#and the day i forget to get them is the day before i work

[astonmartingf]

YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND—

— co-parenting with alonso has been smooth sailing, until he starts dropping hints that he wants to be with you again

P7 ★ WHEN IN DOUBT, BLAME ALPINE

amgf ahhh it's sad, but we're getting there, because all things must come to an end. honestly i had a hard time writing this because how do i end things and let go of them? it's a struggle really but we work with it. like always, enjoy this chapter 👍

previous ★ masterlist ★ next

You stand still, silence surrounding the kitchen. There were no more words left to say, as they all left your mouth in utter silence. You watch Ales' from the baby monitor set on the kitchen island, sleeping in peace— content, calm, without a worry of the world.

You'd do everything for your son, you'd do anything for this family, and what Alonso did— you couldn't let it pass by you.

The familiar squeak of the front door hinges swept you off your own thoughts. Staring at the tiled walls in the kitchen, you rely on your senses anticipating Fernando as his shadows inch closer to yours.

"Hey."

Jerking from the warm touch of his palms against your cold shoulder. You stand still, Fernando presses his weight on your back, pulling you in an embrace, leaving soft kisses from your neck trailing down to your shoulders. You sigh in content, hoping and praying to forget as you blissfully ignore the slowly building concerns looming over your head.

"Amor, how was your day?"

You look over the ceiling, biting your lip to alleviate the anger filling up your thoughts. Tongue in cheek, you gather up some form of courage to calmly get through the upcoming conversation without shouting or bursting into tears. You give him the benefit of the doubt though, maybe they were just run of the mill rumors to form clicks for views.

"Have you seen my messages?" You gulp down your sighs, surprised at the shaky tone of your own voice. You wanted more than to be out of this conversation, as the constant feeling bubbling inside you loomed heavier and heavier, waiting in anticipation at the culmination of your emotions, at your poor attempts at keeping them at bay.

"I haven't yet, why? Did you want me to buy something for Ales?" You turn around stopping him from reading your message, wanting to avoid the conversation for a later time, choosing to drown in the burden of your own thoughts.

Fernando was a beat earlier than you— you panic as the smile in his eyes fell at a glance of your message.

"You knew?" Your brows furrowed, fully taking in his words, "I knew? Is it true? Are you racing again?"

Fernando's eyes looked over yours, "Isn't this exciting? I never thought I would have a chance to race again, but they offered and I accepted it."

You stumble backwards, at a loss for words. And slowly, the thoughts clouding in your head were becoming a reality.

Fernando catches your silence and reluctance to the news, pulling away from you, his hands cup the apples of your cheeks leaving you no choice to look at him.

"Are you not happy? This is good isn't it?"

You stare at his eyes, shining in excitement at the thought of racing once more. The idea never even entered your head, you never thought that Fernando would want to get back to racing.

You gulp the bile forming to jump out your throat, nodding your head— not trusting your own words. "Yeah. It's good to be back Fer."

yourusername 11/21/2021

liked by nicorosberg and 21 others

yourusername beach day with uncle nico is a must in monaco

"YN talk to me, why can't we be together? You think I'll just accept this? Explain to me please, tell me where I did you wrong. What did I do? Is this about racing? Again?" Fernando runs to catch you in your shared bedroom, trying to keep up with the pace you set, sliding inside before you ought to close the door on him.

You turn around, mouth hanging wide, "Again? Is that all you think about? Racing? What about our family? You didn't even tell me about your choice, what was I supposed to say to you? You already made the decision for yourself!"

Fernando scoffs at your words, "You should've said you didn't like it! Why are you blaming me for your lack of communication?"

"You're one to talk about communication, you didn't bother telling me, I was blindsided Fer! One second I thought we'd live like a normal family and the next you're back racing every other week and you're leaving us behind!" You throw your hands in frustration and confusion as you try to get your point across to him.

Fernando put his palms up his face, at a loss for words. "Why are you getting ahead of yourself? Are you even listening to what you said? You're my wife for God's sake, we have a son together why would I leave you? It'll just be like before, I will come back to you two."

Fernando rubs your shoulders in an attempt to comfort you, in the hopes you'd understand his concerns.

"You say that, but we've been there already Fer. I single handedly witnessed everything that has happened to you while racing, and with Ales— I don't think I can... I don't think I want to constantly be on the edge of my seat worrying for tomorrow, and what will happen to you on the track."

With the tension up, words were spouted left and right, with no time to think before speaking, the arguments echoed back and forth to each other.

"Oh so you're giving up on us now?"

You scoff at Fernando's words, "Giving up? You did that first when you chose the racing contract over this family!"

Raising his hands, Fernando shouts in anger, "I just wanted to race, is it bad to pursue my passion? I support you in your career, can't I have that as well? It is my choice! At least we didn't get married yet if we're going to be like this then?"

You stand in silence, tears pooling at your eyes, feeling your world stop. In front of you, you watch Fernando shake his head at the realization of his words. "Amor—"

You step away from him, your shaky breaths fill the room clutching your chest, suffocating at your misery. Trying to drown out Fernando's pleas, erasing his words from your head, despite it being etched into every crevice in your head, taking home in your hollow heart.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that— no amount of words can ever make it better. Please say something? Tell me you hate me? Please amor, resent me. Whatever you want I will do."

You watch Fernando wince at your bloodshot eyes, as he reluctantly inches closer to you, afraid you'd leave him, like a glass slowly falling out of his hands. It was far too late now.

You let him in your embrace, knowing very well it would be the last time you'd see him, choosing yourself this time— choosing your son over the family you built together. You let yourself wallow in the last moments of comfort in his arms, because after this it'll just be you.

"Whatever? Then I guess I'm taking Alejandro with me. We're leaving so you can focus on your race. I hope you know that even then and now, I will be waiting. As much as it hurts— this needs to be done. I love you Alonso."

Pushing him away from your embrace, you savor in a last kiss before leaving him alone in the room.

yourusername 6/29/2022

liked by lancestroll and 33 others

yourusername happiest birthday to the light of my life ales. mama and papa love you always, i hope to fill your life with love and laughter.

★ YOU'VE BEEN ON MY MIND — @namgification @nebarious @minkyungseokie @viennakarma @lxclerc @booksandflowrs @c-losur3 @lichterfee @moonyzsworld @e-nonsense @vicurious28 @dannyriccsupremacy @thearchieves @welovediaaxx @vogueprincess @mael1pastry @khaylin27 @whydowesleepeachnight @iridescent-sol

#f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #fernando alonso smau #fernando alonso fluff #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine

[hotchfiles]

↪ day twelve. dinner party stories — #marchhotchness

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ [family line] ❞

pairing: hotchner x fem!reader. summary: he snickers when he secretly whispers you that and you’re sure this is the family you were born to be after all, it just took you a little while to find it. or: aaron shows what the unconditional love of a family should be like. content warnings: not proofread, a lot of family issues brought up, weight gain mention (negatively once, then positively), reader's parents being annoying and kind of mean. word count: 2.4K

aaron sees it in your eyes, in your breathing, in the way you move. he sees it in the way you’ve been playing more with your necklace and by how you can’t seem to stop spinning your engagement ring around your finger. he hasn’t seen you this anxious in months, and back then you were working on finishing your dissertation and it collided with the company you worked at losing clients, it was chaos. he knew right now there was no chaos in sight, so it could only mean one thing. 

“honey, did you speak to your parents recently?” his voice is always as soft as a feather when talking to you, even in the rare instances you argue. 

you turn from the scrabble pieces and set your wine glass down, not minding the interruption to the cozy game when his voice sounded like that and his eyes looked at you like you were something so precious you could break. 

“no, babe, why d’you ask?” 

“you’re fidgeting like an hyperactive kid who hasn’t been put on ritalin yet lately.” his explanation catches you off guard in a way that you almost reprehend him saying his name in a high pitched voice and slapping his arm in between laughter. his smirk shows you just how accomplished he feels that he made you laugh like that. 

aaron takes both of your hands in his, kissing your knuckles and urging you to talk with him just by the way he looked into your eyes, eagerly waiting for you to vent about what was making you so restless. 

“i haven’t told them about the engagement yet. i want to have them over for dinner, to share the news but they are so…” you sigh profoundly, looking up to the ceiling trying to finish that though in a way that made sense. “difficult.” 

aaron knows what difficult really means. it means patronizing. it means unsupportive. unwilling. unhelpful. it doesn’t mean unloving, but it means old fashioned in a way that it feels unloving. “we could have dinner in a nice restaurant instead, to ease up some of that pressure.” he suggests, always the problem solver. 

“it would be perfect, handsome, but we did that last time…” your voice trails off, laying your head on his lap, urging him to gently pass his fingers through your hair by that act alone, cozying up to him in an attempt to ignore the problem at hand. 

hotch follows your lead, not forgetting to place a kiss on your forehead, but also, not letting the problem go. “and my dear future mother in law will start dropping hints again that we don’t want them here.” you nod quietly. “alright. don’t call. text her inviting them over with the details. less talking.” 

you groan, “she will complain about that too…”

“once they’re here.” he kisses your forehead, “so it’s only one,” and your nose, “night,” your right cheek, “of,” your left cheek, and you’re already grinning like an idiot, holding in your laughter at his boyishness, “complaining.” aaron finishes, brushing his lips against yours. you nod and pull your head up slightly, finally connecting you two in a sweet slow kiss.

you get your big girl pants on after a delicious making out session with your fiance, the scrabble pieces long forgotten as you gulp down your whole glass of wine and pick up your phone. his hair is messy, his cheeks are flushed and he grins at you with reassurance pouring from his sweet eyes as you send your mother the text, throwing your phone back to the table before seeing a response and going back straight to his arms.

he made it easier, always. helped you sort your feelings out, helped you find out the less stressing way to solve your problems. it was a joy to have him, to watch how he talked to jack and see how it should be.

more often than you would like to admit, you caught yourself thinking wow my parents would not let that slide, and then you would be faced with the reality that they were in the wrong, not aaron.

you talked to him about it once, asked how could he be so sweet and so effortlessly so to jack, his answer came quickly, no hesitation: jack had lost enough, losing his trust on his dad was not something aaron would let happen, he didn’t want jack to go through what he had as a child.

then it clicked to you once more, how you would never want to treat your hypothetical children like you had been treated too. 

you try not to think too much about these things too often nowadays, but even as you laid on aaron’s chest and felt his fingers lightly, softly, trace designs on your skin, now all you could think about was the damned dinner.

your mom wasn’t too judgy when it came to what you cooked, your dad was and annoyingly so, always had some remark about what would have made the food better, just like he did to your mother back home. 

so first thing you did the next morning was think through all dinners and remarks and find something you could do following his tips to lessen the complaining, aaron’s idea, of course. 

“he always says my lasagna is delicious but too dry,” you mumble to yourself, but not really, you have your earphones on and aaron on call, in the office doing reports he was able to entertain you as you picked up ingredients for extra sauce.

you can hear him smiling, the sound of his aggressive pen on paper stopping for a second, “even rossi loves your lasagna, it is delicious. just give your father a bowl full of sauce, he will be happier.” you snort and he goes back to his papers, satisfied to have made you laugh through the stress.

gathering the rest of the ingredients is easy enough, you’re already used to the grocery store’s layout and setup, you keep him on the line either way, a tradition you both kept whenever you were doing monotonous tasks, even when he didn’t speak, listening to his breathing, the shuffling of papers and his pen quickly making work through all his reports made you smile, calmed you down.

hotch thought it was silly at first, but quickly warmed up to it when he heard you softly,  secretive so, humming songs to yourself as you worked on your own reports, or went shopping, not to mention how adorable he found you to be when you forgot he was on the line and jumped scared as he spoke something.

most of all, he loved being immersed in a paper trail and being surprised by a hey i love you right in his ear as if you were there.

it pained him to know how much of yourself you tried to mute down to please your parents when he loved every single tiny piece of what made you… you.  

hotch excused himself from the call to talk to rossi just as you were about to go back home, satisfied you convinced him to get rossi’s sauce recipe. 

“hers is great, why does she need mine?” rossi sound almost exasperated, as if hotch himself had said something about your cooking. he is quick to reassure that’s not the case and explain how you’re trying to please your father, dave doesn’t seem that much happier about it, always pleased with the dishes you made for dinner parties at his mansion, but he still takes his phone and sends you a voice note explaining each step of his homemade tomato sauce. “anything else?”

“i need a favor as well. i’m gonna need the next weekend off for this.” hotch begins, he knows rossi would never mind that, no one would, in fact most people from the bureau agreed he needed time off. “i know myself enough, i need to be completely off, no calls, no briefings.” he’s learnt his lesson from too many past mistakes, if he knows the case, if he knows the team needs him, he will be putting his job above anything else, aaron can’t afford to do that anymore, so he prevents it. 

his left thumb rubs the side of his index finger, his way to calm his racing thoughts, just the possibility of ruining this dinner has him anxious, this little habit of his was something he hadn’t even noticed he did before he met you. it was one of his tells and he never realized before you took his hand in yours and looked sweetly into his eyes saying you’re stimming, what’s wrong? in the softest tone he had ever heard anyone speak to him. 

you were always quick to notice if anyone around you didn’t feel well, always a caretaker, it was a sight to take in and a pain to prove you so, being seen as selfish your whole life at home. 

that day he got home late, jack was doing his homework with your help while you worked on a few things on your laptop—a presentation you needed to finish soon as possible to get the next friday off. 

his office had become a shared office with your help, a u shaped desk where both of you could work being one of the first changes you made to it as soon as you moved in, it was perfect and it gave jack space to sit close to either of you when he needed help.

the sides faced the walls while and front faced the window where you and jack sat, focused, it gave hotch time to lean in the door frame and watch you both.

“i’m not sure about that one, jack-jack…” you stop typing to read the question in his book again, impressed with how little you remember of school math. “if i google this up, promise not to tell your teacher?” aaron clears his throat at the question, catching your attention and making you laugh: caught in the act. 

“no google, buddy, sorry.” jack scrunches his nose at his father’s ruling out, a loud groan coming from his pre teen little voice. 

“told ya we should have started this earlierrrr—“ you tease the boy, insinuating you two would have been able to find the answer online without his dad knowing then, you ruffle his short hair softly, loving the endearing smile he always gives you when you do that.

his smile quickly turns into a yawn, the weight of the time stamped on aaron’s watch getting to jack’s eyes, “i’m sleepy.” 

“‘you can finish tomorrow, let’s get you two to bed, buddy.” 

hotch picks jack up and the young hotchner is nothing but a ball of giggles, always saying he’s too big for that now, but obviously still loving the attention. 

“enjoy while you can, jack-jack, your old man is not getting any younger.” 

“yeah? i’m carrying your ass to bed soon too, my back can handle you both for years still.” you and jack both laugh at him. it’s always almost as if a harsh mask melted when he got home, in its place would remain his soft features and the bickering you loved so dearly. 

it was warm. and kind. even when he came back home stressed, you never had to worry about accidentally setting him off or saying the wrong thing. it was a completely different dynamic than what you were used to. 

it takes a few minutes for hotch to come back, but he comes ready to make true of his promise, hands straight to your waist to carry you, tickling his way into your defenses, he laughs at your laughter and at how easy you melt to his touch. “i’m just finishing this up, babyy—“ your voice is purposefully whiny, pouting at him and getting a kiss in return, “go eat your dinner while i do it, i heated it up when i got your text!”

he stops trying to pull you up his shoulder or around his waist then, the look he gives you then reminds you of why you fell for him: sweet like caramel, always betraying his known frown. 

aaron looks at you like every act of kindness you do makes him fall in love again, and it does. he traces your features with his thumb in silence, the mix of his calloused fingers and the softness of his actions makes you sigh, leaning into it.

“i love you. i love our little family.” he kisses your forehead and leaves you to your presentation before you can even reply, before you can’t even tell him the two hotchner boys are the first healthy family you’ve ever been in.

you don’t even mind your dad complaining about your lasagna having way too much sauce the week after. aaron eats for the both of them, compliments every single decision you made while cooking.

the second your mother tells you you’ve been gaining weight, aaron replies with a simple “if anything, we’re both getting bigger and happier.” a squeeze tight to your knee, stopping you from tearing up at how that was the only thing your mother did notice.

they seemed happy about the engagement, but not too sure you’ll be able to care for him and his child as they needed to be cared for. you’re forgetful. you’re not maternal. you worry about work too much.

you’re not even sure how good news could lead to such rambling about your flaws but again, before you can either cry or lose control and yell—aaron comes in, his soft smile being completely betrayed by his furrowed brows and stern tone. he’s trying to be polite. “we take care of each other well, and together we care for jack. it works. we work.”

it’s simple but effective, what he wants is to shield you, to tell them how lucky they are you grew up as kind and hardworking when all they did was bring you down and doubt your feelings and your dreams.

he wants to show them drawings jack made of you and essays he wrote about his family. 

but for now he settles on being polite. there’s still the whole wedding preparation and the actual wedding to go through. he has time to do all that. right now he just makes sure to show you and them how much he supports you and how nothing they can ever say will change how he sees you. 

at least he’s glad his mother is dead, one less problematic in law to deal with.

he snickers when he secretly whispers you that and you’re sure this is the family you were born to be after all, it just took you a little while to find it.

#lari writes sometimes #lari march hotchness #marchhotchness #just about a month late #i was going to write the whole dinner then i was like you know what #no need #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotch x you #aaron hotch imagine #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #criminal minds x reader #hotch x reader #hotch x you #hotch imagine #hotch scenario

[naompspsps]

How they would act when you fall asleep on their shoulder Pt. 7

Part 6 (Ortho, Deuce, Jade)

Summary: You had a long morning, and you didn't even get enough sleep so now you are very tired, But sitting with them in the courtyard during lunch break, while they talk you find yourself falling asleep, your head on their shoulder.

Ft. Ruggie, Rook & Jack x GN!Reader [Seperate]

A/n: What happens if you fall off the well in the courtyard?? Just a question im genuinely concerned.

Rook being rook; calling you french names, Jack being his normal tsundere self, You teasing the ghosts out of Ruggie, Softruggiesoftruggiesoftruggie SOFT RUGGIE. Fluff<33

! do not repost or translate my works anywhere. do not copy or use my works in any site, Reblogs are appreciated alot though !

Ruggie

He'd be soft, surpriseee! Ruggie's that type to soften everytime he speaks to you or if you even have eye contact with him. He can be sly, but with you around? You and your bold flirting? Dear me, He's on the ground. Either dead or on his knees like he's the man kneeling in the supremacy meme.

So if you just sleep on his shoulder, The only thing he can do is blush too hard that he has to look away. He also cares about your health, Like.. It's a really hot day in NRC, why are you sleeping while wearing your blazer?? Even he removed his blazer so how are you still surviving the heat? But as I said, You and your bold flirting would tease him alot.

"The teacher did nothing about it-" He laughs, then he suddenly stops to look at you. Oh wonderland, You usually laugh along but today you aren't. "[Name]??" He worriedly calls out. You can hear the pure concern in his voice. You doze off, about to fall forward until his reflexes kick in and catch you. One hand grasping the back of your blazer and his other forearm infront, near your shoulders "Woah, Hey now, What's goin' on with you?" He asks, gently pulling you back. You open your eyes, rubbing them and yawning. "Huh?.." You mumble quietly. "Whaddya mean 'huh'?! You almost fell forward!" Ruggie removes his hand off your blazer, wrapping his arms around your shoulders.

"Sorry.. I just-.. Got a bit sleepy.." You yawn once again. You fix your position, laying your head on his shoulder, your hand taking Ruggie's sneakily. "Hey- What're you-" You quickly hush him. "Quiet, hun, I'm trying to sleep." His ears twitch slightly. "Hun?.." He repeats quietly, His tail wagging as he blushes. "Hey- [Name].. Maybe you should uh.. Take off your blazer? It's burnin' hot in here, Don't want cha to sweat in your sleep.." He whispers, You chuckle as your eyes kept shut. "Aw, You care about me, How sweet, But I'm alright darling, Don't worry so much." He looks away. "Forget it, Just go to sleep!" You let out a laugh. "Alright alright."

Rook

This bob-cut secretly sport french simp for not only you but the housewarden of his own dorm? He would be too happy. Start calling you french names, give your head a lil' rub, and hold your hand, his thumb tracing circles it.

His first reaction would be surprise, but then get simp mode on, and then finally back to his flamboyant personality. Like the prefect, that everyone probably has a crush on, the prettiest person alive, Is sleeping on me. Suck on that losers!

You can feel Rook's gaze on you, but you can even care less. You yawn, flipping through the pages of your book. Trying to read it, but fail. The words are so blurry.. You let out a tired sigh, closing the book and putting it aside, As you rest your head on Rook's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Just too tired.. Need something to sleep on." You softly mumble out, Rook is surprised, but that surprise turned to total realization along with blush.

"Oh no, It's most definitely alright Amour!" Rook enthusiastically replies, you let out a soft chuckle before resting, Feeling his hand on your head, rubbing it. Then he takes it off, and holds your hand, his grip is strong.. He rubs circles on your hand with his thumb, Helping you sooth to sleep. You can hear him mumbling love names in french, you've heard these words before. "Sweet dreams, Miel." Honey? Now where did that come from? You ask yourself. But you shrug it off and relax.

Jack

I smell tsundere. He'd be a tsundere about it. Based on how he really acts in the game, he's a tsundere that doesn't know how to hide it and makes the worst excuses possible. Sometimes it's good but his stutters ruin the whole excuse.

You would find the best teases possible, and it makes his tail wag, he literally does not want you to see him soften at you. But you know he's just a soft lil wolf. If you can, You would squeeze him. Be Floyd rn,

You could tell Jack was worried about you, you could just see it in his eyes. He doesn't want to ask, but who else is there to notice how you've been dropping your head and desks without flinching to a single fling of pain? Could be everyone but they just don't care, yet he does. The so called 'big bad wolf' cares about you more than any ordinary kind people but tries to be discreet with it. You write in your notebook, the writings very much bad due to your vision and mind unable to work together. You know what? To help it, You close your notebook shut with the pen still inside the notebook, and put it aside.

Your head swiftly collapses on Jack's shoulder, In which, He already looks at you. "What are you doing?" You yawn softly, your eyes automatically closing. "Just resting, You're soft.." You whisper. "A- Hey. I'm not soft." Jack crosses his arms. "I mean it in both ways. You're soft and physically soft. I can snuggle with you all day." You laugh tiredly. Jack only looks away. "I'm not soft in 'both' ways." He mumbles with a scoff. "Aw, Don't give me that attitude." You whisper, hugging his arm and finally falling asleep. That was.. Quick. Jack didn't expect you to immediately sleep. Guess you really are just tired. "Whatever." He puts his arm around you, keeping you more comfortable.

Author's end note: The savanaclaw boys are gonna kill me anytime now and it's not with a knife. WORDS. 🔥🔥 Ruggie, It's almost your birthday and i managed to save up only one 10 pull for you 😭 I mean if i include the free 10 pull for when its ur birthday then 20 pulls 😭😭

! do not repost or translate my works anywhere. do not copy or use my works in any site, Reblogs are appreciated alot though !

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #gn reader #twisted wonderland x reader #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #ruggie bucchi x reader #ruggie bucchi x yuu #rook hunt #twst rook #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt x yuu #jack howl #twst jack #jack howl x reader #jack howl x yuu

[syo0x]

✿Reminds me of you~

•Giving your husband some flowers~

•Characters: Chuuya, Sigma

Part 2

`*•.¸,¤°´✿.｡.:*`*•.¸,¤°´✿.｡.:*`*•.¸,¤°´✿.｡.:*`*•.¸,¤°´.•°

✿ Chuuya

You were walking to go home as you spotted a flower shop as you said to yourself why not to buy your husband one?

You decided to pick red roses since he loved them and suits him a lot.

After an hour of waiting, your husband as it came home tired and exhausted from work. "I told you, doll, you didn't have to wait for me."

You excitedly hugged him and wanted to see his reaction you're about to give to him.

"I have something to give you..! and a consideration for being a lovable husband."

Chuuya’s eyes opened softly at your words. He was interested now, but he had to ask. His eyebrows raised as he looked at you, a playful smirk coming on to his face.

“Now you have my attention, Doll. What’d you wanna give me~?”

You get the boquet of red roses and giving it to him with a smile

"Ta da..~"

Chuuya’s eyes widened at the sight of the beautiful bouquet of red roses. A thoughtful gift? Such a loving gesture? From his wife? He felt himself growing flustered. He had to stay cool. Had to…

“You got these… for me?” He murmured, his hands reaching out to clasp the bouquet. He then took a long sniff of its potent scent, the roses giving off a lovely, calming and sweet fragrance. A smell that would always be associated with you and you alone.

“Thank you… Doll, but why this suddenly? Just for being a good husband? Isn’t that just… what I’m supposed to be doing?"

"Of course im giving it to you cause i love you..!" you said.

He chuckled and as a blush getting more visible to his cheeks.

"I love you too, doll..." He said and planted a kiss from your lips.

Seeing him with the bouquet of roses making your heart melt... this is such a memory from both of you that impossibly can not forget.

`*•.¸,¤°´✿.｡.:*`*•.¸,¤°´✿.｡.:*`*•.¸,¤°´✿.｡.:*`*•.¸,¤°´.•°

✿ Sigma

It's finally the day you're going to visit your husband at the Sky Casino, You were all prepared to meet him as you just hope that he's not overworking himself again.

You arrived at the Sky Casino as you forgot something. Right..! Your gift for your husband... you were panicking as you remember you left it on the doorway as you got distracted seeing your sunflowers that you planted grew. As you have an idea to give him something the way you view him.

Finally, you and your husband meet up as he looks tired and worn out. "Dear, i missed you..." He said as he hugged you.

You hugged him back and feeling each others embrace, Sigma felt warm and safe. This is all he could ever want.

"I wanna give you something," you said.

Sigma’s eyes seemed like they would light up at the mention of getting a present.

“Really? What is it?” He asked in a quiet and loving voice.

You gave your husband the sunflower as his eyes widened as he was fascinated by the sunflower.

"Is this... what you planted last month?, It really bloomed beautiful."

"Mhm.. it really reminds me of you..."

You could see the blush that spread across your husband's cheeks, as he said.

“It does? How so?” He asked in a quiet voice as he looked at the sunflower, then you with those grey eyes of his before a small smile spread across his lips.

"Well... even the appearance is not that similar to you, but the way you always make me positive and love me makes me even fall for you even more"

His cheeks turned even redder as he looked at you.

“I-Is that so…?” He asked in a soft and barely audible voice as he blushed. Sigma would then look at the sunflower as he smiled back at you.

“So… this little flower resembles that…?” He asked with a slight smile as he held the sunflower tightly.

“…You know… whenever I have doubts about myself or the casino or sometimes I panic… sometimes even when you are not around… I can hold that flower and remember how much you love me… how much you support me and make me feel special…” He said as he looked at the sunflower with warm eyes.

“…I don’t say this out loud very often… but… I really do love you a lot.” He finished as his lips parted in the softest and cutest smile you've ever seen...

I-.. I love you too. You said, smiling back to him warmly.

As now both of you were flustered by those words you've exchanged to eachother. You were really glad to marry him.

`*•.¸,¤°´✿.｡.:*`*•.¸,¤°´✿.｡.:*`*•.¸,¤°´✿.｡.:*`*•.¸,¤°´.•°

#bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd fluff #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #chuuya x reader #sigma x reader

[rottenpumpkin13]

Just wanted to say ur posts always make me cackle 😂. Forget them haters!

Thoughts on how AGSZC would react at the dentist??

(thank you ❤️ 😂 )

Angeal: SOLDIER has a dedicated team of dentists who provide dental care for its operatives, and Angeal is eternally grateful for it. Because his family didn't have much money, he rarely had the opportunity to visit the dentist. While Hollander did offer dental treatments on multiple occasions, Angeal's mother was always wary of Hollander being near her son. So when Angeal joins the army and SOLDIER and gets ready access to dental care, he's determined to follow the dentist's instructions. Too determined, really. He thinks it's a competition.

Angeal: So what's my grade? Dentist: You don't get graded on your oral hygiene. Angeal: But how are my teeth? Dentist: They're in perfect condition⏤ Angeal: Perfect I got an A. Dentist: Angeal: Take that, Genesis. Dentist: Angeal: He got an F didn't he?

Sephiroth: His experiences with dentists have been limited to Hojo either performing his dental work himself or closely monitoring professionals during surgeries and unnecessary procedures (like pulling out teeth to observe how fast they grow). Needless to say, he was hesitant about visiting a regular dentist until Angeal suggested it to show him that not all dentist experiences are uncomfortable.

Sephiroth is pleasantly surprised by the dentist's office he visits in Sector 8.

*During his appointment* Dentist: How are you finding things? Sephiroth: Excellent. The waiting area was stocked with books and magazines, there was calming music, the receptionist offered me coffee. Now there's a TV on the ceiling, which I'm so distracted by that I barely notice the treatment being done. You're also being very gentle. Thank you. Dentist: I'm flattered⏤ Sephiroth: It's nice not having to worry about one of my teeth being extracted against my will. Dentist:

Genesis: "He hates the dentist" is what he tells people, when in reality he lives in constant fear that he'll randomly black out one day and wake up strapped to a dentist chair. No one knows why, not even Genesis himself understands why the dentist makes him so uncomfortable. He doesn't like sitting with his mouth open while someone pokes around in there, he doesn't like how sterile the dentist office feels, he doesn't like the prospect of having a cavity or something he'll have to be treated for, so he combats this by simply not going to the dentist. Done. "If you don't know about it, it doesn't exist."

Unfortunately this backfires horribly the day Genesis won't stop complaining about a toothache⏤and refuses to get it checked⏤so Angeal and Sephiroth take matters into their own hands.

*Lazard sees Angeal and Sephiroth carrying an unconscious Genesis into the elevator* Lazard: Please tell me he's still alive. Sephiroth: No, not murder. We cast sleep on him. Angeal: We're taking him to the dentist. Lazard: And what will you do once he wakes up screaming? *Sephiroth produces a hammer out of nowhere* Lazard: ...............

Zack: Loves the dentist. LOVES it. If Zack could go to the dentist every week, he would.

Angeal: Hey buddy, how was the dentist?

Zack, with his face full of stickers and sucking a lollipop: It was great! They got a new gaming setup for the waiting room. And I watched a movie while the dentist worked, plus he was suuuper proud of how white and healthy my teeth are. He praised me, and I even got a gold star. Oh! And on my way out, he gave me a goody bag. *Zack lifts a bag filled with toothbrushes, toy cars and crayons* Sephiroth: Does the sign outside your dentist's office say 'Pediatric' before it? Zack: Yes, why?

Cloud: Cloud doesn't fear the dentist. The dentist fears Cloud. His dental records come with a warning for every new dentist at the barracks: "WARNING: BITER." He's not doing it on purpose, in fact, he'd rather not have the reflexes that make his jaw clamp shut tightly around foreign objects. His habits are also every dentists worst nightmare. Chewing ice, nail biting, using his teeth as a tool to open things, and drinking a blend of black coffee with soda "because it tastes nice."

Zack: How'd the dentist go? Cloud: He went to the E.R. Zack:

#headcanons #ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #zack fair #crisis core

[fluentmoviequoter]

Speed Limit 2525

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: When Tim Bradford goes head-to-head with a bomber, he finds himself on a bus carrying a bomb and you.

Warnings: spoilers for Speed (1994) (I think this qualifies as an AU/rewrite), angst, bombings, nightmares, death and fear of dying, teasing, fluff, a little make out scene at the end? basically every warning that applies to the movie and The Rookie. I also made up a story about "Reaper"

Word Count: 11.7k+ words

A/N: This isn't completely proofread, but I'll be back soon to check it. I hope you enjoy!🤍

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Shoot him.

Tim doesn’t feel the trigger depress, only the hot desert air beating against his face. Though the trigger doesn’t move, a bullet rips through the barrel and into Tim’s only surviving squad member. He yells to warn his teammate, but no sound comes out. The wind is loud in the desert, yet the sound of Tim’s friend falling against the sand seems to echo for miles.

“Bradford,” the injured soldier coughs. “Wrong target, Reaper.”

Tim’s chest is tight with guilt and anxiety when he wakes. The sheets are wrapped tightly around his legs, and his shallow breaths distract him from freeing himself. Before he has time to orient himself, Tim’s phone rings and snaps him out of his post-nightmare, adrenaline-fueled state as he reaches across the empty pillow to answer it.

“Bradford,” he says.

“Get to the station as soon as you can,” Sergeant Grey demands. “Your Metro captain has me calling everybody in. We’re sending patrol units out, too. It’s gonna be a long day, Tim.”

Tim forgets about the nightmare and the memory within as he rushes to get ready. Tim’s tunnel vision focuses on work, and everything else fades away. Middle-of-the-night calls aren’t unusual, especially for a Metro Sergeant like himself, but this many officers getting a wake-up call is. Whatever is happening is big, and it doesn’t sound to Tim like it will be over any time soon. He makes it to the station in record time, and his commander is directing the other Metro officers when he enters.

“We don’t have time,” she says suddenly. “I’m running this force from here. Sergeant Grey will fill you in on the way. Get to the target location and stick together. Bradford, you’re with Temple!”

Tim nods as Harry Temple walks to his side. Harry was one of Angela Lopez’s first patrol partners, but he decided Metro was a better fit when the time to move forward in his career came along. Like Tim, he was in the Army before becoming a police officer, and he and Tim have some shared experiences. Neither of them is overly eager to bond over them, however.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Tim asks Harry as he turns on the lights and sirens in the shop.

“All I heard was ‘elevator,’” Harry answers. “I’m assuming they’re more to this than that.”

“Listen up,” Sergeant Grey says over the radio. “This is your official brief. When we roll up to the scene, we go straight in. No time for questions after we exit these cars. Fifteen people are trapped on an express elevator. The owner of the building is also inside. A bomb took out the cables, and our bomber is demanding three million dollars, or he blows the emergency brake, too. Cell phone service is spotty in the building, so we can’t rely on that to track anyone or anything.”

“Cell phone service is nonexistent in the elevator. A defensive move against trade secrets,” someone adds.

“What’s our clock, Sergeant?” Harry radios.

“He gave one hour when he called, which leaves us with twenty-eight minutes.”

“The only thing that’ll stop the elevator is the basement, right?” Tim adds.

“The city plans to avoid that. They’re working to release the money.”

Tim stops the shop beside the curb at the front of the building. He leaves the lights on as he and Harry remove their weapons from the back and meet the rest of their tactical team in the lobby.

“We can’t just unload them,” an officer says.

“The bomber wired the elevator doors and the hatch to trigger the bomb. So, he’s crazy, but he ain’t stupid,” Wade explains as he enters.

“Harry volunteers to examine the device,” Tim interjects. “He was on the bomb squad in the Army.”

Harry turns to glare at Tim as he says, “Right. And since Bradford also has Army experience, he’d like to provide a second opinion.”

“Fine,” Wade says. “You two check it out. Hey! Where’s the nearest access panel?”

“32nd floor,” a nearby employee answers on his way out. “It’s in the hall by the storage closet.”

“Report only. We’re in a holding pattern until we get word from your Commander back at the station. Confirm building evac and keep your radios active.”

“What about the other elevators?” Harry asks the employee.

“In an emergency, all passenger cars go to the nearest floor and shut down,” he says.

Tim frowns and moves his gun to his side. “Looks like we’re walking up the stairs.”

Harry nods before sprinting up the stairs behind Tim. Tim outpaces him but waits at the access panel for Harry to arrive with his small tool kit. He begins removing the nuts from the metal cover while Tim watches the hallway. Harry gives Tim a signal and Tim lifts the metal sheet. Light filters into the elevator shaft as Tim crawls through the opening and moves to the top of the elevator, where the bomb rests.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is the L.A.P.D.,” Tim announces loudly. “There has been an elevator malfunction. Just relax and we’ll have you out of there as soon as possible.”

Harry looks up from the bomb and raises his hands in question.

“I didn’t lie,” Tim defends.

“I don’t recognize this work, Tim. Whoever our bomber is… he’s a pro and the work is solid,” Harry says.

“Bradford, Temple, hold position,” Wade radios. “We’re waiting to hear back from the bomber.”

Tim looks at his watch and muffles a curse. Their time is nearly out, and Tim continues to look at his watch rather than think about the lives in the metal death trap below his feet.

Harry sees the look in Tim’s eyes and decides to distract him. “Terrorist in a crowded room, five pounds of dynamite. He’s got a deadman’s stick. What do you do?”

“How close am I?” Tim asks, looking away from the elevator.

“Twenty feet.”

“Taser. He can’t let go with enough volts surging through him.”

“Alright, hot shot. Fifty feet?”

“Nice try.”

“Airport, then. Gunman with one hostage, using her for cover. He’s almost on a plane, you’re a hundred feet away.”

“Why is the hostage always a woman in these scenarios? Watch too many romcoms in the academy?”

“What do you do?” Harry repeats.

Tim kneels to examine the bomb once more and remembers his nightmare. Shoot him. He shakes his head before answering, “Shoot the hostage. Take her out of the equation, he can’t get to the plane, and I have a clear shot.”

“You are out of your mind, Bradford.”

“This is wrong,” Tim says suddenly. “He’s gonna blow it. How much do you think this elevator weighs?”

“Why? You wanna try to bench it?”

Tim doesn’t acknowledge the teasing as he adds, “We can do something about the hostages.”

“No shoot them, right?”

“Roof,” Tim reads as he points to a roof access sign. There’s a heavy-duty winch secured to the corner of the roof, and Tim runs to it as he says, “We don’t shoot them. Just take them out of the equation.”

Tim pulls the cable from the winch toward the elevator housing on the roof. He drops it in and watches it fall several feet before it catches.

“It’ll hold,” Tim tells Harry. “It’ll hold,” he repeats, quieter.

“Six minutes,” Harry alerts.

Tim throws his legs over the edge of the housing and lowers carefully onto the elevator cable. He hooks the winch hook to his tactical vest before moving down in the elevator shaft. Wade and the Metro team argue with the city council about releasing the money in the lobby, and no one has a clue that the shooter is listening to their radio frequencies. Without cell phones, they’re completely reliant on their radios to stay in touch with one another. Tim ignores his radio as he flips so he’s headfirst as he nears the trapped elevator.

“One more pop quiz,” Harry begins. “Psycho Sergeant Tim Bradford rigs an elevator to drop thirty stories. What do you do?”

Tim rolls his eyes before gesturing for Harry to hold the winch cable steady. A small pile of C4 waits beside his feet, but Tim ignores it as he secures the cable hook to the frame of the elevator.

“Why did I take this job?” Tim murmurs.

“Hey, a few more decades and you get a tiny pension and a free watch,” Harry answers.

“Hit the switch, Temple.”

Harry runs to the winch, hoping that the cables used to wash windows are strong enough to catch a free-falling elevator. He flips the switch, and the winch begins pulling in the cable. As the extra cable Tim pulled into the shaft begins unspooling, he moves up to the open access panel.

In the basement, a man missing a thumb presses a button on his handheld device. Instantaneously, a red light illuminates on the bomb. Tim sees it and throws himself through the access panel just before the bomb goes off. The passengers begin screaming, but the winch catches the falling elevator before it reaches the bottom of the shaft.

“What is happening, Bradford?” Wade asks, his concern evident over the radio.

“He’s early!” Harry yells as he returns from the roof.

“We have to get them out of the elevator. They can’t be lower than 28,” Tim exclaims.

When he and Harry meet the rest of their team on the 28th floor, they see that the elevator is stranded between floors. Only the floor is accessible from their current position, but there is no time to run up and down the stairs and look for the perfect access point. The elevator passengers lower to the floor and Tim and Harry pull people out one at a time. Tim pulls the last woman to safety seconds before the winch fails and the elevator plummets to the bottom of the shaft. After the sound of impact, Tim and Harry lean back against a wall and pant from the effort they exerted.

“Is your watch slow?” Tim asks.

“Nah. He jumped the gun,” Harry says with a shake of his head. “We had three minutes.”

“He blew more than the elevator. He blew his three million dollars. Why would he do that?”

“Maybe he decided it wasn’t worth it.”

Tim sits up as he declares, “He’s here.”

“He could have blown that thing from anywhere, Tim.”

“He knew we were doing something, that’s why he acted early. That means he’s close.”

“He’s not gonna corner himself in the building. The building we evacuated.” Harry leans his head back against the wall and thinks for a moment before he adds, “He’d want to be here, yes, but stay mobile… The elevators.”

“All of the passenger cars stopped, and we checked them.”

“Did we check the freight elevators?”

Tim’s eyes widen in realization as he and Harry push themselves to stand and run to the freight elevator doors. Once Tim pries the door open, he slides down the cable and lands on top of a car. Harry reluctantly follows and freezes when a noise echoes inside. Tim doesn’t notice Harry behind him as he prepares to enter the elevator. Before he can, a shotgun is fired between them, and Harry falls into the elevator. The man inside knocks him out with the butt of the shotgun, and Tim waits until the elevator moves up to drop in through the roof panel. As he lands, he looks up and sees a shotgun barrel in his face.

“I don’t suppose anybody would pay me three million dollars just for you,” the nine-fingered bomber muses.

He pulls the trigger, but the gun is empty. Tim removes his Glock from his side and demands the bomber lower the shotgun. He does so but opens his coat to reveal dynamite strapped to his chest and a deadman switch detonator in his hand.

“Hotshot,” the man begins. Tim’s jaw clenches as he realizes the man listened to their conversations over the radio, but he can’t say anything before the bomber says, “Terrorist holding a police hostage. He’s got enough dynamite to blow the building in half. What do you do?”

“Fifty cops are waiting for us in the basement,” Tim states.

“Standard flanking, I’m aware.” He presses a button on a device wired into the elevator controls. “So, maybe we’ll get off early.”

The elevator stops at a parking level, and Tim watches as the bomber pulls Harry toward the door. His eyes open slowly, and Tim keeps his eyes on Harry rather than the man pulling him.

“Well, end of the line, Bradford. This day has been a real disappointment, I don’t mind saying.”

“Why? Because you couldn’t kill everyone?” Tim asks.

“There will come a time, hotshot, when you will wish you’d never met me.”

“I’m already there.”

“Look! I have your partner, I’m in charge! I drop this stick and they clean us up with a sponge!”

“Go ahead!” Harry yells. “Drop the stick!” “Shut up!” Tim demands.

Harry looks at Tim and mouths, “Shoot the hostage.”

Shoot him. Wrong target, Reaper. Tim takes a deep breath and shifts his arms to shoot Harry in the leg. He collapses onto the floor, and the bomber steps back in shock before running into the garage. Tim steps over Harry to shoot behind the feeling suspect. As the man reaches the door, he looks over his shoulder to smile at Tim before he disappears. Tim can’t check on Harry as the garage explodes and the force pushes him back against the wall. As Tim collides with the concrete behind him, everything goes dark. And everything changes.

After Harry’s unplanned and involuntary retirement party, Tim nearly oversleeps. His alarm pulls him from a dreamless sleep, and he winces at the sound before turning it off. Before he showers, he decides to go for a quick run to clear his head. Once he’s dressed and ready for the day, he drives to his favorite café. It’s one of the only places in Los Angeles where you can get a decent cup of coffee and breakfast without being surrounded by millennials working on their screenplays. Tim nods at another regular, Vince, as he enters.

“Hey, Tim. You look awful,” Bob, the owner of the café, says.

“Thanks, Bob,” Tim grumbles.

“Pretty boy party too hard?” Vince asks Tim.

“I- I don’t remember that well.”

“Wake up alone?”

“Always do.”

“Must be nice,” Bob interjects. “The last time I partied like that I worked up married.”

Tim shakes his head as he accepts his order and walks out behind Vince. He sets his coffee on top of his truck as he retrieves his keys from his pocket. Vince’s bus starts behind Tim and pulls away from the curb. Tim turns to wave at Vince before unlocking his door.

After it crosses the first intersection, the bus explodes. Tim stumbles as he looks toward the source of the noise. He runs to the bus as it rolls to a stop and fights against the flames to help Vince, but it’s too late. As Tim lays his hands on his knees in shock, he notices an abandoned cell phone lying on the sidewalk behind him. It rings continuously, and Tim doesn’t hesitate before he answers the phone.

“What do you think, Bradford?” the bomber from last month asks. “You think if you and Harry find all the driver’s teeth they’ll give you another medal?”

“Where are you?” Tim demands.

“Twenty-second delay. I’m in the air duct when the garage blows. Did you think I wouldn’t come prepared? I spent two years on the elevator job. Two years. I invested myself in it. You couldn’t understand the commitment I have. A child, Tim, you’re a child. You ruin a man’s life’s work and then think you can walk away. You’ve got blinders on, but I got your attention now. Didn’t I, Tim?”

“Why didn’t you just come after me?”

“This is about money – 3.7 million. Not you and your ego. None of it had to happen, Tim, and I hope you realize that. How long do you think the driver’s wife and kids will wait before they get worried tonight?”

“When I find you, I will kill you,” Tim threatens.

“There’s a bomb on a bus, hotshot. Once the bus hits fifty miles an hour, the bomb is armed. If the bus drops below fifty, it blows up. What do you do?”

Tim doesn’t answer but looks around for any sign of the suspect.

“What do you do?” he repeats.

“I’d want to know what bus it was,” Tim answers. He’s accepted the challenge and knows that it has to end with a death: either his or the bomber’s.

“You think I’m going to tell you that, Tim?”

“Yes.”

“Very good.” The man sounds happy, and Tim presses a hand against a nearby wall to control his anger. “Now there are rules, Tim; we have to do this right. No one gets off the bus. One passenger leaves, I will detonate it. Now, if I don’t get my money by 11 a.m., there’s also a timer.”

Tim looks at his watch: 8:05 a.m. “I can’t pull that money in time-“

“Focus, Tim! Your concern is the bus. Don’t call, the radios are jammed. Number 2525, running downtown from Venice. At the corner of Lincoln and Pico…”

Tim drops the cell phone and runs to his car to follow the bus. The lives on that bus are in his hands, and he doesn’t plan to shoot any hostages today.

“Please stop! Sam!” you yell as you chase your bus.

You don’t want to ride the bus, but since your most recent speeding ticket, it is your only mode of transportation. In the few weeks since your license was suspended, you’ve gotten to know the driver, Sam, and some of the regular passengers. You hope that camaraderie is enough to convince Sam to stop for you. The brakes on the bus squeal as it stops, and the door opens.

“This look like a stop to you?” Sam asks.

“You are an amazing man, Sam,” you say as you walk onto the bus. “The men in books and songs have nothing on you.”

You swipe your bus card and take a seat before saying hello to Ortiz, a regular passenger. Comfortable in your seat, and glad that none of the passengers are in a talkative mood this early on a weekday, you relax and hope to get your car back soon.

Tim drives his truck in and out of traffic, onto the shoulder, and into the emergency lane as he tries to catch up with bus 2525. Other drivers honk their horns, flip him off, and yell insults through open windows, but Tim doesn’t notice or care. If he can stop the driver before it reaches 50, then the bomb will never activate. The only danger would be the man with the detonator.

You look up as Sam slows for a traffic jam.

“Can’t you just drive over them?” you ask with a smile.

“Is it always like this?” a man asks from the back of the bus. “It’s my first time here, and it took me three hours just to get out of the airport.”

“Yep,” you answer. “It’s usually worse.”

“That’s why I never drive,” the woman behind you interjects. “I’d never have a car in this city.”

“I have a car. I miss my car,” you lament.

“In the shop?” the tourist asks.

“Something like that. Sam, seriously, the bus is huge, just run them over,” you say again.

When Tim sees the bus has stopped because of a stalled car ahead, he sighs before he pulls onto the shoulder. He exits his truck and runs toward the bus, but the accident clears faster than he expected, and begins moving before he reaches the door. Hitting his fist against the side, Tim yells for the driver to stop.

“Can’t blame him for wanting to get on the bus,” you mutter as you watch him slap an open palm against the door.

“Get off the doors, man! Wait for the next one,” Sam yells before he speeds up.

Tim removes his badge from his pocket a moment too late. He continues chasing the bus, and you look down at your phone as the other passengers watch the unknown man run down the freeway.

Nearly half a mile from his truck and with no other option, Tim stops and waits at the edge of the road. He sees a speeding sports car approaching, and he moves into the middle of its lane and raises his badge.

“Stop!” Tim yells over the traffic.

The young man driving the car slams on his brakes to avoid hitting Tim. Several cars behind him blow their horns, and he raises to yell over the convertible’s windshield.

“What the-“

“L.A.P.D.,” Tim interrupts. “Get out of the car.”

“This is my car! It ain’t stolen and you have no right!” the driver argues.

Tim pulls his gun from its holster and says, “It’s stolen now. Move over.”

The man nods quickly before he jumps over the console and settles into the passenger seat. Tim sits behind the wheel and swerves into another lane as he ignores the owner’s pleas not to scratch the car. Tim drives the expensive, sporty convertible exactly as he had driven his truck, and the man in the passenger seat covers his eyes in fear for his car more than his life. As Tim steers the car beside the bus, he lays on the horn. Sam looks over and immediately recognizes him, and his eyes widen to prove it.

“I’m a cop!” Tim yells.

Sam lowers the window and raises his voice to ask, “What?”

“L-A-P-D!” Tim spells slowly. “There’s a bomb on your bus.”

“There’s a what?” Tim’s passenger exclaims.

“I can’t hear you,” Sam says.

“There’s a bomb on the bus!” Tim repeats.

Sam shakes his head, and Tim looks at the convertible’s speedometer. He’s over 50, so the bus must be, too.

“Drive!” Tim yells as he gestures for the bus to keep moving. “FIFTY! STAY ABOVE FIFTY!”

Sam nods rapidly and trembles a bit as he holds the speed steady. The commotion draws your attention, and you turn in your seat to watch the man who desperately needs a ride or is crazy.

“Call the Mid-Wilshire division station,” Tim says as he hands his phone to the man beside him. “Ask for Detective Angela Lopez.”

“Okay, okay.” The man speaks into the phone briefly before passing it back to Tim.

“Angela,” Tim says.

“Why are you calling me on your day off?” she asks. “Harry’s here, if you’re looking for him.”

“He’s alive.”

“Who?”

“The bomber! He’s back.”

“Harry!” Angela calls.

“Tim, did he hit the bus in Venice?” Harry asks as he approaches Angela’s desk.

“Temple,” Wade interrupts. “We just got a ransom demand from your dead terrorist. Says he rigged a city bus. Where’s Tim?”

“Where do you think?” Harry replies.

Tim ends the call and navigates around the back of the bus to drive alongside the door. Traffic is increasing with the morning rush, and he doesn’t want to risk getting stuck in another slowdown. He honks to get Sam’s attention, and gestures for him to open the door.

“Drive straight,” Tim directs him. “Stay in this lane.”

Sam agrees before Tim speeds up to get ahead of the bus. He opens the driver-side door and hits the brakes, so the bus rips the door off the car. Tim presses the accelerator again to catch up with the bus as he is yelled at by the owner of the car.

“Take the wheel!” Tim says.

Tim waits until the car’s owner moves back into the driver’s seat to jump into the open bus door and pull himself up the stairs.

When the bus rips the door off a convertible, you finally look up. The man driving the car beside the bus is attractive, but you’re a little concerned for his mental well-being. Sam seems willing to help him, and you don’t understand why. When he jumps from the car and onto the bus, you stand and grip the bar above your head. He locks eyes with you before holding up a police badge.

“Everyone, I’m Sergeant Tim Bradford, L.A.P.D. We’ve got a slight… situation on the bus,” he explains.

“Are you crazy?” you ask.

“Ma'am, if you’ll please sit down, we can deal with this in an orderly-“

“But what are you-“

“Ma’am.”

His tone and the look in his eyes convinces you, so you sit down as Tim walks toward the back of the bus and looks at the other passengers. You watch him move and wonder if he’s truly a cop or just insane.

“Just stay in your seats and remain quiet,” Tim says. “Then we’ll be able to defuse the, uh, the problem.”

A passenger you’ve spoken to before, Jay, leaps from his seat and points a gun at Tim.

“Jay!” you yell worriedly.

“Get away from me!” Jay demands.

Tim pulls his gun and matches Jay’s stance. Two women at the back of the bus scream, and you look between Tim and Jay from your seat.

“I don’t know you, I’m not here for you. Let’s not do this,” Tim says calmly.

“Stop the bus, Sam,” Jay calls.

“He can’t. Look, I’m going to put my gun away.” Tim holsters it slowly and raises his hands to show they’re empty. “I don’t care about what you did. It’s over. I’m not a cop right now. See? We’re just two guys on the bus.”

Tim tosses his badge to the floor beside your feet, and you look at it before raising your eyes to Jay again. You understand why he calmed down so quickly; Tim Bradford has a soothing voice, and his presence is assertive but caring. More importantly, you can relax now, because his badge looks real. Jay’s hands begin to lower, but your fellow passenger Ortiz jumps onto his back before Jay puts it away.

Tim rushes forward as Ortiz tries to pull the gun from Jay. A shot goes off, and everyone ducks before a second shot fires.

“Sam!” someone screams.

You turn toward the front of the bus before moving to help Sam. Tim disarms Jay with minimal effort while another woman joins your side.

“Move him,” you say.

“He’s bleeding,” the woman argues.

“We have to stop the bus!”

At your words, Tim spins quickly to face you.

“No!” he yells. “Stay above fifty.”

“Sam is wounded,” you begin.

“You slow down, and this bus will explode!”

Tim holds your eyes and nods slowly. He’s not kidding, you realize. Turning quickly, you look at the speedometer, which falls to 51. While Sam is still in the seat, you push your foot onto the gas pedal and watch the line rise above fifty.

Tim handcuffs Jay to one of the poles before he explains, “There is a bomb on this bus. If we slow down, it will blow. If anyone tries to get off, it will blow.”

The women on the bus surround Sam and help him get comfortable as they try to slow the bleeding. As they pull Sam from the driver’s seat, you slide into position and steer into another lane to keep the speed over 50.

“We’re only gonna make it through this if everyone stays calm, sits down, and listens to me,” Tim adds.

You don’t hear everything he says, with your complete focus on the road ahead and the speedometer on the dash. Your knuckles are white because of your grip on the wheel, and you don’t hear Tim approach behind you. He lays a hand on the headrest behind you and leans down.

“This is great. A bomb on wheels,” you muse sarcastically.

“Can you handle this bus, ma’am?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s just like driving a big Toyota, right?”

“Can you handle it?”

“I’m fine. What’s the plan? Is there a plan?”

Tim nods and stands to his full height. He watches you take a deep breath before turning to the rest of the passengers.

“Everyone, I need your cell phones,” Tim announces.

“No way, man!” the tourist yells.

“There is a terrorist out there with a bomb, and I don’t need any of you live streaming or interfering with the radio signal he could be using to detonate a bomb. So, I will only say this one more time. Phones - and anything else with a cellular connection – now.”

The passengers nod and offer all of their cellular devices. Tim accepts an empty bag from a woman beside Sam and places everyone’s belongings inside. He returns to your side and removes his phone from his pocket.

“Do you have anyone you need to call?” Tim asks softly.

“No. I- I don’t want to think like that,” you answer.

“We don’t have to. Everything’s going to be okay. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

You nod and Tim lays a kind hand on your shoulder to add, “But I need your phone.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s- uh- it’s in my back pocket. Right side.”

Tim’s hand brushes your lower back as he pulls the phone from your pocket. He apologizes, though you can’t imagine why. You’ve only known Tim Bradford for a few minutes, but his words mean something, and you can only hope he keeps the promises he’s making.

“You’re a cop, right?” you ask.

“That’s right. Metro Sergeant,” Tim says. “But you can call me Tim if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Uh, no. Thanks, and you can stop calling me ‘ma’am’ while we’re at it. I just- I should probably tell you that I’m taking the bus because my driver’s license was suspended.”

“What for?”

“Speeding.”

Tim shakes his head and hides his smile before calling the station again. He leans forward, but keeps his hand beside you, to look at the news chopper circling above the bus.

“Lopez, it’s me. I took phones from all the passengers. Where do we start?” Tim asks.

“Alright. Harry and Wade are with me,” Angela replies.

“Check the speedometer, Bradford,” Harry says. “Has it been messed with? Any wires or anything that don’t belong?”

“Sorry,” Tim whispers as he leans in front of you to check the dash area. “No, it’s clean.”

“Then it’s gotta be under the bus. Probably rigged to one of the axles.”

“I can’t get under the bus to check right now. The whole you stop, you die thing. Remember?”

Tim doesn’t sound like he’s kidding; in fact, he sounds grumpier than when he first boarded, but his comment makes you laugh. He pats the back of your seat before turning.

“Sergeant Bradford,” Sam calls weakly. Tim kneels beside him to listen, and Sam stutters, “There’s a- an access panel… in the fl-floor.”

“Hold on, Angela,” Tim says into the phone.

He unscrews the panel and pulls it aside. The asphalt moves quickly under the bus, and Tim looks around before handing his phone to a passenger. You look up in the mirror above you to watch Tim briefly before returning your attention to the road.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Stephen. I’m a tourist,” Stephen introduces.

“Welcome to the City of Angels. Hold my phone, please. Tell my partner what I see.”

Stephen nods and raises the phone to his ear as Tim moves so he can see under the bus. He takes a deep breath; Tim knows a bit about bombs from his time in the Army, but it’s Harry’s expertise.

“Okay, there’s a bundle here,” Tim yells over the wind. “Pretty big.”

“There’s a pretty big bundle,” Stephen relays.

“Brass fittings. I think I can reach the circuit wire.”

“He can reach the circuit wire- No, don’t do that, Sergeant Bradford. It can be a decoy, he says. What else?”

“Hold on,” Tim murmurs before moving further underneath the bus. He sees the extent of the bomb and pulls himself back up to take the phone. “Angela, Harry, there’s enough C4 on this bus to take out everyone on the highway. There’s a wristwatch: gold band, cheap.”

You look back at Tim quickly before inhaling sharply. “Sergeant,” you call.

“What do you think, Harry?” Tim asks.

“Bradford!” you yell into the bus speaker.

Tim moves to your side and places a hand on the dash to lean forward. His face is right beside yours, and you wish you were nervous because of him and not the bomb underneath you.

“Everybody’s stopping,” you point out. “What do I do?”

“Get on the shoulder.”

“This is an exit!”

Tim flinches as you sideswipe several cars.

“Tim!”

“Off. Get off!” Tim yells.

You nearly miss the ramp and pull the wheel to the right to merge onto another road. Honking the horn and yelling for people to get out of the way, you take a deep breath. At least you’re off the freeway. Tim tells you to keep driving as he answers his phone again.

“Where?” he asks. “Got it.”

“Do I stay here?” you inquire.

“Yes. Just straight on this, they’re trying to clear the roads for us.”

“I’m never getting my license back, am I?” you grumble.

“The police commissioner will buy you a car if you ask,” Tim says quietly. “You’re doing well, okay? Don’t worry about anything else.”

You nod and return both hands to the wheel. Tim removes the flannel shirt he’s been wearing, leaving him in a white t-shirt, and drapes it over the back of your seat. Your eyes catch on his biceps before you chide yourself for getting distracted.

One of the phones in the bag rings, and Tim yells, “Who didn’t turn their phone off?”

No one is willing to admit their fault or doesn’t want to risk dealing with Tim’s wrath and ending up like Jay where he sits on the floor. Tim digs through the bag and pulls the ringing phone out. The number is one he recognizes, but he hesitates before answering.

“Taking their phones was smart,” the bomber says as the line connects. “2525… nice passengers, aren’t they? See, that’s the beauty of being in this day and age. I know everything about everyone on that bus. So, if you or your little girlfriend, or even the tourist from Kalamazoo try to double-cross me…”

“The bus explodes,” Tim interjects. “I’m aware.”

“What’s with the attitude, Tim? You’re seeing one of the prettiest places in the world, riding a bus for free… Oh, no, I know. Can’t shoot a hostage that makes that cold heart beat again, huh?”

“What do you want?”

“You know what I want! 3.7 million dollars. I get the money, and then we can both get what we want.”

“You don’t know what I want.”

“I know what you don’t want. Tell your girlfriend to keep her eyes on the road.”

The call ends and Tim raises the cell phone in his hands. “He knows who is on this bus.”

“How?” Ortiz asks.

“Your bus passes, your phones, both, maybe. Look, one of the conditions of our survival is that no one gets off the bus. If he knows who you are, then we are even more obligated to keep that promise.”

“You didn’t even try to get us off the bus!” Jay accuses.

“Because he would have blown it. I understand what you are feeling, but I need you to trust me, trust the L.A.P.D., and work with me on this.”

“Tim is this your team?” you ask over your shoulder.

A police car pulls into the lane in front of you as several more flank the sides of the bus. The road clears around them, but more news choppers are joining the airspace above you.

Tim nods and looks at you. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. What happens now, though?”

“My teammates are working on it. We’ve got gas and open road, so keep driving.”

“Is it- can I be okay and really nervous at the same time?”

“I’d be more concerned if you weren’t nervous.”

“You don’t look nervous.”

“My friend Angela says I never look anything; thinks I can’t show emotion because I can’t feel them.”

“Is it true?”

Tim looks at you and lowers to squat beside you. “No, it’s not.”

“How’s Sam?”

“The driver? He’s gonna be alright. Thanks to you.”

Someone calls for Tim, and he squeezes your shoulder reassuringly as he stands. You glance at him in the mirror as he returns to the access panel. A police helicopter drops to fly above you, and you wonder what the news stations and police officers know or think about the situation. The bus begins losing speed as you steer around a curve, and when you try to speed up again, you realize something is wrong.

Back at the station, Harry and Angela work with Wade and a bomb expert to search for a way to disarm the bomb and for their suspect. Harry has a description of the bomber, but there’s only so much they can learn about the bomb without seeing it.

“Sergeant Bradford!” you cry as you press the gas again.

“What?” Tim asks with wide eyes. You were calling him Tim, and your sudden change of formality and tone concern him.

“The gas pedal’s stuck.”

“What else can go wrong?” Tim asks under his breath. “Move your foot.”

You pull your foot from the pedal and steer as Tim presses his leg against yours to slam his foot down against the pedal. It doesn’t move, and the speedometer dips closer to fifty. Tim moves his hands to cover yours on the steering wheel and moves his leg between yours to try a new angle. You’re close to him, but the fear of dying keeps you from enjoying it in any way. He pushes the pedal again and his shoulders drop.

“There,” he announces as he steps back.

You take the wheel back and press the accelerator down again. The bus gains speed and you catch up to the police car before you.

“Lopez, talk to me,” Tim greets as he answers his phone again.

“You’ve got a hard left coming up,” Angela says. “Really hard.”

“Hard left up ahead,” Tim tells you.

“We’ll tip!” you argue.

“Who is that? Your driver?” Angela inquires.

“We’re not going to tip,” Tim says.

“Yes, we are!”

The curve in the road comes into view, and Tim suddenly agrees, “We’re going to tip.”

He leaves your side to move everyone onto the right side of the bus. The weight distribution keeps the bus from tipping, but as Tim helps you pull the wheel as hard as possible to make the turn, you forget why you were concerned. His presence is the only thing keeping you calm, and you wish he could just sit beside you the whole time.

“Angela, get those news crews off our tail!” he yells over the cheers of the passengers.

You look in the mirror beside you. The news crews must have arrived recently because you didn’t notice them before.

“On it. Harry’s working with the bomb squad. Keep it fifty,” Angela responds.

“Don’t try to make that a thing, Lopez,” Tim says before he ends the call.

“Hey, who’s doing this?” you ask Tim.

“The bomber? He’s just a guy who’s angry with me for foiling his last bombing attempt,” Tim explains.

“So, he’s trying again? Using you to get whatever it is he wants?”

“More or less.”

“What if you stop him again?”

“We do this again tomorrow. Until one of us dies trying.”

“That won’t work.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not available to drive tomorrow.”

Tim nods but doesn’t reply before a flatbed truck merges into the lane beside the door. His Metro captain and two officers are on the back, and the driver blows the horn to get his attention. Tim opens the door and moves out of the door to talk to them. You can’t hear much but suspect that they want to get the hostages off the bus, which Tim already said was impossible. Your sudden and unbending trust in him should probably concern you, but you will do anything and everything he tells you, even if that means staying on a bus with a bomb on it.

“He called the station looking for you,” an officer announces.

“Why? He has my cell,” Tim says.

“Maybe it died.”

“Just give him my number again! And keep looking; find this guy so we can move these people.”

Tim steps onto the main platform again and closes the door.

“Are they going to help us?” the woman holding Sam’s head up asks.

“Sure, they will. They’re the police,” someone jokes.

Another phone rings in the bag, and Tim pulls your phone out this time. He hadn’t thought to turn yours off because he was concerned about you and wanted to make sure you could drive like the bus needed to be driven.

“Hello?” he answers.

“Tim, you know I trust you. But it looks to me like you’re trying to move passengers off the bus,” the bomber says.

“I need one as an act of faith,” Tim argues. “The driver has been shot.”

“You shot another hostage?”

“He’s dying! If you want your money, show a little charity.”

The line is quiet for a moment before the bomber says, “Fine. You can try to get the driver off. I have more people to kill. Tell your girlfriend behind the wheel not to slow down or he won’t get a chance to bleed out.”

“We’re getting the driver off,” Tim announces after returning your phone to the bag. “Just him for now.”

Ortiz moves out of the seat to help Tim move Sam to the door and onto the truck.

“Get as close as you can,” Tim says. “A little closer.”

The side of the bus hits the truck and swerves, and you rush to apologize.

“It’s okay.” Tim says your name, and you know that he means what he says. “Perfect! Hold it steady!”

You sigh as Tim walks past you again after getting Sam to safety, but then you see a woman walking toward the door. The officers on the truck reach out to help her, unaware of what will happen if she steps off the bus.

“No!” you yell.

“I have to,” she responds.

“No! Don’t get off! Stop!”

An explosion echoes through the bus as the steps fall out and go underneath the bus. The female passenger disappears after she falls with the debris, and you look away quickly as Tim falls forward trying to catch her.

“You’ve got to get those choppers out of here!” Tim yells to his captain. “He’s watching!”

The bus is silent as Tim stands up and waits beside you. With your eyes on the road, he doesn’t see the tear that leaks out. When the passengers start arguing behind you, your grip on the wheel tightens.

“Hey!” Tim calls as he turns to face them. They silence, and he moves his attention to you. “How are you doing?”

Tim steps forward, sees the tears covering your face, and squats with an arm behind you. “What can I do?”

His voice is softer than when he yelled at the men behind you, and you can’t lie to him.

“I thought that was the bomb. When I heard it… I thought everything was over. But then I saw her fall under the bus, and-“

“You’re glad you’re still alive,” Tim finishes.

“I’m so sorry. Does that make me a terrible person?”

“No. It doesn’t mean you don’t care. We’re still alive, and we’re all allowed to be thankful for that. The guy who put us here? He’s a terrible person. Don’t think that you’re a bad person. You’re not.”

“Tim,” you say before pointing to his Captain, who is waving for his attention.

“There’s a gap in the freeway. It’s big. We have to get these people off, Tim,” he says.

“You know I can’t, Captain.”

“Tim?” you ask as he walks past you. “What’d he say?”

“There’s a gap in the road,” Tim tells everyone.

“How big is a gap?” Ortiz asks.

“50 feet, a couple of miles ahead,” Tim says.

“Tim?” you repeat. “What if I shift down and just keep the engine revving?”

“He thought of that… Floor it.”

“What?”

“There’s an interchange, maybe there’s an incline. Just floor it.”

“Okay.”

“Everyone keep your heads down.”

The police car leading you falls off the side, but you continue driving toward the unfinished overpass. The needle on the speedometer nears 70, and Tim waits beside you. As you approach the end, Tim yells for everyone to hold on. He puts his arms around you and pulls your head down with his. You feel weightless for a moment, grounded only by his arms around you before the bus collides with the other side of the interchange. Looking up over Tim’s arm, you see more road ahead and press the gas again, so you don’t slow down.

Your forehead begins to burn and hurt, and you press your palm against your temple as the people behind you cheer. Tim checks on everyone before returning to your side, and he immediately realizes that you’re in pain. He moves your hand and presses the bottom of his shirt to your head. It’s stained with blood when he pulls his hand away, and you grimace at the idea of a wound on your head.

“Get off here!” Tim calls suddenly.

“Yes! Get off!”

You obey and soon enter the Los Angeles International Airport. Tim gives you directions to an emergency runway and explains that you can simply drive here. Without traffic or road closures, the only concern is staying above fifty.

Being in restricted air space is also a bonus, and you notice that the news helicopters are hovering at a distance. Tim seemed concerned about the presence of news cameras, so maybe the location will also keep the bomber from knowing exactly what is happening.

“Yeah?” Tim asks as he answers his phone.

“The airport. Well done. You had some close calls, but you did well, Tim,” the bomber says.

“What do you want?”

“My money. Help me get it before it’s too late, will you? The negotiators think I’m doing this for fun?”

“Are you not?”

“Oh, now you think you know me too?”

“I know you want money you didn’t earn. More than you deserve.”

“I did earn it! I got a medal, too, you know.”

“Let me off. If you want my help, I need to explain that you’re not bluffing. Just me.”

“Alright. But you have to come back. I can see everything; remember that.”

Tim ends the call and slides his phone back in his pocket.

“There’s a plan now?” you ask.

“Maybe. He’s letting me off,” Tim says.

“Hey, don’t forget about us,” you call as he steps off the bus and onto an SUV. “He’ll be back,” you promise the others.

While you circle the airport runways, Tim works with the other officers he told you about to find a way to disarm the bomb. Ortiz walks to your side and looks out at the airport.

“Ortiz?” you ask.

“He’s not coming back, I’m telling you,” he says.

“He didn’t have to get on in the first place. Hey, get behind the yellow line.”

Ortiz looks down and takes on short step back. “You let the cop up here.”

“What is that?” Stephen asks as he joins Ortiz.

“I have no idea,” you answer as you look at Tim standing on the back of a truck covered in machinery. It pulls over in front of you, and Tim lowers onto a cart attached to a winch, and you mutter, “I was right. He is insane.”

“How’d they get that so fast?” Stephen asks under his breath.

You focus more on driving in a straight line as Tim disappears under the front of the bus. He looks up at you just before he disappears, and you nod once. Knowing that he’s under the bus makes you more nervous to drive than you have been at any other point today. Driving in a straight line at the airport is more stressful because Tim is underneath a moving vehicle and touching a bomb. You know he has friends and colleagues who are helping him, but you feel more than a need to survive when you look at Sergeant Tim Bradford.

The winch on the truck releases suddenly, and the cable unfurls.

“Check and see if he came out the back!” you demand. “Can you see him?”

“He’s not back here!” Ortiz calls.

“Look under the bus! Back by the tires!”

“I don’t see him.”

The winch cable snaps and the back tire bounces over something. You press a hand over your mouth in shock, and Ortiz runs to the back access panel.

“Please tell me he’s alright!” you yell. “Do you see him?”

“I see him!” Ortiz responds. “He’s alright!”

You look back and forth between the empty runway and the back of the bus. Ortiz and Stephen pull Tim up onto the bus, and you can’t decide whether to be angry or relieved with him. Tim thanks Ortiz before walking to your side.

“How are you?” he asks.

“You scared me!” you accuse. You slap his vest to express your displeasure before hissing in pain. “What’s that smell?”

“Gas. We have a new leak.” “You caused a leak?”

“It was that or get run over. You can see the difficulty I had choosing.”

“Don’t try to be funny right now. I thought I killed you.”

“I’ll ask my captain to get a fuel truck.”

“Will it work?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not exactly comforting, you know that?”

“You just hit me and now you want comfort?”

You sigh and look at him again before saying, “Thank you, Tim.”

“Just doing my job… ma’am.”

Tim stays beside you while Harry and a S.W.A.T. team infiltrate the house listed on the bomber’s records. He was surprised by how quickly they found his identification, but now that they have the element of surprise, he hopes that this game is almost over.

 When he gets another call, you can only see the anger in his eyes as he listens to the person on the other end. The bomber tells Tim that Harry and the S.W.A.T. team walked right into his trap. You watch him and can only wonder what is making him so mad. His life is in danger, but something is capable of pushing him even further, it seems.

“I’m going to rip your spine out. If you know as much as you think you do, you know I can,” Tim threatens lowly.

“Oh, I do, Reaper. That’s why you should do what you’re told. You and I both know you can’t do it without Harry and his ability to follow a cheap watch, anyway. Get me my money and it’s over. Otherwise, you, lumberjack-ie, and the others are dead. Got that?”

“Yeah,” Tim says after a moment. “Howie.”

The bomber hesitates at the mention of his real name but doesn’t let it stop him. Tim listens to Howard Payne’s demands before ending the call. Tim turns around and kicks where the stairs used to be before pulling against the handrail in his anger. You try to get his attention over his yelling, but it falls on deaf ears.

“Tim! Please!” you try again. “I can’t do this without you. Please.”

Tim slows his movements before gripping the rail beside you. His jaw is clenched as he looks at you, but your pleas soften his eyes.

“Please stay with me,” you whisper.

“We’re going to die,” he says.

“No. You got us this far, right?”

Tim leans against the dash beside you and looks at you. His shirt is still behind you. Lumberjack-ie. Your little girlfriend.

“Lumberjacks wear flannel, right?” Tim asks.

“Uh, yeah. As far as I know,” you answer. “Why?”

“He can see you.”

“What?”

“Keep looking straight ahead.”

You turn your face to the windshield and watch the runway as Tim examines the top of the bus. He sees the camera at the top of the windshield and shakes his head.

“He said, ‘your girlfriend behind the wheel’ and ‘lumberjack-ie’. I didn’t even realize. There’s a camera in your face. He can see the whole bus.”

“He can see me, but can he hear me?” you ask.

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

“Bus cameras can’t be very high-tech, Tim. Can’t your people get it on a loop or something?”

“You’re brilliant,” Tim murmurs before pushing himself off the dash and to his feet. “Guys, there’s a camera over my left shoulder. I need everyone to sit still. No big movements, no talking, just look concerned and sit still.”

He calls his captain and asks for someone to approach the news trucks at the fence to end the live broadcasts and use their equipment to make a video loop. His captain agrees and texts Tim with an update that the reporters are cooperating.

“Remember, stay relatively still. Just look scared,” Tim reminds everyone.

“That won’t be hard,” Ortiz grumbles.

Tim leans beside you while the video is being recorded. You drive in silence for a minute before noticing the blinking red light on the dash.

“Tim,” you whisper. “Look.”

“Cap, roll the tape. We need fuel,” Tim says into his phone.

“We only have a minute recorded. That won’t convince him, we need more footage” Wade argues.

“No time. Get these people off before this bus runs out of gas.”

“Fuel tanker is running behind. Driver said big rigs need radio signals, and they’re still jammed. Crazy not stupid, right?”

“Right.”

“Now what?” you ask Tim. “Are you tired of that question yet?”

“I’d like an answer to it,” he replies. “Get alongside this bus, okay?”

You nod and drive steadily alongside an LAX passenger bus. Tim’s team lays a wooden board between the bus doors and helps people cross to safety. You listen to Tim encourage the passengers across and are glad he was the cop who got on the bus today. The rear tire blows out suddenly, and you pull the steering wheel back to the middle and yell for Tim to come help.

Tim falls on his way back to the front of the bus, but when he reaches you, he moves his arms across you to pull the wheel.

“Use this to hold down the gas pedal,” he says.

You take the device from his hand and lower it into place. Tim steps back to tie the steering wheel to the floor of the bus, and you steer to keep the bus straight while he works. The moment it’s secure, he pulls you to your feet and tells you to get on the metal access panel.

“I can’t do this,” you argue.

Tim raises his hands to either side of your neck and brushes his thumbs along your skin as he promises, “Yes, you can. I’m right here with you.”

You swallow nervously and nod before sitting on your escape route, a thin piece of metal that Tim moved with no problem. Tim moves to lay over you, and he wraps an arm around your waist as you hide your face against his shoulder.

“I got you,” he promises once more.

The bus turns and the access panel cover falls out of the bottom. You clutch Tim tightly as the metal door slides across the runway and into a nearby patch of dirt. He sits up and watches the bus slow as it nears a plane but doesn’t let go of you. Just before the bomb detonates, Tim pulls you down again and lays over you to protect you from any debris. Sirens echo in the distance, and you wrap your arms around Tim’s back.

“Are you alright?” he asks again.

“No,” you answer, your first honest answer of the day. “Oh, I hate the airport.”

Tim moves to your side but keeps an arm around your shoulder as he looks into your eyes.

“You can’t get mushy on me. You can’t show emotion, remember?” you tease.

“I think I might be able to after all.”

“Relationships that start like this never last. It’s just the high-stress, adrenaline pumping, all that.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, maybe we can change that.”

“Uh, I think your friends are here.”

Tim looks up but doesn’t move as Angela and Wade exit a police car and run toward him.

“I was worried about you,” Angela says. “And here you are.”

“I’m sorry about Harry,” Tim offers. “I wish we could have changed it.”

“You good?” Wade asks. “’Cause I might be a nice guy and let you take the rest of the day off.”

“And stop worrying about what we could have done differently. You saved a lot of lives today, Timothy,” Angela adds.

“A day off sounds like a good deal,” you murmur.

Tim shakes his head before introducing you to Detective Angela Lopez and Sergeant Wade Grey. When he finally stands and sees the scrapes and gashes littering your skin, he forces you to let a paramedic treat you. Tim follows you to the ambulance but hangs back to talk to Angela. He’s lost a partner before, too, and knows what it’s like.

“I’m sorry for bringing everyone into this. Howard could have just come for me,” Tim concludes.

“I appreciate everything,” Angela responds. “But, you’re going to the hospital, too. Is that Chen?”

Tim turns quickly and sees Lucy running toward the police cruiser parked behind the ambulance.

“Sergeant Grey!” she yells. “We’ve got Payne on the line, and he wants to know when he’s getting his money. Whoa, Tim, are you alright?”

“He doesn’t know,” Tim says. “He doesn’t know the bus exploded.”

“Tell him thirty minutes,” Wade alerts all the nearby officers.

“Stay in the ambulance,” Tim tells you.

“But I-“

“Ma’am, stay in the ambulance.”

You nod and climb into the ambulance after refusing help from the paramedics. They continue bandaging a cut on your leg as Tim climbs in.

“I need to make a quick stop on the way to the hospital,” he tells the driver.

“Where?” she asks.

“The drop spot. Pershing Square.”

The driver reluctantly agrees, and you watch Tim as she drives. He demands you stay in the ambulance until he returns, and you agree but don’t mean it. You’ve been beside Tim for most of the morning, and you neither remember how to be away from him nor do you want to. You stand on the sidewalk beside the ambulance and watch people move around you. It’s another normal day for them, but your life will never be the same after today.

“Miss, you can’t stand here, you need to move back,” an older officer says as he grabs your shoulders.

“Oh, I’m waiting for Tim-“

“Tim Bradford, yes. He asked that I move you out of harm’s way.”

“But he told me to stay here.”

His hold on your shoulders tightens as he says, “And I’m telling you to move.”

“Payne is late,” Angela complains.

“He’s not late,” Tim says. “He’s never late.”

“Two hundred cops are watching that sculpture, plus a tracker in the bag. He hasn’t been here,” Wade explains.

“Turn on the tracker,” Tim requests.

“What for?”

“Just do it!”

Wade presses a button on the laptop before him, and the blinking light of the tracker travels across the screen.

“He’s got the money,” Angela says.

Tim runs out of their hiding spot and to the drop spot. He pushes the art installation over and kicks it when he sees the opening in the sidewalk beneath it. As he drops into the defunct subway system, he sees someone walking farther into the tunnel and pulls his gun.

“L.A.P.D. Freeze!” he yells.

The person stops, and he aims at their head before saying, “Pop quiz. Someone has a clear shot at your head. What do you do?... Turn around.”

“If you don’t do it, I’ll kill Tim Bradford,” Howard Payne threatens as he secures a vest covered in dynamite around your chest. “What are you going to do?”

“Wait- wait for him to come in and walk away. Then I listen to you,” you answer shakily.

“Perfect. Maybe you two can have your happily ever after all. You say one word that I don’t like and you’re both dead.”

Howard disappears down the subway, and you bite your bottom lip to refrain from crying or screaming for help. Tim may shoot you, no questions asked, but at least he will be safe. When you hear something crash above you and sunlight infiltrates the dark staircase before you, you take a deep breath and begin walking away.

Tim’s voice doesn’t carry the same comforting words or soothing lilt as in the bus, but you still recognize it and want to hear it as he yells at you.

“Turn around!” he demands.

You turn slowly and can see the moment Tim realizes he’s pointing his gun at you.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

The apology echoes off the concrete walls as Tim lowers his weapon. You don’t see or hear him, but you can feel the change when Howard appears behind you.

“Be prepared!” Howard says as he walks up the stairs behind you and raises the detonator, a deadman’s switch. “What are you gonna do, Tim? I don’t think you can shoot this hostage.”

“Let her go,” Tim demands as he points his gun at Howard.

“I don’t think I’m going to do that. Move the money,” he tells you.

You transfer the money from the L.A.P.D. bags and into Howard’s duffel bag as Tim yells at him to let you go.

“You don’t need her!” Tim adds.

“I will let go,” Howard threatens as he moves the detonator switch. “You don’t get it, Tim. Do you know what a bomb that doesn’t explode is? It’s the cheap, gold watch they gave me after I lost a finger and a life to my country.”

“You’re crazy.”

You push yourself against the wall as you listen to their exchange, but you keep your eyes on Tim rather than the bomb just below your chin. Howard demands you take his money and enter another part of the tunnel system and you know that you’re going to obey because he’ll kill Tim if you don’t. You tear your eyes from Tim and walk exactly where Howard leads you.

As you enter a crowded stop, Howard fires several shots into the concrete ceiling as you drop your head and cover your ears. The subway passengers waiting for the next train flee in terror as you try to get away from Howard. Tim can’t be far behind, but when you’re pushed into a subway car, you’re tempted to think that no help is coming. Howard handcuffs your hands around a pole before the subway lurches into motion.

At the back of the subway, Tim struggles to pry a set of doors open before he falls into the car. He moves strategically through the empty rows of seats with his mind on you and ending this game with Howard Payne once and for all.

The subway conductor reaches for his radio, and Howard forces the deadman switch into your hands and tells you to hold it. He turns his back on you and kills the conductor as you struggle to move away.

“Look, you won. You beat Tim, you beat everybody, you can just throw me off the train. I don’t care,” you plead.

“You see this stick? When you explode, the police will come there. But that’s not where I’ll be, so I get more time. I promise it won’t hurt,” Howard replies as he pulls the detonator away from you.

A series of dull thuds echoes, and Howard looks up quickly. He smiles, and it makes your stomach flip.

“Hey, Tim. Is that you?” he asks. “He’s so persistent. Wouldn’t be able to interest you in a bribe, would I, hotshot?”

Howard kneels and opens the duffel bag full of cash. You watch as a dye pack explodes in his face and paints his money purple. In his anger, he fires bullets into the roof, and you drop to the floor as Tim rolls out of the line of fire. Howard runs through a door, and you can only listen as he climbs onto the roof and begins struggling against Tim.

Howard has the deadman stick in his hand and can kill you by moving a centimeter to the left or right, but you’re more worried about Tim with every noise against the roof. You stay low on the pole you’re cuffed to, twisting your wrists and manipulating your fingers as you try to slip free. The struggle above you silences suddenly, and you watch the door nervously.

“Tim!” you call when he rushes in. “Tim. Where’s Payne?”

“Uh, he lost his head. Turn around,” Tim says.

You circle the pole, and Tim rips a wire free before loosening the straps of the vest.

“Let’s take this off,” he says before pulling the vest away from your chest.

“Tim, can you hear me?” someone asks through the driver’s radio. “This is Wade. Listen, the track isn’t finished.”

“What else can go wrong?” you murmur.

“Wade, I copy,” Tim radios.

“Do you copy? Try the emergency brake.”

“I copy!” Tim tries again before throwing the radio down.

He steps to the right and hits the emergency brake. After the train doesn’t even slow, he begins hitting other buttons, but nothing happens.

“None of this works!” he exclaims as he hits the control board.

He turns away from the useless machinery and returns to you. When he notices the handcuffs holding you in place, he slows.

“You can uncuff me and we can get off,” you say with an exaggerated nod.

“I don’t have a key,” Tim replies.

“You don’t have…”

You trail off and look at the handcuffs. If only you could slip your hands through them, you think. Tim begins pulling and kicking the pole as you try again to pull your hands through the metal cuffs. He pauses and lays a hand against your arm to look at how tight the cuffs are.

“Help me pull,” you grunt as you lean your weight back against the restraints.

“No, no,” Tim says quickly as he pulls you forward. “You’re just hurting yourself.”

You stand still and see a bead of blood running down your fingers. As you stare at it, Tim walks to a map on the wall. He remembers the nightmare again; a series of bad memories that end with him, “the Reaper,” standing alone in the desert before being rescued and awarded a medal. As he searches for a way to save you, Tim decides that he will never shoot the hostage again, and he won’t leave you behind, even if that means dying with you.

“Tim, please just go,” you beg.

“There’s a curve ahead. I can make it jump the track.”

“Tim! Sergeant Bradford!” Tim turns to you, and you repeat, “Get off this train. You can still jump. Tim, please. Please.”

Tim ignores you as he returns to the controls and increases the train’s speed. You slide your hands down the pole as you sit on the floor, and Tim walks silently to your side. He leans in beside you, and you raise your arms to wrap around his neck as you lean your head against his. He moves his arms around the pole to circle you and holds you tight as the train picks up speed.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper just before the lights go out.

The train car hits something and spins, but Tim tightens his arms around you. With every bump and move of the subway, you become more convinced that you’ll never get out of this position. Light enters the windows as you crash through something, and the car flips onto its side as it lands on asphalt. The impact loosens the pole, and you fall onto Tim, whose grip on you doesn’t waver for a second. As the car slides to a stop, you squeeze Tim and take a deep breath.

“You didn’t leave me,” you say before forcing yourself to open your eyes.

Tim cradles the back of your head before moving his hands to your back. You lean up gently and look into his eyes again.

“I told you to leave me!”

“I didn’t have anywhere to be just then. Rest of the day off and all,” Tim responds before pulling you down against him.

He kisses you, and you’re surprised that it is more than adrenaline. The kiss is more than a relief to be alive, and you want to feel Tim Bradford at your side every day for the rest of your life (which would have ended today if not for him). You move your hands to Tim’s short hair as you return his kiss. It’s relief, joy, love, and passion in a single touch. When Tim begins breathing heavily against you, you move up.

“I’ve heard relationships that start during intense situations like this never work,” Tim says.

“Oh,” you sigh. “Then I guess we’ll be the first.”

“Whatever you say, ma’am.”

Glass rains down on you as you kiss Tim again, and though your day went nothing like you thought it would, it’s now the best day of your life. Tim helps you stand as his team approaches the scene, and you stop him before you exit the car.

“You know if this was a movie, they’d make another one where the same thing happens again, right?” you say softly.

“We’re never taking public transportation again,” Tim states.

“Yeah. Hey, where is the truck you were driving this morning?”

Tim hesitates and tightens his arm around your waist before turning away to yell, “Chen! I need you to do something for me.”

#tim bradford x reader #hanna writes✯ #tim bradford x fem!reader #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fic #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #the rookie abc #requests #fem!reader #speed 1994

[korlkorl]

things that get azul, ruggie & sebek flustered

fic vomit uwu

azul

nothing. absolutely nothing. don't get him wrong, there are many things that you do to get him all flushed and embarrassed like the sweet cherry tomato you pop in your mouth. it's just that azul has never loved someone so much before, there is no way he can have a favourite, when you as a whole is his favourite thing in the entire world.

the way your eyelashes flutter when you blink; the slow motion of your chest heaving up and down— he finds all of them so loveable. he's on his knees for you, please be merciful, jade and floyd will never let him see the end of it. he already knows how shamefully he acts when he's around you, the inexplainable desire to want to see you gasp in surprise, impressed with whatever new thing azul wanted to show off. give him a kiss after and watch him freeze and heat up.

ruggie

oddly enough, what gets him flustered about you is when he does something. ruggie is someone who values his hard work and sufficiency. because of this, he doesn’t believe people do favors simply because of their nature. like him, he thinks everyone has a motive. somehow, that mindset is slowly starting to alter.

it wasn't much to begin with— he'd sometimes find himself swiping a little extra than usual, risking the possibility of being caught because he stole more than he should. for some reason, that little extra amount wasn't for himself as a cheeky reward, no. it was actually for you.

he'd casually hand some food to you on his way and sometimes, if he doesn't manage to get enough for the both of you, he'd always split it half if possible, much to his classmate's horror. (ruggie bucchi? THE ruggie bucchi?? sharing??? is this heaven????)

at a point, he realized what he was doing. it's completely out of character for him, what in the world was he thinking? but he was too deep now, he couldn't seem to live day by day without giving you a little gift at least once anymore.

eventually, ruggie went from nonchalantly giving you half of his donuts or letting you copy some of his work that you forgot to do to instead turning a deep hue of multiple reds (in the span of 0.2 seconds!) as he sheepishly handed you things. oh well, there's no turning back now.

sebek

he’d always found it off putting on how this magically gifted mother ever found herself in love with his average father, who was much more soft spoken and loving. He couldn’t seem to fully grasp how his mother ever saw any appeal in his father.

it was a ridiculous notion. someone as talented as her stooping for someone as low as him?! that's crazy! don't worry, sebek loves his father very much. but he's also strongly opinionated.

for someone who claims his opinions and ideals hardly change, they seem to sway as easily as they came when you entered his life. you were much sweeter, kinder and caring than sebek could ever be. he was hardly a spec of dust in your presence. maybe that's what tugged at his heart. you were average. there was nothing inherently special about you, just a normal human. to him, you were his god.

sometimes, when you cage his fingers against yours, lean your head against his shoulder and smile, sebek starts to wonder what has ever had happen for this to ever happen.

sebek is a lot of things. he's human, he's fae, he's a wizard and he's yours. he flushes in embarassment when he thinks about this. what did you do to him for him to be so hopeless around you? he turns red when he thinks about how easily you managed to change him.

a.n: hihi hope u enjoy... also dont forget to put some requests in my inbox!! i am running out of ideas... i just started working on a request and i think it's gonna be very long so im gonna let my inbox marinate so i can binge write all of them... i love writing...

#twst #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto #twst azul #azul ashengrotto x reader #ruggie bucchi #twst ruggie #ruggie bucci x reader #twisted wonderland ruggie #sebek zigvolt #twst sebek #twisted wonderland sebek #sebek x reader #sebek zigvolt x reader

[lunaroserites]

Art and Ice - Ground Rules

Pairing: Eventual Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Characters: Natasha, Wanda, Pietro, Loki, Bucky, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, a lot of the avengers cast is mentioned.

Summery: Bucky and Doodle spend some quality time together.

This might a 2 or 3 parter (it's gonna be more because cannot help myself). College AU, our boy Bucky is on the hockey team, and reader is an art major (because I love that trope and couldn't help myself)

Warnings: Not beta'd! All mistakes are my own. Friends fluff, swearing, mentions of college students being college students. Bit of friendly harmless flirting between friends. Bucky is a playboy. Flirting. Mentions of not eating or drinking for a hours (ADHD Brain)

Word Court: 2859

Likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated! ❤️

Please do not repost, translate or otherwise copy my work elsewhere, without my express permission, thank you! Lunaroserites on tumblr and ao3

Catch up here: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 ❤️

You didn’t see Barnes the next day, which wasn’t surprising, it was Friday night after a win so celebration extended into the start of the weekend. Saturday was much the same, you toiled away in the art room in front of a large sketch pad trying to get something together while your canvas dried. 

You also had a small piece you were working on for a gallery wall you were doing for a local gallery that was happening once the semester ended. So your plate was full and adding the insistent nagging from your brain to find Barnes, your patience was wearing thin. 

You threw the paint brush at the sink, it sailed in a smooth arche before clattering in the paint covered sink. You ran your hands over your face and groaned as you leaned forward, elbows planted in the table. Your mind is running amuck and making you lose patience. 

“Doodle,” the new brush you were holding snapped in your tense grip as you looked up, startled. Barnes was standing at the door holding a bag that smelled delicious and your stomach growled. You may have forgotten to take a break and eat. 

“Barnes,” you said, your tone tense. His eyebrow quirked up as he walked in and placed the bag down a few feet away. 

“Are you okay,” your hand kinda hurt from snapping the brush a moment ago, and your head was killing you with a raging headache. Which might be because you haven’t eaten in a while or because you were thirsty. You took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Yeah, just a little stressed,” you answered. The smell of the food in the bag makes your mouth water and your stomach twist in an uncomfortable way. “What can I do for you?” 

“You weren’t at practice all weekend. Nat said you were hauled up in the art room,” he said nonchalantly, you just stared at him. “And I figured I would stop by and check on my favourite girl,” he said confidently, and you rolled your eyes in response. Your stomach decided that moment was the best time to make its presence known and grumbled loudly. Your cheeks immediately darkened in embarrassment. 

“And she said you most likely didn’t eat,” the look on his face caught you off guard, he had a look of genuine concern etched on his features. “She knows you well,” he mused, his tongue poked between his teeth as he winked at you. You leaned back against your chair and extended your hand and gestured to the chair across from you, prompting him to sit. He took a seat across from you and smiled. “I hope you like burgers,” he said as he pulled the bag over. 

“I don’t mind them, are they from Gus’s?” You asked, he nodded. 

“I wasn’t sure what you drank so I got water,” he added, pulling a couple water bottles out of his gym bag. You smiled and chuckled a little at how thoughtful he was being. 

“Waters fine,” you accepted the bottle and cracked it open and drank half it one go. He eyed you suspiciously and you gulped down hard. “I get lost in what I’m doing and sometimes forget to eat or drink,” you mumbled under his intense gaze. 

“That’s not healthy,” he muttered, pulling out a burger and handing it to you. You accepted and opened it up, taking a bite and biting back the moan you almost let out. 

“I know, but when I’m in the zone. I just don’t realise how much time passes,” you said softly, he nodded and you two ate the food in a comfortable silence. 

“Thank you,” you said as you threw out the garbage and sat back down. 

“No problem, can’t let ya starve,” he chuckled and rubbed his chin in his hand. “What’s ya working on?” He asked and looked at the few pieces shattered behind you and a shadow box a few feet away from you. 

“Uh, a project for an art exhibit once schools out,” you answered. 

“Mind if I work on some homework? It’s quieter here than my house,” you raised an eyebrow at him, that was unexpected. “What?” he asked. 

“Nothing, don’t mind me,” you said as you looked down to work on the piece for the shadow box. Your eyes drifted up every now and then as you observed him working on what looked to be some kind of science homework. 

His eyes wandered over your frame every now and then as he took in your look of complete concentration as you worked with a small piece of clay. He couldn’t help but appreciate the dedication you had toward your craft. 

“What are you working on?” You asked after some time. 

“Science homework,” he gave you a cheeky smile. You gave him a deadpan expression. “It’s space stuff,” he answered. 

“What about space stuff?” You asked, genuine curiosity laced your tone. 

“I’m learning about stars,” he tilted the book he was reading, it was open to a diagram of a star. 

“Oh neat!” You took a closer look at the diagrams and then looked back at him. He was rubbing his neck with a sheepish look on his face. “I did a project a couple years ago on Saturn,” you pulled your phone out and showed him a picture. 

“Wow, you did a fantastic job,” he took your phone for a moment to get a closer look at it. “Wait, that looks familiar,” he looked up at you again. “That looks like the one in the observatory.”

“That’s because it is,” you chuckled. His eyes widened a little and his smile broadened. 

“I made out with a girl right next to it,” he chuckled and your smile dropped and you busied yourself with another piece of clay. 

“That’s great,” you forced out through the firm line your mouth was now set in. 

“Why do you do that?” He asked suddenly, noticing your immediate change in demeanour. You looked up and your eyes narrowed at him. 

“Do what?” 

“That? Get all closed off when I say something you don’t like,” he asked. 

“Because I really didn’t need to know you made out with a girl next to my art piece,” you stated. “I was told if I have nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.” 

“I’m not a child, I can handle criticism,” he defended. 

“That’s not the point. Have you ever once sat down and just chatted with a girl without the expectation of sex afterwards?” You asked, your tone very genuine. He sat back in his chair and looked anywhere but your face. 

“No. Not in a long time,” his answer caught you guard. You were expecting some snide comment or a lie. When you looked at his face, he looked completely sincere. You took a deep breath knowing the answer to the question you were about to ask. 

“Is that why you’re here now?” You didn’t recognize the voice that asked the question. It was soft and meek, nothing like your usual cadence. He didn’t answer right away, and based on the look on his face he didn’t really know what to say or how to answer. 

“Honestly,” he took a deep breath and looked at his hands. “Probably. Maybe. I don’t know. At first definitely. The first time I spoke to you it was. But I don’t know,” his rambling gave away how honest he was being. “I still want to,” he paused, “to still sleep with you. I also want to hang out with you. And get to know you.” 

You couldn’t help the slight upturn of your lip as you released a long inhale, “thank you for being honest.” 

“I might be a prick. But at least I’m an honest one,” he tried to joke. His smile dropped when you didn’t laugh. “So where does that leave us now?” 

“I don’t know Barnes. I don’t want to sleep with you. But I don’t want you to take that as a challenge to get me to sleep with you. If you truly want to be friends, and we get to know one another with no ulterior motives, then we can do that,” you didn’t want to sugar coat it. You also didn’t have the balls to admit you had a tiny crush on him because that would go straight to his dick and this conversation would be pointless. 

“Well to start you could start calling me Bucky, Barnes is so detached,” he gave you a small smile. 

“Well that was the point,” you chuckled. “But okay, Bucky.” His smile grew larger and he pumped his fist in the air. 

“I’m still calling you Doodle though,” he said, his tone serious as he stared at you. 

“That’s fine, I guess,” you chuckled while rolling your eyes at him. 

“So how much of my piece is finished?” He asked, you couldn’t help but laugh and pointed over your shoulder to the large canvas behind you. “That’s empty.” 

“I know. I have to get some practice sketches  done first before I paint on the big canvas,” you decided to not mention the two you ruined.

“Can I see the practice sketches?” He asked hopefully. 

“Sure,” you relented and passed the sketch pad over and watched him look at it. 

“How do you do that?” He asked, passing it back a moment later. 

“Draw?” You raised an eyebrow at him. He nodded. “I just do, it takes a lot of practice and effort. I could ask the same of you, how do you skate so effortlessly?” 

He smiled for a moment before answering, “I guess it’s the same. I just get on the ice and go. The moment I lace my skates up and I hit the ice everything else just fades away, it’s just me, my stick and the puck.” 

“For me, I pick up the pen, or brush and just start somewhere and get lost in it. It’s me, the brush and the canvas,” you finished. 

“Hey,” he was serious now, that caught your attention fully as you looked at him, “I wanted to apologise for what I said the other day…”

“Bucky,” you reached out and placed your smaller hand on his gently as you cut him off, “stop, it’s okay. We both said things that weren’t very nice. For what it’s worth.” You looked into his eyes sincerely, “I’m sorry too. It’s behind us now.” 

He smiled and nodded, “okay Doodle.” 

That conversation was the catalyst to your developing and lively friendship with Bucky, when the team wasn’t travelling for the away games over the next week he would sit in the art room and do his homework while you worked on the art projects you had due. 

It was Thursday night, Bucky was just getting to the art studio after practice when he saw you hunched over your sketch pad, your hands in your hair and you were sniffling. He entered and quickly threw his gym bag down and came around the table and crouched down next to you. He placed his hand on your forearm, trying not to startle you too much. You jumped anyway since you didn’t hear him come in, you were too wrapped up in your own thoughts to notice anything else.

“Doodle,” he said softly. “Everything okay?” You shook your head and slumped into his chest, that caught him off guard, he quickly wrapped his arms around you and hugged you back as you cried into his chest. As quickly as you collapsed into him you pulled back and shook your head. 

“I’m sorry,” you blurted out and placed your head in your hands. Bucky was a little stunned at how quickly your demeanour changed. 

“It's okay,” he stood and took his usual seat across from you. “Wanna talk about it?” You let out an exaggerated sigh and sniffled loudly. 

“My art professor is a bitch,” you groaned. “And I have a bunch more projects due and she’s just awful. If I didn’t need this course to graduate I would have dropped it.” You pressed your cheek against the table and closed your eyes. 

“What did she do?” Bucky asked.

“After class she decided to tell me she doesn’t know why I bother trying, and that the school was foolish to offer, a no talent, wannabe one of the only full ride scholarships offered for the arts,” you were crying again. You had spent years honing your craft, and fought tooth and nail for the scholarship that allowed you to attend school here. 

“She’s probably just jealous,” you laughed at that, Nat had said the same thing when you texted her earlier about what happened. 

“I have an appointment with the head of the department tomorrow afternoon. This isn’t the first time she’s been awful to me,” you didn’t see his fist clench and the momentary anger flash across his face as you said that. 

“I wouldn’t listen to her Doodle,” Bucky reached across the table and patted your arm gently. “Your art is awesome, and you’re incredibly talented,” he finished. You smiled against the table and lifted your head up to send him a thankful look.

“Thanks Bucky, that means a lot,” you sighed and whipped your eyes with the back of your hand and rolled your shoulders. “I got some stuff done on your portrait,” you said, your voice still a little coarse, but you felt a lot better. His face lit and his full attention was on the covered canvas behind you. You stood and pulled the cover off and showed him, you had some of the out lining done, the positioning and scale perfect. You felt very proud of it so far. 

“Holy shit Doodle,” Bucky stood and got closer to admire the outlining. “You know, once this is done, you should get them to let you display it in the sports annex,” he had a smug tone as he said this. You chuckled and rolled your eyes. 

“Maybe if you bat your eyelashes at the department head, and ask him really nicely, he’ll let me,” you bumped your hip into his and smirked up at him. He smiled down at you and the softness in his eye made your heart skip a beat, you quickly cleared your throat and moved from him to grab a pencil. 

“I’m going to work my homework, and stay out of your way,” Bucky said softly as he moved from your side to sit down again. You smiled looking down at your feet before you started to do some more outlining. 

His eyes would shift from his homework every so often and they would rove over your body. He knew he didn’t have a shot in hell at getting you to agree to sleeping with him, you made that clear and he was really trying to make sure he kept that at the forefront of his mind when he was around you because he really did want to be friends with you.

But those leggings you wore hugged the curve of your ass so perfectly it was making it difficult. He felt his mouth dry out a little as he watched you rock from side to side as you drew on the canvas, and he involuntarily let a low whistle when you stretched up and exposed some of the soft skin of your back. 

You immediately turned and looked at him with a raised brow and squinted at him, full judgement. “Barnes,” you were warning him, he raised his hands up in surrender. 

“Not my fault you look amazing, it's a crime,” he defended himself with a cocky tone. You couldn’t stop the blush that crawled up your neck and on to your cheeks. 

“You’re insufferable,” you groaned, turning your back to him again, the blush still strong on your cheeks. He laughed loudly, before going back to his homework. You couldn’t keep the little smile off your face, you knew he used that line on countless girls, and it was probably a line he used often to get in their pants, but damn he was such a smooth talker, and he said all the right things in the right tones. You hated that you longed for his compliments. 

It was quiet for a while longer, just the sounds of pencils on paper and canvas filling the air.   

“Hey Doodle,” you hummed in response, not wanting to look away. “There is a final game just before playoffs, it's here, do you think you’ll come?” 

“I thought Nat said you guys were done with the home games now,” you still didn’t look at him, trying to make sure your scale was correct. 

“This one isn’t a regular season game, but I think you’ll really enjoy it,” he was being incredibly cryptic about whatever it is. You turned now, and raised an eyebrow at him. 

“Then what is it?” You asked as you eyed him. 

“Surprise, but I promise you’ll love it,” he sounded so earnest that you couldn’t help but believe him. 

“Okay,” I chuckled. “I’ll go,” you relented, trying to hide your genuine excitement. 

Taglist: @vicmc624, @calwitch, @learisa, @aaqua-tofana

Feel free to send me a message if you have a request or would like more, or would like to be added to the tag list ❤️

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky imagine #bucky x reader #fluff #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes hockey player #hockeyplayer!bucky x artist!reader #college!bucky #college fic #college au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes x doodle

[gh0vtzb1og]

Poppin your cherry. STALKER AU / SIMON RILEY X FEM READER

Notes; NON CON, head locks, masks. Held at gun point, murder threats. Stalking, religious references, bleeding.

Real excited for this one boys and girls and non binaries

You walk out into the alleyway you always do while leaving work. Completely unknowing of the danger that lurks ahead. A skip was casually making its way into your walk, a smile on your face as you held your phone in your hands.

You’d walked this alley every day, at the same time, how could tonight be any different? What would change? You were completely calm, not expecting some psycho killer to just jump out and start stabbing you.

He watched you from a dark corner, watching the way your shirt clung to your body. It excited him, his hand moved down into his holster, cocking his pistol and stepping out behind you. A grunt left his lips as he moved up right behind you, watching as you tensed up, trying to continue on your walk home before a pistol was shoved into your face.

He covered your mouth before you even had time to scream. The masked attacker grunted, waiting for you to stop panicking, trying to hit and pull his hand away, definitely wasn’t working. The stranger leaned into your ear. A menacing gravely voice leaving him.

“Scream and I’ll shoot you. You don’t want that do you hm? Love? I know everything bout you. I could kill everyone you fucking love if you tell anyone about this.” He wrapped your head into a headlock. His bicep crushing your throat under the pressure it was causing.

“You walk this path every day, completely unworried some guy will kidnap you and rape you. Suppose you feel dumb now don’t you? Leaving your apartment windows unlocked. Never telling anyone when your leaving or where your going. Never keeping anything to defend yourself with on you. You’re just a pathetic little girl.” His hands move to your skirt, slipping one underneath it and rubbing your panties, feeling how easily wet you got in your panicked state.

“Gettin wet for me already? Were you just dreaming of this you dumb fucking freak? This isn’t even rape. You know you want this.” He sneered into your ear. Rubbing his large fingers against your soaked slit, teasing your clit with a pinch every minute or so.

Watching the way you cried and squirmed, knowing this man had full intentions of using you, there was nothing you could do.

He undid his pants and boxers, letting them fall to his ankles as he pulled your panties aside. Rubbing his hard cock against your cunnie. Oh how much pleasure he got from seeing your terrified face as he rubbed his massive cock against your virgin slit.

“Gonna pop your cherry, and you’re gonna like it aren’t you.” He slammed his tip up into you, a muffed screamish cry left you as you squirmed, trying to get away from the fact you were being raped of your virginity, a perfect little lamb becoming soaked in the blood of sin. His sin. Your blood soaked his cock. Mixing with the wetness of your cunt.

You slumped against his large body, his headlock keeping you in place as he rams in and out of your cunt, every painful thrust robbing you of something you wanted to save for marriage. You stared up at him, tears flooding your face as his gun stayed against your skin; the muzzle coldly kissing your skin. The cold metal leaving a feeling you wouldn’t ever forget.

You could feel every vein making its print on your velvety walls. You wanted to cry to the heavens above for sanctuary. For forgiveness, for strength. Now you were just staring at this brute of a man who was stealing everything you worked so hard to protect, he loved the way you cried. The way you were gonna scream for help but a sound couldn’t leave your throat except for cries and moans.

“Quit actin like you hate this; I know you want this, lamb.” He spat into your ear. Grabbing your thigh and lifting it up so he could get deeper; a groan leaving his mouth as he continued to pound into you. The knot in your stomach and his loosening, he began to pant. Getting ready to cum into your virgin cervix. Leaving his long lasting imprint on you.

You came around his cock, it mixing with your blood. He loved the way the mixed liquids dripped from his cock onto the alleyway ground, how this was gonna be in his mind forever. He could loose his place in the military for this, but you were so worth it.

He slammed into your cunt one final time. Spearing you wide open and cummin into your cunt. Watching as it dripped out, you wouldn’t forget this. Neither would he.

“I’ll see you again lamb.” He pulled his pants and boxers up, letting you hit the ground and walking away. Watching your innocent face, the way it broke when he walked away. You were full of his semen. You needed to clean this out, you couldn’t get pregnant with his baby.

-

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #cod mw2 #simon riley x you #call of duty #price call of duty #call of duty x reader #gh0vtzb1ogz #simon ghost x reader #simon riley headcanons #ghost x reader #simon riley hcs #call of duty smut #cnc free use

[feybarn]

Thanks for all the prompts you guys sent. I'm definitely not going to be able to hit them all at once. But I'm going to try to get to at least one or two a day...

Up first with @everfascinated's prompt.

It's Monday and I'm really feeling it lol Can Obi-Wan relax with your fav Jedi/Mando/clone? I'm working for the weekend, someone needs to just sit and read or have a nice day with people they love

Some Obi-Wan & Quinlan.

Obi-Wan glared at his interloper, currently looming over him and holding Obi-Wan’s datapad over his head. “What are you doing?”

“You are going to give me an ulcer,” Quinlan said. “Literally. An ulcer. I can feel it growing right now.” He pressed his free hand against his stomach and let out an exaggerated groan. “I never thought you were capable of such cruelty.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t amused. In the slightest. “I need to finish the report for my latest mission, Quin.”

“You need to take a break before you break down. This may come as a surprise to you, but things like fatigue and stress do affect you the same way they do the rest of us.”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Quin. My datapad. Give it to me.”

Quinlan scoffed, turned off the datapad, and stuck it in his belt. “Not a chance.” 

Obi-Wan had somehow forgotten just how supremely irritating Quinlan could be. How he’d managed to forget that was something of a mystery, because Quinlan was… Quinlan. Apparently the back to back missions he and Anakin had been sent on the last year were getting to him. He didn’t know why he was being ‘specifically requested’ so often, but he’d really prefer it stop happening. “What do you want, Quin?”

“I want you to relax. For an evening. That’s it.”

The thought filled Obi-Wan with longing. As it was… “I can’t.” He had already received a message requesting that he and Anakin prepare for another mission in three days, there was too much to do in the next three days to relax. Mace had been apologetic, but the request for Obi-Wan had come straight from the Senate.

Beyond that, he’d agreed to teach several hand to hand courses for the senior padawans—which was less hand to hand and more how to fight dirty—had several meetings with Senators from former missions, and a meeting with the council.

“You can, actually,” Quinlan said. “Aayla is inviting Anakin to join her and a few other padawans for a night in the holo-room for the night. Star gazing, supposedly, but we both know that’s just code for gossip. That means the two of us are free for the night.”

“I’m not going cantina hopping, Quinlan.”

Quinlan rolled his eyes. “Give me some credit, Obi-Wan. I know when you’re in a cantina hopping mood. I have deigned to suffer this evening, all for your sake, and we’re going to do something you consider relaxing.”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms over his chest, because this was sure to be good. Quinlan didn’t know the first thing about relaxing in a way that didn’t include chaos.

Obi-Wan would be lying if he said he didn’t at times egg Quinlan on, but he simply was too drained to do so.

“In this theoretical situation where I give in, what, exactly, do you plan on us doing?”

Quinlan’s expression shifted into one of exaggerated long-suffering. “We are going to watch the prime-time recording of the Phantasma Opera.” He shuddered. “I borrowed the recording from Windu and stole some tea from Depa and…” He paused for obvious emphasis. “I raided Siri’s kitchen for the little sugary monstrosities that you like. I risked my life for this evening.”

“Siri’s going to kill you,” Obi-Wan said. His mouth watered at the thought of the Alderaanian Delights Siri hoarded. “How about this, you give me those Alderaanian Delights and I get back to work. You can consider your mission accomplished.”

“Nope,” Quinlan said easily. “It’s everything or nothing.”

Obi-Wan was too professional to pout, but it was Quinlan; Quinlan had seen him do worse. He pouted.

Quinlan was unfazed. “So, I’m stealing your datapad and setting up in your quarters. You can choose to join me or you can languish here in the archives.” Quinlan sauntered away.

Obi-Wan groaned and buried his face in his arms on the table.

He was so tired. 

Quinlan was such a pest, really. Obi-Wan didn’t know how he put up with him.

He forced himself out of the chair.

Quinlan was wrong; Obi-Wan didn’t need a break. But… well, Quinlan had clearly gone through a great deal of work—risking Siri’s wrath on top of it all—to give Obi-Wan a break. And he really had wanted to see the Phantasma Opera for quite some time.

He made it to his quarters to find Quinlan sprawled over his couch, Phantasma Opera queued up, tea steeping, and Alderaanian Delights in a box on his chest.

Obi-Wan forced Quinlan to move his legs before he sat down. “I need my datapad back.”

“Tomorrow,” Quinlan said. “I’m teaching your class on fighting dirty, already cleared it with the Masters—who were quite pleased to have an expert Shadow, by the way—so you have time then.”

Obi-Wan stared at his best friend, because tonight had been… appreciated for the intent behind it, but some part of Obi-Wan had been on edge trying to figure out what to do with the time he was losing. This… this was more than he had thought he could ask for. Some of his tension released. 

“Thanks Quinlan,” he said quietly. 

Quinlan smirked at him. “Don’t thank me too soon. I’m going to tell all of the padawans about the time you won a cantina fight because you freaked out the Duros smuggler by threatening to bite him.”

Obi-Wan laughed. “Have I told Aayla the story of the time we almost poisoned Yoda when we brought him the wrong type of frog as a life day present?”

“Not yet,” Quinlan said, a gleeful look entered his eyes. Mostly because the story was more hilarious than embarrassing, Master Yoda had been delighted by their ‘murder attempt’. “But you can tell her tomorrow at dinner.”

Obi-Wan thought about protesting, but with Quinlan taking on Obi-Wan’s classes, his whole day tomorrow was suddenly free; he could spare another evening with Quinlan.

He leaned back against the sofa and relaxed as the Opera started.

His tension faded away. For the first time in ages, Obi-Wan just… relaxed. 

Kark. Quinlan had been right; he was going to be absolutely insufferable.

#fey's writing #obi-wan kenobi #quinlan vos #short #thanks for the prompt!

[faithfulcat111]

Jancy as some of the wild-ass things my roommates have done:

Jonathan: *drove over two hours to the only store that had a particular stuffed animal his girlfriend wanted in stock*

----------

Nancy: *terrifies the landlords by how many times she comes in to yell at them*

----------

Jonathan: You know sometimes I forget I'm crippled. *takes off running*

----------

Nancy: *won't stop talking to Jonathan while he's showering cause she doesn't wanna be alone so they just start showering together so he can hear her* (not just cause they're horny (at least not only) )

----------

Nancy: Fuck! Why does Jonathan have to work late? I'm too horny for this!

----------

Nancy: Why are you making me get up and answer the door?

Jonathan, who hasn't gotten dressed yet: I can't answer the door naked!

----------

Nancy: One of these days, I'm gonna murder your dad.

Jonathan: I know.

----------

Jonathan: *starts referring to Nancy as his wife before they even get engaged*

#jancy #jonathan byers #nancy wheeler #jancy incorrect quotes #my roomies are nuts sometimes #but i love them #this was sitting in my drafts i just added a couple of things

[vividvivy]

Heya^^ could we get some romantic headcanons about kaiser, shidou and isagi having a artist/painter prodigy s/o?

Of course you can exclude anyone if it's too much! Anyways I hope you'll have a wonderful day or night and don't forget to hydrate^^

Notes: Hellooo! First request, I'm so happy oh my gosh. I had some trouble so I'll do the rest in separate parts, hope you don't mind!! 41°C here it's so hot omg. You stay safe and hydrated too!! Also sorry it's messy, I'm still trying to improve and I hope you'll like this! 😭

Pairing: Isagi Yoichi x Reader

Type: Headcanons

Genre: Fluff, Romance

Isagi Yoichi with an Art Prodigy S/O ♡︎

He leaves you for the damn ball.

JOKE.. I'M JOKING GUYS..

Would be the most understanding and considerate among the three. I'm not sure if Yoichi will actually understand, but he's still super supportive and would listen to you and assist you when you need any help or company.

Dates with him are so cozy and peaceful.

He'd stay in an art studio or any room at all and sketch and paint with you all day long. 

I think he'd be the type to try and draw you flowers or try to make you (+ him TOGETHER!!)

He'd be over the moon if you agreed to craft anything matching him. Something simple like paper rings, matching pins or brooches, and drawings of each other!!

Would put a drawing you made or a printed pic of you in his clear case.

His phone would be you-themed. Just you, him and your work.

Bonus: If you met as schoolmates or before Blue Lock, he'd try to make small silly doodles for you in class, and if you handed him any doodles, he'd sometimes cut them and place them in his ID case or hang them in his locker and use some of them as bookmarks.

Takes you shopping (would definitely randomly buy Art supplies that caught his eye and give them to you) or anywhere at all!!

His favourite place to stay would probably be in a café or restaurant that isn't too fancy, just somewhere with cute, homey vibes and a picturesque view.

He's TRYING to keep up with you when you invite him to paint together.. (Keyword: He's trying his best.) It definitely isn't the best thing out there but A for effort.

Tbh he always improves so quickly it's scary and makes you envious and proud sometimes..

If it bothers you and he notices, he'd act more clueless on purpose and would let you just guide him??

HAS A SEPARATE SKETCH BOOK WHERE HE KEEPS HIS DRAWINGS OF YOU!!

Made a little scrapbook dedicated to the 2 of u <3

He really REAAALLY admires you and your work.

In his eyes, you and your work are the best there are aside from soccer and being the best striker there is. He could stare at your papers and canvases hung up or scattered all day, admiring each stroke and line, even the finest ones, and looking at each shaded and highlighted area in awe.

His deep blue eyes shine so brightly when they meet your paintings and illustrations, yet no other sea of stars could replicate the shine seen in his gaze when completely in awe.  In awe of you.

When you're experiencing any artblocks or frustrations regarding it, he'd be your number one helper.

If it's a better environment and inspiration you need, he'd immediately try to take you places and show you works that you've made before for more inspo. Would try taking you to a soccer field or any open area outdoors too.

Barely knows what he's doing but he's got the spirit guys!!

During hard times, he'd be the first to go by your side and help you.

Would try to be the one to pull you out when all the stress and expectations swallow you whole (Again he's TRYING but all his attempts are most likely clumsy and slightly flawed..)

#blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #isagi yoichi #yoichi isagi #isagi x reader #isagi yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #blue lock headcanons

[ahlovelightaflame]

Never Knew I Needed ~ *Choi Seungcheol*

Summary: During an interview, Seungcheol is asked to divulge details about your relationship. He's more than happy to tell the interviewer how much he loves you.

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Oneshot

Word Count: 1245

Warning: N/A

Masterlist

Taglist: @samepoisonsamevine @kpop-will-kill-me

"Choi Seungcheol, if I may ask a personal question?" The interviewer asked.

Seventeen's leader froze for a brief second before giving an easy smile and nod. "You may."

"Tell me, what is the most important thing in your life?"

Jeonghan snickered under his breath. "Man, we're going to be here forever!"

Seungcheol rolled his eyes before answering the question, "For starters, my family, though my brother sometimes gets on my nerves. And then I'd have to say Seventeen. I couldn't imagine my life without either of them. They're my family, whether by blood or not."

"You're so cheesy!" Junhui groaned and shook his head.

"He loves us! We're his favorite!" Hoshi proudly grinned.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. "You guys are obnoxious! I'll take it all back!"

"Too late! You love us!" Hoshi shot back.

Joshua nudged his shoulder with a teasing smile. "You're still forgetting someone."

"Forgetting someone?" The interviewer leaned in a little with an encouraging smile.

Seungcheol looks down at his lap, a shy smile on his lips and his fingers anxiously twisting in his fingers in his lap. "They're talking about my girlfriend."

"She's more than your girlfriend!" Vernon piped up.

"They're practically soulmates." Joshua explained.

"He never stops talking about her!" Jeonghan added.

The interviewer gives Seungcheol an encouraging nod to continue. "Tell us more about her."

Though he knows he shouldn't, he does anyway, "She's special in her own unique way. I like to say she has this uncanny ability to be at the right place at the right time. Like when I first met her."

"Is that so?"

He nods. "I met her a couple years ago. She was working backstage of a music show and she had pulled me aside to fix my jacket and hair. I swear, I could've melted into a puddle right then and there. She was so kind and her touch was so gentle and her eyes practically were sparkling. I don't usually believe in love at first sight, but that day I knew I did."

"See? I told you they were soulmates." Joshua joked, earning a laugh from the other members of Seventeen.

"It wasn't until after she wished me good luck that I asked if she would be watching us perform. She said she watches everyone perform and that she'll be watching us as well. I'll admit, I put extra effort into my performance that night. After we won and we were getting ready to leave, I found her cleaning a green room and gave her my number before running off. She texted me on the way home."

"She probably felt bad for the dork who was trying and failing to flirt with her." Minghao snickered under his breath.

"He was so bad at flirting when they first started talking!" Seungkwan explained. "It was painful to watch!"

Seungcheol rolled his eyes. "As you can imagine from their reactions, they teased me for my relationship with her and how much I talked about her. But eventually, they started begging me to meet her. I was nervous at first, since it's a big step, but eventually I brought her to meet the group. And they loved her immediately!"

"She's nicer than you!" Dino piped up with a cheeky grin.

"She's so sweet!" Mingyu nodded. "We love having her around."

Jeonghan dramatically sighed before saying, "She's practically taken my spot as mom of Seventeen. I've been replaced!"

"You have not!" Seungcheol shot back. "Remember? As soon as you brought that up, she told you that she could never replace you and told you how important you are to Seventeen. She totally inflated your ego beyond belief that day."

"And I thank her everyday for it." Jeonghan replied with a smile.

Turning back to the interviewer, Seungcheol continued his story. "That was the day I realized how much I love her and I told her that very night. It's also when we had our first kiss."

"So romantic!" Hoshi wistfully sighed before bursting into giggles.

The interviewer nodded at their response. "Sounds like you love her very much. But to be honest, there have been some rough times, haven't there? I'm sure dating a celebrity such as yourself is no easy feat."

Seungcheol gives a small wince. "Well, yes, we've had our moments where things don't go according to plan. But we always work through our conflicts to the best of our abilities."

"Like the World Tour Incident." Jihoon interjected.

The rest of Seventeen shudders at the thought, making the interviewer intrigued. "Please, tell us what this incident was about!"

Seungcheol winces once more before beginning the story. "This world tour was about two or three months, and I had never been away from my girlfriend for that long. I was sure we were going to be fine, but I misjudged how long the time was and how far apart we'd be. By the time we wrapped up the third week of performances, I thought she had forgotten all about me-"

"She didn't call him like twice in that time." Junhui explained.

"Regardless!" Seungcheol snapped. "I thought this was her way of saying we were over, so I went with it. We were over, that's it. And I was in such a dark place that I threw myself into my work. I don't really remember what happened during that time, but from what the rest of Seventeen has told me, it wasn't a pretty sight."

"It's best that you don't know." Seungkwan shook his head.

"After two weeks of that, she visited me at our hotel. I was so angry with her and myself, that I was the one who blew her off. I demanded she leave and never see me again." Seungcheol hung his head in shame. "I never should've done that. I don't know what came over me but it was awful. For the rest of the tour I was so depressed, thinking I had gotten rid of one of the only good things in my life."

"And that's when Wonwoo had an amazing idea!" Mingyu piped up and grabbed Wonwoo's arm.

Jihoon nodded. "He invited her to our last concert of the tour and we had her in the front row."

"He almost cried like a baby when he saw her!" Jeonghan teased their leader. "But he put his all into that performance, just so he could impress her like the first day they met."

"And when the concert was over, we made sure she was backstage to be there for him." Vernon nodded.

Seungcheol gave a small smile. "I was so overcome with emotion I just broke down in her arms. I cried for what felt like hours and apologized like my life depended on it. When I got all of that out of my system, she told me how much she loved me and how happy she was that I was coming home. From then on, I knew I would never let our relationship get that bad again. And it never has."

"Their reunion was so sweet, it still brings a tear to the eye." Hoshi pretended to fake cry.

The interviewer nodded. "It sounds like you really love this girl."

"That's an understatement." Chan snorts.

Seungcheol just nodded. "I do. I love her more than anything in the world, plain and simple."

"Any plans for the future of your relationship with her?"

The rest of Seventeen snickered as Seungcheol's smile turned mischievous.

"Oh? Didn't you know? We're getting married tomorrow."

#Seventeen #Seventeen Fanfiction #Seventeen Oneshot #KPop #KPop Fanfiction #KPop Oneshot #Carat #Choi Seungcheol #Choi Seungcheol X Reader #Choi Seungcheol Fanfiction #Choi Seungcheol Oneshot #Choi Seungcheol Fluff #S Coups #S Coups X Reader #S Coups Fanfiction #S Coups Oneshot #S Coups Fluff #Interview #Interview AU #Oneshot #Fluff #Angst

[oswald-can-draw]

About your mlp infection au!! I love this one so much I'm so interested!! Maybe give us a rundown of a couple of the survivors and how equestrias chances are looking? How did the ponies infected by black magic change and mutate? Can spike or other species like dragons, griffins and zebras get infected since they dont have cutiemarks? Are foals who dont have cutiemarks yet immune until they get their cutiemark? How does that play in? Im so sorry if this is too many questions, I really love this au and I think its really cool!!! Its a really well thought out idea and I think its awesome!!! :D I hope you have a nice day! ❤️

Someone being an autistic beast about my work is the highest compliment, so never apologize for that!

But, boy howdy, have we got a lot of ground to cover!

Let’s take it step by step:

1. FOALS

Foals (or those without their cutie mark), are a very complex cog in this AU. On one hand, they don’t have their cutie mark, so they can’t be infected, as there is no magic to corrupt. Great!

The bad news? Getting one’s cutie mark is often an unplanned thing, which means any foal can become susceptible to the Meanie Mark Virus at any time. There are many ways to deal with this.

One common one is to wrap the foal’s flank with compression gauze. Half a desperate idea, and half a way to forget their child’s vulnerability (or to hide when they DO get a cutie mark). Somepony suggested that it could “keep back” a cutie mark, and the rest of the populace decided to go with it.

Another way is to just try and keep the foal from anything that interests them. This works to a point, but the stress from their friends and family on the brink of death every day, and now any sliver of joy that they can find in this hellscape is strictly forbidden. This can cause a once rare, but quickly becoming more common developmental condition known as “Muted Cutie”. This causes a cutie mark to appear, but it’s based off of an outside tension, such as familial pressure, cutie conditions, and lack of input. It’s like a magical wisdom tooth — keeping the actual cutie mark from developing and causing pain and stress to the pony.

The third option is a last resort: quietly “taking care” of foals that were of cutie mark age or freshly marked.

Having a foal of a certain age can bar you from going into certain populated areas, getting ample supplies, and even contact with other ponies.

Of course, this is EXTREMELY traumatizing for the foal. Feeling like they aren’t wanted and that they aren’t allowed even the smallest of joys can make life miserable.

2. OTHER SPECIES

* Zecora’s redesign is based off of the Karo tribe, a small tribe famous for body painting and self expression. Though I have done as much research as I can, there is still room for error. If there is something inaccurate, please let me know so I can fix the redesign accordingly.

Other species may not get the Meanie Mark illness, per se, but they do have reactions to parts of the evil clones that seep into the soil or the corpses of already infected ponies.

Griffins, for example, get something similar to food poisoning, with nausea, vomiting, and unseasonal molting. This is their body attempting to purge the toxins. Their flying also becomes affected, with severe bouts of vertigo and lost sense of direction. For the average, healthy griffin, this usually only lasts a week or so. However, if a griffin is elderly, injured, or any sort of health condition, this infection could be fatal. Fortunately, since griffins are so far from the Everfree Forest and spend so little time on the ground, this sickness is very rare, especially with certain security measures set in place.

Dragons are even luckier. Their stomachs are able to digest any trace of the infection, neutralizing it before it can cause any real damage. However, there is a phenomenon that has been unearthed due to dragons. The gems found near their volcano-filled home can actually be infused with the disease. The only sign of this having occurred is a slightly darker hue and a “rotten” taste, according to the dragons. A few dragons have been enlisted to dispose of infected material, as them consuming it is the only way it can be disposed of without putting more ponies at risk. Not many are up for the task.

Zebras, on the other hoof, have quite the reaction to infected material. While they aren’t infected with the true disease, the special, magical markings and body paint can give the bacteria something to feed on. This can cause weakness, confusion, gastrointestinal distress, rashes, burns, irritability, and even aggression. Zebras often have to be quarantined from the rest of their tribe in order to keep the disease from spreading and the victim from hurting anyone or anything. Removal of paint and markings can help, and are often reapplied after recovery, with additional markings showing their bravery, strength, and health. Unfortunately, some of them do not survive.

Any other living thing, including birds, mammals, plant life, and insects all have generally poor reactions upon exposure. Common themes in symptoms include weakness, vomiting, and confusion. Plants will turn away from the sun. Dogs will whine and curl into a ball. Birds will run into things and screech. Survival depends on the age, health, size, and care plan of a creature. Among them, usually about 73% survive.

Though no other species has the guaranteed death from the disease that ponies do, it can still cause some nasty, or even deadly, side effects.

3. BLACK MAGIC

Since the Meanie Mark Illness is already a form of black magic, just more widespread and deadly, the disease has horrendous effects on those who have already succumbed to dark magic.

Though it’s a rare instance, the phenomenon has been observed. Whether the black magic or the illness comes first, it always begins and ends the same way:

First, a pony becomes much, MUCH more powerful. Instead of gradually gaining this talent through the virus, their black magic reaches a feverish pitch. The pony begins to have uncontrollable displays of magic, usually of the destructive kind. Explosions, rays, death, and evil spells emanate from them without stopping. This has caused many hasty villains to try and catch the famous Meanie Mark Illness — with this power, they think, taking over the world would be easy.

Second, the two opposing powers battling for control inside the pony begin to destroy the victim from the inside. See, the reason why ponies become a husk-like corpse and turn to dust at the end of the Meanie Mark’s cycle is because of the Tree of Harmony’s magic fighting the dark magic of the virus, which ends up destroying the pony in the process. But with the black magic far overpowering the Tree of Harmony, the pony has a different problem — their body can’t handle such raw power.

The pony’s hair begins to fall out, their veins swell, their skin begins to blacken with gangrene as less and less blood goes to extremities. The pony ends up rotting from the inside out, black sludge oozing from their mouth and eyes, magic still pouring out of them. Their cutie mark, both subdued from the virus and given immense power from the black magic, sputters and shines and pulses.

Finally, a pony will die within a few days, their corpse zombified and rotting. However, those who do survive the ordeal have poor quality of life, as their joints, brains, and some of their organs hardly work anymore. They will live either as a wandering corpse or a patient for their friends and family to take care of until their demise in the near future.

In other words, this is a quicker but much more painful death!

4. CHANCES FOR EQUESTRIA?

This disease can be spread very easily, especially among unicorns. If an infected unicorn casts a spell on another pony, they too will catch Meanie Mark. Other than that, a pony either has to come in contact with infected soil/plant life, an animal that has eaten said infected material, or a corpse. This means that, though the illness will be slow to spread at first, it will pick up speed as time goes on.

With the emphasis on foals and the amount that are being killed for mercy or safety’s sake, repopulating is going to be difficult.

As for a cure…perhaps the dragons can help, since they are the only one’s completely immune? Or maybe they could at least offer hints about how to stop this horrible disease?

All this to say — there is a chance of survival. But is Equestria quick enough to find a cure? Or at least keep the disease at bay?

BONUS - SURVIVORS (NOT COMPLETE):

1. Spike: Being a dragon has its perks. But being surrounded by ponies does not.

2. Big Mac: The pony you would want in an apocalypse. Still mourning the infection of his sisters.

3. Discord: Could he even…get sick? Isn’t he part pony? But he doesn’t have a cutie mark…

4. Rainbow Dash: Cloudsdale is on lockdown, and isn’t allowing anypony in or out. But it’s like herding winged cats.

5. Winona: Aids Big Mac. Since eating an infected piece of flesh, she avoids the infected like the plague.

6. Sweetie Belle: Was staying with Scootaloo right before Rarity got infected. Apple Bloom would have come, but she didn’t feel well…

7. Scootaloo: Her inventions are invaluable. But her lack of a quick way to escape could be the death of her one day.

#mlp #mlp infection #mlp infection au #mlp infected au #my little pony infection au #mlp horror #horror #infection au #digital art #artists on tumblr #art #my art #digital artist #fanart

[paleepeaches]

John Wick Yandere Headcanons

Never done this before so be kind to me! But anyway I just had these thoughts and needed to word vomit them up!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, kidnapping, Stockholm syndrome, ddlg,

A/N: Wouldn't a fic be cute?

Okay so I know I'm not the first to say this and won't be the last but John is a fucking Yandere.

He's a full-blown stalker who probably sees you at a bar or even something so normal as a grocery store.

This man is LONELY af. Since Helen passed he can not find someone else for the life of him.

That's until you come along with your pretty doe eyes and sweet nature.

You can be younger than him and he'll be fine with it. John doesn't mind babysitting a cute bimbo like you

You'll catch his eye with your soft voice and sweet smile. Most people his age have a smoker's voice or are married.

He becomes OBSESSED with you quickly. I mean very swift like within 2 days of seeing you not even talking.

He'll just stalk tf out of you probably at your work. He'll see you bagging groceries or serving drinks and just observe you with customers.

He'll take note of what days you work and don't. He'll mark it on his calendar, and circle it in red like the old man he is.

Once he figures out your schedule and what time you get off, what route you take, if you drive or walk he'll follow you.

He's a skilled hitman so he knows how to disappear and follow someone without them noticing.

He'll stalk you all the way to your apartment and once he's sure you're asleep he'll break in.

He's scoped out your place enough to deduct that you have no pets. Even if you did he'd know how to handle a dog.

John is precise and determined which is why he'd be so keen on placing hidden cameras all over your house.

He'd position them in the living room, kitchen, shower, and even your bedroom.

He'd want to see your most intimate and private moments but not totally invade it.

Of course, you wouldn't find out. Your head is too stuffed in your phone scrolling through social media or online shopping. You got an addiction but it's okay once you're his he'll spoil you! John has a lot of pocket money from all his jobs!

How will he get you?

John doesn't half-ass anything. He's learned to see through tough missions. Even ones he didn't enjoy. Capturing you though...? He would enjoy it.

He'd enjoy setting a date, waiting outside your apartment with his car off.

He'd prepared all the necessary equipment such as ropes, duct tape, and a gun if he needed to threaten you but he'd find that would only scare you more and he didn't want his little girl frightened of him.

He'd go about it more skillfully, more stealthy.

John entered your home after he was sure you entered the deepest REM cycle. He snuck in the window you often left open. Poor forgetful you, always leaving windows unlocked.

One time he found your door unlocked which was a dreadful surprise for him. He locked it right after he watched you sleep for a whole two hours.

See? You needed him to look after you. He'd try to justify his insane actions with that.

With a completely guilt-free head, he'd enter your home, make his way into your bedroom, and see you asleep all cuddled up in your pink plush covers.

You'd look so cute and docile breathing softly.

He'd smile, admiring you before pulling out a clean needled from his jacket pocket. John pricked the needle into a vial of clear liquid, sucking up the fluid before administrating it to you.

Your eyes didn't even flutter open as he injected it.

"Such a good girl." John would speak softly to you, smoothing down your hair and kissing your forehead.

He'd pack your favorite stuffed animal, clothes, and even your cute collections of calico critters or sonny angels, whatever cute trinkets you collected.

He'd want you to feel comfortable at his home. Y'all's home.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick x y/n #john wick chapter 4 #john wick x oc #john wick smut #john wick fluff #keanu reeves #keanuverse

[foreingersgod]

Can you write a CC x reader fic about reader meeting the team for the first time.

Like Caitlin forgets her practice jersey at home and you drop it off and they all wonder who you are??

Her Jersey . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: you and caitlin’s relationship has always been low key, so how will the team react when you bring her her jersey unannounced?

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

you weren’t something caitlin was trying to hide, nor was she ashamed of you by any means. but she had requested at the beginning of your relationship to just keep things quiet. you were both busy people, having so many things to worry about. you with a fairly religious family who wouldn’t be very thrilled to see you dating a woman, and caitlin with a recently large following who didn’t want to bring unwanted attention to you. she would love to show you off on social media and in person, but risking the hate comments and your well being was too much of a risk.

so you guys kept your relationship low key, not announcing it to anyone at all, including caitlin’s teammates. as much as you wanted to meet them officially and as much as caitlin wanted to flaunt you and brag about how lucky she was, you knew it would be too risky to tell any one.

but your ‘secret’ relationship had its perks. you were the only one who got to know the real caitlin, the one who cherished you behind closed doors, no one else. yes, you were often sad that you couldn’t do stereotypical couple things. like going out to dinner dates, the movies, or do all the fun couples trends. but you were appreciative of what you had: late nights at your apartment, being treated to breakfast in her bed, long and steamy showers shared together. you found a way to make it work.

one day, as you were sitting on your couch after caitlin left your apartment for practice, you had noticed a bright yellow piece of cloth tucked into one of the cushions. pulling it free, you had realized that she had left her jersey at your apartment. it had probably gotten stuck in your couch when you heatedly pulled it over her head as you straddled her lap, eager to see her when she came over late after her game last night. your cheeks were heating up as you reminisced to last nights events.

quickly pulling yourself from your day dream (you could have sat there all day thinking about last night if you could) you shot a text to caitlin, asking if she needed it.

you: hey babe, i just noticed you left your jersey at my place last night, want me to meet you somewhere private real quick and bring it to you?

you watched as her text bubbled popped, awaiting an answer.

Cait <3: oh shit, i had meant to grab that. yea if you wanna come down here, I’ll grab it from you real quick.

you: want me to wait outside? just so that they don’t all see me there.

Cait <3: nah, it should be fine, i’ll just be sneaky ;)

you laughed to yourself, typing out your response

you: if you say so, see you soon 💋

and with that, you were out the door, jersey in hand and bag thrown over your shoulder.

you pulled into the parking lot, getting out and heading into the building pretty quickly. making sure to avoid anyone you may know that might ask what you were doing here. you crept through a few winding halls before you saw the open gym doors, peaking inside to see everyone huddled around talking to one another.

you stood, slightly out of view, waiting for caitlin to notice you. after a few moments, she saw you waiting there patiently, fiddling with the hem of the jersey. you were so cute she couldn’t help but smile to herself. she excused herself from the group, jogging over to the other end of the gym.

as she made her way over to you, you noticed that a few of the girls had been watching her as she left. they tried to discreetly sneak a look at who cait was talking to.

“hey, baby!” she panted, pulling you into a quick kiss “thanks for coming all the way down here”

“yea it was no problem” you smiled sweetly, hands resting gently on her chest as she kissed you again. as you pulled away, though, you felt eyes on you. the same girls, along with the rest of the team, were now staring in your direction.

cait tried to say something else to you, but you weren’t listening as you were trying to grab her attention, shaking her shoulder violently.

“what, what?” she looked at you confused.

“cait,” you nodded your head in their direction “i think we’ve been caught”

she quirked her eyebrows, still lost, eventually turning her head to look behind her. and sure enough, there they all were, cocky smirks plastered across their faces as they jokingly whistled and cheered. out of embarrassment, you covered your face in your hands, caitlin only laughing along with them.

“yea, i guess so” she grabbed your hand, starting to pull you into the gym “might as well introduce you then…if you want?”

“i guess there’s nothing left to hide so…why not” you chuckled, letting her lead you, hooking your arm with hers. she led you to the middle of the court, all the girls still curious as to who you were.

“caitlin with a secret woman?” kate laughed, smiling your way, you had heard lots about her. who’s this?”

caitlin looked down at you, hands still intertwined. she ran her thumb over yours, sensing you were nervous with all the attention on you, trying calm you down.

“YN, this is my team” she began “and team, this is my girlfriend, YN”

they all immediately smiled at you, quick to welcome you with open arms. each girl gave you a comforting hug and introducing themselves, letting you know how lovely it is to meet you and how they’re excited to get to know you better. and of course, there was some playful banter. gabbie and kate at some point asking ‘how did caitlin manage to date someone as beautiful as you?’, eliciting a shy laugh from you. but they were all so funny and sweet, you instantly felt welcomed into such a tight knit group.

“alright, can you guys try not to scare her away!” caitlin interrupted as you chatted with the team “she’s really important to me so i’d appreciate if you didn’t freak her out with your dumb ass questions”

you all chuckled, teasing her a bit more before it was time to say your goodbyes to the girls. you thanked them for being so kind to you and they told you they couldn’t wait to hang out with you more some other time. caitlin told them she’d be back, taking your hand again and walking you out to your car.

as you got back to the parking lot, caitlin beginning to open your door for you, you stopped her. “hey, thanks for introducing me, cait. i know we said to keep it quiet, but i’m glad you trust your team enough to introduce me. wether it was on purpose or not” you smiled, squeezing her bicep sportively.

“i’m glad too,” she said “i think it was finally time to do it anyways, i was getting tired of people not knowing that you’re mine anyways”

she continued “you mean the world to me and i love you so much, thank you for putting up with sneaking around for so long”

“it was for the best, but i’m really happy we can be out to more people now” you said. “you’re team was really sweet, i can’t wait to get to know all of them”

“me too, they already love you. they won’t be able to stop asking about you for the rest of practice i bet”

you both chuckled, relieved to finally have such a huge weight off your chest.

“just don’t tell them anything too embarrassing about me, ok?” you quipped.

“i don’t think there’s anything i could say about you that would be embarrassing” she said as she helped you into your car “you’re absolutely perfect”

with that, you kissed her one last time before closing the door and waving her goodbye. as you pulled out of the parking stall, you watched as she jogged back into the building, a smile still lingering on her lips.

truthfully, you didn’t think you’d be so happy to have gotten caught.

#caitlin clark x reader #caitlin clark #wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb