#ext flash

[wolvietxt]

𝓕IRSTS 𝓦ITH 𝓨OU !

pairing : bucky barnes x implied fem!reader warnings : implied size diff, established relationship, tfatws!bucky, fluff,  wc : 2.6k summary : you introduce bucky to the things he’s missed out on, namely the office, theme parks, and emojis :3

bucky’s fingers hovered over the screen of his new phone, brow furrowed in concentration. you had been explaining how everything worked for the past half hour - apps, texts, even sending pictures - and while he was doing his best to keep up, you could tell he was still lost in the sea of modern technology. 

“so, this is how you send a text,” you said, pointing to the message box. “you just type what you want to say, then hit send.” you hit a few buttons on his phone and then pulled away to give him some space.

he nodded slowly, looking at the screen as if it were a puzzle he hadn’t quite solved yet. “okay. and... the emojis?” he asked after a pause, his tone unsure.

“they’re just little pictures to add to what you’re saying. makes it more fun, i guess.” you flashed him a quick smile before adding, “and, if you’re talking to me, you’re gonna use them, or else i’ll think you’re mad at me.”

bucky’s lips curved upward just a fraction at the playful challenge. “right,” he muttered, glancing back at the emojis, his expression turning serious again. “this one - ” he tapped an image of a smiley face, “ - this is good, right?”

you nodded with enthusiasm. “perfect. now try sending it to me.”

bucky hesitated for a moment before carefully typing out a message: “Hey. 🙂” 

he looked at you for approval, his blue eyes searching yours.

“well done,” you said softly, holding back a giggle. “you did it, buck.”

he grinned, a little relieved but still unsure. “guess ‘m getting the hang of this.”

“you are,” you replied, your voice filled with genuine encouragement. you could see him trying, and that was enough to make you proud.

“now,” you began, leaning in closer, “I’m going to teach you how to send a selfie. It’s easy.” you grabbed your phone and showed him how to take a picture, flipping the camera to face him. “like this.”

“a selfie?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“yeah, you’re going to love it,” you said, snapping a quick picture of him as he looked confused but willing to give it a try. “okay, now you do it. just - ” you stopped yourself, realising something. “don’t look so grumpy, though. smile a little.”

bucky rolled his eyes but played along, pulling a reluctant smirk before he tapped the button to take the picture. “this feels weird,” he muttered, but his gaze softened when he saw the result. he stared at the picture of himself for a moment, before looking at you. “it’s not bad.”

“not bad at all,” you said with a smile, grabbing your phone and sending the photo to him.

you watched him check his phone, his brow furrowing once more as he took in the photo, then back at the screen as you sent a quick text: “that smile is great, by the way.”

he read it, then quickly typed back: “you’re making fun of me.”

“no, i’m not,” you teased, tapping the keys with your fingers. “i think it’s cute.”

before he could respond, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his jaw. his body went still at the contact, the soft touch of your lips drawing his attention away from the phone. without saying a word, he kissed you fully, his lips warm and steady against yours.

“you talk too much,” bucky murmured when he finally pulled away, his voice gruff but affectionate.

you couldn’t help but giggle, looking up at him. “sorry,” you said, smiling in that way that made his chest tighten. “but i’m trying to teach you how to use a phone.”

“teach me less,” he replied, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. before you could answer, he kissed you again, this time slower, his lips lingering on yours longer than before. it was like he couldn’t help himself, needing to pull you close and forget about everything else. 

when he pulled back, there was a softness in his eyes that was so different from the gruff exterior he usually put on. “you’re a distraction,” he admitted, though he didn’t sound bothered in the least. 

“only when i’m teaching you how to text?” you asked, your smile still wide.

“always,” he said with a grin, kissing you again, this time more gently, as if savouring the moment before pulling away and reaching for his phone. 

he looked at the screen again, tapping at it thoughtfully. “okay, what about this one?” he asked, tapping a face with hearts for eyes. “it seems like... the right one.”

you grinned, unable to resist the warmth that filled you at how cute he was, trying so hard to understand all this. “perfect,” you whispered. “now, send it.”

bucky hesitated for a beat, then pressed send. he turned to look at you, like he was asking for your approval.

“you did it,” you said softly, heart swelling with affection. “now, you’re a pro.”

he raised his eyebrows. “am i allowed to text you good morning now?”

“whenever you want,” you said with a grin, your hand finding his and squeezing it gently. “and i’ll send you emojis all day.”

bucky looked at his phone again, glancing up at you with a fond smile. “then i’m gonna need to figure out a lot more emojis.”

“take your time,” you teased, before your lips met his once more, this time without interruption.

the apartment was dimly lit, the only light coming from the tv screen where the office was playing. you had insisted that bucky give the show a try, promising him that it was the perfect mix of awkward humour and heartwarming moments. at first, he had grumbled about it, saying something about not needing to watch “a bunch of idiots in an office.” but here you were, four episodes deep, and you could see that little spark of amusement in his eyes.

bucky had his arm draped around your shoulders, his large frame practically swallowing you up as you nestled into his side. you were curled up against him, legs tucked under you, head resting on his chest. every now and then, you could feel the rumble of his low chuckle vibrating against you whenever something on-screen caught him off guard.

“i still don’t get how that jim guy hasn’t been fired yet,” he muttered, shaking his head as jim played yet another prank on dwight. “guy’s got a death wish or somethin’.”

you smiled, turning your face up to look at him. there was a light in his eyes, the corners of his lips twitching upwards as he tried to hide how much he was actually enjoying the show. “maybe he reminds you of someone?” you teased, poking his side.

he shot you a look, all mock seriousness. “you callin’ me a troublemaker?” 

“if the shoe fits,” you replied with a grin, turning back to the screen.

as the episode continued, you found yourself more focused on him than the tv. you loved seeing bucky like this, relaxed, at ease, his defences down for once. there was something so endearing about the way he’d get lost in the episodes, brows furrowing when michael said something ridiculous, or the rare moments when he’d throw his head back and laugh - a real, deep laugh that you couldn’t help but adore.

during one of those moments, as pam and jim exchanged a look, you felt his chest rumble with laughter, and it was so infectious that you couldn’t help but giggle, too. he glanced down at you, catching you staring, and for a second, it was like the rest of the world disappeared.

“what?” he asked, his voice softening.

“nothing,” you said, a little shy under his gaze. “you’re just... cute when you laugh.”

his eyebrows shot up, surprise flashing across his face before it softened into a shy smile. “yeah? well, don’t go tellin’ everyone.” 

you laughed, but before you could tease him more, he suddenly shifted, tugging you closer until you were practically in his lap. your breath hitched as he wrapped both arms around you, enveloping you in his warmth. 

you fit so easily against him, his hands splaying over your waist, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart under your cheek. the show kept playing in the background, but you were completely lost in the moment, the way he held you so gently despite his strength.

“you’re missing the best part,” you whispered, but your voice was soft, almost hesitant, like you didn’t really want to break the spell.

“nah,” he murmured, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “this is the best part.”

your cheeks warmed, and you couldn’t resist tilting your head back to steal a quick kiss. he met you halfway, his lips warm and surprisingly soft, his stubble scraping pleasantly against your skin. 

“hmm, you taste better than jim’s pranks,” he teased, a smirk tugging at his lips when he pulled away.

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face. “careful, barnes, you might start liking sitcoms.”

“only if you’re watchin’ them with me,” he said, squeezing your waist gently. 

you settled back into his chest, letting the familiar sounds of dunder mifflin fill the room. with one hand idly playing with the hem of your shirt, bucky seemed content, occasionally making little comments about the show under his breath that made you giggle. 

as the theme song played for the next episode, you reached for your phone to check the time, but bucky’s hand covered yours, stopping you. “stay,” he murmured, his voice low, almost pleading. 

you glanced up at him, surprised by the hint of vulnerability in his eyes. it wasn’t often that he asked for things so openly, but when he did, it always tugged at your heart. 

“okay,” you whispered, setting your phone aside and snuggling closer, the two of you wrapped up in each other as the episodes played on, the world outside forgotten for just a little while.

the air was filled with the sounds of laughter, the occasional scream from the roller coasters, and the smell of funnel cakes and popcorn drifting through the breeze. the theme park was bustling with life, a kaleidoscope of colours and sounds that made your heart race with excitement. you could hardly contain your giddiness as you pulled bucky along by the hand, weaving through the crowd.

bucky, on the other hand, looked a little overwhelmed. his brows were furrowed as he glanced around, taking in everything like he was preparing for an ambush. it was endearing, really - the way his grip on your hand tightened every time someone bumped into you, his protective instincts kicking in.

“relax, buck, it’s just a theme park,” you teased, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

he grunted, still looking suspiciously at a guy in a giant mascot costume waving at children. “yeah, well, not sure i trust a place where people scream for fun.”

you couldn’t help but laugh, tugging him closer. “that’s the whole point! come on, let’s try a ride.”

you led him to the line for one of the tamer rides - a classic spinning teacup attraction. bucky eyed it warily, but he didn’t protest, letting you drag him into one of the pastel-coloured cups. once you were seated, you watched with a grin as he tried to figure out how the ride worked, his large hands gripping the metal wheel in the centre.

the ride started to spin, slowly at first, then picking up speed. you were laughing uncontrollably, the wind whipping through your hair, and when you glanced over at bucky, he had this look of pure concentration, like he was trying to out-spin everyone else.

“bucky, it’s not a competition!” you managed to gasp out between giggles.

he shot you a playful glare, a rare smile breaking through his usually stern expression. “everything’s a competition, doll.”

when the ride finally slowed to a stop, you were both a little dizzy, but you couldn’t stop smiling. you staggered out of the teacup, and bucky’s arm was instantly around your waist, steadying you. “you good?” he asked, his voice low and a little rough.

“never better,” you replied, leaning into his side.

next up was the game booths, where bucky’s competitive side really came out. you challenged him to one of those rigged carnival games where you had to knock down bottles with a baseball. he rolled his eyes at the way the game operator explained the rules, clearly unimpressed, but when it was his turn, he hit every target dead-on, not even breaking a sweat.

“show-off,” you teased, but you couldn’t hide the admiration in your voice.

“what can i say? i’m good with my hands,” he shot back with a wink, handing you the giant stuffed bear he won as a prize. your cheeks warmed, but before you could retort, he leaned down to steal a quick kiss, effectively shutting you up.

with your new teddy bear in tow, you wandered through the park, trying different snacks and taking in the sights. at one point, you insisted on getting a picture in one of those cheesy photo booths. bucky tried to protest, saying he wasn’t “photogenic,” but you dragged him in anyway.

the two of you squeezed into the tiny booth, your legs tangled together because of how little space there was. as the camera flashed, you made silly faces while bucky looked a little bewildered, but by the last frame, you managed to coax a smile out of him - a real one that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. 

you couldn’t stop staring at the printed photos as they rolled out, your heart swelling at how happy he looked. he glanced over your shoulder, shaking his head with a chuckle. “gonna frame that, aren’t you?”

“damn right i am,” you said with a grin, tucking the strip of photos safely into your bag.

the sun was starting to set, the sky painted in hues of pink and orange, when you finally made your way to the roller coasters. bucky was skeptical at first, muttering something about not trusting “rusty death traps,” but you could see the way his eyes lit up with a mix of curiosity and adrenaline.

“just one ride,” you pleaded, giving him your best puppy eyes.

he sighed, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “fine, but if we die, i’m haunting you.”

you laughed, grabbing his hand and dragging him into the line. as the coaster climbed higher and higher, you could feel the tension in bucky’s shoulders. you reached over, lacing your fingers with his. “it’s gonna be fun, trust me.”

the drop was sudden and exhilarating, your screams mixing with the rush of wind, and when you dared to peek at bucky, he had this look of pure, wild joy on his face. it was rare to see him so carefree, and it took your breath away more than the ride itself.

when you finally stumbled off the coaster, legs like jelly, bucky was grinning like a little kid, his hair windswept. “okay, that wasn’t so bad,” he admitted, looking almost bashful.

“see? i told you,” you said, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning up to kiss his cheek. he pulled you into a proper kiss instead, right there in the middle of the bustling crowd, not caring who was watching.

“thanks for dragging me out here,” he murmured against your lips, his voice soft in a way that made your heart flutter. 

“anytime, sarge,” you teased, smiling up at him.

he just shook his head, a fond look in his eyes as he pulled you closer. “you’re trouble, you know that?”

“yeah,” you said, resting your head against his chest, “but you love it.”

he just chuckled, pressing another kiss to the top of your head, and you knew he wouldn’t trade this day for anything.

🌀 bucky barnes : @notacleangirl, @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid

@yvespecially

🌀 one time tags : @pvndomi

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

[hisirishsoufflegirl]

Tea Is A Love Language ~ A.H x Reader

A/N (wow I haven’t wrote that in years): Hi! I’m back (says them to people who did not even realise they stopped writing lmao). There’s been an Aaron Hotchner x You slow burn fic brainstorming away whenever I’ve been rewatching Criminal Minds for the past few years so I thought I’d make a comeback to write a sample entry (that takes place a bit into the actual fic) to see what everyone thinks, aha.

CW/Context: Aaron and Hayley are divorcing/there’s no Emily(sorry!)/Aaron being grumpy but then surprisingly sweet/Reid and reader are best friends/Morgan and reader are very close due a traumatic past/Aaron gave a private lil sweet pep talk to reader when they got overwhelmed after the college campus murders/the timeline is a bit jumbled but it’ll be easier to follow/explained in full fic/in canon mentions of violence/I’m rusty at this, forgive me

-

A sigh. Then a smacking sound as the paper contents of a file hit the desk.

“Who’s up for a drink?” Morgan stood up. Eyebrows raising as if a lightbulb flashed atop his head, he turned. “Actually.. who’s up for five?”

The man didn’t need to ask you twice. Nights out drinking with Morgan were always the safest. Sure, they were wild and chaotic.. but you always knew you would get home and you always knew you’d never wake up the next morning fearing you did something you regret. It was funny. One of the men who inspired you to join the Academy and pursue this as a career was not only now a colleague but a friend. A close friend at that. Your letters containing updates on your life since that awful period of your life when you were 18 were more for Gideon’s sake. Though that didn’t mean Derek never checked up on you throughout the years that led to you surprising the agent the day it was announced a new member was joining the team and in you walked into the table meeting.

“I don’t know..” your best friend trailed off, his focus on fixing the contents of his brown satchel.

You got up from your desk, the one attached to Spencer’s, shouldering your own bag. “Nuh-uh, Spence. You’re coming.” You looked up at him, trying your hardest to use your eyes to silently beg to coax him out.

It worked. It always worked. Reid hated nights out, especially Morgan’s definition of a night out, but you knew you made it tolerable for him. Many a night of drinking you sat with the doctor, letting him ramble off about statistics or Star Trek and often debating the one topic you yourself did know about - Doctor Who. You didn’t know why some of the others treated listening to his interests and rambles as almost a chore. You had always found them interesting and besides, how could someone not take an interest in what their best friend cared about?

“.. you’re still cosplaying at comic con with me, right?” Spencer’s eyes narrowed at you.

“Of course.”

“Alright, I’m in.”

You mouthed a “thank you” at him, your hand coming up to touch his elbow as a comfort as you both walked to join Morgan and Rossi heading towards the door.

“JJ?”

“Ugh, I’d love to but.. gonna have to take a rain check.” the blonde woman grimaced, picking up her share of files.

You felt someone brush past you as they hurried towards the glass door of the bullpen. You turned your head, realisation hitting you that it was your Unit Chief. You hadn’t properly spoken one on one to the man ever since the day the team was about to leave Flagstaff, Arizona. There had been a spree killer on a college campus, murdering women who were very similar in age to you and it brought back some painful memories. Painful memories as well as a feeling of guilt that you had survived your own attack and had went on to go and finish college. A privilege that those victims never got to make a reality. You had stepped away for a moment to compose yourself back at the hotel while the other agents were packing to go home when Hotch had appeared beside you. You had been sure you were to be scolded for being too soft or for your exterior slipping, a worry that was all too evident as you had tried to quickly wipe your tear away and swallow the ache in the back of your throat. But no. He had been kind. Really kind. The conversation had not been long, nor did the comforting hand on your arm to gesture you back to the hotel to leave linger, but it had helped.

“Hotch, you up for a beer?” the Italian man extended the invitation to his friend.

Hotch stopped in his tracks, his eyes flickering to the side as he pondered his answer. He decided with a sigh. “Sure.” He turned and you offered an awkward smile when his eyes settled on you.

“Agent Hotchner.” came the suited man with a clipboard and envelope into the room through the glass doors.

Breathing in, Hotch’s eyes looked away from you as he turned. “Yes?”

The man presented him with the clipboard and a pen to sign for the brown envelope.

Hotch’s eyes shifted down to it and his body stiffened slightly with a sharp intake of breath.

You had never seen Hotch display a crack in his exterior like that before. I wonder what’s in that envelope. You thought.

Breaking the silence, you sucked your lower lip in - a tell, you had been told by one of your profiler buddies, that you felt awkward and anxious. “What is it?”

Your boss stared down at the envelope, his fingers subconsciously kneading the paper. That’s one of *his* tells, you surmised, whatever it is it’s bothering him.

He finally glanced up at you through dark eyelashes, a look of defeat in those dark eyes. “Hayley’s filing for divorce. I’ve been served.”

Fuck. Fuck. You fucked up.

You watched as Hotchner took a final look at the contents in his hands before walking away, no longer feeling up to a fun and happy night.

~

“McCoy Boy! How was Connecticut?” You greeted Spencer as you, Morgan, JJ and Rossi piled back into the bullpen. You dropped your bag onto your chair and circled round to the opposite side of the desk to throw your arms loosely round the genius’ neck and shoulders. You never took advantage of the privilege of being the only one Reid allowed to casually touch him like this but now didn’t count. You had missed him. While you were in Indianapolis helping Rossi catch the monster that haunted him and three siblings, your best friend and your Unit Chief were in Connecticut interviewing a death row inmate.

Spencer rested his hand on one of your arms as you squeezed him, propping his book down on his desk. “Ultimately uneventful.”

You shifted your head from the top of Reid’s curly mop to his temple. “Fill me in anyway.”

Spence chuckled before turning his gaze at Rossi. “Uh sir, there’s someone waiting to speak to you in your office.”

You pulled back to crane your neck behind you. Sure enough, Kevin Lynch stood in the doorway to the office at the end of the walkway.

You focused on JJ’s face as Kevin talked, a face barely containing her smile and giddiness. Your eyebrows furrowed confused and as Rossi walked past to talk ‘man-to-man’ with the tech analyst, you mouthed ‘what??’ to the blonde.

JJ raised her eyebrows suggestively at you as she swivelled to walk away. “Garcia and Kevin sittin’ in a tree..”

Morgan’s mouth dropped open. “Get out of here.”

“Wait, what? What?” the brown eyed genius piped up, confusion and anxiety about missing a clue seeping in his voice.

“Didn’t you hear the song, love?” You asked your friend, your left arm still leaning on the back of his office chair for standing support.

“The song meant something? No, I missed it!” Reid grew frantic. Adorable.

“Yeah, it..” you trailed off as your eyes looked around the room as you looked up. They landed on the dark haired man in his pristine suit, shoulders tense as he hunched over his desk, one hand resting on his forehead.

He looks so stressed.

You sucked in your lower lip. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it.” You ruffled the top layer of Spencer’s brown curls. “I’ll explain it later.”

You moved your duffel bag onto the floor underneath your desk and settled in your chair. Every instinct in you was screaming to check in on your boss. That’s just the type of person you were and your instincts never did you wrong. You had gone on gut instinct when you asked Spencer what was causing him to struggle which eventually led to him going to rehab. You had listened to your instinct when it told you to gather up Morgan and JJ to join Rossi in Indianapolis a few days ago. But this was Hotch. This was your boss. You had never seen the man crack a smile let alone open up about his feelings.

Leaning your chin on your hand, your head twisted to look at the environment behind your desk. Looking behind you had become a habit since you were a teenager, even when your body knew it was in a safe environment such as the bullpen. But old habits die hard and listen, it was a habit that kept you alive in the field. Funny that. You’d think someone with that self preservation habit would run away from situations that posed a threat, not run to them. And certainly not make a career out of solving them.

Your eyes landed on the coffee machine set up and kettle sat on the communal kitchen countertop.

Hmm. Too late for coffee. You hummed. Hold on..

You swung your legs out from under your desk, pushing yourself up and away from your desk and headed towards the communal kitchen. The plethora of jars containing coffee grounds - the jar with the brown and gold label was Reid’s only go to - and sugar - the plastic tub of aspartame was JJ’s - littered the counter. But you weren’t looking for the coffee. Stretching up on your tiptoes, you opened up each cupboard. You searched the top two before bending down to view the contents of the bottom ones.

A-ha! Found you. You took out the green box praying it wasn’t empty and silently thanked God when it wasn’t. Plopping one of the tea bags into the clean ecru mug you found, you filled the kettle in the sink and flicked on the switch.

As the water boiled, you dared to glance to your right at Hotch’s office. You didn’t think it was possible but the man looked even more stressed. The noise of the kettle turning off drew your attention and you poured the hot liquid into the mug, pressing the teabag to the sides of the mug with the spoon before scooping it up and binning it in the pedal bin. Stealing the last of the semi skimmed milk from the fridge, you trickled some of it into the tea before stirring. Dropping the spoon into the sink promising to clean it in a few minutes, you grasped the handle of the cup and headed towards the steps to the walkway.

Your feet reached the closed door to the office and your knuckles rapped against the wood.

“Come in.” He sounds tired.

Careful not to spill the tea, you pushed the handle of the door down and the door opened. Hotch glanced up. Twice. Once out of habit. The other a double take. His head left his hand and he placed his pen down on the case files in front of him. You could tell he was trying to figure out what you were doing in his office, it was obvious in his eyes. For a man so expressionless, his eyes were always so expressive.

You realised you had been staring at him for probably a bit too long and shifted your eyes down to the mug in your right hand, your other hand clasping round it for the excuse of holding something as a distraction. You lightly tapped your ring against the porcelain as you tried to word your sentence in your head before your mouth could get you into trouble. The action had Hotch’s gaze look down at your hands, something you noticed he did often. You had a habit of fiddling with one of your rings when you wanted to say something but were deciding if you should or not. It usually ended in Hotch noticing and asking you your opinion on the topic at hand.

You took a breath in. “Sir, if I had known.. I wouldn’t have asked about the envelope in front of everyone.“

“Y/L/N-“ Hotch sat upright in his chair.

“Anyway, I uh, I’m not going to ask you to talk about it.” You reassured him, cutting him off. Still looking at the mug in your hands, you continued. “I just want you to know that you’re not alone in this. I, the team, will support you in any way we can.”

You could feel your heart speeding in your chest, you were sure your boss could even hear the thumping. You risked looking up. The usually stoic man’s gaze softened, his forehead smoothing out. Maybe Hotch wasn’t so scary all the time.

“My mother always liked to show it with tea,” You remembered the mug in your hands. Probably should explain that, yeah. “And it’s what I know so.. uhm..” You shuffled forward closer to his desk and settled the cup on top of the dark wood. Stepping back, your hands went to the back of your trouser legs.

Hotch stared at you, his expression not giving anything away. “You didn’t have to.”

You cocked your head to the side. “Think of it as repaying the favour.”

You watched as those big dark eyes softened, gaze switching to the mug now sat on his desk. Giving an tight lipped smile, you nodded awkwardly and turned to leave. You didn’t wanna overstay your welcome. As your hand reached for the door, your name being called stopped you in your tracks. Not your last name. Your name.

“Y/N?”

You turned, surprised at the switch from your surname to your first name. Hotch called everyone by their surnames, even Rossi sometimes. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.” He meant that. Sincerely.

You tried to stop the smile etching its way onto your face. You felt bold. “Don’t mention it.. Aaron.”

Hotch - Aaron cracked a small smile. A tiny quirk of his lips. You nodded at each other, your hand closing the door behind you as you left the office.

Taking the steps down to your desk, you didn’t see Hotch bring the mug to his lips, taking a swig. His eyebrows raised in approval. Another swig. Leaning back in his chair, he inhaled, looking to his left to watch the bullpen out of his office window. He spotted you carrying case files back to your desk, engrossed in conversation with Reid.

He sighed, his attention turning back to his desk, pausing before opening the drawer next to him. His fingers hovered over a brown envelope, picking it up and sliding the contents of it out in front of him. Taking a breath and another swig of tea, Hotch picked back up his pen and signed his name on the dotted line.

[ev3rgreenxtrees]

Goin’ Somewhere?

-C.S

Synopsis: You go to the airport, to catch a flight back to your hometown. However, you get stopped by airport security, and they have to take you in one of the private rooms, to ‘search you’.

Pairing: Airport Security Guard!Dom!Chris X Sub!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Unprotected p in v, degradation kink, semi-public sex, fingering, oral (fem receiving), tit fucking, pussy slapping, choking, ROUGH sex, spitting, slapping, hair pulling, multiple orgasms, squirting, overstimulation, breeding kink, pet names (ma, mamas, baby, darling, sweetheart, ext.), foul language, missing your flight, usage of Y/N (its inevitable im sorry.), small mention of anxiety, i think thats all!

{2ND PERSON POV.}

“Okay, empty your pockets, place everything— including your shoes— in this bin.” A shorter female demands sweetly, letting everyone know that she means business, but wasn’t trying to frighten anyone.

You nod, taking everything, your wallet, phone, headphones, and even your chapstick out of your pockets, placing them in one of the small grey bins beside you. You then bend over to slip your shoes off, but your ass accidentally hits someone behind you.

You immediately throw your shoes in the bin, and turn to apologize to the person you literally just pushed your ass onto, and you came face-to-face with a tall male, who was wearing the same uniform the woman was, indicating that he was also an airport security guy. He was handsome- you wouldn’t deny that. His bright blue eyes, chiseled jawline and cheekbones, perfect nose, his shortish brown hair. This man was fine, and you knew it.

“I’m so sorry,” You apologize. “I didn’t mean to do that-“ You ramble, but the man chuckled, and placed his hand on your shoulder reassuringly, but the action sent butterflies through your stomach.

“You’re all good, sweetheart. I know ya didn’t mean to.” He nods, flashing you a bright smile. Sweetheart. A pet name should not have made your heart flutter as much as it did. “Now, turn around f’me, and walk right on through that.” The boy stated, and you nodded.

You walked through the metal detector, but it beeped. Fuck. You know you don’t have anything on you, though?

“Alright, darlin’. You’re okay, i’m jus’ gonna need ya to follow me, ‘kay?” The man states, placing his hand on your lower back. You feel your chest begin to tighten. You oddly felt safe with the male, although you don’t know him. You don’t even know his name.

He takes you into one of the search rooms. All white, with a door on it. You knew no one ever goes into these rooms unless something was severely wrong. To say you were horrified is an understatement. The man unlocks the room, and leads you inside. It has a cheap plastic table there, and a metal detecting wand, but nothing else. This was where they’d manually search you, and even make you strip if you need to.

“I- I don’t have anything on me, sir! I swear!” You plea worriedly, but the male simply chuckles.

“Call me Chris. Please.” He replies. And before you could say anything else, he walks forwards, pulling something out of your back pocket. His badge.

“Okay.. call me Y/n… But..What..? How-“ You began to question, but then quickly realized. He had placed his badge in your pocket when you bumped your ass into him, so you would have to be in here with him. Smart. “Oh.” You hum, and he smirks.

“You don’t seem too enthusiastic. We don’t have to do this by any means- I don’t want you to feel pressured. At all.” He speaks softly, placing his hand on your shoulder. Before you could even think, your lips were meeting his. He gasped in surprise, but, quickly kissed back.

His hands held your waist softly, his tongue dominating yours. You tugged at the vest he was wearing, signifying you wanted it off. He smirked, and pulled away from the kiss.

“Impatient, are we?” He teased, slipping his vest, and shortly after, his shirt off. Your eyes trailed all over his body, his collarbones, v-line, arms, neck, and even the growing bulge in his jeans.

“Mhm,” You agree, attempting to pull him back into a kiss, but he doesn’t let you, and you let out a small whine in reaction.

“This doesn’t seem very fair to me, mamas. I have to have my shirt off, but you don’t?” He growls, “Be a good girl and strip f’me, yeah?” He demands, running his hand through your hair, forcing your body against his.

His demeanor changing made you squeeze your thighs together and he noticed. Chris seemed to be quite attentive. Must be because of his job. You quickly slip out of your shirt, not sure if he wants you to leave your bra on. He smiles at your obedience, looking down at your body.

“Fuck, ya look so good like this,” He states, bringing his thumb to your bottom lip, dragging it down, before letting it bounce back to its original place. “So, so pretty.. Be a good girl and let me fuck those nice tits of yours, hm?” He asked, his voice rough.

“Yes, please,” You huffed, and he pushed the hair out of your face.

“Atta girl.” The taller male praised, unbuckling his pants. You couldn’t help but stare, directly at the boys’ clothed cock. His pants were quickly discarded, and you could see how big he was through his tight boxers. “Lay down on that table over there, pretty girl.” He demanded, and you quickly made your way to the table.

You quickly sprawl out on the table, laying on your back, spreading your legs enough to where the boy could situate himself between them. He made his way closer to you, his cock now free and in your vision. Your eyes quickly widened at his size, and how pretty his prick was.

“You ready?” He asks, pulling your body closer to him, but waiting for a response before he touched you any more.

“Yes.” You sigh breathlessly, and Chris’ hands find their way to your breasts, pushing them together enough, slipping the tip of his large cock between them. He lets out a breathy moan, as he pushes in further, the tip of his dick poking out of the top of your breasts. He lets out a breathy moan as he began moving his hips back-and-fourth, pulling and pushing his cock between your tits.

You moved your head forwards as his pace quickened, sticking your tongue out where his cock had poked through, allowing your tongue to hit his tip each time he pushed far enough in.

“Oh- fuck, good fucking girl,” Chris moaned, his head falling backwards. “Gon’ cum all over these pretty fuckin’ tits, y-yeah?” He slurs, and you hum in approval. His cum begins to quickly spurt out of his slit, coating your tits and face in the white sticky liquid. “Fuck yeah..” He growls, pulling his cock away.

He quickly rips your pants away from you, tossing them elsewhere in the slightly large room.

“Look at you. Fuckin’ soaked for a stranger. How pathetic.” He smirked, lowering himself to your sopping cunt, taking the view in. He leaned forwards, pressing two fingers against your hole, over your panties, making the cold wetness press against you, making you gasp. He chuckled at your responsiveness. He leaned his head forwards, placing a soft kiss to your clit, before pulling your panties completely off.

He places the discarded panties by his pants, and you knew you weren’t getting those back. He places your legs over his shoulders, and moved two fingers forwards, spreading your folds apart, giving him a full view of your glistening folds.

“So pretty.” The boy smirks, placing another kiss to your clit, which was this time unclothed. You shutter at the touch. He brings the fingers that were spreading your folds out, down to your hole, before abruptly shoving both into you- causing you to let out a loud yelp. “Yeah, lemme hear your pretty sounds. Let everyone in the airport know how good I make you feel on my fingers, hm?” He growled, hus free hand caressing your thigh.

“Fuck, I needa taste you, ma.” Chris growls, and quickly attaches his lips to your clit, sucking on the bundle of nerves.

“Oh- Fuck, Chris!” You whine out, arching your back, as the boys fingers continued to move in and out of you at a rapid pace, as his tongue lapped at your clit. “‘M not gonna last long!” You warned him, knowing it was the truth. Chris’ tongue is heavenly.

“Go ahead, sweet girl. Cum all over my face, just like the slut you are.” Chris permitted, and you did. You let yourself go all over his face. His tongue, fingers, lips, chin, even dripping down his neck. Chris began cleaning your juices from you, but his tongue wasn’t making usual movements. He was spelling something.

C. H. R. I. S.

The boy spelt his name, as you squirmed against him, wanting to tell him to stop from the sensitivity, but you couldn’t.

“Feel that, ma? Who’s pussy is this?” He growls, pulling away from you finally, your wetness dripping from his chin, his nose glistening.

“Fuck, Chris,” You hummed. “Yours. All yours.” You agreed, and the boy smiled.

“Fuck yeah.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, before harshly slapping your pussy, making you jump at the sudden contact. He lets out a chuckle at the way you responded to his touch. “So sensitive.” He teased.

He abruptly grabs his cock, slipping it in between your folds.

“I’m assuming you weren’t planning on fucking anyone in the airport lime the slut you are, so i’m assuming you don’t have any condoms on you?” Chris asks, not necessarily caring, knowing he’ll fuck you regardless, condom or not.

“N-no, I don’t,” You whine. “I’m on the pill, though.” You state, and Chris lets out a small sigh, as he rubs your stomach gently, his hands reaching behind your back to discard your bra.

“I was kinda hopin’ I could see ya all full of my babies. Don’t worry, though, sweetheart. I’ll still fill ya up.” He licks his lips, moving his attention back down to his cock, which was prodding at your weeping cunt. He slowly pushes his tip inside of you, making you let out a small squeak. “Yeah, thats it. Take my cock, like the whore you are.” He growls, while continuing to push himself into you.

You whine and squirm on his cock, the stretch burning more than any other time you have had sex. Chris was much bigger than the others. He finally bottomed out, but before saying anything, he began thrusting. He kept a slower pace, which you appreciated, so the stretch wouldn’t rip you in half.

“Y’re so tight f’me, baby, aren’t ya?” He growls in your ear, and you shiver in response. His thrusts begin to slowly speed up, and you bite your lip, stiffening your moans. “Yeah, ya like that, don’t ‘cha, ma?”

“Y-yes!” You whine, your back arching as the male sped his pace up, slamming into you. “Fuck, yes! Harder!” You cry out, and something switches in Chris.

His hand snakes up to your tits, before slapping them harshly, making you yelp.

“Fuck yeah, take my cock darling. Take it all.” He pants, his hand moving up to your face. He places a harsh smack to your cheek, before shoving his thumb in your mouth for you to suck on, to forget the pain. Your cheek quickly turned red, and Chris smiled at his ‘damage.’

You whine around his finger, as you begin to clench around his cock, and he knew you were close.

“Cum for me, mamas. All over my dick. Let it go.” He growls, and you loose it. The knot in your lower stomach snaps, and you let loose all over his cock, and he continues thrusting. “Fuck yeah, that’s it. Like the slut you are.” He hummed.

He quickly pulled out, your own cum and his precum coated his thick cock, as he flipped you over. Your eyes widen, and you knew he was going to absolutely ruin you. He grabs the backs of your thighs harshly, yanking you down, so your feet were on the ground, but the upper-half of your body was laying on the table.

Without warning, he slams his cock back into you, causing you to let out a loud scream, arching your back.

“Yeah, good girl. Let me know how good i’m makin’ ya feel.” Chris praises, one of his hands reaching up to your hair, and the other sneaking its’ way to your throat. He yanks your hair back, and squeezes your neck, and you let out a loud moan, shoving yourself back into him. “Yeah, that’s it. Jus’ like that— fuck,” He groans, his head falling backwards, as his grip on your neck occasionally tightens and loosens.

You could tell he was coming undone as his cock throbbed inside of you, and due to you being sensitive from your previous orgasms, you were just as close. His thrusts didn’t slow or halt, instead they became sloppy. If even, harder.

“Shit, ma. Gon’ cum in this tight pussy, hm?” He taunts, his hips snapping against yours, his thrusts now becoming slower, yet more forceful. He yanked you backwards to meet each of his thrusts, before he allowed himself to let loose inside of you, stilling his cock, not allowing any of his cum to seep out. You were so close, but the second he stilled his movements, you couldn’t let go.

After a few seconds, he flipped you back over, avoiding pulling out, and he placed one of your legs over his shoulder, allowing himself a perfect angle. He began his thrusting movements once again, and almost immediately, you let yourself go, your slick cum coating his cock.

“There ya go, ma.. Let’s see how many we can pull outta ya.” He grunts, satisfied at how soon he has already made you cum in this position. The boy looked down at where he was disappearing inside of you, and then sliding back out, and his body shivered at the sight. It’s almost like you were made for him.

He begins quickening the pace, one of his hands slipping from your hip to your swollen clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“O-ow-“ You hiss, your body jolting at the sudden added sensitivity, but you didn’t stop him. You wouldn’t dare to.

“I know, pretty baby. I know.” He whispers, and you feel a new feeling. A feeling you hadn’t felt yet— ever. The feeling caught you off guard, feeling slightly more than the last few orgasms you had.

“F-Feels different-“ You stutter out, as Chris pounds into you.

“One s-second, baby. Hold it. D-don’t let go u-until I say s-so.” He demands, and you let out a loud whine, but chose to obey, not wanting to see the consequences if you didn’t. You clench around him, attempting to hold your orgasm back, as he releases his, stilling his movements on your clit, allowing his thumb to just stay there, pressing down.

This causes you to let go, squirting your juices all over him. Embarrassment floods your face- you didn’t even know you could do that. You look away from him, refusing to look.

He removes his hand from your clit, slowly pulling out. He used two of his fingers, pushing his cum back into you, before using those same two fingers to swipe some of your sticky cum off of himself, bringing it to his mouth. His eyes rolled back, and he slipped his now clean fingers out of his mouth.

“You’re hot and you taste so fuckin’ good.” He shutters, placing a kiss to your forehead. Your eyes widen. Theres no way you didn’t just miss your flight. You’re fucked. Literally, and metaphorically.

You stand up, wobbling, before Chris rushes over to help you.

“Woah, woah, woah. Goin’ somewhere?” Chris joked, but you glared at him.

“My flight, asshole.” You growled at the sweaty and gross boy, and his eyes widen.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry, ma.” He whines, running a hand through his silky hair. “Look, if I can get ya number, I’ll get ya a new plane ticket, yeah?” Chris proposes. How could you turn down such an offer?

『 ↳✧･ﾟ Finn yaps❕ ;

Might possibly my filthiest one yet, but yeah..! hope you sluts enjoy <3 and ik this probably isnt how the little search rooms actually look, ive never been inside one. And yes, ik theres cameras and other people in there and they wouldve def been caught, FOR THE SAKE OF THE FUCKING FIC PLEASE IGNORE ALL LOGICAL SITUATIONS😭🙏🏻

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱ I do NOT give permission for my work to be published on any other site, nor to be claimed as your own . However , reblogs , likes , and comments are much appreciated ! 🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bernardenjoyer @imwetforyourmom @lovely-calypso @75sturn @junnniiieee07 @tillies33ssss

[vampireimiko]

Johnny Cage with a fem reader who matches his vibe? 👀

Cocky AF

warnings, NONE :3

note, im literally johnny cage 🙏🏾

Johnny Cage, the Hollywood A-lister, was used to being the center of attention. Meaning, he was used to always getting what he wanted. Whether it was a role, some kind of artifact, or just a classic cliche, the girl. However, when he encountered you, a fellow star who effortlessly matched his charisma and vibe, he found himself captivated by a kindred spirit. Your ability to navigate the Hollywood scene with the same flair and confidence as him intrigued the actor.

You knew how Johnny was before you started filming alongside him. But you also knew how to handle yourself and deal with him, because well, the both of you were alike. Both gorgeous, big Hollywood stars, and known players.

Most girls and men would instantly throw themselves at him if Johnny so much as breathed near them. But not you, which is why he was intrigued. Of course, you'd flirt with him here and there, but you never pursued anything. As a seasoned professional and someone who knew how to handle themselves, you decided to keep a degree of distance, at least until the project was closer to completion.

Johnny, not accustomed to this level of restraint, decided to take it as a challenge. He enjoyed your banter, the way you matched his wit, and the fact that you treated him as an equal rather than a Hollywood heartthrob.

So with that being said, he decided to ask you out under the guise of just 'two coworkers having a coffee'.

"How nice of you to invite me out for coffee, Johnny. It's quite the change from your usual grand gestures," you quipped, a playful smirk on your face as you sipped your drink.

Johnny Cage leaned back, a charming grin on his face. "Well, you know me, always up for trying something new. Plus, I figured we could use a break from the set drama and paparazzi."

As you continued to banter, Johnny subtly shifted the conversation towards more personal topics. You found yourself sharing stories and laughter, realizing that beneath the Hollywood glitz, Johnny was more than just a charismatic actor. He was genuine, funny, and surprisingly easy to talk to.

"And then I told her-" Johnny was interrupted mid story by your phone ringing.

"Oh I'm so sorry, I have to take this! It's my agent." You apologized, before getting up to take the call.

"No worries," Johnny said with a casual wave. "Hollywood waits for no one."

As you stepped away to take the call, Johnny took a moment to observe you. He couldn't deny the intrigue that had grown between you two during the coffee outing. He was immensely attracted to you no doubt, he also couldn't deny the connection he felt he had developed with you in such a short time.

When you returned, it was unfortunately time for you to leave as you had an interview to attend.

"Guess Hollywood waits for you too," Johnny teased, though there was a genuine disappointment in his tone. The brief encounter had left an impression, and Johnny found himself looking forward to the next opportunity to spend time with you.

As you gathered your things, Johnny stood up, a signature grin on his face. "Well, don't let the interviewers steal you for too long. We've got a movie to finish, and who knows, maybe we can continue this fascinating conversation sometime?"

You giggled, returning his energy. "Of course, handsome. Until next time," you said giving him a kiss on the cheek and a giving him a flirtatious wave while walking away.

Johnny watched you leave, a mix of amusement and anticipation in his eyes. Your playful demeanor and the kiss on the cheek only fueled his curiosity and interest. As you walked away, he couldn't help but flash his signature grin, a touch of genuine excitement in his expression.

"Until next time," he called after you, his words carrying a hint of flirtatious charm.

𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐃𝐄𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐘𝐘𝐘𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒, 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐦 (𝐢𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥) 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 !!

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[thephonemenarentreal]

FINALIZED CONCEPT FOR THE MEANIE TV! Had fun with this one!

NAME: LT-2; Paralipsis NICKNAMES: The Bastard in Chief, Murder Machine, Parasshole, The boss man (Mr. Biggs), Satan TV (Tremolo), Para 2 ALLIANCE CLASS: TV Man; Just shy a few inches to be classified as a large TV man WORK CLASS: Special Unit Attack Force (formerly); Supervisor of Outpost 51 GENDER: He/Him

CLASSIFICATION: Unknown (anomalous activation and no clue where or how the AI developed)

RANK: Supervisor of Outpost 51

Paralipsis is the eternally pissed off supervisor of Outpost 51 and is known for being rather insufferable. A micromanaging tyrant who will intentionally cause misery for others, he is known to be a mean-spirited sort when he isn't just holing up in his office binge watching soap operas.

Once a vicious alliance fighter, he was put into the supervisor position to take him away from the battlefield as he was deemed a threat to himself on account of his concerning fits and extremely self-destructive tendencies. He has taken the "promotion" with a lot of spite and content to do the shittiest job he can and make it everyone's problem that he hates his job.

MORE LORE UNDER THE CUT <3

Paralipsis picked his name out of irritation of TV men always talking about him without directly mentioning him. He is more polite to his fellow TV Men, but he still is a passive aggressive hostility as he hates being "studied" and treated as something strange to figure out.

He was meant to be the second large TV man but given he activated pre-maturely before he was finished, engineers had to rush to get his body completed so he is just short of the large TV man designation. He still kept the designation LT-2 on record.

What Paralipsis's AI is is a mystery as unlike other AIs, there was no training as he awoke with complete memories like he had been in the war for a long while....and seems to have knowledge of top secret information that should only be known by a few. Yet at the same time, he has no habits of human transferred minds indicating some ghost in the system. He is a strange anomaly among TV man.

Whatever program that is in him seems to be fixated on being "useful" and when this is not achieved, can lead to intense depressive moods that increase risk of "episodes". Around other TV Men, he is a touch more polite, but also has higher rates of "episodes".

He is known to be extremely mean to others, either outright, or in just a rather pensive silence. Paralipsis intentionally pushes people away and keeps them away as he doesn't want people to miss him or want him around. Mostly due to self-destructive tendencies.

Paralipsis is a danger to himself, especially during "Episodes" which are usually preluded by bouts of twitching, shaking, more aggressive behavior and insults before seizing up.

Stage one of Episodes starts with him flashing the image of a broken screen while starting to exhibit behavior like he is incredible pain, discharging, and going into a state that seems like he is suffering from severe critical wounds as his systems start to seize up. It is best to calm him during this state before he hits stage two.

Stage two of an episode the screen will take on a glowing core looking design and start to ramble on incoherently or rambling about needing to be "fixed" that he isn't "correct" and something is "wrong". In this state, he is fixated on "escaping" his form, attempting to usually stab his screen or some other self-harm behavior. At this point, a controlled shock to offline him temporarily is favored unless professional can de-escalate this heightened state of mania.

Paralipsis does not talk about what goes on during episodes, brushing it off and set on just trying to control them. It is noted that these episodes do not occur when within sight of the Titan TV man, however he gets somewhat catatonic. It has been agreed to keep the two apart due to these strangely zoned out reactions.

Paralipsis has four arms, but he actually rarely extends out all four out of some sort of spite that makes sense to him and by his own take, he hates them, thus keeps them folded up. However when push comes to shove, he will extend them. During episodes, the arms will engage and often act erratically. When spooked or needing to act quickly, will extend arms as well, but often rips up his jacket and gets pissed off needing to get a new one.

He actively pushes away help from others and dodges around topics, usually insulting or turning the conversation back on the person, making it clear he does not want help. Or does. He tends to have very conflicting feelings about everything. There seems to be a want for companionship, but also a general distrust of the intentions of others that is very hard to get passed.

Despite his piss poor attitude, utter lack of work ethic when he doesn't want to do tasks, his inability to take orders from higher-ups, and general inclination towards causing trouble for others, during times of crisis, Paralipsis will help others in the alliance, often putting himself at great risk to do so.

He's the second strongest of the group after Mr. Biggs, but is the most proficient fighter of the group when it comes to close quarters and stealth.

Paralipsis is very fond of his soap operas and will binge watch them for hours and ignore the world. He also has a TV in his room to use for "therapy" to help calm his moods and try to help stabilize whatever triggers there are for his episodes and general depression.

Incident -015: The Ghost Event (Log of event)

The Ghost Event took place upon the Titan TV Man's return to base after suffering critical injuries from the knife through his screen by the possessed Titan Speakerman. The Titan had suffered damage to critical functions and engineers had moved quickly to stabilize and calm the enraged Titan to keep damage to base structure to minimum.

However, once the cortex and core were hooked up to main systems, a massive surge was detected, shorting out systems in the TV man base. At the same time as this surge, incomplete units in the process of being built activated, leading to what those present described as something out of a horror movie. Incomplete unites began to attempt to move, babbling incoherently, although all but LT-2 shorted out, their cortex's exploding and melting down.

LT-2 was disconnected by the system before reaching this point, going offline before regaining consciousness. LT-2 was taken to interrogation to assess unit. Unit appeared to have memories and knowledge not expected for a newly awakened unit, able to correctly identify TV man staff and even facts about them that it should not have known. At first Unit was forthcoming with answers, but quickly became more sullen, withdrawn, and disagreeable, leading to it becoming far more agitated about the questions and refusing to answer further. Unit took on the name Paralipsis and at times exhibits fits similiar to that of what happened at its awakening.

LT-2 is effective in battle, but has no regard for its own safety and due to the research into neuroengineering the unit presents and the general concern of engineers for the well-being of the unit, LT-2 is to be kept away from conflict until EMCs can confirm the mind has stabilized. Current theory is that the Titan TV Man's high level of agitation and distress as it edged to critical failure caused a subconscious response that activated the units. The how and why remains unknown as no repeat incident has been recorded.

[justslightlymental]

Hazard X Reader - Can't live without ya

Hi hi hi hihi This was the request from anon for Hazard X Reader where reader got hurt and hazard goes into rage yada yada. (sorry) I had a bit trouble thinking of a good enough thing where this could happen so i just decided to rewrite based on the Hazard Hero Trailer, hope ya dont mind anon! <3 Its a short one!!! (again sorry) :,D TW: A bit detailed gorey shit - It was supposed to be a quick mission, an easy one. Drive up, sneak in, steal the weapon and get out. Instead an alarm rang out, soldiers flooding the oasis. It was hard to see through the flashing red lights, and the smoke started to fill the room from all the gunshots. All four of them took cover between the tables or the pillars in the room, their guns drawn out and taking shots whenever possible, but they were heavily outnumbered. (Name) and BoomSlang were behind a pillar, a little bit less covered, but not in any life threatening danger. “I told you we needed extra guns, UGH!” BoomSlang cursed, taking a shot before retreating to cover again. “You really should listen to her more!” (Name) yelled out, using her (gun type) to take a shot, successfully eliminating one of the guards. Hazard waited for the canister to fill with the purple ooze from the weapon oasis had kept hidden, once the process was done he took it and immediately jumped behind the counter for cover, right next to suzy. “We can’t keep this up!” BoomSlang said again, not able to take any shots with the amount of fire they were met with. Hazard took a moment to think, his gaze landing on the container filled with the purple ooze, his eyes sharpened. Anyone who knew him would immediately know what he was thinking. An explosion shattered the glass next to Suzy who then noticed his gaze. “You can’t! s’too unstable! We don’t know what it might do to you!” Suzy tried to tell him. (Name) picked up on the distressing voice of her friend, she stared at their interaction, her eyes widening. Oh no no no, she couldn’t let him do that! What if he completely lost his mind, started attacking them all, or what if the ooze just destroyed him from the inside out. The negatives weighted out the positives by a landslide. She did not want to lose the one who cared for most, her other half. “Hazard no! You can’t! Please, for once listen to your friends!” She yelled, afraid. “What do I always say, Suzy n (Name)?” Hazard asked with a slight smirk, not hearing (Name). “If you’re in it with me…” Suzy began, becoming more convinced by the moment. “You’re in it for life.” Hazard ended the sentence.

“No no no! Suzy do not inject his back with that ooze!” (Name) yelled, sprinting out of her cover to try and stop her, completely forgetting the ongoing fire around them. “(Name) NO!” BoomSlang yelled, panicked, trying to grasp onto the running girl, but it was too late. Hazard and Suzy both stopped what they were doing, their heads snapped towards BoomSlang's yell. Hazards eyes widening as he saw (Name) running towards them, her hand extended towards him. Time seemed to move in slow motion as the bullets barely missed her every step she took, her only concern was to get to her partner. She knew what she did was foolish, she might get hit, she might die. But she doesn’t care about any of that, she just wants to feel Hazard’s arms around her for the last time if she truly is going to do this, just in case the worst happens. Hazard extended his arm towards her, trying to snatch her to safety, away from the danger that could end her life in an instant. With just one well shot bullet…. He yelled out, Suzy did too. His heart was racing, he had never felt such fear before, not even when he almost died himself. I guess at that time he didn’t have anything important to fight for, he had no one to care for. But now… now all he wanted was to keep her safe, but how could he when she was the one putting her life on the line. Then it happened. Her pupils shrinking as a bullet swooped right through her extended hand’s shoulder. Her blood spilling into the air as she fell onto the floor, gasping for air. Her body in shock, full of adrenaline still not really registering the pain. She fell onto the floor right in front of Suzy and Hazard, BoomSlang watched in horror as she fell down, not knowing where the bullet really hit. Time stopped. He felt nothing, he could hear nothing. The only thing he saw on repeat was her getting shot, her body falling onto the floor with a loud thud, her blood staining the clean tiles under her. He could feel his body acting on its own as he turned to look at Suzy with this scary… scary look. A look he had never had before, it scared both Suzy and BoomSlang. “Do it Suzy. Now.” He said with no emotion in his voice. She reluctantly did as told, fearing he would do it himself and mess something up if she didn’t. She placed the canister on his back and the liquid oozed into his cybernetics, his head snapped upwards, his expression becoming feral almost. He let out a loud yell, spikes growing out from his back, his weapon systems maximized. He jumped from out of cover, killing every single soldier in his sight with no mercy. Impaling them with his knife, shooting their brains out. No one would leave alive…. “I’LL TEAR YA ALL DOWN!” He screamed out in anger, the place turned into a fucking massacre. The last soldier who still stood could only feel his knees give out from under him, his body shivering in fear as Hazard walked towards him. Hazard held the man from the collar of his uniform and brought him real close to his face.

“If she dies, just you know… This whole place is burnin’ down. Be glad you ain’t gon’ be here to see it.” Hazard spat at him before slashing the man in half, watching the now lifeless mutilated body smacking against the floor.

He turned around to see BoomSlang and Suzy attending to a wounded (Name). He rushed to their side, they got spooked for a moment before relaxing as they figured his rampage was over now.

“Is she alright???! Talk to me.” He demanded, taking hold of (Name)’s hand-

“She is stable, but we gotta get her back home. Her wound needs tending to. Good thing the bullet only hit her shoulder…” BoomSlang said, with a relieved smile on her face, she knew (Name) was a tough trooper to kill.

-

Back home after her wound got treated, the bullet removed and completely bandaged up she was put into her bed to rest. Didn’t take long for her to wake up with an annoying headache and this ache in her shoulder. She groaned trying to sit up but a hand stopped her. She looked up to see Hazard staring down at her with a gentle smile.

“Uhh.. What happened…” (Name) sighed, Hazard helping her sit up gently.

“You got shot tryin’ to stop Suzy from injecting me with tha’ ooze.”  Hazard explained, pointing at her shoulder.

“Oh… fuck me mate… Sorry for making you worried hun…” She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Ya, you should be sorry. I thought I’d lost ya for good, can’t live without ye bonny.” He said, holding her close to him, his face in her neck. “Oh you big baby… I’m  a tough nut to crack…” She giggled, rubbing his back in a soothing manner. “So how did the rest of the mission go, everyone got out unharmed.. except me?” (Name) asked, eager to hear if Suzy and Boom we’re okay. “Yeah, can’t say the same about those soldiers thou. Did a number on em.” Hazard laughed, extending his arm as the purple blade appeared. “Holy shit, when did you get that?!” She asked, surprised and intrigued. “That ooze really did wonders for me, good thing we got it.” He answered proudly. “That’s good thats good…” Before realization kicked in. “SHE INJECTED YOU WITH THE OOZE??!!!!!” - I fear this one sucked ass ngl i could do sm better.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

How Like A Winter Your Absence Has Been, What Freezings Have I Felt | Loki x Asgardian!Reader

Learning that Asgard has been destroyed you follow the Asgardians to Midgard, crash landing in a Norweigian forest. When Loki is sent to collect you old hurts are raised, new hurts are healed and an understanding is found.

Warnings: soppy snow based shinanigans, sort of friends to lovers with an enemies to lovers vibe, hurt/comfort, reader is hurt and needs stitches. Kissinngggg.

Loki calls reader 'Vennen' which is a term of endearment, between friends and lovers, but can be seen as patronising in the wrong tone or context.

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Masterlist | Loki Masterlist

The sullen silence filling the cabin of the car weighed heavy on Loki’s shoulders. It’d been years since you’d seen each other, before Ragnarok, before Odin had left Asgard. Years. And yet the familiar awkwardness of your presence still ate at him. 

In the passenger seat you fidgeted. Frustrated that your return had ended like this, helpless in a Norwegian forest you’d never visited, returning to a home you’d never seen. News had travelled slowly across the galaxies, but as soon as you’d heard that Asgard had fallen you’d been trying to return. Your ship had fought you all the way, trying to set a course to a world that existed only as errant space dust and you’d floated there, fighting off the creatures that crawled among its ruins, until you’d received word of a new settlement, here on Midgard. 

It hadn’t surprised you, both brothers had always been obsessed with the place and, driving through the night, flashes of snow carved out of the darkness by the moon, you could understand why. Norway was a beautiful land. 

“So, you still can’t pilot your ship.” Loki’s voice cut through the silence and you huffed in response. 

“I’m not the one who blew up a planet. It’s not built for landing in Midgard’s atmosphere, how was I to know it’d start burning up.” You looked out of the window, how dare he make jokes about Ragnarok, how dare he. 

“I doubt the builders will be able to salvage it.” 

“I don’t care, leave me alone.” 

It was Loki’s turn to huff out a laugh, “you intend to walk back to New Asgard, vennen? Be our guest, I care not.” 

He slowed down as the endless skies opened and a new flurry of snow swirled around the car. 

If he could’ve chosen a way to spend a cold, snowy night before Solstice Loki would’ve chosen reading by the fire or drinking with Val and Thor. Maybe even an evening’s walk on the cliffs. He certainly would not have taken Thor’s Avenger’s issue Land Rover to trawl through miles of empty forest, but looking for you, that was a task that he had felt was his and his alone. So why was spending this much time alone together, in a confined space, when you hadn’t seen each other for eons, making his skin feel tight. 

“Then why did you come?” 

“Because despite Thor’s abdication I still owe a duty to my people, I would never leave an Asgardian stranded.” He kept his eyes on the road ahead, he knew if he turned you’d be looking at him with those beautiful eyes, studying him in that way that always made him nervous, and his eyes twinkled at the thought of you rattled. “Besides, I couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease you mercilessly while you have no escape.” He chuckled, but stopped abruptly when you made a noncommittal noise in return and turned back to your window, sliding a hand into your jacket. . 

The car jostled again, wheels catching in the patchy road. You’d been able to land your ship well enough outside of New Asgard to not hurt anyone, somewhere in the vastness of the forest, but it had been a bumpy landing after a harrowing few weeks free falling through the devastation of your home. You were in no mood for teasing, even if you had missed that glint in Loki’s eye, the way his smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. It had been too long to dwell on that now, you were here to settle with the rest of your people and that was the extent of it. It was nothing to do with Loki at all. 

Another noise escaped your lips as the road took a sharp turn and this time Loki noticed, turning his head slightly, you refused to think about the way the upturned collar of his coat emphasised the sharpness of his cheekbones. Why would you care about such a thing anyway?

“Are you injured, vennen?” 

“No.” 

“Are you certain, you made a noise?” 

“Do you not think me capable of assessing my own bodily needs?” You snapped, digging your fingernails into your palms in an effort to stave off the groaning pain in your side. 

“As you wish.” He sighed, holding a hand up as if in surrender and turning his eyes back to the road, now turning this way and that as it made its way back down the mountainside. At each turn the wheels of the car span in the mud and snow caked along the side of the road, and each time you stifled your pain. 

The road evened out again and Loki put his foot down, slush and snow spraying up the sides of the 4 x 4 as he sped through the night. 

“Careful, Loki, we’ll -” your warning was cut short, the back two wheels fishtailed, dragging the car across the road in a wide circle before coming to a stop. Loki hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. 

“By the norns, this infernal fucking machine!” He griped.  

“I told you to - “

“Yes, yes.” He lowered his forehead to the wheel and took a deep breath. “Let me inspect it.” 

He opened the door, bracing against the gust of wind whipping up the open path the road made through the otherwise dense forest. The door closed with such finality that for a moment you were alone again, suspended in the debris of a former life and wishing for home. You couldn’t take the silence and, though your skin stretched painfully around your injuries, you opened your door too. 

Loki ran his fingers through his hair, leaving the long dark waves spiked and tangled to be played with by the wind. There was a huge patch of ice in the middle of the road leading back up the mountain. He placed one hand on the back window to steady himself, his mind reeling, he could’ve hurt you. In his haste to get back to the village he could’ve hurt you. 

The slamming of the door echoed through the trees and he looked up to see you shivering in the snow. You were dressed for space, not for Norway, fitted leather leggings and tunic hugging every familiar curve of your body, he only had to glance at you to remember the feel of you when you’d last sparred in Asgard, your waist corseted beneath his palms, the beat of your heart so close to his, your breath, ghosting over his lips before you’d pulled away abruptly and left him lying there in the dirt. 

Your only sensible clothes were your boots, heavy and solid, and your jacket, padded and warm against the cold of your spaceship, but not the biting ice of a Norwegian winter. 

Loki looked away, the car wasn’t buried in the snow or stuck in the mud, it would be fine with a shove. But when he looked up you had gone, your footprints leading to the edge of the forest. 

He followed, concerned, despite your warrior training. Loki breathed a sigh of relief when he saw you brushing snow from the needles of a fir tree, pressing the flakes into a small ball. His mouth lifted at the corner, so it was going to be snowballs, he could play that game. Loki’s magic shimmered as he gathered snow into a perfectly formed sedir built snowball, but paused. Instead of turning and throwing it, as he expected, you lifted the ice to your face, wincing. His hand opened and the snowball fell to the permafrost with a dull thud. 

“Loki,” you looked surprised, dropping your ice as well and wiping your face with the sleeve of your jacket. 

“What happened to your face? Why are you icing it?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. Can we leave? Is this thing broken? The carar?” You eyed it warily and it occurred to Loki that despite all your time travelling in space, you’d never actually been to Midgard. “It doesn’t appear to be very sturdy considering the conditions.”

“The car,” he smiled, “is fine. Your chariot awaits, my lady.” He opened the door and you allowed him to help you back into the passenger seat, if only to hide your other injuries. 

Loki kicked the snow from the tires and used a gust of magic to blow the snow from the solid mud beneath before returning to the car. 

“I have become accustomed to the ways of this planet over many years and I forget that for you, this is your first visit.” he said, quietly, as soon as the road evened out again,

Loki never took his eyes from the road, but you saw the subtle twitch in his jaw, knew the movement all too well, he couldn’t say sorry, but he would admit his faults in his own way and hope that you forgave him. 

“Everything is new here.” You answered, quietly, an acceptance of his statement, no acknowledgement of his apology. 

The next bend was more gentle and Loki took the angle slowly, but you still hissed, biting your lip to hide the pain. 

“You have hurt yourself.”

“It’s nothing.” 

“If it were nothing, you would be silent.” Loki raised an eyebrow, peering ahead into the dark night and spotting a gravelled area away from the road with a picnic bench, bin and parking space.

 He’d spotted it on the way out too, there’d been a few cars parked there with their headlights on, a group of friends in huge coats and hats sharing a flask of something steaming hot and toasting each other. Now, in the darkness, there was none of the warmth of their gathering left, but at least there was a quiet. 

Loki put his arm over the back of your seat, his palm flat on the wheel as he reversed the Land Rover into the middle space, and you pressed your knees together at the memory of his hands on the tiller of the flying faerings as you raced them between the pillars of the bridges on Asgard. He had the same easy grace, his fingers dancing on the metal as they did over the leather of the wheel. You squeezed harder, ignoring that same building of fire and need you’d experience then as well. This was nothing, there was nothing, between the two of you. He had been sent as a courtesy, you had arrived because you had nowhere else to go. 

“Let me look.” He ordered, removing his seat belt and pushing his seat back so he could turn to face you properly. 

“No, it’s under my shirt.” You protested, pressing your hand harder into your rib. “Besides, it’s probably just broken. I’ll bandage it when you take me to my lodgings.” 

“Move your hand.” His voice had dropped slightly, more akin to the Princely demands you were used to him making, his eyes were dark, the sharp angle of his cheekbones picked out by the harsh interior light. 

“You can’t order me about, Loki, you’re not in charge here.” 

“I am still concerned, please, let me see.” Those dark eyes softened, and he reached his hand out to pull your jacket away from your body. Between your fingers the soft brown and bronze of your tunic had turned maroon, the bloom of blood soaking through like watercolour. “You’re bleeding.” His eyes roved from the poppy shaped stain emerging from beneath your fingers to your face. “You’re bleeding and you kept this from me.” 

“It’s nothing, I’ll fix it later.” 

“It’s not nothing, please let me help you.” He tugged on your sticky fingers, the residue of your blood staining his own long digits and for a moment you allowed his hand to hold your own and then - 

“I don’t need your help,” you snatched it back. 

“Please, let me -” 

“No.” 

“I can fix it for you, I can help.” 

“I don’t need your help, Loki. I don’t - I don’t need it, I learned to live without you.” You stormed, tugging your coat back around you to hide the evidence of your injury. Even facing the window you could see his stunned face behind you, reflected in the darkness beyond. 

“You learned to live without me?” Loki sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of your words. “Vennen -” 

“Don’t call me that, don’t call me that when you know we are not friends, I am nothing to you and -” 

Loki reached across the centre console of the car to touch your shoulder but you flinched, eyes staring out at the road again, unable to look at Loki or his reflection. 

“How can you say that?” Loki withdrew again, brows furrowed, “how could you think you are nothing to me?” 

“Where were you?” You rounded on him, “where were you that was so much more amusing than being with us, I thought you dead and gone, I thought you buried on some fearful planet far from Valhalla for all eternity, I thought I would never see you again in this life or the next and - and - and you have the audacity to collect me like some lost thing on this planet and expect me to fall in step beside you as always, well. No more. No more, Loki. I don’t need you. Take me to see the King and leave me there as you always do.” Tears spilled over your cheeks, dropping in heavy splashes on your hands as you bent to hide your angry sobbing. But the movement only caused further pain, blood spilling from under your tunic onto your lap.

In a moment Loki was by your side, the car door open and his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to his chest as he carried you to the back of the vehicle. He set you down gently, opening the door at the back and sitting you on the open ledge. 

“I must tend to this wound now, before it gets worse. They don’t have the same technology here yet, our doctors -” he paused, swallowing down the guilt that he couldn’t have saved more of his people during Ragnarok and quashed the feeling for another day, “we are short on doctors, should something happen to the wound -” he trailed off, opening a small green box that had been hooked onto the door. 

He warred with himself, fighting down the urge to defend all that he’d done, the pain it had caused him to leave his friends and family for so long. 

“Fine.” You conceded and pulled your tunic up as high as you could, revealing the large gash in your side. Norns, it was worse than you’d thought, curving around your side, over a rib or two and down towards the top of your trousers. 

Loki’s touch was gentle as he mopped up the blood, wringing the cloth clean with his magic until he could see each side of the cut clearly. Every touch made goosebumps erupt on your skin, the tingle of his magic mixing with the softness of his touch, the warmth of his fingers.

 “What happened to you?” 

“I told you, my ship is supposed to stay in space, it’s not supposed to enter the atmosphere.” 

It had begun burning up on entry, flames licking up the sides of the small craft and you’d squeezed your eyes shut, bracing against the inevitable fall. You didn’t remember the landing, only waking up with your own blood on your hands, shards of metal surrounding you and feeling colder than you ever had before. 

“We should have sent someone to meet you,  I - I apologise.” Loki kept his eyes cast down, long fingers fiddling with a needle and thread. 

“Yes, you should have.” You looked down at him, crouched by your legs in the snow, the ice no doubt biting through his leathers already and he looked up, eyes wide and wet with unhushed tears. 

“I am, truly, sorry, for what I made you go through. Please, will you forgive me?” He set the now threaded needle down on its sterile tray and placed his hands on your thighs instead, his hands were cold now, but a wave of warm sedir washed over you, brushing away the shivers wracking your body. 

“Maybe, Loki -” 

“I know, I have a lot of apologising to do, I don’t deserve your forgiveness-” 

But he was considering it, it was the first time you’d ever heard the words uttered from him, and it made your heart yearn for the safe harbour of his friendship again, even if you knew better than to believe the storms were over. 

“It’s not that, it just, it still hurts, I want to forgive you, but it still hurts.” 

A frozen tear held steady in the corner of his eye, but he nodded in understanding. 

“Can you at least forgive me the pain this will cause,” he tipped his head towards the needle, “I can numb you as much as possible, but I have no doubt it will sting.” With a flourish he produced a cut glass with a healthy measure of whisky inside, “drink this first.” 

You downed the burning amber in one gulp, allowing it to warm you deeply and nodded. Loki stood, that familiar glimmer of gold and green drying his wet legs and knees, removing the snow that clung to his coat. 

“Lay back,” he removed his coat and folded it, placing it under your head as he helped you lean into the boot of the car. Prone and cold with your tunic shucked up to your armpits you felt ridiculous and exposed, but there was no teasing when Loki asked if you were happy for him to start. 

The first stitch was the most painful, but his cold fingers made your skin numb as he worked quickly and steadily until the aching pain was at least unaccompanied by the hot seeping of your blood through your fingers. 

Loki stood back, surveying his work in the cold white light from the tiny bulb in the car’s interior, and brushed his damp hair back from his face. “Does that feel better?” 

“Yes, thank you.” Swiftly you pulled your tunic down, and shuffled to sit on the ledge of the boot again, feet hanging off the edge. 

Loki left you like that, pacing away from the car and surveying the road ahead. The snowfall had increased since you stopped and the drifts were now encroaching further into the already narrow track. It would be a treacherous trip back down the rest of the mountain. 

“I think we should camp here tonight.” He said, steadily, though his heart beat wildly beneath his sweater. 

“Loki, it’s freezing cold, below freezing.”

“It’s one of my brother’s friends’ cars.” Loki said, flippantly, as if that explained anything at all instead of raising a hundred new questions. 

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“It has - things - inside. He spent some time with the Avengers? You must have heard of them, terribly annoying, but I must say their accessories are very helpful.” He stared at you waiting for you to understand. 

“You and Thor and your little Midgardians,” you laughed, “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but let's see these accessories that will keep us warm in a car in the snow.” 

Loki stretched out his hand, helping you get your feet back on the ground. You felt dizzy after your stitches and the no doubt centuries old whisky Loki had conjured for you, but he held your arm politely while he walked you over to a picnic bench. 

“Settle here and all will be revealed.” 

He allowed himself a smile and, unbidden, you smiled too. It was hard to remain angry when this was all you’d wanted for so long, this adventure into the unknown was exactly what you’d been missing. 

Loki ruffled his hair again in thought before pushing the long, icy strands away from his face. He examined the car, then pushed the rear seats down flat. With a hum they fell forwards, creating a wide flat platform. He pulled at another lever and the carpeted floor flipped over, revealing a padded mattress beneath. 

You laughed in shock, what funny contraptions these Midgardians had. Loki allowed his smile to linger, listening to the tinkle of your laugh in the quiet woodland, it echoed and returned to you both ten fold until you were both laughing. He pulled again and a second mattress appeared so that the entire back of the car was now a bed. 

He shut the door to conserve the heat inside and used the step at the side of the car to reach into the roof box, pulling out a metal box. 

“That’s quite the trick, Loki.” You conceded, still smiling at the simple joy of it. To hide a bed inside a vehicle, you couldn’t help another giggle. 

“Well, it comes in very handy when I find myself stranded in the wilderness,” he winked, opening the tin box and extracting an odd metal item, cups, a small pan and what looked like powdered food. 

“What’s that?” You wrinkled your nose as he flicked something on the side, pumping a few times and then allowing a spark of magic to dance across the circular top. Fire erupted from between the spokes of the circle and you jumped backwards in shock before bursting out into another uncontrollable laugh. “Loki! What is that?!” 

“It’s a camping stove, I thought we could make hot chocolates.” He looked over shyly now, a peace offering. 

“That doesn’t look like chocolate,” you picked up one of the brown packets, on the front was a picture of a steaming mug, but inside was definitely powder and not solid chocolate. 

“It’s a sort of powdered drink, I need to get some water.” 

“Not cream?” 

“That would spoil the fun, would it not?” He grinned, pouring water into the pan from his canteen. 

As he worked you wound your jacket tighter around yourself, wondering if your nose was frozen or if it was normal to not be able to feel it. After a few minutes he lifted the pan from the odd round fire and poured the contents into the enamel mugs, handing one to you. 

Warily you sniffed it and then took a tentative sip, it was fine, you supposed, “it tastes nicer with cream.” 

Loki’s smile turned indulgent and, in a swirl of green, a silver bowl appeared settled in the snow atop the picnic bench, laden with heavy, whipped cream. Delighted you spooned out a generous helping and stirred it into your drink. Sipping it slowly before turning your eyes back to Loki. 

He looked resplendent in the moonlight, snow glittering over his night black clothes, the sweater only accentuating his broad shoulders and lean waist. You longed to wrap your arms around him and press yourself into his embrace, to feel as close as you once had. Everything felt different now, you had spent so much time apart that the idle games of your shared youth were just a distant memory. 

“We should get back in the car.” He announced. Now that he’d accomplished all the practical tasks that he could think of to help you, he found himself lost for words. Your admission that he had left you, failed you, somehow was a deep and painful wound. He hadn’t intended to leave and never return, he had always meant to stay and yet some force always dragged him away. It had even dragged him here. Loki had been distraught when he realised you were not on the transport out of Asgard, only reassured by Valkyrie’s insistence that you were safe, travelling. 

“I’m going to put my boots by the seats, so we don’t get snow in the beds.” 

Loki didn’t look around as you made your way slowly back to the car, politely angling his head away so that he didn’t see you slide out of your wet clothes either.

“You can enter.” You called, now wrapped in the thick sleeping bag that lined the mattresses. 

Loki opted for magic to create his own privacy, his black sweater and jeans vanishing in favour of black sweat pants and a long green t-shirt. You smiled again, so Midgardian, he looked nothing  like the swaggering prince you knew, always bedecked in silk and sumptuous fabrics. He looked, normal. 

“Do I have chocolate on my face?” He asked, climbing into his own sleeping bag.

“No, it’s nothing.” You sighed and, with a flicker, the cabin light went out plunging you into darkness. 

In the vastness of the night, cold fingers sought your own, the fingertips pressing into your palm. 

“I truly did not mean to leave Asgard for so long.” Loki whispered, “it was a fate not of my own making.” 

You sighed, rolling onto your back and away from his hand. “I believe you.” Focussing on your tired limbs you attempted to sleep, closing your eyes and exchanging one darkness for another. But sleep refused to take you, dangling you on the precipice of unconsciousness, only to remind you of all that you had lost, before you could plunge into oblivion. You woke again, your heart in your throat, your stomach in knots, and Loki lay beside you. 

His features were relaxed, his breathing even, the lines of his cheekbones looked softer, somehow, now that his lips were partially open. The temperature must have cooled, for each breath was like a will-o-the-wisp, dancing from between his plush lips and fogging the windows. How you wished you could join him in sleep again, you couldn’t remember when your dreams had taken you, but the moon had moved around the car so sleep must have found you somehow. 

Betrayed by your own hands you reached out for him, touching his arm with a single finger, just to make sure he was still there. 

“If you are cold, vennen, you have only to say.” His voice startled you, your hand jumping back as if burnt. 

“I - I didn't mean to.”

Eyes still closed, lashes brushing his cheeks, he held his hand out and you took it. Snow had covered the little glass window in the roof of the car, so you could no longer see the stars. All was gone, yet Loki lay here with you, his fingers laced with your own. 

“I did not wish to cause you pain, truly, it was not your doing nor did you deserve to suffer because of it.” 

“I know, Loki.” 

“Will you let me make it better for you?” 

You turned to meet his ice blue eyes, still sparkling, filmed with tears he was too scared to shed. 

“There is nothing to be done to bring Asgard back.” 

“I am aware,” he smiled, “but I wish to heal you nevertheless.” 

“You have stitched me, that is all that can be done.” 

“Vennen,” you looked at him again, his face serious, “let me heal this between us.” 

You stared back, confused, and then his free hand reached out and cupped your bruised cheek and that was all you saw before his lips were on yours. 

Loki tasted like expensive whisky and dark chocolate, his lips like velvet, warm and soft as they brushed against your own. You fit together so perfectly that you couldn't help but roll closer, pressing a hand to his chest and feeling the warmth of his heart beat beneath. 

But then the stitches over your ribs pulled, your hiss of pain swallowed by Loki's protective kiss. With gentle hands he rolled your back, hovering over you and blotting out the darkness with his smile. 

“If you hurt yourself more, I shall have to continue to heal you.” His lips skated over yours, so tantalisingly close. 

“Then I suppose I’ll need to crash my ship again,” you smiled up at him, your Loki, and for the first time since you’d landed you didn’t feel the pain or the cold or the fear of a new place. Only Loki’s lips on yours and the knowledge that he would never leave you again. 

The title is from Shakespeare's Sonnet 97:

How like a winter hath my absence been From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen! What old December’s bareness every where! And yet this time removed was summer’s time, The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the prime, Like widow’d wombs after their lords’ decease: Yet this abundant issue seem’d to me But hope of orphans and unfather’d fruit; For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, And, thou away, the very birds are mute; Or, if they sing, ’tis with so dull a cheer That leaves look pale, dreading the winter’s near.

[earl-grey-teacake]

Baby!Oscar + Carlando snippet

I have neglected them long enough in my Baby!Loscar AU!

Oscar is about 7 months in this.

Pancakes

Oscar loved solid food. He loved mashed-up sweet potatoes and pasta and everything that Carlos made for him. That also included these warm, squishy brown cakes put in front of him.

"Here you go, Oscar. These are pancakes."

They smelled really good and sweet. They also felt squishy like some of the toys he had. Immediately, he grabbed a of chunk of pancakes and shoved it into his mouth. It was like the first time Uncle Daniel gave him chocolate. With the fervor of a starving man, Oscar shoved more of the cakes into his mouth until the 2 squishy treats were off the plate.

"Uhhhh!" He wanted more.

"Oh, you really liked them didn't you?" Lando laughed, reaching over to wipe his mouth.

However, like an addict, Oscar reached over and took a fistful of pancakes from Lando's plate and shoved it in his mouth.

"Hey, that's mine!"

****

Battery

Carlos's phone-0%

Carlos's iPad- 0%

Lando phone- 0%

Lando's iPad- 0%

Oscar stared at the black screen and the empty battery sign flashing in his face.

"Oscar, you have to let them charge." Carlos tried to coax Oscar away from the charging station.

"uhhhhhh!" Oscar, however, only flailed his arms and legs.

It was his time to talk to Logan. The rule was after lunch, he would take his afternoon nap and once he woke up, he could Facetime Logan. However, his parents got carried away with work so by the time he woke up, everything was out of battery.

"Oscar, they won't charge if you stare at them," Carlos said, carrying the baby away from the wires and wall sockets.

"Lo! Lo!" Oscar reached out and cried.

“I know, I know,” Carlos patted him on the back to comfort him. “Dad and I messed up. We’re very sorry. After they’re charged, you can talk to Oscar, okay?”

****

Stuffed Animal ext.

Oscar wanted to cry. He clung tightly to the wet, brown bear with the blue ribbon tied around its neck. He was practically laying on top of it so Carlos wouldn't take it away.

"Oscar, it's very dirty. We have to wash it." Carlos spoke firmly on the matter.

"Come on, Oscar. We'll give it back right away." Lando said, trying to roll Oscar over so they could get the toy.

No, Oscar could not give it to them. This was Logan's bear and he gave it to Oscar. Oscar had to protect it so Logan could come back.

That reason was sadly not shared by his parents who wrangled the bear from his grip and tossed it in the washing machine.

"WAHHHH!" Oscar yelled as he saw the machine fill up with water and the bear float amongst the soapy bubbles. Oscar stayed there, watching through the glass for the water to drain and for him to get the bear back.

"Oh, is it done?" Carlos walked over and gently picked Oscar up and opened the door.

Oscar reached his hands out for the sopping-wet bear only to have it pulled away from him and tossed in the dryer.

“AHHHH!”

****

All Together

Oscar’s crib was in his parent’s room at the end of the wall. They had tried to have a separate nursery for him but the constant waking up and the anxiety of having their child in another room all alone was too much for their anxiety. Usually, Oscar was great at sleeping, he loved sleeping. You could lay him down, turn off the lights and he would be knocked out in less than 10 minutes. Today seemed to be an exception since it was two hours past his bedtime and Carlos was still unable to put him down for bed. He was relentless in his refusal to sleep and Carlos was running out of options. He was also starting to get very tired due to an early morning.

“Please, baby. What do you want?” Carlos pleaded as Oscar crawled around on the bed and settled on Lando’s pillow.

“Do you want Lando? Do you want Dad here?” Carlos asked as Oscar hugged the pillow tightly before rolling over and laughing.

“Come on, let’s go get your dad.” Carlos picked Oscar up and walked over to Lando’s office where the sound of yelling and laughter could be heard through the door.

Oscar loved his dad’s office. There was so much cool stuff in it and he loved pretending to drive on the sim even if he was too little to actually use it. Lando opened the door and poked his head out, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Oscar wants you to go to bed. He won’t sleep without you.”

“Aww, Oscar. Did you miss me?” Lando cooed, carefully angling his head so Oscar did not appear on the camera. He was always careful about how and when Oscar would show up on his stream. “I’ll wrap it up and go to bed in 5 minutes, okay Osc?” Lando tickled him under his chin, causing him to squirm and turn his head away.

****

Night Driving

Oscar, despite his pickiness and his very early dislike of Carlos, actually liked Carlos. In fact, Lando would argue Carlos was the favorite right now since any attempt to put Oscar down to sleep was met by incredibly loud wailing. Thankfully the apartment had thick walls or else the neighbors would be complaining. Still, it was 1:00 AM and Lando desperately wanted to go to bed. Oscar, however, couldn’t care less what his dad wanted and was more focused on showing off his lung capacity.

“Please, Oscar.” Lando wanted to cry. He wanted to go to bed and nothing he was doing was soothing his poor baby.

“WAHHHH!” Oscar wanted both his dad’s in the room. That was how things always were. Both of them would kiss him good night, tell him they loved him, and then go to bed. However, Carlos was in Maranello which means no good night kiss for Oscar and no “I love you”. How else was Oscar supposed to react knowing that his Papa didn’t love him?

“Okay, let’s try this.” Lando looked up from his phone and grabbed a thick blanket, wrapping Oscar in it.

Oscar looked around confused as they made their way to the parking garage and got into Lando’s car. Lando placed Oscar in the car seat and placed the blanket on him. Oscar was less than pleased. He went from crying over Carlos not being here to being put into a car seat. He hated the car seat.

“Wahhh!”

“I know. I know, baby but trust me.” Lando started the car and pulled out of the garage, traversing along the dark, empty street of Monaco where their only companions were the street lights and the stars above. Lando didn’t know how long he drove but at some point, the crying quieted down and by the time he pulled back to the garage, Oscar was completely knocked out.

"You like the car, huh?" Lando laughed softly as he carried Oscar back to the apartment. "That's good. You're just like your dads."

****

Cheerleader

Lando was training with Jon when Oscar crawled in. He had woken up from his nap on the play mat and crawled over to see what his dad was doing.

“Oh, hi Oscar,” Jon greeted the baby. Oscar wandered in like he owned the place and plopped himself in front of Lando, who was in the middle of doing a set of push-ups.

“Ba! Ba! Ba!” Oscar clapped as Lando finished a set.

“Aw, look you have your own cheerleader.” Jon laughed as Lando lay on the floor exhausted.

“Hi Oscar, did you have a good nap?” Oscar smiled and reached over to pat Lando on the head.

“Aw, look at how encouraging he is. Come on, you can finish two more sets.”

Lando, however, only rolled on his back and groaned. “Ugh! I’m tired.”

Oscar, however, was having none of it and clapped his hands again. He came for a show. He wanted to see his dad do all these cool things Oscar couldn’t do. “Bah! Bah!”

"You want to help?" Lando grabbed his baby and laid Oscar on his chest and started to lift him up in the air.

"Just two sets of this right?" Lando asked as Oscar squealed in delight.

****

If you want more of the little snippets or just want the full story of the snippet, feel free to ask!!! 🥰

[milflewis]

@hypersoft-fest week 2: cowboy romance & sci-fi

Lewis Hamilton/Sebastian Vettel, 1k, stuck together

FADE IN:

INT. CANTINA – OUTER RIM – NIGHT  

WE OPEN on a cantina, on the planet, SELVERA, known for around the solar year brutal storms and endless oceans. The structure is precarious, built on wooden stilts in the middle of the sea. The walls shake and shudder with the waves.

The air is thick with saltwater and spice smoke. The room is dimly lit. Most of the tables are occupied.

The door flies open, banging the wall, and SEBASTIAN (20), smiling, steps in. His boots leave wet footprints as he walks up to the bar. Not even his scuffed hat could keep the rain off his face.

SEBASTIAN

Hearthbrew. Thank you.

JENSON (29), flashy, laughs from across the room. His blond hair is cut close to his skull.

JENSON

You even old enough to smell that, mate?

A few laugh around the room. Most don’t bother looking up from their drinks.

SEBASTIAN

We friends, mate?

JENSON

Hmm, don’t think so. I’d ask if you’d like to be but teenagers aren’t really our speed.

SEBASTIAN

(laughing)

I’m twenty!

LEWIS (24), steady, leans back in his chair. His arm brushes against JENSON’s. There is a long white scar curling around his left eye and down his cheek.

LEWIS

Jense. Leave him be.

JENSON settles, tipping SEBASTIAN a wink. The blasters on their hips are military grade. This does not escape SEBASTIAN’s notice. Nor do the matching prancing horse matches sewn on the upper arms of their damp coats.

SEBASTIAN takes his drink. It already begins to warm his fingers. He knows that horse. The entire galaxy knows that animal.

CUT TO:

INT. CANTINA - TIMESKIP – THREE HOURS

It is noticeably emptier. The storm is still raging outside. SEBASTIAN has finished his drink, and two others, along with a bowl of stew. He heads for the door.

JENSON

(waving a pack of battered cards)

Care for a game, mate?

SEBASTIAN turns back around. LEWIS says nothing, watching. The rings on his hands gleam with every flash of lightning.

SEBASTIAN

Just one.

JENSON

Of course, wouldn’t want you to miss your bedtime, now, would we?

LEWIS rolls his eyes, smiling. SEBASTIAN wonders what his laugh sounds like.

CUT TO:

EXT. SPACEPORT – BRAXIS – DUSK – FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

BRAXIS is a near barren planet, with rocky mountains and a surface burnt by long ago warfare. The local spaceport is an overcrowded sprawling complex, every terminal full with loading vessels and starships. Because of its position on the nebulous border between the INNER and OUTER RIM, it is commonly used by smugglers.

Alarms break through the night, followed quickly by shouting and yelling. Patrols of armed guards are seen running through the streets as a fire in the distance grows steadily. The dark sky stretches on.

CUT TO:

INT. SPACEPORT STORAGE ROOM – BRAXIS – DUSK

LEWIS, worn, frustrated, sits slumped on the floor, back to the wall. There is no longer a patch on the sleeve of his jacket. SEBASTIAN, older, frantic, is crouched by the door’s terminal, tapping at the screen.

SEBASTIAN

Fucking hate – what ever happened to normal locks, for the life of me, I don’t know –

LEWIS opens his eyes. He says nothing.

The terminal sparks warningly. SEBASTIAN flinches away and sighs. He sprawls against the opposite wall, needing a break. Silence hangs between them.

SEBASTIAN

I saw you out there, before – um. I saw you. You’re still flying that old ship of yours?

LEWIS

(shrugs)

BONO is reliable.

He does not need to say the words: unlike you.

SEBASTIAN

Yeah. Honestly, I didn’t expect to ever see you again. Let alone on Braxis of all places. Thought you were done with this life?

LEWIS

I was, yeah. I am. Still wanted though, aren’t I? Can’t do places that ask too many questions, or even ones that ask just the one. BONO needed some repairs that I had to dock her for, so. Here I am.

SEBASTIAN

Here you are.

LEWIS

No, just, no. Don’t start.

SEBASTIAN

I didn’t even say –

LEWIS

Don’t even try that – you know – just. Stop. I’m fine, okay? I am doing fine. I just want to be left alone, okay, so. Stop.

LEWIS sets his jaw. SEBASTIAN doesn’t let himself look away this time. He wants to bring up JENSON, who never would’ve left LEWIS alone. He also knows it would mean LEWIS would be lost to him forever.

SEBASTIAN

(soft)

I understand that, I do. And I didn’t mean to – I don’t mean to drag you back into anything. I, uh, I’d say ‘I promise’ but that’d require you trusting me and. Yeah. I know. I’m, I’m just sorry, Lewis. I’m sorry.

LEWIS’s eyes are dark.

LEWIS

(tired)

I know.

SEBASTIAN fidgets with the ends of his sleeves.

SEBASTIAN

You know, I’m thinking of maybe getting out of the game too.

LEWIS has an incredulous look on his face. He exaggerates looking around their cramped situation, alarms muffled but audible still ringing outside.

SEBASTIAN

I said I’m thinking about it!

LEWIS

Right. You’d be bored shitless, man.

SEBASTIAN

I would not.

LEWIS

I’d give you a month. Two max.

SEBASTIAN kicks LEWIS lightly in the foot.

SEBASTIAN

I’d give myself at least seven. It takes a while to set up a farm, you know.

LEWIS bursts out laughing. SEBASTIAN’s fingers are all warm and itchy. He feels fifteen years younger.

LEWIS

A farm?

SEBASTIAN

Well, I’ll need something to do, wouldn’t I? And I like animals.

LEWIS

 Mhmm, sure.

SEBASTIAN

I do!

The terminal hums suddenly, blinking green, and the door unlatches. LEWIS and SEBASTIAN sit very still, listening for the alarms outside that have fallen silent. They are left watching each other watch each other.

LEWIS

(getting to his feet)

See you around.

SEBASTIAN has never had to be the one watching LEWIS leave before.

SEBASTIAN

I miss you.

It isn’t a lie. It also isn’t fair. LEWIS lets SEBASTIAN get away with it. He always does.

LEWIS

Let me know how that farm of yours turn out. If you want.

SEBASTIAN

I will.

[olivish]

DAY, EXT. in the gently thawing woods outside Kier DEVON: Can you -- this birthing cabin, you can take us there, right? So we can talk to his innie? COBEL: Not yet. Even under the cover of dark, it's perilous. We wait for night.

2 hOuRs LaTeR...

DEVON hugs her whipping jacket as she studies the treeline, looking for nothing in particular. MARK leans against the car, fists in his pockets, scuffing his boot into the mud underfoot, each swipe digging the hole a bit deeper. COBEL watches the road like a sentry, unmoved and unmoving. She may or may not have blinked in the past two hours. With a heavy sigh, DEVON checks her watch. She's so fucking hungry. She goes to her car and rummages in the glovebox for a granola bar, but all she finds are wrappers. DEVON: Fuck. MARK rotates his head a few degrees, squinting at his sister through the hair in his eyes. DEVON: How far back was that gas station? Was it... it after the turn for Kiercrest, right? MARK: Why? DEVON: I think I'm gonna get a sandwich. MARK: A gas station sandwich. Wow. Are you like, suicidal, or... DEVON: No more suicidal than the guy with a freshly drilled hole in his head. Did she even Spackle over it, or... MARK: Still healthier than a gas station sandwich. COBEL (nearly inaudible): I have quiche. The siblings Scout turn to COBEL. Did she just speak? DEVON: Sorry, what? COBEL shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Her lips barely move as she repeats,

COBEL: I have quiche. MARK: Yeah, quiche. Okay. Well, if it's even half as bad as your revolting cookies, MRS SELVIG-- COBEL: I didn't make the quiche. My boyfriend did. DEVON: I'm sorry, wait-- MARK: Now I've heard everything. DEVON: You have a boyfriend? MARK: She's making it up. She told me she had a dead husband building her a house in the afterlife. Never saw those blueprints, by the way. COBEL: My boyfriend is a real person. He owns a diner and he sent me off with a quiche. For my journeys. DEVON and MARK exchange a look. COBEL's eyes narrow into slits as she trudges to the truck to get the quiche, in an aluminum pie plate, covered with cling wrap. The cling wrap blows off in the wind. COBEL pretends not to notice the plastic float away as she marches back through the snow and presents incontrovertible proof of her boyfriend's existence to the unbelievers.

DEVON: Wow, that looks... um, you ate half already? COBEL: It's from the diner. It's a popular item. MARK: Oh, so your boyfriend gave you half a quiche. Is that right? Wow, congratulations, he must really love you so much. DEVON: Mark, don't be an asshole. MARK: I'm not being an asshole, I'm just getting the latest story straight. Her boyfriend gave her half a quiche from his diner at like, nine in the morning, which, by the way, means it's leftovers... DEVON, to COBEL: I'm sorry. MARK: And everyone knows eggs travel super well, so giving them to her for her journeys was an incredibly thoughtful gesture from her boyfriend. Sounds like soulmates to me. COBEL, quiche in hand, advances steadily on Mark, her gaze trained on him like a laser-guided missile. MARK's mocking grin fades as confusion sets in, then something approaching fear as he stumbles back a step.

COBEL: And then Imogene gaveth Kier a bounty eggs for his journeys, so he would know neither hunger of flesh nor of spirit, and by her eggs he knew her love, and would eat no other eggs but hers thereafter. MARK's mouth falls open but no sound comes out. COBEL flashes a dominating smile. She walks back to her truck, pausing at the door to wrestle a fork from depths of her coat pocket. She wipes the fork clean of lint before she eats alone in the truck with the door closed. DEVON gives MARK a disapproving glare. MARK: Seriously? You're on her side? DEVON: She was gonna share that. MARK: The bounty of diner guy's holy eggs? Not likely. Devon shakes her head and goes back to staring at trees. Mark reclaims his post by the side of the car, kicking his boot into his mud groove. DEVON: You think he's hot? MARK: Who? DEVON: Cobel's boyfriend. MARK: Jesus Christ. DEVON looks back to the truck where COBEL is eating, menacingly. DEVON: Because I can't picture her with someone not hot.

[creepinonmen]

Screenplay: "The Silent Haul"

FADE IN:

EXT. COUNTRY ROAD - DAY

A desolate stretch of rural highway winds through rolling fields, the sky cloaked in heavy, gray clouds. A delivery truck sits crookedly on the shoulder, its hazard lights flickering weakly. The crunch of gravel announces the arrival of two police cruisers, their lights flashing silently. OFFICER JENKINS (mid-30s, stern) and OFFICER MALLOY (late 20s, eager) emerge, hands hovering near their holsters.

OFFICER JENKINS (adjusting his cap) Looks abandoned. Let’s check it out.

They approach with caution, peering through the tinted windows of the cab. No movement. Malloy taps the truck with his flashlight.

OFFICER MALLOY No sign of life. Door’s unlocked.

Jenkins nods, and Malloy swings the driver’s side door open. A stale mix of coffee and leather wafts out. The officers share a tense glance before stepping inside.

INT. TRUCK CAB - CONTINUOUS

The cab is a mess—crumpled fast-food wrappers, a spilled energy drink can, and a faint smear of grime on the dashboard. A tattered curtain separates the cab from the sleeper area. Jenkins pulls it back, revealing a horrifying sight.

CLOSE-UP: TRUCK SLEEPER

The truck driver, a young man in his early twenties, lies in a grotesque tableau across the sleeper bunk. His plaid shirt is ripped open, buttons scattered, exposing a pale, sweat-slicked chest marred with angry red rope burns that spiral across his torso and arms. His pants are yanked down to his ankles, tangled in a heap, revealing thighs streaked with dirt and shallow cuts, as if he’d thrashed against his bindings. Thick, coarse ropes bind his wrists behind his back, the fibers embedded in his flesh, and his ankles are lashed together so tightly that the skin around them is purple and swollen. A gag—torn fabric from his own shirt—chokes his mouth, soaked with saliva and stained with blood.

His face is a mask of violent death. Bloodshot eyes, their whites a chaotic web of burst capillaries, bulge from their sockets, wide and unseeing, the irises clouded with a milky film. His tongue protrudes grotesquely, swollen and blackened at the tip, jutting past cracked lips that are crusted with dried blood and foam. Dark, finger-shaped bruises encircle his throat, the skin torn in places where the strangulation was relentless, leaving a raw, glistening wound. His cheeks are flushed an unnatural purple, veins bulging beneath the surface, and a trickle of blood has dried from his nose, painting a stark line down his chin. His head lolls to one side, hair matted with sweat and grime, resting against the bunk in a final, pitiful slump.

OFFICER JENKINS (voice low, horrified) God almighty… Call it in. We’ve got a homicide.

Malloy stumbles back, fumbling with his radio, his breath uneven as he reports the scene. Jenkins steps closer, his boots crunching on a scattered pile of change. A crumpled McDonald’s receipt lies near the driver’s bound hands, smeared with a rusty stain.

OFFICER MALLOY (into radio) Dispatch, this is Unit 12. We’ve got a 187—male, early twenties, found strangled in a delivery truck off Route 17. Requesting CSI and coroner immediately.

Jenkins pulls out a notepad, sketching the grim details. The driver’s boots, scuffed and caked with mud, lie upended near the bunk, one sole worn through as if he’d kicked futilely. The air hangs heavy, broken only by the static of Malloy’s radio.

OFFICER JENKINS (to himself) Who did this to you, kid? And why out here?

CUT TO:

EXT. TRUCK - MOMENTS LATER

Additional police vehicles roll up, their lights casting jagged reflections on the truck’s chrome. Detectives emerge, and the area is sealed with yellow tape. Jenkins stands by the cab, staring through the window at the young driver’s ravaged face, his expression a mix of resolve and disgust.

DETECTIVE HARRIS (approaching) Any witnesses? Footprints?

OFFICER JENKINS Nothing yet. Just him and this nightmare. Looks personal—brutal.

Harris peers inside, his jaw tightening. The camera zooms in on the driver’s face—those bloodshot, lifeless eyes, the protruding tongue, the brutal marks of his end etched in every detail.

DETECTIVE HARRIS Let’s canvass the area. Someone had to see this.

The officers fan out, their footsteps fading into the rustling grass as the wind picks up.

FADE OUT.

END SCENE.

NOTES: This revised version adjusts the driver’s age to early twenties and provides a more graphic, detailed description of his body and the scene, emphasizing the violence and desperation of his final moments. The tone remains investigative and tense, leaving room for further narrative development. Let me know if you’d like additional changes!

[enterprisetrampstamp]

everything, everything, everything (will be different)

There were any number of reasons that it should not have been quite so infuriating to play chess against a man who was, for all intents and purposes, himself. First and most obviously was the lack of control of his own emotions; second was that it was illogical to expect himself to fare any better against a man who thought as he thought, but with an additional century of experience and learning to draw upon in the process.

And yet.

Spock made his move, knowing that it would do little to alleviate the pressure of the trap his counterpart was slowly but surely tightening around his king. He had come to the conclusion nearly an hour ago that what he found most frustrating was that while both of them were, of course, more than capable of maintaining conversation while playing three-dimensional chess, it was obvious that his older self's focus was more greatly upon said conversation than upon the chess game, despite how thoroughly he was--to borrow a human phrase--"kicking Spock's ass."

"T'Pring and I ended our association amicably before I left for Starfleet," Spock informed Spock. "I take it this was not so, in your timeline."

"No," Spock agreed, thoughtfully, and he steepled his fingers together in a motion most familiar as he sat back from the gameboard, holding Spock in a considering gaze. "The differences between our experiences continue to grow. I begin to suspect, in fact, that this is not merely a separate timeline but a separate--if closely related--universe."

"Fascinating," Spock said. He meant it.

By the smile in his older self--his alternate self's eyes, he was well aware. "Mm." He sat forward, making his next move, and Spock subsumed a flash of irritation as it cut off his latest escape attempt simply and elegantly. "I confess, I find myself at something of a loss as to how to proceed," the other Spock mused. "The Temporal Prime Directive--yet unadopted in your timeline, and in its infancy even in the world I left--is therefore inapplicable, and yet I still find myself hesitant to offer any knowledge gained through my own experiences. Indeed, such knowledge could prove not only useless but wholly detrimental, as the events I would seek to discuss may or may not ever come to pass."

His voice held a certain wistfullness which Spock at once keenly recognized and could not understand.

"Such is the logic behind even the original Prime Directive," Spock reminded him. "Well intended actions have unexpected consequences."

"And yet," the other Spock said quietly, "I find myself tempted, nonethless. There are things I find that I wish I had known when I was young; things my mother taught me, long after I might have expected to have little need for her wisdom, which I am pained to think you might never have the chance to learn."

They met each others' gaze for a moment. Spock swallowed against the grief which swelled up from his side, and he made his next move upon the chess board.

His alternate self's eyes crinkled again in a smile, bittersweet, and he reached out to make his own move. "Checkmate," he said, and snorted quietly when Spock could not bite back a curse. "Jim was right," he said, with that same wistfulness. "I was a very predictable chess player in my youth."

Spock felt his eyebrow rise of its own volition. "You played chess against Captain Kirk?"

"I lost at chess against Captain Kirk," the other Spock corrected, as he gathered his robes to stand. "Several thousand times, throughout the length of our friendship." Seeing the disbelief in Spock's face, the other Spock's smile grew. "Your Kirk may be younger and more rash than the one I served with, Commander, but you would do well not to underestimate him, either personally or professionally."

"I draw my conclusions from evidence; not bias," Spock countered as he himself rose to his feet and extended his arm for assistance on automatic, as he would have for any Vulcan elder. Still, there was a strange irony in extending such grace towards himself. He folded the feeling away for further analysis at a later date. "You yourself have pointed out the ongoing differences between our life experiences."

Spock inclined his head to acknowledge the point, but his expression was one of indulgence rather than agreement. He did, however, accept Spock's arm. "I shall be most curious to see how this particular experience will develop over time."

"I believe you," Spock said, slightly biting, and his older (alternate) self laughed, shortly and quietly.

"Leonard was also right. I have always been an asshole."

Their gazes met once more, and Spock felt his lips twitch with amusement, though he could not profess to know who this "Leonard" might be. He pressed them together more tightly, despite knowing he was caught just as surely as he had known he would lose their chess match, and led the other Spock to the door of his office.

As the door opened, the muffled noises of Starfleet Academy became clear, including the slightly raised, argumentative pitch of familiar voices.

"--ome on, Bones--"

"Don't you give me that, Jimmy," Doctor McCoy snapped back, and it was only in that moment that that second name his alternate self had mentioned snapped into place in Spock's mind. "These people are idiots," he continued, as Spock pondered the fondness in his own voice at the recollection of being insulted by the Enterprise's cantankerous CMO.

"You think everyone is an idiot," Kirk countered cheerfully, clapping McCoy on the shoulder, and then he spotted the two Spocks, and his eyes went wide--just as quickly, they narrowed, and McCoy turned to see what had caught his attention. (And his ire.)

"Jeez," he said. "Strong family resemblance."

"Yes," the other Spock agreed, squeezing Spock's arm briefly before releasing him. "You might say that."

"Might you," Kirk said, slightly mockingly, as McCoy shot him a strange look and the older Spock veritably radiated amusement.

"Right," McCoy said, slowly. He crossed his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow. "Something going on here?"

"I'm sure Captain Kirk would be happy to explain at a later date," Spock's alternate self proclaimed placidly. "Might you walk with me for a moment, Doctor?" He held out a hand, and McCoy offered his arm as automatically as Spock had, though he paired it with a glance back at Kirk.

"Of course," he said, sounding slightly bemused. "I don't offer medical advice for free, you know," he added, bouncing slightly on his toes, and the other Spock's eyes were soft as he nudged them both into motion.

"All I seek is the company of an old friend made new again," he murmured, likely too quietly for either human to hear, and they left Spock standing there in the hall next to Kirk, the both of them staring at their backs.

"What a manipulative old bastard," Kirk said, sounding almost appreciative. "Who knew you had it in you, Mr. Spock."

Spock looked over to him with a flare of annoyance that he did not bother to subsume. "Captain Kirk," he said, coolly, inclining his head in both greeting and dismissal, and then he turned to re-enter his office.

Kirk leaned around him, curiously peering over his shoulder into the space, and immediately brightened as he spotted the chess set. "I wasn't aware you played," he said.

For a moment they stood there--Spock in the room, still holding the door, and Kirk just on the other side of the threshold, leaning across it.

Spock couldn't be entirely sure what possessed him to say, "Perhaps we will find some opportunity to play once we ship out."

"Perhaps we will," Kirk agreed, and for once he sounded teasing rather than mocking in his imitation of Spock's speech patterns.

[ashton-ryder]

// ext. rooftop - late night. 27th march

@jeremiah-rose

"Told you they're gorgeous now that the city's dead of lights," Ash murmured at a quick glance up to the clear skies, fulfilling a promise he made to Jer a couple of nights ago. The stars filled the sky even with the full moon shining in all its brilliance, as if wishing the other man happy birthday all the same. Still, he couldn't help the nerves of whether he'd even have Jer tonight at all, with other celebrations for him underway and assuming his attention would be elsewhere, Ash was mentally (emotionally?) prepared to not get an answer when he knocked on his door.

Ash took a few steps away from the telescope to sit down by the picnic bench, patting on the space beside him to invite Jer to join, flashing a boyish grin he always had when it came to the stars as he leaned back against the table, "it's a full moon tonight so it's too bright to really see the full extent of it all but, still pretty." Turning his gaze down from the sky to finally face Jer fully, fishing out the sealed bottle of Yamazaki 18 he dug out earlier, "and- this is my absolutely last bottle of whiskey I have." He had said he ran out of his own stash of liquor early on, but this was the one in his drawer locked away from the temptation to ever cave if he was ever in a bad place, ever since he moved here, surprised by his own will power over the years to keep it there. But he pulled this out today, because he felt like he was in a good place, and it seemed like the best way to crack it open - with someone that's been there with him since the start of the bottle's confinement.

"I know it's not the best or most exciting gift you've gotten today but.." Ash chuckled with a weak gesture to the scene in front of them before he handed the bottle to Jer, managing a soft smile and warm words of fondness, "happy birthday."

[wordsofmaeve]

Twilight Fanfic Comic: Darkest Before Dawn Welcome to the silly story I started as a writing exercise that evolved into a full-fledged fanfiction complete with poorly drawn storyboarding. If you like this, you can read more on AO3 :)

--------------------- Scene One: How you liking the rain, girl?

BELLA

Voice over

Because I could not stop for Death – He kindly stopped for me – The Carriage held but just Ourselves – And Immortality.

MUSIC STARTS AS THE SCENE FADES INTO VIEW, CLASSIC TWILIGHT BLUE FILTER WORKING HARD.

The camera pans through a mostly empty airport. there's a booth that has washington-themed shirts and keychains, with a sign that says "welcome to port angeles" in faded print. we can see it's raining in the windows as we go down a hallway, following a slender woman who is struggling to pull her big suitcase and put her jacket on at the same time. her suitcase has several cactus stickers as well as some band logos, a uoa sticker, and a book related sticker.

She is pretty, though not overly groomed, with long hair and big doe eyes. She's wearing over-the-ear headphones, and we can hear the music she's listening to. Her shirt a loose-fitting button-up, and she's wearing high-top sneakers.

The woman comes to the exit doors that say, "NO RE-ENTRY BEYOND THIS POINT," and she pauses for a moment to take a deep breath. Her expression is clearly anxious, but she smiles just before she opens the door and strides through, removing her headphones. Music fades away.

Rain pours down outside, but we see a tall man waiting nearby with a large umbrella. He's wearing a police jacket and a nervous smile.

CHARLIE

Hey Bells.

He steps forward, and the two of them try to hug, but it's a bit awkward and ends in a side hug from Charlie.

BELLA

Hey, Dad.

CHARLIE

Let's get you out of the rain. Is that all your luggage? (he carefully holds the umbrella over her head and begins leading her toward the police car parked a ways off)

Charlie has a slow, deliberate way of speaking that draws the audience in easily. Bella nods and gets into the car as Charlie loads her bag and shakes out the umbrella. They drive away from the airport, and we see a sweeping view of the Washington coast: tall, moss-covered trees, thick mist, a winding highway, and a grey ocean in the distance.

Back in the car, there's silence as Bella looks out the window, and Charlie looks from the road to her, obviously trying to decide what to say. They pass a road sign that says: "Welcome to Forks, Washington! Population: 3,385"

CHARLIE

So how have things been since graduation? Your mom made it sounds like you've been pretty busy.

BELLA

Yeah, you know, applying for masters programs and such. Trying to finish my book. (She looks a little uncomfortable)

CHARLIE

Spend much time with Nico?

BELLA

(glances at Charlie and then back out the window) We broke up.

CHARLIE

Oh. Well, I... never liked him very much anyway. (There's silence for a moment as Charlie looks anxiously between Bella and the road) About your car--

CUT TO: OVERHEAD SHOT OF THE POLICE CAR ON THE HIGHWAY

EXT. THE HIGHWAY SURROUNDED BY FOREST ON BOTH SIDES

The camera follows the car as it drives, though we can still hear the conversation in the car. As they drive the camera pans out and we see a flash of movement along the highway.

BELLA

Oh, I brought my savings, so I should be able to get something. Hopefully soon.

CHARLIE

Well, I, uh. Now, I know it's not what we talked about, but I found a good deal, and Billy said he and Jake would fix it up, so you don't need to worry about it.

BACK TO: CAR INTERIOR

INT. POLICE CAR

BELLA

Oh, you found me a car to buy?

CHARLIE

N-no. I bought you a car.

BELLA

(happily surprised) Really?

CHARLIE

I hope that's alright. You can use your savings to buy a few more cold-weather clothes. Your suitcase was suspiciously light—didn't Renee say she'd help you go shopping?

BELLA

You know Mom, ha. (She smiles, obviously not bothered by her mother's antics.) Thanks, Dad.

CUT TO: THE EXTERIOR OF THE SWAN RESIDENCE

The car pulls up to a small white and grey home that's surrounded by forest. Charlie gets out and goes to grab Bella's suitcase while she climes out of the car.

Bella looks around with a resigned sigh when something in the woods catches her eye. It's a flash of white and then it's gone, similar to what had flashed by while they drove.

BELLA

(Startled) Hey, Dad?

CHARLIE

(Unlocking the front door) Yeah, Bells?

BELLA

(Trying to peer into the woods but determines there's nothing there-- at least anymore) Ah, nothing, sorry.

[femmeleatherface]

poto 1925 shooting script: daroga highlights

the daroga apparently has been inside erik's house before, and is very familiar with where he keeps his things:

[416.] INT CORRIDOR BACK OF MIRROR... FAINT GREEN Raoul and the Persian are discovered back of mirror. The Persian motions Raoul to do exactly as he tells him. He pantomimes to Raoul to hold up his hand, Raoul is mystified as to the reason for this but obeys. The Persian tells Raoul hurriedly: "I HAVE BEEN TO THIS HOME ON THE LAKE BEFORE, BUT NOT BY THIS ROAD... AND THIS IS THE ONLY ROAD TONIGHT."

[448.] INT TORTURE CHAMBER... FAINT GREEN Raoul is crying out - wild inarticulate things to Christine - The Persian grasps him by the wrist and sternly indicates for him to keep quiet. The Persian addresses himself toward the overhead window: "WE ARE IN THE TORTURE CHAMBER. THE DOOR IS IN THE WALL FROM WHICH OUR VOICES COME."

[454.] INT. TORTURE CHAMBER FAINT GREEN The Persian is listening to Christine quietly. At the same time he is forcing Raoul to be quiet. The Persian tells Christine: "THE KEYS ARE IN A CHAMOIS BAG HANGING NEAR THE ENTRANCE DOOR."

the daroga is an aloof but kind person who cares about other human beings even if he's mysterious about it:

130-N ANOTHER SECTION OF CELLAR #6 (ROI DE LAHORE SET) As the Persian now wearing his astrachan cap comes toward camera. 130-O SEMI C.V. OF GROUP.. AS IN 30-M As the Persian comes up - a strong contrast in his dress clothes, he sees the tragedy - then shakes his head sadly and says: "POOR DEVIL - HE MUST HAVE OFFENDED THE OPERA GHOST!" BACK: Everyone recoils in horror and dismay - the Persian lets out a deep sigh and exits - they all look after him curiously.

[171.] C.V. IN UPPER BOX The man is mysterious. He is the Persian. He looks down on the scene of the tragedy. [172.] SHOOTING DOWN FROM BOX ON SCENE OF TRAGEDY This is a flash on the Persian as he sees it from box. [172A.] C.V. IN UPPER BOX The Persian shakes his head gravely at what he sees. Then he turns and exits from box.

262. INT. DRESSING ROOM. CORRIDOR TOWARD STAGE As Raoul enters in a blind, jealous anger. At that moment the Persian comes by ext of the cellar. The two almost collide, then stop and look at each other. [263.] MED CLOSE UP RAOUL & PERSIAN AMBER The two men stop and look at each other, just for an instant, one look, but in that look the Persian expresses a friendly compassion for Raoul. The Persian then passes on toward the stage; Raoul looks after him. It strikes Raoul with sudden force that perhaps this Persian is Christine's Angel of Music. Raoul shows his suspicions and again turns toward Christine's dressing room.

[413.] INT. CHRISTINE'S DRESSING ROOM AMBER Raoul enters and finds the room empty. Raoul is filled with oaths and insults. He pounds upon the mirror with his hand, as if he were challenging the phantom behind it. The Persian enters swiftly and closes the door but does not lock it. From this moment the Persian takes command. His movements are definite and direct. He indicates in an authoritative way for Raoul to calm himself and tells him: "I CAN HELP YOU SAVE CHRISTINE DAAE FROM ERICK... IF YOU'LL DO EXACTLY AS I SAY." BACK: The Persian faces Raoul in a manner deliberate and cold though not unfriendly -- Raoul is displeased by his interruption and he says angrily: "WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ERICK?" BACK: The Persian commands Raoul with his eyes and there is a pause. He tells him coldly and without excitement: "I AM THE PERSIAN... ONCE HIS FRIEND. YOU'LL REALIZE HER DANGER WHEN I TELL YOU SHE'S IN THE HANDS OF A DANGEROUS MANIAC WHO ESCAPED FROM A PARIS ASYLUM!"

the daroga is the smartest, most prepared, and most competent person around him at all times:

hands. They enter and Raoul follows the Persian to a little cupboard fastened to the wall. The cupboard contains an emergency outfit consisting of a dark lantern, a hatchet, an ax, a saw and a coil of rope. The cupboard door is removed by the Persian who takes the lantern and lights it.

[519.] A LONGER SHOT FAINT GREEN The Persian pulls the bung stopper of his barrel and the same black powder flows into his hand. He looks at the material in horror, empties it out of his hand and removes the lantern to a safe distance. He then tells Raoul with dread: "IT IS GUNPOWDER!" BACK: Raoul is bewildered but the Persian flies into action.

[532.] INT BOTTOM CELLAR FAINT GREEN CLOSE UP RAOUL AND THE PERSIAN UNDER TRAP A new thought suddenly forces itself upon the Persian and he cries upward with great force: "DON'T TOUCH THE SCORPION!"

he apparently has a mysterious source of income that is never explained, probably because it was cut from the earlier draft that explained his backstory (also, he originally had a proper full introduction):

91. MED. SHOT ON SECOND LANDING OF GRAND STAIRCASE The eyes of all the promenaders suddenly focus on the Persian who comes down a flight of stairs to the landing where he stops and looks about casually. NARRATION A MYSTERIOUS CHARACTER WAS THE PERSIAN A REGULAR PATRON OF THE OPERA AND ALWAYS ALONE, WHOSE SOURCE OF INCOME WAS AS MUCH OF AN ENIGMA AS THE MAN HIMSELF. [92.] C.V. OF THE PERSIAN This is a character study of a strange type - he wears a dress suit and carries an astrachan cap. He has olive skin, appears greatly interested in his surroundings but never smiles.

this part:

[341.] MED C.V. IN CROWD As Florine lands on the floor- he picks himself up--- his dignity has suffered, he will have revenge--- he draws his sword and taking off his mask challenges him to come out and fight like a man. He fights the air with his sword... at that instant a man costumed as a jester steps up and taps Florine's shoulder. As Florine turns, the jester takes of his mask revealing the funeral face of the Persian, who in a hushed voice of horror indicates "Do you know what this is?" Florine is very sober. He answers "No Sir." The hushed voice tells him: "THAT WAS THE OPERA GHOST!"

[allmoshnobrain]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 35 of 35 | masterpost

word count: 2599 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

✦ on this chapter: james hetfield x female!oc, dave mustaine x female!oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, romance, a happy ending of sorts

✧ I'm alright here in your arms, darlin' ✧

The weekend zipped by, and before I knew it, Monday had arrived again. Going back to Long Beach and parting ways with Cliff and the boys could've made me a bit sad, but the silver lining was that they were gearing up to pay me a visit soon; everyone was planning to catch my play the next weekend, and to top it off, of course they’d invited me to visit them in Denmark during the new album recordings. 

I'd likely be tied up for a bit, getting my ducks in a row for the start of my art studies, but I'd given my word to James I'd come hang out with them for at least a week. As soon as those words slipped out, he showered me with fiery kisses, his hands all over my body, gently urging me with his touch to change my mind and stick around just a little bit longer than planned.

I snuffed out my cigarette on the balcony rail the moment I spotted my dad's Mercedes rolling down the street. James let out a low whistle, clearly impressed by the sight, his hand wrapped around my waist.

"So, on top of the badass bike, you roll in this sweet ride too?" he inquired, and I chuckled.

"Dad's wheels, James. He doesn’t even let me near it ever since I totaled the last one."

Dad pulled up to the curb, and there was Mom, chilling shotgun, arm out the window with a cigarette in hand. He honked, and I hunched down to grab my backpack with a sigh. Quick goodbyes to Cliff, Lars, and Kirk followed before I turned to James.

"See you next week," I grinned, and James strolled over, snagging my waist before planting a long kiss on my mouth, making me blush like crazy. "James! My parents are watching!"

"So what?" he laughed, then dropped another soft kiss on my lips, saying, "Catch you next week, Nore. I'll miss you."

I let out a big sigh, my face on fire as I made my way to the car, yanking open the back door and dodging Dad's curious look in the rearview mirror.

"Oh God," Mom groaned dramatically, taking a slow drag of her cig, eyes locked on James, who was flashing a smile, chilling against the balcony railing. "It's always the long-haired ones, isn't it?"

I ignored her, cheeks still burning, and stared out the window as Dad revved up the car, leaving my friends behind.

"We've got one last thing to handle in San Francisco before we head home, Ellie," Dad chimed in all cheerful. "Hope you don’t mind coming with us."

I blinked, intrigued, and gave a nod. We cruised around the city for a bit until we hit a cute street with a bunch of wooden townhouses. Dad pulled up in front of one, and we hopped out. He fished out a key, popped the door open, and we stepped into an empty space.

I furrowed my brow, kinda puzzled, but tagged along as Mom and Dad showed me the place, enthusiastically talking about how good the neighborhood was. The house was indeed beautiful, with a big backyard, a tiny pool out back with a BBQ spot, three bedrooms and two baths upstairs, and downstairs, two living rooms, a bath and a big kitchen, along with a garage and a basement.

"So?" my dad asked after we wrapped up the tour. "Decent house, right?"

"A bit basic, but I guess it'll work," my mom threw in.

"Work for what?" I chimed in, now seriously puzzled. She huffed, and Dad shot me a grin.

"For you, obviously! You're coming back to San Francisco soon, right?" He reached out, handing me the keys. "It's yours."

"Dad… What do you mean, it's mine?" I blurted out, surprise heavy in my voice. "You're not telling me you guys..."

"We bought the house, of course," my mom replied, and I widened my eyes. "I think it'll be a good starting point for you, don't you think? Much better than that little apartment you had in LA."

"But this... Mom! " I blurted out, panicking at my parents' extravagance. "It's too big! What am I supposed to do with all this space?"

"Oh, we thought you could share it with Cliff and your friends," Dad chimed in, like it was the most obvious thing. "There's enough room for everyone, don't you think?"

I blinked, perplexed, staring at the keys Dad had handed me. Things are changing at warp speed for us, Nore. Cliff's words seemed to echo in my mind, and I realized they were true. Life had flipped upside down in the past year, big time. What was waiting for me in the future? Where was I headed? I had no clue.

But for the first time in forever, I wasn't scared to find out.

"Oh, right!" Dad smiled. "We had the basement soundproofed. It'll be great for the band’s rehearsals, don't you think?"

I just stared at him for a second, then out of nowhere, walked up and hugged him. Dad chuckled, looking a bit surprised but didn't miss a beat returning the hug. When I pulled away, Mom was watching us with a rare little smile on her lips.

"You've grown a lot, Ellie," my dad smiled.

"We're proud of you," my mom added, softly.

If this was a dream, I sure didn't want anyone waking me up.

Backstage at the theater, the usual chaos would get my nerves going, especially for a play I hadn't drilled as much as I probably should've. But weirdly, not this time. When the big day rolled in, a serene calm took over. Maybe it was the joint some of the crew had passed around before we kicked off play prep, or maybe I was just pumped as hell about reuniting with James, Cliff, Lars, Kirk, and Leanne real soon.

"Nore, you look beautiful!" Charlotte beamed, grabbing my hands, and I couldn't help but notice that the same was true for her as well; she had on the play's costume – a gorgeous green dress making her eyes pop, curly brown hair all braided and falling down her right shoulder, shiny makeup adorning her face.

I hadn't checked myself out in the mirror yet, but I knew I'd be rocking something similar – a bomb short shiny blue dress, my hair done up in a fancy bun with a few strands casually framing my face.

"I'm seriously over the moon that everything fell into place. Thanks a bunch, really," she said with genuine warmth. I couldn't help but grin, seeing how pumped Charlie was, understanding this meant the world to her.

"Hey, you'd do the same for me, right?" I tossed back, and she flashed a smile. "Feeling the nerves?"

"Oh, you've got no clue!" she burst out. "I'm gonna need another one of those joints the second we step off that stage."

"I'm down. Just hit me up, and we'll blaze together," I teased, throwing a wink her way. She cracked up, loud and free.

The play kicked off real quick, the lights in the theater dimming, the chaos backstage and the audience hushing up as the first beats of the musical soundtrack kicked in. I hung behind the curtain, catching Charlotte's opening monologue, biding my time for the cue to hit the stage.

Once I stepped out there, all my worries, pains, and nerves just melted away like pure magic.

I had always loved visual arts, but theater always had its own sweet spot in my heart too. The crazy rehearsals that used to be part of my life in High School had done more than just boost my confidence; they’d helped me make friends and fill the void Cliff left when he moved to another city. Rehearsing for a play was fun, but nothing beat that kickass feeling coursing through me when I owned the stage, knowing all the hard work had paid off.

When my bit wrapped up, I risked a peek at the crowd on my way out. A faint grin hit my lips when I spotted Cliff, Leanne, Lars, Kirk, James, and even Mom and Dad in the second row. I locked eyes with Cliff for a moment, and he smiled, the pride shining in his eyes warming my heart with happiness.

I popped up a few more times during the play, but the real star of the show was Charlotte. She hit us all in the feels with her performance, bringing most of the crowd to tears by the end of her story. When the crew gathered on stage for the applause, I noticed that even my mom seemed moved, a gorgeous smile on her face that made her look years younger.

I always figured I took after my dad more, but right then, seeing my mom genuinely happy and touched, it hit me like a ton of bricks that, shockingly, we looked way more alike than I’d ever let myself admit.

The scene after the play was a total whirlwind; we were all throwing hellos, hugs, and compliments around, and Charlotte was practically buzzing with joy at every little pat on the back for her killer performance. Later on, we ditched the fancy gear and chipped in with the stage crew, sorting out whatever needed sorting. It took me almost an hour to finally wiggle my way out from backstage, and there they all were: my friends and my parents, patiently waiting for me. I let out a soft chuckle when Cliff snagged me into a hug. 

"You killed it," he whispered, grinning. "So damn proud of you, Nore."

Once all the hugs and grins were done, it was party time. Charlotte was set to hang with the cast, but Leanne, the guys, and I had our own shindig by the pool lined up. Dad was on chauffeur duty, driving Mom, Leanne and me home. Cliff would roll in after, bringing James, Lars, and Kirk along for the ride.

"Well, shall we go then? I asked Alice to get the heated pool ready for you, and the coolers are already stocked with drinks," my dad tossed out, looking as excited as I was.

"Heated pool ," James teased, whispering in my ear, his arm pulling me in close. "What's next? You gonna tell me you're secretly royalty?"

"Are you intimidated, by any chance?" I quipped, arching an eyebrow. He grinned, planting a light kiss on my cheek.

"By you? Never," he shot back, and I gave him a playful shove. That just made him laugh.

Leanne and I got home first. Quick pit stop in the bathroom to slap on our swimsuits, and then, we were both pool-ready. When we hit the pool deck, Cliff, James, Lars, and Kirk had just arrived. I couldn't help but grin at the sight – Kirk and Lars had gone all in, cannonballing into the pool with their clothes on, splashing everyone in sight. They were all laughs, not a care in the world. James, shirtless, was whipping up a couple of drinks and talking with Cliff, who was already puffing away on a cigarette. Leanne and I strolled up, and she wrapped her arms around Cliff, planting a kiss on his cheek.

"I'm itching to dive into that pool," Leanne chirped, all hyped, and Cliff flashed a smile. "Ready to make a splash?"

Off they went, leaving me to lean on the table, checking out James finishing up the drinks.

"I tried whipping up a Cosmopolitan," he spilled, handing one over with a grin. "Not sure it's a masterpiece, though. I'm clueless about these fancy drinks, but I wanted to impress my girl. Figured you deserved it."

My girl. I blushed at his words, my heart doing somersaults, a goofy grin spreading across my face. I took the drink, had a sip, and crinkled my nose – tasted like a bit too much vodka, truth be told.

"It's basically a Vodkapolitan," I quipped, and he cracked up. "But hey, you know you don't need fancy drinks to impress me, right?"

"So, what do I need, then?" he asked, sliding in closer with a grin, hand resting on the small of my back. I shot him a smile.

"Not much. You're already rocking it, Hetfield."

He burst into a big laugh, wrapping his arms around my waist and planting a sweet kiss on my shoulder.

"How's your heart doing?" he asked. "Still missing Dave?"

I could read between the lines of his question. Do you still love him? Do you still want to be with him? Can I surrender to what I’m feeling? Can I hope you feel the same?

"Yeah," I sighed. No point in hiding that. No point in pretending. If there was one thing I’d figured out in the past year, it was that sweeping feelings under the rug and dodging the tough talks just lead to trouble. "I don't know if I'll ever stop missing him, James. And I need to find him. You understand that?"

"Absolutely," he said, grabbing my hand, our fingers weaving together.

"But I love you too," I said, and he flashed a soft smile. "And honestly, I'm done wrestling with that."

"Well, I love you right back," he grinned, his arms wrapped around my waist. I rested my hands on his chest, our foreheads touching. "Just gotta remember what Cliff told me and I’ll be okay."

"What?" I chuckled. "What's the Cliff wisdom?"

"That if I ever hurt you, he'd land a swift kick to my balls," he spilled, and I cracked up, throwing my head back. I sighed happily as he leaned in, planting a gentle kiss on my neck. "But, for the record, I have zero plans of hurting you. You know that, yeah?"

"Appreciate the thoughtfulness," I shot back with a smile, and he burst into laughter.

Later, when we were all a bit tipsy and wiped out, we ended up talking and laughing together over some brews. I smiled fondly, soaking in the sight; Lars and Kirk passing a smoke between them, still chilling in the pool with their arms draped over the edge. Cliff posted up in a chair, Leanne casually braiding a lock of his hair, perched on his lap while he slung an arm around her waist, nursing a half-empty beer. And James, right next to me, his hand resting on my waist, dropping lazy kisses on my neck when he thought no one would see.

It was perfect.

Finally, after all those months, I felt whole.

I wasn't the same girl who’d hopped on a bus to San Francisco that winter of '83. Life had tossed me around, and I’d come out the other side a different breed. I knew I would always love Dave, that I wouldn't rest until I found him, until I explained everything, until I knew he knew the truth, the depth of my love for him. I knew I would never stop missing him.

But there was also James. And James loved me. Where would that road lead? Man, it was a whole new territory, nothing like what I felt for Dave. Yet, I wasn’t afraid, 'cause I had James in my corner. My friends were there, Cliff too. Hell, even my parents were trying to be nice to me this time, and I appreciated it more than I could say.

Change was blowing in the wind. Everything felt fresh, but guess what? This time, I wasn't sad, scared, or angry.

Everything was perfect.

And I was happy.

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777 @whatsupvic @70srogah @genswine9 @twice360noscope

✦ a/n: James and Nore had their happy ending, but what will happen when Dave comes back into Nore's life? You guys will know all about this in the epilogue, I promise!

I just gotta say, it means the world to me that I managed to finish this whole story, and I'm beyond grateful for all the love and support from everyone who's been following along. I'm so, so thankful from the bottom of my heart for all the nice comments and interactions and I really hope you've enjoyed following Nore's journey as much as I loved writing it ❤

About the epilogue, I had to split it into more than one part, because I didn't want to rush anything or leave anything unanswered. It turned out way bigger than I imagined it would 😭 And I'm not done writing it yet, but it's all planned so I know it's gonna be either.... 5 or 6 parts.... I'm really sorry for being such a verbose writer, it's more of a small sequel at this point lol

I will take a short break from posting this Monday and will start posting the epilogue next Friday, hopefully keeping the same posting schedule unless I get too busy to write or post on time.

Big thanks to everyone who stuck with the story this far! Hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. See you next Friday! ❤🌸💗💖✨