#the last season fumbled the ball. shame. but it was so good | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

anthonybialy · 1 year ago

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Buffalo Bills Have Quarterback Who Makes All the Difference, Unfortunately

An overtime loss on a punt return was a perfect ending in its way. Fuming about a rather egregious lapse for an alleged pro team is an afterthought in a sign of just how superbly the opener went, specifically not quite very. The most atrocious punt coverage in memory was merely the exclamation point. Now is the time for questioning every statement. Winning a coin toss after doinking in a tie meant the club can’t kvetch about not getting breaks. Instead, the Bills beat the Bills.

Josh Allen was the deciding factor. That’s supposed to be good news. Losing on his lonesome is the variable fans weren’t expecting if anyone enjoys surprises. Inflicting a handicap is one way to ensure parity. But making it fair isn’t in his job description. This isn’t golfing, although he may have done too much of that. The good news for him is that nobody’s going to care who he’s dating.

We wanted desperately for the Jets to use the Aaron Rodgers blink of a tenure as an excuse. Instead, the Bills couldn’t capitalize on how he wasn’t going to tackle or cover receivers no matter how long he played. The four-snap era led to the Jets needing the Bills to squander the most glorious of chances, and they naturally obliged.

The only way losing to Zach Wilson could get more mortifying is when he’s thrust into playing after presuming he was going to spend the evening swiping potential OkCupid matches on the sideline. Doing so should shame any respectable franchise into proficiency. A night off for MILFs turned into the same for the Bills. Even his cadence on “Green 18” sounds hollow.

Bills fans should be delighting in memories of Wilson’s prototypical interception that he would’ve thrown even on an alternate DC Comics Earth where Rodgers is a Titan and the new/old/new guy had the entire offseason to prepare like a starter. Taunting him should lead to a gain of 15 yards.

As for the quarterback he beat, the stubborn refusal to read coverages is the wrong style of defiance. An interception where it looked like there wasn’t another Bill in New Jersey was as bad as making Stefon Diggs play defense. Fumbling a snap by not looking at the ball was a nice touch if the throws into oblivion weren’t infuriating enough. We’re trying to combat a story about Allen’s ghastly decisions as he adds another chapter. That settles it: I’ll take the cash if I win West Herr's giveaway and not the truck.

Calling Allen a gunslinger shames qualified profession members. He’s shooting at the Sun. Aiming recklessly differs entirely from playing riskily. His decisions reflect someone who thinks he has to win games singlehandedly while losing them on its own. Irony is tough to appreciate while watching him make decisions bad enough to make Doug Whaley shake his head.

Wholly unnecessary gambles are not an aberration from last season but now part of his profile. He’s reached the point where it’s on him to change the perception, as he didn’t do so during the offseason. Number 17 hits on 19; if he gets an ace, he hits again.

Allen is presently a bad player. That sounds dramatic for an acceptable reason. A failing 62.6 rating is atrocious and still doesn’t encompass how he cannot be trusted. The one thing better than criticizing himself is not once again putting himself in position where he needs to do so. A new season offers an opportunity to start fresh, and he turned it down. Instead, he sounds like a drunkard promising to sober up before sneaking sips from a schnapps bottle.

This isn’t part of the Josh Allen experience. Trying to throw through small windows is distinct from seeking to throw through closed doors. He hasn’t always been careless with attempts. It wouldn’t be okay if he was, but this unfortunate habit has only become an issue since partway through last season. Maddening decisions are avoidable if you seek hope. The problem is the habit seems to have taken hold.

Recklessness is thorough. Worst of all, there’s no beneficial result in exchange for the tradeoff. Take his daft final play of the first half, which featured him jumping pointlessly for a few extra yards far from the line to gain and in the red zone, which he needs to be informed means the placekicker is already within range. We’d be more upset about one bad decision if it was the worst he made and not maybe in fifth place.

A few missed tackles almost seem like a quaint issue. Leslie Frazier was coordinating from home. We can’t blame him except for his legacy. Sean McDermott seemed distracted as feared. The same defensive lapses as usual would ideally be the most glaring issue.

Prison thinking leads to obsessing over outcomes that likely won’t happen. The only way to exacerbate endless hours for pondering is to let theoretical narratives take root. The offseason sentence led some fans to either conclude the Bills were destined to cruise or doomed to have missed their chance. An unanticipated scenario involving remedial quarterback play didn’t come to mind that entire time in a mental cell.

We still only know one game despite the urge to project results on the next 16. The Chiefs and Bengals aren’t surrendering because of their respective underwhelming losses. But the fixes aren’t headlights that turn on automatically when needed. Teams made to wait the longest to start get the shortest interval before going again, which is good news for one in particular that needs to prove their self-destruct sequence isn’t their most prominent play call.

The opener confirmed the narrative, or didn’t. That narrows it down to all the possibilities in the universe. Buffalo doesn’t necessarily have to be defined by a game that was frustrating even by historical franchise standards. But Tre White needs to start regaining his form. Spencer Brown has to learn how to play offensive lineman. And Buffalo’s most prominent resident must stop trying to do it all on his own, especially since he’s doing the opposite.

Everything feels different on September 11. Sports seem both unimportant and treasured if the schedule happens to coincide. A day for reflection leads to appreciation for things we enjoy. If you’re a Bills backer, it then leads to returning to everyday aggravations.

Games go on even if tenures end before taking seats. The Bills were struck by lightning about half a dozen times last year. The Jets learned from their rival’s precedent and didn’t use getting hit by a lava meteor as an excuse.

A Trent Edwards/Dick Jauron-worthy performance is the unwelcome kind of throwback. This season’ first outing ended as unnecessarily ignominiously as 2009’s horrid opener with the additional cruelty of having seen incumbents perform far better. The Jets cashed in on facing a quarterback who wouldn’t have performed differently if he were trying to lose.

The same franchise that’s broken your heart before dipping it in liquid nitrogen to shatter it hasn’t changed despite recent exceptions. That was only one game. But the Bills used their opening shot to demonstrate they’ve reinforced their worst tendencies.

#Buffalo Bills #Josh Allen #NFL #football

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tommyspeakycap · 3 years ago

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Please could you write one with Grealish where you’re a Chelsea fan so refuse to wear a Villa shirt with his name on, and for bants Mount gets you a Chelsea shirt with his name and Jack gets all pouty?

omg I love this idea!! gets very smutty at the end ;) enjoy!

Villa Boy

A love for Chelsea had been something you adapted and grew to into as a young girl. Your dad was never entirely sure how to bond with his only daughter and your mother told him just to include you in what he loved. And so came your season pass with a little lanyard that still hung proudly in your childhood room right next to a shirt mounted in a glass photo frame with Frank Lampard's signature scrawled along the eight on the back.

It was actually how you met Jack in the first place, which is the only one single reason that he has for liking your club affiliation. Otherwise, it was one of the most annoying things in his world. It was often a source of teasing and taunting, you saying your team was better than his and him swaggering home and gloating for weeks when Aston Villa take a win over Chelsea. It was the bane of his life that he couldn't get you into that claret and blue. Not even to sleep in or wear around the house, you just would not dare put it on.

"I would feel my dad's shame emanate through the walls, maybe it would kill him. And then I'd lose every morsel of self respect I have, so not a chance." You'd snort, not even giving him a window for more persuasion.

His England shirt? that was fair game. You'd wear that with pride, to the shops, round the house, walking the dog and especially at his games but there was just absolutely no chance of getting you into his Villa shirt.

Though Jack may never admit it, it was one of his biggest wants. Seeing you in his England short was nothing short revolutionary - he'd said. It only made him want to see you in the Villa shirt more. That was his childhood club, getting to captain that was one of his biggest achievements and while he knew you were absolutely proud of him. You were the most proud and encouraging person in his life and there were no ifs buts or maybes in that.

But my god he knew you'd look fit in that claret and blue.

No matter how much it annoyed him, he wouldn't get you out of the darker blue home jersey of your favourite club no matter what he did. It was something he had come to accept over the course of your relationship, it was by and large fine.

Until that jersey said someone else's name across the back.

"Awh come on!" He yelps, mouth dropped open as you emerge into the kitchen with your toothbrush hanging out your mouth and only one shoe on. Jack knows you slept in because he switched off your alarm last night in hopes you'd miss the game, but Jack dropped a bowl when he tripped over the dog and woke you up anyway.

You going to the Villa v Chelsea game in a Chelsea shirt was bad enough, but now he's just clocked something that's sent his mind firing a mile a minute.

MOUNT

Not a fucking chance.

"Oi, you!" He calls out, throwing himself off the chair at the kitchen island, his feet fumbling over one another to get after you as quickly as possible. "What's up, Jack?" You hum innocently, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you stand in the doorway shoving on your other shoe. "Is something the matter?"

Jack gawks, opening and closing his mouth awaiting words to find his frazzled brain. "Yes!" He squeaks, a tone you'd never heard from a man before, let along your very deep voiced man. "There's no way that you're- what are you doing? Come back." He groans, his feet shuffling after you as you walk back through the house to find your car keys. "We're going to be late if you don't hurry up." You note sweetly, Jack drops his jaw. "We're not going anywhere until-"

"Hi Mason, yeah I got it. Fits like glove actually. Yeah, we're just leaving now. I'll meet you in the car park."

Jack's face was literally priceless. His agape, eye's wild, brows furrowed. A pout settles itself firmly into his lips the second he sits in the car with his arms folded over his chest like a toddler. You have to physically stifle a laugh at him as you beam the entire drive to Villa Park.

"M' gonna burn that." He states. You cast him a glance out the corner of your eye as you pull into the players parking. A snigger escapes despite your very best efforts and Jack resumes his frontward glare at the dashboard with his lips in a firm line. "Gonna win this game, burn that shirt and knock Mount flat."

You know he's not being serious about Mason. He's very fond of the player when they're on the same side. But you had become very close friends with him through the mutual love for the club he plays at and Jack absolutely despised that. He wasn't the kind to be bothered by your friends even to a moderate degree and even here he trusted you, he just fucking hated the concept of another club and another mans name over your back. It ticked him right off.

You know this very well. You knew what you were getting into the second Mason handed you that dark blue shirt. It was all fun and games really. You loved the club but you only wore the Mount shirt to get under Jack's skin. You thought it might even throw off his game a little.

The second he stormed onto the pitch and scored a goal 5 minutes into the game, you figured that might not be the case.

Every opportunity, every goal, every opening and every single tackle, Jack turned to you. He turned to you with fire in those brown eyes, sending you a cheeky wink. His passion, the very serious look etched onto his features and the way he was looking at you was fuelling a very different kind of fire in you.

Jack played the whole 90 minutes and he took Mason Mount down at every single given opportunity in a careful way that just evaded him getting a yellow card. He finished hot, sweaty and with a man of the match trophy for 2 goals and one assist with a majority of the game spent with the ball at his feet.

The 3 nil win should have been a lot more disappointing that it was, but he just looked so fucking good. The sweat stuck his hair to his temples, his muscles tight and protruding through exertion as he walks off the field after shaking every hand.

You're standing just outside the tunnel with Mason and John McGinn standing with you, talking about the match mostly. John makes a joke about you wearing that top more often, seems to be a good luck charm for Villa even if it's the opposing team. Mason scoffs and says; "More like an angry boyfriend wants to murder me charm."

That's when Jack appears and John barely gets his mouth open to greet him before Jack shoulders through the two footballers. His mouth finds your immediately. Hot, passionate, fiery and filled with his dominance.

He pulls back and grabs onto your hand tightly with his back to the two midfielders. Jack twists his body round with a daggering glare.

"Nobody," Jack growls, "fucks around with girl."

His tone, deep and gravelly, only serves to dampen your panties further in a way that makes your clench your legs together.

Jack's done with pouting, the teasing can resume later. For now, he's dragging you by the hand to a darkened conference room. Hiking you up his body before setting you on the table that sits at a miraculously perfect height that places you right against his bulge.

He wastes no time whatsoever ripping down your leggings and panties, his fingers finding you immediately to swirl pressured motions around your sensitive clit. "Ahh, who's got you moaning like that baby?" He rumbles, words vibrating through your lips.

"You Jack, oh god, you!" You pant as his fingers leave you feeling empty and needy. Jack easily tugs down his shorts and pulls himself out of his boxers to line up with your entrance. His victory sex is hot always, but usually there was a dry spell after a Villa v Chelsea game, so it had never been this hot.

"And who am I?" He grunts, pushing himself into you to hear your shuddering squeak of pleasure. He lays you down over the table, hands following you under your shirt to carefully and tentatively swirl his fingers over your nipples from under your bra. "Oh god, Jack," you move your hands to the hem of the blue shirt to lift it over your head, but Jack's hands stop them before you have the chance.

"No, no, no," he chastises with a smirk, "Want to fuck you in their colours," He continues to thrust roughly into you with each heavy breath, mouth and squeak that escapes you only spurring him on. "Want to fuck you with his name on your back, baby. Remind you who you belong to."

You shudder in pleasure with the feeling of his lips attaching to your neck, letting out a shaky, heavy breath as he snakes a hand down between you to swirl those circles around your more pleasureful spot once again. He knows the intricate details of your body better than any man ever has and he always ensures he uses it to his advantage, but nothing like today. His lips on the sweet spot of your neck, hitting and stretching you perfect between your legs with masterful work of his fingers pushing you closer and closer with each second that passed.

"Fuck , I'm so close-"

"Who's making you feel so good, baby?" He pants, skin slapping and heavy breathing echoing around the room. "You, Jack. You!"

"Not a Chelsea boy eh?" He grunts, teeth nibbling down over your collarbone. "Not a Chelsea boy baby is it?" He reiterates, pairing the movements of his hand only until you snap open your eyes again, "No Jack, it's all you. not a- oh god!"

Jack breathes a chuckle into your ear with an appreciative hum to follow.

"Yeah, Villa Captain isn't it? You're screaming out for a Villa boy, ain't ya?" He coaxes, edging you further and further as he speeds up to a pace he's never quite hit you with before. The adrenaline of the match, the irritation of that blue jersey and the passion for the win colliding to give him an energy he's never yet had. Watching your eyes roll beneath him wearing that stupid blue entices him on, only makes him want to pleasure you more if even possible. "Yes! Yes, I am, oh god just don't stop."

"Go on then," he encourages, voice deep in your ear. "Come undone for the Villa Captain baby."

He didn't have to tell you twice, that was for sure. The sight of your eyes fluttering, the feeling of you clenching around him with a steam of, "Fuck yes Jack!" sends him tumbling over the edge of his orgasm right after you, a strangle cry out of your name as it wracks through him.

When he lays down beside you in the table that very surpassingly withstood the pace of your antics, you're both breathless and shining with sweat. Your legs feel like jelly as you still throb from the pleasure. Jack turns his head to you with a lazy smirk, brushing some hair off your forehead as you turn to look at him.

"Well, I certainly do love a Villa boy."

#jack grealish smut #jack grealish prompt #jack grealish imagines #jack grealish x reader #jack grealish imagine #england national team imagine #england national team #footballer fics #football fics #footie fics

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zalrb · 3 years ago

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i watched tvd for the first time last year with my friend (she'd already seen 4 seasons while it was on air but stopped) when we finished it she sent me some of your posts because they were EVERYTHING we were ranting about and discussing throughout the show lol and then we read your fanfiction. i adore your stories and the way you write! i was wondering if you could pick 3 moments of angst, 3 moments of fluff, 3 moments of smut from stelena fics that you're really proud of, which would those be?

ooh, thank you! and hmm, great question.

3 moments of angst

1. Basement scene, "Just This Night"

“Stefan…”

He picked a bottle and stared at it but didn’t turn around.

“Stefan.”

He didn’t answer her and stood still.

Elena walked down the last three steps. “Can’t you even look at me?”

“No,” he said finally.

Elena felt a pang in her chest. “Don’t say that,” she said. “Please don’t say that, Stefan, I—-”

“I can’t look at you,” he said. “Because every time I do look at you, I see him all over you and it makes me want to set the house on fire.”

Elena opened her mouth to say something but couldn’t find any words that would rectify the situation.

“Every time I look at you, this morning plays over and over in my head and I want to get black-out drunk just to forget it. Every time I look at you and see his mouth on you, I want to bash Damon’s head into a wall over and over again and the guilt of that, the shame of that, is suffocating so no, Elena, I can’t look at you because looking at you kills me.”

“I’m sorry,” she managed to say. “I’m really, really sorry, Stefan, I shouldn’t have done it.”

“That’s the thing, you should’ve,” said Stefan. “You two are together, you’re married."

2. Zip-up scene, The Problem Is...

Stefan ventured further into the room and as he approached her, Elena turned toward the mirror again; she sensed his presence at her back and shivers erupted along her spine and arms, even her legs. Slowly, he began to zip up her dress and Elena closed her eyes as she felt his lips brush the nape of her neck, just barely grazing her so that her body was aching with the frustrating pleasure of near-contact. When he was done fastening her dress, Stefan’s hands slipped up from the material, onto her bare back; his fingertips were gentle whispers on her shoulders, lightly stroking her skin and her lips parted, her breath caught in her throat, her heart rate increased…

Elena sighed his name. “Stefan.” She faced him, leaning into his body and immediately, he put his arms around her and she folded into his embrace, clutching onto his jacket. “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” he said and he held her even tighter, his mouth atop her head, in her hair. Elena blinked slowly in comfort, in relief and her hands slipped up to his chest and she pulled away slightly so that she could look directly at him. After a moment she lowered her gaze to his lips. Stefan paused, an expression of conflict passing over his face, and then he closed his eyes and pulled away further so that their embrace was almost broken.

“We can’t,” he said.

“I know,” she said. “I know.”

3. "Marry him" scene, Painted Altar

Stefan didn’t say anything for what felt like a long time. He continued to gaze at Elena in her dress, his eyebrows furrowed, his jaw clenched and his eyes red and anguished. He allowed himself one minute to envision himself downstairs waiting at the end of the aisle with a rose in his lapel and two men standing next to him; one minute to see himself in his mind’s eye, waiting with the excited urge to bounce on the balls of his feet, his face alight with joy; one minute to indulge in the beautiful fantasy of waiting for Elena Gilbert to walk down toward him to be his wife for eternity. Then he closed his eyes and breathed a tortured sigh.

“I think,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I think you should marry him, Elena.”

“You what?”

“I think you should marry him,” he repeated. His tone was more urgent now, desperate. “You said it yourself. You said that you loved him—”

“It’s not enough!” said Elena incredulously. “It’s never been enough.”

“It was enough for you to stay with him for three years,” said Stefan harshly.

Elena put her hands to her head and clutched her hair. “Why can’t you just let yourself be happy?”

“That’s Damon.”

“No,” said Elena. “Damon … he struggles with responsibility and someone loving him, someone expecting things from him? The responsibility of that freaks him out.”

“And being with you helped him overcome that.”

“And you,” said Elena, speaking over him. “You don’t think you’re being responsible unless you’re unhappy. You don’t think you’re being a good man unless you deny yourself what you want.” Elena looked at him, her eyes pleading and Stefan turned away.

“He’ll know, you know,” said Elena suddenly. “He’ll know that I’m unhappy and that will ruin him.”

“You would never tell him,” said Stefan at once. “And he doesn’t know now.”

“Of course he does,” said Elena. “We fight about you more than we fight about anything else, I just keep denying all of his suspicions. Our bond … it can’t be ignored, Stefan. Not by anyone.”

Elena started to approach him but Stefan took a step back, moving so that he was in front of the painted altar. He couldn’t bear for Elena to touch him in that dress, it would kill him.

“Elena, please,” he begged.

She didn’t listen and came toward him, his eyes closed and his face turned away from her but Elena put her palms on the sides of his face and brought his gaze to her. “Stefan,” she said. “Stefan. I love you. OK? We can’t hide from this anymore.”

Stefan leaned forward and kissed her hard on the lips, one hand on her cheek, the other on her back, feeling the corset ties that fastened her dress. He tortured himself with the taste of her tongue, the softness of her lips; utterly ripped himself apart with rediscovering the feeling of coming home, of finding solace and thrill in her arms, in their hold. Elena threw her arms around Stefan’s neck, melding into his body, arching her back to push herself deeper into the kiss, into him, their embrace an eternalized moment beneath the painted altar.

“If you really love me,” said Stefan between kisses, his breathing ragged, his eyes finally giving way to tears, his lips swollen and burning, his hands trembling against Elena’s face. “If you really love me you’ll marry him. You’ll do that for me. Elena, please.” He kissed her again, closing his eyes, feeling more tears stream down his face. “Please.”

3 moments of smut

1. Bloodshare, Counterpoints

At that moment Elena sunk her fangs into Stefan’s neck and felt him his readiness intensify beneath her. He let out a groan that reverberated throughout her bones and that made her suck harder, causing him to moan louder. His cries made her itch her tongue above his wound as she drank and he squeezed her in response. Elena sighed, relishing the intensity of his pleasure; it was a gateway into how he felt, what he felt, into his fears and dreams, his hopes, his disappointments, his priorities, his arousals, into his very being and Elena revelled in it. Without warning, Elena felt fangs pierce into her back just behind her shoulder and she mewled as she fed; stricken with a pleasure that brought her to an immediate climax that shattered her completely and that didn’t stop, but that erupted in wave after wave after wave after …

2. Library scene, The Problem Is (because I had to do an Atonement-esque scene, dammit)

he moved her across the room until her back was against a bookcase. The hardcover spines dug uncomfortably into Elena’s skin but she couldn’t have cared less not with Stefan pressed against her, his kiss reckless, almost wild, almost reverent.

“I want to see you,” he gasped and he undid his mask, letting it fall indelicately to the floor, by his feet so that he stepped on it when he melded into Elena again. Her hands were everywhere on his body, gripping his neck, gliding down his back, combing through his hair and she pushed him to her so that his body was pressed even harder against hers. Months of restraint, of lingering stares and unspoken wishes, were coming undone in this moment, being fully realized in this embrace.

Elena slipped her hands beneath Stefan’s jacket and slid it off so that it fell to the floor, feeling his muscular arms through his shirt and beneath her palms. She loosened his tie, ridding it from his neck and undid his collar so that she could kiss him along his throat, listening as he sighed appreciatively. Her fingers made quick work of the rest of his buttons while she felt his hands on the back off her dress, undoing the zipper, his lips grazing across her shoulders. Elena pulled away, panting heavily, catching her breath, and started to fumble with Stefan’s fly but he growled in impatience and brought her lips to his again, lifting her so that her legs were wrapped around his middle and so that she was half-sitting on one of the shelves, some of the books falling to the floor with loud clunks. Her dress was pooled around her waist now and Stefan’s mouth was on her throat, her chest, between her breasts, his hands kneading her back, unbuckling her bra and Elena gasped, clutching one of the shelves above her head. Stefan reached up and put his hand over hers, their fingers entwined. Elena felt him hard between her thighs and she moaned, longing for this; she longed for this with her entire body, it was excruciating.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” she whispered.

Stefan wrenched away from her and looked up into her eyes, his breathing ragged and his gazed aroused and raw and … tormented.

“What?” said Elena breathlessly. “Stefan, what is it?”

“Elena, I can’t,” he said. “You have no idea what it’s like, to want you like this, to crave you like this but I can’t do this and see him everyday, I can’t go further than—”

She kissed him, her lips soft, her mouth hard. “We won’t,” she said, panting. “We won’t go further than this. I just…” She pushed her lips against his again, putting new meaning behind it, kissing him fiercely, sadly, with want for more. She breathed into his ear. “Stefan, I—” He pulled away from her and burrowed his face into Elena’s neck, his hands skating over her skin, losing himself in the taste of her, the smell of her, anguished with self-control, keeping himself from getting lost completely like wanted, like she wanted. He wrecked himself with the feel of her, his hand squeezing hers against the bookshelf, her fingers digging into his knuckles

3. Reunion sex, What's A Soulmate?

This was too much. Too — she — he — Elena forgot how to speak, how to think, how to breathe. Her body convulsed in waves of pleasure so penetrating that she didn’t know how she could possibly not die.

It felt like — she felt like — he — they —

The clatter echoed in Stefan’s ears but he couldn’t stop feeding, he couldn’t stop moving; Elena was everywhere on him and he was revelling in her essence, her very being, she’d allowed him that access, he was alive to experience that access and that was — it was — he was —

Stefan’s body tremored with the same severity it trembled from before and he quickly extended his arm, turning his hand into a fist, and he crashed it down on the carpet, creating a hole through the material and through the wood; the impact of his punch splintered the floor throughout the living room. His other hand reached for the leg beneath the couch, his hips rotating, his tongue lapping, Elena’s blood on his tongue, her legs around his waist, her moan in his ear —

“Stefan…”

He thrust into Elena hard and deep, clenching the wooden couch leg in his hand, splintering it in his hold so that the couch became lopsided.

3 moments of fluff

1. Taking care of drunk Elena drabble

Stefan grinned as he made it back to the bed. “Sit up? Arms up.”

Elena raised herself into an upright position and lifted her arms. Stefan swiftly slid off her tank top and dressed Elena in his shirt, gently putting her arms through the sleeves.

“What about my jeans?” she said.

Stefan tried not to laugh at Elena’s drunken attempt at a seductive expression.

“Miss Gilbert, are you trying to seduce me?”

She smiled in triumph. “It’s working, right?”

Stefan moved so his face was only a breath away from hers. “Absolutely.” He kissed her forehead and helped her inch out of her pants, then picked up her tank top and put her clothes on a nearby chair.

As he opened the decanter of water sitting on the table next to the armchair, Elena bunched the front of Stefan’s shirt into her fist and bent her head to inhale the scent of the material.

“I love wearing your shirts,” she said.

“I know,” said Stefan, pouring her a glass of water. “You’ve stolen about five.”

“Seven, actually.”

Stefan put the water on the nightstand and then lay Elena down. “I love sleeping in them even if I’m home and you’re not there,” she sighed, wrapping her arms around a pillow.

“Seven shirts? I consider that larceny.”

“I don’t care,” she said, hugging the pillow tighter.

2. Food fight, Only If For A Night

Whoosh. Hiss. Sizzle.

Stefan broke away and looked behind him to the stove. The pot with the spaghetti was overflowing. He rushed back over and lifted it off the burner, draining the pasta in the strainer.

“You’re distracting me. You can’t be in the kitchen,” he said.

“But I like watching you cook.”

“Then you have to watch. Stay there.”

“But I can’t see from over here. Let me help.”

“Remember the last time?”

“The fire extinguisher was right there! Come on, I can do something.”

Stefan turned his head to look at her, she looked back.

“Fine. Come here.”

Elena grinned and skipped over to the counter by the stove.

“You can start on dessert. Work the dough with your hands.”

Elena shifted over to the sink and rinsed her hands beneath the faucet, wiping them off on a tea towel, and then she dug her hands into the silver bowl in front of her, kneading the dough.

“Like this?”

Stefan glanced over to what she was doing then turned the heat down on all of the burners and moved from the stove to the counter. He stood behind Elena, his front pressed against her back and he put his hands in the bowl with hers, their fingers entwining as they both massaged the dough. After a while, Elena hooked some on her index finger then turned around slightly to smear it beneath Stefan’s nose, giving him a moustache.

“There,” she said, barely containing her laughter. “Much better. You look so much more sophisticated with a moustache.”

Stefan stared seriously at her for a minute and then abruptly grabbed fistfuls of dough and slathered it in her hair.

“STEFAN!” Laughing, he used his speed to zoom away from her as Elena reached for the cutting board and hurtled diced onions and tomatoes and parsley at him by the handful. Quickly, she opened the fridge, taking out a bottle of Heinz and raced toward Stefan, squeezing all of the ketchup onto his head. Stefan retaliated by grabbing clumps of the spaghetti and throwing it at her. They continued to run around the kitchen, their bodies a blur of speed, chucking fruits at each other, spraying condiments on one another, dumping juices and sodas on each other until they were grimed and slicked with food. Breathless and exhilarated, Elena hid behind the breakfast counter, stooped low as Stefan stood in the kitchen.

3. Wind Down, Confrontations

Stefan nodded and then eyed the packages surrounding Elena. She shrugged. “I told you I could break him,” she said.

Stefan grinned an walked over to the bed, falling flat onto the mattress.

Elena put her hand atop his head, lightly brushing his hair. When he looked up at her, she took out another marshmallow and put in between her teeth. Stefan leaned forward.

“That’s why I only put five packs in the cupboard,” he murmured. He sunk his teeth into the other end of the marshmallow so that his lips pressed against Elena’s, kissing her.

“Where are the rest?” she said, smiling, but Stefan kept kissing her until she started to giggle.

“Tell me!”

He shook his head. “I’ll never surrender.”

Elena kissed him again, deeper this time, and he responded with an enthusiasm that made it clear his passion from this morning hadn’t left him. She felt herself beginning to sink into him, felt herself itching for more and didn’t know if she’d be rational enough to stop herself when she’d already delayed their gratification a few hours earlier.

Luckily, Stefan pulled away just an inch, his chest heaving with unfulfilled desire, eyes hungry and aroused and happy. But there was something else there too; Elena could feel it. It was only a second but he had that silence to him that consumed him sometimes, when the demons of his past

“How was your day?”

Stefan sighed and then rolled over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. He reached beside him and stroked Elena’s arm.

“I have to go to Syracuse,” he said.

*BONUS FOR ANGST*

Wedding Scene, Endure Choices

Caroline made it to the altar and Stefan took her by the hand as she moved to stand in front of him. He could see Elena in the periphery, just behind Caroline and a little to the right. Her head was turned toward them like the other bridesmaids but her eyes were lowered. Stefan looked back to Caroline who was smiling incredulously. She put her hand on his cheek.

“Aww, your face is red,” she said. “Are you going to cry?”

“No,” Stefan whispered. He smiled. “I won’t cry, I promise.”

She giggled.

Damon started the proceedings and something within Elena shrunk painfully, there was a weight on her chest that made her want to sink onto the floor. It hurt her to be so devastated with grief on her best friend’s wedding day and she wanted to the ceremony to be over so she could feel ashamed in private, so she could endure the extent of her sorrow alone because watching the two of them together opened within her a wound beyond healing

“The couple has prepared their own vows…”

Elena closed her eyes at the words. Is this what she woke up for? To suffer for a choice she thought she needed to make but that only caused her massive destruction.

“Oops.”

Caroline fumbled with the piece of paper she’d written her vows on and it fell to the floor. When she bent to pick it up, Elena took this moment to glance at Stefan. Just once. When he wasn’t paying attention. She lifted her head slightly to gaze at him and saw that he was already looking at her, raw-eyed and clenched jaw. Her lips parted. Something within her contracted. And she felt the tears before she knew what was happening; she didn’t sniffle or blubber, she merely cried silently, stoically, accepting the warm streaks down her face.

The emotion that had been swelling in Stefan’s chest burst beyond repression and a tear dropped from his eye as he watched Elena cry. Caroline stood back up, blocking most of Elena from Stefan. She looked at him.

“You did cry,” she said.

“Sorry,” he gasped as another tear fell. “I am so sorry.”

Caroline smiled and started to read her vows as Stefan and Elena kept each other in their sights, staring at one another through the corners of their eyes, as one tear fell after the other.

Damon turned to Stefan. “Brother, your turn.”

Stefan’s eyes fluttered. He refocused his attention to Caroline who beamed at him. “Caroline, I …” He pressed his lips together.“I am not a perfect man and I never want to hurt you. Ever. You’ve seen me through so much. So I … I vow to you today to do everything in my power to be the man that you deserve…”

Elena chewed on her bottom lip as another tear fell, the salty sadness stinging her tongue. Stefan powered through even though he was torn inside with longing and guilt and shame and sadness.

At the back of the venue, behind the guests, two people listened to the ceremony with lazy expressions; one was picking at her nails and the other was eating some of the wedding cake with his fingers.

“I have to say, I’m disappointed. All I heard in Hell were stories about the Infamous Katherine Pierce and your flare for making an entrance. All you did was wake up Elena Gilbert. Not to brag, but the last time I crashed a wedding, the bride died and so did, like, fifty guests. This is just boring.”

Katherine turned to Kai. “This is more personal than that. I don’t just want to kill them for what they did to me, I want to destroy their lives and everyone knows, including Caroline but she’s just being an idiot, that Stefan Salvatore and bland, simple, self-righteous Little Miss Elena Gilbert are each other’s One True Loves. They will never get over each other. And nothing pleases me more than Stefan watching Elena watch him marry her best friend while Damon watches Elena’s reaction to Stefan marrying Caroline and Caroline being Caroline and burying her head in the sand, acting like none of this is happening. It’s going to rip them all apart until finally one of them snaps and I’m going to be there when that happens. They’re going to destroy themselves over this little love rhombus and then when they’ve psychologically and emotionally torn each other to shreds, I will kill them all.”

#stelena #stelena fanfiction

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leviathanlazarus · 4 years ago

Text

Danny, You’re A Star

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x Danny Wagner

Word Count: ~1800

Warnings: smut alert! [handjobs; oral sex] 18+ only

I love the song “Andy, You’re A Star” by The Killers and I love Danny and Sam...I’m truly a woman with a dream. I hope you enjoy this little AU!

---

Andy, you’re a star

in nobody’s eyes but mine.

Raking his fingers through the long, thick strands of hair, the deep umber turned an almost inky black in the moonlight, Sam could remember when it was much, much shorter, and when, from the bleachers beyond the field, he would observe the dampness of it clinging to Danny’s temples in the heat of the sun and his own exertion, a big, tan hand tearing off his helmet to reveal the short, wet, curling mess. He had trained himself to have an even better eye--an eye just for one player--those four years. He had honed in on Danny and Danny alone, only going to the high school football games to watch him and to anxiously fidget in his seat, knuckles going pale as he gripped the bleachers and watched, fascinated and, whether he knew it consciously or not, falling completely head over heels.

He would have never expected to be making out with Danny in that same football field two years later. Still young enough to have the ghosts of teenage hormones ripping through his body, Sam rolled on top of Danny and straddled him eagerly, bony knees digging into the cool grass and soft dirt so their thighs could lock; Danny groaned and those big, strong hands--which Sam had memorized every vein, tendon and bone in--roamed over his back and down to his hips, thumbs moving past Sam’s t-shirt to grace his bare skin.

Every kiss was hungrier than the last and Sam was glad for it. He’d expected Danny to have an appetite but for him by now, though it was still a little surprising. But it hadn’t taken much for them to get to this point. Sam’s little confession, sent via text when he was stoned beyond belief, had actually worked out and there Danny was, groping and grabbing him as the two of them nearly melted into the ground.

With one hand pressed against Danny’s chest, Sam shoved him down flat and pulled back to catch his breath as he marveled at the young man underneath himself. Danny was so striking, he always had been, with those eyes that shook Sam to the core every time they caught his own. He could still remember so vividly the first time they’d made eye contact--social studies in 10th grade. It was the first class they’d ever had together and it proved that Danny was no dumb jock, not by a long shot. He was quiet and careful, far more studious than Sam ever was, and even though at the time Sam knew it wasn’t anything at all, having Danny look at him made him feel like he was the only person in the room.

It had only gotten worse--or maybe better--from there. Social studies in 10th grade became Sam’s favorite class; then he went to every football game of every season, always hoping Danny would catch him after, but it took until senior year for that to happen. And another year before they actually hung out. And another year before Sam finally had Danny where he’d always wanted him--spread out on that glistening green, open football field.

“What is it?” Danny asked, a shy smile moving across his lips, his hands still on Sam’s hips.

“Just looking,” Sam answered honestly, taking a deep breath and studying Danny’s face some more, his eyes traveling from the crown of Danny’s head to his chin and back up to his eyes. “Have I ever told you how many times I thought about this?”

Danny chuckled softly and slipped his fingers underneath Sam’s shirt to rest on his abdomen. “How many times?”

Sam ducked down, their noses nearly touching: “So many times. You know I came to every game just because of you, right?”

Danny’s other hand snaked up Sam’s side and reached behind his neck and under his hair, fingers slipping through to lightly tug. “You told me that. And you’re telling me that, since you only went for me, if I quizzed you on the rules of football, you’d fail?”

“I’d fail so hard,” Sam replied, grinding down against Danny’s groin to emphasize his point. “You were the only one I watched. You’re the only part of the game I’ll ever care about.”

Danny groaned quietly and tugged Sam’s hair at his nape harder. “You know I don’t play anymore.”

Sam slid his hands over Danny’s chest and to his shoulders, feeling up all the muscle that was still there, football or not. “Feels like you do.” He was about to slide one hand back down to better feel Danny’s pecs but he found himself shoved backwards and their positions reversed, Danny straddling him with strong hands on his skinny shoulders, and soft lips taking charge again.

He felt dizzy. His nostrils were flooded with the earthy scent of Danny’s hair, his tongue bathed in rich sweetness, his hands grabbing for whatever muscle and bare flesh hidden underneath cotton he could manage and, although his eyes were closed as they kissed harder and wetter, Sam still thought he could see the outline of Danny on top of him, a hazy, familiar and beautiful figure silhouetted by the blazing white lights on the field the hummed along with their gentle moans and gasps. Sam’s hands flailed to hold onto Danny as the other pulled back; his hands were playfully smacked away and he opened his eyes when he felt fingers quickly working the fly of his jeans open.

“Did you ever think about this?” Danny asked, yanking Sam’s jeans down, seemingly unfazed by the fact that there was no underwear to take down with them, and gripped his hard cock in his hand.

Sam had to keep himself from thrashing on the grass. He arched and squirmed still, one hand reaching down for Danny in desperation, the other lying across his own chest to feel just how fast his heart was racing. “Fuck,” he muttered, tilting his head back and catching an upside-down view of one of the lights. When he felt warm saliva dribble down his shaft he looked back down at Danny, who was apparently shameless about being on all fours, ass in the air, and jerking off another guy’s weeping dick.

“What about this?” Danny asked and bowed his head. Sam gasped and cursed into the air with the meeting of Danny’s tongue over his cock, the tip of it tracing the winding map of a thick vein all the way to the head; he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to take absolutely everything in just then, and forced himself to stay still as that tongue dipped into his slit, then swirled around the head of his cock. However, when Danny’s mouth took him halfway down and he felt fingers caressing his balls, Sam opened his eyes and tried to memorize everything he was seeing between his legs.

Had it not been for the unspoken knowledge and feelings between them, Sam would have been embarrassed by how quickly he came. Panting, feeling like his heart was in his throat and about to leap out, Sam’s head tilted to the side on the grass as he reached for Danny; with his hand still loosely wrapped around Sam’s cock, Danny sidled up next to him. Sam could hardly breathe when Danny cupped his jaw and turned his cheek to kiss him but he let him anyway, ready to let the boy of his dreams steal every breath he had.

The kisses were slow and sweet; eventually though, Danny wrapped one leg around Sam and started to grind against him. Sam fumbled between them to work Danny’s fly open but a hand circled his wrist.

“You don’t have to,” Danny said, his eyes shining like gilded honey.

Sam continued, containing a relieved moan when he got hold of Danny’s thick erection. He’d thought about it so many times. He’d thought about being in the locker room with Danny after practice or after a game and catching a glimpse; in real life, it was better than he imagined, the weight and warmth of it so significant in his hand yet, despite all of Danny’s masculinity, Sam already knew that the true power of his being resided in his heart. Ultimately, that’s what had made lust turn to something far more remarkable.

“I want to,” Sam said, nudging Danny’s chest with his nose, breathing in as he moved up to kiss his neck. The soft sighs and moans coming from that broad, strong chest and that beautiful, vulnerable throat were more enchanting than Sam could have ever dreamed of; he stroked Danny’s cock in tandem, listening for every change in tone and breath, working him over with the intention having turned to loving Danny more than just fucking him. He felt like Danny could feel that between them--this wasn’t some substance-fueled, high school-fantasy-fulfilled one-off--this was real.

The sound of Sam’s name from Danny’s lips sent a shudder down his spine. He didn’t even care when Danny groaned and clasped him hard against his chest as he shot between them, cum landing all over Sam’s shirt and the waistband of his jeans. He was in awe of the person he was holding and stroking, and he sucked a very tender, almost undetectable hickey into the base of Danny’s throat as he gingerly stroked through the last of his orgasm.

With his nose pressed against Sam’s hair, Danny breathed in deeply, then exhaled: “You smell like grass.”

Sam smiled against Danny’s chest, inhaling again in reciprocity. “You smell better than I imagined.” He couldn’t resist--he brought his fingertips, still sticky with Danny’s release, up to his lips to lick. “Taste good too, Danny.”

Danny collapsed back on his palms, legs splayed around Sam, with a sigh. “God,” he breathed, cocking his head as he looked at Sam, his face so relaxed in the light. A moment of silence shimmered between them, with Sam’s fingertips paused at his lips and Danny’s eyes on him, but no self-consciousness, no shame. It felt like what had happened was something that was meant to happen, somehow written in both of their destinies, and they had finally fulfilled it.

“I know,” Sam said, swiveling on the grass to sit next to Danny, following his lead when he laid back in the grass. He turned his cheek enough to see Danny’s profile facing up, brow and nose pointed to the moon, then turned in a mirror image to do the same, his racing heart and those vivid flashes of high school memories only slowing when Danny slipped his hand in Sam’s and squeezed it gently.

---

Tagging: @mountainofthesunn @bigthighsandstupidguys @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade @kiszkawagnergvf @chestinfect-me @woman-ina-dream @oblvions @itsametaphorbriansblog @safari-karrot @edgeofgreta @silver--storms @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair @camomillacatalina

#i honestly love this so much #danny wagner #sam kiszka #danny wagner x sam kiszka #greta van fleet #gvf #sam gvf #danny gvf #josh kiszka #jake kiszka #gvf slash #gvf smut #sanny

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the-eve-of-lies · 5 years ago

Text

Kitchen Escapades (J. WY)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Exhibitionism, Voyeurism

Pairing: Jung Wooyoung/Reader + Choi San

"Stay out of my kitchen," Wooyoung warned, knowing you're up to no good as you strutted inside HIS kitchen clad in his shirt and underwear alone. It was too early in the morning and it was too risky to be fooling around while the others were sleeping.

"No." Your response was absolute and knowing you, you weren't going to leave when you didn't get what you want.

"Look," Wooyoung began, ceasing his chopping to face you, "I love you and all but if you're going to do anything—"

"You're the one who said that," you countered, "I'm just here to watch my boyfriend cook. Is that so bad, Wooyoung?"

Wooyoung's shoulders slouched. You had won the silly argument no doubt. But something lingered at the back of his mind. You're not one to wake up early just to watch him cook when you've been at it like rabbits last night and he was sure you were sore down there but here you were.

Brat.

He returned back to chopping, preparing the ingredients and then actual cooking while you made yourself comfortable by sitting on one of the kitchen chairs, elbow propped on the table with your chin resting against your palm.

He was a sight to see. And he was yours.

Sleeveless shirt which didn't hide the tattoo on his ribcage and loose-fitting pants. His black hair messy yet that made him even sexier. His toned arms producing veins once in a while when he exerted strength into chopping.

You felt yourself growing wet. And if he found out you were but a naughty girl with intentions to have him fuck you on the kitchen counter, you're doomed not to walk properly for about a few days.

Yet the sight of him alone was tempting. Last night's images of him moaning and writhing in pleasure as you sucked his cock and overstimulated him to no end played in your mind.

You bit your lip, removing the arm propped on the table and moving it under, slowly moving your panties to the side as you touched yourself. You kept looking at him, hoping you wouldn't get caught pleasuring yourself at the sight of your boyfriend cooking a hearty meal for the members—but maybe you'd like to get caught? It was always fun that way.

Your finger slowly worked in and out of you so as not to create a sound. But you were so wet that you were sure you were making a sound anyways. You sharply breathed through your nose, eyes locked on your boyfriend's back—you surely left scratches there during last night's session.

How you'd like to strip him naked and admire the fading scratches. You quickened your pace but that didn't go unnoticed the second Wooyoung turned to you.

"Ah," he drawled out, pointing the spatula at you, "you said you were just going to watch!"

Giving him a lazy smirk, you leaned against the back of the chair freely fingering yourself now, daring him to watch or to punish you—anything! Seeing him like this, first thing in the morning, affects you in a great amount.

You love him so, so much that all shame's drowned out by your neediness.

But he seemed pleased even though his next words are: "If you have the energy to spend fucking yourself with your hands, why don't you come here and use both hands and mouth to pleasure me instead? "

Wooyoung cocked his head to the side, mischievous eyes glinting under the artificial light. A challenge. He moved to lower the heat of the stove then faced you again.

"What do you say?" he asked for your confirmation.

Your hand halted as you gave him a once over, lingering on the obvious bulge on his trousers. The offer was tempting. You licked your lips and pulled your fingers out, a trail of slick connecting your cunt and ring finger. The empty filling would be sated soon.

He motioned for you to come to him and of course, being a good girl, you obliged.

Your legs were a bit shaky from the pleasure you had given yourself but you managed to stand in front of him, bracing your other hand on the counter so as not to topple.

He stirred the dish he was cooking and added some seasonings before stirring it again and covering the pot with the lid. Only then did he step closer to you, and brought your finger—the one you inserted in yourself—to his mouth and sucked, a groan escaping his lips at the taste of you.

"Fucking kneel," Wooyoung growled, eyeing you as if you were his next meal and not the dish he was cooking. "Be on your knees and warm my cock like a good whore."

Who were you to deny?

You sunk on your knees and put your hands on his slender hips, squeezed lightly as a tease of what's to come.

But Wooyoung was impatient and using his free hand, he grabbed you by your hair and tugged so you were face to face with his clothed cock. "Hurry and do it."

You moaned at his roughness and replied, "So impatient, Wooyoung-ah. "

"You have that power over me apparently."

You finally pulled his pants down along with his boxers and his cock sprung free, red and angry, just begging to be touched and sucked.

You gave his cock a teasing lick but Wooyoung gave you another warning tug. You were weak for him anyway so there's no point in wasting time. You wanted to taste him more than the food he was currently cooking. You wanted him.

He let out a pleased hum. "My good girl. That's right. Keep doing that..." He let go of your hair to grip the counter and the hand that was holding the spatula shook. "I-I'll prepare the food. I'm a-almost—ah—almost done."

You hummed again, the vibrations against his cock threatening to send him over the edge. You sucked harder, hollowing your cheeks and tracing the veins of his cock with your tongue, your hands massaging his balls. The sounds he let out were absolutely sinful. If the members were already awake, they'd hear him surely and seeing as you both were quite freaky, you and him wouldn't mind.

Drool escaped the sides of your mouth, landing on the floor and some sliding down your neck.

If Wooyoung could have his way, he might even invite San for a threesome. The members know you have a very active sexual life and you even caught most of the members (namely San, Yeosang and Mingi) watching you with a predatory gaze whenever they thought you weren't looking. You had asked Wooyoung about it but he seemed eager rather than angry.

His hand trembled as he removed the lid and his unfocused eyes tried to take note of the state of his dish. Grabbing a spoon nearby, he dunked it in the soup to have a taste.

You gently scraped your teeth against his cock which had him choke as he tasted the delicious outcome of his dish.

"No matter how tasty this is, your taste is st-still exquisite..." Wooyoung muttered, fumbling to turn off the stove and he slammed the spoon on the counter, creating a noise which surely alerted the others in the dorm.

He bucked his hips into your mouth, thrusting shallowly. Upon noticing you took it all without a problem, his thrusts became deep until his cock was buried in your mouth to the hilt. Only then did you gag and began breathing through your nose, cheeks still hollowed and tongue still working wonders on his cock.

He worked his way in and out of your mouth, tiny whines and gasps echoing throughout the kitchen. He trusted faster and you bobbed your head, meeting his thrusts while looking deep into his eyes, admiring his wrecked expression.

"I love you, " he whispered, "I love y-you. T-take it all. Take my cum, swallow it—take it—ah—" His breath hitched as his climax took over him, his cock at the back of your throat spurting thick ropes of cum. You swallowed all that you could but it was inevitable that a few drops would spill the second you detached yourself from him.

Wooyoung's chest heaved from that mind-blowing orgasm, his cock still out in open-air. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear and looked back at him with a satisfied smirk.

Seeing you like that, still obedient and patiently waiting for your turn, made Wooyoung lose all sense of control.

He yanked you up to stand and pressed your lips together, messily kissing, tongues intertwining. He kissed you without pulling away even when you were gasping for air which led you to become lightheaded. But you didn't mind. Kissing Wooyoung is another favourite of yours.

He pulled away but attacked your jaw with tiny nips and kitten licks; messy like you two at the moment.

But then you could hear a pair footsteps moving closer to the kitchen. You tapped Wooyoung, furiously whispering as he sucked love bites on your neck, "Wooyoung, someone's coming—"

"That never stopped us before, didn't it?"

San, the owner of those footsteps called out, " 'young-ah, what's for breakfast?"

Something told you today would be the day you're going to start something new as cliche as it was.Wooyoung didn't respond to San and continued his ministrations.

Pretty soon, you saw the speaker standing in the doorway, rubbing his eyes to shake off sleep. Wooyoung's hands moved to cup your ass, squeezing one of your mounds that made you squeak. Horror and delight of being caught filled you to the core.

San looked up, his eyes finally focusing on you. Gaze darkening, San licked his lips.

#wooyoung smut #wooyoung x reader #wooyoung oneshot #wooyoung scenario #ateez smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenario #ateez wooyoung #ateez x reader

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gaemkyuu · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Right Here (Owen Joyner x Fictional Character

Warnings: anxiety attack and self-deprecation A/N: Sorry this one took so long! The fictional character has been shamed for her anxiety from her parents. The experience of an anxiety attack is based on the ones I have. It’s different for everyone. Disclaimer: This is a FICITONAL writing piece! In no way do I claim characters in this piece act this way in real life.

Masterlist *now taking requests ;)

I’m Right Here

“Hey Jade! Wait up!” Jade was walking out of her trailer and on her way to her car, until she heard Owen call out for her. She paused and turned around to face the tall blonde, who stopped in front of her slightly out of breath. He bent slightly over his knees, catching his breath and still in costume.

“Aren’t you supposed to be filming a scene right now?” she cocked her eyebrow at him and rested a hand on her hip. They were on set filming for Julie and the Phantoms season 2, and Jade was brought in as a minor character as a part of Carrie’s posse. She didn’t have any major dialogues save the one or two quips her character had, so she was mostly there for the dance portions. That often meant she was able to leave set earlier or she had less days on set than others.

“Yeah, they’re setting up, but I wanted to catch you before heading out” Owen started to shift his weight from leg to leg and began to avoid eye contact. Jade felt butterflies in her stomach but immediately tried to suppress them, knowing that what she hoped was happening was probably not. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, only for them to be deflated. “You got any plans Tomorrow night?”

“Just snuggling with my dog and drinking wine while singing karaoke” she mentally facepalmed herself at her honesty. She just sealed the deal on being forever single. Owen fidgeted and the air between them became awkward, no thanks to Jade’s awkward confession.

“Listen, I was wondering, and you can totally say no, if you wanted to maybe go to dinner with me? That’s if dinner is something you do, not like eat, because I’m sure you eat dinner, but if you don’t I’m not judging you. I mean like dinner dinner, y’know?” the boy looked frazzled and a little desperate to stop his verbal diarrhea from making him look even stupider than he did in that current moment.

“Like a date?” Jade hoped she wasn’t being too forward, but then again, a girl had to know. Owen gave her a sheepish smile and a nod yes, instantly filling her with excitement. “YES! Uhm... I mean sound great. I’d totally love- i mean like to go on a date with you” she blushed furiously, hoping she didn’t sound too desperate or too excited.

“Great! I’ll pick you up at 7?” she nodded and he smiled turning around and jogging back to set. Jade felt like she could fly or bench press a bus. She always tried to deny having feelings for him, but whenever she was asked she would stumble over her words and everyone instantly knew. Savannah and Tori often teased her about her feelings and pushed her to ask him out, but she was too nervous. Correction, she was too afraid to be rejected.

Jade never thought of herself as anything more than a plain and ordinary girl who happened to be able to dance well. She wasn’t overly pretty but she wasn’t hideous either, and there were very little standout qualities. Most people described her as quiet, mousy with a pretty smile, but nothing ever more than that. She believed she got it from her family as they too were described similarly. Her mother was a dentist and her father worked at a law firm. She was an only child and they have always lived a comfortable life, so naturally Jade never had any interesting stories to tell. She was just your average plain Jane.

The drive back to her apartment was full of joy and she blasted the music in her car as she drove, singing along to every tune. She was extremely excited to go on this date and her enthusiasm carried on as she bounced to her apartment door and inside. Placing her keys on the counter by the door, she went to her closet to pick out the best outfit. Looking at the array of clothing, she picked out a few and sent them to her co-stars/best friends for their opinions. Unfortunately, they both had different ideas as to what she should wear that night.

Sav: go for something cute and conservative! Southern boys like all American girls!

Tori: go for something a little sexy Cali girl. Like I’m a good girl but I’m also capable of being bad too

Sav: for the first date? Idk...

Tori: Sav, do you really think Owen is only about them all American girls? He was the one talking about how peaches were a brilliant emojis for butts

Sav: point taken.

Sav: go for something that best represents you!

Jade: a paper bag?

Tori: really?

Tori: you are more than just a paper bag J

Sav: we gotta go, Kenny’s calling places. I’m sure what you’ll pick will be fine! Send us a pic!

Jade frowned that her friends couldn’t chat longer to help her, but she knew she had to do this on her own. After filing through clothing, she finally found something she liked but noticed that she had spent an hour picking an outfit. Owen would be by in two hours, meaning that she had to speed up her process if she didn’t want to feel rushed!

She slipped stepping into the tub to take a shower, smashing her elbow on the towel bar. She quickly tried to rub the pain as she cursed under her breath. She had no time to be clumsy! She started her shower up and gracefully hopped in this time, hoping to avoid any further injury. After doing her daily hygiene routine, she applied the hair mask and wrapped it up in a shower cap, applying her face mask right after. She noticed that her legs felt the slightest bit fuzzy and cursed herself for not shaving in the shower. Quickly glazing at her phone for the time, she slathered on shaving cream and attempted to shave her leg using her bathroom counter, which was a mistake. She slipped, nicking her leg on the way down, bumping her head against the wall too.

“It’s fine, you’re fine, not a big deal Jade” she comforted herself. “Stick a Band-Aid on it and just wear jeans!”

She began to wash out the hair and facemask, making a mental note to patch herself up after. As she patted her face dry, she opened the medicine cabinet to grab a Band-Aid, when the lights shut off. Fumbling around for her phone, she quickly turned on the flashlight to find a Band-Aid and her bathrobe. Slipping on the robe, she made her way to the apartment breaker. Nothing had tripped on the breaker panel, but the power in her suite was completely shut off.

“That’s fine! You’ll just have to go with your natural curls instead of spicing things up with a straightener!” she could already feel the nauseous and claustrophobic feeling in her chest creep up on her, but she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Now was not a good time for her to have an anxiety attack. She had an hour and fifteen minutes before Owen came. Plenty of time... right?

Making her way over to her closet, she began to look for another outfit that would look good with the jeans that she had picked out. She tried on top after top, but nothing seemed to fit right. Giving a huff in frustration, she sat on the bed to take a deep breath. She had to get going if she was going to have enough time to do her makeup, but it seemed like life had other plans. All of a sudden, the fire alarm in the complex went off, indicating that everyone was being asked to evacuate. She jumped at the noise and quickly threw on a sweater, grabbing her passport, wallet, documents and phone before exiting the building with the other residents.

It turned out to be a fire drill that was scheduled to happen last week, but Jade had completely forgotten about it. They all had to stand outside while the fire marshal cleared the building and checking the safety of it. By the time Jade had made her way back into the building and up to her suite, she had 30 minutes before Owen came over. She hated the outfit she was wearing, her hair was a mess due to the wind outside and she had no makeup on!

The feeling in her chest increased gradually as she rushed around the house, doing her best to multitask. The power came back on when she entered the suite, so she tried straightening her hair as the curls were a mess, but she underestimated her multitasking skills. She burnt herself multiple times as she tried to do her makeup and hair at the same time. It didn’t help that the bottom half of her hair was straight and the bottom half wasn’t, and her eyeliner was uneven. Looking at herself in the mirror stressed her out even more, so she washed her face and decided to restart. The alarm on her phone notified her that Owen would be at the door in 5 minutes, and that’s when everything bubbled over. Looking at her messy face, half done hair, wet shirt and jeans, she sniffled until the tears welled over. She sank to the bathroom floor feeling like an idiot. No normal person would be this upset over their appearance, so why was she? Would Owen think she was weird because of this? Would he even want to go out with her? Her breathing increased and she started to feel her ensuite close in on her, signaling a full blown anxiety attack.

Jade wasn’t comfortable talking about her anxiety. Her parents often made her feel like she was overreacting or seeking attention whenever they happened, but they never understood that if Jade had the choice, these things wouldn’t get to her. This feeling that you need to escape, but you don’t have the energy so you’re just a buzzing ball sitting in a deep dark hole. She would often cry during her attacks, ashamed that she lost control and ashamed that she got to this place. Her friends would tell her to seek professional help for it, but she waved them off knowing that if she did see someone, it would make things worse between her and her parents. She loved them a lot and often sought for their approval, and doing this would work against the hard work she put in to make them proud.

“Jade?...unlocked...hope that’s okay?... helloo?....dead?.... Jade?”

“Jade? Hey... Hey you’re okay...”

“Jade? It’s Owen.”

“Squeeze my hand if you hear me”

“Okay good. I want you to breathe with me”

“You’re doing great”

“That’s it”

“Breathe in for five, out for five”

“In five”

“Out five”

The murkiness of the voice became clearer and clearer as she regained control of her breathing. She began to feel a warmth enveloping her and holding her firmly. She wasn’t in the bathroom anymore but rather on the sofa in her living room with the balcony door open, letting in a cool breeze.

“Jade?” She focused her attention on the blonde boy who sat beside her, his arm currently wrapped around her and the other holding her hand. “Hey” his smile was warm and understanding, but Jade couldn’t help the tears that came to her eyes. Seeing this, Owen knew immediately what was happening. Before the apology left her lips, Owen had already began to speak.

“You have nothing to apologize for... Is this the first time?” She bowed her head sadly, wiping away the tears and shaking her head no. In this moment, she felt like a little kid getting into trouble, bracing herself for the disappointment she caused.

“Listen, I know how you feel. Your anxiety? Your panic? I feel it every day. You don’t have to be ashamed in front of me. Hell, you shouldn’t have to feel ashamed in front of anyone. Everyone goes through this right? Well obviously, in their own ways and not like you and me, but I think you get the point” his rant elicited a small chuckle from the girl. “Want to talk about it?”

Jade nodded her head, feeling comfortable around him. She recounted her struggles since getting home to the razor to the power to the fire drill up until their current moment. Owen was silent and attentive the entire time, hanging on to every word that came from her mouth.

“I mean, I’m flattered that you put in all this work to go on a date with me, but seriously, and I’m not saying this to like get on your good side or anything, but you don’t need all the makeup and stuff. You’re pretty pretty on your own” she smiled at his comment, grateful for the compliment as it made her feel better.

“Thanks, I’m sorry I ruined our date” he scoffed and shook his head, moving to the kitchen counter picking up the flowers he had brought for her.

“I was going to give these to you at the door, but seeing as the plans have changed, you should probably take them and put them in some water?” she blushed at the gesture and took them gratefully from him. As she puttered around the kitchen for some sort of vase, he tapped away on his phone. “Do you like pizza?”

“Owen, I LOVE pizza” he grinned back at her and tapped a couple more times on his phone. “What are you doing?”

“Bringing date night to us.” he replied simply, locking his screen and plopping down on the couch, clicking through the apps on the TV. “Alright, so you’re gonna show me your favorite musical and I will show you mine”

Jade thought that in order to make a good impression on a first date, you had to look perfect. Owen that night helped her see that when two people like each other, Pizza and Musicals are all you need on a first date.

#owen joyner #imagine #fanfiction #owen joyner fanfiction #owen patrick joyner #owen patrick joyner fanfic

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limerental · 5 years ago

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geraskier fic recs

aka everything i remembered to bookmark on ao3 just vomited into a tumblr post because i want to yell about them (and there are more than this that I enjoyed dearly i am just very silly and forget to save them)

under a cut to spare your dashboard

b-sides and rarities by fathomfive, 6.4k

note: i am weak for pining, long meandering but inevitable feeling journeys toward one another, deeply felt landscape description and melancholy ballads and this fic is all of those

excerpt:

He plays a few idle notes, and then slides smoothly into a tune that’s at once familiar and new. It’s a walking song, a good steady-paced melody without flourishes. He plucks a note, holds it in his throat and hums, and sings. Morning came over the mountains, there I was, there we were.

Noon burned above the broken path, you left but I return.

A season’s span to where I find you, call and I return.

O the light fades in the valley, I’ll return, return.

here, where the world is quiet by @drawlight, 5.4k, explicit

note: the jaskier pov in this is very, very lovely and it was hard to pick an excerpt because all the prose is lovely and jaskier’s descriptions of geralt are particularly lovely

excerpt:

“But if you ever wanted,” Jaskier spreads his hands, his long fingers, spreading out the wrinkles of the bedsheets. The weight of Geralt next to him is constant. A promise. They constantly circle, dance to unsung songs. Geralt never dances, except here, around Jaskier. (You can run so far away, Witcher, but space is not that forgiving. There is so much nothingness, nothing to block, nothing to get in the way. On a good night, from a clear plain with little light pollution, one can see twenty-quadrillion miles into the sky. Jaskier thinks this number sounds absurd but he trusts the arithmancers and knows in his heart, in his blood, his bones that it is the truth. Jaskier knows there is nowhere to hide; he has tried.)

The Ballad of Pots and Pans by 6th_magnitude, 8.1k

note: this one’s got oblivious geralt realizing all of jaskier’s songs, even the less obvious ones, are actually about him and excellent banter and some poignant and painful bits about jaskier’s mortality and also just a bunch of really great ballads.

excerpt:

Jaskier startles, and looks at Geralt a little dazedly. “Nothing. It’s – oh, I just wanted to write something good and true to capture everything I feel in this moment, and I cannot for the life of me write it at all! What good is being a poet if you cannot translate the most important feelings of your life to pen and paper? What good is it if I cannot write you a song, so that one day you might remember this morning?”

“I’ll remember it,” Geralt replies quietly. “I don’t need a song to remember it.”

Jaskier smiles at him, his eyes shining a little with unshed tears of frustration. “Even so, I would like to memorialise this feeling, record every detail, so I might recall it later. The human memory is so fallible, you know. It’s why we make songs and stories – to remember feelings, even when facts have faded from all memory.”

“I’ll remember it,” Geralt says again, sleepily. “I’ll remember this feeling. No matter what.”

swallow my breath and take what is mine by @anacaoris, 6.5k, explicit

note: this has got jaskier giving all sorts of nice things to geralt that he doesn’t feel he deserves and misunderstandings and geralt not knowing how to use his words or brain cell and oh also there’s smut

excerpt:

Fingers flex in his hair, running a shudder down his spine at the spark of it. Part of him wishes he knew better what to say, that this could be simpler. That he was born with the same poetry spilling from him enough to say all that he tucks in his lungs but he’s not, he’s better with action, better with showing just what he needs to mean so Geralt brings a hand up, curls it around Jaskier’s and keeps it in messy locks, still damp from the bath as he sinks to his knees. “Sweet merciful blessings, I will, ah, I’ll take this as a ye-ehs.”

Companionship by ArliaDevi, 4.1k

note: really fun take on their relationship in ciri pov and i love found family domesticity so much and geralt teaching ciri things and glimpses of tender moments

excerpt:

When Geralt gets back, covered in what Ciri is quite sure is intestines, they eat quietly in the corner of the inn. Jaskier plays his music, his hat out for coins. He sings well, Ciri has to admit, and there’s an entrancing quality about the way he performs, luring all eyes to him. Even Geralt’s eyes seem to wander back to Jaskier, lingering on him just long enough that Ciri manages to steal a few mouthfuls of ale.

‘Don’t think I didn’t notice that,’ Geralt mutters as Ciri slides the large stein back in place.

‘Girls in Cintra drink at ten,’ Ciri replies matter-of-factly.

‘No, they don’t.’ Geralt takes another mouthful of ale before sliding it towards Ciri. ‘Don’t let Jaskier see.’

‘Stealth training?’

Geralt rolls his eyes. ‘Sure.’

look what you made me do by @cicaklah, 6.5k, explicit

note: is just another in the “jaskier’s songs are all about geralt and geralt is a dumbass” genre and also there’s deeply immersive scenery details and also also there’s a truly filthy sequel that is not on this list only because i still have some level of shame but it’s here in spirit

excerpt(s):

They ride half a day, Geralt chatting to Roach about all the injustices in the world, most of which are food related, with Roach hrumphing every now and then in response. Around them the fallow fields are untouched, resembling plush, perfect eiderdowns, with gnarled trees like the posts of a fine bed, fit for a giant. The sky is clear after the storm, bluer than at the height of summer and vast, their clouds stolen for the ground.

and

Geralt understands how long sex can last, always feels sorry and guilty for the women he beds who don’t understand that stamina was one of the most successful mutations he gained. He hates how easy it is to push that little bit too far into pain unless he’s careful (and he’s always careful, he loves women, loves their pleasure, never lets himself get carried away) but now there’s a man behind him and he realises that he can take it, that they made him perfectly for this by accident, so he can take all that male stamina and strength into himself and enjoy it like a glutton, enjoy it in the way he only has been able to a handful of times in his life, match every stroke with his own power.

Dawn by Sylvalum, 3.5k

note: this one is a bit different to the others on this list but it’s got delightful yen & jaskier developing friendship and a touch o the ole melancholy that i so very much crave

excerpt:

Yennefer doesn’t say anything, so eventually Jasker turns back to the grave and lowers the body, then starts to shovel the earth back in, rich soil and sandy dirt and tufts of dead grass. He tries to cover the dead sorceress carefully, to send her off into the eternal night gently, but he fumbles too much and works too fast. Impatience and fear have burnt away his flesh so now there’s only nerve endings left to hide his ragged bones. It’s… it’s been a long day. He’s been digging for most of it.

Yennefer simply watches, standing behind Jaskier like a disapproving mother. Until suddenly she says in an oddly quiet voice, “Her name was Sabrina.”

And Jaskier stills. Haltingly, Yennefer steps forward to stand and look at the grave for a moment.

And after that, she starts to help Jaskier dig the graves.

To Sleep Perchance To by sospes, 16.9k, canon-typical violence & gore

note: it isn’t a fic rec list by me unless it’s got angst on the list so warning for torture and unreliable reality and general gnarly descriptions of violence and psychological damage. this broke my heart a wee bit and it may just break yours.

excerpt:

In those quiet, maybe-false moments, Jaskier knows that if this goes on much longer, he’s going to lose his mind. It’s not a panicked thought, not a terrified thought, it’s a cool, calm, logical realisation that he doesn’t think he can get away from. He’s losing the ability to know what’s real and what isn’t. He’s spending every waking second in a nightmare of blood and betrayal. And there’s nothing he can do to escape.

Geralt comes and presses him up against the cold stone wall of the cold stone cell, pinning his wrists above his head with one impossibly strong hand. He kisses him, slow and languid, and then he sucks a bruise into the side of his neck, using too much teeth and too much tongue. “I’ve missed you,” he murmurs into Jaskier’s throat, and Jaskier takes the opportunity to knee him in the balls.

let us shake the abacus by @et-in-arkadia, 3k, explicit

note: this is simple, shameless smut and i am only allowing myself to slap it at the bottom of this list because i’m fond of the author’s work in general and also the dynamic, man, this dynamic is what it’s all about

Resigned to his poor decision-making for the evening, Geralt breaks away from where he's sucked a bruise into the soft skin of Jaskier's neck. Jaskier is moving against him like a ship on an unruly sea, increasingly impatient and unmoored.

"Tell me," Jaskier insists. He scratches lines down Geralt's back, then grabs Geralt's ass to haul him closer. "Geralt. Tell me."

This is also different: Jaskier likes to hear him talk, prefers to hear, above all else, Geralt's intent. Jaskier's need for words is limitless, unquenchable—Geralt has made him come all but untouched by whispering into Jaskier's ear the things that he'd do, given the time. It's really quite extraordinary. Which is perhaps why Geralt entertains the request, despite not being exactly given over to loquaciousness himself.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher fic recs #geraskier fic recs #long post

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calpops · 5 years ago

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guilt | l.h. & a.i.

In which Ashton must cope with the self imposed guilt of costing his football team a playoff run. And Luke is there to help ease the pain.

Word Count: 1k

***

“It’s over,” Ashton murmured, his voice was low and strained. Guilt consumed him, swallowed him whole like the abandoned locker room.

The season was over. Any prospect of going to the playoffs trampled and broken. Ashton was convinced it was his fault. The last play of the game sitting heavy on his shoulders. Wrapped tight around his ribs and making it difficult to breathe. He knew he was injured, he could feel the splice of pain shooting up his back. But it didn’t matter. Not to him. Not in that moment.

He was transfixed on the fact the ball had fumbled out of his hands, that he hadn’t thrown it away before or kept it close as he was sacked. It happened too quick for him to process, too fast for his body to catch up and do what needed to be done. No one blamed him but himself. The strip sack and scoop and score felt entirely his fault. But the offensive line looked just as guilty; they missed blocks and left him unprotected. If winning was a team effort then so was losing. Except Ashton couldn’t see it that way. All he could see was the replay on the big screen; the way he fell, the awkward twist of his body and his hands dropping the ball before he could be ruled down. The silence of the empty locker room helped bring that moment back to him in full force. With no one around to distract his thoughts and remedy the pain of losing Ashton was succumbing to the self imposed guilt.

“It’s my fault,” he mumbled to no one, again. He leaned forward on the bench, back screaming with sharp pain that he ignored in favor of sitting with his misery; chin in his hands and gaze casted at the floor.

“It’s not,” a familiar voice broke through the gray haze.

Ashton let his eyes look up, thinking twice about moving from his position as the pain settled. His most trusted wide receiver stood in the doorway, uniform already replaced by casual clothes. Luke stepped back into the locker room, blue eyes awash with concern as he took in Ashton’s state. Ashton had only abandoned his helmet thus far; his jersey, padding, pants and cleats still donned his body. Ashton was embarrassed to admit he’d thrown his helmet across the locker room in a moment alone with his frustration. It laid discarded on the tile floor, scuffed as it slid into metal and halted with a haunting crash.

Luke moved toward Ashton, took a seat on the bench next to him and placed a comforting hand on his thigh. Ashton didn’t move to sit up and accommodate Luke, too scared that pain would glint in his eyes and cross his face in a grimace. All he did was put a hand over his; thankful for the offering. Luke was warm and constant. He was the last person Ashton looked to before the linebacker had taken him down. Luke had run his route seamlessly but there was hesitation in Ashton as two cornerbacks settled to double team him. An interception would have been just as bad.

“I didn’t throw it to you,” Ashton said, shaking his head though the ache in his back protested. “I could’ve. You could’ve scored.”

“I was double teamed.”

“You’ve caught it under that pressure before,” Ashton reminded him, to which Luke only gave a comforting squeeze and slid just a bit closer.

“Not with them. They’re the best in the league, Ash. They would’ve picked it or had me down before my feet hit the ground. And you knew that. You made the right choice.”

The gap between them on the bench was minimal as Luke pressed in even closer, just like usual. Whatever bonds they had on the field translated to all that and more off the field. Luke’s hand slid off Ashton’s thigh and out from under his hand, moved towards his lower back and ripped away when Ashton flinched. It took a moment to right himself, to sit up fully and face Luke.

“Fuck,” Ashton groaned, wishing at least one thing would go in his favor that night. He knew he wouldn’t be able to hide the injury forever; especially not from Luke who would accompany him home. But he wished it wouldn’t have happened so soon. He wanted time to be frustrated and not pitied.

“I knew you were hurt,” Luke accused, switching gears. “You should’ve said something while the trainers were here.”

Ashton waved it off. It was a familiar pain; likely a disc in his back he hoped he could nurse on his own. “I’m fine. The season is over anyway. Doesn’t make a damn difference if I’m hurt or not.”

Luke let out an exasperated sigh. “It does. To me.”

Ashton frowned, realizing what Luke meant. His hiding things from him wasn’t an okay habit to slip into. On the field or off. They needed trust and communication.

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” Ashton conceded and let Luke help him up. Help him out of his gear and into the clothes in his locker. It took a lot longer than usual, and though Ashton was embarrassed he needed to be babied he let Luke do what needed to be done.

They headed back for the car, walking slow with Luke helping Ashton along. The fans had dispersed as quickly as possible. Home town losses—especially ones where wins would have brought them to the playoffs—usually ended in embarrassed fans getting the hell out of dodge as soon as possible. Ashton was thankful for that, knowing that if fans lingered the walk would have been filled with even more shame.

“We always have next season,” Luke reminded as they approached the car.

“Not if they trade or cut me, no way they keep me after costing them a playoff run,” Ashton said weakly and then bit his tongue when Luke gave him a piercing glare.

“If they don’t keep you, I still will. Not getting rid of me that easy,” Luke said with a wink. Ashton appreciated the attempt to lighten the mood and the sincerity of his words. He knew he’d still have Luke, no matter what.

“I’d never want to get rid of you,” Ashton promised as he pressed a quick kiss to Luke’s cheek in the dark of the night.

“Good,” Luke said as he helped Ashton into the passenger seat. “Now quit your moping. We have a whole offseason ahead of us. Don’t need guilt eating you while we’re on vacation.”

Ashton laughed, feeling a bit lighter for the first time since dropping the ball. Luke always understood him and what he needed. Sometimes it was a sharp reminder of reality, sometimes it was soft words of understanding and encouragement, and sometimes it was a fierce mixture of both. Whatever it was, Luke was Ashton’s constant in every aspect of life.

***

Tagged: @vapor5sos @sexgodashton @haikucal @5sosnsfw @thesubtweeter @megz1985

#lashton #lashton blurb #lashton imagine #lashton fic #lashton au #athlete!au #football!ash #football!luke #football!lashton #lashtonwritings

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totallypathet · 5 years ago

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Episode Ten

The makeover challenge!! I personally love the makeover challenge. I know there are lots of people who hate it because the judging is very inconsistent, and the criteria for the challenge isn't exactly the clearest - which I totally get (and agree with to an extent), but I still love it! I just love watching makeovers, tbh. Plus it's really interesting seeing how the queens can make someone (who out of drag looks nothing like them) look like they're in the same family. It really shows who the makeup artists are.

Without further adieu, let's get into the breakdown...

1. Crystal Methyd

Crystal did such an amazing job this week! Her trajectory has just been going up, and up, and up! She has been doing so amazing well, and proving every single week why she deserves to be there.

The one tiny little reservation I had was that if she had been making me over, I think I would have been a tiny bit disappointed that everyone else got these beautiful glamorous (mostly) looks, and I was literally painted like a muppet. But, it seemed like Grace was really loving it and feeling herself, so honestly good for her!

Having said that, I really did live the runway. It was clever, it was cute, it was fashion, it had a story...it was everything. For me, Crystal did the best job this week, and I kind of wish she had won, or maybe been joint with Jaida. I just think she had the best concept, the most complete story, and a really clearly great relationship with her fan.

2. Gigi Goode

I feel a little bit like I don't even want to comment on Gigi this week. I just feel disappointed.

Gigi came into this competition so strong, and from the beginning I picked her as Top 4, and by Snatch Game I wanted her to win. Now, I honestly can't tell you how disappointed I'd be if she won this season.

Honestly, she should have been lip syncing this week. Everything she did was so basic and low effort, down to the name she gave Shea. Gigi Goode and BeBe Bad? Mimi Bored. The outfits were so boring, even the storyline was literally the most basic thing she could have thought of. Also tbh those outfits looked so ugly, and also uncomfortable and scratchy.

I am so disappointed in Gigi.

3. Heidi N Closet/Heidi Afrodite

Heidi Afrodite is a pretty good name, I'm not gonna lie.

Heidi wasn't the best this week. It's unfortunate, because I don't think she did badly, but of all of then she probably did do the worst.

She did such a beautiful job with Nicole's makeup, but her own was really rough. In the same vein; her outfit was gorgeous, but Nicole's was like a H&M dress. It looked like Heidi was a disco singer about to go on stage and Nicole was her manager. It was just unfortunate.

I am glad that she got Nicole's legs out, I think it was a really good thing for Nicole to see how beautiful she is, and what great legs she has! Other than that, I'm afraid Heido fumbled the ball this week.

4. Jackie Cox

Jackie and Lil Snackie! If there was a prize for naming the superfan, Jackie gets it. Lil Snackie Cox was a stroke of genius!

Unfortunately, I get the same thing from Jackie as I got from Heidi - she didn't do a bad job, she just didn't do a great one. I still think it was better than Gigi though. The outfits were both beautiful, the walk and the presentation was great, I loved Tiffany's makeup - there was just something missing, that oomph factor to just push it up a level.

I am really glad that it was a double chantay this week. I think Jackie and Heidi both have so much to give and I want to see them both succeed so much.

5. Jaida Essence Hall

So obviously we know Jaida won last week, so she got to pair the queens to the fans. I think she did an amazing job! She really gave everyone someone they could do a great job with, she didn't try and screw anyone over, I loved it. I could totally see her logic on picking the fan with similar energy to the queen. She stays slaying, she does not fight dirty, and she rises above. A true queen imo.

Her runway this week was beautiful. The dresses were sisters, and so were Jazz and Jaida. Both sets of makeup were stunning. Not that I expect anything less from the makeup artist our Jaida is! She picked really great looks, her and Bethany had great chemistry, the presentation was lovely, it was all on point for me.

I also feel like we're really getting to watch Jaida have fun, and I love that so much. I was so worried that she was going to remain this very stoic professional queen (not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just hard to relate to someone when you can see that they're not truly being themselves), but she has just let her guard down and showed us her goofy side the last few weeks, and she's been really having fun and letting us have fun with her.

We stan. Jaida is the season winner for me.

I will also say, I feel really sorry for Janet. She had this cool makeover, she got to be on Drag Race; and now that experience has probably been tainted by who did it and who she spent time with. It's a shame for her.

#drag race #drag race season 12 #drag race spoilers #rpdr spoilers #rpdr12 #rpdr #crystal methyd #gigi goode #heidi n closet #heidi afrodite #jackie cox #jaida essence hall

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myhockeyworld87 · 5 years ago

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Nervous Regrets - Tyler Seguin Part 2

Requested: No

Word Count: 1753

Warning: Cursing

POV: Reader

Note: Glad you guys enjoyed the first one,decided to do one from the reader’s perspective. I may continue it. Haven’t decided yet.

You shouldn’t be here. Yet here you were in the same spot you’d been only one year ago. God, how times had changed. That night you had been so carefree, so light of heart. Now, all you felt was an emptiness that permeated deep down into your soul. An emptiness that even the man standing next to you couldn’t bring you back from. You’d only crawled out of its hollowness recently, when friends insisted it was time to move on. Which is why you found yourself here with Robert; this place that evoked so many memories, so many emotions. You wanted to run, dismiss yourself from these people milling around chatting about inconsequential things. Instead you plastered on a smile, masking the pain that was tearing your heart apart.

A year ago, you’d been standing at the bar when he’d come up to you. While you couldn’t recall the exact conversation; you could still remember the look in his eyes, the timber in his voice and way he carried himself. Tyler had always been a cocky son of a bitch, but that night there was a vulnerability to him; a softness that warmed your heart. The two of you had laughed, danced and chatted the whole night, not noticing anyone around you. It was only when the wait staff were fumbling around clearing the room, that you’d both recognized the event had ended. Not wanting the night with you to end, Tyler had offered you drinks at his place. It had turned into so much more; bodies entwined with each other, moans filling the air, stolen kisses that never ended. Your relationship had just sort of fell into place. Everything with Ty was so easy; loving him had been so easy.

You’d never realized that the arrogant hockey player he portrayed on the ice, was secretly so insecure. He’d spent a lifetime creating a reputation as one of hockey’s bad boys; only it was all a facade to mask the loneliness he carried around. Hell, even the dogs he cared and loved for so much were a coping mechanism for him. So, when he opened up to you showing this sweet, vulnerable side of himself, the true Tyler Seguin; you fell, knee deep into him. You gave him your whole heart; only asking for his in return. For a time, you had it; you’d been the only woman in his life. Until that day, or maybe it was before then you really didn’t know; hadn’t stayed around to find out the answer.

You’d been away in Los Angeles for work. Speaking to Tyler frequently during the day; always ending each night with him on the phone. It was towards the end of your trip. You’d woke up that morning, scrolled through social media to find pictures of him and some blonde. He was laughing at her in the first picture, grinding up on her ass in the second; and the third, well it was the one that tore you in two. His lips locked on hers, the kiss intimate; as if he’d kissed her a thousand times before then. Your stomach lurched, rolling around making you sick as you stared back at the photo. It was then that you read one of the captions, ‘Me and my boyfriend,’ it stated simply. The next thing you knew you were dry heaving in the toilet. You couldn’t breathe, it was if the weight of the world was crushing down on you. The phone rang, the ringtone one you recognized; thankfully it wasn’t Tyler. Even though it was your best friend you didn’t answer it; you weren’t ready to face the reality of the last few minutes. All the fears you’d ever had about your relationship finally coming to fruition.

You hauled yourself up off the bathroom floor, splashing cold water on your face. You needed to get a grip, you had to be in a meeting in an hour. Numbly you walked yourself through your morning rituals. Sitting in the meeting your mind trying to focus on what the speaker was saying; all while images of that kiss popped up in your brain. As the day drew to a close you packed your bags and headed back to Dallas; back to a life you no longer had. Sitting in the airport you finally glanced at your phone; nineteen voicemail messages. Some from Tyler, most from friends. You couldn’t talk to anyone right now or you’d just ball your eyes out, so you text your best friend asking if you could stay with her for a while. The reply came back immediately, you knew the answer before it was sent. Now all you had to do was grab your things and get the hell out of dodge.

The drive back to your home with Tyler was blur, maybe it was from all the tears falling down your face; or maybe you finally resigned yourself to your fate, a life without Tyler in it; you weren’t sure which. You left your suitcase in the car, knowing you still had luggage in the house that you could pack. The moment you opened the door he was there; tears stained his face. It only hardened your resolve to get out of there quickly. You didn’t speak just walked to the bedroom and started grabbing things. His apology echoing in your ears as you moved blindly through the room. You didn’t want to hear it, couldn’t hear it. Taking only what you needed you closed the bag; kneeling down finally to kiss the pups goodbye. Tears flowing freely now. Your heart was shattered; this had been your life and Tyler your world and it was all gone now. You stood up, never looking at him; pausing momentarily at the door only to say two final words, “Goodbye Ty.” With that you’d closed the door, ending your relationship.

Someone asked you a question, drawing you back to present day. You smiled politely, making idle chit chat. Robert moved his hand to the small of you bare back. Bare only because of the dress he’d bought you. He wanted you to play Ana to his Christian Grey; sending you the dress you had on with the matching shoes. Why you’d put it on you didn’t know; how he knew your damn size was something you’d visit later. You laughed, the fake one, you reserved for occasions such as these. You were good at it; it was why you currently held the lofty position you did at your company. Hell, it was probably the reason Robert thought you should be draped on his arm. They didn’t know the real you though, only Tyler did. Right now, you weren’t sure anyone else was ever going to get to know the real you.

This place, it brought up so many memories of Tyler. You swear you could feel him watching you; that you had seen him from the corner of your eye. It was all tricks though; not that he couldn’t be here. You just didn’t think he’d have the balls to show up. Not after what he did, cheating on you was one thing; but when the pictures surfaced of him in some godforsaken alleyway with the blonde’s mouth around his cock; well that was the last straw. You knew management would be upset with him. Hell, even some of his teammates couldn’t stand the sight of him. He’d not only shamed you, but them in the process. Jamie, had begged you to talk to Tyler, hoping to repair some of the damage that had been done. He told you Tyler was a mess without you. At the time you were glad he was; you were a wreck yourself. It was only right that he was living in his own hell. Maybe there would be a day that you could see him, but right now, talking to Jamie it wasn’t going to happen.

The hand on your back shifted lower to your ass; rubbing up and down. You knew what Robert wanted, vaguely you thought that maybe it would numb some of the pain you were experiencing. You tried to forget about all the pleasure you’d received under Tyler ministrations. At night when you would pleasure yourself, you’d think of anyone, anyone but him. But in the peak of your climax it was always Tyler’s face that popped into you mind; his name on your lips. You had a feeling things with Robert wouldn’t be any different. Fuck, you needed air.

You excused yourself from the conversation; claiming you need to use the ladies restroom. When all you really wanted to do was head out the front door, call an Uber and head back home. You made your way to the foyer where the crowd was less abundant. You sensed him before you saw him; all night you thought your mind had been playing tricks on you only to come to the realization that yes indeed Tyler was here. You stopped, watched each step as he made his way to stand before you. Hands shaking, from frustration, possibly; more likely it was to keep from touching him. Tonight, had elicited all kinds of memories both good and bad; at the moment seeing him, all you could think about was the good. You looked at him; the dark circles under his eyes showing he hadn’t slept much. His thin frame, that usually happened at the end of the season more predominate now and the season was only under way. Every instinct in your body wanted to reach out and take him in your arms; bring back the man you once loved. Still loved you corrected yourself. You tampered down the urge; instead simply saying “Tyler.”

His eyes borrowed into yours, reaching deep down into your soul. Regrets and nerves playing across his face as he slowly whispered your name. You thought your knees were going to give out, when he spoke. A tidal wave of emotions washed over you; as you stood in the sand, sinking deeper into the ocean that was Tyler, not knowing if you could swim back to shore after this encounter. A tear rolled down your cheek; his thumb coming up to brush it away. The small contact shattering your resolve. It was finally time; time to hear, time to listen and hopefully time to understand. The fracture he had left in your heart shifted; but whether it was cracking more or being fussed back together was too early to tell.

#nhl imagines #nhl imagine #tyler seguin #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin imagines #dallas stars #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars imagines #fanfic #nhl fanfic #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction

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justlightthefirstspark · 5 years ago

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As promised, my analysis/opinion/thought piece on today’s MUWFC game vs Spurs. Everything is chronological which I feel like should go without saying but in the interest of clarity 🤷🏽‍♀️ but not everything is tagged to the minute cause I am an idiot that didn’t realise that that would be helpful til like the 2nd half. Also, if I missed anything, or got players mixed up or anything pls lemme know and I’ll edit accordingly! I’ve never really done any from of sports based writing before (I don’t think tweets count lol) so pls be nice, merci 😘

Line up as follows, I guess this is pretty common knowledge but you know, coherency and such.

Tbh it was kinda hard to see *a lot* of this game, especially on the far side of the pitch and by both goals because of the weather, felt like I was watching Silent Hill for a little while there, but I did my best. My wifi is also horrendous atm, and we all know that the FA Player can be problematic so there’s a very good chance I might have missed something due to a lag or buffering btw. Just drop me an ask if you notice anything that mightn’t be quite right, and I’ll fix it asap! Some ~analysis~ (if you could call it that lol) is more detailed than other bits cause there was a lot happening and today I learned that it’s kinda hard to write one thing and watch another at the same time lol

First half:

Quick, fast and almost successful start. A much-needed improvement on the stagnancy vs Bristol a few weeks ago, and obviously we couldn’t see the midweek game vs Brighton so I can’t compare them.

I have to say I’m not a massive fan of all the back passes, all the time. I think a more attacking FB might be needed in the summer, or maybe Ökvist should be given some time to acclimatise to the WSL soon? I was never the biggest fan of Harris last season, I personally don’t think she’s fast enough – she gets outpaced down the flank by attackers 90% of the time, which isn’t good. I think A. Turner is the strongest FB option currently, at least defensively, and she’s shown she has a decent attacking ability, and has a wicked long ball, as well as crossing. My only issue is sometimes those tackles of hers can be a liability, giving away unnecessary fouls. It’s almost like she doesn’t think before she flies in sometimes, which is a shame, cause I love them. A lot.

There were a couple of really good chances in the first half, including a great ball in and run up from Galton, which should have resulted in probably the opening goal but whether it was as a result of the weather or just misjudged timing and placement from both Ross and Sigsworth, the chance went to waste. Groenen had an excellent chance to net her first for United but unfortunately sent it just wide. Another glorious link up between A. Turner and Galton led to another decent chance, a gorgeous cross in from the right to the opposite side of the box, and the perfect header which unfortunately was aimed straight at the keeper. Very unlucky to head in at the break with nothing.

There was an incredible double save from Earps around halfway through the first half. I have to say, I have some anxieties with her sometimes. She is quite good, but has a tendency to make some silly mistakes, and doesn’t always make the right call for a save. But my god she was on her game today, even if a potential error might have led to the first save. Didn’t disappoint me anytime she was called on this afternoon.

A few frustrations started to show around the 30 min mark, a few sloppy passes and challenges making the rounds. It was also around this time that I realized I’d picked a pretty poor game to start this thing on because I could barely see anything.

Zelem seems to be back in form, which can only be a good thing. But I would very much like it if somehow she could drag some of the other girls back up with her.

There were a fair few soft calls going Spurs way, which I wasn’t entirely convinced by. But then again I’m probably just naturally biased towards my girls.

Another great ball in to Sigsworth from A. Turner which was just *chefs kiss* but unfortunately came to nothing. There was also a spin move either to commit or avoid a challenge, I couldn’t really tell tbh, which was very impressive, as was her chase down on Mitchell at around 43 mins. (Amy’s my favourite player, can you tell?)

Booking for Kirsty Smith just before half time, but I gotta be honest I couldn’t see it due to the fog, so I have no idea what happened. Couldn’t find anything about it in the United post-match report either so apparently we’re just deleting that from the history of the earth which is completely fine by me to be honest.

Second half:

My main takeaway from this game is that both Sigsworth and Ross always seem to be looking for the same ball in the penalty area, and there very rarely seems to be anybody else around looking for a potential rebound. I think that James (who missed today’s game due to suspension) seems to be our main (only?) front line creator and finisher; Sigsworth is fine, that girl works like a dog and always gets the job done, I think she may have just needed another goal to boost her confidence, but I have no real concerns with her. Ross, however, I’m not entirely convinced by, I think a lot of her finishes have been a bit lucky and flukey so far. I’d start Toone over her for the rest of the season to be honest, Ross hasn’t done anything that tells me she deserves the starting place. Feel free to disagree with this of course, this is just my own personal opinion.

56 mins – confusion has entered the chat. McManus ends up pretty much through on goal, and then the ref whistles for what I assumed to be an offside. So naturally I nearly kicked my laptop out the window. The ref then awards a United penalty, and I’m even more confused now than I was in the beginning. I genuinely didn’t see anything but did hear a few shouts from what I’m assuming was the United bench for handball, so I have no idea what happened here.

‘58 – GOAL. Who else? God bless Katie Zelem is all I’m saying.

‘61 – Hanson 🔁 Ross. I think this was a good swap. I don’t think Ross was particularly good today, and Hanson immediately sparked that RW. I would have subbed Ross off sooner but that’s my only issue.

’64 – GOAL – Sigsworth with a pretty perfect if slightly scruffy strike from a corner.

A much better corner than previous attempts, and Spurs hadn’t defended any of them particularly well. I think that we have a major issue with set pieces, I dunno what exactly the problem is, whether they need to allocate a new taker or whatever but before today had we scored from a corner all season? Lemme knowwww.

’65 – A few decent chances for Spurs around this time. One pretty clear run in from the right, and one or two shots bounced right of the crossbar and the post. Basically my heart stopped for about 8 mins.

’66 – I DO NOT WANT TO SEE BACK PASSES IN THE BOX AS OPPOSITION PLAYERS SWARM IN. CLEAR IT. I DON’T CARE WHERE IT GOES JUST GET IT OUT. (sorry for the caps but my anxiety was out in force this afternoon)

United started playing much better after both goals, think they just needed a kick up the arse. *Ahem* A confidence boost. 👀 Much better intensity for the final 30 mins than the previous 60 imo.

’68 – Another decent chance for Spurs, with Earps coming way too far off her line than sat right with me. Very lucky nothing came of that.

’69-72 – Around this time I started to get *very* confused between Amy and Abbie cause they both had yellow boots on and literally the only thing I could see on the far side of the pitch was feet. That was fun.

’73 – The wasteful corners made a return. Slightly less panicked about that one considering we were already 2-0 up but still, I would like to see the glaring set piece issue sorted asap thanks girls x

’75ish – Toone 🔁 Groenen. Man I love Jackie Groenen. She really has been immense for us so far, and there’s a definite difference in how we play without her.

’78 – Harris 🔁 M. Turner. I’ve said my piece about Harris above but man, can we take a second to appreciate Millie Turner. She never, ever stops. Literally the heart of our defence.

’86 – GOAL – Oh captain, my captain. Beautiful strike from a free kick just outside the box, with the perfect bend around the wall and subsequently the keeper to make it 3-0.

United were very obviously stronger in the second half, almost looked like a completely different team at times. Whether they just got the hairdryer treatment at the half (I would imagine Casey is terrifying when she’s mad.) or the goals gave them that spark they desperately needed to kick on, they definitely made up for all the missed chances in the first half.

’90 – 4 additional minutes.

’92 – Another United free kick. McManus found herself almost clear in (again!), but due to an unlucky fumble with the ball at her feet unfortunately nothing came from this one. Surely a 4th goal otherwise.

’93 – FIIIIIIIIGHT. Kinda. You love to see it. Spend a little while conducting some, scientific research 🌚 and have concluded that Toone was tackled from behind just as the ball left her feet, which led to the ~scuffle~. Have to say that Amy walking away with Ella was extremely 🥰🥰🥰 (This is my research - https://twitter.com/48hours8/status/1218896406020349953?s=21)

’94 – Red card for Tooney. I would assume for her reaction more than anything but the camera didn’t catch it so I guess we’ll never know. I would have thought a yellow would suffice, considering that’s all the Spurs player in question received, but apparently not. 🤔 I’m still kinda confused tbh.

’95 – Full time.

Thus concludes what was certainly an interesting match. Please enjoy this comparison of United vs Spurs chaotic energy from @danieljamesmufc

Also thanks for reading if you got this far, it’s a bit stop-starty and clunky cause I just wrote down thoughts and whatever as they came into my head and then pieced it all together later on. I also just wanna say that I was massively impressed with Smith today. She hasn’t had many chances to prove herself this season, but that combo of herself and Galton down the left was lethal today imo. 🔥

Some extra thoughts:

I’m not a huge fan (like, at all) of fans singing men’s orientated chants. Let the women’s rivalries develop on their own, in their own way, and don’t drag the vulgarities across! That said, I do think that particular group of United fans has the potential to be a very, very good thing.

Also, just wanna say that these are my girls, and I would die for every single one of them. None of my criticism is meant to be intentionally negative, I just tried to be as objective and realistic as possible, without being a fangirl lol. Even my faves aren’t immune to criticism unfortunately.

And this picture is now my favourite thing ever to exist

#that was actually pretty fun to write #living for katie and jess scoring in the same game #this took longer than i care to admit #pls be nice i’m fragile lol #muwfc #manchester united women #my writing

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cryptidcalling · 5 years ago

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Stay Warm (Aka Wren gets mild hypothermia)

Wren let out a deep, resigned sigh. As the night had gotten colder, so had the inside of his RV. He had tried cranking the heat higher and higher, but all that had come was more cold. Eventually, he knew he had to check the battery. He had been so sure he charged it that morning. Yet here he was not just with an uncharged battery, but after multiple attempts to charge it he knew it was a clearly dead battery. He hadn’t changed the thing for nearly 6 years now. It was bound to die out sooner or later. But now Wren was left with a problem. He had no power, which meant no heat, no charging his phone, no lights, nothing. In any other season this would have been fine. Wren was a skilled camper, and he would have happily set up his electric lanterns and relaxed for the night before buying a new battery in the morning. However, with winter setting in and blizzard scheduled for early morning, that wouldn’t do.

With one last glance at his dead battery, Wren headed back into the RV. It was all one large room, aside from the bathroom. His bed was tucked into the very back corner, and up against the left wall was the sofa and bathroom. Across from those was his little kitchen area, complete with a sink, fridge, and storage cabinet. The camper was tall enough to have a small loft, which Wren just used for extra storage. He flicked the light switch on and off, hoping for some kind of miracle to bring the power back. Of course, the lights remained off. Wren tried to keep his chin up. Surely, this wouldn’t be so bad. He could make it one night, easy peasy! It wasn’t like there was some huge blizzard coming, and he lived on top of a mountain where the plows couldn’t get up to clear the roads meaning he would be trapped up there until the snow cleared. Not at all! That definitely wasn’t the exact thing Haywood had been talking to him about at work that day. Nope.

He set off digging around his RV for things to keep him warm. There was a thick winter coat under his bed that he put on, and in the storage loft were a few spare blankets. He tossed them onto his bed, and ducked back under his bed to pull out a few extra pairs of socks. He had considered just keeping his boots on, but they were dirty and wet, which would just make things worse if it transferred to his sheets and blankets. He put on a sweater and sweatpants, his coat, and 3 pairs of completely mismatched socks, then grabbed his phone before curling up under his blanket mountain. He was still a bit chilly, but definitely much better than before. Now satisfied with his preparations, Wren clicked his phone on. The bright light of the screen hurt his eyes for a moment, but once he adjusted he was able to read the screen. 9:14 pm, 28% battery remaining. He flicked it back off. Hopefully he would be able to make that last long enough to get to work the next day. He’d be able to charge it there.

Wren slipped his glasses off and set them on the floor beside the bed. He might as well just get to sleep, it wasn’t like there was anything else to do. However, as the night went on getting to sleep proved to be more difficult than he had anticipated. As the minutes ticked on the temperature dropped steadily with them. Soon Wren was shivering despite his blanket cocoon. He tried to curl into himself further, wrapping his arms around his legs and tucking his face into his knees. It did little good. He could feel his fingers getting stiff and painfully swollen from the cold. Eventually numbness came to take the pain away from his fingers and toes, and then came creeping up his arms, legs, ears, nose, and cheeks.

It took a lot of jerking and fumbling, but eventually he managed to click his phone on once more. 10:56 pm, 8% battery remaining. The cold must have sapped away the power as well. He needed to get somewhere warm, and fast. He tried to push himself up and out of the blankets, but he could barely feel if his arms were even moving or not. He could try and sleep his truck and blast the heat, if only he could get there. It seemed as though the more he tried the harder things became. Even when he did get his head out of the covers, he couldn’t tell which way he was facing. His glasses were still on the floor, making his eyes completely useless at this point. He tried to reach around his bed to feel for them, but now he couldn’t remember where they were. Usually he left them on the sofa. Were they on the sofa? No, no they were… maybe he put them… no… Wren couldn’t remember. His mind felt foggy and strange. He let himself lay back down, not having the energy to properly support his weight much longer. In the back of his mind, he thought he could hear something, a thumping somewhere. Then his phone began to buzz. Wren screwed his eyes shut. The light was just too bright.

Haywood carefully drove up the winding mountain pass toward Wren’s RV. He was on his way to check on the younger man, just to be safe. They had already talked about the coming blizzard at work that day, but a part of him felt like Wren hadn’t been taking the cautions seriously. Maybe it was just the man’s sweet demeanor that made him seem so naive, or maybe it was the way he would tilt his happy head to the side like a puppy. Whatever it was, it made Haywood strangely protective of his friend. He had to drive carefully up the mountain because of the winding turns and small, practically useless guard rail. The clear danger of the path just fueled Haywood’s concern. Wren definitely wouldn’t make it to work with this path all covered in snow. Knowing him, though, he would try, and that could lead to a very nasty accident. Just the thought of it made Haywood’s heart clench with concern, and he picked up his speed just a little.

He was relieved when he finally made it to Wren’s RV, but that relief was immediately replaced with worry when he saw the lights were out. He checked his watch. 11:00 pm on the dot. He walked up to the front door and knocked. When he got no answer he tried again. “Wren? Wren it’s Haywood! I’m just here to check on ya!” He called. Again, he got no answer. He tried calling him once, twice, three times. He got nothing. “Wren!” He called again, this time with far more concern in his voice. He reached for the door, and found it was unlocked. The fool had always been more trusting than he should’ve been. “Wren buddy, where are ya? Pal?” He flicked the light switch, and felt a hard shock of fear when no lights came on. It took him only another split second to realize it was freezing in there.

Frantically looking around the RV, Haywood spotted the blanket mound and rushed over to it. Wren’s face was barely poking out. Haywood shook him, and saw his eyes wearily blink open. “Christ almighty! Wren! Wren we gotta go right now, ya here! Come on, you can warm up in my car, come on.” Wren made no move to get up, but his bleary eyes traveled up to Haywood.

“Who…?” Wren mumbled, his voice sounding weak.

“Haywood! Wren it’s Haywood, I’m here to help ya, don’t worry. Come on, we’re gonna get you to my truck. C’mon.” Haywood reached under Wren’s blanket pile to get a hand into his armpit, pulling him up to drape an arm over his shoulder. His whole body felt cold, even through the coat. He pulled Wren up and out of bed, and Wren stumbled heavily when his feet hit the ground. Haywood caught him, and quickly and carefully helped him toward the door. “My glasses,” Wren muttered.

“I’ll come back for ‘em,” Haywood promised. He was suddenly very grateful for how close he had parked to Wren’s door. He turned the car on, blasted the heat, and lay Wren down in the back seat. Immediately Wren closed his eyes, and Haywood wasn’t sure if he should be grateful or terrified. He ran back into the RV and found Wren’s glasses, stuffing them and Wren’s phone into his coat pocket before rushing back out into his car. Snow had begun to fall, and Haywood knew then that there was nothing more important than making it back home before the true blizzard hit.

So he drove, cursing the slow and winding trails of the mountain pass. Once it was safe enough to, he drove as fast as he could get away with until he got to his home. He got Wren out of the back seat and helped him inside, carefully laying him down on the couch. Captain came to investigate, sniffing at Wren’s hands and face until Haywood shooed him away. He draped several thick blankets over Wren, and he set the fireplace ablaze. Thankfully, none of Wren’s clothes were wet. Now all that was left to do was warm Wren up and wait.

He waited right there with him, watching and waiting for signs of Wren’s usual energy and warmth. Wren was conscious, but he felt far to tired to do much of anything. For a long while he didn’t say anything either, his mind still a bit too fuzzy to really feel grounded. But then, eventually, he turned and faced Haywood. Quickly, he gave Wren his glasses back, and they made eye contact. Wren offered him a gentle smile, and relief sank into Haywood’s bones.

“Hey there pal. How’re you holdin’ up?” Haywood asked in a quiet tone. He wasn’t sure how much Wren would be able to handle.

“”M, I’m okay. How come I’m at yer house?” Wren’s words were slow and mumbly, but still clearly understandable. He tried to remember himself, but his memory of the past hour or so was muddy at best, and nonexistent at worst.

“You’re here because I found you freezin’ to death in your RV. What were you thinking tryin’ to sleep in there? You could’ve died!”

Wren shied away from Haywood’s upset tone, tucking his face into the blankets a little. “I didn’t mean to worry ya. My battery died, so I figured I’d tough through one night an’ it would all be okay,” he explained. It sounded stupid when he said it out loud, and he felt a little ball of shame begin swirling in his gut. How could he have been so dumb? And selfish too, making his friend so worried! Haywood caught the look on Wren’s face.

“Hey, buddy it’s alright. Just use your head next time okay? I’m just happy you’re alright,” Haywood reassured. Wren didn’t feel particularly reassured, but he smiled at Haywood anyways. Haywood smiled back, then stood. “I’m gonna make us somethin’ warm to drink. You just stay there and get warm.” Wren nodded, and Haywood headed into the kitchen. Captain was laying on the tiles. “Go on and say hi to Wren. He ain’t feelin’ good, so you’ll make him real happy,” he said to the hound. Captain stood, his long tail wagging, and wandered off into the living room. Haywood could hear Wren’s delighted greeting when he spotted the dog. It made Haywood smile to himself.

He considered making them both hot chocolate, until he remembered something Wren had once mentioned to him. His parents used to make him warm apple cider when he was feeling upset. Haywood warmed up two large mugs of apple cider and headed back into the living room. Captain had jumped up onto the couch and was curled up against Wren’s side. Wren was scratching his neck, though he was clearly still having a bit of trouble using his fingers. Haywood sat down next to him and set his own mug on the coffee table. “Do you think you can hold this yourself?” Haywood asked. Wren nodded, and carefully took the mug from his hands. For a moment he just held it, letting the warmth seep into his aching hands. Once he was ready, he took a few sips from the mug, and his eyes lit up.

“You remembered!” Wren said cheerfully. It made Haywood feel quite proud of himself.

“I try,” Haywood replied warmly. “Now, what’re we gonna do about your stuff?”

“Whaddya mean?” Wren asked. He tilted his head slightly to the side, just like a puppy.

“I mean you clearly cain’t be stayin’ in that RV all winter. That path is barely safe to drive on when it’s clear, let alone covered in snow.”

“I’ve been livin’ there nearly four years now.”

“Yea and it’s a miracle you ain’t gotten hurt ‘till now. I don’t care where you’re stayin’. You’re welcome to stay here if you like, but I ain’t lettin’ you stay up there. No way in Hell.”

Wren seemed to take a moment to consider what Haywood said. Then, he looked back up to him. “You would really let me stay here? The whole winter? I don’t wanna intrude, but I don’t really got the money to afford a motel all winter long,” he admitted. In response, Haywood nodded.

“Look Wren, I’ve known you about four years, and I feel confident sayin’ that you’re a swell guy. I don’t mind helpin’ you out. You ain’t intruding if I invited you. We just gotta make sure we grab your stuff once it’s safe to go up the mountain.”

Wren’s smile was the most warm and happy thing Haywood had ever seen in his life. He had seen Wren smile before, he did it all the time, but this one was different. It made his chest feel warm, like looking at a baby bunny might make you feel. It was a smile that told him that he absolutely made the right choice. “Thank you,” Wren said. His tone had the same joy as his smile.

“Any time. You need somethin’ you just ask okay? I’m here to help,” Haywood promised. “Now just relax and drink your cider. You don’t gotta worry about nothin’.”

Wren did as he was told, cozying himself against the arm of the couch and happily sipping from his mug. Haywood flicked on the TV, trying to find a show Wren might enjoy. Eventually he was able to find a channel playing Chopped re-reuns, which they were both fairly happy with. They sat there together, with Wren chiming in here and there to say something about ingredients and recipes he needs to try. As the blizzard raged outside, the two of them remained safe and warm inside with a bloodhound smushed comfortably in between them. Soon enough Wren began to yawn, and his eyelids got progressively droopier and droopier.

“Hey pal, why don’t you head to bed? The spare room is right over there, by the staircase. It’s yours for the rest of the winter.” Wren nodded sleepily, sluggishly getting up. He kept one of the several blankets draped over his shoulders. It was nice to see him standing on his own and using his hands to properly grip things. It made Haywood really feel like everything was going to be okay.

“Nigh-night Arlo. Sweet dreams.”

“Night night, Wren. Sweet dreams. Stay warm.”

#Enjoy <=D!!#I'm posting this on tumblr instead of linking a google drive because it underlines their accent #and I find red lines distracting when i read so i figured this would make it easier!#wren tag #haywood tag

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johnny-and-dora · 6 years ago

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be my baby

“Are you okay? You’re spacing out again.” If he didn’t know better, Jake would think she actually sounds concerned. He knows she worries, a lot – he’s seen her stress braiding and shame smoking more times than he would like, and he’s coached her through more than one panic attack that was terrifying for the both of them. He wishes he knew what to do to help.

He wonders if she ever worries about him.

or, jake absolutely definitely couldn't care less about amy's love life. (mid season 1 pining)

It’s not like Jake hates Valentine’s Day.

He has no real reason to – unlike needless turkey murder day, there are no painful childhood memories of his absentee father breaking promises permeating this particular holiday, no having to sample his mom’s burnt cooking, no obligations to be in the holiday spirit. Sure, Jenny Gildenhorn ripped up the valentine’s card he made for her in eighth grade and he cried for like, a week, but his teenage heartbreak isn’t enough to ruin the day completely.

Not there are any particular warm and fuzzy memories he can recall, either - he signs up for the late shift or takes the overtime every year, and he usually spends it drowning out the fact that he’s probably going to die alone with seemingly endless piles of paperwork. He was first to volunteer for this stakeout tonight without a second thought, because usually Valentine’s Day comes and goes as little more than an excuse to bulk buy discount heart shaped candy.

This year, however, is different.

This year, he just so happens to be spending Valentine’s Day with Amy.

Not with Amy, of course – he means, with Amy in the sense that Amy is in his presence, sitting next to him in the passenger seat, anxiously drumming her nails against the dashboard and checking her watch every twenty-two seconds (not that he’s counting). Definitely absolutely not in the sense that he and Amy are dating, because as he’s told Charles several times – that’s straight up insanity.

He does not like Amy – and he definitely doesn’t care about Valentine’s Day. What’s more, he definitely hasn’t spent most of this stakeout with his jaw clenched as Amy complains about how she had to cancel a date with a guy she refuses to tell him anything about. He couldn’t care less about her dating life.

It doesn’t bother him at all.

“The deal was meant to go down twenty minutes ago. Do all perps have to have your time management skills?” She says, scrunching up her face in that cute little way she does whenever she gets frustrated. he’d come back with an epic burn, but he’s slightly too busy thinking about how he doesn’t care about Jenny Gildenhorn and how he doesn’t care about Amy’s love life and also how shiny Amy’s hair is.

“Peralta?”

“What?” He says. She furrows her brow.

He wonders if she ever worries about him.

“Okay dude, now you’re just creeping me out.”

“Sorry. Just thinking.” Jake says, quickly averting his gaze, feeling heat creep up his neck as he clears his throat. He returns to his previous activity of absentmindedly and chaotically drumming at ten and two on the steering wheel. She stares at him for a second before turning her attention back to the old dilapidated building they think is being used as a crack den. So romantic.

He’s been stealing glances at her all evening while he can get them – she’s more fidgety that usual, twisting her grandmothers ring on her finger, tapping her foot, chewing on her tongue. He feels bad that she had to miss her date for this – but less bad than he’d care to admit.

Okay, so maybe the concept of him maybe liking Amy isn’t straight up insanity. (He’s been staring at her like an idiot for the past four years. It’s not Charles’s greatest solve.) “…So, what’s he like?”

“What?”

“Your date.” He doesn’t know why he asks – maybe to kill time, maybe to keep the conversation going, maybe because he’s just curious. Amy narrows her eyes slightly like she doesn’t trust him genuinely taking an interest in her personal life, which is actually a little hurtful if he overanalyses it too hard.

She’s a friend – he’ll be the first to admit that his minor obsession with his kick-ass job means that he doesn’t have too many of those. There’s even fewer people in his life that stick around, and maybe he finds Amy’s consistency grounding, if he thinks about it in that way. Maybe it’s nice to know that someone has his back.

He’s never sure if she thinks of him in the same way. Jake’s just glad to know her, really, even if she is a dorky loser who’s always correcting his grammar and disapproving of his eating habits. That’s why he asks, really, because he does care, even if he’s made uncomfortable by it.

“What?” He shrugs, a defensive edge to his voice. “I really wanna know.”

She gives him a weird look before sighing, fiddling with the lid of her coffee cup, biting her lip like she always does when she’s nervous or apprehensive about something.

“He’s…nice.”

“Nice?” He wonders whether that’s all he has to be. She rolls her eyes.

“I don’t know. He’s a paediatric nurse and he’s sweet and we’ve been on a few dates and he’s just…nice.”

“That’s…nice.” Jake says, grinning as he mimics the pregnant pauses in her responses. She shoots him Classic Santiago Death Glare #5.

“Shut up!” Amy punches him in the arm and sits back in her seat, folding her arms defensively while he laughs. She tries to hide it by determinedly staring out the window, but he can tell that she’s smiling. He feels weirdly lighter for it.

It hits him that he’s happy – like, actually happy. That there aren’t many places he’d rather be tonight, and he really doesn’t think there’s anyone else he’d rather spend tonight of all nights sitting in a car staring at a crack den with. It’s a thought he’d rather push deep, deep down then act on, because the alternative is a whole world of terrifying possibilities that he is woefully unprepared to explore.

There’s a few beats of silence that make even the low hum of the radio feel far too loud.

“I’m sorry you had to cancel.” The sincerity just kind of spills out of him. He doesn’t like it.

“It’s not your fault, dummy.”

“We could’ve made the night shift do it.” He offers, but she shakes her head.

“It’s fine. Honestly, I was a little relieved.” She says, and he raises an eyebrow. There’s another brief silence while they watch someone walk by on the street outside - long enough for an fleeting intense vision of Amy confessing his undying love for him. Jake swallows thickly, willing his stupid brain to imagine something, anything else.

“I think I’m going to break up with him.” Amy says suddenly, still staring straight ahead, and this is new - for once, he can’t think of anything to say.

She finally looks at him after a pause that’s a second too long, dark eyes all wide and curious. He inclines his head slightly, trying to ignore the weird way he can suddenly feel his heart trying to burst out of his chest. It’s probably the caffeine.

“…Really? But he’s so…nice.” He says, half joking. She just rolls her eyes.

“It’s just not working out. We never have nights off together so we never see each other and…I don’t know. You know when you just…know?” She’s gesturing vaguely and he probably wouldn’t get what she means if they hadn’t been partners for four years. But they have, and he knows her better than he’d ever have the balls to openly admit, so he nods.

“Yeah. I do.” He says, because he does. Amy lets her hands fall back into her lap and she smiles at him and maybe there’s this tiny little cosmic shift between them, not unlike the one he might have felt on the rooftop last month, or the one when she bought him a coffee and they gossiped about the Sex Crimes Christmas Party in the copy room last week.

It’s nothing, really. But it could be.

“You just know that nothing will ever top our date, because you’ve been secretly lusting after me since-“

“- I will strangle you-“

“- the day we met.” She glares at him, pushing him playfully while he grins. If he wasn’t sure they were friends before he’s pretty certain now, and it feels good, even if she does spend the large majority of their friendship physically assaulting him every time he teases her.

As a peace offering, he gives her one of the lint covered sweetheart candies he finds in the pocket of his hoodie, a light pink “be my baby”. She smirks at him and he raises his eyebrows suggestively as she laughs and he has to admit this isn’t the worst Valentine’s Day he’s ever had. It might just make the top ten.

Amy’s confession of undying love for him ends up coming a bit late, because they catch their drug dealer ten minutes later and then other things rudely get in the way like lame pilsner-loving boring boyfriends and dream undercover assignments and defence attorney heartbreakers.

(It’s worth the wait - the next time they spend Valentine’s Day together, there’s wine and rose petals and Die Hard involved. She whispers “I love you” in his ear during a candlelight dinner, and again later when he’s tipsy and fumbling to unzip her dress, and it causes a cosmic shift that’s enough to change his whole universe altogether.)

#b99 #b99 fic #peraltiago #jake x amy #fics #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine nine #my writing #shut up sian #happy galentine's day pals!#here's some more pining because i gotta stay on brand apparently #hope you enjoy <3

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junker-town · 5 years ago

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T.J. Watt is showing he’s more than just J.J.’s little brother

T.J. Watt has been a star for the Steelers and could vault himself into the Defensive Player of the Year race.

It’s too bad that it might have taken another injury to his brother for T.J. to get noticed. Retired defensive end Stephen White explains why the Steelers’ young pass rusher is the real deal.

Earlier this season while I was working on Nick Bosa’s ”post-draft breakdown,” I noticed that both he and his brother, Joey, had at least three sacks at that point in the season. That got me a little curious, so I decided to check in on the other dynamic duo of edge rushing brothers, J.J. and his “little” brother T.J. Watt, to see what kind of seasons they were having statistically. That’s when I noticed that both of them also had at least three sacks after the fifth week of the season.

I watch all of the games every week, and it was apparent that all four guys were playing well, beyond just their sack totals. I started to muse that there was a good chance all four of them would make Pro Bowl at the end of this year.

If it were to happen and two sets of brothers were named to the Pro Bowl all at practically the same position, that would be unprecedented. Both J.J. and T.J. Watt made it last year, and Joey Bosa was selected in 2017. Back when I was writing Nick’s breakdown, I thought he might end up having a hard time breaking through just because he is a rookie. Since then, however, he has turned it on.

Of that foursome, T.J. Watt is the least heralded

While his big brother was drafted 11th overall, and both Bosas went in the top three, T.J. hung around until the 30th pick. It is worth noting that T.J., who is in his third year in the NFL, has a career high of 13 sacks, which is a half a sack more than Joey’s career high of 12.5.

Sacks are not the only measurement of an edge rusher’s impact. But what I’m saying here is while you may hear a little more about the other guys, T.J. definitely belongs in the conversation with them, too.

Fast forward to this past Sunday and the Bosas certainly did their part to keep pushing closer to a Pro Bowl berth. Nick was absolutely dominant in the 49ers’ rout of the Panthers, with three sacks and an interception, while Joey showed out in the Chargers’ comeback win over the Chicago Bears in which he posted two sacks of his own. Their combined five sacks broke the NFL record for sacks credited to brothers on the same day of the season.

Care to hazard a guess at who previously owned that record?

Yep, that’s right. The Watts had four sacks combined in Week 5 of last season to tie the record with Jimmy and Toby Williams, who also accomplished the feat back in 1985.

Unfortunately, Sunday wouldn’t go nearly as well for the Watt family.

J.J. left the Texans’ game in the middle of the second quarter after suffering an injury. A few hours after the game, he took to social media to announce that the injury would knock him out for the rest of the season. I can’t imagine how disappointing that news must have been for him after he bounced back from multiple injuries in the prime of his career. Selfishly, I was also a little upset because I just love watching the guy play football.

However, injuries are a part of the game, as anyone who has played will tell you, and the show must always go on. While I am sure T.J. was pretty bummed about his brother’s injury as well, he still had a game of his own to play on Monday night.

T.J. Watt biggest play against the Dolphins was a three-step masterpiece

As it turns out, the winless Dolphins still have some fight in them even with such a terrible start to their season. After an interception and a turnover on downs on the Steelers’ first two series, T.J. and his team found themselves down 14-0 right out of the gate on Monday night. The Steelers eventually got the lead in the third quarter, but it was a tight game throughout. Not only could T.J. not afford to be distracted by his brother’s situation, he would need to turn in one of his best performances of the year to help close out the game.

I want to point out probably the most impactful play he made in the second half on Monday night.

By the middle of the fourth quarter, the Steelers had pulled ahead 24-14 and were looking to close the door. The Dolphins had the ball at their own 28-yard line after their defense forced a punt.

The Dolphins came out with their quarterback, Ryan Fitzpatrick, in shotgun with two receivers and a tight end to his right, one wide receiver to his left, and the running back offset to his left beside him.

T.J. Watt was lined up at his usual spot on the left defensive edge in a nine-technique outside of the tight end. On the snap, tight end Mike Gesicki went right into his route straight up the field, leaving Dolphins right tackle Jesse Davis all by his lonesome to block Watt in space.

In about three seconds, here’s everything Watt did to help the Steelers secure the victory.

Step 1: Used a quick move to get by the OL

Watt got off the ball and took five hard steps in a flash to sell a speed rush and get Davis to bail out of his pass set.

On that fifth step, Watt planted his foot in the ground hard while simultaneously clubbing Davis’ inside (left) shoulder with Watt’s inside (right) hand. In one fluid motion, Watt executed what was essentially a jump cut inside of Davis while doing a quick arm-over with his outside (left) arm literally right over Davis’ head.

Step 2: Got to the quarterback

Watt was so quick with it that Davis couldn’t stop his feet to try to recover and step back. Instead, Davis could only manage to try lunge as Watt slipped by him inside, barely making contact with Watt at all. At the very last minute, Dolphins right guard Chris Reed noticed Watt had beaten Davis inside, but with Watt turning on the jets, Reed just couldn’t get over quick enough to help.

Step 3: Forced and recovered a fumble

Unsatisfied with just getting a sack, Watt made the most of his opportunity and reached with his inside (right) hand first for Fitzpatrick’s jersey, then for the ball. Watt snatched the football right out of Fitzpatrick’s hands and took him to the ground. Watt ended up flipping over with the ball securely in his hands, and it all happened so quickly that it took a second for it to register with the refs what had just happened.

In the blink of an eye, Watt had forced a turnover and nipped that Fitzmagic in the bud.

The Steelers’ offense took over from the Dolphins’ 22-yard line and went on to extend their lead to 17 points by making field goal. That was definitely the kind of play, both in terms of skill needed to make it and impact, that you would expect a Pro Bowl-type player to make.

T.J. Watt could find himself in the Defensive Player of the Year race

Well, my daydream of two sets of brothers making the Pro Bowl may be over after J.J.’s injury, but don’t be surprised if T.J. Watt not only still makes it, but also jumps into the Defensive Player of the Year discussion by the end of the season, too. His two sacks in Week 8 gave him six for the season, which is just off the seven that both of the Bosa brothers have now.

With Ben Roethlisberger out for the year, if the 3-4 Steelers some how manage to claw their way back into the playoff hunt, you can bet that T.J. will have been a big part of that effort. Even if they don’t make the playoffs, there is a very good chance that T.J. will still go on to have the kind of monster year that would make him hard to ignore in any DPOY conversation.

It is a shame that it might have taken another injury to his brother for T.J. to escape from his shadow, considering how well T.J. has played in his own right since being drafted in 2017. But if it is the case that you hadn’t been paying much attention to T.J. until now, this is the perfect time to get familiar because that guy is a friggin’ beast on the field.

Yes, T.J. isn’t quite on J.J.’s level, but he is a damn good player, nonetheless. He’s the real deal, not just a dude riding his big brother’s coattails. Everyone would be wise to recognize that, because it is looking more and more likely that T.J. is going to be kicking ass for a very long time in this league.

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