,” Lexa whispered when Clarke finally, reluctantly, pulled away.

“Is that your way of saying you don’t want to kiss me again?”

Lexa wished she could say no to that smile, but she was learning that denying that smile was harder than to block Clarke’s 3 pointers.

“It means we can’t do it here,” Lexa said.

“I’m staying in town for an orthopedic appointment tomorrow morning. You could always stop by my hotel later tonight.” Clarke reached for her clutches and stood. 

“My team will want me around after the game.”

Clarke smiled, one eyebrow raised. “Would you rather be in a noisy bar with your team celebrating, or watching the British Bake Off with me while making out on a king bed?”

Lexa’s cheeks warmed. “The British Bake Off?”

Clarke made her way out of the locker room, slow and steady. “We can watch it on mute, which helps with your headache, and watching it always makes me… hungry.” Clarke delivered the last word over her shoulders, licking her lips for extra dramatic effect. Lexa felt her face heating as Clarke limped out of the room.

Hours later, Lexa’s team had gained their place at the final. Her headache was under control, and her utmost satisfaction had nothing to do with the chocolate cake they ordered from the 24h hotel service.

[reginageorgesgirlfriend3020]

Paige Bueckers as your girlfriend headcannons (Part 3)

She was trying to get a sneak peek of you singing one day

She could hear the lyrics too and had no clue the song is about her

So you did a cover of the song When I see you by Fantasia that you’re dedicate to your girlfriend Paige

So one day at the Women’s college basketball championship against Notre Dame you got the email that you could sing during halftime

At half time UConn was up by 8 points. You stood in the middle of the court on the logo. “Hello guys. I am (Y/n) and this is a cover song dedicated to my beautiful girlfriend Paige”. And the beat played and you began to sing. You moved around and sang with such conviction and emotion. Paige started to smile. And all her of her teammates nodded and smiled in approval of your singing.

You were looking at Paige still singing. Singing to her

Azzi gave Paige a hi5. “Your girl can sing!”

Paige giggled. “Look at my baby go!!” She said.

After the chorus played everyone began clapping their hands with the song. And after the song was over Paige walked over to where you standing. And she gave you lots of kisses on your cheek and on your lips. You smiled and started giggling. You kissed her back.

”Good job babe!” Paige said.

“Thank you!” You said.

UConn won the college basketball championship by 10 points. Paige cried tears of happiness as you hugged her tight and she hugged you tight too. Confetti fell everywhere

Ever since she saw the movie the strangers with you on Netflix she wanted to watch the strangers: prey at night with you. She loves the franchise too

she’s super appreciative that you help her clean the kitchen in the apartment

While she sweeps and wipes down the counters you wash the dishes and mop

She can make a mean delicious salad. And you eat it all up which makes Paige smile

Her cooking is to die for you love her cooking

She will spoil you with dark chocolate covered pretzels for dessert

[daydreamgoddess14]

Support System pt. 7

MASTERLIST

CH1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6

Roy Kent x Reader

Little wait for this one, I wanted Chapter 6 to marinade a bit 😂

More spicy spice so enjoy!

Chapter 7

The next day you were again woken shortly before 4am again with a breathtaking kiss.

“Oi, not fair. Did you know I’m statistically less prepared to defend myself from some weirdo attacking me at this stupid time in the morning?” You roll over, mumbling into the pillow. You remember that he doesn't even need to be awake, "also, why the hell are you awake? Go back to sleep. You’ve got a match later." He doesn't respond, so you open one eye, 

"How do you know that?" He asks, pulling you against him. 

"Saw it on Tiktok. Sleep now." You nudge him, wiggling back down. 

"Stop wiggling." He says, his voice low in your ear. You stop, and close your eyes but after a few minutes it's clear that you are, unfortunately, awake. You sigh. "What now?"

"You woke me up." You complain. “If you think I’m going to be woken up at 4am every morning, you are very much mistaken,” he slips a hand over your thigh, pulls your leg up and hooks it back over his own, opening you up to him. His hand comes back around to your centre, “I will just never spend a night with you again and-” you cut off with a gasp as he slips two fingers inside you and pumps so agonisingly slowly,

“You were sayin’?” He kisses the back of your neck and you arch your body towards him.

“I’m not staying again.”

“No?” You feel him rock hard against your back and your willpower is all but gone. “Sure about that?”

“No, ohhh fuck, Roy-”

“No,” he laughs softly, “didn’t think so.” You roll onto your back and pull him over you, pressing your heels into the back of his thighs to guide him into you. It’s still so dark in his room that you can hardly see him so you let your hands lead you. Up his arms, over his broad back, down to squeeze his thigh, back up and into his hair. He matches you with each roll of your hips. It’s slow and lazy and there’s so little space between you both that the friction is to die for. The darkness makes you both quieter, his whispered affirmations, praise and moans are dizzying. He takes you over the edge with him and you’re both asleep again almost instantly.

~~~~~~~~

Roy had suggested that you stay again. He had said that while pressed against the glass of a shared shower with you on your knees for him, though. His hands had tangled in your hair and he'd garbled promises you weren't sure he'd remember in five minutes, let alone five hours so you weren’t actually sure where you were staying that night. You were going to the match at midday with Sara and Phoebe which meant coded conversations over Phoebe’s head.

“Go on then.” She prompts.

“What?”

“No.” She points, “no. I got blank stares from him yesterday until I mentioned your name and he went all doe eyed. What’s going on?”

“If you’ve spoken with him then surely you already know?” You suggest, trying not to smile. She glares at you and you’re suddenly worried that she’s not ok with any of this. “Ok, fine. I popped in to see him the other night after I’d taken Lex to her dads… I may have stayed the night. And last night as well. And possibly tonight - yet to be confirmed.” You had to whisper most of your reply so Phoebe didn’t catch on. “Shit, are you mad?"

"No! Fuck, sorry, it's the Kent genes - resting bitch face. God, I'm not mad! I have like 1000 questions - at least 997 I don't want to know the answer to since,” she dropped to a dramatic whisper, “he's my brother.” She grinned and gestured down to Phoebe, “She’s going to be so happy!” She mouthed. “Are you ok? I mean, I’m assuming the answer is yes, since you stayed more than one night and didn’t leave immediately?” She cackled. You nod, stealing a glance down at the pitch as the halftime whistle sounds. Roy turns to the stands as the teams filter off the pitch to catch your eye.

“Yeah, so far so good. It’s… different.” Sara cocks an eyebrow.

“Now I’m in torn territory - do I want to know or not?” You wave her off,

“No! I mean, yes, that’s very different too - I’m not used to feeling so…” you flap your hands around a bit, trying to find the right words, “wanted?” you whisper. “In all ways. But y’know, it’s very, very early days. I have no idea what’s going to happen, or how it’s going to go. I’m just trying to protect myself, and Lexie.” She smiles at you,

“I think you wouldn’t have gone over there if you were that unsure. You wouldn’t just, y’know, do that with anybody. And neither would he.” She points out.

“Yeah?”

“Remember what we said at the beach? Honestly, that’s not his style.” You know it’s true so you concede and carry on with watching the match. The team wins - they’re so close to winning the whole thing, the whole town feels like it’s on tenterhooks.

“Congratulations.” You smile after the match, you can see in how he clenches and unclenches his fist that he wants to touch you, but Phoebe is bouncing up and down on his other arm chattering on about how she can’t wait to see Jamie. 

“We’re going back to mums, you coming?”

“Only if you want me there?” Phoebe spots Jamie through the crowd and races after him, Sara has to book it after her. His hand finds the small of your back guiding you over to them,

“I want you every fucking where.” He whispers in your ear as you reach the others. You have a fun but fraught afternoon, Jamie comes too and you can see how he keeps engaging Phoebe. You're not sure whether it’s a help or hindrance having him around. He keeps Phoebe and her nan occupied enough that Roy can use any excuse to find little ways to touch you, but he’s also very perceptive and can’t seem to fathom why one of Phoebe’s friend’s mums is there. Sara claims you as her best friend and it appeases him. You’re very nearly caught with Roy’s hand halfway up your top in the far end of the kitchen but just as Jamie is about to turn and see you, Phoebe calls out to him to get his attention. By the time he turns back around, there’s a couple of strategic metres between you both. Your phone buzzes late on with a message. 

Please tell me you’re stopping at mine again. You smirk and fire off a reply,

Is that you asking nicely?

I asked nicely this morning

Surprised you can remember anything you said this morning

I remember everything about this morning

You look up to see him trying to hide a smile behind his beer bottle. You’re barely inside the front door when he’s backing you against the wall and there’s probably some kind of record beaten in just how quickly he makes you come.

~~~~~~~~

The kids are back at school, you haven’t enjoyed a 4am wake up for three days, you’re still jobless, you’re expected at a gala with Roy’s co-workers in two days, and you still haven’t found anything to wear. He’s offered his card (multiple times) for you to ‘buy whatever the fuck you want as long as I can take it off’. Switchover day for Lexie is tomorrow, closely followed by the gala. It’s been a busy few days so despite school runs you haven’t even seen Roy for a good few days. Sara has collected Lexie on your behalf so you swing by on your way home to pick her up. You peek around to say hello to the girls sprawled out on the sofa and then you’re dragged to the far end of the kitchen.

“So the Gala huh?"

"He told you?"

"He said you were stressing over what to wear, suggested I take you to find something while he hangs out with the kids this evening." At that, the front door opened. "I'll let you have a couple of minutes alone since you haven't seen each other for such a long time." She rolled her eyes in jest. 

"You're both sneaky." You point out as Roy's arms wrap around you. 

"Not true," he says into your ear. "Thanks, dickhead." He smiles at his sister. Sara gives him a little salute and grabs some snacks to take to the girls. You turn in his arms, "Fuck, I missed you."

"I missed you. Had to watch that press conference for a fix, and then you made me cry." You laugh. 

"I need to try and keep my hands off you for half a week. Think I’ll manage as long as they're on you as much as possible for the other half a week."

"Deal." You may have been apart for half a week, but you've spoken every day. 'Lexie' days are in his calendar for at least the next few weeks. "I have a big problem." You whisper, he looks down between you both making you snigger. "No, you idiot. My problem is that it's been way too long since you last kissed me."

"Shit, that is a big problem," he agrees.

"It gets worse," you pause for dramatic effect, "If you do it now, I'm not going to want you to stop and we'll get in trouble with your sister and the kids."

"I mean, that sounds like a problem for you more than me. Cos I'm going to fucking kiss you anyway."

"You have to be in charge of stopping then." He's halfway to kissing you when he stops, 

"I think I like the sound of that a bit too much." You smirk and meet him in the middle, snaking your arms around his neck.

“Right, that’s time up.” Sara came back through with her eyes covered. “We’ve got to go and get you something wonderful to wear.” Roy reluctantly lets you go with a final kiss, and then goes to make his presence known with the girls. You’re barely out the door when they’ve put a tiara on his head.

~~~~~~~~

You’re not having much luck with a dress.

“This one?” You step out of the changing room for what feels like the millionth time.

“Nah, too plain.”

“I hate this. Is it too late to just not go?” You go back behind the curtain and take the dress off. There’s two more left to try, one baby pink and one royal blue. Chelsea blue you think, taking the dress from the hanger.

“You can’t not go, he wants you there. Plus, think of the afterparty” She winks before making a fake vomiting sound. “God, it pains me to have to think about my brother in this context.”

“Ha! Sorry. Oh holy fucking shit.” You squeak.

“What? Ugh it’s not the pink one is it? I only picked that one up because the sales assistant suggested it. Is it gross?” She laughs. You step out of the changing room and her jaw drops. “Fucking hell. Hang on, stay there, what’s your shoe size?”

“6, why?” She disappears back into the shop and is back in a matter of seconds,

“I saw these on our way in here. They’re perfect.” She hands you the highest gold glitter heels you’ve ever seen and you step up into them, holding her hands for balance. She steps well back to take in the full effect. “That’s it - that’s the one. And it’s Chelsea blue, he’s going to lose his fucking mind.” You look in the full length mirror,

“The slit?”

“Is perfect, stop worrying.”

“The neckline?”

“He’s seen you naked love, it’s perfect. You are wearing the shit out of it.”

“It costs half my mortgage Sara!” You look at the tag.

“If I recall correctly, I’m under strict instructions to tell you - and this is word for word, obviously, ‘that’s not your fucking problem, buy the dress’. Such an eloquent man, my brother.” You’re torn,

“I’m not a charity case Sara,”

“I know. Look, he does this, it’s not about the money or thinking you're not independent or any of that shit. What it boils down to for him is that he’s taking away something that’s worrying you - he does it for me. Like picking Phoebe up from school for me, or training Jamie at 4am every sodding day. He finds the thing that’s worrying the people he cares about, and he tries to fix it.” Your eyes swim with tears and you hold your hands up in defeat.

“Ok, I get it. Worry eliminated.”

“Atta girl. Now, let’s go home.” 

“I got rejections from the two interviews I had last week.” You tell her suddenly, the words tumbling from you.

“Ohh lovely, come here,” she pulled you into a hug and you cry on her shoulder,

“I just feel like such an idiot, why did I quit with nothing to go to? And I don’t want Roy to think I’m some sort of golddigger.”

“Why would he think that? He might be a total knob sometimes, but he’s not an idiot. I take it you haven’t told him yet?” You shake your head. 

“Come on. Let’s go, a Roy Kent cuddle makes everything better.” You smile at her,

“A Sara one is pretty good too. Thank you.”

Roy has one child snuggled up on either side of him with a bowl of popcorn on his lap and Encanto on when you get back to Sara’s. You manage to take a very quick photo before any of them spots you. 

“Mum!”

“Hiya poppet. Ready to go?”

“I’ll take you.” You flash him a smile,

“Thank you.” You pack Lexie’s stuff up and say goodbye to Sara and Phoebe, and are outside your front door all too soon. For some reason, Lexie is lingering around the front door so you're forced to wave Roy off with a smile.

“Laters Lex.”

“See ya Roy,” she grins at him. He disappears up the path and you start hustling her upstairs to get ready for bed. She’s still jumping on your bed when the door goes again.

“Stay here, I’ll be right back - start getting ready for your bath please.” You nip down the stairs and pull open the door. Roy Kent is back on your doorstep. “Oh my god, are you the Roy Kent? The really fit coach for Richmond?” You ask excitedly.

“Depends, can I have a kiss if I say yes?”

“Depends how long you make me wait for another one.”

“Tomorrow any good for you?” He leans on the doorframe.

“I can do tomorrow.”

“Good.”

“Good.” You tug at the bottom of his t-shirt and he steals an arm around your back to pull you into a deep, crushing kiss.

“Tomorrow?” He asks when he’s finally let you go. You can hear Lexie still jumping on the bed upstairs. You let your fingertips brush against the soft skin of his stomach underneath his t-shirt, making him shiver.

“See you tomorrow.” You give him a final kiss and let him go.

~~~~~~~~

You don't have to look far to see him the next evening, but it's still a surprise - he's parked up at the station and is out of the car, leaning against the door waiting to pick you up.

"Get in the fucking car." He grins, pulling you into a kiss as soon as you are in arms reach. "Ted had to ask me three times today if I was paying attention." You turn in your seat to look at him fully,

"Oh come on, that's bullshit!"

"It's true. Had to threaten to punch dicks - they all said I was too fucking happy and I was being 

weird. I think Jamie’s onto me."

"Uhoh. Is the grumpy persona being destroyed?"

"Only around you." He puts a hand on your thigh while he drives, stopping off at yours. “Get some stuff, I don’t want to have to lose you for an hour every bloody morning.” He grumbles. You collect the things you know you’ll need. When you get to his place, he's already cooked.

"I could get used to this," you tease. "So this gala," you ask over some gorgeous Mediterranean vegetable dish, "your co-workers will all be there?"

"They will." He confirms, waiting for you to continue. 

"And your ex?" you add quietly. 

"Keeley will be there, yes." You nod, pushing your food around your plate. 

"I met her once." He's still watching you, dinner finished with. 

"Yeah?"

"I had to run an event she came to for work. She was really sweet." 

"She is. I think you'll like her." He smiles reassuringly.

“And you're sure you want me to meet these people? Your people?”

“Yes, I am.” He said firmly. “You don’t have to tell any of ‘em about us - tell them whatever you want. They can take the piss out of me as much as they like. I really don't give a shit." He continues to reassure you in a number of exhilarating ways for the rest of the night. He leaves you at 4am yet again with a kiss that has your body clenching on nothing, desperate again for his touch. You’re half awake when he returns at 6 but it’s a horrible day outside already so he lets you know he’s going straight in the shower. You can hear the kettle, so you pull on the t-shirt he’s just taken off so you can go downstairs to make tea for you both. It’s not familiar, it’s an old Richmond home shirt. When he comes down, your leaning over the counter on your elbows  reading from your phone and making notes on a scrap of paper while the tea brews. His arms circle you and to your surprise, you feel him press against you.

“Wow, hi.” You turn to face him with a little laugh.

“You’re wearing m’name,” he manages to say gruffly before kissing you roughly. 

“Sorry, I just grabbed it to come down here, I’ll take it-”

“No.” He stops you, “No.” He says more firmly. He rests his forehead against yours, his hips still against you. Oh. It dawns on you. Oh. You kiss him briefly, nodding your understanding and turn back around for him, resting on your forearms. “Fuck,” you hear him, so quietly, “fuck. You wreck me.” He slips inside you with no real warning, filling you completely. He sets a wickedly punishing pace, the angle has you an incoherent mess and makes you come almost instantly. It’s fast and rough and utterly filthy, your name spills from him like a worshipping chant as he comes, dragging another orgasm from you as he does. When you’re able to stand, you turn back to him. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, his hands soothing the bruises he’s no doubt left on your hips. “Sorry, I didn’t mean-” he starts to say, you shake your head,

“No. Don’t be sorry, don’t be. I’d tell you if I wasn’t ok with something, ok?” You reassure him with a kiss.