#torn sway bar end links

[hometowne-auto-repair-and-tire]

Sway bar end links are torn and cracking on a Lexus.

By replacing them soon, we can avoid more damage.

Worn sway bar end links can cause knocking or rattling noises.

[delusionalvenusian]

The Long Con, Pt. 2

Pairing: Max Burnett x Fem!Reader (no use of y/n, reader has nickname "Doe," can be read as just an OC)

Summary: Max, having parted ways with Madeline, still can't let go of his lust for a lavish life. He now finds himself at upscale hotel bars scouting out wealthy widows and divorcees to bed and steal from to keep afloat while he cooks up his first big solo con. What seems like a business-as-usual one night stand could just end up being his perfect long con. Or hers. Link to Part One.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut (but there is a plot in there), oral (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v, no kiss sex, mentions of somnophilia, swearing, hair pulling, drinking, kinda subby Max, kinda subby reader/OC, Max and reader are both assholes

Word count: ~4.6k

a/n: Nothing like taking almost two years to post an update! This has been in the works since I posted part one, I just got lost in the weeds of it and didn't know how to pare it down or split it up, blah blah blah. I'm trying to do it in a way that's cohesive (duh), but also in a way that any readers that want the smutty fun without delving too much into characters or relationship building can hopefully enjoy, too. I'm also torn on the ending, so I'll likely be posting two or three alternates (two not-so-happy, one at least happy-ish? Stayed tuned, choose your own adventure!). Thank you so much for reading and for holding out for more!

_________________________

Doe awoke late that morning to the sounds of the bustling city below, blinking the sleep from her eyes and taking in her surroundings. She chuckled softly at the realization that she was currently curled up on the hard bedroom floor next to Max, engulfed in the puffy duvet he’d pulled from the bed above, both still naked from their predawn tryst.

The duvet shifted with her as she slowly sat up, revealing Max’s sculpted form. She hadn’t really had the opportunity thus far to fully appreciate the man’s beauty—she’d been far too busy plotting, pleasuring and being pleasured to take him in—so, there in the warm glow of the sun-filled room, she admired him as he slept. She concluded with some amusement that, when his defenses were down like this, he actually looked kind of angelic. She continued her scan down his body, focusing on the muscles of his torso, noting how rigid they appeared on his thin frame. Finally, she paused to marvel at his stiff erection, curious if it stood firm purely from blood flow or from dreamy memories of his ravishing her on the floor before they’d passed out together in their heap of down blankets and pillows. He was long and perfectly thick with an impressive power vein, and so damn pretty. Doe felt the overwhelming urge to take him fully in her mouth at the sight—a covert somnophiliac. 

Feeling Doe’s lingering gaze on him, Max stirred awake. He searched the room, recalling now where he was and what had transpired in the last 12 hours, and met her stare as she tore her wanting eyes from his cock. He sleepily noted to himself that the stunning woman’s eyes were, in fact, deer like. With a deceptive innocence to boot. “Morning,” he rasped out.

The gravel in his sleepy voice made Doe’s core flutter. “Good morning.”

Max stretched as he sat up, grumbling slightly at the full-body stiffness from hours on the floor. “What time is it,” he inquired.

“Quarter after ten,” Doe said. She sprang to her feet suddenly in all her nude glory, stepping gracefully over Max and their makeshift nest. She glided toward the en suite bathroom door, sure to make a show of the sultry sway of her hips as Max observed her every move. “I need a shower. Feel free to help yourself to whatever you want,” she said flirtatiously over her shoulder.

Much to Doe’s disappointment, Max had opted not to join her, instead treating himself to room service breakfast. She scoffed loudly as she entered the main living area of the penthouse and found him mid bite, the meal half eaten by now. “Max, you can’t fill up on that! Now you won’t be hungry for brunch.”

“What brunch,” he asked. 

Doe plopped down next to him on the plush sofa. “The brunch I’m setting up to introduce you to my father.”

“You said nothing about a brunch. I don’t do ‘brunch.’” 

“Look at us, completely skipping the honeymoon phase and going straight to shitty communication,” she said sarcastically, playfully nudging his shoulder with her own. “Lunch, then? That’s better, actually. That’ll give us a little time to get our story together and fix… this.” She gestured languidly toward him.

Max furrowed his brow at her, offended by her insinuation that anything about him required fixing. “What do you mean, ‘this?’”

“I’m sorry,” Doe said sincerely. “You’re practically perfect, it’s just—you cannot wear polyester to meet my dad, he will sniff out the bullshit before we even get a chance to sit down. And the watch—"

“The watch works every time,” he said defensively.

Doe laughed. “Well, it won’t work this time. That is the most embarrassingly fake Submariner I’ve ever seen. I’m almost offended you thought I’d think it was real at the bar.”

“You did think it was real at the bar,” Max insisted, defensively covering the cheap knock off on his wrist.

“No, I let you think I thought it was real,” Doe corrected. “You needed to impress me, and I needed you to think I was impressed—we played each other, remember?”

Max sighed in exasperation, his ego still slightly bruised from falling for her game despite all that was ultimately in it for him. “Fine, I’ll lose the fucking watch.”

“Good boy,” Doe teased, pecking his cheek. “So good, in fact, that we’ll just pop in to Bucherer on 57th and get you a real one. Problem solved.” Max turned to her suddenly, nearly giving himself whiplash. “What? We can go to Wempe instead if you prefer.”

“No—stop fucking talking. I don’t care about—that’s a $10,000 watch.” Max trailed off, shaking his head out of both excitement and revulsion. He wanted to be part of this disgustingly monied world just as desperately as he wanted to destroy those in it.

“Exactly. Pocket change,” Doe said, ignoring his demand of her silence. “Daddy doesn’t even notice when I charge anything under $30k. The last time I was on his radar was when I gifted myself a Birkin two years ago, it’s fine.” She carded her fingers through the hair at the back of his scalp, delicately scratching, watching Max close his eyes and nearly purr in response. “We just have to make you look the part and he’ll be none the wiser. The faster we win him over, the sooner we both have what we want.”

Max nodded, more in acknowledgment of her words than agreement. He hadn’t yet decided if he wanted to play fair. Here he was, so close to more money than he knew what to do with, and with the added opportunity to have even more than what was promised to him if he ultimately decided to fuck Doe over. If she followed through with even half her end of the bargain. After being continuously deceived by Madeline, then humiliated by Sandra turning the tricks he’d so carefully taught her back on him, he wasn’t so sure. In the meantime, he’d keep playing the part and let Doe think she had control. He had no real affection for her—merely attraction to her—so what did he have to lose?

Thinking she remained safely at the helm, Doe rose from the couch with a satisfied smile. “I’ll go finish getting ready and make the call,” she said. “It’s too quiet in here. Hey, Siri! Play Suga Mama by Beyoncé!” She laughed playfully and left Max to the rest of his meal as the sound system cranked the opening guitar licks.

____________

Max’s fresh suits and Rolex secured, he and Doe now sat in the back of her hired car as it weaved through the city traffic. Doe’s father declared himself far too busy for lunch but had agreed to dinner later that evening. On the bright side, this gave Max and Doe extra time to even out the fine details of their foolproof whirlwind fairytale romance. 

“Now, let’s go over this again, but this time like you really mean it,” Doe commanded, straightening up in the leather bench seat. “How did we meet?”

Max had allowed Doe to think she was coaching him as they created their story. He had revealed to her nothing of his life as a career conman, or anything else for that matter, so she assumed he was simply a desperate smalltime thief that she’d caught in the act of something she could use against him for leverage. Every so often during their brainstorming he’d redirect her to a more solid and believable point, but did so in a way that seemed chance rather than professional. With the overarching plot agreed upon, they were now in the rehearsal stage of production.

“Paris, two months ago. I was leaving Les Deux Magots after lunch on my last day in the city and I spotted you across the street at Café de Flore,” he said, his facial expression effortlessly softening to one of wistfulness and romance, as if he could see it all unfolding in front of him. A natural thespian. “Literally stopped me in my tracks—I didn’t have any time to come up with anything cool or charming to say before all the Parisians starting yelling at me, ‘Allez! Allez enfoiré!’” he said animatedly, adding a jovial laugh for effect. “All the commotion caught your attention and you looked at me,” he suddenly took hold of Doe’s chin between his thumb and forefinger and peered at her with his intensely blue eyes, “and you smiled at me. I’m not sure how I even got to your table, because I don’t remember my legs carrying me there, I just… found myself in the seat across from you.” 

Doe nodded, entranced by his performance and piercing gaze. “Go on,” she whispered almost soundlessly. 

He planted a featherlight peck on her lips and continued. “I didn’t even introduce myself or ask for your name. Just stupidly asked if you’d like to spend the afternoon with me.” He paused, waiting for Doe to pick up her part. He smirked as she wordlessly continued to stare up into his eyes, absorbed completely in his portrayal of her devoted lover. “Your turn, Doe,” he coaxed.

“Right,” she said with a sharp inhale, pulling her face back to create space between them to bring herself back to the present. “Right, sorry. Yes, you asked me to spend the afternoon with you and I didn’t question it—I mean, who would question the most gorgeous man just striding right up in the most romantic city in the world and taking charge like that? And we just walked and talked until sunset, when we realized you were about to miss your flight.” she embellished, hoping she was even a fraction as believable in her delivery as Max. “What brought you to Paris?”

“Pleasure. Nothing like Paris in May,” he said plainly.

“Good,” Doe affirmed as the car crept to a halt in front of their destination, bringing her fully back to reality and into the stress she'd been trying to manage all day. “And leave it at that— he’ll have no further interest in your trip and won’t respect you for being overly forthcoming about it.” She slid out of the car as her doorman opened her door for her.

Max rolled his eyes as he followed suit. “I get it, he’s a fucking asshole.”

“A narcissistic fucking asshole,” Doe corrected. “Curtis, would you please have our things sent up to my room?”

The elderly doorman agreed without hesitation, and Max tried to hide his amusement at Doe’s lack of self-awareness. Daddy’s a narcissistic fucking asshole, and you require the hired help to have your fake boyfriend’s suits sent to your private penthouse suite.

“What?” Doe snapped when they silently reached the elevator and the doors closed, reading the look on Max’s face. “You want them to drag through the lobby? Wrinkle? They’re Prada.” 

“Didn’t say a word.”

Doe huffed. “Whatever. You’ll thank me when the wire transfer goes through.”

___________

In the privacy of the penthouse, suits safely delivered, Max could feel Doe’s tension filling the air as she paced room to room trying to busy herself. She’d rearranged the new suits in her closet several times over, changed out of her clothes into a silk robe, found little things to tidy up while she mumbled to no one about how inept the housekeeping staff was. There were still hours to kill before dinner and he knew he that if he let her continue to stew uncontrolled that she’d call it off, or, perhaps worse, blow the whole operation right there at the dinner table. There’d be no coming back from a scene like that. He had to calm her down, for his own sake. 

On her next entry into the living room, Max put on the charm. “Doe,” he called to her sweetly. “Why don’t you come sit? You seem tense.”

“Do I?” She asked sarcastically.

Max fought his initial urge to snipe back at her, but kept hold of his composure. “C’mon, baby. How ‘bout I make you a drink? Double vodka tonic? You just go sit and I’ll bring it to you, okay?”

She complied with a resigned sigh, too easily softened by the way him calling her baby hit her ears— and her core. “Belvedere. Extra lime.”

Max returned quickly with her drink, not forgetting to take advantage of Doe’s top shelf whiskey for himself. He took a swill before setting down his glass and stepping behind where she stiffly sat, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders and gently rubbing. Doe moaned in response, stretching her neck left and right to find more relief. “So tight. That feel good?” Max purred in her ear as he continued to massage the knots along her shoulders.

Doe nodded as she sipped her drink and relaxed further into Max’s touch. The alcohol, Max’s sticky sweet voice and his deft fingers at work together had her whole body loosening and wanting. “’S nice.”

Max watched below, smiling to himself when Doe practically squirmed in her seat, clearly effected just as he intended. “Good girl,” he praised, laying it on extra thick, drawing another moan from Doe. Right in the daddy issues. “Just relax, let me take care of you.” 

She wanted to, deep down. To just relax and be taken care of. But all she could think about was him. Imagining he was as aroused as she in this moment. Imagining herself wordlessly reaching behind her to palm him through his new designer trousers, hearing his delicious grunts of pleasure. Unzipping his fly and freeing his stiffness. Pumping his pretty cock while he tries to focus on working her shoulders. Another soft moan, more squirming as she ached for friction below.

“That the spot?” Max asked, increasing pressure where he kneaded.

Doe shook her head. “Lower.”

Max’s fingers descended slightly along her upper back. “Here?” 

She moaned, but shook her head again. 

“How ‘bout here?”

Another head shake.

“That’s as low as I can go from this position, baby,” he cooed, lips right on the shell of her ear. He knew exactly what he was doing. He let up on the pressure as he ghosted his hands over her shoulders to run them down her chest under her robe, but Doe quickly stood before he could reach beyond her collarbone.

In a swift motion, she untied the thin robe and let it fall to the floor. She gave no explanation as she walked to her bedroom, stopping in the doorway briefly to shoot Max a beckoning glance. He smirked, enjoying the view as he followed behind her. 

The scene that greeted him when he entered was debauched and it froze him on the spot. Doe was already lying prone on the large bed, ass poked up, glistening pussy in view. She turned to look over her shoulder at him, her expression full of feigned innocence. “I don’t think you can reach me from all the way over there. Don’t you want to take care of me?”

Max bit down hard on his bottom lip as he approached her in an attempt to exercise restraint. He was dangerously close to losing the upper hand he felt he’d had at the start of this little mission of his. He reached the bed, stopping right behind Doe, and began to hitch a leg to climb onto the bed and straddle her upper thighs.

Doe glanced over her shoulder again in time to catch him. “Ah ah ah, no outside clothes on my clean bedding. Besides, those pants are looking awfully tight now. We wouldn’t want them ruined, would we?”

Max lightly swatted Doe’s perky cheek, eliciting an excited gasp. “No, I don’t suppose we would.” He stripped fully and took his straddle position over her. He leaned over her, his hands finding her back again and rubbing lower passed her shoulder blades than had been possible before. His dick slid easily between her wet folds, the tip pressing perfectly against her swollen clit. He heard her curse breathily and returned her fake chasteness, kneading the space on her back a bit harder and bumping her clit slightly. “That’s the spot, huh?” Doe nodded and wiggled her ass against him in response, teasing Max and herself simultaneously. Another hit to his composure. He kept the rhythm of his hands as he worked and kneaded lower and lower toward her round, enticing bottom, making sure to accidentally rub against her mound along the way. By the time his hands reached the dimples in her back, she was positively soaked. “This too low, baby?”

“No,” Doe practically whimpered. “God, no.” She propped herself up on her elbows to lock eyes with Max. “Go lower.”

He almost felt bad teasing her like this when he saw just how blown out her pupils were, but he couldn’t help himself. “Lower?” He raised his brows questioningly as he palmed her ass and nudged her clit again. 

“Fuck,” she cried, his hands just inches away from where she wanted him. “Please, lower.”

Begging.

Max kept his left hand on her ass and traced the other up her spine, settling his fingers in her hair at the base of her scull. He pulled gently, bringing her back toward him as he leaned forward over her body so his lips could brush her ear again. “How ‘bout here?” He asked as his left hand grabbed the expanse of her cheek and the pad of his thumb landed just above her hot, weeping entrance. He abruptly let go of her bum before she could muster a response other than a strangled whine. “’S okay, baby, I know just what you need.”

Doe nodded furiously and shut her eyes in anticipation, sure her torture was over and that he’d be slipping his rock hardness in her with no further delay. He let go of her hair, both hands coming to grasp either side of her waist, and she dipped her head and wriggled her hips slightly higher to give him better leverage. She heard Max chuckle. Then, instead of feeling his entry, she felt the mattress spring up around her as he left the bed. Her eyes shot open in confusion and annoyance. Before she could utter a questioning word, she felt both of his large hands spread her cheeks and folds, and his tongue slowly tracing her needy core from her clit up to her waiting hole. 

His pace picked up, drawing animalistic noises from Doe as he skillfully ate her from behind. Her body quaked and trembled before him and his cock grew almost painfully hard at the thought of how many times he could get her to cum in this position. He gave her ass an encouraging squeeze and settled his mouth over her sensitive bundle and sucked, grazing the edges feather light with his teeth. She was in pieces in seconds. 

“Fuck, yes!” Doe yelped. “Just like that, Max. Don’t stop— don’t fucking stop, please.” 

He wouldn’t. 

“So fucking good. You’re gonna make me cum, baby, please,” she babbled as she grabbed at the bedding underneath her. 

He hummed as he nursed her clit then, basking in her enthusiastic praise. In control or not, he was so turned on he just wanted to be good for her.

The vibration of Max’s pleasure sent her over the edge. Her words, if they even were words, became unintelligible as she lost all control. Max didn’t let up, drawing out her orgasm for her as long as she could, and when she was nothing but a panting mess, he still didn’t stop. Just one more, he thought, giving her ass another playful knead.

He gave her sensitive bundle a momentary break, moving his attention to her dripping hole. He prodded and lapped expertly, tasting the evidence of just how fucking good he was making Doe feel. As her sounds began to intensify again, he torturously slowed his pace. He maintained a leisurely speed until Doe had seemingly adjusted, then raised his intensity again. 

“I— I’m—“ she sputtered, trying to formulate words coherently.

“One more, baby,” Max said, verbally demanding but mentally pleading. “You’re such a good fucking girl, I know you can give me one more.” He dove back in when she didn’t protest. His tongue moved more erratically, but no less dexterously, as he brought her back higher and higher, closer and closer to her peak.

“Max— fuck—yes—“ she gasped in clipped fashion, unable to say more as she rode her second orgasm. 

Max reveled in his ability to reduce her to a babbling, trembling mess with such ease. When she seemed fully spent, he released her and demanded no more. He slowly rose, reclaiming his previous mounted position, softly caressing the flesh of her still lifted bottom. “Was that low enough?” He teased, falling back into their previous banter.

With all of the energy she had left, Doe propped herself up on her elbows again and met his gaze over her shoulder. She was finished being playful. “Fuck me. Now.”

Max’s dick twitched at her command and he happily followed it. He sank in effortlessly, her heat so slick and ready to take him. They both cursed out loud as he filled her. “Fuck. So wet. This what you wanted?” He asked, pulling her hair with a gentle force to demand her attention. “Tell me, baby.”

“Yes,” Doe keened as Max set his rhythm. “Yes— needed you so bad.”

The obscene sounds of Max diving in and out of her wetness and her expressions of need for him were almost too much. “Needed me,” he repeated. “‘M not gonna last if you keep saying shit like that to me.” He tried to slow his thrusts to draw off his imminent orgasm, but Doe wouldn’t have it.

“Harder,” she ordered. Max complied without argument, lasting be damned. He wouldn’t, and she wouldn’t mind. He fucked her hard and fast, pulling her back to his chest by her hair to bring her pleasured chants closer. “So fucking deep. Just like that. Keep fucking me like that.”

“Yes,” Max growled through gritted teeth. “Fucking tell me what to do.”

“Keep going. Just like that—fuck!” She shouted.

He could feel it in his spine creeping faster and faster as he approached his edge. “Feel so fucking good. I’m gonna cum. Tell me where to cum.”

“My back” Doe murmured. “Paint my back, baby.”

Max quickly released his hold on Doe’s hair and wrapped an arm around her waist, gently guiding her back down on the bed beneath them. He sat back up, gripping her hips and drilling in and out of her and taking in the view of her perfect ass jiggling with his final thrusts. He grunted as he pulled out, milking his hot spend over her back as she’d requested. His eyes rolled back in his head as his load kept coming, the feeling of it on her skin drawing sultry, satisfied sounds from Doe beneath him. He groaned loudly with the last drop and rolled next to her, breathing deeply as he came down from his high. 

As Max caught his breath, Doe peered over her shoulder to try and get a look at the fresh made masterpiece on her body. “You’re a very talented artist, but I don’t think I can go to dinner like this.

_____________

Max stared at himself in the full length mirror before him, freshly cleaned up and suited for the big night. Adequately fucked out, he and Doe were both much calmer than they had been hours before. They rehearsed their story again, settled on a simple explanation of how Max came into money that wouldn’t draw suspicion, and went over the highlights of what not to say to Doe’s father. Max’s fears of Doe’s implosion had also mostly subsided. All said, they were about as confident as they’d ever be.  

Doe approached from behind in her getup for the evening— a well-fitted cocktail dress. She looked Max over slowly, soaking in how incredible he looked in his fresh attire. “The tailoring is really doing it for me,” she admitted freely, brushing a phantom lint from his shoulder. “And the watch. Was I right, or was I right?” 

Max studied his reflection closer and smiled. He looked the part, and he fucking loved it. When he was finished looking at himself, his eyes drifted to Doe. His breath hitched slightly in his chest, and he quickly cleared his throat in an attempt to snap the fuck out of it. She had been beautiful and striking every moment since he first looked at her, and even more so once they’d spoken, but something about the way she presented right now made him feel a twinge of something for the first time. “That dress is…” he trailed off, unable to come up with the appropriate adjective.

“Thanks, baby,” she said sweetly, brushing back a few strands of Max’s hair that had fallen out of place, kissing his cheek, and shooting him a wink. “Sorry, I thought we were getting into character. Too much?”

“No, it’s good,” he replied. I think I… like it? He thought. The suite’s phone ringing jolted the thought from his head.

“Shit, that’s the car,” Doe said before moving to pick it up. “Showtime.”

___________

“You. Were. Perfect.” Doe lauded Max’s performance as her driver shut the door behind them, punctuating each syllable.

“You weren’t so bad yourself,” Max assured her, taking her chin and pecking her soft lips. The success of the night had him running on an all time high.

“Hmmmm,” she hummed a bit tipsily with a proud smile. “Say ‘stock options’ again.”

“Stock options,” he whispered into her ear and dipped his head to pepper kisses on her jaw.

Doe moaned, giggling childishly from her own rush. “God, you’re good. That’s not even what we’d rehearsed— ah—“ he ventured lower, nipping and sucking the supple skin of her neck, “but it was even better. You were such a natural— yeah, right there— which I guess should scare me, but it’s so bad and dangerous and sexy.” She felt like she couldn’t stop the words pouring out of her mouth without something else to occupy it, and why wait to reward her oh so deserving partner? Her hands slid from Max’s collar to the buckle of his belt, undoing it and opening his button and fly with impressive speed and grace, then quickly hitting the button to raise the partition. 

Max removed himself from Doe’s neck and helped her free his hardening cock without question. “Get over here,” he insisted as he tugged her delicate frame to bring her into his lap.  

Doe shook her head and shimmied out of his grasp. “No, wait, n-n-no, I want to taste you,” she clarified. “Please? I’ve wanted to all day, then you put on this fucking suit. I told you the tailoring was really doing it for me.”

Max cocked his brow at her. “Thought you were just getting into character?”

She looked down at his dick and back up to his face as she slowly started to lower her head toward his lap. “Please?” She asked again, doe eyes peering into his blown out blues, hands reaching and stroking his upper thighs. “You were so, so good for me.” His cock jumped at her praise. “So pretty,” she cooed. She smiled victoriously when she felt his fingers wind through her hair, gently leading her down the last few inches to take him in her mouth.

Max exhaled a moan, closing his eyes and leaning his head back on the top of the leather bench seat, letting Doe reward him for his performance that evening.

If this was what his new life was going to look like, even just temporarily, he was willing to put on whatever show he had to.

[lethargicsunlight]

Dabi X SpookyQuirk!Reader "Conflagration" (mini) (Part 8)

(See the other parts on my directory! LINK)

It's happening again.

The fire.

Bark on a nearby tree has turned black, crisscrossed with cerulean streaks; like lightning, glowing from within. Embers spit and sizzle, arcing down to the scorched earth from the branches and dancing on the thermal winds that send the blaze into organic, breath-like spirals.

It's loud. You've never heard anything like it. The very air was as though bellowing  with emotion; tearing it molecularly apart to feed a frenzied beast. Between the cacophony and the sapphire hues--you reach for serenity. To pull apart the pain that keeps you tethered, and move past it.

This was your third time visiting this place.

The second had been like the first, stuck and swallowed by the flames and waking up in a cold sweat.

But not this time.

Determined to change the fate of this vision, you let go of trying to struggle and sink into the scenery. It's wretched--the pain insurmountable despite how you remain absolutely lucid as something you can't fathom rakes through your flesh down to the bone. You can see and you can't see all at once.

Your eyes are closed, but you also know what the fire looks like--what the burning foliage looks like. You know there's a stream nearby, even though your body won't move towards it. You know there's someone that was supposed to be here..

But they never came.

It's their fault.

These thoughts aren't yours. These memories aren't yours. Finally everything seems to mount until at a fever pitch, and your essence finally blends in--syncing with the environment and becoming part of it.

Why didn't he come?!

If he had... just this once..!

I could've shown him!

It was a little boy's voice; echoing through the smoke that rose from burning trees and boiling streams. Broken, angry, and sad.

Finally, the world begins fading to black like dropping ink into a glass of water; transparent at first, but then its pitch darkness.

And at the vision's end, all you can feel is cold.

----

This time when you wake up, your body is buzzing. Your arms and chest quake uncontrollably, and you grab for your phone to check the time. It's 2:45 AM. You try to set it down carefully, but instead it clatters unto the wood of the bedside table.

You force yourself to rise and sit at the side of the bed; shaking hands massaging your scalp as you stare at the floor.

This wasn't a coincidence anymore.

At first, you thought this was some subconscious dialogue your own mind wanted to share with you; a warning as you kept finding yourself closer and closer with the League of Villains and Dabi in particular. Seeing as things had turned out, however.. there was no warning that could sway you. Your mind's previous interpretations of 'right' and 'wrong' had evolved, and you could no longer look at the world in the black and white spectrum as it wanted you to.

So why?

You can put two and two together. You were being burned, or rather, whoever you were projecting from had been. And, seeing as how Dabi was littered with burn scars..

It's really amazing you hadn't figured it out till now.

The broken and sad voice of the boy echoes in your mind and it takes a full second to convince yourself that it's not happening again as you fidget, and eventually stand up. There's no way you can go back to sleep now. Instead, you begin to get dressed. You needed to go outside and be somewhere other than this room.

Since you had shared a kiss with the elusive metal firebrand, you had both promised to be more open. Unfortunately though, while you had plenty of confessions for him.. he had little. Not for being secretive, but more because he spent most of his time focused on what needed to be done. He admitted to some personal pleasures, but they were far from anything he 'loved' or 'favored' for more than short-term. Whether that was hobbies or even people. He never kept anyone close, and even the League was often just at arms length.

When it came to his past though, he was always short about his answers and quick to go into his usual manifesto.

"So.." You start, a little awkwardly as the two of you are making headway back towards the base. It has almost felt like a game of twenty questions, as he relinquished to finally asking you about your life and quirk. 'What was it like as a kid?' 'Did you have parents?' 'Was it scary?'

"Those scars..? How did you get them?"

You can see a shift in his posture then, and his eyes narrow as he focuses forward. "Something that happened quite a while ago now. It's a reminder of my purpose.. but it's nothing more important than that."

Your eyebrows dip in, and you know it probably is more important than that, but you don't push. "Oh.."

There's a flash of guilt in his eyes as he recognizes the disappointment in your voice. "It's because of this hero society." He spits the venom laced words, trying to pivot your attention to something else. "They're hypocrites, and they need to be torn down from their shiny pedestals. They think they're invincible because this twisted society protects them.. but we're going to stop that."

He looks at you, eyes hard and hot with malice and determination. "Right..?" He asks you, as though his interpretation of 'we' was actually intended for the two of you alone, rather than the League and its entirety.

"Right."

You're still shaking as you make your way downstairs. You're surprised to find Shigaraki and Kurogiri both there; the latter at the bar and the former with his face lit up by a monitor in the corner.

"Y/n?" It's Kurogiri announcing your presence, fiery yellow eyes unreadable despite the concerned sound in his voice.

"Sorry. Had a hard time sleeping again, I just need some air." You say, making your way towards the exit.

The bell sounds a familiar jingle upon your departure, and you don't notice Shigaraki turning in his chair to stare at the door as it closes.

Kurogiri goes about making you some of that tea he mentioned weeks back, and eventually he brings it out to you; still piping hot and tasting of medicine. It helps, but you never bring yourself to admit to the misty man what you had been dreaming about. You make the excuse that you may have overused your quirk, or weren't used to the extended effects of your new abilities and it affected your sleep. That was good enough for him.

When you return to your room in the hopes of getting the last few hours of rest, you first stand outside of it--wondering if you should take a few steps more down the hall to a certain door. The discovery of your mutual feelings encouraged you--but it was still so new. You feared confronting him about the dreams might turn him away and make him cold again.

Instead you sluggishly return to bed. When chasing sleep didn't work, you grabbed the sketchbook from your bag and used the light on your phone to sketch the fire.

When the image felt empty, you added a silhouette of a boy in pain.

[jamaisjoons]

the summer bucketlist | m.list

When the weather sees the return of sunshine and warmth, the joy and exuberance of summer is revived, and everyone rushes to enjoy the season to the fullest. Bonfire nights with your friends, seeing brilliant firework displays or laying under the stars on a humid night and watching the world go by. Learning to surf, or dive or snorkel or simply collecting seashells along the shore. Late nights at the amusement parks, thrilling roller-coaster rides or spectacular views on the Ferris Wheel. Skinny dipping in a lake after dark, attending a film or music festival, or even just visiting the popup street market in your city. Everything you had been dreaming off since the start of autumn, you can do once again. And who better to do it with, than the boys who bring more joy and warmth to our lives than summer itself?

Welcome to ‘The Summer Bucketlist’ - a writing event/author collab hosted by @jamaisjoons​

The Summer Bucketlist: BTS Edition - is an event in which various different authors can sign up to write a story based on traditional Bucketlist Items. Find their stories below!

⟶ song of the sea; knj ⇥ @jamaisjoons​       ➳ fantasy au. little mermaid au.            ↳   ⎡Take a Trip to the Museum⎦

« Captivated by the sight of you, he can’t help but watch you swim around his home. And when you turn to leave, he doesn’t know what overcomes him - but as if spellbound - he finds himself following you back to land. »

⟶ molotov cocktail; jhs ⇥ @yeoldontknow​      ➳ bartender au. arranged marriage au.           ↳   ⎡Take a Cocktail Class⎦

«  You met him January, on a night when you were newly single and newly wanting to break free from your father’s unyielding control. You left him in January, full of regret but full of purpose. You meet him again in July, and now you want nothing more than to run to the ends of the earth with him, to burn down the shape your life has taken in the hope of making something new. »

⟶ luminous; pjm ⇥ @luffles424​     ➳ summer festival au. tentacle monster au.          ↳   ⎡Watch Fireworks⎦

« The Busan summer festival is your favorite event of the year. You like all the food and things to do, but your favorite part is watching the fireworks at the end of the night, gathered with friends and family. It’s fun and joyous. Except this year you’re spending it without them. So you find a secluded spot on the beach to watch alone. Except... you might not be as alone as you thought you were out here.  »

⟶ sticky situation; kth ⇥ @jiminsfault​     ➳ camping au. established relationship au.          ↳   ⎡Go Camping⎦

« You hate camping, but Taehyung is determined on changing your mind on that. »

⟶ pull me in; jhs ⇥ @guccybangtan​     ➳ established relationship au.          ↳   ⎡Go to a Water Park⎦

« In the heat of the summer, there's nothing more relaxing than relaxing than a nice trip to the water park.  »

⟶ a beautiful epiphany; jjk ⇥ @onherwings​     ➳ friends to lovers au.           ↳   ⎡Join an Art Contest⎦

« Who would have thought that falling in love with your muse could either lead to something beautiful or bring you to your own demise? »

⟶ love grows where you go; myg ⇥ @rookiegukie​    ➳ arranged marriage au. pining au.         ↳   ⎡Watch the Sunset on the Beach⎦

« Determined to make you and Yoongi grow closer for your upcoming wedding in two weeks, your parents plan a trip for the both of you that lasts five days long. You know you should be ecstatic about it, considering your longtime crush on your fiancé, but by how you're positive that he secretly despises your whole being, you don't find this mini vacation with him something to look forward to. That is until things take an unexpected turn and suddenly, he makes it apparent he doesn’t hate you at all as you reckoned.  »

⟶ petrichor; pjm ⇥ @taetaewonderland​    ➳ strangers to lovers au. domestic au.         ↳   ⎡Go on a Picnic⎦

« There are smells in the world that can trigger your brain to think of a memory almost in an instant. »

⟶ sun cockblock; myg ⇥ @cremeandsuga​    ➳ best friends to lovers au. summer au.         ↳   ⎡Join a Sandcastle Building Competition⎦

« Cancún was always a trip to remember - sun, beaches, hookups and day drinking, not to mention the annual sand castle competition you entered with your best friend every year. Yoongi smells like Copper Tone sunblock and heaven. Entering a sandcastle competition with one of the least competitive people in the world was pure agony — but it didn’t dawn to you that your best friend wasn’t competitive because he was confident he would win. Upon your loss, he sees you trying to soothe the burn of it (and the sun) with the beach bartender. He may smell like Copper Tone sunblock and heaven, but he’s sure you feel like heaven.  »

⟶ rejuvenation; myg & jhs ⇥ @caught-in-a-seesaw-stigma​    ➳ spa owners au.         ↳   ⎡Treat Yourself to a Spa Day⎦

« You finally get a break from work and you decide to indulge in a little pampering and self-care. During lunch, your friend slips a card into your hand for an exclusive spa with a special referral discount. How can you resist? Let’s hope the Bangtan Blossoms Spa provides the relaxation & rejuvenation experience you desperately seek. »

⟶ just a taste; kth ⇥ @xjoonchildx​   ➳ pwp au.        ↳   ⎡Go Wine Tasting⎦

« He’s hot. he’s considerate. He’s refusing to make a move. weeks of sexual frustration come to a head at a wine tasting and -- this is going to shock NO ONE -- smut ensues. »

⟶ lollipop; myg ⇥ @ironicarmy​   ➳ neighbours to lovers au.        ↳   ⎡Attempt to make Ice Cream⎦

« It’s a hot summer day, he’s desperate, and your ice lollies taste like heaven.  »

⟶ carnival lights; kth ⇥ @taephilia​   ➳ haunted carnival au. horror au.        ↳   ⎡Visit a Carnival⎦

« With half of your friend group graduated and leaving your hometown to move to the city for work, you and your friends decide to have one last adventure together (in the words of hobi even though it’s only may and you see each other like every day). But things are always different in the nighttime and you never know what’s lurking between the funnel cakes. »

⟶ midnight menagerie; knj ⇥ @jooneggs​  ➳ friends to lovers au.       ↳   ⎡Go to a Botanical Garden⎦

« Like water, cradling your fragile soul, Namjoon has held the lily of your heart all your life and you wish you could let him know just how much that means to you. Coincidentally, it just so happens you can: in a week's time when you're stuck in the holiday of your life at Namjoon's father's Botanical gardens. Will you finally get to repay him in a bed of roses or will he be the one to make the bouquet for you? »

⟶ ferris drink; jhs ⇥ @salvejoon​  ➳ pwp au. established relationship au.       ↳   ⎡Ride a Ferris Wheel⎦

« Your boyfriend has a bucket list of places he wants to do the nasty and next up is a Ferris Wheel. »

⟶ hose wars; ksj & myg ⇥ @babybinnyboy​  ➳ neighbour au.       ↳   ⎡Have a Water Fight⎦

« Spending a summer in a little coastal town was supposed to be relaxing. It wasn't supposed to include a broken AC unit, record break heatwave, a hose, 2 ridiculously confident, attractive neighbors with an annoyingly low fence. »

⟶ cut shot; myg ⇥ @kimtaehyunq​  ➳ vacation au. established relationship au.       ↳   ⎡Learn to Volleyball⎦

« He hates the water, he hates the heat, and he hates the Sun. Any form of physical activity is a big no-no, yet Min Yoongi will go out of his way to show that he loves you on your mini vacation. »

⟶ eternal summer; pjm ⇥ @aiimaginesbts​  ➳ childhood friends to lovers au. vacation au.       ↳   ⎡Go Sightseeing on Vacation⎦

« Breaking up with my boyfriend leaves an empty spot on the overseas vacation that I had been looking forward to for a long time. I’m torn between abandoning the trip or going it solo when someone offers to tag along. However, having Jimin, my best friend go with me may not be the best idea — since my crush on him has never gone away. »

⟶ sway with me; knj & jhs ⇥ @minjoonalist​ ➳ established relationship au.      ↳   ⎡Take a Boat Ride⎦

« You love celebrating your anniversary, it was the only special part about summer that you looked forward to every year- But when your husband Is unable to make the availability due to his job- You thought why not make the best of it? »

⟶ ecstatic shock; jhs ⇥ @iluvstrawberry​ ➳ strangers to lovers au. abo au.      ↳   ⎡Host a BBQ⎦

« The garden party your parents throw every year is coming up. Seeing your conservative parents, is something you definitely don’t want to face on your own. But with all your friends being busy, you’ve decided to accept your fate and drown your sorrows at your favourite bar. Enter: Jung Hoseok, bartender, lifesaver and the most gorgeous guy you’ve ever seen. »

⟶ kaleidoscopic; knj ⇥ @boywivlove​ ➳ established relationship au.     ↳   ⎡Go Paintballing⎦

« You and Namjoon decide to blow off some steam and go to a paint balling range, one multicoloured blitzkrieg later; bruised, sweaty and victorious you celebrate your win. »

⟶ undercurrent; jjk ⇥ @jjungkooksthighs ➳ best friends to lovers au. post college au.     ↳   ⎡Go Diving⎦

« After a year and six months of sea fare and many more nights of sunken eyes that had been dotted with the black shadings of sleeplessness that you’d helped to nurse him because of, the fruits of your best friend’s efforts had earned him the completion of his mission to map the entire eastern seaboard. In all his work, though, Jungkook has not gotten the chance to dive at many of the areas scattered around the ocean in the vastness of the seas. You decide to take him to a previously unmarked, unmapped sector of the sea after following his own nautical charts. The catch is this: you’re afraid of the water. What happens when you find yourself following after him and into the arms of the sea after years of pent up sexual frustration that you blame entirely on him? »

a/n: this is incredibly late but onefgeoingoeitng i hope you enjoy reading all of these works! If you participated in the collab but your fic isn’t on here, it’s because it hasn’t appeared in the tags! please feel free to DM with the link to the fic!!

[takaraphoenix]

My Sanctuary (You're Holy to Me)

Fandom: Shadow and Bone / Grishaverse

Tags: f/f, fluff, awkward courting

Main Pairing: Alina/Inej

Summary: When everything was said and done, Alina and Mal didn't quite know where to go. So why not follow the very pretty assassin and her two friends. Not that Alina had a crush or anything.

Link: On FFNet | On AO3

--

“Wherever you are, whatever you need... My hand is yours.”

Alina was too gay for this. She simply stared with large eyes at the beautiful woman next to her, with the warm, dark eyes and the kind, sweet smile. It wasn't new to Alina that she liked boys and girls; she had had a crush on Genya at the Little Castle and then dating Aleksander... No. Not thinking about that, not thinking about all that had gone done, how things had ended. The pain.

Her mind snapped back into focus. Focusing on the now, on Inej next to her. She was... beautiful and fierce, dangerous and yet soft and merciful. The one who had let Alina get away, when Kaz still seemed very set on capturing her. Inej had saved her life. Like a beautiful woman didn't make her weak enough as it was, but the way Inej looked at her and those words. That downright sounded like a proposal; Alina had heard less romantic proposals before. What was she supposed to say to that? How was she supposed to react to these words, spoken so honestly? Because Alina could hear it in Inej's voice, pure and raw honesty. Whatever Alina needed, Inej would be there.

“I think I like that hand with a dagger in it,” said Alina when she finally found words. “I couldn't hold onto yours, so take mine.”

It was the best thing she could think of. Inej didn't seem like the kind of girl swayed by flowers. She seemed like the kind of girl who'd love knives. Just, in general. As accessories and gifts. The way Inej looked at her told Alina that her hunch was right. Such a blinding smile.

“I know just what to name it,” declared Inej with the brightest, cutest smile on her lips.

Alina's stomach fluttered at the way Inej looked at her. Many people looked at her as a saint, as a savior, as the Sun Summoner. But Inej, she... looked at her like all of that and so much more. She looked at her as Alina the Sun Summoner, as though she could see Alina. Could see that there was a person underneath the mantle of sainthood. It was nice feeling seen, as a person.

/break\

The Sun Summoner had never been graspable for Inej. They were this almighty figure, this holy savior. And when she first saw the Sun Summoner at the party, in those beautiful robes, all regal and disciplined. Truly, the vision of a saint. And then... she interacted with Sankta Alina and the Sun Summoner became... Alina Starkov, slowly. Talking to her, seeing her up close – disheveled, not in royally regal clothing, not putting on a show, but... being human. Admittedly, at that point Inej was still very far from actually thinking of Sankta Alina as inherently human, but it was still startling to realize that this figure she had believed in all her life was real and was a real person.

She flushed as she remembered her own words, at the camp-fire. Promising Alina her hand in whatever Alina could possibly want or need. She had babbled. That wasn't her, neither were grand promises. But looking into Alina's eyes, it nearly felt as though the world melted away and Inej was ready to fight it all for her sake and safety. And then Alina had given her a knife. A knife. From the Sun Summoner herself. This was going to be Inej's most cherished knife now.

Inej felt torn in her calling. Her loyalty laid with Kaz, and with Jesper. The Crows were her family. But Alina was – Alina was... everything. There were no words. She was the Sun Summoner. She was Sankta Alina. She was so much more. She was everything and Inej knew she could never turn her back on Alina and she also knew every word she had told Alina was true. Whatever Alina would ask, whenever she would ask it, Inej would be there for her.

“Where are you going now?” asked Jesper ahead of them.

She had just talked to Kaz and the two had fallen back a bit. Jesper was walking next to Mal and Alina. While Zoya had parted ways with them rather quickly after the camp fire, it seemed the other two were headed the same way as them. It made Inej's heart race for some reason.

“Ketterdam. For now. We talked about wanting to see it. It's... as good a start as any,” offered Mal.

“I figured I could train everywhere. So... why not go and see something new?” added Alina.

Inej's heart was racing in her chest at that thought and she found herself looking toward Kaz, hopeful. Hopeful for what exactly, she didn't know. He tried to look as stern as possible, which was quite a lot. Without thinking on it, Inej opened her mouth, on instinct.

“You told me you invest in one of a kind. There is no one more one of a kind than the Sun Summoner,” whispered Inej, holding Kaz' gaze firmly.

There was the smallest hint of a smile on Kaz' lips as he huffed, though he did not reply. Instead, he tapped his cane on the ground, in a manner that drew Jesper's attention immediately.

“We're going to take a detour before we depart,” declared Kaz without further explanation.

Glances were exchanged – Jesper looked at Inej curiously, Mal and Alina had a silent conversation with looks alone. Kaz remained quiet, not elaborating at all, simply leading the way. Inej and Jesper followed him, blindly. Though Mal and Alina also followed them, perhaps simply lost.

/break\

The detour led them to a barmaid and to a goat. The sounds Jesper made when he got to hug Milo again were a bit embarrassing. At least he wasn't the only one; for some reason, Mal made similar sounds as he also hugged the goat. Perhaps it was a sign of sorts, that one goat tied them together. It had saved them – in a way, if Jesper had kept freaking out, Inej doubted that they would have made their way through the fold in one piece – and it had apparently helped Mal too.

Inej wasn't sure, but it seemed like the goat was the final, uniting factor. Mal and Alina joined them on their way back to Ketterdam. The five of them (and the goat) sat together on the ship. Jesper, happy with his goat, sat next to Kaz. Very close to Kaz, though not touching. Inej saw the tenderness in Kaz' eyes, regardless of how much he tried to hide it. He'd always had a soft spot for Jesper, even if he had very unconventional ways of showing it. Like by buying Jesper a goat.

On Jesper's other side sat Mal, so both men could cuddle the goat. Alina sat opposite Mal and Inej sat opposite Jesper and Kaz. Meaning Inej sat next to Alina. For hours.

She left a little space between the two of them at the beginning of the journey, though she couldn't help but keep looking at Alina and slowly inching closer the longer they traveled. Alina covered herself with a shawl, just in case anyone would recognize her as the Sun Summoner. Laying low was a very good idea. Was there a lower to lay than with the Crows...? Though it was only at the end of their journey, as they reached their destination, that Inej found it in herself to voice it.

“What will you do in Ketterdam?” asked Inej, her voice soft.

“I... Train?” guessed Alina with a thoughtful expression. “Gamble? Take in the sights?”

“If you want to be useful and earn some money. Find us,” Kaz made it sound like an order.

Inej was not the only one surprised by that, though she smiled, pleased. For now, they had their own business to sort out first. The three of them headed off, toward the club, not looking as mysterious and dangerous as they usually did, because... there was a baby goat skipping along next to them.

/break\

For a few weeks, Mal and Alina hid away together. He got a job at a bar to earn them enough money to support them. They thought it would be best for Alina to not be too public; just in case. Even though the chances of someone recognizing her as the Sun Summoner here were incredibly low. But after a while, it got kind of boring. And when Mal lost his job, because he had lost his temper with a customer who was more than just rude toward Alina, they made their way to the Crow Club. Ever since they had parted ways, they hadn't seen the three again. In passing, Alina thought she had seen Jesper or Inej one or two times. She knew Mal would occasionally sneak off to visit the goat – she still didn't quite understand the whole goat-thing, but Mal was very happy about it. He's always liked small, cuddle-able animal, though goats were bigger than bunnies.

“You came,” Inej's voice was a whisper and it came out of nowhere.

Alina could have sworn Inej was nowhere in sight when Alina and Mal had entered. Yet suddenly, she was right behind Alina. And she was still as pretty. For a moment, Alina stared in awe at her beauty. All words lost to her. She also lost Mal; he spotted Jesper at a poker table, with the goat on his lap. For a second, Alina smiled as she watched her childhood friend hug Milo the goat.

“I... yes. I don't know... much about what you guys do. But... if we can be useful. We could... use the money. And... I... missed you,” blurted Alina out.

Well, that was elegant. She shouldn't have put everything into that one sentence. She was normally not this awkward around people she had feelings for. But then again, no one had ever pledged loyalty and devotion to her the way Inej had. How was she supposed to be not awkward after that? Her cheeks felt warm, but the genuinely surprised and happy look on Inej's face made it worth it.

“I'm... sure we will be able to find use for you, and for the tracker,” assured Inej.

She slipped her hand into Alina's, seemingly without even thinking about it herself. It seemed to come so easily and naturally to them, just as it had at the fire-place. It was strange, how often Alina thought of that short moment, but it had been the first moment of serene peace in a while. Alina smiled to herself as she let Inej lead her toward Kaz' office.

/break\

Inej had always known that the Sun Summoner would bring peace, but she had not expected it would be her own personal peace. Being with Alina made her feel like nothing before had. It took many more weeks of shared missions and laughter before Inej understood that it was more than simple sainthood – Alina had become Inej's personal sanctuary. Her own peace and comfort and warmth and light. Hers. And, mesmerizingly enough, she had become Alina's.

“Good morning,” whispered Alina with a smile as she brushed Inej's hair out of her face.

They had shared their first kiss after an exhilarating mission, adrenaline and laughter fueling them. And now, Inej got to wake up to that face, that smile. And she had never felt that alive before. Reaching out, Inej cupped her face and brought it close enough to kiss her gently.

~*~ The End ~*~

[mcfanely]

The Ice Emperor and the Earth Dragon

It was one thing to be trapped in a foreign realm with bleak and barely present hope of being saved; but being locked up in a cell, chained down with no idea where he even is or where his waylaid brother might be - for Cole, that was a whole new level of lost.

Chapter 09 - Barriers, 3382 words

When Cole came to it was to the sensation of bitter cold seeping harshly into his skin. Number one rule of sleeping outdoors, never sleep directly on the ground. It acted as a suction for warmth. Anything there was, any minor sensation of heat, the ground would swallow it in an instance and then still search for more. It was the entire reason he and Zane slept on the chest plates of the mech. They were off the ground, and sure the metal was cold and it was far from comfortable, but it was better than sleeping on the floor. Anything was. 

This didn't explain that when Cole felt the surface beneath his hands, he found cold and solid stone. Or why it was hard to even drag his eyes open from their last dregs of sleep, his body seemingly trying to pull him back under into the embrace of unconsciousness. 

He was more than willing to just fall under its pull, to let his head rest back down onto the floor and allow his eyes to close fully. It was only when he tried to shift and get more comfortable did he notice that something was awry. First, it was the sudden and sharp stab of pain that ran up his side. The way the sensation arched over his ribs, near enough through the bone and the surrounding muscle. It was like he'd broken something. He must have. The feeling stole his breath away, and any air that did make its way in caught and dragged in his lungs like shards of stone. 

Cole snapped his eyes open, gritting his teeth. 

All that met him was overall darkness and as his eyes adjusted, the blurriness fading away from his vision and the light filtering in that bit more; he saw he was most certainly not the mech's cavern. 

No, the room was far too small. Too closed in. He could see all four walls from where he was situated on the floor, each one solid stone and just as formidable as the last. He let his eyes scan over the surface, where bits of moss and mould grew, and the odd fine film of ice which seemed to be a staple of this realm no matter where he ended up. 

Then there was the door, right in front of him. With a small window looking out into a faintly lit hallway, and iron bars cascading down the opening. 

So he was in a jail cell…

He'd woken up in a cell.

What had..? 

Zane. 

That thought snapped Cole back to reality. 

He sat up quickly, letting out a sharp breath as he did. Memories came crashing in like a freight train, unstoppable. 

Everything that had happened. The fight, he'd fought Zane. His brother who had welded the staff at him without a second thought, his brother who had fought back with every intent to injure; of which the bruises now most certainly littered Cole's body. 

His brother who'd had his memories messed with and his mind swayed and manipulated by that… That Vex. 

Cole's body moved on autopilot in a second. The thought of that man, of the very idea that Zane had felt safe enough and assured that if he ran the diagnostic he would come out the other side no different than he went in. He was offline for less than two minutes. 

Two minutes. 

He wasn't sure what he was going to do, how he was going to get out the cell he'd found himself in, but as soon as he did he was going to track that liar down. 

He was going to- he would-

Cole's body met resistance. 

He had his legs beneath him, his feet, whilst aching, were flat against the floor. He just couldn't stand to full height. 

Honestly, he wasn't so sure how he hadn't noticed earlier. 

Maybe it was the present cold, the fact that his skin was close to numb and prickling. Or that, because he'd moved so quickly, the overwhelming feedback that came from the assortment of injuries he'd sustained was enough to distract anyone from noticing the details of the situation. 

The details being the cuffs that sat tight around both of Cole's wrists. They were cold in themselves, and the longer he stared, the more he realised why. They were crafted from solid ice, as were the chains which trailed down to the floor and to the far side of the room to a secure bolt in the floor. 

He was chained down. 

In some unknown room, in some unknown building. 

His brother was out there somewhere, with a manipulative creature of a man guiding and twisting his thoughts. He was out there, making Zane work against his programming, making him cause undue pain and suffering. All in the effort of what? Ensuring he had the staff? That this corruptive piece of Ninjagoan history was in none one else's hands but Zane's. 

He was out there, alone, and Cole was chained down to the floor with frozen cuffs. The cool temperature biting at his bare skin, and the sound that the chain links were making just seemed so delicate for something that held so fast. 

He hadn't even given the chains a tentative pull, Cole went straight for a solid tank. If the chains wouldn't break then he'd drag the deadbolt out the floor himself. He'd pull himself free and open the door, he'd find his friend, he'd get him to put the scroll down if he was still holding it. 

He'd-- He'd…

He let out a frustrated shout as he pulled on the chains. The links were taut, and his feet beneath him acted as leverage, as well as him placing his entire weight on the phantom and unwanted limbs. 

He yanked again. Listening to the clang of the chains, feeling the cuff pulling on his wrist, digging into the skin there. 

Still, he tried again. The chains pulled tight, the ache in Cole's arms and shoulders grew into a more paramount pain and still the cuffs didn't give. 

And again. This time, the ice drew a little blood, the red rivulet drawing a line down his skin before it dropped onto the stone floor. 

"Come on, please." Cole swallowed hard, screwing his eyes shut. "Please just break, please, please, please."

He grit his teeth, let out a deep growl and pulled again.

Stopping only came after a minute or so, when he realised what he was doing was getting him nowhere, other than causing further injuries. His wrists were red, and the areas where the skin had been penetrated were between stinging and all around hurting. 

The chains were still in prime condition, glimmering and glinting in the weak light of the hallway. 

Cole was out of breath. He dropped down to his knees and lent forwards, his arms resting flat against the floor as to rest his now aching muscles. The blood was already slowing gradually, but the cuts ached. Still, it didn't distract him from the situation. 

A lump was forming in his throat, and his chest was tightening a little. He hadn't realised tears were dripping free from his eyes until the sound of them pinging off the floor echoed pristinely around the room. He moved one hand up to his mouth in order to keep himself quiet, to hold the sobs in. He wasn't sad, he wasn't in severe emotional distress. 

He was just on his own, chained down in some random place with an iron door just to his side and light filtering in, being broken apart by the thick metal bars that stretched over the single window connecting him to the rest of the building. It was the notion that where he was, he wasn't going to be found by someone. Securely chained to the floor, lost in a foreign realm with no clear hope of rescue and his one friend and companion who-even-knew where? 

Cole wiped harshly at his eyes to force the tears to stop, then he moved to the far side of the cell; sitting with his back to the wall right next to the deadbolt on the floor, facing directly towards the door. 

Zane was out there. He was on the other side of the door, he had to be. Maybe he was in a cell nearby? If… If that Vex had used him and was now finished with him, for all Cole knew his brother was in as good a shape as he was. 

Battered, bruised; with the way his breathing and moving caused pain to sharply climb up his side and hum under his skin, burning. Agony. It meant what was probably a broken rib, or at the very least severely bruised. 

His gi was torn, stained with mud and snow and his own blood. 

Cole felt himself go still as he rested his head back against the wall, waiting for the hum of pain to abate. 

Only after five minutes, when he felt like he wasn't going to heave up his stomach contents by moving too quickly, he stood. Slowly walking towards the door with unsteady feet, he wasn't surprised when the chain became a taut and unyielding force. Even with his arms straight until he couldn't bare to pull further, even precariously stretching one foot as far as he could go, the toe of his shoe didn't even come close to scraping the metal. 

This was bad. 

Cole moved back over to the far side of the cell with his options exhausted. Not that he had too many to begin with, really. Which left him with nothing else to do but check over the injuries he'd sustained. Properly, this time, only he wouldn't exactly be able to deal with anything. Either way, it would probably be better to know if he was extensively bleeding from somewhere than not knowing, but the fact that the cell floor wasn't slick with blood boded well at least. 

He started with what he could see. His hands were first, touching each of his fingers together to check for coordination before flexing the joints and rotating the wrist. The cold made it hard to know for sure if something was wrong, but the fact that Cole didn't experience sharp sensations of agony at any point only meant good things. Yet they weren't unscathed. Skin was red and blistered in places due to frostbite, his knuckles were scraped and he was sure he was missing a couple fingerprints. 

Next came arms, then legs and feet. Each check passing without much fanfare. There was bruising, which meant that he'd at least been unconscious for a day or two for them to develop into the dark smears of purple and blue they were now. There was his head, and the fact that he'd sustained another injury to it. A brand new welt after he'd gotten rid of the first one he'd sustained after being thrown into the realm. The black eye, though, discovered after carefully pressing over his cheeks wasn't a welcome development. 

Though Cole knew there would be worse to come as he readied himself to check his torso. It was like ripping off a bandaid; untying his belt and setting it to the side, peeling back the material, he sucked in a heavy and immediately regretted breath. 

There was an assortment of injuries, minor lacerations to near black bruising that stretched all the way up his left side and protested severely with every intake of oxygen. Purple marks stretched over and outlined the muscles there, moving over his skin and around to his back. Cole tried to look over his shoulder and see the extent of the damage but now the pain was ratcheted up. Something about seeing an injury always made it worse, and when it was already bad… 

He just stayed sat on the floor, eventually pulling his legs up so he could tilt his forehead forwards and rest it on his knees. How had he even got up..? Moved around, been so active?

There were still a couple more checks, and Cole could already feel the sting of pained tears edging from his eyes at the sheer notion of what he was going to do.

It needed to be done, he had to give himself the all-clear. 

He carefully threaded a hand under the fabric, keeping contact to a minimum. The skin underneath radiated heat, even in the frigid environment. It was burning. It was only going to get worse. 

Cole took his belt in a spur of the moment idea, balled the fabric up with one hand and wedged it between his teeth. Then without giving himself time to think too much, he started pressing against his ribs. 

The shock of agony made his vision white out for a terrifying second, and when he came around everything was still blurred and dancing with cloudy colours that precursored the possibility of passing out. When the first rib didn't give way under his touch, Cole moved up to the next. 

Each one, a brand new and increasing fire of pain pulsed through his body. It made tears flow freely, teeth clench tightly against his belt to stem any sounds from coming out. In all honesty, it didn't help much. Tortured noises slipped free, muffled grunts and shrill keens ricocheting around the room as he went, one rib after another, until he was done; drenched in a rapidly cooling sweat, his skin nearing on a grey and sickly tone once the affliction had concluded. But it was over. 

Cole had to force himself to lean back instead of slumping over to the side. He tentatively pulled the gi back over his ruined side as if that thin layer would provide any form of protection, but it was a subconscious action. Out of sight, out of mind. 

If something had been broken… 

He forced himself to shake his head which simply gave him swimming vision. 

Positive thoughts, positive thoughts. No broken bones, severe bruising but nothing broken. That was the main thing. 

That was the only thing, really. 

He spat his belt out off to his side and left it there, there was no way he was putting it back on at that moment. He needed to rest, catch his breath. Cole needed a break. 

Everything had been going so well, so well. Granted, they were trapped in a different realm, but they had everything sorted out. They might have not had a plan much past getting a source of constant warmth that didn't include wasting the limited fuel from the blow torch or relying on the sodden pieces of wood Cole had spent hours bringing into their shelter; or collecting enough food should the storm get too bad for anyone to leave the cave safely. They went day by day, but they kept on moving forwards. Him and Zane, together, working as a well oiled machine. 

Everything had been fine…

Cole clenched his hands tightly and let his eyes slip closed. 

How had it taken one man to bring everything down? 

He should have been there. He should have known.

"Idiot…" He whispered, to no one but himself. 

There was part of him that told him that there had been no way to foretell what was going to happen. That there was no way he could have known to stay behind. 

He had one job, to keep his friends safe, protect his family. He'd failed at that. 

"You're an idiot."

Had Vex been planning it? Or had that whole plan been a spur of the moment decision? Neither option made Cole feel better. In fact, if at all possible, he felt worse. 

The notion that Vex may have been watching them for days on end, it made his stomach curl in sickness. Observing, invading their privacy. Doing so, all unnoticed. Then at the absolute worst moment, when Cole hadn't been there and Zane couldn't have been more vulnerable, he'd made his move. 

Then Zane had attacked him. Cole felt his breath hitch. 

Zane had attacked him, full force. He hadn't held back, and whilst Cole liked to think he gave as much as he got, he knew that was a lie. 

How could he fight his brother, knowing that he was confused and lost, under the sway of a horrible man? 

And that he'd defended the staff so resolutely, even without his memories. He'd held it, felt the power, and a mere few words from an unknown man and Zane had attacked him under the idea that Cole, this stranger, was there for the staff. 

Struck him so hard he'd bruised his side. 

Almost made him hypothermic. 

Not held back. 

But that wasn't Zane, and Cole knew that. Anything that had happened, it was all Vex. Everything. Every inch of pain he felt, the situation he was in, it was Vex. 

Zane using the staff, that was Vex. 

Zane… 

Cole quickly came out of his thoughts and brought a hand to his chest, cold fingers making him flinch lightly. Still, he kept contact, steered clear of the bruise, but felt over the smooth and unblemished skin at the centre of his chest. In the exact place he remembered taking a direct hit from the Scroll of Forbidden Spinjitzu. 

The hit that had made his power collapse in on itself, that had disintegrated his elemental dragon in less than a second and shut down any possible use of his powers promptly afterwards. The hit had hurt, like inhaling glass shards, unexplainable and terrifying. 

He'd tried to fight against it, the feeling of everything spiralling from his control. The way his powers had thrashed wildly, almost physically beneath his skin; against the foreign force. But that had just made everything so much worse. Then his power had bounced back, near enough exploded out against Cole's wishes… 

He blew a slow breath out his nose, feeling as his chest moved lightly under his palm, the thrum of his racing heart permeating into his head. Adrenaline was rushing at the sheer memory of what had happened. 

The pain. The power taking over. 

Cole didn't realise what he was doing until he'd started. One hand was placed flat against the floor, fingers splayed out, the other stayed on his chest. He was trying to focus his power, though whether he could use it or not was a different question. 

Whether it would act the same as before… He didn't know. 

Only, there was absolutely no feedback. 

There was no sensation in response to his focus, no warmth blooming, no nothing. Even when he'd been caged in vengestone, or experiencing the absence of his powers due to Lloyd being incapacitated, there was always still something inside. 

The tiniest spark, warmth, a feeling. There was always something. 

Always. 

Cole swallowed hard and screwed his eyes shut, pouring everything into just looking for a sign of his elemental abilities. 

What if..- That hit from the scroll-- Cole's thoughts ground to a halt. 

The scroll had done something. 

He could feel his skin crawl at the memory, almost enough for him to abandon his current task to try and scratch the sensation away. 

Vex had called him a dragon, he'd looked at him with awe, and barely hidden curiosity. He could still see the man's face, clear as day. The unbidden glee. 

Cole swallowed down bile and searched further, deeper. 

For anything. 

Vex had said dragon. He'd stared at Cole, and called him a dragon. He'd felt it too, the shift in power. The blast from the scroll, the pain, it had all faded into the background as he felt it shift and fluctuate into a new thing, how he briefly remembered standing impossibly high over the snowy ground, his body feeling absent and wrong. 

Then it had all ended just as the blast had. 

Cole had been himself again. He'd thought it had ended there. 

However, his powers weren't responding, they weren't even there. There was nothing in response to his searching, not a single sensation which indicated that there was anything left inside him anymore. 

He felt normal, other than in pain and exhausted beyond measure, he felt so inexplicably normal. Like when Chen had removed his powers. 

There was nothing inside to find.

-

From the beginning

Ch 08 > Ch 09 > Ch 10

AO3

[grim-faux]

2 _ 23 _ The Best Magician

First

 With a stifled rasp, Mono snapped his head up. Very slowly he uncoiled from the confines of his coat and rubbed a palm against his eye, working through the drowsiness lingering. He took in the nearby area, searching for movement or shadows, impossible shapes in impossible places. So many of the bent pipes and knotted cables cast odd designs through the undergrowth of machinery. Above, a gear whirred with a chain snared over the teeth, the rusted links zipped by and to somewhere out of sight through the brewing haze.

 He might’ve dreamed, or he nodded off and thought of something frightening. He had some trouble recalling where he was, or what happened last. Where was he going? What was he doing here?

 The other kid, from the container. He got them out. They would be around. He might see them somewhere, looking for the way out. It would have been nice to have help from a… anyone.

 Too much time was already wasted seated and not doing or going. Mono climbed to his feet and shook out his coat. He’s still a little stiff from sitting scrunched up, but as he began sifting among the anchored pillars and wiring, his joints began loosening. It wasn’t too bad, given the place was very warm.

 The cluttered area beneath the machine became too dense with cables and cylinders slithering across the ground, a few of these obstacles he could climb over. Other attachments to the shuddering beast proved too hot, he couldn’t get close. He was forced to backtrack through the passages and seek another direction, he hoped he was headed the right way. Briefly, his destination was a mystery, and he really wasn’t sure where he was.

 The fuse! Right. He needed the fuse to get the door open. That was over where the office was, where he left the Thin Man.

 A passage through a broken vent offered a clear path beneath sweltering tubing, through the flue a hot draft gushed forth. It wasn’t that bad, mostly dry. He crept through the tunnel, climbing an incline until he reached the other end. The vent grate popped open with a firm push, and he tumbled out among more scaffolding anchored to the cement by massive bolts. Some were the size of his head.

 Once up on his feet he scouted the area, struggling with the booming hum of the machines heaving and working against the cement walls of the building. His sights settled on movement off to the left, just above the rail of the fence guarding the grinding gears. Oh!

 Quickly and as stealthy as he could manage, Mono scurried among the anchored pillars. HurryHurryHurry! He was practically vibrating by the time he cleared the dense jungle and squeezed through the fence bars.

 He didn’t ascend the steps yet, but plucked his hat higher on his brow and waved. “Psst?”

 The other kid was crouched higher on the steps, huddled beside a support bar. They winced back from the call and cringed lower, not looking but… not really hiding away either.

 Carefully, Mono picked his way up the steps. When he was a lone meter from the other kid, they uncoiled from their spot and zipped up the remaining stairs. Mono stopped at the place they abandoned, watching them dip out of view over the highest edge of the walkway.

 He probably shouldn’t chase them. If they didn’t want to be around him, then it wouldn’t work if he kept following. While he was on the path, he’d continue and try to figure where the side of the building was. He was still lost. Seeing far off to the walls was impossible now, with how thick the vapor was. Never mind being surrounded by branching cogs and belts twisting high, and thick chains hanging from the ceiling. Did the ceiling still exist?

 Somewhere the catwalk would branch out, and one of the paths would have steps leading back to the floor. He needed to reach the wall, thus he followed the path for now, keeping his eyes acute for anything that looked familiar. All these sections and connecting bars, intermixed with pipes looked the same. Even the bellowing plumes of steam looked identical. He sighed, picking up the pace.

 Up until the scaffolding beneath his feet quaked. Oh-no! Which way? He checked behind him, then below, gaze slowly sweeping along his original route. Oh… a large mass scaled the side of a ladder, the knotted chains upon his back glittered like teeth.

 All too soon the Mechanic would alight on the platform and either go one way, or venture toward Mono. It would have no issue spying him, even with a bored glance.

 Without thinking about it, Mono slipped to the side of the catwalk and carefully let himself down. Winding and gnashing guts of the factory spun beneath his toes, nothing to catch him if he lost his grip. He just needed to keep still and hold out.

 The Mechanic thumped upon the path above, and Mono’s damp fingers slid a fraction. Even then he wouldn’t budge or shudder, and only held on tighter; his brow wet with sweat. He glanced at the grate with the dozens of dozens of light glinting through, then, slipped his gaze downward. The vibrating steps closed in, becoming more pronounced, heavier and near deliberate. His fingertip ached, but not enough to make him question his choice. The faint glow swathed around him shifted, becoming black. Mono continued to sway like a flimsy bit of cloth.

 Then the booming boots shuffled closer, so near he thought they’d crush his fingertips. Mono held his breath and kept totally still. If he moved now, it would see. Don’t breathe. Don’t think.

 No doubt, not a question about it. No point in regret. It’s not looking for children, it’s just looks at the factory.

 The ragged breath heaved within the tattered lungs. After an agonizing minute or more, the boots scrapped over the tarnished surface and began a retreat, moving further and further still along the scaffolding. At last, the noises of the factory reasserted themselves, as if the entire lumbering network had silenced and settled in rapt attention.

 With a little gasp, Mono grappled with the surface he clung too. His hands were clammy, his entire boney frame trembled. With a tremendous amount of fighting, he finally hauled up onto the catwalk and crawled from the edge. He nearly collapsed onto his side, but rather, hoisted onto his feet and kept going.

 The Mechanic was going that way, and he was going this way. He hoped that other kid got away, but seeing that the Mechanic came up a ladder, the kid was long gone by now.

 For a while the catwalk should be clear of the horrendous creature, allowing Mono to run without concern of stumbling into it. He remained focus on the grate platform beneath his feet, but as typical the thrumming rattle came from the factories burbling churning rather than mountain steps. Eventually, he reached a stair set that ascended higher, above a large set of cylinder vats fixed to the floor. The catwalk divided two ways, and he elected the path going right, with the idea this would take him closer to the edge of the machines body.

 Unfortunately, it does not. At a distance and obscured by mist, the path twisted downward before breaking free entirely. Far below much of the metal draped over the pipes or other warped structures forged the factories inner workings, a lopsided gear clicked periodically while a damaged chain slapped at a eroded pillar. The section damaged, but struggling to fulfill its duty to the whole of the network.

 There is no safe way to climb down, let alone another way to cross the gap to what remained of the other portion of platform.

 Mono retraced his path and chose the other catwalk. This direction isn’t much better, it takes a curved path around pumping pistons and cranking arms. The path had been torn down as well, as evident by cinderblock littered on the grate, along with a chain. At least from here he’s able to climb down by the chain, wrapped around the base of the rail. The chain doesn’t extend to the floor, but comes close enough to a nearby conveyor belt. The endless-motorized walk moved fast, but he’s braced and sure of himself.

 On his third swing he leapt and plopped down onto the rippled surface, nearly going off the side entirely when his legs shoot out from under him. He managed to halt his erratic roll and shove upright, first seeking where he was headed. He snapped his head to the side and dove down—

 CLANG!

 A wrench smashed into the side of the zooming platform, and Mono rolled away. He clawed at the surface before he was lost completely and managed to tighten his fingers into the rough texture. He’s no longer curious about where he’s going, but now locked onto the thundering momentum clomping among the pipes – beady, droopy eyes nailed to his form.

 Another tool went flying, but the aim went wild and missed hitting anything solid. Despite that, the gale of the projectile swept his coat around his knees. He couldn’t tug himself up let alone drop from this height, and the speed— He could only dangle and gawk at the Mechanic, weaving among the pillars anchored to the floor. Teeth gnashing, eyes wild, another tool snapped from its belt. Worst of all, it was gaining!

 Mono dropped his gaze and searched the ground, rooting for something. Even if he had the vigor, the Mechanic was going to swat him with the next pitch. The scaffold!

 With a jerk and a twist, he zipped through open air and smashed into the lattice build of the supporting brace beneath the machine. He fumbling to drop quickly without falling the full height, a little bit at a time. Somewhere, the dull clatter of the tool barked forth from whichever surface it hit. Far away was his only concern. Not far enough.

 To the edge of his peripheral, the Mechanic gave a haggard shrill as it kept going beyond where he touched down. Its girth and grungy boots skimmed through the greasy floor, up until it plowed into a sturdy pipe. That would stop it, but only a moment.

 Before that time, Mono was already on solid floor, back turned and ducking among the machinery. He sprang through a curtain of steam, choosing a mostly clear opening to the side. When the Mechanic gave a nasally wail, he chanced an unfortunate glimpse over his shoulder. The hulking beast clambered over the anchored pipes, lunging closer and closer, its gritty hands clawing for hand holds among chains or corroded tethers.

 Then altogether it dropped the ravenous focus and snapped its malformed face to the side. Mono would’ve taken the opportunity to keep going and disappear, but he clipped the edge of a bolt and toppled to his knees. He leapt up, scanning his surroundings, spying some sort of movement that was not steam or broken glitter cast by the lamps.

 Other kid!

 From where Mono rushed recklessly, he can’t tell what the problem is. They’re fighting, fighting them self to move, or fighting the terror that has them rooted. Whatever has them fixed won’t matter, the Mechanic will tear them loose piece by piece. It’s going right for them, heaving the last few feet to the huddled shape.

 Mono doesn’t think. In a glitchy flash and curdling shriek, he’s cut the distance and running. Skidding under a low cylinder, then vaulting over a thick bundle of cables. He reached other kid and gave them a full body shove, he doesn’t even look to see if they’ve been caught in a gear or tied down – it doesn’t matter – he snared their hand and hauled them from the little corner of death. He glanced back, as the Mechanic growled. The sound vibrated above the din and clatter of the factory applauding.

 With the kid in tow, no resistance at all, they shoot out in an open space beneath the conveyor belt he was riding earlier. He tried to duck beneath the lattice scaffold he climbed down, and while the gap there is traversable, he finds no opening wide enough or passage open enough for them to cram into. The factory base is loaded with pillars, pipes, belts of cables. He tugged the other kid along, and they pried back at his arm – not trying to pull away, but warning him.

 ComingComingComingComingComingComingComingComingComing!

 They point too at spaces that appeared open – Mono can see better though, and shook his head. “No. No.” He settled to run along, ducking under the fringe of vents. If only one of the fan things was not spinning, they could shuffle into there. He dove past a pipe—

 And recoiled. The thread punch of steam whistling forth was painful!

 He heaved other kid away, before they could get stung as well. Looking at the pipe and the way the colors rippled around it, he got an idea. Jerking other kid along, he pointed in a direction and shoved them. The kid didn’t stall or protest, off they went. The further from this mess the better.

 Mono wasted no time whipping around, checked where the Mechanic was. Making a beeline for him, out and away from cover like this. It swung around a support pillar and thundered his way, sagging jowls slick with drool or sweat.

 Tipping his hat down, Mono lunged at a broken spike of metal on the floor. It was large and heavy for him, but he heaved it over to the corrupt pipe whistling. He gave it a whack! Bits of rust chipped loose, blasting out of view. He doubted then, skin going cold over the chance this would not work. Nonetheless, he gave the gasket another wallop. And a third! When the shadow of the Mechanic stretched over him, Mono did a full three-sixty and with every piece of his little body plowed the sharp spear against the fractured pipe. There was so much force behind that impact it made his wrists go numb, and he folded down.

 In the next second a crackle rebounded above his head, the trite whistle became an agonized howl – rivaled only by the Mechanic as he was blasted full force by scalding steam. Very quickly Mono scooted away on his knees and hands, the heat so intense it seared right through his coat and hat. Lucky he had the foresight to put down the little bit of protection.

 Upon clearing himself from the broiled vicinity, Mono sprang back to his feet and renewed the running, gasping for air harder now in the super-heated range. The Mechanic’s heavy boots scuffed over the gravely floor, but it was subdued. It would recover shortly and renew its pursuit, in a more frenzied fashion.

 He kept going, opting to collect his second wind while he could. No real opening revealed itself in the side of the factory undergrowth, all of which escalated his distress. The Mechanic huffed, its steps quickening and that anger boiled. He glanced back a few times before he decided to he REALLY needed to pick up the pace.

 Some of the gravely floor cleared out as he covered distance, and he recognized this path. It was not far from the side of the factory, but it was also not likely near the place where he left the Thin Man. Even so, he could find an open vent or pipes on this side. Somewhere.

 Following a turn in the road into more components of the factory innards, he recalled there was a set of steps around here. To the back, above the platform. The Mechanic used them earlier….

 On his way by the fallen chain, the links began drawing back upward slowly. But stopped. The suddenness spooked him, but after a short fumble he turned his gaze over to the podium.

 The other kid had climbed onto the stand and was touching the controls. Curious. Touching another one of the buttons, the chain flopped down. With considerably less force than when Mono tried it earlier, when it was much-much higher above.

 This was something! Something! The pavement was cracked!

 Mono dashed over to the steps and launched up them, restraining himself from a teleport. He hoped the kid didn’t spook off again, he needed them.

 “Hey,” he rasped, as he pulled himself up onto the control panel. Understandably frightened, the other kid scooted back. But the fall would be perilous if they ditched now.

 Mono shook his head. “Look,” he whispered. After giving it a thought, he tried one of the buttons on the panel. And pointed.

 Across on the floor, the chain began to pick itself up. Chink-by-chink. And further beyond where the chain lay, the Mechanic came lumbering in. Confused and probably delirious with pain. Even from where he sat, Mono could make out the flaking surface of its face from where it was hit. Good! He hated it.

 Upon seeing the Mechanic resurface, the other child tried to bolt. But Mono snared their arm and set a finger to his own lips. “Shh.” He patted the platform where they sat, made a comforting trill noise. Like the sound the other kid with the bad eye made. He showed them how to drop the chain, which colored dials to press and remember.

 That clatter caught the attention of the Mechanic. Mono was unsure if it could still see or not, if ever it could see before. It must’ve. It kept throwing junk at him with such accuracy.

 For a brief second or more, Mono rehearsed the controls with the other kid. Lift chain and drop. He wanted the chain high and dropped hard. The other kid needed to wait here. “Safe,” he uttered, gently, and patted them on their moppy head. Because it would be safe. Nothing would get them.

 Mono was going to go trick a Mechanic.

 Still very unsure about this, Mono plopped off the stand and dropped to the floor. “HEY! Hai!” For good measure, he waved his arms. The Mechanic had been charging their way, but when Mono performed this blatant display for it, and screaming – after what He did – the Mechanic didn’t speculate a thing.

 The plan wasn’t very complicated, if the other kid got the general idea. Mono couldn’t say. The other kid got caught, maybe he would bail. He had a backup, which was not the greatest, but it might confuse the irate thing. Enough for him to get away.

 Mono rushed to the cracked space on the road and stood directly there, gawking up. The chain was thankfully so high now he couldn’t see where it was, if it came down like it did the first time, all would be good. He did retreat a step when the Mechanic came right up to him, and ducked just out of range when it lunged—

 The chain whizzed down and crashed into its swollen neck. The Mechanic collapsed, nearly on top of Mono if he hadn’t bailed at the last moment and jumped aside.

 Did it! He turned his gaze toward the stand, but the other kid… was gone. Where? Come back? He tilted his head. They left? Or hide?

 The Mechanic’s hand twitched, and Mono skipped back further. It had to be dead. No. It couldn’t not be dead. But he’s probably wrong about this. The beady, murky eyes within the skull glitter, and a fetid snort rolled from the creatures eroded teeth.

 NOT DEAD!NOTDEADNOTDEADNOTDEADNOTDEADNOTDEADNOTDEAD!!!!

 On the tip of abandoning this situation completely and utterly, Mono zipped around the Mechanic’s side and snagged the hook of the chain. He grunted and heaved, straining with all his might to clip the rusted latch onto the ratty vest, then took off! His eyes searched above for where the chain connected - it was some sort of bar, or rail. Something!

 A terrible metallic wrenching erupted at his back, and Mono didn’t spare or stop for a look. He knew this side, there was some gap or cuvee he could crawl into. Nothing was stopping this thing, at most he just peeved it off!

 He lunged at the fence and squeezed through the bars. On the other side, the Mechanic caught up and kept track of his movement. Mono only gained distance on the creature when it stalled to hope over the barrier, but now it was lumbering after him. Much quicker than when he barely maimed it with steam. He needed a place to stop, a moment for rest. His legs ached and he’s certain blood is spilling from his knee now.

 Without a second thought, he lunged for an opening beneath an incline conveyor belt. The contraption moved nothing, aside from the occasional debris or… something. He doesn’t really think, only that there’s a place he can maybe cram into where the Mechanic can’t reach with its fist.

 At last he is correct, the space beneath the inclined transport won’t allow most of the Mechanic through. There’s nothing but twisted pipes beneath, and a thrumming contraption with a spinning wheel. Not one to take chances, Mono squeezed himself through the heated mess of tangled innards, while the Mechanic grunted and dug around at the space he entered from. Those strangled noises fade out, as the heaving drum of the engine asserted itself and blundered through his own thoughts.

 He slipped down into a gap in the floor space, his toes sunk into warm grease and gunk. Enough light glittered down, guiding him through the narrow space among bundles of sticky cables. He pulled himself up onto a protruding slate, toward lines of light pressing through a grate. With a little push, the spherical cover popped loose. With a little more of his reserves and force, he’s able to slip the weighted metal aside and climbed out.

 A little further away, the Mechanic is still peering into the sliver of cuvee where Mono vanished. In its distraction, Mono crept out a little and stole a portion of the chain visible, just a little beyond the range and sight of the Mechanic. In the conveyor belt nestled a whirling spool, beneath the stretch of textured material rolling upward on its tireless, empty task. The chain is very heavy for him to haul along, but he focused on sort of falling backwards while using the chain to keep himself from toppling over completely.

 Quite suddenly the other child has joined him, on the other side of the chain. They shove and he heaved backwards, the two get the process synchronized and really grind the chain along to its new home. Mono’s eyes burn with tears and sweat. Almost done! Almost!

 The Mechanic drew its head back, right when he and other kid shoved the chain into the slot at the base of the motorized incline. Other kid didn’t stick around, they shot off. Mono fell to his knees, observing as the chain whirled by at a frightening speed. The instant the links knotted tight within the narrow slot he dove aside—

 A most gruesome screech ignited from the turbine embedded within the motor, while chinks of corroded metal were swallowed down and chewed to bits. Sparks coughed out of the machine, along with a puff of blue flame. Mono scrambled up and ran, that was so much louder than he thought possible. Also, bits of sharp metal and gears erupted from the floor, among with chunks of uprooted cement. A spike of rusted flint embedded itself with the cement floor a little to his right! Close! Too close! Cover!

 HideHideHideHideHideHideHideHideHideHideHideHide!

 A second more horrific noise expelled through the haze of the factory, when the Mechanic was yanked off its feet and tucked in among the very narrow slot of beneath the motorized slope, the one where Mono was squeezing himself through. The Mechanic’s arm zipped into the floor and vanished, its other arm reached skyward as a dreadful gargle spewed from its throat. Its vest and the chain sash splint into various sized ribbons, and much of its torso became fresh ground meat.

 There was no mournful bellow or further coughing, retching, not even a sob. The Mechanic splint in two, and a final implosion announced the creature’s bitter demise. From there, the conveyors belt continued its dutiful role – haphazardly, hitching and clinking at the bits of metal it garbled. Otherwise, the fire and explosions ceased. A thick black fog hung over the minced corpse, but any suggestion of fire was doused by gallons of red fluid.

 A safe distance away and huddled under a sequence of bent cylinders, Mono chanced lifting his head. He pushed his hat up and examined the scene, his nose curling at the smell. Awful. Yuck. Uncoiling a little more, he sat on his knees trying to catch his breath and process what he was looking at.

 Tricked. Done. No more. Good. 

 Despite the Mechanic being splint in two, and most of his skull crushed, Mono is cautious when he ventured closer to the body. Nothing seemed to deter it, though it looked properly and completely demolished. He held his arms a little from his sides, in case he needed to make a full retreat. Not moving, except for the partially uprooted incline tugging at the skewered backside.

 Belt! The Mechanics belt, it did have a good fuse on it.

 Mono ducked in and tugged at the gleaming cylinder, bracing on his heels amidst the drying viscera, until the item popped loose. He tumbled to his back but recovered quickly and took up the item. No worries either, it looked like the chain coiled about the Mechanics body was lodged into the conveyor belts now exposed spool. It should be safe now. Should. No guarantees.

 The boy spun around and pattered off, he suspected in this direction the exit would lie. Through the swirling fumes, he could define the texture of a solid wall. It shouldn’t be far. He wondered if the other kid was still around, could be watching him. The Mechanic was tricked, they shouldn’t need to hide now. But he was still uncertain, so they might be extra careful too.

 In his absence, one of the chains braced through the inert body of the Mechanic shivered. With a last tremor, the restraint snapped free and lashed across the mostly functioning conveyor ramp. Swaying and partially planted on the shredded belt, the chain begins its journey. Traveling up and up to the crest of the ramp, fading from view as it ventured onward.

 Everything is fine.

Next

[fangirlshrewt97]

The Old Guard Fanfic - Good Books, Good Friends, and A Sleepy Vacation

Author(s): Fangirlshrewt97

Fandom: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)

Pairing: Booker & Nile

Characters: Nile Freeman, Booker | Sebastien Le Livre

Rating: General

Warnings: None

Additional Tags:  Family Bonding, Brother-Sister Relationships, Fluff, Family Feels, Vacation, Soft, Library, Books, Booksworms bonding over books basically, Mild Language, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Booker deserves a break, Nile deserves a chance to spend time with him

Summary:

“There are so many places I’ve never been, I don’t know where to start. Or even what I’d do.” she confesses. Booker hums, and Nile can feel him staring holes into her. She is still spinning the globe, gently tracing the borders on it when she hears the chair scrape behind her, and Booker’s footsteps approaching her. She turns when she feels the heat of a body at her back. Booker looks at her face before looking at the globe in her hands, gently taking it from her hands. He spins it once before stopping it mid-rotation. His fingers are on Canada. “Have you ever been to Quebec?”

Basically, Booker and Nile have a small vacation away from the others, and bond. Also they explore Booker's library.

Link to A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571494

                                                           ///

They take a break. Four months. Quynh’s return, Andy regaining her immortality, the fight that nearly costs them everything, Booker coming back too soon, Joe and Nicky nearly losing each other again. By the time the dust settles, even Nile is ready to sleep for a hundred years.

They decide to reconvene in London, at Copley’s house, specifically instructing him to leave them alone for the entirety of the break for anything short of an apocalypse occurring. Andy and Quynh are out the second Copley agrees, they don’t tell anyone where they are going, and everyone finds it best to leave the two oldest warriors alone. They have already died too many times that year. Joe and Nicky are next, saying they are going to Malta and leaving without a second look.

That leaves Booker and Nile staring at each other across from Copley’s dining table while the host himself looks torn between resignation and questioning his life choices. When Booker still looks like he is spooked to speak, Nile takes the initiative. “What are you going to do Booker?”

The Frenchman chews on his lip, a nervous habit Nile would not guess he had, before looking at her. He is sitting hunched in the chair, still trying to make himself look as small as possible, but only looking uncomfortable. “I’m not sure. You?”

Nile looks away from him, eyes moving across the room before finally settling on a small globe sitting atop a short cabinet. Crossing the room, she grabs the globe and gently spins it. “There are so many places I’ve never been, I don’t know where to start. Or even what I’d do.” she confesses.

Booker hums, and Nile can feel him staring holes into her. She is still spinning the globe, gently tracing the borders on it when she hears the chair scrape behind her, and Booker’s footsteps approaching her. She turns when she feels the heat of a body at her back.

Booker looks at her face before looking at the globe in her hands, gently taking it from her hands. He spins it once before stopping it mid-rotation. His fingers are on Canada. “Have you ever been to Quebec?”

Quebec is not quiet how she pictured it, although based on her limited American education, she may as well have been expecting a rural French city in the middle of modern Canada. Autumn has settled over the place, painting the leaves a familiar golden yellow and red, the scent of maple nearly overwhelming. Booker drives confidently, and in this city that still feels like France, but not haunted by the ghosts of his family, Nile seems his lose a few lines of tension she had not noticed he carried. It is not the first revelation she has during her trip there.

He takes her to a beautiful and quaint two story house, parking the car in the driveway. He goes to the trunk and takes out their bags before giving Nile her’s, and goes to open the door. The neighborhood is quiet, even at 2 in the afternoon, and it is so idyllic, Nile has to pinch herself to make sure this isn’t a dream. The home, and it is a home, full of touches of Booker in the way that house in Turkey had belonged to Joe and Nicky. A home where he lived, not a safe house he used to recuperate. Wooden floors, a living room with stairs leading upstairs and a kitchen behind the stairwell. Nile paused at the doorway, admiring how with every step, Booker seemed to shed a little more of the burden and grief he perpetually carried. She was taking off her shoes when Booker found her, a tray with two glasses and a jug of water. “Make yourself comfortable Nile.”

She followed him to the couches, two white sofas which could have been made from clouds with how much she sank into them. She must have made a noise before Booker snorted a laugh and handed her a glass. “The house is yours. Give me a few minutes, I will dig up an extra set of bed sheets and blankets for the guest room, you can use that for as long as you want. My bedroom will be at the end of the hallway, and the bathroom is between the two rooms, if you want to freshen up.”

A shower after the 15 hour flight seemed divine. “I’ll shower Booker.”

Booker nodded once. “Come, I’ll show you where you can keep your stuff.”

///

For the first two weeks Booker leaves her to her own devices, giving her a couple thousand Canadian dollars and telling her to have fun but stay safe. Nile develops a routine, waking up around 8, lazing about in bed and having a late breakfast around 10 before she was out of the house. Booker did not leave as much, but he always had something prepared for dinner, or take out ordered by the time Nile returned at night, and indulged her in her telling of the sights of the city.

As far as she could tell, Booker did not leave the house, he was always awake before she was, and went to bed after her. She also noticed that he did not seem to touch alcohol in the house. Or at least not when she could see. As the days passed, and more and more leaves fell, so did Booker’s grief. When Nile returned home, and hadn’t that made her pause, when had she started seeing this as home? When she returned one night, maybe a month into their vacation, she heard a record player singing an old track she had heard before but could not place.

As she neared the kitchen from where the sound was coming, she even heard singing, and when she peered into the open kitchen, found the man crooning softly to the song, hips barely swaying.

And his face, Booker almost looked happy. She must have gasped, because he turned to her. “You are getting more silent everyday Nile. Good. It is an important skill.” Booker said as he smiled at her. And damn, what a smile. It made her grin in response. She went and sat at the bar stool he had pointed to, placing her own offering on the table.

He laughed when he saw the box.

“Tim Horton’s?”

“I had a friend in college from Toronto. She used to drag us into every donut shop and then complain none of them were as good as these. Figured I should verify her claim.” she explained.

Booker had a happy glint in his eyes.

“You have a pretty smile.” And there she went putting her foot in her mouth. She could see the glint fading the smile shrinking. “No, I just meant I don’t think I have ever seen you smile.”

God, strike her down already, what was wrong with her. “Shit.”

Booker to his credit looked sad but recovered quickly, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “No, don’t be angry Nile. You are right. I am a miserable fucker to be around.”

“Book…”

“I just, I guess being here makes things a little easier. You’re the first I’ve brought here.” he admitted, looking straight at her.

Nile felt speechless at the admission. The implications, the trust of his actions, they were almost too large to comprehend. What did you say to a man who had put up walls all around his heart to protect himself from even more pain than the pain he carried already telling you he was opening a door into his heart for her?

“Tha-”

Booker shook his head, stopping her. “I don’t need you to thank me Nile. I told you on that balcony, and I stand by my words. You are exactly what we all needed. Without Quynh, Andy was functioning just enough to keep going, not living. Nicky and Joe were wrapped up in their own grief, their fear of suffering the same fate and it maifested by holding each other even tighter. When I joined…” he sighed as he rounded the table, sitting in the stool next to her. Nile was scared to breath too hard, afraid of ruining the moment. “When I joined, I had deserted my army, I ran back to my family even though they told me it wouldn’t be a good idea, I threw myself at everything that caused me pain, and my greatest mistake was failing to realize how much they cared for me Nile. I was so busy mourning the family I had lost, I couldn’t see how much the family I gained could give me. And that is something I will regret for the rest of my days, even after these 100 years pass.”

“To be fair, I don’t think they are going to actually keep you away for the remaining 97 years anyways.” Nile said, finally finding her words.

“They should, the betrayal, some days, I can barely look at myself in the mirror. Regardless. You are smart, and brave, and kind, and you taught them the joy of living again, showed them the purpose we have. You’ve shown it to me too.”

“I didn’t even see you for most of these three years.”

“Even those two days were enough to show me why it was you. Andy was ready to quit, ready to give up on the world, and then you showed up and reminded her again.”

“I just did what needed to be done.”

Booker laughed, but it was harsh and sharp. “Oh soeur, no, you could have walked away. You did not need to go back to Copley, you did not have to come to London. You could have just left us all to Merrick. That’s what I would have done.”

And Nile couldn’t exactly say anything contrary could she.

“Look, just take my word, for what it worth, that you are special, and I am grateful to have you in our lives.” Booker said, conviction so strong in his voice Nile nodded automatically.

“I am glad I met you all too.”

Booker shot her a wry grin and patted the hand she had on the countertop once before going to the record player which had stopped. He removed the record and placed it inside it’s pouch.

“Okay, enough of this feelings talk. I have prepared Canadian Poutine and must know what you think of it.”

Nile laughed.

“Hey, do you have plans for tomorrow?” he asked as he went to the stove. Nile shook her head.

“Not really. Why?”

Booker smiled. “Let me show you my library.”

“Your library?”

“My library.” Booker said, wicked smile in place.

The next day, Nile got ready as she usually did, but after breakfast, Booker guided her back upstairs and into a room opposite his bedroom she hadn’t really thought about.

She nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw the room, made fully of wood panelling, with bookshelves that ran the height and width of the wall, filled to the brim with books. Half the shelves were covered with glass panels, and the volumes behind it looked old. Booker leaned against the doorway as she explored the room.

She ducked to inspect a particular shelf filled with old looking tomes, checking with Booker before she opened the panel and slid the panel to remove one of the books. She nearly dropped it when she opened the front cover. “This- Book-”

In her hands, a faded but still legible note on the first page read

Dearest Sebastien,

I hope to see you again soon, and hear more of your adventures.

Yours sincerely,

Tolkien

“You knew Tolkien?” Nile exclaimed.

Booker chuckled. “He was a smart guy.”

He just laughed harder at Nile’s impression of a goldfish, with her wide eyes and open mouth.

“I like collecting first editions Nile.” he said in lieu of an explanation, gesturing to the shelves next to her. All of these are first editions, or as close as I could find. Several are gifts from the others too.”

“I- who, which other famous authors did you know?”

Booker grinned at her. “A few. But that is for another day. There are more books. Look around.” he said as he removed the tome from Nile’s hands, replacing it back in his collection.

Dumbfounded, Nile went back to looking at the collection. She noticed the books getting newer as she went around the room, until a familiar paperback caught her eye. Pulling it from the shelf, she couldn’t suppress her laugh.

“What?” Book asked, coming to see what she had chosen.

“Harry Potter?” Nile asked, mirth clear in her eyes.

Booker frowned before shrugging. “It was a good series. I got that book on it’s first day of sales”

For some reason, this just made her laugh harder, covering her face with the book. “Oh my god.”

“What is wrong with Harry Potter?” Booker asked, now looking slightly annoyed, arms crossed across her chest.

“Nothing is wrong with Harry Potter. I just. I remember going to our neighborhood bookstore and waiting in line when the last book went on sale, wanting to get it as soon as possible. And just. The idea that a 200-plus year old soldier from Napoleon’s army doing that same is just insane.”

Booker shot her a wide grin that just made her giggle.

“Yeah alright, that is funny.”

“Yeah it is. Let me guess, Ravenclaw?” Nile teased.

Booker raised an eyebrow at her. “Let me guess, Hufflepuff?”

Nile made a noise of protest. “Hufflepuff is a good house! It is not my fault no one ever talks about it!”

“Figures you would be a badger.”

“Hey, so long as we agree that the others are all Gryffindor and overrated, I have nothing to say against Ravenclaw.”

“Fair.” Booker said. They stared at each other for a beat. Then bent over laughing, Nile going so far as to sit on the carpet at the stupidity of the conversation. Booker was leaning against the shelves, and his own face was cracked wide open in a smile, making him look so much younger than Nile had ever seen him.

“One last question. What do you think of Snape?”

“Fuck that asshole.”

Nile laughed bright and loud as she allowed Booker to pull her up and take the book from her hand. “Good boy Book.”

Booker tutted and pulled one of her braids for it.

“Impertinent child. You need to learn to respect your elders.”

“Ow, not allowed Book.” Nile complained at the faint tug she honestly hadn’t felt at all.

“Choose a book to read Nile.”

Nile spun around the room slowly, chewing her cheek. “There are so many. I don’t know where to start.”

Booker hummed. “Do you want old or new?”

“New. I am scared if I touch those old books I’ll end up tearing them.”

“Good point.”

She ran her hand along the spines of the books in front of her before letting it drop. “You choose.”

Booker raised an eyebrow but nodded. He stepped closer to the shelves while Nile took a step back.

“Hmm.” He said as he pulled a thin book out. “Have you read this one?”

Nile took it. “Oedipus Rex?” She opened the book, and realized it wasn’t a story. “It’s a play.”

“Yes. By Sophocles himself. Are you familiar with Oedipus?”

“I’ve heard the name but don’t know the story.”

“It is a good start then.”

“What’s it about?”

At that, Booker paused in his browsing, making Nile look up. Softly, so softly she had to strain to hear he said “A story of a man who tried so hard to outrun destiny and ended up fulfilling it anyways.”

Nile stayed quiet, unsure what to reply to that.

Booker pulled out another book. “What about this one?”

“The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. I saw the movie. It was good.” Nile said.

Booker glared at her. Nile smiled cheekily back at him. “The movie was good.”

“Book is even better.”

Nile conceded. “Probably. Why this one?”

Booker’s smile dimmed. “It is a story of a boy who traded his family for something  he thought he wanted, and only ended up putting them all in danger because of his actions.”

Nile’s gaze softened as she laid a hand on Booker’s arm. “If I remember correctly, the boy realizes his mistake and returns to his family. And never strays from them again.”

Booker gave her an old and tired look for that. He turned back to the shelves, pulling out one more book.

And then Booker smirked. “And of course, you have to read this one.” he said as he placed a third paperback in her hand.

The title was enough to make her hit him with it, making his shake with amusement.

“Death on the Nile, hahahaha, world class comedian Booker.”

“It is a good story.” Booker said as he pulled the book away from her, grinning joyfully.

“Another time. I’ll read these first.”

Nile went and curled up on one end of the love seat Booker had at the end of the room, right below the windows. Booker moved around the room for a bit, making sure everything was in its place before coming to join her on the couch.

He pulled a book from the table beside him that Nile hadn’t noticed.

“What are you reading?”

He tilted the book so she could catch the title. “Far from the Madding Crowd?”

“I’m… fond of it.” Booker said.

“I’ll add it to my list then.” Nile said.

The pair of immortals shared another smile before settling in to read, a new found peace and understanding enveloping them.  

[jerkbitchidjitassbutt]

What Mattered Most (2)

Characters: Dean x Reader; Sam

Summary: Dean wakes to find she’s gone. What would make his best friend leave him? Sam may just know.

A/n: This will be a mini-series of two to three parts, based on the song “What Mattered Most” by Ty Herndon. This has been rumbling around in my head for a while, so I finally committed to getting it down. This is a little later than I was hoping to get it to you today, for that I apologize. 

Warnings: Angst. Sadness.

Dean stood in the doorway of the bunker’s kitchen, resting his weight against the wide frame as you stood at the stove, flipping sizzling bacon in a cast iron skillet. Your hips were swaying to the sounds of music flowing from your headphones and you would shimmy your waist every few beats, oblivious to the world and thoroughly enjoying the Saturday morning off. A smile played at his lips as he watched you, content to savor the moments where you were lost in a melody as you took care of him and Sammy.

You turned slightly and caught his movement out of the corner of your eye, making you jump and yank the cords from your ears, “Dean! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” you yelled, clutching a hand to your chest.

A small chuckle erupted as he held his hands up in surrender, “Hey, you can’t blame me. There was no way I was going to ruin that show.”

Dean smirked as your cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink and a hint of a grin made a small dimple appear on the left side of your mouth.

He loved mornings like this; in the safety of his home, his brother snoring down the hall, and his favorite girl waiting for him to wake up.

“Yeah… well, you could have warned me. Not given me a heart attack.” You grumbled, but still cheekily beaming as you turned your back to him, setting to work at the stove with the pancake batter.

Dean moved slowly, placing a foot in front of the other methodically and allowing his strong legs to carry him to you. He rounded the small island, reveling in the sight of your falling in ribbons around a messy bun and your bare legs tucked beneath your sleep shorts.

It was a sight he adored. You.

When he reached you, he planted his feet on either side of your stance, his arms sensuously winding around your midsection. His fingertips trailed lightly against the skin exposed as he pressed his lips against your collarbone.

“How are you this morning, sweetheart?” he purred, caressing the shell of your ear with his mouth.

Reaching behind you to thread your fingers in his soft locks, you replied with a hum, “I’m good. Slept well, had good dreams.”

“Oh yeah?” he questioned mischievously. “About me?” he asked, attaching himself to your backside and locking you within his large frame.

You giggled. He could get lost in your laughter. “Of course, honey. Always about you.”

He spun you gently to cage you against the counter, leaning in to run his nose along the curve of your jaw, “I had good dreams too. I missed you when you weren’t there when I woke up, though.” his lips curling while he brushed a few stray hairs from your face, feeling the smoothness of your skin against his palm.

Stretching to your toes, you pressed a longing kiss to his plump lips, slipping your hands under the hem of his shirt to feel his muscle beneath. Dean knew he could live in this feeling for eternity.

“I’m sorry,” you whined, hugging him tightly and burying yourself in his chest, “but I had to go.”

“Go?” Dean questioned, confusion knitting his brow.

“Yeah, Dean.” You stated simply, pulling away from his embrace to look into his eyes, a sadness in your voice that he hadn’t heard before. “Remember? I left. I’m not here anymore.”

Dean stood speechless, witnessing the once happy glow fade from your gaze. A single tear flowed down your cheek, but you were steadily fading even as he still felt your warmth in his arms. “Y/n…”

Before he could continue, you slipped from his grasp, his hands still reaching for you as you vanished, words echoing in the darkness, “I’m gone. You can’t find me. I’m never coming home.”

Dean awoke gripping the sheets around him, a thin layer of sweat covering the length of his body and a panic in his chest that he couldn’t calm. He sat up quickly, searching his surroundings for something he wasn’t sure he’d lost. Sleep still fogging his memory, he struggled to remember what he was holding onto, but his dream haunted him none-the-less. He shook the covers from his legs and swung his bedroom door open with force, moving towards the room across the hall. Sam’s gentle snores could be heard from behind his cracked door to the left as he stood in front of yours.

When he twisted the knob gently and the door opened with a whine. He flipped the light switch, illuminating the pitch-black space to reveal a pristine, yet empty bedroom. He felt his stomach turn in knots and his eyes burn with fresh tears.

It wasn’t a dream. It wasn’t his imagination… You really were gone.

He’d tried for two months to find you, but every shred of your identity was left behind. Every link or connection he had turned up empty. Fake badges, ID’s, and every burner phone he knew of yours sat on the small desk adjacent to your bed. He dragged his body towards it, slumping into the chair and resting his elbows on his knees to run a hand through his hair tiredly. Retrieving your most recent license from the stack before him, he took a moment to study the photo displayed on the plastic pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Your eyes, your nose, your lips. The smile hidden beneath them.

The images of his dream flooded back to him. He felt your skin touching his, your body cradled against him, and the smell of your shampoo. His hands could still feel your heat, though they were cold to the touch.

The scene in his vision wasn’t entirely fantasy, but one that he’d been a part of years ago. A memory of breakfasts you’d shared so many times made his chest tighten in agony. They were always filled with laughter and deep conversations. The secrets you kept from the world were often shared over the most amazing coffee and arguments ensued over the last shred of bacon. The only difference now was the intimacy. The touching. The kissing. Holding each other. That was something that had never been reality. It was never that he didn’t love you—at least not in the profound, elegant way, but rather it was something that hadn’t blossomed within him, until recently.

Until Sam told him everything. Until you left.

Now there was a longing in his heart that bloomed like a thirst that could never be satiated. He reasoned that it was just the feeling of missing his best friend, the person that had been there for him through all of the ups and downs that accompanied this life. But he knew. Deep within him, Dean knew he was in love with you—he could deny it, pretend he didn’t know the feeling, but there was no mistaking it. He also knew that he was too arrogant to appreciate it when he’d had the chance to act. He drove you away to the point that you didn’t want to be found, all the while burying himself into a hole of his own creation. He could try to move on, to try to forget and pretend to be his old self with a devil-may-care attitude, but there would be no use.

He stood from your desk chair and moved to stand by your bed, envisioning you lying there curled beneath your favorite blanket. Strangely enough, your scent was still etched into the very fabric of the room he now stood in. Your once decorated nightstand and dresser were bare, drained of the photos that use to adorn them. Dean resisted the urge to crawl into your bed and instead settled for running his fingertips along the hem of your pillow, cold and unused.

Dean shuffled back to the confines and darkness of his own room; closing your door to hide the haunting sight of its bareness, before slowly lowering himself back onto his mattress. He tucked himself tightly beneath the sheets, praying for the release of sleep if only to see you once again.

Hours passed before he was being gently shaken awake by Sam informing him of a case. In a state of confusion and hollowness, Dean packed his small bag of belongings and kept the radio silent during the entire drive, pertinently ignoring Sam’s questioning stares. He tried to pretend with Sam; pretend he wasn’t torn apart, but his brother knew him all too well.

Now, here he was, in a bar in nowhere, Nebraska, trying to chase the tiniest bit of his sorrow away. They’d arrived in town at 7 p.m., too late to follow any leads of the case, so Sam elected to stay behind and do research as Dean elected to do anything but stare at motel room walls.

“Another round?” the bartender asked.

“Yeah, then close out my tab.” Dean replied; opting that two was actually a good place to stop for the evening, something he potentially wouldn’t have done two months ago.

The bartender, a man probably in his late 40′s and hardened by life, grabbed the bottle of scotch and poured another three fingers over the remaining ice in Dean’s glass, ���You from around here?”

“No.” Dean shook his head, lifting the amber liquid to his lips. “Just in town for a few days.”

“Didn’t think so. Only a few newbies ever make there way to these parts. But, let me give you some advice…” the stranger replied, reaching behind him, “This place has the best steak in town. My neighbor owns it; it’s an institution around here.” He set a paper menu in front of Dean on the glistening wood, next to the coaster that would house his drink.

Dean picked it up, prepared to thank him before he excused himself to help the new round of guests that poured in.

As he was studying the menu, a commotion sounded from the other end of the room, where two men were in a heated discussion about a recent game of pool. Dean took notice of the increase in bodies in the small area, not surprising for a Friday evening in a small town bar. At the other end of the space, a squeal from the speakers sounded as a few workers set up equipment for karaoke that would apparently be happening later that evening.

Glasses clinked together, the cracks and clanks of the balls being pushed by  pool cues flooded his hears, and voices sounded from all around him; but nothing could have drowned out the sound of the voice he’d missed for months.

“Can I have a Jack and coke, please?” he heard from the opposite end of the bar, causing him to freeze. It was unmistakable.

He slowly turned his eyes in the direction of the wonderfully chilling melody and was met with the sight of you leaning over the edge of the bar, your Y/h/c hair falling in waves around your face and your eyes shining as you smiled at the bartender.

Dean attempted to force every cell of his body to tear his eyes away from you, but to no avail. Your skin was flushed and healthy. You were wearing a new shade of lipstick; a slightly darker red then the natural pigment of the flesh of your lips.

The bartender passed you a glass as you left a few bills on the counter, but you stayed planted where you were standing when you ordered. There was a lightness to you that Dean hadn’t witnessed in many years, feeling a fresh wave of guilt as the knowledge passed that it had been his doing that you’d lost it.

As he was taking you in, Dean felt a new found determination and strength to right whatever he’d done wrong. In that moment, he’d give anything to give you everything.

He began to stand, until he heard your name called.

A new fire rose to your eyes as you glanced in the direction from which it came, a bright, dazzling smile gracing your lips.

Dean watched as a man made his way through the crowd, steadfastly making his way to you.

And when that man captured your lips with his, Dean felt his heart shatter.

To be continued...

<Part 1 / Part 3>

Masterlist

[blueandyellow1]

Blue’s Dragon: Chapter 1

Welcome to the new AU! I love dragons and I love Bellow so here we are. Grumpy dragon Yellow and boisterous Princess Blue.

Ao3 link.

Princess Blue was sleeping lightly in her four poster bed. Gauzy curtains hung from the wooden poles, each tipped with a periwinkle diamond. The sheer material swayed gently in the wind blowing in from the open window. It was still.

But something woke the princess. She rubbed the sleep away from her cerulean eyes and squinted in the dim light. Her eyes swept across the room, looking for danger as she reached for the dagger under her pillow.

The 23 year old princess was the sole heir to the Asalik throne, a kingdom fraught with peril. The people of the vicious kingdom were hardened, fighters. Blue was no exception.

Gripping her dagger, the thin woman jumped out of her bed. Her long, silver hair curled around her, almost as if it had a life of its own. She stood, frozen in a defensive stance, her willowy frame clothed in a long, azure nightgown fluttering in the breeze.

“Who’s there?” Her voice, although fuzzy with sleep, was sharp and cutting as ever.

There was no answer.

She moved around, her eyes flicking to the shadows, checking for demons and goblins. Her bare feet ghosted across the floor, light as feathers as she jumped silently across the rugs.

After several seconds, her stance relaxed, and her dagger wielding arm lowered. Her breaths came harder, as she realized she had been holding her breath. She walked back to her bed, feet dragging slightly.

She flopped onto the bed, stomach down. It had been a hard few weeks for the princess.

…

The kingdom was under siege. The people of Asalik had been at war with the supernatural for centuries, but recently, there had been sightings of dragons. Dragons, arguably the most powerful beings to roam the planet, hadn’t been seen for a millennia. Many thought them a myth.

Until one afternoon when the sun had been blocked out by a huge form, casting the kingdom in its shadow. A gleaming, golden dragon. Huge, about the size of three huts together. It hadn’t done anything, hadn’t set fire to the villages, or eaten the livestock. It hadn’t even looted the town for precious stones, hadn’t taken anything back to its lair.

All the beast had done was fly across the sky, breathing flames into the air in a spectacular show of power. Wings stretched out, teeth and fangs on display.

That was two months ago. Blue remembered it well. Her mother had stormed into the library where she was reading. Queen White had always been stern with her, believing that the only way her daughter could be prepared to rule was through intense study, training, and lessons.

The princess had always had a mind of her own, learning to fight with swords and daggers after etiquette lessons, sewing training uniforms instead of embroidering ball gowns, and sneaking forbidden books from the library during her literary lessons. She was used to the harsh punishments her mother dealt out.

But nothing could prepare her for the torture the next few months would bring.

After storming into the library, her mother had ripped the book out of her hands, her fury misdirected at her daughter. She screamed, her normally commanding voice turned shrill. Blue hadn’t cried then, she was used to her mother’s fits. But when her mother sentenced her to her room indefinitely, she had broken down.

Two months in solitude. A prisoner.

Every meal brought to her by a servant, slipped in through the grate the queen had commissioned. She had replaced the whole door, in fact. Gone was thin wooden door. In its place a thick metal door, with barred gap in the middle for the princess to receive her meals. The door was adorned with no less than three locks, and the Queen had made it very clear that she was the only being who held the keys.

Queen White graced her daughter with her presence every morning, precisely at sunrise. She was never late. Two curt knocks on her door would alert Blue that her mother had arrived. She never stayed longer than a few minutes, mostly repeating her mantra, that her isolation was for her own good. The world was too dangerous for a pretty young princess. Especially one where dragons has free reign. Her mother always left a promise: Blue would be freed when the golden dragon was slain.

…

It was the dragon that floated through her mind as she lay on her bed, unable to shake the nervous feeling in her stomach. The golden dragon. Although the princess hadn’t seen it herself, she had heard stories. More often than not, she had her ear pressed against the door, straining to hear any gossip. She had often coaxed the servant who brought her food to tell her any tidbit they had overheard.

The dragon looked like it was made of molten lava, they said. Scales a brilliant golden, shined enough to see your own reflection, some said. Others said it was dusty, glowing like heated metal. But all agreed on the fangs and talons and horns. It had long, white incisors, sharp enough to easily cut through flesh. Black talons adorned each paw at the end of muscled legs. And the horns, thick and curved, sprouted from the beast’s head.

It was a monster, a savage. It had cruel eyes, yellow like the sun. They were no human eyes, no, the diamond pupils showed that clearly.

Blue wondered what it would be like to stare into those eyes. She’d read about dragons in her books, about how they were a magic race, intelligent and strong. They were elitist, they thought themselves superior to all other beings, and their kingdom was in the clouds, only reachable by strong dragon wings. She wondered why a lone dragon was terrorizing their land.

As she pondered, still laying face down in her bed, she suddenly felt strong arms around her waist. Her body tensed, her training kicking in, and she swung her limbs around, trying to hit her assailant. But her muscles were weakened, her time locked in her room had wasted away at them, as much as she tried to stop it.

Even as she opened her mouth to scream, a cloth was shoved into her mouth, and another across her eyes. She felt herself being taken to the window, flung across the room.

Luck was on her side, as one of her feet connected with her attacker. She heard a grunt, and a thud. Using a freed hand, she grabbed the cloth at her mouth, screaming a blood curdling yell.

She felt herself being thrown again, landing on glass. Then, a fall. Her room, a tower in the palace, was several floors up and she screamed as she fell, limbs flailing blindly.

Until she was caught. This time, she felt talons grip her torso, digging into her sides. She heard the flap of wings above her and knew. She had been kidnapped by the dragon.

…

The princess screamed as she flew over the kingdom. Her screams quickly alerted the sleeping kingdom of the danger. She heard the clang of metal and the boom of canons below her. Never before would she think those sounds would bring her comfort, but she held onto the hope that their knights could defeat the great dragon.

Hope waned each passing second trapped blindfolded in the talons of the beast, and she began to panic. Its grip on her was tight, but she squirmed, thrashing about. Above her, she heard the dragon growl in distaste.

“Stop moving or you’ll hurt yourself.”

The voice instantly stopped her struggles. It was gravelly and rough, like stones grating against each other. I didn’t know dragons could speak, she thought wildly, suddenly aware of how little she really knew about the creatures.

But before she could dwell any longer on that thought, she heard a boom, and a roar. She was jerked backwards, and her stomach felt a rapid drop in height. The dragon was hit, probably by a canon, judging by the screams and struggle.

The two fell to the ground, plummeting through trees before landing on thankfully soft soil. The talons never left her body or loosened their grip, but her blindfold was torn off by jagged tree branches, allowing her to finally see her kidnapper.

The dragon lay on its side, enormous chest heaving as it breathed. Its mouth was half open as it gasped for breath, and Blue could see the row of pearly white, razor sharp teeth. She noted the black horns on its head, and the golden scales covering its body. They weren’t shiny, but a dull golden color, contrasting to the glowing eyes that were half shut.

She wasted a moment staring at the creature, before resuming her struggle, wiggling desperately to get free. This only earned her a glare from a yellow eye, pupil narrowed into a vertical slit.

The beast rolled to its feet, shifting its grip on the princess so she was bound by one large leg, freeing the others to run underneath them. Blue watched in horror as the dragon took off, galloping further into the forest. She began to scream once more, but knew that her voice wouldn’t be heard.

Blue was surprised at the speed the golden creature gained as it ran. She had never thought of dragons running, only flying through the sky. They were fast, and it expertly avoided trees and other debris in their path.

Her wonder was short lived, as panic began to set in. “Hey, you! Foul beast, let me go!” she screamed. “I am Princess Blue Diamond of Asalik, sole heir to the throne and I demand you let me go!”

Her yell made the dragon slow to a trot. “I will let you go when we get to Rodor Cynedom.”

“Where in the Stars is that?” she shrieked back, still trying to struggling against the talons.

“The Sky Kingdom.” Came the gravelly retort. The dragon resumed its pace and Blue gave up her struggle. She could not match the strength of a dragon.

They ran for what seemed like hours before the golden beast let out a pained yelp and nearly collapsed to the ground. Blue felt the grip around her body loosen, enough to free one of her arms.

“What happened?” she asked, waving her arm. When she received no response, she scowled and muttered, “Did you choke on your own nastiness, you vile creature.”

“I am badly injured,” answered the dragon evenly, not even sparing her a glance as it drug them to a nearby cave.

“Well what about me? I could be dying here! You’re holding me really tightly!” she said angrily, banging her fists against the scales.

“You sustain small scrapes. You can wash them in the spring once we find it in the cave.” The dragon rolled one large eye towards her.

“Wash—what?” The anger drained out of her, shock replacing it. “Why would you let me wash up? Are you trying to pretty me up to eat me?”

Ridged eyebrows furrow and the dragon’s eye narrowed. “You’ll feel better when you’re clean.”

Although the dragon had a point, Blue refused to admit it. She only scowled silently as they slowly made their way into the cave.

Once they reached the spring, the dragon dropped heavily to the ground, releasing the princess. Blue scrambled away from her, nearly falling into the spring in her haste. After throwing a glare at her captor, she turned to clean herself up in the clear water.

She finished quickly, not wanting to turn her back to the beast for long. She inspected the room. It was small, but clean and warm. Various sacks hung from the ceiling, presumably the dragon’s possessions. The dragon’s large form filled the only exit, blocking any chance of escape. Blue sighed, plopping herself down in the soft dirt.

“Any chance you got a chair or cushions or something? How long are we going to stay here? I’ll starve!” she said with a glare, crossing her arms.

The dragon opened its eyes. Two glowing eyes stared her down, but Blue matched its gaze, her scowl deepening. The dragon snorted, causing tendrils of smoke to curl upwards. A clawed foot reached up to its neck, to a necklace with a yellow pendant. The stone began to glow, and after a moment, several pillows and a very plush duvet popped out.

“What is that?” Blue asked, eyeing the necklace.

“Pillows and a blanket.” The dragon closed its eyes once more.

Blue rolled her eyes. “Not those, your necklace. What is it?”

“Dragon magic.”

The princess huffed at the short response. She walked to the pile of pillows, fluffing them up. “Why are you giving me this? These are really nice,” she said suspiciously.

“So you can be comfortable.”

Blue looked to the dragon, staring at its eyelids. “You’re not very talkative.”

Golden eyes opened. “I’m in great pain.”

The princess let her gaze travel down the dragon’s form. A gasp burst out of her lips when she saw the open gash across the dragon’s wing, small rivers of blood flowing down into the dirt. Words began tumbled out of her mouth, “Are you alright? Oh stars that was dumb, of course you’re not. Will it heal? You’re not going to die are you? Please don’t die and leave me trapped here! You’re magic right? Can you heal yourself?”

The dragon snorted again, but this time it was gentle, amused. “I am not dying. I will recover in a few days time.”

“That’s good.” Blue sat down on a cushion, suddenly feeling awkward. “You wouldn’t happen to have some food in your magic necklace would you? Humans eat every few hours, you know.”

“There is fruit in the sack above your head. Meat in the one in the corner.” The dragon used its tail to point to the two bags.

“Oh. You eat fruit? I thought dragons only ate meat. And I thought they ate animals whole,” the princess said as she moved to untie the fruit sack.

“I eat many things.” The golden creature watched as the princess looked through the bag before settling on an apple.

After eating a few bites, she met the dragon’s gaze. “Um, would you also like some? Do you...need anything?”

Honey colored lips pulled back, revealing sharp teeth. If Blue hadn’t known better, she would have thought it was a smile. “No, thank you.”

“You’re quite polite. Well, other than the kidnapping and keeping me prisoner.” She chuckled softly. “So, what’s your name?”

“Yellow.” The dragon’s eyes slid shut again and Blue noted the weariness that had crept into its rough voice.

“That’s a nice name. It suits you, you’re more yellow than the sun!” Blue said with a smile.

After waiting a few moments for a response, she sighed, and began arranging the pillows around her. She pulled the duvet over her, grateful that it was as comfortable as it looked. As tiredness overcame her, she took one last look at the beast. It seems nice enough. Maybe I can talk it into letting me go, she thought as her mind drifted off.

“Please don’t eat me while I sleep,” she said aloud just before she fell asleep.

[innaminitus]

Knife Brothers #2

Summary: What if Thor handed Loki to Hydra? What if Loki, with his all rage, decided to ruin the organisation for disrespecting him? What if he freed Bucky at the process? What if they became friends?

Warnings: graphic descriptions of rotting human body, don’t read this while eating maybe

Word count: 2047

A/N: I WILL ONLY TAG YOU IF YOU ASK FOR IT IN A TAG LIST POST LINKED BELOW

The idea is from HERE, I did as I promised and wrote it! Have fun, add yourself to the TAG LIST

“There is another thing they keep locked. I’ve never seen it, and not many people know about it,” James said, guiding Loki through corridors in the basement Pierce’s memory didn’t provide.

It turned out that his new companion was more than eager to pay Hydra back for all the years he’s been enslaved and used, and was gladly dipping their own weapons in their flesh. “It’s been here even longer than I, and if I’m right it will happily destroy every bit of Hydra.”

“Why do you keep saying “it”?” Loki raised his brow, looking around. The base was almost empty, not counting the bloody bodies leaving a murderous trial of their doings.

“’Cause it’s a monster.”

James led the way down, to the laboratory locked with many electronic devices Loki just froze. Another alarm wouldn’t do them any harm.

What he saw inside made his guts swirl in excitement and unspeakable, sick satisfaction when the thoughts of how he could use it filled his head.

It was a cage, its bars were almost the size of his thigh. Outside on the floor were red lines, marking the safe distance. The lab itself seemed almost abandoned, thin layer of dust covered the computers and desks.

The air was thick and stinking, felt heavy when Loki tried to breathe it in through his mouth. He quickly found out why.

On the floor next to the cage, half in, half out, was a body of a scientist, long way through decomposition. He was lying in a puddle of brown liquid, his skin unnaturally grey melting into black, was sliding down his fingers and arms. The body was still bloated, maggots feasted on the soft tissue.

James looked as if he was about to throw up, but Loki held his disgust and focused on the monster, as his companion so kindly called.

It was sitting on the dirty floor, its back turned to the door, pressed onto the bars. It was moving, but only barely, long, tangled hair were blocking Loki’s view from seeing what was actually happening. He didn’t dare to make a move, James was holding firmly on the doorframe.

“Did you come to clean up?” He heard a sweet, gentle voice, to his surprise coming from the so told beast. “I must say, he’s quite boring now that he’s not doing much.” It began to slowly turn and Loki held his breath, wondering what kind of abomination this thing was. What he saw, though, was far from his expectations. “I liked him when he bloated to the size of a sumo, he made all these noises and such things… I killed him nearly three weeks ago, I’ve been lonely since.”

It was definitely not a beast, not a monster, at least not from the outside. It was a woman. Her skinny face was dirty with blood drops and smeared with tears, he couldn’t decide whether form laughter or sadness.

She moved, brought her knees up to her chest, her feet sticking out of the cage, and he could see the rest of the devilish work behind her.

He rather not to.

The half of a scientist that was in her cage was… massacred. It wasn’t natural, it wasn’t decomposition. It was her mad toy, source of unspeakably disgusting joy she’s been playing with for weeks.

Head cracked open, residue of brain smeared on the floor in patterns she so thoughtfully decorated her prison in. Clothes ripped, similar as the chest, ribs pointing out, heart not where it was supposed to be. It was in her hand, reminding him of a mincemeat. That was the movement Loki saw earlier. She must’ve been tossing it up and down.

“I don’t think we should set her free, after all,” James said quietly, trying to drag Loki away by his sleeve. “Unless you do with her the thing you did with me.”

He didn’t want to do anything to her. He didn’t want to come any closer, to touch her, and he definitely didn’t want to dive into her sick mind.

“Don’t you want to play with me?” She titled her head and licked the heart, rotting parts of it stayed on her tongue. She swallowed it and pressed her face onto the bars. “Loki, son of Laufey, rightful king of Jotunheim, God of Mischief, Trickster,” she said on one breath, staring right into his eyes. He didn’t dare to move. “James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes, 56898, Winter Soldier, White Wolf– No,” she shook her head, “that is yet to come… Or has it come already?” She blinked and even though she smiled widely, her eyes stayed cold and empty. “I know all about you.”

Loki’s seen many things in his long, long life, but this woman was a definition of madness. She fascinated him, but at the same time he was frightened. Such minds were not easy to control, they were not consistent, kept changing with each second. He didn’t want to do it, but she could be valuable.

“Why don’t you talk to me, Silvertongue?” She flicked her own tongue at him. “Do you want to see what I can do? Watch.”

He certainly wasn’t interested, but then she closed her eyes and her long eyelashes almost touched her cheeks. She seemed focused, as if she was calculating something and then he saw it – her skin began to peel, showing a red something, flesh or another smooth skin. Her face wasn’t exactly human anymore, it resembled a naked skull.

“Red Skull,” James gasped next to him, not able to take his eyes off of her. “She’s the reason Hydra even exists.”

“Wrong!” She laughed. “Although I’m flattered, really. I only introduced our lovely, little, traitorous organisation to Führer.”

Loki didn’t exactly care what the woman’s past was, who she was before she was locked in that cage. The only thing he managed to think about was how useful she could be for him and his plans. If he wasn’t mistaken, the flame of vengeance was growing to the size of conflagration. If he was right, manipulating her would allow him to destroy Hydra from its core.

They messed with the wrong god.

He walked closer to her, despite his most animalistic instincts screaming at him that he should back away and leave her to be forgotten. The air in the laboratory seemed to be denser, his head was already dizzy from the smell of rotting body, but he forced himself to step past the red lines.

He shot his hand to her forehead, sure she won’t be quick enough to stop him and swayed when her long fingers wrapped around his wrist in a tight grip.

“You can just talk to me, God of Mischief, it’s rude to just read somebody’s mind.” She blinked at him, her normal skin began to grow back in patches. “But fine, do it, if you want it that bad.” She pulled his wrist and pressed his palm onto her forehead.

Loki didn’t hesitate a second. He invaded her mind, searching for broken pieces, bent edges and signs of manipulation, but he didn’t find any. Her memories and sanity were perfectly filed, there was no mess, no inconsistency. She wasn’t mad, at least not in her own mind. She knew what she was doing, why she was doing it and that everything she’s ever done was wrong.

She wasn’t lunatic. She was just plain evil.

“Did you do it? Did you fix her?” He heard James’ voice from inside of her head and dived away.

Loki slowly took a step back as soon as she let him go.

“There’s nothing to fix…” He said silently, watching closely as wide smile blooms on her face, this time her eyes smiled as well, even if it wasn’t a pleasant one. “But we still should take her.”

The thing she did with her skin, the peeling and growing was something she learned to do. She manipulated her own cells to do as she wished.

She forced the German scientists to test on her an early formula of the same serum that created Captain America, only it didn’t work very well. It disfigured her, left her looking like a crimson monster, but also cleared her mind to the point no other human could ever dream of. She was a genius. Unspeakable master of logic, remembering everything she’s ever seen or heard, the universe was only an easy riddle to her, allowing her to predict certain parts of the future, or at least its possible versions. She was a library of everything Hydra ever did. And, in between all of that, pure hate for organisation she’s been a head of, that betrayed her.

“What do you mean we should take her? Are you missing the rotting corpse down there?”

Loki turned rapidly to James, pointing at the woman.

“This is Hydra’s end right there, locked in a cage because she knows everything and is eager enough to use this knowledge against everyone who’s involved with it. She’s our nuclear bomb.”

James looked torn apart, he was fighting with himself, the one who wanted Hydra to pay for what they’ve done to him with the one that longed for warm bath and a soft bed.

He clenched his teeth.

“Fine. Let’s do it quickly.”

The woman smiled, titling her head.

“You won’t regret it.” Her hand shot through the gap of bars, pointing at one of the consoles. “You can read Russian, sweetheart. Just push the right button.”

Barnes gave her mistrustful look, but eventually did as she said, came up to the console and pushed one of the buttons. The bars creaked loudly, as if they were not winded down for years. They met the ground.

She slowly stood up, stretching her legs, cracking of bones echoed in the laboratory. She cocked her head, her bare feet investigated the floor, as if waiting for invisible spikes to suddenly pierce her through. One step after another she was more and more sure.

“So what’s your name? Unless you want us to call you Red Skull.” James crossed his arms and Loki noticed that his hands were slightly shaking.

She cringed at the name.

“Y/N Schmidt.” She walked past them to the corridor. “Come, I’d kill somebody for a bath.”

*

“We need to find a way to control her,” Bucky was talking for a few minutes now, Loki was trying to not fall asleep because of it.

“We cannot control her. No one can. Her mind is too strong even for me, I invaded it only because she let me.” The god was getting tired of it all. He got a weapon they needed to destroy Hydra, and this ungrateful Soldier kept undermining his decision. “You can always say no and walk away.”

Schmidt was in the bathroom, using unholy amounts of hot water. The apartment she found and… got rid of the owners of was small, but enough for the three of them. For now, at least. Loki wasn’t used to cramped spaces and he definitely wasn’t used to sharing a room.

James’ metal arm clenched, silent mechanical noises filled the kitchen they were in.

“”A person is only human in humane environment”,” Y/N’s voice was silent, but no less confident than earlier as she exited the bathroom, wearing men’s clothes she found in one of the closets. “Herling-Grudziński.” She picked up an apple from a ceramic bowl standing on the countertop and smelled it, closing her eyes. “Last time I even saw an apple was ten years ago… And even then it was one of these science boys’ lunch.” She sank her teeth in the fruit. “What I mean is, I’m not an animal, dove.” She turned her head at Barnes leaning on the countertop. “I don’t need a leash and most definitely don’t need to be controlled.” Drops of water flowing from her wet hair created a small puddle on the floor. “What I need though, are clothes.”

“No, what you need is to tell us where the next base is,” Loki said, leaning closer to her. Once she was clean, he could almost consider her pretty. “Don’t forget that’s the only reason you’re here and not in that cage.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Ever heard of Sokovia?”

___

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[lisravenne]

I have no info on the image. There is no signature and Google image search did not find anything.

I typed out the text, in-case the photos were bad. I’ve found the second one online. I don’t know the author of that one, or the copyright laws of either. 

LOVE'S REQUIEM Agnes Woodson

Ah ! my heart is sad and loose, AS I look forth, with bitter moan, Into years that still must pass Ere thou canst come to me, Alas!        Others can come forget!        But I still remember yet!

Alld ay long thy voice I've heard, Whispering the old kind word; All day long thy face I've seen, All day long I've with thee been.        Why can I not too forget?       Why must I remember yet?

Once they voice I daily heard; Though no fond or tender word - Than a frind might yeild to friend - Marked those days, from end to end.        Yet in sometones and glances live        More, year by year, than words can give.

Other forms may come and go; Others yet, may whisper low; But no other tone of love, Can my heart so deeply move,        As thy voice, which told, alas!        Thoughts, that ne'er to words might pass.

Oh ! my heart's king, do you feel Saddened, as the slow days steal One by one, in long array, Passing silentlhy away?        Do you stand apart, alone        Listening for the absent tone?

In the hours of bitter strife - Marking every broken life - Do you feel the "might have been" Clouding o'er each passing scene?        Do you feel the pars that cling,        On the hopeless questioning?

Do they come - these saddest woes, O'er thy heart, like phantom foes? Do they come, by night, by day, WIth their weird and haunting sway?        Shrinks thy sould before this crew?        Then, dear heart, I'll pray for you.

Pray, that as we watch and wait, Exiled, famished, at the gate Clolsed and barred so fast and strong: That, though our waiting may be long,        Strength will ours, till that fair day,        When gates and bars are broken away.

Till then, dear friend, be brave and true, There is a kingdome kept from you In one true heart.    And while I know 'Tis barren honor holds thee now,        With thy proud , faithful, manly heart,        From my sad life aned side, apart;

Could I but speak one single word To rend that binding , galling cord; That I would not speak or, bid thee once, that promis break,        Thy stainless honor is to me,       A priceless jewel, as to thee!

For us, there's only patience till Such time, as by God's holy will, Our wearied hearts lay down the strife, Which comes, even to the well spent life.        Then, all earthly shackles torn away,        We'll meet above, with endless love,        And praise him for our brighter day!

* I googled "Clouding o'er every scene" and found a link to the most likely source. The location checks out. I don't have a Newspapers.com subscription so I can't fully verify if that copy looks like mine. The Western Sentinel from Winston-Salem, NC Thursday, February 24, 1887 - page 8

Be Patient with the Living

Sweet friends, when thou and I art gone    Beyond earths weary labor, When small shall be our need of grace    From comrade or from neighbor' Passedall the strife, the toll, the care,    And done with all the sighing - What tender truth shall we have gained,    Alas! by simple dying.

Then lips too chary of their praise    Will tell our merits over, And eyes too swift ou faults to see,    Shall no defect discover, Then hands that would not lift a stone    Where stones were thick to cumber Our steep hillpath, will scatter flowers    Above our pillowed slumber.

Sweet friends, perchance both thou and I    Ere Love is past forgiving, Should I take the earnest lesson home -    Be patient with the living: Today's repressed rebuke may save    Our blinding tears tomorrow; Then patience, e'en when keenest edge    May whet a namless sorrow

'Tis easy to be gentle when    Death's silence shames our clamor And easy to discern the best    Through memory's mystic glamour; But wise it were for thee and me,    Ere love is past forgiving, To take the tender lesson home!   Be patient with the living. - GOOD CHEER

[fairyartlover-writes]

Fanfic: Far too Young to Die

Hello again! This is the second installment of the It was in April series. I’ll leave the link to the first part and the next one below. I hope you enjoy!

First part: It was in April

Third part: Love of my Life

Summary:  She needed green eyes tonight. Sometimes she needed black hair, sometimes a british accent, but not tonight. That’s when she saw him.

Rating: Teen and up audience

Fandom: Loki Fandom

Pairing: Loki/OC  Loki/Reader

You stood at the bar nursing your drink. You chose the one with the most alcohol for tonight. You needed it. It has been one year since that faithful day, when your whole world fell apart. When you lost it all.

You didn’t know how you managed. One day you had it all and the next it was ripped out of your hands. You still went to work, you still ate, you still did everything you used to do but your soul was gone. You didn’t see the worth of trying when you didn’t have they very things that gave your life meaning the minute you laid your eyes on her. Him leaving didn’t help either. You blamed him for a long time, but with time came insight. Although it took time, you forgave him somewhat. But you still wanted your little girl back.

Your gaze fell on the dance floor, looking for something specific. You needed green eyes tonight. Sometimes you went for black hair, or a British accent. But tonight, you needed green eyes.

“Hey hot stuff. What are you doing here all on your lonesome?” You looked towards the voice. He was well built, had to much gel on his dark hair. His too perfect straight white teeth glowed slightly in the lighting of the night club you were in. You looked into his eyes looking for what you needed tonight. Eager brown eyes greeted you, along with a smug grin. You turned back to your drink.

“Not interested” The glass in your hands was empty so you signaled the bartender to bring you another drink. A few seconds later the glass in your hand was refilled, but the man had not left, much to your annoyance. You did not need this tonight.

“Ouch” He placed a hand to his chest in mock hurt. “Come on hot stuff. A pretty little thing like you deserves to be out on the dance floor in the arms of someone like me. I’ll show you how to have fun.” He whispered that last part into your ear. You quickly pulled away trying not to show your irritation on your face. Luckily you perfected your poker face in the past year.

“Not interested.” You managed to avoid his eyes and kept your stare on the back wall of the bar. You felt his hand starting to creep into your lower back. In one rapid motion you had his hand in your grip and slammed it into the counter. You had learned a few things from your previous spouse. “I said Not. Interested” You made sure to make your voice drip with malice and looked into his eyes for the proper effect. You let go of his hand, wiping yours to get rid of the disgusting feeling it had. You took a calm sip of your drink. You thought after your little display that he would back of, but unfortunately for you he didn’t.

“Oh, a feisty one. I always did like them with a bit of fire in them” Before you could hand him a piece of your mind, a hand slammed down on the counter in front of you, blocking your view of the imbecile.

“I believe the lady said she wasn’t interested.” You knew that voice. That voiced always raised the hairs on the back of your neck but for a whole different reason tonight. The tone of his voice worked to intimidate the idiot who was trying to hit on you, and he left. That just left you and the familiar stranger. The sounds of the night club droned around you but they quickly faded to nothing when he turned around. You would recognize those eyes anywhere. He was wearing a different face, one with weariness written all over it, but time could never change his eyes. You just stared at each other for a few long moments. He offered you a hand and you knew without exchanging any words what he was offering. You debated whether to take his hand or not, but in the end, you just had to look into his eyes and you already knew the answer. He took you to the dance floor and maneuvered the two of you into the center. You put your hands around his neck, and he placed his on your waist. As the opening notes to the next song played, you began to sway with back in your arms.

I’ve never so adored you

I’m twisting allegories now

I want to complicate you

Don’t let me do this to myself

You knew him being here was a huge risk for you both but at this particular moment, you didn’t care, and it seemed neither did he. You placed your head on his chest and closed your eyes. Being with him brought back so many memories, both good and bad.

I’m chasing roller coasters

I’ve got to have you closer now

Endless romantic stories

You never could control me

You felt him place his chin above yours and you both stilled. You just needed to be together, no matter who got hurt in the process.

Well, I never really thought that you’d come tonight

While the crown hangs heavy on either side

Give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die

We’re far too young to die

You lifted your head from his chest and opened your eyes. His eyes were what greeted you and you recognized the love and regret he had in them. They reflected exactly yours. Before any of you realized, your lips met. You didn’t think, you never did when you were with him. You just let yourself go with your emotions. Around you, the song kept playing.

Fixation or psychosis?

Devoted to neurosis now

Endless romantic stories

You never could control me

When you broke away there were tears in you eyes and you could see that he was trying to hold back his.

Well, I never really thought that you’d come tonight

While the crown hangs heavy on either side

Give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die

Well, I never really thought that you’d come tonight

When the crown hangs heavy on either side

Give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die

We’re far too young to die

Far too young to die

The song came to an end and the next one played on, but you didn’t pay any attention to it. You were immersed in your own bubble. You pressed your forehead to his and breathed in his scent. It felt good to be with him again, but you knew deep down it would only bring hurt to you and everyone around you.

“You know this isn’t the right thing, not without her” You said.

“I’ll get her back I promise. Then we can be a family again.”

“I don’t think it’ll be that easy.” A few moments passed and the air around you grew heavy with what was being left unsaid. You were the one to break the silence.

“I don’t know if we should do this” You whispered. You doubted he could hear you, but he still answered.

“I know”

“But I want to. God how I want to.”

“I know. Me too.” And you stayed quiet.

You still had your arms around his neck and his around your waist. He kissed the top of your head and stepped back, his arms still around you. He looked into your eyes and slowly, you both leaned in for a kiss. It wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t kind, it didn’t feel like coming home. This kiss was sad, it was torn, and it felt like leaving all you loved behind you. The tears you had in your eyes fell from your eyes and into the kiss, leaving the taste of salt on your lips. You could still taste it when he parted. You knew what was going to happen next, although neither of you wanted it. You knew he was only doing it because he knew you didn’t possess the strength to do it yourself. He took a step back and he leaned into your ear and whispered the same words he said to you before he left the first time.

“I promise to bring her back even if it the last thing I do. This I promise you” He stepped out of your arms and with one last look into your eyes, he stepped into the crowd and disappeared, leaving you were you started. Alone.

The words of the song played in your head, echoing inside.

Give me one last kiss while we’re far too young to die

We’re far too young to die

Far too young to die

Thank you for reading! I’ll leave my writing platforms below if you want to check the out.

Fanfiction Profile: WhiteLunaNight

Archive of our Own Profile: FairyArtLover

[lynne-monstr]

Flufftober Day 22: City

ao3 link

“I didn’t know you could fly.”

Magnus’ hands paused in their deft journey across the control panel, turning towards the co-pilot’s seat.

The force of his full attention hit Alec as it always did, pinning him in place more securely than the safety harness he had just strapped himself into. Magnus was a force of raw nature, focused and beautiful and powerful enough to level cities if he so desired.

The effect was only somewhat ruined by the carefree smile that lit up his face.

“I invented the helicopter, you know.”

Alec rolled his eyes but he was laughing as he said, “No you didn’t.”

“No I didn’t,” Magnus agreed with a wink, shoulders swaying back and forth as much as they could within the confines of the safety harness.

Alec fought the urge to unclip his own chest restraints so that he could lean across the cockpit and grip those strong shoulders in his hands. He wanted to feel the muscles under his palms rock back and forth as he kissed that smile into a breathless gasp. It was the same way he felt whenever Magnus was happy. If he could just get close enough, he could burrow himself deep inside and never have to leave.

But if he did, they’d never get off the ground, and Magnus had been going on about taking them up into the sky for weeks. With a last flick of a few switches, the blades above them started to move, rumbling faster and faster until the air was whipped into a frenzy of howling noise.

Alec flipped his headset on, adjusting the speaker in front of his mouth. Despite the ear protection, the noise around them got even louder.

“Really though?” he asked, genuinely curious now. “When did you learn how to pilot one of these?”

Magnus’ voice came through the speakers loud and clear as they began to lift up into the air.

“I used to sneak onto an Air Force base. Very patriotic of me, I know.”

Somehow Alec doubted Magnus’ illicit activities had anything to do with pride in his adopted city, and said as much.

Magnus turned to look at him, eyes bright with wonder before focusing back on the sky. “For most of my life, air travel was only for birds. Not even magic had anything like it. When I first heard of a machine that could fly, I was fascinated. I had to see it for myself.”

He handled the controls with the same confidence he used while casting spells, hands steady and sure as he maneuvered the helicopter forward through the air. “I even owned a hot air balloon in the eighteen hundreds, you know,” he added.

“Somehow I can picture you in a giant balloon with a cocktail.”

Magnus huffed in amusement, turning the helicopter so they flew along the path of the river. Alec noticed he didn’t dispute the claim.

The city spread out below them as they rose higher, buildings of all shapes and sizes reaching like fingers up towards the sky on either side of them. Cutting through the urban landscape, the East River flowed like a snake out towards the horizon, broken into large pieces by jutting lines of bridge after bridge. Alec took it all in with wide eyes. The New York he knew was coated in darkness and grime, back alleys and nightclubs where demons lurked and blood was spilled. It was easy to forget that there was another side to it.

The most beautiful side of the city, shown to him by the most beautiful man in it. Pink and orange streaks of sunset glinted off the tips of Magnus’ hair, painting his profile and setting his skin ablaze with radiance. It lit him up, like the physical embodiment of how he lit up Alec’s life.

As they continued working their way up the edge of Manhattan, Magnus pointed out various places he had been or lived, always with a story to go along with it.

The prohibition bar near the Chrysler Building that Charles Lindbergh had visited while Magnus was singing on stage. The corner of Central Park South where Ragnor and Catarina had stolen a horse and proceeded to portal it into Magnus’ home, just to make him laugh. The museum that Magnus insisted stole his old belongings, no matter that they had been dug up centuries after he had abandoned them.

Alec studied the buildings below them, their lights just beginning to emerge from the deepening sunset, trying to see the city as Magnus did.

It was easy to forget that his boyfriend was far older than his youthful looks suggested. He had lived lifetimes, seen so much, done so many things. Ironic, since they almost fell apart before they even got started, due to those exact differences. But once Alec saw beyond the fortified walls Magnus showed the world—saw the person beneath the power and the extravagance and the historical name dropping—the years between them seemed to fall away.

Had Magnus been born mundane, he would have lived and died never having known a sight like this. He would have died, and Alec would never have met him.

The thought twisted Alec’s heart in his chest.

He didn’t need any other reason to love the magic beside the fact it was Magnus’. It was the power at his fingertips that lit his hands and obeyed his will, be it in battle or in bed. It was as much a part of him as the beating heart that lulled Alec to sleep, his head pillowed on Magnus’ strong chest. Or the little birth mark above his eyebrow that Alec loved to kiss first thing in the morning. It was his perfectly manicured hands that wielded a sword or staff or a fireball as deftly as he did a cocktail shaker.

Even if Alec didn’t love the magic for all those things, he would love it for this: the magic brought Magnus through the ages, right here to Alec’s side.

“You’ve lived through so much,” Alec said, voice barely above a whisper. The tensing of Magnus’ shoulders felt like an arrow in Alec’s heart and he could have kicked himself. He rushed to add, “It’s not a bad thing. I just mean there’s a lot.”

Magnus’ smile turned sad. “I’m a lot.”

Alec shook his head, then realized Magnus probably couldn’t see the gesture very well with the large ear protectors obscuring his peripheral vision. “That’s not what I meant,” he said. “Yeah, you’re a lot. But it’s a good a lot. I like all your parts.”

A huff of laughter came over the headset and Alec knew exactly what was coming. Magnus liked to deflect when he was truly uncomfortable.

“Well, Alexander, in that case, there’s one particular part of me—”

“I mean it,” Alec cut in, needing to say this. Not that he wasn’t also interested in that part of Magnus. Quite the opposite, and his plans for the later part of their evening proved as much. But this was too important to let slide.

Magnus always said things like this, like he didn’t believe Alec when he said that no much of Magnus could ever be too much. He hated when Magnus tried to make himself smaller, when he tried to trim off the aspects of himself he thought were too much.

Every time, it felt like a piece of Alec’s own heart was being torn out with it.

Magnus stared out the into the skyline fading into twilight, but Alec knew he wasn’t seeing the admittedly spectacular sight.

“Thank you, Alexander.” Magnus voice was low even over the headset, but there was something in his voice that gave Alec hope he was being heard. “I hope you know that I love all of your parts, too.”

“I do,” he said, and he meant it.

His heart fluttered at the memories the words brought forth. All the times Magnus took Alec’s bruised and battered hands into his own at the end of a long day. Prying his bow and arrows from his grasp and replacing it with fingers wreathed in warm magic. Sheltering the parts of him that Alec would rather forget existed, because Magnus loved with his whole heart and his whole heart loved Alec.

Alec loved him so much it hurt.

Sometimes he wondered how his heart didn’t physically jump from his own chest to lodge itself inside of Magnus, where it desperately wanted to live. If it took the rest of his life, he’d make Magnus see himself the way Alec saw him.

Beneath them, the last of the pink sky bled into hues of dark blue and a blanket of tiny flickering lights spread out across the ground around them.

Alec’s home wasn’t perfect, far from it. Even with all of the beauty there were patches of sadness and struggle and pain, all wrapped up in one perfect jewel of a package that Alec wouldn’t change for the world.

Not perfect, no, but perfect for him. There wasn’t a single thing Alec would change about Magnus, even if he could.

[trustparking]

Wheel creaks when turning

Wheel creaks when turning driver#

Its the act of replacing the top hat that could have fixed it for some people because you have to remove the strut collar bolt and reinstall it during the procedure that could have inadvertently fixed the noise. Lets see if the noise comes back but I'm beginning to think the top hat wasn't the issue all along. I also scrubbed the rotor hub area to remove some of the rust and applied a thin coating of anti-seize there. Today I loosened the strut collar bolt and immediately tightened it but this time more than the recommended torque setting (full send) and the noise so far is gone again. There was a lot more clicking sound at the lower torque setting. I found other posts with people with the same noise as me and someone mentioned it was due to the strut collar bolt not being tight enough which sorta makes sense in my case because the first time I installed it used the impact gun and went to town where as the second time with the new bolt I tried to do the right thing and torqued it to spec which is only 50-60ft lbs which isn't much. Motherf!#$ the clicking noise came back louder than before on the side with the new top hat! Two variables is that 1) installed new end link and 2) the removal and installation of the collar bolt. Yesterday I re-installed the endlink without issues but I also removed the strut collar bolt on the knuckle since I ordered a new one figure it was cheap and incase I overtightened the original one to the point of snapping as well. Update - Took about a month for my broken swaybar end link to get delivered so i've been driving around with it disconnected on the side where I swapped the top hat. Had to drive with one sides end link removed which actually made the car ride pretty smooth lol If it isn't like that you may get a creaking sound too. The pic below shows how the spring should align with the upper mount. I screwed up by going trigger happy with the impact gun while tightening the sway bar endlink bolt and snapped it clean off. I think either you need to regrease the upper strut mount, replace them or the spring isn't seated on the upper mount correctly. Good thing is the part from tischer was cheap ($13x per side) and you can change it yourself if you have some mechanical knowledge.Īlso adding some grease to the boot where it meets the top hat that Tom at EAS suggest helps everything get lined up as it should without deforming the boot. I suspect that overtime these bearings inside develops play and cause unwanted noises. Also, they will sound even louder during low speed turning, so car owners can notice very easily. Since when these parts damaged or worn, they will create a creaking sound. After fiddling with the old one it popped back into place and it was dead silent again. Power steering pump, belt and rack are other car parts to talk a look when you having creaking noise when turning steering wheel. It sounded like the bearing popped out of place because just turning it with my hand you can hear audible clicking sounds where as the brand new one i bought was silent. When I inspected the stock top hat after removal you can spin the underside where the spring/boot comes in contact with the top mount and there is a bearing of some sort inside.

Wheel creaks when turning driver#

When i pulled out my driver side MS spring the rubber boot was not torn or deformed at all so that wasn't the source of the clicking noise.

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Fast Forward.

Previous part: HERE.

wecouldhangout said:  Love this variation of Jamie and Claire. Don’t let it fall by the wayside.

:: <3 ::

The bright lights of Inverness city faded in the rear view mirror as Raymond drove Claire home. Neither of them spoke, the taint of the evening coating the inside of Claire’s mouth as houses blurred into trees as they passed over the river Ness and out towards Drumnadrochit.

“How did you know where I’d be?” Claire whispered, plucking at the sewn pattern along the hem of the skirt she’d borrowed from Jenny. Tears welled in her eyes as she caught the torn portion of the fabric, vivid memories of her illicit night out coming unbidden as she did so.

“Some things, my dear,” he began --cryptically, “are more obvious than you give them credit for.”

Sniffling, Claire leaned her head against the cold glass, watching as her breath steamed the window - fogging the blue scenery as Loch Ness came into view. Shaking his head, Raymond slowed down, pulling the car into a parking spot overlooking the glorious loch. The moonlight glimmered off the water as he turning the ignition off and shifted in his seat, the fine leather squeaking beneath him as he moved. His hand hovered over Claire’s briefly as he coughed, waiting for her to acknowledge him before he spoke.

“I’m so--”

“No, Claire. You don’t need to apologise to me,” he interrupted, his voice soft as her glassy eyes looked over at his in the dark car. “But you do need to understand something of importance.”

Swallowing back the excess moisture that had gathered in her mouth, Claire nodded, fatigue pulsing through her achy bones.

Having firmly settled herself to 20th century highland life, Claire’s lust for adventure had intensified. When a few of the local lassies had spoken of a bawdy dance being held in Inverness, Claire had been excited. She’d enjoyed staying with Jenny, Ian and Jamie at Lallybroch and their rural lifestyle had been something to which she’d grown accustomed to. But the stories she heard at work kept floating around her head.

The girls often indulged her, talking of the loud hum of the music, the busy pubs that entertained them over the weekends and the men who took them drinking and dancing. The war and the return of the soldiers had signalled a revival of an active social life and Claire was desperate to see how people her age socialised in the 1940’s. Licking her dry lips, Claire tasted the blood from where they’d cracked, the skin breaking apart easily with the stress of her illicit night out. Goaded on by her *friends*, she’d begged Jamie to let her go, promising she’d be back at a reasonable hour. Worried about her safety, and her naivety, Jamie had rejected her ideas, his solid stance on the matter irking Claire no end.

Fed up of being babied, she’d snuck out. Carrying her plimsolls in one hand, she’d crept out of the big house and along the lane, catching the last bus from Beauly to Inverness. Balling her hands into fists, Claire pulled her feet up onto the passenger seat and wrapped her arms around her scuffed knees.

She --had-- been naive. And foolhardy. Stupid to think she could blend in when she still knew so little of the people who inhabited this particular time period.

“Is he mad?” She whispered, her curls falling forward to cover her tear-stained cheeks.

Exhaling loudly, Raymond patted Claire gently on the shoulder. His knee jingled the keys where they sat, idle in the ignition and the sound broke some of the tension that had built in the small space.

“I think it’s time for me to be honest with you, Claire,” Raymond said, ignoring her original question, his pupils dilated in the low light.

Wiping her eyes, Claire nodded shakily. Making herself comfortable, she pulled the thin cardigan across her chest feeling more exposed than ever after her run in earlier.

Twirling the bronze ring around his pinkie finger, Raymond looked out behind Claire, into the abyss that surrounded them, steeling himself for his confession.

“I brought you here, Claire,” He began, waiting as Claire processed his words.

“H-here…?” She questioned, the skin puckering between her brows as she tried to make sense of what he was telling her.

“Yes, Claire.” Nodding, he lifted his finger, moving away a stray piece of Claire’s hair as she tilted her head to the side. “It was always your destiny. Why do you think I employed you, kept you close by and tried my very best to keep you out of danger?”

His French accent softened the ‘r’, coming through more strongly in his heightened emotional state. He’d made an investment in Claire. Seeing her suffering in her own time, he’d watched as her fate changed from day to day until he’d decided the only thing to do was to intervene himself.

“Is that why you told me to stay?” Gulping, her heart pounded out an erratic rhythm in response, “all those times you hinted that this was my rightful place, that Jamie and Jenny were supposed to look out for me. That was because y-you...knew?”

“Yes,” he replied, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I wasn’t sure how much I should tell you. When we first met,” he chuckled, recalling her arrival into his wee apothecary, “you were so...captivated by everything. So timid and yet courageous.”

“Can you --travel?” She interjected, feeling altogether exposed in the face of the vocal admittance of her journey through time.

Eying her carefully, Raymond raised a brow sardonically.

Understanding his apprehension, Claire nodded.

Seeing it as her permission to continue, Raymond turned back to look straight out of the front window. Lights flashed and disappeared as other late night travellers roamed in and out of Inverness. The hum of them passing soothed him like nothing else, the soft swish cars made as they passed each other at speed creating this odd illusion of peacefulness.

“You and I, Claire, are inextricably linked. Something far more powerful than us holds pieces of our souls together. I don’t know how I truly discovered it, but when your parents died -- that horrid disease taking them both and leaving you all alone in the world -- I suddenly became hyper aware of you.”

“D-did you live close?” Claire asked, unable to keep silent through Raymond’s story.

“No, I did not. I was in Paris at the time. I had a shop there too, in your own time.” Taking hold of the steering wheel, Raymond glanced back to Claire, watching as she kept her focus solely on the dashboard now. “I foresaw something, --someone-- *you*”

Inhaling, Claire began to wind the window, breathing in another fresh gulp of air as if feeling suffocated.

“You saw Captain Randall?”

“Yes.” He confessed, feeling wretched that he hadn’t made a single attempt to rescue her from that particular cruelty. “I saw him...and you. I felt the blackness within him and the impenetrable light in you.”

“He offered to save me from it, you know.” She spoke, her voice empty of all emotion.

Raymond watched as the glow faded from Claire’s eyes, numbness seeping over her face as if she were back there, her hands bound uncomfortably as Randall laid out his dark plans for her.

“Then you were wise enough not to accept.”

Scoffing, Claire shifted her back against the seat, old wounds itching with the memory the punish lash as it bit into her fragile flesh. “It wouldn’t have mattered what I’d done. He would have still dragged me out into that square, just for the sick pleasure of it.” She spat, vitriol coating her tongue as she spoke.

The sinister image of the vile men who’d grabbed at her earlier rose behind her irises as she remembered her time incarcerated in Fort William. Bile erupted from her stomach, causing her to inhale sharply as the feel of their wretched hands against her legs caused her thighs to tighten. What had started out as innocent flirting, a dance here and there and some idle banter had turned nasty quickly. A tall brunette male, whose name Claire couldn’t quite recall now in the post-evening haze had pushed her into a dark corner, his dirty great paws tearing at her borrowed dress as she’d tried to push him away. If it hadn’t been for Raymond’s swift intervention…

Claire stilled, pushing away the combined image of the man in the bar and Randall as she tried to calm her pounding heart and refocus her energy on the present.

Keeping his mouth shut on the matter of Captain Jack Randall *and* tonight's new assailant, Raymond continued with his own diatribe. “I orchestrated a plot to save you the most dire fate, Claire. I hadn’t counted on Captain Randall being as devious as he was, but once I knew what was to befall you I had to step in. Had you not been tempted to steal that bread, you would’ve ended up here on your own merit of course, I just aided the process once fate had been changed.”

“So, you saw…”

“Yes, but too late to save you from the flogging.” He said with some regret. “I could, however, ensure your easy escape from Fort William.”

“Easy,” Claire whispered, nervously tapping her foot on the mud-mat at her feet.

“You know how I mean it, my dear. I only knew that you had the strength to bear it. Some things I can see, others I can only feel. It’s hard to explain, but I will try if you wish to hear it?”

Shaking her head, Claire wiggled her bottom in the seat, the numb sensation fading from her extremities as the inky blackness over the loch began to slowly fade. Dawn was approaching.

“No, it’s alright. I --believe you.”

Slumping his shoulders, Raymond watched the soft dappled light sway over the water and started the engine up once more.

“What I truly wanted to impress upon you, Claire,” he finished making his point entirely clear as he pulled back onto the road, eager to get her back to Jamie and Jenny now the main part of his tale was done, “is that although it may seem safer here, there are still dangers lurking. I made damn sure you got where you needed to be, and it doesn’t matter what it cost me to ascertain it, I would pay that price time and time again. But,” he paused, glancing at Claire out of the corner of his eye to make sure she was listening, “since you seem keen on attracting all sorts of strife, I think you need to be reminded of the perils you experienced and how they might manifest in this era.”

Her heart plummeted in her chest at the realisation. Actions had consequences, she had been incredibly aware of that before. Since finding herself here, those worries had all but dissipated on the cool Scottish winds. Wanderlust had replaced her well trained sense of jeopardy, slowly extinguishing it completely.

She’d been wooed by visions of modern living whilst not truly accepting the underlying threats that still loomed over them all.

“Would I…” she sighed, part of her not wanting to know the answer, “would I have died in those cells, in Fort William?”

“Yes,” Raymond replied, the whir of the engine rolling through him, masking the shudder that slipped like ice down his spine at the vision of her cold on the slabs of that awful place.

Silence surrounded them as they rode the rest of the way in the dim light of early morning.

Claire bounced nervously as the porch light of Lallybroch came into view, her palms sweating at the idea of having to face Jamie. Emotionally spent, she had little energy left to deal with his anger but she knew that it was what she deserved.

They’d been up all night too, no doubt. Only weeks before Jenny and Ian’s wedding, Claire was certain this was a stress none of them needed.

The acrid taste of beer lingered at the back of her throat as the car came to a standstill, its stale odour coating the roof of her mouth as she practiced her apology, mumbling incoherent words as she tried not to break down before she’d even come face to face with the Frasers.

“T-thank you, Raymond,” she whispered, reaching out to tap his hand twice before clicking open the door and putting one shaky foot onto the cement path, “for absolutely everything you’ve ever done for me.”

Not waiting for his reply, Claire pulled herself from the vehicle and made her way around the bonnet towards the front door.

Hearing the click rather than being brave enough to look up and see who’d come out to welcome her, Claire slunk forwards until his feet came into view. Standing stock still now, she kept her eyes stubbornly downcast.

Pursing his lips in suppressed anger, Jamie’s flushed cheeks stung in the breeze as he let out a huge breath and wrapped his arms around Claire, bringing her flush against his chest. Rubbing his large palms in circles over her back -being careful not to knock her still sore scabs - he buried his nose into her tamed curls and closed his eyes.

“I’m so --sorry-- Jamie.” She hiccupped, her ribs throbbing as she tried to hold back her sobs.

“I thought I’d lost ye tonight, Claire,” he whispered, hopelessness dripping from each word as he tried to still his trembling hands. “When I went to see you and you werena there…” inhaling jaggedly, Jamie tried to remain calm. Shouting at her wouldn’t do any of them any good. The attempts to subdue his temper caused his Scots burr to thicken, his chest rumbled with the pressure of it sending shockwaves through Claire as she huddled closer.

“I won’t...next time, I’ll listen, I promise,” she cried openly now, her shoulders hunched as she shifted her feet and clenched Jamie’s shirt tight.

“Ye ken, Claire,” Jamie replied, turning them both towards the house and warmth, “that I’m only trying to keep you safe. I want you to have fun, aye? But I also only want what is best for you.” Pausing as he closed the door behind them, he slid his fingers under her damp chin, bringing her head up so that she was forced to meet his eyes.

Biting her bottom lip, Claire blinked away fresh tears and hiccuped. Her nose was red from the crying, her eyes wide and sore as she finally looked at Jamie. Thick lines creased his brow, accenting the bright red that stained his eyelids. Bags sat heavily under his eyes. He looked shattered.

The tickling sensation of fresh sobs bit at her nose as she saw what her evening's misadventures had done to the one person in this world who cared for her and her well being above all else.

“You’re verra precious to me, Claire,” he sighed, leaning his forehead against hers before gathering her up once more. “When I found you, broken and bleeding on that wee hill, I didna ken why, but I felt it then. I feel it now more than ever.”

Gasping between her weeping, Claire nodded as she burrowed her nose against Jamie’s neck, the bright glow of the table lamp encasing them in a yellow hue. “S-same,” she forced out, fatigue pulling her under as Jamie carried her up to bed, “...and I’m s-so sorry, Jamie. So very sorry.”

Placing her gently on the bed, Jamie tried to disentangle himself, his arms nearly slipping free as he reached to turn off the light in the attic.

“Stay,” Claire whispered. Her voice, a wisp in the darkness, held only innocence as she begged quietly for Jamie to lie beside her. “Please, Jamie. Just for tonight...stay?”