#i watched 911 three times last year

[thosetwofirefighters]

was tagged by @mooshkat (thank you friend!!) to list 8 tv shows for my followers to get to know me better!

for someone who repeatedly watches the same shows over and over and hyperfixates on certain fandoms, you’d think this would be easy for me but …. it’s not 😂

1. 9-1-1 2. 9-1-1: Lone Star 3. Young Royals 4. The Mentalist (Patrick Jane my beloved...) 5. Broad City 6. The Good Place 7. Black Mirror 8. Disjointed

I will always be re-watching at least one of these, if not multiple (right now, it's Broad City and 9-1-1 hehe)

anyway, since I just watch the same shows over and over again, I'm excited to see what everyone else watches! @wheelsupin-five (I tried tagging two-cut-lines at first lmao) @paqerings @lilbuddie @the-likesofus @shortsighted-owl @poughkeepsies @alyxmastershipper @leslieknopeinthepit

#I feel like this is a pretty good list to describe me tbh #i watched 911 three times last year #and lone star as a whole twice but season 3 three times lmao #i watch the mentalist every year it is my favorite #my dad owns the whole series on dvd because we (me and him and my sisters) watched it all together when I was in middle school #its very nostalgic for me and i love patrick jane so fucking much #black mirror will always be a favorite. gimme that spooky shit #also the good place ugggggh i have been meaning to re-watch that one again since i've only seen the last season once #but i want to finish broad city first #i have a really bad habit of watching most of a show and then not re-watching the last season ever #probably because i don't want them to end lmao #if i don't ever finish them then they never actually end right? #except for young royals because i would watch the final scene of s2 over and over again for every waking moment of the rest of my life #anywaaaay yall dont need me going off about my favorite shows lmaooo love yall #me #tag game #MOOSH thank you so much for the tag!! <3

[loveyourownsmiilee]

I find it very interesting that Tim Minear told an interviewer that they are “basically laying down the train tracks on 911 while the train is still moving”. And then he further added that they’re still “in the middle of writing episodes 8-10” which are literally set to air next month. So what this tells me is that they are definitely waiting to gauge general audience reactions for the storylines they have leading up to the small hiatus. Because the hiatus gives them plenty of time to rewrite anything that might not be accepted positively or double down and perfect their initial ideas.

Now what I find a little suspicious is that Tim is a calculated person. We know that he called Oliver ahead of his current storyline and talked to him about what his plans were for Buck, which was his sexuality storyline. Now isn’t it strange how another person on the show, Ryan Guzman, seems so happy and keeps assuring in all his interviews that the writers take into consideration feedback from fans and are going to give us what we want? All the interviews he’s done with Oliver, just give off vibes that they both know something we don’t know. So why would Ryan be so confident in what the writers are writing when according to Tim, they still don’t have anything concrete written for the last three episodes of the season? Unless…unless Tim has also called up Ryan and expressed what his plans are for his character’s storyline for the season. Maybe it was even a joint call of some sort to let both Ryan and Oliver know that he perhaps has plans to get the ball rolling for bringing Buddie together romantically. And what way to do that is by dipping his toe in first with Buck’s storyline with Tommy to see how the general audience reacts to the possibility of Buck dating a man.

Meanwhile Tim has also shown how strong Buck and Eddie are as a family unit with Christopher in episode 7.01. So whatever happens in 7.05 before the hiatus, it’s likely to arise some questions for viewers. And while sifting through the comments and feedback, it’ll help Tim make up his mind on how to finish off this season. Which means it can very possibly end with a big confirmation that Buddie is happening come season 8.

I just think with Tim sharing so many Buddie stills to his personal Facebook page before the season even aired, choosing that specific Buckley Diaz family moment in 7.01, and confirming that they don’t have plans for Buddie “right now” doesn’t confirm it’s not happening. On the contrary, I think he’s literally waiting and watching how the public reacts before coming up with a concrete plan on when it is time to make it happen. Everything he’s done and said just seems so deliberate in my honest opinion.

And both Ryan and Oliver’s behavior also seem very deliberate and I can go on and on about that as well but I’ll just say they’re behaving very differently this season overall than any other season. I mean just look at how often Oliver shares Ryan on his stories. And how quickly Ryan shares 911 content and pictures taken by Oliver to his stories. This has never been the case between these two in all 6 years they’ve worked together. All that aside, choosing both of them to interview together, discuss their storylines and promote together was a definite choice made by whoever is in charge. So why those two specifically when it could’ve been any other 911 cast member? Peter and Angela had a three episode arc and we didn’t get a single joint interview together. We know JLH and Kenny have a big wedding storyline coming up and have yet to get a single joint interview with them. Aisha and Tracie have a storyline coming up about them adding to their family and we don’t have any interviews with them. But we also don’t have any interviews with just like Kenny and Aisha since they also play best friends on the show. Like all these decisions that were made ahead of this season are very suspicious to me especially when you consider literally everything else that’s been said by Tim and both Ryan and Oliver. So I guess take what you will with all this information but I’m just very suspicious about everything that’s going on.

#buddie #Tim Minear #oliver stark #ryan guzman #911 on abc #911 speculation #again this is all MY OPINION #I find it super interesting that Tim said all that and like how could it not be about buddie ? #I mean yessss it can be about anything else im sure of it #it’s not the Buddie show #but like this makes sense for it to be a bit about them

[chronicowboy]

Buck may not be a paramedic like Chim or a qualified doctor like Hen or a field medic like Eddie. He may not have Bobby's impressive decades of experience or Ravi's desire to take every single LAFD training course there is in his spare time. But he's picked up a lot from his six years with the fire department, so he feels pretty confident in diagnosing Verne with a serious amount of internal bleeding.

But the ambulance has been and gone, back-up hasn't arrived, and everyone else is busy with patients in more critical condition, so Buck crouches down next to Verne and gets to work on starting a line.

"How are you doing, Verne?" Buck asks with a smile. "Any major discomfort or pain I should know about?"

"My back, and my hip," Verne sighs, "but they've been uncomfortable for over a decade now, kid."

"Well, the fact that you can still feel that discomfort is very promising, at least."

"Promising," Verne hums. "Sure, let's go with that." His eyes turn a little glassy, drift, unfocused, somewhere over his shoulder.

"Hey, Verne, stay with me, yeah?" Buck smiles when their eyes meet again. "That's it. You're gonna be okay."

"This isn't the first time I've died, firefighter Buckley." Verne shakes his head with a grimace. "I know how this goes."

"Then, you know you go to the hospital and come back to life," Buck says, a little desperation creeping into his words. He keeps seeing flashes of a pale blue shirt and hearing snatches of a realisation about happiness.

"Maybe when I was your age." Verne smiles weakly. "Got into an accident after picking my best friend up from a bad date. They said I died for two minutes in the ambulance."

"Two minutes, huh?" Buck palpates his ribs to distract Verne as he checks on the rapidly growing bruise on his abdomen.

"You ever died, kid?"

"For three minutes, actually." Buck grins up at him. "Not to brag." Verne huffs a laugh. "I was that firefighter that got hit by lightning."

"No kidding," Verne chuckles. "Pretty cool way to go."

"Oh, very cool, yeah." Buck nods, biting down on his lip as he checks to see if the others are free yet. They aren't. "The trippy dream I had during my coma was pretty cool too."

"Yeah?"

"Well, unsettling more than anything, but, uh, I made it back, so that's what counts." Buck wraps a bandage around the sluggishly bleeding cut on Verne's arm. He winces, groaning, and Buck panics. "You said you were driving your best friend home from a bad date?" Verne nods. "That's exactly what I was doing last night," he snorts. "See that firefighter behind me?" Buck jerks his head at Eddie over his shoulder.

"Diaz?" Verne coughs.

"Yeah." Buck smiles. "His aunt keeps setting him up on terrible dates, I've become his get out of jail free card."

"And what does that entail?" Verne asks, curiosity piqued, more alert than he had been a moment ago.

"I pick him up when there are no Ubers nearby, I call him with an emergency when he texts me 911, I answer the phone when one of the women calls him to schedule a second date and pretend to be his husband." Buck shrugs. "Its a lot of fun."

"Is it?" Verne coughs again, a wet noise that makes Buck's stomach drop. "Is it fun when he goes on the dates?"

"I mean, not really." Buck wrinkles his nose, thinks of that swoop of nausea in his stomach every time Eddie walks out of the door. "But I get to hang out with Christopher, Eddie's son, which is much more fun than a crappy date, you know?"

"Did your best friend watch you die?" Verne asks suddenly.

"I-" Buck blinks. "Yeah, he, um..." He clears his throat. "He was actually the one to get me down from the ladder, the one that got my heart beating again." Verne laughs heartily despite the fact that Buck can see the amount of pain it causes him.

"Oh, kid," he sighs, more of a wheeze. "The best friend I picked up from her date? I felt sick every time she told me about a new man."

Well, at least that's normal then. Buck had kind of been worrying he was going insane.

"Then, I died, and I married her a year later."

Buck remembers watching himself take his first breath without the ventilator from behind a window, remembers the way time had warped and stretched on forever and frozen all at once, remembers how his whole life had narrowed down to that one moment.

This feels a lot like that.

Suddenly, five years of friendship flash through his mind. Eddie's gloved hand in his, the only anchoring sensation in a sea of agony. Eddie's thumb on his neck, warm brown eyes a life raft when Buck had been drowning. Building a skateboard and pushing a kid made of sunshine around the park. The zing of happiness an elf had brought him after the sour curdle of disappointment that had hit him on a fountain. Eddie's hands big and warm on his waist. Eddie's smiles, wide and private alike. Eddie's eyes, always so fond and intent. Quiet discussions in the Diaz kitchen, and teasing banter in the loft. Nights with Chris squished between them on the couch, and the bright lights of a video game illuminating the living room. A legal document and a first name said so carefully. A broken door and a broken man alike. Couch metaphors and lasagnes and steaks and cookies.

Oh.

"I look forward to seeing her again," Verne murmurs quietly.

"Hey, no," Buck croaks. "Its not time yet, it isn't time for that yet."

"I think its been a long time coming, kid."

Verne's eyes flutter shut, his chest spasms with a final bloodied breath, and Buck's world shatters around him.

#sami rambles #okay okay i really wanted to write this and i think it came out better than expected #death and taxes come throughhhhhhhhhhhh please #i can see this happening ngl #911 spoilers #911 show #911 fox #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck x eddie #911 spec #911 fic #911 fanfic #buddie fic #buddie fanfic #buck x eddie fanfic #buck x eddie fic #911 spec fic

[lum13]

Not so secret

You didn’t mean it for your relationship to be a secret— people just couldn’t put the two and two together.

Wednesday Addams x fem! Reader

“Oh my god, Yoko, you missed out on so much stuff today in first period.” Enid squeaked, stepping into the vampire’s full view. “I literally couldn’t believe my own eyes. Or- ears, both. My followers will freak out when they hear about this.”

“Enid, your heart is going to burst if you don’t calm down— I can literally feel your heart beating unbelievably fast. What happened?” Yoko stopped in her tracks, looking into the blond’s eyes expectantly. The girl took a second to compose herself from the overwhelming excitement, breathing in, and out, before spilling her words.

“Okay, you know how nevermore don’t usually accept new students mid-term, right? But this new girl barges into the classroom ten minutes late into the class.”

Yoko raised her eyebrows, crossing her arms. “Okay? A new girl mid-term. It’s not the first time it happened.” 

Enid grinned, practically vibrating with excitement as she bounced on her foot.

“But that’s not all— the new girl sat next to Wednesday— the Wednesday Addams..” Yoko nodded, “And during the whole class, the new girl kept calling Wednesday names like love and darling—“ the vampire winced, letting out a worrisome groan.

“So when are we having the funeral?” 

“Oh no— the best part is, Wednesday freaking Addams flirted back!”

“—and I hope we can get along!” Enid watched as you finished your small speech, excitement seeping through her features. She always liked meeting new people— it has always been a part of her personality.

“Thank you, you may take a seat wherever you like.” The teacher smiled at you, before leading you to the seats with a gentle nudge on your back. You quickly scanned the room— before your eyes fixated on a certain raven haired girl. 

You beamed at her, dropping your bag on the desk beside her seat— drawing everyone’s attention.

Uh oh.

Enid gulped, eyeing every movement you made. Watching the two felt like watching a ticking bomb— ready to explode any second. She just hoped she didn’t have to call 911 like last time. 

“What’s your name, pretty girl?” You asked— sending the dark haired girl a playful smile. Panic ran through the class like wildfire as they watched her glaring death at you— Enid whimpered, bringing her hand over her eyes, bracing herself for the chaos that was about to happen. 

A beat of silence continued, before the blond heard her sigh, 

“Wednesday.” The girl responded, rolling her eyes as she did so. Enid gasped audibly— slapping her hand onto her gaping mouth, unable to hide her shock.

“I love your name.” You giggled, “Wednesday is my favorite day of the week, actually. You might just become my favorite person.” 

Enid felt the whole class holding their breath at the pair’s interaction, the tension soaring through the roof. 

Wednesday seemed unfazed, though. Flipping through her textbook, she kept her calm demeanor. 

“Your name is— tolerable, too.” She mumbled under her breath, alarming everyone in the room. 

Only three words struck the classes’ mind: 

What the fuck.

Enid knew Wednesday. Even though she was a bit unpredictable sometimes— she knew well enough to know that Wednesday was not a person to give out compliments to a stranger. Not in a million years did she think it was possible.

That’s why she was in front of your dorm, knocking on the door as she waited patiently for you to answer. 

She heard some muffled shuffles before the door was opened, revealing you— Enid blinked in confusion— with your shirt slightly pulled to your shoulders, cheeks flushing as you leaned onto the wall beside you. You were also panting, she noted.

“Um— how can I help you?” You laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Enid, however, decided to brush it off. You were probably sleeping, she reasoned.

“Sorry to barge in, but I just had to talk to you after what happened today.” Enid grinned, “You should totally confess to Wednesday.”

A pause. You burst out laughing.

“Oh my, but we just met today, didn’t we?” You chuckled, tucking a strand of your hair back. “Very straightforward, I see.”

“No, no— I’m serious. Wednesday that I know doesn’t let anyone compliment her. They usually end up in a hospital most of the time— only the nurse’s office when lucky. And did we forget about her compliment?? She’s totally in love with you, now kiss.”

You giggled at the seriousness in her voice, clutching your stomach as you did so. 

“I must confess to this Wednesday girl then, hm?” You said between your laughter, making the blond nod her head eagerly.

“Totally, one hundred percent. It’s about time she gets a lover, plus, we can finally go on a double date!” She gushed, pulling her phone out from her pocket, before tapping on the calendar app. “Okay, confess to her, and I’ll make the schedule. Just make sure you do it before Sunday.” 

You hummed, amused by the whole situation. You watched as the blond scrolled through the lists of schedules, probably looking for some empty times.

“Well, um, Ajax is probably waiting for me, so I’m gonna go now. Good luck!” Enid chirped, before dashing off. For a moment you stood there, watching her disappear into the dark void of the hallways.

“You can come out now.” You said, turning around to see your lover sliding out of your bed, brushing the dust off of her clothes.

“I am not going on a double date with Enid.” Wednesday growled, her eyes following you as you approached her now standing figure with a huge grin on your face.

“Wasn’t even planning on it.” You smiled, “I still can't believe you said that you liked my name in class, though. Who knew you were such a softie?”

“I am not, a softie.” She gritted out, sending you into a fit of laughter. “I just found it rather amusing to see how my words affected them.”

“Yeah yeah, sure. Not like you love me or anything, c’mere.” You opened your arms for a soft embrace. Your lover rolled her eyes before stepping in.

“Totally not like you love me.” You repeated, “yup— totally.”

You were gifted a punch in your stomach for that.

-extra scrapped scenes

“Love, that’s not how you treat a nosebleed.” Enid’s mouth fell agape as she watched you pinch the tip of the raven haired girl’s nose, bringing your other hand behind her head— tilting her forward as you smiled softly at her. In fact, the whole class stared at the pair’s interaction with fear.

“..thanks.” Wednesday replied, wiping her bloody nose when the crimson liquid had stopped. Your hand let go of her head, humming in reply as you turned your attention back to your textbook.

-

Sorry this was so rushed— it’s 3:30 right now and I can’t think straight.

This was not what I wanted it to turn out. Kinda disappointed in myself for this </3

#Wednesday Addams x reader #wednesday #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x you #jenna ortega x reader

[chiefdirector]

Breaking and Entering | Tim Bradford | The Rookie

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven

Tim blinked himself awake. Heavy with sleep he looked over to his alarm clock, mentally swearing at himself for waking up at 3:37 in the morning. He knew why though, the knowledge that they could die at any moment had been plaguing his thoughts, and now his dreams.

He knew that sleep would not come naturally for him for at least another hour. I had always been a bad habit of his. It started when he was still in the military and the constant noise and activity in the base camp kept waking him; usually he would go for a run or do some housework to burn some energy but as he shifted back onto his side, he couldn't find it in himself to leave the bed.

Soft moonlight shone through the crack between the curtains and gently illuminated the (Y/N). She had changed so much in the years they spent apart, it was as if she had lost a part of her soul. When she smiled, her smile didn’t fully reach her eyes, her laugh seemed somewhat hollow, and her demeanour was very guarded. She had begun to pull herself away from Tim’s touches as if she was guarding herself from being hurt. That had briefly disappeared though.

Sleep had restored the peacefulness that Tim had fallen in love with and for a moment, he could pretend that nothing bad had happened.

Slowly, Tim reached across to run his fingers down her cheek and for the first time since he had found her again, (Y/N) didn’t flinch at his touch.

----------

Around 6:30, Tim woke for the second time. This time he was greeted by an empty bed. For a moment, he had thought he dreamed the last days and that he was alone again. His fears faded as he heard (Y/N)’s panicked calls for him echoing throughout the house. Quickly, he grabbed his gun from his bedside drawer and made his way throughout their home.

As he made his way through the house, he looked around for any signs of what could be wrong. He didn’t look long before he saw (Y/N) looking at their backdoor. “Hey, are you okay? What's wrong?”

“The lock,” (Y/N) stood back from the door, allowing Tim to get closer. She watched as he placed his firearm down as he moved to inspect the lock. “It’s been broken. I found the door open. Someone was here last night.”

Tim reached for his gun again. “Crap. Did you check the rest of the house or did you come straight here?”

“I came straight down here, I thought you may want a coffee.”

“Right okay, I'll call 911, and you call Grey. We need to stay here until this thing is reported and added to the caseload. I highly doubt this was a coincidence.”

-----

It didn’t take long for their home to be flooded with cops. Grey had turned up first, he was still in his jogging bottoms and shirt he had been sleeping in. He had rushed out of bed to get to their house, barely taking the time to grab his gun and badge.

It had taken all the reservation he had to not burst through the front door to go find Tim and (Y/N). Instead he tried the spare key (Y/N) had given him when they had moved in and tried it in the lock. He found (Y/N) sat on the sofa, her leg shaking up and down in anxiety with Tim beside her trying to ground her.

“Thank God you guys are okay’” he said, walking into the room, “What happened? I didn’t get a lot of details over the phone.”

“(Y/N) found the lock on the back door broken. Someone had broken in. Nothing valuable has been taken, not that we could think of anyway. However our cabinets have been gone through. I think they were looking for something. And if they didn’t get it, they’ll be back.” Tim said, moving away from his wife and towards Grey. As he got closer, he lowered his voice so as not to be overheard. “She’s been like this since she called you. I think she blames herself.”

Grey hummed in agreement. There had been many times where he had talked (Y/N) out of a spiral of self-loathing and distress. He also knew from these times that it was sometimes better to let herself start to calm down alone. “I saw you had a camera doorbell. Did it happen to catch anything?”

“No,” Tim sighed, leaning against the arm of the sofa. “I checked. It was disconnected. I don’t think it’s unrelated.”

“You’re right to not write it off. I’ll mention it to the detectives.” As of one cue, the sound of car doors slamming echoed from the street and into the house. “Both of you, take the day off today. You’ve got a lot to deal-“

“No.” (Y/N)’s head snapped up. “I need to go in. This is my mess. I’m the reason this happened. I need to be there to stop it.”

Grey sighed, “You know we have a whole team working on this. You need to take care of yourself. We’ll have a unit placed outside so you needn’t worry. You’ve had an eventful start to the day, take the time you need to rest.”

(Y/N)’s eyes hardened in a way neither man had seen before. She almost looked like she had been possessed by the personification of rage and determination. “I’ll rest when we catch this sorry son of a bitch.”

——-

“I’m worried about her,” Tim said to Grey after the detectives had taken his statement of events. “She’s changed.”

“It’s been a long time since she’s been home, Tim. Of course change will have happened.”

“You saw what she was like earlier. It was like a switch flipped in her mind. Who knows what she went through all that time, what she did to survive. She doesn’t talk about it; I asked once, I got no response. It was as if she left reality.”

Grey looked over to (Y/N) and then back to Tim. “Do you not think that she should be working this case.”

“No, it’s giving her something to focus on… and the closure may help her.”

“And what if it doesn’t.”

“Well that’s what I’m here for. I’ll always make sure she finds her way home.”

Part Eleven | Part Thirteen

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Tags: @xceafh  @kmc1989  @buba424 @salty0cracker @iamasimpingh0e

Tags are open :)

#tim bradford imagine #tim bradford x reader #tim bradford #the rookie imagine #the rookie #chiefdirector #bottom of the river

[lily-174]

‘i’m scared’ evan buckley x reader

overview: you and buck have a pregnancy scare.

trigger warning: mentions of sex and pregnancy.

a/n- i cant lie i hate this so much😭😭

**

you’d made a joke to eddie hours earlier at the bar about buck being awful in bed, now you couldn’t decide if you regretted that decision.

buck flopped down next to you breathing heavily, you were trying to catch your breath too pulling the covers up to shield your naked body. now that was good sex, maybe you should joke about buck being bad in bed more often.

“still think i’m bad in bed hm?” buck laughed, him having now caught his breath. you shook your head, chest still moving up and down rapidly trying to get your breath back.

“i’ll get you some water i’ll be back” buck kisses your forehead, and laughed as he got up putting some sweatpants back on and headed downstairs to get some water.

when he came back upstairs he put the glass on the nightstand and laughed again realising you were asleep, he got in bed and pulled you into his chest, normally you could stay awake for his amazing aftercare but tonight clearly not. and neither could he falling asleep straight away.

that was three weeks ago now, you had now called in sick to work at the 911 call centre having been sick multiple times when you woke up, you didn’t think anything of it until your best friend maddie called you.

“where are you?” she asked down the phone.

“i’m currently in bed i was sick all morning, i’m starting to feel better now though” you heard maddie gasp slightly down the phone.

“that’s exactly what happened to me! thats how i found out i was pregnant” you heart stopped, surely not.

“i couldn’t be” panic filled your body, you weren’t ready, buck wasn’t ready. you’d only been dating a year. what if you are? buck might leave.

“ when was your period due?” you took a minute to think, last week.. your whole world came crushing down.

“ oh my god maddie! last week! oh my god. buck is gonna leave me..” you said as you could feel the tears swelling up in your eyes.

“no way! not on my watch. he loves you so much y/n he wouldn’t do that. i’ll come by when i finish work and you can take a test.” you agreed and ended the phone. that whole day you felt sick with anxiety. what were you gonna do. bucks job, if something happened to him you couldn’t raise a kid on your own. child care was so expensive, you didn’t want to not work. you were overthinking every little detail all day until maddie got to your house.

“thank god!” you exclaimed when you saw her, your anxiety decreased for a minute then it doubled when she pulled out the pregnancy test.

“you ready?” she asked, you shook you head panicked out of your mind. how would buck react.

“i’m terrified” maddie pulled you into a hug and reassured you everything would be fine. you both walked into the bathroom and you peed on the stick, you put the cover over it starting the timer and turning over so you couldn’t see the results.

“mads i’m so scared.. whats buck going to say..” you were unbelievably worried, you loved buck and you didn’t want this too scare him off at all.

“it’s buck. he’s probably going to panic, but he will do the right thing. he loves you and he will love that child just as much” she smiles and gave you another hug. you nodded, you glanced at your phone seeing you still had to wait 1 minute 30 seconds, you wanted to cry. you stood there and waited for the timer to go off. it was the longest minute and a half of your life.

“you’ve got this y/n/n” maddie smiled as she clicked the off button on the alarm. you nodded and took a deep breath before turning over the test. positive.

your heart dropped to your stomach, but a small part of you was kinda happy. you could have a little evan running around, evan would make beautiful children. and he would be an amazing dad. you’d seen how he was with chris. you thought for a second all could be fine.

you and maddie sat on the couch talking and laughing trying to pass the time until buck finished his shift. maddie was a god send, she didn’t want you to sit alone and over think so she stayed to try and distract you. she was excited, she was having a niece of nephew.

when buck finally arrived home maddie gave you a hug before ushering a small goodbye to buck and she rushed out the door with a big smile on her face, buck laughed at his sisters antics.

“what was that about?” he asked smiling as you got up, you walked over to him and he kissed you his arms going around your waist pulling you into him.

“buck… i need to tell you something” his expression changed to a more serious one and his brows furrowed together.

“okay.. what’s wrong?” now he was concerned..

“i’m pregnant” you mumbled, his face now having a shocked expression his arms dropped from your sides.

“you’re what?”

“ we’re having a baby buck..” he stood there just looking at you in shock for a moment which made you panic even more then before, then a small smile arrived on his face which confused you.

“i’m gonna be a dad??” he asked, you nodded and the smile grew, he picked you up and span you around, when he placed you back on the floor he kissed you passionately. he was happy, and that made all your anxiety leave your body.

“you’re gonna be a great dad evan” you smiled, he started listing off millions of things you had to do, find a new apartment, him and eddie could decorate the baby’s room, all the vitimins you needed to take. he went full nerd.

“okay buck calm down” you laughed, he smiled and hugged you again.

“sorry i’m just excited i love you both so much already”

#buck 911 #911 fic #911 cast #911 s6 #911 x reader #evan buckley fic #evan buckley imagines #evan buckley x reader

[thewolvesof1998]

Last Line/Tibet Tuesday

Thanks for all the tags! I'm pretty sure I've been tagged by everyone at this point 😂

I do have something to share, this is from a new WIP (I know, I know, I don't need another WIP but I just couldn't help myself and @eddiediaztho is a bad influence) I'm affectionately calling it The Heatwave Fic and it was inspired by me being stuck in the heatwave in London and being delusional from the heat...

Eddie has many regrets in his life, lying on the floor of the cabin in the middle of a heat wave with his six foot two best friend pressing into his side while they were both trying to stay cool under the pitiful breeze of the ancient ceiling fan had the possibility to be high on that list. He turns his head to be confronted with a tattooed and freckle-covered shoulder, he can’t remember when they decided to strip down to their boxers but at the time it had seemed like a good idea, he wasn’t sure about that now considering this was the third time he’d found himself turning to stare at the miles of bare skin.  “Eddie?”  “Hmm?” He drags his eyes up over collarbones, an Adams apple, a chin that had more stubble than usual, lips that Buck had been nervously chewing on and off for the past three days and up until he finally meets eyes as bright as they are blue. So blue in fact that they somehow made his throat even more parched than it already was, he was truly getting delusional from the heat. “Eddie.” “Buck.” “I’m lying in a pool of my own sweat.” He grimaces, “Gross.”  “Eddddiiiieeee” Buck drags his name out in a whine that sounds an awful lot like Chris or maybe Chris sounds an awful lot like Buck, either way, Eddie finds it endearing as much as it is childish. He’s truly lost his mind.  “We have to save water.” He knows what Buck wants, another shower, but they’ve got a limited supply of water and they don’t know how long this heatwave will last.  Buck rolls over to face him, “But I’m so hot.”  Eddie snorts but his reply dies in his throat as his eyes flicker down to Buck’s chest and the way his pecks are squished together in his new position. He wants to bite them, see if they are just as soft as they look. The inappropriate thought causes his cheeks to warm and he can only hope that it blends in with the heat-induced flush that has been present on both of their faces the past few days.  “Just,” He waves his hand in the air, “think about something else,” he mumbles as he trains his eyes up to the ceiling as if the wooden rafters are the most interesting thing he’s seen in years and swears he’s not going to look at Buck until he’s sure he can control himself.  “Like what?” “I don’t know,” He says as he manages a half-decent shrug while lying flat on his back, finding what looks like faces in the wooden beams.  “What are you thinking about?” Buck asks, his voice is low and a little throaty and Eddie blames the lack of sleep for the goosebumps that rise on his arms. Because Buck’s probably just got a dry throat from the heat and here Eddie is lying sexualising his best friend, like a fucking creep. 

And the last line which is a continuation of the above tibet:

Eddie clears his throat, “Uh, that looks like a dog,” He points up to one of the particular doggish faces in the grain of the wooden beams like they’re cloud-watching because he is sure as hell not going to say ‘Oh I was wondering if you would sound like that after I fucked your brains out’. 

Tagging everyone because I honestly don't have the energy to figure out who's already tagged me and who hasn't sooo....

@wikiangela​​ @wildlife4life​ ​ @alyxmastershipper​ @disasterbuckdiaz @spotsandsocks @try-set-me-on-fire @jesuisici33​ @bekkachaos @buddierights @forthewolves @911-on-abc @hippolotamus @shitouttabuck @911onabc @exhuastedpigeon @eddiediaztho @your-catfish-friend @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @king-buckley @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese @fortheloveofbuddie @sammy-souffle @steadfastsaturnsrings @mangacat201 @theotherluciferr @cowboy-buddie @eowon @rainbow-nerdss @nmcggg

#it was so fucking hot #like im from nz and ive been to Australia during the summer I know heat but London last week was crazy #it was all I could think about #I barely slept #I sweated so much #and then I had the idea of buck and Eddie being stuck in a heatwave and fucking sooo.... #9-1-1 #buddie #buddie fic #thewolvesof1998 writes #mywip #wip #the heatwave fic #buddie smut #fic: even when the heat breaks i'm still yours

[withahappyrefrain]

Every Rose Has Its Thorn

Pairing: Mob!Peter and Mob!Reader

Summary: For @liz-allyn's 900th celebration! "What are we going to do about this?" You're caught red-handed and Peter's next move could destroy your life. Unless...you can convince him otherwise."

Warnings: Literal murder, swearing, oral (f receiving), smut,

Words: 5.8K because I can't help myself

He grumbled as he took the plate of food from you. Something about it taking too long.

Normally you'd roll your eyes. 

Instead you smiled and began counting in your head. 

101, 102, 103, 104

"How much garlic did you roast the other day?" Your father asked. 

"Just three heads for dinner." 

He sneered, "You added too much. The whole house stinks of it." 

He had been complaining of the smell for the past week. You claimed it was good for the heart. 

It also fooled him into thinking that the odor was coming from another source, not himself. 

206, 207, 208. 

You handed him another glass of water- the third one in a row. You watched as he chugged the water- colorless and odorless. 

The almond taste was a myth. Lucky you, as your father didn't have a huge sweet tooth. 

He continued to demand water, claiming you added too much salt to his food. You simply apologized. You didn't mind. 

It would be the last time you would have to apologize to that piece of shit. 

362, 363, 364. 

"Why don't you try going to the bathroom?" You suggested as he doubled over, bemoaning about his stomach pain. 

"It was that food of yours. Don't know why you insist on cooking when you always fuck it up." 

You walked him to the bathroom, shutting the door. He was in such pain, he didn't even noticed that the doorknob to the bathroom was different. 

It now locked from the outside. 

520, 521, 522, 523. 

The dumbass finally figured out that the door was locked. He was calling out your name. 

But you couldn't hear. Unfortunately, you had on your headphones as you cleaned up the kitchen. It had to be clean, otherwise he'd be angry at you. 

Such a shame. 

616, 617. 618. 

You pulled an earbud out. Daddy dearest was still yelling, but not about the door being locked. 

Something about being in pain. 

It was hard to hear with the music. 

766, 767, 768. 

With your earbuds still on, you grabbed your water bottle. Peering out of the window, you saw your neighbor, Ms. Boocock-Lee, step outside her door. 

Not thinking much of it (according to Dad, you never thought), you stepped outside, stopping after a few steps to look for your keys. 

A loud voice was heard over the music. You ripped a headphone out, looking up to find your neighbor, smiling from her lawn. 

You waved and gave a cheery hello. 

"Where are you headed to honey?" She asked with that sweet saccharin smile that made you want to gag. 

"Oh, just heading off to the pharmacy and bank. Gotta make a few deposits and pick up some medication for my dad!" 

"Have they figured out the cause of that constant sore throat?" She asked. 

The corner of your mouth turned downward as you shook your head, "Not yet. Hope these new meds will do something!" 

After more idle chit chat, you two went your own separate ways. 

You made a mental note to thank her later, for when she volunteers to be your alibi. 

Once you go to the pharmacy, you aren't as good as counting consistently. Had to stay focused on fulfilling your role as the loving daughter. 

Such a shame your father left his phone in the kitchen. Had he actually had it, maybe he could have called you to come home or call 911. 

Not that you would have answered. 

It's once you get to the bank that you begin counting. 

756, 757, 758.

"Usually deposit?" The Teller asked. You nodded your head, bringing up a hand to rub something out of your eye, the plastic pharmacy bag now visible. 

These deposits were nothing unusual. You had been doing them for your father for years. He'd move money around, you'd picked it up, he'd give it to pay somebody off. 

It was just such a shame his memory had gone downhill over the past year. He'd forget if he had sent you to the bank or not that week. 

He'd always insist on you going. And lately, he started sending you to drop off the money. 

The nicest thing he's ever done for you was making this so easy. 

875, 876, 877, 879. 

When you got back to your father's house, you were greeted with silence. 

He did say he had a meeting later that night. And keeping his car parked in the garage made it impossible to tell whether he was home or not. 

So you dropped off his prescriptions on the kitchen counter. His keys were still there, signaling he hadn't left yet. 

Curious. Quite curious. 

Carefully turning the lock, you heard a click. It was now unlocked. 

888, 889, 890. 

You called out your father's name, which was met with silence. 

Two knocks on the door. The second one was more forceful, opening the door ever so slightly. 

The smell was horrendous, making you gag. After pulling your shirt over your nose, gasping in the fresh air desperately, you opened the door all the way. 

895, 896, 897.

Finally gathering the strength, you fully opened the door. 

898, 899. 

The sight was horrific. No amount of research could have prepared you for it. 

900. 

Though you still got pleasure from seeing your father's dead body. 

The next two hours were a blur. You could hear the sounds of an ambulance, Mrs. Boocock Lee wrapping a blanket around you as she asked your questions. 

You were in shock. 

He was finally gone. 

After giving a statement to the police (not that they were really looking for the cause of death, moreso connections to your father's business), you went home to your little apartment. 

It was all you could afford, with your father's refusal to give his only child any money, along with the odd jobs and hours you had to work since you were his unofficial caretaker. 

But you wouldn't be there for much longer. 

Now that you would get the inheritance your father hadn't blown away on shitty business deals and gambling. 

While it wasn't much compared to what he started with, it was enough for you. 

You switched the lights on, illuminating your apartment. 

Which was why you jumped upon seeing a man on your couch. A choked gasp escaped your lips, your feet beginning to step backwards as a hand of yours extended behind you, reaching for the- 

"Got the news Scheifele" Peter Parker's voice was smooth and rich. There was an air of amusement laced through his words as looked at you with a twinkle in those whiskey eyes. 

You ignored his nickname for you, the one he bestowed the first time he met you. He was amused with how you looked the opposite of your father's towering, greasy demeanor. 

"She's like a little lamb. A beautiful sheifale." 

"If you're here to send your condolences Mr. Parker, I'm afraid this is not the best time." You gripped your car keys as you took a step into the kitchen, a step closer to the living room. 

Peter Parker was elusive. He kept his heart hidden behind those tailor made suits. Those honey dripping smiles he'd give you were an act, you could see right through him. 

"I'm not here for condolences. I'm here to congratulate you," He said, his mouth forming into a smirk. 

"Mr. Parker, I don't know what you're talking about but please-" 

"After knowing me for over a year, you still can't call me Peter?" His lips formed into a pout. 

He made it sound like you two had something beyond a professional relationship. 

Your dad had done business with him for years. Once his health started going downhill, you had begun dropping off checks (or dead bodies) at Parker's. 

"Well, Peter, like I said now is not a good time-" 

This time he stood up, hands still in the pockets of his well tailored pants. You couldn't help but grip the keys in your hand as he walked over to you. 

"Drop the act Scheifele." His words made your blood run cold. 

"I-I don't know what-" 

Your eyes widened as Peter pulled out an empty bottle. 

"Word from the wise: throw the trash out before you kill somebody." 

He was too fast. One of the many skills he had that made him stand out as a hitman. Your back was now pressed against the wall as he had one hand pinning your waist to the wall, another wrapped around your wrists, which were now over your head. 

Your feet dangled off the floor. 

You always wondered how he was so strong. He wasn't built like a brick shithouse, and yet he could toss you with great ease. 

Another skill that helped him rise up quickly in the ranks, made him sought after by your father and countless others. 

Peter simply chuckled at your attempts to push back. You cursed at him as he laughed. 

It was baffling. You knew he hated working with your dad, he would tell you all the time. Granted, it usually followed with a comment about how you were much prettier than your father. 

"How long?" He asked, studying you like you were some kind of bug under a microscope. 

"For a year now. I've been putting it in his food and the water for a year now," you admitted. You were trapped, no use in denying it. 

"Must have made some pretty good connections to get a hold of fucking arsenic." The scent of cinnamon was filling your nostrils. 

He always smelled good. 

The hand he had on your waist moved up to cup your jaw. As if he could sense that you were about to lurch forward, he pressed his body against yours, pinning you to the wall. 

You couldn't remember the last time you were this close to someone. It almost left you breathless. 

Almost. 

"You're the one who keeps saying I'm much better to work with," You spat. 

"You did this for a whole year?" 

You nodded, "Gave him a steady decline. Created a paper trail for doctor visits." 

"That's why you always carry that big water bottle around, isn't it? So you never had to drink the water in the house." Peter always paid attention to the details. 

It's how he knew you weren't as oblivious as you let on. 

You nodded, "They'll send in some water samples. It'll show as being contaminated." 

"Which will give you the perfect case against the company. The death of your father is sure to give you a nice payout," Peter cocked his head to the side, "Granted, if they found out about what you did, that's a pretty big case for them." 

The possibility always dangled in the back of your mind. It's why you began planning this almost two years ago, working out every detail, making sure things happened when they were supposed to, ensuring your tracks were covered. 

And there was Peter Parker, holding that bottle. The one that had your fingerprints all over it. 

Once they found the bottle, your plan would unravel. Why did you have to be impatient? Why increase the dosage, when you could have waited for it take over naturally? 

"What are we going to do about this?" Peter hummed, his nose grazing your cheek. 

The fate of your life was in Peter Parker's hands. He had the ability to keep this a secret or send you to jail. 

"What do you want?" You whispered. 

He moved a hand down to your waist, gently guiding your feet back on the ground as he let go of your wrists. His broad shoulders were still against yours, keeping you in place. 

A ringed hand trailed down to your face, his thumb running across your bottom lip. 

It was almost sweet. 

Almost. 

"Name it Parker and I'll give it to you. You want the name of the guy I got it from? A percentage of my settlement money? You wanna fuc-" 

Two fingers entered your mouth, cutting you off. The cool metal of the rings rested against your lips. As he leaned in, his thigh that he had slotted between your legs hitched up, brushing against your clothed core. 

You never wore a dress around Peter for this very reason. You hoped he hadn't heard the way your breath hitched, how you almost gasped around his fingers. 

But somehow he had such good hearing. The smirk on his face said it all. 

"I want a partner," His lips were against your neck. The bastard knew that made you weak, the way his beard would brush against your skin. 

Why did you ever tell him he looked good with facial hair? Maybe your father did have a point about you not knowing when to shut up. 

"The kind that's made known by a pair of gold rings?" You asked, desperate to give off the image that his actions left you unbothered. 

Peter chuckled, "That's a little soon, Scheifale. Let's have dinner first." 

His body was off of yours, only briefly. Only long enough for you to step away from the wall. Only long enough for you to think you had a chance of running away, for him to dash that hope by wrapping an arm around your waist.

"You've had a long day and we have a lot to discuss. We need to get back to my place." 

He led you out of your apartment, where you were greeted by his right hand man and woman.

Felicia and Miles just smiled at you. 

Assholes. 

—------------------- 

You had been to Peter Parker's house before. You were familiar with the grand staircase that greeted you when you walked through the door. The marble floors in the bathroom. 

The dining room table, where you two would go over payments and plans as you drank wine. As of recently, the conversation would stray from business and focused on other things. 

Childhood. Interests. Funny stories. 

How he could help you get away from your father. That you would be safe with him, he'd make sure of that. 

Everytime it was brought up, you would just shake your head. He didn't need to get involved. You could hold your own. 

Was that why he was doing this? You had actually succeeded without his help. Without his knowledge. Did that make him angry? Feel betrayed? 

"Are you angry at me?" You asked as he drove. 

Peter's brows furrowed in confusion as his eyes stayed focused on the road ahead, "Why would I be angry?" 

"Because I got rid of him without your help." 

Peter rolled his eyes, "I never said you couldn't do it without me. I just offered assistance in case you needed it." 

You almost felt bad at your accusation. 

Almost. 

"So then why are you doing this?" 

"Because as smart as you are, you still have a lot to learn," He pressed a button, opening the gates to his house, "As much as everyone hated your father, he was still a prominent figure in all this. When you get rid of someone, you gotta make sure you have some alliances first to protect your ass." 

You huffed, "Why would I need protection, no one is gonna think I-" 

"In this business, you treat every death with suspicion. No matter how many alibis, witnesses, and reports." 

Peter now had a hand on your thigh, his fingers gently gripping the soft flesh. After parking, he leaned in, the smell of cinnamon greeting you once again. 

"And maybe I am a little sad you didn't contact me after he died." You hated that smirk. Hated how charming it was. Hated how it made your thighs clench the first time you saw it. 

"Peter Parker gets sad? This is good information for me to know as your new partner," You leaned in, his face now inches away from yours. 

"Oh Scheifele, you're gonna learn a lot about me." His thumb came up and ran along your bottom lip. 

You wished he'd stopped doing that. You could say so and Peter would listen. 

Yet, the words didn't come out. 

Which is how you found yourself in Peter's office, planning out the details of your father's funeral. 

You were honestly surprised. As soon as you walked into his house, you expected him to shove you against a wall, take you right then and there. 

Instead, he was actually helping. 

It was a lot more work than you realized. Knowing who to invite, where to seat them, who to keep away from who. 

"Why the fuck are you inviting the Osborne's?" Peter asked, running a hand through his hair. He was sitting in his leather chair while you lounged on the couch. 

"The family used to work with my dad, they were on friendly terms," you explained. 

"They're trouble and you know it." 

"The son is always sweet to me." 

Peter's brows furrowed as he chewed the inside of his cheek. He wanted to say something, it was clear as day. 

So, you being curious, kept pushing it, "He texted me when he got the news that my dad kicked the bucket. Said if I needed anything, to let him know." 

His jaw tensed, his nostrils flaring. 

"Y'know, you could have sent a text-"

He lunged forward, his hands pinning yours against the soft leather pillows on the couch. 

Now he looked angry. 

"Harry Osborne is a piece of shit, just like your father. Is that what you want? To repeat the awful, shitty cycle that led you to fucking poison a man?" 

You shrugged, secretly gleaming that you had the upper hand, "I got rid of one shitty man, I can do it again." 

"Or you can be with someone who doesn't make you want to commit murder," Peter spat. His whiskey eyes were hardened and narrowed in on you. For a moment, the only sound in the room was yours and Peter's heaving breathing. 

"Or specifically, I could be with the person who fucking blackmailed me to be their partner. Is that what you want?" Your tone was nearly mocking as you threw his words back in his face. 

"You wouldn't have come with me otherwise, which would have meant you would be home alone when Craven came to your apartment, looking for you." 

"Bullshit-"

"Miles and Felicia are there right now, taking care of him. Did you know your father owed him money? No, you didn't. I'm trying to help you," He gritted through his teeth. 

The idea of receiving help always made your stomach lurch. Thanks to Daddy dearest, you were raised on the concept of looking out for yourself. 

Which, looking back, is probably what made it so easy to kill the man. No one else was keeping tabs or track of him. 

So Peter had a point. So what? 

"Right, and you get absolutely no satisfaction that I can't leave you. That now you can have me whenever you want, to-"

"You know I wouldn't do that." His voice was firm, but not angry. In fact, he looked hurt by your accusation. 

"Oh please, all that flirting-" 

"It takes two to tango. I wouldn't have kept flirting if you hadn't flirted back."

He was right, but you couldn't let him see that. Peter Parker couldn't know. 

"You're just angry that I won't let you be my savior," your voice was but a whisper, though that didn't stop the venom dripping all over your words. 

"I'm angry because that piece of shit you called a father got into your brain and made you believe you're not worthy of someone who likes you, who actually cares about you." 

His voice was soft. The grip he had on your wrists was gone, his hands now intertwining with yours. 

"And you think you're worthy of me?" Your voice was gentle, barely above a whisper. 

It wasn't meant to mock Peter, it wasn't meant to hurt him. 

It was a genuine question. 

His forehead brushed against yours, his soft hair tickling your skin, "I'd like to try." 

Peter Parker was vulnerable, underneath the rings and designer suits and devilish smirks. That's what drew you to him, what made you stay with him, long after your meetings had ended. 

"Show me then," you demanded.

Peter's lips were soft against yours, despite how he was kissing you with such fervor. His hands cupped your neck, his long fingers reaching to the back of your head. Despite literally trapping you, you felt safe. Something you hadn't felt since god knows when. 

His body shifted towards you, deepening the kiss. His tongue ran along your bottom lip, as if it was asking for entrance. You parted your lips, granting him access. He followed your lead, your tongue slipping against his as your fingers weaved into that soft, thick hair of his. 

It was intoxicating-his smell, his touch, his lips. You couldn't help but arch into him, trying to mold your body against yours. 

He broke away first, which surprised you. His lips trailed up to your ear, pressing small kisses into your face along the way. 

"You've had a long day. Should go shower and change." His breath was hot on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. 

"I don't….I don't have any c-clothes," you could feel the heat in your face as the sensation spread through your body. 

"Felicia is picking up some of your clothes after she takes care of Craven. But until then…..I got something for you," you didn't need to see his mouth to know that smirk was there. 

“You got me clothes? For this meeting?” You leaned back so he could see the glare you were giving him. 

“If you must know, I got them after your last visit with me,” He admitted, his voice soft. 

Ah yes. The last visit. The one where he said you didn’t have to go back to your father, that you could stay with him. 

And in an attempt to get out of there, to avoid what he really meant, what he was saying through those big whiskey eyes, you mentioned something about not having any clothes and ran out the door. 

“Trying to make it difficult for me to escape?” Your fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Also thought you deserved something nice, “ Peter’s voice was sweet, like honey. It was such a contrast to his hands that were now kneading the soft flesh of your thighs. 

"Look, you can just give me an old Tshirt and-"

"Listen, Scheifale. You're going to take a shower, put on what I give you, and I'm going to show you how good I can make you feel. Got it?" 

The order sent heat directly to your core. All you could do was nod as Peter helped you off the couch. 

—-------------------------- 

"That bastard," you muttered as you stared at the 'clothes' laid out for you. 

You knew they wouldn’t really be clothes. Like Peter Parker would pass up a chance to see more of you. 

Your fingers traced over the lacey, sheer fabric of the ‘romper’ that was hanging on the hook of the bathroom door. Could you call it a romper when it would barely conceal your tits and ass? 

The color was nice. Soft pink. 

Your favorite. 

While showering, a maid had taken your other clothes, leaving you no choice. As you put on the sheer, flimsy fabric, you couldn’t help but look at yourself in the mirror. 

It was nice. Something you didn’t buy for yourself, usually because you either didn’t have enough money or just didn’t think you deserved it. 

Pulling on the robe, you couldn't help but press the soft material to your nose. 

It smelled like Peter. 

Taking a deep sigh, you opened the door. The walk from the bedroom to the office felt long, daunting. 

You found Peter sitting in his chair, looking over some papers. 

"So what made you decide on lingerie? Usually I just sleep in an old Tshirt and shorts," you commented. 

"I wanted to get you something nice." He walked over to you, his hands in his pockets. 

"Do you not like it?" He asked, motioning to the robe. 

You rolled your eyes, "I didn't think your staff wanted to see my half naked with zero warning." 

"I sent them home," Peter's lips were now pressed against your forehead, his fingers trailing down to the tie that was holding the rope together. 

You stepped back, "Why am I the only one in less clothing? This doesn't seem like a very fair partnership." 

All he did was grin as he took off his jacket and began loosening his tie. 

"More," you demanded. 

"And you say I'm the horndog," Peter muttered, taking off his shirt to reveal a white undershirt beneath it. 

"Why do you wear so many layers? Don't you get hot?" 

He ignored your question, walking over to the couch. He sat down, kicking off his shoes before he slowly pulled the white Tshirt over his head. 

Peter Parker was attractive. You knew that. Everyone knew that. And yet there was something about seeing him like this, shirtless, long legs spread out. 

"I….I didn't know you had tattoos." 

"You can look at them if you want, Scheifele." He curled a finger, motioning for you to come to him. 

Wanting to maintain the upper hand (or some semblance of it), you walked over slowly, untying the knot. 

You stood there, in between his legs as the robe fell to the floor. Peter's eyes widened briefly, then relaxed as he took you in. 

"Look at you," He cooed as a hand traced over the lace on your hips. His other hand trailed up your stomach, resting right below one of your breasts. 

"Spin around." Your eyes widened at the demand. 

"I'm sorry, what?" 

Peter was unphased, "You heard me. Wanna see how it looks from the back. If it's good, I can get you more in different colors." 

You were ready to tell him to fuck off, until you remembered he had that little bottle of yours. The one that would destroy your life if someone else's hands ever got ahold of it. 

So you slowly spinner, allowing his eyes to burn into your skin. 

"You don't need to be shy. You look pretty. You can look too, if you want." It was difficult to hold onto your anger when his voice was so soothing. 

You straddled his waist, taking in the sight of his bare chest and shoulders. Your fingers traced along the sections of inked skin. 

On the top of his left shoulder was an intricate spider web, cascading down to his back and the very top of his bicep. You leaned over, trying to ignore his lips that were now pressed in the valley between your breasts, instead focusing on the small spider that dangled from the web, going down part of his back. 

"Were you one of those kids obsessed with spiders?" Peter let out a low chuckle against your chest, sending vibrations that made your stomach flutter. 

"It's several things. My parents were scientists and studied animal and other species' DNA to see if they could find missing links for medical treatments. Mainly they studied spiders. Did that until the day they died." 

Your fingers traced over his skin as the story played in your mind, your brain memorizing the details he had given you. You had learned details of Peter here and there. He always wanted to focus on you, to listen to what you had to say. 

It was nice to hear him talk about himself. 

Your eyes noticed another section of ink, your fingers tracing over the symbols inscribed on his right bicep. 

"Is that Hebrew?" You asked. He nodded his head. 

"Gam Ze Ya'avor," Peter told you. You looked at him, your confused expression alerting him that you had no idea what it meant. 

"This too shall pass. Got it after my Uncle Ben died. Figured it would be a good reminder," He explained, his voice soft. 

"It is a good reminder. What about this one?" You picked up his hand, motioning to his forearm. A band of old film was wrapped around it.

"I did photography in high school. Still do it from time to time," He shrugged, "My Aunt May says I could have worked for The Daily Bugle." 

"You ever thought of getting them filled in with something?" 

Peter shrugged, the tips of his ears turning red, "Yeah…..thought it would be neat to fill them with important dates." 

"Such as……" your voice trailed off. 

Peter looked up at you, a sheepish smile taking over his face, "Wedding dates….birth dates of my children." 

"Is that what you want?" So often you met men in this field who did those things to prove something, like that they could have anyone they wanted. Or to continue their name, to have a successor so their legacy could leave on. 

Selfish reasons. Your father was one of those men. 

But when Peter looked at you with those soft amber eyes, it didn't feel selfish. 

"Yeah, I do. What about you?" 

Your fingers traced the inked skin on his arm before guiding your fingers back to his shoulder, back to the spider web. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss against it. 

"Yeah, I want that too," You whispered into his skin, "Partly why I got rid of my old man. Couldn't have that with him around." 

Peter nodded, bringing your fingers up to his lips. It was a stark difference compared to when he found you in your apartment earlier today. 

Perhaps that's why you liked him. He could have killed you, could have ratted you out. 

Instead, he just brought you home, even when you didn't realize that's what you wanted, what you needed. 

"If I remember correctly, you said you were going to show me how good you can make me feel," Your voice was light, a smirk slowly spreading to your face. 

"I still intend to, just didn't plan on telling you my life story," He teased. 

"Sorry, I like to get to know my potential partners before I work with them," You teased back. 

"Potential? I still have that bottle of yours," his voice had become more gruff, his fingers cupping the lower half of your face, forcing you to look at him. 

There was that smirk. 

"And I still know how to poison people and make it look like an accident," you responded, grinding your hips down onto his. You grinned at the sight of him wincing as he felt your core brush against his emerging erection. 

"Does that make you hard Peter? That I know how to kill someone?" 

"What makes me hard is you're smart as hell, extremely stubborn, and look like an angel," He hissed as you rocked your hips forward again. 

"Show me. Show me how much you like that." You wanted control, wanted to know this was real and not some stupid ploy to make you weak. 

Because despite everything he had done, part of you still didn't trust it, didn't believe it. 

Thanks Dad. 

Peter's lips were all over your body, his hands pinning your waist to his bed. You were still processing the fact he was able to pick you up and carry you with great ease, like you weighed nothing. 

He was hiding something. 

But it was hard to sleuth when his lips were pressed against the thin, flimsy fabric that barely covered your core. 

"You know, if you move the fabric to the side, you could actually lick my cunt," you huffed. 

A gasp fell from your lips as you felt him slap your thigh, the sting making you throb in pleasure rather than pain. 

"That smartass mouth of yours doesn't stop, does it?" He asked before sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. 

"If you lied down, I can show you what else this smartass mouth can do." He groaned at your words and you noticed his hips grinding down into the mattress..

"Don't you know it's bad practice to switch up demands on someone?" He said, moving his body up as his hands reached for the straps holding your garment up. 

"Isn't that what you're here for? To teach me?" Peter pulled the straps down, tugging the slip off your body as he grinned at your words. 

"I'm here for a lot of things, Scheifele. Like to show you how good I can make you feel." God you hated that nickname and how it made you flustered. 

"You're doing an awful lot of talking, not so much showing," you tssked. 

"My apologies. Let me make it up to you." 

His mouth was hot on your cunt, his tongue wasting no time to find your clit. 

He wasn't your first, far from it. But you couldn't remember the last time you got to lie down and just feel. Feel pleasure, feel wanted, feel needed. 

"Taste fucking amazing," you heard Peter groan, "you're so good." 

You whined at the praise, your hands clawing at the tops of his shoulders. His tongue continued to circle around your bundle of nerves, his fingers running along your entrance to gather slick. 

The coil in your lower stomach was building. Your hips thrusted upwards in a desperate attempt to meet his mouth. 

His name fell from your lips, like a prayer. Not that there was anything holy about what his mouth was doing to you. 

He just felt so good. 

Which is why you whined when he broke away. Your cunt clenched around nothing, instantly missing the feel of his large fingers curling up against your walls. 

"I know, you were close," He cooed in your ear, "But I want the first time I make you

come to be on my cock." 

"Isn't that something you should decided with your partner beforehand?" You gritted through your teeth. 

Peter chuckled as his teeth grazed your chest, "Sorry, it's been a while since I had one." 

His admission surprised you. Granted, you could recall how he never seemed to have any other women around the house (who didn't work for him) or at parties. 

"So I have to teach you shit too? Doesn't sound like a fair partnership," you crossed your arms over your chest. 

"So sorry Scheifale. Let me make it up to you," He whispered into your ear as he pressed his cock into your entrance. 

A curse fell from your lips as he bottomed out, your walls stretching to accommodate him. 

Fuck, he felt amazing. 

Your back arched as he began thrusting in and out of you, building up a steady pace. 

In the back of your mind, you couldn't help but think about where you would be right now if things hadn't changed. Either alone in your old, dingy apartment or getting yelled at by your father. 

Thank God for arsenic.

#my writing #lizzy's fic prompts #lizzy's 900 #Peter Parker AU #mob!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #tasm peter x you #tasm peter x reader #tasm!peter x you #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #Spiderman AU #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker x reader

[dollopheadsandclotpoles]

tag thing

I got tagged by @tardis-to-pendragon and @thegreymoon. Thank you sm!! ❤ ❤

Last song I listened to: I was listening to the Eminem and Dido song Stan

Favourite colour: dark blue and dark purple

Currently watching: I had started 911 a year ago and then took a break around s3 to watch something else, but with all the excitement about the newest eps figured it was time to continue watching it, so currently doing that

Sweet/savory/spicy: All three, depends on my mood

Relationship status: Single and very happy about it

Current obsession: Blue Eye Samurai. I have major brain rot at the moment.

Last thing you googled: Was looking up Dido because I was wondering where she disappeared to

I'm tagging: @zoroshonkingbazonkadonkas, @youdontloveme-yet, @bisaster-energy, @kuraioshiro, @dengswei

#about me

[deluweil]

I know it's been a while, but with the new 911 season coming up ( I will not be watching,probably check in every now and again) I wanted to share my own self check of how I view relationships on tv.

After S6 finale, I was like lost and furious, I mean, I wanted and still do want the last 6 years of my life back from 911. (Well three because they didn't always suck).

But I went back to watching normal TV, you know, the kind that portray relationships and are being clear of the direction.

I watched Good Omens, so rooting for that pair, they are the best! And with that cast of unbelievably talented actors, I enjoyed every minute of it. Point is I didn't allow myself to see that friendship as a ship because of how damaged my perception of on screen relationships became after 911 displaying all the right signals, then taking a hard left into a tree at the end of the seasons.

I am not even going to to touch the First Prince of RW&RB, which is essentially a buddie storyline that was followed through to its logical conclusion.

I also thought, maybe I just can't enjoy straight on screen relationships anymore and I'm looking for more.

My sister sat me to watch Bridgerton for the very first time (just S1 for now) I can say with absolute certainty that it dis-abused me of that theory as well, because I rooted and got excited for Daphne and Simon at first sight.

Such a wonderful love story told right!

These are the two prominent tv shows that cemented my belief that it is in fact not on me.

Going back in my head I remember rooting for Catherine and Steve, and almost every one of Danny's gfs (except Rachel, it was clear she'd break his heart again.) In H50.

I wanted Gibson to end up with Andy in Station 19. Never wanted her to end up with Maya or him with Miller.

And even though it didn't need to be said, but was said in a humorous fashion, the writers also made clear that Gibson prefer women.

So it is in fact the flawed 911 writing that got me to give up on all forms of logic of reading tv relationships right.

That I gave up on tv for a while.

But, that being said, I can say I was always attracted to Ryan, but Eddie always got my gaydar to go off. And Oliver is not my type, but Buck is a hot bi firefighter - and that is a thing I already thought in S1, way before Eddie arrived.

So either the writers has no clue what they're doing, or they did and chickened out last minute.

And I finally reached the point where, I throw in the towel, wish you all well and move on.

It is not just about buddie, it is just a buddie post.

If anyone is interested, I can make a whole post involving the "development" of the rest of the og characters, where I say enough is enough.

Either make them interesting again, or bring in new blood that hasn't been first a piece of ass to further Buck's questionable development.

Let me know if you are interested.

The blinders are off and I am not keeping quiet for the sake of followers anymore.

9-1-1 was a great show, 3 seasons ago. They had sparks every now and again in between, but those were few and always demolished in some way by horrible writing choices.

Thank you for a great time, this fandom has been a place to come to whenever I needed to escape reality, I love you all. ❤️

#buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #for the last time #Damaged storytelling #No it's not us #Good luck on abc

[topguncortez]

Day 11: "911, what's your emergency?" ➣prompt: Self done first aid ➣character: Beau 'Cyclone' Simpson ➣warnings: injuries, mentions of domestic violence, blood, bruises, motorcycle crash, self inflicted injuries ➣word count: 1.6k

|| masterlist || whumptober || whumptober masterlist || library page ||

Beau Simpson was a man of many things; confidence, anger, jealousy. The biggest one had to be a man of pride. Beau was very prideful of himself and his accomplishments, which he had a right to be. It wasn’t everyday that the Department of Defense places trust in someone to run a whole training school for the best of the best. Most days he loved his job, it was less taxing than being a young airman and having to be ready to be deployed at the drop of a hat. He was able to finally settle down with the person he loved. 

Beau had always thought he was going to marry his high school sweetheart and have a couple of kids. And he did get that. . . but it didn’t last long. He was heartbroken after the divorce. He had moved out of his wife’s house into a small three bed closer to base. And that’s when he met Y/N. The young nurse who lived next door to him. She was about 25, and had just gotten her first nursing job on base. Beau had met her when she was doing the yearly flu shot clinic. He had recognized her from the early morning runs that she went on. She would be just arriving home when he was heading out to work. 

After that day, they began talking to each other, nothing past the friendly “hi, how are you” whenever they saw each other outside. Beau wanted to ask her out, but there was something in his mind that stopped him. Maybe it was the fact that she was nearly twenty years younger than him. He could sometimes hear the small parties she would have with her friends in her backyard, or when she would come home drunk from the bars, or see some man doing the walk of shame out her front door in the morning. Beau wanted things that he thought she probably wasn’t ready for. 

Beau sighed as he parked his car in the driveway, and cut the ignition. It was a long day of dealing with Pete Mitchell’s antics. He knew the reputation that came with the pilot, and he hated it. Beau wasn’t one for reckless behavior, he had no time for it. He glanced over at the drive next to his, and noticed Y/N’s car was sitting in the driveway. He furrowed his eyebrows, usually it was her motorcycle that was there. He hated that thing. It made his stomach drop every time he watched her pull out on it. She also refused to wear a helmet, telling him once that it takes away from the cool factor. 

Getting out of his car, he grabbed his duffle bag and headed for his front door. Beau had barely had the key in the door when he heard a weak voice call out his name. He turned around and dropped the bag in his hands, and ran down the steps to the injured girl in front of him. 

“What the hell happened?” He said, looking her over. She had cuts, scrapes, and bruises  all along her body.

“I took a tumble on the bike,” She smiled. Even while injured she still looked amazing, “This uh. . . won’t stop bleeding.” She lifted up her shirt to expose the bandage that was on her side that was soaked in blood. 

“Oh my god.” 

“I don’t have much more than paper towels and kleenex. Kinda bad for a nurse, I know,” Y/N laughed. 

“Come inside, I have a first aid kit,” Beau said, and Y/N nodded. She had a slight limp in her walk. Beau kept his hand behind her, following her gait up to the door. She winced as she walked up the steps, and Beau pushed the door open, “Here, come to the kitchen.” 

“Nice house,” She breathed out as she moved to the kitchen. 

“Can you get up on the counter?” Beau asked her, setting down his duffle bag. 

“I. . . fuck, no,” Y/N sighed after trying to jump up. Beau wordlessly walked over to her, and lifted her on the counter. She groaned slightly, and Beau turned on the overhead lights. She looked even worse in the light. He could see the dirt that was on her face and in her cuts. She had a large scrape that seemed to go from her head all the way down her body. 

“Did you fall or get run off?” 

“Fucking grass clippings on the street,” She cursed, “It’s like walking on ice. Lost control and skidded across the road.” 

“You work at a hospital?” 

“And?” 

“Why didn’t you go?” Beau called out as he walked down the hall towards the bathroom to get the first aid kit. He was suddenly thankful that his ex-wife had told him to buy one. 

“Too much paperwork. Believe me, I know,” Y/N rolled her eyes as Beau came back down the hallway. He set the first aid kit down next to her, and gently touched her face looking over the injuries. She winced and he clenched his jaw, “Nothing needs stitches. I just need band aids. Tape and kleenex isn’t cutting it anymore.” 

“Did you even clean these?” 

“Soap and water, best method,” She smiled at him. Beau rolled his eyes, and took a step back from her. She watched as he undid his khaki dress shirt, taking it off and standing in front of her in his slacks and undershirt. He grabbed the bottle of peroxide and a cotton ball. 

“This is gonna hurt,” He announced and Y/N nodded. She gritted her teeth as he placed the cotton ball on her face. As Beau kept cleaning her up, he could see more than just the new scrapes and blood on her face. She had bruises in various stages of healing on her body. Some were on the opposite side of the current injuries. When he got done cleaning her face and arms, it was time to address the large injury on her stomach. 

“I need to look at the wound on your stomach,” Beau said softly, and Y/N nodded. The shirt she was wearing wasn’t the same one from the accident, so it hurt less to take it off. Y/N winced as she pulled the shirt over her head, and Beau winced at the sight in front of him. Her skin looked like it had been burned by the road, and he could see small pieces of gravel still stuck to it. 

“And you thought you had it easy,” Y/N chuckled. 

Beau was concerned about the scrape, but he was also concerned about the large purple bruise on the other side of her body, “You got this from the accident too?” His fingers gently ghosted over the bruise. Y/N sucked in a harsh breath. 

“Yeah,” She said shortly, “Please just. . . clean this one.” Beau nodded, knowing not to push her. 

Beau frowned looking at her, “I need you to lay down.” Y/N nodded and Beau helped her lay down flat on the counter. He grabbed his khaki dress shirt, and folded it, giving her something to place her head on. It wasn’t much, but she smiled at him. She clenched her fist as he began to clean the scrape. It hurt worse than it did earlier, but she was thankful that Beau was willing to clean it. He grimaced as pulled away some of the kleenex she had used to try and stop the bleeding. 

“Why didn’t you ask your boyfriend to do this?” Beau asked. 

“Tyler?” She scoffed, “Yeah, I would’ve actually bled out on the floor of my house.” 

“He wouldn’t do this?” Beau asked again, this time looking up at her face. Her eyes were set at the ceiling and she clenched her jaw. Beau had only seen this ‘Tyler’ once or twice, and both times he hated the sight. The first time, Y/N was kicking him out of her house, throwing his clothes at him as he yelled back at her. Beau wanted to say something, but refrained. The second time, he had just seen Tyler, walking angrily to his car, slamming the door shut and taking off down the road. Beau had his kids over that time, and really couldn’t say anything. The next day he saw Y/N wincing as she walked to the mailbox. 

“No,” She said shortly, again, “He wouldn’t do this. . . “ She looked down at Beau, and their eyes met. Her words had a deeper meaning and Beau looked back at the bruise on her rib cage. It was as if she could read Beau’s mind, she pushed herself up from lying down, and reached for her shirt, “He’s a good person.” 

“If he’s hitting you, he’s not a good person,” Beau said, grabbing her wrist gently. He looked down at it, and could see the faint outline of bruising. 

“He gets mad sometimes.” 

“This wasn’t an accident was it?” Y/N looked away from Beau, trying to hide the tears running down her cheeks. Beau didn’t say anything but pulled her into his arms in a hug. She clung to him and cried, pressing her face into his shoulder. He rubbed her back as she cried, and shushed her. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N said, pulling away from him, “I got blood on your shirt.” 

“You know how many of these things I have?” Beau said, and Y/N chuckled. He wiped a tear from her cheek, “Let me finish patching this up, okay?” Y/N nodded and Beau guided her back down on the counter. He worked in silence as he cleaned the wound on the stomach, then applied a bandage. He helped her sit back up on the counter, and slipped her shirt back on over her head, “Are you hungry?” 

“Kinda,” She said softly. 

“Perfect, how does chicken carbonara sound?” 

“Amazing.”

#top gun #top gun fan fic #top gun fan fiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fan fic #top gun maverick fan fiction #top gun maverick imagine #cyclone #cyclone fan fic #cyclone fan fiction #cyclone imagine #cyclone x reader #beau simpson #beau simpson x reader #beau simpson imagine #beau simpson fan fic #beau simpson fan fiction #beau cyclone simpson

[dumbfilmstudent]

Watching a 14 year old 8th grader

Things I have been told/asked:

She showed me EVERY Pokémon and made me judge them and then told me I was wrong about every single one

Why Luka is a better boyfriend than Adrien Agreste (thankfully something I could understand)

Made me explain the entire plot of Steven Universe bc she saw one episode but couldn’t find the rest

That she is in love with a Splatoon character

Explained the full Five Nights at Freddie’s Lore (maybe better than MatPat who, by the way, she has no idea who he is)

Asked me about those Urban Legend Horror games like Bloody Mary and the Elevator game and then proceeded to have to sleep with every light on bc she was scared

Told me she doesn’t swear and doesn’t respect people who swear and that she has cut off friends who swear. I have to apologize every time I accidentally curse because of this.

She had me read 14 pokemon ffs on fanfiction.net to make sure there wasn’t any adult content.

In that same vein told me that she had learned how to use ao3 filters (something I had accidentally taught her how to do last time I watched her)

Asked me if I knew what Dokidoki literature club is and made me read 5 of those fanfictions too to make sure there was no adult content (there obviously was. How she ended up in dokidokiliterature is beyond me. She said it was because she is in love with Monika)

Made me read the ao3 ship stats and then asked me about every single fandom/show etc

Quick rundown of what she said when I explained them: Hannibal “remind me never to watch that”, Harry Potter “no one even cares about Harry Potter. Is Dumbledore gay?”, Supernatural “why are ppl shipping brothers” and then I explained destiel and how he got sent to hell and then she got mad at me for saying Hell, 911 “why does 911 have a fandom? People being hurt isn’t funny” I had to pick around a bit but realized she thought that 911 emergency calls were being made into fanfiction, BTS “who even are these people”, My Hero Academia “an anime? I don’t watch it. Is there any Comiket Communicate in the top ten?”, MCR “what’s that” I showed her some music and mvs “why do people like this it’s weird” to which I explained ppl were emo bc I didn’t know how else to explain and she said “my friend is a tall and skinny emo” and then wandered off

Made fun of me for thinking 53 degrees was cold. (We live in California. It is cold)

A dream she had where her friends are baking cookies but her one friend who she calls her little brother climbed into the oven

The fact that her friend group play house and she is the oldest sister

While roleplaying as a family they also roleplay that they can all turn into Eevees (this is not a one time game. They have done this for three years)

Asked me why there are so many fanfictions about BTS because she doesn’t understand how ppl can ship real people

While I was trying to explain it I accidentally mentioned the Dan and Phil real people shipping problem and she proceeded to ask me about who they are. I tried to be vague but she kept asking questions until I explained their whole online career.

Asked me what Doctor Who was and what he was a Doctor in.

Made me watch Friday Night Funkin modded videos for what felt like six hours and then had me watch her play animal crossing.

Told me that boyfriend from Friday night funkin was not good enough for girlfriend and that girlfriend should be with Sky from the Sky Mod (I don’t know what these words mean but I’m sure I agree)

Explained an Eevee YouTube fanfiction series in its entirety.

Wandered back and forth across the living room in front of me listening to music in headphones breathing incredibly loudly making me incredibly overstimulated (she’s got a cold it’s not her fault)

Explained her entire friend groups sexuality, gender and pronouns, mental illness, and the Eevee evolution they are when the rp.

Btw the first time I met her she asked me if I had ever had a fictional crush, I said yes, and she said “I only have girl fictional crushes” which through her mother for a loop she told me later, not bc she’s homophobic (she’s literally a lesbian) but because she had never met me before and was surprised how open she was around me.

Today proceeded to try to explain the nuances of bisexuality vs pansexualty. She has never been on tumblr or twitter but was definitely aware of the arguments.

Asked me what one direction is

Got mad that I named a character in a Pilot for a college film class after a girl who is her friend at a math tutoring place who I of course have never met and then yelled at me until I changed the name. I didn’t but she doesn’t know that.

Told me I need to vacuum my car. I do.

Handed me a warhead and watched me eat it with the most malicious look on her face as though she was tricking me or something.

Cooked all of her meals by herself, gets up and leaves for school on her own, does all her hw immediately, doesn’t swear, let’s the dog out every morning. Literally the most self sufficient child I have ever met (was able to do all of this three years ago when I started watching her) the only reason I’m here is in case of a freak accident or because she freaks herself out at night at can’t sleep.

Then she puts the pot she used to cook pasta on the floor for the dog to lick up…

Asked me what pecan pie is

#babysitting #the kids are alright #adventures in babysitting #fandom #one direction #9 1 1 fandom #supernatural #five nights at freddy's #friday night funkin #miraculous ladybug

[truthseeker-blogger]

Today is exactly one year to the date of the deck collapse.

My apologies this will be long. It was quite the year, and for those wondering what transpired, here it is as best as I can recall.

I first awoke this morning with a leg cramp and looked at the clock, it was 4am.

One year ago, I took Justice out onto the deck at 4:30am, exactly two hours later at 6:30am, the deck let go when Matt and Justice went out onto it and our whole world changed.

The week prior, the husband of the couple we are staying with, was playing his guitar, along with Matt on this deck.

Weeks before the deck collapse, my son who I hadn't seen in 21 years, brought his wife and my two grandsons to visit, and we were all on this deck together, many times during their visit.

Just a quick recap of the last year:

September 7th - deck collapse - emergency room

My boss had me in tears, telling me to show up at work the next day, everyone is dependent on me to be there, even though it's a federal law to be able to stay home to care for a family member (FMLA) and I quit.

October - Matt's doctor visits, MRIs, and physical therapy. He needs meds for PTSD, as the floor feels to be moving out from underneath him .

Landlord tells us not to worry about anything. (my third cousin's wife)

Call my bank about being late with car loan and was told there is nothing they can do to help us.

They then mailed us a notice that with the next late payment, we would not receive notification of any action they may take.

November - 1) Notice to evict - landlord wants to 'condemn' the building.

Sought and obtained legal counsel.

21st) My son hits his head and has a concussion just before Thanksgiving.

Matt and I go both go to counseling to discuss the stress and trauma we are experiencing.

Sell any possessions we possibly could for money to move or to survive on.

December - 4th) Called 911 to bring my son to the hospital because he is incoherent.

4 years prior, while trying to make extra money in his first year of college, on a temp work assignment, my son was pushed off the back of a truck, broke his hip in three places, hit his head on pavement and has memory issues, so any further head injures are concerning.

Son is hospitalized for three weeks. He has heart issues while in the hospital, but that gets stabilized. He is home for in time for Christmas.

January - Served papers by a constable to appear in court, with body attachment like we are criminals.

February - Go to court and if we aren't out by March 31st, we would owe back rent.

March - We searched for campers/RVs to live in, as well as year round campgrounds which were limited as well as booked.

Found many fraudulent ads for RVs, and we could not

get into a new RV because Matt didn't have two consecutive paystubs.

Justice is registered as an Emotional Support Animal (ESA)

20th) Matt's shoulder surgery - they had extreme difficulty controlling his blood pressure and he's in a state of hypertensive crisis. (278/148)*

I'm told to monitor him at home, as well as get a blood pressure cuff to make sure his blood pressure is going down.

If not or he has slurred speech, bring him to the ER asap or call 911.

30th) Move out with the help of Matt's daughter and fiancée and I, as Matt watches, feeling helpless he can not assist

April - Matt continues physical therapy when we have the money for it.

May and June - We're settling in, while Matt continues physical therapy and I visit my son daily to assist him.

My son would not accept outside care and our state does not pay caretakers.

14th) Matt returns to work on limited duty, but is sent home after 15-20 minutes most days when there isn't work he can do in his limited capacity.

June 25th - altercation with new dog upstairs and I injure my thumb.

July - Justice - vet visit to ensure he is ok, with follow up visit 3 weeks later.

While I have an injured thumb, Matt tries to walk Justice, and Justice bolts across a parking lot, and Matt looses his footing as he is trying to control almost 100 lbs of muscle, (Matt hadn't walked Justice in over 9 months) and falls face first into the pavement and into a tire of a vehicle. I call 911 and they come to check him out. His wounds heal miraculously rather quickly within a week or two.

13th) Matt has a cancer screening due to extremely low white blood cells. Relieved to find out Matt does not have cancer.

August - Purchase a dehumidifier due to noticing mold and having to throw out electronics, bedding, clothing, dog beds, etc.

Matt is back to work full time, his forklift license is reinstated, but available forklifts go by seniority, and there are several other senior workers ahead of him.

Matt is still losing occasional days of work due to his shoulder still being sore. Daily he ices his shoulders.

The cortisone shot on his other shoulder wore off and we both agree he can not withstand another surgery, so another cortisone shot is in order.

GRATEFUL FOR:

Being alive

Together

A roof over our head

The food pantry at the church

Church on Sundays

New beginnings

Great supportive friends, here on tumblr

Thank you all for your continued support and love!

🙏🙏🙏❤❤❤

With much love and gratitude,

@truthseeker-blogger 💞💞💞

#Youtube

[f1-disaster-bi]

Continuation of the earlier 911 inspired fic:

There was still blood on his neck when he got home.

His mother was watching him with sad eyes. It had been clear that she had been crying and normally Pierre would be the one comforting her, or he'd be warmed by the fact that his mother loved his boyfriend just as much as he did but not today.

Today he had Lando’s blood on his neck, and he felt numb as his mother approached him gently as if she was afraid one wrong step and he'd break.

"Oh mon caneton", Pascale whispered softly, cupping Pierre’s face gently for a moment, "I am so sorry, but it'll be okay. He's a fighter. Little but mighty"

Pierre just nodded because he didn't have any words left. He had screamed them all out while pressed to the gravel. He had whispered them while he clutched at Lando's cold hands. Used all his words begging him to stay.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Before Felix sees his Papa like this", Pascale kissed his forehead before guiding him to the kitchen as if he were a child again.

"Does he know?", Pierre managed to whisper as his mother grabbed a cloth and wet it before she started to rub the last of Lando’s blood off his skin.

He couldn't look at his hands. He knew there was blood probably caked under his nails that he hadn't been able to get out in the hospital bathroom so he gazed at the ceiling.

"No, I...I didn't know if you wanted him to know", Pascale admitted softly and Pierre closed his eyes.

How did you tell your five year old son that the man he looked at as a second father was possibly going to die?

Pierre knew Felix knew their job was dangerous. He knew they got hurt. He probably understood that more than any five year old should after Pierre had almost died himself over a year ago, but Lando had been there. They might have only had started dating, but Lando had been in Felix's life since he was three. He was the one that stayed, trading shifts with Charles and Pierre’s mother to look after Felix.

Felix loved Lando more than anything, more than Pierre sometimes. How could he rip that away from him?

Pierre almost didn't want to tell him as he walked to his sons bedroom. The blood gone from his skin even if it felt like it was still there. Felix was sitting on the floor, surrounded by the lego set he had been building with Lando just yesterday, and it made Pierre’s eyes tear up.

"Papa!", Felix grinned up at him when he noticed Pierre and he patted the ground beside him, "Lanno here too?"

"No, um, Lando’s not here, mon ours", Pierre cleared his throat, "I...uh, I need to talk to you about that"

"Is he late? He's gonna make 'pagetti for dinner with the cheese bread. He promised", Felix pouted a little, blinking up at him as he wrapped an arm around his on, "Papa? You look sad"

"Cause I am, mon ours", Pierre tried to reassure him but he could feel his tears started to build, "Lando isn't coming home. He....he got hurt at work. A bad man hurt him, and we...we might not be able to see him for a while"

He watched as Felix paused and frowned. Confusion filled his little face, and a little sadness before he was looking at Pierre again.

"But...he'll get better right? He's at the hospital?", Felix asked, turning a piece of lego over in his hand as Pierre nodded, "They fixed you, Papa, they'll fix Lanno"

Pierre just hugged his son close for a moment and kissed his head because if he tried to speak, he was going to break down in tears, and Felix didn't need to see that. He shouldn't be worrying about his Papa crying. He shouldn't be worrying about Lando coming home. He should be like this, innocent and playing with lego so Pierre just nodded.

He didn't tell Felix that Lando might not be coming home this time.

#911 inspired au #pando #pierre/lando #lando/pierre

[outrunningthedark]

I’m not new to the 911 fandom, this is my third, if we don’t count 2020 winter hiatus, and it was never so calm, just think about last year the billions ff, and fan videos about eddie leaving, or the multitude of buddie Christmas ff, now everything is almost silent. We can say 911 it’s not the buddie show, and it’s true, but buddie was a very strong driving force to watch it, with the almost 0 scenes of 6a, a lot of people re just leaving

Yep. It's not the Buddie show (but Tim wants to make LS the T-rlos show, LOL), but there's no denying that the Buddie fandom is what keeps the conversation going on social media - and Tim knows that, because after s4 he admitted he wanted the shooting scene to be something fans couldn't stop talking about. There's only so much speculation that can be done when we're given so little to work with, and personally, I think it's gotten to a point where people (even the ones who tried to stay optimistic) are tired of reading/hearing about how a story line *could* play out when we've seen time and again that the show very rarely devotes the kind of attention to Buddie we expect in the aftermath of something important for those two as friends and potential romantic partners. Idk what the show is doing with Buddie right now, but it's still not a slow burn. Two characters not speaking to each other unless it's necessary and not about anything personal is not the recipe for romance in the fifth season. Had those guys spoken to others/been called out by others for obvious "issues" with their dynamic, there would be cause to celebrate because at least we're in the know on why they're acting different, but opting not to do even that tells me the plan (if there is one) isn't up to the level of fandom's expectations. The way this show operates...we're more likely to get two or three episodes "hinting at" something more and then, oh, hey, look who's dating now.

#anonymous #tina speaks #tv: 911 #tv: 9-1-1 #buddie

[pantsaretherealheroes]

sorry i'm sick and didn't add the first bit! I was tagged in this "get to know you" meme by @village-skeptic thank you!!

last song: someTIMES i feel i've got to BOM BOM RUN AWAY this came on my shower playlist before. also before that i listened to sophie ellis-bextor's murder on the dancefloor which I have personally never forgotten but has gotten a boost from it being in a certain popular film recently

currently reading: A Good Girl's Guide To Murder by Holly Jackson, which i know has a terrible focus group-y title, but is actually very interesting and involves a teenage girl solving a mystery in her town (which is very much my thing) and has been nice for me easing back into properly reading again

last film: Anyone But You i think? it's silly but i had a great time, altho very weird to see a very american romcom take place in australia. and also why the fuck did they not advertise this as an adaptation of much ado about nothing, my favourite shakespeare??

currently watching: Nancy Drew which is fun although not really a Nancy Drew kind of thing it's more like teen supernatural investigations in a small town. not that i'm not into that! And also Percy Jackson and the Olympians, in which I have adopted three children and am about to wage war on two of their godly parents

three ships: well. if you've followed me from anywhere from the last 5 seconds to that last two and bit years, i'm sorry, and it's definitely buck/eddie from 911. also i am similarly insane about syd/carmy from the bear (the 'person you work with who you have an intense and close dynamic with and trust them with the most important thing in your life after not really knowing them all that long' ship dynamic is strong with me) and also lets say percy/annabeth from pjo because it is only the beginning but i know they're gonna fall in love so much!!

favorite color: turquoise or teal blue? or plum.

currently consuming: not much i have covid and also not many groceries until later today

first ship: hmmmmmmm probably something harry potter honestly i do not remember

currently working on: getting better from the ol covid. and writing a little bit :)

tagging if you want @cal-daisies-and-briars @jellicle-ball @rabbimilligan and @manycoloureddays :)

#about me #tag games