bro bffr

comics, basketball, hip hop, food and coffee i also write some cute fanfics

[crii-sis]

my ao3 <3

my nba one-shots here

my nfl one-shots here

my comic stuff here

[crii-sis]

random nba rpf one shot i abandoned

"You think you're so fuckin' cute, huh?"

LaMelo flashed a pearly white smile, a small glint of his grillz peaking though.

They were in Vegas for summer league, neither of them playing. Just sitting pretty court side, posing for cameras, and signing autographs for fans.

Vegas was fun in the summer for Ja, the energy was different pre-season, like the whole world was ready for the taking, like he could have anything he wanted.

And right now, seeing LaMelo with his baby pink fuck-ass juicy couture velour track suit was sending him. His blond curls were coiled tight and short, peaking out below a matching hat.

Ja rolled his eyes, and LaMelo's smile got wider.

"Nah, but you think so?" It wasn't a question, and it sounded smug.

They were at the hotel lobby, the sounds of slot machines from the casino bouncing through the room, laughter as cheering of people winning and loosing was filtering through the building.

Ja had his elbow on the bar, slouched down, knee's bent looking up at LaMelo who stood tall.

fuck - he is cute.

And it was as if LaMelo read his mind, stepping forward, one of his legs slotted between Ja's knees. His lips were still curled up in that mischievous smile, and Ja couldn't help but notice how hydrated they were. Wondering briefly how they'd feel against his.

When LaMelo bit his lip, Ja felt like he was being played. The fucker had a knowing look, hands wandering closer to Ja.

Ja stood up, shoving Melo off of him. Grabbing his shirt by the collar, vice grip probably ruining the expensive fabric.

"Bro, don't screw with me." Ja was a hair shorter than Melo, but the younger man was cowering slightly. "I will fuck you up."

LaMelo blinked up at him.

"I'm serious." Ja's steeled his expression.

They were breathing all over each other, and Melo smelled like a cocktail of fruit punch, lychees, cherries and mango. Ja always had a bit of a sweet tooth.

“You gotta gun you wanna wave around while you’re at it? Seems like you usually do.”

And that was when Ja saw red.

[crii-sis]

nba rpf challenge to not have at least one white player in a pairing - level impossible

[jrueships]

' HOOOLD ME BAAAAACK 😫!!!!!'

STOP IT U GUYS ARE SCARING HER !!!!!!

HES FRIGHTENED ☹️!!!!!!!!!

[crii-sis]

lost by 37 to the hornets after this btw 😭

[crii-sis]

the way this clip made me unarchive my fic here 😭

i miss the platonic vibes/fics from this time

[cazluvsu]

underrated aspect of wr/db relationships/rivalries rpf wise is that dbs have to look into the wrs eyes to see when the ball is coming

[crii-sis]

wrote a short one shot on JJ being comforted by Justin after this stream, and lost it when my laptop crashed

[whiteshakira]

[crii-sis]

do u ever see a photo of jordan poole and get a hot pit in your stomach?? no.. just me??

[crii-sis]

“Marr, baby, c’mon.”

Joe was pulling at his uniformed sleeve. The game had ended, and they were back in the locker room. They had lost spectacularly - and to the Steelers no less.

Ja’Marr had also gotten hit in the face.

“You can’t just spit on people.”

And of course all Joe could do right now, injured and not playing, was criticize Ja’Marr.

And likely, Joe was trying to carefully toe the line between understanding and exasperation. Ja’Marr couldn’t bring himself to give a fuck.

“Try having opinions on games you actually play.” It was nasty, even for Ja’Marr.

Joe reeled back a little, letting his hands fall off the wide receiver’s shoulder.

“Hurting my feelings isn’t gonna help you sort out all that anger you have cooped up in there.” Joe’s eyes were hard, finger now poking Ja’Marrs chest uncomfortably.

And it was as if there was fire in pit Ja’Marr’s stomach that spread to the tips of his toes, curling beneath his palms and flushed into his face all at once.

“Till I see you wearing number nine out on that field, I don’t gotta take your words for jack shit.”

“That right?” Joe asked without humour.

“Damn fucking straight.”

Joe didn’t even bother asking if he was hurt. Ja’Marr briefly wondered if the other man even cared.

And now Joe was breathing heavy through his nose, teeth gritted and jaw shut.

“Well I guess that’s all I am to you - a guy that throws you the ball on Sundays.”

“Don’t forget the occasional Monday and Thursday night.” Ja’Marr was digging himself a deeper hole, he just couldn’t stop himself.

And Joe allowed the hurt to flash in his eyes before schooling his expression.

“Fuck you, Ja’Marr.”

And it was that last thing Joe said before walking away, leaving Ja’Marr feeling like the game wasn’t the only thing he lost today.

[gausmans-pinkiefinger]

I LOVE ERNIE POP OFF KING

[elitist-asshole]

they should invent a baseball game that ends

[crii-sis]

cant pick what a better nba nickname is:

Area 51 - stefon castle & wemby

edging to the max - vj & maxey

[realtapiocafan]

you've heard of 'love thy goalie', let me introduce you to 'love thy kicker'

[crii-sis]

SCOTTIE ASKING OG TO TELL THE STREAM “HOW MUCH YOU LOVE ME” is CRAZYYYYGG

i fijcing miss my boys bro shsyshhflkjehr

[crii-sis]

shemar stewart hitting joe burrow in practice is a bigger deal than the draymond-poole practice incident. but i don’t think we’re ready for that conversation

especially the way the o line immediately jumped to his defense

[crii-sis]

my fav rare nba rpf trope is fight or fuck

like they don’t even have to fuck, just the idea that they are unsure if they will