#the rest of the story seems to have become That Of Which We Do Not Speak

[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

[dsireland86]

Take Me First PT. 2 (Never Know)

"Lying Is Hard But The Truth Comes Out Anyway" The Grey

A regretful mistake, a car accident, and a baby. God didn't listen to Noah when he begged him to take him first the night of the accident. God had other plans it seemed; plans that brought Noah down to his knees cursing, crying, and praying. In time he began to believe he was nothing but a lost soul trying to find his happiness in the ugly world he lived in, until... she found him and began to return the lost parts of him, piece by piece, he'd thought he'd lost forever.

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is the long awaited 2nd part to a story that was never meant to have a second part. But I'm very thankful to friends who encouraged me and highly suggested that I write one. I love how I came to tie this cherished story that began with three words from a song into my main two stories. It took some brainstorming, but in the end I don't think it will disappoint. To the ones I've tagged and were expecting the second part, I hope it's what you hoped it would me. Let me know!

TAGS: @lma1986, @myownthoughts12, @xslavicprincess, @foliosgirl, @glitterydeputyshepherdwagon, @jilliemiw86, @sthnog, @lookwhatitcost

Never Know

    “Show me you're better off without me/ Choking on every word you said, we'll see, we'll see / Don't breathe another word about me I'll leave and you can finally rest in peace, we'll see”

          The Letter She Never Meant To Send

Noah,

By the time you read this, I'll be gone. You have to understand that it's better for both of us this way, if I just vanish from your life and wipe your slate, your consciousness completely clean. Once you're finished with this letter I guarantee you will hate me and loath just the thought of me. My name will become a bitter poison on your tongue and the tongues of those who will no longer be my family because of their loyalty to you. You'll never want to breathe my name let alone any other words about me to anyone. I'm warning you now, Noah, what I'm about to tell you is going to ruin you. It's going to break your heart so badly you're probably going to wish you were dead. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm doing this to you, but it's the only way. You have to know the truth about what happened during those three days in Montana on that last tour we were on together; you deserve to know, because it was the moment that everything changed for us. You're better off without me and in time you'll see. In time you'll be able to rest in peace. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noah:

“I didn't want to finish the letter. Knowing she was already gone was enough, and reading it, having it spelled out in front of me would’ve only made things worse. But I chose to finish it anyway but regretted the instant I did. I swear I could feel myself slowly slipping away as her words started to bring out the worst in her that I never knew existed."

I rested my forehead against the back of her shoulder.

“I'm so sorry. I can't imagine what you were feeling. Being abandoned is hard, but the lonely place it takes you too is worse.” “You would know, wouldn't you,” I said while playing with her fingers. She leaned back against my chest while sitting between my legs. Turning her head at just the right angle she glided the tip of her nose softly along my jawline that filled with a deep yearning to be inside her again. “Not the same way you do.” I shivered when her lips left a trail of soft kisses on my skin. “Read me more, please. I want to know everything,” she urged. I sighed, and even though I really didn't want to, I knew sharing this part of my life was important for us. So, I continued.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Lying in between the memories choking me, and I don't know which way to go, but I'm okay to never know”

The night you told me the truth about cheating on me, it broke me, but not in the way you might think. I was angry, full of guilt, relief, sorrow, and regret that created a huge mess of emotions I didn’t know how to deal with. Running was my only option. I had to escape the pain of knowing how horribly I'd hurt you and you didn't even know it. Noah, you were brave enough to be honest with me about what you did. You admitted your guilt and how ashamed it made you feel. You truly believed you'd hurt me and watching the way it tore your mind and heart apart left me in agony. I wanted to tell you the truth then, but I just couldn't bring myself to, so I took the coward's way out and ran away. 

I called Jolly and cried to him. He didn't understand anything I was saying let alone an idea of what I was talking about, but he did his best to console me anyway. The guilt I felt, knowing what I’d done to his best friend just made everything numb and blur together and with the way I was driving I didn’t see the headlights of the other vehicle in my lane. Jolly was still on the phone when I screamed right as the collision happened. That was the last thing I remembered before I woke up in the hospital. So, what is the truth that was too hard for me to tell you even though I was given the chance to say many times? Noah, I hope you're sitting down, because what I'm about to say is going to be the death of whatever peace your mind had about me.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noah:

“Noah?” Her soft voice calling to me made me lower my head and when her hand collided with my cheek, her touch brought me back to reality. The past wasn't real, but she was, and so was the feeling of her naked body against mine. Turning herself around so that her legs were on either side of me and her arms were resting on my shoulders, she leaned in and kissed me, slipping her tongue inside my mouth little by little. She was making me so hard and I knew she could feel me between her legs, pressed tightly against that sweet soft spot of hers I loved so much. I couldn’t control the constant twitching that was happening each time she purposely pushed herself into me either.

"She knew exactly what she was doing to you and that’s what hurt you the most. I'm sorry she hurt you,” her voice whispered in my ear before she took a little bit of it in her mouth. “Ughh, fuck baby,” I moaned, squeezing her hips tighter and tugging her closer to me. “That’s what happens,” she said, brushing her breast up against me, her perky nipples grazing across my skin, making it scream. “You let people in and they destroy you. But I won’t.” She sat back and looked at me, the look in her eyes nearly making me cum. She had me wound up so tight that I swallowed hard when she pushed herself into me again and her warm, shaky breath washed over my face. “You deserve so much more than you believe you do, Noah.” Slipping her hands beneath the waistband of my box-briefs, I lifted my bottom up and she slid them down my legs, tossing them aside, retaking her spot over me. “I’ll give you the world, if you want it,” she admitted, laying her mouth on mine and taking my lips to hers as if she owned them; she did. “The moon, the fucking stars. Anything you ask, it’s yours. I’m yours. You can have all of me,” she confessed through a shaky, tear filled voice.

I pulled her way to look at her and my heart felt like it had busted through my chest. She had tears streaming down her cheeks, but the prettiest smile on her lips. I sat up and kissed her tears away tasting their saltiness. “I want all of it,” I admitted, brushing some hair out of her face. “I want all of you, but not just what you let the world see. I want all the broken, busted up parts too; the parts that make you, you. I meant it when I said I would fight the battle for you. I would, I still will. If I have you, then you have all of me too.” She started to cry and I pulled her into me as she laid her head on my shoulder. I fucking loved this girl in my arms more than I ever thought possible. More than the girl in the letter, and that scared me.

After a few moments of silence had passed and I was about to continue reading, the warmth from her hand found my hard cock. Slowly she  ran her hand down my shaft, then back up, the grip she had applying the perfect pressure needed to stimulate what I was dying for on the inside. I laid my head back against the couch, zoning into nothing but the feeling of what her hand was doing. The faster she went the harder her grip became and reminded me of what being inside her felt like; heaven. I found her entrance between her wet folds and quietly slipped a finger inside her warm sex enjoying the way she melted into my touch and sucked in a quick breath, followed by a beautifully moan that filled the room. I felt her wetness coat my fingers, making me feel like I had all the power over her I wanted. The truth was though, she was the one with all the power. “I need to be inside you, now.” I ordered. She didn't hesitate to obey but instead shifted enough so that her pussy was aligned perfectly with my hard length.

“Noah, look at me,” she commanded and I listened. Her eyes were vibrant and full of something indescribable, something that I could never put into words; but I felt it and I knew she did too. “I fucking love you.” It slipped out before I could stop myself and I was scared I crossed a line. But her smile took that feeling away. It was genuine, and made me feel the exact way, if not more, I felt when I first saw her. “I love you too; all of you.” She pushed into me and took all of me into her and I watched her expression change as soon as I filled her. Her tight, wet walls closed in on my throbbing cock now buried deep inside her, searching for that special spot that was going to pull all the pretty cries and moans from her that I loved to hear. I gripped her hips, sighing once she began to move slowly, with her hands placed firmly on my chest. But I wanted more and I knew she did too. “I want you to grind on me, baby, ride me till you're satisfied. Ride me till you cum.”

That seemed to be all she needed. Soon I had her crying and moaning so loudly that she dug her nails deep into my skin, squeezed me tighter with her thighs, and let my name fall from her lips like a sacred prayer. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. She pulled my hands to her small breasts, indicating to me she wanted stimulation and I all too willing obliged her. I took each nipple between my finger and thumb, squeezing them until she cried. Once hard and perky, I dragged my tongue lazily over the soft, delicate skin, circling and lapping every part until taking it in my mouth. Her moans pulled my organism closer and I knew I wasn't going to last much longer. Luckily, I didn't have too. Her hands found the back of my head, holding me in place while she fucked me slow and gently and I got her off by sucking my favorite parts of her. “Noah, baby,” she didn't finish her sentence, but she didn't have to. I looked up, grinning at the face I saw. With eyes closed, she was in perfect ecstasy. “Are you gonna cum for me, Princess.” She didn't say anything, just moaned and nodded. “Cum for me then baby, let it go and give us both what we want.”

Her lips crashed into mine and our tongues danced as she came undone all over me and I quickly followed. It wasn't loud, it wasn't messy; it was just us, falling apart for one another together quietly. It was love making in its purest form and in that moment with her I realized the difference between straight fucking with foreplay and making love and how they were very different. We weren’t each other's first. She had a fucked up ex and I had many experiences that left me feeling used. But what she and I had just shared had so many emotions involved, ones that I didn't even know I could feel anymore. She pulled them out of me somehow and allowed me to willingly feel what I had buried away. They were tangled together, knotted and rooted in the dirt of my past. But, thanks to the beautiful human in my arms, for the first time in my life I felt the difference and wasn't afraid to feel them. She made me feel so fucking alive and I loved it. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Speaking in languages we can’t read, no need for you to spell it out for me/ Swallowed up and I’ spit you out, like a drug that just wouldn’t stay down"

Montana was beautiful, Noah, and the idea of visiting it with you was a dream come true. I'll never forget when you came home and told me that it was on the list of states the band was playing. Your excitement was contagious and the way your eyes sparkled and lit up your entire face will forever haunt me. It was one of the last times we were truly happy together. Those three days haunt me, Noah. They hold the worst, but also the best memories. So here it goes… the whole truth.

The first show day went smoothly; you remember I'm sure. We all went out and had a small celebration in that little country bar where Folio rode the mechanical bull until he bled… like seriously bled. I thought I was going to pass out seeing all the blood from his arm. The day of the second show, however, was utter chaos and hell. Everyone woke up late, the venue wasn't unlocked when we got there, and some of the equipment malfunctioned. You were miserable and because you were miserable, so was everyone else. I tried to help, but now know how worse I actually made it for you. And the moment you yelled at me in front of not just the crew but the guys too, I knew things were going to be different between us. It wasn't that you yelled at me, Noah, it was what you said that was the slap to my face. You accused me of being selfish and too self conceited to understand what you were going through, and you know what? You were right. I was, I am those things. And to prove I was, I decided to get back at you in my own way; the way I regret now more than anything. 

After storming out of the venue and turning my phone off, I found a bar away from the venue, away from every memory of you. I wanted you out of my head, but mostly out of my heart because I was hurting. So, the first guy who sat down next to me and bought me a few rounds was it. He was the one I chose to make my biggest mistake with. He took me back to his hotel room, which ironically was in the same hotel as ours, you were just one floor above me. I was too drunk to worry about anything, not even caring if the receptionist recognized me. 

Noah, I will save you the details of what I did with that man in that hotel room that night. It wasn't at all what I thought it would be, and in the end he left me hurting way more than when I started out. Not just emotionally, but physically too. Thankfully there were no marks on my body, yet, but the bruises would show the following day. I lied and said you did them to me and the look on your face was devastating. I felt like a piece of shit. Maybe I was. No, I know I was. I should burn in hell for what I did to you; what I said to you. You didn't deserve it. But the worst was yet to come when the events of the night you fucked some girl who wasn't me happened and you found out I was pregnant. Nicholas said at first you were too shocked, but when it was time for me to leave the hospital, Matt said it was all you could talk about; how you were going to be a dad and how you had so much faith that the baby would be the thing to tie us back together after your actions ruined us. It wasn't you who ruined us, Noah, it was me, but I couldn't tell you that. Not now. Not with a baby on the way. So, I kept my silence and avoided you as much as I could, using your cheating as the excuse. And I lied to you every day up until… well you know when. 

Losing the baby was never, ever the intention, that, I promise, you can believe. I never wanted any harm to come to my baby. But when I woke up last month at seventeen weeks pregnant in a pool of blood, I knew it was over. The lies could stop, the truth could come out and everything would be okay. Except it wasn't, was it? Losing the baby was too hard for you. It made you do things you regret doing and I regret watching, knowing I had the power to stop it all. I know the feeling of loss is still very raw in your heart. You're wounded and reading this letter, knowing I'm long gone, soon to be nothing but a distant memory you'd do anything to forget, is going to throw salt on that wound, but I think it's time for me to help you put your demons to rest. 

Noah, the baby…. the baby was never yours to begin with. I mean, honestly, think back to the first time we had sex after that fight. Think…. and you'll remember. If you don't let me help. You wore a condom, Noah and you filled it, but I lied to you and told you it broke because I was scared. The night I spitefully killed us in every way possible was the night I conceived another man's child. 

So, you see, none of it was your fault after all. It was mine all along. Did I feel guilt? Yes. Remorse? No. Not until now. Now that I’m walking away from you, I feel every bit of remorse possible, but it’s too late now, isn’t it. The you I knew and loved is gone and so is the girl you knew. And that’s the difference between us, Noah. You felt remorse and it made you so vulnerable. 

I hope the next girl you fall in love with is good to you. I hope she is never afraid of your darkness or the demons who dance in your eyes sometimes. I remember the time when you thought no one could ever love you if you revealed what lurks inside you. You’ve always been different, Noah, you know that and how could anyone understand that? But I hope she understands and is never afraid to follow you into your darkness so that she can learn to love the beast that’s inside. I tried to, but in the end I realized that sometimes, true love comes in the form of a loving demon, or a protective monster, or even a dark angel who sits and waits patiently for you to arrive. You are all those things Noah; and I hated you for it. I’m sorry I hated you, because now I know that you were the only one to ever, truly love me. 

                                     With All My Love, Always

                                                    Sarah

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Noah:

I woke up, flat on my back, head off the pillow, but the blanket over top of me. As my vision cleared, Sophie was nowhere to be seen. My heart started pounding, thinking maybe she regretted last night; the things we did, the things I said. Was it all too much and she felt pressured or overwhelmed? I started to panic, running my hands over my face, trying to convince myself everything was okay, but it didn't help. I sat up, looking around for my shirt only to remember that I'd used it on Sophie, making me remember the corner I threw it in; it was still there.

I needed to find Sophie and make sure everything was good between us, especially now that she knew the truth about me and Sarah. I needed to know if she was still willing to commit herself to me, to us, with this kind of baggage attached, but first I needed a shower. My stomach suddenly hurt, the anxiety nipping away on the inside and it felt like there was a giant hole in me. I needed to fill that hole. I need my girl.

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fanfiction #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens band #bad omens #bad omens cult #matt dierkes #jolly karlsson #nicholas ruffilo #nick folio

[autismserenity]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

#covid isn't over #covid 19 #disability rights #disability advocacy #wear a mask #covid conscious #covid cautious #mask up #wall of words #public health #health care

[inkskinned]

how many times can you live through the apocalypse?

when you were little there was this beach that was free to go to. you didn't really like it on account of the litter. at one point, a white bag caught around your ankle, and for a moment (fish child), you panicked about jellyfish. on the foam, the red-pink words read thank you, stacked on top of each other, tangled in the kelp.

they have a new program (three thousand american dollars) to send your dead relative to the moon. there is a lot of evidence that our local orbit is becoming ever-more dangerously populated with "micro" satellites - debris in a round miasma becoming a thick web above us. maybe angels cannot hear us through the pollution.

you used to picture deep space like a thick membrane, or a blanket. someone said to you once the universe has no edge and that fucked with you for a long time, trying to picture what shape infinity has. your coworker is writing a short story about ecological collapse, which she is submitting for a little side-money so she can survive the current economical collapse.

the birds haven't gone to sleep this winter. that is probably bad. something that actually freaks you out is the natural temperature of human bodies versus the survival temperature of certain fungi. there is a podcast called s-town, in which a man kills himself over climate anxiety. he was probably meant to seem sort of unhinged. it just seems like it is becoming increasingly clear he was being honest.

space is not empty, we have put our dead into the stars. at some point they will figure out how to put ads into our sleep. you need to pay for the greenlife subscription service to be able to save the world.

there is a lot of ways this poem ends. but you have been wearing the same jeans and shirts since you were, like, 18. it is a hard life, sometimes, watching the entire foundation crack. there was this one moment over the summer, where you were shaking with heat exhaustion and dehydration. you were offered a nestle water bottle.

for three thousand dollars, you can send your ashes into space.

instead, you wash out the peanut butter jar. you put the avocado-toothpick spiked seed ball into water (even though they never grow very far). you borrow what you do not want to buy. you pick up any litter you find. you do not have a lot of control, really. but where you do - if there is one thing you can do, you do it.

something about that. you need to believe that must be true for the rest of humanity. or maybe - you need to believe that to be true, or else there will not be a rest of humanity.

#writeblr #spilled ink #i hope it is clear in this that i wholeheartedly believe the problem is capitalism and not individuals

[ghouldump]

one piece | calling them by their names

synopsis : calling your boyfriend (one piece men) by their real name, instead of their nickname, as a prank.

author’s note : hi ghouls! welcome to my blog, i hope you enjoy your stay. this first post is short, but i thought it was fun, i definitely plan to do more like this.

monkey d. luffy.

he doesn't even realize you're saying luffy. he had been too distracted, thinking of what he would eat, as soon as the ship was docked in the nearest city.

"luffy, can you do me a favor?" you asked, focused on peeling the fruit. he nodded, before usopp nudged his shoulder.

"what did you do?"

"what?"

"is she upset or something?" he asked, the words dawning on the captain. you used his government, and not the name you had given him, lovebug.

why was he luffy now, and not lovebug? had he done something? impossible, all he had been doing all morning is thinking of the different meats he'd try-ah! perhaps you were in need of affection. it wasn't until becoming your s/o that he began to understand the need to give and receive affection.

stretching his arms, he pulled you close, taking away any personal space you had previously.

"y/n"

"yes?"

"please never call me anything other than lovebug," he said shamelessly, your heart warmed at his cuteness.

"aw, it was only a prank lovebug," you reassured, pecking his lips.

roronoa zoro.

he immediately notices, and feels uncomfortable. after a minor heated conversation, you mischievously planned to make him feel guilty, only as a joke, of course.

"zoro, you should come get some food, you know sanji won't save you any," you called out, making sure to use his birth name, instead of the name he grew to enjoy, darling.

were you really so upset, you'd use such a name, when darling suited him better. the term flowed perfectly from your lips, when speaking to him, he couldn't understand why you'd want to use his name.

"what did you just call me?" he asked, towering over you, brows furrowed.

"zo-

"i know we were fighting, but you know how that makes me feel, calling me that," he grumbled. he always struggled with communication, but with you, he'd lowly shared how he felt, which always managed to move you deeply.

"darling, i was only joking," you laughed, as he sighed.

"good"

"but i was serious about sanji, and you know luffy is only willing to wait so long, before he devours the rest”

usopp.

he won't notice immediately, but after a few times, he is in shambles. he was doing his usual theatrical story telling, and you had yet to spend any actual time with him.

"usopp"

"and there i was, everyone else was scared, but i knew i could save them-

"usopp"

"one second, honey"

"usopp," you repeated, nearly giggling as he visibly froze, realizing you had been calling him usopp, and not cutie patootie.

"excuse me fellas," he nodded at the surrounding group, leading you away from everyone, before holding each hand in his own.

"honey, is everything okay?" he asked, you seemed to be enjoying yourself before, laughing alongside nami, before she left you.

you were thinking of something to say, but the puppy dog eyes made you surrender quickly.

"it was only a harmless prank, my cutie patootie," you said, pecking his lips.

"you had me worried for a second," he said, scooping you into his arms, spinning around.

vinsmoke sanji.

he will notice immediately, and will be in complete distress. you were helping him cook dinner, when you decided to mess with him. while he was flirting all the time, he was a bit more focused when cooking, and that could bore you at times.

"sanji, can you taste this?" you were whisking the cake batter, while he placed the roast into the oven.

"sanji-" you turned around, his jaw practically hanging on the floor.

"what have i done? scold me, i am a wretched man, how have i upset my queen so greatly, that you choose to use such a name," he said, going to his knees, holding your waist.

"sanji, it was only a prank, i was only messing around sweet pea," you told him, as he stood, embracing you.

"the apple of my eyes, you are, i hate when you call me anything other than your sweet pea," he spoke.

"if you two do anything near the food, i'm giving both of you terrible haircuts," zoro spoke, making you both jump, while he walked away.

#one piece x reader #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #usopp x reader #sanji x reader #one piece x black!reader #— ghoulreads 🐾

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 4

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

We didn’t do hot Glenn summer for him to LOSE. Spoilers for his story but MORE PROPAGANDA FOR YOU:

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Listen, I don't know this other character but I've seem some good arguments for her However Consider Glenn Close winning through no effort of his own in a bullshit way despite being a dick is the most in character thing ever. He leveled up three times and got a crab mech, we GOT to give him this win, it's fitting

I don’t regulate if minors follow me or not bc I’m a pretty chill space but I hope the world is aware that’s the only reason I haven’t been downright nasty about Glenn close. I’m down bad. I’m NOT in the boat of ‘Glenn isn’t sexy but I want him to win bc it’s my fandom’. I would estimate I have 200+ drawings of Glenn on my phone that AREN’T safe for work. Way more that are. Where did they come from? That’s MY business. But I tell you this fact to assure you- Glenn IS sexy. I’m not voting to represent my fandom I’m voting out of TRUTH AND LOVE. IF YOU DON’T GET IT YOU DON’T GET IT!!! I just think my level of feral over this man is more powerful than y’all realize. If you don’t get his sex appeal that’s okay, but don’t doubt that this is my truth.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. Do you think pickman needs this to feel good about herself? Can she not accept a loss for the sake of a pathetic father? Can she shake hands with the minivan fucker and his human gun and just take the L on this one? He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

Is somehow the hot twin between her and Taako

Lup Bluejeans (née... Taaco? Tacco? Taco? Tako? who tf knows this is why I'm going with her husband's last name. doylistly she gets her last name from her brother whose last name is given as "Taako again but spelled differently"): Hot, funny, smart and undead. Is there anything else you could want in a woman?? Well, in case there is: she's also canonically trans

LUP IS THE HOTTEST. VOTE LUP.

#Round 4 #Glenn Close #Lup #Lup TAZ #Dungeons & Daddies #Dungeons and Daddies #Glenn Close DnDads #The Adventure Zone #TAZ Balance

[marvellous1917]

Icarus Falling Far.

(Part 3)

Pairing: mob!bucky x tattoo artist!female!reader

Summary: it’s the day after giving the dangerous mobster his first tattoo, and he hasn’t contacted you yet. What a dick.

Warnings: cursing, crime, mentions of guns, stalking/harassment (brief), think that’s it.

Word count: 3.6k ish

A/N: i had no plan to make this story into a mini-series, so if this seems a little unplanned… it is. Anyway, hope you like it my loves 😘

(This is not beta’s so any mistakes are my own)

Part 2 ⬇️:

———————

Bold is readers thoughts

Italics is Bucky's thoughts

This starts in Bucky’s POV.

———————

His home office was always the place he went to feel at peace. Ironic really, considering the dealings done within the room. The walls had seen him order his men to assassinate his rivals, to eliminate anybody that got in their way. The desk had felt the tip of the pen write extortionate contracts, sent silently to some of the cities most powerful people, the non-explicit threat sent with photos of their family’s, to reminds them what they were risking if they refused to comply. The window that felt the full strength of his prosthetic too many times to count. The hole in the floor after one of his employees managed to literally shoot himself in the foot. {guess who}

But his peace was teetering on a cliffs edge. His hands were woven into his hair, pulling to try and alleviate the headache forming. Elbows resting on his desk as his eyes stayed staring at one specific groove in the wood.

A knock at the door broke his trance and he sighed. It was a rule in the Compound that if the boss was in his office and the door was closed, you do not interrupt or enter unless there was an emergency. Only one man was brave enough to completely disregard Bucky’s rule, which had led to some… interesting situations when Bucky had girls in there with him.

“Come in,” he called, knowing the longer he waited to respond, the louder and more incessant the knocking would become.

The door opened and there was Bucky’s very own personal dumbass: Steve Rogers. The man had been a part of Bucky’s life since as long as he could remember, if-fact some of his earliest memories were with Steve; young boys playing cops and robbers together, attempting to protect Steve when he picked a fight he had no business being in- which had led to Bucky getting his ass beat as well, and scheming together about how to make sure that Simon Justin never played baseball again after pulling his sisters hair on the playground.

“Fuck me Buck, I’m not sure if today could have been anymore fucked,” Steve stated as he collapsed on to the couch, flinging his legs over one arm and resting his head in the other.

Today was a stressful fucking day.

It was the day that Bucky was making all necessary moves. Why all the problems had to pop up now, he wasn’t sure. And the kicker to this awful day? He had no time to talk to you, the girl he could not get out of his head, no matter how hard he tried. You’d managed to flood his mind, memories of the kiss you shared playing over and over again.

“Did you close the door?” Bucky asked, not moving an inch.

“Yeah.”

“Good because I do not need anyone else talking to me right now,” Bucky said, his voice low and quiet, an air of danger ever-present in his tone.

“C’mon Buck, y’know you love them,” Steve responds with a dopey little smirk on his face, and he tilts his head to make eye contact with the man he calls his brother.

I hate that fuckin smile.

He softly hums his agreement and returns to inspecting the groove on his desk.

“We just gotta talk it out, figure out what the fuck is going on, then plan our next moves accordingly,” Steve says, swinging his legs back to the floor, hands clasped together, his arms leaning on his knees.

“Yeah thanks man, I didn’t think about figuring everything out, maybe I’ll give that a go now” Bucky retorts with weak sarcasm, mind too busy, replaying the events of the day.

“I can leave you alone to get lost in your head, or we can figure this shit out together. It’s your call jerk.” Steve says, tilting his head down to catch Bucky’s eye.

“Alright.”

“Stop pulling your hair jackass.” He adds.

I hate it when you do that.

Bucky drops his hands to the desk and says, “Ok let’s start this debrief with Walker.”

“Nat’s got his ass tied up in the basement for ya, he’s ready when you are.”

“Anybody looking for him?”

“One frustratingly loyal friend, but he has no idea that Johnny-boy is with us. The rest of his little fan club have no idea he’s even missing.”

“Ok, one problem down. Rumlow?” It’s the question he doesn’t want the answer to. He’d much rather spend his time thinking about you. His history with Brock Rumlow was bloody and painful, for both of them. There was only one person from his past that Bucky hadn’t dealt with, and here he was, coming back to ruin the name Bucky had made for himself.

Rumlow knew things about Bucky’s past that made him a a high security threat, but after he failed to blow himself up in an attempt to kill Bucky, he had disappeared. Bucky thought it was finally over, but the asshole popped back up about a year ago, with more power than before, making himself seemingly untouchable by Bucky’s hand.

“Currently moving like he has been, not causing too much trouble for us, though his crew are getting closer and closer to our dealings at the port.” Steve said, a slight look of digits on his face.

“Put extra hands down there for the next couple weeks, see if we can’t scare them off a little.”

“Yes boss. I’ll let them know after this.”

“The commissioner’s dealt with?” Buck asks, remembering the deviation the man had decided to make.

“Yep, send him that gift basket. He called Sam this morning and agreed to our terms.”

“Good. How’s Barton?” He asks, moving into what they class as ‘personal business’.

“Pissed, man. He wants blood for what happened, we all do.” Steve answers, the memory of seeing Clint covered in blood and bruised made his blood simmer.

“We sure it wasn’t Rumlows’ lot, or fuck even Walker?

“Walkers’ fanclub do not have the brain cells, the power, or the information to organise an attack like that, and Parker tracked Rumlow and his men, all are accounted for and have alibis. This is someone new.”

Oh for fuck’s sake. Isn’t two power hungry assholes enough.

“We haven’t found anything? No security cameras, no cell tower pings?” Bucky asks, leaning back in his chair, resting his head on the back.

“Actually, I sent Scott there this morning to check out if there was anything left there and he found something.” Steve responds, some apprehension creeping into his voice.

That got Bucky’s attention. His head snapped back up and locked eyes with Steve who now stood in-front of his desk, pacing back and forth slightly.

“Care to share with the class Rogers?” His voice was hard now, his extreme dislike of not knowing all the information shining through.

Steve exhales sharply, biting his tongue to not retort and piss Bucky off more.

“He found a package tucked behind a dumpster addressed to ‘Bucky Barnes’ that had a memory stick-“

“Like a USB?” Bucky interrupted.

“- Yeah a USB-“ he gets cut off again.

“Then just say USB, calling it a ‘memory stick’ makes you sound 100 years old.”

“-oh dear god, you gonna let me finish?” Steve responds.

Bucky waved his hand at him, a sign for him to continue.

“Scott found a package addressed to you with a USB inside, we gave it to Stark ‘cos Parker was busy tracking down Rumlows crew, and he checked it out and told us it was completely normal, no virus or anything bad in it.”

“Was there anything on it?” Bucky asks, his brow furrowed.

“It..uh..has two pictures on it.” Steve said lowly.

“…of?”

“It’s probably better if I just show you.” Steve said, his tone of voice made Bucky a little nervous.

Steve took out his phone, tapped a couple of time before turning it around to give to Bucky. As soon as the latter had ahold of the phone, Steve took a full step back, which caused Bucky to raise his eyebrows in question.

“Just look.” He says in response to Bucky’s unasked question.

He looked down at the screen and almost immediately removed his left hand as to not break the phone.

Fuck. Shit.

The first picture was of the night he met you. It was taken through the window for you apartment, and clearly showed both you and Bucky, stood side by side, looking through your flash book.

“What the fuck is this?” He pushes out through gritted teeth.

“I assuming that’s the tattoo artist you told me about, the one you got a thing for?” Steve says.

The one I’m obsessed with.

When Bucky gives him a sharp nod, Steve just drops his head, suddenly fascinated with his shoes.

“Shit.” He says under his breath.

“What?” Bucky’s voice was louder now.

“Look at the next picture.” Steve says while avoiding eye contact.

Bucky looks down, his finger swiping to the next picture before he can think about it.

No. No no fuck. Not her.

The next photo was taken from inside the apartment. Inside your bedroom. It’s of you. Asleep. Completely unaware of the danger stood at the foot of your bed.

Bucky couldn’t look away, he was frozen staring at the picture. Your shorts and oversized tee had both ridden up slightly, showing how truly vulnerable you are. The clock on your table showed the time as 3:54 and showed the date.

“…this was taken this morning.”

“..yeah.”

fuck.

———————

Fuck Bucky Barnes.

The bastard hadn’t contacted you since the shop.

Bitch ass told me to keep my phone on so I wouldn’t miss his message, kept me glued to my phone like a weirdo waiting for him to call… and he didn’t. Dick.

Despite the annoyance at the very very attractive mobster, you couldn’t help wonder how he was, what he was doing, if he was thinking about you too.

You’re overthinking about Bucky was interrupted by a knock at your door.

“One sec!” You shout to whoever’s there, getting up and walking to the door. The second you undo the lock, the door is being pushed into your face with a chorus of greetings.

“Come in I guess,” you say to the three who just walked in.

“Well thanks darlin, you got food?” Billy responds, already making his way to the fridge.

“Don’t fucking eat my pizza Bill, I swear I’ll kill you,” you answer, giving both Frank and Curtis a hug, letting the door close behind them.

He laughs off your threat as the others take a seat on your couch.

“Not that I don’t love you guys, but why the fuck are you here?” You ask, moving back to the arm chair in the corner and taking a seat, your phone pinging in the back ground.

“What, we can’t pop in on you whenever we want?” Frank says, leaning back in the arm of the couch, moving to put his feet in the coffee table.

“Frankie if you put your feet on my table, I’m gonna beat you with a spoon.” You call at him.

He freezes and slowly lowers his feet back to the floor.

“We just wanted to come see how you were…Frank told us about Barnes.” Curtis says, cutting into the conversation and completely dampening the mood.

God-fucking-dammit Frank.

Oh fuck do I tell them that he’s not an issue and I actually quite like him.

“Yeah are you ok sweetheart?” Billy asks and he collapses on the couch in the middle of the other boys.

“I’m fine guys, I swear, like I told Frank he’s actually not bad,” you answer, shifting uncomfortable lay in your seat due to the indecision of how much to tell them, “He was nice, polite and kind of…charming, I guess-”

“Is that why you kissed him?” Frank interrupts.

Shit, how does he know?

“-what?”

“You kissed him. Or rather he kissed you but you seemed to enjoy it.” Billy says with an annoying smirk on his face.

“How do you know that?” You ask, shock still written all over your face.

“..the security cameras, kid. You forget about those?”

Ahh fuck.

“Ahh fuck,” you say out loud.

“What the hell are you doing making out with a mobster, Y/N?” Curtis responds, looking at you with those eyes of his that show he’s not judging, just trying to understand.

“I..uh..I wasn’t-really-thinking.” You put you hands on your head, even though Curtis wasn’t judging you, the other two definitely were.

“Obviously you weren’t, he’s a goddam mobster Y/N-” Billy starts, anger in his voice, but you cut him off.

“I know that Bill, ok, I do,” you say, shifting to place your feet on the floor, “but he’s not the animal you think he is, he’s kind and considerate and he makes me feel…” happy. you cut off before the last word, wanting to keep that realisation to yourself for a little longer.

“Plus you bastards can’t be judging me for meeting the guy twice, only yourselves and the devil knows what fucked shit you three have been up to.” You almost shout.

“The fuck does that mean?” Frank answers.

“C’mon Frank I’m not stupid, you three have some shady shit in your pasts. I mean you were goddam military for fucks sake, and don’t think I don’t see the fake payments on the books at the shop-“

“Stop Y/N.” Billy cuts you off. “Stop it now.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, eyes never leaving yours.

You were about to respond to his demand, when a knock sounded at the door.

“Told you to keep you phone on.” A dark voice calls through the door.

Oh shit. No no no not now please not now.

“Who the fuck is that?” Frank asks, suddenly sitting up straight, eyes pinned on the door. Both Billy and Curtis stand, facing the door as if waiting for it to bust off it’s hinges.

“Please all of you, shut the fuck up and don’t do anything dumb,” you answer, moving towards the door.

“Is that him?” Curtis asks.

“Didn’t I just say shut the fuck up,” you retort a little snappier, opening the door slightly.

He cut his hair, it’s looks good on him.

Bucky lowers his arm from his thwarted attempt at a second knock and says, “Is your phone broken or are you ignoring me?” The smirk on his face made your heart beat a little faster.

“Neither, I just missed your text because I have some friends over right now,” you say.

“Is that why you’re not opening the door properly? I can barley see you,” he says with a grin.

“…kinda? Ok wait..” you exit your apartment, pulling the door closed fully behind you, “long story short, they know about the k.. uh about what happened at the shop, and they know who you are and they are not happy about it.”

His eyes darken and his smirk grows wider at the almost mention of the kiss. He shifts until he’s leaning his shoulder on the wall by your door.

“Oh yeah? Doesn’t really matter what they think though, does it doll? Both you and I know how much you enjoyed it.” He says, mouth forming a cheeky grin.

Oh my god.

“Me? You’re the one who started it Bucky, seemed you enjoyed it more,” you respond, having no idea where the confidence came from.

He hums at your statement and says “Well I can admit that I did enjoy our kiss sweetheart, but I may need a little reminder of how it went, it’s been a long day you see.”

“Bucky-” you’re cut of by him stepping closer until your chests are barley touching, the new position making you tilt your head back to see him better.

“What darlin? You ok with this?” He asks slowly, tilting his head to the side slightly, looking into your eyes for any sign of discomfort.

Why does he have to be so sweet.

You nod in answer to his question and he smiles. Not the terrifying grin or the cheeky smirk, but a genuine smile - one that makes him even more beautiful. Bucky raises his right arm, dragging his thumb over your lips and cupping your cheek while you stare up at him, his other hand sneaks around your back, pulling you flush to him.

“You have no idea what to do to me, do ya?” He mumbles, probably not intending for you to respond as he’s closing the gap between you. The kiss is harsh and a little messy, shocking you slightly with his apparent desperation, hands holding you tightly. He takes advantage of your shock, tracing your lips with his tongue and pushing past to deepen the kiss.

His hand drops from you face to your waist, gripping so tightly, you’re sure he’ll have left a bruise. That thought got you’re heart pumping faster, the idea that an imprint of his hands, his fingers would be left on your skin. It felt right. Bucky pushes you until your back hits the wall, hips fitting against yours almost perfectly, one leg sneaking between yours as you let a light whimper escape.

You break the kiss to get some air, leaning your forehead against his, both of you catching your breath.

“Bucky, I mis-”, you didn’t get to finish the sentence before your door opens and you’re suddenly faced with three pissed off ex-marines.

-(Bucky’s P.O.V)

Bucky immediately steps back, releasing you, and straightens his posture. He looks at the men, quietly analysing them. He can tell that they either are or were military, and definitely care immensely about you, probably to the point of beating the crap out of anyone that hurt you.

The one in the middle is a frightening creature , he thinks, but the wedding band means he has something to loose, he should be less quick to anger, in theory.

The one on the right with the short buzz cut and the tense muscles reminds him of Clint, he’s ready to fight at the drop of a hat, and by the look on his face, I’m gonna be his next target.

The man on the left intrigued Bucky the most. His face is blank, showing nothing. He’s favouring one of his legs, and the other shows a bulky piece of metal at the bottom. Wonder if that’s an old military injury.

“Guys, what are you doing?” You ask, apprehension in your voice. Bucky wonders if you’re scared for them or for him.

“Oh we are gonna head out, let you have some time to really think about what we talked about.” The man in the middle says, putting emphasis on the word really.

“Frank please-”

“No it’s ok sweetheart,” Bucky bristles at the pet name the Clint wannabe says, “we’ll see you later.”

“Billy-”

“Shit, I left my phone on your table, could you get it for me?” The other says to you, cutting off your words, smiling at you to calm the stressed look on your face.

“Of course Cutis, one sec,” you respond, Turing to Bucky at the end of your sentence with a look at says please don’t make this worse.

You pass by the men and let the door fall closed behind you.

The silence is tense as the men all stare at each-other.

“So…how’s your man doing? Y’know the one that got jumped,” Billy says, smirking at Bucky.

“How do you know that?” Bucky asks as his muscles tense.

“…Y/N told us, obviously,” Billy says.

The pause was intentional, she didn’t tell them that.

“He’s fine, thanks.” Bucky responds shortly, all to aware of the lie he was just told.

The door opens just before Billy can respond, all four men going silent again.

“Here it is Curtis, guess I’ll see you guys later then,” you say, before hugging each man.

The three shoulder past Bucky as if he was just a man on the street, no care in the world that he could have them killed for that disrespect. But he lets this one slide, for her, as they’re her friends.

“Did you tell them about Clint?” He knows it was a lie but he needs to make sure his cynical brain isn’t marking it up.

“No? Why?” You answer, unaware of the turmoil occurring in Bucky’s head.

Then how the fuck do they know.

“Give me one minute doll, I forgot something at the car,” he says, “go on inside I’ll be back soon.”

“Uh.. okay.” You answer, walking back into the apartment.

He watches the door and as soon as it closes he is moving back down the stairs, hoping to catch and ask the men how they knew about Clint. Bucky normally has an reasonable explanation for everything, but this time he was stumped. He catches them outside the front door to the building, the three of them stood leaning against their car, watching the door, waiting for him to come out.

“How do you know?” He repeats his question from before, voice lower and more dangerous now.

“Y’know…that bastard has a solid right hook.” Billy says. The sentence sends red hot anger through Bucky’s blood.

It was them. But that means…

“Did you get our package?” The big one in the middle asks, Frank, she called him.

Fuck. The anger that has been burning in his veins since the second he saw those photos of you pours out of him and he immediately pulls a gun on Frank.

“Hey now that’s not smart, is it?” Curtis asks in a placating tone.

“Don’t forget about our girl up there. What’s she gonna think if you shoot me for no reason?” Frank says, unflinching staring down the barrel of Bucky’s gun.

Fuck. Fuck. These bastard are the ones threatening everything, they jumped Clint and are using you to get to him. They’re your friends and you? You have absolutely no idea.

————

Yo this took so long to do!! Hope you like my lil twisty turn at the end there 😈.

Lemme know what u think 😘

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#bucky imagine #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #mob!bucky fic #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky x tattoo artist!reader #ace chats #tattoo artist!reader #mob!bucky barnes x reader

[vax-merstappen]

feelings (ln4)

my fist lando fic! lmk if you enjoy!

summary: in which lando clearly has feelings for you but will not confess, no matter how many plans you and your friends come up with.

warning: some swearing, lando being an idiot

Ever since you had been invited to join Quadrant by your best friend Ria, you had become increasingly close with the rest of the group. Niran was the first one you got close to, him welcoming you into the group with open arms and listening to all your content ideas. Soon after, you got close to Max, Aarav, and Steve, the boys always making sure you felt like a part of the group. Lando, with his busy schedule, took longer for you to get to know and have in your life.

But when you and Lando finally hit it off, you couldn't imagine what your life had been like before him. You found yourself watching Formula 1 races more often and wearing various pieces of merch sent to you by Lando himself. Occasionally, you would find yourself with a text from him, asking how your day had been or wondering if you would be free to grab dinner while he was in town for a few days.

But soon the tone began to change. You spent many late nights at his apartment, laughing over inside jokes. The random gifts from countries around the world kept appearing more often. Your phone calls got longer and longer until neither of you wanted to hang up.

It seemed like Lando Norris was into you.

You decided to ask Ria about it one day. After all, she had known the man longer than you.

"Hey, do you think Lando is into me?"

Ria gave you a shocked look. "Did you only now just pick up on it?"

"Yeah...?"

"He thought you were hot before you even joined Quadrant. He was avoiding getting to know you because he was intimidated by you at the start. But clearly that has changed."

"Yeah, now he's made it obvious."

"Has he confessed to liking you?"

"Not yet. But i really don't feel like he will any time soon. I mean, there have been so many opportunities when I've been alone with him at his house. And when we've gotten dinner. Or when he's driven me home."

Ria smiled. "Then we'll have to make him confess. Give him an opportunity he can't pass up."

"And how do you suppose we do that?"

---

You had asked Lando to a fancy restaurant in London and reserved a private table with help from Ria, whose family knew the owners. Lando had picked you up in his McLaren, dressed up in a suit. If you hadn't found him attractive before, this would have done the trick.

Dinner was delicious and you enjoyed the flavors while having casual conversation. You laughed over stories from his previous race weekend while you caught him up on the antics going on with the Quadrant group.

"This sure is a nice restaurant, what made you want to dine somewhere special tonight?" he asked.

You could have told him, but you wanted him to confess first.

"Oh, you know. To celebrate someone very special to me being home for once."

"Am I special to you?"

"Yes, Lando. You mean a lot to me."

You held eye contact in the awkward silence that followed. "Stop getting all sentimental on me!" he exclaimed. "You gonna start crying?"

"I might if I have to put up with you for too much longer, let's get the check," you replied, rolling your eyes before laughing.

It seemed like this plan wasn't going to work.

---

Niran sighed dramatically. "So you told him he meant a lot to you and he told you to stop being sentimental? That man is an idiot!"

"I know, right? Any ideas on how we can get him to confess?"

"Easy. Quadrant truth or drink hot sauce video. We ask him point blank if he likes you and he has to answer."

You agreed to Niran's idea and you both got to work writing the questions. A few days later, when Lando was available for the shoot, you had set up in the studio with you three and Ria. The questions started simple.

"So do you watch all of Lando's races?" Ria asked you.

"Of course I do! Wouldn't want to miss one."

You saw Lando smile at your response out of the corner of your eye. Just more evidence the man had fallen for you. You looked at your next question for Niran.

"Have you ever ghosted someone?"

"I have. She wasn't too happy about that one," Niran said.

Niran looked at you for a few seconds as he picked up the next question card. You gave a barely perceptible smile and nod to indicate that you wanted to go along with the plan.

"Lando, do you like y/n?"

Lando's gaze flicked to you before he burst out into laughter. "What kind of question is that? Of course I like y/n! They are a great friend."

Clearly, the question hadn't been worded correctly. Or Lando was finding a way out of admitting his feelings. When you watched the video back before it went out to the internet, you noticed that Lando blushed when Niran asked the question. He fidgeted with his shirt sleeve while he answered, unlike in any of the other questions. He knew the implications and what Niran was getting at. Clearly you would have to try something else.

---

"So you think he does like me?"

Max Fewtrell turned in his chair to face you. "I don't think he likes you. I know he likes you. The man has been down bad ever since he met you. I've never seen him look at anybody else the way he looks at you, like you're the only person he can see."

"But how do I get him to say so?"

Max sat there in silence for a few seconds.

"We're going to make you into Lando Norris' dream girl. He won't be able to resist you."

"What exactly does that entail?"

Apparently, it entailed a full day of spending time with Lando. The day would start with you taking him on a trip to Top Golf, where you would show off that you knew how to hit a golf ball. Next was inviting Lando over to your house for dinner. It would be a home cooked meal of microwave chicken nuggets and mac and cheese, two foods Lando adored but did not eat often. For dessert, it would be ice cream sundaes, a notorious favorite of Lando's. Activities for the night included Mario Kart and sitting together on the couch and watch episodes of Money Heist, one of his favorite shows.

Max said that if he didn't confess his feelings by the end of this night, the man truly was beyond hope.

It was a long day full of activities Lando loved, but surely this would do the trick that nothing else had. You started by going to Top Golf as planned. Little did Lando know, but you had practiced a bit before the trip so that your golfing skills would be attractive to Lando.

"Woah, you can really hit a golf ball!" Lando exclaimed, watching as you swung.

"What, you thought I would be bad?"

"Of course not, I just hoped I might be able to impress you."

You smiled, sensing that you were one step closer to getting Lando to ask you out. Even though golfing may not have been your favorite thing in the world, it was having the intended effect.

Next of course was the dinner. You drove Lando back to your place and led him inside. Of course he had been over a few times before, but this time felt different somehow.

"So what's for dinner?" he asked, interrupting your thoughts.

"I thought we could do something easy, like chicken nuggets and mac and cheese."

"Oh my god! Are you a picky eater too? I never noticed before."

You nodded. "Yeah, I mean I like a lot of foods but there are many I don't like as well."

"How were we not friends sooner?"

You tried not to let any emotions show that he had again called you his friend, but the night was not beyond saving yet. There were still four more stages to the grand plan Max had made.

When you brought out the ice cream sundaes, you could sense his heart starting to melt just like the treat in the bowls. The looks he gave you were different now, like he couldn't take his gaze away from you. And to be fair, you couldn't stop looking at his freckles and his blueish eyes.

"Want to play Mario Kart?" you asked nonchalantly, as if the night hadn't been planned from the start.

"You know I love beating you at video games."

You rolled your eyes. "You say that like I didn't win 5-0 last time we played."

"Oh you're in for it now!"

The competition was close, you winning the first two rounds and Lando winning the next two. In a close battle for victory, you got a red shell that sent Lando spinning and you passing him to claim first place.

"So who's beating who at video games now?" you asked tauntingly.

"It wasn't fair, I got distracted," he whined.

"By what?"

"You."

You couldn't help but blush. "What did I do to distract you?"

"You were shouting at me the whole race, how could I tune that out?" he laughed. A slight wave of disappointment passed through you.

"Want to watch TV?" you asked.

"What show?"

"Money heist? I've been watching that lately."

"Oh my god that's one of my favorite shows! How did you not tell me that you were watching it?"

"I guess it slipped my mind."

You sat next to each other on your small couch, legs pressed up against each other due to how close together you were sitting. It seemed like the night was a waste. You had done all of Lando's favorite things and still he couldn't bring himself to tell you his feelings. Maybe he just wasn't into you? Even though his friends had all reassured you that the signs were there, doubt started to creep in.

You were three episodes in and all of your hope was gone.

"I think I'm going to head home after this one," Lando said. "But thanks for having me over, I had a real good time."

"I did too, Lando."

The credits rolled and you turned off the TV. Lando got up from the couch and you felt cold where the physical contact with him had disappeared. The opportunity was closing fast.

"Lando, can I ask you something?"

"Of course, what is it?"

"I...do yo...have you..."

"Just spit it out."

"Do you have feelings for me? Like more than friends kind of feelings?"

Lando was silent for a moment. "Yeah. I have for a long time and I just didn't know how to let you know. Didn't want to ruin our friendship."

You sighed dramatically. "Are you fucking kidding me, Lando Norris? I took you on a date at a fancy restaurant?"

"Oh my god, that's what that was all about?"

"And then I had Niran ask you if you liked me? And you called me a great friend?"

"Well I couldn't just say it to Niran could I?"

"I was right there! And then this whole night I've been waiting for you to ask me out. You were just going to leave!"

"Ok maybe that one is my fault."

"Lando Norris you are completely oblivious!"

"I know I'm so sorry I didn't-"

You silence him with a kiss on his lips. "It doesn't matter. What matters is that I love you. Even if you can be oblivious."

Lando looked at you before pulling you in for another kiss. "I'll see you tomorrow. Let me take you on a proper date for once, one that I'll actually realize is a date."

"I can't wait."

---

"So you had to confess to him?" Max asked incredulously. "That man is worse than I ever thought."

"Yeah, he was just going to leave without saying anything."

"Jesus Christ."

You laughed. "But at least it's over now, you don't have to watch us pine for each other anymore."

Max rolled his eyes. "But now I have to deal with you being all sappy together. I don't know what's worse."

"Well I can tell you which option I prefer."

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris fic

[inbarfink]

So one of the cool and interesting ways ‘Steven Universe’ used to try and balance being both a series of 11-minutes episodes that each have their own satisfying emotional resolution and being an overarching story with complicated character arcs that take multiple seasons to resolve is the… I’m going to call it the ‘Not Quite Right Lesson’ episodes. Episodes where a character kinda learns a Very Important Lesson… but a more careful and retrospective look at the situation shows that what they learned is not Quite the Right Thing for them. They internalized something in that adventure which just ended up causing more Emotional Troubles for themselves farther down the line.

‘The Test’ is the most classic example. 

As a standalone thing, it’s just a sweet episode about Steven learning to accept that his caretakers are also flawed and confused and figuring this shit up as they’re going along just like he is, and then doing a nice thing for their sake.

But looking back at this episode, it is quite obviously the nadir of Steven appointing himself as the Family Therapist and repressing all of his problems so he could better help the Gems’ with theirs. Like, there have been some early warning signs for this Complex, but this episode is the one that really cemented that idea in his mind and probably the reason it took him like the Entire Rest of the Show Including a Post-Finale Season to really untangle it.

But… also, I’ve been thinking a lot about the episode right after that, ‘Future Vision’. I think it’s also a very important ‘Not Quite Right Lesson Episode’ for the character of Garnet, and to some extent, the Crystal Gems as a whole. In many ways, it is to the CGs' character arcs' what 'the Test' is to Steven's.

So in this episode, Garnet reveals to Steven the fact that she has Future Vision. She hoped that telling Steven a little bit more about herself and being honest with him will lead to a greater understanding and a greater bond between them… but it backfired. It just led Steven to become a total paranoid, terrified wreck stuck in a total existential crisis.

And it seems like the lesson Garnet learned is that… she should’ve never taken that risk at all. That it would’ve been better for everyone if she just kept Steven ignorant of the truth forever.

Extremely reinforced with the ending of the episode, where Garnet chooses to once again hide an uncomfortable truth (that he just came very close to dying again) from Steven, for the sake of his own ‘peace of mind’.

So, like, the Gems were already hiding uncomfortable truths from Steven since day one. “If you could only know what we really are” and all of that. But I think… With the actual truth of Homeworld encroaching on them more and more at this point of the story arc, this would’ve been a great time for the Gems to reconsider their attitude and actually Explain to Steven What the Hell is Going On. 

But instead, I think Garnet saw the events of ‘Future Vision’ as a reinforcement of the idea that there’s just some things Steven is Better Off Not Knowing. Actually being frank with him about Homeworld and the Diamonds and the War right there and then, that would have just overwhelmed Steven with fears and worries and would’ve ended up doing nothing but hurting him. And Garnet can’t accept that possibility, not again.

And so, Garnet, alongside Amethyst and Pearl, keep all these truths from Steven as long as possible. Only revealing bits of information when they have to. For Amethyst it’s about her emotionally-evasive attitude (also, she legit doesn’t know all of that stuff herself). For Pearl it’s about how she learned to romanticize Rose’s own fucked-up obsession with secrets. For Garnet, with her usually very direct attitude and preference for the most straightforward solutions, I think it’s very much the events of ‘Future Vision’ that were still playing in her head every time she had the choice to actually Explain something to Steven and decided not to. 

But that, indeed, was Not Quite the Right Lesson. While being bluntly and directly told by Garnet all about the Many Ways He Could Die caused Steven to go into an anxiety spiral and an existential crisis for an episode - the way the Gems have been consistently secretive and evasive with Steven ended up causing him so much more emotional grief to him in the long run. As all of these secrets ended up revealed to him in the most surprising, dramatic and traumatizing way possible.

And the secretive attitudes ended up driving a wedge between Steven and the Gems. 

Even after they promised to be more honest with him. Because the sight of Steven crying on the roof that day is one that Garnet can easily move away from. Because Garnet’s Not Quite Right Lesson was almost as difficult for her to unlearn as Steven’s own. 

But after the big confrontation at the start of the Zoo Arc, Garnet ended up being the most upfront about the Crystal Gems’ history. Almost overeager to share what she knows about the past.

I mean also, again, Amethyst just has less to tell and Pearl is hiding secrets for reasons beyond her control - but I think it’s also important to consider from the perspective of Garnet’s arc.

Because the fallout of the Pink Diamond Reveal is very much centered around Garnet (or, well, Ruby and Sapphire). That was the Truth that was hidden from her 'for her own good'. And at the end of the day, despite all the grief that unveiling that truth has caused

It has also brought them, all of them, a lot closer.

There's a reason why 'the Truth' is Garnet's Final Missing Piece in the movie. It is as central to her character arc in the series as Lesbian AngstTM grief over lost love is to Pearl.

And still, some remnants of the Trauma of 'Future Vision' remained...

After all, even the very last episode of 'Future' was centered around the Gems once again trying to hide things from Steven (at that case, their turmoil about him leaving) for his own sake

Even though it once again just caused Steven a whole lot of grief.

It's maybe notable that at the end of this episode, Garnet, once again, tells Steven what's waiting for him in his Future...

#steven universe #su #steven universe future #su future #suf #su analysis #garnet #garnet steven universe #garnet su #steven #steven universe garnet #su garnet #ruby #sapphire #ruby steven universe #ruby su #sapphire su #sapphire steven universe #steven quartz universe #steven quartz demayo #su steven

[comicaurora]

Nick Bostrom's "Fable of the Dragon Tyrant," which CGP Grey adapted into a video, left me feeling unsatisfied, and I got a certain unsettling vibe about the entire story.

I don't think it was the dragon's lack of agency, that just makes it an unusually traditional Western dragon.

You're a master at picking narratives apart to figure out why they don't satisfy. Do you have any insight, opinions, or cracktheories about why this story might be unsatisfying to some folks?

Probably because it's a very unsubtle metaphor casting the dragon as death, and death itself as a cruel, malevolent beast devouring and subjugating humanity for its own whims. This is very much intentional on the part of the writer. The paradigm of the story is that the dragon is huge, terrifying and incalculably cruel, and everyone lives their lives in the shadow of its terror or are just too deluded to recognize that it's COMING TO EAT THEM OH GOD

Intrinsic in this metaphorical structure is the idea that the dragon, aka death, is an artificial imposition on the natural order, and if we just got rid of the big ol' mean dragon, everybody would live forever and be fine. Accepting that the dragon exists is framed as a sign of desperation or even cowardice. This is an understandable read when facing a monster that only SEEMS timeless and inevitable (like LeGuin's thoughts comparing the current state of capitalism to the historical acceptance of the divine right of kings) but becomes bizarre when applied to something as legitimately factual as biological death. It's not even framed as unnatural death - the dragon specifically gets sent mostly old people. The metaphor is very explicitly about trying to frame death from old age as a big horrible dragon that everyone only thinks is unstoppable.

I get what they're going for here. The purpose of this story is to make the audience question if death is a true inevitability or if it can be fought, staved off, even defeated. But in the process, the story frames the systems of the world that have formed around death - doctors, pallative caregivers, will executors - as macabre gears in the machine dedicated to the genocidal cruelty of feeding the dragon.

In the dragon tyrant framing, these people only exist to make the rest of the world more okay with flinging themselves down the gullet of the dragon and to streamline the process by which everybody dies. By casting death as the enemy, everybody whose jobs are based on the compassionate act of comforting and aiding people suffering from loss become reframed as collaborators with the incalculably evil enemy, and everyone who's ever accepted their own death becomes a loser. This is a deeply cruel way to frame people who dedicate their lives to helping people through one of the hardest and most tragic aspects of life.

Damn, that's fucked up. Look at this eloquent idiot, explaining why we should be okay with letting a big dragon eat us because it's the natural order. Clearly he is wrong and it's not debasing at all to want to stay alive and not get eaten by a big dragon. This is a fallacy of false analogy: death is like being eaten by a big mean dragon. All his arguments look ridiculous when applied to getting eaten by a big mean dragon, therefore they must be ridiculous when applied to dying when your organs start failing because they've been running nonstop for nine decades and biological systems accumulate wear and tear like literally everything else in the universe.

Entropy increases; systems break down, from DNA to planetary orbits. Successfully shoot down the dragon and you'll end up outliving everything you thought was eternal, even the stars. The goal of immortality isn't really to personally witness the sun exploding, it's to have more good time. It's to make your twenties last into your sixties. It's to keep your back painless and your vision good for longer. We want to postpone the story's end as long as we can, and so we extrapolate "more time" into "I never want to die, I want to be young and healthy and hot forever" even though "forever" doesn't exist. To look to "forever" is to understand that your culture and language will drift, your home will eventually crumble out from under you, your shoreline will erode and change, your climate will transform, your tectonic plate will subduct or shatter, your moon's orbit will slow and tidally lock, and eventually your sun will start burning helium and cook your planet. You don't want "forever" to look like that, you want it to look like your twenties felt. But at that point you aren't fighting the Big Mean Dragon That Eats People, you're fighting the ocean and the biosphere and the earth and the stars, trying to hold them in place against entropy so your immortality can have an equally immortal world to enjoy it in. No, this argument doesn't want true immortality, it wants their twenties to last longer. But it can't admit that.

Back to the story. There's a condescending and spiteful tone in the narration. Death (being eaten by a big mean dragon) is OBVIOUSLY awful and we should all be fighting as hard as we can to make it stop happening. Even a child can see it.

The story even helpfully adds a lengthy moral explanation at the end, in case you didn't understand that the dragon was the inevitability of death and we should dedicate all our resources to figuring out how to make a big rocket and shoot it.

"Nobody should ever die" is generally understood to be a childish dream with extremely obvious and unpleasant consequences that would turn its realization into an unending and waking nightmare, and once out of the confines of easy metaphor, the story tries to act like that wasn't what it was just saying. But its more realistic proposed substitute, "It would be great if people could live longer and have more healthy, youthful years in them," is probably the world's most uncontroversial statement. This story frames it like a bold revelation that the world will attempt to beat down and crush out of a misguided acceptance that Big Mean Dragon comes for us all. It's a morality fable whose conclusion is "I hope science improves the length and quality of our lives, potentially even to the point where we never have to die at all," which has been the number one goal of huge swaths of science since the invention of agriculture. This is not a bold or controversial take. It's just being written as though we're all looking at the naked emperor and pretending he's wearing pants.

#asks #not aurora

[misslovasstuff]

“Confession”

Summary: Sanji tries to confess your love to you... many times. pairing: Sanji x fem!reader genre: romance with a small hint of comedy. author's note: for some reason, I think canon Sanji is someone who is quite oblivious when it comes to women who ACTUALLY like him. Like bro notices when men adore him but can't tell a girl has the hots for him?? Anyways, out of frustration I wrote this but just roles reversed. Enjoy, hehe

His tenderness and kindness drops like honey from his fingertips, this is quite evident when he carefully strokes your skin with the back of his hand, gently brushing off your hair when your head rests on his lap, his lips touch your shut-closed eyes, reciting you poetry about them every morning and every evening.

Oh, how he admires and yet envies the light of the sun landing on your skin, the cool breeze that gets to caress your hair and the blessed land you walk upon where flowers seem to bloom with each one of your steps.

How can a man express a love so grand? What words could Sanji ever use to depict his own feelings, or to come even close to explaining them? Among all of these questions, there is a specific one that has grown roots on his head for a while now:

How do I confess?

Imagine the agony of seeing the person you love every day, emotions building up inside of you so much so that even a glance of them towards your direction shakes your whole soul. Ok, now that you have imagined what it feels like, multiply that feeling with x100; that’s what a hopeless romantic such as Sanji has endured ever since the day he fell for you (but that’s a story for another time). Now, let me introduce to you 3 attempts Sanji tried to confess his love:

1. A pretty flower for an even prettier flower

It’s Spring, around 4 months ago. You are rotting in the girl’s dorm, still recovering from some heavy injured back you had to deal with after a tough fight. There are sounds of laughter outside, so loud that you could hardly listen to the sound of waves or anything like that. From what you could hear, you had reached an island which seemed to make the crew enthusiastic for some reason you could not really tell from the darkness and loneliness of your surroundings.

“Damn it, I can’t even stand up on my own” - you try to lift yourself up but quickly surrender due to the immense pain in your back. A loud sigh escapes your mouth as you cover your face with a hand, rubbing your temple and holding yourself back from shedding any tears that could reflect that your need to be useful is now under attack, and you feel more useless than ever.

“Can I come in?” - a knock or two are heard at the door. You’re caught completely off guard but yet manage to blur out with a cracked voice: “Please do.”

Goodness, you had to cover your eyes from the light that shone through the room when the door opened, almost blinding you. Thus, you can’t really tell who just came in but a feeling of some sort was telling you that it was alright, that it was safe.

“We landed on a new island. - the voice approaches and comes closer, becoming clearer. - It’s quite beautiful.”

A touch of your hand makes you immediately realise that it was Sanji who is now sat beside you, caressing your hand. Your vision gets back to normal and you gaze happily at the blond chef. He looked so pretty: a nice pink shirt with a flower pattern, shorts and sunglasses he’s wearing.

“Why aren’t you exploring then?” - you ask, caressing his hand back.

“Oh, I did my exploring. It’s just that all that beauty that I saw…- Sanji reveals his hand hidden behind his back. There was a bouquet of flowers he was holding, landing them to you. Goodness, the way your eyes sparkled in joy caught Sanji off guard. His gaze softens. - …all that beauty that I saw reminded me of you.”

You take the flowers and sniff them, the aroma captivating your senses as your dopamine reaches high levels that were not reached for months.

“Thank you, Sanji. This… - you gaze lovingly at the flowers and then at him. - …this means a lot.”

“Don’t thank me. I’d do anything for you.” - he grabs your chin and pinches it gently, giving you a reassuring smile.

“Actually, I came to see you because I wanted to-

“You wanted to make sure I was fine, right? Don’t worry, I do feel better now. Promise!” - you interrupt him, thinking that he was still worrying himself over your condition. However, the expression on his face made you doubt that that was the real reason he came.

“Oh, is it because you want to ask me what I want for dinner?”- you try again, trying to guess the reason of his visit, which he did often.

“Uhm right, I did want to ask you that…” - Sanji smiles awkwardly as he strokes the back of his neck. Guess he couldn’t really say what he wanted now, instead he just smiles and listens to your wishes regarding dinner.

“How about we have dinner together, just the two of us, when you get better of course?” - he suggests and you widen your eyes.

Just the two of you? Why is he asking that? For some reason that gave you a weird feeling in your stomach, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Well, it would be my pleasure, chef.” - you tease, pinching his nose jokingly as the cook gives a blushing smile.

2. What’s mine is yours

The dinner table was decorated beautifully by Sanji, the colors, the texture of the fabrics and all the details up to the crystal clear utensils would make every woman in the world happy. He is now sat patiently, waiting for you to come down and dine with him.

Once you go out the door you notice the setting your favourite cook has done for you. With a quick glance you fasten your step to go down the stairs, giving a small cough to make him notice you.

How foolish, you think he didn’t notice you?

Sanji saw you from afar, and that man is already weak in the knees from seeing you all dressed up with a chic black dress, a nice golden necklace resting on your neck, complemented gracefully with your long dark flocks falling off your bare shoulders.

“You came.” - Sanji reaches for you hand, kissing the back of it whilst looking deep into your eyes.

“For you, always.” - a wink at him before you go and sit down makes the blond crazily happy. He immediately pulls the chair back for you and rushes to serving some delicious hot meals.

“I love that we are doing this outside.” - you claim, finally feeling a bit of fresh air coming in your lungs.

“I thought you would. - Sanji lights up a candle placed in the middle of the table. - I know you’re a romantic at heart as well.”

You chuckle, not disagreeing with his statement.

“Thank you for the food.” - you say and start digging in. Ah, he never fails when it comes to cooking. You could live 109 more lives and never get to try Sanji’s food anywhere else.

“Perfect.” - you whisper, letting out a small moan from the satisfying taste. Little do you know that even such small details never go unnoticed by Sanji. He keeps staring at you, your dress, hair, your eyes that sparkle with light every time you look at him.

“Here, try some of this.” - Sanji picks up with his chopsticks a piece from his plate and offers it to you.

Of course you want to try it so you open your mouth and eat it, closing your eyes shut for a bit.

“Ahhh, Sanji it’s just so good!” - you exclaim, grabbing the table cloth.

Alright, you might be someone who overacts at times but now come on! look what you’re doing to the poor guy. You moan his name in a sentence like that and expect him to remain his full composure?

Bro had to keep it in him not to tell you that he fucks as good as he cooks for the hundredth time.

These thoughts are quickly shaken off when he notices your body trembling a bit. He immediately gets up, strips his jacket off.

Now, you’re caught off guard. His sleeves are rolled up and his forearms give a nice impression of a good physique. Moreover, his visible biceps and wide shoulders... Did he always have a waist that small?

“Here, I’d rather die that let you catch a cold.” - his sentence interrupts a train of not so holy thoughts for which you were confused of where they came from.

You shake your head and say a small ‘thank you’ to Sanji before going back to eating. However, now his cologne is evident, coming from the jacket placed on your shoulders. Alluring and strong, just like him.

“Are you listening?” - he asks and you widen your eyes, asking him a very polite ‘sorry, what?’

“Never mind. Nothing important.” - there it is again, that awkward smile. What is it that he has to say but doesn’t tell me?

The rest of the dinner goes fairly well. Around midnight you both find yourself and the doorstep of the girl’s dorm.

“Thank you for joining me.” - he kisses your hand, caressing it with his thumb, not letting go just yet.

“Thank you for having me, Sanji.” - you smile, a weird rush of adrenaline conquering your body. Not understanding what it really is, you rush inside and wave a final ‘bye’ to the cook, closing the door behind you. Who knows what would have happened if you kept your hand in his for any longer; his warmth and the comfort he radiates with only the touch of his hands made you think how good he would f- NO NO STOP RIGHT THERE!

3. The horizon knows about us

It’s a lonely sunset - that’s how you call it when there is no one to share the view with. Nevertheless, it does not stop you from admiring it, eyes filling with light coming from a colorful sky that resembles a drunk painting.

The admirer has an admirer which is watching from behind, slowly approaching.

“I thought you didn’t like lonely sunsets?” - Sanji approaches, taking his hands off his pockets and resting his arms on the wooden plateau.

“Well, - you smile, tilting your head towards him. - we have to stop and appreciate what burns for us, and the sun has been burning for way too long.”

You say those words and Sanji is fully immersed, captivated, staring at your profile like he would keep burning if it means his eyes would get the blessing of seeing you everyday, his light would keep shining on you, setting himself a blaze to let you be warm, always.

“You know, I'm sure it's a pleasure for the sun to burn for you. - he takes a deep breath before continuing, mastering the courage to look at you in the eyes. - And just like it, I too have been burning for a while.”

Your eyes widen at his statement, face immediately turning to him.

“Why so?” - your voice comes out so soft and caring that Sanji’s lip trembles.

“There are words I want to say, feelings I want to express, verses of my own that I want to recite that are stuck on my throat, making me unable to breath, suffocating me.” - Sanji starts explaining, grabbing your hands together and resting them on his chest.

“It’s all in here. - he says. - please tell me that you feel it too.”

You have stopped blinking for a while now, trying to take in as much as possible from the situation. The sun keeps setting as so do your feelings. They become more evident, a sudden epiphany hitting the depths of your very soul. Your heart recognizes, understands what Sanji is talking about cause you feel it, you have felt it many times.

“Sanji… - you call his name, tightening the grip on his hands. - I’m listening this time. More than ever I’m not only listening to you but also to my own heart. - you gulp hard, approaching him closer. - I need you to tell me first.”

Sanji smiles, putting your hands in front of his lips, hiding the blush of his cheeks whilst not breaking eye contact.

“I confess to you, the sun and the horizon that I have inevitably fallen in love with you.” - his voice does not tremble, nor does his body shake. However, both of your hearts are going crazy as the heat between you becomes more and more evident. After an intense prolonged eye contact, you cup his cheek, glancing at the sky for a second whilst noticing the darkness setting in, a darkness that you do not loath anymore.

“Let me then confess to you, the moon and the stars that I have fallen in love with you too.” - you smile cheekily, making Sanji mirror your genuine smile, this time not awkwardly but wholeheartedly, as he grabs your waist swiftly, bringing you close to his embrace.

The sun is completely set and the sky has fully darkened. There is now the moon who watches over along with the little stars that dance happily over lovers. No matter what time, the horizon had witnessed two lovers uniting, giving them all the colors that it could present for such a memorable moment.

Thus, it did take him a while, but now Sanji and you have found peace in each other, a comfort that only love can provide. And a fairytale have you become for people who gather the courage to express what lies deep inside them, taming the fire so that it could warm your lover but never burn you.

#one piece #one piece sanji #op sanji #sanji #black leg sanji #opla sanji #sanji imagine #onepiece anime #one piece x you #one piece x y/n #one piece x reader #sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji oneshot #sanji one piece #one piece men #one piece oneshots #sanji fanfic #sanji simp

[fandom-oneshots-etc]

Hey, can you write a story about Evan Buckley and Reader announcing that she’s pregnant to the 118 at like a family gathering :)

🍄 Pairing: Evan Buckley x Reader

🍄 Genre: Fluff

🍄 Summary: At a 118 family gathering, Buck's overprotective nature reveals a little more than the two of you had planned.

🍄 Word Count: 1618

🍄 Abbreviations: N/A

🍄 Warnings: Pregnancy, implied pregnancy complications

🍄 Note: I really liked this request Anon! I hope this is what you were looking for. I thought about this scenario and I instantly imagined Buck accidentally announcing the pregnancy rather than planned. If you would rather a planned version, just pop in another request. A similar request came from @quinnstan247. Enjoy :)

You could feel the eyes following you closely as you slipped into the kitchen to refill your glass of orange cordial. Your overprotective, puppy-dog boyfriend remained outside in the garden of the Nash household along with the rest of the team as they stood around Bobby and the BBQ grill. You knew that Buck was searching for any reason he could to follow you inside, but you met his gaze through the windows and offered him a reassuring smile that seemed to subdue him for the minute.

Since the second you found out, Buck had been glued to your side. It had been three weeks since you took that test, since your doctor had confirmed it and in that time you had, had to convince him every single day that he could leave you and go to work. Every day he fought you, wanting the both of you to stay home so you could rest and he could wait on your every want and need, but you couldn’t do that. You were only thirteen weeks along and there was hardly any reason to be confined to the bed just yet. You knew that he was only concerned about the safety of you and the peach you currently carried in your womb. It was endearing and one of the sweetest things you’d ever seen, you hadn’t thought that Buck could get any sweeter, but here you were one act away from having a mouth full of cavities.

What hadn’t helped was that Buck had been responding to a number of pregnancy calls in the past few weeks a few resulting in sadder endings than anyone wanted. They had definitely struck a chord with Buck and had only made him hover all the more.

Adding the water to your cordial, you took a sip of the orange, a light buzz filling your taste-buds. You had become obsessed with anything orange flavoured since your pregnancy diagnosis. Whether it was orange skittles (which Buck had kindly sat and sorted out for you), or orange flavoured chocolate, or even the orange flavoured cupcakes you had found at the grocery store and ate within an hour of buying, anything orange and you were all for it.

Walking back into the garden, your entire body seemed to clench a little as you stepped back into the gaze of the sun. As much as you were enjoying this down time with the 118, it was so hot. The heatwave had only hit LA in the past few days but already it was in full swing and you were feeling every beam of it.

“Y/n,” you turned over to where Athena was sat with Hen and her daughter May. The three of them were stood around the mini bar that Athena had installed, in direct sunlight. Already hot, you fought down the urge to grimace as you moved to stand by them, the sun glaring on your skin. “We were just telling May about Buck and that kiddie ride at the mall. She doesn’t believe us.” Hen informed and a grin split across your lips, taking your mind off of the sweltering heat.

“Oh my, God. I have a photo, hang on,” You pulled your phone out of your shoulder bag and set your drink on the bar, thumb flicking through the many photos in your gallery in search of the one from the Saturday before. “He thought it was funny and I tried to tell him he wouldn’t fit but he insisted,” You giggled and turned your phone for May to see. “I honestly thought I’d have to call nine-one-one.”

Displayed across your screen was the photo that still had you giggling a week later. There sat Buck, who had squeezed his way into the small metal bus which was obviously aimed for children 7 and under. But Buck had twisted his body at all kinds of angles and had somehow managed to worm his way into the ride. His head was poked out of the door hole, his legs curled up against his chest, unable to stretch out in the tiny space that his body was occupying.

What Athena and the others didn’t know was that Buck wouldn’t have gotten into the ride if it wasn’t for you. That morning your hormones had been playing you like a fiddle and every little thing had upset you, the bin bag had broken when you were trying to change it out for a new one, somehow a red sock had slipped in with your whites and now everything you owned was slightly toned pink and they had shown that advert with the puppy sat in a box, in the rain, on the side of the street with people walking past ignoring it. It seemed, that morning, that everything was stacked against you. Buck had offered to come with you to the mall so you could pick up your clothing order from a store, you had ordered certain items that they didn’t have in stock and they had delivered into the store the day before. You were buzzing to see the new pair of pumps you had ordered. You knew that in a few months if not weeks, the shoes would probably be pressing against the sides of your feet and ankles because of the pregnancy swelling, but that hadn’t stopped you from ordering them in your size. However, like everything else that morning, even that didn’t go as planned. The shoes had been delivered in the wrong colour and in a size smaller than you wanted, making them impossible to wear. Buck had seen how disheartened you had been when you left the store, trying not to cry in frustration. He had wanted to do something to cheer you up and in a joking manner he had made a bet with you that he could fit inside the kiddie bus ride.

It had definitely succeeded in cheering you up, if not from how silly he looked, his large muscular frame curled up inside the ride, from when he got stuck and couldn’t get himself out straight away. You had done what you could to help him out, but you were giggling so hard your entire body went weak. When he had finally gotten out, the two of you had continued to giggle all the way home and your mood had been lifted for the rest of the day.

“Oh, my God,” May giggled. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen. Please send me that!” she begged.

“Of course,” you agreed with a laugh of your own. “I could never gate keep on a photo like this.”

“What made him get in there?”

“It’s Buck, does he need a reason?” Hen scoffed. As the ladies continued to giggle, the heat seemed to make it’s presence known as it glared down onto you. The side of your temples was beginning to throb and your skin was starting to get slick and sticky, sweat oozing from your pores. You raised a hand to swipe at your brow, glancing around the garden for the closest seat, your legs aching.

As you moved towards one of the sun loungers, your boyfriend’s eyes caught onto your movements, already on high alert.

“Y/n? What’s wrong?” he asked, abandoning his drink at the grill and rushing towards you, one arm slipping around your waist to help guide you to the seat.

“Buck, I’m-”

“Dammit, it’s too hot out here for you. We should’ve cancelled,” he began muttering to himself. “Are you dizzy? Do you need a drink of water? What about something to eat? Is your blood sugar low? What if you’re dehydrated?” The only thing making you dizzy was the hurricane of questions Buck was sending your way, not even leaving a chance for you to answer them. One of his hands instinctively came to rest on the front of your stomach.

“Babe? Baby?” You tried to pull Buck out of his panicked rant, his eyes not once meeting yours as he kept scanning you for any visible injuries. Not that there were any, but the paranoia was getting the best of him and the heat probably wasn’t helping.

“We should get you in the shade,” he decided. “Shit, you should’ve stayed inside. You’re carrying precious cargo now, baby. You and peach can’t take this heat. We shouldn’t have come. This is all my fault-”

“Buck!” You pressed your hands to the sides of his face, directing his eyes to yours so you could try and ground him. “Buck, baby, I’m fine. We’re fine. I’m just a little hot and tired that’s all. It’s normal.” He still seemed a little uncertain, and his eyes held a lifetime of worry for you and his unborn child. “We’re okay. I promise.” You offered him a reassuring smile, your thumb coming to brush against his bottom lip rhythmically, giving him something to focus on. His eyelids pressed shut as he breathed slowly for a second.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause we can go home-”

“We’re fine. I just need to sit for a minute that’s all.” You peeked over his shoulder. “While I’m sitting, we should probably talk to the people behind you, they seem a little shocked. You kind of let the cat out of the bag.” Buck twisted his head to look around at the team behind him, everyone stood, jaws dropped and eyes wide. Eddie was the most comical of the bunch, his glass halfway raised to his mouth ready to take a sip but frozen in time with the news that Buck had unintentionally shared.

“H-Hey, guys,” He chuckled awkwardly with a sheepish grin. “I guess we have some news to share.”

#evan buckley #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #even buckley oneshot #buck #buck x reader #buck oneshot #buck imagine #evan #evan x reader #evan oneshot #evan imagine #911 #911 x reader #911 oneshot #911 imagine #9-1-1 #9-1-1 x reader #9-1-1 oneshot #9-1-1 imagine #request #requests open #reqs open

[yuna542]

Connected (OT8 x reader)

Part 23<-

Part 24

Pairing: (Channie at the beginning) Hyunjin & Lee Know x Reader

Genre: Smut, Fluff, Angst

Warnings: 18+, Smut, Under 18 DNI! Suggestive Themes, Swearing, Threesome, Blackmailing, Petnames, explicit sexual content, deepthroating, oral (f + m receiving), public sex

Word Count: 9.2k

Note: Guess who‘s back for now. My life changed a lot during the last months and sadly I don’t have that much tine for writing anymore, even though I really want to. But somehow I managed to write another Part! Thank you to everyone who‘s still reading this story. Lmk what you think in the comments. Stay tuned 💛

On your first day of your new job as the personal manager of Stray Kids, you didn't expect to be standing in front of the man you made out with last night in a club. But it soon becomes clear that the Stray Kids don't just want you as their manager.

Will this passionate arrangement end your career?

.

When you woke up on the black couch in the backstage area, you firstly stretched to drive the tiredness from your limbs with an audible groan.

"Welcome back," you heard Changbin say and only then did you realize that your head had been resting on his lap. He stroked your hair out of your face with a smile as you pulled the blanket, which smelled familiar like home, towards you.

"How long have I been asleep?" you asked, trying to clear your head again. But tiredness kept pulling you back into a stupor, so you cuddled back into his lap.

Changbin leaned back and suddenly you saw the whole staff already walking around in the backstage. Stylists, stage technicians and make-up artists. They were all scurrying around Jeongin, Hyunjin and Felix who were were made up. Seungmin was being wired up and Han was discussing something with the sound technician.

"You were gone for almost three hours."

Stunned, you straightened up. The blanket, which you now recognized as Chan's hoodie, fell off your shoulders.

"Where's Chan?" you asked directly.

After rehearsals, you had laid down on the couch together and fallen asleep in a tight embrace. Every member of staff who had passed by had seen you bury your face against his chest and him wrapping his arms tightly around your body. Finally, Felix had carefully woken Chan up because he had to start putting on his outfit. Completely baffled, you stared at your cell phone, which showed that the concert was only 30 minutes away.

"You needed the sleep. We didn't want to wake you up," Changbin said and winked at you.

Chan finally came back into the room. He was wearing his stage outfit and it looked incredibly good. The white top was cut out at the side so that you could see his toned stomach. When he saw that you were awake, he smiled and waved as he was already being shooed towards the mirrors.

When you saw who started doing his hair there, you bit your tongue hard. Mina talked to him animatedly, taking more time than necessary as she applied hairspray to his hair, but Chan seemed distant. He replied in monosyllables, his smile polite but professional. It was strange and you couldn't stop looking in his direction as you worked through your messages on your iPad.

Finally, you rolled your eyes as she leaned forward emphatically so Chan could barely see anywhere else but the exaggerated neckline of her dress. She clung to him like a far too pink piece of chewing gum and although Chan had made it clear to you last night that he only wanted you, it stung your chest. When Chan saw your look in the mirror, he cleared his throat and held the blonde's wrist as she tried to apply a pinkish color to his lips.

"I think Lee Know and Han need your help"

Confused, she looked to the other side of the room where Jisung almost poked his eye out with the kayal as Lino kept shoving him and laughing at him.

"But I'm not finished with your..."

"That's all right. Y/N can finish it. Right?" he asked over his shoulder and when your eyes met, you realized how uncomfortable Chan was. You nodded quickly and stood up to go to him. Mina's face turned as red as a tomato as she stared at you and as she looked at Chan and the smile he gave you, she put her make-up down on the table in front of the mirror.

"Sure. I can do it."

Chan's eyes lit up at the sound of your voice and when Mina nodded and mumbled a meek "Alright...", you had to suppress a triumphant grin.

While she was still putting her things away, you picked up the brush and leaned over to Chan to pick up where Mina had left off. But Chan put a hand on your hip and, to your surprise, pulled you onto his lap in front of Mina, leaving you staring at him wide-eyed.

"It's more comfortable this way," he dismissed, his hands firmly on your hips as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Mina's nostrils quivered and she looked like she was going to burst into tears at any moment.

Chan had made it abundantly clear what he wanted, without saying a word. She hurried away and when she was out of earshot, you whispered:

"What are you doing? Everyone can see us!"

Chan leaned back, circled his thumbs over your thighs and closed his eyes, relaxed.

"So what? The staff know we're good friends.“

Stunned, you grinned and began to spread the colour on his lips.

"Friends...", you murmured with a cheeky smile.

In fact, most of the staff were unimpressed. Only some of them gave you furtive glances, but they were so busy that hardly anyone looked at you for more than a few seconds. While you concentrated on his make-up, Chan enjoyed your body against his and slipped his thumbs under the skirt of your dress. You gave him a warning glance, but he didn't seem to care in the slightest that there were other strangers in the room.

Although you were still sore in all the right places from last night, you were automatically filled with desire when you felt his strong hands firmly on your bare skin. Chan also became more restless, trying to get a little more under your dress, pinching your thighs and looking at you hungrily, as if he wanted to eat you up at any moment.

"I want you..."

"What?" you asked, unable to believe how brazen Chan was. He had thrown all caution overboard.

"I want to fuck you. Now..." he whispered in your ear and his lips brushed against your neck. Panting, you looked around, but no one in the room was paying any attention to you.

"Channie..." you hissed, barely able to push him away as he began to kiss your neck. Your hands tightened around the powder and brush in your hands. His hands traveled up your sides until they brushed your breasts.

"Channie... We're not alone."

"I don't care. I want everyone to know. They can't tell anyone else anyway."

That was true. All the staff had signed a NDA that protected the idols' privacy. They were not allowed to talk about anything that happened backstage or what they saw. It was to protect the idols and make them feel comfortable and relaxed, even if there were staff scurrying around. Overwhelmed, you tried to control your breathing and the heat in your veins as Chan continued to lavish feather-light kisses on your neck. He was wild, demanding and it took your breath away.

"You have to go on stage in a minute," you whispered, barely able to pay attention to whether anyone was watching you.

"It won't take long... Let's get out of here quickly..."

You really wanted to say yes, but reason made you hesitate. And with one look into his blazing eyes, your resistance collapsed. He also looked outrageously handsome in his stage outfit, in your defence.

But then the door suddenly opened and Felix jumped up from the couch as a group of people came into the room.

Panicked, you jumped off Chan's lap as his and Felix's family suddenly stood in the middle of the room. Hannah immediately grinned as she saw you trying to straighten your dress. Felix, meanwhile, was hugging his parents and sister, while Chan strolled casually to his parents and then hugged them too.

You grabbed your neck uneasily and it felt like his parents could only guess what you had done with a glance. But when you finally bowed, Chan's mother grabbed your arms instead and pulled you into a tight hug.

"It's so good to see you again, darling. You left so early this morning," she said and you hesitantly returned the hug.

"Yes, we had a lot to do," you smiled nervously and Mr Bang gave you a curt nod.

You chatted for a while and Chan put his hand on your lower back, which no one seemed to question. It was nice to see his family and Felix's parents were just as friendly as their son was.

Chan accompanied his parents to the staff who took them to their seats and Felix took advantage of this to take your hand and introduce you to his family.

But you didn't have much time left and shortly afterwards the Lee family were also taken to their seats.

Felix squeezed your hands and looked excited and yet the Aussies seemed more stressed today than ever before.

.

It was only two days later when you sank to the floor, panting, and looked up questioningly at Lee Know and Hyunjin. Hyunjin looked at the screen of his cell phone, Minho next to him, and they both watched what felt like the hundredth video you had shot today. Hours ago, you had already begun to regret accepting Hyunjin's offer to help you with your first dance cover. You finally had the time and energy to pursue your own passion and the dance leader and main dancer of Stray Kids immediately offered to help.

You started to work out a choreography together and recorded it directly on video in the dance studio.

However, the boys were perfectionists and worked in the professional manner in which they produced their own videos. Finally, after several attempts and recordings, after tons of sweat and pain, Hyunjin finally nodded and Lino also smiled with satisfaction while the last recording was playing on his cell phone.

"It turned out perfectly," said Hyunjin.

"The performance turned out hot and strong. That suits you well. You’re moving so smooth…“

You smiled with relief and drank the last of your water bottle. While your legs trembled with exertion, the dancers looked like they were on their way to a photo shoot for a sports magazine. Hyunjin's tank top was washed out, revealing sections of his well-trained upper body. Lee Know wore a black shirt that was so tight around his chest and upper arms that you could see every contraction of his muscles. Glancing at the clock, you sighed loudly. You had arrived at the gym at 12 noon and now it was 9pm. A normal day for the idols, but not at all for you. But it had been fun. Despite everything, they had been gentler and more affectionate with you than you were used to from them during practice.

"I love seeing you dance," Lino said, while focused on the recording, moving slightly to the music and it sounded sincere. Your heart skipped a beat and you smiled. Such a compliment from one of the best dancers in the industry was amazing.

"So that's why you put me in this dance studio all day?" you asked with amusement.

"I can barely feel my legs," you sighed and tried to push yourself off the floor and stand up again.

Before you could really stand upright, you suddenly felt Lino's strong arms wrapped around your stomach and you lifted off the ground. Giggling, you let yourself be carried to the couch where he let himself fall backwards so that you landed between his legs.

"You did a really great job... you really have idol potential," he said and began to massage your tense shoulders behind you. You immediately gasped out loud and leaned against his touch. He was damn skillful with his hands and a fire immediately ignited where he touched your bare skin.

"No, I'm nowhere near that far... You do this every day and I can't move after just a few hours..." you laughed softly and a whimper escaped you as he worked on a tense muscle.

This made Hyunjin look up and put the cell phone back down on the tripod. With a grin, he joined you and sat down on the floor between your legs, where he cupped your trembling thigh with his hands. You inhaled a rattling breath. Lee Know's hands massaging your back, his body heat right next to yours and now Hyunjin starting to massage your aching legs.

"You're already better than any of us at this social media thing... Your Insta account is growing every day," Hyunjin agreed, focusing on your trembling muscles.

"Well it's actually fun... I've even had a few requests... Ouch!" you gasped when Hyunjin caught a sensitive spot.

"That's normal. It'll get better soon. We'll take care of it..." he said, and the way he smiled at you made your heart skip a beat. Hyunjin's long fingers worked over every millimeter of your bare legs and you could hardly think straight.

"I like the shorts on you... Everyone will go crazy for you when they see the video," Hyunjin said and you let out a gasp as Lino pushed the straps of your sports bra off your shoulders to get better access to your back. His fingers worked wonders and apart from the muscle tension they released, heat began to ripple through your body and a familiar throbbing sensation was felt between your legs.

Lino growled softly and his fingers worked their way to your ribs.

"You're going to get tons of thirsty messages... I'm already finding it hard to hold back watching you... And that outfit..."

You sucked in a sharp breath as his hands traveled down your sides and squeezed your hips. You were only wearing a normal sports bra and black shorts. Something loose and you liked the way the shorts showed off your long legs. But what you liked even more were the looks from the boys who had been glancing at you intently all day. Even though they tried to hide it, to be respectful and not intrusive, you couldn't help but notice Hyunjin's intense stares, as well as Lee Know's suggestive comments and smirks when he gave you a hand, touched your hips or stroked your butt. But it didn't feel intrusive at all when they looked at you like that. Quite the opposite. They also looked at you like that when you were sweaty, without make-up or wearing oversized hoodies and sweatpants. You still didn't know why or what they saw in you, but it felt good to be desired.

Hyunjin kneaded your calves and the further he worked his way forward, the more restless you became.

But you closed your eyes and tried to relax and endure the intense touch of the two most attractive men you had ever met without paying any attention to the heat between your legs.

"Is that ok?" Hyunjin asked softly and when you opened your eyes and looked into his chocolate eyes, you were speechless. Part of his black hair was tied back at the back of his head, while the rest framed his face. His head between your legs, his hands firmly on your thighs, made you nod breathlessly. He was breathtakingly beautiful.

"What? I can't hear you kitten!" whispered Lee Know, his hot breath brushing your neck.

"Yes! Yes that's good... Feels good."

Satisfied, he grinned and before you could realize it, you felt his lips against your shoulder. He began to spread feather-light kisses over your heated skin and you feared you would faint when you saw Hyunjin looking at your body like that. Greedily, as if he had to restrain himself from pulling you towards him immediately.

"Lino..." you breathlessly escaped as he moved a hand to your throat and you automatically tilted your head back to give him more room. He sucked on every sensitive spot, sinking his teeth into your neck until you fell against his chest and your eyelids fluttered with arousal.

Hyunjin's fingers kept moving upwards until they were working your legs just a hand's width from your now wet core.

You were so turned on that you could hardly think straight.

Another whimper escaped you as the two exchanged a meaningful look, full of hunger, and Lino began to knead your breasts through the thin fabric of your bra. "Lino... Please..." you barely managed to utter, your head already in the clouds and you couldn't believe how much your body was responding to them.

Lee Know's big hands squeezed your breasts and you could feel his grin against your neck as he elicited more and more of those desperate noises.

"We're just taking care of you... It's all good. That's what good dance teachers do," Hyunjin murmured, lightly pinching your inner thigh, eliciting a sensual sound very similar to a moan. You gasped loudly as Lee Know gripped the flesh of your breasts tightly, while you were trying to squeeze your legs together so Hyunjin wouldn't notice how wet you already were.

Your panties and shorts were probably already soaked but he reacted faster, grabbing your knees and holding them further apart.

"You don't have to hide from me, princess," he cooed and his hands were right back at your core, massaging just a little next to where you wanted to feel him. Your mind tried to remind you where you were and what you were doing here.

"We're at work... If anyone comes in," you tried, sighing between them as Lee Know kissed your jawline.

"There's no one here this late except us... and even if there was..." he muttered and gave Hyunjin a meaningful grin, which he returned.

You tried to straighten up a bit, ignoring the large hands all over your body, and felt Lino's long, hard length pressed against your back.

"You want to get caught, don't you? Is that why you wanted to help? Did you plan this?" you asked, your voice thin and breathless.

Hyunjin smirked, pressed a kiss to your inner thigh and looked up at you innocently.

"We just wanted to help you... You're just too much of a temptation..."

Lee Know's hand moved to your hip and he rubbed his center lightly against yours so that all you could think about was his massive dick pressed against your ass.

"You've been paying a lot more attention to Chan and the younger ones lately.... We want some time with you too, angel."

Lino nodded and brushed his soft lips up your neck. You could only watch, overwhelmed, and felt Lee Know slip his hand under your sports bra.

For a moment, a clear thought made it through the fog of desire and you pushed Hyunjin quite a bit away from you. With his head between your legs, his lips on your skin, you couldn't form a clear sentence.

He looked at you questioningly.

"Is that the only reason you wanted to make the video today?" you asked, looking at him scrutinizingly. His mouth opened, a damned seductive red appeared on his cheeks and he didn't even have to try to lie.

You could already read the answer in his uncertain smile.

"Jinnie... You planned this with Lee Know?"

He cleared his throat while Minho just snorted.

"No way. I didn't know anything about it."

Hyunjin stroked both hands up your thighs, and his apologetic smirk immediately wrapped you around his finger. Still, you tried to look serious. He could do whatever he wanted with that face, those hands. He could have called you an object and even with the full knowledge that he would throw you away like garbage when he had what he wanted, you would give him all he wanted and more and still thank him afterwards.

But your pride made you hide your thoughts.

"I wanted to help you, really! But you don't know what you're doing to me. When you dance... I can't think straight," he murmured, his voice raspy as he looked at your body.

It wasn't fair what power he had over you.

"Our little Jinnie is pretty desperate, huh?" Minho asked with amusement as he rested his chin on your shoulder and listened.

"Are you mad?" Hyunjin asked, looking so worried that you had to put on a serious face with all your might. His hair framed his face and you could hardly think of a word other than artwork to describe it.

You looked down at him, put your foot on his shoulder and pushed him away from you. If you didn't get an Oscar for that performance, you didn't know what real acting was.

"So you're just using me... Maybe as punishment I should just let you watch while Minho and I have fun."

The panic that entered his eyes was surprisingly refreshing.

Immediately, he inhaled in panic.

"- Please, please angel... I swear, I'm so sorry... Please, I need you..." he begged, still on his knees, your lips trembling with excitement. You could hardly hide how hot you thought Hyunjin was. Begging, desperate for your body.

The man who was so beautiful that he could lure any woman or man into his bed was begging for your attention. Minho watched the whole thing with a wry grin.

He loved your submissive nature, but this was interesting too.

"Just apologizing to get in my pants, as usual. If you're good..."

You took your foot off his chest and he immediately slid back between your legs, kissing your inner thighs, caressing them and you let out a soft sigh as the arousal threatened to suffocate you. By now you knew how much he loved your thighs and legs. He was crazy about it. His thoughts were constantly revolving around how you sqished him with your thighs, he won't mind. Heck, he wants you to do that so bad.

He's always poking them or patting them. He loves when you wear thigh high socks so he can see the material squeeze against your skin. He likes to nip and suck bruises on them, almost as if marking you as his. He can't help slapping them or holding on tight all the time.

"If you don't want to, we'll stop right now..." Lino whispered in your ear and his warm fingers dug roughly into your bare chest, causing you to shake your head in panic. Hyunjin suddenly touched your cunt with his fingers and you almost moaned out loud, but he looked at you questioningly, only then did you realize that they were waiting for an answer from you. They wanted reassurance that this was what you really wanted.

"Don't stop! Please...", you said and they both exchanged a satisfied look. Then Lino unclasped your bra and it fell carelessly to the floor.

Your gaze briefly fell on your reflection in the mirror, you half-naked between Lee Know's strong thighs, Hyunjin between your legs. You thought you were dreaming. There was no other explanation. Then your eyes met Lino's in the mirror and the lust in his eyes made you tremble. Hyunjin, on the other hand, began to massage your clit through the fabric with two fingers and a moan escaped you immediately, causing Lino to freeze behind you.

The faster Hyunjin's fingers went, the more you lost touch with reality.

"She's so wet, hyung... Even through the shorts..." Hyunjin said, and you wanted to tear the last bit of fabric from your body so that he could finally stuff you with his long fingers.

"Fuck... You're crazy..." you gasped, rolling your hips willingly against Hyunjin's hand.

"Let me take these off," he mumbled and Lino immediately helped him by lifting you up by your hips. He pulled your shorts and red panties right off and threw them to the side. You immediately got goose bumps. You could see your reflection in the mirror. Completely naked, between the two clothed men, exposed and defenceless. Nevertheless, you felt at ease and when Hyunjin looked at you as if he had found a new painting in an exhibition that inspired him, your heart almost jumped out of your chest. You would never get used to them looking at you like that. "cmon princess," he says, looking at you from below, eyes sparkling with the delight of seeing you in such a position - breasts bared, eyes blurry, mind dizzy, eyes avoiding to meet with his dark ones that gave you weakness on the knees because of how beautiful he's looking at you right now.

Hyunjin's fingers were between your legs again as you watched him, running through your folds and collecting the wetness. Lino watched, kissing your neck and holding your breasts as if he never wanted to let them go.

"Oh God!"

You gasped as Hyunjin's tongue suddenly pressed against your clit.

"He's not going to help you now," Lee Know whispered in your ear and a wicked grin spread across his face. He could feel every twitch and excitement of your body. The sight of his younger member engrossed between your legs aroused him like he had never imagined. Chan had often talked about how he liked the idea of sharing you between them, but he hadn't expected to like it that much himself. Your eyes rolled back and while Hyunjin started to eat you out, as if he was about to starve to death, Lee Know put a hand on your neck and slowly squeezed, tearing you away from reality. Then you heard him say:

"Look at him... Barely responsive, addicted to your pussy. You know, Jinnie's been talking for days about how much he'd love to choke between your legs."

You instantly felt hot and when Hyunjin raised his eyes and gave Minho a warning look, your arousal shone on his plush lips.

"Hyung!" he warned and it was obvious that Minho was having a lot of fun spilling his dirty secrets.

"Really?" you asked, a little surprised.

So they were talking about you and the sex with you after all. That made your cheeks glow and you immediately wanted to know more about the secret fantasies they seemed to have about you, but you didn't dare.

Minho kissed your neck, running his hands over your stomach and smirked as he looked at Hyunjin.

"Yeah... He gets off with the thought of you sitting on his face."

"Hyung, what the hell!"

Hyunjin's face got more red every second, just like yours, and he looked caught, but you just looked at him curiously.

"Is that true?" you asked cautiously and he gripped your thigh a little tighter.

"I was thinking about it, yes..."

From the way he bit his lip, looked at you furtively and the way Minho giggled, you knew he wasn't just thinking about it.

Without further ado, you stood up and were watched by both of them as you pushed Hyunjin by the shoulder onto the floor. The idea of his face between your thighs gave you a pleasant shiver.

He let you push him onto his back until you were kneeling over him. He watched in disbelief as you placed your knees to the right and left of his head, your cunt right in front of his face and he thought he had landed in heaven.

"Are you sure?" you asked, but he just chuckled, kissing your inner thighs, looking at your face still in a way that could make you cum without even fucking his mouth. You didn’t want to hurt him because you knew how much you wanted to do it - how much you would break and use his mouth without thinking about anything else.

"You'd better thank me, Jinnie..." said Lino, who was sitting on the couch and watching everything closely.

There was now a tent in his sweatpants and he kept running his hand over it as he watched you.

"Is that okay?" you asked as you looked down at him. He looked beautiful, gazing up at you with his chocolate eyes. He could hardly get enough of the sight of you.

"Please yes!"

He grabbed your thighs and pulled you down onto his face. Even as you tried to brace yourself a little so as not to weigh him down, he pushed you down harder until your entire weight was resting on him.

As his tongue greedily licked right through your folds, you let out a pornographic moan that made Minho clench his teeth. Hyunjin began to eat you out and seemed even greedier than before. Your whole body tingled as Hyunjin continued to penetrate your hole with his tongue. You wouldn't last long, that was obvious.

His hands dug into the flesh of your thighs and pressed you vehemently against his face.

The knot in your stomach was about to burst and as he sucked on your clit, you reached into his hair to grind your pussy against his face. As your body took on a life of its own and as you rolled your hips against his face, Minho let out a gasp from the couch.

"Fuck... Better than any porn..."

Hyunjin immediately let out a deep grumble and began to palm his rock-hard cock through his sweatpants.

Being watched by Lino was a whole new experience but you liked it. It made your blood boil and Hyunjin was sure, he would loose his mind soon. Your smell, the taste on his tongue, the way your body felt under his fingers and the desperate noises that echoed in the dance studio were beguiling for him. Your hands on his hair to pull and hold to stay still as you beg for more - close to the edge yet your face is full of heat.

"Fuck... fuck... Jinnie please I can't..." you blubbered incoherently and as your head fell back and you squinted, you suddenly felt a hand on your neck squeezing hard, turning your head so that you had to look up at Minho, who had gotten up and was now standing next to you, his pants pulled down and his cock heavy in his hand. He palmed himself and his eyes burned with lust.

"Don't you dare close your eyes! Don't look at him. Look at me, kitten! I want to see you come on Jinnie's face, do you understand?"

Breathless and with trembling eyelids, you nodded. The eye contact with Minho was intense and made you climax even faster. It was as if he could see everything. Your deepest secrets and you pulled on Hyunjin's hair as he licked deeper and deeper into your core.

"Min... I... I can't take it anymore..." you whimpered, hearing only the wet sounds of Hyunjin hitting the perfect spot with his tongue every time, feeling his fingernails in your thighs and your whole body seemed about to explode as you rode his face.

Minho tilted his head a little, looked at you closely and you could clearly see how horny he was. His tip was red, his hand was constantly sliding up and down his shaft.

"It's all right. You can come. Cream his face, kitten."

With those words, the knot in your stomach snapped and the orgasm exploded all the way to your fingertips. You moaned a mixture of the two dancers' names and Hyunjin gasped as you came all over his face. He continued to suck on your clit until you saw stars and your high was savored to the extreme. Only then did Minho let go of your neck. With rattling breaths, you tried to calm yourself down, barely able to form a word.

But Hyunjin did not stop. He immediately penetrated you again with his tongue. As if addicted and without control, he pressed you further against his face, playing with your overstimulated pussy until you whimpered and grinded against his face again. It felt too good to stop, even though your legs were already shaking.

"Open up for me, kitten!"

Everything was a blur and when you felt Minho's tip on your lip, you didn't hesitate and opened your mouth immediately. He slid his entire length into your mouth and your pink lips wrapped around his shaft, making him curse.

"So pretty... So good for us. Our little whore. Suck my dick slut!", he gasped, caught up in the frenzy of arousal and passion. You immediately started to move your head and took him so deep that he bumped into your throat and you gagged.

Then he grabbed your hair and began to thrust into your mouth incessantly while Hyunjin continued to work your pussy. You didn't know where you were anymore and your body was burning like fire, but you never wanted to feel anything else again.

Minho kept cursing as he ruthlessly abused your face and fucked your throat, and Hyunjin didn't stop until the tears ran down your cheeks and you clung to Minho's legs, overwhelmed. The sounds they tickled out of you were unholy, sinful, beautiful.

But both of them also felt the next orgasm before you realized it. Hyunjin's nose bumped against your clit and just as your body tensed, Minho pulled you off his dick and held your head by the hair so you could look him straight in the eye again. Thighs trembled around his head as he pulled another cry from you with his greedy tongue. The sight was enough to make you cum hard on his tongue, squirting all over his face.

Hyunjin licked up everything he could. He tried to catch every last drop of your sweet release, but some managed to drip down his chin and cheeks as he swallowed what fell into his mouth. He gave your pussy a few gentle licks before he let you go.

"Holy shit..." was the only thing you could say as you sank to the floor next to Hyunjin.

"Was that good, Princess?" asked Hyunjin, wiping his face clean with his tank top. You just nodded, looking at him stunned, and grabbed his face to pull him towards you, pressing your lips to his chaotically. You could still taste yourself on him and he immediately pulled you closer by the hips to return the kiss stormily.

"I'm getting impatient..." Minho said and knelt down next to you while you two made out like teenagers in heat. With wide eyes, you looked at him and then at his massive length in his hand. Your body reacted immediately and your pussy pulsated excitedly.

He leaned towards you, grabbed your face, kissed you, slipped his tongue into your mouth and grabbed your ass, which he kneaded hard before his other hand moved between your legs and penetrated you with a finger up to his knuckles. You moaned into his mouth and your tongues played rough with each other. Hyunjin grabbed your breasts, twirling your nipple between his fingers and sucking on your neck as he grinded his hard length against your ass. being squeezed between the two of them, in the middle of the dance studio, was overwhelming. You moaned Minho's name softly as he curled his finger inside you.

"I need this pussy wrapped so tight around my cock-" He groaned thinking of the sensation of your dripping cunt, milking his cock. When Minho briefly detached himself from you and pressed his forehead against yours, he said:

"Turn around!. Now!"

Your heart immediately started beating louder and you turned around to look Hyunjin in the eye again. Then Minho impatiently pushed you onto all fours and you could already feel his tip at your entrance.

Hyunjin knelt in front of you and pulled down his pants to massage his dick. He could barely stand it. He was so hard it hurt and there was already a wet spot on his pants from his precum.

Minho looked at you intensely, your ass in the air and he was sure he would never get enough. He loved your soft curves, spanked you a few times, which made you whimper loudly. He loved making your ass perk up as he railed you. He spanked you a few times until your ass was red then gently rubbed it to soothe you.

You only became painfully aware of how impatient he really was when he thrusted into you from behind without warning. The ticked-off scream that escaped you died in your throat as he grabbed your hips with both hands and, after pulling out, thrusted hard again so that the slapping of skin on skin echoed through the studio. You starred as he began to take you hard from behind and the whimpers and moans only spurred him on. Hyunjin grumbled, overwhelmed. The sight was unbelievable. You desperate, your body between them, completely defenceless and Lino watched as he sank faster and faster deep inside you. "f-fuck, Lino. your dick feels so good inside of me," you managed to speak, despite your stuttering from his hard thrusts. "yeah? you like that?" He responded to you before grabbing a fist full of your hair and tugging on it, causing your neck to snap back a little as he continued to fuck you, making you look directly at Hyunjin.

"Look at him! Show him how good I fuck you."

"Fuck... too big... Lino," you bubbled in between as he threatened to tear you apart. Meanwhile, Hyunjin fucked his hand and knelt right in front of you.

"Come on, be good and help Jinnie a little," Lee Know growled, gripping your hair tighter and pushing your head towards Hyunjin's throbbing dick. You immediately opened your mouth so he could slide between your lips and the moans Hyunjin let out were mesmerizing. With each thrust, he pushed you harder onto his dick until he was thrusting deep into your throat with every movement from Minho. You squinted your eyes as tears ran down your cheeks and Hyunjin's gasps and moans were accompanied by the naughty sounds of your wet pussy being abused by Lee Know as he sank harder into you with each hip thrust and your entire body seemed to burn. "Such a naughty little slut. Letting us fuck your holes at work..." Hyunjin gasped, rolling his hips against your face and enjoying the gurgling sound. One hand landed in your hair where he guided your head along his shaft. Lee Know gripped your ass so tightly that his fingerprints would be visible for days.

"You love it that rough, don't you? Getting fucked until you cry," Lino growled, and your body went wild, tensed with arousal as he hit just the right spots with his massive dick deep inside you. Hyunjin couldn't stop staring at your reflection in the mirror, where he saw everything clearly. How Lino fucked into your sore pussy, how you took his own dick deep until it hit your throat and how your breasts jiggled with every thrust. "Fuck you are our little slut. Letting us use your body..."

Your mouth around his dick, the desperate sounds and the sight of Lee Know thrusting into you without mercy did the rest for Hyunjin and you could feel how much the sight turned him on. Your butt cheeks slamming against Lino's thighs, balls hitting your clit from behind and his hands tangled in your hair as he came with a loud gasp and spurted his load into your mouth, trying to burn the sight into his memory forever. You greedily swallowed it all and sucked on his tip until nothing came out. He pulled his dick out of your mouth and pulled up his sweatpants, panting. Overwhelmed, he stroked your cheek with his thumb. There was sweat glistening on his face and through the mirror you saw that there was also sweat on Lino's forehead. They hadn't even been this exhausted when dancing.

Minho's thrusts were starting to become sloppy, indicating that he was coming close to his high. you could feel his cock start to pulsate inside of you as your walls tightened around him even more. "Lino, I'm so close. oh my god, don't stop. Your dick is so big. Fuck me harder.", it escaped you and those words were already enough to make Lino cum right then and there. he'd bruise your ass with slaps and squeezes, marking your waist as he tugs you to meet his ruthless thrusts. you loved when they would use you for their own pleasure. Abusing your pussy like their own personal fuck toy. Just the thought made you pussy clench harder around his dick.

"Is that all?" you moaned provocatively as you felt how much he enjoyed dominating you and how close he was to cumming. Lino just laughed throatily and Hyunjin grinned, knowing that you were conjuring up a demon. "Keep being a brat, I'll fuck you senseless." He growled back, annoyed with your teasing behavior and giving a harsh slap to your ass. But that's exactly what you wanted. He fucked you even harder and cupped your neck from behind with his big hand. Without hesitation, he pressed your face to the floor so that he had complete control over your body. You feared losing consciousness as he thrust into you so deep and hard that you could feel him in every bone.

With a few final deep thrusts, his dick pulsed violently and you came so hard without warning that your pussy almost crushed him. With a gasp, he came inside you and sank into you a few more times, savoring your high until the very last second. Only then did he let go of your neck and pulled you up against him, breathing heavily. You knelt together on the floor and he struggled to breathe as he buried his face against your neck, his arms wrapped tightly around your stomach. Hyunjin brushed your hair out of your face and when your eyes met, you smiled warmly. "Thank you," he said and lifted your chin with one finger before his plush lips lingered on yours and he kissed you intensely. Satisfied and your body flooded with warmth, you buried your hands in his hair and returned the sensual kiss. Lino pressed a kiss to your shoulders and when you regained your senses a few minutes later and got dressed again, Lino hugged you tightly from behind while Hyunjin packed up his cell phone and your things.

"Babe?" he murmured and you snuggled into his arms.

"What is it?" you asked, turning around in his embrace so you could look at him. His eyes glittered with energy and his hazel hair fell down his forehead. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?" he asked softly and his concern touched you deeply. You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck. "I'm fine." He scrutinized you to make sure you were telling the truth, which made you smile. "Really!" you assured him. Not like all the other girls in his life so far, you didn't annoy him, let him come back to you instead, and he loved the feeling of chasing you, of always needing to prove that he was the only one to fuck you like that. He wanted, no needed to prove himself to you. Over and over again. He had no idea what that feeling was but he liked it. As well as he liked the way you looked at him. With so much adoration. Sharing you with his members made him even more happy, than he ever could have expected.

Lino was so much more sensitive and loving than he could admit to himself. You loved this side of him and it made you feel safe. Finally, he seemed to believe you and nodded.

"Alright, let's go home and I'll cook something delicious."

Pleased, Hyunjin came over to you. "That sounds like a good plan! Let's go then."

Lee Know gave you his sweater, which you gratefully pulled over your sports bra. When you had finished tidying up and switched off the light, you breathed a sigh of relief. It always felt good to be able to go home together.

You snuggled into Lee Know's sweater, smelling the collar and rolling your eyes when Hyunjin caught you doing it and raised his eyebrows. Lee Know kept glancing at you and couldn't stop grinning mischievously, and Hyunjin smirked quietly to himself as well.

What you did was indecent, beyond all the rules. Naughty and definitely unacceptable. And that's exactly what got your adrenaline pumping. It was the first time since Australia that you were with two of the members at the same time and you liked it. "Imagine someone had come in."

Lee Know said at the door and Hyunjin snorted. That seemed to be a fantasy of his and you playfully elbowed him in the side. "Then I'd be fired"

"You can still become an idol." he dismissed it and Hyunjin laughed. "Or influencer."

Just as you were about to say something back, Il-Deung came around the corner. You hadn't expected him so late. All three of you fell silent and you could see the boys' expressions change. They stared at him, transfixed. He was on his way straight to the dance studio you had been to. If only he had arrived a few minutes earlier...

"Good, you're still here!" he said, clutching the iPad in his hands.

"What's going on? I was just about to get off work," you asked and you could literally feel Lee Know rolling his eyes and Hyunjin looking disgusted.

"I have something important to discuss with you! If you have a few more minutes... You look very exhausted, what were you doing in the studio so late?" he asked, once again being too curious.

"Working out..." Hyunjin replied quickly and Lee Know couldn't help but grin. The smell of sex clung to you and it was obvious how annoyed Il-Deung was to catch you together again.

"So?" he asked emphatically.

"You can tell me quickly now, can't you?" you asked, but he just shook his head.

"I need to talk to you in private!"

Hyunjin frowned in surprise, but before either of them could say anything to make the situation even stranger, you said:

"It's okay! Go ahead, I'll catch up with you. I have to get something from my office anyway."

They both agreed and you pushed past Il-Deung, who followed you. You left the door open while you gathered your Ipad, the notepad with the numbers of the organizers of the next fan meeting and a few of the files with the stage designs. Meanwhile, Il-Deung stood in the doorway a little puzzled, obviously a little offended that you didn't offer him a seat. But you had no interest in this taking any longer. Il-Deung was pushy, unpleasant and, in your opinion, had far too much power. When he made no move to speak, you looked up from your desk and tilted your head a little.

"So. What's up?" you asked, and a message lit up on your cell phone. As you read it, he began:

"It's about your relationship with the members and the media attention on it."

You suppressed a smile as you read the group chat where Lee Know announced that he was cooking his famous seafood pasta for everyone. Directly, Changbin asked what had caused him to be in such a good mood.

"I've already talked to Mrs. Chung about this. The attention and rumors are wanted by JYP."

"Yes... A certain amount of attention and rumors, as long as it doesn't go too far and become scandals."

You didn't take any of his words seriously, after all, you had one of the highest positions in JYP on your side with Mrs. Chung. But Il-Deung looked deadly serious, pushed his glasses up his nose and put his Ipad down in front of you, which made you look up from your phone, where Chan and Jeongin were trying to guess what had happened, which even made Lino send a star emoji.

"Listen! I don't know what kind of weird relationship you have with the members, but if it threatens the company, I can't just stand by and watch. Even if you're just the whore of them..."

You returned his piercing gaze in astonishment. His brow furrowed almost aggressively and his fingers dug into the table when you didn't seem to take him seriously. You were starting to get restless. Flabbergasted you asked:

"Excuse me?"

But his attitude had changed drastically. Somehow he was threatening now with a whole new self-confidence.

"Maybe you should be more careful to not upset anyone..."

He was threatening you without a flinch, and you couldn't believe the situation yet. Were you dreaming? It was ridiculous.

"What are you talking about?"

He switched on his Ipad and started clicking pictures and turning the screen towards you.

"Pictures like that don't leave much room for speculation..." he grumbled and you tried not to let on as he scrolled through the unimaginable amount of snaps that were secretly taken of you. A cold shiver ran through you and your mouth went dry. There was a picture from Australia. You, Felix, Han on the street. Laughing, Han's arm wrapped tightly around your waist and you and Felix holding hands. There were clear red marks on your neck and reddish marks on Han's neck too. Everyone who wasn’t blind knew that these were hickeys. The next pics showed you on the beach from above. You sandwiched between them in the water. Felix hands all over your tits, Han kissing you. The next picture was taken in one of the hallways of the JYP building, where Changbin had his arms tightly wrapped around your stomach, his hands on your but and you were laughing and talking to each other with shining eyes. Another picture backstage in Japan. You could only see silhouettes. It was blurry and too far away, but you knew without a doubt that Han was kissing you on the picture before the performance. The next one made you gasp in disbelief. It wasn't very clear either. You recognized a car door. A tarnished window. Behind it, you could dimly make out two people. You recognized your profile and Jeongin's. You were on his lap, he was kissing your neck and it was clear that you weren't just having a professional conversation about work, as you could see from your shoulders that you were both no longer wearing shirts. This had to have been done after the video shoot, when you fucked in the car.

"Where the hell are they from?", you exclaimed louder than intended. Satisfied to finally have your attention, Il-Deung leaned back in the chair in front of your desk. You jumped up and scrolled through the pictures in disbelief. Your hands were freezing cold and shaking more and more.

"Does it matter?" The calculating calmness in his voice made you angrier and angrier.

"Yes! Someone is stalking us and taking creepy fucking pictures..."

There was taken in Australia. It was very zoomed in and therefore a bit blurry but you could make out Chan's family home. Chan and you were standing on the terrace in front of the white front door and he was brushing a strand of hair out of your face. Even if you had been there yourself, it was surreal to see the pictures from a third perspective. In the next picture, he was kissing you, his hands firmly on your waist and you pressed tightly against his chest. In the next picture, his family was also at the door and a cab was on the street. Chan's mother had lovingly taken your hands in hers and was talking to you. Whoever had taken the photo had been somewhere on the other side of the road. Maybe in a car... You had always been careful, always made sure that no one saw you and yet you weren't careful enough. By now you felt so sick that you had to sit down. There were so many pictures in so many private situations. The fact that someone had been watching you the whole time was scary.

"You work for a Kpop band! Paparazzi photos are normal."

Slowly, you couldn't stay calm anymore. Pointing your finger at his stalking pictures, you blurted out: "Those aren't paparazzi pictures! Someone has been to places where normal people don't have access!"

The asshole actually smiled.

"So you admit that's you in the pictures?"

Your heart pounded in your ears and you fell silent. He had you right where he wanted you. When you didn't say anything else, he leaned forward and propped his elbows on the table.

"I'm not interested in what you're doing with the members or what weird relationship you have... I just want to warn you."

His tone became dangerously calm. He looked at you like a snake, ready to snap.

"Warn me about what?" you asked, hating that he was so intimidating.

"That this could get public... That's not the case yet, but if you continue to be so careless. Ignoring me... being rude. Who knows."

Gradually, you began to realize. You shook your head in disbelief.

"If my uncle who's in the management of JYP finds out about this... He's the old type. For him, scandals are the worst thing that can happen to a company. You know what scandals like that do to idols, don't you? Not only do you lose your job. The band gets broken up... not immediately, of course. First they are all sent on an indefinite hiatus... Then at some point the public is informed that there are no more Straykids because the members have decided to go their separate ways. They will never get a contract again and all the years of training, hard work and career is gone. In the blink of an eye."

Stunned, you could only stare at the Ipad. You had given him a lot of credit of being an idiot, but this? That was a little too high up on the James Bond villain scale.

"What do you want?" was the only open question in the room. Empty and with a snorting heart, you watched as he stood up and came around the table until he was standing in front of you. He bent down to you until his face hovered in front of yours.

"I'm just worried about you. I wish you would surround yourself with your own kind. With people who value you and don't take advantage of you..."

He twirled a strand of your hair between his fingers and you wanted to throw up, you felt so sick by now.

He just wanted to demonstrate his power. He'd had you followed, secretly photographed and now he was blackmailing you.

"I want nothing but your loyalty and maybe we'll even get along."

Frozen, you returned his gaze. His closeness was suffocating. You could smell his expensive perfume, but it burned like gasoline in your nose.

"Think about it," he smiled disgustingly, pushed the strand of hair behind your ear and stroked his fingers down your neck before pulling away, taking his iPad and finally disappearing. It was only when the door slammed shut that you audibly gasped and buried your face in your hands. Despair began to eat away at you. You couldn't tell anyone about this. Chan would freak out and put his career on the line without thinking. You couldn't risk that.

So you tried not to let on. Even as you ate, chatted and laughed together back at them dorm, your worries wouldn't leave you alone. Even though you were safe in the dorm, it wouldn't let you sleep the whole night.

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© Sky-yuna — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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[hellodarling1357]

Flames and Embers - Cassian x Vanserra!Reader (slow burn)

Summary: As Beron's sixth child, and only daughter, you had spent your whole life being overlooked and under utilitised. It wasn't until Amarantha's reign that your talents were truly recognised for what they were - too bad you were forced to make a bargain to keep them secret

A/N: Hi! This started out as a request I received the other week but then turned into something completely different and so far from the original request that it’s now getting it’s own multi-part story

This will eventually become a Cassian x Reader fic with a bit of angst, fluff, slow burn, enemies-to-lovers, and all the other fun tropes we know and love!

Enjoy 🥰

Word Count: 3k

Being the only daughter of the Autumn Court’s High Lord, alongside having seven brothers to compete with, you had been overlooked for most of your life which was just fine by you.

You had used the cover of being just a female in an archaic court to your advantage and took the time to observe and learn whatever you could. After being forced to witness how your brothers treated Lucien, you had always tried to have his back, which only went so far when any show of defiance from you was met with a beating. When Lucien had been forced out of your home, you had been heartbroken it had come to it but also happy that your youngest brother could finally become his own person and escape the cruelty that had followed him around his whole life.

Eris had always tried to keep an eye on you. He wouldn’t give up the façade in front of the others, however, he would find the time whenever he could to take you out riding into a long-forgotten part of the woods where he would teach you how to fight. The day you landed him on his ass had been one of his proudest moments, but that didn’t stop him from upping the pressure, forcing you to become stronger and more tactful in each step. Knowing that you could easily take on the rest of your brothers is what kept you from lashing out at their comments and actions towards you; with Lucien gone, you had become their next punching bag to which your father turned a blind eye.

Then Amarantha showed up and everything was turned on its head.

It was in no way a pleasant 50 years, however, you managed to stay out of harm’s way, no doubt at the hands of Eris' doing, and managed to avoid most of the horrors that occurred. However, once the human girl, Feyre, had arrived, you made yourself more present in the ongoings of Amarantha’s court, unable to leave the girl fully alone and fending for herself. Your need to help her was further spurred on upon realising that Lucien appeared to be her friend.

Lucien. The thought that your brother, the one who had managed to escape the past 50 years of torment, was now here as well had you feeling as though you had somehow let him down, even though it was completely out of your control. You hadn’t been present the first time Tamlin had sent Lucien to seek out Amarantha, the time when she had so viciously carved out his eye that even some of your brothers seemed somewhat affronted. However, you were there now. You had watched on in horror as Lucien defended Feyre, and then the 20 lashes Tamlin was forced to give after he helped with the first task…

Once Lucien had been allowed to retreat to his room, you had spent the next hour finding out as much as you could about Amarantha's plans for Feyre and your brother. With healing supplies in hand, you ventured into the sprawling court to where you had been told Lucien resided. With a quiet knock on his door, you entered the room and felt your heart break at the shaken, broken form of your brother. Despite the clear pain he was in, he had leapt off the bed at the sight of you and was quick to pull you into a tight embrace.

“Y/N,” He had exclaimed, carefully surveying you for any signs of injury. “Are you alright? What’s happened? Cauldron, I’ve missed you.” Then he was pulling you into another hug that left you in tears.

When was the last time you had seen him? It had been decades.

“I’m fine,” You brushed him off and made him sit so you could assess his injuries. “You look like you’ve seen better days.” He made a non-committal sound in response, taking in a deep breath at the sting of the healing balm you helped spread across his back. You pushed onto your heels, assessing the damage and your makeshift attempt of bandaging the wounds.

“What can I do?” You asked, feeling just as helpless as you did when growing up.

“Check in on Feyre. Please. I can’t…I can’t do anything, not now. And whatever game Tamlin is playing, he won’t go see her. Please. She’s all alone.” You hesitated for a moment but found yourself nodding.

“Of course. Of course I’ll go and see her.” You lowered your voice, not trusting that anywhere in this place was truly safe. “Does she truly love him?” If she did, then you all had a chance of getting out.

“She does.” Lucien answered, a small smile tugging on his lips.

“Anything else, let me know, alright? I’ll go and check on her.” You gave your brother a final hug and then slipped from the room, making your way towards the dungeons.

*****

“Feyre?” You whispered into the darkness, the guards were in the middle of their rotation, so you had few valuable minutes to slip in and out undetected, the limited healing supplies and food you managed to take with you were clutched tightly into the folds of your dress.

An incoherent groan sounded from further down the dark, cage-lined corridor. You hurried over, halting in your steps when you saw her sitting against the wall still covered in blood and mud, a pained expression on her weary face.

“Feyre? I’m Y/N. I’m Lucien’s sister, he asked me to check on you, see how you were holding up.” You tried to stay optimistic but the wound on her arms was nothing that you could fix. Maybe before Amarantha stifled everyone’s magic you would stand a chance, but not now when all you could offer were some clean rags, a bit of water and a scrap of bread.

You knelt on the floor in front of her cell, unable to get in without your magic or access to the key.

“I know it hurts, but are you able to move a bit closer, I can’t help you from here.” You cringed as you watched Feyre grit her teeth, slowly moving across the floor, pain evident on her face.

“Y/N?” She asked in a strained voice, you nodded with a small smile, passing her the bread which she quickly bit into. “Lucien told me about you. Said that you were here.”

“I don’t have long, here, give me your arm I’ll do my best to clean it but there’s not much else I can do. At least not right now.” You wiped away the blood and muck that lingered from the first task, trying not to grimace as you took in the severity of the wound. The sound of movement spurred you on, quickly ushering her to drink the water and finish the bread so you could leave before getting caught.

“I’ll try to get back here soon, okay?” Feyre was already making her way back towards the rear wall where she slumped against it. You were almost out when a small voice called out.

“Y/N? Thank you.”

*****

Managing to obtain some of the healing balm that you had used on Lucien's injuries, you kept to the shadows as you made your way back down to the dungeons.

You had been keeping an ear out for what Amarantha’s plans were for the girl; if she planned on healing her before the next task or leaving her in the dark cell to fend for herself. Either way, you couldn’t be too obvious in your efforts to help, lest you get caught and wind up dead for the blatant disregard of Amarantha's orders.

The sound of voices had you slowing in your steps as you overhead the back end of a conversation. Someone was in Feyre’s cell with her.

“Oh, that’s wonderfully gruesome.” You recognised that voice, but surely it wasn’t…

Feyre swore at the male, earning her a chuckle as he taunted, “Such words from a lady.”

You edged closer to the cell, unsure what your next move would be from here but still unwilling to leave her to fend for herself against Rhysand.

“Get out,” Feyre’s voice was frail as she tried to show her strength against the High Lord.

“Don’t you want me to heal your arm? Or is that what Y/N Vanserra is here to do? I know you’re there, Y/N.” His voice called out to you now.

Shit.

You approached the cell; it was too late to turn back. Your best chance was to play along with his games, there was not point in running, not when he knew you were there and that it clearly wasn’t your first visit.

“Hmm, wiping away the grime was a valiant effort, and what’s this you have?” The healing balm disappeared from your grasp, reappearing moments later in Rhysand’s hand. “Well, that’s not going to do much against the infection and broken bones.”

Rhysand turned back to face Feyre, “But how about a trade? I’ll heal your arm in exchange for you. Two weeks every month, two weeks of my choosing, you’ll live with me at the Night Court. Starting after this messy three-trials business.” You desperately shook your head, trying to tell her he couldn’t be trusted.

“No.”

“No? Really?”

“Get out.”

“You’d turn down my offer – and for what? A fool’s chance that this healing balm will work? Or are you holding out for your friend – for Lucien, correct? After all, he healed you before, didn’t he? Then convinced his dear sister Y/N to come down to tend to you after the first trial.”

Now Rhysand turned to face you, giving you a look that had you thinking he could see your every thought, which, you remembered with dread, he probably could. You had never been taught how exactly mental shields worked but you did your best to block him out. It clearly wasn’t enough judging from the chuckle and assessing look he gave you before facing Feyre again.

“The way I see things Feyre, you have two options. The first, and the smartest, would be to accept my offer.” Your eyes widened in anticipation as Feyre spat at his feet, but Rhysand continued pacing the length of the cell.

“The second option – and the one only a fool would take – would be for you to refuse my offer and place your life, and thus Tamlin’s, in the hands of chance.”

Rhysand had stopped pacing, staring hard at Feyre who had turned white as a sheet and looked as thought she may pass out at any moment.

“Let’s say I walk out of here. Perhaps this healing balm will work,” He tossed it back to you, desperate in your attempt to grab it before it could shatter to the floor. “Perhaps Lucien will come to your aid and offer his magic. Or perhaps he won’t come at all. Between you and me, he’s been keeping a low profile after his rather embarrassing outburst at your trial. Amarantha’s not exactly pleased with him. Tamlin even broke his delightful brooding to beg for him to be spared – such a noble warrior, your High Lord. She listened, of course – but only after she made Tamlin bestow Lucien’s punishment. Twenty lashes.”

Feyre started shaking, eyes darting up to you in confirmation and what looked like betrayal. You hadn’t told her about the lashes.

“Although, from what I heard, the punishment wasn’t overly effective seeing that the wounds somehow healed over within a few hours without the assistance of magic. You would almost think that something like that healing balm you've got there, Y/N, was used despite Amarantha’s order that there was to be no assistance provided.” Rhysand tutted as he turned to you with a smile that made your stomach coil but said no more on the matter.

“So, Feyre, it’s really a question of how much you’re willing to risk it. I don’t need to invade your thoughts to know that you’re wondering if that fever of yours is the first sign of infection. I already know that you’ve slowly been realising that you’re dying.” There was a beat of silence in which Feyre stared back at him with such hatred, you felt your pulse quicken at the thought that it may be too late to help.

“Well?”

“Go. To. Hell.”

Before you could react, Rhysand lashed out and twisted Feyre’s arm, her scream echoing throughout the cell as she thrashed against him. But he kept his grip, twisting the bone a final time before releasing her arm as she half sobbed and panted through the pain.

“This is the last time I’ll extend my assistance. Once I leave this cell, my offer is dead.” Feyre spat at him again but remained silent.

With a disappointed sigh, Rhysand began to ripple with darkness. You weren’t sure what to think; you couldn’t trust him but if Feyre really was dying and this was her only chance of survival…

“Wait.”

The darkness around the High Lord vanished, solidly appearing again with a grin as he faced Feyre.

“Yes?”

“Just two weeks?”

“Just two weeks. Two teensy, tiny weeks with me every month is all I ask.” He was kneeling in front of her now as he purred out his terms. As if suddenly aware of how much time you had already spent down here, your senses picked up, listening closely for any sounds of the returning guards, but there was nothing.

A surge of magic had you turning to face the cell just as Rhysand grabbed Feyre’s arm. She let out a scream before fainting, head falling against the wall.

“What did you do?” You yelled, banging on the bars of the cell in a futile attempt to get in.

“Exactly what we bargained for. Don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you, Vanserra.” Before you could process his words, Feyre was suddenly sitting up, with the blood and mud completely gone you could do nothing but watch as some colour finally returned to her cheeks. Letting out a sign you offered her a small smile, at least he had kept his word and healed her arm. The remainder of the bargain was something to think about later when you all got out of this mess. If you all got out of this mess.

“What have you done to me?” Only then did you notice the black swirls that covered her skin and the large eye tattooed in the centre of her palm.

“It’s custom in my court for bargains to be permanently marked upon flesh.”

“Make it go away.”

“You humans truly are grateful creatures, aren’t you?” Rhysand stood back up, darkness wafting around him again. “I think I’ll wait to tell Tamlin about our little bargain. I do wonder if he will be as appreciative as you are. Rest up, Feyre.” And then he was gone in a shadow of night.

“Feyre? Are you alright?” You knelt on the floor outside the cage, surveying her for any signs of potential harm caused by Rhysand, but she just looked tired, troubled.

“I’m fine. My arm is fine. I just feel stupid, he didn’t do that to help me, he did it to hurt Tamlin.”

You let out a sigh, “We’ll deal with that later, alright? At least you’re not about to die, so we will take that as a win.” Standing back up you surveyed her again; she was so young and had already faced so much more than most of the fae here. “I’ve been here too long, I need to go before the guards return. But, Feyre, I’ll be back. I promise.”

*****

You slipped out of the dungeons and hurried down the corridor, quickly ducking behind a corner at the sound of the guards returning.

“Hello, Y/N.”

You jumped at his voice, heart hammering in your chest as you turned to face Rhysand where he casually leant against the wall, picking at his jacket as he surveyed you with mild interest.

“I was starting to wonder about what you had been getting up to after all these years here. We never see you at any of our Lady’s…festivities.”

“I must have missed the invite.” You tried to step around him. You had gone this long without piquing the interest of any of Amarantha’s cronies, managing to stay relatively to yourself, and you’d be damned if you were forced to show your face now.

“Interesting,” His violet eyes continued to assess you. “You know, it doesn’t surprise me really. I remember back when we were just children, playing court whilst forced to join in on the formalities. You always managed to remain in the shadows, yet even back then, you somehow knew everything and got away with so much.”

You stared back, eyes narrowing as you waited for him to continue. He clearly had some angle he was getting at.

“Yes. Those particular skills may be useful to me one day. And while I’m in such a giving mood, how about a bargain of our own? You be my eyes and ears,” You scoffed, already shaking your head as you attempted to walk away again. “And in return, I’ll keep your role in all of this quiet. You wouldn’t want Amarantha to know that it was you who helped Lucien, and now Feyre, would you? After all, I’m sure she would be pleased to be reminded of your presence in her court.”

Glaring at him, you knew he had you cornered. The satisfied smirk that played on his face told you that he knew as well.

With a reluctant sigh you stretched out your hand which he firmly grasped.

“Fine.”

“Lovely.”

You refused to break eye contact with the High Lord as you felt his magic encase your upper arm and shoulder, no doubt leaving a similarly intricate pattern to the one now splayed across Feyre’s arm.

You looked down to see if there was any visible evidence of the bargain, but it was completely covered by your dress. Good. At least that would stop any questions from being asked.

“I’ll be seeing you around, Y/N.” And then he was gone in another shadow of darkness.

#cassian x reader #cassian x y/n #Vanserra!Reader #cassian x you #cassian imagine #cassian acotar #acotar #acofas #acomaf #acosf #acowar #marley writes

[johns-prince]

if you don’t mind, what are some of your favorite soft mclennon moments?

JOHN: I used to try to get George to rebel with me. I’d say to him, “Look, we don’t need these fuckin’ suits. Let’s chuck them out of the window.” My little rebellion was to have my tie loose with the top button of my shirt undone. Paul’d always come up to me and put it straight. [x]

PAUL: There’s a story that I used to straighten John’s tie before we went on stage. That seems to have become a symbol of what my attitude was supposed to have been. I’ve never straightened anyone’s tie in my life, except perhaps affectionately.

The Times Profile of Paul McCartney - 1982 [x]

“And John and Paul thought back to the time they’d been in Paris before. Flat-broke, unable to afford a taxi, without funds for a decent meal. ‘Maybe we’ll buy the Eiffel Tower this time’, said John with a grin.”

“The Beatles in Paris.” Beatles Book Monthly Magazine No. 8 (March 1964). [x]

““Okay, okay,” I said, “don’t go on, John.” I felt a surge of embarrassment because my instrument was the cause of such hilarity. “Look guys, that’s enough. What have you two been doing while we’ve been struggling to get here? I hope you’ve done some practising and got the song list sorted out?” I was getting more and more annoyed as this episode was dragging on. “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry Len. Paul and I have got it all sorted out. Haven’t we Paul? Paul! Paul! I said haven’t we Paul?” Paul McCartney looked up with a wry smile and paused. “Tonight will run just like clockwork. I am going to give the audience the best rendition of ‘Guitar Boogie’ they have ever heard this side of Garston.” “Hey, this is a new twist,” I said. “Paul just cracked a joke. He must have a sense of humour after all, John, shall we have him in the group?” John was enjoying the banter as ever. “Yeah, we’ll give him another try and if you don’t get it right this time, Jimmy,” Jimmy (James) was Paul’s first name, “then…” John waited to see the expression on Paul’s face. “Then we’ll,” again a pause, and by this time we were hanging on John’s next words, “then we’ll have to send him for some more guitar lessons!” Paul joined in the laughter and at that we were all back to normal.”

— Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]

“One of my great memories of John is from when we were having some argument. I was disagreeing and we were calling each other names. We let it settle for a second and then he lowered his glasses and he said: “It’s only me.” And then he put his glasses back on again. To me, that was John. Those were the moments when I actually saw him without the facade, the armour, which I loved as well, like anyone else. It was a beautiful suit of armour. But it was wonderful when he let the visor down and you’d just see the John Lennon that he was frightened to reveal to the world.” [x]

“Whatever bad things John said about me, he would also slip his glasses down to the end of his nose and say, ’I love you’. That’s really what I hold on to. That’s what I believe. The rest is showing off.” [x]

“I remember being shocked one day when John started worrying about how people would remember him when he was gone. It was an incredibly vulnerable thing for him to come out with. I said to him then, ‘They’ll remember you as a fucking genius, because that’s what you are. But, you won’t give a shit because you’ll be up there, flying across the universe.’” [x]

“If John Lennon could come back for a day, how would you spend it with him?”  “In bed.” — Paul McCartney answers questions for Q magazine, 1998. [x]

“John and I grew up like twins although he was a year and a half older than me. We grew up literally in the same bed because when we were on holiday, hitchhiking or whatever, we would share a bed. Or when we were writing songs as kids he’d be in my bedroom or I’d be in his. Or he’d be in my front parlour or I’d be in his, although his Aunt Mimi sometimes kicked us out into the vestibule!”

— September 26, 1997, “Paul McCartney - Meet The Beatle” by Steve Richards [x]

“We were recording the other night, and I just wasn’t there. Neither was Paul. We were like two robots going through the motions. We do need each other alot. When we used to get together after a month off, we used to be embarrassed about touching each other. We’d do an elaborate handshake just to hide the embarrassment… or we did mad dances. Then we got to hugging each other.”

— John Lennon, The Beatles by Hunter Davies [x]

Q: “What musician and composer do you respect most?” Paul: “No, I don’t know, really... John Lennon!” John: *mock-shy* “...Paul McCartney.” [x]

conversations with mccartney, paul du noyer [x]

“It was 8:30. I could hear people talking about the likelihood of a storm later on that evening. I can remember hoping that it would clear up before my cycle ride back to Wavertree. Up to now it had been an eventful day but very tiring and as a group, although committed to playing, we all wished that we could pack up and go home. All of us apart from John Lennon. I think that meeting Paul had whetted his appetite and by the time we went on stage for our session at 8:45 he looked refreshed and seemed to have a new sparkle, as though he had had an injection of renewed optimism and enthusiasm as he played and sang through our usual repertoire that evening. […] I went outside for some air and a smoke; John and Pete decided to come with me. We stood outside pulling on our cigarettes, enjoying the breeze that had risen with the oncoming storm. “Do you know, John,” remarked Pete as we stood outside, “I’ve never heard you sound as good as you did just then. I know you’re going to say that I’m not very musical but I could hear the difference. I can see that something’s happened to you. Even the skiffle numbers which I know you’re not that keen on sounded good. You seem to have put more effort into them.” “Pete’s right, John. I couldn’t help noticing it as well,” I said. John was silent for a few minutes, just enjoying his smoke. “I guess someone took the trouble to share what he knew with me and it’s just given me a little encouragement for the future, that’s all.” “Oh I see, you’re getting a little sentimental in your old age, aren’t you,” joked Pete, who had never seen his life-long friend in that light before. “Don’t be thick, Pete,” replied John, who seemed almost back to his normal abrupt self. “Come on, I need a drink.”” — Len Garry, John, Paul and Me: Before The Beatles. (1997) [x]

[x]

Paul's persistence and endless patience for John while he was dealing with the death of his mother Julia:

But Paul seemed to have limitless patience for John, sneaking away from his classes to drink coffee at the Jacaranda coffeehouse, or else spend the afternoon nursing pints and punching rock ‘n’ roll songs on the jukebox at Ye Cracke pub. Certainly, Paul preferred hanging out with his friend to grinding through lectures and assignments at his schoolboy’s desk at the Liverpool Institute. But the hours they spent together held an emotional significance, too. For even if they rarely spoke about the pain of losing their mothers, the mutual feelings of loss—and the rawness of John’s wound—gave them a connection that was as vital as it was unspoken. It was, Paul said later, a “special bond for us, something of ours, a special thing.” … “We could look at each other,” Paul said, “and know.”” 

…

John, however, had other things on his mind. Though the fall of 1958 and well into 1959, John was far too busy engaging in art-school life—if not exactly his studies—to think much about playing in a rock ‘n’ roll band. He had started dating another student, a quiet blonde from the relatively posh Hoylake district on the Wirral, named Cynthia Powell. She proved a warm, stabilizing influence, which helped mitigate John’s ongoing grief and rage.

He had also grown particularly close to one of the school’s most promising students, a blazingly talented painter named Stuart Sutcliffe, whose emotional portraits and densely wrought abstracts had already caught the eye of the university’s instructors, along with the gallery owners, artists and critics who orbited the bohemian section that bordered the campus. John had been drawn to Stu’s talent, too, and when his classmate invited John to move into his large, if downtrodden, flat around the corner from the college in a row of once-elegant homes on Gambier Terrace, the two art students became even closer. The flat became a hub for their college friends, a reliable address for drinking bouts and all-night parties.

 Nevertheless, Paul made certain not to be a stranger. He was a regular around Gambier Terrace, often toting his guitar to spur a little playing and singing, and if circumstance permitted, a bit of songwriting. John remained an eager music fan, and generally enthusiastic partner for playing and singing. But his disinterest in the band, prompted at least in part by his deepening friendship with Stu, frustrated Paul. 

…

John was moving on, and not in a promising direction. George, for his part, had grown sick of waiting and joined the jazz-and-skiffle centered Les Stewart Quartet, though he made it clear to Paul he’d be back with the Quarrymen whenever they resumed playing. Paul, on the other hand, wasn’t interested in playing with anyone else. For whatever combination of emotional or visceral reasons, he couldn’t seem to imagine a musical life that didn’t include John Lennon as his primary partner.

So he persisted, dragging his guitar to Gambier Terrace, making himself a fixture amid the empty beer bottles, overflowing ashtrays, shattered Vicks inhalers, and paint-splattered clothes.

If John didn’t evince any interest in being in a band, Paul would simply wait, guitar at the ready, until he did.

— Peter Ames Carlin, Paul McCartney: A Life [x]

#mclennon #john lennon #paul mccartney #just to name a few! #anthology of mclennon

[ampresandian]

Okay so season 1 was definitely Percy's story like between the flashbacks and his development over the quest The Lightning Thief is Percy's Story. The whole series is Percy's story but the way they produced the first season of the show is especially Percy's, and I need them to continue to develop this in the rest of the seasons.

Season 2, Sea of Monsters, should definitely be Annabeth's. Percy (and the readers) get to know her better--she opens up to him about her past, not just introducing him to the world they share (the Olympians) but to Her World and How it Got to Be that Way. We see more of how who Percy is impacts her (esp with Tyson), and she takes on a lot of responsibility for saving their quest. Unlike the Arch or Crusty, Annabeth is the one that saves them from Circe and takes on Polyphemus one on one.

Season 3 I think is Thalia's. It's the only chance we really have, as readers, to get to know her--we're thrown into her relationship with Percy at the beginning of the book, after our only introduction to her being her saying her name at the end of som, but we travel with her on this quest, and I think flashbacks, etc. in this season should be about her. It's the best way to let the audience get to know her, and I think we need to get to know her to understand her choice at the end (and to be excited when we see her again later). We need that her sudden disappearance at the end, when she leaves without saying goodbye and just as suddenly as she appeared she's gone, to hurt and to feel wrong and making her the Character is the way to do that imo.

Botl in season 4 I think is tricky at first glance (esp since we've given Annabeth som already) but tbh it needs to be Grover's. Flashbacks can be about his time in schools as a protector, and his time searching for Pan. Grover's development is kind of sudden in this story, but I think showing him when he's younger and like as he's been off Doing Things it would be more dramatic and honestly Grover is a fantastic character that Rick seems to forget about/ignore a lot and he should make it up by showing us what his life is like when he's not with Percy (which is increasingly often) and letting us see his independence develop to the point that he's ready to take on his new mantle and be a leader.

Season 5 is obviously Luke's. Even the book is written like that. We need flashbacks to his life and childhood just as much as Percy does, and they need to humanize him and let us empathize with who he was and how he got to who he is by the end of the story before he dies. I think they should give us flashbacks to his quest here, too, and probably the conversation he clearly has with Hermes before he goes on it (he's obviously bitter when he talks about it in tlt, and he had to get his magic shoes, and I think they need to utilize having that conversation in person so we can see how Hermes tries and fails to relate to him and also to make LMM make very very sad eyes as Luke leaves because he knows his son is at the end of his time as a hero). They can milk this for all the comparisons between Luke and Percy. I think flashbacks to his claiming, and not having to move cabins but probably like getting a bed or something now that he's here Forever, and when he becomes the Cabin Counselor. How/when he meets up with Thalia. Him seeking out fights as they make their way to camp. The battles he fights on his quest, facing monsters he's working with now, getting the scar.

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