athletics magazine

Not An Athlete (4/?) *Lance Tucker x Reader*

Originally posted by sebastiansource

(Credit to Gif owner- I tried to find the original but I couldn’t)
Summary: You’re forced by your Athlete parents into taking a summer job, which becomes your full-time job as you balance university. Only the asshole you work for and help realises how much you do for him. He don’t like that, he don’t like you. Welcome to the world of Athletes, Lance Tucker is your tour guide. (I suck at summaries.)

Warnings: Explicit content, later on. Swearing, body shaming/ degrading language from Tucker. Asshole Tucker (I’m talking straight up rude.)

Part One - Part Two - Part Three


Lance cast his eyes to you, you’re sipping a glass of water, buying yourself some time to think before answering his mother’s question. You were a fool to think this would go smoothly, neither of you had even discussed how you’d both met or the ins and outs of this fake relationship. You could feel all eyes on you, Lance chuckled nervously and tried to think of some, easy, believable story about how he met you.

“We met a few months back,” you piped up from beside him, a happy smile gracing your face. “Mutual friends of ours, he was training, when we were properly introduced to one another. I’m not too big on sports but I had heard of Lance Tucker,” you shrugged. “I didn’t think anything of our exchange, till he texts me, got my number from a friend. Now here we are,” you chuckled as his mother laughed. “We’re still getting to know another, it’s still a little new for me.”

Erin nodded, holding a glass of white wine. “I’m just happy my boy found a nice girl, all those female gymnasts can be so… bitchy nowadays.” You nodded in agreement if only she knew how her son really is. “Wonderful, don’t you think, Harry?” Erin shot to Lance’s father, who was busy narrowing his eyes at you before glaring at his ex-wife.

“So, you aren’t an athlete?” Harry deflects, looking at you once more. You nod mutely, seeing no reason to bring up who your parents are to him. “What do you do then?”

“I go to University,” he nods slowly. “I’m studying English language and literature.” You smile as Erin makes a noise of surprise, Harry continues to stare down his nose at you before looking at Lance briefly. “After being with Lance I’ve learnt a lot about Gymnastics, I know he has to keep a strict diet and he spends so, so many hours training and putting extraordinary amount of effort into his work. I may not be an athlete but I have so much respect for all of them.” That little speech surprises just about everyone around the table, then you feel Lance slip an arm around your shoulders.

You glance at him as he grins, “My biggest fan right here.” You chuckled with raised eyebrows, that seems to get Lance’s dad off of your back. “How have you guys been? Enough talk of us,” Lance mostly aims his question to his mother as he sips some water.

“Well, the magazine is doing really well,” you raise an eyebrow at Lance’s mother, you didn’t know she was in the media business. “I run the magazine, Hot Shot, it’s how I met Harry.” You raised your eyebrows, you had no idea that Lance’s mother was Chief Editor of Hot Shot, only the biggest Sports Magazine since the 70’s. “Anyway, I’ve been wanting to ask, Lance, I think, after this win in the Olympics we should do a featurette. Especially, since it would be almost twenty-seven years after your father first was featured.” Lance chuckled and you grinned, despite everything you’ve been through with Lance, that was an amazing opportunity.

“You should do it,” Lance frowns looking at you. “I’ve been reading that magazine since… I was interested in journalism, my dad loves it too.” Lance’s mother chuckled and nodded, you quickly closed your mouth before you could embarrass yourself further.

“Just think about it, okay?” Lance nodded.

Lunch was full of mostly conversation about Lance’s father’s celebration here. Also, him questioning how hard Lance has been working for the next Olympics. The more you were around Harry Tucker, the more you pitied Lance. You thought you had it bad with your parents but you had it easy compared to this. It didn’t excuse his behaviour but it explained it.

“Are you staying for the celebration tonight?” Erin asked with a bright grin, standing up to hug you, you chuckle and hug her shaking your head. “Oh, honey, you should. Did Lance even extend an invitation?” She gave a displeased look to her son, who rolls his eyes. “Well, I’m extending a hand, you should come. Lord knows Lancelot will need some company.” You chuckled.

Lance sighs. “Mum, she has a life other than me.” He tries to get you out, hugging his mother who rolled her eyes at him this time.

“If she isn’t there I’ll be upset,” She teases before walking off and giving a final wave and going off with two of her assistants that you didn’t even know where sitting on a table near you. “It’s gold themed,” she yells walking to a car.

You watched as Lance awkwardly hugged Sabrina and received a handshake from his dad, you cringed at how tense Lance looked.  Once both his parents had gone he visibly relaxed and led you back to the elevator, sighing as he leant against the mirrored wall and running a hand through his hair. You remained silent through the elevator ride and to his room, where he instantly slouched on the sofa and turned the TV on.

“Well…” Lance looked at you with raised eyebrows, “That went rather well if I do say so myself. I think I was a great fake girlfriend.” You tried to lighten the mood but he didn’t laugh. “So, you parents are shit, by the way.” He bitterly laughed and nodded at that. “Has it always been like that? Always been so awkward and tense I mean.”

He doesn’t answer for a few seconds. “No. We were a family once, well a much of a family can be with an Olympic Athlete and a Magazine chief editor as parents. People don’t understand it, it’s all I’ve known though. My dad was strict, even when I was young and competing in school Gymnast competitions; I wasn’t allowed to talk to girls or have a life outside of training. My mum was busy running a multi-billion magazine, that’s my life but I had everything still- I am grateful.” The last sentence seemed rehearsed but you nodded slowly he sighed. “When I hit sixteen I fired my own dad as my coach - he fucking hated that- and then at eighteen he was caught out and my mother filed for a divorce the day after.” He added his signature smile at the end when looking at you.

He shrugged and looked back the television. “And that’s why I am the way I am because my dad was fucking around and my mum didn’t give a shit if she was around or not.” You remained silent, “Wanna know what’s fucking twisted? My mum has to run her business with him because she didn’t sign a prenup, so he got half of everything from her. Then after all that bullshit, after everything, he refuses to let her buy his share. He’s fucking her in the ass and she’s letting him, and my mum still turns up to these events for me… and for her, I have to pretend I like the cunt but I want to punch him in the dick.”

You didn’t mean to but you laughed, clasping a hand over your mouth but Lance is laughing too, actually laughing with you. Both your laughter dies out and the TV fills the silence. You look over at Lance and give a little sigh, knowing this would be a bad idea but after seeing and hearing all of this, you felt like you should do this. You were always too compassionate and nice for your own good, plus after today you felt like this would be a start of some kind of friendship with Tucker.

“I’ll go to that celebration.” He snaps his head in your direction with a frown, you give a little shrug. “After hearing the sob story I feel bad having to picture you sat at the bar on your own, so I’ll go for the free drinks.” He nods slowly, “besides it’s not like I’m in Vegas every day.”

**

“Why are we doing this?” You asked with a huff as Lance led you through the Vegas streets, he chuckled and placed his hands in his jean pockets. “Can’t I just wear one of the dresses you got sent to the room from earlier? They seemed fine.”

Lance scoffed at you. “It’s gold themed, people are gonna be wearing gold or something to that aesthetic.” You sighed gently, trying to keep up with his strides. “Fucking gold, he’s so pretentious.”

“Don’t you have a Gold tattoo?” He looked down at you still somehow managing to navigate through the busy crowds. “Like…uh… the ribbon of it.” You stumbled and he smirked causing you to roll your eyes but he doesn’t answer your question; you’ve seen glimpses of the tattoo but have heard more from locker room talk.

He grabbed your arm and pulled you into a shopping mall, it looked luxury and hardly a place you’d ever find yourself. You frowned as he steered you towards Chanel, you looked at him as he looked determined and unfazed by the fact this would be the first time, ever, you’d be stepping into an actual Chanel store. As soon as you walked in you were hit with a sweet smell, it was pungent but… nice, almost.

“Mr Tucker,” An older looking woman smiled, a blonde bob cut and red lipstick, they both kissed each other’s cheek. “What can I do for you today?” She hadn’t even acknowledged you. You glance around the store beautiful clothes, bags and shoes graced the shelves and racks. This was extremely far from your Forever 21 shopping experience.

Lance wraps an arm around your shoulders attracting your attention. “Marie, this is Y/N, and she needs a dress for my dad’s celebration party tonight. It has to be gold or with something gold,” Marie glances you over and nods. “Can I leave her in your capable hands to find something? You’ve always made my mother look the best even during her worst.” Marie gave a bright smile.

“Well, it will be a challenge but nothing me and my girls can’t handle.” She turned and called to her employees as Lance grinned and looked at you.

After Lance gave you a quick bye, saying he’d collect you in a few hour, you were left in a rather expensive store. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the store as four women looked at you, muttering to one another before scurrying off and flicking through the clothing racks. Marie stepped up to you, asking shoe size and various other clothing related questions.

“Lance has never brought a girl here,” Marie states as you sit trying on various heels. “I’m a friend of his mother’s, whenever she needs a pickup, he buys her something from here; she’s a sucker for Chanel.” You look up as Marie stands with her arms crossed, “How’d you meet him?”

You didn’t see any reason to lie to Marie, she already has you sussed out. “I-uh- work for Lance. I’m his personal assistant when he trains; it’s a long story.” Maire raised an eyebrow, you sighed with a chuckle. “Well, he drunkenly texts me and his dad thought I was a hooker, then it escalated to girlfriend and now I have to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.” She laughed and that made you chuckle, “it’s been… crazy.” You sighed.

After trying on many, many, so many dressed you finally found one that you liked and actually looked nice; not that the other didn’t. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, it was long and sparkly, gold - more champagne than gold but it worked. You felt luxurious in the dress, you knew it was expensive, probably cost more than anything you own. If your parents knew what you were doing they’d freak out, this is some Pretty Woman shit; except you aren’t an escort and Lance isn’t Richard Gere.

When Lance, finally, comes back for you- you were thinking he had forgotten about you- he looks at the dress bag you’re holding. He takes the bag from you, bidding a bye to Marie who also hugs you too and you head back to the hotel.

“My mum wants you to get ready with her,” you stare wide-eyed at Lance. “She wants to get to know you or some bullshit, it’s only two hours.” He sighs with annoyance like he was surprised that you were shocked by this.
**

“What am I meant to say?” You looked at Lance to his mother’s hotel room door. “What if she asks about my family? Or us? Lance, I shouldn’t do this, I’m not very good at lying!” He rolled his eyes sassily and knocked the door, ignoring your worried eyes.

He looks down at you, “Just wing it. Okay?” The door flies open and it’s one of  Erin’s assistants, they smile and pull you in, Lance quickly stepping in before the door closes. The suite is full of people, amongst them is Erin, robe on and on the phone. She looks over at you and Lance, quickly saying goodbye to whoever was on the other end to greet you both.

“Lance, your father wants to speak with you.” Erin smiles pulling you into a hug, you accept with a fond smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your girl. She’s getting the full Tucker treatment,” he rolls his eyes and turns. “You’re not gonna kiss her goodbye?” You freeze and look at Lance, who turns and chuckles at his mother.

“No, I like to make her wait.” He drops a wink at you before leaving out the door, blowing a kiss before it shuts fully.

You turn back to Erin who is chuckling lightly at her son, she takes the dress bag from you and hands it to one of her people and sits down on the sofa’s, patting the spot beside her with a welcoming grin. You tentatively sit down, an awkward smile settling on your face as another assistant sets down two glasses of champagne.

“I know,” Erin says as she sips from the crystal glass flute and your eyes widen. “I know what Lance is like, he’s turned into a womaniser and very cock-sure.” You release a puff air and nod with a frown. “He thinks I don’t know, the persona he fakes when competing but I have eyes and ears everywhere.” She looks at you with a sly smile and you chuckle. “It made me worried that he wouldn’t find someone, that he wouldn’t be able to connect with anyone and have something special but then he introduced me to you, and I’ve got to say… my boy is hitting above the mark.” You laughed loudly at that, putting your glass on the table and trying to compose yourself. “He is, Y/N. You’re smart, pretty and I can tell, a lot like me. Independent and career driven, Tucker men don’t like competition and us independent women don’t like being told what to do. You make Lance think; you keep him on his toes and he likes that.”

As you let her word sink in, she stands up and starts to instruct different people on what they’re doing. Most of the people in the room are hair and makeup, people who are hired to make you look beautiful. Something you hadn’t experienced, ever. You never had anyone do your hair or makeup before, it was odd but nice at the same time.

Sat in front of the mirror as a man called, Ryan, doing your hair. Brushing through it, giving small ideas on how he wants to style your hair for the evening, all of which you loved and agreed with; allowing him to do his job, your full faith in his hands. Erin chatted away, talking about her job and occasionally asking you questions; you managed to avoid talking about your parents.

Conversation twisted onto stories about Lance as a kid, despite the fact Lance told you that Erin wasn’t around she had a few tales about his embarrassing moments. A lot of them made you chuckle, like when she found him wearing her lipstick and dress.

“He was a good kid, very bright and full of potential.” Erin smiled, her hair being done as she looked at you through the mirror. “He was extremely close to his grandparents, he would spend all day and every day with them,” Erin wore a fond smile. “When his grandpa died, we put my mother in a retirement home and he hasn’t visited her, I think he’s too scared to.” She gave a gentle sigh, “that boy, despite his attitude wears his heart on his sleeve. What has he been like with you? Treating you well, I hope?”

You wanted to tell the truth to Erin, she seemed genuine and lovely. “Good. Really good, I was apprehensive at first, like all new relationships. I know of his… reputation but I wasn’t going to let that cloud my judgement on Lance. Meeting you though, hearing all this stuff about him, I don’t know, it’s giving me a bigger outlook on him.” Erin smiled and nodded. “He has made my life rather difficult but that’s just Lance!”

You both finished getting ready, you telling Erin about your time at university and your degree. It was easy talking to Erin, she made you feel bad for lying to her, for pretending that you loved Lance and that he’s nice to you. You pulled on your dress one of the assistants helping zip the back of it, eyes wide and a grin as they look at you through the mirror, you blushed a little and smiled back.

Staring at yourself in the mirror it was like someone else staring at you. Your hair was styled and swept back out of your eyes. Your makeup was immaculate, beautiful and made your face glow, your lips stained a light nude. The dress made you feel like a million bucks, it clung to you in all the right places and made you look elegant. It was so different to how you’d dress but it was a good different; you felt pretty, prettier than you have ever felt.

“You look like a goddess,” Erin breathed. You blushed even more, allowing Erin to take your hand and spin you around, looking at you from all angles. “Lance is one lucky man.” You rolled your eyes playfully, finally looking at Erin who wasn’t wearing a dress or gold. “I’m not married to the man, I don’t need to abide by his stupid rules anymore.” You raised your eyebrows and chuckled. She wore a deep red dress, a thin belt around the middle and a red blazer over the top. Her hair styled to perfection and her lips stained red too, she looked glamorous and beautiful; this is where Lance gets his looks from.

You walked down to the elevator and party linked arms with Erin. The room they rented was huge, bar and chandelier, tables and beautiful gold decorations. Everyone was dressed beautifully, models and other athletes alike were mingling. You’ve never felt more out of place than in this room.

“You’re gonna do fine, honey,” Erin whispered, you glanced at her and she grinned. “It’s all about faking your worth around here. Bullshitting that you’re important and that you’re God’s gift. Lance, is very good at it now, too well.” You slowly nod as Erin leads you further into the crowd, smiling and greeting people. “I fucking hate all of these people!” She sighed, grabbing two crystal flutes of champagne. “Lance, over here, sweetie.” Your back was facing where you assumed Lance was, sipping the champagne to find some liquid courage.

“Jesus, fucking, Christ.” Is all you hear before turning your head and seeing Lance just staring at you.

(Well, this is longer than I thought it would be. I’d apologise but you guys love longer parts, I know you do! Excuse any mistakes, I’m still mid editing this long part! - Rosalie)

feel free to read my Johnny Storm fic http://marvelandassociates.tumblr.com/post/163090913598/the-other-girl-johnny-storm-x-reader13


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9

We love taking portraits so we were beyond excited when our friends at Sharp Magazine asked us to shoot a menswear story featuring NHL players. The players were in town for a media day at the Ritz Carlton so we brought our studio to the hotel and set up shop there.  The guys were all great and seemed to love the shoot- they don’t often get styled like debonair gentlemen.  Thanks to the awesome Sharp crew Evan Kaminsky, Matthew Biehl, Joanne Jin and Peter Saltsman. And to Randy Smith for the beautiful styling, Sheri Stroh for grooming, and Nirva Milord at the NHL for coordinating the players for us. Featured here from top to bottom: Patrice Bergeron, Oliver Ekman-Larsson, Claude Giroux, Frederik Andersen, Roman Josi, Jacob Trouba, Joe Pavelski, Cory Schneider and Gabriel Landeskog. 

Bull

Julian couldn’t believe he actually got his hands on that guy’s tank top. He’d been scoping out the gym a little while now. He knew when all the real big guys went to the gym. And there was this one who he’d been crushin on for weeks. Big Steve, the guys called him. He was absolutely jacked; broad shoulders, thin waist, blond hair, thick lantern jaw, and handsome as fuck. Athletic magazines could have him all over their covers.

It was Julian’s favorite guy to watch. He’d walk on the treadmill and stare as big Steve did bicep curls or squats. Steve’s muscular ass stuck so far out each time he went all the way down. All Julian could think of was grabbing it. But he didn’t. Steve had a girlfriend and she was always around him. It was so annoying. And she knew how to keep Steve’s body out of Julian’s view. Somehow she knew exactly where to stand so he could barely see anything. But she wasn’t allowed in the locker room.

That’s when Julian took his chance. He saw Steve changing and dropping his shirt into the duffle bag. Julian snuck up behind him, grabbed it and kept walking. He shoved it deep into his own bag. Driving home he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. This was so wrong but he wanted the shirt. The spell specifically called for a piece of clothing that the person owned.

“There’s still sweat on it,” Julian’s eyes gleamed. “And his smell!” He pulled it in close and bringing the sweaty musky smell of his idol to his nose. But he couldn’t get too carried away. He still had to cast the spell. Working quickly he found the book and other ingredients. Saying the magic words he knew he’d be able to transform into that super hotty he’d been eyeing for so long. And then… Then he could take all the pictures he wanted.

Julian’s face lit up thinking about that monster cock he’d spied on when Steve was busy changing. Slapping himself, he knew he had to get to work. Fantasies are fun but reality is better. He quickly cast the spell on the shirt. Then he’d be able to turn into its owner.

He stood in the mirror. The shirt was way too big on his small frame. If he wasn’t holding the straps up they would have easily fallen over his shoulders. “When does it start…” doubt started to flood his mind. His lower body was starting to get cold from the lack of pants. Sure the shirt almost went down to his knees but it was still a bit awkward standing there without any pants on.

Part of him was ready to give up. Then it happened. A blinding light filled his room. He couldn’t see as his body was changing shape. But he could feel the intense amount of muscles growing on him. He knew his shoulders were growing wider, pecs thicker, and arms stronger. There was no denying that. He let out a light groan as his bones started to stretch longer. The new height not completely lost on him. His legs widened into a new stance allowing his thick thighs to grow wider. He opened his eyes.

“Who the fuck is this?” he stared blankly at the stranger’s face in the mirror. “Definitely not big Steve…” he continued to groan but his large hands patted the even larger belly. It felt good. He ran his thick meaty fingers through the unkempt beard. “Not really my first choice. But not too bad…” he could feel callouses on his hands. The guy clearly worked out. He was strong that’s for sure. Just giving a little flex he could feel the big ball of muscle in his arm. “Far from my last…” he turned to the side looking at his new shape.

“No abs…” he lifted up the shirt and padded the big round belly, “But I think I can make this work.” He smiled and pulled out his camera on his phone. Staring into the mirror his smile broadened. Maybe not magazine cover material but still a damn hot bull. “Yeah I can definitely make this work.”

3

People who claim they don’t watch the WNBA because it’s not good basketball do not know what they are talking about. Maybe it’s true that the women don’t play above the rim much, but if the San Antonio Spurs taught you anything as they dismantled the Heat (on the court and quite possibly, as a team–we’ll see what free agency brings), it’s that great fundamental basketball with screens, cuts, and precision passing can be incredibly exciting. Someone you should watch? Angel McCoughtry of the Atlanta Dream. She was straight beastmode playing for the University of Louisville, and those skills have translated nicely to the WNBA.  Upon joining the Atlanta Dream, McCoughtry soon made a name for herself as an outstanding scorer with excellent penetration and a penchant for drawing the foul. After grabbing Rookie of the Year honors in 2009, she went on to finish third and second in points per game for 2010 and 2011 respectively. She also led the league in free throw attempts twice. On September 8, 2010, McCoughtry set an WNBA playoff record with 42 points in game two of the Eastern Conference Finals against the New York Liberty. In Game 1 of the 2011 WNBA Finals against the Minnesota Lynx, she set Finals records for most points in a quarter (19) and most points in a game (38).  I know she missed a dunk that one time…but I wouldn’t bet against her. At 6'1" and 160 pounds, she has a body built to fly.

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put a shirt on

Akaashi wiped off the sweat that had gathered on his upper lip with the collar of his tshirt. They had ended their usual practice with a few rounds of suicides, and he was breathing heavily. What he was also doing was avoiding staring at their captain who had decided wearing a shirt was no longer necessary. 

Of course, Akaashi couldn’t disagree with him. 

But as vice-captain he had to remain professional, and staring at Bokuto’s impeccable back muscles was not that. 

He could stare all he wanted once everyone else left. 

While Bokuto continued to parade around the gym, looking like a model from an athletics magazine, Akaashi took some time to hydrate himself. 

He was rather thirsty.

For water.

Of course. 

That was when Konoha came up beside him. 

“Wanna like, tell Bokuto to put his shirt back on? He’s making that rest of us feel inadequate.” 

Akaashi released the suction on his water bottle with a loud shmack and regarded Konoha for a moment. Then he turned his attention to Bokuto, who was all the way across the gym doing a handstand for reasons Akaashi wasn’t going to try and guess. 

“Bokuto-san,” he said, using the volume he would if Bokuto were right beside him, “put a shirt on.” 

He glanced over at Konoha who didn’t look at all appeased and then looked back to their captain. 

“Please,” he added just as mildly. 

“You’re the worst,” Konoha said plainly. 

Akaashi shrugged. “I can deal with that,” he replied, bringing his water bottle back to his lips and allowing himself one more moment to watch Bokuto as he switched to a one-handed handstand.

Konoha sighed. “Just the worst.”