#it's the bus scene as in . the middle of the night one

[sevlawless]

because i am DETERMINED to finish this shit tonight fuck sleep would anyone like to be tagged in a seven x mc fic <3

[slutofpsh]

strip for me.

part two

pairings: hyungline x reader (jay & jake)

synopsis: hyung line got you trapped in a situation that you can’t get away from.

wc: 8k

warnings: smut, minor dni, bullying (not promoting violence or bullying), degrading, dirty talks, curses, masturbation, hyung line being mean. this is not proof read.

note: okay, i’ve been typing this while my eyelids are dropping. i’m so sleepy. anyway, i hope you will enjoy this. part one here, (strip for me).

slutofpsh 2024 © all rights reserved.

the day after their little playtime, you’re so scared to go to school. hesitating and timidly walking down the street once you got off from the bus that stops right in front of your school. no matter how hard you try, you just can’t help but to worry that they had spread explicit photos of you.

actually, if it weren’t for geometry’s long quiz you would skip school today. the thought of the boys leaking those pictures haunted you the whole night, you can’t even get some sleep. you bet you looked like a zombie right now.

when you stepped inside the classroom, some of your classmates are bickering and joking around as usual. you expected some dramatic scenes where one calls you out and they all laugh at you for being such a loser.

but none of that happened.

some turns their head at your direction, but they didn’t reacted like how you imagined them to do. there’s no laughing at you or calling you names like whore or slut. but instead they gradually went back on the things they’re doing.

does that mean they didn’t see any of your photos?

you’re still in the middle of spacing out when an arm suddenly rests over your shoulder, followed by a sexy chuckle. it was very familiar and you have an idea who it is.

“hi sweetheart.” jake’s voice ringed at your left ear. his body pressed over your side as he leaned closer adding his weight on you.

when you craned your neck to glance at him, you met his playful eyes. his thick and long eyelashes are very evident from this distance, making him look even more attractive in your eyes.

your cheeks instantly blushed because your noses almost touched each other. envious eyes bore onto you, feeling their heated gaze remaining. they're probably wondering why him— the popular jake sim, is currently being touchy with you— a nobody.

“you look pale. something wrong?” his voice sounded so soft, eyes glistening with a bit of concern if you look closely.

his slightly long hair looked so sexy, its even feel illegal to look like that. you’re quick to dismiss that thought, actually think that its wrong to even have an idea of being attracted towards him. he’s not even a good person. he’s like a devil trapped inside an angel’s body.

jake took a step so he can stand in front of you to take a better look. he leans down so he can catch a glimpse of your eyes making you feel even more timid. his puppy-like eyes stares right into you, as if searching for something.

if only you don’t know his true colors, you might think he’s a very innocent boy. but you knew better. jake sim is far from being innocent. on your opinion, out of all the four he’s the pervert one. he has the most corrupt mind. or at least he’s the one who shows that side more.

he’s usually the one who will pull you any time or anywhere whenever he feels like he wants someone to suck his throbbing dick. he doesn’t even care if your class will start in ten minutes or if you’re in the middle of reviewing for something. there was never a time that he’s not in the mood for sex. he’s always up for it. prepared and horny at all times.

“jake...” and you put your hand over his chest to push him away from you, setting a clear boundary between the two of you.

he’s crossing your personal space and its making you uncomfortable.

his actions makes you a bit suspicious of him. they rarely make interaction with you in public unless they’re picking on you or trying to embarrass the hell out of you.

you should not fall for those pretty lips and puppy eyes. jake sim always means trouble.

“hmm? what, baby?” he asks in a low tone, almost in a growling manner. he trapped his lower lip in between his teeth as he gave you this seducing stare. a hint of mischievousness shines through his eyes.

“move away a bit. y-you’re too close.” your eyes unconsciously darted around the classroom and you noticed how some are still watching you two.

jake seems unbothered by it. of course, its not him who will get harassed by their admirers. it would be you.

he chuckles then snaked his arm over your waist, tugging you even closer. he licked his lips, eyes turning dark out of lust over you.

“we both know we’ve been closer than this.” he spat before leaning again, dismissing your attempt of pushing him and setting a line.

“i can still remember how you look like yesterday. full of our cums...” he groaned near your ear that eventually turned red out of embarrasment.

you just wish none from your class heard what he just said. probably none, right? besides, he just whispered it so close to you. he’s so near to the point that you can feel his hot breath fanning your skin, sending shivers through your spine.

you pursed your lips, preventing to make any inappropriate noise to slip off from them. his hold over your waist tightens, like he just couldn’t get enough of you.

“gosh, sweetheart. you’re so hot looking like that.” he pulls away and the first thing you saw is his evil grin. he’s enjoying it. every damn thing, he’s loving it.

his dirty words made you feel sick in the stomach. you tried to move away, but he managed to grab you by your wrist, yanking you back. almost making you hit his chest.

“don’t worry. your pretty pictures are safe.” he says then winked at you. its like he read what’s in your mind moments ago.

your eyes brightens at what you heard, slowly lowering your guard. jake almost laugh at how adorable your eyes shines with relief. but he must admit, he loves it better whenever its full of tears whenever he’s fucking you senseless.

“r-right? you didn’t spread it or anything?” your soft voice almost made him go feral. jake stops himself from getting too excited. he smirks and slid his hand inside his pocket.

“are you crazy? why would i do that? that’s for our eyes only.” he stated, assuring you.

it somehow sent you instant relief. it was horrible to have that kind of photos of you taken without your permission, but its better to be sure that they’re not going to share it to the whole school.

a heaved sigh escapes your pretty lips that caught his attention. his gaze drops over it and eyes grew darkly.

“but we did sent it to beomgyu.” he whispers like a reminder.

your heart sank at what you heard.

“w-what...”

he scoffs, “you heard that right.” he tilts his head while still watching your face grow pale.

“now, he won’t ever try to flirt with you.” and with that he turns his heel and starts heading to his chair.

you’re left standing there alone. feeling a lump inside your throat and chest aching. you can’t explain what exactly that emotion is. but its not good. you feel humiliated and your only wish is to not bump into beomgyu ever again.

“what are you doing?” you snapped out of it when you heard a low voice from behind.

jay, sunghoon and heeseung walks inside the room. their eyes are darted right at you and noticed how you’re just standing there. the two tall boys behind jay are both silently watching you with cold blank eyes.

you’re quick to avoid their gaze and shook your head to dismiss those thoughts before giving jay a look.

“n-nothing.” you shortly replied and started walking to your seat.

the three boys watch you carefully. the displease look on your face evident and made them wonder what just happened to you. jay glances at them and shrugged his shoulders before going to his chair, throwing one last look to your way.

the class then started after your homeroom teacher arrives. it was normal and you tried hard to pay attention to the discussion. you can’t let these things affect your studies as well. if you want to get away from them, you should aim to a bigger university. far from those four boys.

library period is next after your three first subjects. its basically free time for your class, but you have to spend the time inside the library. you love reading so you don’t really mind. some of them take this opportunity to take naps.

you lost the four boys on your way here, making sure they won’t get a grip of you during the whole hour. the library is huge which is good as there’s a big chance of getting away from them. also, you’re sure they won’t make a scene here. specially with a lot of other students around.

you made it at the far left corner of the library and quickly find a vacant table to read the book you chose. its pretty much isolated as the other students decided to occupy the tables near the entrance.

the book you have is pretty good. cliche plots, but you’re entertaining enough to keep you occupied. you’re currently hooked to it when you heard the chair in front of you being dragged by someone.

your head lifts up to check who it was and regret instantly hit you.

it was choi beomgyu.

his eyes darts at your direction. he looked worried. after being reminded that the boys sent him that photo of you, you quickly tried to gather your things to leave. the last thing you'd want is to get confronted about those horrible pictures.

“wait, y/n!” he calls and went after you.

he managed to catch up and hold your wrist, preventing you to take further steps.

you kept your head low to avoid any eye contact. he’s staring at you and his hold, slowly becoming loose once he realized you’re not planning to run away from him.

he lets out a sigh. “i just want to say sorry.”

you raised your head with a confused look on your face. he blinks and he lifts his hand to scratch the back of his neck. his cheeks flushes, ears turning slightly red.

‘is he embarrased or nervous?’ you thought to yourself.

“i didn’t know about what you have with...” he stalls his words, doesn’t really know which one to address.

you gulped, feeling shy as well. you have no idea what exact thoughts he’s having right now.

“i’m sorry. did i get you in trouble?” his voice sounded nothing but concern.

“p-please, can you delete those pictures?” even if you feel so shy to bring it up, you want to make sure that your pictures won’t be seen by anyone else.

his eyes widen before he glanced away, cheeks burning. well one thing is confirmed. he did saw the pics.

“you don’t have to worry about it.” he gulped, still not looking at you. “sunghoon went to see me last night and made sure i deleted all of them.”

and when he turns his head, you saw that he have a small bruse by the side of his cheek. the ones you can’t see properly from where you’re standing.

sunghoon? what did he do?

you knew he have the worst temper from all of them and he got caught into fights multiple times, but you just can’t believe he will hurt beomgyu for that. its their fault that he got those pics on the first place.

“anyway, that’s it. i really felt bad that i got you into troubles with your...” he cleared his throat and licked his lips. “..boyfriends.”

your brows narrowed. “they’re not my boyfriends.”

he whips his head at your direction with widen eyes. “but why—”

you shake your head, dismissing the topic. “its complicated.”

you let out a strained sigh, once again realizing how bad this situation you got yourself into. beomgyu probably feels bad for you too. being a slave for those four evil guys. you cannot say anything at all. you can’t even complain.

“i have to go. i'm relieved that you don’t have those pics—” your heads turned when you heard a thud sound from the nearest aisle.

feeling a little bothered, you trudges towards to check if somebody was there.

no one.

your eyes dropped to the floor and saw a couple of books fell down from the aisle. probably that’s the sound you heard. maybe some students didn’t properly returned the books.

“thank you for deleting them. good bye.” you gave beomgyu a small smile and a bow before leaving him there.

you don’t want to risk it again. if one of them sees you around him, they might take it the wrong way and punish you. who knows what they will do next? they can be very ruthless and cruel. shivers runs through your spine just by imagining or thinking about what will they do.

when the bell rang signifying that the next period is about to start, you walked inside the class. oddly, the four boys are sat on their chairs.

your brows furrowed slightly, confused. they rarely come early in class. realizing that you’re overthinking things, you went straight to your chair and soon after your teacher enters to start the lesson.

weird. that’s all you can say. the class are almost over and yet none of them came to approach to bother you. nobody even randomly asks for you to meet them somewhere.

they ignored you the whole lunch break too. leaving you alone and peacefully eating your food. that’s a normal thing for other people, but for someone who often being dragged for their little playtime, you find it a little weird.

they’ve been silent after that library period and honestly its making you a bit anxious. they’re so calm and its a bad thing for you. when its too calm, a big storm is about to unfold.

dismissal came, the loud bell ringing all through the hallways. your eyes glanced at them and they’re fixing their things, jake’s talking to jay. sunghoon’s on his phone while heeseung is silently putting his textbook inside his locker.

you have no idea what you’re expecting, but having them completely ignoring you pinches something in you. this is actually a good thing. they’re not bothering you and you can go home peacefully. but a part of you somehow wonders, feels slightly heavy.

when you finished doing your thing, you roamed your eyes around the classrom and they’re not there. you didn’t even notice them leaving the room. jake didn’t purposely bumped into you, reminding you to meet them by the parking lot or somewhere.

in order to make it on the bus stop, you have to walk pass by the wide parking lot of the school. and as you make your way out along with the other students, your eyes caught a familiar tall figure.

it was sunghoon and beside him was a girl. she’s all smile while trying so hard to keep up with the pace of him walking. with those long legs, it sure is hard to catch up on him. sunghoon’s not that friendly, but it didn’t stop him from getting admirers.

normally, he gets rid of them. but you saw how he actually entertain and crack a conversation with her. it was again odd.

not too far from where his car is, you saw jake. he's leaning over his car while talking— more like flirting with this girl. you know her. she’s from the class next to yours. she’s part of the cheerleading squad, a very beautiful girl. he’s always nice to girls, a playboy. that’s how he's usually described so it wasn’t news to see him like this around her.

jay arrived not long after and he greets the girl jake’s talking to before putting his things inside his own car. he seems to be interested to their topic as instantly joins in their conversation.

noticing that heeseung’s nowhere near them, you tried to search for him. and you’re taken aback seeing him leaning over his car and looking straight at you like he’s been watching you ever since you stopped to watch them.

you gulped and stared back for a while before glancing away to leave. a bitter feeling slowly occupies your chest and you try so hard to get rid of it. its wrong to feel that way. you should feel relieved that finally they’re taking interest towards some other girls.

since you have no friends, you’re often alone around the campus. somehow, even if you feel like they’re just around you whenever they wanted to play, they make you feel like you’re not alone. they make you feel like existing.

and watching them slowly lose interest over you are both nice and bothering for you. being used to their presence from time to time made it seems like you’re losing more than gaining something.

the next day, you tried hard to act normal. despite the heavy feeling on your chest and eyes puffy than usual.

the class are loud the moment you stepped in and you scanned the room automatically. they’re not yet here. its still early so its not a surprise anymore.

“yo, jake!” your feet stopped at what you heard.

just when you’re about to look over your shoulder, someone walked pass by you. his familiar manly scent invading your nose that informs you that it was indeed jake sim who arrived.

your heart cracked at how he acted. he smiles at that one friend who greets him, dabbed him and started chatting.

‘maybe he didn’t see me?’ your thought to yourself.

but that’s clearly impossible. jake knew the whole built of your body. he can tell its you even from a good distance, what more if he walks pass by you? he is ignoring you.

you shoved that bitter feeling and just head on your chair. a part of you want to go and ask them what’s up or why they’re suddenly like this, but another part refrain you from doing so. you knew you shouldn’t.

the next few days, its still the same. all of them acts like you didn’t even exist in their world. it should be a good thing and being bothered by it should be the least you occupy your mind, but you can’t help it.

maybe their presense really planted something deep inside your mind. causing you to feel a bit sadder than usual now that they’re ignoring you. it sounds hilarious, but it seems like you grew attached to them.

wednesday, it was a normal school day. you went to school feeling a little bit more dead on the inside. is it just you or its really boring these days? like something’s missing.

you arrived inside your classroom and didn’t bother to look around. straight up, you headed over to your chair then slump yourself to the table. eventually the classroom got filled with students. you tried so hard to avoid searching the other boys.

“since the fieldtrip will be on sunday, i need all your signed consent letter by your parents. if you don’t have it, i can’t let you come.” your homeroom teacher announced.

one by one, your classmates stands up to place the paper over the teacher’s table. you rummaged inside your bag, going through your things to look for the notebook where you put it. after finally finding it you stood up and walks towards your teacher.

“thank you.” your teacher smiles warmly and eyes shifted on the figure behind you.

even before you can turn around to check, your back collided with a hard chest then a low husky voice follows.

“here’s mine.” sunghoon then leans towards the table, pressing his chest on your back even more. his scent invades your nose and it was making you feel things.

you gulped, getting rid of the lump on your throat. he seems totally unbothered by the contact, unlike you. thankfully, he did moved away after handing the paper to your teacher.

when he finally walks back to his place, that’s when you got the chance to move those feet. feeling your knees slightly wobble out of nervousness from that fine man.

even without checking their direction, you can tell that their piercing and predatory stare they’re giving you. its making you more on edge. no matter how many times they do that it never changes the way it affects you.

it slightly made you confused because they’ve been ignoring you. none of them had spoken to you for days and now here’s that feeling again. oddly, the somersault in your stomach didn’t bothered you.

it was almost lunch break when you felt a soft tap over your shoulder while peacefully reading. you craned your neck and looked at the person from behind.

“yeah?” you asked, finding it odd that she’s interacting with you. the displeased look on her face gave away the thought that she's just being forced to do this.

“here.” she says and placed a pile of paper at your table, which you followed with your gaze.

“what’s this?”

she sighs and rolled her eyes a bit, “its our signed consents. the teacher said you should take it to the student council’s office.”

“huh? why me?” you blurt out.

she frowns at your response. “how should i know?!” she hissed then rolled her eyes again. “just take it.” and with that her heels turned to start walking away, off to go back to her friends.

realizing being left with no choice but to comply, you grabbed the stack of papers and start heading the said office.

while on your way, your steps gets slower then eventually halted from your tracks. now that you’re finally going back to your senses, you remembered that heeseung and jay are both part of the student body.

heeseung’s the president and jay’s the vice. personally, you think they’re not deserving of the position as they secretly torment you, but the competition between them and the other participants were not even a close call. their votes were beyond far from the other party.

after letting out a nervous sigh, you started walking again. you tried convincing yourself that they’re probably done with you by now.

a pinch in your heart and you want to curse yourself. not just by feeling a hint of disappointment, but because of the excitement slowly flaring inside your chest. its making your hand shakes a bit, anticipation looming right after.

arriving right in front of their office alloted for the school’s student body, you gulped. feeling so nervous and at the same time thrilled, you needed some time to calm yourself down.

a few knocks at the door is what you do and not even twenty seconds, the door opened.

the first thing you see is park jongseong’s furrowed brows. he looked so attractive with that serious expression on his face.

your mouth gaps, reading to defend yourself for being here when he didn’t even question your presence. he just turned his back then walks towards where he’s probably sitting before your knocked.

you blinked a couple of times, still a little fazed of his behavior. it was a bit weird reaction or maybe that’s how he really is to other people. your heart sank, shoulder almost obviously lowering.

“w-where should i put these?” you tried cracking a conversation with him. it was a bit pathetic on your side.

“on the table.” he shortly replied without even sparing you a glance.

his cold demeanor clearly hurt you that made the corner of your eyes sting. you’re already aware that they’re ignoring you, but this is like a slap to your face.

after you placed it along with the other stacks of paper, you turned around quickly, ready to bolt out from this place when he talk again.

“did i said that you can leave?” jay's husky voice almost echoes through the whole room.

it caught you off-guard that your feet moves even before your brain can process it. with both hands on your sides, you stood by the door awkwardly. his eyes met yours and it didn’t reflect any emotions that adds up to the heavy atmosphere.

“u-uh, do you need me to bring something?” you glanced away and tries to look around the room, trying to find something that can flicker your interest.

he shakes his head side to side before he prompt his chin at the vacant sofa by the corner. eventually understanding what he meant, you trudged over where he wants you to be.

“i’ll be done with this in a bit.” he stated that you only answered with a short nod.

you’re clueless and unable to comprehend anything that’s happening. assumedly, you’re here only to deliver the consent letters and now he’s not letting you leave?

your heart batters faster than usual, casually making you percieved of slight pain on your chest. the main reason for this occurence is still unknown, but that’s the least of your concern.

the whole room fell silent once again after jay’s last sentence. you kept your mouth shut despite enduring the boredom.

your body jolted when jay pushed his chair away from the table after closing his laptop. your heart starting to thump fast once again when you felt his heated gaze darted at you.

he’s not saying anything that made you even more agitated. his eyes bore onto you, not glancing away even for a second. finally, he heavs a sigh before trudging in front of the sofa.

when he’s in front of you, feet almost touching, he stops and stares down. with a thumping heart you tried to look at him, but ends up failing as you are quick to tear your gaze off.

“take off your panties.”

your breath hitched and you felt like you’ve heard that wrong. with your mind clouded with a lot of things, there’s a possibility that you just misheard it, right?

with widen eyes, you glanced at him dumbfounded. “excuse me?”

he tilts his head, still with a placid look on his face. hands sliding inside the pocket of his uniform’s trousers.

“take off your panties.” he repeats himself for you.

“strip for me.” the familiar words he utters sent instense shivers over your spine. it was crazy how used you are on hearing those words that it doesn’t caught you off guard anymore.

“b-but,” your eyes glanced at the direction of the door and instantly, jay understood.

he turns and starts walking towards it, the hills of his shoes clicking on the floor. the sound itself make you feel your stomach churn.

he reaches for the knob and smoothly locked it. he faced you once again and huffs, “better now, baby?”

your knees wants to give out even though you’re already sat down after hearing him say that endearment.

with the lack of response, jay stood in front of you again then rest his hand on his hips.

“do it now.”

“what if some people comes inside?” your voice shakes that makes jay’s mind clouded.

“i already locked it. nobody’s going inside.”

“what if they knock—”

“are you going to take it off or do you want me to do it?” he asks with a calm voice.

your lips got caught in between your teeth. contemplating whether to do as he said or no. the door is a few feet away, you can just bolt and escape him. that thought dissipate as he moves to your line of vision.

“y/n.” this time his tone sounds so stern.

with flustered face, you lowered your head and slowly reach for your underwear. you have no idea what’s his reaction because you’re avoiding to look at jay’s eyes.

“good girl.”

you can swear that your face is as red as tomatoes right the moment. with how sexy his low voice sounds and at what you’re doing, heat rushes your cheeks.

after sliding the small garment off, you closed your thighs, feeling so naked without it. jay’s eyes grew dark at the sight of you being like this.

“don’t hide from me.” he ordered and pressed his hand over your shoulder to make you rest at the sofa.

you slightly yelp at what he did and soon, one of his hand pushed your thighs apart. you blushed and tries to fight back which leads to nothing as he just swiftly made his way. jay’s glared at you once in your failed attempt of stopping him.

“look at that,” he stated while staring down at your now exposed core.

you shut your eyes, feeling so embarrassed. this isn’t the first time he saw you like this. he even saw you without anything on, but because its been days since they last had their playtime, it made you feel even more awkward than usual.

“you’re already so wet for me, baby.” he whispers, eyes growing darker out of lust while almost salivating at the view of your pussy clenching over nothing.

“such a slut for me.” he leans in and gather a generous amount of saliva then let it drip down on your core.

you pursed your lips harder and threw your head back while shutting your eyes. the view feels too illegal to watch. it is illegal to these kind of things here, in this office, at your school. the amount of trouble you’ll get into once caught.

“j-jay,” you almost bit your tongue as the suppose to be warning came out as a mone.

he glanced at you over his eyelashes before dipping his head down, finally connecting his lips at your dripping core.

“ugh," your fingers unconsciously grabbed his hair that instantly made you crack your eyes open, surprise by your own action.

“i'm s-sorry,” you said and was about to pull it away when he rest his big hands over yours. keeping it in place.

“its okay, you can touch my hair.” he said before going back on lapping senselessly over your cunt.

it made you hitch your breath and lose your mind. the feeling of his tongue grazing all the sides of your womanhood and how amazingly he’s doing it is too much. the way he makes out with your clit, tongue sliding in to your hole from time to time.

“j-jay, oh my gosh—” you clash your hand on your mouth to keep silent. afraid to make noticeable noises that can gather attention from outside.

“so sweet.” he groans through your pussy, the vibration almost sent you to oblivion. over the right things that you should do, like push him away and leave this place.

instead of doing that, your fingers carded his soft hair and grabbed over it feeling a knot on your stomach. climax almost reaching you.

when you’re about to reach the heaven, jay pulls away and you almost groaned out of displeasure and the lost contact from his sinful mouth. jay smirks and smoothly took off his trousers.

you gulped, eyes full of anticipation of seeing his erect manhood. jay didn’t even bother taking it all off, just enough to pull his member out in the open. his cock is so hard and thick, making you feel conscious about how it would stretch you out good.

muffled curses showers your mind as you fight your demons trying to escape you.

he strokes his cock a few times before nearing it to your core. when its head slightly grazes your line, you whimpered softly, catching his attention. jay scoffed smugly. proud that its him making you feel like this, making you look like you’re going to lose your mind.

he traces your line using his throbbing head and then he finally slid it inside, all of his length. he watches it disappeared as it fully enters you making the two of you let out sensual moans.

“fuck.” he curses as your grip over his arm tightens.

he glances at you and when he saw how you have your eyes shut, he taps your cheeks gently. “watch me fuck you good, baby.”

and with that you obliged to his demands. you let yourself get drawn by his hot stares and fall on his trap. it was as if you just lose control of your own body and just follows what he’s about to tell you.

“oh you’re taking me so well.” he growled above you as he continue fucking his dick deep inside in a slow pace. it was torture.

he kept it like that until he felt you tightening around him, suffocating his cock. he knows you’re about to come and the look on your face just makes him want to just fuck you senseless. but it wasn’t the plan.

you can almost taste it. mind clouded by nothing but the thought of creaming around jay’s hardened cock. the imminent pleasure that approaching made you nibble on your lips a little bit more harder, that you’re sure it will bleed anytime soon.

“oh gosh—” brows narrowing closer as he reaches deeper of your insides.

but the clear anticipation came running down the drain when jay suddenly pulls it out leaving you hanging, losing your chance to reach climax. frustration and embarrasment replacing them right away.

jay finished outside of you after he strokes his dick a few more times, shooting his thick cum on your hole. you look at him in disbelief, wondering if he happens to miss that you haven’t reached your climax yet. it was impossible.

it was confirmed when you saw the evident smirk on his lips as he stood up. the conniving look on his face ignites annoyance inside of you.

feeling too naked and definitely uneasy, you decided to pick your underwear and slid it back, disregarding the uncomfortable wet juice still leaking out from your neglected core.

“see you around, y/n.” you even heard him say before you left him inside that room.

it was your last two subjects and you’re still on a foul mood. after what happened at the student council’s office with jay, you can’t get rid of your bad mood. maybe because you’ve been denied of your release. for the first time. you never knew it felt this way.

“y/n, coleen and shin.” your head perks up at the mention of your name.

“please go to the journalism club room. its your turn to take your i.d pictures.” the homeroom teacher announces.

the other girls that was called stood up right away. you don’t want to go. you’re not really on the mood to take pictures. not when you’re feeling sulky and pissed off.

in the end, you forced yourself up and go to take your i.d picture. all you want is for you to go home and finally leave this place.

the club room is at the other side of the building and you can see that some students are around the hallway, goofing around.

since the journalism club have talented photographers, they’re tasked to take the student’s i.d pictures for this school year. you didn’t think too much of it as it doesn’t bother you at all. the school can do whatever they want.

when you entered the club, its filled with students. you noticed curtains that serves as divisions inside. there are a total of four stalls where students gets inside to get their pictures taken. probably one photographers waiting for them.

multiple sounds of cameras clicking can be heard around.

“please find your section and name here then sign.” the girl at the table near the entrance caught your attention.

you nodded and proceed on finding your name. after doing that, you’re instructed to write your full name on a white piece of paper.

“head over the stall at the end.” she says not even throwing you a glance and focuses on arranging something on her laptop.

you ignored her behavior and just walks to the end stall. the curtain that serves as the door to keep privacy is thick, preventing you from seeing what’s inside.

you moved it and your heart fell at the sight of a man’s back.

jake sim.

probably noticing your presence and hearing the shuffling of the curtain, he looked over his shoulder. his lips curled into a grin at the sight of you. his messy hair paired with his glasses looks so good on him. his free hand raises and pulls his lollipop out from his mouth, making a ‘pop’ sound.

“what are you waiting for? get inside.” he tilts his head, prompting you to come in.

“o-oh, okay.” and you stepped inside.

he pushed forward making you smell him more as he reaches for the curtain to close it behind you.

“sit down at the chair please.” his sweet voice rings on your ear making you feel things.

you follow what he said and sat down at the chair by the center. he was doing something on his camera, totally focused while his tongue plays with the lollipop that is now inside his mouth.

the frustration from before got you too occupied that you failed to remember that he’s part of this club. jake sim just can’t be more perfect. he cannot just be the smart, handsome student who came from a wealthy family. of course, he’s good at taking photos too.

“all right.” he says and finally diverts his attention towards you.

it caught you off guard and totally took your breath away. he glances down at the paper you’re holding. he raises one of his eyebrow then glanced back at your eyes.

“get rid of that paper. i know your full name so damn well.” he says and grabbed the paper to throw it to the side.

“smile for the camera.” he said casually and placed it near his face.

you've seen him with his camera before. during events at school and the journalism needs to cover it, he will be around taking pictures. he looked so handsome whenever he’s doing that. you can tell he loves doing it.

“sweetheart,” he pulls away from the camera to look at you.

“huh?” you asked totally spacing out.

“show me that pretty smile.”

you quickly blushed because of his words. he clicked the camera a playful smile spreads across his face. he didn’t pull away this time but give you subtle compliments, enjoying how good you look right now.

for jake, whenever you look so clueless and innocent, that’s when he loses his mind the most. he feels like his purpose in this life is to corrupt you, taint you in any possible way he can.

“that's it. very pretty.” he clicked multiple times and when he finally gets satisfied, he pulls away to check them out.

you heaved out a sigh, trying to relax yourself. just by then you realized that you’ve been holding your breath. jake’s taking him away from you.

“okay, we got it.” he announced that made you feel relief.

you thanked him and stood up, ready to leave when his arm blocked you from taking further steps. he looked at you with furrowed brows.

“where are you going?”

“outside?” you answered unsure.

“go sit back down. we’re not yet done.” he says sternly and unplugged something from his camera.

maybe it was the cord connecting the camera to the laptops outside. so the students outside can see the actual shots right away.

“but i t-thought you said...” your words stalls when he shoot you this intimidating stares.

it left you with no choice but to walk back to the chair and sit down. jake’s face relaxes and he smirks again.

“now, take off your clothes.”

“w-what?”

he shrugged his shoulders. like he didn’t just said the most hilarious thing he can say inside a studio filled with other students.

“you heard me, sweetheart.” he clicks the side of his cheeks attractively.

“strip for me.” jake’s smile was so evil when he say those words.

you kept still, hands fidgets feeling uneasy. he is the type you can’t say no to. because he will turn sulky right away. and sulky jake is bad news.

“b-but there’s students around, jake. they might see—”

“what do you think of me? stupid?” he scoffs, sounding a bit offended. panic occurs you, ready to defend yourself and explains that its not what you’re trying to conclude

“i already told you that we’re the only ones allowed to see your body.” he sounded so serious, scaring you slightly.

“now take it off before i end up ripping them off of you.” he added aggressively.

it scared you. you knew he will do it.

his eyes sparkled when he saw you reaching for your buttons. with flustered face, your eyes glances away from his piercing eyes. he started taking photos of you. the continuous clicking of his camera and him not saying anything made you feel on edge.

he took multiple photographs of your exposed upper body while your skirt are still on. for jake it was perfect. he can print this pictures and tape it on his room wall so he can stare at it all day.

“panties off. i want to see my cunt.” he then settles down his camera at the sight.

you gulped, the memory of what happened earlier this day with jay flashes back to your mind. the way this somehow reminds you of that scene is crazy. its too similar, but at the same time different. due to their unalike personalities, they’re delivering the same scenarios in their own styles.

he was licking the lollipop like as if imagining it was your pussy he was devouring. he watches while you take off your undergarment, slightly feeling impatient.

the lollipop was out from his mouth as it gaps the moment he saw your pussy. he glances at your eyes shortly then steps closer.

he licked his lips then touches your chin to make you look up at him. you looked at his eyes and he leans to kiss you, sliding his tongue inside your mouth, giving you a taste of the sweetness from the candy.

your mouths continued doing that for a while before he moves away, looking completely drunk in lust for you. he roams his eyes around your face before giving you one last peck.

he then crouches down to be in the same level as your cunt. he leans closer, his breath fanning your sensitive skin. your breath is heavy, unable to contain the lust forming inside you as well.

he raises his hand then tastes the lollipop again then pulls out. he then dips his head, lips kissing your core. you let out a gasp, surprised. a hand clapped over your mouth to muffle any sound.

he pulls away as he looks up to you with his doe puppy-like eyes.

“your cunt is definitely sweeter.” he commented and threw the candy away shamelessly before starting diving back in to eat you out.

“oh my— j-jake!” you whispered, trying to contain your whimpers and control yourself.

he chuckles while still mouth connected on you. he didn’t waste any second before sliding two fingers inside, fucking it inside you with a way that sends your mind somewhere else.

“cunt so sweet, so perfect.” he praises as he continues.

he glances at you and saw how desperation flickers your eyes. you looked adorable trying not to make any sound, afraid that you’ll be caught for doing nasty things inside the school premises.

“you’re so pretty, aren’t you sweetheart?” he asks with a hint of innocence like as if he’s not finger fucking you right now.

he opens his sinful plump lips then slide his tongue out, leaning down to your core to start working on your clit while his fingers are busy sliding in and out of you.

the feeling was too much, the sensation is too much for you to bear that it made you groan. your hand are tightly gripping your mouth to muffle the sound as much as you can.

“s-so near,” you whispered while staring down at him eating you deliciously.

“yeah? cum for me then...” he says shortly.

he was doing a great job on pleasuring you that it was not long until you can feel the familiar knot forming inside your stomach. it slightly worry you that he will do the same thing jay did.

“cum for me, sweetheart. let me get a taste of that sweet juice of yours.” he mumbles sounding so sexy, eyes never leaving you.

“j-jake.” you moaned his name.

he smirks, “that’s right. i’m the one making you feel crazy.” he sounded so full of himself, smug.

“ugh," your head threw back, eyes tightly shut as you shakes a bit after reaching your most wanted release.

jake’s lips on your core, making sure to harvest every bit of your sweet cum. he’s addicted and he’s not even bothered by it.

still high from that delicious climax, you couldn’t help but travel your gaze down to his pants. a dent slightly showing that made you salivate a bit.

“we’re done.” he says that snapped you out of your trance.

you looked at him confused. “h-huh?”

he smirks, “what? you want something else?” he taunts with a hint of sarcasm.

“you’re not getting my dick today, sweetheart. that’s my punishment for you.”

your brows draws closer at his remark. wondering what he meant by punishing you. as far as you remember, you didn’t do anything wrong. so why is he punishing you?

now, jay slids in your mind and wonders if not letting you cum is his way of punishing you.

“i’m done with stall number four.” jake shouts, informing the student outside that he’s finished with his business.

he glances at you and when the lust faded, embarrasment kicks in. you quickly fixed yourself and hurried outside.

everyone seems to be busy with their own business so none of them took notice of your slightly crumpled uniform and your forehead filled with beads of sweat.

once you stepped outside the club room, your steps halted when you saw heeseung and sunghoon heading your way. their eyes both have those cold, dark stares that made your heart race.

heeseung gave you a cold shoulder like usual, walking pass by you and straight to the club room.

sunghoon blocked your way. he’s staring right at you before running his eyes down to your feet. after observing you for a while, his hand raises to fix your blouse.

“students should always wear their uniform properly.” he utters in a low voice.

such big words coming from someone who have the first three buttons of his uniform open. you kept your mouth shut and just glance away.

he sighs after doing the small fixing on you.

“t-thank you.” you just ended saying that, feeling awkward.

his attention then darted at the door of the club room when it swings open, “hoon, its our turn.” heeseung calls for the younger friend.

he nods and soon dart his eyes at you.

“meet me after practice tomorrow at the ice hockey’s locker room.” he leans and places a kiss on your neck before heading towards heeseung. leaving you completely dumbfounded at his actions.

(replies and reblog my works. send asks too! thank you so much.)

[hiiikiko]

001: ‘She’s in a band’

TW: Light smut, Ellie being a jerk tbh. (Not proofread bc I took my meds and I’m feeling lazy :P)

Moving to Seattle wasn’t your first choice, I mean, you were perfectly happy in Arizona. You had friends, family, and most importantly, a band but some drama happened and you wanted to get away from it all. Your first choice was going to California but you had no money, no stable job, and no place to crash so, you reluctantly went to Seattle. At least you’d be closer to the music scene and you haven’t seen your favourite cousin in awhile..

Gazing out the window as the amtrak came to a halt you see Jesse sitting on a bench, legs obnoxiously sprawled out and a toothpick hanging on his lips.

“Can take the boy outta the country but can’t take the country outta the boy,” you chuckle as you gather your luggage and make your way off the bus

“Hey, y/n/n,” Jesse drawls, grabbing your luggage with ease and slinging his arm around you.

“Ugh, get off me you reek of axe and cigarettes,” you tease with a smile playing on your lips as Jesse ruffles your hair and throws your things into the back of his truck.

Jesse’s place was a lot nicer than you though, I guess being a welder does pay off. It was a little messy and could use a homey touch but it was rather nice but you would never admit that to him. Your room was nice too, a little small, but had a great view and even had access to the balcony. The room was bare, plain white walls with a red brick wall on one side, a bed and one singular lamp sitting in the middle of the room.

You settle in while Jesse rifles through your things and rants about his current situationship, “She’s just insane like who asks for your credit score on the first date? Don’t get me wrong, my credit score is so good that it would make ANY girls parties drop.”

You scrunch your nose and throw a hoodie at him as he continues “Hey, I’m just say—“ he begins before hes abruptly interrupted by a call, “Yeah?.. right now?… Alright, alright, alright… on my way, doll.”

“Hmmm, I wonder who that could be,” sarcasm practically oozes off your words.

“It’s Dina,” Jesse winks as he rushes to put his boots on, “Don’t expect me to come back tonight,” he winks.

“Oh, come on,” you trail after him, “It’s my first night! Can’t you stay? We can, like, get dinner and maybe go to a bar?”

‘Nah, I’d rather get laid than hang out with my dorky little cousin,” He says, the door cutting off his voice.

Asshole.

And that’s how you find yourself all alone, sitting at a bar and cheering on the local bands when two girls sit next to you. The girl with short hair remarks, “Those guys were so ass, ‘The Serpahites?’ What the fuck kinda name is that,” her friend laugh at her joke.

“Sounds like a cult,” you mutter under your breath, not meaning for them to hear you but the girl with auburn hair laughs, “Ah, sorry, didn’t mean to eavesdrop—“ you begin but are quickly interrupted by the girl resting a hand on your shoulder.

“It’s okay, dude,” a soft smile on her lips.

Fuck, she’s so cute. The way the dim bar lights dance over her facial features and the way her short hair falls softly over her green eyes. She was wearing a flannel but you could tell she had one hell of a body.

“Sorry,” you say again.

“It’s all good,” she smirks, crap, did she notice the way you were staring?

As you’re debating on whether or not you should call it a night or get on your knees and start apologizing profusely for ever thinking lewd thoughts in the presence of an angel, she gets up, grabbing her friends hand and heads into the back.

Crap, I should’ve asked for her number..

Just as you take another sip from the fruity drink you ordered, you hear the announcer introduce another band called “the Infected.” Sounds pretty cool, you think as you get up from your seat and make your way into the crowd of people.

Must be a popular band.

The curtains are pulled back to reveal the girl you met at the bar earlier, she’s taken off her flannel and is now wearing a form fitting black tank top, low rise jeans, and a pair of worn converse, on her shoulder rests a beautiful black guitar littered with stickers of stars and planets, cute. Along side her is a girl with piercings, long black hair, looks like the lead singer, and oh. my. god. IS THAT JESSE?? He’s no longer wearing a flannel but a plain black tee, denim jeans, and of course, his boots, he’s on drums.

“Jesse!” you cheer as his head whips around and shoots daggers at you, you’ll never let him live this down.

The band plays a wonderful set and gets a lot of cheers from the crowd. Some fans, mostly girls, approach the band afterwards to gush over them, the girl with the auburn hair seems to have the most fans.

You make your way towards the stage to find Jesse, hoping to tease him about what you just witnessed.

“He’s in the back changing,” a voice rasps from behind. “Ah, I see,” turning around, you see the bassist towering over you.

“Heyyy, I know you, we met at the bar, yeah?” She says while looking you up and down.

“Yeah, at the bar,” you manage to get out.

“You’re Jesse’s cousin? Huh, didn’t know you were coming out tonight, if I had known, I would’ve put on a better show,” she smirks as a light blush sweeps over your face. How could such a small comment illicit this small reaction from you? Maybe it was the way she said it, her voice raspy from singing on backup.

“That show was really great, I enjoyed it a lot. Seems like y’all are popular,” you glance over at a small crowd of girls shooting glares in your direction for talking to their bassist.

The auburnette chuckles and glances back, winking at the girls, “Yeah, we got a few.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes at the faux humility, unfortunately, she catches this.

“What was that?” She laughs, studying your face.

“I can tell already, you’re such a cliche, right? I bet you sleep with all your little fangirls, give them the night of their lives then leave them in the dust, right? Just so you can feed your ego and make yourself feel better for whatever attachment issues you got going on.”

She looks awestricken. You knew her type all too well, I mean you were in a band and you’ve encountered A LOT of band mates are like that. Hell, even rock’s beloved dad, Dave Grohl, did something similar.

“Touché,” she smirks and leans up against the stage, her green eyes hungrily taking you in, “You’re interesting, let me buy you a drink.”

About half an hour later, you’re in the back of her van, panting with her lips on your neck and her knee pressing up against your aching cunt. She’s whispering sweet things into your ear which causes your hips to involuntarily buck up against her hand.

“So fuckin’ needy f’me, aren’t ya?” She mumbles against your neck, “All that talk just for you to melt into my touch,” you can feel her smirking against your neck.

“Shut up,” you say, barely getting it out through desperate whimpers and pants.

The next morning, you wake up in her apartment, alone and half naked, only wearing your panties and a shirt you didn’t recognize. You groan as you stumble out of bed, this hangover might actually be the death of you. You make your way over to the kitchen for some water only to find a sticky note next to some tylenol and water, it reads ‘Don’t forget to lock the door on your way out.’

What the actual fuck. Not even a good morning or at least a hi?

You crumple up the note, leaving it on the counter to hopefully get the message across.

“Typical bassist,” you mutter before leaving.

Later that evening, you facetime your friend, Lila.

“So… she basically told you to get out? What the fuck! You should’ve totally wrecked everything, stolen her shampoos, bleach wash her clothes, pour glitter all ov—“

Laughing you say, “Okay, okay, Lils, I get it but seriously? Glitter is going a little too far.”

“Not far enough, I’d say,” she mutters, “So…. was it good, at least?

“Good? It was total ecstasy but I mean, that’s to be expected.”

Lila cocks her head to the side, obviously confused, “Wha?”

“She’s in a band, meaning, she obviously has a lot of experience.”

“SHE’S IN A BAND???????” Lila’s eyes are practically bulging out of her head, “Wait, nah, girl, this is all on you. Rule number one, never sleep with a girl in a band, they will totally ruin your life. They’re good at giving head because they have to hide how evil they are somehow.”

You groan, “Ugh, I know., I know!” but your mind goes back to last night, the sight of her between your legs, the feeling of her hot breath against your ear, the sight of her on top with your legs draped over her shoulders, the way—

Fuck.

(A/n: This is my first fic since I was like 16 so be nice lol next one will be better, I promise, I just really suck at writing intros)

[b1gtimerush]

set the scene setting prompts (but a little more specific) from yours truly.

001, a convenience store past midnight.

002, a hospital waiting room at 3 in the morning.

003, a photoshoot outdoors in the middle of winter.

004, an indoor filming set of a detective's office.

005, a new house/apartment filled with unopened cardboard boxes.

006, a swing set in an empty playground at night.

007, on stage in an empty theatre.

008, inside an old abandoned house.

009, an empty cemetery at night.

010, the arrival hall at an airport.

011, the last train compartment that's not full.

012, the roulette table in a casino.

013, on the deck of a cruise ship.

014, a kitchen during a black out, surrounded by candles.

015, a treehouse in the middle of the woods.

016, on the dance floor during a wedding.

017, behind the chapel before the wedding ceremony starts.

018, backstage during the middle of a concert.

019, a crowded club during a bachelorette party.

020, standing in front of a painting at a museum.

021, a small, intimate family barbecue.

022, a gazebo while it's raining.

023, the back of an empty bus.

024, a hotel room with only one bed.

025, an empty balcony while a party goes on inside.

026, a bar just after closing.

027, an empty sports stadium.

028, lakeside while the sun is setting.

030, an empty stretch of road beside a broken down car.

031, in front of a suspicious pool of blood in an empty parking lot.

032, in the crowd of spectators during an underground fight.

033, a plane during a bout of turbulence.

034, on kiss cam at a sports game.

035, at a table during a charity gala.

036, a masquerade ball.

037, a halloween party in a suburban house.

038, the beach in the late afternoon.

039, a dressing room after a big performance.

040, exploring the depths of a mysterious cave.

[fairycrackhead]

𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 | toxic fuck boy Gojo x toxic reader

pairing: toxic fuck boy.ᐟGojo x toxic.ᐟreader

summary: Halloween night is now engraved in your memory which you can only assume it will be for the rest of your lives. When you two should have been trick or treating as normal 14 year olds would do, you instead opt to take each others virginity’s. Now you two are stuck in an endless cycle of toxic bad romance.

warnings: mention of abuse, drunk people, porn, minors watching porn, minors having sexual Intercourse, slight degradation, having unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, hair pulling, mentions of murder, toxic relationship.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this was a random idea i thought up of when i heard the song ‘bad romance’ by lady gaga on the bus the other day! anyways this is my first fic i hope you sluts enjoy :)

⎜ 11:32 pm My Bitch (y/n) : your seriously a dick yk that?

⎜ 11:37 pm My bitch (y/n): i fuckin despise u

⎜ 11:45 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): and your telling me again, y?

⎜ 11:47 pm My bitch (y/n): bc your w/ another girl like it’s clockwork, do you not see the problem here, Gojo? i asked you to stop the bullshit.

⎜ 11:49 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): ur not my gf. im in for pussy that’s it. yk im not a relationship guy

⎜ 11:52 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): and yet you continue to come back to me. pathetic honestly

⎜ 11:56 pm My bitch (y/n): fuck you

⎜ 12:00 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): already needy? 😂

You should’ve known what kind of man Satoru Gojo was when you lost your virginity to him on Halloween night, 2011. It’s not like it was forced upon you, besides the occasional talk in the middle school hallway that ‘girls who were virgins were prudes’ or ‘how pathetic is it that there’s still virgins in the 8th grade’. Looking back at it now, it sounds really stupid…like really fucking stupid. All those supposed ‘women’ they would call themselves, ‘women’ who just now learned how to correctly put a tampon into the pussy that they just mercilessly shaved, (more like butchered), were all still scrawny, pathetic little girls inside. Of course hearing all the chatter about everyone’s virginity losses, the stories that were so horrific it made you wanna vomit and change schools, made you insecure on the inside. It’s not like you hadn’t thought of sex before, it just wasn’t your current desire to have some undeveloped boy’s dick in one of those…holes down there. Which also brought up another concern for you: how to even do the act. You assumed that the other person would lead (which was a bad guess because Gojo was a fumbling inexperienced idiot as well).

And it was almost nothing like the old pornos your dad had playing on repeat on the old box tv. He’d spend all his off days (which were more than days he actually got his ass up and went to work), drinking, belching, an occasional scratch of his ass, and watching naked women dance around on the grainy tv. You guys never got the money to buy a new one, maybe if he went to his job down the street at the local corner store he could afford more than the crappy ten dollar pizza down the block.

But who knows, you’ve seen those disgusting scenes, at an age way too young to even comprehend, so did you really have any knowledge? You were a curious kid, not a dumb one, you could easily depict whether or not the porn on the screen was realistic or not. Most the time it was the latter. The overdramatized moans and screams made you wince, on more than a few occasions, but it’s not like the paper thin walls separating the living room and yours did much to help. From having no mother figure to really correct your behavior, and a father that couldn’t give a fuck less, it started your one of many issues. Discovering sex at a really young age, not the act itself but any form of porn an eight year old could get their sticky, grubby hands on. The noises from the tv haunted your mind in a chilling way, making you want to stay as far away from it as possible, yet were still so fucking intrigued.

Until it was the start of the 9th grade, and surprisingly the comments the ‘women’ made in the locker rooms were still present in your mind, not surrounding your every thought, but still there deep down in the back of your mind. ‘Girls who are virgins are lame prudes’. If only you knew that those girls were bluffing about the whole virginity loss thing, but it seemed convincing enough at the time. The way they described how their ‘mans’ bent them over countless times over their granite countertops, or on the elementary school playground. It sounds absurd now, but they had big boobs, and horny teenage boys liked big boobs, so it must of been true, right?

And now here you are, at an headache inducing party, or rave, whatever you wanna call it, watching Gojo talk to yet another girl, more like plain on flirting. She seemed like one of those girls that wouldn’t know if a forty pound dumbbell hit her right in the forehead, so just Gojo’s usual fuck of the night. All he did was stare at her boobs which were spilling out the corset of her trashy costume, and make very poor conversation. What a man whore. You could see Gojo’s shit eating smirk on his lips even from far away and in the almost completely pitch black room, only flashing lights that could cause seizures giving you any sort of seeing ability.

His eyes move from her lips to her tits. Lips—tits—lips—tits. You just wanted to knock the red solo cup out of his overly large fingers and put them somewhere useful. (Such as your aching cunt just dripping in anticipation.) You wanted to go to the nearest open bedroom, drag him by is weirdly hot silver chain, and let him have at you. But you hold back your desires, trying not to let into another spiral of emotions with this man, the same cycle that’s been happening forever now.

You practically crush your phone with your bare hand after receiving that last text, but you refrain and shove it back into your bra since your day to day purse didn’t match your outfit. You take a long deep breath, one you often had to take due to Gojo’s infuriating cocky persona. Walking over to the kitchen, a mini bar was set up in this random kids house, which wasn’t even his you assumed by the family pictures propped up on basically every flat surface.

You hated the parties your friends dragged you to, you felt too old to be in the scene of just barely legal adults blacking out and throwing up so much to the point of you having to look around before walking to avoid stepping in someone’s chunky puke. But to your surprise you actually enjoyed the noise, not making it, but watching others create it. It gave you some sort of distraction from your thoughts which seemed to consume and take over your life since the 9th grade. You wouldn’t call it trauma necessarily, it’s not like you knew you had a fucked up home life until you were fresh out of high school. People on the outside saw your drunken father, crappy rundown home, and the rotational three outfits you wore each week to school and saw it has straight abuse. On some level, the lack of care you were given could be seen as abuse by default, but you were a happy kid. Sure, you were exposed to porn by the time you were eight, but it was just normal to you…in some kinda depressing fashion.

Gojo came from a completely different background, whenever you stepped into his gated community it felt like you were in some other world, an insanely futuristic environment. He was rich, but he wasn’t cocky like those spoiled brats you see on those UK television shows like Super Nanny. At least not when you two had met. It wasn’t a close friendship necessarily, but you two enjoyed each other’s company’s to the point of having sex with each other, so maybe you were closer than you originally thought.

⎜12:08 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): don’t forget you made me like this. don’t get pissy abt what u created.

You dig your phone back out of your lace bra and scoff when you see the message, your hand threatening to go find this piece of shit and chuck your phone at his big head instead. You don’t answer, stuffing your phone back where it came from. You gently push other drunks out your way, reaching for a beer from the ice chest. Using your mouth (one Gojo would call very useful and efficacious), popping it open with your canines.

One thing you loathed about Gojo (not to mention the other 52 things written in your notes) was he thought you were the reason for his ‘fuck boy’ qualities. Yes, you both took each other’s virginity’s, it’s not like he didn’t want it, in fact he wanted it more than you, judging the throbbing of his cock when he first showed it to you. It always comes flooding into your mind every night, more so each Halloween. You came to resent the holiday since it only reminded you of that night 13 years ago. Despite it being over a decade ago, you still recall the nervousness and excitement that you felt when he finally came inside you. It makes you laugh when you remember how totally freaked you were, how you thought you’d get pregnant with his baby.

At that moment you repeated over and over again how ‘this was a terrible idea’ and ‘i hate that you let us do this’. It was an all around shit show for a good twenty minutes before Gojo finally snapped and yelled at you to get over it. Besides it not being the most calm way to handle your panic, it worked. Who could blame him, he was scared shitless too. You both ended the night by trick or treating, it was a kinda dud of a night considering typical trick or treating hours ended two hours ago during your private fun. Luckily Gojo spotted a house on your near midnight walk, a load of halloween candy left in a bowl on some old lady’s porch.

“We shouldn’t-“ but of course, he didn’t let you finish, pressing a shy brief kiss on your lips instead. He had a subtle blush on his pale cheeks, a blush you would only see now during your angry make up sex sessions. Grabbing your hand, and practically dragging you to the house. “Just grab the fuckin’ candy, ya scaredy cat.” He laughs, looking around the dark streets before snagging the candy bowl with a big orange pumpkin face plastered on the front, running off.

“Gojo! YOU FUCKIN’ THEIF!” you giggle, suddenly the porch lights flicker on like some horror movie, and your heart drops into your ass. The door swung open to have your neighbor, Mrs. Miller standing there seething, her mini chihuahua perched in her arms like it was her newborn child. Gojo stopped in his tracks, still heavily breathing like some out of shape forty year old.

“Why you little!” Mrs. Miller reached out to grab you, only for you to duck her failed attempt of dragging you back. Gojo jumped up and down with an amused smile on his face, calling out for you to run faster, which you try to comply as best as possible. You run over to Gojo as fast as your legs would carry you, locking arms and running to who knows where, you can’t quite remember each detail. After that point the rest of the night was a blur to you, still thirteen years later. The sound of Mrs. Miller’s feisty chihuahua, later identified as ‘FeFee’ chasing after you being the most exciting part of the whole ordeal. Gojo and you laughing your way home, still heaving from running so fast from the tiny animal, a ‘disgrace’ to the dog community as he called it.

You both promised that after the scare of possibly having to raise a baby at the ripe age of 14, (and almost having bloody ankles due to FeFee) that fucking each other would be a one time thing.

But it wasn’t.

“F-fuck..! mhmph—God!” He continuously rammed into you from the back, his hands gripping your waist so hard it felt like you had broken bones. Your halloween costume was now thrown somewhere in the corner of this bedroom, who’s bedroom? You had no idea, but at the moment you couldn’t give two shits.

“Yeah? You like that baby?” Gojo thrusted harder, making a broken cry fall from your lips like water. “Knew you c-couldnt…resist my cock any longer, bitch.” Possessed grunts come from him at each thrust and movement he makes. Vibrations from the music of the party travel through the walls, Gojo going deeper and faster to the sound of the horrible rave music downstairs.

If it wasn’t a party, people might of thought a murder was going on by the sounds of your wails of pleasure, but it was normal to fuck at a party, no matter the location.

Tears seep into the pillow that the side of your face was squished down onto, mascara running down your face as you sob from a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Gojo!” you sob, the pleasure becoming too much to bare, yet you couldn’t get the established safe word (which you two only made in 10th grade because you overstimulated him by riding his cock to the point of him passing out) to come out. His dick was that fucking good.

The sound of his heavy, cum filled balls coming in contact with your plush ass make you clench around his length, causing an animalistic moan from Gojo. A room echoing SMACK comes in contact with your ass, making you thrust your back into him, fucking him right back. The burning of the stinging sensation leaves you wanting more, the feeling of his hand still lingering on your left cheek.

Gojo begins going at an alarmingly hasty pace, his whole body aching for more of you, all of you, every single cell. The sound of your sloppy pussy squelching each time he pulls in and out, makes the heat in the pit of his stomach rise. By now you can’t see clearly, eyes welled up with tears and the remains of gooey eyelash glue. One of his hands leave your sore hip, grasping into your messy locks, giving it a good tug “MHMP! ….F-f—fuck!” This only causes him to yank your whole head back, you look up through your lashes, which are stuck together with a mixture of glue and sweat.

“Y-yeah,” he huffs, gripping your roots to a point of it being just downright painful. “keep looking at me….yeah mhmph—j-just like that.” The intense eye contact makes his thrusts even quicker and more efficient, his fat, squishy balls hitting your puffy clit over and over. “So fuckin’ tight for me.” Another hard spank wipes itself across both of your cheeks, the jiggle of them causing yet another guttural moan from Gojo’s throat.

Your soppy wet cunt drips all down his cock, his balls picking up the reminisce of your warm, flowing juices. Gojo’s fingers unravel themselves from your now frizzy hair, the thought of having to wash it later tonight makes you internally groan. His fingers make a slow, tantalizing path up and down your back, the contrast evident between his soft, gentle touch and his monstrous rock hard cock going in and out of your folds. Your face plants back down in the tear-drenched pillow case, the bed creaking from the force of your two bodies going at it.

His slow paced, soft finger touches come to an abrupt end when it meets your soft breasts. An aching cry sounding from your lips as his pointer and thumb mesh together around your now hard nipple. “Mhm…look at you…all whiny for m-me.“ He thrusts harder, your cervix feeling almost numb and incredibly bruised. At this point, your slobbering at the mouth like a dog with rabies, eyes rolling to the back of your brain each time his cock hits every delicious spot.

Gojo’s movements start to get sloppy, as well does the kisses he starts to place on your neck, back, and shoulders. The quick erratic pace starts to slow, forearms trembling from the strength he’s used to hold them on the side of your head all night. His thrusts are slow, long, almost like he’s grinding in slow motion, yet it’s not any less effective. Your thighs begin to shake with overwhelming pleasure, the pressure your body is holding in making you wanna scream it all out. “Mhmph g-gonna cum!” You practically scream a moan out, making Gojo’s lips turn upwards in a smug grin. His lips make their way from the left side of your neck to the middle, and then to the right, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. Dark red and purple bruised hickeys are now spread all down your body, surely to be left there for weeks to come.

“Nuh uh…not yet,” Gojo grunts as he feels your warm cunt clench around his throbbing cock for the millionth time that night. “This is my pussy…I g-get to tell you when to cum.” You almost wanna roll your eyes at his statement but your too drunk off his cock to care. You attempt to protest, the knot in your stomach becoming too hot to handle, but you get shut up right away when his fingers twist around your sensitive nipple once more, letting out a deep moan from your soul. Your hands grip the silk sheets in desperation, needing to grab something in order to keep you stable. “Mhm, tell me baby…who’s pussy is this?”

You cry into the pillow, pain, pleasure, and the feeling of being absolutely turned on in your whines. After not answering right away, Gojo grabs you by the hair again, yanking your head back, causing your neck to stretch to lengths you didn’t even know you had the flexibility to do so. “I asked, who does…this pussy belong to?” He says through gritted teeth. You feel every 8 inches of his cock in your stretched out pussy, every inch filling you up to as much as you could take. Each vein, the pounding pulse that acts as a second heartbeat, every thick, gurthy inch. When you don’t respond for the second time, too delirious to even understand what’s going on, he throws your head roughly back into the pillow, picking up his pace again.

Everything able to clench on your body does, gripping the pillow with such force that your knuckles turn white. Drops of sweat patter onto your back from Gojo’s forehead, the warm salty liquid making you squirm. Another sudden spank lands on your fat ass cheeks, and you couldn’t help but let loose. “FUCK—GOJO!” Strings of loud breaking moans and screams escape your mouth, sounding like a real murder now.

Gojo throws his head back once he feels your warm, sticky cum surround his palpitating cock. He pumps his dick back into you, pushing your cum back into your dripping wet cunt as far as his cock would let it. He himself finally let’s go, the thin string in his body snaps as his warm liquids mix with yours, in all too familiar feeling. His deep moans rush right to your core, the thrusts becoming inconsistent and sloppy once more. You hear the big analog clock from the entry way downstairs, giving you a slight reminder where the hell you were. Some random persons house, where his parents would probably be any second, and maybe you were even fucking in their bed. You bite your lip, slightly turned on by the fact of possibly getting caught, like you were a teenager back home, sucking Gojo’s cock before his father returned from work.

You whisper moan Gojo’s name over and over like a mantra, in other words, thanking him for finally giving you what your aching pussy had needed. You can tell he’s grateful too, being more gentle as if he had not just fucked your lights out. Caressing your back, like he did the first time this toxic relationship began back in 9th grade. Any memory loss from him talking to that girl just an hour ago was completely thrown out the window, even though you knew deep down you were just like her. One of his play things, the only difference was you weren’t oblivious to his motives. In fact you played into them, driving the toxicity just as much as he did. It made it fun that way. No matter how many guys you fucked, the number of cocks you sucked, the lips you kissed, none of them compared to his, and it made you feel sick in the most pleasurable way possible.

Gojo eventually pulls out, after speaking strange sweet nothings into your ear, which you haven’t heard since he was fifteen. You hated how it made your heart feel so warm, unlike the feeling of the cool air hitting your cunt. The cold air makes you wince, missing his cock already despite still feeling it’s outline in your folds. Fingers leave your hard, tender nipples, bringing them down to your dripping cunt, wiping the access off your thighs.

You start to come back to reality from the moment, the room still filled with humid sticky air caused by the amount of hot breaths and touches made throughout. The only sounds now being your heavy breathing, reminding you of the night you two ran away from FeFee, and slurping from Gojo, licking away at his fingers coated with your sweet salty release. Your folds still leaking with a mixture of your cum, trickling down your painfully sore thighs.

Gojo looks at the syrupy goodness leaking onto the silk sheets, a liquid you would only expect to see on waffles at the local cafe down the street. He finally collapses on top of you, softly massaging your right side, face pressed into the crook of your sweating neck. Placing gentle kisses on your sticky skin, bodies molded into one by your muggy bodies. You savor the moment, knowing deep down in your heart that things would go back to how they were in just a couple hours, fighting, screwing other girls and guys, and all together, a toxic romance.

You sit on the curb, voices from the party still able to be heard as you wait for your cab. You sit there like you’ve been through hell and back, you were if it meant having the best sex you’ve had in a good long while. Sitting on one cheek, the other still too sore to have pressure applied to it, you hear a ding from your phone. You wait a minute, trying to calm your pounding headache from both the alcohol and the amazing sex you just endured. The cool fall air blowing past you as you open the text you received, a small smirk tugged up your chapped lips.

⎜1:34 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): had fun. see u next halloween baby 🫴🏻🍑

[thefallennightmare]

Dreamstate-Noah Sebastian x Reader[JP UNIVERSE]

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut(18+), star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse, talks of death, depressive thoughts, talks about not being able to conceive, and endometriosis.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: Hi my loves! JP has been around for ONE YEAR! I am so thankful for all of you. I appreciate every single one of you more than I can ever express. This one-shot takes place between chapters 29 and 30! Also please know that I do not mean any disrespect to Keaton or his memory. Everything I've ever written was done with love and appreciation for him like I've done from the beginning. 🪽🖤 I will not hold it against you if you do not want to read because of it. But please know, that it's done with the utmost respect.

Tags[CLOSED]: @blueskylinesx @missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @joe9cool @ozwriterchick @happi-goth @softvgold @cncohshit @heyyoplayer @rain-down-on-me @respectfulrebel @reader13000 @koskeepsake @malerieee @cheyyyyr @myownthoughts12 @noahsbong @laurpartyprogram @cloudykoookie @jessiskyee @sideeyenoah @badomensls @bellaboo967 @rxdlstgn @anthemheatwave @lobolocaamo @cncohshit @amelia-acero @karenfranco @collidewiththesavannah @xserenax-13 @supersquirrel1996 @themodern-daywednesday @oxythoughtin7715

THIS IS FICTION. NONE OF THIS IS REAL.

NOAH

Blinking my eyes open, I looked around my surroundings and noticed that I was no longer in my bedroom fighting with Y/N. I was on the tour bus, our tour bus, and when I craned my head to the side to peer out the window in my bunk, I sucked in a breath at what I saw. An oddly familiar venue with a red roof. 

“What the fuck,” I muttered while rolling out of my bunk on the tour bus. “How hard did I hit my head last night?” 

During my fight with Y/N, she threw one of her sketchbooks at me in frustration and it hit me directly in the middle of my forehead. That was the last thing I remembered before waking up here in our tour bus. We didn’t have a tour planned which made this whole scene even more confusing. I stretched out my long limbs, feeling the bones pop into place, as I walked towards the front area of the bus and made it outside, wondering where the rest of the guys were. 

“Jolly? Nicholas?” I called out. 

A sudden commotion on the far end of the bus caused me to whirl around and my heart thundered in my chest with the sight before me. It wasn’t the group of people that gave me pause. It was the lone female in the group with her long blonde hair and familiar smile that made my skin slick with sweat. 

"Nice to meet you. I'm sure they've already said this but we're huge fans of Hollow Souls. Noah has your music on the playlist we play during the wait time for our shows,” Nicholas smiled while extending his hand towards the familiar blonde. 

"Shit, you guys sure know how to make a girl blush," she laughed lightly while bouncing on the soles of her feet.

“Y/N,” I breathed. 

"Malcolm, your directions-." 

Just as footsteps thundered down the steps of the bus behind me, the scene around me spun on its axis and darkness crept in. Bile rose in my throat as I felt my body being lurched forward onto the cold concrete, scraping up my palms and knees. 

“I should not have had that gas station burrito,” I grumbled while clutching my stomach. 

Slowly rising to my feet, I leaned my hand up against a car I had been literally thrown in front of, suddenly making me tilt my head towards it. This wasn’t the tour bus I had stepped down moments ago. In fact, I was in an entirely different place than before. 

“This is one fucked up dream,” I dragged my hand down my face. 

An angry voice from the other side of the van had me stepping around it slowly, not wanting to be detected on the off chance this wasn’t a dream and I was sneaking up on someone who could kill me. 

"You don't have to worry about Noah hurting her. That's the farthest thing from his mind. He might be stubborn as hell but when he cares about someone, he makes sure they know that,” Nicholas smiled over towards Chase and Malcolm. 

Furrowing my brows, I glanced over to Folio, seeing him shake out his hair before putting his hat back on. "He's a Scorpio, what did you expect?" 

“That was fucking rude,” I muttered under my breath. 

"Whether or not they admit it, they both need each other," Jolly smiled down over the cliff. 

Peering over the hood of the car, I saw two faint figures on the beach and sucked in a breath; all the memories from our beach day came flooding back in as Y/N and myself waved up at the group of guys. 

“How hard did she hit me with that sketchbook?” I rubbed at my forehead, still feeling the sting from earlier. 

It was clear that I was dreaming of past moments Y/N and I shared but I couldn’t get over how real and vivid everything was. Almost as if I traveled back in time to these moments and saw it from a different perspective, not my own. 

Why was I dreaming of these moments? Did it have a meaning? Or was it just because my brain was fucked up from all of the fighting Y/N and I had gone through?

Before I could get comfortable in this dreamstate, I felt the darkness creep in on the edge of my vision once again and all at once, my body was thrown through a tunnel only to be spat out seconds later; a different scenery from the last. 

I was now in a hotel room, unsure when and where because frankly from the years of touring the hotel rooms began to blend together. It was then that I got a look at myself in the reflection of the mirror in the room and I sighed. My hair was short, indicating what I already knew. I’d been jumping in between moments from my past. 

“Hi, angel.”

“Hi,” a soft voice broke through the quiet of the room, causing me to look over at the bed. 

No. 

My past self sat on the bed with Y/N, her head in my lap as I ran my fingers through her hair. It was evident no one could see me because I was standing at the foot of the bed, watching as my past self lowered his lips onto Y/N's, capturing them softly. 

Our first kiss. 

My heart fluttered in the confines in my chest, remembering the feeling that filled me that day. Through the dread and intense sadness from losing my best friend that day, Y/N’s unwavering comfort eased away the darkness that crept in. 

“About time, huh? I’d been trying to set you two up for years.” 

My body froze at the voice that lingered in the air; the familiar voice that I hadn’t heard in years.  I choked while whirling around at the voice, ignoring the couple in the bed who were muttering something about Mario Kart. 

The room spun rapidly before I could get my bearings, the floor getting ripped out from beneath me and my body slammed back and forth against the void before I fell onto a couch in yet another room. This one I immediately recognized, all of those feelings of hurt and abandonment crept back in as I let out a shuddering breath. 

My past self, donning those ridiculous braids, dragged a finger over the large tattoo on Y/N’s back as she cuddled the pillow close to her chest, a soft giggle echoing in the room. 

"Way down the road maybe one day in the future- to live in the middle of nowhere with a dog, cats, and a family of my own. In my wooden home that I built."

My eyes screwed shut, knowing what was going to come next. The calm before the storm. All because I asked a stupid question. 

“Think of how far you’ve come from this moment, Noah. It was rough getting there but it was worth it.”

Snapping my eyes open, I glanced around the room looking for his face. It was his voice, surely he had to be here. 

“Where are you?” I said. 

As I blinked, the scene changed yet again and now I was standing in the rain, it chilling me to the bone. Wrapping myself deeper into my hoodie, I gazed around to see my past self standing in the rain as well with Y/N, trying to stop her from getting in her car. 

“What easy way, Noah? This isn’t easy!” Y/N sighed. “None of this is easy!” 

“No it is, actually.” My past self nodded. “Don’t think about anyone or anything else. What do you want from me? What do you want, angel?”

She rapidly shook her head, choking on a sob. “It’s not that simple.”

“What. Do. You. Want?” I watched myself enunciate every word with a pound fist to my chest. 

When Y/N remained silent, I grasped her face to bring her into my warm embrace, even with the rain. “God damn it! What do you want?”

The pain in my own chest was evident, remembering how gut wrenching it felt to ask repeatedly what Y/N wanted. That night had started off great, only to be ruined by Bailey. It was my fault ultimately for not being clearer about our breakup. I tried not to dwell on it much because of how far Y/N and I have come since this night. 

A snicker sounded from my left. “Did you really quote The Notebook? Never pegged you as a romance film kind of guy.” 

Looking at the voice, I let out a gasp when the all too familiar smirk appeared on a face I hadn’t seen in years; one that my heart yearned to see again. His form began to fade in the darkness as it danced around both of us, dragging us back down. 

“No. Please, wait!” I reached for him only to be thrown into yet another memory. 

How long had I been asleep? Did this fucking sketchbook render me useless? Was I passed out on the floor of our bedroom? 

Another thing I couldn’t figure out: why was I being thrusted into my own memory lane?

A commotion of voices halted me as I stood in a crowd of people, still undetected, and when I caught a flash of red, my breath caught in my throat knowing exactly what memory I’d been thrown into. I no longer was soaked to the bone due to the rain; I was dry. 

I'm not afraid of the war you've come to wage against my sins.

I'm not okay, but I can try my best to just pretend.

The music echoed loudly in the room and I frantically looked for the couch, knowing my past self would have been sitting there. I watched as he rose from his seated position and started to push his way through the crowd, looking for Y/N as our song played; a siren call looking for their lost soulmate.

“This was one of the most irritating moments of my life,” I sighed while crossing my arms over my chest, watching as our past selves kept missing each other. 

“Do you know how hard it was to make sure you guys found each other at the right moment that night?” That voice snickered behind me. 

Whirling around, I saw those eyes that shined bright with so much light. Just like before, the second I caught sight of him, he disappeared before I could grasp him. I wasn’t sure what was more irritating: being thrown around in an imaginary void or not being able to fully see the presence that had been following me. 

For quite longer than I thought, apparently. 

Expecting to be dragged down into another memory, I simply turned on my heels to see I was now standing in a hotel hallway. My past self stood no more than two feet in front of me, hand rubbing at his chest. The words he muttered fell on deaf ears as my eyes locked with the man holding my past self up. I knew I felt someone's arms around me that day, keeping me from falling to my knees. 

“Keaton, I need you, man. Please tell me everything will be alright.” 

As a soft breeze blew past the three of us in the middle of the hallway, I kept my eyes locked with the materializing figure over my past self’s shoulder. 

“You’ve been with me this entire time,” I breathed with the realization. 

He wore a soft smile as he nodded, before slowly fading away. “It’s okay.”

Then all at once, the world around me shifted one final time, throwing me back into my bedroom at home and I fell onto the bed with a grunt. It seemed like I was back to where I was before I went on a dream walk down memory lane, Y/N’s scattered sketchbook on the floor at my feet. Movement in front of me caught my eye as I slowly rose and tentatively walked over to the bathroom, seeing Y/N and me standing there. Both of them were standing in the middle of the bathroom with bright and hopeful smiles. 

“I don’t remember this,” I said with my hands on my hips. 

I watched as Y/N wrapped herself around his midsection, both of them swaying to something before they looked over to the phone on the bathroom counter with even wider smiles. 

"Should we post it?" She asked.

Other me smiled bright, love filling those once dark eyes. "Instagram story. On there less than twenty four hours. Once we post it, lets turn off our phones to just focus on us."

“How’s she doing?

Jumping at the voice over my shoulder, I finally saw him standing in front of me and not in the ghost form he’d been all those times before. 

“Keaton,” I breathed, almost immediately wrapping my arms around him in a hug. 

His infectious laughter echoed when I tackled him. “Good to see you too, Noah.” 

We stayed like that for a long moment, trying so hard to ingrain how it felt to hug my best friend again into my memory and when we eventually pulled away, I sniffled while whipping away a stray tear. 

“I miss you so much, man,” I admitted with a shaky breath. 

“I’m always with you, Noah. Right here,” Keaton pointed to my chest then to the tattoos on the side of my hands. “And right there.” 

Ignoring the couple behind me in the bathroom, not knowing what they were waiting for, I kept my attention on Keaton. 

“You know, when I'm sleeping I sometimes talk with you. But every time I wake up, it’s like I'm waiting for a miracle.” 

I sniffled one more time with a shrug before continuing. “Maybe when the night comes, I'll find you in another world.”

“I’m not the miracle you need, Noah. But believe, it’s closer than you think.”

“Huh?” I asked, not quite sure what he meant by that.

“How’s she doing?” Keaton asked again, the colors in the room suddenly fading away, only to be replaced with a bright white light. 

My brows furrowed. “Who? Y/N?” 

Instead of answering, his smile reached his ears and bid me a final goodbye with a wink before turning on his heels and walking farther into the void of white. 

“What do you mean?!” I called out after him, desperately wanting to run after him but my feet wouldn’t move, feeling heavier than concrete. 

“In time the price of peace will cost us everything but all the love you leave carries on,” Keaton’s voice spoke in my mind one final time. 

A loud gasp fell from my lips as I sat up in bed, covered in a thick sweat as it lingered on every inch of skin. The fabric of my shirt clung to my back as I frantically looked around the room, my heart nearly bursting out of my chest. I was back in my bedroom and noticed that the sketchbook wasnt where it previously was. Matter of fact, neither was the broken picture Y/N threw at me before the sketchbook. 

My gaze locked on the date that was shining bright on our alexa home screen causing me to cock my head slightly at it, air catching in my throat. 

No. 

No way. 

It was not possible. 

“Clearly I’m dreaming again,” I murmured to myself before pursing my lips and pinching my thigh. 

“Nope, not dreaming,” I yelped in pain. 

The bed shifted next to me causing me to look down at the naked form on Y/N as she lay in a tangled mess of bedsheets and blankets. 

“Hmm,” she hummed with a smile after setting her phone down on the pillow next to her. “Astrid and Faye want to meet up with me today. I guess they both have some special news they want to tell me.” 

I blinked. “Huh?” 

“I guess something happened after The Ghost Inside set with Faye last night and Astrid found out something pretty important,” Y/N said. 

I could barely speak, still being dumbfounded with the date on the Alexa home screen. 

“Maybe I'll invite them over once I'm back home from the art store. I figured it'll be alright since you have therapy and we’re not going to dinner until four,” she sat up while letting the sheet fall to her lap. 

I was still in a state of shock that I couldn’t even gaze at her perfect breasts, my mind whirling with so many different emotions. All I could do was numbly nod.

“I must say,” she smirked while brushing away the hair from my face, laying a kiss on my lips. “It’s always great to wake up to you every morning. But on my birthday, it’s extra special.”

[wearebarca]

1. Captured // Alexia Putellas x Original character

Part 1 part 2 part 3

synopsis: Rosalie has never stayed too long at the same place. When the opportunity of a lifetime presents itself critical moment in her life, the photographer decides to once again leave behind what she knows and joins the staff of Europe's best football team.

word count: 3,5K

18 + (eventually)

A/N: Hello, Spanish is from google translate so please be nice. French is my first language so all should be good on that part. Enjoy.

Her fingers were hovering over the multitudes of cameras lined up in the bookcase of her small living room. The balcony doors were opened and the cool night air filtered in the little apartment, along with the chants and cheers of the sea of supporters passing in the streets below. Nights like these had quickly become her favourite since moving to the heart of Barcelona. She would usually sit on the balcony and watch as the supporters would celebrate their club's win, filling the night air with happiness and excitement but tonight was slightly different though. An important match was currently being disputed at the Johan Cruyff Estadi, one that all the Barcelona Femini fans were looking forward to all year. El Classico was always an electric night and Rosalie had decided to experience this night out in the streets, instead of the comfort of her balcony chair.

Once out in the streets, She was immediately hit by a wave of excitement. She was instantly  swept in a sea of chanting people, all wearing jerseys and scarves with their team's logo. The crowd was so dense that all you could see were flashes of red and blue making the task of focusing on one subject a difficult one. She finally managed to exit the crowd and find a bench near a bus stop, high enough to have a clear view of the scene unfolding in front of her. This new vantage point allowed you to take numerous portraits of fans, capturing groups of friends in the middle of drunken laughs and barça chants. She instantly knew when the final whistle was blown and Barcelona had won the match. Excited screams could be heard all around and the ground was slightly shaking from the people jumping around in an ecstatic frenzy. Rosalie lowered her camera and took a moment to soak it all in. These were the moments that reminded her of why she had chosen sports photography as her career. This feeling of unity between fans, the shared excitement and hope as well as the solidarity displayed among the supporters even during darker times. Sports was something that brought people together, made them temporarily forget about their lives. She considered herself lucky to have a job that allowed her to capture such moments. 

Once back in the safety of her apartment, she plugged her camera to her computer and while the shots she took were transferring into her laptop. She pulled out the wine bottle that was already opened and sat on her couch. Next to her was a pile of clothes that consisted of her vintage oversized brown leather jacket, a tight black t-shirt and dark brown pleated pants. She had specifically picked out this outfit for her first day in her new job. Her camera bag sat next to the pile, only her laptop missing. Everything was ready, perfectly organized, almost obsessively. The stress of this new beginning was keeping her up which led the young woman to work on the shots she had taken during the night until she fell asleep in her living room. 

The drive to the training stadium wasn’t too long. She had left incredibly early to avoid traffic and ended up parking her car at the stadium and walking around the block. It wasn’t long until she stumbled upon a small cafe, not too far from the training center. The place looked cosy and inviting with all the plants and the picture frames. Upon a closer look, she noticed that they were all pictures of what she guest was regulars enjoying their coffees. The thought of so much history hanging on these walls made the French-Canadian smile as she went to stand in line to order. 

 Her Spanish was rather shaky which made the barista and the woman behind her chuckle lightly. But nonetheless she managed to order and pay without going completely red from embarrassment.  

“Americano para Rosalie” The french name sounds so foreign when spoken in the language and Rosalie almost felt bad for the barista and made a note to herself to use her spanish nickname when ordering in the future. 

 She picked up her coffee and as she was turning around to exit the small shop, her body collided with a solid one, making her spill half of her own coffee on herself. 

“oh Déu, ho sento, estàs bé?”

A tattooed had grabbed her elbow in an attempt to stabilize her, but the damage was done. The cup that was previously secured in her hand had spilled more than half of its content on her shirt and bag.  the tattooed woman turn to her partner “ Ingrid can you grab napkins please” 

She immediately took the napkins that were handed to her and started to dab at her bag in an attempt to prevent the liquid from seeping in and mess with her equipment. Busy trying to dry the coffee that had fallen on her work bag, Rosalie had failed to notice who exactly had bumped into her, but the names mentioned during her short encounter were oddly familiar. “ Are you ok? Did any get in your bag?” A tall dark haired woman was standing right in front of you with a worried smile and Rosalie could not believe her luck. She simply shook her head and smiled at the Norwegian while throwing the napkins away. 

“ I’m Ingrid, we’re very sorry about this, Maria’s a little clumsy.” She laughed at her own statement, knowing very well that “ a little” was a bit of an understatement. 

“ It’s ok, I can’t say that I was really looking where I was going” Rosalie said as she followed Ingrid outside the cafe to a small table near the entrance.  The Spanish woman exited the shop shortly after them with a tray with four cups of coffee. 

“ Asked the barista for your order, here you go.” The Spanish woman said with an apologetic smile on her lips. 

“ Thank you, you didn’t have to do that”

“ It was only fair since this one can’t be bothered to be aware of the world around her” she said, giving a playful glare to her partner. 

“ I’m Mapi, .” . 

“Oh I know who you are,” she said with a smile on her face. She wasn’t new to the football world, having played all the way to her college years. After graduation, she had gotten herself a job as an assistant photographer in  the  NWSL in America. She had travelled all around the United-States and became one of the best known sports photographers. Three years into the job, Rosalie received a call that would change her career forever.

Arsenal W.F.C was desperately looking to revamp its image and put the club on the map. Management had come across some of Rosalie’s dynamic shots and had contacted her to offer her a spot in the new media team that would follow the girls around during the season. Seeing this as the opportunity of a lifetime, she moved across the ocean. This was the opportunity of a lifetime and she absolutely loved it. She had built her strongest friendships over there, had fallen even more in love with job and football, but also experienced her most gut wrenching heartbreak. After her breakup, she had stayed with the team to finish her contract and then packed her flat without knowing what she would do next. She knew that going back toArsenal would not be a good idea since she would have to see the face of the woman that had broken her trust everyday, so she gave her notice and left a month to go hiking in Andalucia. It would be during this trip that she would get the call from FC Barcelona Femini. She would accept on the spot and after a quick apartment search she would have all her belongings shipped to her new address and fly straight to Barcelona, without anyone knowing about her new beginning. 

“ Sorry that came out a little strong,  I’m Rosalie Marineau, Barça’s new photographer.” She shook both their hands and started the few blocks walk towards the training facility.

“ Oh it is a pleasure to meet you, we were wondering when the new photographer would start. We were all excited after seeing some of your work with Arsenal, very impressive.” 

“Thank you so much but I should be the one who’s excited, it truly is an honour to work with such a strong and dedicated team Like Barça, I really can’t wait to start.” the woman said with a beaming smile. The walk back to the stadium was filled with conversation about the upcoming season, Rosalie's career and even strayed to her college football career. As the group reached the entrance of the training grounds, a voice made itself heard in the hallway. 

“ustedes chicas llegan tarde” A tall blond was leaning against the wall right next to the locker room door. She was wearing the gray half zip training shirt with matching shorts and her hair loose, fanning over her shoulders. Her arms were crossed, her boots in one hand and a stern expression was plastered on her face. In her mind, there was no way that this woman was not the captain of this team and indeed, a few moments later, Rosalie was standing face to face with Alexia Putellas. 

“ Quince minutos antes no significa tarde, Ale” The sigh that left the Catalonian’s lips was long and the look that came with the sound would make anyone shrink right on the spot. She propped herself up and with even sparing a glance in the direction of the photographer, she turned around and entered the locker room. 

“Maria, you might want to follow her, you don’t want her getting worse.” Ingrid said, pushing her girlfriend towards the same door the blond had previously disappeared in. The Spanish woman let out a sigh of her own before also disappearing into the room. “ Come with me, I’ll show you to the management's office.”

As Rosalie had predicted, her morning was all about paperwork officializing her new position as the head of the photography department. Ingrid ended up staying the whole time and even offered to show her to her new office. The office was located on the second floor of the building, which seemed a lot calmer than the lower level. Upon entering the office, Rosalie was surprised by how spacious the place was. The space was divided into two sections. The first had all the proper equipment at her disposal to hold photoshoots. Everything was brand new and of the highest quality, with some of the equipment still wrapped in their boxes. The second was closest to the windows, which gave a perfect view of the pitch, and was  half hidden behind screens to give the feeling of being in a completely different room. A desk with two large screens and a laptop launchpad, a comfortable looking chair and a small sofa occupied the space. 

A big smile was playing on Rosalie’s lips as she took in the space she would now work in. “ I hope you will feel right at home here.” Jonatan ​​Giràldez said as he came to stand beside the photographer. “ You can set up if you’d like, I’ll send someone to collect you so you can meet the team before lunch.” He said, once again extending his hand for her to shake. “ Welcome to the family, Senorita Marineau.” 

After a quick hug from Ingrid and a promise to talk more later, Rosalie pulled out her laptop and took a seat at her new desk. Looking out at the pitch she found the two women she was hoping to see. During her contract with Arsenal, she was asked to follow some of the players to the Lionesses camp to capture their journey. That’s where she had met her closest friends. When she met Keira Walsh, it was like something in the universe clicked. The rest of the England squad used to joke that the two of them were the same person but in different fonts, and they might as well have been right. The two women had the same awkward sense of humour and were able to guest what the other needed or wanted with having to express anything. 

Upon meeting the younger French-Canadian woman, Lucy Bronze had immediately felt a strong feeling of protectiveness. This feeling grew even more when one night the Canadian woman had shared with their small friend group that she wasn’t close to her family.  Maybe it was because she knew that the girl had nobody to count on, in England or even in her home country, but the woman started to treat the younger brunette like she was part of her family. She was like a big sister to Rosalie and loved the girl fiercely. The couple had become Rosalie’s family during her years in London, but the distance made it hard for them to see each other outside of camps. Still the girls kept in touch regularly and had facetime movie nights on a weekly basis. They were in fact the first ones Rosalie had told about her move, and she would be lying if one of the big reasons why she accepted so fast was because she knew her two best friends were playing for this team. 

Setting up her stuff wasn’t long. She had brought a few picture frames, mainly pictures of her, Lucy and Keira, of her, Beth, Viv, Leah and Lia, her closest Arsenal friends, that she put on her desk and plugged her camera and laptop to the screens. She still had about an hour and a half before lunch so she decided to finish editing the pictures from the night before. 

She knew someone was making their way towards her office just by the sound of football boots on the hard floors. Still, too engrossed in her work, Rosalie did not lift her head until a very familiar voice spoke. 

“You know, if you missed us this much, you could’ve called instead of stalking us all the way here.” She could recognize that strong northern accent anywhere. Leaning against her door frame, in the same training kit that Alexia was wearing, Lucy was smiling brightly at her friend. The smile on Rosalie’s face lit up the whole room and warmed up the English woman’s heart. It had been a while since she had seen her friend with a genuine smile on her face. She almost tumbled over trying to catch the smaller woman who had jumped in her arms. 

“Shouldn’t you be training?” A quick look behind her showed the pitch empty. 

“Everyone is in the gym, we figured we’d come get you to meet everyone now.” She said dragging the girl out of her office.

“Wait a minute,” she made a beeline to her office to grab the usb key containing the picture she wanted to give the media team and followed the woman out in the corridor. 

“How are you settling here? You know, we feel bad about not helping you move.” Rosalie understood perfectly well why Keira and Lucy weren’t able to come give her a hand. With the away games, training and media duty, the women were swarmed and didn’t get a minute to themselves. Still, the lack of extra pairs of arms and someone to push her meant that a lot of boxes remained untouched. 

“Don’t worry, I’m good.” She said with a small smile. By the look the older woman was giving her, Rosalie knew that her little lie didn’t go through. But Lucy chose to drop the subject knowing that pestering her friend was not the way to go in this situation. 

“I'll show you around the training center but first, everyone is in the gym so we can start there.” She said walking ahead of the brunette. “ The trainers wanted you to know that you have access to it whenever you want and if you'd like they can help you with your training.” 

“ What do you mean?” The French-Canadian was confused as she caught up with the taller woman. 

“ Well… when the news of your arrival came out, people started to ask questions. They found out who you were through management and they apparently told the girls to talk to us because we knew you.” Lucy said in an apologetic tone. She knew that even though her friend was well known in her field, she liked to keep her life private. “ We didn’t say much, don't worry, but we have some grade A stalkers in this team.” 

“ Oh mon dieu ,what did they find?” The brunette said, hiding her face behind her hands. She didn’t have anything crazy on her social media, but she did have a couple pictures from her college football career that looked a little weird along with some pictures of her races, triathlons and marathons that were surely not her best angles. 

“ Everything darling,” Lucy said laughing, “ They especially loved the beach pictures and the triathlon ones, you made quite the impression, Frenchy.” 

The girl could not be more mortified. Those pictures were not bad. In fact, she was quite proud of them, but it was the fact that the whole team had seen her in her bikini or dying during a race before actually meeting her. She simply wasn’t a fan of the fact that they knew so much already.  But then, it was only fair, she thought, since their whole lives were plastered in tabloïds and discussed in social media all the time. The difference was that the photographer had never been in their position.

Lucy chose this exact moment to open the door leading to the gym and Rosalie’s ears were instantly flooded with rapid spanish banter and that freshly cut grass smell that she loved. The room was extremely bright due to the fact that it had direct access to the pitch, which meant that a slight breeze from the outside kept the gym cool and fresh. Almost every station was occupied by players, sometimes alone, but mostly in pairs. The first one to notice their arrival was none other than Mapi, who was helping a certain captain keeping her balance on a platform. She waved excitedly which caused the blond to lose balance and almost fall to her face. The look she sent the Zaragozian would have scared anyone in their right mind. When she realized that her look didn’t get the reaction it deserved she turned her gaze to the source of her training partner’s distraction,  only to lock eyes with the photographer. 

The contact didn’t not last long since the commotion had caught everyone’s attention. They quickly formed a half circle around the girl, seemingly waiting for her to say a few words. 

“ hola,” Rosalie wasn’t a shy person but she was definitely intimidated by the women in front of her. A smile from the couple that she had met in the morning was the little push she needed to continue. “ My name is Rosalie Marineau and I am Barça’s new head photographer. I am very excited to work with all of you. " she said smiling "Don’t worry, I’ll always get your best angle.” 

Smiles filled the room and everyone stepped forward to introduce themselves. The first to reach the woman was Mariona who shook her hand and welcomed her. Next were Patri and Pina who both looked like over excited children. They both gave the girl hugs and started to ask different questions only to be pulled away by Irene and Aitana. The taller woman had a warm smile and a very calm demeanor that instantly made Rosalie feel at ease with her. The smaller woman pulled her in a hug and asked her about her  move and how she was settling in this new city.  

A voice she knew all too well interrupted the conversation and arms wrapped around the photographer from behind. As soon as she smelled the familiar perfume, the Canadian spun around and wrapped her arms around her best friend. “ Hello Frenchy''

Keira didn’t let go of the woman and gave an apologetic smile to the two Spanish players who smiled and left, understanding that this was a private reunion. “ I had to fight Lucy to go get you but the old hag still has some spunk in her.” 

The comment made Rosalie laugh and pull away without letting go completely of her friend. At this moment, Lucy arrived next to the blond and gave her a small shove. “ I heard that.”

A few other players came to introduce themselves but Keira and Lucy stayed by the brunette’s side. When the last of the girls left, the photographer turned to her friends only to see them looking over her shoulders. 

“ Hola, I don’t think we have been introduced” 

The photographer turned around swiftly only to freeze on the spot at the woman before her. Words seemed to escape her as her lips parted but no words came out. Alexia Putellas was a woman with a commanding presence and piercing eyes. She towered over the photographer by a few inches  and even with a polite smile on her face, she held herself with a confidence that would make anyone shrink beside her. A sharp elbow in her ribs shook up the girl and prompted her to finally speak.

“ Oui, Bonjour mademoiselle,”

[thatchickwiththecamera]

Two Pink Lines

This is from a request sent to me by @lma1986

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Female Reader

TW: Pregnancy difficulties, implied past loss.

The soft glow of the late afternoon sun filtered through the window of the bedroom where she sat waiting for the timer to finish counting down. For the past few weeks, she had been riding an emotional rollercoaster. Fear and anxiety mixed together with joy and excitement. Today, though, she felt something she hadn't dared to let herself feel for a long time: Hope. 

The timer on her phone sounded and she looked at the tiny white stick lying on the table, a wave of disbelief washing over her. It was actually real. After years of trying and countless disappointments, it was right there. Two pink lines. Her heart raced as she imagined the little life growing inside her. 

She was able to get an appointment with her OB/GYN a few days later and Dr. Matthews confirmed that she was in fact pregnant. She estimated her to be about 10 weeks along and calculated a due date for the middle of October.

Y/N stared in awe at the screen of the ultrasound machine as the tech pointed out the little bean that was her baby. Hot tears sprang from her eyes as the rapid tempo of the heartbeat filled the silent room. 

With a flutter of excitement, she picked up her phone and texted Bryan, the band’s media director. He was one of the few she trusted with this secret.

Hey, Bryan! I need your help with something! Can I call you?

Minutes later, her phone buzzed.

Absolutely!

Nerves ate at her as she listened to the phone ring.

“Hey, what’s up?” He answered. 

“Are you around any of the guys?” She asked. 

“Noooo, I’m on the bus editing, everyone else is in the venue for soundcheck.” He replied. “Why?”

“Okay. You can’t tell anyone, but I took a test earlier this week and went to the doctor today to confirm.” she explained, excitement filtering through “and well…I’m currently 10 weeks pregnant!”

“WHAT?!” He yelled, before clearing his throat with a cough and continuing with a lower volume of voice. “Holy shit! Congratulations!” 

“Thank You, Bry! I want to surprise Noah with the news and I need your help” She asked. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line before Bryan replied.

“I have the perfect idea!” 

Y/N and Bryan eventually had to loop Matt and Alana in on the plan as well. They needed them both in order to finalize all the logistics of getting Y/N to the east coast and sneaking her into the venue for the surprise. But they also needed their help to actually pull of the surprise without anyone else noticing. 

The night of the show arrived, the venue was alive with energy and anticipation. She hid backstage in one of the green rooms, heart racing as she watched Noah on stage through the venue's monitor system. She watched him put his heart and soul into performing, the music wrapping around him like a second skin. It was moments like this that made her fall in love with him all over again.

One by one they ticked songs off the set list. Alana quickly and quietly retrieved Y/N from the room and ushered her to a hiding spot back behind the stage risers. 

The final notes of Dethrone rang out and the crowd went crazy as the stage lights came back on for the boys to do their bows. As the boys walked back out to center stage, the lights dimmed again. 

Instead of the regular montage set to a Matchbox Twenty song, a montage of her and Noah’s life together popped up on the giant screen. Noah watched in confusion as the video Bryan made played set to the song they used for the first dance. 

Noah stared at the screen, the smile on his face growing wider with each clip. Y/N took this moment of distraction to quietly slip out onto the stage and stand behind him. 

Bryan had edited together clips from their wedding video, candid videos from when they were dating, and behind the scenes clips of the two on music video sets and backstage over the years. The video ended on the “Now Loading” screen the boys usually use to tease their fans. 

The lights came back up and the crowd erupted into cheers as they recognized who stood behind the singer.

Noah turned around to find his wife standing in front of him with a onesie that said “BABY OMENS” in the same font as the band’s logo. 

Noah’s face, a mix of shock and elation transformed into sheer joy. Nick, Jolly, and Folio jumped and hollered with excitement as they realized what was happening. 

Noah rushed toward his wife and scooped her up into his arms and spun her around a few times before finally setting her back down. 

“Are you serious?” he asked, his voice barely barely audible over the sound of the crowd as he held her face in his hands.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she nodded, laughter and joy mingling in her chest. 

“I’m serious!”

Bryan captured every moment—their embrace, the sparkle in Noah’s eyes, the overwhelming wave of love that surrounded them. In that instant, time felt suspended, and the world faded away, leaving just the two of them in their little bubble of happiness.

“I can’t believe it!” Noah said, pulling back to look into her eyes. “We’re going to be parents!” 

The crowd continued to cheer.

As Noah leaned down to kiss her, Bryan captured the moment, the camera clicking away, freezing the pure joy radiating from the couple.

The kiss lingered, sweet and tender, before Noah pulled back, still holding her gaze.

“This is the best surprise ever. I’m so proud of you. You’ve been so strong through all of this.”

Y/N felt the weight of his words settle warmly in her heart. 

“I couldn’t have done it without you. You’ve always believed in me, in us.”

Noah turned back to the audience, the light in his eyes bright. 

“I’M GONNA BE A DAD!” He yelled, raising Y/N’s hand in the air, showing the onesie. 

“We’re adding a new member to the Omens crew!”

The crowd erupted again, a sea of cheers and applause echoing off the venue walls. Y/N laughed, the sound clashing with the post show playlist that started playing through the venue. 

Y/N stood to the side as the band took their final bows before the house lights turned on and the fans began to shuffle out of the building. 

When he walked off stage, Noah wrapped her up in his arms once more. Y/N knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, they would navigate them together. The future was bright, and for the first time in a long time, it felt like anything was possible.

[gardenschedule]

Paul enabling John

In contrast to Paul wrangling John

“Later on, when I was sent downstairs to adjust a microphone, I heard them chatting excitedly about the upcoming appearance [the Royal Variety Performance]. They were over the moon about it, even though it was obvious that they didn’t care for upper-class people in general. Ever cheeky, John whispered to Paul at one point that he was going to ask the toffs in the audience to rattle their jewelry instead of applauding. Paul’s reply was a taunting “I dare ya!” That was the kind of relationship they had: John was the bad boy, the rebel, and Paul—who of course wouldn’t dream of saying that himself—was the instigator, the one needling him on to doing outrageous things.”

Geoff Emerick, Here, There and Everywhere: My Life Recording the Music of The Beatles

This angelic quality [of Paul’s face] was not necessarily always reflected in Paul’s behaviour. Hoffman noted that though in terms of verbal wit he could give as good as he got, Paul’s replies lacked the caustic edge of John’s words: “There was never really any bitterness in Paul.” Yet it seemed to the photographer that the vicious vitriol John would pour on often undeserving victims was quite evidently to Paul’s pleasure. “In a way Paul wallowed in it, because John always played up to his requirements. It’s a useful thing to have somebody like that, who’s capable of putting down people you don’t like.”

Dezo Hoffman, photographer

To John’s further delight, he discovered that Paul was corruptible. In no time, he groomed his young cohort to shoplift cigarettes and candy, as well as stimulating in him an appetite for pranks. On one occasion that still resonates for those involved, the Quarry Men went to a party in Ford, a village on the outskirts of Liverpool, out past the Aintree Racecourse. “John and Paul were inseparable that night, like Siamese twins,” says Charles Roberts, who met them en route on the upper deck of a cherry red Ripple bus. “It was like the rest of us didn’t exist.” They spent most of the evening talking, conducting a whispery summit in one corner, Roberts recalls. And it wasn’t just music on their agenda, but mischief. “In the middle of the party they went out, ostensibly looking for a cigarette machine, and appeared some time later carrying a cocky-watchman’s lamp.* The next morning, when it was time to leave, we couldn’t get out of the house because [they] had put cement stolen from the roadworks into the mortise lock so the front door wouldn’t open. And we had to escape through a window.”

The Beatles The Biography (Spitz, Bob)

Graham led us around the corner, where the Fab Four were hanging with their dates at a private table in the back of the room. Well, actually it was the Fab Three—George Harrison was not in attendance. […] The deal was, Lennon was actually under the table taking Polaroid pictures up the skirts of his female companions while Paul lent a hand. Ringo laughed at everything, and Paul’s then girlfriend, Jane Asher, was doing her best to drag him out of there. Dressed in Carnaby Street’s finest, the Beatles were dimly lit, and a halo of light illuminating their mop-top hairdos added just the right ambiance to make this already bizarre scene even more surreal. Paul was ducking under the table himself now, helping his business partner illuminate the proceedings with his disposable lighter, and Jane was searching the booth for her coat as we approached them, with Graham in the lead. “I’ll be leaving now, Paul,” Jane said through clenched teeth as she pushed her way out of the booth and stood there, staring him down.

Howard Kaylan of the Turtles, in his autobiography Shell Shocked

Several times I saw him whispering to Paul and George, and then he’d wave his hands about and act like a spastic—a cruel but very funny routine he did frequently in the studio. I guessed he was saying to them, “Watch this.” Clearly they were taking great delight in the knowledge that they could manipulate the audience any way they wanted to.'

Here, There and Everywhere - Geoff Emerick, Howard Massey

George and Paul appear to have been slightly jealous of Stu and his influence with John, not that outsiders could see how much John admired Stu. John picked on Stu all the time and hurt him when he could. Paul, following John's lead, also began to pick on Stu, even though he was interested in art and, like John, was getting from Stu a lot of new ideas and fashions.

The Beatles (Updated Edition) (Hunter Davies)

"I remember I had a girlfriend called Celia. I must have been 16 or 17, about the same age as her...we went out one evening and for some reason John tagged along, I can't remember why it was. I think he'd thought I was going to see him, I thought I'd cancelled it and he showed up at my house. But he was a mate, and he came on a date with this Celia girl, and at the end of the date she said, 'Why did you bring that dreadful guy?' And of course I said, 'Well, he's all right really.' And I think, in many ways, I always found myself doing that. It was always, 'Well, I know he was rude; it was funny, though, wasn't it?'"

Barry Miles, Many Years From Now, 1997

Thereafter, it was John and Paul who brought in all the new material; they assigned each musician his part, chose the songs, sequenced the sets—they literally dictated how rehearsals went down. “The rest of us hadn’t a clue as far as arrangements went,” Hanton says slowly. “And they seemed to have everything right there, at their fingertips, which was all right by me, because their ideas were good and I enjoyed playing with them.” But the two could be unforgiving and relentless. “Say the wrong thing, contradict them, and you were frozen out. A look would pass between them, and afterwards it was as if you didn’t exist.”

The Beatles – Bob Spitz

“Lennon had attitude, and, taking his lead from Lennon, McCartney could be similar. At times, they reminded me of those well-to-do Chicago lads Leopold and Loeb, who killed someone because they felt superior to him. Lennon and McCartney were ‘superior human beings’.”

Bob Wooler in Mark Lewisohn’s Tune In

"When John did 'How Do You Sleep?' I didn't want to get into a slinging match. Part of it was cowardice. John was a great wit, and I didn't want to go fencing with the rapier champion of East Cheam-- But it meant that I had to take shit--It meant that I had to take lines like 'All you ever did was Yesterday.' I always find myself wanting to excuse John's behavior, just because I loved him. It's like a child, sure he was a naughty child, but don't you call my child naughty. Even if it's me he's shitting on, don't you call him naughty. That's how I felt about this and still do. I don't have a grudge whatsoever against John. I think he knew exactly what he was doing, and, because we had been so intimate, he knew what would hurt me and used it to great effect. I thought, 'Keep your head down and time will tell,' and it did because in the 'Imagine' film (Imagine John Lennon, documentary), he says it was really all about himself."

Barry Miles, Many Years From Now, 1997

[fluentmoviequoter]

Speed Limit 2525

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

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

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

Word Count: 11.7k+ words

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

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

Shoot him.

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

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

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

“Bradford,” he says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t lie,” Tim defends.

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

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

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

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

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

“Twenty feet.”

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

“Alright, hot shot. Fifty feet?”

“Nice try.”

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

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

“What do you do?” Harry repeats.

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

“You are out of your mind, Bradford.”

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

“Why? You wanna try to bench it?”

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

“No shoot them, right?”

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

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

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

“Six minutes,” Harry alerts.

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

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

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

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

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

“Hit the switch, Temple.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is your watch slow?” Tim asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did we check the freight elevators?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m already there.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Bob,” Tim grumbles.

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

“I- I don’t remember that well.”

“Wake up alone?”

“Always do.”

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

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

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

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

“Where are you?” Tim demands.

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

“Why didn’t you just come after me?”

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

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

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

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

“What do you do?” he repeats.

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

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look up as Sam slows for a traffic jam.

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

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

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

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

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

“In the shop?” the tourist asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop!” Tim yells over the traffic.

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

“What the-“

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

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

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

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

“I’m a cop!” Tim yells.

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

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

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

“I can’t hear you,” Sam says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Angela,” Tim says.

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

“He’s alive.”

“Who?”

“The bomber! He’s back.”

“Harry!” Angela calls.

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

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

“Where do you think?” Harry replies.

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

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

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

“Take the wheel!” Tim says.

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

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

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

“Are you crazy?” you ask.

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

“But what are you-“

“Ma’am.”

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

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

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

“Jay!” you yell worriedly.

“Get away from me!” Jay demands.

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

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

“Stop the bus, Sam,” Jay calls.

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

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

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

“Sam!” someone screams.

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

“Move him,” you say.

“He’s bleeding,” the woman argues.

“We have to stop the bus!”

At your words, Tim spins quickly to face you.

“No!” he yells. “Stay above fifty.”

“Sam is wounded,” you begin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you handle it?”

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

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

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

“No way, man!” the tourist yells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a cop, right?” you ask.

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

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

“What for?”

“Speeding.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s your name?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you think, Harry?” Tim asks.

“Bradford!” you yell into the bus speaker.

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

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

“Get on the shoulder.”

“This is an exit!”

Tim flinches as you sideswipe several cars.

“Tim!”

“Off. Get off!” Tim yells.

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

“Where?” he asks. “Got it.”

“Do I stay here?” you inquire.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?”

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

“You don’t know what I want.”

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

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

“How?” Ortiz asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. What happens now, though?”

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

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

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

“You don’t look nervous.”

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

“Is it true?”

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

“How’s Sam?”

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

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

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

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

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

“The gas pedal’s stuck.”

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

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

“There,” he announces as he steps back.

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

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

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

“Hard left up ahead,” Tim tells you.

“We’ll tip!” you argue.

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

“We’re not going to tip,” Tim says.

“Yes, we are!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, who’s doing this?” you ask Tim.

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

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

“More or less.”

“What if you stop him again?”

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

“That won’t work.”

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

“Why? He has my cell,” Tim says.

“Maybe it died.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Hello?” he answers.

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

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

“You shot another hostage?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No!” you yell.

“I have to,” she responds.

“No! Don’t get off! Stop!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know I can’t, Captain.”

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

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

“How big is a gap?” Ortiz asks.

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

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

“He thought of that… Floor it.”

“What?”

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

“Okay.”

“Everyone keep your heads down.”

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

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

“Get off here!” Tim calls suddenly.

“Yes! Get off!”

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

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

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

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

“What do you want?”

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

“Are you not?”

“Oh, now you think you know me too?”

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

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

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

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

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

“There’s a plan now?” you ask.

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

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

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

“Ortiz?” you ask.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s not back here!” Ortiz calls.

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

“I don’t see him.”

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

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

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

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

“How are you?” he asks.

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

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

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

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

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

“Will it work?”

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

“Just doing my job… ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please stay with me,” you whisper.

“We’re going to die,” he says.

“No. You got us this far, right?”

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

“Lumberjacks wear flannel, right?” Tim asks.

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

“He can see you.”

“What?”

“Keep looking straight ahead.”

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

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

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

“Doesn’t seem like it.”

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

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

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

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

“That won’t be hard,” Ortiz grumbles.

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

“Tim,” you whisper. “Look.”

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t do this,” you argue.

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

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

“I got you,” he promises once more.

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

“Are you alright?” he asks again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh, I think your friends are here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stay in the ambulance,” Tim tells you.

“But I-“

“Ma’am, stay in the ambulance.”

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

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

“Where?” she asks.

“The drop spot. Pershing Square.”

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

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

“Oh, I’m waiting for Tim-“

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

“But he told me to stay here.”

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

“Payne is late,” Angela complains.

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

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

“Turn on the tracker,” Tim requests.

“What for?”

“Just do it!”

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

“He’s got the money,” Angela says.

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

“L.A.P.D. Freeze!” he yells.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Turn around!” he demands.

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

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t need her!” Tim adds.

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

“You’re crazy.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What else can go wrong?” you murmur.

“Wade, I copy,” Tim radios.

“Do you copy? Try the emergency brake.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t have a key,” Tim replies.

“You don’t have…”

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

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

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

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

“Tim, please just go,” you beg.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I told you to leave me!”

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

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

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

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

“Whatever you say, ma’am.”

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

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

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

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

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

[monkishes]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⸻ ✧˚ · . 𝓻esidue 𓈒 𓈒 01

After witnessing a murder, you expect to be killed on the spot. Instead the killer demands for shelter in your home. The only way out of the clutches of death, is to let him stay. Fear and uncertainty ripped within your body, but you had to comply.

That was the only way to live.

warnings: murder, death

word count: 2145 words

extra: find me on wattpad @joyfuii or ao3 @monkishes

next

You should have known it was a bad idea to take the shorter way home tonight.

It's only a few minutes less of a walk than your usual route, but that means all the world on a Friday evening where bright-lit streets were bustling with friends hanging out and couples on romantic dates; where you, having just finished an afternoon consisting of a boring lecture and a long shift of waitressing at a mediocre restaurant, wish to get from the public bus to your front door as quick as possible.

On exhausting nights like these, getting home at 11:42 p.m. sounded almost like heaven compared to getting home at 11:50.

The time reads 11:36 on your phone right before the low battery signal pops on the screen. It's no surprise that it's almost dead, considering that you spent half of your shift scrolling aimlessly on social media (and as you saw people's pictures, you thought of how nice it seemed to have worthwhile things to actually post about). There's a portable charger in your backpack, but since you're already a few turns away from your front door, you slip your device in your pocket and continue walking. This is another mistake you make.

The neighborhoods in this part of Busan have narrow streets and very few lamps (they're only on the route you usually take, and they flicker so horribly that it can hurt your eyes if you stare at them), but the reasonable rent and the moderate distance to your university kept you from complaining. Besides, you didn't need too much light for guidance. Just another left, two more rights, and–

As you round the corner building, you stop at the sight of someone committing a murder a few feet in front of you.

It's dark, so dark that the blood looks black instead of red, but even in the ill-lit night, you can see it all: an ominous figure in a raven-colored hoodie straddling a middle-aged man wearing a bloody business suit on the ground, the knife sunken deep in the man's gruesomely slit throat getting pulled out with a tug from a gloved grip, the slight jerk the victim's body makes before falling limp forever. The bundle of cloth shoved in the man's mouth is covered in drool and blood, and in his glossy, open eyes, you can see the emotions of fear and desperation coursing through his unlucky soul before his last moments.

After your heart stops for what seems like too long, it picks up speed. Your forehead sweats, but your body feels cold. Your mind begs for you to run, but your legs stay in place. Your lungs crave for air, but not a single breath is taken in. You're unable to do anything but watch the killer's head turn to you. Because of his face mask and his hoodie, you see nothing but his eyes.

They're dark, animalistic, and ready to take another life.

That's when you bolt in the opposite direction.

A piece of you knows it's futile; your stamina is weak and the last time you properly exercised was beyond forgotten. But even so, your feet fight to make you fly far from the scene. A scream for help erupts from your dry throat and you hope that it's enough to get at least one person looking out their window. But logical thinking crushes your desperate wish. No other soul is in sight of your senses other than the killer catching up to you. The quick footsteps from behind are loud and scary, but not as scary as the thought of facing the same fatal fate you witnessed.

It's strange. Despite all those lonely days you wished to disappear, you're here running away from this opportunity given to you on a silver plate.

A large hand grabs you by the arm, yanks you into an ally, and slams you on the brick wall with so much force that you shout out at the impact. The killer's palm slaps on your mouth, keeping you from making any more noises other than muffled cries. It tastes horrible, the dried blood now painting your lips, but you can't move at all. Your hands are restrained above you and the killer's knee is shoved between your legs.

He towers over you, pushing his body onto yours and staring deeply into your tearful eyes. "Scream," he says, low and menacingly, "and I'll kill you right here. Understand?"

You almost sob, if not for the sudden jerk the hand on your mouth gives as a warning. When you frantically nod (or at least, try to), he takes off his palm and lets you breathe. "P-Please!" Your small voice is hoarse and desperate. "Please don't kill me– I won't tell anyone– I'll do anything! J-Just please don't hurt me...!"

The killer doesn't say anything at first. He looks up as if he's in thought. It gives you time to level your uneven panting, but you're unable to stop the occasional whimper from slipping out. Then, unexpectedly, he uses his free hand to take off his hood and slip his mask down.

He's handsome. Frighteningly so. The bangs of his sepia hair touch his almond eyes that bore down at you. Although malicious intent has lifted from his orbs, his lidded gaze still has you praying to a God you didn't think you believed in.

He speaks.

"Take me to your place."

He's close behind you with a firm hold on your shoulder, making sure you weren't walking too fast or too slow, and if you accidentally stumbled upon your own jittery feet, he would catch you with an iron grip on the cloth of your jacket and drag you like a cheap ragdoll. By the time you and the killer arrive at your apartment, it's 12:08. Two entire minutes pass and you're still fumbling through your bag for the key.

You know it's in there. You're just so fucking nervous about what's going to happen once you open this door. Flashbacks to the dead body currently rotting away in the middle of the street makes your veins pump with fear. What if he murders you the moment you walk in? What if he shuts the door and assaults you in the worst way possible? What if–

The hand on your shoulder gives a squeeze.

"Hurry up."

"S-Sorry." That's right, you think as your fingers finally feel the key, maybe he'll get impatient and kill me right here.

It takes you a couple tries to insert the tool into the keyhole, which has you glancing up at him to check his mood. Surprisingly, anger doesn't seem to lace his expression. There's just a straight face and lidded eyes. He's watching your hands work the knob before shifting his gaze to yours, which causes you to whip your head forward and open the door.

He takes his hand off of you to let you step in, but you don't. Instead, you carefully move out of his way so that your back isn't facing him anymore. You're unsure of what might set him off, so you speak slowly in the least suspicious way possible.

"You can go in.. first."

Totally nailed the last part.

The killer doesn't show any discontentment, only lifting his pierced brow and putting his bloody hands in his pockets. He looks into your home, examining the place, then looks back to you, examining your awkward stance. Once he pats his dirty shoes on the doormat, he comfortably walks in as if he owns the place.

"Your place is a mess." He's not wrong. Unwashed dishes clutter your sink. Dirty laundry litters the floor. There's a shit ton of half-empty water bottles on your desk, which is also crowded with disorganized papers. The only neat area in your small apartment would have been in your bedroom, the shelf of books and figurines against the farthest wall, and you tell yourself that you would've at least made the bed if you knew you were expecting someone (and if that someone wasn't a murderer), but that's a lie.

Ever since you moved out of your parents' place, you've never had to expect anyone. Ever.

You lower your head and murmur an apology. He turns around with annoyance tracing his features, making you think that you should have said your sorry louder. You almost forgot who you were talking to.

Right when you're about to get on your knees and promise to wash the plates with an extra pump of soap–

"Are you gonna come in or what?"

"Huh? Oh! Uh, I was just gonna wait until y-you finish taking my things–"

He pulls you through the door, a little more gentle this time, and immediately shuts the entrance. You were planning on staying outside, possibly running away when he wasn't watching and calling the police (damn, your phone died already), but that idea is trashed now that you're stumbling beside him.

"Bugs are gonna get in if you don't close the door," he says while steadying you with a hand, "And by the way, I'm not gonna take anything from you."

"... Oh?"

"Yet."

"Oh."

He walks through the tiny kitchen area and over the shirts on the ground. You're still at the now-locked door with fingers anxiously picking at the fabric of your pants.

"So..."

You glance at his shoes neatly placed next to your feet. He had slipped them off without you noticing. "Can I ask what it is that you want?"

He takes his gloves off, clicks his tongue when he sees that some blood got on his hands, and goes to your bathroom. Then, there's the sound of the sink running. You also hear your soap dispenser pump three, no, four times. "Come here," he calls to you, "I can't hear you when you talk so quietly."

After shuffling to the bathroom door, you ask the question again. The killer rubs his hands together, lathering up the soap and mixing it with the crimson to create a baby pink foam. "I'm gonna shower."

"Eh? Shower?"

"Yeah," he confirms as he carefully rinses the soap off, making sure that he isn't splashing any water on the counter. "There's sweat and blood all over me." He turns off the sink and shakes the water off his hands.

"O-Oh, yeah... Um... And then you're gonna take my stuff?"

You're not sure why he lets out a low chuckle at your words. You're also not sure why he's beginning to take his clothes off without even closing the bathroom door, as if you're not there watching with wide eyes.

"I'll take your phone and wallet before I hop in." A sigh files through his lips when he pulls his hoodie over his head. He's not wearing anything underneath. "Don't worry, I won't do anything with them for now. Just gotta make sure that you're not gonna call anyone, you know?"

When you don't respond, he looks to see you gawking at his shirtless appearance. There's a couple of faded scars littered on his body, one of them looking like a gunshot wound on his bottom right abdomen. It's not just the healed wounds you stare at, but also the way his skin stretches perfectly against mounds of muscle and the tattoos etched all over it. You knew his build was large, but seeing it in all its bare glory has you short-circuiting (for someone who literally threatened to kill you a few moments before? Snap out of it.)

Once you realize you're ogling too hard, you accidentally make eye contact and jerk your head away. "O-Okay." You fish out your phone and wallet from the backpack still on your back and inch your way to him with your head down. When you're within arm's reach of the bathroom counter, you place the items on the surface and begin backing away.

"Hey."

You freeze, slowly looking up to meet his eyes. He gives you a lazy smile as he takes off his watch. It's a Rolex.

"Don't try anything while I'm in here. You know what will happen if you don't listen, yeah?"

"...Yeah."

The killer doesn't comment on the suspiciously long pause in your whispered answer, nor does he say anything about the way you very obviously glance at the exit. He just snorts with amusement, closes the bathroom door, and turns on the shower.

You feel your body wobble and make a slow drop to the ground. A couple of deep breaths come through your open mouth and you wipe the sweat off your forehead.

"Just a little more," you whisper to yourself as you tightly curl your knees to your chest. "He'll be gone soon.. After this... It'll all be over...."

Oh, you were so fucking wrong.

[g1rld1ary]

masterlist 🦢🎀 𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒ 🎀🦢

anthony lockwood ✩

➻ sharing's caring

you meet lockwood at arif's and bond over your love of scones

➻ come home with me

your bus breaks down in the middle of the night and lockwood might just be your knight in shining armour

➻ bloody genius

after a long night of researching cases with lockwood, you do something you don't quite mean to

➻ jealousy jealousy (part two)

you and lockwood bond when you're his favourite waitress at arif's. maybe all that's needed to prompt a confession is good old-fashioned jealousy

➻ secret admirer

you've got a secret admirer ahead of valentine's day who seems intent on spoiling you

➻ to build a home

you're the only employee at lockwood & co who doesn't live at portland row, but you're beginning to think you should

➻ just blurry

lockwood rambles a lot when he's drunk and you fall victim to it

➻ what once was

you and lockwood hate each other -- you have since you were young. but when your teams have to work together, deeper feelings come to light

➻ ode to my family

(relicman!reader) lockwood tries to stop you from stealing sources for your family's business, he's quite persuasive

➻ opening doors

you're lockwood's secret girlfriend, but when he hasn't called you after a case, you have to go find him and reveal your private relationship

➻ miscommunications

you think lockwood likes lucy, he thinks you like george. neither of those facts are true.

➻ nice towel

the deleted scene if it was you and you were dating lockwood

➻ reaching out

l+co encounter a case a little too close to home for lockwood. luckily you're always there for him

➻ comforting him after a panic attack

remus lupin ✩

➻ kiss me on the dance floor

you and remus keep meeting in the bathroom at parties whilst holding your friend's hair back

➻ the way i see you

you're an artist and you wish your best friend could see himself the way you see him, but you endeavour to try

sirius black ✩

➻ tell me when you're sober

sirius calls you drunk at a house party and confesses something he probably shouldn't

➻ red carpets

both actors in different projects, you see sirius on the red carpet of an awards show and think he's gorgeous

james potter ✩

➻ 5 people james potter didn't mean to kiss (and one he did)

title says it all -- james potter is a very affectionate person

➻ lifeguard!james 2 3 4 5

➻ a little man power

neighbour!james meets you as you're moving into the building

➻ overheard that she was nineteen

you're sad on your 19th birthday but james is there to make you feel better

➻ summer friends 2

you and james both get made head counselors at your summer camp but bump heads a few times in the process

➻ our names in the paper

luke castellan ✩

➻ you never disappointed me

two three four five

10 things i hate about you!AU, luke gets paid to take you out so beckendorf can have his chance with silena

➻ unlucky

when clarisse can't drive you to your exam anymore, luke steps in as a favour and happens to be able to help your anxiety

percy jackson ✩

➻ pumpkin head

you and percy try the pumpkin head trend

luke patterson ✩

➻ new release

you find out luke is your neighbour only after blasting his new album all day, but he doesn't seem to mind

➻ sick days

you're not feeling well, but luke is here to look after you

spencer reid ✩

➻ sex on the beach

chilli margaritas

you're a bartender at the bar the bau frequent and you can tell spencer doesn't like his beer.

elle greenaway ✩

➻ do i make you nervous?

the woman taking your witness statement is stunning and it makes you nervous

monty the crow ✩

➻ boys r dumb

you find monty after edwin rejects him (platonic)

trevor spengler ✩

➻ lamest place in the world

you meet trevor and have a fun night together in an otherwise boring small town

neil perry ✩

➻ love's light wings

you meet neil at a party and accidentally recreate romeo and juliet's balcony scene

[averageclawcodeenjoyer]

ANALYZING SPIDERVERSE BACKGROUNDS- PART TWO!!!!!!!!!

The insanity doesn't stop

This time, we're going to be looking at into the spiderverse, specifically this scene (sorry about the weird cut at the ending, I accidentally zoomed in/out lol)

Which I have gone through frame by frame..

For fun. You can see what he's doing for the most part, but I needed to share my thoughts on it.

(It's mostly me being a homosexual though... happy pride month)

ANYWAY

Nothing important here really I just think this little sequence of him drinking is cute. Also WHY IS THE CAN CLIPPING THROUGH HIS HAND THAT POOR GUY THAT CANNOT BE COMFORTABLE LMAO. Also what the hell is going on with his laptop who needs that many tabs open. Loving the laptop + PC combo. This boy uses so much electricity...

Awwwww look at him. He needed a little light because his blind ass couldn't see to write his invisible notes (Me too Ganke, me too. What are you writing about though why is it so important it has to be on paper and cannot simply remain a computer file? Are you doing homework.... at this hour?)

Also he has the same getting up/sitting down sequence!! I think that's cute too, and it's probably just the animators being lazy and not wanting to animate a billion different ways of sitting down, but, hear me out; OCD Ganke. Now, I don't know much about OCD, but I do know that people who have it tend to repeat the same behaviors/patterns every day for every single activity. This could also explain the three of the same hat thing he has going on. Now, that's just a silly little headcanon to play with, so don't take it too seriously.

Also, WHERE THE HELL IS HE GOING??? AS FAR AS IM AWARE, THERES OBLY ONE DOOR TO THEIR ROOM. THE DOOR TO THE HALLWAY.

Is his ass really getting up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night (courtesy of his one billion energy drinks) amd leaving the fucking door OPEN?? BUDDY? YOUR ELECTRONICS ARE RIGHT THERE DIRECTLY IN SIGHT OF THE HALLWAY... AND YOUR ROOMMATE IS SLEEPING THERE.... WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

Hehehehehehehehe aww look at him putting his headphones on I wonder what he's listening to. Also who texted him it's like 12am rn. GO TO BED (He checks it twice. It's 15 close friends reminding him to go to bed. He responded "I'm asleep dw" to every single one)

Look at this EEPY FUCKIN GUY. OH he is so SLEEPY if ONLY there was SOMETHING he could DO ABOUT IT. Oh what's that? Put down the energy drink can and turn off my computer? What a ludicrous idea who would have ever come up with that. Pff. Psch. Apffttr. He looks like the bottom of a sting ray in that middle photo. Someone get this kid a break and also some fucking melatonin. And water. Stat. He's like a plant. Put him outside.

Oh, look, he's finally decided to ditch his uniform that he's been wearing all day and get into something more comfy. Not the hat tho. The hat stays on every second of his life. Oh well at least he's probably a lot more comfortable. And would you look at that hes.. still wearing..... his shoes. B.. buddy you... you know you can take those off right. It's okay I promise. You got this. Is he barefoot in those too. Is he still wearing the same damn pants from before.

ALSO HIS NOTEPAD MAGICALLY HAS WRITING ON IT NOW!!! SOMEBODY PLEASE DECODE THESE MYSTERIES!!! IM SO EVER VERY CURIOUS

Do you think that while making his cup o noodles in the microwave he was playing music too loud and forgot to hit the stop button before it beeped and he just... kinda froze.... and looked up at Miles (who is sleeping like a fucking bear during the peak months of winter in hibernation. Not even a fucking jet engine could wake that boy up) and then kinda just awkwardly resumes what he was doing. Because I do. I do.

(ALSO, this is the second time his phone lights up. He does check it, I'm just not including it for sake of space)

ALRIGHT APPROACHING THE END OF EVEEYRHING I CAN SQUEEZE OUT OF THIS SCENE!

What is he doing in that first Pic. Clearly whatever he wrote down was important, but, like, is his computer updating? Is he just checking to make sure he input something correctly? What is this boy doing somebody please give me a 2 hour movie or a 500 page novel just on him immediately thanks

He's finally taking a brain break and... relaxing by reading comics. Not sleeping, no. Oh god no. But looking at comics. This kid has autism you cannot convince me otherwise. Who does this if they don't have some form of neurodivergency. Please bonk him on the head cartoon style for me I love him.

Awww he cleans up some of the floor (stuffs it under his bed to be dealt with months later)! PLEASE, THOUGH, THE WAY HE FUXKING LOOKS UP AT MILES I CANNOT STAND HIM WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE A CUTOUT THAT SOMEONE TRIED TO HORRIBLY PHOTOSHOP INTO A PICTURE HE DOESNT BELONG IN WHY DOES HE LOOK LILE HES FLOATING.

Also as you can tell by his million energy drinks and now empty and just juice cup o noodles, he doesn't clean up after himself ever. Maybe instead of buying a fourth computer, we invest in a trash can for your dorm. Hmmmm? Silly boy. I love it when they give teenagers teenager habits. Please give me more of this.

This may not be 100% accurate, but take a look at how many energy drinks he goes through in one night.

The first clip is at the beginning of the scene, where most of them are unopened while there are already still five open ones (I can't figure out how to get the best picture of how many drinks there really are here while making it a collage... anyway). Since we don't see the beginning of the night, we don't know how many drinks Ganke has had prior to now, or what the interval he drinks them at is.

At the end of the clip, there are an estimates 12 open drinks total. One on the floor, two(?) By his comic, six by the right side of his computer, plus three on the left side of his computer. That means he drank 6 energy drinks in the span of however many hours we watched him for.

Bro has a serious caffeine addiction and needs to be grounded from money. ALSO, HES DRINKING THEM WARM??? BRO..

And I know that they are energy drinks, because, well. One, just look at them. Two, how do we think Ganke manages to stay up all night doing God knows what for hours on end. We didn't even ever see him go to bed! He's still on his computer when Miles wakes up! Bro pulled an all nighter and for WHAT. BUDDY. And three: the design on the cup literally reads "ENRGY" bottom text "drink"

Dude

Bro

Water

Please.

Drink it.

Also them having part of their schedule on the wall is so cute too!! Do they share classes? How many? Also that says Ceramics. As per my first post of this series, if you look at the horribly lopsided bowl beside Ganke on the bed, that looks a lot like something someone who struggled in arts would create.

Who is that someone?

Well, it's not Miles. We've seen his art.

Is

Is it Ganke?

Ganke the nerd? The Ganke among the most gifted students at Visions? Ganke who pulls all nighters and picks for on his computer often?

Hell yeah. Give him pottery. He brings home lopsided mugs and bent in bowls and dented plates for them to use instead of buying their own dishware, and Miles is so supportive of it even through the kettle he was using had a hole and leaked boiling water all over his hands. He's doing his best, he's not good with crafts. Give him a break.

I love this and them so much. He's my guy. PLEASE BRING HIM OR 42 GANKE BACK IN BTSV SONY PLEASE I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING FOR MORE GANKE CONTENT I CANNOT KEEP LIVING OFF OF SCRAPS LIKE THIS PLEASE!!!

Part One

Part 1.5

[sanslune]

Opposite Poles | JH86 and fem sister

　 ⁺　 ˳ ❀　　⁺ 　 ᛝ　 ׅ　 ࿐

─ Summary: You are Jack's twin sister and you move to New Jersey against its will to "support" Jack in his entry into the NJD.

─ Warning: contains swearing directed at the reader, Jack getting frustrated and taking it all out on his sister, Brother issues, Jack and S/N are 17 years old and yes Jack is going to NJD.

─ Maia's Notes: This fanfic is totally inspired by a scene from Zero Chill, please watch it, it's really worth it.

You were frustrated with all of that. You had to say goodbye to your comfortable home in Toronto just so your brother could have what he wanted. When it was Quinn's turn you weren't forced to follow him, but when it was your twin brother Jack's turn did you have to be his lapdog?

You left your skating buddy behind, and now here you were in New Jersey with no friends and no competition to hold you back.

"Can we use this bathroom faster?" Jack says, punching the bathroom door as you get ready for your first day at your new school.

"Can you stop being such an idiot?" You asked back as you dried your hair with the blow dryer.

"Unlike you, I need to get there early and there's only one bathroom in this house," he says furiously, taking a deep breath on the other side of the door.

You open the door brutally only for Jack to walk right past you and grab your toothbrush, you roll your eyes thinking about how annoying men were and go back to drying your hair next to Jack.

When you went downstairs Ellen was waiting for you for breakfast, Jack came down awkwardly with some equipment in his hands and his bag next to his body.

Unlike your twin brother, you were organized and the only things you carried with you were your baby blue backpack on your shoulder and your white skates in your hand.

"Big day for my babies" His mother said as she gave each of them a kiss on the forehead, Luke was already sitting down eating while checking your phone when you arrive.

"Your stupid alarm went off in the middle of the night," you say to Luke who glares at you and sticks his tongue out at you. He was already 14 years old and could act like a child whenever he wanted.

"Luke you can go on the bus while I take your brothers to school" Ellen says placing fried bacons on the table, Jack is the first to take it and put 3 on his plate.

"Why can't dad take me?" Luke asks, drinking some orange juice next to him. As soon as Luke says about his dad, he appears in the kitchen.

"I need to sort some things out with Quinn," he says, sitting down next to Jack.

"I wish I was with Quinn right now," you say in a sarcastic tone even though you're serious about the subject and Jack glares at you furiously while rolling his eyes.

"Why do you always act like such a drama queen?" He asks, stopping his meal to look at you. Ever since you set foot in New Jersey, you and Jack have been fighting frequently about not living in New Jersey.

"I'm not acting like a drama queen" you snap back nervously and your mother steps in between the two of you before laser beams start coming out of one of you.

After breakfast Luke catches his bus while you and Jack get into your mother's car, both with your arms crossed and staring out the window.

"Are you seriously going to fight on the first day of school?" Ellen asks, parking the car in front of the school.

"She's a drama queen" he says grabbing his things before getting out of the car, Ellen and you also go after the boy.

""I'd be happier if you'd just shut up for a second," you say as you stop in front of Jack. Some girls walk past you, staring at Jack, who gives them a mischievous smile. "They're not flirting with you," you say, laughing, and your brother looks at you, confused.

"W-What?" He asks turning to you.

"There's dirt on your cheek" you pass your hand in front of your face to show Jack where it was dirty and then you start to climb the stairs.

"out?" He asks turning to you and realizing he was talking to himself "Y/N? is it clean?" He shouts following you.

──୨ৎ──

After a long day at school you and Jack are walking home alone and without a car this time.

The path was full of stupid fights of course, the two of you had a horrible aura between you, as if there was a black cloud over you.

"Of course you prefer spicy nuggets, you're weird," Jack comments as you walk through the front door.

"As if you're normal for eating fish fingers with a milkshake," you say, closing the door behind you and Jack gives you a deadly glare.

"Okay, you touched a weak spot," he says furiously and continues, "you loved it when we were younger." He throws the bag and hockey equipment in a random corner and heads towards the kitchen.

You walk upstairs hearing a loud noise and when you enter Luke's room to see what the noise is about you see him jumping on the bed playing Guitar Hero.

"Can you turn the sound down?" You ask and he pretends not to hear, you roll your eyes and close the door tightly going straight to your room. Your You felt a weight on your back and lay down on your bed face down on your pillow.

A notification came from your cell phone and when you picked it up you saw that it was a notification from Instagram, your friends were having fun at some party, while you were there, lying on your bed freezing cold in the New Jersey winter.

Your nose starts to hurt, threatening to cry, seconds later tears run down your face without you noticing, and so it goes until you fall asleep.

──୨ৎ──

You didn't understand when your brother became a star among the players, he was terrible at working as a team, you had known him since he was little, even Luke had told him that, Quinn always encouraged him to pass the puck at the right time but he didn't understand that.

Today you were kind of dragged and forced to stay at Jack's practice after school, Lindy Ruff would be at practice today and your father wanted to see his old friend, and your mother wouldn't miss this meeting.

You looked at the rink thinking about how much you wanted to skate at that moment and how anxious you were because your brother didn't play on a team. That's when you had that brilliant idea.

You traded your leggings for black tights and a black ballet skirt and stepped into the ring just as the whistle blew and your brother threw the puck up.

"Y/n?" He asks furiously while you had a mischievous smile on your lips "Give it back" Jack says growling in your direction

"Come and get it" your skates glided quickly on the track while your brother ran angrily behind you, some players were laughing at how angry Jack was, He had even thrown his helmet on the ground to run after you. You ran through some players who were just standing there watching, while Jack pushed them to get closer.

When you stopped in the middle of the ring to rest from playing you felt a strong push on your back making you fall, Jack had thrown you both to the ground, your knee was throbbing with pain and he glared at you as he stood up, you sat in the middle of the floor pressing your knee

"Y/n, what's your problem?" He asked, stepping closer to you. You could have sworn that smoke was coming out of Jack's ear now. "Are you that much of an imbecile?" He spits out the words.

"I was just kidding" you say grimacing as you felt your knee burn, everyone on the team watched you fight, your mom and dad were already at the door and Lindy Ruff hadn't decided yet whether this was impressive or disappointing.

"You're not a kid anymore to play like that s/n" he says bending down to say something else "It's not my fault if mom and dad didn't think you were good enough to stay in Toronto for you to participate in those stupid competitions" he says at once and leaves the track irritated.

"here" one of Jack's teammates extends his hand to you and helps you get up.

"Thank you"You send him a small, shy smile before leaving the ice and grabbing your things, your parents who had previously been watching the fight through the door that led to the rink, had run towards Jack, leaving you alone and with a tremendous desire to cry.

You didn't know what to do, you didn't want to face Jack now or even be by his side on a short trip home. You decide to go home alone without bothering to leave a message for your mother or father. When you get home, you sigh tiredly and sit on the couch next to Luke who was already home.

"Did you punch him in the face?" Luke says a few minutes after you lay down next to him while he was watching some random cartoon.

"How do you know we fought?" I asked confused but already knowing her answer.

"Your knee is hurt" he says without looking at you or your knee, he just lifts his chin towards it.

You remain silent for a brief moment just enjoying each other's presence, Luke has always been your favorite brother, it's okay that you've always been closer to Quinn, and always hated having Jack by his side, but Luke was your little brother you loved reading to him when he was just a baby, and you loved helping your mother take care of him, you felt comfortable in each other's presence.

The door to the hallway had been opened brutally by Jack who quickly ran up the stairs, and soon after his parents appeared, his mother was frowning and his father was with the same usual expression

"Did you have to humiliate your brother like that?" His mother asks, stopping in front of him.

"I didn't... I humiliated him, okay?" you defend yourself by looking at your mother this time.

"Yes you did" Ellen says making you roll your eyes once more.

"Jack doesn't know how to work in a team, he was just lending a hand" Ellen looked at you seriously this time after your words left your mouth.

Before you could say anything Jack appeared in the room and glared at you.

"Luke go to your room" His father tells his younger brother and he reluctantly does the same.

"You guys only know how to defend Jack" you begin as the youngest boy climbs the stairs.

"That's not true y/n" her mother says in a calm tone

"Of course it's true," you say, standing up, "everything revolves around him, don't you realize?" You say as Jack rolls his eyes, crossing his arms.

"Don't come playing the victim now," he says furiously, that conversation would last for hours or even days.

"If you had left me with Quinn none of this would be happening" you say sullenly, wearing out his patience.

"Oh please y/n" Jack starts getting angry and yelling "You've been acting like a child since we got here" he says making you flinch, "I don't give a shit if you lost your dream of being a skater just because of me" his words are like a blow to you. Your parents looked at each other awkwardly, making you understand that Jack was always their first concern.

"All that was just a pastime, don't you realize that?" He said, placing his hand on his temples in irritation. His nose was starting to hurt again and a lump was forming in his throat. "If you were really good you would have already won several competitions, now look at me" he says pointing to himself."I'm trying to get into the national league while you're getting in my way"

All those words were like a shot to your chest, a knife piercing your throat without warning. Before you knew it, you were already running to your room and locking yourself inside.

You didn't hear any footsteps in the hallway outside your bedroom door, you didn't hear any knocks on the door, not even your mom and dad had bothered to go upstairs and say nice words to make you feel better, you imagined if Quinm was there and as soon as you remembered him your fingers were soon searching for his name in your contacts.

"Hello ? Y/N?" Quinn's voice was soothing and soon you felt relief come to your chest.

"I'm a terrible sister" are the only words you say, you rested your forehead on your knees, while your cell phone was on one of your pillows, the bruise on your knee was the one that hurt the least there at that moment.

"Why? What happened?" He asks on the other end of the line, his voice tinged with concern. After you tell Quinn everything that happened he comforts you by saying that you and Jack are just was going through different times and complications .

You said goodnight to Quinn before going to bed, even though you tried your eyes wouldn't close and sleep wasn't present in the environment, a knot formed in your stomach every second.

It was in the middle of the night that you heard 3 knocks on your bedroom door and got up to unlock it.

"hey..." Jack says scratching the back of his neck, his expression was different from before, he had cried, you knew that, it was as if it were twin telepathy but it was only you who knew him better than anyone else.

""Hmm" was the only thing that came out of your lips. You opened the door wider and made room for Jack to pass.

"y/n "I'm sorry for everything I said before" he starts as you sit on your bed waiting for him to say something. "I know I'm a complete asshole for this," he says, leaning against the bedroom wall while crossing his arms.

"You're my little sister and knowing that you're crying because of me makes me feel like the worst person in the world," he said, holding back the tears that insisted on falling. You didn't know what to say or what to do you just waited for him to apologize to you.

"You were so good at skating, I was jealous of you" he admits as he looks at his own fingers "you were much faster than me and had better reflexes than me" he continues and smiles

"When you entered the track and started showing your talent I felt even more envious" he comments and you feel the tears roll down your face, drying them quickly. "I feel like I am "the worst brother in the world" he says finally bursting into tears making you get up and go towards him hugging him

"You're not the worst brother in the world" you start hugging his waist "You're my twin brother Jack" your tears wet Jack's red sweatshirt and his tears fell into your hair.

"I'm sorry for making you leave everything behind" he says sobbing and you pull away a little laughing and crying at the same time.

"I'm over it" you try to make a joke but then immediately hug your brother again, staying like that for a while. A knock on the door echoes through the room, making you and Jack move away a little.

"Can I join?" Luke says pointing to you and Jack's hug making you both laugh.

"Of course you can" you say before pulling your little brother into a family hug. Everyone there knew that there was still a piece of you missing that was far away, they all missed their older brother but they got used to it somehow. The Hughes brothers were perfect when they were together.

Okay please take it easy because this was my first fanfic here. I hated how I wrote this ending, maybe in the future I'll edit it here, but anyway, please reply and like to know if you're interested.

[topguncortez]

Do I Wanna Know?

synopsis: It's your friend's bachelorette party, and she drags you to The Hard Deck where a certain brunette stripper catches your attention

word count: 3.3k

warnings: stripping, mentions of drugs, mentions of violence, mentions of being cheated on, sexual tension, mentions of prostitution

A strip club was not on the top of your list of things to be at this Saturday night. You could probably name about a hundred other places you would rather be at, but it was your best friend’s bachelorette party. Even though you had been hailed with the lovely title of maid of honor, you left the party details up to her sorority sisters from college.

You loved Malia with all your heart. She had been your longest friend, sticking by your side through everything. Your bond was really sealed when she stood in the same handicap bathroom stall as you took a pregnancy test at some random Walmart. But that bond had become somewhat weak when she went to NYU for college and you stayed back and got a two year degree at the local community college. 

“A strip club?!” Malia’s cheery voice sounded out from the middle of the party bus. Also, not your idea whatsoever. 

Malia seemed to be having the time of her life as she wore a white fringe dress with a sash across her body and in glittery gold writing it spelled ‘future bride’. One of her sorority sister’s had given her a sparkly white cowboy hat to try and complete the look. Everyone else was told to wear black, so you dug out a black off the shoulder dress from the deepest parts of hell, aka your closet. You were surprised that you even still had this dress. 

“Everyone deserves one last dance!” Jessica, no Jennifer, you were pretty sure her name was Jennifer, shouted and held up her red solo cup. That was one thing you didn’t like about sorority girls, they never seemed to grow up. 

You walked somewhat behind the group as they got off the bus, your feet were starting to ache from bar hopping earlier. You were probably the more sober one among the group, choosing to opt out of the fireball shots at the last club. One of the girl’s gave her name to the bouncer, a tall tan man with a mustache, who smirked and then walked their group into the club. You rolled your eyes at the sign above the door. 

‘The Hard Deck’ 

You knew it was a play on words since the club was near the port. San Diego was known for its dirty dingy clubs that were more than just strip clubs. With the military base so close by, restless sailors were always looking for a way to blow off some steam when they reached port. But this club was a lot nicer than most, whoever owned it obviously took pride in their business.

The bouncer led your group to a section right at the front of the stage. The sorority sister who booked the section winked at the bouncer before he left. You huffed as you sat down in a chair as far away from the stage as you could get. 

“Hey,” You turned your head to see Malia sitting down next to you, “Thank you for coming out tonight. I know none of this can be easy. It totally sucks that Justin broke-” 

“Let’s not talk about my sham of an engagement,” You shook your head and grabbed Malia’s hand in yours, “This is your night. You’re going to be the future Missus Malia Pfifer.” 

Malia squealed and stomped her feet. You couldn’t help but giggle at her excitement. Malia always reminded you of a golden retriever, constant energy, always a ball of sunshine. You were truly happy for her and her fiance Max, it was the timing of everything that couldn’t have been worse.

A week ago you had walked in on your fiance Justin, who was Max’s best friend and best man, in between the legs of your coworker. He had tried to justify the scene, telling you it was an accident, but you were smart enough to know that you don’t just fall in between someone’s bare legs. You threw the ring at him, as well as some other items until he got out of your house. You called Malia in tears and she was over so quickly you knew she broke traffic laws. She spent the night helping you dump glitter into boxes of Justin’s clothes and put them in your driveway for him to get in the morning. You knew that if you needed to hide a body, Malia would be the one to call. 

But you also didn’t want to be the dark shadow in her way. Her wedding was three weeks away, and this was her night to let loose before she took on the role of the doting wife. She had already accepted that role so well and there weren't any legal ramifications about it. 

“Well, as long as you are having fun. And hey! Who knows, maybe you’ll meet your future husband here!” Malia smiled. 

“This isn’t Magic Mike, Mals,” You chuckled. Malia just shrugged and kissed your cheek as a redhead, who you think is named Amanda, walked over with a fat stack of ones and a tray of shots. You sucked in a breath and looked around the club. If you couldn’t beat them, you might as well join them. 

— — — 

Everyone had their own pre-show prep. Some of the guys went over their new dances in their heads, some of them lathered oil on their abs to make them shine just that much more, some popped pills and snorted white lines on a tray, some of them did a last minute workout to make their muscles plump a bit more, and some of them sat on their phones and looked through tiktoks. 

Rooster was the last of the options. 

He felt confident in his dances for the night. He hardly changed up his routine from week to week, knowing that simple was better. He worked out a couple hours before work so he had time to shower and knew for a fact that he didn’t stink. He also hated putting excess baby oil on him, it made everything slippery and he has had one too many slips on stage. And he stayed away from the drugs that floated around the locker room. He had seen one too many guys get hooked on the junk and fired for not being able to perform. Stripping was about all Rooster had going for him, and he was not about to do something stupid. 

No, working at a strip club wasn’t what he imagined he would be doing when he was a little kid. He thought he was going to be a pilot, but one stupid mistake cost him his whole future. He had nowhere to go, no higher education than a high school diploma, and was facing jail time. That’s when he stumbled across the Hard Deck. It was the middle of the day, and from first glance he thought it was just a regular bar, but when he walked in, he quickly learned it was not. He was about to turn around when a sweet voice called out to him. 

“Boys! I told you to keep the bathrooms clean! I am not your damn maid!” 

Rooster looked up from his phone, hearing that voice that had called out to him all those years ago. Penny Benjamin, aka their house mother and partial owner of the club. She had welcomed Bradley with a plate of food and a place to lay his head. The only thing she asked in return, is that he worked to pay his keep. At the time, Rooster didn’t know a single thing about dancing let alone stripping, but Penny told him not to stress about it. Declan, the MC and mainshow boat took Rooster under his wing and taught him everything he needed to know about working the stage and getting the tips. 

“Sorry mom,” Rooster said and gave Penny a lopsided smile. 

“Not your fucking mother, Rooster,” Penny pointed at him, “Keep this shit clean, or I’m taking wages for a cleaning fee.” 

“Payback said there’s a bridal party in the house,” Jake said, taking a seat next to Bradley. He was one of the ones who lathered more oil than necessary onto his abdomen, “You know what that means.” 

“Horny middle aged women trying to pull my pants down?” Bradley said, looking up at him. 

“No, more tips man,” Jake rolled his eyes, “Bachelorette girls are fucking crazy. Fucking wink at them and their pulling their panties to the side.” 

Bradley tossed his phone onto the counter in front of him and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair started getting a little long, but the women in the club seemed to dig it. He trimmed up his mustache a bit and put some light makeup over his face. That was another thing Bradley never thought he would do, put makeup on his face. But Declan said it helped bring in tips, so Bradley wasn’t complaining as he put foundation powder on his nose. 

“Declan also wants us to do It’s Raining with the new kid,” Jake said and Bradley groaned. He looked over to the other side of the room where Bob, the newest recruit, was going over the steps to It’s Raining. It used to be a trio between Bradley, Jake and Javy. Bob wasn’t the average looking stripper. He wasn’t supper ripped, or had an oversized ego. He was cute, and had just the right amount of muscle on him. He also looked no older than eighteen, which made the two-time divorced mothers go absolutely feral. 

“Fucking Coyote just had to get a concussion,” Bradley mumbled and pushed himself up from his chair, “What are you doing tonight?” 

“Thinking about a lil Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy,” Jake smirked at himself, flexing his abs in the mirror. He wore a pair of tight Wranglers with an obnoxious belt buckle. He was shirtless and had a red bandana tied around his neck. He picked up his black cowboy hat from the counter and put it on his head, “What about you? Another 80s rock song?” 

Bradley rolled his eyes, “Not sure yet. Depends on the crowd. If you crash and burn then I know that I shouldn’t do country.” 

“Ha, ha,” It was now Jake who rolled his eyes. He took one glance at himself in the mirror and winked at his reflection, “See you on the flip side, Rooster.” 

— — — 

You hate country music. And what made it even worse was the blonde haired green eyed stripper who was dressed as a cowboy, grinding his junk into your friend’s face. He traded his black cowboy hat for her white one, and pulled her up on the stage. You stifled a laugh as you watched Malia turn as red as a tomato as he dragged her hand down his abs, landing on his crotch. 

So far you had been impressed with the guys that had been up on the stage. You felt a bit uncomfy with the baby-faced one who danced to some remix of Toxic and Pony. He might’ve been slender but he sure could move his hips. You thought Jennifer was nearly going to have an aneurysm for how much she screamed for the stripper’s attention and stuffed money into his jeans. You also found it quite comical how red he turned when he had to push her hands away from him and scramble for his shirt before going off stage. 

“Alright, alright,” The MC, who had introduced himself as Declan said, walked back out on the stage. Your eyebrows raised as you noticed him now wearing a tight pair of leather shorts, “A little birdy told me that we have a bride among us. . .” He talked low and slow, trying to be seductive, but you could not take a man in short shorts seriously, “Where is the lucky lady?” 

“Right here!” Malia said, shooting her hand up. 

Declan’s eyes went to her and he kneeled down right in front of her. Malia blushed profusely and bit her lip, “Your poor husband is going to have to ward off men for the rest of your lives.” You rolled your eyes, “Do you wanna know your surprise?” 

“Oh yes! Yes!” You choked on your whisky at the breathless pleas from Malia. If you didn’t know better you would think she was getting railed instead of standing in front of a forty year old male stripper. Declan smiled and stood up on his feet. 

“Well, ladies, I think you better take cover, would hate for you to get. . .wet. . .” 

“Of fucking course,” You rolled your eyes at the entrance of the song, meanwhile the other girls lost their damn minds. 

Three men stepped out on stage as smoke filled the stage. You recognized the two from earlier, they had changed into black jeans and yellow rain jackets. You had to give it to the Hard Deck dancers, they could actually do more than grind on the ground and do body rolls. You sat back in your chair and watched as the three of them moved on stage, and turned around to face the crowd. Your eyes locked on the tall brunette in the middle with the ridiculous porn stache. He caught your eye and winked at you as he slid forward on his knee, pushing his open raincoat back to show off his abs. 

— — — 

Bradley hated this song more than anything. He thought it was a cliche and Bob was half a count behind. It had been Declan’s idea about a year ago, and it had become almost a weekly thing that they’d do for the bachelorette parties in the club. It wasn’t that Bradley hated sharing the stage with others, it was that when the three of them were on stage, women tended to look at Javy or Jake more. But not her. Her eyes were locked on him, roaming over his abs. He smirked as he moved forward, as Bob and Jake took the sides of the stage. Bradley felt the confidence go through his body as he tossed his head back and held on to the ridiculous yellow rain hat, and thrusted his hips into the air. 

When the song ended, Bradley was out of breath and had probably 200 hundred dollars shoved into his waist band. Jake took extra time getting off stage, enjoying the young women swooning over him, and returned the white cowboy hat back to the bride to be. He knew that she was engaged but he couldn’t help that electric feeling when she placed a quick kiss on his cheek before placing his cowboy hat on his head. 

“Did I do alright?” Bob asked, huffing and puffing for air. He grabbed a water bottle from the mini fridge and handed one to Jake and Bradley, “I know that’s yours and Javy’s thing.” 

“You did alright, Floyd,” Jake said and took a gulp of water, “It’s just this part. . .” 

Bradley ignored whatever Jake was explaining to Bob about the dance and walked over to the DJ booth, telling him what song he was going to do tonight. He had spent the last two weeks working on it, and it was Declan approved yet, but Bradley didn’t care. He knew that it would catch the eye of the girl in the crowd again. 

Bradley quickly wiped the sweat off his body, and change out of his yellow rain jacket, deciding to just go without a shirt. He peaked out from behind the black curtains and noticed her still in her spot, a bit behind the group of young women who stared up at Fanboy with wide eyes like kids on christmas. She looked bored and for whatever reason, that spurred Bradley on even more. 

Call it what you want, but Bradley Bradshaw liked women who could give him a run for his money. 

Fanboy walked off the stage giggling, running a hand through his curls. That was one thing that Bradley liked about Fanboy, he was the comedic relief they all needed sometimes. He told Bradley to break a leg and patted his shoulder before dipping back into the dressing room. Bradley let out a breath and shook out his shoulders as his song started. He nodded his head to the beat and when the guitar started strumming he walked out on stage. 

He could hear the whistles and cheers of the women, but he wondered if she was cheering for him. The DJ had placed a black chair in the middle of the stage for Bradley to use. Usually, he’d pick a girl from the audience to sit in it, but it didn’t feel right unless he was picking her. 

Bradley closed his eyes as the voice of Alex Turner filled his head. His body moved with muscle memory as he struted around stage, using the chair to his advantage. He opened his eyes as he turned the chair around backwards and sat down, rolling his hips as he did. She still had that same bored expression on her face and it fired him up even more. 

He wasn’t sure what caused him to do it, maybe it was the eye roll or maybe it was the way she sipped whisky from a rocks glass, but he jumped off the stage and swaggered his way over to her. The same bored expression never leaving her face as he flooded her personal space. 

— — — 

Malia’s jaw hit the floor as the porn stached man jumped off the stage and walked right to you. You clenched your jaw and tightened your grip on the glass. He was skilled, clearly spending more time practicing his routines than anyone else here. You wondered if maybe he was an actual dancer before he decided to strip. 

He was intoxicating and you thought his song choice was interesting. You sucked in a breath as he stood in front of you, he rolled his hips, pushing his junk towards your face, but you kept your eyes trained on his face. His eyes were dark, but you could see that they were honey brown. He smirked as he dropped to his knees in front of you. And damn you for opening your legs for him to slot in between them. 

You knew the rule of the strip club, no touching costumers unless they consent, and he did a good job at remembering that. He placed his hands on either side of your chair as he lowered his head towards your lap and snaked his body back up to look at you. He was trying to get a rise out of you, to see you break and stick money into his waistline. But you were not about to give him that satisfaction. 

‘Crawlin back to you, never thought I’d call’ 

He was going to push the limits, you could tell by the smirk on his face as he grabbed your glass of whisky from your hand, and took a drink. There was a glint in his eye and you nodded your head subtly, giving him permission. He grabbed your jaw, digging his fingers lightly into the skin to get you to open your mouth.

You kept eye contact with him as he spit the brown liquid back into your mouth. You swallowed without a second thought, your eyes on him the whole time. He smirked and wiped a dribble of whisky from your lip before setting the glass back in your hand and going back to the stage, making sure to put an extra swing into his hips. 

“Dude!” Malia swatted your arm, snapping you out of your trance, as the Arctic Monkeys' song came to an end, “What the hell was that!” 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked down at your now empty drink and then back at your friend, “I’m not entirely sure. . .but I liked it.”

to be tagged filled out the taglist form:)

[inbarfink]

Hello, Invader Zim Fandom! Say, have you ever found yourself thinking “hmmm.... I wonder how often Zim and Dib skip classes due to their constant misadventures and battles?” Well, whatever you did or not, I am going to do it now! Time for…

Checking Attendance for Invader Zim and Dib Membrane!

"The Nightmare Begins"

Our first major confrontation between the two leads (leaving aside some quarreling in the middle of class, but I am checking attendance - not behavior) happens explicitly right after Skool has finished. So, no class has been missed in the production of this episode. 

(I mean maybe I would ask about how long their Skoolday even is considering Miss Bitters introduces Zim, says ‘Doomed’ for a few minutes and then sends them home. But that’s, like, a common Bug with Schools in fiction. I’m going to assume that we’re not supposed to take the class/Skoolday as literally being that short.)

"Bestest Friend"

Zim takes a whole day off from Skool under the claim that he’s sick.

Zim: I'm sick. I'm not going to skool today.

Which, I mean, he said it to get Keef off his back, but then we do see he stayed in his lab all day to work on his Eyeball Machine. So yeah, here's our first missed attendance. Zim skipped a whole day of Skool right there.

"Nanozim"

Dib: Zim wasn't in class today, Gaz. Gaz: Maybe he's sick. Dib: Yeah, sick with fear!

Another whole missed day from Zim for the sake of his scheme!

"Parent Teacher Night"

Nothing! The entirety of this episode takes place either during Skool, explicitly after Skool or during a Skool-sectioned Afterskool event. 

"Walk of Doom"

Now this is where things really get interesting. Because Zim certainly spent like a whole day on his and GIR’s little City Adventure - but also, you might want consider the possibility that this episode took place over the weekend, or even just that it starts after skool. After all, Invader Zim’s Daytime Sky doesn't change that much between the morning and the afternoon.

However, even taking these factors into account, I still think that it’s more likely that this episode does takes place during Skool Hours and is yet another example of Zim missing a full day of Skool, and that is for one reason - the background extras. 

Through all of Zim’s Urban Misadventure, the City seems to be populated entirely by adults + one baby we saw on the Bus. No Skool-aged youngsters anywhere in sight.

And, maybe that’s a weird thing to get hung up on, but usually IZ Crowd Scenes do include a mixture of kids and adults… including some scenes in that very episode, but only after the transition into night. When Skool would obviously be already over.

Thus, I think it’s most logical to conclude that Zim, for some reason, decided to do this lil excursion in the middle of a Skoolday. Couldn’t wait for the weekend or even just the afternoon for some reason. He got a bee in his bonnet about the Guidance Chip and he had to do it at that very moment!! 

(But I am going to cut him a little slack with the ending. Cause, like, obviously he’s been driving for like a whole night and it’s going to take him some time to get back home… but for the sake of Being Nice I am going to assume this episode takes place on a Friday and he's got the whole weekend to find his way back home and so he only missed one day of Skool. After all, isn’t this what ‘Invader Zim’ is all about? Being nice?)

(This is a rhetorical question and the answer is no.)

"Germs"

As Zim himself states, he did miss a day of Skool due to his obsession with Germs.

Zim: The skool! The skool will know I've been missing! They must be really suspicious by now!

I wondered if that was actually more than one day, but we only see one transition to night near the end of the episode. 

Most likely this entire episode takes place over the course of a single day - Zim watched that movie very early in the morning before getting to Skool (he doesn’t sleep so he’s got a lot more free time in a day) and then got so Germ-Obsessed for that one day that he forgot about that.

And thanks (?) to the workaround at the end, we can be sure this time he only missed one single day of Skool.

"Dark Harvest"

So all of this episode takes place in the Skool, but mostly outside of the classroom. With Zim leaving early on after a lesson started, then Dib going after him a short while later and this whole …. Adventure lasted enough to get to Lunch Break and also probably the climax lasted a bit after it and into the next lesson period (considering how empty the Skool Hallways seem at that point.

However, this speculation is kinda moot since both Zim and Dib were both out there with Hall-Passes officially ‘just trying to get to the nurse’, so I am just not going to count it as skipping class at all. They had permission. 

"Attack of the Saucer Morons"

Okay, so… this episode starts at night, but by the time Zim gets to the Saucer Morons it’s already Daytime. But since Zim was very adamant about getting his Voot back ASAP, I am going to assume this is taking place Very Early in the Morning. It just takes a while for Zim to get back home from the crash site and then back again without the Cruiser, but it’s still probably like… before Skool starts. 5AM-6AM or something like that? You know, the excitement of an Alien Spaceship is going to encourage a lot of people to wake up early.

It’s not entirely clear how long the events of the episode lasted in-universe. There’s a few ‘skips’, like, how long did Zim’s initiation take? How long did it take GIR to get the Government Man robot ready? How long did it take the Saucer Morons to make that lil’ set-up for Zim?

But, Fastforwards to the climatic chase scene at the end of the episode, and we can see Zim has zoomed by a Skoolbus. Now, this might be a Bus taking kids back from Skool, or taking the kids to Skool. Either the implication here is that Zim has wasted a whole skoolday and it’s already the afternoon - or it’s still early in the morning and Skool is just about to start. And… since it’s just down to my gut feelings, I am going to say the second one. I think all of the little-time skips during the episode still don’t amount to more than like, an hour or two. So it being just before Skool starts seems reasonable to me. 

But, well, even for the sake of being nice to Zim…

I am going to assume that murdering all of these scientists (or however he got himself out of that jam) and getting back home to retrieve a new disguise will take like… A Considerable Amount of Time. And Skool was basically just about to start. So… I think that I’m going to mark it as Zim missing at least one class and getting to Skool late. 

"The Wettening"

This episode actually puts a lot of attention into making sure all of Zim and Dib’s confrontations take place after Skool hours and that all the time they spend at home planning is happening during the weekend. This episode is mostly useful for explicitly establishing that Skool is operating with a two-day Saturday-Sunday weekend. 

Now, I was wondering if I should count Zim as ‘skipping class’ for, y’know - not actually showing up to Skool on Monday and basically going straight home to drown to death in the toilet right after he won that water-balloon fight. But since the entire damn Skool was reduced to a ruin by Zim’s victory - I think it’s safe to say that Skool is canceled regardless. So that shouldn't count.

(Remember kids! If you wanna skip school, you should just blow it up with a giant Space Water Balloon first and then it’s okay!)

"Career Day"

The entire events of that episode were a Skool-sanctioned activity, so nothing really to report.

"Battle-Dib"

With the 8PM ticking clock, Doctor Membrane having a clearly very kid-oriented edutainment show that he’s apparently recording live, and all the other ordinary kids trying out for the audience… I think it’s pretty safe to say this whole episode takes place after skool.

"Planet Jackers"

Whole episode takes place at night, nothing for us to concern ourselves about.

"Rise of the Zitboy"

Okay, so this episode starts at daytime, with both Zim and Dib very clearly not at Skool - and usually that would be enough for me to assume this episode starts in the afternoon, but…

After Zim gains the Power of Pustulio, he seemingly immediately goes to Skool to test it out. There’s no reason to assume this is like, a whole night later. Zim’s only thought was about hypnotizing Dib and he knows where his house is. If it were the afternoon, wouldn't he just go to the Membrane household rather than wait for the next Skool Day? So this episode actually starts very early in the morning. 

And, like, either way it seems like this is happening very early in the morning and has no real effect on their Skool attendence and I shouldn’t dwell on it too much for this post but… I guess it still kinda surprises me that Dib got up bright and early just to do this shit like an hour before skool starts.

Most of the episode seems to take place before the first period of the day even starts, so the only actually relevant part to our discussion is the very last line from Zim.

Zim: Bye Dib, and thanks for the information! I've got a few more lawn gnomes to plant!

So Zim is going to skip away before Skool starts to take care of the security problems in his Gnome Field right away. So… he’s probably going to miss at least one class, if he’s even coming back. 

"Invasion of the Idiot Dog Brain"

Episode takes place entirely at night, not relevant to our discussion. I am not going to consider the ‘One Year Later’ gag as canon, because, like…. come on. 

"Bad, Bad Rubber Piggy"

As the episode starts with a broadcast of Professor Membrane’s show (which as we have already established, is very kids-oriented, highly-rated and seems to be airing live), it’s a pretty safe bet that the whole events of this episode is taking place in the afternoon, so no Skool-Problems here!

"A Room With a Moose"

So, I am not going to knock Dib any points for leaving mid-class on something that wasn’t really a Skool trip. I mean… everyone thought it was a Skool trip, including the other students and their teacher. I assume either Zim took care of the paperwork while he was sneaking around setting up his plan or there was never any paperwork in the first place because it’s the IZ Earth and No One Cares.

Now about Zim… he has technically not skipped class in the sense that he was doing all of this under the guise of being in the toilet, but… Like, in his second round in the Restroom, he actually just never came back until… well, probably the next Skool day, considering it was nighttime at the end of the episode. Even with how apathetic Miss Bitters is… I assume she can conceive of the idea of a student trying to get out of Skool under the excuse of being in the bathroom, even if she doesn’t know/care about the Alien Teleporter Device.

So I am counting this as just a half day of skipping school for Zim. 

"Hamstergeddon"

Okay, so this was actually the episode that inspired me to make this post, and the reason why I conceived of it as a “Zim and Dib Skipping School” list even though, as you have seen so far… Dib has a pretty spotless attendance record so far. I just saw both Zim and Dib piss off from Skool mid-lesson to follow the Hamster Kaiju and started to wonder ‘hmmm… how often does this happen?”

And since we never see Ultra Peepi, like, outright entirely destroy the Skool - I don’t think the day would be canceled like it probably was in “The Wettning” (if it was, I’d assume we’d see more students running out and not just Zim and Dib). And I assume Dib would notice the Growing Peepi Problem near the start of the day, so they both missed about a full day of Skool just then.

"Plague of Babies"

Takes place entirely during one night, not relevant here. 

"Bloaty's Pizza Hog"

Explicitly takes place during the late afternoon/evening. 

"Door to Door"

Another Skool-Sanctioned activity similar to ‘Career Day’

"FBI Warning of Doom"

Takes place during the evening/night. 

"Bolognius Maximus"

After Zim reveals there is no cure to the Bolognafication, Dib runs out of the classroom screaming. This transition into a whole Zim Fantasy Sequence where he’s Gigantic and stuff. But it does seem like the whole ‘Dib being run out of Skool midway through the Skoolday’ did happen. Since they only re-meet after Zim is going back home from Skool. 

So that’s the first time Dib loses attendance (basically an entire day, since he didn’t even last one whole lesson) but not Zim. (But Dib still has a lot of ‘catching up’ to do).

(This episode also establishes that Dib is often late to Skool due to his various paranormal misadventures. Reliably enough for Zim to incorporate it into his Vengeance. However, that’s not entirely relevant since I’m only counting attendance in this post and not tardiness. But I thought I might as well acknowledge it.)

"Game Slave 2"

Episode takes place entirely at night, not relevant.

"Battle of the Planets"

Same as above.

"Halloween Spectacular of Spooky Doom"

So I am not going to count Dib being forcibly institutionalized by Skool administration as ‘skipping classes’, obviously. 

However, while Dib was being dragged off to the Crazy House, Zim used the chaos to ‘escape’ this Skool full of ‘Zombies’ and ready his base for tonight. Next time we see Zim, it’s nighttime and he is still readying his base. And even with Dib being late, it still seems like the episode started early in the first period. So Zim is skipping another full day of Skool basically. 

"Mysterious Mysteries"

From the events of the episode, it seems like ‘Mysterious Mysteries’ airs live (or at least semi-live, in regards to the interviewed segments). We already know that it airs in the evenings because that’s always when we see Dib watch it. Even if it didn’t actually air live, they would probably schedule their interviews to afterskool hours when they have three elementary-skoolers to interview. 

"Future Dib"

Episode starts at a Skool-Assembly, and then move to later that day in the afternoon/early evening (Membrane says ‘tonight’, but the sky is always daylight-yellow, so it seems to be later that day after Skoolhour, it’s just that the sun hasn’t quite set yet.) Either way, neither Zim nor Dib actually seem to skip class on that one. 

"Hobo 13"

With this being an entirely Space-Based Episode, we have basically No Data on what Earth Time this episode takes place. Zim does generally seem to call the Tallests just after Skool or during the night, so I am going to give him the benefit of the doubt on that one and not count it.

"Walk For Your Lives"

While I have no doubt in my mind that Zim would skip Skool for the sake of Probing Day and maaaybe Dib would too for the sake of catching Zim by surprise, well…

So remember way way back during ‘Walk of Doom’ when I talked about background extras? Well, I’m doing this again but in the other direction this time!

Because all the city scenes in this episode do actually feature both child and adult extras (including literally some of Zim and Dib’s classmates).

So I think it’s most likely to assume this episode takes place just after Skool hours. Or perhaps the weekend. 

"Megadoomer"

Starts right after Zim gets home from Skool, and lasts through the night. Not relevant.

"Lice"

Takes place entirely at Skool and also classes are canceled due to Lice Quarantine. I don’t really count any of the Nonsense in this episode as ‘skipping class’, it’s fine.

"Abducted"

We don’t have any details about when the episode takes place outside of ‘the daytime’, but again, Zim generally ‘updates’ the Tallest after Skool so I am going to assume this applies here. Plus, we also see Dib and Gaz at home by the end and they generally don’t skip Skool - so yeah, more evidence for this being the afternoon. 

"The Sad, Sad Tale of Chickenfoot"

Episode explicitly takes place at evening/night, not relevant.

"Gir Goes Crazy and Stuff"

Episode starts at night, and ends at sunrise.

Not relevant.

(Also hey! Does this imply that we can tell that the City is on the East Coast at least?)

"Dib's Wonderful Life of Doom"

Starts at Skool and then seems to take place entirely at night - since the Wonderful Life of Doom starts with Dib sleeping in bed, I assume Dib kidnapped him and put him in the simulation while he was actually asleep.

"Tak: The Hideous New Girl"

Okay, so we had two fairly-regular Skooldays since Tak arrived on Earth.

Then, after Zim comes back from Skool the second day and Tak reveals herself, we cut to Zim’s battle against the Ham Demon. Which is also happening in the daytime. Although Zim later mentions he’s been trailing Tak for ‘48 hours’ - meaning exactly two whole days. 

And then as Zim realizes he needs Dib’s help, we cut to the Membrane house at nighttime. 

So… was that battle taking place in the afternoon/early evening  and it’s just that by the time Zim got to the Membranes the sun had already set? That seems to be the case from the establishing shot. But then Dib yawns and rubs his eyes as if he just woke up and Professor Membrane says ‘good morning’. 

I mean… with how often Dib seems to stay up late and wake up extremely early, maybe he takes a lot of afternoon-evening naps?

Or perhaps this suggests this establishing shot might’ve been just an art error? The little we see of the indoor backdrops are also kinda inconsistent about the Color of the Sky.

First seeming to indicate daytime.

And then… nighttime? Nighttime with sunset? Nighttime with sunrise?

Then nighttime again?

And then, the whole Giant Evil Weenie Stand sequence is at daytime again.

And it only becomes night again by the climax.

And with Zim’s ‘48 hours’ comment placing the Ham Demon fight at the early afternoon (it should be 48 hours after the Tak confrontation, which happened just after Zim got home from Skool) our scenarios are either: 

Zim battles the Ham Demon, then almost immediately Zim confronts Dib after his afternoon nap (and the Color of the Sky around the Membrane household is just Consistently an Art Error. It should be daytime). And the rest of the events of the episode take place on that same day’s late afternoon/evening. 

Zim battles the Ham Demon, then a few hours later Zim confronts Dib after his early evening nap (the Color of the Sky around the Membrane household is not an art error...for the most part. The sun has set already). Then the rest of the events of the episode take place over the next day.

Zim battles the Ham Demon, then the next morning Zim confronts Dib when he wakes up (the Color of the Sky might be a major art error, or it might be a failed attempt at conveying sunrise, or both). Then the rest of the events of the episode take place during that day.

And when considering which one seems to me the most likely, I took three different factors into consideration.

I wanna minimize just dismissing things as art/continuity errors. I want to be as canon-compliant as I possibly can.

The plot needs to maintain its sense of urgency. Having too many Big Timeskips where the characters just kinda don’t do anything significantly hurts the narrative. ‘

The possibility of skipped skool days which is… hey! Is actually what this post is supposed to be about!

Okay, so to elaborate on Point C: Scenario 1 has Zim spend like two full Skooldays’ worth of time on tracking Tak down and then he and Dib and Gaz stop her together during afterskool hours. Scenario 2 + 3 has Zim spend two skooldays, and then the three of them spend the day after that stopping Tak. And.. it’s not just a matter of considering Zim skipping two days versus three days and Dib and Gaz skipping one day versus zero days. Because also the weekend exists.

I actually think it’s incredibly likely that the Tak Reveal is supposed to take place on a Friday, and Zim tracked Tak over the weekend (so the ending of the Ham Demon sequence is on Sunday afternoon).

Especially as Dib apparently didn’t notice Zim either stalking Tak during Skool or just vanishing from Skool altogether due to the Ham Demon Situation. Like, considering how paranoid he is about Zim normally, you’d think he’d take notice and try and figure out if he is up to anything. Especially if it involved the girl he saw as an ally and friend. But it seemed like he was not bothered by anything or noticed anything Zim was doing in the meantime. Which I think only makes sense if Zim was ‘investigating’ Tak during the weekend. 

So in Scenario 1 that would mean the climax of the episode took place during Sunday afternoon/evening. And Scenario 2 + 3 would mean that those events take place during Monday, and thus all of our main trio is either skipping skool or waiting until skool is done to go on their Earth-Saving-Missions.

And the latter is both unlikely because it wrecks the sense of Urgency in the plot and because… like… did Zim and Dib just go to Skool and Angrily Glared at each other until it was done? It really just kinda ruins the dramatic pacing if Zim and Dib meet between the scene at the Membrane Household and the Weenie Stand. So going to Skool on Monday and then doing the Evil Weenie Investigation afterwards seems unlikely to me.

And as for the former scenario… like, as you’ve noticed. Dib very very rarely skips Skool of his own volition. And Gaz never does. Honestly I don’t think it’s in-character for her. Not cause she’s a goody-two-shoes who would never skip class or anything like that. Just because she never takes all of this Alien Stuff seriously enough to consider it a worthwhile reason to skipping classes. And no, neither is getting her brother beat up by security - even if she does enjoy the latter a lot more. 

I guess maybe just Zim could’ve been skipping Skool that Monday morning to do some more failed ‘investigative work’ before he actually realized the Evil Weenie Stand was important. While Dib and Gaz just attended classes like Normal and investigated the Weenies afterwards.

But then, like, did Tak go to Skool? She cares so much about showing off her ability to Actually Competently Infiltrate Humanity, and it seems most of the Evil Weenie Stand Construction is happening automatically… so I kinda assume she would go to Skool on that Monday? So with both Dib and Tak at class that day and Zim not being… that would be another Hypothetical Dramatic Scenario that is just Inexplicably Off Screen in the narrative.

You know like…. Maybe not Dib confronting Tak about Zim’s accusations if he truly doesn’t believe them at that point, but trying to warn her that Zim is deluded about her and out to get her? I just don’t believe any Skoolday after Zim and Dib's confrontation at Dib’s house could be uneventful enough so that we could just skip over it completely like that. 

So, I really really tried to get a scenario where I don’t resort to the Art Error Clause but… I think the only timeline that makes real sense in terms of narrative and characterization is Scenario 1. So most of the events of the climax of “Tak: the Hideous New Girl” probably take place over Sunday afternoon and thus neither Zim nor Dib actually skipped classes. Zim just had a very very busy weekend. 

"Backseat Drivers From Beyond the Stars"

Takes place entirely during the night/evening, irrelevant.

"Mortos Der Soul Stealer"

Same as above.

"Zim Eats Waffles"

Okay, so, there’s nothing in the text of the episode that explicitly says it but… since this episode centers around Zim eating waffles and reading the newspaper

I always kinda assumed it was taking place in the morning. And probably, like Saturday/Sunday morning.

This would also explain why Dib immediately goes to sleep at the end of the episode even though it’s the same ‘daytime’ sky-color outside.

 He woke up early for this - but now that his plan has failed so thoroughly, well… It's still the weekend and now he’s going to sleep in for a while. He probably needs it.

"The Girl Who Cried Gnome"

Well, presumably Moofy and the other Girly Rangers don’t go selling cookies during normal Skool hours. So this episode either takes place after skool hours or also over the weekend. The amount of kid extras in the scene also supports that idea. 

Of course, with the episode ending with Dib being tormented until nightfall, there’s a reasonable chance he won’t make it to Skool on the next day… but I’m going to be nice and assume he managed to get himself free, like, at 3AM or something. So he’s fine, just incredibly sleep-deprived and traumatized. So par for the course, really.

"Dibship Rising"

So, Dibship tries to go to school as Dib, and it seems like it could’ve worked

Poonchy: Hey! Dib's bein' all weird and giant again!

But, well for starters, Dibship only managed to get to Skool by the time for lunch break. I guess he’s really just figuring out how to walk and he’s pretty slow and heavy… So yeah, it might take him a While to get to Skool.  Then once he is at Skool, Zim almost immediately takes him over and starts up his Evil Scheme. 

It’s unclear how long it takes until Dib actually wakes up (hey, remember what I said about him being probably very sleep deprived?), but since Dib’s concern is about being late, I assume the skoolday is not yet over. And when he meets up with Dibship again…

Yeah, it actually took me a bit to notice it, but the scene is directed as to always obscure the top of the ship’s cockpit. AKA where Zim is. I thought at first that maybe he sent the ship out on its own and jumped onto it when it was passing through the Skool. But with that little trick of angles and the stick in Zim’s wig and GIR scattering acorns everywhere… yeah he was clearly on it the whole time.

So Dib missed about a whole day of Skool, spending the reminder of that day trapped just over the cesspool listening to the dying Dibship talk about how much of a loser they are. 

Zim got about… half a skoolday done before skipping out for, as Dib pointed out, no real reason other then endangering himself. And I’m pretty sure he, like, died at the end of the episode. So he’s probably not making it back to Skool either. 

"Vindicated!"

The events of this episode start during Skool and then explicitly continue after Skool, not relevant. 

"The Voting of the Doomed"

Takes place entirely at Skool doing Skool stuff, not relevant.

"Gaz, Taster of Pork"

Well, I am not actively counting Gaz’s absences for this post, so I don’t need to worry about, like, the multiple weeks that her dad kept her isolated in his lab (and even so, I don’t think being forcibly being pulled out of the education system by your parents count as ‘skipping skool’?) As for Dib, most of his ‘research’ we’ve seen happen either in Skool

Or at nighttime and thus explicitly after Skool.

The daring breakout from Membrane Lab does happen in the daytime - the day after Dib’s Hobo Encounter at MacMeaties. The question is just if Dib decided to wait until after Skool to get the information out to Gaz or if he broke her out ASAP skool be damned. (And it can’t be the weekend this time, “this Friday” is our explicit Ticking Clock). But since the sun had already set by the time they finished with their chase scene… Honestly, yeah my guess is he decided to procrastinate by waiting after Skool to break her out lol.

So Dib has had another Very Long Night, but he probably didn't skip skool (and since the episode ends on Friday, he technically has two whole days to finish Cleaning the Pig Toilets and still make it back in time for Monday! Fun!)

"The Frycook What Came From All That Space"

So Zim gets kidnapped from Skool at the very start of the episode and , according to Sizz-Lorr, a week before the Foodening starts

Sizz-Lorr: YES!! And that's not all, Zim! In one week, the Foodening begins once more, and you'll be trapped here for 20 years, just like I was!

And Zim manages to get off the planet at the very last second before the Foodening trapped him there.

And we know there’s no ‘time warp’ in place cause Dib did notice Zim was gone for three days about halfway through the episode.

Dib: Um, I noticed Zim's been gone for three days. Do you know where he is?

So, yeah, Zim was absent from Skool for a week.

(I am… going to assume Dib did not spend like 72-96 hours non-stop annoying the Tallest. But rather he went back and to Zim’s house whenever he had the chance so I am not counting absences for him.) 

"The Most Horrible X-mas Ever"

Takes place over Winter Break and thus is irrelevant.

In total, Zim has confirmed 12 missed full days of Skool + about two times where probably just skipped the first period. Dib has three missed days of Skool. So, like Zim might need to repeat the sixth grade if time ever Actually Moved Forwards in the IZ universe - but Dib is pretty in the clear I think.

Really, what I find really interesting, more than just the obvious difference between Zim and Dib’s tendency to skip skool is the difference between the earlier and later episodes. Like, not counting the five days Zim picked up at the second-to-last episode (which were very much outside of his control)…  Zim picked up 4/7 missed days in just the first eight episodes! And after that they are far less frequent. Perhaps the writers deliberately tried to take care to not overuse the whole skipping skool thing too much? Or maybe from an in-universe perspective it just took Zim a few weeks to really wrap his head around how the skool schedule thing even works?