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goldenhemmings · 5 years

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For The Win | Basketball!Shawn

Me? Posting two pieces in one night?? Shawnblr’s resident sports whore is back with 1.6k words of shitty impulse writing because she loses her fucking mind when Shawn does anything remotely close to sporty. Enjoy.

Raptors have the firepower to reach NBA Finals. Raptors build momentum one defining moment at a time. Raptors become Eastern Conference Champions, will play in first-ever NBA Finals. And, most recently, Warriors defeat Raptors in Game 5 of the NBA Finals. They were all articles she was proud of publishing, but none of them carried the headline Y/N so desperately wished to write: Toronto Raptors become NBA champions.

She was fresh out of college and just finishing her second year as a sports reporter for the Toronto Star, exclusively covering the Raptors. Going to basketball games and interviewing some of the greatest players in the NBA was a part of her official job description; every aspiring sports journalist’s dream. Additionally, she felt luckier than could be explained for the opportunity to cover a championship roster, especially one that was up 3-2 on Golden State, of all teams. It was a feat not many people had expected the Raptors to be able to accomplish, and Y/N was right there alongside it all, reporting on arguably the biggest Cinderella story of the 2018-19 season.

Today was her last chance to get commentary from the players before Game 6, as they traveled to Oakland first thing the next morning. Her editor expected an article to be on his desk by eight p.m. that night to be blasted to the entire city of Toronto the next morning, and time was of the essence.

Y/N rounded the corner towards the front entrance of the OVO Athletic Centre, the Raptors’ primary training facility. She flashed her press badge to the security guard standing outside the doors of the building; team protocol anytime there were members of the squad using the gym. The guard, whom she recognized from her many ventures to this particular practice facility, gave a curt nod before scanning the doors open for her.

She stepped inside, the cool air conditioning of the building overwhelming her and causing goosebumps to rise on her skin. She locked eyes with the receptionist, Jim, who sat in his usual spot at the front desk just on the other side of the doors. Dutifully wearing a red We The North t-shirt, he smiled at her and brushed a hand back over his graying hair as he stood to greet her.

“How’re you doing today, Miss Y/L/N?”

“I’m covering a first-time Eastern Conference champion,” she grinned, not missing a beat, and Jim let out a hearty laugh. “So I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

“I’d say so, too,” he answered. “Who’re you here for today?”

She smiled. She never knew the players’ individual schedules; all she could do was hope that she could catch them at the right moment. Jim, however, had always been on her side, doing all he could to help her track down the athletes she needed when she needed them. “Ideally Leonard. I’m looking to get a statement for the feature I’m writing.”

“Believe he’s still in the main gym practicing. You might need to wait until he’s done.”

She checked the delicate rose-gold watch that adorned her wrist. “I’ve got time,” she replied, already fishing inside her purse for the tape recorder she’d brought to document the interview. “Just glad he’s actually here. Thanks, Jim.”

She stepped past the desk and followed the path to Gymnasium One; a trail that she knew like the back of her hand. She could hear the echo of a basketball bouncing on the lacquered wooden court before she could see the entrance to the gym, which she took as a good sign; at least someone was in there.

She stepped through the entryway and was met with an empty gymnasium save for the tall, familiar man shooting layups on the far-left hoop, his curly brown hair pushed off of his face with a thin black headband. She took note of the Mendes 98 stitched onto the back of his black practice jersey; he wasn’t who she was looking for, but hopefully he could get her one step closer to finding the player she needed. As soon as he spotted Y/N he began making his way over to her, the basketball now tucked between his arm and the side of his torso.

“Here to interview me?” he asked, flashing his trademark, brilliant smile. His deep voice had a slight echo in the nearly-vacant gymnasium. Shawn Mendes was a first-year player for the Toronto Raptors after the team acquired him from the Phoenix Suns, where he’d been drafted and previously spent two seasons. He wasn’t quite ready to be a main-rotation player, but he did see a few minutes of playing time most games. He was young and he was talented, and the Raptors were doing a great job at developing his skills. In a few years, he’d undeniably be of starting-five calibre.

“I’m looking for Leonard, actually,” Y/N answered matter-of-factly. She ran into Shawn quite frequently due to the fact that he wasn’t a hard-to-reach, top player in the same category as Kawhi Leonard or Kyle Lowry, and she’d had plenty of time to get to know Shawn with all the time she’d spent diligently waiting around the Raptors’ clubhouse to catch one of the team’s stars for a quick statement she could write into an article. In fact, she was the one who’d written the story that broke the news of his trade from Phoenix to Toronto; she had the article, her first-ever breaking news story, in a frame sitting on her desk at work. Shawn, on the other hand, had quickly taken a liking to the young reporter and began to look forward to seeing her before and after games, but it had never surpassed his innocent--but very obvious--attempts at flirting.

“Well when do I get an interview?” he pressed, his eyes sparkling under the bright, fluorescent lights of the gym.

“Singlehandedly put up 36 points in a championship game and then we’ll talk.”

He laughed, looking down at his basketball shoes. “So never, then.”

“I wouldn’t say never,” she teased. “You’d just better get practicing.”

“Fair,” he replied with a smirk. He was slightly sweaty from what Y/N assumed to be an intense practice session, but she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to herself how endearing she found the fact that his cheeks always flushed when he played. “36 points for an interview, but how many do I have to score to get you to go to dinner with me?”

Y/N raised a brow at him, suddenly amused; he’d never been this forward before. “Equally as many,” she fired back, challenging him, and relishing in the way his lips pulled into a smile. “Plus the championship.”

His eyes widened. “You do know who we’re playing, right?”

“Are you saying you don’t believe in your team? That’d make a great headline.”

“Am I on or off the record here?” he laughed, and just as Y/N was ready to bite back with a witty remark she noticed a door on the opposite side of the gym open, and in walked Kawhi Leonard in his typical practice uniform. Y/N gasped and turned to dash towards him, already turning her tape recorder on, hoping to grab him before he left for the day.

She could feel Shawn watching her as she spoke to the Raptors’ star forward, occasionally turning away to take a few shots from behind the arc. Show off. Once satisfied with the questions she’d had Leonard answer, she said a polite thank you and good luck before turning to tuck her tape recorder back into her purse. Shawn was approaching her in an instant, the basketball bouncing off in the opposite direction, disregarded after the last shot he’d taken.

“You never answered my question, you know,” he began, still smiling, though his tone was less joking than it was before she’d gone to do her interview. “About what it’ll take for you to go to dinner with me.”

“Yes, I did,” she retorted, a sly smile crossing her mouth. “You put up 36 points in a game and the Raptors win the championship. That’s your answer.”

“That’s a lot to ask, Y/N,” he replied, laughing lightly. “I don’t exactly have a large influence over whether or not we win the championship.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, enjoying their banter more than she’d ever admit. “You’d better make the most of your three minutes of playing time, then.”

He sucked a breath of air in through his teeth, feigning offense. “Ouch.”

She giggled, but was interrupted by her phone sounding its familiar ringtone that signified a text message. She pulled it out of her bag to reveal a text from her boss: How’s the article coming?

She sighed, which Shawn picked up on right away. “Everything alright?”

“Duty calls,” she shrugged, tucking the phone away and readjusting how the strap of her purse rested on her shoulder. “I’ve gotta get back to the office and put this story together.”

Shawn nodded in understanding, his soft eyes fixated on hers. “I guess I’ll see you, then. Hopefully we can get the win in Oakland, but if we do come back to Toronto for a Game 7 I look forward to seeing you there.”

Her cheeks got hot. Why was he looking at her like that all of a sudden? “Tell your teammates I’m rooting for them,” she replied, beginning to move back towards the door.

He laughed, reaching to grab another basketball and not fully understanding what she was getting at. “Half of North America is rooting for them.”

“Then half of North America wants you to take me to dinner,” she called back with a smug grin, turning around to leave the gym before she could see his expression, but she didn’t miss the perfect swoosh sound that accompanied a basketball falling perfectly through the net.

#i literally don't even know what this is other than me acting on impulse because im crazy #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes one shots #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes blurbs #shawn mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes aus #basketball!shawn

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spine-buster · 5 years

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Alone, Together | Chapter 10 | Morgan Rielly

A/N: As always, thank you for your lovely likes, reblogs, tags, and messages on the last chapter.

“Can you sit still.”

“Don’t get it on my face!”

“That’s why my other hand is on your face! So it gets on my hand instead of your face!”

“Do I at least make a hot Eugene Levy?”

Bee couldn’t help but snort at Morgan’s question. She stopped spraying the black hairspray and took her hand off his forehead to see the full picture. She had turned his hair salt and pepper – a little more emphasis on the pepper – for his Halloween costume. He was going as Johnny Rose, and she as Moira Rose, from Schitt’s Creek. It was completely at her request. Morgan had wanted to first go as Batman and Robin, and she said that was too cliché. Then he suggested Wayne Gretzky and Jari Kurri, but Bee had no idea who Jari Kurri was, so she shot down that idea too. She first suggested Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice, but Morgan refused once he saw what he would have to wear. It was only then when she suggested Johnny and Moira from Schitt’s Creek, the show that they would watch together on Netflix. Morgan finally agreed. He’d practiced his facial expressions for weeks. Bee practiced Catherine O’Hara’s accent for just as long.

“At least I know you’d still look hot with dark hair,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

“Oh, well, Briony,” Morgan’s voice was bashful. He brought his hands up to the back of her thighs and ended up squeezing her ass quickly. “Maybe I should follow in Dermott’s footsteps and get some purple cornrows.”

“Please don’t,” she said curtly, causing him to laugh. “Let go of my butt. I need to get hairspray and work on your eyebrows.”

“Can you get it if I don’t let go of your butt?”

Bee snorted. “No. Now hands off, Mr. Rielly.”

Briony and Morgan had two parties to go to that night. First, they were stopping by Angie and Mason’s apartment, where they were throwing a small party with a bunch of their friends – mostly Mason’s PhD program friends and their significant others. After Angie and Mason’s, they would head to the Platinum Club at Scotiabank Arena, where the boys from the Leafs had organized the team Halloween party.

They walked hand in hand through the streets of the Annex until they got to 100 Spadina Road, Angie and Mason’s apartment building. After getting buzzed in and taking the elevator up to the 10th floor, Bee helped herself into the apartment, the party already in full swing. When Angie noticed them in the doorway, she screamed in the face of whomever she was speaking with and made her way over.

“You’re heeeeeeere!” Angie squealed as she hugged Bee tightly. When she pulled away, she looked down at Bee’s outfit. “And you are…?”

“Angela, stop acting like a disgruntled pelican,” Bee said in her best impression of Moira Rose she could muster.

“Oh my God Bee!” she exclaimed. “It’s brilliant! Brilliant!” She focused her attention to Morgan, giving his costume a quick nod. “You must be Johnny, then.”

“I am,” he nodded his head. “But for the purposes of tonight, you can call me Morgan.”

“Well it’s nice to finally meet you, Morgan. Bee’s only mentioned you once or twice in the past few months,” she said sarcastically. “Come on, come in. Keep your shoes on. Let me introduce you to Mason.”

Angie dragged both of them through the apartment, bringing them to Mason, who was standing near the sliding door of the balcony talking with one of his friends. They were introduced briefly, as Mason seemed to be in deep in a serious conversation. Angie then brought them around to others, introducing them briefly. Alex and his partner Steve, who was getting his PhD in the history of the Toronto Purchase of 1787; Stacy, who was getting a PhD in the colonial history of Upper Canada, and her boyfriend Connor; Claire, who was in residency at Toronto General Hospital for neurosurgery; Gerry, doing post-doctoral research in…something? Sarah, who was getting his degree in…thermonuclear astrophysics? God, he couldn’t keep up. Morgan had never felt so inadequate in his life. He tried to understand their fields of study and he tried to understand their thesis work, but it was all going over his head. All he could do was offer a comment or two, or a quick nod of his head, and pretend to understand.

And then there was Briony. So engaged in their research, so informative and informed about what they were doing. She knew the right questions to ask. She knew how to keep the conversation going about research. She knew exactly how to handle herself and there he was, standing there like a lump beside her. All he could do was sip on his beer. He didn’t contribute anything. He didn’t have anything to contribute.

Hockey afforded him the luxury of travel; of lifelong friendships across Canada; of goals and hard work; of tenacity and determination to win; and much more. It did not afford him the luxury of schooling. It was just the way it was. They went to school but nothing was serious. He went to Notre Dame and excelled in math and science but he never thought once of pursuing it. When he moved to Moose Jaw and was placed in the local Catholic school he prayed every morning before homeroom, still excelling at math and science, but his mind was always on hockey. His homework was always done, and he always raised his hand in class to answer questions, but school wasn’t the priority. Hockey always was. Winning always was. Getting drafted always was.

Eventually Mason approached him and took him to get another beer. From their spot standing near the fridge, Morgan could hear Briony laugh and giggle while she took pictures with Angie and did her Moira Rose accent. He and Mason talked about a variety of random things, and despite Morgan knowing Mason was 150% smarter than him, he felt comfortable. They talked mostly about sports – football, the coming of Kawhi Leonard to the Raptors, and the Jays. The Leafs never came up. Morgan was partly thankful.

“So I heard you guys made it official a few weeks back,” Mason mentioned as he cracked open his third beer.

“Y-Yeah…” Morgan nodded. So they were going there. “How do you know?”

“Listen, Bee tells Angie everything,” he said. “Most things Angie then tells me, if they’re not too personal. Bee would have probably told me eventually, though.”

“Of course,” Morgan nodded again. He should have known. Angie and Bee were like glue, and they spoke in some form everyday. He should have figured Angie would be the first to know, and therefore Mason the second to know.

“Do your teammates know?” Mason asked.

With that question, Morgan knew Mason knew who he was. He appreciated that Mason wasn’t making a big deal out of it. “Yeah, they’ve met her. When she came to some of the games she met them, and then I had a few of them over for Thanksgiving,” he explained. “I actually think Enzo’s already in love with her.”

“Yeah, that’s easy with Bee. Especially if she cooked.”

“She did.”

“Well then,” Mason chuckled. “There you go.”

Morgan took a deep breath in. “So uh, what are you getting your PhD in?”

Mason gave him a look. “The Easter Rising in Ireland,” Mason responded. Morgan gave him a blank stare. “I don’t expect you to know what that is. Don’t worry.”

“Can you explain it to me?” Morgan asked.

“What?”

“Can you explain it?”

“It doesn’t exactly need to be common, everyday knowledge,” Mason countered.

Morgan sighed. “I know. But I feel like I’m the only one here who isn’t in grad school or getting a PhD,” he said, looking around awkwardly. “And to be completely honest with you, I feel…” he paused again, looking to see Briony wasn’t anywhere near him, “I feel inadequate when I talk to Briony and she brings up all the things she’s learning. I have no clue what she’s talking about but I just nod my head. I’ve tried to do research but…”

“Well if you want the gist of it, Bee’s learning how to how to invest money in various economic conditions and how to tell people where to invest their money so--”

“No no, I know that,” Morgan said. “I don’t get, like, the stuff she needs to learn before she gets there. She had this massive assignment on behavioural economics and I saw her stress over it so much and it made me feel awful that I couldn’t help her.”

Mason couldn’t help but smile. “Well, even if you could have helped her, Bee wouldn’t have asked for it…or wanted it,” he commented. “You know her by now. She’s all about independence. She’s all about making it on her own. If you had a book of all the answers, or a definitive path she could follow to get an A, she wouldn’t read it. She’d just do it herself, her way.”

Morgan nodded his head. Mason was right. As someone who knew Bee for years, as opposed to Morgan’s few months, he knew the insight Mason had into Bee was much better than his. “I know. Still makes me feel like shit though.”

“Don’t let it get to you,” Mason soothed him. “Bee doesn’t expect that from you. If she did she would have left you by now.”

“That’s encouraging.”

“Morgan, I’m being serious. She doesn’t care about how smart a person is or what level of education they have. Believe me. Because we’ve met some pretty awful and disgusting people with Master’s and PhDs,” he said. “She’s old school. She cares about character. What you value in life. Hard work. All that stuff. If you have a PhD but you’re a dick, she’s gonna tell you off faster than if you have a high school diploma but a heart of gold.”

Morgan considered what Mason had to say seriously. He knew Mason was right. If Briony didn’t like him, if she thought he was inferior or not smart enough, she would have dumped or ghosted him by now. The fact that she was still there meant something. But the anxiety was still there.

“I’m afraid she’s going to wake up one day and realize she’s too good for me,” Morgan couldn’t stop talking. He had known Mason for all of an hour and was already revealing these insecurities to him. At this point he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

“She won’t do that,” Mason shook his head. “You guys seem to be in this weird sort of relationship where you think she’s too good for you, but she thinks you’re too good for her, and somehow you’re in perfect harmony.”

She thought he was too good for her? What in the world was she thinking?! Had she lost her damn mind? “She thinks what?”

Mason smiled mischievously. “You heard me. Must mean something.”

As if on cue, Morgan could feel her hand scratch up his back lightly to get his attention. He spun around to see her smiling, her cheeks flushed not by the ample amount of blush she had put on, but by the red wine she’d been drinking. “You ready to go? Ashley already texted me.”

“Yeah, of course. Let me get an Uber,” he nodded, even though what he really wanted to do was sit down over more beers with Mason and get to the bottom of what exactly Briony had told him about their relationship, or what Briony had told Angie who had then told Mason, or what Mason could have possibly overheard from a conversation between Angie and Briony about –

“Let me walk you to the door. I can’t believe you have to leave,” Angie’s voice, slightly drunk, interrupted his thoughts as she wrapped her arm around Briony’s shoulders. They walked to the apartment door together, coinciding with another couple that were just walking in.

Mason and Morgan had stayed back briefly so they were a few steps behind the girls. Mason nudged Morgan to get his attention. “Hey, is there a reason why you call her Briony all the time?”

Morgan shrugged his shoulders as he began to walk. “I just like the sound of Briony. It’s a beautiful name.”

“You’re the only one, you know. If we did that she’d smack us upside the head. Must mean something.”

Morgan chuckled. “I’ll see you soon, bud.”

When Morgan and Briony arrived at the Platinum Club, Tyler, dressed in a cowboy costume, greeted them enthusiastically. He was so excited and already drunk, and he picked up Briony and swung her around. His cheeks were flushed just as much as hers, and Morgan wondered how much alcohol everyone had already consumed. He was getting there, but not quite there yet.

“How’re you doing princess?” he asked.

“Pretty good, cowboy,” she giggled as she was set down. “What’s with the costume?”

“I’m from Edmonton, duh.”

“Aren’t all the cowboys in Calgary? You should have been an oil rig.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “You’re too smart, you know that? Everyone else just believed me.”

As they made their way further into the room, Morgan could see the rest of the team and their significant others. The girls practically swarmed around Briony, and Briony – seemingly a little bit too tipsy to care about all the attention – greeted them with open arms. Soon enough, she started posing in selfies and group photos with them, and kept doing Moira’s accent. “I had just had my eyelashes dyed. Everything was cloudy!”; “A heavy salad might as well be a casserole.”; “The last time I felt this emotionally encumbered, I was playing Lady Macbeth on a Crystal Skies cruise ship during Shakespeare at Sea Week!" The girls were howling their heads off. Steph kept commenting how Briony sounded exactly like Moira. Christina Marleau had tears in her eyes. Morgan couldn’t help but look on admiringly.

“Hey! How come nobody is asking me to do my Eugene Levy impression?” Morgan joked, approaching the group of women. “I practiced for days!”

“I think we’re all a little freaked out by your eyebrows,” Steph laughed. “You sure did a number on them, Bee.”

“Besides, we all know Moira is the real star of the show,” Christina winked at him.

Morgan shrugged his shoulders. “Eh, you’re right. I’m gonna go get a beer,” he said, leaving the girls alone to find where Auston got his drink.

As Morgan hung out with Auston, Jake, and Fred, the alcohol kept flowing and the jokes kept coming. After leaving Briony with the other girls, he heard her accent every now and then, and he knew it meant she was having fun. She came back briefly so they could record a video on Steph’s phone to “commemorate” the night, but beyond that, she seemed to be having the time of her life with the girls. Morgan appreciated how they were so warm and welcoming, especially Ashley and Lucy, and he knew Briony appreciated it too. As an introvert, he knew the energy it must have been taking for Briony to socialize; but at the same time, he knew the alcohol was helping. Briony could have made the executive decision to stay the entire night at Angie and Mason’s party, but the fact that she agreed to come to this one too, with his friends, meant a lot. He’d have to thank her later.

The boys eventually moved on to some shots before going for what seemed like their tenth round of whisky. Auston was giggly, as he always got when he was drunk, and kept fiddling around with his costume. Jake, for his credit, seemed completely sober, but Morgan knew he was completely shit-faced. The boy couldn’t hold his liquor. Enzo had joined them, and he was just like Jake – completely shitfaced, but somehow able to keep it together. It was team bonding experiences like this that truly brought the boys together – seeing them at their most creative, but also, if drunk, at their absolute worst.

Late into the night Lucy approached Jake. “I’m just going to go to the washroom, but we should call a taxi soon,” she told her husband.

“Yeah, cool,” he said, maintaining composure. He was swaying side to side in beat with the music that was playing out of Mitch’s phone at this point, and watched as his wife walked to the washrooms in the back of the Platinum Club. He saw Bee across the room, talking with Aryne Tavares. He tapped Morgan on the chest. “It’s time.”

“Time for what?” Morgan was confused.

“Briony. Time for Briony.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

Morgan should have known better – he really should have. Jake started to move to the music more than before. Morgan knew he liked to dance, especially with Lucy, but this was a different kind of dancing, with a different kind of beat. A song Morgan couldn’t recognize was playing in the background, and Jake couldn’t help but move his hips in tune to the music. As he did so, he moved closer and closer to Briony, who ended up being backed onto one of the plush chairs scattered about the room. She was laughing until she fell into the chair – then she knew what was coming next. She was going to die mortified. A drunken Jake Gardiner was going to give her a lap dance.

Jake took a few steps back before waltzing back towards her, blowing her a quick kiss. His hips continued to move with the beat of the music before turning around, placing his hands on the armrests, and practically sitting on her lap. From where she was sitting, she could hear Auston cackling loudly as he watched. Morgan was so red from laughing so hard she thought he was going to collapse right then and there. She assumed Jake had done this to others, and that his actions weren’t what they were laughing about – what they were laughing about was the horrified look on her face.

Jake continued his movements, turning to face her before he gyrated his hips once more. He untucked his shirt from his dress pants to move better, and unbuttoned the first three buttons, leaning over to shove his chest in Bee’s face. He reached out his hand and twisted some of her wig hair around his finger before giving her a kissy face. From out of the corner of her eye, Bee saw Auston approach Jake from behind and slip a fifty-dollar bill into the waistband of his pants. Tyler followed suit, slipping a twenty.

“I’m available for hire at parties,” Jake winked at her. “You just call me.”

“I’ll be sure to do that Jake.”

“Jake? Ja…GET AWAY FROM HER!” Lucy shrieked at her husband as she saw what he was doing. She ran over to them and pulled him away from the chair, an equally as horrified look on her face as there had been on Bee’s. Everybody was still losing their minds, even more so now at Lucy’s reaction. “Ohmigodbeeiamsosorry,” she rushed to apologize before slapping her husband on the arm. “How dare you! That poor girl!”

“She was enjoying herself! Who wouldn’t?” he motioned down to his body. “It’s Magic Mike! Everybody likes Magic Mike!”

“Jake William Gardiner you are drunk!” she screamed at him as she tugged him away. “I’m sorry again, Bee!”

“It’s alright!” she giggled out, waving goodbye to Jake as he was dragged away to the washrooms.

Bee watched as Morgan and Auston wiped the tears from their eyes. She collected her thoughts and her breath, a smile appearing on her face eventually after fully realizing what had just transpired.

Steph approached her first with tears in her eyes. “Getting a lap dance from Jake is like a rite of passage,” she snickered. “We’ve all gotten one at one point. You’re one of us now. This is like your welcoming party.”

Bee couldn’t help but laugh out loud. If a drunken lap dance from her boyfriend’s best friend was what inaugurated her into a group, then so be it.

#morgan rielly #morgan rielly imagine #morgan rielly fic #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #toronto maple leafs fic #alone together series

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