#like…y’all are picking on Trevor and I feel bad for him and he’s not even on my team | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hwrryscherry · 4 years ago

Text

The one where the reader is a singer

characters: HARRY x SINGER!Y/N

blurb: The reader is finishing up her brand-new album and as Harry comes to visit her on her last day of working in the studio, he gets to react to one of her songs, 34+35.

word count: 1.9K

author's note: HI GUYS! It’s been a week I think? Anyway, I’ll get back to school tomorrow so idk when imma post the next request but I’m hoping that it will be soon! Anyway, I want to thank y’all for the love and support on my writing and I hope that the anon who asked this likes it as much as I did. Never forget that you’re so golden and tpwk. AND ALSO, HAPPY 27TH BIRTHDAY TO HARRY!

You took a deep breath right after asking for the track to be played again. To everyone else the track was perfect, but it was different for you. It just felt like something was missing and you didn't know what. And god, you were tired. You were so genuinely exhausted that if you sit up in a chair and stay silent for more than five minutes you'll simply fall asleep. You felt your eyes heaving at every blink of yours and it was only 5 pm, but you were in this studio for so long. You were inside this place for 36 hours now with no shower and no sleep. You did eat but now you were hungry again.Your shoulders were tensed up, and you couldn't feel comfortable anywhere. Not in the couch, not in the chair, not in the floor and not even stand up. All you genuinely demanded right now was to be home under your bed sheets curled up with your boyfriend of four years while taking many naps or watching many movies, but no, you needed to have this done. You needed the album to be done and were extremely thrilled to release it to your fans that were excited as well. But yes, you were so frickin' tired.

— Again... — You repeated after a long and sharp breath listening to some groans from your coworkers. You all have been listening to this one song for about an hour and a half now and you haven't actually changed anything yet. — I know, I know, and I'm sorry guys, it's just not right!

— Maybe you think it's not right, but it is and you're just making a huge deal about it. — One of your co-workers said. A girl, Lucy, one of your friends as well. You turned your head to stare at her face and gave her that glaze that made her shrug her shoulders because of it — Alright, I'm sorry.

— I'm not making a huge deal. It's just not right, and I feel like the entire album is so great and this is just wrong. Like... — You said standing up from the couch you were sitten in and walked to the table with the computers on to grab the one paper you used to write this song. You stared at it in your hands for a while as you read the letters. — See, here is the problem. So here it's "you drink it just like water" and then suddenly comes "so what you doin' tonight?", it doesn't make sense, there's something missing in here. — You go through the lyrics again as you hear more groans from the people in the room — And honestly, I'm disappointed with myself for the rest. I need to change it so badly, but I have no idea on how.

— No problem, love — You naturally said referring to his previous apologies.

That's when you hear the sound of the door being opened. You rise your head to look at the door and see Harry, your boyfriend, walking into the room with some paper bags in his hands that contained burgers directly from In-N-Out, which was in fact your favorite Los Angeles burger place ever. He arrived in silence, trying not to make a noise for fear that you were recording something but you could note his surprised expression when he saw everyone was looking at him instead of recording.

— Sorry guys, I didn't want to disturb you. I was passing by and wanted to check up! — Harry said as he closed the door behind him and walked farther into the room. You smiled tenderly when you saw the figure of the man walking closer to you. You haven't seen each other personally in some days, and he consistently secured you so much spiritual peace, he just had such a light energy and it made you feel so good — And also y’all had been stealing my girl for so long now! — He joked getting a slight laugh from everyone inside the studio. He approached you by wrapping your waist with one of his arms around your waist and sealing your lips together as he bends down a little.

— And Harry, technically she is maintaining us here and not the other way around — Lucy said in an ironic tone causing you to look at her quickly before letting out a deep breath and lowering your head by rubbing your sleepless eyes with the help of your hands, probably a negative result of sleep. Harry reflected the girl's words and then looked at you carefully before placing the bags on the coffee table that was next to the studio sofa.

— Why? What happened? — Harry asked encountering his gaze with yours as he crossed his arms and observed you raising your hand that contained the papers with the lyrics of your new song.

— I can't write a proper ending that I genuinely like! — You said, sounding frustrated to everyone in that room.

— The ending is good! — Another of your friends, Jaden, said as he got up and picked up one of the bags Harry had brought and then started walking again to sit on the sofa.

— Jaden, you in silence is everything to me! — You said in a mocking tone while running your hand through your hair — But you understand, don't you? — You asked Harry because he has experience with such a specific subject — It's not that it's bad, it's that I don't feel like it's ready!

— I get it! But have you already recorded? — Harry asked softly in his understanding tone. He more than anyone in this room comprehended exactly what you were feeling and he would do his best to help you since you did the same with him so many times before.

— Yes, twenty times! — Jaden murmured a little before taking a bite of one of the burgers that Harry had brought. Harry couldn't hold back the laugh when he heard the boy, as they knew each other well and Harry knew all his sassiness was based on nothing more than hunger.

— Let me hear it, so I can have some ideas to help! — Harry said looking at you, and then noticing your reaction. Your eyes widened at the man's request. It wasn't fear. It was just an apprehension and that made Harry extremely curious — What?

— Well... It's a little... — You said in a lower tone seeking your words.

— Promiscuous and indulgent! — Lucy and Jaden completed your sentence making Harry look at her and the boy sitting on the sofa and then Harry raised one of his eyebrows and looked at you with a smirk on his lips.

— Uh, is it about me? — Harry asked in a mocking tone, waiting for the answer that would raise his ego, of course.

— Look, let's not specify anything — You said quickly and nervously looking at the smirk on your boyfriend's face — Ok, Trevor, play the song right for the love of god! — You said getting a laugh out of Harry, Jaden and Lucy due to your despair in ending this matter.

And Trevor did as you asked and put the song on. You sat down on the bench near the wall and crossed your arms while watching Harry's reactions. The soon as the song started everyone could notice your voice and the rhythm of it that matched the beat.

You may think I’m crazy

The way I’ve been craving

If I put it quite plainly

Just give me them babies

You could notice Harry bouncing his head on the rhythm of the song as a sign that he liked it because you knew that he only did that to songs that he likes. And you also noticed a small smile when he listened to the end of this verse because he did remember all the times you both had talked about having a baby before.

So what you doin’ tonight?

Better say doin’ you right

Watching movies

But we ain’t seen a thing tonight

Again you noticed the smirk and you did smirk as well because you both knew the lack of ability that you had to watch any movie that lasted longer than two hours and you almost ended not watching anything.

I don’t wanna keep you up

But assuming can you keep it up

‘Cause then I’d like to keep you up

So maybe Imma keep you up

Boy

Harry wasn’t looking at you, though. He was looking at the floor while bouncing his head and paying attention to the song as he was trying to catch the vibe of it and honestly you don’t know if it’s the song that had this vibe but he was looking way too hot to handle at this moment.

I’ve been drinking coffe

And I’ve been eating healthy

Know I get squeaky, yeah

Saving all my energy

Now the chorus was about to start and you were actually excited and nervous to see Harry’s reaction of it. You two have been dating for four years now. He probably understood any little detail of this song more than anyone else.

Can you stay up all night?

F**k me till the daylight

34 35

You started to hold back your laugh as Harry lifted his head up fastly with winded eyes and a surprised look so he could face you. It wasn’t actually your style to write songs that promiscuous so he was actually surprised at it even though he loved it. He had a smile on his face though and so did you.

The song kept playing as the words repeated itself and it stopped just after the second chorus so Harry passed his hands through his hair as you waited for his opinion on it. Honestly, Harry’s opinion about your music is extremely important to you because you cherish and admire him way too much and love his songs so you hope that he does too with yours.

— So... What do you think? — You asked anxiously waiting for his opinion. The truth is Harry had already listened to all the songs on his new album except this one.

— I like it! — Harry said with a smile on his lips making you breathe a sigh of relief — Maybe I can help write the rest, but they really didn't lie and it's great. The beat is good and the lyrics are catchy and everything will be fine. The point, my love, is that you are too worried! — Harry said as he approached you, placing his big, strong hands on your shoulders and massaging them lightly feeling all the tension in your muscles slowly dissolving — Relax, it's amazing! You got it!

With Harry's help, you finished the song in less than an hour. When you recorded the rest and listened, you felt that now it was ready and now you could go home with him. It was simply incredible to know you could always count on him and to know that while you were together creativity would be present and life wouldn't be boring. After all, you had each other and had the art.

#hwrryscherry #hwrryscherryxreader #harry and y/n #harry styles and y/n #harry x reader #harry styles au #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #harry styles x y/n #boyfriend harry styles #harry styles imagines #harry styles imagine

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years ago

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From the ground up

Alright y’all, a little switch up from the normally scheduled 10 things programming. But this is 8 pages of fluff that was requested based on the Dan + Shay song From the Ground Up.

This is also very inspired by my grandparents who knew each other for 85 years, were married for 66, had 4 children, 13 grandchildren, and currently 10 great grandchildren, so here’s also their story, but it fits with the song, so why not?

Hope you like it! ______________________

Five Years Old

The snow was falling, all the neighborhood boys were gathering in his front yard to start playing. You two had always been friends, meeting when you were three years old and in the same preschool class. You watched from your bedroom window as the boys started throwing snowballs at each other, something you loved doing with your younger brother. You put on all the winter clothing you can find, running downstairs to beg your mom to go across the street to the Jost’s house to play with the boys.

“Have fun sweetie!” your mom calls once you finally wear her down and convince her that you’ll come in as soon as she calls you in for dinner.

Running as fast as your legs can carry you, more and more children aggregating in their yard, it was an all out war between the guys and girls, snowballs flying. The girls were getting pelted, you coming in and throwing snowballs left and right at any boy who stood in your way. One by one, they surrender, until you were the last one standing. You were the almighty five year old, the winner of the snowball fight.

Someone taps you on the shoulder. You turn around to see who it is only to be met with a snowball to the face. The boys around you were laughing as Tyson stood in front of you with a smirk. You wipe the snow off, staring at him for a minute while the girls stayed silent behind you. The snow was still following, a crown of water droplets forming on around his face as the melted snow clinged to his hair. It wasn’t a crush yet, because you didn’t know what that was. But it was something.

The next thing you know, you’ve tackled him down in the snow, grabbing some off the ground and shoving it back in his face. The kids gather around the two of you, watching Tyson struggle to push you off of him, not succeeding until you hear your mom calling your name from across the street.

“Bye, Tyson!” you jump up, running back inside, leaving all the rest of the kids standing there, looking at Tyson’s wet hair, cold red face, and snow covered back while he watched you run and disappear behind your front door.

Seventeen Years Old

“What do you mean that’s when you knew?” you ask him, his laugh coming through the other end of the phone.

“Any girl who wasn’t afraid of beating up a guy who was bigger than her and actually does it well is the girl for me,” he says, referencing the snowball fight all those years ago. “You didn’t care what other guys thought of you: you got hit unfairly and I paid the consequence.”

“Well, yeah, you think I was going to let you get away with that? Also, we were the same size, you were pretty small then” you tease him. “It’s so corny that you fell in love with me when we were five years old.”

“What can I say? I’m a hopeless romantic when it comes to you,” he says, “There’s no one who I would want to be with other than you. The distance thing doesn’t even seem like it’s going to be bad knowing that you’re the one I’m doing it with.”

You feel your insides flutter at his words, wishing that he was there with you now. You two had been together for as long as your moms let you date, spending every moment together that you could. He was your best friend first, your boyfriend second, your forever third. “How are you feeling about going to North Dakota in a few months?” you ask him.

He lets out a long, slightly shaky sigh, “Excited? Nervous?” he tells you, his voice going up at the end of each, “Terrified.”

“It’s a new experience, that’s natural,” you try to reassure him. “You’ve never really done this sort of thing before.”

“Aren’t you nervous about going all the way to Massachusetts?”

Part of you was, part of you wasn’t. You were scared to be away from Tyson, but part of you knew that you would always find your way back to each other, even with the distance between Chestnut Hill and Grand Forks. “About being that far away from home? No, not really.”

“What about being that far away from me?” you hear him squeak out on the other end, barely loud enough for you to really hear the pain that was in his voice.

“I’m not nervous,” you whisper, wishing you could be there with him to physically comfort him, “We’re going to be just fine.”

“How do you know?”

You take a deep breath, knowing that he was going to cry a little if he weren’t already. “We have been best friends since I beat you up that day. No matter what, you’re going to be my best friend. No matter what, I’m going to love you. I don’t care if you’re at UND and I’m at BC. You could go to Sweden and I could end up in New Zealand and I will still always love you.”

You hear him laugh a little, a sniffle followed immediately after. You didn’t need to see his face to know that his nose was red, the goofy grin of his trying to hide the fear that would surely be covering his face.

“Hey, meet me by the gazebo in thirty minutes, ok?” he finally says after what felt like forever sitting there in silence.

“Sure,” you tell him, your phone beeping as a signal that he had hung up. You had no idea what he had planned, but you did as you were told, grabbing your jacket and making your way to meet Tyson. You get there to find him pacing back and forth under the moonlight that was shining down on him. “Hey, babe,” you say, him pulling you in tight for a kiss.

Even though it was summer, the night time brought a cool breeze that sent a shiver through your body even with the jacket on. Tyson takes off his jacket, his favorite one with his name on his back, handing it to you, a smile on his face as he watched you pull it over your head. “So, what are we doing here?”

“This is going to sound crazy,” he starts, knowing that would concern you a little, “but hear me out first. You’re confident that we’ll stay together even being in North Dakota and Massachusetts, but I want to put in stone. Or, I guess, wood,” he says, gesturing to the gazebo.

“What are you talking about?”

“People carve their initials in the wood here all the time. Why don’t we do that, too?”

You smile at him, bending down next to him to watch him carve TJ + YFI/YLI enclosed in a crude heart, next to others that had looked like they had been there for years. “I wonder who all these people are?” you ask, carefully tracing your finger over one that said MR+MD. “I wonder if they’re all still together.”

“Don’t matter,” Tyson shrugs, looking at the way the moonlight dances off your skin, “We’re still together, and I have a feeling we’re going to last.”

Eighteen Years Old

Tyson had no idea you would be there. The College Hockey Showdown was that weekend at Madison Square Garden, the Boston College Eagles playing against the North Dakota Fighting Eagles. One of your roommates was from a small town in southern Connecticut, half an hour outside of the city, so you convinced her to go with you and spend the weekend down there instead of driving the four hours back to Chestnut Hill after the game.

“So, which one is he?” Julie asks as the guys skated onto the ice.

You were in the only section that led you to be surrounded by a sea of maroon and gold, feeling weirdly out of place not wearing team colors but the jacket Tyson gave you that night at the gazebo, which you ended up stealing from him, instead. “Number 17, the curly-haired one,” you point to him as he talks with one of his teammates, his helmet off, making it much easier to see his face.

Tyson had been telling you how nervous the team was about this game: Brock was injured, Trevor was two days shy of a 730 day scoring drought, and the team hadn’t beaten Boston College in 11 years. Not to mention, UND and BC were the two winningest college programs since the 06-07 season, UND having a slight edge over BC, putting that much more pressure on the guys to win this game to help make the gap a little wider. Tyson only rambled off stats about the other team when he was worried about a game against them. It was the first time you would ever be rooting against the college team you had come to love, and only because it involved the boy you love.

“Does he know you’re here?” she asks you, trying to figure out why he wasn’t looking up in the stands for you. When you shake your head no, she picks you up out of your seat, annoying the other Boston College fans while the ones behind you got a good look at the four letters scrawled across your back. “Tyson!” she starts screaming, shaking you in hopes that you would join in with her.

You roll your eyes, knowing that he would be able to hear his name being called once you joined in. You were waiting to see the look on his face when he finally realized you were at the game, so you scream along with her. He hears his name, confused as to where it’s coming from. He looks around the arena, taking what felt like forever to find you. His jaw drops when he sees you, a smile on his face as he frantically waves back at you. He nudges his teammate next to him, pointing up to you. You couldn’t tell what he was saying, but from the joy that covered his face he was excited that you would get to see him play.

The first period goes by, no scoring, not much of anything. The second period was starting, and the blank score on both sides was making you nervous. One of Tyson’s teammates passed him the puck, Tyson taking the opportunity to shoot and scoring his sixth goal of the year. The Garden went crazy, you and Julie the only two in the small section of Boston College fans joining most of the crowd, Tyson pointing right up to you when he skated to the bench. UND went on the power play, his teammate passing him the puck again. At the dot, he fired it past the BC goalie, putting his team up 2-0.

You were overjoyed by Tyson’s game, getting to see him be named first star of the game that UND won 4-3. You manage to sneak your way down to where the boys are, Tyson somehow convincing someone who worked there to let you in once you gave them your name. You saw Tyson giving an interview, the guys passing by him and patting him on the shoulders while he talked. You didn’t hear what they asked him, but you could help but admire him. “That’s part of hockey. There’s going to be momentum swings. We really had to bounce back, but that just shows our character in our team. We’re all warriors in there and I think we proved it tonight.”

The reporter leaves, Tyson turning towards him. He was sweaty, disgusting, smelly, and all of that combined wasn’t enough to stop you from running into his arms as he picked you up in his arms and kissed you for the first time since the day you left. “I can’t believe you’re here!” he practically screams when he puts you down, kissing you again.

“I wanted to surprise you,” you tell him as he goes on about how excited he was that you were there.

“I think you’re a good luck charm,” he says, leading you out of the way from some of the other guys walking around the hallway and plopping you down on the floor. “Hey, I’ve been thinking,” he starts, his voice shaking.

You knew he was nervous by the sound of his voice. You gently squeeze his hand, the smile on his face growing bigger, “Yeah?”

“When you graduate, wherever I’m playing, or even if I’m not, I wanna be living with you.”

“Are you asking me to move in with you after graduation?” you ask him, his sweaty curls moving with his head. “You think we’ll still be together in three and a half years?”

He swallows, looking down at your hands intertwined, sitting on his thigh, “I can’t imagine my life any other way. It’s written on the ground of the gazebo.”

Twenty Two Years Old

You and Tyson were going home for the wedding of one of your cousins. You had been living together for a year now in Colorado, Tyson enjoying his fourth season in the league.

“Hey, can we make a quick pit stop before we head to the reception?” Tyson asks you when you get into the car. Your cousins, Lisa and Brendan get in the back seat, Tyson being deemed the designated driver for the night. You swear you see them smile at each other before looking back at the two of you.

“Yeah, sure, is that alright with you guys?” you ask them, making eye contact through the rearview mirror. They both nod, the four of you talking about the ceremony the entire way to wherever Tyson was taking you. His hands were shaking like he was nervous.

You pull into the park that was down the street from where you grew up. “Come on,” he says, rushing around the car to open the door for you and drag you through the grounds. Lisa and Brendan follow, keeping their distance as Tyson sprinted towards the gazebo.

“We haven’t been here since that night before we left for college,” you observe, looking out over the water that surrounded part of the structure. “Do you think our initials are still here?” you ask him, turning around to find him already on the ground.

“Yeah, right here,” he says, tracing his finger over your initials. He reaches up to pull you down next to him. “Did I ever tell you that my mom's best friend carved hers and her boyfriend's initials here, too?”

“No, do you know which one’s they are?”

He points to the ones by your knees, the same ones you had admired the night Tyson carved you there, MR and MD. “Matthias and Marianne. They’re probably the happiest couple I’ve ever seen.”

You stand back up, not wanting so much of your dress to be on the ground. You look for Lisa and Brendan, who are nowhere in sight. “Hey, where did-” you start, only to be cut off but what you saw in front of you.

Tyson shifted himself to one knee, a small box in his hands with the most gorgeous ring you had ever seen. “I know it’s kind of shitty to be doing this the day of someone else's wedding, but this is the only time I knew we would be here where we first promised to be with each other forever,” he says. You can feel tears welling up in your eyes, suddenly thankful that you had brought makeup with you in your bag for touch ups. “You told me that night that no matter where in the world we were, we would always be together. I want to be together forever. I want to grow old with you, have a family with you, be the father to your children that I never got and be the man your dad always wanted you to end up with. I want to hold you close, protect you, love you. I want to be your husband. Y/N, will you marry me?” he asks, the tears falling down your face.

You shake your head yes, unable to let out more than a happy sob as he slips the ring on your finger, finally hearing Lisa and Brendan screaming as you take Tysons face in your hands and kiss him.

Twenty Four Years Old

You stood in the pink room, trying to rock your little girl to sleep. Tyson should be home at any minute from the road trip, but Viviana had been fussy the entire day. All you wanted was for her to go to sleep so you could go to sleep.

“I’m home,” you hear Tyson call from the doorway of your house, praying that he doesn’t come in yelling while you cradle your ten-month-old daughter in your arms. He appears in the doorway to her room, dropping his bag and tip-toeing up to you. He rubs your arms, kissing you on the cheek before pulling you close to him. He rests his chin on your shoulder, looking down at Viviana. “Can you believe how big she’s gotten?” he whispers to you as she finally nods off to sleep.

You lay her down in her crib, Tyson standing back and admiring how gentle you were with her. He hugs you from behind again, the two of you taking a moment to just look at your daughter. You lead him out of the room, closing her door carefully. “She is so beautiful,” you gush about your daughter even though she was the reason you were perpetually exhuasted.

Tyson hugs you, finally getting the chance to kiss you hello. “She takes after you. The room, though, is very pink.” You can’t help but laugh at the same observation he makes whenever he goes into her room. As soon as you found out you were having a girl, Tyson went overboard, buying every dress he could, little bows, cute socks, anything that looked like it was made for a girl, regardless of color or if it actually conformed to the gender construct, he bought, or convinced his teammates to buy for him so you couldn’t get mad at him for coming home with yet another Avalanche related baby item.

“I was nine months pregnant when you painted that, you know it’s your fault.” The two of you go to your own bedroom, you ready to crawl in bed even though it was the middle of the afternoon. “If she wakes up, can you take care of her?” you ask him, climbing under the sheets.

“Yeah, but before you go to sleep, I think we need to talk.” You look at him, knowing that sentence typically comes with bad news, but Tyson’s face said otherwise. “I know Viviana isn’t even a year old yet, and I know we said we would wait until she was, but I think I’m ready to try for another kid now,” he says, “Only if you are, too, of course.”

You look away from him, a picture of you and him looking down at Viviana right after she was born sitting in the frame on your bedside table. You knew Tyson wanted a big family, you wanted one with him. It was an easy decision: “Can we wait until after I get some sleep?”

The smile on his face grows, excited that you were going to be trying for a bigger family. He plants a soft, sweet kiss on your head as you gently fall to sleep.

Thirty Four Years Old

“Viviana Abigale, come down here!” you call to the birthday girl as your friends and family started showing up at your house. “Tyson, I think Cale and Gabe are here,” you say to your husband, hearing voices of his teammates carrying through your house indicating that Tyson had left the front door open for anyone to just walk in.

You hear your kids running through the house, three sets of feet pounding against the floor as everyone started to show up with gifts and more food.

It was Vivi’s tenth birthday, and Tyson insisted that you have a party to celebrate your oldest child turning double-digits. Part of you thought he just wanted to show off the house now that it was finally put back together after you had it redone, but he did more of the work in preparing. You were worried that would mean having a similar party with Alexander turned ten in two years, or when Jimmy did in four. Anything to have a party to celebrate your family, Tyson was the first to suggest you make it happen.

Soon, your house and yard were filled with everyone you loved, laughing, eating, the kids playing. You watched as Alexander chased Jimmy with one of the hockey sticks Tyson’s mom had kept from when he was little. Tyson must have seen the anxious look on your face, “Don’t worry, he won’t do anything. Alexander is harmless.” You both laugh as he hands you a glass of wine, you swirling around in the glass instead of taking a sip.

“Want to go inside?” you ask him, taking his hand. You set the class down on the counter, Tyson showing a look of confusion by the untouched glass. You lead him to the wall underneath the stairs, looking at all the pictures that were there. The latest school pictures of your three children, a picture of you and Tyson on your wedding day, a picture of the two of you that your mom took when you went to the school dance together when you were in your first year of high school. “God, do you remember that night?”

“I only remember what I was wearing because of that picture and that I wanted to dance only with you,” he says, wrapping his arms around you.

“You were fourteen, there’s no way that’s what you were thinking of,” you tease him. “You danced with me once that night and spent the rest of the night leaning against the wall with the rest of the boys.”

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of you!” he argues back, his face turning red with the embarrassment he didn’t want.

You laugh, giving him a quick kiss, “I beat you up when we were five. Nothing you could do in front of me could be more embarrassing than that.”

The two of you stand there for a little while longer, staring at the pictures that were on the wall of your family. “Hey, Tys?”

“Yeah?”

“When we first got married, how many kids did you think we would have?”

He stops and thinks, knowing that he never explicitly told you, letting you decide how many you ultimately had. “I always wanted four.”

“Are you mad that we only have three?”

He looks at you. “Mad? Of course not.” How could he be mad that you gave him the three most beautiful children he could have asked for. They looked more like you than they did like him, but they definitely had his childish antics down to a t.

“Would you be mad if we had a fourth?”

“Again, of course not,” he says, confused by what you were trying to say. You smile at him, it finally clicking. “You’re-?” he starts, unable to figure out how to express his joy with words. You nod, him pulling you in for a tight hug. “Holy shit!” he screams, “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“There are children, Tys!” you say, laughing as you cover his mouth.

“We’re having another kid,” he says, his eyes lighting up.

“We’re having another kid.”

Fifty One Years Old

“Lucas!” you call to your youngest son, knowing he was the only other person in the house with you. You were trying to make dinner, one of Tyson’s favorite meals for his birthday.

“Yeah, Mom?” your sixteen year old says, not looking up from his phone as he walks into the kitchen.

Your hands were covered with raw meat, mixing everything up to prepare the stuffed burgers. “Can you run to the store and get me another onion?”

Lucas groans, in a typical teenage fashion. “Dad is already at the store getting you basil, can’t you just call him to get it?”

“No, because this is his phone,” you tell him, hitting the screen with your elbow so it doesn’t lock on you since that’s where the recipe is. “And it was parsley. The keys are by the door, there’s cash in my wallet, and yes I expect the receipt and know how much I had to start with,” you say to him.

He rolls his eyes at you, leaving for the store anyway. Lucas drives to the store, muttering to himself that you would send him out when Dad was already there. He laughs as he pulls in next to Dad’s car, knowing that he was bound to run into him while he was there. He wanders through the store, not looking for the onion in the slightest in hopes to find his father and tell him to get it so he can get home and go back to the game he was on with his friends.

Lucas finds Tyson in the spice aisle, standing there with two small bottles in his hands, one parsley, one basil. “She wanted parsley,” he says, startling his dad.

“I couldn’t remember what she said, so thank god you came,” he says, putting the basil back. “What did she send you to get?”

“An onion.” The two of them walk through the store, back to the produce that Lucas had already passed in hopes of getting out of there faster. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, bud?” he asks, examining the pile of onions as he tried to figure out which one would be the one his wife would pick.

“Mom has already sent you here four times this week, and now me twice. Why do you put up with it?” he asks, clearly annoyed.

Tyson laughs, picking up one of the onions and heading to check out. “I would do anything for her, no matter how ridiculous or how many times she asks me to do it.” He looks at his youngest son, the only one who looked more like him than you, “One day, hopefully, you’re going to find someone who you love more than anything on this Earth, and you would do anything in the world to make sure that they stay happy. This is part of what keeps your mother happy, so how could I not do it?”

Eighty Eight Years Old

You look around from the head table, Tyson’s hand in yours as your entire family has overtaken the restaurant. Viviana and her husband had picked you up at your house, telling you that she was taking out to her home for an anniversary dinner. You were instead taken to your favorite restaurant, greeted but your children, your grandchildren, your brother and his family, Kacey and her family, everyone you cared about.

You sit there, listening to your children and some of your grandchildren talk about what it means to be in love. “Dad would drop everything if Mom asked him to do something. There was nothing too ridiculous that she could ask of him.”

“Growing up, it was the stolen looks, Dad looking at Mom with love filling his eyes and her not noticing, or Mom doing the same to Dad, neither of them ever looking at the same time.”

“Look around at everyone here: love between two people creates love between more. We wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you.”

Sixty five years.

Four children.

Thirteen grandchildren.

Currently five great grandchildren, two more on the way in a few months.

The perfect life, the perfect husband.

#tyson jost #tyson jost imagine #colorado avalanche #colorado avalanche imagine #avalanche #avalanche imagine #nh #nhl imagine #hockey #hockey imagine

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gta5-watchdogswriter · 4 years ago

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Hiya. I feel so bad for popping back up so often. These last few weeks have been tough, and the headcanons you wrote really cheered me up. I was wondering if you had any comfort headcanons for Wade? I guess you can tell just how much I love this man hehe. But you write his character so well. Take your time. Thank you :)

Do not ever feel bad for popping up often. It makes me see that you and anyone else is enjoying what I put out there. So, I am happy to provide what y’all want.

Wade isn’t the type to be good at comforting others. He is that type of person who has good intentions, but says all the wrong things. It makes it worse because of the things he says. But he is trying.

He takes notes on how Trevor and Ron comforts other people. So, when it comes to women, Wade treats them well and comforts them a little better. To men, he’s not so good. Even then, he is still not the greatest at comforting. It doesn’t help that he has a habit of comforting Trevor and Ron - Trevor the most - and it backfiring on him.

With Trevor, it’s hard to say the right things. The guy is a emotional wreck. One minute he can be crying and whatnot. The next he can be seen punching stuff in anger, especially when Wade says the wrong things. Sometimes those stuff is Wade himself.

For Ron, who doesn’t often show his vulnerable self to many, Wade does try his best. Ron knows it too and can’t blame the guy.

Anyone who comforts Wade? Not that’s a different story. It’s easy to comfort him. He’s like a child. Soothing and reassuring words said in a voice that you speak to children. Give him his favorite things, which is easy to pick up on it, and he’ll be happy about it.

#ainefae #gta v #gta 5 #gta five #gta #grand theft auto #Grand Theft Auto V #Grand Theft Auto 5 #grand theft auto five #wade herbert

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fckinsupreme · 5 years ago

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Saved - Xavier Plympton x Fem!Reader

Description: An AU in which you save Xavier from being killed by Margaret and kick her ass in the process.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: AU, violence, stabbing, blood, gore, ass kicking. No smut this time, sorry y’all.

A/N: @nickisgirl requested - ooo dude can you do a fun one where the female reader goes and saves Xavier from Margaret and kicks her butt? :) For Bertie. :)

Sorry if this has been done before! This turned out a little longer than I planned and I’m not wholly satisfied, but I hope y’all like it!

No copyright infringement intended! Any rights belong to proper shareholders and they deserve the ultimate credit. ___________________________

Your heart is pounding in your ears, the smell of blood and the feeling of death hanging heavy in the air. Earlier in the night, you had witnessed people dying all around you, their fates dealt by the cruel hand of Mr. Jingles. It hadn’t helped that Xavier, your boyfriend, had taken off after Rita in a fit of rage (or whatever her name was, since she was actually an imposter) and had ended up God knows where. He was being incredibly foolish, impulsive even, but at the same time, you knew that it was warranted. If you’d been in his shoes, you would have likely done the exact same. Being thrown into an oven to die, surviving but bearing physical & psychological scars, was enough to break anyone.

You were worried, to say the least.

You left Montana and Brooke to go searching for him, a complete ball of nerves and on full alert as you made your way through the woods. You were scared of the type of scene that you may stumble across; would he be dead? Wounded? Safe, but in potential danger? And where in the hell were Chet and Margaret? Surely help should have arrived already and one or both of them should have returned. Yet, there was no sign of them or anyone else as you stumbled along the path. However, it didn’t take much walking until you hear the sound of a familiar voice.

Xavier.

You begin to run, following the sound of his voice to the archery area. You see him, his back to you, one of his burnt hands on a bow as he shoots arrows into Mr. Jingles. You can’t move, frozen in place as you observe the scene with wide eyes. You want nothing more than to make your presence known, but you’re also aware of how fatal that could be. Jingles doesn’t seem to stay down after another shot, so what would he do to Xavier if the blond was caught off guard? You didn’t want to entertain the thought, or bring it to fruition, so you stay put.

You also notice that Margaret is on the ground, apparently unconscious. So, she was back, and her unresponsive state was likely somehow caused by Jingles; but where was Chet? You knew him well enough to know that he would come and find you or Xavier to inform you of what had happened. Did he succumb to his shoulder injury? Did he stay on the opposite shore to find help or wait for it to arrive? You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, and the sight of Margaret’s motionless body did nothing to calm your nerves. What in the hell happened here?

Your eyes flicker toward Jingles again, who was finally down on the ground. Relief swims in your veins, and you compose yourself after a brief moment before stepping out from behind the tree. Xavier is doing a victory dance when you approach him, and he grins widely once he sees you. He pulls you into his chest, and his scent of burnt clothing and damaged flesh is actually more of a comfort now, rather than the sadness and anxiety it originally procured in you. He’s here, he’s safe, and he had just saved the other survivors’ lives. You give him a soft kiss before the two of you make your way to Margaret, feeling a bit uneasy. She’s still out cold, with Xavier on his knees to try rousing her. You remain standing, noticing a knife directly beside of your foot within Margaret’s reach. Before you can pick it up, you hear her eerily calm voice answering Xavier.

“Never better, actually.”

Margaret reaches for the knife, but by some miracle, you’re much faster. You bring your foot down onto her hand, stomping it hard with a loud cry. Margaret screams, both in surprise and in anguish, and you kick the knife far out of her grasp. You bend down to shove Xavier off of her, not knowing what her next move could be. He’s stunned as he hits the ground, gaping at both of you as he tries processing what’s happening. You’re not sure that you understand, either, but it was slowly falling into place within your frazzled mind. She grabs you, throwing you aside as you hit the ground with an audible groan.

Before you can tell Xavier to run and hide or get help somehow, Margaret is upon him again. The knife is in your sight, but she apparently has no time to look or has forgotten about it in her haste, so she opts for a rock instead. You quickly step toward the knife, tucking it into the waistband of your shorts when you realize that trying to charge her with it now would be useless. You watch in helpless horror, a soundless scream leaving your lips as she brings the rock down on Xavier’s head. You feel pure rage bubbling within as he crumples to the ground, not knowing what else to do in your fury besides pushing her down roughly with a disgruntled cry.

“You think something that childish is going to stop me?” she questions, her tone dripping with faux-sweetness as she bats her lashes. “You naive little harlot.”

“Fuck you,” you growl. “What the fuck did you do to Chet? Where is he?”

“I killed him, of course,” she says, holding up the same rock that she’d just used on Xavier. “Just like I killed your boyfriend and how I’m going to kill you, too.”

That was enough for you. Something about the way she spoke to you, her demeanor, how she’d hurt Xavier and God knows who else, just made something snap inside of you. It all sent you flying completely off the handle, and you couldn’t contain yourself anymore. You had a bad feeling about her from the moment you met, and now you knew why. It was her; she was doing this, or at least some of it. You couldn’t piece together her motive, but in this very moment, you didn’t much care. Right now, your only concern was stopping her reign of terror before she hurt anyone else. This notion causes you to charge at her, knocking her to the ground. She’s winded, and you deliver a hard punch to her nose before forcefully grabbing the front of her shirt to pull her up.

“You bitch,” you spit, delighting in the sight of blood gushing from her nostrils. “What did you fucking do?”

“God’s work,” she replies, bringing the rock to the side of your face.

A burst of pain overtakes your right cheekbone, momentarily blurring your vision. You barely register her lifting it again as she throws you down, but you’re still much faster than she is. You kick both feet into her stomach with bruising force, and she falls again with a loud thud and series of wet coughs. She attempts to get up, but you elbow her in the face to keep her down. More blood flies from her nose, squirting onto your clothes, but you pay no mind. She delivers another blow which you rebound from, getting the upper hand yet again.

“Where is Chet?” you cry as you slam her head against the ground, holding her by the throat. “Where did you put him?”

“Lake,” she manages to choke out. “I tied weights to him and I threw him in. No one will ever find him; it’s bottomless, remember?”

The revelation makes you absolutely sick to your stomach. How could anyone be so cruel? So cold and calculating to murder someone so horrifically? Chet was a good man, he was the last person to deserve such a terrifying, painful fate. And what about Trevor and possibly even Xavier? The thought that Xavier could be dead right now, by her hand no less, only fuels your rage. You squeeze as hard as you can on her throat, your body quaking with both anger and adrenaline.

“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss. “Let you see exactly how it feels, you heartless fucking cunt.”

She sputters around your grip, clawing at you and trying to raise the rock again. You press harder, trying with all of your might to make her lose consciousness once more, but it’s in vain. She once again gains her footing, the rock colliding with the same cheek as earlier. More searing, throbbing pain cascades the entire right side of your face, and you feel a bit of blood dripping from around your temple. You hear her coughing and gulping air into her lungs, and you’re so shocked by her latest blow that you temporarily lose traction. A shattering punch is brought to your nose, momentarily paralyzing you as she stands above you once you hit the earth. The bitter, coppery taste of blood fills your mouth, dripping from your nose. You look up at her, ignoring the tremendous amount of pain that you’re in, now faced with what could possibly be your death sentence.

“Poor little Y/N,” Margaret says calmly. “Any last words?”

Tears fall down your bloodied, bruised cheeks, and you turn your head to look at Xavier. He’s still knocked out, perhaps even deceased, and you know that you’re likely going to meet one of those same fates. If he was dead, then what else did you have to live for, anyway? All of your plans with him, the life you wanted to build together, all of it fucking gone because of her. You cast your glance back to Margaret, who was watching you with folded arms. You swallow around the lump in your throat, blinking back a fresh wave of tears as you reach toward your boyfriend. Margaret, surprisingly, doesn’t stop you. She remains planted in the same position, a callous grin painting her red lips.

“I love you,” you whisper in the direction of Xavier’s body. “I’m sorry. I love you so fucking much.”

Margaret tsks, her face displaying false sympathy as she continues looming over you. Her legs are positioned at either side of your torso, bracing herself. You shift slightly, and that’s when you remember that you had the knife. You could feel the blade against your hip, warmed from your body heat yet still somewhat cool. You kept a poker face, not wanting to tip her off that it was in your possession. You wait, biding your time as she straddles your waist. You have to be swift, knowing one slip up or false move could literally cost your life.

You close your eyes, reaching under your shirt to grasp the knife’s handle. When you open your eyes to gaze at her, you can tell she isn’t noticing your actions. She’s too occupied with looking toward the heavens, perhaps silently praying to God for forgiveness or some other reason that makes sense only to her. You keep the knife concealed next to your hip, awaiting her strike. Residuals tears fall from your eyes, trailing down your temples and into your hair, and then the moment finally comes. Margaret bears down onto you, rock in her hands. You bring the knife up, holding the blade toward her, ignoring the sickening squelch! it makes when it penetrates her lower abdomen. It enters on her right side, and you push it in deeper with a triumphant grin. She attempts to grab hold of it, but you withdraw the blade before she gets a chance. Hot blood pours from the gaping wound, and she swings from side to side above you.

You shove Margaret off before she can topple onto you, watching her cover the stab wound with one trembling hand. You debate slicing her throat to finish the job, but you refrain from doing so. This injury was self-defense; anything else would be murder, and you knew that even the best lawyer in the world wouldn’t be able to get you out of that bind. It was best to just leave it alone as it was, let nature take its course if it must. At least now she was subdued and you’d stopped her in her tracks; that was all that mattered now. You take in her struggle to stay awake, before she loses the battle. You don’t even think through your next move, rushing to Xavier and kneeling next to him. You shake him quickly, attempting to bring him back to you. You feel for a pulse, are relieved to see he still has one, and begin rousing him a bit harder.

“Xav,” you plead. “Wake up. Please.”

But if he didn’t wake? What if this was it and he was gone forever? It was all your fault. If you’d been fast enough, if you would have been here before Margaret, none of this would have happened. Even his burns could have been avoided if you’d gone with him to rescue Bertie. Perhaps Bertie would still be alive as well. Perhaps--

You’re brought out of your thoughts by the sound of Xavier groaning softly on the ground. You hold onto his shoulders, a tear of relief falling from your nose and onto his charred tanktop. He blinks up at you in confusion, and you want nothing more than to kiss both of his cheeks. You don’t, though, not wanting to cause him any more pain than necessary. He sits up, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tries to stave off a wave of dizziness. His concerned eyes meet yours, and you grip his arm as he stands.

“What happened?” he asks, his voice croaky from exhaustion and newfound consciousness. He takes in your appearance, the blood and injuries visible in the moonlight. “Are you okay? Where’s--”

He answers his own question when he turns around, seeing Margaret’s body. He gapes at you, rubbing his temples and the back of his neck as you try to keep him steady. “She killed Chet. She also killed Trevor. She no doubt fucking killed those counselors in 1970. I really think she did most of this, both past and fucking present.”

“Jesus,” Xavier breathes, swaying. “I--”

“Sit,” you instruct. “I’ll go get someone. I don’t know who, but--”

“No,” he says. “I don’t want to be alone. I’ll be fine. Is she--”

“I don’t know,” you interject. “I don’t much care. Either way, she’s going to fucking pay for her crimes. Whether it be here or in Hell where she belongs. I’ll try to explain things better later; let’s just get the fuck out of here. We need to get help and I’m pretty sure that you’ve got a concussion, so let’s just focus on that for now, okay?”

He nods, still pretty rough on his feet. You take his arm again, leading him from the archery site and back into the forest. You had no idea what other horrors awaited you, if Brooke and Montana or anyone else were safe, but you knew one thing: The worst seemed to have passed for now, and you could focus on leaving this place as a survivor. Xavier had a long road ahead with his recovery, but you were more than determined to stick it out with him.

Margaret be damned. She had failed to take the most important thing from you, and for that, you were already better off. You, unlike her, had something special, something worth fighting for. It felt like the most surreal dream, an eternal nightmare, but as always, Xavier was going to be here with you. You were going to get out and get through this--together.

___

Taglist!

@littledemondani, @wroteclassicaly, @venusxxlangdon, @ringpop-poppy, @ccodyfern, @icylangdon, @duncvns, @mantorokk, @queencocoakimmie, @codyswhore, @sebastianshoe, @rocketgirl2410, @hisgirlwonder, @sherlocklaufeyson, @disa, @hxdesworld, @w0nder-marie, @hplotrfan, @holylangdon, @losers-club6, @langdonsdemon, @melodylangdon, @idespac, @femaleantichrist, @chaoticevillangdon, @lotsofhunny, @maso-xchrist, @lvnabanana, @iloveziggystardust, @hecohansen31, @lvngdvns, @michael-langdon-owns-my-soul, @michealsheep, @codyssfern, @lovelylangdonx, @1-800-bitchcraft, @coollangdon, @leatherduncan, @thorohdamnson, @angel-langdon, @kaetastic, @jetblackpayne, @arkhamren, @madamaholmes, @theinevitableprophecy, @langdonsblood, @daydreamingofcody, @ittakesmanyf0rms, @psychobitchtess, @michael-langdon-appreciation, @confettucini, @sojournmichael, @xavierplymptonsangel, @heavymetalover, @littlegirlsdontplaynice, @syndaselur, @xavierrplymptons, @divinelangdon, @codyfernmorelikedaddyfern, @swishandflick889, @langdens, @ashyblondwaves

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thepapergirlandthespiegelman · 5 years ago

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Spoilers for Netflix’s Castlevania below the cut

I will preface this by saying that I absolutely have not played the video games. I understand that the show does draw from them, so maybe certain things make more sense in that context, but this is based solely on my viewing of the show itself.

Also, these are just my personal rambly feelings, so please do not take offense. You can have your own thoughts and ships.

Y’all what the fuck is going on in Castlevania. I just finished Season 2 and started Season 3 and I’m just like WHAT. How could Sypha and Trevor just abandon Alucard like that? Like, “yeah, we know you just killed your own father in your childhood bedroom and you’re probably experiencing some really intense grief and a lot of complex emotions right now, but we’re gonna just leave you in this old, empty castle full of things that remind you of your dead parents while we go off and have adventures. k Bye :)” Like, okay, maybe I can sort of accept this from Trevor because part of his thing is being emotionally damaged and unavailable, maybe he wouldn’t feel comfortable reaching out to Alucard, but I feel like Sypha should know better. It just feels out of character for her to be so completely unconcerned.

And then Sypha and Trevor just randomly start being a couple and I’m like ???????? Like it’s fine as a pairing, I don’t hate the idea of them being romantically involved, but it’s really out of the blue and also REALLY inappropriate for the circumstances. Like, hello??? Your friend Alucard is really struggling here, this is not the time to go have your fun summer romance or whatever. Also it was a little patronizing and inappropriate for Sypha to pressure Trevor into coming with her on adventures by saying “it’s good for you,” like he’s completely incapable of deciding on his own what’s good for him, but whatever, it probably is good for him, and it’s not an unforgivable offense as long as she truly meant well. (Again, though, it is extra weird that she takes such a strong interest in Trevor’s wellbeing when she’s leaving Alucard completely in the dust.)

But then Season 3 just took things to a whole new level where Alucard is literally in his house going insane and talking to dolls and the dynamic between Trevor and Sypha is...I kinda wanna say toxic heterosexuality. I hope that’s not needlessly provocative but like, it’s this very uncomfortable vibe of like, the man has to be big and stupid and emotionally unavailable and like beer, while the woman gets to be smart and right and constantly make fun of and criticize him. A little playful teasing is one thing, but it feels like Sypha takes it beyond teasing, to the point where she’s actually devaluing Trevor’s perspective and feelings (see “it’s good for you”). Alucard basically calls this out explicitly when he’s talking to the dolls. And the whole “beer is better than sex” thing...idk man, Sypha’s response felt cringey. Like, “How dare you enjoy something more than having sex with me?” ??? People are allowed to like the things they like. Also, seems like y’all been fucking like every night (quite honestly I was kind of floored to find out they were having sex, since again, I really didn’t see any chemistry between them), and he probably hasn’t had a beer in a while. There’s no need to take it personally. Yes, it’s reasonable that she might feel a little hurt, and yes, it’s okay for her to tease him, but something about it just feels immature and even a little possessive or narcissistic. It doesn’t make me love their relationship, basically.

I have a pet theory that Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard make up a carefully balanced ecosystem. All three of them take pot shots at each other, but there’s clearly a dominant tension between Trevor and Alucard that Sypha then has to mediate. Trevor and Alucard fight like cats, and Sypha breaks them up. Also, since it’s usually Alucard picking on Trevor, Sypha gets to play the hero and rescue/defend Trevor from Alucard’s attacks, which makes her feel good about herself as well as closer to Trevor.

But now that Alucard’s taken out of the mix, everything is all messed up. Alucard’s obviously a mess, but so are Trevor and Sypha. Sypha clearly feels very warmly toward Trevor, but without Alucard as an alternate target, all of her gibes and annoyance end up directed at Trevor. And maybe she discovers that her feelings toward him were more complicated than she originally thought when she rushed into this relationship.

Also like...I don’t really know what to say about what’s going on with Hector. It’s super fucked up, and no one is coming to save him.

I want to be clear that this isn’t intended as condemnation of the writing on the show. Media can and should show bad/questionable behavior, bad/complicated relationships, and tragic circumstances, especially among the protagonists. It’s how the show treats these things that matters.

And like, the point of media is to make you feel things. And boy, did these choices make me feel some things. Mostly confusion and indignation and distress, but those are valid emotions too.

I’m genuinely curious to see where this goes. I assume that Alucard finds his way back into the fray somehow. I have no idea what’s going to happen between Trevor and Sypha. I kinda want them to break up. I didn’t see any real chemistry between them before, and I’m not really seeing any now either. But who knows.

#text #thoughts #media #television #web television #Netflix Original #animation #adult animation #anime #Castlevania #Netflix's Castlevania #End Times #Bless Your Dead Little Hearts #Trevor Belmont #Sypha Belnades #Adrian Ţepeş #Alucard #relationships

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thatsdemko · 5 years ago

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Somebody to you-C.McCarthy

CHAPTER TEN

somebody to you masterlist

A/N: okay I think I told y’all this chapter is good but umm it’s not :/

The day slowly dragged by, she was constantly checking her phone and her watch impatiently waiting to get out of the white colored four brick walls surrounding her to go see Ryan. He had known she was coming, Cole knew it was not to be talked about in the locker room after having a discussion with Valerie separately and a conversation with Alex.

“Ready?” Alex asked once she got into his car, Alex lied to jack saying he needed to get something from Coles which would be awhile and Valerie was joining him because Abby had something she needed.

“Yeah,” she sighed getting in checking her messages seeing Mallory and Alyssa told her not to do something dumb when she saw him.

“You nervous?”

“I haven’t seen him in forever, I didn’t think he wanted to see me.”

“He was apparently dying to see you from what Cole said, must be he still has feelings.” Alex shrugged, after what happened anyone would assume the two hated each other, but after a long conversation weeks after the situation the two came to a conclusion that there was no hate between each other, just hate fueled between Jack and Ryan. Alex came to forgive him after finding Valerie did the same.

“I doubt it.” She whispered, watching as Alex pulled into the subdivision of Coles billet family, when they pulled into the driveway the garage door had opened and the two were walking outside.

“Don’t be stupid.” Alex hissed the two getting out of the car now. Seeing him was enough to make her heart race and butterflies erupt, she missed him and the feelings he brought to her.

“Val,” he sighed happily breaking the space between them giving her a hug, she smiled wrapping her arms around him, “I missed you.”

“I missed you more.” She whispered pulling away feeling his lips press against hers without even thinking, a spark erupting like it used to, the familiar feeling between them both and the kiss making her knees weak melting.

“I missed you so much, I didn’t realize how much I could miss you.” Ryan whispered laughing, she ran her fingers through his hair that was growing a bit longer than what she last remembered, “I missed you too, I didn’t know you wanted to see me.”

“I had been wanting to see you, actually, a lot recently.”

—

“Your hair is so long,” Ryan smiled running his fingers through her hair while she laid there in the guest bed next to him, “oh yeah you had wanted me to grow it long.” She nervously laughed, he nodded, “well I think my exact words were ‘how long can your hair get’ and I guess this is the answer to my dying question.”

“My dying question is, why are you here? And I don’t mean that in a bad way, I just want to know.” She whispered laying ontop of him now propping herself up on his chest a bit, “I want to get back together.” He sighed, she sat up off of him now, “oh,”

“And I know what I did was bad. I never meant for you to feel insecure, but your words that night really shaped me and made me realize that I don’t want to be that person. I know you girls always say guys never really change, but I think I’ve grown from that moment. Can you give me a chance?”

She sighed moving closer to him running her fingers down his bare chest, “Ryan, you live so far away it won’t work—“

“You can’t make things work if you don’t try.” He took her hand off his chest intertwining their fingers together, fitting perfectly.

She sighed getting up out of his bed throwing on her clothes, “I can’t do this again because getting over you was one of the hardest things I ever had to do and I don’t want to do it again.” She sighed, he got up out of his bed pulling her close.

“Valerie, I miss you. Can you please give me another chance?”

“No, I-I can’t and I’m sorry.” She felt herself getting choked up shaking her head wiping the tears from falling down her cheeks, “I love you, Ryan, I love you so much but I can’t do it. You hurt me so much that night that the thought of us together hurts.” She sobbed opening the guest bedroom door rushing down the stairs heading out the front door and Alex got up quickly following behind not even caring to finish the conversation.

“Val, Val! Valerie!” Alex called seeing her waiting for him at the car, “please I need to leave.” She cried, he nodded the two getting into the car and leaving Coles house immediately.

“I think I have some tissues in the glove box.” Alex whispered, she reached in grabbing them, “I feel so fucking stupid.” She cried, he looked over from the road at her for a split second seeing mascara all down her cheeks, tears still falling.

“Val, you’re not stupid.” He said taking a hold of her hand, “you’re in love.”

“Same thing,” she choked on the words. The drive only being a couple more minutes pulling into the driveway seeing Quinn was getting out of his car when he decided to wait for the two.

“You can talk to her,” Alex patted him on the chest walking past him, Quinn walked up to her seeing what he meant, “hey,” he whispered wrapping her in a hug, “whatever,” she scoffed pushing him off of her, the two walking inside together while Alex was telling them all to not say a word about Ryan or asking about him.

When she walked in she went straight upstairs brushing past Luke on his way down, when she got to her room she saw jack waiting for her, “if you’re here to yell at me, Jack, now is not the time.” She whispered throwing her backpack down when he got up closing the door behind him leaving them both together.

“I’m not here to yell at you.” He whispered, the two of them standing there awkwardly, “then what do you want?”

“I just wanted to know if you were okay. Cole texted me what happened or from his understanding of what happened.”

“I really don’t want to talk to you right now.” She crosses her arms over her chest looking somewhere else that wasn’t at him.

“Okay, that’s fine.” He whispered walking out of her bedroom closing the door behind him and she collapsed onto her bed letting out a small frustrated groan hearing the door open once more seeing it was Alex.

“Dinner is ready if you’re coming down.”

“Not now.”

—

“If it was a couple of months ago you would’ve said yes, besides you saved yourself from looking stupid if he actually did hurt you. Val, you did something that was so hard but so right for you.” Alyssa comforted her sitting on her bed hugging her friend Spencer and Alex sitting on the bed too.

“Did you really think you and Ryan would’ve actually made it work? He made some shitty mistakes while you were dating and somehow you still dated him.” Alex said, she pulled away shrugging wiping the tears off her cheeks, “I said no anyway, even if I said yes I would feel stupid.”

“Come on, you gave yourself an opportunity to find someone.” Spencer offered a smile, the two others nodding, “yeah you could make a move with Trevor—“

“I don’t like Trevor. At least like that.”

“Oh right sorry—“

“what?! She knows and I don’t! You tell me everything! That’s so not fair!” Alex cut Alyssa off upset, Valerie smiled laughing, “She doesn’t know.”

“It’s case isn’t it?” Alex asked mainly to Alyssa, she nodded her head, Alex looked back over at Valerie who shook her head, “it’s not case and it’s not Trevor.”

“I bet you it’s Case.”

“It’s not Case! Let it go!”

“What about me?” The door opened and case was standing there at the door with jack, she slumped down nervously in her bed Alyssa pushing her foot of her, Valerie looked over at him shaking his head, “nothing.”

“Okay,” he laughed, she gave him a smile and he closed the door behind him leaving, she watched the door close feeling a pillow hit her in the face looking at Alyssa smiling, “you like him!”

“Pardon me?” She grabbed the pillow hitting her friend on the head getting up out of her bed to throw on a sweatshirt.

“Please your eyes gave it away.” Spencer chuckled, Alex agreeing, she climbed back onto her bed sitting next to Alex, “what? I gave him nothing?”

The door opening again, case and jack coming in joining on the bed, “hey, you’re feeling better.” Jack smiled climbing into where she was sitting before throwing the blankets over him, and case sat next to her.

“Yeah, I guess.” She shrugged, Case nudging her shoulder causing her to look over at him, “come on, out of all the guys your brother played with I still can’t believe you picked Ryan.” Case laughed, she shrugged a smile tugging onto her face, “does that bother you?”

“It did to me.”

“No shit, twin.”

—

“I didn’t think you’d make it.”

“Let’s just do this quick please I already regret coming.”

#hockey imagines #hockey #ntdp #thatsdemkosty #case mccarthy #jack hughes #j.hughes #alex turcotte #a.turcotte #ryan siedem #r.siedem

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having-a-freddie-time · 6 years ago

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save me

summary: Y/N is trying her hardest to get out of an abusive relationship without telling anyone. However, she can’t always hide the bruises, especially from her best friend since childhood, Ben Hardy. Once he finds out, he tries his best to help her out without her getting hurt.

A/N: A N G S T Y. kinda left yall out on the edge of the cliff here with this one. i hope y’all enjoy disssss.

warning: angst, cussing, implied abuse, (no descriptive mentions of abuse, just that she was hurt)

word count: 1.4k

__________________________________

Ben looked at you, waiting for you spill your guts. This caused you to draw in a sharp breath, exhaling slowly. This was it, you were finally going to tell him.

“Your suspicions are correct. It was Trevor, always him. I lied to you each time you had asked because I was so afraid of what you might have done or that you would’ve left me or something…”

Ben inhaled sharply at the revelation he had just heard. Tears pricked your eyes as Ben looked at you through sad eyes. You could see the betrayal in his orbs. You closed your eyes and gnawed on your lip as tears slid down your face.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me, Y/N. I’m your best friend; you know you can always trust me.” He croaked out between silent sobs which caused you to wince. Sure, you’ve seen him cry before, but that was because he was either crying in pain when he broke his arm, or when he was crying because of how happy he was, getting the role in Bohemian Rhapsody. But never because he felt betrayed by you.

“Ben I-, I’m so sorry. I knew I could trust you but I don’t know. I was so afraid of what you would have done to him or what he would have done to me if he found out I told someone…” You whispered as you opened your eyes, only to be met with the back of his head.

He couldn’t look at you not because he was mad, no, because he just couldn’t believe that someone was hurting you.

“How long has this been happening, Y/N?” He asked as he finally made eye contact with you, hot tears streaming down his cheek. “How long has he been hurting you?”

“Almost a year…”

“A YEAR?!”

Him yelling caused you to flinch and hide your face. A natural instinct for you. He noticed this and softened up, turning towards you and reaching his arms out slowly to you. You stared at him for a second before leaning into him and releasing the ugliest sobs known to man.

He didn’t say anything; he just held you and ran his fingers through your soft hair. You sobbed into his chest, your hand having the tightest grip on his shirt. You held onto his shirt as if you were afraid of him leaving.

“I’m here, love. I’m still here.” He reassured you quietly, planting a soft kiss on the top of your head.

He held you there for what felt like a light year, just making you feel safe and calming you down. Finally you had finished your sob fest; you released your grip on his shirt and slowly escaped his embrace. Your mascara and tears were very prominent on his blue shirt. “I’m sorry about that.” You gestured towards his shirt. He shrugged it off and looked at you.

“S’not my biggest worry at the moment.” He murmured and ran a hand through his blonde locks. He sighed heavily and coughed awkwardly. You can tell he wanted you to tell you more, but was too afraid to ask.

“It all started after like, the sixth month mark. I don’t what I did to trigger him; he just started getting aggressive towards me. It started off with just raising a hand at me, and then slowly progressed to actually making contact with me.”

Ben shook his head as he listened. He was disgusted that someone would treat you such a way.

“The bruise on my arm was from last night when I tried getting away from him. I kneed him in the groin and left.” You closed your eyes to calm yourself down. Calming yourself down from the anger that bubbled inside you.

“I have tried quite a few times to end things with him, but I supposed you can suspect how that ended…”

“I wish you would have told me earlier. You know we can call the police, Y/N, they’ll get him.”

“Trevor has this was of lying to people and manipulating people. It’s like he’s a fucking hypnotist. He’s got people thinking that I fucking problems. That I’ve drinking too much and I’m too dumb to when to stop. They don’t know that he’s egging me on to drink more. He hands me a drink and I drink it only because I’m afraid of what might happen if I don’t.”

“I want to leave him so bad, get away from him. I want to see him rot in hell, but I just don’t know how. I don’t know how to leave him , I mean I do but I don’t know at the same time.”

Ben didn’t say anything; just listened closely to what you had to say. He knew better than to interrupt you while you were in the middle of a rant. He just watched and listened until you were finished.

“Please don’t tell anyone. Please, Ben.” You croaked out, looking at him through your glossy vision. He stood and walked towards you and pulled you into his embrace. You wrapped your arms around his torso, feeling secure in his arms.

The moment was ruined by your phone ringing. “I’m sure it’s just work, probably asking why I didn’t come in today. I’ll have Jordan cover for me.” Ben shrugged and held you as your phone continued to buzz. You pulled away from Ben and grabbed your phone. You muted it without even checking the text messages that erupted on your screen.

“Wanna watch some movies?”

“I’d love to.” **************************************** You didn't realize how long Ben had stayed over until you looked out your patio window, noticing that the sun was setting. You looked down at Ben who had fallen asleep in your lap. You smiled gently and ran your fingers through his hair. The light beaming from your phone had caught your eye. Furrowing your brows, you picked up your phone and your eyes blew wide out of your head.

Trevor: why aren't you answering my damn calls?? Trevor: fucking answer me y/n!!!! Trevor: if you don't fucking answer me Trevor: you never fucking listen Trevor: i'm coming over if you don't fucking answer me!!!

You nearly dropped your phone at the sight of the messages. You gently woke up Ben, gentle but quickly. "Ben wake up. Please wake up." You started panicking. What were you going to do? You started hyperventilating and freaking out. "Ben wake up!"

You shot up from the couch, causing Ben to groan as his head landed on the cushions of your couch. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What is going on?. Holy shit was time is it?"

"Doesn't matter! Trevor texted me!" You threw your phone at him and started pacing around the living room, hands on your head. "What the fuck am I going to do? He's going to hurt me so bad I-"

"Stay with me for the rest of the night. Say you're with your parents. I'm sure they'll cover for you."

"I can't. He thinks that I want nothing to do with my parent. I don't know what to do Ben!"

"Calm down, love. We'll figure something out!" Ben chewed at his lip as he tried to think of something to make up for you. Your phone buzzed again, causing you to look at the caller I.D. Both you and Ben eye contact when you saw Trevor's name pop up. "I have to answer it, he's already pissed as it is. I don't know what to say."

Ben furrowed his brows as he licked his lips. "Say you lost service?" You took and deep breath and brought the phone to your ear.

"Why the fuck haven't you been answering me?!"

"I'm so sorry, I lost service for some reason and tried contacting you but it never went through." You cried to him, tears flooded your eyes. Ben got up and paced around the living room. All he wanted to do was beat the shit out of Trevor. Beat him for hurting you for so long. Ben's fists clenched as he tried listening to your conversation.

"You think I'm fucking stupid?!" Trevor hissed at you through the phone. You could tell his was drunk and angry, obviously. You flinched slightly at his tone of voice.

"I'm so sorry, please don't get mad!" You yelled at him, wanting to throw your phone across the world. You were starting to get livid. "You know what, I don't have to fucking answer you all the damn time!"

You and him spit back and forth on the phone before you finally hung up. You threw your phone harshly against the couch and groaned out loudly. Someone would have thought you were getting off.

"Should I leave? Will you be okay if I do?"

"Yes I'll be fine. I promise to call you if anything goes wrong."

And with that Ben hugged you tightly and left.

Leaving you alone.

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

Tag list: @benhardyisdaddy @monochromedeacon @queenbbarnes @haileylansley @shesakillerquueennn @onexlittlespark

perm tag list: @benhardyisdaddy @haileylansley @queenbbarnes

#ben x reader #ben hardy #having a freddie time #angst #borhap #bran writes

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the-book-reaper · 5 years ago

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Y’all I need to vent

It’s gonna get personal, feel free to scroll past, this is mostly just to type out my feelings

Most of you know by now that I’m trans. For a very long time I didn’t want to identify with this label and I was very uncomfortable thinking about the possibility of me being a trans male. For some time, I identified as gender neutral. I didn’t have the right vocab, and I later realized I was misusing the term. Then I thought I was “neutral” (neutrois or agender is what I should have used) but fluid between masc and femm. That’s what I said, but inside I knew I no longer idenified with anything female. But I was unwilling to close myself off to the possibility that I could shift back to “normal”.

After that, I was nonbinary. (Some people might say that I was mislabeling, I think at that point in my life, I was nonbinary.)

All this time, I was absolutely terrified that my gender would keep on shifting more and more masc until I was entirely male. I refused to even think about it

But eventually, that did happen. I started to get extremely uncomfortable with my given name. I began searching for a new one, one that would be more masc. I made an account on Trevor Space (it’s really awesome, and I’d recommend it to anyone feeling alone or like you don’t have any support) and I made a post asking for names, giving a few that I was considering (Daniel, Leo, Joshua, Charlie, Gabriel). I even practiced in the mirror saying “hi, my name is ___”

And I found that when I used Gabriel, I got extremely happy. I really liked it. But then it began to feel wrong because of how religious it is (I’m Catholic) and it felt like a Fuck You to God for using a religious name because of what the Catholic Church generally thinks of trans people. So even though I loved it, I scratched it

But then someone replied to my post saying I could use initials, and they wouldn’t even have to stand for anything

I immediately began running through the alphabet and writing down ideas. I eventually settled on TJ. And I was texting a friend this and I said “it could stand for Trevor Jesse” because it was from the Trevor Project etc idk. But it sounded familiar, yet off. So I texted my mom asking what I would have been named if I were a boy, and she said TJ, for Travis Jesse. What probably happened was, I subconsciously knew the name TJ and it felt familiar, so I picked it because I had heard it before, and in relation to me. Or (and I like this version better), my mom predicted I’d be queer as fuck without even knowing it

I began experimenting with pronouns (in secret, of course) and he/him felt good, but I tagged on they/them because I can’t be a boy.

Fast forward to a few days ago and my dysphoria was as bad as its ever been, and I ended up sobbing for about 2 hours. I had finally opened my eyes and realized that I’m a trans guy. I couldn’t accept it, but I knew I was. I knew life was about to get a million times harder. It would be harder to find a job, and if I can’t find a good, steady job (that I like) then how am I supposed to pay for top surgery?? How to I get on T??? (I had known for years I was going to get too surgery, but I had been back and forth on T)

How do I live in a world that hates me? How do I live knowing that there is literally no way for even my mother to understand what I’m feeling? (That’s a whole other can of worms)

In hindsight, I would have done things differently in those two hours. I ended up calling my mom, but I was too chickenshit to ask my roommate to listen to music or leave, so I ended up coming out to her as a byproduct. Sobbing, I told my mom “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep calling myself a girl” among other things. Eventually my roommate (bless her heart) left the room. When I’m feeling dysphoric/depressed I literally cannot think straight. I came out to a fucking barista I barely knew because I couldn’t keep it in. My mom proceeded to be absolutely no help at all (“how will you get a job? So you think your a “”man””? I love you, I just don’t understand at all” thanks mom)

How can I, with breasts, “petite features” as my therapist so kindly pointed out, and feminine voice, look at a person and say “I am a male”. I feel like I’d be lying, but continuing to call myself a girl is an even bigger lie. I know that a man can be a man without transitioning at all, but I feel like I can’t call myself one while I look like this. No one would believe me, no one would understand

So for the rest of the day, and the next, I carried around a feeling of sorrow and loss. Loss for how my life used to be. Sorrow because of my brothers, sisters, and siblings who feel the same as me. I was only just now coming to terms with how the world treats us. I still am.

Also I’m pretty sure I’ve already said a lot of this, but my memory is shit and putting this out there is therapeutic for me. I don’t expect anyone to comment, like, or reblog this, it is merely to document how I feel

#personal #long post #actually id prefer it if no one reblogged this #lets just keep it between the 200+ of us lmao

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mamashitty · 5 years ago

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Samwell Elementary Chapter 11

Title: Samwell Elementary Fandom: Check, Please! Word Count: 2,291 Ship: Zimbits Chapter: 11 Previous Chapters: tumblr & ao3 Blurb: Eric goes home for Thanksgiving. WARNING: This chapter does deal with the death of a minor character. The death occurred over the summer, before this story started.

Eric -sends a picture of a his mama’s kitchen full of pies and other baked goods-

dat butt tho Wow. That is a lot of pie. You Bittles go all out, eh?

Eric Mama and I both might be stress baking. I’m not sure stress baking is exactly the right word. Sad-baking? Nostalgibaking? Memorybaking?

dat butt tho Do you need to talk about it at all? Shitty said this is your family’s first Thanksgiving without your Moomaw?

Eric You are too sweet, Jack. No, no. Spend time with Maisie. I will be fine.

Except Eric had not been fine when he sent that text message a couple of hours earlier and he is not fine now. There is a weight of sadness hanging over everyone. Usually, his aunts, uncles, and cousins stay late into the night for Thanksgiving. MooMaw was always at the center of it, no one really wanting to be the first to leave until she did. This year it was different. Aunts began arriving early like always. Eric and Mama had been up for hours baking and cooking. They always baked and cooked a lot for Holidays, but usually, MooMaw would arrive earlier than anyone else and help them out. She would take charge of the kitchen, and there would be laughter and loud voices. This year, everything i subdued. Oh, laughter does escape people and then gets picked up by others, but it never lasts long. Sadness and a strange sense of emptiness, of the sudden realization that MooMaw’s barking laugh is missing.

Eric knows it is rude of him to think but he is relieved when people leave earlier than normal. He knows that MooMaw would not approve of it, that she would chide everyone for behaving as they were. Mama tried to bring in more lightness and laughter into the day, and Eric tried to help her, but it was difficult and draining. And, Eric is just glad, that it is now nine in the evening and the only people in the house are his Mama and Coach. Eric helps them clean up, and he feels a tightness in his throat. He can see his Mama’s shoulders shaking and he looks away when Coach slips an arm around her, he tries not to listen to their murmurs, and he tries to forget the loud sob his Mama lets escape before she manages to stifle it.

“Dicky, we are going to bed now,” Coach says.

Eric swallows the lump in his throat, and he knows his voice sounds falsely bright. Too bright. “Y’all have a good night,” and he listens as his parents retreat to their bedroom. He stays in the kitchen, continues to finish the cleaning up. He is not sure what he is going to do for the rest of the night. Maybe settle in his childhood bedroom, open his laptop, and binge-watch something. He makes no move to leave the kitchen though. His legs, they feel strangely frozen in place. Then, he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket, and he realizes someone is calling him. Eric fishes his phone out and stares for at it for a second before he answers.

“Jack?” He realizes his voice sounds funny, strained like he is fighting back tears. And he realizes, he is. He is not sure if this fresh onslaught of emotion has to do with his MooMaw or if it is just because Jack is calling him. He realizes after he answers, that they have never spoken on the phone before.

“Eric? Hey, eh.. is this a bad time?” Eric feels his shoulders start to relax once he hears Jack’s voice. Deep like he remembers, but different because voices always sound a little different over the phone. Eric is shaking his head, and he realizes after a beat that Jack can’t see him doing that.

“No, no. Not a bad time at all,” Eric says, as he flicks off the kitchen light and moves towards his bedroom. “I just finished cleaning up the kitchen. Everyone left an hour or so ago. Mama and Coach are in bed,” and Eric is dimly aware that he might be rambling.

“Everyone is gone or in bed here too,” Jack replies, and Eric smiles. He can tell it is a little thing, probably barely a smile, but he knows it is there.

Eric pushes the door open to his bedroom and flicks on the light with his free hand. Then he closes the door before settling down onto his bed.

“How was your day, Jack?” Eric asks because he does not want Jack to ask how his day was. He is worried he might prattle on too much about his sadness, and how weird everything was today. How he feels like he did not try hard enough to make everyone feel comfortable enough in their grief. He feels he should have made space for that, for himself, and for everyone. But it was difficult and Eric knows he was not ready to do that even if he thinks MooMaw would have wanted someone to do that.

“Today was good,” Jack replies, and Eric can hear him moving around on the phone. He wonders where Jack is. Wonders, briefly and then forces himself to stop, if Jack is in his bed. As much as he wants to picture Jack in bed, he also does not. “I always go to Camilla’s to celebrate American Thanksgiving with her family and Maisie. Maisie helped bake the pie we ate,” Jack says, and Eric can picture the soft smile that he is positive he can hear over the phone.

“What kind of pie did she bake?” Eric asks, moving so that he is resting his back against the headboard, his legs spread out comfortably in front of him.

“Apple. Because Apple is her favorite this week. That is what she said, anyway.” Jack says, finishing with a chuckle.

“Oh Lord, I can just imagine Maisie saying that,” Eric says, a quiet laugh of his own escaping him. “What else did y’all eat?”

He hears another soft chuckle escape Jack, and Eric wonders for a second if Jack is going to brush off the question or not. But, Jack answers, and Eric closes his eyes as he listens to Jack. He tries to picture what Jack looks like at this moment, what facial expressions he is making as he talks. Eric asks questions every so often, and Jack answers them and Eric is unsure of how long Jack talks about food and then dinner conversation and more of Maisie’s antics. Eric just knows that he feels relaxed, and maybe not exactly happy, but more content than he has been all day. And then…

“So, eh how was your day, Eric?” Jack asks, and Eric sighs.

“It… it was rough,” Eric begins, surprising himself that he did not deflect the question. “I think we all wanted to act like nothing had changed, to act as if MooMaw was still here, but.. it was too hard. MooMaw was always the first to arrive, and no one would leave until she mentioned she was going to head home, and then it would take an hour more before she actually left.” Eric is unsurprised to feel tears in his eyes. He had cried a lot over the summer when MooMaw first passed, and Trevor had done his best to be there for Eric, but Eric had mostly gone to Lardo and Shitty for comfort. Being back home, the first time since the funeral, was hard. And this being the first holiday without her, even harder still.

“I missed her laughter. I missed her presence in the kitchen. Mama and I got up as early as we always do, and I kept expecting MooMaw to show up when she usually does… or did,” Eric gives a shuddery breath. “I’m sorry, Jack. Prattling on about this…”

“Bitty, keep prattling on,” Jack says, before adding. “If you want or need to… or I could go back to talking about my day?” Jack offers.

Jack is giving Eric an out and Eric surprises himself by not taking it. Instead, he closes his eyes for a second, and sighs maybe just a little dramatically, before he opens his eyes again and stares up at his ceiling.

“Okay,” Eric says, “I do want to talk.”

“Okay,” Jack replies.

And Eric keeps his gaze on the ceiling as he talks. His rambling has no real direction. He finds himself first talking about waking up this morning, and padding into the kitchen. How he had wanted to beat his Mama to it, in order to get coffee and breakfast ready for her. His Mama had already been in the kitchen though and had made too big of a breakfast for the three of them. Then he shifts to talking about all the times he helped MooMaw cook or bake things. Then to the sound of MooMaw’s laughter, of her quick wit. Of how feisty she was and so full of love. He talks about the handwritten cookbook she had left him, full of recipes they had baked together and some that she had guarded all her life, with a wink and a promise that one day she would share the recipes with him. Eric goes from crying, usually softly, but an occasional sob does escape him. He finds himself laughing sometimes too, and he dimly worries about his parents hearing but they never say anything. He forgets, as he stares up at the ceiling and talks, that he is in his childhood home. That Jack is not next to him, but states away, listening to him talk. Jack has not interrupted him, but he does respond sometimes. There’s quiet laughter at some of the funny stories that Eric shares, and whispered condolences or questions that prompt Eric to talk even more. Jack seems to instinctively know what Eric needs to hear.

And Eric he really feels like Jack is truly listening to him, that he wants to, and that he cares. Sometimes, Eric is not sure if the tears he is crying are just for MooMaw or this strange happiness he feels in talking to Jack like this, in opening up to him so much. He knows this is the most they have ever talked. He feels that they have crossed some line, some threshold tonight. He wonders, briefly, if Jack is thinking and feeling the same but his thoughts go back to MooMaw and he continues to share stories, and his heart opens. He feels a warmth that had been missing all day.

Eric sighs, “I wish I had had the courage to share some of these stories with my family. I think it could have done us all some good, to talk like this. But… but we all held it in,” Eric is not sure if what he is saying, or trying to say, makes much sense.

“I am glad you could talk to me about it, Bitty.” Jack says gently.

“Thank you for listening,” Eric replies, a smile playing on his lips.

“I will always be here to listen, Bud. We are friends, right?” Jack asks, and Eric hears the vulnerability in it. His ears and heart lingering on the word ‘friends’ and before that ‘Bud’. The way Jack had said it, it had sounded almost like a term of endearment. His heart did something funny at it, soared a little. He latched onto the friends' bit, because that was easier to hold onto, and did not cause his heart to thud as hard. Friends, he could and would take that even if he wanted more. His lips were still turned into a smile, or maybe they had turned into a new smile.

He sighed before he could stop himself, a pleasant little sigh. “Yeah, we are friends. Yanno that means you can talk to me too if you ever need to? That I’m always here to listen too.” Eric says, trying to keep the like-sick simper out of his voice, and doubting he did.

He hears Jack inhale a breath and he waits.

“I was nodding before I remembered you could not see it,” Jack explains, laughing and the laugh sounds embarrassed. Eric smirks, amused. “But, yes. Friends... and I will talk to you if I need to.”

“Friends,” Eric repeats and for some reason, he feels like a little kid. He feels too giddy at the fact they had just confirmed they were friends as if their actions these last few months had not been building up to this. As if Eric does not want them to keep building up to something else. He opens his mouth to say something, his brain not quite caught up to it, when he hears Jack yawn and Eric realizes how late it must be. His phone suddenly feels too warm against his face. His own eyes feel heavy, and soon he is yawning in response to Jack.

“It is past your bedtime, Mr. Zimmermann,” Eric gently teases.

“It is, “Jack hums in agreement, but he sounds sleepy all of a sudden.

“Goodnight, Jack. And thanks again,” he says, softly.

“Goodnight, Eric.” Comes the reply.

Silence stretches for a few seconds but neither he nor Jack disconnects the call. The repeat goodnight a couple more times before Jack counts down and then they both hang up just after he reaches three. Eric, he feels happier than he has since he landed in Georgia. He makes the mental note to try and share some of the stories he shared with Jack with his Mama in the morning. He just manages to reach over to plug his phone in, before he falls asleep.

#omgcp #omgcp fic #zimbits #eric bittle #jack zimmermann #a.shitty writes #a.shitty fics #samwell elementary au

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junker-town · 3 years ago

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8 players I’m watching this NFL season

You owe it to yourself to pay attention to these guys.

By this point you’ve probably locked your Week 1 rosters for fantasy football, and that’s a good thing. Truth be told, I’m really pretty terrible at fantasy football. It’s a world that demands a very different mind to that of just appreciating NFL games. It’s like watching someone good play Madden, someone really good, who has an innate understanding of what breaks the A.I. and will always pick up a big gain on offense.

Instead I want to talk about the players I just can’t stop thinking about. The guys who I know will do something incredible every week, and who I cannot wait to see back on the field.

Justin Jefferson

God, I’m such a sucker for LSU wide receivers. I have no idea what’s in that Baton Rouge water but the Tigers need to bottle it and give it to every pass catcher around the nation. It feels like it’s been such a long time since we’ve truly seen a receiver so good he makes up for his quarterback, but that’s exactly what Jefferson did for the Vikings in his rookie season.

I’m not here to litigate the skills of Kirk Cousins, because Kirk Cousins is too boring to even warrant time on the court docket. Instead we should focus on a dude who caught 88 passes for 1,400 yards in his friggin’ rookie season. Know the last time that’s happened in the modern era? How about never.

Anquan Boldin: 1,377 yards

Odell Beckham Jr.: 1,305 yards

The GOAT himself, Randy-freaking-Moss: 1,313 yards

I want nothing more in this world that to see Jefferson dominate again, because frankly it’s been too damn long since the league had a must-watch receiver. Hell, it’s probably been since OBJ was making stupid one-handed catches and flexing on the entire league, and go figure, he was from LSU too.

I’m a sucker for feeling like I’m a part of history, and the possibility of seeing the emergence of one of the greatest receivers of all time is enough of an allure that I’ll actually subject myself to watching Kirk Cousins play football.

Derrick Henry

I’ve been trying to limit my red meat consumption under the assumption that reducing my carbon footprint will help the world, so Derrick Henry is my giant weekly helping of beef.

Everything about football is time and place. Go back a decade and Henry would be in the mix with a lot of stellar, league-defining running backs. Now, he’s an iconoclast in a league that keeps pushing more and more towards passing, and ignoring the sweet science of mashing a dude into the turf with a stiff arm and a steely grin.

The season, perhaps more than any other, I cannot wait to see what Henry does in Tennessee. With Julio Jones in the mix it’s going to be a fascinating weekly drama of “who’s defending who?” with Henry more than likely getting a chance to do his own thing and obliterate people, because that’s favorable to giving up 20+ in the air.

Derrick Henry's tired of the helmet on a stick...he needs live bodies to stiff arm pic.twitter.com/A5QcDKIhny

— Buck Reising (@BuckReising) September 6, 2021

If Derrick Henry turns his own teammates into sacrificial lambs, then what the hell is he going to do to his opponents?

Every single poor sap on the Texans

Okay look, I know this breaks my conventions a little because “58 players I’m watching this NFL season” doesn’t have the SEO-friendly ring to it, but I’m lumping the entire Texans team into this scenario as one sorry player.

I truly did not believe things could get worse for Houston than last season, but by gawd they found a way, didn’t they? You know David Johnson? The running back they traded DeAndre Hopkins for? He’s their backup running back to a 31-year-old Mark Ingram now.

I honestly feel slightly bad for the individual players on the Texans, because there are a ton of genuinely delightful individuals on this team. Collectively their depth chart looks like Santa’s workshop if all the elves decided to run off and become dentists, so dolls were pieces together by unskilled labor.

The elves really should have unionized.

Daniel Jones

Let it be known that above all else I am a petty, petty bitch — and while Daniel Jones is, by all accounts, a nice gentleman, he does represent something I love to hate on with the fury of 1,000 suns: Dave Gettleman.

I watched firsthand while Gettleman systematically destroyed my beloved Carolina Panthers are turned away team legends like Steve Smith with a bedside manner best described as “imagine if Jason Vorhees was your orthopedic surgeon.”

Jones represents his biggest roll of the dice. The guy Gettleman took and told the world to “trust him.” He passed on Josh Allen, gave Jones the rope to let Justin Herbert fly by a year later, now he’s getting one more year to prove he’s the guy, following a draft where New York could have selected Justin Fields.

I know Giants fans have reached the same point Panthers fans did with Gettleman. He made us all chuckle with his old man phraseology to start his tenure, then it became abundantly apparent he was still looking at football as if it was being played during the Reagan administration with no appreciation for what was happening in the modern game.

I don’t think this story is going to end well, and while I’m sorry for Giants fans, I promise it’ll be worth it to get rid of Gettleman.

Justin Herbert

Hey, it’s the guy I just talked about the Giants passing on. Cool.

Anyway, I love watching Justin Herbert play ... a lot. He looks like a 12-year-old and plays like a 40-year-old veteran. In fact, I’m not 100 percent sure Herbert really is entering his second year, and he’s not some wily veteran like Peyton Manning aging backwards like Benjamin Button.

I’d really like Herbert to succeed because dammit, I want the Chargers to succeed. I don’t know if there’s a more historically likable team than this one, but who never, ever seems to catch a break. Philip Rivers was a really nice guy, LaDanian Tomlinson was also a delightful fellow — I want Herbert to succeed where they didn’t and finally, FINALLY pull the Chargers out of the doldrums.

Also, it would be fun as hell if we get another elite quarterback in the AFC West for the next decade next to Patrick Mahomes.

Brian Burns

Here’s a guy who nobody outside of the Carolinas really talks about, but totally should. Sure, Burns doesn’t have a double-digit sack season to his name ... yet, but I think it’s about to happen.

The reason I just want to see him play is baked entirely within that sentence: I just want to see Brian Burns play. Last season he registered 9.0 sacks, but these weren’t effort, fight his way into the pocket type sacks. Burns flies off the line with unnatural speed and even without a tremendous array of pass rushing moves, he’s able to overwhelm defenses with his first step.

Burns ranked Top 10 in the NFL in total QB pressures last season, and I think that will jump ahead again. This could be a breakout season, and it’s just fun to see how this guy plays football.

Trevor Lawrence

I’ve just gotta know. I have to know if all these years of watching, and waiting for the best college QB since Andrew Luck actually materializes in Jacksonville and FINALLY gets that team over the hump.

The Jaguars got so monumentally lucky to have this situation fall in their laps and get to take Lawrence, and this was a franchise in dire need of luck. Oh god, that’s three mentions of “luck” in two paragraphs, my editor is going to hate me (sorry Ricky). Shit, now it’s four. Better quit while I’m ahead.

I just want Jaguars fans to be happy in a way that doesn’t require copious amounts of pre-game liquor and vandalism. Is that so much to ask?

Kyle Pitts

In a similar vein to Lawrence I’m just fascinated by seeing what Kyle Pitts does this season. The rookie tight end is being asked to fill some tremendously large cleats with Julio Jones being traded away, but thankfully he is a large man who I presume has feet to match.

Before I get too carried away with feet references and y’all start rumors about me on the internet, let me just say that I think Pitts can be one of those iconic, league-defining players that makes us totally re-think the tight end position. I believe he’s that damn good.

Now, I know there’s also a learning curve here and that transitioning to tight end in the NFL is damn, damn difficult (I mean hell, no rookie TE has broken 1,000 yards since Mike Ditka), but there’s just something transcendent about how Pitts plays football. I need to watch him play and develop this season to satiate my own curiosity.

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winchesterhound-blog · 7 years ago

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Bait- Part 3

Pairings: Dean x sister!reader, Sam x sister!reader

Word Count: 1215

Warnings: date-rape drug, guns

A/N: I think the beginning might be a bit confusing, so it starts off in Y/N’s POV as she’s just waking up in the car, and is pretty disoriented still from the effects of the roofies. I hope y’all like it, and I’m sorry the updates aren’t super regular and quick. I’m prepping for a final exam right now and really pressed for time. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy and please feel free to message me with your reactions! They’re so fun to read and really put a smile on my face :)

P.S. @winchesters-favorite-girl READ MY SHIT ASS STORY OH MY GOD

Breathe in.

Old leather, the faintest smell of whiskey, and a hint of men’s aftershave.

Breathe out. Were you in the impala?

Breathe in.

A soft whistle of wind through the neighbouring trees. Somewhere in the distance, an owl calling into the breeze. Definitely in a car.

Breathe out.

Breathe in.

Finally, you peeled your eyes open, focusing and unfocusing on the surface above you. Fading beige-coloured roof, and smooth black leather seat. Definitely the impala. Where the hell were you?

Craning your neck to the side, you could see no one else in the car with you. God, did you have a headache. Slowly you swung your legs down from the backseat to the floor, careful not to crush the hastily thrown weapons bag and cooler. Reaching up to your forehead, you gently rubbed your temples in an attempt to alleviate some of the throbbing pain.

Okay, time to think. You were in the impala. That was good. Your brothers were nowhere to be found. Not so good. You were seemingly in the middle of nowhere. Images from the bar came flooding into your mind as soon as you began trying to think back to what you last remembered.

“Keep dancing, baby. There’s at least 8 starving vamps in here and they’re all staring at you.”

“I’m not drunk,” you slurred, eyes glossing over. “I’ve had one drink.”

“He roofies them, just to make it that much easier for his vamps. Which means you’re gonna be out like a light pretty damn quick here.”

“Damn roofies. That explains it,” you mumbled to yourself, annoyed as hell that you let a vampire get the better of you.

“Okay, prioritize Y/N. What do you need to do?” You thought to yourself, forcing your groggy mind to co-operate. Finding your brothers was the obvious answer.

Scooching over to the left, you opened the cool metal door of the impala and stepped out onto a gravel road. Feet crunching over the loose rocks, you guided yourself to the trunk. Popping it open, you knew immediately something was missing. Machetes. So your brothers were hunting the vampires- and you must be close to their nest. Did they know there were at least 8 vamps? Were they at all prepared to walk into that? Okay, finding them was clearly the next step, even in your dazed state of mind that was apparent.

“No machete for me. This’ll be interesting.” You muttered. Picking up the closest gun, you methodically filled the clip and stuffed it in the front of your dress. Goddamn stupid dress, no pockets, no nothing. You were going to have to be quiet and hopefully avoid running into too many vamps- your odds of successfully killing them without a machete, and only one vial of dead mans blood was impressively low. Reaching up with your right hand you gently slammed closed the trunk, looking left and right down the dark gravel road trying to decide which way to go.

Squinting your eyes to see through the darkness, you could make out the faint imprint of tire tracks coming from the left. Perfect, they must have continued going right after they dumped the car. Adjusting the hem of your dress, you began your trek down towards the nest.

You heard him before you saw him. You had been walking for nearly a half hour, when you heard the distinct crunch of rocks ahead of you. Dropping to a crouch, you pulled out the gun from the front of your dress, cocking it immediately and lining it up in the direction of the footstep. As the footsteps got closer and closer, your shoulders tensed. Anticipation had always bothered you.

The moment you could make out a silhouette, you shouted out “Don’t move. I’ve had a royally awful night and I WILL shoot you.” Laughter ensued immediately from the unknown figure, and the footsteps began increasing in speed towards you.

“Alright, put the gun down Y/N. No need to shoot your hero.” He hollered back. Trevor?

Lowering your arm, you stood back up and clicked back the safety on the gun. “What the hell happened Trevor? Where’re my brothers?” You yelled as you began walking towards him.

“Well, when you passed out I carried you outside to your brothers, where you said they would be. They asked what happened, and when I explained, they insisted we go hunt the nest and leave you in the car, because you know, you were passed out. I swear I thought there was 12 vamps in there max. It’s not going so well. That’s why I was on my way back here. To get more gear and drive the car closer. Dean is hurt real bad. He’s gonna need some help.” He explained, breathe coming out in short huffs.

“I knew it. I knew they were in trouble,” you mumbled, bringing your hand up to your lips and absentmindedly chewing on your thumb as you thought. “Okay, you go get the car and I’ll go cover Dean in the nest.” You delegated, mind immediately clearing up at the mention of Dean in trouble.

Trevor nodded. “Sounds good. Be careful.” He replied, walking past you.

You were so focused on getting to your brothers, you didn’t see the blood dripping from his mouth as he came closer to you. You didn’t see him reach behind his back and pull out a gun, only focused on the road ahead of you, on getting to the nest. And then you heard a gunshot ring out, seemingly reverberating off of the dense forest around you. The quiet whistle of wind through the canopy of trees was brought to a deafening halt, the calling owl ostensibly mute, unable to compete with such a loud and jarring sound. And then you were falling again, just as you had mere hours earlier at the bar. Just as you had collapsed into the arms of Trevor then, you did again now. You couldn’t feel where the gunshot had hit you but you knew it had. It was quite amazing really, how you could feel the gravel crunching beneath your knees as you dropped into it, and the way your hair flew from in front of your shoulders to behind your back, but you couldn’t feel a gunshot? Mind still reeling from the previous trauma it had endured at the bar, your senses and thought processes were dulled once again as you looked down towards your scraped knees, and saw a stream of blood flowing from the middle of your thigh. Mouth open in shock, you reached a tentative hand to cover it, trying to stop endless stream of crimson. You knew, as soon as you touched the bullet wound you knew, Trevor was not a hunter.

The realization came much too late, being trapped from release in the pathways of your mind, fighting desperately to overcome the influence of the drug and shock. You brought your eyes up to look at the man in front of you, someone who you foolishly trusted, and saw his boot swinging in line with your temple. You couldn’t feel the gaping hole in your thigh, but you sure felt the crunch of the gravel as your body fell the rest of the way into it.

BAIT TAGLIST: @percussiongirl2017 @superimpala1967

#supernatural #supernatural series #supernatural fanfiction #winchester sister #sister!winchester #winchester sisfic #dean winchester #dean x reader #sam x reader #sam winchester

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h-styles-babes · 7 years ago

Text

No Control | Chapter Thirty-Four

Summary:

Micky Bennett: college student, loyal friend, aspiring nurse, One Direction fan, Harry Styles enthusiast. Her best friend, Trevor, wins tickets to a show in New Jersey with meet and greet passes. Micky expects a quick photo op with the boys and a great night at the concert with her best friend. What she gets a whole lot more than she bargained for.

To read previous chapters, you can go here.

*Please feel free to reblog and send feedback. It’s much appreciated :)*

*Gif is not mine.*

THIRTY-FOUR

When we enter the kitchen, Trev is standing in front of Harry’s coffee maker, pouting at it, a glass of water clutched in his hands.

“You alright, mate?” Harry asks.

Trev turns to look over his shoulder at us, his eyes red rimmed and squinty, probably from the splitting headache I’m sure he has this morning.

“Your coffee maker is too fancy,” he huffs gruffly. “I just want a cup of coffee.” His voice is whiney and I stifle a laugh as I go in search of some painkillers for him.

“Lemme help,” Harry offers, patient as ever with a grown man acting like an upset child in his kitchen.

I leave to Harry’s restroom to see if there’s any medicine in there. When I come back successful, a whole pot of coffee is brewing on the counter, and Harry’s got a kettle going for tea on the stove. While Harry’s usually a coffee drinker in the morning, he’s got two mugs with tea bags already in them on the counter, meaning he’s making one for the both of us this morning. I don’t know if it’s because he genuinely wants tea or if it’s in solidarity with me because I can’t have coffee, but I’m choosing to go with the latter because it makes him seem sweeter than he already is.

Trev’s already pouring his second cup by the time Harry and I steep our teas, looking more alive than he did just a few minutes prior. He clears his throat as he looks me up and down and I see his eyes trail to the counter behind me. When I look back, I see the pile of clothes from last night still sitting there, neatly folded. I never got around to changing into them, and I think Trev is making connections.

It takes him a few moments, and I’m hoping he’ll save his accusations and questions until we’re home later, so Harry doesn’t have to experience them. Of course, Trevor doesn’t operate that way, and he gasps when the pieces are all put together in his mind. Harry misses this interaction at first, of course, since he’s busy scrolling through his work phone, probably checking on emails and missed calls. When Trev gasps, though, he looks up, mildly alarmed.

“You dirty fucks,” Trev breathes out, a laugh bubbling out of his lips.

“What?” Harry asks, absolutely clueless.

“You slept together last night,” Trev says triumphantly, a smirk pulling at his lips. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose before continuing. “I told you this would happen.”

“When did you ever say that?” I ask, genuinely confused. I don’t fail to notice how Harry just quietly smiles over his mug, eyes twinkling.

“Last month when you ran into each other again,” he urges.

I think back to that time and finally realize what he was talking about. “We were talking about how Harry wouldn’t be able to stay mad at me because he’s got a soft spot for pregnant women and me. What does that have to do with this?”

“That was me calling it that you wouldn’t be able to stay platonic for very long. I figured not until after the baby came along, but you both seemed to want to expedite that process,” he shrugs. “I’m all for it, honestly. Watching you two try to navigate a relationship together while not fucking each other’s brains out was like watching a baby deer trying to stand for the first time. Plus, you both look pretty fucking blissed out right now. I like it.”

“I…” I start, looking baffled at my best friend. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

He shrugs again, taking another sip of his coffee. “You don’t have to say shit. Just keep fucking Harry. It’s a good look on you.”

“You are so strange,” I sigh, shaking my head.

“We’ve been friends for nearly four years. You think you’d figured that out by now.”

“Let me take you out to dinner tonight,” Harry blurts as I’m slipping my dress from the previous night back on. Harry made us all a breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, and we all sat around his kitchen talking for about an hour. It’s reaching the afternoon now, and Trev has to get back to do some last minute studying for a test he has the next day.

“What?” I ask, slightly amazed by his request. “You’ve got a flight in the morning, H.”

“And I want to spend more time with you before I’m gone for a few weeks,” he reasons. “Just got you back, Mick. And I think we’ve got some things to talk about.”

I sigh, knowing he’s absolutely right. Just because we slept together and professed our love for each other doesn’t exactly tie up all our loose ends. And there’s a lot more to consider now than just Harry and me; there’s a baby that will be arriving in a few short weeks to take into consideration, too.

“Dinner sounds nice,” I agree, pulling my hair up into a ponytail. “And you’re okay with us going out out?”

“I know a place that’s pretty secluded. We’ll probably be seen by a handful of people, but we won’t be bothered.” He walks over to me from where he was stood pulling on a pair of jeans, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling me to him. “And would it really be so bad for us to be seen together again?” He brushes a loose piece if my hair back and tucks it behind my ear.

“You’re a private person, Harry, and I respect that. I just don’t want you to have to deal with attention that you don’t want,” I reason.

“By now, those photos of us from last night are circulating around the internet and are probably a breaking story on TMZ. People have already got ideas in their heads about what’s going on. I’m sure some are assuming correctly. Just because they know about you doesn’t mean my privacy is gone.” His large hand cups the back of my neck and his thumb brushes along my jawline. “Jeff actually wants to do a short press release about the situation, just to shut up reporters. He’s already been emailing me about requests for information he’s gotten.”

“What do you think will appease them enough to get off your back?”

“It’s because I’m so private that people are so frenzied for these stories,” he sighs, running his hand up and down my back. “I suppose if I did what everyone else does and post on my social media outlets more often, it would calm down.”

“Don’t do that if you’re not comfortable with it, Harry,” I warn. “Do what makes you happy.”

“Making sure you and our daughter are safe and happy is what makes me happy,” he declares. “If that means posting a photo of you two once every three months and writing little blurbs about milestones, I’m more than willing to do that.”

There’s a tap on the door, then, Trevor signaling that he’s put together enough to leave.

I sigh and run my hands over his broad shoulders, appreciating the warm smoothness of his skin and lightly tracing over a few of his tattoos on his left arm. “We’ll talk about this more tonight, yeah?”

Harry nods, a solemn look on his face that I know he tries to hide quickly. “Yeah. I’ll pick you up around six.”

“I don’t want you going out of your way,” I protest.

“The place is in LA. You’re on my way,” he assures with a soft smile. He dips his head down and presses his lips to mine, letting a soft kiss linger for a few moments. “Lemme put a shirt on and I’ll walk you guys out.”

Trevor is able to drive, so Harry helps me into the passenger side, lingering as I close the door. With the window down, he leans against the sill, head poking in through the opening.

“Six tonight, Mick,” he reminds, like we didn’t just have a conversation about it five minutes prior.

“What should I wear?” I ask.

“Similar to what you’re wearing now is good,” he nods. “Like seeing you in dresses.” He gently wraps a hand around the back of my neck and pulls me forward to press a few last kisses to my lips. “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” I breathe as he pulls away, allowing Trev to back the car down the drive.

Harry stands in the drive, watching us leave until we’re out of sight. Trev is quiet until he works his way out of Harry’s neighborhood and back onto the main street that will take us back into LA.

“Since when have ‘I love you’s’ been exchanged?” he shouts, suddenly becoming very animated.

“Last night,” I inform him.

“So y’all didn’t just fuck? Like, this was serious.”

“Y’all?” I question, teasing at the drawl the word has even on his slightly accented tone. Growing up in New York, Trev has a watered down version of the accent, mostly presenting itself on certain words and thickening when he gets drunk. The typical southern slang that he just spewed is a bit funny.

“One of my study partners is from Louisiana,” he grumbles as explanation. “Anyway, answer the question, Bennett!”

“I’m pregnant, Trev,” I reason. “I’m not just gonna fuck him for the sake of fucking him. There was a bit of discussion beforehand. It just kinda led to the sex naturally.”

“So you two are, like, actually gonna give this a shot again.”

I shrug, a slight smile playing on my lips. “We’ll see. We’re gonna talk about it at dinner tonight.”

“Oh, so I know I was really drunk by this point, but I definitely saw paps outside the restaurant, right? Like, I didn’t imagine that in my drunken stupor?”

I sigh and prop my head against the window. “No, you definitely didn’t imagine that. There’s probably already photos of us pasted all over the internet. Kinda wanna see what they’re talking about, but I also really don’t.”

Trev digs into his pocket as we wait at a red light and then tosses his phone to me. “Do it. I’ll be here to listen to you rant if you need.”

With a slight hesitancy, I open Trev’s phone and tap on the Twitter icon, waiting only momentarily for the app to load. He doesn’t seem to follow a whole lot of accounts dedicated to One Direction anymore, so I have to actually search Harry’s name in order to find anything. Of course, once I do, I’m a little shocked at how many people seem to be talking about us.

The photos from the night before have definitely already made the rounds. There’s several of them, from Harry and I sitting and eating together to us dancing together. My stomach is very clearly visible in all of them except for where it’s hidden behind tables. And then, of course, there’s the photos of Harry kneeled in front of me, both hands cradling my swollen belly, lips pressed to it over my dress. That’s the photo I see the most of, with people pretty much yelling in the captions about how there’s a possibility that I’m pregnant with his child. My Twitter is private and I see my handle tagged in most of them posts, but I don’t receive notifications for it, so my phone is blissfully silent and void of drama.

“How’s it looking?” Trev asks, glancing at me only briefly to try to read my expression.

“Not too bad,” I shrug. “They’re mostly scrambling to figure out if the baby is his.”

“They’re really questioning that?” he scoffs.

“I mean, some of them think I’m a slag, so they’re trying to play it off,” I chuckle. “Ooh, hold on. I found a post with a link to a Tumblr page.” I tap on it and am not even mildly surprised to find an essay-worthy post by someone who seems to have a pretty big following on the website.

“Read it out loud if the grammar’s not too bad,” Trev requests.

“It’s actually pretty good,” I comment, skimming briefly. “And she seems like one of the normal ones.”

I clear my throat and start to read, both of us pleasantly surprised by how this random person is defending both Harry and me and basically telling all her followers to be decent human beings and be happy for us if their suspicions are true. She also goes on to describe a scarily accurate timeline of mine and Harry’s relationship and how all signs point to Harry definitely being the father of my unborn child. She’s got pretty much everything right, except for the details of why we hadn’t been seen together for a good chunk of the year. I don’t know if Harry will ever address that publicly, but they can assume what they want. They also conclude the post by saying that everyone should respect our privacy and allow us this time together to become a family and get into the groove of being new parents, but that she really hopes we’ll post something about our lives every once in awhile.

“That was very well thought out and kind,” Trev smiles, pulling into our building’s car park.

“It was,” I agree. “Didn’t make me wanna tear my hair out. Kinda wanna thank her but I don’t think that would go over too well.”

“Yeah, better not. Maybe just make a public post thanking everyone for their support once it’s officially out there that you’re having Harry Styles’ baby.”

I shrug. “Maybe. Means I’d have to make something public.”

“Just make it all public. You’re hardly on anyway,” he reasons.

“True. I’ll talk to Harry about it.”

The buzz at the door comes at just before six o’ clock, so I know it’s Harry requesting entrance. Trev has been at the campus library for the last couple hours, cramming in some studying, so I’ve been at home by myself while I get ready. I took Harry’s alive and put on another floral dress, this one off the shoulder and in a blush color. Instead of heels though, I slipped on some sandals and tossed a pretty gold headband in my hair to dress it up a bit.

I let Harry in at the gate and open my flat door so that he can just come straight in when he gets up here, not wanting to have him left in the hall for any reason. Most of my neighbors are older folk that are either at work all day or stay in their flats, but I don’t want to risk him being spotted if we can help it.

I’m in the kitchen making sure I’ve got everything I need in my purse when there’s a tap at the door. I look up to see Harry in the doorway, a pretty smile on his face and a bouquet of flowers in his hands. They’re a mix of Baby’s Breath, Forget-Me-Nots, and Yellow Pansies. It looks very appropriate for the spring weather and the scent is fresh and pungent as he gets closer to me.

I smile at him. “You got me flowers?”

“Been awhile since I was on a date, but this is still what you do, right?” he jokes, coming around the counter. He sets the flowers on the granite top and pulls me into him, an arm around my waist and his other hand around the back of my neck. He presses a quick kiss to my forehead and then to my nose, making butterflies kick up in my stomach.

I’ve missed this. The comfort and ease and absolutely giddiness I have when I’m with Harry is something I’ve never experienced with anybody else. I nearly forgot how amazing he makes me feel every time he’s with me, and having him around the last couple of weeks has been a good reminder. Between yesterday and today, it’s magnified even more, falling back into our previous behavior with each other. Admitting our feelings has added another layer to it, and while there’s still a lot for us to figure out, I think we can make it work this time.

“Think you’ve done alright for yourself,” I tease, picking up the bouquet and sniffing it. “Smells really pretty. I love Forget-Me-Nots. Lemme find a vase to put them in.”

I search for a few moments and finally find a crystal one that Trev nicked from his mum’s house in the cabinet above the refrigerator. Harry kindly grabs it for me, much taller than I am and not wanting me to strain myself. I fill it with some water as he trims the stems so that it’ll fit nicely into the vase. I set it in the center of the counter once it’s put together and smile at the bit of brightness it brings to the room.

“You ready?” Harry asks, looking over me. “You look beautiful.”

I should just anticipate the blush he makes rise to my cheeks by now, but I still feel a little betrayed by it every time. “Thank you, Harry.”

He cradles my head in his hands as he presses a lingering kiss to my lips, slowly tracing his tongue against the seam of them before pulling away. I whine as he draws back, feeling a little cheated, but he just chuckles and gives a quick peck to my cheek. “I’d love to take this further, but I really wanna take you on a proper date.”

I roll my eyes dramatically and huff a bit. “How dare you be a gentleman.”

Harry smirks. “You like it quite a bit when I’m not, though, right love?”

“Oi, cheeky!” I protest, lightly shoving at his chest. “Got dinner to get to, Styles. Little Bean is hungry.”

That immediately softens his face. His hand moves to cradle my stomach. “We better get going then, yeah?”

We go in through the front door when we get to the restaurant, and the hostess smiles kindly when she sees us, menus already in hand. She greets Harry as ‘Mr. Styles’ which is weird, since she’s our senior by probably twenty years. The familiarity suggests that Harry comes here quite a bit, and when Harry greets her as Sharon, I realize he probably does come here a lot.

We’re shown to a table for two in a corner of the restaurant. None of the other patrons seem to really pay us much mind as we take out seats. There’s a large window beside us that looks out onto the street. The sun has already mostly set, so the twinkling lights that dorm the front of the building are on, making the lighting inside cozy.

“Used to come here with the lads every time we were in LA,” Harry says as soon as Sharon leaves. “Sharon owns the place with her husband. Kinda adopted the five kids who stumbled in before a concert. Can guarantee she’ll ask about the lot of them at some point.”

“You’re just sneaking your way into families left and right, aren’t you?” I tease, flipping open the menu.

“What do you mean?” he asks, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy.

I start ticking off examples on my fingers. “The Winstons, the Cordens, the Crawford-Gerbers, and Sharon, apparently. I’m sure there are some I’m missing, too.”

“I can’t help that I’m so lovable,” he jokes, flashing me a wide smile.

“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh.

Harry helps me figure out what to order by the time that a waiter comes around. He’s young, probably a year or two younger than us, and he’s cute enough in a sort of shy, nerdy way with his square spectacles and messy brown hair that he’s seemed to try to tame but has failed miserably. He’s polite to Harry and listens intently as he takes his order, but he’s all smiles and eager nods as I order, and I can see Harry trying to keep in his chuckles from the corner of my eyes. I want to roll mine, but I don’t want our waiter to get the wrong impression and think I’m rolling my eyes at him, so I save it until he’s walked off.

“Stop it,” I reprimand, using my cloth napkin to lightly swat at Harry’s arm. “Leave the poor lad alone.”

“What? I’m not taking the piss!” he protests, still chuckling. “I just think it’s amusing how you seem to get every male’s attention anywhere you go.”

“What are you on about?”

“The guy at the book store in New York,” he begins ticking off, much like I had a few minutes earlier, “the guy from the pizza place in New York, the guy that works at the donut shoppe by your flat, and this waiter. I’m sure there are some I’m missing, too.”

I don’t miss the mocking edge as he throws my own words back at me with a little smirk. “I can’t help that I’m so lovable,” I brush off with a small hair flip.

Harry barks out a laugh, causing a few people to turn their heads to see what’s going on. He rushes out an apology, still chuckling slightly. “I love you,” he breathes, eyes twinkling at me under the shimmering lights just outside the window.

My heart flutters with his declaration. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to him saying it.

THIRTY-FIVE

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfic #dad!harry #No Control #one direction

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wizardrywilting · 4 years ago

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my favorite quotes from the rebranding

ch. 1: “Nicolas,” she sighed. “Sleep is harder when you grow up.”

“So? Try.” Then he left, and she was forced to nap.

---

Lydia’s father sighed. “Stop scaring away the trainees.”

“You take softies now?”

---

Lydia had to take a very deep breath to handle this. “Where did you get a pigeon? Pigeons don’t just... chill in goddamn Blue Stone.”

---

“People like us don’t change. You can't change your destiny, your DNA. You’re like me, and always will be.”

---

“Why are you full of rage?”

“Tragedy,” she spits.

“What is the tragedy?”

She spins around and leaves, hearing her father laugh.

---

By the time you get this, I’ll be back in Ireland, and possibly at HQ for the Order of KFC. (Does Britain have KFC? If not y’all are missing out.)

---

They restrained themselves, for once.

---

“Woah, are we-” “-interrupting our little sister’s gay awakening?”

---

Hermione’s offended look would fuel Lydia's patronus, if she had one.

---

“So, about you and my godson.”

“Oh for fuck - we’re not dating!”

---

“My grandmother screams way louder than that idiotic mushroom shit you’ve got for a mother.”

ch. 2: Hermione was even in a heated debate with the cashier, who looked like she’d never wanted a job less.

---

Above them, hanging from the rafters, Ginny swung like a monkey.

---

Lydia shot up in excitement.

“I know that particular yell!”

---

“A girl can only go so long before she stabs a clingy old man.”

---

Ginny, who had stood nearby, knelt beside Lydia and moved her hands enough to wipe the tears that had found their way to Lydia’s chin.

“It’s alright, you did good.”

---

“It’s my opinion that every adult needs a good dressing down by a kid every so often. Keeps ‘em humble, you know?”

---

“Lydia. Just because someone is kind to you, it doesn’t give them the right to discredit you and your feelings. Your pain is valid, and real.”

---

Mrs. Weasley didn’t enjoy the conga line that Lydia, Ginny, Ron, Nicky, Sirius, and the twins formed for Harry - or maybe it was the chanting. Either way, she didn’t enjoy it as much as Harry did.

---

ch. 3:

But she’d be lying if she said she didn’t pick up more shifts than essential, just so she didn’t have to process her feelings.

Because she had a lot of feelings she’d rather repress.

---

Trevor was on Neville’s head.

---

Neville was whispering to a cactus as if it were a puppy, Luna was painting polka dots on Ginny’s face, Ginny was talking about Dean Thomas

---

“I had a knife phase.”

“No, that’s still going on.”

---

“OH! POTTER NEARLY GOT HER, BUT A BIT OF NAUGHTY SWEARING GOT THE BETTER OF HIM! SHAME, HARRY. LYDIA’S QUICK BOMBARDA, THAT’S AN EXPLODING SPELL BY THE WAY, NEARLY GETS POTTER, BUT IT SEEMS...OH WOW, HAS HE DROPPED HIS WAND?! NO, NO THAT’S MCBRIEN, TURNING IT INTO...WELL NOW FOLKS, I’M NOT SURE WHAT JUST HAPPENED.”

---

Lee yelled again, “IS THAT...IS THAT A WIN FOR LYDIA? I REALLY DON’T KNOW WHAT TO CALL THIS. FRED, GEORGE? ANGIE?”

---

ch. 4:

“That’s your potting face. Is it time for Georgie and I to bow down and pledge service to our soon to be overlord?”

---

“When I declare supreme rule over the world you two will be at my side. We’ll even get a three seater throne.”

---

“You’re the only ones that can ever talk me out of things. So, if you asked me not to, I would actually listen.”

---

“Humans are sappy.”

---

Luna said, sounding absurdly happy for her situation, “But then a scary girl punched me!”

---

Luna came from behind and slapped Rhiannon. “Hush now, you’re acting silly.”

---

“you humans are so fragile.”

---

“....Demons?” Ardrig asked, then shook his head. “Nevermind, I want plausible deniability.”

---

“Ah! You’re doing it at Christmas, then? that won’t be traumatizing at all.”

---

“Eh!” Lydia made a sound like a buzzer.

---At that Ardrig laughed so hard his face turned blue, and he said, “I don’t despise you, Miss McBrien.”

That was as close to an ‘I love you’ as Lydia thought she’d ever get.

---

“You’re not a bad person for not being miserable.”

---

Shut up, I’m not making a move on your brother!”

“Which one?”

Lydia startled so badly at Ginny’s voice she accidentally threw her sandwich.

---

“Now come on, I came to get you because Harry’s trying to do a backflip off the Astronomy Tower and Colin’s filming it.”

---

Let it be known that Lydia knew she shouldn’t take the bait. She should finish the joke, and laugh it off. Lydia knew this. And yet...

---

“I’ll...I’ll go there right now, Lydia. I’ll apparate there, and I’ll punch her. I’ll lock her away, like she did to you.”

“No you won’t.”

“I would, if you asked.”

“But I didn’t.”

---

Cue explosions of root beer-mento-concoction all across the Great Hall.

---

Umbridge is screaming, Dumbledore is laughing, Pansy Parkinson is sobbing into Draco Malfoy’s robes.

---

“But how do you know Harry’s a good kisser?! He could just be awful!”

---

Lydia only wished Ginny were here, because she quite enjoying the stupidity of boys.

---

Oh, poor Harry. Poor oblivious, socially awkward, human disaster, Harry.

---

“Wait a minute!” Harry suddenly exclaimed, “Have you been writing to my godfather? Are you penpals?!”

---

Hermione and Professor McGonagall are giving her pity looks, and goddammit where is her knife?!

---

Lydia is slightly confused why Sirius is here, but she quickly remembers he isn’t dead yet.

---

“Christmas trees are not my forte, but you know what is? Firewhiskey and Led Zeppelin! G’night!”

---

“Get rid of your dignity, and we won’t embarrass you so often, Mate.”

---

“Stop psychoanalyzing me.”

---

“Fine, but Mum adopted her before she even got to the Burrow.”

“Mum adopts everyone!”

---

ch. 5:

“She’s so pretty, isn’t she?”

Neville stared blankly at her.

“She’s alright. I mean, she’s rather plain. Your hair is shinier than hers.”

“But still, her eyes are very pretty. I like brown eyes.”

“Really? I think yours are better. Who likes brown eyes?”

Frowning at him, she said, “Baby, you’ve got brown eyes. So’ve like, half of our friends.”

“Okay, but you’re still prettier. What was that about, anyway? Are you actually going?”

“Why not? It won’t hurt, and she seems rather nice.”

“Desperate, more like.”

---

“They shrieked in my face, they spit on me!”

“They were excited!”

---

Before Lydia could decide if she should be offended or not, Ciara reached for her chin and kissed her.

---

Ardrig blinked.

“You are saying you often take shirtless boys out of their dorms?”

---

Fred grinned at her through the pain.

---

ch. 6:

“Why is Kenneth Towler watching me sleep?”

From the floor, Kenneth sputtered something unintelligible out.

---

Like a coward, Lydia ran and hid behind Fred and George until Professor Sprout announced they would be leaving.

---

Though normally not one to, Lee snarled at her.

---

There was a moment of silence, then Lee yelled, “I’m going to kill that girl, she had no right - give me your knife. I know you brought one, give me it. I haven’t got a wand.”

---

Angelina grabbed onto Lee’s chest from behind, grunting out, “Lee Angelio Jordan! You will not kill on Lydia’s behalf! It is rude! ”

---

(Luna isn’t about color shaming, to be clear. It’s just an alarming color, is all.)

---

For the first time in her life, Lydia disregards Luna’s warning.

---

ch. 7:

“Little what , Professor? Finish your sentences, it’s improper to leave them hanging.”

---

“And what will that do, dearie? Your mum and dad aren’t here.”

“Yes, they are. In fact, my dad’s in that classroom. Now drop her hand!”

---

“I’m gonna be okay.”

“Yes, you are. You’re going to be okay because I’ve got you.”

---

Ignoring it because she's a Gryffindor dammit, she kicks twice on the door.

---

Lydia was reminded, once again, that Madam Pomfrey and Professor Flitwick gossip about her.

---

“I give off Hermione Granger vibes?!”

---

Trevor was croaking quietly from his spot on Neville’s stomach, unaware Crookshanks was about to snatch him. Stoner was trying valiantly to prevent it, sitting on top of Crookshanks.

---

ch. 8:

“Actually, we could add the valerian sprigs to her omelette. The elves like to spit in it, the more willful ones, that is. It wouldn’t be hard to get Rosy or Penny to slip a few handfuls in.”

---

Grinning, Fred whispered, “Ooh, your crush is sleeping in your lap! How romantic! ”

Lee joined, “What next, a walk during sunset?”

“Or roses?”

“Perhaps a picnic!”

---

Love was…

Love was her spot between the twins, warm not from her jumper, but from their arms around her.

Love was Luna painting her arms blue, purple, and pink.

Love was Ginny wrestling her in the sunny apple orchard of the Burrow, getting tired and just sunbathing.

Love was Harry falling asleep in her lap, her hand in his curls, completely at peace.

Love was Mr. Weasley kissing the top of her head, telling her she was his, too.

Love was good, and warm, and kind.

Love wasn’t Ciara.

---

“Miss McBrien! What is the meaning of this?!”

Raising a bloody eyebrow because, what does she think?, Lydia gestured around her.

“Won a fight.”

---

Professor Flitwick looks impressed and upset about it.

---

ch. 9:

Tipping an imaginary hat, George added, “Thanks for the offer though.”

---

“You don’t have organs,” She reminded him casually

---

What was the protocol for being taken to a Prefect bathroom by a girl you barely knew when you were covered in syrup?

---

Cats followed her around all day, hissing and scratching at any part of her they could get. Umbridge was in tears the entire day, asking the kittens why they hated her. Even Mrs. Norris was doing it, something that broke Flich’s heart.

---

ch. 10:

“Okay. Good luck dismantling our government.”

“I’m not - whatever, thanks.”

---

“Now stop kicking me and act like you don’t share a single brain cell with Ron!”

“Oi!” Ron yelled, but they ignored him.

---

“Your favorite dungeon! The gloomiest of the roomiest. The-”

“That’s enough,” Lydia rolled her eyes, not that he could see since she was on Harry’s stomach still. “Convince him to stay here so I can get up. He’s too bony to be comfortable.”

“...Are you sitting on my godson?”

Harry turned the mirror, and Lydia waved.

“Hello! I’m glad you’ve not been tortured.”

---

She hadn’t even turned her head to look at him when he spoke, which probably should have been telling of her anger at the situation.

---

Ginny asked, “Lydia? What’s with that look?”

Angelina grinned.

“That’s called retribution, love. And I think Lydia’s got plenty of it to dole out.”

---

“Harry,” she says, sitting next to him on the floor, “I have a proposition.”

He looks up at her.

“And I’ve got a Charms essay.”

---

A sigh.

“Just one death?”

---

She stands up, and has to stop herself from laughing when the porridge drops to the ground with an audible splat!

---

She was laying it on thick, and Lydia knew it. But Umbridge was lapping it up like a thirsty cat faced with a dish of milk.

---

“Y’all,” Lydia gasped, "I’m socially awk’ard.”

---

“Severus, thank you for your help. I’m sure you have better things to do than argue with a child.”

---

“Besides, you have to be healthy. Maeve and I need good models of behavior!” Natalie pipes up from Colin’s lap, looking too happy about that.

Maeve, on the floor reading, nods and the two girls high five.

“What the hell!” Lydia yells, flopping against Neville’s side with a pained grunt, “I can’t be a mother, I’m sixteen!”

Neville pats her head.

#lydia mcbrien #nsca #favorite nsca quotes #no second chances allowed #harry potter

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theedblog · 7 years ago

Photo

Helllooooo y’all. The second edition of my division by division 2017 season preview is here. Still on the west coast but the slightly more mid-west version of the other west coast division. Also it’s much better. Way better. This is such a weird division. It’s a Paxton Lynch or Trevor Siemian getting good..or even decent at football away from having three Super Bowl contenders (assuming Tom Brady and probably Jimmy Garoppolo both cease to exist before the season starts). You also have the Chargers. We always forget about the Chargers. How is that? Phillip Rivers is the best quarterback in the division (I guess, right? ehhh..). They’re located in the second largest market in America. And we forget about this team. Their powder blues are the coolest uniforms in football and we just blank on who the fourth team in the AFC West is. I think I’d rather be a Browns fan than a Chargers fan. At least that way I’d get excited about a third place finish in the division. It feels like the Chargers haven’t been relevant in years and yet I get a feeling their fans feel like they are or at least should be and they have a shot every year. Sounds fucking miserable....anyway...yeah..AFC West preview.

All AFC West Crew:

QB - Derek Carr, Raiders

RB - Melvin Gordon, Chargers

TE - Travis Kelce, Chiefs

WR - Amari Cooper, Raiders

WR - Demaryius Thomas, Broncos

FLX - Tyreke Hill, Chiefs

OL - Kelechi Osemele, Raiders

OL - Gabe Jackson, Raiders

OL - Rodney Hudson, Raiders

OL - Laurent Duvernay-Tardiff, Chiefs

OL - Matt Paradis, Broncos

DL - Von Miller - Broncos

DL - Khalil Mack - Raiders

DL - Joey Bosa - Chargers

DL - Chris Jones - Chiefs

LB - Jatavis Brown - Chargers

LB - Bruce Irvin - Raiders

LB - Dee Ford - Chiefs

DB - Aqib Talib - Broncos

DB - Chris Harris - Broncos

DB - Marcus Peters - Chiefs

DB - Eric Berry - Chiefs

Offensive Player of the Year - Derek Carr, QB - Raiders

Defensive Player of the Year - Von Miller, DL - Broncos

Rookie of the Year - Garrett Bolles, OL - Broncos

Breakout Player of the Year - Chris Jones, DL - Chiefs

Comeback Player of the Year - Mario Edwards, DL - Raiders

New Comer of the Year - Marshawn Lynch, RB - Raiders

The All-AFC West Defense team was all about new guys. I love me some Justin Houston, Derrick Johnson, Tamba Hali, etc.. but looking at how these players are trending compared to those like Dee Ford, Jatavis Brown, Chris Jones, etc.. and couldn’t help but feel like the times are a changin’. In the secondary you still have the Broncos’ CBs. I thought about taking one out and adding one of the Chargers’ CBs. Chris Harris is a lock but Casey Heyward and Jason Verrett over Aqib Talib was a thought. Those guys are both younger but I still went with Talib because he can cover bigger TEs that usually create big match up problems for teams. The offense was a little tougher. There wasn’t an obvious choice for RB. You know I wanted to pick Skittles but I think he, like Jamaal Charles over in Denver, are going to contribute but are a little past their prime. There’s also Spencer Ware and he’s fine. But that’s about it. Melvin Gordon is the only RB is the division I can see that represents a ton of potential. He showed it last year too before he got hurt. The WRs in this division are also a little tough to pick. I think Tyreke Hill looks more like a pure WR this year than a trick play guy and Amari Cooper could be a top tier guy. The third option was a little tougher. Demayrius Thomas, Michael Crabtree, Manny Sanders, Keenan Allen...I went with Thomas. They all have their issues but he’s the most proven out of the gang and has the best run-after-catch ability which lessens his dependence on other factors. Not a great division for offensive tackles but their are a bunch of good interior O-linemen.

Offensive Player of the Year in this division wasn’t close. Defensive Player of the Year though...Von Miller and Khalil Mack are, in my opinion, two of the five best defenders in football. I also believe Khalil Mack is the slightly better player. That doesn’t always matter though. I think Oakland is thin at linebacker and Khalil Mack has to take his hand out of the dirt and do some dirty work. Von Miller will be going balls to the wall after all the quarterbacks this year. So basically I think Mack will end up with MVP tape but the state sheet will have more sacks under Von Miller’s name and that’s what will end up mattering more. Joey Bosa could also put together an Defensive MVP type of year. He has that type of potential but until it’s more than that I can’t vote him over Miller or Mack.

This isn’t a great division for rookies. I don’t really see a guy who’s really going to make a huge impact for KC or LA this year. Oakland has a few guys that will play and may be pretty good. Gareon Conley and Obi Melifonwu should help out in the secondary while Marquel Lee and Eddie Vanderoes are penciled in as starters in the front seven. Butt Denver getting a day one starter on a O-line that was pretty bad last year should be the biggest impact.

Living in Northwest Arkansas I saw a lot of Chiefs games last year so I saw a lot of Chris Jones. I was pretty surprised when I went a looked at his 2016 stats. They were pretty minimal. Obviously a defensive lineman like him can have a big impact without a ton of stats but still...it felt like he was always blowing guys up and getting in the backfield. This year I think the numbers match the film and he could sniff double digit sacks and grab a bunch of tackles for loss and pass deflections.

Mario Edwards never actually hit that point that I couldn’t also make him a candidate for Breakout Player but this is more about the potential as a thunder/lightning kinda duo he was forming with Khalil Mack before his injury.

The best new comer to the division was between two veteran RBs, Jamaal Charles and Marshawn Lynch. They will both be part of a committee of decent RBs but Skittles will likely be the bell cow while Charles will probably be more of a change of pace/third down back to CJ Anderson’s early/short yardage role.

All in all, this isn’t an easy division to predict. The Broncos could win it with even decent QB play. Their defense is going to be that good. The Chiefs are what the Broncos would like with a decent QB. However, when it all wraps up I think the Raiders take this division.

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