#i put a piece of mail in my mouth so i could get the other piece of mail

[ragnarockz]

And the same for you because you and LC are two sides of the same coin at this point: Vidal comes home from a long work trip (having had barely any time to check in with Agnes) only to find out Agnes has had to spend nearly the entire time with Evanora Harkness.

Whewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Vidal got a singular text from Agnes about fifteen minutes due home.

[Text]: Knock before you walk in. Please.

Vidal bit her lip in anticipation; this was not how Agnes usually texted her. The punctuation? The super direct, super dry orders? Something was off, very off. Vidal drove a little quicker, tried to get home faster. The second the car rolled up into the driveway she got out, locking it behind her. She made her strides to the front door twice as long, almost tripping on the cobbled walkway. She sighed, catching her breath before her hand tentatively reached forward to knock on the door. This was wrong. Very wrong.

It didn't take long for the door to unlock and swing open with as much fake excitement as someone being held at proverbial gunpoint. Vidal's stomach dropped; eyes blinking rapidly as she held back the pinprick of tears.

Agnes was standing there holding the door open. She had a dress on. It was purple. Vidal had seen it before in Agnes' closet and never once saw her wear it, never once heard her talk about it. It was like that one piece of clothing you had tucked away that only came out for funerals. This was her funeral.

Vidal went to open her mouth but Agnes shook her head, gaze casted down as she moved out of the way to let the agent inside before closing and locking the door behind her. Vidal followed Agnes; watched as her shoulders stayed slump, her chin to her chest. She was shrinking, making herself appear small. She could see her fingers fiddling with the dress; trying to pull it away from her chest, trying to not gather attention there. It felt like a knife was twisting in Vidal's gut.

Agnes led her to the kitchen; standing back to let Vidal walk past her to great their guest, her 'mother', Evanora.

She could feel the older woman's gaze burning her up, judging her. She was already creating opinions in her head, already finding all the negatives. Vidal pursed her lips and remained silent, casting a quick glance behind her to Agnes. Jesus fucking christ, she thought, she looks like a teenager.

And that's how Agnes felt. Sucked back into those days years ago when she would have to put on dresses and kitten heels. Makeup was thrust upon her, shaving was not optional. Her hair had to be long, had to be down. Her tone had to be happy, had to be thoughtful, mindful. She had to want love and joy in only the ways a woman would want a man to give it to her. She was cracked open and left for her insides to rot.

"What's she doing here, Baby?"

Vidal finally spoke, making sure her tone was clear. Strong. Demanding.

Evanora didn't speak; didn't find it necessary or right to even address Vidal. She wasn't there, as far as she was concerned. This was just a fad, some jump to get attention. Whatever Vidal was she was obviously just the flavor of the week.

"She...my...Mom...came to drop off some stuff of mine that I had left...left whenever I left home...so..."

"She couldn't have put it in a fucking box and mailed it here?"

Agnes and Vidal's head snapped towards the kitchen table as Evanora's hand came down, slapping the table top. The room was silent; time eating away in slow bites.

"I thought Agnes was joking about you staying-"

"Living."

"Staying...here with her. But I guess not. I'm sure you know all about her by now...all her perversions. You know about that anger inside of her too, don't you. You better be careful of it; she'll get tired of you just like she does with all the others..."

Vidal bit her tongue as her own anger welled up inside of her. She flexed her fingers, ready to curl them into fists if need be. She couldn't even stomach turning around to stare at Agnes; didn't want to see how broken she was in that stupid fucking dress.

"I think you need to get the fuck out. Now."

Evanora collected herself, a smirk bloomed on her face. She picked up her purse, slung it over her shoulder. She took her time walking towards Vidal, eyeing the agent with the same sick look she had been looking at her daughter with.

"Look at you two...playing this game. I thought she had gotten it out of her system...dressing like a man, stomping around the house...kissing girls...she should have been a boy."

Vidal's tongue felt thick in her mouth; coated with cotton. She wanted to vomit, wanted to scream. She wanted to cry, wanted to fight. She stood up a little straighter and made sure her words slipped out of her mouth like shards of ice.

"Get. Out. Now."

And she did, without another word. She didn't even stop when she passed by Agnes, didn't even acknowledge her. Vidal knew in that moment, that was how she had been treated all her life by her mother. Talked about but never addressed. Things wished upon her that she never asked for. Rules and bonds that she never subscribed to.

That was Agnes.

That was what she chose.

That was who she was and is.

That was who Vidal loved.

They waited until the door unlocked and then closed; the house settling in silence. Vidal shifted her weight, about to turn but heard Agnes' voice,

"Don't. Not until I take this off..."

Vidal felt like she was dying inside, standing there unmoving as she heard noise behind her and knew it was Agnes rushing away, up those stairs and into their bedroom. She heard the heavy wooden door of their bedroom slam shut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Vidal had hauled all her things in from the car and set them at the base of the staircase. She tidied up the kitchen, scrubbed every surface she could until her hands and nails were rough and raw. She cleaned the living room, putting order back in its place. Agnes still hadn't come down; time reaching almost 4 hours since she hiked it upstairs.

Vidal decided she was done; got it all out of her system and now her hands were paying for it. She sighed loudly, taking her spot on the living room chair. That disgusting feeling in her stomach hadn't gone away.

Agnes had scrubbed herself raw after taking the dress off. She sat in the shower until the water ran cold and she was shivering and couldn't get any more tears out. She was empty, hollow. That all familiar dread pooling in her stomach. She was so scared to face Vidal; so worried that what she had seen hours ago was going to change her mind about how she felt.

She got dressed. Ran her messy damp hair up into a ponytail. Heavy construction socks padded out of the room and down the stairs. She saw all of Vidal's stuff by the landing and smelled a faint scent of cleaning products. She caught sight of the agent, sitting in her familiar perch, head in her hand. She was asleep with a deep line of concern etched between her brows. Agnes realized she had never seen that before.

She took her spot, her proper spot that she had chosen for herself, not the one chosen for her. Getting comfortable on the couch she sighed, rubbing her face with her hand before reaching for the remote. She turned it on, still left on the sports channel, a hockey game already deep within the second period.

Vidal woke herself up, or maybe it was the TV but her eyes opened and naturally, as if she had always done this, her gaze drifted to the couch.

Agnes was there, spread out with her legs and a serious look of concentration etched on her face. Vidal wanted to cry; a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Can't believe these fucking idiots scored in their own fucking net..."

[barbiecrocs]

Handle or Handled

Nanami Kento

tags! brief choking, piv, a mean Nanami, slutty reader, brief mention of masturbation, car sex, degradation (use of slut), orgasm denial, mention of food kink (kinda)

WC. 1651

Barbie's note... Yall, I was kinda lazy with this one, but that don't mean its bad. I like it so that says smth yk. Anyway have fun yall!! kiss kiss

You have no idea what you do to him. Turning on his sadistic switch when you step out of the house in nothing, but a two-piece lingerie set with a sheer cover-up just to water your plants and collect the mail. Your slutty and unassuming look is what makes him want to break you so badly. Did you have no acknowledgment of the corrupt people in the world? The people like him who want to break that pretty face into bits and then make you clean it up naked on your hands and knees. But hey, he wasn’t exactly the nicest guy so why would it matter to him? 

 You prance around in summer wear all year long. Tiny shorts in the winter, then swimsuits in the summer. Did you never get cold? He had to do a double-take when he looked across the street and saw you washing cars for unneeded money. He was sure you just wanted the attention and he was willing to give it to you, pulling up a chair on his balcony with a nice cold beer and taking in the view. Shirt see-through, jean cut-offs up your ass, and these plastic platform sandals that went clickety-clackety up his porch stairs when you came around to bring him cookies. He never ate them, the only thing he ever did was jerk off to them, his grown imagination running wild in hopes that he could just simply bring the cum-clad cookies back over to you and watch you gulp them down with seconds in mind. Seconds that he would gladly serve to you hot and ready.

 Just then the doorbell rang and the suddenness almost made him cum in his pants. He had been holding it back for a while, telling himself that he wouldn't tend to that type of thing right now. If only he knew what the day held for him. 

 He frantically looked around his living room before finding an apron that lay across his sofa. He swung the door open only to find no one, then directed his eyeline a bit lower. You, in a black tank top, jean mini skirt, and your signature black Chuck Taylors, panting as if you were coming down from a high. Your hand rests next to his head on the door frame, your other hand on your hip, and your body covered in a thin sheet of sweat. "Thank god you answered. I desperately need your help. I would've asked the other neighbors, but they either don't like me or are too old. Plus, I think you're the fittest guy here." You stared at him for a second until you realized you hadn't told him what you needed help with. "Oh, right. I kinda need you to help me push start my car." You give him a sheepish smile, that drops when he wipes his forehead in what you assume is frustration and annoyance but is actually him trying to hide a very mischievous and impish grin. "I'm sorry. It's wrong of me to bother my neighbors with my problems. Please forgive me." You begin to turn away for a graceful exit before he puts a hand on your shoulder. "It's fine. I can do it." You quietly cheer as you lead him to your car which was only at the beginning of the block. 

  You hand him a pair of rubber gloves and before you can say a word, he rolls up his sleeves and gets to pushing. A gasp drops out of your mouth from seeing the muscly arms you dreamed about. His strong arms wrapped around your waist as you rode him on your couch. Or him putting you into a choke hold while fucking you from behind and degrading you. You nearly drooled then snapped yourself out of your daydream for being so silly.

 You realize that he was already more than halfway to your house and you get in the car to direct it all the way.

 "Wow Mr. Nanami, you've got big muscles." You yell, driving into your driveway. "Want to touch them?" He flexes, his playfulness catching you off guard. You never suspected him to return your energy or anything of the sort so you lay it on even thicker, trying to see how far you could take it. "Don't think I won't." You both smirk as he puts a hand on the top of your car. "You don't know what you would be getting yourself into if you took that next step." You pull him closer by the pocket of his apron, "I'm a big girl. I think I can handle myself, hop in."

 It's all a haze of bottoms coming off until he's in between your legs with the bottom half of his face soaked from your teased cunt. He had been denying you of your orgasm for the longest, trying to make this encounter last for hours to get you to crumble in his hands. Even five minutes would be enough, but he wants to drag everything out of you for as long as he can. "Nanami..." You groan, taking a while to finish your sentence since you lost your train of thought in the last wave of pleasure. 

 “Please let me cum!” Breaths of air continuously push out your mouth as you grip any and everything closest to you with your eyes shut tight. He shakes his head between your legs, but it goes unnoticed so he nips at your inner thigh, “Look at me, slut.” A gasp leaves your mouth at the drop of his pet name and you lock eyes with him immediately. “That got your attention, huh?” You nod slowly, scared that if you take too much attention away from holding your orgasm, you’ll explode. You almost can’t hold it in even while crossing your legs, "Nanami please, fuck! Let me cum!" Your gaze into his eyes deepens, but he still shakes his head, “I want you to work for it.”

—

 You look back at him from your position on his lap with an unsure and teary expression, only to see him checking out the view of your ass. He scoots the front seat up to tip you forward and catch a glimpse of your wet pussy from behind. "Well, what are you waiting for? Put it in yourself." Your tears are painfully close to spilling out of your eyes. "But Nanami, this position is kinda embarrassing-" You cut yourself off when he spanks your ass, "Did I ask for your input? If it wasn't a question, then I expect you to follow my orders to the T. Embarrassment should be the last thing on your mind when you flaunt around in tiny skirts and tight shirts all year long." Your eyebrows raise vividly and a dopey smile etches onto your face, “So you noticed? Glad to see that my efforts haven’t been overlooked.” A deep and unholy-sounding chuckle erupts from his throat and heads straight to your cunt which now has its own heartbeat. “God, you’re such a fucking attention whore.” He begins to line himself up with your entrance since you stalled on the idea.

 "Nanami, you're so mean." You pout, completely oblivious to his current actions. "I know. You can handle it though." He slams himself into you and you cum instantly with a roar of his name. Your core goes tight, heat rushes over your body, and your legs spazz while your toes bend and flex themselves to take away from your built-up orgasm. The look that Nanami gives you is a mix of disappointment and dissatisfaction and his hand slides up to your neck, “Didn’t I tell you to hold it?” You nod and the hand on your throat makes its presence known with a firm squeeze. ”Fuck. Did you just get tighter?” You hadn’t even noticed it, but another orgasm was starting to build and just as your body was starting to relax into him, you started moving again. The thought of another world-shattering orgasm being around the corner was enough encouragement for you to get moving unlike before. You catch Nanami by surprise with your sudden enthusiasm, but he easily picks up his sadistic and impish demeanor again. Asserting dominance and supremacy by grabbing you by the hips when he feels you tighten even more and working you down onto him faster. Bumpy moans of his name drag out of your mouth as you get worked closer to your release. You open your mouth to beg, but before the words can come out he grants you permission to cum. Heat spreads over your body once more and your fingers dig into the back of your driver seat almost to the point of tearing through the leather. You would’ve screamed his name if not the tightening grip on your neck as he cums with you.

 You both decompress and his hands uncuff your throat and hips. Your hand comes up to your neck and you can’t help but wonder if he left a beautiful bruise for you to wake up to. He sees your caressing and takes it as concern, “Come on, I’ll take you inside and get you cleaned up.” You almost accept his offer and start to gather your clothes until you realize that you still have more juice left in you and wouldn’t mind going for another round. You get back onto his lap and start to grind down on him which instantly provokes a boner. “Oh? Done so soon?” He smirks “Don’t tell me that you’re older than you seem, old man.” Just in that sentence, you unlocked another side of him, apparently, he doesn’t like being called an old man. “You’re making it very hard to be nice.” You show a small smirk and turn around on his lap to where you are facing him, “That’s fine. I can handle it, remember?”

[quietlyimplode]

ignite your bones

After the fall of General Dreykov, and the remnants of the Red Room still at large, Natasha first year at SHIELD is anything but healing. Labeled a traitor and a turncoat, Natasha tries to find her footing in a strange new world.

Whumptober 2024: Day 30 - holding back tears

Warnings: grief/loss, dissociation

Word Count: 1.3k (gif not mine)

Summary: sometimes crying for yourself and all that you’ve lost, can be cathartic

a/n. One to go - for those that have come along for the ride, followed it all from start to finish and perhaps have been lurking in the back, thank you for all your comments and likes. I think until made to upload and post every day I forget how hard it it, how tedious and oftentimes him is much I want to keep fic to myself because it’s such a feat in putting it out there. So for those that have interacted I thank you from the bottom of my heart for encouraging this. Until tomorrow dear ones.

(Also if you’re American; please vote blue like your life depends on it, because you never know how much your politics affects everyone else’s, oftentimes our lives depend on it to)

Masterlist

Whumptober Masterlist

.

A response comes days after Maria takes her letter. Natasha is unsure how it got to Olivia, and even less sure how the response comes back.

The folded paper in her hand is more than a note, it’s the first piece of mail she’s ever received.

Natasha tries not to think too hard about it; if she thought about all the firsts she’s had since arriving here, then she’d probably be overwhelmed.

She can’t bring herself to open it.

There’s so much hope that hangs in the balance.

If it’s not what she expects, if Olivia can’t give her what she wants, she knows she will be devastated, the kind she won’t ever get over.

She doesn’t feel brave enough.

Not yet.

Clint brings breakfast and seems to notice something is wrong.

He asks her, but she shrugs him off, pretending to smile even as he cocks his head in worry.

They debrief and she mumbles her way through it. Natasha can’t concentrate, thoughts seem fleeting, and she worries about the ‘what ifs’ that hide under the bed.

They eat lunch in the cafeteria and Maria joins them. Natasha sits passively, not eating and watching everyone else in the room.

They watch her too. They seem to side eye her and she openly stares.

She doesn’t care enough to be subtle. If they’re looking, then she will too.

After they beat Clint in front of her, she doesn’t care about appearances and there’s no Thompson to threaten her for misstepping.

Maria tells her that both of them have a meeting and asks if she wants to go to the library.

Truthfully, Natasha just wants to be alone.

She shakes her head, and tells them to drop her back.

She’s still not allowed to be left alone in SHIELD. Probably worried about what could happen to her, or perhaps what she might do to others.

Clint gives her one last look of worry before the door shuts.

Natasha sits on the floor, across the room, staring at the bed.

What if Olivia knows more?

What if she can tell her something, anything about her past?

What if she can’t?

It feels like a battle of wills, stuck in the in-between of knowledge and not.

Natasha picks at her nails, unconsciously bites the inside of her mouth.

She hears Clint knocking and chooses to ignore it.

He calls out and she replies that she’s okay, just wants to be alone; and, to her surprise he leaves.

She’ll never get over having her own space and her requests respected.

Another first.

She stares at the bed.

She can do it.

But what if?

.

Natasha swallows.

She knows she’s lost time. The world feels quieter in the dark of night, even though her room has no windows. It’s the principle. Night holds a special quietness within it.

The cadence of the universe seems to be something she’s always been in tune with, and probably, has saved her once or twice.

The letter is in her hand.

She can’t remember getting it.

Just like she can’t remember why there are half crescent moons embedded into her palm where her nails have been digging in.

There’s no writing on the outside.

She can see and feel the writing.

Olivia must press hard, when she writes.

The paper seems to be stock printer paper.

Not lined.

The black pen has a shadow that she can see.

Taking a deep breath, she opens it.

‘Natasha,’ it reads.

Tears well in Natasha’s eyes.

She can’t help it and it surprises her as she swipes them away.

‘Thank you for your note.’

Natasha bites down heavily on her lip, trying to hold herself together, taking a deep breath.

‘I know. She was safe with you. If we could save all those we loved, then the world would be a much kinder place. I have so much to tell you. And likewise, I think you can fill in some gaps for me. You’re not alone.”

Natasha forces herself to take a shaky breath.

‘I’ll be here to answer all the questions I can. But first, you must make agent. Once you’ve done that, meet me in Seattle. I’m sorry that this isn’t easier, and for all that’s happened along the way. Meet me in Seattle and we will talk more.’

The letter signs off with a cursive O.

Natasha lowers the paper, feeling emotions that had been pushed down, repressed for years.

Tears stream now, and she lets herself sob.

She holds the letter to get chest.

Memories, feelings, grief, loss, pain and hope all curl in her chest and she cries.

Natasha feels her breath catch as she lets out a moan, and she lets a wail go, the sadness of losing herself, her past tied into starting a new life, even if it had not given her the safety that she had expected.

It was something.

Olivia had given her hope of something she had never even dreamed of.

Answers.

Why her? Why had it been her abandoned and sold to the red room?

She cries for her younger self, that she could never go back and save.

Memories of Yelena pushing back her newly blue hair and hugging her, telling her she’d miss the red but how cool she looked with it.

Memories of her first kill, the trial of the silent knife as she was given her first weapon, and the training they’d received turned into something vital.

She takes a breath but lets the tears continue.

Such indulgence in emotion, she thinks, as she sniffs and tries to swallow, feeling her ears block and unblock.

Reading the letter again, more tears come.

Natasha doesn’t know how long she lets herself cry, but for the first time ever, she does it without reserve, without restraint and lets herself feel the feelings that flow through her body and cries herself to sleep.

.

Clint knocks and waits until she opens the door.

He’s slightly earlier, worried since the night before, that she had been grappling with bigger thoughts.

He knew what was in the letter from Olivia and what it promised.

So did Maria.

They’d had a discussion as she’d walked him to the car, about Natasha becoming an agent.

There’d be a board review before the decision, where they’d have to give evidence of her debriefs, her progress and usefulness to SHIELD.

Clint was ready for it.

He’d been making Maria practice with him, giving evidence to support her, so that he was ready for all the arguments they may raise.

She even had her own.

He’d asked her why, and Maria had shrugged.

Clint didn’t know what had passed between them when he was in hospital but he knew Maria had been affected in a way that maybe even she didn’t understand.

What he did know, was that Maria knew Natasha’s worth, and even perhaps more than that, Maria knew her own worth - just how vital she was to the functioning of SHIELD.

Coulson had also been promoted.

The strike teams that had been sent after them needed to be replaced. Coulson had asked Clint if he wanted to become a part of one, but Clint wasn’t sure what that would mean for Natasha.

He hadn’t given a straightforward answer, instead asking Coulson the one question that was on his mind- What would happen to her?

Coulson hadn’t responded. Clint thought maybe because he didn’t have the answer just yet.

Clint sighs and knocks again.

Natasha opens the door; and smiles shallowly at him.

He can tell she’s been crying, eyes rimmed red and face flushed.

Speechless, he fumbles over words to ask if she wants to go for breakfast.

Nodding, she zips up her hoodie, and he realises it’s the first time she’s worn something other than the SHIELD issued clothing.

.

[velvet-paradox]

Heartstrings (Part One)

Fandom: Sleep Token (Band) Pairing: eventual Vessel x Female reader Length: Medium Summary: Memories haunt our beloved frontman, some he'd like to forget and some he's been hiding. Warnings: eventual NSFW, 18 + ONLY, strong language, tobacco use, alcohol consumption, supernatural (no, not the show) element, a twisted little game. Tagging: @synnersaint as always, @megangovier20 

NOTES: I’ll be reposting to @roman-is-a-horse as well as that’s my little hole in the wall for all things masked men and Sleep Token

ENJOY!!!

He's exhausted. He's all sweat and grit, dirt beneath his fingernails, mud on his boots. 

He could care less. 

What he needed was sleep. Glorious, pillow soft sleep. And the deity let him. 

He dreamt of monkey bars, chipped green paint, orange creme popsicles, a dizzy tire swing blurring in the distance, a familiar face hanging upside down from a wound up swing set. The air is light and the sun is high. He learned why ancient Egyptians rimmed their eyes with kohl. Learned the proper pronunciation for Persephone. Had his first kiss. Got into his first of many, fist fights and tasted blood and why you don't pick at knuckle scabs. The taste of woodchips. 

And then he met you.

Vessel woke with a jolt, restless leg syndrome, jerking him at the worst of times but helpful on the stage. 

"You're pretty when you cry." That silky voice that lulled him to the dreamworld sang down to him. Above his head, resting oh so carefully upon his pillow was Sleep, taking the form of a smoky red cat with six black slits for eyes. The deity grinned sharp, bone white fangs before leaping into the air at Vessel's recognition that he was indeed crying, his cheeks and lips streaked with salt. Sleep hung in the air above him, wagging its tail.

"Bad dream?" Sleep asked, resting its face on its paws like some teenager, coiling the phone cord, awaiting the latest hallway gossip.

"I'm fine," Vessel sniffled and turned on his side, an attempt to ignore his maker.

Sleep rolled onto its' back, little red paws pointing up to the ceiling before floating in front of his face and purred. "That's not what I asked."

Vessel blamed it on his uncomfortableness, the bed was cold and the sheets icy against his bare legs. Sleep wasn't buying it, squinting all six eyes at him as he tossed and turned for the rest of the night. ....

"That's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, brother, get used to it."

"You big troll, that's the last can!"

"Watch it you little gremlin or I'll step on you and put you out like a light."

Brotherly threats floated up stairs along with the smell of someone cooking breakfast. Cinnamon butter, scrambled eggs, no doubt since his heathen brothers refused to eat them any other way. Roasted earthy mushrooms, peppered bacon.

Vessel clung to the staircase watching three others maneuver around someone's rented home in the highlands. Through a large bay window he could make out the silky green grass and sparkling yellow daffodils dancing in the wind.

SpaghettiOs. 

III and IV were giving II shit in between grabbing plates, poor thing was jumping up and missing terribly the can of the tomato sauced rings. Vessel shook his head and jumped down the last two steps before they all stuttered to a stop, III hid the can behind his back as if he were about to be scolded.

"Never gets old, huh?" He asked and snagged a piece of less burnt bacon.

"Not a chance." III resumed his taunts until II gave up, growling low in his throat and angrily shut off the stovetop, marching outside into the daylight.

"Package came for you this morning." IV mumbled through a mouthful of eggs as he found him out on the porch swing. Vessel took the box with more questions than answers.

"Who knows we're here?"

IV shrugged and joined him on the bench, crossing his legs as the wooden slats swayed.

Vessel looked it over. Just a standard brown box, wrapped in a weeks worth of clear packing tape. Just several stamps -international corners, a beating or two in a mail office dented one of the boxes sides. He took the switchblade IV handed him, scoring the edged until it came loose.

He shook whatever was hidden, another box came tumbling out into his lap along with a folded piece of cardstock. He handed it over. Though as he dug around inside, he should've looked at the note first because IV's eyes, already on the large spectrum, had bloomed into bright blue saucers.

"What? What is it?"

"Look and see."

Vessel dropped the note to the ground as it were on fire. Explosive. A grenade of nostalgia and pain, if not sudden death.

ARE YOU GAME?

No.

No no no no no.

He could feel IV's eyes on him as he fumbled with the spare box, careful with the folds, peeling back the layers on carefully placed and wrapped tissue paper. His fingers ghosted over the jewelry or what was left of it before holding it up in the afternoon sun.

Vessel began to panic, anxiety was never far from him as he thumbed over one of the personally laid coins like a treasured rosary and if he were totally honest; it was just that. ....

Vessel had recently gotten into a band called Immortal the previous summer, expressing himself in a similar manner of covering his face (still experimenting with paint on his hands, he was always on the look out for the best greasepaint his first high school job could afford), in black and white paint, cut off jackets and ripped denim. Had attempted to look as cool as possible with a cigarette behind his ear. He never smoked it, just toyed with his mothers' addiction. The girls dug it so there was always that.

His friends chased squirrels until the popular girls noticed them, could've been a dare, could've been a prank but that didn't stop them from turning and chasing them instead. Their shrills squeals of laughter sang through the halls, tickled pink for attention in the back of classrooms.

The boys had ditched him once again as they left him at the playground, holding on to his bullet belt as he made his way, by foot, across town towards his job. He was going to be late, but the owner of the coffee shop couldn't care less; he was probably a few beers in as it was only three that Saturday afternoon. 

Louie could really pound them down.

He was almost there when he stopped short. There on a park bench were a pair of shapely legs. Just sitting there in the air. Torn fishnets with shin high striped socks and boots, scuffed and beat up, much like his own when he looked down.

He crept by slowly, curious if they were a mannequin's legs or if they were real or, God forbid they were just that. No body attached! How scandalous! 

A murderer on the loose and Vessel would be the first witness to the crime. His stomach had flipped at that.

But still, the young man proceeded forward, cautiously now as he left his usual path and got closer, squinting when he saw one of the ankles twitch. 

Vessel made calculated steps around he bench and saw- gratefully of course, that the legs were indeed attached to a body, the body of a girl his age that he'd never seen before. She was laying upside down with her eyes closed, arms bent and on the ground beneath her head so she wouldn't roll off and crack her skull. An opened can of SpaghettiOs sat next to her, along with a sad looking purse.

"What are you doing?" 

"What's it look like I'm doing, smart guy? 'm thinkin'." Was her response. She didn't even bother to open her eyes and acknowledged him. Foreigner for sure, he thought.

"Upside down?"

"I get all the cobwebs out better this way," then she cracked one eyes open, searching for him in this state and she smiled, the brightest smile he'd ever seen on a person. Stunning. Absolutely fucking stellar. "You should try it."

"Doesn't all the blood rush to your head like that?" Vessel turned his head to see her face better.

"That's the point, silly! When my brain talks to much the best way to shut her up is to rush her out, let her out. Come on, try it. There's plenty of room." She quipped and wiggled over in the bench, using her hands for leverage.

Vessel looked at his watch; twenty minutes until his shift started and he'd need to be there and get his apron on and punch in his timecard and Louie might not be drunk and waiting for him patently at the doors with a pained expression and angry, uncaffeinated patron waiting to get their fix.

He had trouble moving his body and wincing when one of the bullets jabbed his hip bone, but all in all he managed her similar position. Fucking wild. His jacket creaked when he moved his hands to the earth below, mimicking her position.

"Good job. Now watch me. Just breathe in and out like this, don't think about anything other than that and you'll be clear as a Koi fish pond."

He frowned but went along with it, looking at her as instructed he slowly shut his eyes, long legs growing tired he let them hang over the back of the bench instead and controlled his breathing.

He wasn't thinking about school or work, his thesis he had yet to start that was due in two weeks time. Not what he was going to have for dinner or which skirt II was trying to get under this week. Probably Jessica. II was always after Jessica.

"See. How do you feel now?" She asked. 

Vessel couldn't even answer her at first, too caught up in the sensations, more aware of her perfume when his senses kicked into overdrive with his heartbeat pounding in his ears like this.

"Weightless. Clear." He mumbled.

"Exactly."

Then her hand was on his, carefully he opened his eyes and his world felt like his house of cards were about to tumble down if he breathed too loudly. 

"I'm Y/N." ....

He thought about you as he ran the rest of the way to coffee shop, the little blue and white striped awning coming into view as his boots pounded pavement. He was just seconds away from being late, clocking in just in time and wrapping a brown apron around his jacket in the backroom.

He thought about as he rang up a pretty dark skinned girl, fresh faced and smiling at him.

He thought about you when a crotchety old woman barked her order and waited too close to the counter until he could brew it, which she made him do it twice. He thought about you when a regular by the name of Johnny Two-Step came in, grooving to the beat of whatever song which was playing softly in the background. 

He thought about you on the walk home, every park bench he passed by, with his hands in his pockets were shockingly empty.

Would he ever see you again?

Where you from? What were you doing here in this small seaside town? And why were you eating cold SpaghettiOs right from the can like a cat with a tin of tuna? ....

"Straight from the can?!" III asked the following day, sitting on his roof with an open notebook, ready for some action along with a stolen can of his father's beer. It would go unnoticed. They always went unnoticed.

III's dad would give a shrug and mumble about needing to slow down though he never did, he just went out and bought more, stocking the fridge in the garage for the next day.

"Never seen anything like it."

"I would hope not! Sounds like she's a screw or two loose."

"Maybe."

Maybe you did. Maybe you were what his mother would call 'quirky' or carefree, the possibility of being a hellion might be written in the stars for you too. Either way Vessel was into it.

"No no no, that's not how you do it. Here, you're just gonna' make a mess of it. Now look, you take the can like this..."

Vessel couldn't help be drawn into the kitchen of a house party a few weeks later, he'd toyed with the cigarette again, holding between his two front teeth as some girl in an obscenely short dress chatted him up outside. He told her to hold that thought and maneuvered through the bodies. Sweat and beer lingered on the air, music pulsed and couples and a possible throuple but Vessel's standards were making out in a dim corner.

The snap of a beer can had him joining the little circle around the sink. A few guys cheered. A few girls made noises, he couldn't decipher whether it was a good or a bad thing at the moment.

Vessel towered over the group, watching II wipe his mouth over the sink before slipping his trusty balaclava back up over his nose. He saw someone and when he looked, his eyebrows shot up to his hairline in an instant.

It was you.

It was really you!

You cheered in delight, gave him a high five and grinned.

"Whose next? How about you pretty lady?" You waved Jessica over, who was shy at first but followed your lead in her pink and yellow bellbottoms and halter top.

After your next shotgun you hugged Jessica who looked worse for wear and slumped against II who was more than happy to help her stand and move out out of the kitchen. II passed him in the doorway, giving him a fist bump to the shoulder, talking to his love interest, lost in the haze of beer and clouds of weed smoke.

"You! There you are you big tall drink of water."

Vessel turned just in time to see you, focused and barreling straight towards him, a look of drunken excitement on your face. You weren't stopping and then you were lunging at him, embracing him in a hug that should feel all sorts of foreign and wrong but... was welcomed and warm and you smell like floral perfume and beer foam.

You looked up at him with silly grin. "Hi."

"Hi yourself. Having a bit of fun I see."

"Wanna' shotgun a beer with me?"

"Maybe later. How many have you had already?"

You made a goofy sound in your throat, released his waist and took his wrist in your hands, dragging him outside. Something made of glass shattered somewhere inside the house as you two ducked out and sat down in a little gazebo on the property. Vines and little white flowers coiled up and around the lattice.

"You gonna' smoke that?" You asked, digging those same weathered boots into the dirt.

"You want it?"

"Can I share it with you?"

"You can have it. I actually don't smoke."

Your expressions ranged and rivaled those of a comic strip as you looked at him. "What the what?! You don't smoke, yet you just casually have a cigarette behind your ear?"

Vessel shrugged. "It's just an accessory at this point."

"Next thing you'll be telling me is you're not a real jester!"

"A jester?"

"The makeup! You're not a clown either? Some practicing mime? Although if you were a mime you wouldn't be talking, would you?" You drunkenly mused and Vessel wondered how many beers you’d already rushed into your bloodstream.

Vessel snorted and shook his head. "Afraid not. I'm just a guy."

"A handsome guy." You huffed and lit up the cigarette, leaning back on your elbows as you smoked.

Vessel snorted, unaffected by the tobacco hanging around your heads as you both looked up at the moon. Tethered to it's soft glow over the treetops. "I've been called a lot of things, but handsome ain't one of them."

You bolted upright, cigarette renting space between your teeth and burning his eyes as you grabbed his face like you were old friends. 

"That's a damn shame. I'm going to make it my mission to tell you everyday I see you how good you look. Even if you are talking mime!"

Part Two Part Three

[maxybabyy]

inspired by this gif

He shows her a photo first. It’s not the one that he ends up ordering, but it’s close enough; the same pleated skirt but the cut of the shirt is different, the colour scheme changed too. Max, half distracted by the sim race she’s trying to join, says, “This is of course very American of you, Daniel.”

“Yeah? Did you bring the ears from last year then?” He asks and makes her squeeze further into the corner until there’s almost no space between them. “Gonna be a kitty cat again, Maxy?”

“For this, I will need also the –“ she says after squinting at the screen. She claps her hands enthusiastically and throws them up in a high V, the controller left in her lap. “The sparkly things for my hands, no? I think this will be very important, Daniel.”  

“I will get you some pompoms, baby.” He says, pulls her into a kiss when her hands still haven’t come down. “Maybe then you can do a little routine for me, yeah? Show me who you’re really cheering for?”

In the end, Max is let into the discord call and is allowed to join the race – even if she is away from her sim set-up. Daniel sits beside her and looks through uniform options, tries not to lose himself in the images of her on her knees, skirt spread wide over her thighs as she sucks his cock.

Max has a last-minute shoot with Red Bull, so he meets up with some of the others for a drink or two before the party.

It’s fine, if a bit uneventful. None of them has put much effort into their costumes. Alex looks great, but only when his girlfriend stays close enough to add complexity to the otherwise bland costume.

Max has been live blogging the shoot in their texts, another fluff piece to take the heat off Checo’s race in Mexico. And then at the end, sent just over an hour ago, a picture of the pompoms Daniel had made sure to order resting on a wide shot of Max’s thigh in the backseat of a car.

Daniel hadn’t replied, didn’t see it until now, but. He goes, downs the cup of shitty but expensive vodka and makes his excuses to Lando, who hasn’t stopped staring at both Oscar and Carlos at either end of the room like he’s at a fucking tennis match.

Max has her own drink in hand when he finds her, straw sucked deep in her mouth as she nods at whatever Charles is saying. Her cheeks are flushed, and she’s obviously having a good time if the way she’s smiling is anything to go by. She must know he’s watching because she turns to look at him, eyes bright as she waves the pompom at him.

She looks fucking amazing.

The uniform fits perfectly, and even with the sensible white long sleeve that she’s wearing underneath, she looks fucking hot. When it came in the mail, he hadn’t told her it was a Chicago Bulls costume; the ‘Bulls’ on her chest the closest thing to Red Bull he could find. But he looks at her now and thinks, ‘Maybe they should do a rebrand.’

She’s wearing the same sneakers that she always is, black and practical, and her hair is tied back in her usual high pony, only this time with a striped ribbon instead of a beige hair tie. It shouldn’t be as hot as it is, but Max has always been in a league of her own. In racing, in life, in Daniel’s heart –

“Hey there, pretty lady,” he says and leans in close when Charles has escaped with a choked-up laugh. “I would offer you a drink, but someone already beat me to it, huh?”

Max lets out a laugh, shakes her head. “We are of course not in Austin anymore, Daniel.”

There’s a smushed ‘3’ painted on her cheek in red; the font unlike what is usually used for jersey numbers, and instead oddly reminiscent of what it would look like on the RB19.

“Did you come here from the big game too?” He asks instead and puts a hand on her waist, his thumb poking under the fabric to rest against her skin. “Bet your team won real easy with all the attention on you, pretty girl. Hardly any eyes on the ball, I reckon.”

“Daniel! It was only golf with Checo. Always, he was very interested in the game, I think, but –“

Daniel breaks her off with a kiss when he cannot help himself anymore, pulls her closer to his chest for a moment before he steps back. “Did you come here with a boyfriend? A friend, maybe?”

Max stares at him, teeth biting into a lip that must have been painted red once. There’s still a bit of lipstick left, maybe there’s something on him now too. She must see something in his face, because she says, flushed, “Tonight, it is just me from the – the big game, of course.”

“Yeah? No quarterback waiting for you at home? I bet you looked hot cheering for your team,” he says, looks at the hand now wrapped around his neck, the pompom resting loosely against his chest. Max gives it a little shake over her head, the rustle loud in their tiny self-imposed space.

“It was a very lovely game, that,” Max hums, rubs at the eye black on his cheek. “The team, I think, is very good this year. We can of course win the ra – “ she takes a sip of her drink to hide the stumble, glares at Daniel when he laughs at her. “I can do the pyramid very well, so we will win the next match also.”

Daniel does want to hear more about Max’s ideas of cheerleading competitions, of the trophies and championships she would have won in that too. But more than that, he wants to drag her into the bathroom and make her come; fuck her open and loose so when they get back to the hotel, he can fuck her right.

“That’s your type then? Athletes?” He asks. He doesn’t kiss her, but he wants to, knows she wants it too. But they’re so close, almost there.

“It is very hot, I think, when they are also into the sport,” she says, her breath hitching when his free hand finds its way under her skirt, to the almost non-existent thong she has on. “When they are very good, I think that is very lovely also.”

“Do you have a favourite? Someone you’re just dying to meet, to fuck?”

Max whines softly, presses against the leg Daniel has shoved in between her thighs, “You are so stupid Daniel,” she says, breathy and hoarse. “You look of course very handsome in your little outfit, but always race car drivers are the –“

He kisses her, doesn’t let her finish. 

They’ve strayed from the plan; from the loose script he had in his head. But Daniel doesn’t care, feels greedy with it that even in this ��� drunk and unserious as they pretend to be people they aren’t – Max still cannot pick someone else, someone who isn’t fully and completely him.

[tiny-minecraft-rabbit]

The Little Post Rat

Gift for @baconlamb for the 2024 @mcytblrholidayexchange

This is my very first age regression fic, something I've wanted to write for a while and am so glad I got the opportunity to do so!

Word Count: 1.5k Characters: Age Regressor Watermunch and Caregiver Martyn Inthelittlewood AO3 Link Here

Being a post rat meant being on the move. It meant traveling from place to place. It meant being quick and nimble and never being in the same place for long, as there was always someone waiting to get their mail. 

That being said, this was the first time in a long time that Watermunch had stayed in a single place for so long.

She had never set up a postal network before, but Le Terrière had seemed as good a place to start as any. There were plenty of rats here, and they had lots of things to say. Establishing a local system and beginning on deliveries was easy, she had made a few on the very first day. After that she built an office and planted roots within days. However, the rats that were as passionate about delivering mail as she was were far and few between; so actually recruiting to help expand the post office was much harder. Her plans to connect the hotel’s Rattic to the greater world of post were put to a standstill. 

She found that she didn’t mind too much. Getting to stand still for a while was nice. It left time for other things. It left time to relax and be herself. 

Water laid out a nice big blanket on her floor, already feeling herself slipping as she set out the small number of toys she had. She only had what she could fit in her post bag, which wasn't a lot. Mostly it consisted of her childhood plush doll—a sweet little rat-girl with a cotton dress—and colored pencils that were usually used for making notes and writing letters. She also set out snacks, slices of baguettes and cubes of cheddar. It was probably a bit filling when she hadn’t had lunch yet, but who was she to deny herself bread and cheese. 

Once everything was set out she plopped herself down and started to color. 

It did not take long her for drawings to slip from her usual style to something much more childish. She was drawing herself and the others around the attic. She made Eloise and Bek holding hands and Ratman with his car. They were squiggly and brightly colored, and she smiled to herself as she did. 

At some point her thumb slipped into her mouth and she hummed happily around it . 

This was nice. It had been so long since Water had really been able to be little. While traveling every now and then she would slip and feel the fuzzies in her brain try to take over, but she was never in a stable enough place to really get small. At most she would allow herself some kid snacks and a bit of doodling. She hadn’t been truly regressed like this in ages. 

She pulled her doll close, pointing to her newest picture to show her, “Look Ms. Fluffybottom, that’s Sniff and Scott. See, 'cause she is wear-wing a green sweater and Scott has all the colors on him.” 

Ms. Fluffybottom didn’t say anything in return, but Water could tell she was very impressed. 

She was starting to get bored; there was only so much coloring a little rat could do before they got tired of it. She poked around her office, quickly finding the scissors and glue. Now, this was a proper activity! She colored a nice big drawing of a rat and cut them out (going extra slow so she didn’t accidentally snip something wrong). Then she got started on making the rat outfits on a separate piece of paper. She was having trouble getting the size right, but she wasn’t going to give up easily. 

Then, there was a knock on the door. 

She froze, staring at the door with wide eyes. The only times someone had bothered knocking on her door was when she was staying at different hotels between deliveries. She could wait for some hotel staff to go away, but she doesn’t think she could wait for someone from the attic to just go away. A lot of them were her friends and the rest were a curious bunch of rats. 

It made a part of her want to come out of little space and deal with the rat at the door like an adult. 

Honestly, she tried, willing herself to be big and think adult thoughts; but as she stood up and felt herself toddle on shaky feet, she knew it wasn’t happening. 

She must have taken too long, as she was only halfway across the floor when another knock rang out. “Hey, Munch! You in there?” 

Martyn. 

Water was even less sure about opening the door now—while Martyn was one of the more fun rats in the attic, he was also one of the meaner ones. There was no telling what his reaction to her would be. He might make fun of her!

She could just ignore him, he’d leave eventually, probably– or he’d break in. Martyn was also known for not always following rules, like how you were supposed to be invited into homes, not just enter them whenever. 

“I’m com’ing,” She exclaimed. She took the last few feet to the door in big steps, so it wasn’t as far away. 

Martyn smiled down at her as he leaned on the doorframe, “There's my favorite Post Rat. What are we up to today?” 

Water smiled back, a bit bashful, “I’m… colo’ing.” 

“Coloring, huh? Is that an important activity or did you want to join me for a food run?”

Her eyes widened and she quickly shook her head. Leaving the attic was scary! There were humans down in the hotel; and cats! She didn’t want to go down there now . “Not- Not today. So’m other time?” 

Martyn tilted his head, “That’s no problem; but is something up? Need someone to talk to?” 

“No- No. Just w’eally want to col-wor,” She insisted, looking back at her blanket and Ms. Fluffybottom. 

He hummed and took a step into her office. She let him, her hands firmly gripping the bottom of her shirt as he finally caught sight of her little set up. She was so worried for a moment, that he was going to find it weird or silly. All her things were laid out for him to see.

“Well, that looks fun, doesn’t it. Mind if I join you, then?” he asked, surprising her. 

Water hesitated. She had never had company before! Having someone come and play with her had never been an option before, and even if it had, she doesn’t think Martyn would have been her first pick. But, looking up at Martyn, there was a wobble to his smile. He seemed like he needed some fun just as much as she did.  

“You… you can’t make fun o’ me, aw’ight? We’ just gonna sit and col-wor,” she replied, giving him a pointed glare.

“Cross my heart,” Martyn promised. He seemed sincere enough to her. 

With that Water took his hand and dragged him over to her blanket. Martyn was quick to take up a colored pencil and start his own doodles. She pulled out another piece of paper and started a new drawing: she was delivering mail to the Queen-Rat herself in England! 

Soon after she went back to trying to make outfits for her paper doll. They were still coming out wonky in size. Martyn noticed and offered to help cut them out. Water watched him with wide and curious eyes as he traced her doll on a clean sheet of paper and told her to fill in the outline with whatever pattern she wanted. When she finished, he cut it out for her, much faster than she could have. 

She squealed with delight as the stripey dress and postman jacket fit perfectly on the paper doll this time. She hugged him, thanking him for it. 

When she glanced over at Martyn’s drawing, she was delighted to see he had drawn a pirate ship with himself and Ren on it. Ren even had his signature red coat and a cool pin sword. Martyn had a spy glass. He was really good at drawing. 

She decided to tell him as much; “Yours is w’eally cool. I w’ike the ship.”

“Thanks, Munchy. Yours is pretty good yourself,” he replied, pointing at hers, “We going to hang these up somewhere then?” 

Water’s eyes widened. “Can we?” 

Sure, she always could have hung her drawings, but it seemed silly to do it herself. Martyn was offering to hang them– he thought they were good enough to hang up! She very much wanted to see her art up on the wall.

“Sure, we can!” he answered and delicately scooped up her drawing. He didn’t take long to find some old sealing wax in her office. It was the cheap kind, and he was able to warm it in his hands until it was just tacky enough to stick the pictures to the wall with. 

He placed his and hers right next to each other.

[jeanie-g]

you rock btw :)

for the spotify wrapped thing, could i get #94 (if it hasn't been taken yet; the back up is #58 if it has been)

Jamie and Trevor (must keep those two alive lol

YOU rock! 💖 we the people have the responsibility to keep this ship alive! (also i have a happy tzjd fic on deck i PROMISE)

[#58] Taking What's Not Yours (TV Girl)

And as the smell on my pillow fades / Her cigarettes might stay like a Roman Colosseum / A dry and worthless monument to our love

Jamie had to pack quickly, was the thing, so Trevor couldn't expect him to remember to take everything.

It still didn't make it hurt any less when Trevor entered his bedroom after saying goodbye and spotted Jamie's mug on his end table. It was red, with this lopsided smiley face and a caption that read, sunny side up.

Trevor had his own mugs, but he remembered when Jamie brought it over, claiming it was his favorite. He was spending 90% of his time at Trevor's apartment anyways. Why not make it official?, he'd said.

Trevor's mouth went dry. It still had the teabag in it.

He didn't know what to do with it at first. Jamie was already on the plane, so he couldn't return it. He could've mailed it, but what if it got lost or broken?

Trevor resolved to store it in an old Amazon box he'd set out for recycling. Then, he shoved it under his bed and forcibly pushed it from his mind.

That wasn't the end, though. More of Jamie's things kept popping up over the next few weeks—spare phone chargers or skate guards, bags of branded chips Trevor would never buy. It struck him like a viper every time, making his brain stall and restart, reopening the wound of the trade when it was just starting to scab over.

One rare rainy night, digging through his closet to find his umbrella (he was pretty sure it was still in its original packaging), he happened upon one of Jamie's toques. It was never cold enough to wear it in Anaheim; he could've probably used it in Philly. Without thinking, Trevor brought it to his nose and smelled it. The sweet tang of Jamie's cologne still clung to it, and Trevor sank to his knees and cried.

Whenever Trevor found one of Jamie's belongings, he just put it into the box and moved along. He even took the care to wash it if it was dirty—a crewneck or a dish. He even kept the dented lid to a candle Jamie bought for airing out the room of sex, even though the candle itself was missing.

He was still finding things months in, however small and insignificant, in the nooks and crannies of his apartment—receipts from In 'n Out with his regular order on them, half-drained moisturizer samples from when he got really into skincare, the cut-out tags of shirts because he hated the way they itched his neck.

In all this time, though, Trevor never reached out to let Jamie know. He couldn't bring himself to. On late, lonely nights, he thought it was because they were the only pieces of Jamie he had left, the only proof that what they had was real at all. On other, more bitter ones, Trevor convinced himself that he was just waiting for Jamie to ask for them back.

But if Jamie ever missed his dog-eared copy of Watchmen or worn-in pair of moccasins, he never told Trevor as much—though he didn't tell him much of anything these days. Because of all the things he left behind, haunting his apartment like a hundred little ghosts, Trevor felt like the biggest one of all.

Jamie had said forever at one point. It felt like a million years ago, and Trevor knew he had to let it go, but he couldn't. He was weak when it mattered.

So, Trevor kept the box under his bed and told no one. He dusted around it, but wouldn't look inside. He kept it pristine, just in case Jamie ever came back.

[littlestar-center]

~☆ENJOY YOUR STAY!☆~

Welcome to the LittleStar Center(2008)! Our lovely cast of friends are here at your every service, Kiddo! Ask us anything and you shall receive an answer!

Hello! I’m @callmeend ! And this is my Dandy’s World AU (technically) Where someone that saw the downfall of the Gardenview and went “Wait, why don’t I just make my OWN?” ..

I’ll try to make my own animations to post to this blog! I’ll also try to make art for asks!

LAST UPDATE: April 29th!

_____________________________________

-3Special Tags!3-

Little Star ~ well whadda think? Anything Little Star related!

☆You’ve got Mail!☆ ~Asks to deliver!

☆Lost Mail…☆ ~Skipped asks :(

☆Keep this In mind☆ ~Semi interesting stuff that could definitely help you in the future

☆Lore☆ - …?

☆Video-Gif☆ ~Me struggling to make anything that happens to not be a still

☆Hall of Art☆ ~(Reusing this from my main) Art!

☆Event Asks☆ ~ Events created by Askers!

☆- ☀︎?

_____________________________________

_____________________________________

The Current characters you can talk to are..

(You can also talk to The Narrator!) You can also talk to Sunny, Though, he might not respond.

(Every 5 unanswered/skipped asks you will be blessed with the truth..)

Quick rundown for new comers except I’m not serious as I should be (autism)

Artesia ☀︎- She is a shy artist (at least she’s told) that carries around a small sketchbook and draws the most eye catching things she notices. Drawing is her everything! She is an easy target and very gullible, often having trouble standing up for herself.

Jack ☀︎- A trickster and has the confidence of a God, oftentimes pulling pranks on the others around him, despite being pretty rude and rough apon first meeting, he’d soften up if you give him a chance, probably has the energy and humor of a middle schooler with great (inappropriate) music taste. Even the most beloved creators has a horrible creation and it’s him.

Cambina - Watches carefully over everyone’s moves, is really vague and will most likely leave you in a state of overthinking. She just likes looking over people and can’t bare being alone, kinda wishes she was a real toon.

Gloria ☀︎- Most likely ate the food you told people not to touch but replaces it always. Author, burnt out but also has motivation. Likes singing as a hobby but she wouldn’t do it if you asked her too, 4th most likely to drown a child in strawberry syrup (what am I typing)

Stamps - Ever get a pop up ad? Would come out of thin air to tell you something, would talk a lot but would probably be bombed by Jax again. Would defend you better than a lawyer being paid 7 bucks a second. He would die with your secrets

Balloony ☀︎- (by my sister) he is playful + funny (can make jokes in Morse code (weird flex))

Yoyo ☀︎- THE MINOAUR. Doofus, if you asked him what 11x2 was He would still need a piece of paper, most likely has a to do list and yearns for badges. “Boy Scouts code number —“. ADHD. Needs glasses but keeps breaking them and 9/10 he has undiagnosed autism.

Connor - the baker (NOT COSMO) the cooker (NOT GAY.) “nice” is an understatement, being around him would make your day (mainly because he makes free food) no enemies, because he poisoned them all, has years worth of rage stored up inside of him but when he’s mad he thinks “why are you over reacting” before dancing to breakcore

Crispin - Everyone already said it, Western.(def lives on a barn) Somewhat sweet and tart, would load up his double barrel shotgun and put it in your mouth if you tried to drink him. Provides most of the food in the little star center!

Serena ? - This sorrowful siren isn’t technically apart of the little star center, disconnected from the others, she tries her best to get by. Normally she would have a snarky attitude towards you and would sing songs to hypnotize you, so watch out! Serenas jewelry is her most prized possessions! She is the only siren in her family (her 2 sisters and father). Sunny keeps close eye on her.

Dr. Crow ? - The Doctor of the toons, also a Potion-brewer! She has the power to heal most pains, emotionally or physically with the perfect mixture of ingredients. She lives in a hut and actually does have a crow companion! Sunny keeps close eye on her. Iris ☀︎- (The Minour part two!) this over curious, lovesick toon. There is no true purpose to her existence, but she gets along well with the others! She is fairly clingy and will often need reminders for personal space. She is the only toon with a diary! 

Tee ? - Being her pushy obnoxious self is normal practice, This toons favorite person is herself! Even though she seems to not truly understand who she is yet, her friends will always be there to help and support her. With her inconsistent show running and her many skills, she is sure to leave a smile on your face!

Lucky ☆- Lucky is an Optimistic but yet very logical toon, her presence alone makes others feel fortunate! Born under a unfortunate but lucky star, she has been blessed with a power to make her planting and weather dreams a reality! Shes often a much calmer toon! 

☀︎ Sunny ☀︎- Lovely all mighty.. He gatekeeps rather he's a witch or a Wizard, he would appear when someone had a problem, He would tackle tough topics, He doesn't spend much time with the others because he's a loner (he would if he did he just doesn't becaus-), He has once had a wife/love interest that is always brought up in very vague ways, He can fly by using clouds, he's the smartest in the team, He loves the water (just sitting in the sunset/sunrise, watching the water), He acts as a Guide since he knows most, he likes drawing and writing on walls. Worst person to have on your bad side. Keeps everything and everyone safe, after all, you need the sun right?

Friend Made Ocs-

Daria - ‘Daria is one adventurous gal! She loves to create fun quests for people to take up. Since she never backs down from a challenge, it means she can be a little overconfident at times—often saying things she’ll never actually do. But, either way, she’ll be your guiding light throughout any task.’ ~ @umaisho

Loucky the computer ? - MINOR - computer but unfortunately stupid as hell at times (damaged system). Yaps in python, responds in python ~ @machlover54666

Autumn the Pumpkin - Autumn is a young, energetic pumpkin. He enjoys doing lots of dangerous activities, and enjoys the thrill of it. Autumn inspires children to face their fears! (Rundown one)

Autumn ? - This kid’s got guts. Rushing into any dangerous situation without hesitation, he’ll do anything just for the thrill of it. In case something goes wrong, he’s always equipped with his water gun. He never really needs it though, because it’s just a water gun. He may seem fearless, but truly, he has a lot more worries than he lets on. (Rundown two) ~ @thatonewizard1806

Sparks and Carmella ? - Nobody knows where they came from. They just showed up one day. Sparks is excited and joyful almost constantly, running around recklessly and always getting into trouble, while Carmella is an elegant and refined one, who would rather stay inside all day. These two are commonly with Autumn when he’s not busy on some bizarre scheme. ~ @thatonewizard1806

Tara ? - Tara is often working on some dangerous experiment. She’s gone kind of insane and has some… odd theories, to say the least. To be completely honest, she’s probably the least trustworthy person in the entire center. ~ @thatonewizard1806 AGAIN.

Boomie ? - He is a chill and laid back dude who will stand up for and protect others whenever needed, despite this, he refuses to use physical violence of any sort ~ @a-rand0m-bl0g

Rhonda - Rhonda is your completely normal toon! For a radio, she isn't that talkative around other people. For some reason, she can't remember where she came from! She's too busy with her awesome radio talk show, "Radiohead Rhonda" to care about that. She's mostly found at the station. There'll be a chance she calls people "callers", don't read too much into it. ~ @i-ate-all-of-my-toes / @not-iaaomts-rp-blog

Icelyn ? - Icelyn is an egotistical ice cube. Who loves exploring Anywhere with snow! She isn’t the biggest fan of human interaction. But she does love someone. But NEVER under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. LET ICELYN AROUND IRIS. SHIT WILL HIT THE FAN. ~ @four-corners-dude

Collan ? - "Collan is one lazy too- ..wait, why am I even writing this..? I don't get paid for this!" ~ @jackoffalope-2

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ ꩜˚.Seeya₊˚𖤐~.

[skylarmoon71]

Alexander (Grimm) - Crossover AU - Chapter 17

“Hurry up, it has to be here!”

“Be quiet, I’m going as fast as I can.”

The two voices continued to bicker in the dark locker room. The light flickered back and forth as they worked to break the lock that kept the metal door closed. With a twist of the pliers, it dropped to the floor. The woman opened the door eagerly, shining the light inside.

It was empty, nothing but a single piece of paper there. She picked it up, opening the folded sheet.

“What does it say?” Her partner asked.

“Gotcha.” She spoke aloud.

“Took the words right out of my mouth.”

Both of them flinched and you smirked, flicking the lights on.

“M-Ms. Jane!”

They looked frantic.

“Mr. and Mrs. Jenson, or should I say Cole and Amy. What a crazy coincidence that you have the key to the murder victim’s locker. I thought you both had never met her before.”

They looked at a loss for words, and you just continued to grin.

“See here’s what I think happened. She met you that night when she was running from her abusive lover who just so happened to be a married wealthy politician. She stayed with you for a few nights, you couldn’t help it. You both are just upstanding citizens.”

They were frowning.

“You saw her arguing with the congressmen, you saw an opportunity to exploit that, so you blackmailed her. She had no idea it was the both of you until she found the burner phone and the first couple hundred you were able to squeeze out of her. You panicked when you were discovered and you knew that the congressman would do whatever he could to cover up the affair. He wouldn’t be able to provide an alibi because that would spill all his dirty secrets. He was the perfect patsy, I have to give you points for creativity.”

Cole's teeth were gritted.

“How did you know?”

Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out the letter. They stared at the copy of the one they had gotten in the mail.

“No one knew she was being blackmailed. I forged the signature and doctored the date so you would think it was sent weeks in advance. I knew you would come here if you thought she left evidence behind. This locker is the only place she would put something that valuable. Looks like you both weren’t as smart as you thought.” 

You were still grinning, and they looked mortified for a moment, but then a look crossed their faces.

“Y-You’re under arrest, did I forget to mention that?”

They looked a bit too comfortable and you backed up when Cole’s hand tightened on the pliers that he held.

“No one knows you’re here.”

You swallowed, raising your hands.

“Do you really think I’m that stupid, the police are here, they’re coming in right now!”

Your yell earned nothing but silence.

“RIGHT NOW!!”

Still nothing.

Laughing uncomfortably, you just shook your head as you spun around and bolted out the door.

“Grab her Cole!!”

You could hear his heavy steps and you prayed that you would at least make it out of the restaurant.

“Portland PD hands in the air!!”

You rushed behind Nick who had his gun aimed at Cole. Hank was at his side with two other officers. Cole froze in his spot, dropping the tool immediately. Amy stopped a few feet behind him when she realized the predicament.

“Damn, it took you guys long enough!!”

“Maybe if you stopped running riddles and actually communicated we could do our jobs.” Nick stated as the officers moved to cuff the married couple.

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“One of these days you’re gonna get shot.” Hank snark.

“Glad it wasn’t today, thank you boys. Truly. I appreciate it.”

They just sighed. Your skills were uncanny, but you were still as unpredictable as a child. 

[dailyaudiobible]

11/4/2023 DAB Transcript pt5

He’s saying, he is giving every excuse and his main excuses is, I don’t know how to speak. Like, I’m not a public speaker, I don’t know how to do this. And God’s telling him, you really don't have to do anything but just obey me. Like, I’ll put the words in your mouth. It's all good. You don’t have to worry about this, and finally Moses is like, send someone else. Please send somebody else. Which for me, is one of the, it’s a very sad scene in the Bible, because of how much it imitates our own lives. But in the end God relents and sends Moses brother Aaron to be the mouthpiece. This is where we see sort of like this dual role, a priestly role and a governor or kingly role. Moses and Aaron make up the two pieces but that is more like the plan “B”. Right, so the plan “A” was that Moses would be empowered by God to lead his people and would be the mouthpiece of God to those people. In other words, a priestly governor, a priestly ruler, a priestly king. So, in other words, Melchizedek was a priestly king of the most high God. Moses would've been invited into that. But didn't enter into it, but then God invites David into that role, once kings are introduced into the story of Israel. And that is where I'm going to stop for today. We’re gonna read about Melchizedek in the book of Hebrews extensively tomorrow and we’ll pick this up then. We have a little bit more New Testament context to the story.

Prayer:

And so, Father, we thank You for the beauty of Your word and as we apply our minds and hearts to all of its nuances and intricacy, we invite Your Holy Spirit among us. We thank You for this gift. We love You Father and worship You. We pray these things in Jesus name. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudioible.com is the website, it’s home base. It’s where you find out what’s going on around here. If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible. Then as I say, often…often, I can't thank you enough, thank you for your partnership. There's a link on the homepage of dailyaudiobible.com. Or if you prefer the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996 Springhill, Tennessee 37174.

And as always, if you have a prayer request or comment 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today, I'm Brian, I love you and I'll be waiting for you here tomorrow.

Prayer and Encouragements:

Hi Daily Audio Bible family. This is Kyle in Pennsylvania. And I’m calling in to ask for prayer for my daughter, her name is Rylie, and she is 3 years old. And she has down syndrome and some heart conditions. And on November 14th she’s gonna get her second heart surgery and this is a pretty big one. Basically, one side of her heart is not functioning and filling the way it should. And so, they’re hoping that they can kind of build a little bit of a wall and let that side start to function the way it should. And that they would be able to rebuild her heart then to a fully functioning heart. And this would be the best outcome because other options just usually aren’t as ideal for children with down syndrome. So, this is kind of what we’ve been hoping and praying for all along. But it is, you know, a pretty big heart surgery and she’s 3, a little over 3 and a half years old. So, it’s hard to see her go in for that. And so, if you could just keep her and us in your prayers. That God would be with the surgeons and guide them. And that God would be with her and her body and help keep her strong and that this surgery would go well. And that we’d get the results that we’re hoping for. And that she would just come out strong and healthy on the other side. Thank you.

Good morning my darling family. It’s Susan from Canada, God’s Yellow Flower calling. I love you all so much. I pray, Lord God, over Searching for Beauty as she is going through so much right now. I pray your strength be with her. Your healing touch be with her. That your peace be with her, Lord God, as she goes through these cancer treatments. I also pray for her daughter, dear Lord God, that You would just open their eyes and so they may see your beauty. They may see Your love for them. They may see Your peace and want that for themselves. In dwell those girls, dear God, indwell them with the power of Your Holy Spirit, that they may seek You with all their heart and find You, dear Lord. And find what You want to do with their life. Help them to walk in obedience to You Lord, every moment of every day of their life. We just lift these three ladies up to You, dear God, and ask You, won’t you bless them mightily with Your righteous right hand. In Jesus name I pray. Amen.

Good morning my fam, it’s Susan from Canada, God’s Yellow Flower calling. I want to pray for Francise, he’s having such a hard time with this ulcer in her leg and arthritis. So, Lord God, we just lift up Francise to You and her wonderful son. We ask that You bless them both, Lord God, with a love that surpasses all understanding. The peace that surpasses all understanding. Knowing that You are the giver of life, You are the giver of love and peace. And Lord God, we pray for healing over Francise. That this ulcer would be healed, and that this arthritis would just be taken away from her. We pray, dear Heavenly Father, that she will leap unto the bed and dance for joy, giving praise to Your holy name. We pray this all in the blessed and most wonderful name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Salutations. Oh Father God, You see the emotions, You see the questions, You see the fear. This man, he called in at two hours and 21 minutes and he’s asking us to lift up his wife, who just got this diagnosis of cancer, and they’ve missed it for so long. God, I’ve been there. And I lift them up to You, Lord. And I ask that You would call the Downs, that You would pour Your oil upon them Father. Bless them with Your joy, Your discernment Father. Calm their fears, Lord. Hold them in Your hands and let them know that it’s not too far gone. They told me the same thing. I was diagnosed stage 4 and I’m still here over 12 years later. So, Lord, I’m asking if You would do the same kind of miracle for her that You did for me. In Jesus name I pray, and I thank You because I know You can do it. In Jesus name. Amen.

[justnerdy15]

What's the Hold Up Here?

fandom: 9-1-1

prompt: @ailesswhumptober hostages

wc: 6049

warnings: violence, sexual harassment, swearing, gender-based slurs

summary: Buck just needed a new debit card. He gets ends up in the middle of a bank robbery instead.

read on AO3 here!

In Buck’s defense, it was supposed to just be a quick errand to the bank to replace his debit card before his shift at the 118. Had he been putting it off for several weeks? Sure, but he had bigger things to worry about than that flimsy piece of plastic. Could he just have had the bank send the replacement to him in the mail? Yes, but that would have taken even longer than his original procrastination.

Did he know that the bank would be taken hostage by a rag-tag group of robbers while he was there? Of course not.

Buck groans softly, scrubbing a hand across his face, and watches from his spot on the floor as one of the robbers paces anxiously back and forth in the center of the room, muttering into a cellphone. The other two are behind the counter cracking open the registers while shooting the breeze with each other.

He doesn’t know what’s worse: the fact that this is even happening or that it was done by the most unprofessional criminals he’s ever seen.

There’s a sniffle from the woman beside him and Buck looks over at her. It’s a young woman, probably still in college, who’s wiping tears away from her face, trying to be as quiet as possible.

Buck angels his body a little bit so he’s facing her a bit more and ducks his head down. “Hey,” he said softly, catching her gaze, “You doing alright?” It’s a dumb question, he knows, but it does manage to her to give a watery smile.

“Could be better,” she says weakly, rubbing at her nose. “But at least no one’s hurt.”

Buck makes a noise of agreement, glancing around the lobby where little clusters of people are scattered around, scared but unharmed. “True,” he replies agreeably, giving her a small smile. “Hopefully this will be over soon.”

Some time ago, the loud wails of sirens and screeching car tires had signaled to all of them that the police had finally shown up much to their relief — and the robbers’ displeasure. The robber in the middle the lobby has been on phone with them since and clearly it’s not going —

“Don’t tell me you can’t do it!” the robber yells suddenly, startling Buck and the others, gesturing wildly with a gun in his hand.

— well.

Buck wonders who’s on the other end of the phone. He almost hopes it’s Athena.

“What do you think he’s asking for?” the woman asks, nudging Buck with her elbow.

“I don’t know.” He looks over at her with a dry look. “Maybe they didn’t plan their great escape.”

That gets a chuckle out of her. “Yeah, they don’t seem like the Dillinger type.”

“Who’s that?”

“Big time criminal during the Great Depression. Robbed like 20 banks and police stations.”

Buck looks back at their captors. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Hey!” one of them at the counter yells. “Why are you two talking?”

Her eyes widen, face paling, and Buck curses silently. Everyone needs to stay calm.

He holds his hands up in apology. “I’m sorry,” he says, dragging their attention to him. “It was my fault.”

The man snorts. “Oh, I bet it was. Keep your fucking mouth shut or I’ll come over there and do it for you.”

Buck feels the subtle flinch from his neighbor and bites his tongue, holding back a retort. Instead, he nods, hating every second of it, before looking down at the ground.

Without looking up, he taps his shoulder against the woman’s and hopes it provides some reassurance, an affirmation that she isn’t alone.

He tries to think of other things to distract him the absolute cluster he’s found himself in. Like the dinner he had with Maddie and Chim last night, getting to play with Jee-Yun in her newly redecorated bedroom. Or the plans he has with Eddie this weekend, taking Chris to one of the new exhibits at Natural History Museum.

God, he’s probably late to his shift.

Speak of the devil. His phone begins to vibrate in his back pocket, the vibrations creating a low sounds as it moves against the tile floor. Goddammit. Buck slips a hand behind to take the phone, hoping that he doesn’t draw attention, and slips it out of his pocket. He glances at the screen where a bold Eddie flashes up at him and the time.

Christ, it’s nearly been two hours since this whole shitshow began. No wonder their captors are getting a little antsy.

His thumb hesitates over the screen before he sends the call to voicemail. He wonders if Eddie knows, if any of them do.

He can’t risk it going off again so he turns his phone off, slipping it back into his pocket.

Then Buck winces, shifting his weight around, trying to ease the ache in his leg. He’s been sitting way too long like this.

He turns his gaze back to the man in the middle, now standing still, balaclava shoved up over his mouth.

“Listen, I’m the one who’s holding all the fucking cards, okay?” the man says, aggressively jabbing the gun towards the floor. “Either you get me what I fucking tell you to or I start shooting. You really want their blood on your hands?” Startled, panicked gasps and whispers erupts, someone sobbing at the other end of the lobby, some kind of device going off, and Buck looks next to him where frightened green eyes greet him. Fuck. This really isn’t good.

The man jerks the phone away from his ear. “Shut up,” he barks out, wiping around. He points to his accomplices. “Hey assholes, come over and fucking help me.”

One holds up a large filled bag. “What do you think we’re fucking doing? You think this shits gonna pack itself?”

The man growls, surely glaring even if Buck can’t see it. “Just one of you come here then.”

Great. They’re dysfunctional criminals.

The one from earlier, who yelled at Buck and the woman, jumps the counter, strolling forward with casual disinterest. “Relax, JC,” he says, pulling his own gun from his waistband. “Keep it cool and give me the phone.”

The man, JC apparently, grumbles, but smacks the cellphone into his waiting palm.

“Good, now go shut them up.” He raises the phone up to his face. “Hello,” he says breezily, like he’s not holding up a fucking bank, “Who am I talking too?”

The man hums. “Well, Sergeant Grant —”

Buck can’t help it. His head jerks up at the name, eyes widening, and unfortunately meets the man’s eyes, who looks at Buck with growing interest.

Shit.

“I think I have someone of interest to you,” he’s walking towards Buck, who straightens up, “Maybe this will encourage the LAPD to find a solution that satisfies us all.”

The woman next to him grabs his wrist, gripping it with surprising strength, and he can feel the way she trembles. He pats her hand, whispering quietly, “It’s going to be okay,” before prying her hand off, just in time for the man to stand in front of him.

“Get up,” he says, motioning with the gun. He kicks at Buck’s bad leg. “Come on, pretty boy. Up.”

Buck’s jaw clenches, but he does as he’s told, standing with a hiss of pain as his leg throbs painfully in response to his blood moving again.

The man grabs his arm and drags him to the center of the lobby, jerking him around until Buck is standing in front of him. Buck looks out the wall of windows, seeing the numerous police cars and cops lining the street, and spots a familiar face in the crowd, holding a phone up to her ear.

Letting go of his arm, the man then takes his hand and jerks it up. “Here,” he says pleasantly, “You talk to them.” He places the phone in Buck’s hand before leaning in close, breath grazing Buck’s ear. “Try anything funny and I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Got it?” He places the gun’s muzzle at the small of Buck’s back, pressing the cold metal firmly into Buck’s shirt, while his other hand digs into Buck’s shoulder.

Buck swallows, mouth dry, and nods. “Got it.”

He brings the phone up to his ear. “Hi Athena,” he says, closing his eyes at the sharp breath that greets him in return.

“Buck,” Athena sighs, “Boy, what have you gotten yourself into?”

“Needed a new debit card.”

The man behind him huffs, impatient.

“So what’s going on?” Buck asks, eyes trained on her face despite the distance between them. Of course, he can’t really see her, but he would rather focus on her than the guy behind him.

“They’re wanting a car and a one way flight from LAX,” Athena replies in her typical no-nonsense attitude. It helps him calm down, anxiety easing in his stomach, like this was just another day on the job for them both and not Buck being held hostage by some incompetent robbers.

“And what’s the problem?”

“They’re refusing to let the hostages go. Once the hostages have been turned over, we can talk transport. Until then, the LAPD isn’t going to even bother humoring their demands.” Athena sounds exasperated, whether with the LAPD or the idiots behind him, he doesn’t know. “Is anyone hurt?”

Buck shakes his head. “No, no injuries.” A miracle in itself if he’s being honest.

“Including yourself?”

“I’m fine, Athena.”

The grip on his shoulder tightens and the man leans in again. “Enough chit chat. Figure out a plan, pretty boy.”

With a slight turn of his head, Buck looks at him through the corner of his eye and replies. “Like what? They already told you —”

The man jerks him back, pressing the gun harder into his back. “Figure. It. Out.”

“Buck?” Athena says, concern slipping in.

He turns his attention back to the window. “It’s okay, Athena.” He huffs, racking his brain over, trying to think of something that makes the situation they’re in just a little bit better.

“Okay,” he says slowly, hoping he’s not about to make a mistake. “What if they send out half of the hostages right now in return for the car. When that’s done, we talk about releasing the other half and the plane ride?”

It’s not ideal, he knows that, but there’s a noticeable uptick in the captors’ irritation and anxiousness, and they’ve got to get a handle on this before it spirals out of control.

“Let me check in with the IC,” Athena says after a moment. “Stay on the phone.”

A chuckle behind him. “See,” the man says, squeezing his shoulder again, “I knew you could do it.”

If there wasn’t a gun pressed to his back and about twenty people trapped in here with him, he’d turn around and punch the smug asshole. But there is a gun and other hostages and quite frankly he doesn’t feel like dying today. So he’ll suck it up.

“Buck,” Athena’s voice comes back, “IC is saying yes. What about on your end?”

He looks over his shoulder. “They’re agreeing to a half release. Does that work for you?”

“That’s such bullshit, Riley,” JC spits out, somewhere behind Buck. “Tell them to —”

“JC, shut the fuck up,” the man — Riley says, not looking away from Buck. “Yeah, it does. We’ll let twelve go.” He grins, or something close to a grin, the way it distorts his mask. “Hell, I’ll even let you choose.”

Buck returns to window, grimacing, hating the idea. He turns his attention back to Athena. “They said yes. They’ll release twelve.”

“Okay, that’s good. Tell the hostages to come out single file, hands up. We’ll get them sorted out once they’re away from scene.”

Buck nods and then remembers she can’t actually see him. “Will do.”

Riley plucks the phone out of his hand. “Well Sergeant,” he says cheerfully, “It looks like we’re finally getting somewhere. But we need to go now, so I’ll call you back.”

Buck can barely hear the beginning of Athena’s protest before Riley ends the call, putting the phone in his pocket. He also takes away the gun, but wraps his arm around Buck’s shoulders and neck, pressing him close and a little too tight.

“Now, pretty boy,” he says, giving Buck a little shake, “Why don’t you pick out who you’re going to save?”

He picks the easiest route. “Let the left side of the room go.”

Please, he thinks, please don’t make me do this.

But Riley laughs, making his heart drop to his stomach, and shakes Buck again. “Come on, now. That’s no fun.” He turns Buck around to face the others. “I want you to pick who gets to leave first. Twelve. We’ll count them.”

Terrified faces stare back at him. Kids, adults, young, old, some teary-eyed, others stoic.

There’s a knot in his throat and when Buck opens his mouth, nothing comes out.

“You’re wasting time, pretty boy. Maybe I should call the sergeant back and tell her you changed your mind.”

The threat startles Buck back into action and, hating himself, he starts to number them off. Who needs to get out first?

“You,” he says, pointing at woman holding her baby. “Line up at the door, keep one hand up.” He’ll have to tell Athena. He lets out a shaky breath. “One.”

The other man tsks. “Two,” he corrects Buck, tapping his hip with his gun. “Unless you want her to leave the baby behind.”

What a fucking psycho, he thinks wildly, his hands trembling. He nods anyways. “Two.”

The woman gets to her feet on shaky legs, holding onto the bundled baby with one secure arm, and makes her way to the door.

“Stop,” JC barks out when she’s about six steps away. Buck can hear her sob. “That’s far enough.”

Buck forces his attention back to the hostages, looking them over. “Three,” he points to a kid, some scrawny teenager, whose nails were biting into their palms hard enough to bleed. They scramble off the floor, breathing out a quiet "Thank you” as they pass Buck.

Then to an elderly couple, one of them in a wheelchair, oxygen tank strapped to the back. “Four and five,” he says. The one on the floor struggles to get up.

Riley groans. “Tim, help grandpa up,” he orders. The guy at the counter swears, but comes over, tugging the man up too hard, getting him to his feet.

The older man wraps trembling hands around the handles of the wheelchair, his partner reaching up to lay his hand on one his, and begins to push, slowly making their way to the door. Watery blue eyes say their thanks as they pass.

There’s one more kid, a toddler with their dad, and Buck gets them next. “Six and seven.”

The father rises to his feet, picking his child up, and goes.

Okay.

Fuck.

He turns a little bit to the right. “Eight,” he says, pointing to the woman with green eyes. She stumbles to her feet and gives him a grateful smile that turns his stomach.

Four more.

Buck looks at who’s left, trying to figure out who needs to get out now, with sixteen hopeful faces looking back at him.

Nine and ten is another couple. The man keeps his partner behind him, a hand on her hip while her manicured nails bite into his shoulders, as they walk around Buck and Riley. “It’s okay,” the man says, barely loud enough for Buck to hear, “Honey, we’re okay.”

Two left.

“You,” Buck says, looking at two of the register clerks. “Eleven and twelve.” They start to stand when —

“No,” Riley laughs, “You two sit back down.”

“You said I could pick,” Buck says in disbelief as they settle back on the floor, tears streaming down one of their faces. What the hell?

“Not them. We might need ‘em.”

Buck wants to curse but refrains, swallowing tightly.

“Then you two.” He points to two people, one in a set of scrubs, the other in plain clothes. They scramble to get up and walk to the door.

“Good job,” Riley says mockingly and turns Buck around to the front again. He hears Riley rummage for something.

“Here.” Riley shoves the phone into Buck’s hand.

It’s already ringing when Buck brings it up to his ear once more.

“Buck?” It’s Athena.

“We have the first half ready to go. You ready?”

There’s some muttering on the other side. “Yes, we’re good on our end. Remember, single file, hands up.”

Buck lowers the phone. “Single file,” he says, raising his voice just enough to be heard, “Hands up.” He presses the phone back against his ear. “First woman has a baby in her arms. An older gentlemen is pushing a wheelchair.”

“Understood. Send them out.”

“Go,” Buck calls out.

The door creaks open and they dutifully walk out, one exiting after another, until the door falls closed again.

Riley takes the phone again. “Well, Sergeant Grant, we held up our end of the deal. Where’s the car?”

Buck can’t hear what she says, something about it being here, just around the corner.

“You couldn’t get something better than that?” Riley asks, affronted.

“Look, they’ve done what you asked,” Buck interjects, his voice laced with frustration. What a clown. “You’ve got the car, now work on the plane.”

Riley leans in close. “Don’t get smart,” he threatens, tapping the gun against Buck’s side. Then he scoffs. “No, no, it’s fine,” he says irritated, realizing he’s already lost that particular bargain.

A couple seconds of silence. “We want a small plane with minimal crew out of LAX. We’ll tell them where once we’re on the fucking plane. Why the fuck would I tell you where?”

Buck bristles at the way Riley talks to Athena, hands fisting at his sides. Him being an ass isn’t going to make any of this any easier.

The hand in his shirt tightens and Riley growls before jamming the phone against the side of Buck’s face. “Talk to her.”

“Athena,” Buck says dryly, reaching up to take the phone himself thank you very much and holds it to his ear.

She makes a sound of frustration. “LAX needs info before confirmation. They’re not about to strand a crew because these fools don’t want to give a location.”

Buck breathes in, watching the police, who are watching them. He spots two officers walking off scene.

“Focus, Buck,” Athena tells him.

He sighs. “How specific does the information need to be?” he asks, ignoring the way Riley tugs on his shoulder. There’s some chatter on the other end.

“Forty miles to the nearest hub,” Athena replies. “They need to give the crew a safe place to land if they don’t make it to an airport.”

“Okay.”

Buck lowers the phone, muting it, before dropping his hand to his hip.

“Where do you want to go, man?” he asks, tired.

“The fuck you asking for?” JC asks, stomping towards Buck.

Buck rolls his eyes. “I wasn’t talking to you.” He looks over his shoulder. “Where do you want to go?”

Riley tilts his head, staring back through the black mask. “Why are they asking?”

“They need to make sure the plane is prepped for the flight. And where to land.” Fingers dig into his shoulder. “They don’t need an airport, if that’s what you want, but they gotta make sure there is an actual place for them to land.”

Riley’s silent for a moment.

“JPA,” he says finally. “Around there.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Tim says from behind, surprised. “I thought we were staying in the States?”

“Dipshit, you think they aren’t going to find us if we stay in the US?” JC scoffs, stepping a little too close to one of the hostages. “You think they won’t hunt us down after this?” He reaches for one of the register clerks, who tries to cower away.

“JC,” Riley snaps. “Back up.”

“I fucking know that, asshole, but I didn’t agree to fucking South America!”

“Christ don’t tell me you’re going to pussy out now —”

“Both of you shut the fuck up!” Riley barks out, jerking Buck a step back as he turns. “I’m fucking dealing with it. Just go with the goddamn plan.”

He looks back at Buck. “Fucking tell them JPA.”

Buck brings the phone back up to his ear, unmuting the call. "Athena, they're requesting to go to JPA," Buck relays the information, his voice steady.

He can hear Athena talking to someone. “Brazil?” she asks in disbelief. “Are they serious?”

Buck glances at Riley, who nods impatiently. "Yeah, they're serious," Buck confirms. "They want to go to JPA. Make sure the crew knows and have them prepared."

"Understood," Athena replies, her voice tinged with concern. "I'll relay the information and coordinate with the necessary authorities. Stay on the line, Buck."

Minutes pass, static broken by intermittent chatter. Buck looks outside. He sees a group of cops in black-out gear, moving away from the scene. He frowns.

Riley huffs impatiently behind him. “What’s taking them so long?”

“You’re taking this international,” Buck reminds him. “That’s going to take a bit.” He doesn’t even want to think about the logistics of this mess.

He grumbles, displeased, but doesn’t say anything else.

“Buck.” Athena’s voice comes through the phone. That was quick. “IC wants the other half of the hostages before we give confirmation to the tower.”

Fuck.

Buck nods. “I’ll talk with them.”

He doesn’t bother turning this time. “They want the remaining hostages.”

“We’ll give them eight.”

His teeth clench. “You said half.”

He gets jerked back and sucks in a sharp breath when cold metal is pressed to his temple. “I’m fucking saying eight now.” Riley presses down harder. “You’ve been real helpful, pretty boy, but don’t forget who’s in charge here.” Movement outside. Athena swearing.

Breathing out shakily, highly aware of the fucking gun pressed to his head, Buck tells Athena, “They’ll send out eight.”

“And the others?” The and you? is implied.

“I don’t know.”

Athena breathes out slowly. “Okay. Send them.”

“They’re saying yes,” Buck says to Riley, bringing the phone down. “Same as before.”

Riley taps the gun against Buck’s temple. He holds back a flinch. “See how easy it is when you just do as you’re told?”

Buck gets turned around again and his stomach tightens uncomfortably. God, he can’t do this again.

“As a reward,” Riley says into his ear, “I’ll pick this time.”

A sharp breath of relief and then a spike of guilt. He feels like a coward, how grateful he is not to pick.

“The four who work here,” Riley starts, motioning to a small group all wearing the same uniform, “You’re staying. The rest of you? Get up and line up at the door.”

They’re hesitating, looking at each other and Riley, not believing him. Buck doesn’t blame them. Riley makes an irritated noise. “Are you not fucking listening? Get up!”

The other hostages get up, slow, stiff and apparently still not fast enough, because JC and Tim start yanking them to their feet and shoving them towards the door.

Buck wants to tell them to take it easy, but he doesn’t want to draw attention any one person. God forbid, eight turns into seven.

They all stumble their way to the door. Buck tells them to hold their hands up and walk out slowly, that the police would help them as soon as they can.

When they’re gone, Riley points to the workers again. “Now you all are gonna get up and open the security safes.”

One of them, an older man, shakes his head. “There’s nothing in them that you would want. You’re wasting your time.”

Tim scoffs and kicks at him. “Shut up, we know there’s more cash in there.”

The old man shakes his head again. “I’m telling you there isn’t. It’s just some documents and old files. We don’t keep any cash except for what’s in the registers.”

“We’ll see,” Riley says. “And you better hope you’re not lying.” He jostles Buck. “I’ll stay here with him. Tim, JC get them up and check the safes.”

The four of them are hauled up and dragged around the corner, disappearing from view.

There’s noise from the phone.

“Buck? Buck!” Athena’s voice filters in.

He raises the phone. “I’m here.”

“Where are they taking the hostages?”

“They’re opening the security safes. They’ll bring them back in a moment. Any update from the tower?”

“We got clearance.”

Buck relays the information to Riley before the sound of yelling reaches them. Buck looks over to the hallway they went down and sucks in a sharp breath at sound of something slamming shut.

“You stupid bitch!” JC yells as he drags one of the workers behind him. “Where’s the fucking money?” He pushes her into the lobby, causing her to fall. Buck instinctively takes a step forward, but Riley clamps his hand down on his shoulder, stopping him. The woman whimpers, picking herself up as Tim and the other three hostages return behind them.

“They told you there wasn’t any money in the safes,” Buck snaps at JC, scowling. “Get a fucking grip.”

JC whips towards him, lips twisted into a snarl, and storms forward. “Who the fuck are you talking to? Huh?” He points his own gun at Buck. “Huh? You not going to say anything now?”

“Buck? What’s going on?”

“JC, chill out,” Riley bites out, pulling Buck to the side. “We’re almost fucking done here. Don’t screw it up. Tim, was there anything?”

“Nah, bunch of junk like the geezer said.”

Riley groans, disappointed, and takes the phone, putting it on speaker. “Relax, Sergeant. Everything fine’s over here. In fact, we’re about to let the last four hostages go.”

Buck’s eyes widen. There’s five of them. Oh fuck.

“And what about Buck?” Athena’s on the same page as him.

“Buck?” Riley replies. He hums and brings Buck closer to him. “Buck, huh? Cute name.” He turns his attention back to the phone. “Well, Buck’s going to stay with us for a little bit longer.”

“For what?” Athena demands. “You have the car and plane. What else do you want?”

“Maybe I just want the pleasure of his company, Sergeant. He’s got a nice face.”

Eyes falling shut, Buck tries to calm himself down. It’s going to be fine. He’s going to be fine. He’s got to get the others out.

“No." The first denial of the negotiation. “Absolutely not.”

“I could always just keep ‘em all, Sergeant. If that’s what you want.”

Buck opens his eyes. “Athena, it’s alright,” he says, loud enough for her to hear.

Riley laughs. “Listen to your boy, Sergeant. He’s cool with it!”

Buck can imagine her face, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed.

“Fine,” she says shortly. “Send out the four you still have.”

Buck starts at the feel of lips brushing against his ear and he tries to recoil, stopped once again by the arm now across his shoulders. “Well, aren’t you just a hero?” He pulls away, much to Buck’s relief. “We’ll send em out. Thanks for your cooperation, Sergeant,” Riley says, smug and satisfied.

While the four workers make their way to the door, Buck makes eye contact with the older man from earlier, who’s looking at him with concerned eyes. His steps slow, like he’s going to stop, and Buck subtlety shakes his head.

Keep going, he thinks desperately. Get out.

He hopes it shows in his eyes.

The older man purses his lips, but sighs, and keeps walking on. Relief sinks in as they leave.

Now it’s just him and the robbers. Great.

“Stay on the phone, pretty boy,” Riley tells him, placing the phone back in his hand. “JC, Tim get our shit and get ready to leave.” His hand finally drags away from Buck’s shoulders, dropping to the back of his shirt where he fists his hand into Buck’s shirt.

Buck takes the phone off speaker and brings it back to his ear.

“Athena,” Buck says, listening to her steady breaths.

“Buckaroo. How are you doing?”

He laughs, breathless and small. “Could be better.” Riley’s talking to his two idiots, taking a step or two away from Buck. His fingers loosen in Buck’s shirt.

Buck can’t see any of the hostages anymore and catches someone moving just at the outside corner of the building.

“It’ll be over soon,” Athena assures him. “Just got to do as I say, okay?”

“Okay.”

Moments pass.

“Buck.”

“Yeah?”

“When I say go, dive to the floor. Do you understand?”

Buck can feel the tremors in his hand. “Yeah.”

The seconds stretch, feeling like an eternity, and Buck only looks at Athena.

Fingers drop away from his shirt.

“Go!” Athena orders and Buck throws himself to the floor, phone bouncing out of his hands, as two of the back doors busts open with an ear-splitting shriek.

“Get down on the ground!” An officer yells as they storm in.

“What the fuck!” One of idiots shouts, there’s a thud, the pop of a gun, and chaos erupts.

Buck inches his way towards the front, keeping flat to the ground, shots ringing out, glass breaking, when there’s a crack and a heavy weight falls on his legs. He cries out, startled at the sharp pain that runs up his legs, and he freezes, covering his head with his hands.

Buck's heart pounds in his chest as he tries to make sense of the chaos unfolding around him. The sound of gunfire fills the air, and he can hear the shouts of the officers as they engage in a fierce exchange with the robbers.

He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to go home. Buck squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore what’s happening around him.

Minutes feel like hours as the gunfire gradually subsides.

Buck refuses to open his eyes, strangely numb, and tries to breath. He’s okay. He’s okay. There’s loud steps, crunching glass, radios and orders going off, but Buck only focuses on the cool tile against his forehead, the uncomfortable scrunch of his nose against the floor. He doesn’t want to look up and see Riley above him, doesn’t want to feel the rough touch of his hands, or see what’s pining his legs.

It feels familiar. This panic.

“Buck? Buck!” someone calls out, but it isn’t Athena. He shakes his head. It isn’t Athena.

Hurried steps approach him.

“Jesus,” someone else says lowly, “Get him the hell off. He’s gone.”

A denial crawls up his throat. He’s here. He’s alive. But the words stay in his throat, choked and trapped.

More steps. Something grazes his pant leg. The pressures eases off his legs just so, strained grunts reaching his ears, before it’s removed completely. There’s a heavy thump behind him.

“Buck?” A hand in his hair, trying to unclench his fingers. “Buckaroo, can you hear me?”

Buck breathes out shakily, wanting to cooperate, but only a whine escapes. Why can’t he move?

“Okay, Buck, it’s alright,” the voice says comfortingly. “We’re going to help you turn over okay? Then we’re going to get you out of here.”

Hands at his shoulder, his hips, and Buck lets go of his hair to plant his hands on the ground.

“Okay, honey, on three. One, two, three!”

Buck helps, pushing himself just high enough to roll over, resting back on the ground face up.

“Buck, buddy, I need you to open your eyes for me. Can you do that?”

His jaw flexes. He cracks his eyes open, wincing at light, and forces his eyes fully open.

Oh.

“Hey, Buck, there you are,” Chimney says, above him, red-eyed but relived. “You gave us quite the scare, man.”

“Yeah, I don’t think Athena or Bobby are going to let you out of their sights after this,” Hen adds, wiping gently at his face.

What?

“What are you doing here?” Buck breathes out, confused. “We don’t cover this area.”

Hen laughs, scrubbing a tear away from her cheek, and gives a weak smile. “You thought Athena wasn’t going to tell us you were here?”

“Did you think Eddie was going to let us stay away?” Chim asks dryly before shining a light in his eyes. “He would’ve just stolen an ambulance and came anyways.”

Eddie.

Buck looks around. Where is he? ”Booby made him stay outside,” Hen answers his unasked question. “He’s waiting for you.”

“Can we go?” Buck asks, clearing his throat.

“Do you think you can stand?” Chim replies, turning off the penlight. “We have a stretcher if you need it.”

No. He wants to walk out of here.

He shakes his head. “Just help me up.”

“Okay.” They both hesitate and then Hen says, “Just — Just don’t look at the ground, okay? Eyes forward.”

He frowns at her before he realizes that he’s probably the only one left alive.

His stomach revolts at the idea, but he nods anyways.

Buck takes a deep breath, mustering the strength to push himself up from the ground. With the help of Chimney and Hen, he manages to stand, his legs wobbly beneath him. He forces his gaze forward, avoiding the gruesome scene around him. He doesn’t need to see that.

They go through the front door — not really a door anymore — and his teammates walk him through, quietly speaking with him as he tries to reorient himself.

They’re just getting through the police barrier when Buck sees him.

“Eddie,” he breathes out, eyes burning. “Eddie!”

He jerks around from his place at the ambulance and Buck can see the way his mouth falls open, how tension slips away from his shoulders, the way his lips say his name.

Then he’s running.

“Buck!”

And then he’s there.

Eddie’s arms slip around him, pulling Buck close, and desperate words fill his ears.

“Oh thank god, oh thank god, Buck,” Eddie breathes out, hand cradling the back of Buck’s head. “Jesus Christ, I was so worried. When Athena called, I — I.” He cuts himself off. Eddie presses a warm kiss to his temple. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Eddie pulls away just a bit, just far enough to get a good look at Buck’s face. “You are okay, right?” he asks, pulling his hand around to cup Buck’s jaw, warm brown eyes staring into his own. “Physically, at least?”

Buck’s afraid to open his mouth. That tears will come and they won’t stop as soon as he tries to talk. He just nods and then buries his face in the crook of Eddie’s neck, breathing in his familiar aftershave.

Strong hands rub comforting circles into his back.

“Eddie,” Chim says, “We should get him to the ambulance and check him out.”

He feels Eddie nod. “Yeah.” His head ducks down. “C’mon, Buck. Let’s go.”

Eddie shifts away from him, moving to his side, and has one arm wrapped around his waist.

When they reach the ambulance, Bobby and Athena are waiting for them.

Offering a small smile, Athena reaches up to his face with one hand, thumb stroking across his cheekbone. “You did so well, Buck. Good job, baby.” Her smile dims. “But I’m sorry that you got stuck in the middle of it at the end.”

Buck shakes his head. “Not your fault,” he says quietly. “Did what you could.”

“We could say the same about you, kid,” Bobby says, encouraging Eddie and Buck to take a seat. He puts his hand on Buck’s shoulder, gentle and comforting. “Now lets get you looked over, huh?”

Eddie holds his hand, rubbing small circles with his thumb and Buck lets his exhaustion take over, slumping against Eddie with a sigh. “I want to go home.”

A brief laugh tickles his hair. “Sounds like a plan.”

Buck lets his eyes fall shut, letting Hen lift his arm to slip a blood pressure cuff on him, when the thought hits him. “God,” he mutters, disbelief coursing through him, “I didn’t even get my new card.”

There’s scattered laughter and a small grin comes to his face as a chuckle escapes, the absurdity of the past several hours sinking in.

“Honestly,” Eddie says, squeezing his hand, “I think you should just switch over to my bank.”

[roosterforme]

Old Habits Die Hard Part 16 | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: After you visit Chicago, you understand just how hectic your life is about to become. And Bradley finally gets a very important piece of mail. There are things you want to say to him, but you don't know how. 

Warnings: Angst, swears, smut and fluff

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (fuckboy college student Bradley)

Check out my masterlist

Bradley helped you pack your bag and sat with you while you waited for your ride.

"I wish I could come with you. But I guess I'll have to wait to see Chicago when I visit you in the fall," he whispered, kissing your neck and holding you.

You were going to check out your new school for a long weekend since you'd be moving to Illinois next month. You were kind of terrified to go alone, but you needed to meet your advisor and look at your course of study. If you had the money, you'd take Bradley with you, but it really wasn't an option. 

"I'll scope out the city and see what looks fun," you told him, running your fingers through his soft hair. 

"Don't do the fun stuff without me though," he murmured. "Promise me, Sugar. Promise me you won't visit that big, silver bean. It looks dumb as hell, but I really want to see it."

You laughed against him and nodded your head in the crook of his neck. "I promise."

"And no deep dish pizza either."

You gasped and pulled away from him. "Now that's where I draw the line, Beer Boy."

Bradley laughed and pushed your hair away from your face. "I'll miss you." His face was so earnest, you had no doubt that he would. 

"I'll call you as soon as I land. Behave without me this weekend."

"I will," he whispered against your lips. "I'll be thinking about you the whole time." You dipped your tongue into his mouth and eased yourself further onto his lap, and just when you started to get cozy, your phone alerted you that your ride had arrived.

He walked you down to the street and kissed you one last time before you got in the car to leave. The urge to make some big proclamation about your feelings was filling you up inside, but you had to tamp it back down. Your feelings were honestly scaring you a bit since Tyson's birthday party. Nothing was making much sense to you now, and you needed to keep in mind that you wouldn't be seeing Bradley on a daily basis starting next month. The idea of it felt like too much weight to carry around with you as he stroked your neck with his fingers and told you he'd miss you so much.

You watched the Virginia countryside in the morning light, and when you landed in Chicago, the juxtaposition of continuous urban sprawl was alarming. You figured you would get used to it in time, but the sheer volume of traffic and city noise started to give you a headache almost immediately. 

You managed to get a taxi to your hotel, and you quickly changed to meet with your advisor. Sometimes you wished you had a closer relationship with your parents so you had someone to rely on. It made you want to put all of your trust in Bradley, and you wanted to be the person he could trust with anything. But you'd only known each other for a few months. 

But you texted him anyway. You snapped a picture as you rode past 'the bean' and promised him you weren't going without him. You texted him photos of the school campus as you walked along, searching for your advisor's office. 

When you found her spacious workspace, she jumped up and introduced herself to you. "I can't tell you how happy we are to have you joining us for the fall semester. Have a seat. And please call me Carmen."

"Thanks, Carmen. I just got lost walking through the campus, but it looks amazing here."

She just smiled at you and promised to take you on a tour tomorrow morning. "Now, I want to give you a brief overview of what will be expected, and then we can select your first semester classes later this weekend. However, I must say, I am so impressed with your undergraduate studies. I've spoken extensively about you with your advisor from UVA, and he assures me that we couldn't have picked a finer PhD candidate to add to our program. So welcome, once again."

You weren't used to hearing such high praise about yourself, and you felt a little uncomfortable in the leather seat. What if they had all actually made a huge mistake? What if you couldn't hack it? You'd be sleeping in the park under the bean, calling Bradley to come out to Chicago and rescue you. 

"Wow," you managed to say with a soft laugh. "I guess the pressure is on then."

When Carmen nodded with a very serious look on her face, all pretense of teasing on your part vanished. 

"It's going to be intense if you want to graduate in four years. And that's one of the things that will be required for you to keep your scholarship. You'll need to maintain a high GPA as well, so you'll be spending a lot of time in the labs and working closely with me."

You pressed your lips together. "It doesn't sound like I'll have much time for a personal life."

Carmen laughed and shrugged. "That's probably true. But when you finish your schooling in just an additional four years, you'll have your pick of careers. You told me in an email that you wanted to be a college professor someday? Well, after we're done with you, I can almost guarantee you'll be able to work anywhere you want to."

You let that sink in for a few minutes while Carmen told you more about the graduate dorms and your monetary compensation.

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

Bradley spent all day Friday in the study room, bored out of his mind and missing your body perched on his lap. He read his final novel for his English class, and he would have no problem finishing his final paper this weekend. His economics class was so easy, it was boring, and he'd already finished reading his political science textbook.

He'd started counting down the days until graduation. He was ready to move on, simply dying to hear back about flight training. Then he would be able to make some decisions, because at the moment, he was feeling so lost. He was happy for you though. You knew exactly what you wanted, and you were going to get it. He just hoped he would be that lucky this time. 

When his phone went off with texts from you, he scrolled through the photos you sent him, stopping on a selfie of you smiling in front of a fountain. He set it as his background. Then he texted you back.

Dev was sorting the mail when Bradley got back to the Beta house, and the rest of the guys were getting ready for the weekend parties. "Here," Dev told him, tossing a thick envelope to Bradley when he walked past.

"Thanks, man," Bradley replied, expecting it to be the annual information on his mom's life insurance policy. But when he turned it over in his hands and saw the US Navy emblem on the front, he nearly tripped on the stairs. He took the remaining steps two at a time and locked himself in his room. 

With shaky hands, Bradley tore into the envelope and sat down hard at his desk.

"Welcome to officer training and the Naval Aviation Academy," he read out loud to himself, and Bradley could see the tears clouding his vision before he could feel them. 

He set the letter down on his desk and cradled his face in his hands and just cried. This was the thing he had wanted for so long, and this time he wasn't going to let anyone take it away from him. 

Bradley wiped away his tears and let himself smile. His grades had improved so much, especially since he had a 4.0 so far for his senior year. In some sick, twisted way, he thought he had Chase to thank for this, because Bradley wasn't sure he would have been able to find the motivation to drink less and study more on his own. 

He wanted to text you right away. He also wanted to tell Hannah. But he would wait until you came back on Sunday night before he said anything. 

So he read through every bit of information twice and sent an email to the officer listed as his contact person for housing inquiries. As soon as he gave up his room here, he'd have absolutely nowhere to go otherwise. He also asked about guest accommodations, so he would have a good idea about what he should tell you for when you came to visit him.

His schedule looked absolutely wild. In his first year, he'd be in Rhode Island, Florida, Texas, and then California. And now he was hoping he'd have time to see you in Chicago.

So Bradley partied a bit all weekend, silently celebrating his acceptance letter. He avoided the hard liquor and the mob of girls asking him what happened to his girlfriend. You'd be back soon enough, and he couldn't wait to show you his letter.

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

Your campus tour and lunch with the head of the math department went smoothly. Then you picked out which dorm you'd be moving into, with the option of coming early in May to get a jumpstart on your classes. Then you sat down with Carmen again to select your schedule for the fall semester and see which textbooks you would need to acquire. 

You'd be learning about things you never even dreamed of at UVA. And you'd be working with some of the most intelligent and well studied people in the field. It was a lot for you to absorb.

When you flew back to Virginia on Sunday, you were so antsy, you couldn't sit still. When you landed you texted Bradley and told him you were going to get a ride directly to the Beta house, he said he'd be waiting for you.

And he was. You saw him sitting on the porch when your ride dropped you off, and he walked down to get your bag and pull you into a tight hug. 

"I missed you, Sugar." He scooped you into a hug as the car pulled away, and you let him hold you until you were sliding out of his arms. "How much did you love Chicago?"

You kissed him softly and then nodded. "It was kind of a shock to the system, but...yeah, I think it will be good."

You just inhaled his scent for a few moments while he rubbed your back and asked you for some details. Then it struck you; if you missed each other this much after just a few days apart, how were you going to date each other in two different time zones? You held onto him tighter and kissed the scars on his neck.

"Can I show you something? Up in my room?" he asked softly.

You huffed out a laugh. "I would certainly hope you'd wait until we got to your room for that, Beer Boy."

He rolled his eyes and picked up your bag. "That's not what I was talking about, and you know it. But...yeah, I can show you that, too."

You laughed as Bradley chased you up the stairs, and you opened his door, running your fingers along your phone number as you went inside.

"What do you want to show me?" you asked between kisses. Because now that you had him alone, you needed to touch all of him. His fingers dug into your hair, a little rough along your scalp as he pulled your body against his. 

"I want you to read something," he told you, guiding you backwards until you were sitting at his desk. He pointed to an envelope that looked like it had been opened very hastily, and he kissed your neck as you reached for it.

"Bradley," you gasped when you saw the return address. 

You spun around to face him, but he just nodded and said, "Go on, read it."

As quickly as you could manage, you pulled everything out of the envelope and started to read. You made it through two lines before you were out of your seat and climbing Bradley like he was a tree.

"Oh my god, Bradley! You did it!" You were kissing him all over his face while he held onto you. At first you thought he was crying, but then you realized your lips were met with your own salty tears. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks, Sugar," he whispered against your lips. "I got the letter on Friday, and I've been dying to tell you in person. And now you're the first one I told."

"You could have told me during one of our dozen phone calls, Bradley!"

He just shook his head and climbed on top of you on his bed. "It's not the same."

"What are we going to do when phone calls are all we have?" you asked him softly. But Bradley just shook his head.

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

He didn't want to think about that yet. He didn't want to think about any of it at all. 

"We'll figure it out," he promised. Your hair was spread out across his pillow, and you were looking up at him like you trusted him with everything. Graduation was so close now, and both of you knew where you were headed next. But none of that mattered, because you'd still have each other.

"I trust you, too, Sugar," he told you, even though you hadn't said anything. "You're so smart. You always know what to do. I trust you."

Your hands were in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer to you. "I knew you'd get in," you told him. "I never doubted you for a moment."

Bradley smiled as you kissed him. "You're the only one who feels that way about me."

"Lucky me," you whispered, wiping a stray tear from your cheek before you started to pull his shirt off. Nothing you did felt rushed, and even though you were pinned underneath him, Bradley knew you were the one in control.

He basked in the feel of your hands on his bare skin and your soft body beneath him. You had changed him so much; or rather, he had changed because of you. He had known he wanted to be better, but he really did it for you as much as himself. 

"Sugar." Your lips were on his shoulder, gliding across his skin, leaving a trail of not quite kisses as you reached for the front of his jeans.

He wished he could make you cum a million times tonight. He wanted to watch every inch of you as you got off on him, because soon he would have to go long stretches without you.

He stripped your clothing off as well, and you were already wet and moaning when he dipped his fingers down along your pussy. 

"Beer Boy!" you whined. "I need you."

He needed you more. Once he had rolled a condom into place, he rolled onto his back and guided you on top of him. He was hard and ready for you, but he watched the look on your face as you straddled his abs and let your forehead rest against his. 

"I need you." You whispered it this time as his fingers gently memorized the curve of your hips. Then you eased yourself down his body and guided him inside you with a soft hiss.

Eyes slightly out of focus, you moved above him, the bump of your thighs against his body just perfect. Bradley was mesmerized, just like he always was when he was with you like this. He let his fingertips trail up along your ribs and across your tattoo and you gasped for him.

"So perfect," he said, and you kissed him hard while you rode him. You tasted his lips and his teeth and moved with a rhythm that had him close to the edge.

He guided his fingers to the space between his body and yours where you could rub yourself against him. And then you were crying out into his mouth as your pussy squeezed his cock, and he came too. 

"So perfect," he repeated into your hair as you buried your face against his neck.

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

You changed into Bradley's tie dye shirt and sat on his floor sharing a pizza with him. 

"What's your dormitory going to be like?" he asked, folding a slice in half and taking a huge bite. 

"It's in this ancient building with insanely intricate architecture. I picked it because it looked fun, which I'm sure wasn't the best decision," you said with a laugh as he finished the piece of pizza. "But the best part? It's all mine. No roommate!"

Bradley grinned. "That'll be nice for when I come to visit."

You smiled. "It's a long walk to the bean, but if the weather's good, it's doable. And there's literally deep dish pizza on every street. Jealous yet? Are you still sure you want to go to Rhode Island?"

Bradley leaned across the pizza box and placed the softest, sweetest kiss on your cheek. Your eyes fluttered closed and you smiled. "If there was any option for me to be closer to Chicago, I would have taken it, Sugar. Promise."

You just looked at him, longing for him to understand how you felt inside, but you were way too afraid to say anything to him. You were in love with him, and it was eating away at you. There was no way you could tell him. Not when you were graduating and leaving so soon. It would have to wait. Maybe there would be a better time later. But not now.

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

One. More. Chapter. Left. A million thanks to @mak-32 for helping me the whole time with this fic. This one is for you!

PART 17 (the final chapter)

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

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[alm0ndla1t]

༘⋆ - YOU’VE GOT MAIL.

༘⋆ FT :: xavier thorpe x fem!addams!reader

༘⋆ TW :: mentions of the word ‘dead’ once, angsty content (??). some lines from the show are used

༘⋆ SYNOPSIS :: you did your all to hide xavier’s parting gift from your family. who would’ve thought the object of your desire would become known to them so soon…

⊹ ⋆ﾟ꒰ఎ ♡ ໒꒱ ⋆ﾟ⊹

I get caught red handed as the foreign, high-pitched sound of a message notification fills in the pause of a family discussion during dinner. I freeze, accepting my fate as the center of attention as we sit in dead silence. I always liked my solitude and the quiet, let alone words and things beginning with ‘dead’, but this one was making me nauseous, and not in a good way. This is where it ends. What a drag. The taste of my favorite dish or my father’s neverending stories of his years at Nevermore could not have made it up to the void I felt inside of me.

I slide my right hand into my pocket slowly and imperceptibly, disabling the sound of my phone. I see a familiar contact name as my phone screen lights up. Xavier. Of course it has to be him. Oh the place and time. Brushing off the brim of emotions that overwhelms me, I take the knife and the fork back in my shaky hands and force out a few words of explanation that my parents deserve.

“My apologies, perhaps bringing a phone to a family function wasn’t the best idea. Will note for next time” I end up murmuring indistinctly with a fake smile, looking down at my plate in humiliation. My eyes then anxiously wander across the room, examining my family’s faces. Everyone is eyeing me back in utter confusion. That, however, doesn’t stop my mom from engaging into the conversation furthermore, as she puts the napkin back on her lap.

“Y/n, darling,” she said softly. “Would you mind explaining how you happen to possess the soul-sucking electronic device of meaningless affirmation in the first place?”

The question was expected and I should’ve came prepared - no one in the house knew about Xavier’s thoughtful gift to me, except for Wednesday, of course. The alien and humbling feeling of excitement, mixed with admiration, has overfilled me to the point where confessing to my sister on the spot was inevitable. The timing was especially right, as next came the unsettling messages from our stalker that we’re yet to decode.

“It was a parting gift from my friend when I left Nevermore for this winter break” I clarify blandly, making eye contact with my mother. My train of thought, which was more a contemplation of my eventful life anyway, was cut off by a voice at the end of the table.

“Does the friend in question happen to be the handsome young man from that one time at the Nightshade library?” Uncle Fester asks frisky and somewhat mockingly, stuffing his mouth with salad.

I am in the beam of spotlight once again as the family is left on a cliffhanger. Hurts to admit, I overreacted. This is where it ends. My ego are pride are shattered in a million pieces. Who knew that the terrible loss of a subjective self-identity of a heartless, disastrous hellbound teenage girl would come so soon.

Hastily picking up the food on my plate with a fork, I utter the following in a grumbly indistinct manner, trying hard not to blush. “Yes, it was him.”

My parents meet each others gazes as they smile. They let me rest from the discussion for half a minute, murmuring sweet nothings to one another, and just when I begin to think my blaze of glory is finally over, my mom picks the conversation up again.

“So, mind telling us more about it? What is his name?”

“Xavier Thorpe.” Wednesday shot back before I was even able to respond. Perhaps the complete disgust of the ongoing discussion has pushed her to my rescue, hoping to end this nightmare as soon as possible.

My mother hums in approval and continues the love interest trivia, raising her brow. “He’s Vincent Thorpe’s son, isn’t he?”

“Wait, what?!” Pugsley says at the edge of his seat, excited from overhearing his favorite psychic’s name.

“Yes, yes he is. I am not sure as of where me and Xavier stand and I would appreciate it if you give me some time before we talk about this again” I let out a sigh as I finally say what’s been on my mind. “For now, excuse me, I have to go. Thank you for a wonderful meal.”

I get up and make my way upstairs, to find some peace and quiet in my bedroom. Laying on my back and staring at the ceiling in complete despair, I pull out the phone from my pocket after some time, checking the messages.

“Hey! I was thinking of asking you out for coffee, how does that sound?”

I am doomed. So doomed.

[sunnylands-world]

Bloody rose's

Pairing: step dad Mafia draco x reader

Summary: you happen to walk in on your step dad in a meeting with his enemy in the mafia while pregnant with his child and Draco has to keep them quiet…

Word count:629

Warning: mentions of gun's, talks of harming others, pregnant reader, I think that's it

Universe: step dad draco in the mafia

A/n: hope you like it 🤍😌@b-bewley1979

Your hand rested on the swell of your belly as you walked the house in your skin-tight black dress. The cotton was soft and elastic. It was your favorite dress to wear around the house, especially since you were carrying a child now. Draco and your baby. When you found out you were scared of the baby coming into this world with a father working in the field he was in, but he assured you he wouldn't let anything happen to either of you with a kiss on your forehead and your belly making you smile.

You were now at the kitchen island as the cook prepared lunch. You tried to help her, but she insisted that you needed your strength, which made you laugh. She was an older woman who had been employed by the Malfoys for years. She was awfully nice to you when you moved in.

"I'll get Draco," you said, standing up, and she nodded, continuing with lunch. You walked down the hallway before you encountered the stairs which were not fun to walk during pregnancy, holding the rail. You headed up towards his office, knocking, but there was no response, so you opened the door, seeing Draco leaned back in his chair. His snake tattoo is nearly visible under his button-up with the black cover-up on top and a few buttons open.

"Draco the-"

"I had no idea your stepdaughter was pregnant, congratulations!" a voice you recognize caught your attention. You didn't even see Harry enter but you knew not to speak to him because the reds were enemies on the green side of the Mafia.

"Yes, with my child, so if you don't mind, hurry this the fuck up so I can go down for lunch with her" Draco said, sitting forward. Harry fixed his glasses, a smirk coming at his face.

"Ah, so it's yours, " he beamed, but you could hear the sarcasm in his tone. He stood walking toward you, but the guard blocked you, lifting his weapon.

"Listen, Harry, I'd hate for something to happen to your friend Ron, who we caught last time trying to steal my things, so I suggested you keep your mouth shut or I'll cut your redhead friend up and mail him to you." Draco glared. Harry swallowed, adjusting his tie.

"Ho-how did you find out -"

"him breaking into my warehouse trying to steal my weapons like the broke piece of shit he is?" Draco stood coming to your side and putting his arm around you protectively.

"Well the asshole is clumsy as Fuck. He nearly killed himself by setting off a bomb in my building, which made me have to switch locations and I am very, very, very pissed about that. I was going to kill him but my beautiful princess here begged me not to. I think you should say thank you. " He moved from your side, taking a knife from his pocket and putting it to Harry's neck.

"Say it," he ordered. Harry was on edge and shaking.

"Thank you" Harry gave in, breathing, when Draco removed the knife.

"Be quiet and perhaps Granger will still have a husband," he murmured, and Harry nodded.

"Blaise get this pussy out of my sight" Draco scoffed and Blaise nodded, grabbing Harry by the collar and dragging him out.

"You know you didn't have to tell him the baby was yours," you say quietly looking down towards the carpet.

"But I'm not ashamed of you or my child," he said, putting one finger under your chin and slowly kissing your lips.

"Come on, I'm sure lunch is ready and I'm starving!" Draco exaggerated, walking you out. You shook your head, amused.

Draco never missed an opportunity to point out everyone who had the most power.

Request open 😺

Draco's lovers and requests

@alexxavicry, @sarahthehuffpuff, @supercoffeeblogs, @thatwattpadobsessed, @amyclare04, @kyracanwrite, @animeloverfreak310, @imafangirl22, @phildunphyisadilf , @jac1ndaa

[jenson-buttocks]

here are all twelve fics and one art that the wonderful participants of the winter break fic exchange in the carlando server made and posted.

i want to thank @boohowdy and @ruffboisebvettel for helping me with the planning and execution of this, for the cheerleading and for always being available for anyone who had any questions.

huge thanks to everyone who participated. thank you for putting your hearts and souls into your work; thank you for always being there for each other, and thank you for allowing us to share in your multitude of talents and creativity. you are all amazing people, and the carlando server is lucky to have you all.

*

watch this space, I'm open to falling from grace by tiredtiredsharl (@wolfiemcwolferson)

Summary: Lando is used to not seeing the people who live in the building. He comes and goes at odd hours and he uses the laundry room on his days off in the middle of the day and he checks his mail at 3:30 in the morning, so it’s more weird to him that he runs into Carlos twice in a five day period. He had started to think that he maybe made it up - got dosed at the bar or had a vivid dream about a man who was every single fantasy he’s ever had - tall and broad and hair and hands and lips.

Someone new moves into 4B and nothing is as it seems.

*

are you a future or a fairytale – am i naive or is this real by Missha (Mishtique) (@mish-tique)

Summary: It takes Lando a few semesters before he finally settles for studying photography at an international university. He hopes that this is the time when he finally settles and turns out to be happy studying – his parents just pray that he won’t change his mind again. They want him to settle down, find a nice person and become stable.

He just wants to be happy and live his own life without having people trying to micromanage it.

His sudden decision to also rent a room on campus comes with a surprise in the form of a Spanish, older, and-blessed-with-visuals-shaped-by-the-gods Alpha.

Carlos Sainz Jr is both the best and the worst thing that could happen to him during his first year in uni. Especially when the alpha keeps walking in on him wearing his, his – pretty clothes.

Or: 5 times Carlos catches Lando with something special + 1 time Lando wears something special for Carlos.

*

i love you forever, not maybe (you’re my one true love) by csjr (@boohowdy)

Summary: Lando is starting to suspect that off-camera, he’s quite the soft and gentle guy. What did he say once in an interview? He protects love? I’d love to be protected, Lando thinks.

or: the one where Lando is a student, Carlos is a F1 driver, and they go through a lot before they get their happy ending

*

Twin Flame by Phebes (@phebess)

Summary: 98% of people know exactly when they've met their soulmate. 2% do not.

or: the soulmate slow burn that nobody asked for

*

All The World Wondered 🔒 by biscuitydenim

Summary: Crimean War AU

*

Pull Everything to Pieces by kolyarostov (@landinrris)

Summary: Daniel’s here because he left classified documents on a train for someone to find (and find them they did). Max is here because he was in charge of tailing a suspect who was dealing illegal firearms and lost track of them (and thus the guns that were eventually found at the scenes of various crimes). Pierre’s here because he royally fucked up a diplomatic meeting with the French ambassador (Carlos thinks it was probably accidental nudes). Carlos is pretty sure Nico’s here because no one actually likes him. What he doesn’t truly know is why Lando’s here— but it can’t be good.

Or: Carlos gets sent to the bottom of the MI5 ladder after a training fiasco, and he'll do anything to make up for it.

*

That’s what happens in the movies, anyways 🔒 by Belzebubcat (@waddlingpenguin)

Summary: Lando isn’t sure what he expects. Maybe he thought Carlos would kiss him or- or say it back. That’s what happens in the movies, anyways. He leans in, eyes on Carlos and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Carlos doesn't respond.

There are no fireworks.

No string quartet playing in the background.

It’s nothing like what happens in the movies.

*

Those Lazy-Hazy-Crazy Days of Summer (With You) 🔒 by Toasted_Teacake (@the-toasted-teacake)

Summary: Carlos invites Lando to spend a few days at the Sainz villa under the guise of golf. Lando thinks he might finally be ready to fall.

*

it's the heart that really matters in the end 🔒 by LucysFault (@ruffboisebvettel)

Summary: So here Lando is, completing one step of the journey alongside his son, and a family somewhere out there are on the same path but just starting out. It’s like Candyland in his mind. They’re moving over the finish line while the other family have just had their piece placed on the board.

Or, Lando and Carlos meet in a hospital cafe, Daniel and Charles are their kids, and some springs are worth waiting for.

*

Impractical Magic by goldenboygate (@goldenboygate)

Summary: Charles and Lando were born into a family where falling in love means you end up dead. They take different paths in life, Charles wanting nothing more in life than to feel the exhilaration love brings, and Lando too afraid to ever put himself out there.

When Charles gets into trouble with one of his boyfriends, Lando must figure out how to help him while trying his best not to fall in love with the one man who can take his life apart, Detective Carlos Sainz.

*

Take My Breath Away by kabutocat (@foo1ishheart554)

Summary: Art. Lando and Carlos as Maverick and Iceman from the original Top Gun.

*

take my sweater with the loose threads by sadcornyfuck (@enjoythebutterflies)

Summary: Carlos is a patient man, waiting his entire life for a moment like this.

*

Te amo - I love you 🔒 by NamarieCarlando (@jolandax13)

Summary: Carlos and Lando are roommates. And in love. They just don’t know the other feels the same. But when Landos suppressants run out and he goes into heat, their feelings are finally revealed.

[noelxbe]

beclaudine

claudine doesn’t allow herself to be confined to restrictions, she’s always ready to embrace a little more extra—everything has to be glamorous and over the top, dramatic in a luxurious fashion. and to her, that means cosplaying a character’s summer event outfit. of course she’d go the extra mile, wearing waterproof make-up and making sure every detail of her summer costume is perfect. there’s just one thing missing, a specific piece of jewelry. a bracelet, that’s supposed to go on her right hand. luckily, she commissioned the right man for the job: noel. her request had come a little late, although she made sure not to make noel rush too much—he’s a trainee after all and she knows they have crazy schedules—so she was totally fine with noel handing the accessory over during the event itself. which, is today. they agreed to met up at one of the snack booths, which is where she’s heading off to right now. blinking, she finally spots the man. she smiles, tapping the other on the shoulder. “hey! are you getting something? don’t worry, you can just hand me the bracelet after you eat. no rush!” she decides to scan the menu herself, just in case her stomach starts to fight with her and wants to be filled too.

last year noel’s sister had begged him to take her along to the waterbomb festival, noel didn’t want to though, and at last she went with some friends. this year he was joining the festival, one day with her, the rest alone, though he’d surprisingly spotted a lot of familiar faces. now that noel was a trainee and actually knew about kpop artists, it made sense for him to join the event, he could as last, sing along to the songs. he was mostly here to listen to music, partly though, he was here to look good.

he’d styled his hair (though likely the water would ruin that), he’d put on waterproof make up, and he’d worn a tight white shirt, while intending on getting wet. it’d been a while since noel had felt pretty, or well, he knew he was handsome, but it’d been a while since he’d put on an outfit where he intended to look good, lately comfort had been prioritized over looking good.

he was on a mission to feel and look good, but he also had stuff to do, like delivering a bracelet to his friend. his jewelry business generally hadn’t done as well since he became a trainee, since, he was even more busy when being a trainee came into his life, but school was done, so he figured he’d have more time for jewelry making soon. it was the first time in a while he’d gotten commissioned to do something personal, usually people just bought what he had on his website. 

he turns around as someone speaks to him, mouth full with a bite of kimbap. he swallows “hey claudine, ah you’re looking good!” he shows a smile, “are you hungry? i don’t mind buying you something”. “i got your bracelet, packed it into a bunch of stuff to make sure it wouldn’t break, it’s exciting to give my jewelry in person rather than just sending it with the mail”. “enjoying waterbomb so far?” he asks before stuffing his mouth with another bite of kimbap.