#you’re actually slightly more likely to get an engine fire in an ice vehicle

[animeengineer]

Listen, I get that Elon Musk is evil as hell, but that doesn’t mean that folks should be making shit up about Tesla products. No, the truck’s dash isn’t a solid piece of marble; it’s a fiber composite that looks like marble. And it’s only been seen on a prototype, and might change for the real design. And it pretty obviously has an airbag in the steering wheel; “they didn’t say it has airbags, it must not have them” yes absence of evidence is evidence of absence, get a life.

[chayacat]

Devil’s Sweet Star (43)

Fandom: Dead by Daylight

Ghostface x Female Reader  

Rated M for Violence, Language and Smut  

***

A lot of things happened last night, a lot of revelation especially, the whole thing having been concluded by a... wild night. You could feel aches everywhere, it must be said that you did not go slowly, you and Jed... I mean Danny. It will take you some time to accept this reality. All this time, this dear Jed, this boy who seemed shy, adorable and very concerned about the others, was actually the one who at night, was going to commit murders, but also come to see you, under the name of Ghostface.  It will take you time, but you will still have to adapt quickly. Because only one misstep and Only God knows what Danny will do to you.

You were still in bed together. You felt aches and pains along your body, and it's no wonder, with the beast sleeping next to you. He was wilder than when he was Jed. much wilder. He was turned towards you, his hair scattered all over his pillow, his face peaceful. You gently release a strand of hair from his face which made him react. And without having time to realize it, you find yourself glued to him, his arms blocking you like a child who hugs his teddy bear tightly. Luckily, you're not working today. But you still want to get up. You try to get out of your way but all you get is Danny's grunts and a slightly tighter embrace.

“Hmmm... stop moving.” Said Danny grumbling a little.

“You are slightly crushing me against you. And I want to get up.” you respond.  

“Why? You don't work today, if I remember correctly.”

“Yeah, but I can’t stay in bed all day. Come on Danny...”

Danny grumbled again, letting you get up before complaining even more when he heard his phone ring. He got up, before taking the latter and looking at who dared to disturb him so early. It was his boss Mr Hembrook. You could notice that a twisted smile appeared on his face, as if he already knew why his boss was calling him. And in a sense... you also have your little idea about it.  

“Hello? In 20min? Yes of course Sir why?... Are you serious? Yes, yes, I go there right now. Okay, he's going to be happy to see me... You too sir. Good bye.” said Danny before hanging up the phone and looking at you with a wide smile.  

“What did he want?” you ask even if you already knew the answer.  

“Wilhelm is at Hoggins' villa... they have just found his body. And my boss wants me to go there to get some information. And help Wilhelm if possible.”

“I suspected it a little. You must be proud, all this time you made everyone believe that it was Hoggins who killed McKellan and made up everything to make it look like a Ghostface murder... and there... You literally turned everyone's brain upside down.”

“That's what it's like to be me. I have had plenty of time to improve since my first murder. I made mistakes, adapted my modus operandi according to the situation, and I created my own signature. I confess that I didn't really like attributing MY McKellan's murder to Hoggins, but I had to draw attention to him. In addition, this moron brought me everything I wanted on a silver platter.”

“You mean everything you found on Hoggins was true?” you replied surprised.  

“Honey, I am a criminal, but I am a journalist first and foremost. Everything I found and showed you on Hoggins is true. I can't really have fun falsifying documents that need to be published in the newspaper. Otherwise, my boss will suspect something. No one fools him so easily.” He responds before getting up and head to the wardrobe to pick up clean clothes.

“In this case I come with you.”

“Oh? Do you want to see in what state I left this bastard? You know that curiosity is an ugly flaw... but if you insist, I'm not going to say no. And that way you can reassure yourself about his death.”

You both have breakfast quickly; you get dressed and Danny took his bag that contained his journalist's belongings. You could see in his office another bag, surely the one in which he put his Ghostface’s outfit and others. You leave the apartment to get into Danny's van, setting off for Hoggins' house. It's going to be weird to go back there for a murder, when that's where the reception was held. An unforgettable evening. During the ride, you discussed everything and nothing as if it were one of your usual days. Once he arrived in front of the hoggins' house, Danny parked, turned off the engine and took your arm before you went down.

“Remember what was said last night. For everyone, I am Jed. So, no missteps, otherwise... I would be obliged to make you assimilate them... in a less diplomatic way. Oh, and try to pretend you don't know anything. Let us avoid drawing attention to ourselves.” He said before letting you go.  

You leave the vehicle and join Wilhelm in Hoggins' office where his corpse is. When you arrive in the room, a vision of horror, and a desire to vomit, took you. You turn your head by refraining from vomiting, indeed, we can say that Hoggins is dead. Danny has accomplished his little revenge with perfection. The latter was talking with Wilhelm explaining the reasons for your presence. After all, in the eyes of the law, you are a civilian, and civilians do not have to be at the crime scene.

“Are you okay Miss? If you want to vomit, you have the toilet which is just the room after from the left. Anyway, the owner of the house is no longer able to do or say anything against you.” Said Wilhelm looking at you.  

“Yes... Thank you.” you simply respond.

“Well... we can say that he was more than creative this time. I knew he had imagination but here, it's too much for me.” Said Danny.  

“The worst thing is that this bastard leaves a little note. He was the one who killed McKellan! he used Hoggins as a scapegoat. Goddamnit !” replied Wilhelm, hitting the wall next to him.  

“It cannot be said that Hoggins was a saint... there was quite a bit of evidence against him too. I think that Ghostface knew this and that he used it. This guy is always spying on his victims...”

“This is not wrong Olsen... this is not wrong. In the meantime, I thought I could end McKellan's murder, and in the end, not only it’s not the case, but I also find myself with Hoggins' murder on my hands! I'm going to smash that dirty little asshole if I catch him!”

You see Danny making a discreet but sneaky smile behind Wilhelm, something you shake your head slightly at. He had done this not only to take revenge, but also to make fun of Wilhelm. You wanted to hit him on the shoulder, but it would be useless. what is done... is done. And then, like Danny told you earlier, it's better to avoid attention on both of you.

“He literally crucified him. And turn that cross over to make him a demon. It’s really twisted. Maybe a follower of religion? One of these... Satanists? In a sense it would not surprise me. Given all the blood he sheds.” said Wilhelm.  

“Maybe... or maybe not. That's the problem with Ghostface, he knows everything about everyone, but nobody knows anything about him.” said Danny.  

“I find it strange ... he seems to appreciate you well Miss. Because all those who tried to harm you are dead.” Replied Wilhelm, looking at you.  

You look at the two men, not knowing what to answer. Danny made you understand that you had to quickly find an excuse or something to say. Otherwise, suspicions will arise on you. It was inevitable and real, Danny killed everyone who got too close to you and threatened you. Think pickle brains, think!  

“Great...as if McKellan and Hoggins hadn't been so... horrible, I had to attract the most twisted murderer in the city.” you respond, faking an annoying face.  

“All we have to do now is know why. it's not like you've been living here for a long time, and Ghostface had started his murders long before you arrived. But here, it seems that he is tired of attacking small fish, he wants to catch the bigger ones.” said Wilhelm looking at the reverse cross.

“Go find out what big fish he's going to attack next time... Me... You... or the mayor.” said Danny, taking notes.  

Wilhelm and Danny exchanged a look that meant everything. A cold settled in the room. Don’t forget that these two men do not get along at the base... If you didn't understand why with "Jed", now that you know the reality of things, with Danny, it didn't surprise you in the end. Still, be as close to the one who wants to capture you... you really have to be twisted to play so much with fire. Both took notes, observations of the crime scene, and recorded hypotheses about what might have happened.

It was demoralizing to see how Danny was making fun of Wilhelm, knowing himself that he’s the perpetrator of this murder. He knew how to lie, that's for sure. You were sure that he convinced himself of his own lies. After a few hours, you and Danny end up leaving the scene, Danny "promising" to notify the inspector if he ever had any information. On the way back, you look at Danny pouting like a child unhappy that he didn't have an ice cream.

“What?” Danny finally said.  

“You should be given the medal for the best liar in the world. And the best actor too. You act as if nothing had happened and you provoke the inspector without thinking that there will be no consequences or that he will not suspect you by saying this.” you respond.

“Ha ha I know Honey I know. I was born with this talent as an actor. It's innate in me. And the same can be said of you.”

“Except that compared to you it doesn't make me happy to lie to people. And I pray that no one will ever discover the truth.”

“Oh, you can. Because if it happens... I'd know where it came from.” replied Danny.  

You take a lunch break to eat, as usual, at the park and then around 1pm, you quickly stop at the newspaper, while Danny aka "Jed" or "Jeddy" according to Mattew, reports to his boss. It was fun to see the locals where Danny was working, you were the first "civilian" to go inside, at least to go up to the office. Usually, when you deliver the cakes for the newspaper, it’s the security guards who take care of receiving the packages.

Mr. Hembrook greeted you warmly it was the first time he smiled like this. From what Danny told you, he wasn't the type to joke about, he was someone very serious about his job. But, outside, no one knows how he is. After a few hours of discussion about the article to be published on Hoggins, a discussion in which you took part, you both leave the Roseville Gazette’s building and get back in the van.

“So? What do we do now?” you ask.  

“Well normally tonight I had planned to... find a new victim. Or start this article. But you see, I don't want to. I want to spend a quiet evening, without work, without murder, just you and me. So... What would you say about a short trip to Zanesville just you and me? there are many more things to do than here.” Danny said with a bright smile.  

“Oh, you're doing a rebellious teenage crisis again? the one who only wants to have fun and nothing else?”  

“Ha ha. Really funny. I may have been a model student, but I knew how to have fun. Okay, so? it's yes or no, Miss Rainbow...” replied Danny chuckling.

“Hey! You promised me to not call me that.” you respond, hitting him in the arm.  

“Correction, JED promised you to not call you that anymore. Not me. So?”

“...Fine. But promise me to tell anyone about that.” you said sighing before laughing.  

Danny restarted the van and set off for Zanesville. The road was made in music, and even being himself, Danny still had the same musical tastes than when he was Jed. Indeed, Zanesville has more to offer in terms of entertainment than Roseville. A big city has everything, but it will never replace the tranquillity of a peaceful small town. You looked through the window at the various shops, restaurants, libraries, and even the arcades! there were also shops that sold CDs and films. Basically, there was everything, in addition to grocery stores and small supermarkets.

“Ready to have fun?” asks Danny.  

“Ready!” You respond smiling.  

I hope for you that you know how to hold out until late... very late. Because there, with Danny... you're not ready to go to bed anytime soon. Oh no you're going to be awake all night. Let the party begin!

Until your body lets you go.  

***

(I think I'm at my... 6/7 run of Road 96 and I still never get tired of it! the good thing about this game is that each road is unique, even if we know the different answers we can give, we can create multiple situations that can lead either to our arrest, our death, or our freedom. It's a game with a gripping story and also very endearing characters. Well, I must admit that Zoe now... as soon as I see her, I want to kick her in the head. She's not a bad character, and I know she doesn't do it voluntarily, but she always puts us in danger every time we meet her. And after a while it's just irritating. I hope you’ll like this chapter like the other ones! Well, it's time for my brain to rest! Have a great weekend to you all!  See ya! )

[is0gild]

Ice Cream and Fire Oven Pizza - Chapter 30

Pairing: Elsa x Lea/Axel || Side Pairing: Riku x OC

Summary: Modern AU. She's an introvert ball of nerves who works at Ice Palace, a mall food court ice cream shop. He's the outgoing, sassy goofball who works at the Pizza Planet across the way. Hilarity, snark, and fluffy romcom hijinks ensue.

Word Count: 5,379

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

Credit for super friggin’ cute and super friggin’ amazing cover art goes to the super friggin’ talented ky-jane here on tumblr!

"Chorus?! That's bullshit! There must be some mistake, lemme see that thing," Lea snatched the paper off from where it'd been taped to one of the auditorium doors, causing it to rip a little as he did so.

Sighing, I stretched a hand out to try and retrieve the cast list from him, "Don't be silly, it's fine. It makes sense."

He yanked the sheet out of my reach, squinting at it with a perturbed frown before scoffing. "Makes sense my sweet ass. Where's Marluxia? Me and that cotton-candy-haired punk are gonna have words."

"You'll do no such thing," I finally managed to get my hands on the paper, prying it free of his fingers. Seeing it was now horribly wrinkled to boot, I grimaced and taped it back to the door, doing my best to smooth it back out. Then I slipped my hand into Lea's and started half leading, half dragging him back towards where he'd parked his car. "And it does make sense. They don't know me. They've never worked with me before. On top of that, I did choke a bit at the start of my audition. They can't trust a starring role to someone that's inexperienced and that they're unfamiliar with, not until I've shown them how I do in a background part as well as shown them that I'm capable and that they can rely on me."

"But you were the best one at the whole damn tryouts!" he huffed back. "What are those numskulls even thinking? I tell ya, if I were the director, it woulda been no contest. You'd be the leading lady like that," his fingers snapped.

"You're sweet and not at all biased," I rolled my eyes with a soft snort. "...honestly, I'm actually a bit relieved to be starting in chorus. I'd rather take it slow, ease myself back into theater and not take on too much responsibility right out the gate. It'll give me a chance to feel it out and see if this is something I really want to pursue. And if it is, I just have to put in the time, do the grunt work and by the next time they're putting on another production, maybe then they'll have enough confidence in me to give me a lead part."

Lea harrumphed. "They better. Otherwise I'm gonna kick Marluxia's stupid butt."

I hid a small grin behind my fingers, "He might not even be the one directing next time."

"Don't care. His ass will still be the one I kick outta pure spite."

A snerk escaped me, followed swiftly by a tiny, bubbling laugh. Lea glanced towards me, the corners of his eyes crinkling. As we came to a stop on the passenger side of his car, he tugged on my hand, pulling me up against him. He slipped one arm around my waist while his other came up to tuck some of my hair behind my ear as he ducked his head down, kissing me thoroughly.

Breath? Gone.

Knees? Jelly.

Brain? Mush.

As he pulled away and I struggled to remember how to take in oxygen again, I asked, "What was that for?"

"Just cuz I can," he winked, planting a light peck to my forehead. "You know this whole dating thing we're doing? Huge fan. Ten out of ten. Would recommend."

Face warming, I gave a derisive snort. "Sap."

"Yes, but I'm your sap," he nuzzled his nose to mine before releasing me to unlock my door and hold it open for me.

"Sap squared," I promoted him with a chuckle as I took my seat, reaching for the buckle. "Cliché sap squared."

"Too true. And you wouldn't have me any other way," he beamed before shutting the car door. My eyes followed him as he made his way around to the other side of the vehicle, one corner of my lips twitching up.

No. I suppose I wouldn't.

"Alright, next stop," Lea said as he plopped down into his own seat, retrieving his shades from where he kept them tucked in the sun visor and slipping them onto his nose. Thankfully, it was only his aviators. But I seriously doubted I'd seen the last of those ludicrous heart-glasses. "Lay that address on me, chica."

I fished the little piece of paper it was scrawled on out of my pocket and he tapped it into his phone as I read it off to him. Then the device began reciting directions in a bored monotone, his engine roared to life as he started the car and we sped off. We hadn't even been driving for a full minute before I heard a… peculiar noise coming from the back seat. I blinked, then glanced back over my shoulder. Had I imagined it? ...no, wait! There it was again! And it seemed to be coming from the floor behind my seat, where piled in a rumpled heap was…

"Um…" I quirked an eyebrow at Lea. "...your jacket seems to be barking…"

"Hm?" He was keeping his eyes on the road, but I didn't miss the hint of a smirk tugging at one side of his mouth. "Oh! Yeah, that. It does that from time to time. Needta train it to be better behaved."

My eyelids drooped. "...maybe you should feed it or take it for a walk."

"Nah, that'd only encourage it and then I'd never be able to get the damn thing to quit yapping," he snerked as he stopped at a red light. Then he was reaching behind me to shove his leather jacket aside, revealing a big box, its lid decorated with a frilly bow on top. He hoisted it up with a small grunt and deposited it into my lap. "Here. Was originally supposta be a Congratz-On-Landing-The-Lead present, but now it's more of a Congratz-On-Being-Glorified-Scenery present," Lea chuckled, scratching his cheek.

I lightly swatted at his shoulder. "There are no small parts, only small actors," I quoted with a shake of my head before directing my gaze back to the gift. I could feel it twitching and shifting slightly in my lap as it gave another couple of muffled barks.

Gee. What could it be? I really do wonder.

(Note the sarcasm.)

I was just glad to see several air holes poked into the lid. Come to think of it, Lea had been keeping his windows rolled down too. Sighing and smiling despite myself, I lifted the lid up. Sure enough, a puppy poked its head out to greet me, one that was a super white ball of pure fluff. The same one that's stolen my heart at the pet store when Lea and I had stopped by a while back. The one I'd dubbed Marshmallow. "Lea, no. I told you already that my complex doesn't allow pets." My chiding words were at odds however with my delighted chuckle as I picked the little guy up to hug close. "You shouldn't have gotten me a dog."

"I didn't," he said brightly as the light turned green and he stepped on the gas once more. "I got myself a dog."

I stared at him blankly as I felt the pup flicking its tongue along my chin. "...so wait. In essence, you got yourself a gift to celebrate me being glorified scenery in the play?"

"No, I got myself a gift to celebrate you getting the lead in the play. Not my fault you failed to live up to your half the bargain," he tsked before laughing as I gave his shoulder another smack, this one with more force behind it. Then as we shifted lanes, he flashed a smug grin, "'Sides, keeping the furball at my place gives ya an excuse to come visit me more often."

Petting the puppy's soft fur, I snorted, "Manipulative."

"Hey, what you call manipulative, I call incentive."

"You're right," I hummed as my fingers scritched behind Marshmallow's ear, a sly curve to my lips now. "You're definitely not enough of an incentive on your own for me to make the trip."

"Rude! You're lucky I think you're so cute," he reached over to pinch my cheek. I ignored him, holding the dog up in front of my face so we were nose-to-snoot. Marshmallow wagged his tail, licking the tip of my nose and I heard Lea grumble, "Oh sure. You he gives puppy kisses while all he ever gave me was tooth hugs."

"Tooth hugs?" I echoed, brow furrowing slightly.

"Lil furball's been tearing the shit outta my ankles nonstop," his face pinched sourly and I couldn't help a small laugh.

Once I'd sobered, I said, "I thought you said Saïx would murder you if you ever got a dog. How are you not dead?"

He flicked on his turn signal. "Oh trust me, it's not for lack of trying on his part, but bastard's gotta catch me first. The trick is to never stop moving when I'm home. Stay in one place too long and I'll get pulverized. Also got six different deadbolts locking my bedroom door now to keep him out, though I'm just waiting for him to get pissed enough to Kool-Aid Man his way through our shared wall."

"Hope I'm there to see that," I grinned, shifting to cradling the puppy in my arms in order to maximize belly rubbing efficiency. "Surprised the little guy managed to stay quiet for so long."

"Me too. Squirt was yipping up a storm the whole drive over when I was coming to pick you up. Was worried he was gonna ruin the surprise. But musta just wore himself out eventually and took a nap or something."

"Mm," I just hummed distractedly. "Also kind of shocked you were able to snag him. We saw him at the pet store, what… two weeks ago? Would have thought someone would've adopted him already in that time."

"Heh… well, I didn't exactly pick him up today..."

"Yesterday?" I glanced towards him and he gave a weak chuckle, shaking his head. "Then when?"

Lea scratched a finger behind his ear. "Er… same day we went to the roller rink?"

I blinked a couple times, then deadpanned, "...as in the same day we went to the pet store?"

"That'd be the one!" he nodded as he pulled up to a stop sign, his hand coming up to pluck at the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "After you left to go home, I went back. Ya just liked the lil mutt so much, I couldn't help myself. It was an impulse buy. Five seconds after I became a proud, new dog dad though, I felt like a total dumbass. But woulda felt like shit if I'd tried to give him back, so..." he shrugged, "I kept him."

My gaze returned to Marshmallow as my lips pursed to one side. He panted happily back up at me. "...I didn't see him that one time Saïx had me over for dinner. How'd you manage to hide him?"

"Stashed him away at Xion's for the night. Couldn't risk you finding him and realizing what a twitterpated bonehead I was," he snerked as the car propelled us forward once more.

I bit back a little grin. "But it's okay for me to find out now?"

"Well yeah, course! Since you're my girl and all now. Back before we were dating, me buying your dog was weird and possibly a lil creepy." He shot me a smirk, "But now it's just sweet and endearing!"

"If you say so," I murmured, only listening with half an ear as I smooshed and squished the pup's face.

His head turned slightly towards me and I could practically feel the slight narrowing of his eyes behind his aviators. "...crap, I'm gonna have to compete for your affections with that damn fleabag now, aren't I?"

I struggled to keep a straight face as my finger booped Marshmallow's cute little nose. "Is it really a competition if you've already lost?"

"Oh-ho, I see how it is," he snorted as he checked the rearview. "Well don't be too alarmed if next time ya see me, I'm down one dog and up one pair of a brand spanking new white, poofy earmuffs. The two things'll be totally unrelated. Pure coincidence."

I gave a tiny, amused huff and rolled my eyes. Then I leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for the puppy. You're very sweet."

He ruffled his hair, "Shit, if it's always gonna make you this happy, I'll have to buy myself more gifts!" I made a noncommittal noise in my throat, all my focus diverted once more to playing with the dog. Lea gave a defeated sigh but smiled. Then he asked, "So… how's Anna been doing?"

I frowned slightly. "...okay. She's… better."

The altercation with Hans had been a few days ago now. By the time Anna had gotten through with him, he'd staggered out of my apartment with a limp and a black eye. I hadn't heard from him since, though part of me did wonder if he was just taking time to lick his wounds before coming back to further profess his supposed love for me. Guess it just depended how much of a hard time his parents would give him and how easily he'd break under the pressure.

As for Anna, once she'd spent all her rage on rearranging Hans' face and had nothing left, she'd proceeded to bawl her eyes out. She never took breakups this hard, but apparently she'd really thought Hans was it. The One. After such a rude awakening to the fact that he wasn't and having her heart shattered, I didn't blame her for having a bit of a breakdown. She'd ended up staying over and Rayne and I had turned it into a sort of a girls night to try and cheer her up. We'd binge streamed romcoms until 3 a.m. which honestly, with Anna wailing through every single one, I had no clue if they were making things better or worse. But she was the one who kept putting them on one after the other, so I'd just let her as I hadn't had the heart to deny her.

In the days since, it was obvious Anna was still down, even though she tried to hide it behind sunny smiles and loud laughs. Still, she seemed to be on the road to recovery.

"She's strong," I added softly after a brief lull, fingers absently toying with Marshmallow's paws. "She'll bounce back. Just needs a little more time, that's all."

Lea's phone suddenly gave a small ding, announcing that we had arrived and our destination could be found on the right. Luckily a spot had just opened up on the curb for him to turn the car into. I unbuckled my seatbelt as the engine shut down and opened my door, stepping out onto the sidewalk. My arms were still holding the puppy and I unfortunately had to concede that I probably shouldn't bring him inside. Spinning one-eighty, I set him back down inside the car and he immediately tried to hop out to follow me. My hands shot up to block him and he retaliated with sad eyes and a whimper.

Oh, this little con artist.

Laughing, I stroked his head soothingly, "Now now, Marshmallow, no need for all that… we'll only be gone for a few minutes, I promise."

"Awfully presumptuous of you, naming my new pupper," Lea teased as he appeared at my side now, a paper shopping bag that he'd retrieved from the back seat on his way out of the car now dangling by the handle from his fingers. Rubbing a curled knuckle over his chin as he glanced skyward, he smirked. "I was thinking something more along the lines of…" now he stretched a hand out, dragging his splayed fingers through the air as if the words themselves were magically materializing in front of our very eyes, "...Imperius, the White Death and Destroyer of Worlds."

I shot him a dull look. "...bit long to fit on a dog tag, don't you think?"

"Not if we use really teeny font!" his grin twitched wider and my eyelids just drooped in response. "Fine, fine, ya have a point. Hm… compromise? How 'bout... Marshmallow, Destroyer of Worlds?"

One corner of my lips turned up, "I can live with that." Giving the puppy one final scritch under the chin, I cooed, "Be back soon, Mr Worlds," before locking and closing the car door. As I turned to fully face Lea, it came to my attention that he was now scrutinizing me with a squint and a little frown. My eyebrows knit together. "...what?"

Without a word, he abruptly bent forward and friggin' licked the side of my neck.

With a small yelp, I squirmed and jumped back, hand flying up to clamp over the now damp skin as my cheeks threatened to spontaneously combust. Lea's face twisted in distaste as he spat and razzed his tongue, "Yeck, concealer. Thought so. Knew there was no possible way my masterpiece healed and faded that quickly."

Ah. He was talking about the Mother Hickey. I nodded with a sigh, "Yeah, Rayne helped me figure out how to cover it up."

Stepping closer, he hooked a finger under my chin to gently turn my head to one side so he could take a better look, muttering, "Hmph. Nice job, Raindrop. Matched your tone perfectly, never woulda even known it's there. But also… so not cool. I'm an arteest! A maestro deserves to have his pièce de résistance on display for all the world to see."

"Not when your canvas is my neck, maestro," I snorted, getting on tiptoe to plant a quick peck to his lips as I took the bag from him. Inside it was a powder blue sundress, a pair of ankle boots, and a phone book.

He gave a tiny pout, but it quickly melted into a grin as he took hold of my free hand, lacing our fingers together. "So… you ready for this?"

I spotted the little store we'd come here for and started walking towards it. "Ready as I'll ever be, I suppose."

"Ya sure the dude even wants all this junk back? It's more than a lil used now."

"Well, it's a used clothing store, so I'm sure it's fine," I shrugged.

Lea chuckled, "That old phone book is rumpled from water damage and is practically a rat's nest. No, scratch that cuz calling it that sullies the good name of rat's nests everywhere."

"It doesn't matter," I exhaled heavily. "I told the man I'd bring it all back and that's what I'm doing. If he won't take any of it, then I'm happy to pay him back for it all with interest." On that note, we stepped through the automated sliding doors beneath the big sign that read Wandering Oaken's Trading Post.

The store looked the same as the last time I'd been here. The cluttered racks, the secondhand clothing all but bursting out of every nook and cranny, the rustic decorations on the walls and hanging from the ceiling… all of it exactly the same. It honestly surprised me a little. I would've expected some changes since it felt like my last visit had been absolute ages ago. I had to remind myself that in reality, it'd hardly even been two months since.

I hoped the man (employee? proprietor?) who'd assisted me back then wasn't also exactly the same as I remembered him. All angry and stocky and big. I gulped, feeling my breathing turn shallow as I shifted my weight from one foot to the other. Surely, he wasn't still mad and wouldn't rip me limb from limb on sight, right? And surely, my memory had to be lying to me and exaggerating. No one, not even Lea, was that hulkingly ginormous… right?

"Hoo-hoo! Big summer blowout! Half off swim su-" the familiar voice immediately cut off as its owner, that same man I'd recalled, locked eyes with me from across the store. "You!"

Nope. He was exactly as terrifyingly ginormous as I remembered him.

Suddenly - and I don't quite know how exactly, because I didn't remember moving - I was hiding behind Lea.

Huh. Seemed like my latent surprise teleportation powers had activated to catch me unawares once again!

Taking a deep, steadying breath to settle my nerves and get a grip, I slowly creeped back out from behind him to respond to the man with a shaky smile and a tiny, "Me?"

He abruptly came charging at me and I swallowed a squeak, screwing my eyes shut.

This was it. The final countdown. The last roundup. I could already see the fabled white light. Was already watching my life flash before my eyes. Could hear an angelic choir singing somewhere. All but feel the-

Those giant tree trunks he had for arms unexpectedly wrapped themselves around me, crushing me to him in a spine-cracking hug that lifted me several feet off the ground and forced a surprised grunt out of me.

Um…?

"What is this?" I wheezed as I was swung to and fro like a ragdoll. "I don't understand what's happening."

Lea snerked, being absolutely zero help as he simply crossed his arms and watched the absolute epitome of bear hugs continue. "Apparently, this is how he deals with shoplifters. His own unique brand o' vigilante justice."

"Well it's cruel and unusual punishment!" I croaked out, kicking my feet and trying to wriggle free. "How do I make him stop?!"

Miraculously, he chose that second to release me of his own accord, shooting me a big smile that took up over half his face, "Oh thank you, deary! Thank you!"

...okay, not quite the greeting I'd been expecting.

Like, at all.

Both eyebrows shot up my forehead as my hand went to rub at my elbow, "You, uh… you remember me?"

"Of course, deary!" he nodded eagerly, tapping his fingertips together.

I squinted at him uncertainly. "...and you remember that I… stole from you?"

More enthusiastic nodding, "Ya, ya!"

...was I the only one totally bewildered right now?

My eyes darted over to exchange a brief glance with Lea, who just shrugged his shoulders.

Oh good, so it wasn't just me then.

Looking at the worker once more, I hesitated for a split second before awkwardly thrusting the bag out to him, heart thudding loudly in my ears as I began, "Well I… I brought it all back like I said I would… even the phone book! It's all still in decent shape… er, except for the phone book, that is. I can compensate you for that though and… and the dress and shoes too, of course! That is, if that's what you'd prefer... and I'll even pay inter-"

"Nonsense!" he gently pushed the bag back towards me. "Keep it all, it's yours. And your munny's no good here."

I stared at him blankly. "...I'm sorry, I'm confused."

The man beamed at me now, "Your dress, deary! The one you left behind in the fitting room and said I could have? I must say, that had to have been some costume party you came from! I sold that gown for enough munny to pay for all four of my sons' college tuitions! So I insist, keep those items! And please let me know if you see anything else in here that you'd like, ya?" A sudden low chime rang out overhead, signalling that another customer had walked into the shop. Gracing me with one final warm grin, he then plastered on his customer service face and walked past me, waggling his fingers in greeting, "Hoo-hoo! Big summer blowout!"

Frowning slightly, I watched him go before I heard Lea say in realization, "...you left your wedding dress here."

My fingers twisted and fidgeted with the bag handles. "Sort of… yeah."

He shook his head with a snort. "Shit, El, a gown like that made for your upscale, hoity-toity, blueblood wedding? You didn't shoplift, you way, way overpaid!"

Feeling heat creeping into my face, I gave a tiny scowl and huffed, "Well, it certainly felt like shoplifting, the way he was yelling and chasing after me when I ran out the store!"

"Babydoll, you just lost some serious street cred," he chuckled, pressing his lips to my temple. "Seriously though, just ditching it in some random fitting room? You coulda sold that thing for bookoo bucks and made this whole striking it out on your own thing way easier on yourself."

"You said the same thing about my car back at my parents' home. But just like with the Ferrari, that dress was bought and paid for with my parents' munny," I sighed, crossing my arms. "I don't want to accept so much as even a single cent from them if I don't have to… I don't want to feel like I owe them anything. And I just… I didn't know what else to do with the dress, really. I just wanted to be rid of the wretched thing."

He tsked, tapping a finger to my nose, "Oh you. Always gotta do things the hard way, huh? Silly." Reaching for my hand, he then started us meandering about the shop, idly perusing the racks and shelves as he went on, "If it'd been me, I wouldn't have thought twice 'bout pawning that dress for some quick cash. What's the big deal where the munny came from? All that really matters is how you spend it to give yourself a better, happier life. Turn bad into good, ya know? I- sweet!" he cried out abruptly, eyes lighting up as he happened upon a clump of feather boas draped across the corner of a chaotic, jam-packed shelf. Snagging one that was made of red feathers marked with black stripes, he wrapped it around his neck with a flourish before batting his eyelashes at me. "How do I look?"

I rubbed my fingers over my tiny smile. "Beautiful. Simply gorgeous."

"Damn skippy!" he chirped, now spotting a full length mirror nearby and moving to admire himself in it.

From insightful to kid playing dress-up in under two seconds flat. That had to be some kind of record.

Seeing that the employee had returned to his post behind the cash register, I walked over to him. "Hi again. How much for one-"

There was a sudden giggle at my ear that was distinctly Lea's, followed swiftly by a second feather boa being looped around my neck, this one comprised of blue feathers with white tips. With that, Lea zipped off once more, this time heading towards what looked to be the toy shelf.

I blinked in his wake, then shook my head with a soft hum of a laugh. "I'm sorry, how much for two feather boas?"

"Holy shit, this orca action figure comes with a tiny machine gun! And-" Lea gasped, running back now to excitedly show it to me, "-it also turns into a goddamn freaking robot!"

Patting him on the cheek, I turned back to the cashier with a sigh, "And the toy too."

"For you, deary?" he asked, still happily tapping his fingers together. "Free of charge!"

My head rocked back slightly. "What? No, but-"

"Oh hell yes! Thanks, big guy, and have a great day!" Lea cut me off, snatching up my hand and bolting out the store, forcing me to stumble after him as the cashier called out after us to do the same.

As we exited through the automated doors back out onto the sidewalk, I said, "Lea, wait!" I dug in my heels, bringing us both to a lurching stop. Then I frowned over my shoulder back towards the little shop. "I'm not comfortable with this. He's only giving us this stuff because of that stupid dress and I told you already-"

"Don't look at it as benefiting offa your folks munny," he grinned, taking the bag from me to tuck the toy and his boa inside with the other stuff. Then he set to work uncoiling mine from around my neck. "Instead, try this on for size: ya did a good thing with that dress. Maybe even the best possible thing ya coulda done with it. You donated it to the worthy cause of paying for the education of that dude's small army of kids. And if that's not enough for you, here's another way to look at it: ya traded in a wedding dress worth a sultan's ransom and all you got in return was a handful of cruddy, secondhand junk that altogether costs maybe twenty bucks max. On the divine cosmic scale of ethics, I think you can consider your conscience clear and your heart light as a feather."

Now fully freed from the feather boa, I released a tiny huff through my nose as I watched him slip it inside the bag too. "Well, when you put it that way…"

"It's settled then," he beamed, slinging an arm around my shoulders and guiding me back towards his car. "Now onto the next item on the list!"

My head tipped to one side. "There's more? But with this place checked off, I thought that was the whole list."

"Maybe your list, but we haven't even begun to scratch the surface of mine. And first up is immediately correcting one epic fail on my part."

"Oh?" I arched an eyebrow at him.

He nodded, "Mm-hm! For ya see, I've been grossly neglectful in my boyfriend duties. Can you actually believe I have yet to take you out on our first proper date since officially becoming a couple?"

A tiny smile fought its way onto my lips. "For shame. The absolute scandal."

"I know, right? People are already beginning to talk, my good name is being dragged through the mud," he puffed out an overdramatic breath, shaking his head.

I laughed. "Well then, what did you have in mind?"

As we came to a stop next to his car, he tapped the window glass where Marshmallow was pressing his paws up against the other side while barking his little head off. "For starters, how 'bout we take this lil fellah to a park somewhere for a few hours? Once he's all played out, we can drop him off back at my place. Make it real quick, in and out before Saïx wakes up and realizes he's been unknowingly volunteered for doggo-sitting duty." Setting the bag down on the roof the car, he then faced me, taking both my hands in his as he idly started toying with my fingers and murmured, "Then I was thinking I could take ya somewhere nice. Maybe Le Grand Bistrot? And after that…" he gave a lazy shrug, that dimple of his emerging, "well, guess we'll just see where the night takes us from there."

My eyes crinkled as I stared up the few inches that separated us. "Sounds perfect."

It'd been one wild and, at far too many points, absolutely absurd ride that had brought me here. And it was far from over for I still had a long road ahead of me. I'd yet to even determine what exactly I wanted the future to hold for me, and that was okay. I could hardly be expected to have the rest of my life already planned and mapped out after experiencing only a couple short months of freedom. Come now, that would be unrealistic.

But it didn't truly matter that nothing was really decided yet. What mattered was that I was the one who would get to decide, no one else. And for the moment, I was just deciding to focus on what was immediately before me. Today, I had a date with my boyfriend. Tomorrow would be a shift at my job in a mall ice cream shop. And the day after would bring the start of rehearsals for community theater. All in all, it was nothing grand, nothing fancy… but it made me happy. And for now, that was enough. More than enough. I could figure out the rest in my own time, and that sounded pretty good to me.

In fact, it sounded absolutely amazing.

THE END

…sorta?

Author's Note:  And thus we come full circle... it ends where it all began way back in chapter one... cheesy, I know XD Okay, I rarely finish stories and thus I don't have a lot of experiencing doing it, so factor that in however you will in judging this final chapter xD I know, it was stupidly, cavity-inducingly sweet and not a lot happened, but damnit it's my story and I'll end it how I want to! Oh, and the toy Lea found wasn't a reference to anything, it was just something stupid I found on the internet that I figured the goofball would go absolutely nuts over xD

So, you probably have questions about that "...sorta?" at the end there xD Well that, my friends, has to do with the good news I mentioned that I had for ya'll a couple chapters back! Although the big, main plot of the story is now complete, there will be *drum roll*... bonus chapters! Wooo! These are more like self-contained one-shots that generally have time passage between them anywhere from a few days to like a month with no real overarching plot connecting them, which is why I'm not considering them a part of the "main" story. However, I will still be just slapping them at the end of this story, keeping it all in one place as opposed to posting them as separate fanfics, just because I can! I do what I want, yo! These bonus chapters will cover various events (relationship and non-relationship alike) for our new happy couple - as well as some that are just for pure funsies due to random ideas popping into my head that I really wanted to write xD I just always write the "how they got together" story and have never written them as a couple, so I'm excited to finally have a good excuse to do that! Plus now I can share with you guys how things go from here - stuff like relationship milestones, fam drama, Elsa's further adventures in theater, and much more! If you guys have any ideas of your own for a one-shot you'd like to see, please let me know! I make no promises about actually writing it, BUT there's a very good chance I'll read your suggestion, the plot bunnies in my head will go wild and I'll have no choice but to write it anyway xD 

ANYWAY! I already have written and completed a few of these one-shots, so my once-a-week updates can continue for a little while longer! But fair warning - when (not if, WHEN) my updates catch up to as far as I've written, my once-a-week updates will be reduced to whenever-the-chapter-is-frigging-done updates xD

Whew! I think that's a wrap! Thank you so much for reading my lil story here, I super duper appreciate it! I hope you all enjoyed it as much as I did writing it! And an extra BIG thank you to those of you who’ve liked, reblogged, and followed so far! Seeing those lil notifications pop up always brings the biggest, goofiest smile to my face!

See ya next week for the first bonus chapter, which is a silly, for funsies one-shot xD I'll give you a hint... helmets are involved! Ooooo, what could it be?! Stay tuned and find out!

FIRST CHAPTER || PREVIOUS CHAPTER || NEXT CHAPTER

[kohanayaki]

Caught in the Middle (Steve Harrington x Reader x Billy Hargrove) Ch 1

Just before the school year begins, a new girl drives into town in a black 84' Jaguar with a New York license plate. But you weren't new to Hawkins at all. As a matter of fact, you were returning. While reunited with your old friends you soon find yourself making some unexpected new ones as well; namely the hair of Hawkins high himself and a certain hot-blooded Californian bad boy. Little did you know, dark forces were at work just beneath your feet. How the hell did you get caught in the middle of this?

Links: Ch 1  Ch 2  Ch 3  Ch 4  Ch 5  Ch 6   Ch 7

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Ch 1 .:Something Old, Something New:.

Nothing really changed much in Hawkins, Indiana. It was always the same people working the same jobs or going to the same high school. However one thing that was definitely different was the fact that a giant, glass-topped complex decked out in neon signs and flashing lights stood tall in the middle of town square- a stark contrast to everything else around it. Starcourt Mall looked severely out of place in your small town, but then again it had been almost six years since you've been here.

Your gaze swept over the impressive building, swarms of teenagers weaving in and out of the stores. Your eyes suddenly settled on a cute blue and white striped sign that read 'Scoops Ahoy!'

“You up for ice cream?” you asked.

“I'm down,” your brother said from the passenger seat.

“Good, because I was going to pull over anyways,” you grinned. 

You backed into a nearby parking spot, getting out of your car and stretching out your arms. The ten hour road trip from Rochester to Hawkins did not do great things for your body or your sleep schedule, especially when you had to live off of nothing but McDonalds and 7-11 food for a few days. As ready as you were to flop face first onto your old bed, some ice cream sounded really good in the sweltering heat.

You headed into the ice cream shop as you took out your wallet, a cute little bell ringing out as you opened the door. 

“Ahoy,” a pretty girl with shoulder length blonde hair greeted you as you walked in. She wore a sailors uniform and hat and looked like she couldn't wait to go home. However, she seemed to regain a bit of energy as she saw you. She stared at you curiously for a moment, looking you up and down before smiling. 

“Hold on just a second,” she said. 

“Uh, sure?” you said, a bit confused by the girl as she quickly disappeared into the back room,

“You're gonna want to take this one, Harrington,” Robin said. 

“I'm on break,” Steve said, his feet up on the table.

“You've been 'on break' for over an hour, dingus,” Robin rolled her eyes, “Besides, you'll thank me later if you play your cards right.”

She reached behind the table he sat at, pulling up a white board with two columns reading 'You Rule' and 'You Suck'. 

“You're 0 for 6, Popeye,” Robin said, “Let's see if you can flip the odds.” 

She gestured over to the window where you stood in front of the display case, looking around for another employee. Steve seemed to perk up at the sight of you. It was a rare occurrence in Hawkins for Steve to run into someone he's never seen before, and hell if you weren't beautiful. 

Robin chuckled as he shot up out of his seat, straightening out his uniform with new enthusiasm.

“Alright, I'm going in,” he said, pausing for a moment before he opened the door, “And you know what? Screw the company policy.” He took off his hat and threw it over his shoulder with a flourish, “Totally hiding my best feature.”

“Yeah,” Robin said under her breath, “That's what's holding you back.”

“Ahoy there!”

You nearly jumped at the overly-loud greeting you received as the door to the back room swung open, revealing a guy about your age in an equally ridiculous sailor uniform as his coworker.

“Sorry for the wait, I hope you're still available to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me. I'm your captain for today, Steve-”

“Harrington,” you finished, surprising the boy behind the counter. He blinked a few times, letting his brain catch up with itself.

“Do. . . do I know you?” he asked.

“Probably not,” you chuckled dryly, “We went to middle school together. I moved a few weeks before freshman year.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling kind of bad. A lot had changed in the last year- mainly that he almost got killed by flesh eating beings from another dimension on no less than two accounts. But he'd also changed a lot as a person. He was one to acknowledge that he wasn't the greatest person in the past; Maybe it was better that you didn't know him in high school.   

“Well, I'm sorry we didn't get to know each other back then,” Steve said honestly. 

That took you by surprise. This wasn't the Steve Harrington you knew. He was the King as far back as elementary school and, as far as you knew, a grade-A asshole. He seemed a lot different than when he was smacking down lunch trays at the sixth grade table in the cafeteria, but he was still just as stupidly attractive.

“Let's start over, then,” you said, “I'm (Y/n), and this is my brother Kyle.”

Steve looked over to the (h/c)-headed boy who looked only a year or two younger than you and gave him a little salute-wave. 

“Nice to meet you,” Steve said, “What can I get you two?”

After taking your orders Steve started scooping up the ice cream, piling them into waffle cones. As he handed you yours he seemed to hesitate before talking. 

“So, are you just back in Hawkins to visit, or. . .” he trailed off.

“I'm back here as long as my dad's business is,” you said, “He moved us out to New York for work, but he's setting up base back here.”

“Oh, New York!” Steve said, trying to come up with something to say, “That's, uh, the- where the Statue of Liberty is and. . . hot dogs, and. . . taxis?”

“Yeah, that pretty much sums it up,” you laughed, the sound making Steve smile.

You looked over to the wall clock and bit your lip as you saw how late in the afternoon it was.

“Hey, we have to get going,” you said reluctantly, “I still need to finish moving in. You know, unpacking everything I own and all.”

“Uh, yeah, no, I totally get it,” Steve said, mentally kicking himself as you turned around to leave. 

Just before you closed the door you turned to look at him over your shoulder. 

“You know, I start my senior year in a few weeks at a little place called Hawkins High,” you said. 

Steve rose an eyebrow, his expression a little more hopeful, and you grinned.

“Who knows? I might see you around,” you said, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

Robin smirked as Steve watched you walk away, a little in awe.

“I like her,” she said, “Although, I'm not really sure if this one counts as a win or a loss.”

Steve was fine with that, so long as he got to see you again. 

~2 weeks later~

Hawkins High was always bustling with activity, even in the early morning. Chatter from groups of students walking to school together along with the hum of car motors filled the air. Everyone was either sitting on the steps of the school or leaning against their cars to show them off, trying to avoid going to first period as long as they could. 

Suddenly, a low rumble sounded out in the air as an unfamiliar vehicle rounded the corner. It seemed like everyone in the school was watching as the sleek, black car pulled into the parking lot with the windows down, music blasting. 

You enjoyed the feeling of the wind on your face as First Blood from AC/DC's new album sounded out through your car's stereo. You turned it down slightly only to talk to your brother.

“Got everything you need?” you asked Kyle.

“Everything but a doctor's note to get me out of here,” your brother joked.

You chuckled as you grabbed your jean jacket from the trunk; You slung it over your Black Sabbath t shirt before killing the engine and locking the door. 

You were about to start walking in until you were tackled into a hug from multiple children.

“(Y/n)!!” Dustin yelled, running towards you from the middle school next door.

“You're here!” Mike said, grinning wildly as he joined the group hug that Will and Lucas piled onto. 

“Hey, guys,” you smiled, “Good to know you avoided setting fire to this town without me.”

“Hey what am I, chopped liver?” Kyle said. 

The group quickly shifted their attention from you to your brother, each of them doing the secret handshakes they'd come up with together when they were little.

“I didn't know you guys were coming back,” Will said, “Why hasn't anyone said anything?”

“Your mom wanted it to be a surprise,” you admitted, “I already talked to her.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Will exclaimed.

You noticed two girls you didn't recognize were standing somewhat awkwardly to the side, not really sure what was happening.

“New party members?” you asked, smiling at them.

“This is El and Max,” Mike said, introducing you, “El, Max, this is (Y/n) and Kyle. They used to live across the street from us.”

“Nice to meet you,” you said to them before turning back to the boys, “Damn, I'm gone for a couple years and you all go and get girlfriends?” you teased. 

Mike and Lucas blushed and your smile widened.

“How do you know them again?” the redhead girl named Max questioned, “It's just. . . I don't know, you actually seem cool.”

You laughed at that, much to the boy's chagrin. 

“I used to baby sit them when we were kids,” you explained. 

“God knows why,” Lucas said, “It's not like you were any less trouble than us. You were only, like, thirteen.”

“Ok, but you were, like, seven and completely out of control,” you countered, mimicking his tone of voice.

“Woah, hold up, hold up,” Dustin said, circling around your Jaguar, “You have a fucking car?!”

“Hey, language, you little shit,” you said playfully, ruffling his hair, “And yes, I got it last year.”

“Sweet,” Dustin said, wide eyed as he continued to stare at your new ride. 

“If you guys want I can drive you to the mall this weekend,” you offered. 

Excited shouts followed, effectively giving you your answer. 

“Ok, but there's no way you'll all fit back there, so someone's riding in the trunk or I'm going to have to strap one of you to the roof,” you said, only half joking as you tossed your keys up, catching them with your other hand and pocketing them.

“I'll see you guys later. Hell awaits,” you said, gesturing to the school building. Kyle fell into step next to you as you walked up the stairs. 

As you entered the halls of Hawkins High you couldn't help the sigh that escaped you. Sure, it was good to be back in some ways, but school was not one of them. You liked your school back in New York. It was so different from here. The people were more diverse, more open minded, and just less dickish overall. 

One of the biggest downsides of a small town like Hawkins was that you were pretty much stuck with the same kids from kindergarten until high school, and you knew you'd have to see the same people that made your life hell in middle school for another year.

“Well shit, look who's back!”

Speak of the devil.

Your expression immediately hardened as Tommy and Carol walked up to you, looking just as pleased to see you as you were to see them. Among their posse were a couple of brainless football players and a guy you didn't recognize.

He had long, curly, dirty blond hair and blue eyes that took no shame in raking over your body. He had his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he chewed absentmindedly on a piece of gum.

“You just had to come and infect this school again, huh?” Tommy sneered.

“Nice to see you too,” you said sarcastically. Carol said nothing, just glaring at you behind her protective shield of a boyfriend. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes; you both knew she wouldn't do shit.

“You know, I don’t think New York changed her at all, guys,” Tommy said, leaning into your face, “You still a bitch?” 

You shot back without skipping a beat.

“I don’t know, Tommy. You still finger banging cheerleaders in the bathroom behind Carol's back?”

The new guy let out a small chuckle at that while the rest of the group looked stunned.

“You what?!” Carol said, eyes wide as she shoved Tommy away from her. 

“Carol, she's lying!” Tommy panicked as she started walking away, “Babe, it's not true, I swear!”

You sighed as you finally got them out of your hair, turning to your brother. 

“You better get to your first class,” you said, “I'll meet you at lunch, okay? And let me know if any assholes give you a hard time.”

“Will do,” he smiled, “See you.” 

And with that he bounded up the stairs.

You started to make your way across the hall to get to your locker when you found your path blocked by a muscular chest, barely covered by a half-unbuttoned shirt.

You looked up to see the guy who was with Tommy just now and your breath caught in your throat as you tried to put some distance between you two. Everything about this guy screamed red flags, from the scent of his cologne to the slit in his eyebrow, but wow he was handsome. Then again he was friends with Tommy, so that placed him in the category of 'shittiest humans ever' by default.

“You've got a smart mouth on you, I like that,” he drawled, his voice smooth and deep. He hooked his thumb through one of his belt loops, pulling his tight-fitting jeans down even lower. “I don't think I've seen you around here. The name's Billy Hargrove.”

“Cool,” you said before walking away. You were going to be late at this rate, and you knew he was nothing but trouble no matter how hot he was.

Billy was slightly taken aback at your disregard towards him, but he was persistent. He caught up with you easily, sliding into your view again as he walked backwards in your peripheral vision.

“So-” 

“No thanks,” you said, shutting him down fast.

Billy's face fell slightly as he kept up with your quickening pace.

“No thanks what?” 

You stopped at your locker and started putting in your combination. He leaned against the wall as you did.

“I’ve heard about you, Hargrove, and I know your type. You’re good looking, you know it, and everyone in this place seems to follow you around like a herd of sheep. You’re gonna make some kind of lame pass, ask if I wanna take a ride in your mediocre car which is definitely a euphemism for something else, expect me to jump into your pants, and then never talk to me again afterwards. So to that I say: no thanks.” 

Under ordinary circumstances Billy would have been in uproar about you reading him or calling his car mediocre, but instead his lips twisted upwards into a shit-eating grin.

“So you think I’m good looking?” 

You sighed as you slammed your locker shut. Of course that’s all he got out of that. 

“If I say yes will you go away?” 

Billy laughed at that, still insistent on following you.

“Quite the opposite, sweetheart.”

“I’m not your sweetheart,” you glared.

“Would you like to be?” 

You rolled your eyes. This guy just doesn't know when to quit.

“Do you pull these cheesy one liners out of your ass with every girl you see?” you asked, a wry smile tugging at your lips.

“Not every girl,” he said suggestively.   

“Oh, really? Because I’ve only been here for half an hour and your hand’s slipped into the back pockets of at least five different willing participants,” you said.

“Jealous?” he smirked.

It was at this moment that you realized when you stopped walking he basically had you trapped between his body and the rows of lockers lining the walls. His gaze was hot and heavy as he loomed over you, purposefully giving you a full view down his shirt. A sudden spark of confidence made you smirk right back at him as you replied:

“You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

As the bell rang out into the hall you used it to get past Billy and continue on your way to your first period. He turned around, staring at your retreating figure. 

“I never caught your name,” he said.

You stopped in your tracks to look at him over your shoulder. 

“I never threw it,” you said, a playful tone to your voice, “(Y/n) (L/n). Don’t rack your brain too hard trying to remember it. If you’re a friend of Tommy’s we won’t be talking much.” 

Your words were harsh, but the way you said them and the grin on your face made it sound like a challenge, and Billy Hargrove has never backed out of one of those.

Read Ch 2 Here!

[feistypaants-archived]

Between The Pipes [Chapter 6]

Rating: M Words: 2272 Pairing: Kristanna Summary: When a new owner takes over the Arendelle Ice Breakers, Kristoff isn’t sure about his future with the team. That is, until a PR nightmare throws the newest member of the media team, who also just so happens to be the daughter of the new owner, right into his arms. Kristoff and Anna can’t even stand the interviews they have to do together… how on earth are they going to fix this mess? Hockey!AU.

[Chapter Index]

Where To Read: [AO3]

Notes: not particularly happy with this one but ready to move on lol... i hope that their dislike of one another bc of a misunderstanding is fine. :^) i realized i never really plotted the why but here we go i hope it’s FINE........

Enjoy!

Anna was waiting patiently outside the locker room, scrolling mindlessly through her phone when Sven jogged towards her, out of breath and flushed. “Hey, Anna.”

She smirked and waved, tucking her phone back into her jacket pocket before he continued.

“So, something came up.” Coming to a stop in front of her, he took in a deep breath and stood up straight, his hands pushing against his lower back. “I can’t do lunch today.”

Disappointed but understanding, Anna set her mind on going home and practicing alone. He’s been more than accommodating, it’s only fair that she not be upset about him canceling once. “Oh, well —“

“But!” He interrupted, grinning. “Kristoff is going to help you instead.”

“What? Oh,” Anna held her hands up in front of her chest, shaking them back and forth. She was certain her eyes were practically popping out of her head. “Oh, we can just reschedule it’s really fine, it’s…”

And then from behind her, a low and smooth voice. “Tell me how you really feel.”

Her lips pressed together, cutting off her rambling words, and she turned slowly to look up at Kristoff, freshly showered and staring down at her with a cocked eyebrow, his still damp hair falling in his eyes. “Oh…” She stood straighter, coughing quietly before continuing. “Hello.”

“Hello.” He shuffled uncomfortably, eyes darting between Sven and Anna before he shoved off the wall he was leaning on, and gestured over his shoulder. “Should we go?”

Anna flushed, glancing back at Sven with panic in her eyes, frustration growing as he only offered a sheepish grin in reply. He turned back to Kristoff, standing straighter as her eyebrows furrowed together. “You really, really don’t have to do —“

“It’s fine.” He ran a hand over his hair, shaking it out as he turned on his heel to walk out the back exit. “I’m starving. And I hear you’re buying.”

Taken aback at his boldness, Anna was frozen for a moment before she could even think to follow him. “Oh. If I’m paying…” She turned back to Sven quickly, offering her best why-did-you-do-this-to-me grimace, and then hurried down the hallway behind the goalie. “I definitely have a limit.”

A satisfied smile pulled at her mouth as he set his jaw, seeming to be holding back a smirk of his own. She waved back at Sven as he excused himself, and she could swear she heard him singing some jingle, but it was just as likely she was imagining it. “Back to the pub?” She asked, finally catching up to his long strides. He only nodded in reply.

Until he said “we can take my car.”

Anna flushed, pointed over towards her vehicle on the other side of the lot, ready to insist on taking different cars, but realized he was paying her no mind anyway and quickly followed closely behind. It was a simple Ford pickup, deep blue with silver trimmings, and Anna found herself surprised that he didn’t have something more expensive. It was… really nice, actually, that he didn’t buy something extravagant. 

Not without effort, she managed to climb her way into the cab, and let out a huff of air as he chuckled, turning the engine over. 

“Men who lift their trucks are clearly compensating for something,” she mumbled, more to herself than anything as she reached up and over to buckle herself in. When she looked back up, his eyes were trained on her, a smirk pulling at his lips. “What?”

His gaze ran down her body, making her blush before he shrugged. “Nothing.” 

This was a bad idea. He was a bad idea. 

The truck started up with a low rumble, and Anna couldn’t help but keep her eyes locked on his profile. He was focused, but drove smoothly, the wheel sliding slick between his fingers as it spun back to place. She could see him working his jaw, as if he was trying to come up with something to say. It still startled her slightly when he finally spoke.

“So…” He coughed once, easing himself into it. “What brought you here?” He mumbled, glancing over at her once before returning his eyes to the road. 

Anna shouldn’t have been surprised, really, that that was all he could come up with. “... My father bought the team, and we all moved here.”

He coughed again, tense, but then shook his head with an uncomfortable laugh. “Right. I mean, you’re old enough to live on your own, right?”

Rolling her eyes, Anna slumped back against the door. “Not with a father like mine,” she muttered, her voice hardly above a whisper.

“What?”

“Nothing.” A sigh. “I do live on my own. Just wanted to stay close to family, I guess.”

Kristoff was clearly out of his element here, and she figured if he was giving it a shot, why couldn’t she? Anna had always prided herself on her ability to create small talk out of nothing. Sure, sometimes she probably just annoyed people into talking to her, but the end result was the same, right?

She tried a simple “are you from around here…?”

He stopped at a red light and squinted his eyes, trying to see the light through the high sun beaming through the windshield. “No.”

So he wasn’t trying that hard. Maybe something a little more engaging? “Why did you start playing hockey?”

His grip tightened on the wheel, and Anna bit at her lip as she watched him. It was almost as if he didn’t want her to know anything about him. As if he was dead-set on not revealing a single thing about himself. But then he let a soft, hardly audible answer slip out. “My dad played.”

Okay, they were getting somewhere now.

“It’s nice to have something in common with your parents, isn’t it?” She couldn’t relate, but that feeling was easy enough to fake. Just the opposite of how she really felt. 

“Yup.”

And that was it. No more revealing answers would come from Kristoff. But she figured they were close enough, that she would try again when they got settled. Worst case, she’d try again after he had a few drinks in him. 

When they finally got to the pub, they had sat in silence for a while. They ordered food and drinks, and sat across from one another, avoiding talking for as long as possible.

But Anna couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay, so…”

Kristoff’s brows shot up as he looked at her.

“We were going to go over penalties, today, and maybe a mock interview, so I could practice…?” 

He seemed bored, disinterested, straight up annoyed to have to be here. But he had agreed to it, and Anna was going to make him help her even if it took all night. 

Swallowing her own frustration, Anna bit at her bottom lip while trying to ignore the way his eyes dropped to her mouth and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. She was stupidly attracted to him, and it made her angry because he was a obviously a jerk . 

“... But instead, maybe you could tell me specifics about being a goalie?”

Kristoff let out a breath of a laugh and shrugged. “I don’t know. You stop pucks.” He leaned back, stretched his arm across the back of the empty chair that sat between them, and shrugged. “That’s pretty much it.” 

“Oh, come on. There’s clearly technique to it.” Anna was going to try , even if it killed her, to get him to have a conversation with her. 

“... You want me to tell you all the ins and outs of being a goalie?” Now he seemed annoyed, as if she was asking too much of him.

“No…” Anna swallowed and slumped into her chair, biting at the nail on her thumb. A heavy silence fell between them again. What was she supposed to do? He clearly didn’t want anything to do with her. But they drove over together, so it seemed she was stuck.

But then she recalled that she didn’t ask him to come. He agreed to it without her involvement at all. 

“Why did you even agree to this?” She wasn’t sure she wanted him to hear, and she could hear her voice dropping low as if to hide behind the noise in the restaurant.

But it still seemed to catch his attention. He sighed and cracked his neck before lifting one hand in the air, gesturing vaguely around them. “I promised Sven I’d try to be nice.”

Scoffing, Anna rolled her eyes and slid further down her seat. “You’re doing a great job.”

Kristoff rolled his eyes and leaned forward, laying his forearms on the table as his hands met in between them. “At least I’m here .”

“What good is that if you’re just going to ignore me and shut down any conversation?” Her voice was flat as she turned her attention to the other side of the pub, lifting the glass and tiny straw to her lips. She half expected him just to ignore her anyway, to continue on drinking his beer, pretending she hadn’t even spoken. But she could still feel his eyes burning into the side of her face.

Kristoff’s jaw was set as he stared her down, eyes narrowing. “Look, I just…” His hands moved to his lap, pressing down against his knees. “Why are you doing all of this?”

She continued to stare across the way, hoping to give him a taste of his own behavior. Why was she doing all of what ?

“You obviously don’t need to learn this stuff.”

That bothered her enough to make her turn back to face him. “Why do you say that?”

If he rolled his eyes one more time she thought they would stick there permanently. 

“You just…” he gestured vaguely at the entirety of her, and scoffed under his breath. “You clearly get whatever you want. And they obviously won’t fire you if you suck.”

She swallowed thickly, sitting up higher in her chair. Anna could feel heat radiating off of her face, but hoped with everything in her that he couldn’t see it. He really didn’t know anything, did he? He didn’t know her , but he was acting like he did.

“I just think it’s shit that you got this job because of your daddy .”

Anna stood, then, smiling. She felt how it contorted her features, felt how wild she must have looked, with the chair pushed out a foot behind her, eyes wide and grin pulling tight at her cheeks. “Well,” she sighed, reaching behind her to grab her wallet and pull out some cash, leaving what she hoped was enough plus a generous tip on the table. . “Look at the time. I have to go tell my father how the team is doing.”

Ah, yes, there was the panic she wanted to see. “Wait, I —“

“I’ll make sure he knows what a good help you’ve been, Kristoff.”

And then she left, bag clutched between her fingers. She wouldn’t cry. She definitely would not cry. Not when she tripped on the curb on her way out. Not when he didn’t follow her to apologize. Not even when she remembered that he drove them there, so she had to find a way back to the rink that wouldn’t humiliate her.

She was good at not crying. She was good at pretending she was okay.

—

Anna skipped the rink for a couple of days. She had called Gerda, asking if she wouldn’t mind if Anna took a long weekend. There wasn’t much for her to do until pre-season anyway at this point, and Gerda seemed to be content with what Anna had already picked up, so she allowed it, just this once , she emphasized. 

Sven had texted her, asking how lunch went. Assuming Kristoff had already told him about the disastrous attempt at bonding , Anna just sent back a shrugging emoji and left it at that. There was clearly no hope that Kristoff was ever going to be nice to her, and Anna was working on accepting that. She had always been used to being handed whatever she wanted, just like he said, but being disliked because of who her father was… that was a new one. 

At least, in her head it was. Usually if people didn’t like her, they pretended they did until she was out of earshot. Up until now, she had thought she was okay with that. 

In the end, Anna had almost felt bad for pretending she had any say in what her father did with the team, but the alarm that had rang through his eyes had been satisfying. Kristoff was wrong about her, there was no doubt in her mind. Maybe she had been handed a job, but she always took pride in her work, always made an effort to be the best she could be. If he gave her a chance , he would see it. If he spent half as much time paying attention as he did with his head up his ass, he’d be well aware that she was here, trying her best with what she was given.

She didn’t ask for this job. She would never ask to be given something she didn’t deserve.

Anna was going to put in the effort to make sure she did deserve this, in the end. She was going to prove that to everyone who ever thought she was just a spoiled girl.

She was going to prove it to her father.

To Kristoff.

To herself .

She deserved this job.

She was going to kick ass.

[kazosa]

A Mutually Beneficial Arrangement - Part 5

Summary: All you wanted was to use your skills in automotive engineering and design to open your own custom car shop. When the rug gets yanked out from under you, one of your regular customers offers you a job that you just can’t resist. Will it stay a mutually beneficial arrangement, or will something unexpected bloom?

Pairing: AU Dean Winchester x Reader

Appearances by: John Winchester, Bobby Singer, Ellen (Harvelle) Singer, Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore, OC Ryan

Chapter Synopsis: Dean and the reader get their nails done. Old issues and new ones get discussed whether they like it or not. Reader goes to look for Dean and they have a quiet moment to talk. 

Word count: 8440

Warnings: implied smut. Confrontations. Language. Hot toddy consumption.

Masterlist

Tagging:  @coffee-obsessed-writer  @closetspngirl  @sorenmarie87  @adoptdontshoppets  @parinarain  @his-paradox  @babykalika2001  

@docharleythegeekqueen  @22sarah08  @flamencodiva  @deans-baby-momma  @collette04  @maralisa124  @mml232  @sympathyforluci  

@superthingsilike  @cartoonki113r  @lookwhatyoumademequeue  @jxnnxbrxwn  @winchest09  @sandlee44

          This wasn’t part of your arrangement, one hell of a benefit, but not what was meant by your mutually beneficial arrangement. You were there to do a job, get your money, and go home to make your dream job a reality. Dean was great, more than great, but was it a good idea to start something with a guy who, more than once, said he didn’t have time for a girlfriend? You’d pinched pennies for years to make your dream come true. Could you manage your dream and have Dean, too?

           And what about Dean? You knew he liked you, that was clear, but would he still want you after the job was over? Sure, he’d said so, but you’d heard promises before. He said he didn’t want it to end, but was it just talk? Experience had taught you that men would say anything to get in your pants, then ditch you as soon as they got what they wanted. Dean didn’t seem like the others, though, you’d been wrong before.

           Behind you, his body was warm and firm with his arm over your side, but not clutching you. His breath was steady and even on your shoulder. You knew you should give him a chance. He didn’t treat you like the others had. He didn’t take what he wanted, he gave you what you needed and he was really, really good at it…

           You knew what you wanted, you just hoped he did, too. Burrowing back into him, he stirred at your movement and you pulled his hand up by your chest. He pulled you more into his body and buried his face in your neck, breathing deeply of your scent.

           “What time is it?” his voice was muffled by your neck.

           “I don’t know, and I don’t care,” you said softly.

           “Good,” he nuzzled in, “we don’t have anything going on today, let’s stay in bed.”

           Staying in bed with Dean would have been your choice over anything else, if you hadn’t told Jess you would go with her and Sam. For a few more, precious minutes, you enjoyed the feel of him wrapped around your body. Telling him meant possibly breaking that connection.

           As soon as you said, “About that…,” Dean’s body tensed, and he shifted slightly backward.

           “What?”

           “I was talking with Jess yesterday…”

           “Jess? What did the ice princess say?”

           “She invited us to get mani/pedis with her and Sam,” you told him, holding his arm around you.

           “Do I look like some kind of male model to you?” he scoffed at such an outrageous notion.

           You smirked at his half-hearted outrage and rolled your body so you could look at him. Propping yourself up on an elbow, you looked down at his sleepy face. He had a three-day growth of stubble on his face and you thought it actually made him better looking. You drew your finger along the line of his jaw feeling the rasp as it moved toward his chin. You smiled thinking of the places on your body that were still tender from him…

           “I don’t know about that, but I’d take you on any day of the week and twice on Sunday,” you closed the small space between you to kiss him.

           He reached for her again, not seeming to get enough. Her lips were so soft and still so eager for him. He hoped she always felt that way because he could devour her over and over. The night before, he couldn’t keep his hands off of her. Ever since he started going to the garage, she’d caught his eye. He told himself to stay away, reasoning that he didn’t have time, but a hot chick who knew more about cars than him? It was like asking fire not to burn. He should have just asked her out right away.

           “Don’t try to change the subject,” she continued. Her voice said she was annoyed, but her face was still soft and warm.

           “No way am I letting some person touch my feet and pretty them up. They’re feet, not… well, I don’t know but it’s just not happening.”

           “I double dare you,” her nail traced the tattoo on his chest.

           “I’m not painting my nails. I’d never hear the end of it at the brewery,” he said.

           (Y|N) was half lying on his chest, looking at him with those sultry (Y|EC) eyes of hers.

           “Might be kinda hot if you did,” she kissed the spot just under his ear, giving him goosebumps despite the heat of their bodies. “All those bad-ass action stars you love all get manicures… And you and Sam can have guy time. Talk shit out. I double-dog dare you.”

           It was getting hard, difficult, to concentrate with her naked body on his and kissing him the way she was. He needed to go to a calm place before he lost control and agreed to something he didn’t want to do.

           “Guy-time is not two dudes getting their nails done,” he moaned as she made her way to his mouth. Her tongue teasing at his.

           “You two need to talk,” she said softly, nibbling at his lip, “clear the air. I triple-dog dare you.”

           “You skipped the triple dare,” he was losing the battle.

           “I really want to get my nails done,” she said playfully.

           He held her leg over his hip and rolled with her onto her back. Her breath was hot on his ear as she planted her foot and adjusted her hips under him. She has to know what she’s doing to me, right?

           “Alright, fine, but I want to see you at the range in overalls,” it was his turn to kiss in her neck. He was rewarded with her fingers raking through his hair and down his back. The last bit of his restraint was being tested. (Y|N) was writhing under him, responding to his every touch.

           “Anything… God… anything,” her voice hushed as she kissed him.

           “You can call me Dean,” he teased as he entered her body.

             This time, when you woke up, you and Dean were a tangle of limbs and bedding.

           Thump thump thump

           There was no energy left to move. Dean and you had made love four times and you were 80% sure you couldn’t get out of bed if the house were on fire.

           Thump thump thump

           Dean was lying in a position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable, his leg slung over yours. You still felt tired and couldn’t figure out why you woke up.

           THUMP THUMP THUMP

           “Hey, you guys decent in there?”

           The voice was deep and slightly amused, it had to be Sam. Neither of you were anywhere close to being decent and the bedding was a twisted mess between you. You gave Dean a smack on his shoulder to wake him up.

           “Dean!” you whisper yelled.

           “Uuuuhhnnn,” he groaned.

           “Wake up!”

           “Screw consciousness, that’s what I say,” he mumbled and shifted his position next to you.

           “No, damnit, wake up! Sam is at the door and I can’t move,” you urged.

           Dean sighed heavily as the knocking returned. With a loud groan, Dean got out of bed and you were graced by the sight of his naked form walking across the room. For one horrifying second, you thought he was going to the bedroom door bare-ass naked. You enjoyed the view, but you doubted his brother would. As he got closer, Dean veered off to the closet to throw on a robe.

           “Dean?” Sam’s voice asked through the door.

           “Hold on, Sammy,” answered Dean.

           “Good, you’re alive,” Sam said, his voice lower.

           Dean gave you a quick glance as you finally got untangled and covered up to your chin. A devilish grin crossed his features as he reached for the door handle.

           “Hey Sam, what’s the rush,” Dean said after opening the door. Interrupting quality time with my lady.

           “Jess said you two might be going with us to the salon?”

           Dean’s gut reaction was to tell Sam ‘no’, but he had made a deal with (Y|N). He would do the nail thing just to see her in the overalls, and nothing else.

           “I can’t believe I’m about to say this,” he said under his breath. “Yeah, super excited about it, too.”

           “Really?”

           “Yeah, why not?”

           “OK, cool. Can you be ready in an hour? We were thinking brunch first,” Sam wanted to know.

           Dean looked over at you for confirmation… or, was it accusation? You nodded and your stomach gave a grateful rumble.

           “Sure thing,” Dean said and closed the door when Sam left.

             Two and a half hours later, you and Dean were full from brunch and Sam was pulling up to the salon. You were in the back seat with Dean. When you looked over at Dean, you thought he seemed uncomfortable and not just from a full stomach.

           “I feel weird,” he said.

           “It’s your fault for sampling everything on the buffet,” you reminded with a grin.

           He looked up at the sign for the salon, “Everyone at brunch was staring.”

           You knew it was because of all the food he ate, plus the bandaged forehead that contributed to the staring. Not to mention, the sight of both Winchester sons in the same place was something to behold. Both brothers were quite tall and very handsome. It didn’t help that people were trying to get a look at you, too. Word spreads quickly in small towns and you could feel their eyes on you just as much as they were on Dean and Sam.

           “They were probably looking at both of us. Probably wondering who would willingly be seen with you in public,” you teased.

           Sam put the vehicle in park and the four of you got out of the car to go inside for your appointment. As soon as you both stepped inside, you could feel Dean getting ready to bolt.

           “Do I have to do this,” he whispered to you.

           “Yes. Suck it up, buttercup,” you answered.

           “You don’t have to go to the range with me,” he’d gone into full panic-mode now.

           Sam and Jess were at the counter talking to the clerk about what they needed. Jess had pulled a few strings to get you all in and you were not about to pass on the opportunity. Turning to him, you slipped your arms inside his unzipped jacket and up his back, pressing yourself into him.

           “I’d go to the range with you anyway. This isn’t just some girly thing to do with Jess. It’s time for me to get to know them and for you to talk with Sam,” you kissed his chin and smiled at the worried look on his face that was slowly resolving to his fate. “They massage your legs and hands, too. Arnold Schwarzenegger does it.”

           Dean saw a water tank with small fish swimming inside.

           “What the hell is that?”

           “You put your feet in, and the little fish eat your dead skin,” you explained.

           “Oh, hell no, those little piranhas aren’t touching me!”

           “Okay, tough guy, no piranhas,” you laughed. “You gonna get color on your nails? They have black.”

           “Don’t push it,” he said.

           Jess spoke from behind you, “C’mon, (Y|N). We’ll get our toes done first. These two can get their hands done.”

           Dean spoke softly into your ear, “Careful,” then placed a kiss on your temple.

           You thought he was being a little dramatic, but you nodded anyway and left him to go with Jess.

           “I thought you and I could get to know each other and let those two talk,” she said like you knew what she meant. “How was skating? Anything interesting, other than macho man Dean, happen?”

           So much had happened yesterday, it was hard to pick out one thing to start.

           “Missouri Mosley,” you said.

           “Did she tell you something profound?” Jess half-mocked.

           “I don’t know if ‘profound’ is the word, but she did say Dean was waiting for me,” you said, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks.

           Jess tipped her head and made a face that agreed with Missouri.

           “I can’t say if you’re the one who Dean was waiting for, but that’s tough to argue,” Jess admitted.

           “How so?”

           “He really hasn’t been serious with anyone since I’ve known him. How did you catch his eye? He’s always been so adamant that his job was more important,” Jess was curious.

           “I have no idea,” you admitted. “I always thought he was good-looking, seemed like a decent guy from what I saw of him... Customers always hit on me, but not him. I broke a personal rule for him, too.”

           “Don’t date clients?”

           You nodded.

           “Maybe you were waiting for him, too,” she suggested.

           It hadn’t occurred to you that maybe you were waiting for him. You hadn’t been lonely, by any means, but they’d mostly been casual.

           “Was it Laura?” you asked. “His last serious one?”

           Jess nodded, “As far as I know, yes.”

           Dean being so mad at Benny made a lot more sense. It was almost like Benny had gotten the life Dean should have been living.

           “She’s awful though!” you observed.

           Jess snorted, “I like you!” She giggled a little more, then, “I think things worked out for the best whit that whole situation. Woman thinks she is God’s gift…”

           “So, what does that mean for Benny when John retires? It seems like Benny would be the next logical step,” you wondered.

           “(Y|N),” Jess turned her head to look at you full on, “Winchesters do not follow logic. Things are a bit sideways considering Adam, too.”

           “Adam? The kid from the ice rink place? What does he have to do with anything?”

           Jess shifted in her seat, “Jesus, I thought he told you…”

           “Told me what?”

             “I’m surprised, Dean,” Sam said, sitting down. “I never thought you’d do this.”

           “(Y|N) can be very persuasive,” he admitted.

           “I like her. She seems like a good match for you.”

           “Thanks, Sam. That actually means a lot.”

           “Look, Dean, not that it isn’t great to see you, but… what are you doing here? I thought you were done with Dad’s yearly spectacle.”

           Sam wasn’t wrong, but Dean didn’t really want to get into an argument in public. It was already bad enough being back, but also, everyone in town seemed to know who they were. John Winchester and his businesses employed a lot of people.

           “Want to make sure the ol’ man knows I’m still alive,” Dean retorted.

           “Dad knows you’re alive. He just hyper-focused on me after mom died,” Sam was trying to make him feel better.

           “Yeah, I’m sure he felt guilty,” Dean grumbled. “Don’t you think it’s messed up that Dad keeps bringing him here?

           “Bringing who here? What do you mean?”

           “C’mon, Sam! Mom would still be here if Dad hadn’t messed around. Now we’ve got this… this… constant reminder of what happened. It’s like he’s trying to push us away and what about the business? Is Dad going to just give it to him?”

           “Dean, why do you even care about the business? If I remember right, you couldn’t wait to leave.”

           “Of course, that’s how you remember it. You always were the golden child.”

           “Come again?” Sam didn’t know what Dean was thinking, he remembered his childhood quite differently. “Dad did nothing but push me to get good grades and join every team and activity that came along. I had no time for myself or to have friends.”

           “Poor you. Who left college to come back and pick up the pieces? He was a mess for years. He forgets who it was working like a pack horse calling all the shots. Then I would go home, make sure he didn’t drink himself to death and help you with your homework. I barely slept for three years. I will not just sit and watch him hand it off to his bastard.”

           Sam’s eyes were wide as he quickly looked at the nail techs. They’d stopped working to watch the exchange. When they noticed, they jumped back to work again.

           “Maybe we should talk about this back at the house?”

           “Why?! What difference does it make? Dad’s burned every bridge already. No one is going to build one for him. Everyone knows he’s an asshole,” it felt good to get it out. “It takes a special kind of prick to bring the reason your wife is dead to the party, and at her favorite holiday. She should be alive and it’s his fault she’s not. And why do you care what happens to the business, you just want to sell it first chance you get.”

           His words hit their mark. Sam didn’t know Dean had found out about that particular option that he’d been considering.

           “How did you…” Sam sputtered.

           “Do you really think you can shop the business around and not have people check on it? I thought you were the smart one?”

           “Jess and I talked about it,” Sam cleared his throat, “we were just putting feelers out there. The plan is to keep it all running and everyone still employed.” He looked at the nail techs and smiled.

           Dean rolled his eyes. Sam was always the diplomat. He said he didn’t have political aspirations, but the sale of the business would sure fund a lot of campaigning. Conversation after that was terse at best. It had been good to air it out, but the potential repercussions after his outburst weighed on him. Telling Sam was one thing, bringing it up with his dad was another. It was a discussion that needed to happen, it was just a matter of when.

             Not forgetting about the gala and your dress, you chose an emerald green color for your nails and gold highlights. Tasteful and elegant. Of course, you’d heard what was said when Dean was getting his done, the whole salon had. The parts you hadn’t caught, Jess filled you in. Adam seemed like a nice kid who was getting a raw deal. You couldn’t blame him for wanting to try in spite of the resistance. John, however, just seemed all the more scummy for it. It wouldn’t have surprised you, at all, if he were, indeed, deliberately trying to hurt his older sons. There had to be a better way.

           You and Jess were finished first and Sam was almost done. Dean, however, was not. Seeing the empty chair between the two brothers, you took the space for yourself. You put your hand on top of his newly manicured hand, no polish.

           “You’re doing great, honey. Remember to breathe,” you teased.

           “Very funny,” he said through gritted teeth.

           You rubbed your thumb between the spaces in the bones of his hand.

           “No polish, I see. Kinda disappointed, not gonna lie,” you really didn’t care, you were just trying to distract him.

           “I don’t need that crap. This is enough,” he said.

           The technician had taken her time to do a good job. It did make you wonder if it was to get more juicy gossip, or if Dean’s nails were just that much of a mess. Dean had aired a lot of dirty laundry during the mani portion. But now, Dean had a perfect pedi, even if he didn’t have polish. The tech gave him the final rubdown and the okay to go.

           “Very pretty, babe,” you patted his hand and got ready to leave the salon.

           Held hostage in the back seat of Sam’s car, Sam and Jess took you on a tour around Lawrence before heading back to Lebanon. You tried to politely decline, but they insisted. By the time you got back to Lebanon, the effects of the night before were catching up with you and you were practically sleeping on Dean.

                Dean managed to get (Y|N) out of the car and up the stairs to his room. He almost felt bad about keeping her up all night, but she had woken him up twice, too. She climbed on top of the comforter and almost went back to sleep immediately. He pulled a heavy blanket from the chest at the foot of the bed and covered her with it. She looked like a worn-out angel lying in his bed. Bending down, he placed a light kiss on her forehead, thinking she was already napping.

“Where are you going?” She asked drowsily, not opening her eyes.

“Need to go have a talk with Dad,” he said, truthfully.

            “Don’t kill him, just hurt him real bad,” she said.

            That caught him off guard.

            “Are you even awake,” he asked.

            “Mmhmm. Still your dad… and a felony,” she said.

            He snickered at her comment.

“No promises.”

He left the room as quietly as he could and headed for the stairs. He just hoped that she wouldn’t hear what was about to go down. Winchester “talks” tended to get loud. What he hadn’t expected was to see his father at the bottom of the stairs waiting for him.

“We need to talk, son,” John said.

When Dean made the turn at the bottom landing, he could see that the room held Bobby, Ellen, Sam, and Jess. He hadn’t seen them before because he’d been so focused on his dad.

“What’s going on here? Is this an intervention or something?”

“We need to talk to you about this ‘relationship’ you have with (Y|N),” John elaborated.

“‘We’ huh?” He looked around at the people in the room. Jess was the only one who looked like she would rather be doing anything else. Feeling a little bit like he was backed into a corner, he went on, “What do you think ‘we’ all need to say about the woman I’m going to marry?”

“How about you come sit down so we can say our piece,” Ellen tried to persuade him.

He’d lost control of the situation before it even began. If he’d had hackles, they’d be raised.

“Sure, why the hell not,” he took the open chair near the door. If things went bad and he needed to cool off, the door was just a few steps away. “Who wants to go first? I’m sure it’s all going to be just aces.”

John rolled his eyes and moved into a spot near the center of the room. Dean eyed Bobby sitting to his left. At least Bobby had the decency to look guilty.

           “Dean,” John began, “we all know she’s not really your girlfriend.” John raised his hand to stop his son from speaking. “Women like her don’t just magically find a guy like you and settle down.”

“For the hundredth time, she is not a stripper or a prostitute. Her best friend told me she hadn’t dated anyone seriously for years before me. And she didn’t find me, I found her. I asked HER out. And I’m damn lucky she said yes. Jesus. A simple Google search will tell you who she is, but I suppose you would still think that she was a prostitute,” Dean was getting close to losing his temper. “What else do we need to ‘talk’ about?”

“How about the first morning you two were here? She came down the stairs and into the kitchen where I was cooking breakfast for my family. She walks in giving me ‘the look.’” He waited for Dean’s reaction. All he got was his son’s eyes snapping over to his. “Yeah, you know the one. Thought she was just appreciating where the good looks were coming from, then she just kept on it. She couldn’t even answer simple questions about her own fiancé.”

Dean couldn’t roll his eyes any harder, “You think you know everything. What did you ask her?”

“How you take your coffee.”

“And you think she answered wrong,” it wasn’t a question. (Y|N) and he had talked about everything. It had been so easy to talk to her. And whatever she may not have known the answer to, she was crazy intuitive and could practically guess what he was thinking.

“I asked her if she wanted to take cream and sugar and she said no.”

“I take it black when I have a hangover. Why are you so dead set on dragging her down? Why can’t you just accept it? I’m marrying her and that’s the end of the story.”

“How does the girl take her coffee,” Bobby asked.

Dean had a moment of panic. He didn’t remember talking about that with her. If they had, he’d forgotten what she had said. He just hoped that his fear didn’t show on his face.

“She doesn’t like coffee,” he said victoriously when it suddenly came to him. She always had a soda.

           “And it has nothing to do with me and Jess getting engaged? I know you want the business and Dad has certain requirements,” Sam said cautiously.

           “She's just like the rest of them, after his money. So easily bought off,” John slipped.

           John's words had brought the room to dead silence. The only sound made was the rustle of fabric as Dean got up from his chair and closed the space between he and his father.

           “Come again?” Dean eyed John, the sound of steel in his voice.

           “You know exactly what I mean. Those women you would see… strippers and gold diggers. All it took was a simple phone call for most of them.” John couldn't believe Dean had never seen those women for what they were. “I did you a favor and got rid of them before they took you for everything you had.”

           “You had NO RIGHT to do that!” Dean's blood was boiling.

           “Tell me, Dean, how much has (Y|N) gotten out of you?”

           “Always trying to run my life… Good. I'm glad you paid them off, but it was a waste of money. None of them were anything more than a good time. It's funny you get so concerned about the type of women I spend time with when you bring your bastard son down here every Christmas parading him around. What do you get out of that? Are you showing him what could be his, or is it some sick twist about what he can't have?”

           “John, don’t you think you’re being a little hard on the boy?” Bobby said from his space on the couch.

           “Stay out of it, Bobby, he’s MY son,” John growled.

           “Then ACT like it!” Bobby shot back.

           Bobby had already risen from his seat and Ellen followed, ready to back him up if needed. Deciding they’d had enough of the “talk,” they made their way into the kitchen.

Sam moved to the edge of his seat to listen. Dean had always been the more hesitant of the two of them to fight with their father. It had been a long time since they'd aired out their issues and he wanted to make sure he heard everything his brother had to say.

“This isn't about me or Adam. This is about the farce you and that girl have been running the moment you came here,” John continued, completely disregarding Bobby. “For the record, Adam is my son, as you so delicately pointed out. I don't need to have a motive to invite him here.”

“No, Dad. It is all about you. You make us feel like we have to compete for your love and attention, and you've treated Benny more like a son than me. He got my old job and even married Laura, just like you wanted me to do.” Dean let himself calm down and think if he'd left anything out. “You know what? I don’t give a shit anymore. Give it to whoever you want.”

“Maybe if you didn’t make such epic bad decisions, you wouldn’t be in this mess right now,” John shot back.

“My life is a mess? Let’s talk about your bad decisions, Dad. You want to tell Sam why our mother is dead?” Dean barely waited for John to answer and when he didn’t, Dean continued, “Sam, Mom found out that Dad had been screwing around on her. Not just with Adam’s mother, but other women, too. All those out of town trips… Nancy Mulligan was the one that caught his eye, though. Mom found out about Adam, and all of the other women, the same night she died. Got in the car and tore off, lost control and wrecked. I may make bad decisions in my personal life, but (Y|N) isn’t one of them and I sure as hell never got anyone killed over one.”

It happened quickly after that. John didn’t have far to reach to throw the first punch. Dean saw it coming and dodged it, throwing a right cross into John’s ribs. Jess had slipped out of the way, not wanting to get caught in the middle. She was glad that Dean finally gotten it off his chest, but she hated how it had happened...

             For the last few days, Dean had practically been attached to your hip. At first, you thought he was doing it to protect you or make you feel comfortable around his family. Now that dinner was almost ready and he’d been absent from for you for over an hour, you missed the comfort of his warm, solid presence next to you.

           When you followed your nose to the kitchen and Dean wasn’t there, you got worried. Jess and Sam were there having a hot toddy with Ellen and Bobby. Sam looked a little guilty and Jess could barely make eye contact.

           “What’s going on? Where’s Dean?” you wanted to know.

           Sam’s free hand patted the top of the hand holding the toddy.

           “He’s probably out in the barn. He likes to bang the dents out of wrecks in there… after an argument with Dad.” Sam cleared his throat and furtively glanced at you.

           Jess didn’t say anything to you, she just handed you the thermos. She had an apologetic look on her face. Worried even more, you slipped on your boots and pulled on Dean’s hoodie that was hanging on a peg by the back door. Making sure you had the thermos; you went outside in search of your fiancé.

           Even if you didn’t know where it was, you would have been able to find it easily. The unmistakable sound of metal on metal was mixed in with the blaring sound of Motorhead. It sounded more like Dean was putting dents in than taking them out. Rubber mallets sounded different…

           As you got closer, the big door was open wide enough to let a car pass through. A light, peaceful snow was falling now that it was almost dark, and in contrast to the clanging coming from the barn. The clanging suddenly stopped, followed by a loud grunt.

           Walking into a big wooden barn, you’d expected to see combines, tractors, and various other farm implements. It wasn’t that kind of barn. Instead, cars lined each side from the front all the way to the back. In some places, other cars were blocked in by the ones in front. You assumed the nicer cars were the ones that had covers on them as you easily spotted the unmistakable shape of a ’68 Corvette Stingray.

           About halfway down the line, one car was uncovered, the cover piled on the barn floor. The loud music was coming from inside the car where Dean sat with the door open.

           His hands were numb from beating the rusted old hood that was hanging on the wall. He was still angry but destroying the hood wouldn’t fix that. He swung the crowbar as hard as he could into one of the support beams, burying the teeth in the post.

           There weren’t many lights inside the barn and the ones that were, were under the loft. When he first saw her, he thought maybe it was Jess coming to tell him (Y|N) heard everything and was leaving, making him feel even worse.

           She leaned down by the front tire then came around by the open door and stood in the opening.

           “Big sound coming from the old girl,” it was (Y|N).

           She leaned into the car, putting her hand on the steering wheel for balance. Her other hand was reaching for the radio and she changed it to a Christmas station. When he tried to change it back, (Y|N) slapped his hand away.

           “Don’t you dare,” she said.

           Somehow, when she slipped back out of the car, she’d grabbed his wrist and was pulling him out of the car with her.

           “C’mon. You don’t have to tell me what happened, but you do have to dance with me,” she ordered.

           With no fight left in him, he found himself getting out of the car for her. “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” was playing.

           “Is that a ’55 Packard Caribbean?” she asked.

           “You really know your cars,” he conceded.

           “She’s a beauty.”

           “Drove it all through high school,” he felt like he was in a fog. “Are you just stealing all of my clothes now?”

           “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

           She pulled him to the empty space in the center of the barn, the final strains from Brenda Lee reaching them as they stopped.

           “Am I ever gonna get it back?” he looked down at you, his expression still irritated.

           You patted your sides and Dean’s scent wafted up through the neck hole. A hint of aftershave and hops.

           “No, I think it’s mine now,” you smiled up at him. You noticed he had a new bruise on his cheek but didn’t ask him about it. He would tell you if he wanted you to know.

           “I don’t dance, sweetheart,” he grumbled, but he still stood there letting you touch his battered face and hands.

           “You also don’t do Christmas, but here we are,” you teased. “Jingle Bell Rock” began. “You can’t be mad when you dance to Christmas music. Just move your body.”

           You held his hand and used him as a prop to dance to the song. You were doing twirls and having a grand ol’ time. It didn’t matter to you how goofy you were, Dean needed to get out of his head for his own sake. As you danced, you sung along to the song, loudly and out of tune.

           Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” was next. Dean finally pulled you close, surprising you. You put your hand on his arm and he slowly moved you to the beat of the music. It was nice to be in his arms again. The anger was gone from his handsome features, replaced by sadness. He could barely look at you. You moved closer so your body pressed to his, your arms going up around his shoulders. Bing’s smooth voice was making you feel good, your hand absently stroking the back of Dean’s neck.

           “You know, you can tell me what happened, right?” your voice was gentle.

           With the song ending, so did the swaying. Dean was looking outside through the open barn door and “Let it Snow” began playing on the Packard’s radio.

           “I don’t think Dad is going to hand over the business to me,” he said. The agony in his voice was killing you. His head dropped to the side of yours, his skin was cold against your temple.

           “We knew that it could end this way,” you said softly, your hand holding his head.

           “But if I don’t get it, it’s not just me that’s losing,” his voice was barely more than a whisper.

           “I’m here, Dean. I don’t need the earrings. You can have them back, use them to start your own place. I just want you,” you said. “No matter what, I’m here, and I have your back.”

           “I’m sorry about everything that’s happened,” he moved to look at you, “but I’m glad you’re here.”

          His eyes seemed to stare deep into your soul, and you knew you were head over heels in love with him. His strong arms enveloped you. His eyes closing as he leaned in to kiss you.

           Dean pulled away first, but not very far. He didn’t want her to run away. It was irrational, but real, he wanted her close… and she was warm.

          Her eyes still closed, she said, “Wow.” Taking a moment to come back to herself, she continued, “If I had known that’s how you felt, I would have kissed you right away.”

          He couldn’t help himself, he kissed her again. Goosebumps raised on his skin. Either he was cold, or he was in love. Not that he knew what it meant to be in love. All he knew is he didn’t want to lose (Y|N).

          “What’s in the thermos,” he asked.

         (Y|N) looked like she’d forgotten she’d even carried it in.

          “Jess gave it to me. I assume it has hot toddy in it,” she thought a moment, “Warm toddy. We could have it before dinner?”

          “Yeah, but let’s get in the car,” he suggested.

          “Are you cold in your multiple layers?”

          “I can take my hoodie back,” he said walking with you to the car.

          “You could try,” you smiled.

          “Hmm,” he opened the car door for you. “Don’t tempt me.”

          He closed the door gently on the old Packard once you were inside. You watched as Dean went around the front of the car, his fingers splayed as the grazed the hood. A hint of a smile finally touched his face as he leaned down to grab the thermos from where you’d left it and got in the car with you. You took the thermos from him and he reached for the key still in the ignition.

          “Let’s see if Garth has been taking care of her,” he said and turned the key.

          Dean turned his head toward you giving you a look like the car might explode. Instead, the car gave a small shudder and rumbled to life. Dean’s face lit up.

          “Atta boy, Garth,” he said with a smile of appreciation for his friend and for his old car. He reached for the heat controls and set them to max.

          “Care for a tour of the grounds, m’lady?” he said in his best snooty voice.

          “I would like that a lot,” you moved closer.

          When you left the house, you hadn’t thought to grab an extra cup for Dean. While you were sure he had no qualms about drinking right from the container, you thought it might be better to share the cup.

          The heat was already beginning to work in the car as you slid to the middle of the split-back bench seat. Dean gave you a sideways glance, a funny little look on his face, eyebrow up like he was waiting for you to say something. The moment passed and Dean put the car in gear. He eased the car out of its parking space, his foot on the brake. Even though you weren’t driving, you could feel the power ready to be unleashed.

          “Man, she really wants to go, doesn’t she?” you asked.

          The leather upholstery was soft and smooth under your hand, “They just don’t make cars this beautiful anymore. Not ones Joe Schmoe can buy, anyway.” The leather was a cream color and had black and turquoise trim to match the body colors.

          Dean eased the car to a stop just outside the barn. The snow was falling gently on the car and you could just barely hear it hitting the canvas convertible top.

          “I almost wish I could take her with me,” he said, “but no extra parking in my building.”

          You had plenty of space at your place, but with Chuck’s ultimatum, you didn’t know if you’d have a job in 2 weeks. Even if things didn’t work out with you and Dean, you still couldn’t decide if you wanted to go back to work with Chuck. The earrings he’d bought you could be returned or sold, but if it didn’t work out, you really didn’t want them…

          “She’s a beauty,” you told him.

          “Alright,” he said, “down to the end of the land and back, I’m starving.”

          You already unscrewed the mug and were working on the stopper. A waft of toddy steam hit your nose; the liquid still hot as you poured. Jess didn’t put much in the thermos, only enough to fill the mug.

          “Here,” you held out the mug for Dean, “this’ll warm you up.”

          He took the mug from you and took a few drinks from it. The snow had piled up on the windshield and he reached to turn on the wipers.

          “Don’t hog it. Sip, sip, pass,” you wanted a drink, too.

         Dean smirked and passed you the mug. Handing if off to you, he put the car in gear and rode the brake, even in first gear. Dean said he was only going to the end of the lane, but he took you on a small tour of the farm. The snow was building but the road was still visible for most of the tour. He showed you the shed that he and Sam jumped off to see if they could fly. You saw the tire swing where he spent hours swinging and spinning. He told you all about high school.

          “The girls I dated always said one thing about my car and as soon as they did, I knew I would have to end it,” he said.

          “Oh God, I’m afraid to ask,” you said.

          Dean did a mock girly voice to say, “Oh Dean, the color of your car matches your eyes!”

          “HA! I don’t blame you!”

          Dean let off the brake and the car was rolling again.

          “So how fast does she go?” you asked.

          “One-track mind on you,” he chuckled. “I’ll show you some time but when the roads are dry.”

          “Thanks for asking me to come to this,” you said.

          “Thanks for saying ‘yes’,” he said moving his arm to lay across the back of the seat.

          Unwilling to miss the opportunity, you slid the rest of the way to lean against him as he drove. You rested your head on Dean’s shoulder and watched the snow falling outside. You put your hand on his thigh and his arm came down around your shoulders.

          By the time you and Dean got his car back in the garage and everything settled, it was late, and you’d probably missed dinner. It didn’t matter much anyway, you doubted Dean would want to sit down with them after whatever it was that had happened. You helped Dean close the barn doors and walked back up to the house with him.

         Inside, the house was oddly quiet. You almost expected to see someone in the kitchen, but it was empty. Dinner had been eaten and put away. Dishes were left on the island where the only light in the kitchen was left on. On top of the plates was a note folded in half. Dean picked it up to read while you rummaged in the refrigerator. You found the food containers and started pulling them out.

         Dean flipped open the note with his thumb. He recognized the handwriting as Ellen’s.

         Dean - we’re sorry about earlier. Food’s in the fridge. Saved you some pie.

                —E

         “What’s the note say?” You asked Dean.

         “Ellen’s just sorry about the crap from earlier,” he crumpled the note and put it in the trash.

         “You gonna tell me what happened?” You really wanted to know.

         “Let’s get some plates ready, then I’ll tell ya.”

          Once your food was warmed and ready, the two of you sat down at the island to eat and Dean told you everything. He told you about Adam, how his mother found out, and her subsequent death. He told you about his dad and how Dean had kept him alive and ran both businesses at a young age. You found out how Dean left Lebanon again and came into your life.

          “Do you still want to go to the gala tomorrow?” You asked. If he said ‘no’ it wouldn’t shock you in the least. The fact that he was still there was a little bit of a shock. Dean had been put through the wringer and had still come out clean on the other side.

          “Yeah, but we don’t have to stay afterward. Besides, I really want to see you in that dress.”

          “You have a clothing fetish,” you didn’t put it as a question.

           “No, I don’t. I just have an… appreciation for your… form,” he said.

          You smiled at him. He is poor face was beaten up and his hands had to be sore. And despite his injuries, he was still incredibly handsome.

         “Does it ever get tough walking around with that face?” You couldn’t stop your thoughts from spilling out of your mouth.

          “It does this week,” he said.

          “No, I mean, do you see you? Even with a cut and bruised cheek, you’re damn fine to look at,” you mused.

          “Well… I mean… it doesn’t suck,” he gave you a charming smile. “Gets me in with the cute mechanics.”

          You snickered, “Is that something you need to do often?”

          “I’ve been holding out.”

          “Oh yeah?”

          He nodded, “Had to find someone equally hot to use my manly wiles on.”

          “How’s that working out for you?”

          He gave you the most endearing look you had ever seen and felt your heart melt for him.

          “It’s working pretty good,” he grinned. “Got me a pretty lady that makes me feel things I didn’t think were possible for a washed-up old man.”

          You got up from your stool and were slightly higher than him sitting. He turned his body and leaned on the island as he looked at you, clearly worn out from the day.

          “The dishes are put away, let’s go to bed,” you suggested.

          He looked at you funny, “You’re not gonna tell me I’m not washed-up?”

          “I was, but you ruined it,” you teased, getting even closer to him. He put his arms around you pulling you close, his head resting on your chest. You stroked his head and shoulders and felt him relax into you a little more. “Come on. I’d feel better if we were in your room.”

          “You’re just trying to get me into bed,” he said as he let you go and got up from the stool. He’d not had the benefit of a nap and was feeling the pain. The lack of sleep and the pain from his injuries had been taking their toll all day.

          “Yes, I am. Now get your cute buns moving,” you said.

          “Don’t objectify me,” he scoffed.

          “I like you, Dean,” you said as he led the way.

          “I love you, too,” he whispered as you made your way up the stairs with him.

          You sat on the bed next to Dean who was already in bed and passed out. He fell asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow. You looked at the clock and decided that it wasn’t too late to make a quick phone call. You hadn’t even been bringing it with you, not that you would have had any time to look at it. It had been so busy at the farm, you weren’t even really sure what day it was. The indicator light was flashing on your phone and you could only imagine the messages you had missed.

          Not bothering to look at them, you held down your speed dial button and waited for the video call to connect.

          “I do believe we need to have a discussion about what “Keep me updated” means. Not even a text from you,” Ryan didn’t say ‘hello’ again. “Why are you sitting in the dark? Is tall, dark, and sexy with you?”

          “Shh! Yes, he is and I don’t want to wake him,” you said. You knew she could see you just fine, though.

           “Then you shouldn’t have video chatted me, dipstick,” she countered.

          “Fair enough.” 

          You had tried to slide off the bed before you made the call, but Dean had his arm over your legs and was knocked out cold. If he woke up, he woke up, but you didn’t think he would.

          “What the hell has been going on that you can’t call me?” Ryan asked.

          It took a bit of explaining, but you finally made it through all of the details. She wanted you to spend a little more time on the sex details than you were entirely comfortable with, but she got the idea from what little you were willing to divulge.

          "Cmooooon tell meeeee."           "You are MARRIED."           "Exactly, I need to live vicariously through you."           "Tsk tsk What would Christina say...."           "She would understand, now spill. Tell me all about it."           "No, and I haven't even told you the best(?) part."

          “I think we know what the best part is…”

         “Pffft, you're not wrong!” You laughed, “but seriously. He was so tired from everything today. When we were going upstairs, I thought he was just sleeping on his feet and joking around with me. So, I said, ‘I like you, Dean.’”

          “And??”

          “He whispered, ‘I love you, too.’ WHAT THE HELL RY?!”

         “Alright, as much as you want to freak out, cuz I know I want to, don’t. Don’t overthink it and let it fuck up whatever’s happening. Try to let things happen naturally.”

          “Oh! Easy for you to say!” You were absolutely freaking out, but she was also right. It could have just been his sleepy mind saying it in response to a dream-like state. Maybe he just said what he felt was right in the moment. Maybe he didn’t even mean for you to hear him.

          “(Y|N)! Don’t make me come down there and slap you. You got this. Now get some rest. You don’t need bags under your eyes for the big show tomorrow.”

          “Alright, you’re right, as usual,” you allowed.

          “Damn right, I am. Try to enjoy that sexy man… more. And CALL ME TOMORROW.”

          “Okay, shhhh!! Bye!”

          “Merry Christmas.”

          “Merry Christmas.”

          You sighed heavily and put your ringer on silent before putting it back on the nightstand. Your notification light was still flashing like crazy, but you didn’t think you could stand to go through them, you just wanted to get to sleep. Whatever it was that was on there could wait for you to see in the morning. Reaching for the pull chain on the lamp, you scooted down on the bed and pulled the chain. Dean stirred enough for you to lie down with him and settle in.

          I think I love you, too. 

[thetriggeredhappy]

41 for speeding bullet please!

(warnings for alcohol and just terrible, terrible passenger seat etiquette)

41.) “I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Sniper had long since buried his face in his hands, trying his best to pretend that he wasn’t associated with the other hooligans accosting the bartender despite the fact that his uniform matched theirs and he’d clearly visibly entered the establishment with the rest of them.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Sniper murmured to nobody in particular.

Engie, to his credit, being the other designated driver for the night, gave him a consolatory pat on the shoulder before ordering himself some kind of low-proof craft beer that was advertised, and an ice water. “We’ll be here a good few hours I reckon, imagine there’s time for you to get one drink at least,” he shrugged.

“If I get one drink, I’ll just get tempted,” Sniper replied.

“Fair point,” Engie conceded, and moved off to keep an eye on the attack team, who’d all taken to trying to get in on a pool game happening towards the back of the bar.

Overall, the night was a blur of various headaches for Sniper, and he was almost relieved to see it over, except that when they went to make a head count ten minutes before they would be headed out back to base, they realized a few of their number had gone missing and Sniper was sent to track them down. Pyro he found lighting a trash can on fire just around the corner, and Spy was smoking outside of a different, immediately classier-looking bar that seemed to serve mostly wine as opposed to the wild drink specials of the one they’d decided to go to. Both were hauled back to the place they’d parked, where Sniper found the tail end of an argument being broken up between the team.

Engie looked considerably frazzled, and Scout was pouting, and Soldier was holding his jaw, which even then looked like it was bruising. Engie turned to him as he approached. “Well, Stretch, two things,” he said. “First, it turns out it was a good idea to bring the truck and the bread van. Our good Demo’s down for the count, and will probably need to be lyin’ down in the back seat. But I think we’ll need to switch on who’s drivin’ what. You know how to drive stick shift?”

Sniper felt his already thoroughly soured mood beginning to ferment. “Explain.”

Engie rubbed the back of his neck. “Now I know you took the van on the way here, and it’s what you’re more used to in terms of maneuverability an’ all, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to have any of these lot in the bed of the truck like before, and… we’re gonna need both vehicles occupied anyways. Since some of our teammates,” he said pointedly, shooting a look at Scout and Soldier, “have gone and gotten in a fight again and I’m not convinced they won’t start up again if they’re stuck in a space together.”

Sniper dragged a hand over his face. “So I’m drivin’ the truck?” he asked.

Engie rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. Also you’re gonna need someone in the passenger seat,” he added carefully.

“Truckie, why.”

“Like I said, we can’t have a fistfight in the back of the van. You can take your pick on who you want with you, Scooter or Solly, but, I’m gonna need to ask you to take at least one.”

It wasn’t a terribly tough decision. “I suppose I’ll bring Scout, then,” he said begrudgingly. Soldier was banned from taking shotgun (in every sense of the word) for a good reason.

Engie nodded, and tossed him the keys to the truck. “Alright, well, besides that I’m ready when you are,” he said, and started shooing their group along, trying his best to heft Demo to his feet.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Sniper called again, but within a few moments he was left standing in the parking lot alone with Scout anyways.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, just watching the team go through the ordeal that was trying to get half a dozen highly intoxicated murderers in the back of a van.

“Sup?” Scout finally asked Sniper, grin lopsided and self-satisfied.

“Let’s just go,” Sniper sighed, leading the way towards the truck. “The sooner we get back to base, the sooner I can be done with this whole mess.”

“What, you got other plans?” Scout asked, bumping shoulders with him amicably. Scout tended to get more physical with other people when drunk, he’d found, either in the way of slinging his arm around a teammate cheerfully or clocking someone in the jaw. For now, it seemed he was drifting towards the former.

“Yeah. Headache medicine and waking up early to get myself breakfast so I don’t have to deal with you lot and your hangovers,” Sniper replied, needing to lightly push Scout towards his side of the truck to get him to stop following him like a duckling.

“Sounds like a real party,” Scout said, clambering gracelessly into the passenger seat, needing to take a few valiant attempts before finally managing to get his seatbelt done. “Can I come?”

“I believe I said something about not dealing with you lot and your hangovers,” Sniper emphasized, turning the key and fighting the engine a bit to try and get the battered old truck started.

It wasn’t until the engine finally turned over and the truck rattled to life that Sniper processed the uncharacteristic silence from his passenger. When he looked over, Scout was moping, slouched, staring out the passenger window, wearing the most kicked-puppy expression Sniper had ever seen.

“You can just keep pouting,” he said nonetheless, shaking off the immediate guilt that such an expression stabbed into him and instead turning his gaze to the rear-view mirror as he sent the truck into motion, starting to exit the parking lot. “Really. This is as pleasant as I’m gonna get for the rest of the evening.”

“What’d I even do?” Scout asked, the hurt shining through his voice and still hitting him despite Sniper’s dogged avoiding of eye contact. “What’s your problem?”

He clenched the steering wheel hard in his left hand as he shifted through gears with the right, released. “I don’t happen to enjoy going out and… “being social”, or whatever it is that you lot seem convinced is so great,” he replied. “It stresses me out. And usually I get to at least get myself smashed to try an’ take the edge off it, but I’m the other driver for the night, so I’m not allowed to have anything. Frankly, I’m tired of talking to, to people. So if you wouldn’t mind, I’d appreciate some peace an’ quiet.”

To Sniper’s immense surprise, the little lecture and request of his actually worked. Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes into the drive and Scout was still being quiet and relatively still in the passenger seat. They were making fairly good time, and it seemed the remaining half hour’s drive back to base would go without further incident.

“You’re really grumpy, y’know,” Scout said suddenly, and the peace was ruined.

Admittedly, the twenty minutes of quiet had done some good for Sniper’s nerves and temper. “I’m aware,” he said levelly.

“You should lighten up, have some fun once an’ awhile,” Scout insisted.

“I do have fun,” Sniper protested, a bit more quietly now. “Just not when I’m driving.”

Quiet for a second. “Like, when you’re actually driving, or when you’re supposed to be driving like, later?” Scout asked.

“The second one. Don’t know exactly how much fun can be had when I’m behind the wheel without getting in a wreck,” Sniper replied.

Quiet for another second. “Plenty,” Scout said.

Sniper furrowed his eyebrows. “What?”

“You can have plenty of fun,” Scout said.

His eyebrows remained furrowed. “I… don’t think I follow,” he murmured.

Scout was suddenly leaning bodily over the gearshift and slinging an arm around Sniper, startling the hell out of him and making him concentrate very hard to keep from swerving off the highway. “Careful,” Scout chirped unhelpfully, and Sniper could see his grin in his periphery.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Sniper practically growled.

“Havin’ fun,” Scout said, undissuaded. Sniper wasn’t aware when exactly Scout got his seatbelt off, but it was pretty clear that it was gone given how close Scout was to him now. “Cool it, maybe.”

“Hard to cool it when I’m goin’ well over a hundred kilometers per hour in a stick shift and there’s someone leanin’ over the gear change.”

“Dude, this road’s got two lanes and it’s the middle of the night and there’s nobody anywhere the hell near us.” The hand Scout had slung around him moved to start mussing his hair out of order. “Relax. It’s fine!”

The panic simmered down a little bit, but only slightly. “There’s still road signs. And this isn’t even my truck.”

“Hey, hey hey hey,” Scout said in a voice that might’ve been soothing if not for the fact that he leaned even further over the gearshift to use it, chin leaning on Sniper’s shoulder. “It’s cool. It’s fine.”

“Can I ask why you think this is a good idea?” Sniper asked, tightening his grip on the wheel as Scout shifted again.

He shrugged, moving Sniper’s shoulders in the process, car swerving only slightly. “You said tonight sucked, right? And was stupid an’ boring? Might as well make it interesting, yeah?” He leaned in further, having to use his right hand to steady himself, putting it on the seat between the gearshift and Sniper’s leg. He felt the end of Scout’s nose brushing against his pulse point. It made his heart thud more than the swerving did. “This is interesting.”

To be fair, it was.

“Wouldn’t‘ve pegged you as a cuddly drunk,” Sniper said, a weak attempt at humor. “Thought you were more the, the hittin’ type.”

“I am hittin’,” Scout pointed out, right hand starting to idly pick at the outer seam of Sniper’s jeans. “Just, on you.”

Sniper had to clear his throat, swallow hard to buy time to formulate a response to that. Scout’s hand dropped from his hair to brush over the front of his throat, catching on his adam’s apple. “I feel like you’re,” he tried, and had to swallow again to make his voice steady, except Scout did that thing with his hand again and it threw him right back off balance. “I feel like you’re gonna, either not remember this on account’a being so, so hammered, or you’ll remember but be…” Scout’s hand migrated to rest just above his knee and Sniper jumped bodily, making Scout chuckle. “But, but be… embarrassed about this, and… not wanna talk to me ever again.”

“Maybe,” Scout admitted. “Or maybe it’ll be nice.”

Sniper felt a shiver catch in his shoulders. He could practically feel Scout’s grin, bared teeth millimeters from the skin of his neck, from his pulse point. “Nice?” he repeated weakly, accent twisting the word in a way that made him cringe internally.

“Yeah. Nice,” Scout insisted, and finally leaned up far enough to lie a kiss at the hinge of Sniper’s jaw, slowly, giving Sniper every opportunity to push him away, as if he hadn’t had enough already.

His breath was shaking. His hands, too. There was admittedly a spike of adrenaline running through him, only partly due to the danger of their situation, and it gave his limbs a distinct tremble. Hopefully Scout was too drunk to notice.

Hopefully Scout was sober enough to remember this, though, as well. Sniper, for the first time all night, was glad that he himself was.

[s-nebul0sa]

32 pleeeaase

It became a Danvers sisters thing instead of supercorp but I hope you won’t mind.

Prompt: “I locked the keys in the car.”

“You’re late,” Alex states, arms folded over each other and legs a little more than hip-width apart. A small breeze plays with her short hair as she somehow manages to look down on Kara even though she’s shorter. 

“I know! I’m sorry! I brought donuts.” Kara nearly trips as she tries to push the box beneath Alex’s nose. 

Alex appraises her, taking in the only half-buttoned shirt and Kara’s messy hair. “I don’t want to hear it. You and Lena are so much worse than Maggie and I ever were.”

“We didn’t- nothing- Lena and I- I overslept!” Kara rambles, the tips of her ears turning red. 

“Save it, potstickers. Lena parked the car in the front?” Alex inquires as she takes a donut. 

“Yes, yes she did.”

“Okay, and she gave you the keys?”

“Yes, she handed them to me.”

“Why are you talking so strange?” Alex squints her eyes, staring suspiciously at Kara.

“Nothing. No reason. How was your date last night?” Kara asks in an attempt to change the topic. 

For some reason, it seems to work.

“It was really nice, actually. We actually really clicked. Dinner was a complete disaster but we just laughed that away and that only made it more perfect. Good thing she knew a good place to get desserts after and we ended up in a super sweet place. I’m totally going to take you one day. She was so nice and I never had to put in any effort to keep the conversation going, it just happened. We already have a new date scheduled right after we get back from mom.”

“That sounds awesome!” Kara cheers. “What’s her name?”

“Nope, no names until at least the third date. I don’t want you to go all creepy sister on her and stalk her on facebook and linkedin and wherever.” 

“I would never.” Kara pretends to look offended, her mouth agape and a hand held to her heart. The seriousness of the expression completely losing its effect due to the sugar and icing on her cheeks. Alex can’t help laugh at her.

“So you didn’t digitally stalk Claire after our date?” 

“No. I researched her. I want to make sure you’re dating someone who deserves you, not some low-life criminal.” 

“Kara, she was a kindergarten teacher. I’m pretty sure if she had a criminal record she’d have been fired from her job.”

“Well, better safe than sorry. It’s my job as a sister to make sure you’re dating someone worthy.”

“It is not. I can handle myself fine.”

“Cannot.”

“Can too.”

“Cannot.”

“Can too.”

“Cahbbot,” Kara repeats, this time with her mouth stuffed full with another donut.

“I’m director of a government organisation, I can too handle it fine.”

“Then it’s revenge.”

“What? Because I did a background check of Lena when you started to talk about her 24/7?”

“Yes.”

“Pfff.” Alex snatches the last donut from the box right before Kara’s fingers touch it. 

“Hey!”

“We need to leave. We’re super late already. We can talk more in the car.”

“Err, I have to throw away the box first,” Kara stalls, slowly walking to the furthest trash can she can see.

“Kara,” Alex chides, foot impatiently tapping on the floor, “hurry up.”

“The environment is important, Alex. I need to recycle.”

“Can’t you recycle with super speed? I don’t want to miss mom’s pie. This isn’t like you. You’re always way too eager to leave for mom because she cooks you tonnes of food.”

“I want to save my energy in case of an emergency.”

“You never save your energy. You’re Kara, you don’t do that.”

“This is the new Kara.” Kara jolts her head a little and looks up, puffing her chest out and standing firmly on both legs. 

“Does the new Kara not want mom’s chocolate pecan pie?”

“She does!” Kara slackens her posture and smiles brightly, pulling Alex along down the stairs and to the front of the building. They stop in front of Lena’s car, loaned to them for their trip to Midvale because J’onn refuses to let Kara drive in his car after the last trip. 

“Oh, right.” Kara mutters. Her face falls and she stares at the vehicle. 

“Are you going to unlock it?” Alex walks around the black car and checks it out. It’s a nice one, she has to admit. Lena has class. 

“I would,” Kara trails off. 

“You would?”

“I would but-”

“But what, Kara?!” 

“But I locked the keys in the car.”

Alex grumbles loudly and hits her palm to her forehead. Of course Kara locked the keys inside. 

“Does Lena have spare keys?”

“Yes.”

“Call your damn girlfriend and get those keys so we can leave.”

“I would but-”

“Arggh, not more buts. What now?”

“But she’s in a plane to Asia now.”

“Okay, so you locked the keys inside the car. The spare keys are in Lena’s apartment and Lena is, with the keys to said apartment, on her way to the other side of the planet?”

“That about summarises it, yes,” Kara acknowledges. 

“Fine. Wait here.” Alex lifts her finger to Kara and points at her feet and the spot she’s currently standing. 

Too afraid to even move a single muscle, Kara watches Alex’s back retreat into the building they just exited. She waits several minutes, fighting the urge to move. It’s nearly impossible. She’s Kryptonian. She has too much energy to stand still. It’s unfair. And to top it all off, the sun starts appearing from behind a light cloud and brightly shines down upon her, feeding her cells even more energy. Just when she feels like she’s about to burst from excess energy, Alex appears from the building again. In her hands, there’s a duffle bag. 

Without a single word, Alex gets to work. She drops the bag on the floor and takes a long wide but thin piece of metal from it. Kara doesn’t dare ask why Alex has a duffle bag with car jacking gear in her apartment.

“Can I move again?” she asks impatiently. 

“Yes.” Alex doesn’t bother to look up, too focussed on the task in front of her.

Kara lets out a long breath and starts jumping up and down slightly. Watching Alex is boring, it’s slow and precise work. Kara needs fast. 

“I’ll be right back,” is all she says before running away. Running at human speed is slow but it’s better than standing still and watching. Especially because she’ll have to sit still in a car for hours once Alex has managed to get them in. 

“Are you ready yet?” Kara asks after her first round around the block.

“Not yet.”

Not wanting to wait and watch, she starts another round. 

Once again asking, “Are you ready yet?” when she reaches Alex.

“No.”

Another round.

Another, “Are you ready yet?”

“No”

A fourth round.

“Are you ready yet?”

“Stop asking. I’ll tell you when I am.”

“Okay.”

Round five.

Six.

Seven. 

Eight.

“I’m done. Now please stop driving me crazy.”

“Yay!” Kara stops running and claps her hands at Alex’s amazing work. 

“I’ll just put these away and then we can leave. Don’t touch anything.”

‘Don’t touch anything’ is a lot easier than ‘don’t move’. Unless Alex meant the ground too. Or her clothes. Glasses. She’s actually touching a lot. Alex didn’t mean the stuff she’s wearing and the ground she’s standing on, right? Because she can only stop touching stuff if she’s naked and flying and she can’t do either in public. Eliza, Jeremiah and Alex had all been clear about that.

Before Kara can spiral into an existential crisis about what she can and cannot touch and how to achieve that without breaking any rules, Alex returns again. 

Alex gets in on the drivers side and, when Kara doesn’t follow, opens the door on the passenger side and leans over the seat. 

“Come on, slow poke. Let’s get some pie!”

“Pie!” Kara doesn’t let Alex tell her that twice and leaps into the car. She closes the door behind her and quickly buckles up while Alex starts the engine. 

[withastolenlantern]

The late morning sun peeked between the Center City towers to the south, breaking through the smog haze emanating from the drone freighters parked at the port. The streets of Rhawnhurst were already abuzz with life; she passed the barbershop and Señor Rodriguez’s dry cleaners and old Madam Tupolov begging for change outside the automat café as she walked down Bustleton Avenue toward the intersection with Cottman, taking the long route to school. Not that anyone would notice that she was late, or ditched entirely; it would be hard to make out any individual student in classes that ranged up toward fifty students. The public schools were still drastically underfunded with an urban tax base that was quickly dwindling. They said on the holo that the state had threatened to bring in another private contractor to run them, but they’d tried at least twice before to little avail, and what would they pay them with? The Delaware had flooded three out of the last five years, each time cresting to a new record and washing out more homes along its banks and tributaries. Turquoise had overheard her mother and aunt whispering about property values, and she knew that in some way that was tied to school funding. 

A drone truck cut the corner at Cottman trying to make the light, clipping the curb and sending a splash of sewage run off spraying up on the cracked sidewalk. “Watch where you’re going!” she screamed in vain as she dodged out of the way, knowing full well it couldn’t hear her. “Piece of shit truck.” She wiped the water from her coat, a dark purple hand-me-down from her sister Destiny, and flipped off the truck as the cross-walk indicator turned. Her shoes, worn with age, were soaked through to her ratty socks, and now made squishing sounds as she walked.

Turquoise hated school, but she’d made a deal with her mother that she’d keep going, to her science and math classes anyway, and when she finished her homework she could go down to Mister Krystkiewicz’s studio in the basement. Mama stressed that she needed to focus on her education, that it was the only way she’d ever make her way out of here. But the universities were just as packed as the public schools; her counselor had told her there were ten applicants for every seat, even at the community colleges, and her grades weren’t good enough to qualify for a scholarship. Her mother worked three swing shift jobs just to keep food on the table, and even then they were all crammed into a two-bedroom apart they shared with her aunt’s three children. There was no way any of them could afford any kind of higher schooling, but Turquoise had never had any interest anyway: she was born to be an artist, she was sure, no matter how impractical that might be in the current age. Kris, as she shortened her neighbor’s borderline-unpronounceable eastern European surname, had told her numerous times she had promise, and some days that was the only thing that kept her going. At fifteen, her life was approaching a turning point, where adulthood would quickly become a pressing reality, and with it the requirement to find some way to provide for herself or become one of the hundred million Americans living below the poverty line.

Her grandmother had been the one to inspire her; her mother agreed, but would likely prefer the term “blame.” Dolores Quinlan had been a woman out of time, before her lungs had given out, a remnant of an era of opportunity. She would take Turquoise and her sister to the art museum once a month on the free Sundays, and afterward she would walk the girls down Fairmount Avenue for ice cream, making sure to point out the large mural of Irene Brevis, even then still mentioned with the reverence of hushed tones. The elderly woman, an idealistic academic in a world rapidly devolving towards the brutally pragmatic, did her best to instill in her granddaughters an appreciation for the abstract and intangible. Turquoise delighted in the visits, drinking in the history and the artistry in equal amounts. The sculpture gallery was her favorite; she loved to walk underneath the dangling installation chimes of Ole Sted as they glittered and whistled in the ambient breeze. One day she hoped to work in a similar medium, and Kris had dug up an old MIG weld unit for her to practice on tin cans and other sheet metal she collected from the building recycling dumpster. Her mother was skeptical but supportive, and mostly concerned that she didn’t burn down the only building she could afford to house them.

As she rounded the corner onto Cottman, she noticed the same drone that had nearly hit her driving erratically and squealing to a stop at the next stoplight. Catching up to it, she looked through the window, and noticed that this particular truck was being piloted by an actual person. It was peculiar to see, but not altogether strange; she knew some trucks carried armed security to protect valuable cargo or oversee important deliveries. The man in the truck was not wearing a Union uniform, though, and he had what appeared to be a bandana wrapped around his nose and mouth. He was sweating, even through the air conditioning of the truck, and pounding on the steering wheel as if to will the traffic light to change.

In the distance, she heard sirens wail, and as she turned to look, the engine of the truck roared to life as it flew forward into the intersection, through the red light. Horns blared as the cars in the cross-traffic swerved to avoid it, and with a loud thud a sedan collided full-speed with the back corner of the truck, sending both vehicles spiraling through the intersection. 

The sedan barreled toward Turquoise. She screamed, more instinct than conscious fear, and dropped her school bag to the pavement, ducking into a squat as if that might offer any protection. The car crashed head-on into the support pole for the traffic light, the metal and plastic bending and buckling with a terrible groan as a shower of sparks flew to the ground. The front end crumpled to a heap, and she heard the loud pop of airbags deploying from within the passenger compartment. A dark black smoke belched and hissed from under the crushed bonnet cover. 

Turquoise was disoriented; her ears rang from the sounds and her head spun as she tried to stand back up. She stood before bending reflexively at the waist, and steadied herself by leaning against the now-bent light pole. Her vision was blurred, likely from shock, and she felt slightly nauseous, probably just as much from the stench of the car’s burned electronics as the adrenaline flooding her system.

She heard a low moan from the passenger of the sedan. Turquoise breathed deep and cautiously tip-toed around to the side of the car, peering through the shattered window. It was a woman, slight and not much older than herself. She was dressed in business clothes, a blazer and slacks, and blood caked her white blouse. Her head was supported by the deployed airbag, its cushion now stained with a mixture of blood and makeup. She wasn’t moving, and her breathing was heavy and laborious. Turquoise shook her shoulder gently. “Ma’am? Are you okay?”

The woman screamed, high and shrill. Turquoise jumped back, startled. “Are you okay?” she asked again. “Here, let’s get you out.”

The woman’s screams turned to sobs. She was clearly still in shock from the crash. Turquoise tugged at the door, trying to free the woman from the car, but it was stuck. She pulled again at the handle, harder this time, and it gave way; the door came free from the broken hinges at the frame and slammed to the pavement with a heavy clang. There was blood everywhere. The woman’s leg was pinned below the now-crushed console; a long jagged piece of the bent door frame was jammed deep into her calf muscle. She continued to cry, deep painful gasps. “I think my leg is broken,” she mewed through the sobs.

“Stay here. I’ll get help,” Turquoise said, summoning a calmness to her voice that masked her internal panic. She turned away from the car toward the rest of the chaos. Across the intersection the truck had spun a half-rotation and bounced off a fire hydrant before slamming sideways into the glass facade of a storefront. The hydrant rocket into the air, a geyser of pressurized water throwing the cast iron fixture high into the sky only to come crashing onto the roof of a parked car, its bleating alarm now adding to the cacophany of the scene. 

Turquoise walked slowly across the street, taking care to avoid the shards of broken glass that now littered the intersection. Traffic had come to a stop, and people were slowly getting out of their cars to assess the scene. A man on a mobile had a holo open, and it looked like he was coordinating with an emergency dispatcher. She approached the truck quietly, and the door to the passenger compartment flew open, the driver spilling down into a heap on the sidewalk the sidewalk. His shirt was torn slightly, but he seemed mostly unharmed apart from a cut across his forehead. He quickly bolted upright and clutched his arm gingerly while he looked around, confused. She tried to ask him if he needed help, but as she got close he took off, sprinting toward an alleyway behind the ruined storefront. 

“Hey! Hey asshole, get back here!” she yelled after him, giving chase, but after a few steps she thought better of it and let him go. She’d gotten a good look at him, and the police were sure to want her statement when they arrived.

A bang behind her caused her already quickened pulse to skyrocket. She turned around and found that the loading door at the rear of the truck had sprung open in the crash, and was swaying in the early morning breeze, clanging against the side of the building. Boxes and crates had spilled out of it and were scattered across the sidewalk, and several people were now gathered around, gawking at the contents.

Turquoise joined them. Several of the crates had broken up, and her eyes quickly went wide in terror. She immediately recognized what she saw from the nightly news feeds; one didn’t grow up in one of America’s most violent cities without knowing a gun when they saw it. But these weren’t the small handguns she’d seen tucked into the waistbands of wanna-be thugs and bangers; these were large and heavy, with polished chrome finishing that glinted in the morning sun. There were five to a crate, and she counted at least ten more crates. 

Inside the truck were more, and things she couldn’t name but looked just as dangerous. Large tubes with switches and holo-projectors were scattered on the floor. A dozen or so heavy-looking vests were piled in a cardboard box; a large, inactive drone was parked on the bed, but not the type of delivery or advertising drones she’d seen before. This one was sharp, angular, and with much bigger rotors. It had small stanchions to either side where large, multi-barreled guns were mounted. It was painted matte black with cartoon shark teeth along the front edge. 

And in the far back of the cargo area, near to the passenger compartment, sat a large plastic vat. It had various tubes connected between it and some kind of controller that sat next to it. The apparatus hummed quietly, but ominously. Turquoise wasn’t sure what she was looking at, but she knew it couldn’t be good.     

Sirens wailed in the distance, and she was never so glad to hear them.

[darcyfirth]

For the horror prompt A. But man do I also like T and W.

read it on ao3

A - Hunting for cryptids/paranormal investigator AU, T - Coming into contact with a curse AU, W - Learning how to use dark magic AU(but in this case more like actually using it). This works well with an AU I came up with a long time ago so I guess this is both a prompt fill and a start of that AU.

Harry adjusted his night vision goggles as he crouched even lower behind a moss-covered rock. He tried to calm his heartbeat by breathing slower and inhaling deeper, the images of his last escape still fresh in his mind. In his ears, Hamish had let out at least ten different expletives, at least two of them were French.

Harry spun the communication wheel attached to his glove, selecting the yellow triangle which often meant Silent or I don’t know or in this case, for god’s sake, shut the fuck up, Hammy.

“Fine, I will,” said Hamish, or Merlin, as he always insisted when they went on this kind of trip. “But you have to admit that that was the closest you’ve got to being burnt and frozen!”

Harry nodded in agreement, but realised quite quickly that his friend and co-founder of the London Boys Seeking for Ghosts and All Kinds of Horrible Things couldn’t see it, so he settled for a green circle instead. If possible, Harry would choose to use every curse words he had accumulated for the last two decades or so, but considering there were an unknown fire-breathing creature and an ice imp hot on his trail right about now, the curses would have to wait.

“Get a move on Harry, the tracker you’ve managed to get on them are showing signs that you’re very close to being found out,” Merlin warned, the sound of him slurping a mango smoothie followed noisily.

Easy for you to say, Harry thought, biting his bottom lip. Merlin was in their truck tucked way outside the entrance of the forest, whereas Harry just narrowly escaped the doom cave by throwing smoke bombs and hitting a possible cryptid in the head with a tree branch. 

Harry was listening for any sound that might alert him of an imminent attack when suddenly a pained howl rang out.

“What was that?” Merlin asked.

Yellow triangle, Harry turned the gear to his left again, I don’t know.

“Hey, a tracker just stopped moving, it’s beeping still, though much slower than it was before,” Merlin reported. “Hey, do you think it’s resting? Giving up on the chase?”

No, Harry thought, remembering how familiar the howling sound was to the furred creature’s in the cave.

“Oh, the beeping, it’s stopped. It, did it shake your tracker off? How the hell-”

Harry leaned forward to check the surrounding area, there was nothing else around him but trees and the light of fireflies.

“Merlin, start the engine,” Harry whispered.

“What? Why? Do you think it’s coming for you?”

“No, no I don’t think so. The howl we heard, I think that was it. The beeping didn’t stop because my tracker fell off. I think,” Harry tied his shoelaces as tight as possible before continuing, “I think it stopped because he just died.”

“Do you think it was the ice bat? I mean, ice imp.”

Harry laughed, standing up at his full height now, and fixed his hair.

“I’d be dead if it was him,” Harry said and took off running.

“How so?”

“Because, Hammy,” he pulled out another smoke bomb labelled as ‘Garlic - Ugh’ while saying, “The fire one in the cave is at least a level 3, and I had already used a boiling spell on the imp.” He added before Merlin could cut in, “A strong one, Hammy.” 

“That means. That means whoever or whatever took down the cave being is at least a level 2. Oh, shit.”

“Or 1.”

“I’m starting the engine now, and,” Merlin paused, probably to check his tablet, “You’re less than 500m away from our vehicle. Fucking hurry up, Harry!”

But Harry didn’t have the time to reply, he traced back his old trail marked by tiny pebbles that were dipped in pixie dust, now illuminated by the moonlight, and found the path he had taken to explore the forest.

The wet earth stuck to his boots and made the ground slippery, twice now he almost slid off and fell before slowing down a little.

The trees, seemingly lifeless and silent hours ago, now all started to whispered to his ears: “He’s coming. He’s coming at last.”

“He’s coming for you, young one.”

“Oh, he was woken from his slumber and he has discovered you.”

“Run, boy, because he’ll find you in no time. He’s taken down the hell dog. And he’ll bring the same end to you if you don’t run now.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Shut up!” Harry cried.

“But I didn’t say anything.”

“Not you, Hammy. The tree spirits.”

“You mean those leafy ghosts? What do they say now?”

Taking out his sealed knife, Harry said in a rush, “That I’m gonna be dead if I don’t get back to you in time.”

“Huh, so exactly what I said. Thought that they’d say something more helpful,” Merlin laughed, spinning in his chair a little while staring at the screen, Harry was a few hundred metres away from the entrance now. He could see the frantic beeping transmitted from his friend’s tracker when the sound suddenly slowed down and settled into a steady rhythm.

One-two, one-two. It was as if Harry had already-

“Harry? Are you taking a breather?”

But there was no reply coming from the other end. So Merlin asked again and this time, he received a yellow triangle.

“Telling me to shut up again?” Merlin sighed, and watched as the glowing green dot minutely backed away from the entrance.

“Hello there,” came Harry’s voice, strangely calm this time despite being slightly out of breath.

“Hello? Harry, I’m right here, what are you-”

“They told me about you,” Harry carried on, completely ignoring Merlin’s question.

So Merlin tapped his screen to turn on the camera on Harry’s goggles, he rarely remembered to use this, since Harry needed another set of eyes for navigating the general area more than seeing what was right in front of him.

On the screen, though dark and grainy due to the lack of light source, Merlin could make out a human-like form taking shape and glowing gently from head to toes. 

Not three feet away from Harry, the ‘thing’ appeared to be a young male in his twenties. He had no clothes on, no shoes, yet his feet weren’t dirtied by the earth. His face was blessed with attractive features and he had a head of soft, silky hair.

‘He’ smiled at Harry and his eyes curved into the loveliest lines of half-moons. He beckoned Harry to come, blood of the fire creature still dripping from his fingers to the ground.

Shaking his head no, Harry asked him, “Did I wake you up?”

At the sight of what seemed to be a nod, Harry said, “I’m sorry, truly. I didn’t mean to disturb your sleep.”

He was treated to another beautiful smile this time, and the grip Harry had on his knife tightened. 

The male being took one step forward and Harry immediately stepped back. The distance between them remained the same. Around them, the trees wouldn’t stop their cries, some almost sobbing.

“He’s here, he’s here,” they chanted.

They screamed, “Run, boy, run!”

Some shouted, “Beg for his mercy, beg him for your life!”

But Harry swallowed drily and did neither. Instead, he quietly sent back a signal to Merlin who was waiting for him in the truck: a red cross.

It had always bear one meaning for them. Danger, do not proceed.

Harry listened for a confirmation on Merlin’s side and received nothing but static silence.

In front of him, the creature’s head was tilting, as if assessing his prey. Then, a steam of liquid-like light curled around his hands and the blood disappeared. He inspected his clean fingers and once pleased with them, spread his arms wide and approached Harry with no sign of stopping.

Startled, Harry took several instinctual steps back while brandishing his knife, the sharp blade of it pointing straight toward the creature’s direction.

“Don’t-” Harry warned, about to aim for his slender neck though how pretty it was.

But in his haste, Harry’s leg hit a tree and he almost lost his balance. In a blink of an eye, his wrist was caught in the creature’s steady hold, its other hand came down to Harry’s waist and rested at the small of his back.  

Upon the rough contact of his back and the tree bark, it dawned on Harry that he was without a doubt at the end of his rope this time. And yet, despite his picked up heart rate which was deafening to his ears, Harry stared calmly into the vari-coloured eyes of the one whose chest was on his.

Not using all his concentration on noticing how its almost translucent hair was reflecting the moonlight, Harry asked:

“Who are you? What are you?”

Opening his mouth to answer Harry, ‘he’ growled hoarsely.

“Slept for a long time, didn’t you?” Harry smirked. “Sorry, again, for causing all this ruckus. You’ll get to go back to sleep soon enough, once you’ve finished me.”

‘He’ furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head.

“No? To the sleeping or the killing? Because the tree spirits have been doing a damn good job of assuring me of the latter.”

Another ‘no’.

Could Harry prolong his life by playing this ask and answer game? He could find a way to weasel himself out of the situation by confusing the creature with all types of answer. Maybe stabbing him in the abs and make a run for it, then calling for Merlin to come back and pick him up before this guy could eventually unleash his fury.

Harry was busy with his limited options when a hand came up to grab his neck and pulled him forward.

Oh, Harry thought, oh, turns out I’ll be dead by a broken neck huh?

And released his knife.

Merlin was already out of the door before he could see Harry’s signal on the screen telling him to go. He grabbed a few of his gadgets and a book of spells just in case Harry forgot which one to use again.

His tablet showed that he was only a few metres away from Harry when Harry’s inconsistent heart rate kept picking up then slowing down for a few seconds then sped up again. Going beep-beep-beep-beep frantically in the night.

‘At least he was alive’ was the only positive thought inside Merlin’s mind. And it was also the one thing that pushed him to run as though his lungs would explode and his legs would give out.

When he got there, close enough to see the both of them, Merlin almost dropped everything on his hands and gaped.

There Harry was, one hand stuck between their chests and the other pinned by the creature’s, back resting uncomfortably against the tree, and mouth softly pressed to a pair of warm lips.

His eyes were wide open from the sheer shock of it, just like Merlin’s were at the moment.

Licking Harry’s bottom lip, his ex-slayer or unknown male being who just stole his first kiss, said something to his ear in an unused voice. It was a scratchy sound that Harry could not comprehend. Although it could be from the fact that he had only two functioning brain cells left.

“What?” Harry asked, breathlessly.

“You,” ‘he’ repeated, slower and firmer this time, “You’re here.”

“Obviously,” Harry said, then regretted his idiotic remark.

But it did nothing besides making ‘he’ laugh, an airy sound coming from the back of his throat, like that of a wheezing man or a gust of wind.

“Yes. You’re here.” His fingers traced the line of Harry’s jaw and neck while his eyes followed the movement, like he was watching the most fascinating wonder in the world.

His eyes slid up after having looked their fill, his lips still wet and open, and Harry felt a phantom pain in his chest, one so deep and vicious it was akin to having his heart carved out by someone who then slowly and meticulously sliced the softest part of it.

“And here I thought you’d never come back.” He said and gave Harry’s throat a soft bite, his teeth lingered on the heat of the skin and the closeness of Harry’s warmth.

“My betrothed,” he uttered, pressing his lips to Harry’s at last.

And with that, the trees ceased their crying.

Around them, all sounds had receded, sucked into a dark abyss born from the appearance of the one who once ruled over the forest.

Trapped between a tree and an unknown creature who could end his life with his bare hands, Harry sighed.

Well, if kissing would buy me more time to come up with better ideas, he thought before pulling the unclothed waist to himself and finally started to kiss back.

horror/sci-fi aus

[invokingbees]

THE 30 DAY MONSTER CHALLENGE HAS RISEN FROM THE GRAVE

10. Favorite goblin/orc

Well, here I go again showing off just how much of a cretin I am by having little to no real answer. I feel like I should be much more familiar with orcs and goblins than I am, but alas, I am not. Three orcs/gobbos come to mind and so without absolutely any other research, here I go.

1. Goblins from Dragon's Dogma

Weak to ice and fire both, the goblins of Dragon's Dogma are not especially original or anything, in fact they seem to embody an archetype, a thing Dragon's Dogma does a lot, since that game is at once a celebration of fantasy and also played completely straight. The goblins of Gransys can talk (according to the fantastic DD wiki they have their own language), have little goofy British accents (SCHTYOOPID HYOOMANZ), have makeshift weaponry and armour, attack in little packs and are often lead by a bigger, meaner goblin. But, like much of its fantasy archetypes, DD does introduce its own little flavour - the goblins of this world are, according to a little lore note, tree spirits. They appear vaguely humanoid, maybe even slightly apelike. The horns you see on their heads grow into crown-like growths. They're able to capture and sort of control or at least direct Cyclopes during their raids. We actually get to talk to a goblin, too, during a Wyrm Hunt quest, we corner the leader attacking a major fortress and it tells us that the Dragon's come, goblins are gonna eat, kill, sleep, Fortnite, repeat. Doesn't matter to them. The Dragon later on even confirms their nature - simple, without a care in the world. They're kind of nihilists, really. Just doing it all because that's their nature and they embrace it. Goblins come in bigger sizes, too. There's you're average, maybe 1 meter tall goblin, reddish coloured, but then you get the darker Hobgoblins, the mich larger Grimgoblins and finally, on Bitterblack Isle, the Greater Goblins, which I suppose would be akin to this game's Orcs.

Also their warcry is 'WHO LET THE DOGS OUT?'

2. Moria Orcs

Specifically from the Fellowship of the Ring movie, those spooky little crawly critters in the chitinous, spiky armour. Other orcs are, of course, all great and their unique designs have a lot of personality, but those nasty, morlock-y lads in Moria are my favourite, twisted down in that deep darkness, skittering down along walls and pillars. The word 'orc' in my mind conjures the image of a diminutive, creepy, vile thing, all swiry and vicious, not the hulking brutes of later fiction, and Weta Workshop pretty much gave me that image. Orcs in Tolkien are great, too, wretched, but interesting creatures. From some, uh, five or so minutes reading on Tolkiengateway.net, the orcs were formed either from subterranean 'heat and black slime' by Melkor, or as was later suggested, are descended from tortured and mutilated elves. Something deep in their fundamental being was twisted to create a race of subservient, vicious entities. They come in a few kinds, too, and all sorts of scattered tribes which accounts for different physical appearances. And I like, too, that it's suggested the orcs are not inherently evil. Although they may come from it, have been formed by it, the concept of a good orc is not entirely out of the question. I hope, after the War of the Ring, some orcs found themselves in good company.

3. Orks from Warhammer 40K

I have a love/hate relationship with these mad fungal boyos, because on the one hand, I don't think they're really that neat, but on the other hand, they're kind of lovable goobers. The Orks (and that IS with a K) in 40K are essentially living weapons, genetically engineered by the mysterious Old Ones who seeded the galaxy with life. They resemble big fuckin green things with massive tusks and broad, heavy bodies meant for violence. They don't function as weapons anymore, but now go out and fight for the sake of it, true Aesthetes. They just love battle and will do anything to attain it. The most interesting about the Orks, though, is the WAAAGH (or however many A's you want), their sort of collective shared psychic energy force that allows them to do kind of anything. In 40K, belief and emotion equals psychic power, and the Orks absolutely embodies this. Ork weapons, vehicles, even space ships only function because the Orks believe they should function. If you dismantled a piece of Ork tech, it would make no sense. But it works, because the Orks think it should. They paint their vehicles red because red is a fast colour, and will therefore make their bikes faster. And it absolutely works. Some Orks, called Weirdboyz, are able to consiously manipulate psychic energies to do more traditional psychic wizard stuff. Orks also do exist in Warhammer Fantasy, but they're more serious there, and I don't think they have the cockney accents. If they do, then I am sorry.

[stareiiez]

Flower Petals and Blood

Leonard Church x Female Reader

Hanaki Disease AU

Wow, very hella late update to my series but hey! Its never too late for good ass angst. Also my inbox is still open for requests so pretty please send those in!

Not even did a handful of days pass once the black armored man, sorry bitch man, arrived at the blue base. Of course, you knew to never speak out against her, since she had this team by the balls in her right hand and the team flag in the left. Whoop dee fucking do, your eyes could roll to the back of your head from that mental image. If only you were transferred to Project Freelancer, instead of this shit hole, you could come back just as Texas but maybe your training could leave the female shitting in her own armor. The intimidating aura the woman gave off seemed to fuel your mood into nothing but negative, or stoic, hell you even tried to get along with her. Although nothing worked out, 'girl talk' resulted in her claiming the blues as her own and if you were there just to prove your place on the team she'd knock your ass in the ground. That talk left you with an itching trigger finger as a grated out 'yes ma'am' scraped out past clenched teeth.          

The sun seemed to taunt you with its bright rays that seemed to tan your legs to a crisp underneath the fabric of torn up civil jeans, that were fashioned into haphazard shorts. The warthog's radio hummed its overly played Spanish polka song through scratched speakers. Oil dripped on your cheek before it was cleaned away with a bright red rag that was looped lazily on the underside of the puma. Vehicles always seemed to be broken around the blues, or reds, but you didn't seem to mind. Being alone with your mind focused on just vehicles while Church, Tucker, and Caboose were clambered up on the cliffside. Humming under your breath, to the song, the wrench was tossed out the side of the puma before you yourself scooted out from underneath the vehicle. Grease and other fluids had stained the dark grey tank top you wore, but hell, command gave you too many clothes to go out and waste. Clothes, spare parts, supplies, and the occasional shore leave option came by every two months.

"You'll be purring for sure no like a large cat now." You told the clean four-seater. Moving to the driver side, you turned the keys in the ignition on. In a second the engine purred and rumbled like a happy cat laying in the sun.

Proud of your handy work, you turned the vehicle off. A nice sounding vehicle always brought you happiness. It brought images of you driving this thing in actual streets with the radio blaring old songs that you would sing along to. Maybe you'd have a shotgun rider who's be singing along with you, and acting like a complete fool with you, while you forever cruised down an endless black pavement into the future. Frantically, you shook your head. The shotgun rider had contorted into Church, his stupid smile infecting your brain while his sky blue eyes gazed at you with adoration in their orbs.

"Stop it." You scolded yourself ignorant of your own mind.

Your chest seemed to squeeze painfully at that blissful wonderland. Like your own organs were retaliating and voicing their own pain. It never seemed to hurt as much as you used to woefully mourn over the male's heart captured and locked away by another. The music of the warthog dimmed a little while your ears rang faintly, were you even breathing at this point? A hand rose to rest on your chest to check, the erratic heartbeat calmed you slightly yet the sting of oxygen deprivation made that fade. Drawing in lungs filled the air, you winced from the slight strain. A frown creased your brow, while your hand turned into a loose fist. A few light beats on your chest and the strain eased with a few coughs. Oxygen pulled in freely like there was nothing blocking your airway now.

It was nothing, you convinced yourself. It was possible you had gotten sick with some alien virus. As if nobody was sick in the last three months, except for Caboose. He came down with a small head cold that ended up almost frying his brain at high temperatures. Doc managed to help him breathe through the high fevers after the course of a whole week and a half. A virus couldn't hang around for that long right? Were his lungs hurting as much as yours was?

Your hand rubbed your chest in small circles as if that would ease the stress of the pain that plagued the vital organs. The music that the warthog played soon eased back into your once numbed senses and brought the Spanish polka music to a close with the press of a button from your finger. The silence was golden until the prick of the man who caused you so much pain and confusion was seemingly 'haunting' right over your shoulder. Great.

"What do you want Casper the little shithead aren't you supposed to be burning in hell?" You bit out with a slight venom laced with your words.

"Can't a ghost of a dead guy show up to watch over his-" A hesitation in his voice hurt more than that pain in your chest ever could. "Teammate." He finished.

"You aren't-" Fuck, you can't come right out and blurt it. Flowers would be rolling in his grave as well as all of Project Freelancer. Hell, even his freelancer buddies who were running around would slit your throat if they reached you.

That's if they were still around, how many years has it been since the Project fell? Three years? Maybe it was less than that word about those 'scary guys with guns' was a topic you all avoided.

"I am dead, you idiot, my grave is right where you're standing. I guess I just have unfinished business here so God, or whoever won't let me rest." Church groaned out tiredly as if a ghost could actually be tired.

"Right, so why bother my ass again?" A brow rose unamused brow upwards.

"You know how ghosts can 'possess' people like in those out of date movies?"

"Right? And?" Your voice trailed off, although the idea was very clear to you now.

"I need to test that out." A scoff cut him off and he rolled his eyes behind the visor of his helmet. "It's just for research plus I'm bored so hurry up."

As if it was more of a demand than a suggestion you crossed your arms over your chest and let out a drawn-out sigh. "Is that the only reason?"

"Well, Tucker did say that I've been in you in more ways than one so." Church crossed his arms over his chest, his ghostly figure drifting a few more steps to you.

"Ah! That's enough Church. Just shut your mouth and hurry this bull shit up." You cut him off before your arms uncrossed and spread out to the sides.

With a smirk, the 'ghost' charged at you and sunk into your skin. The force was enough to actually lose your balance and move back a few steps. Your breath was lost and your brain spazzed out like you were having one hell of a seizure. Every organ seemed to shut down and then restart, under his control. It felt like someone pressed the restart button on your body, but you never had the controls anymore. Instead, an idiot had the controls and he was taking advantage of it.

"Holy shit!" You heard him yell in your voice that was slightly altered to form a combination of both deep and smooth sounds. "It worked."

Church fist pumped, well you fist pumped, in the air before a grin formed on your features. While Church was walking and talking to himself, and feeling your body, your subconscious was shoved to the very reaches of your mind. It was all black surrounding you and the echo of the outside world set your nerves on fire. Anxiety never bothered you but now you could feel the familiar squeeze of uncomfortable feelings snatch your throat in its maw.

"Church! Enough is enough get out." Is what you wanted to say, but you doubted your mouth could even form words right now. It was like you were too tired to even move.

The sensation of your 'lover' being inside you was suddenly exhausting for an odd reason. Your heart ached at the sensation. You could feel his presence, almost imagine would his 'warmth' spread through our whenever you were laying side by side in bed with him. Rants of every day were something you related to, and it was the most interesting part of your day. Your eyes squeezed shut, the ache in your chest returned with a vengeance and luckily an A.I couldn't feel pain, your pain, but they could sense what wasn't right. That was this time. His fun and games of yelling/flirting with a Tucker who was still stuck o the cliff was ceased immediately and his presence was no longer there. The reset button hit you again and only this time it hit you with relief if it wasn't for the series of coughs that slipped past your lips and landed in the square of your elbow.

Your name was repeated softly from his mouth until the coughs ended in six seconds and your lungs hurt. Your eyes shot up and landed squarely on his golden visor.

"You good? What was that?" Church placed, or tried to place, a hand on your arms yet instead, it passed through your cheek.

The action made you wince inwardly, as well as physically. The move brought the pain to squeeze your lungs until it ached with the intention to freeze your organs into cold blocks of ice. You felt cold and overall panicked.

"I really don't know but you're not helping me. Get Doc, before I pass out from stress or pain." Your teeth grit together while your eyes narrowed menacingly. The look caused his figure to stiffen and then blinked out of existence with a quick nod of his helmeted head.

Screams for Doc in Red Base as well as Sarge's gruff voice echoed from the canyon. You would smile over the arguing of Church and Sarge, while the screams for Doc rained over the conversation, but right now the pain was too much right now.

You damned hoped that Doc would move his grape ass to you because the suffocation would settle in from how shallow your breathing was.

"Please, God, let it just be the flu."

[shadows-of-the-night11]

Forming Bond(s). Bumbleby.

@valkurion-transverse I told you this was going to take me some time but I was going to write it for you. I have to admit, this was hard. You asked me for a 007 or road trip AU and I literally went like, how am I going to pull this out? But I tried and here it is! I hope it’s not so bad and you enjoy, my friend. You’re awesome.

Blake feels like she’s burning and she’s not sure if that’s because of the rage bubbling inside of her or because the building is literally on fire. Maybe it’s a mixture of both, although she doesn’t have enough time to dwell on that. This place is going down in more ways than one and she doesn’t want to die there. No, she can’t die then and there. She can’t afford such luxury.

“Blake, this way!”

She follows the voice even when the smoke is too thick to see a thing once she turns the corner. She doesn’t have to see when she recognizes that voice. Sure, they met a couple of days ago, but if she makes it out of there alive, it’s all thanks to that person. She’s going to trust her because Blake knows when to trust someone, or at least, she wants to believe so.

“Yang!” She calls back. “Where are we going? We have to get out of here!”

“That’s what we’re doing, Blakey! The entrance is blocked and Taurus is looking for you. If we move to the obvious exit he’s going to find us and I’ll be damned if I let him take you again.”

Blake is stunned for a brief moment because Yang doesn’t know her. She doesn’t know her story and yet, she risked her life to save her. Yang is a huge flirt, but she’s also a skilled fighter and she doesn’t hesitate to help others. Blake is certainly not a fair maiden, although she was glad to have some extra help. Yang arrived with that charming smirk to help her and Blake; well… she decided to take the offered hand.

“What’s the plan?” Blake asks without faltering on her run.

“This place is already burning so we’re blowing it up! Red is waiting for us already and as soon as we get out of here, the ice queen is going to start the firework party!”

“What are you? Some Charlie’s angels parody?”

“What? No! We’re way cooler. We’re pretty badass agents and this is more like a Bond movie.”

“A very bad one where we die if you don’t hurry up, Xiao Long.”

They move through darkness and smoke, occasionally stopping and hiding when there’s trouble ahead. They stay covered and yet they are cautious, ready to jump into action if the situation calls for it, but they keep moving.

The whole thing certainly feels like a Bond movie for Blake and she fights the urge to roll her eyes at her own silly thought. She doesn’t have to ask to know that she would be the Bond girl in this scenario. With a shake of her head, Blake dismisses the whole 007 train of thought.

Once they made it to the parking lot, Blake relaxes slightly. She tries to find the car waiting for them, but there are no signals about “Red” whoever that is.

“Come on, Blakey! This is our ticket out of this place.”

“A bike, really? That’s your big plan?”

Blake is wary of the vehicle. It shines in the dim light and the contrast of yellow and black make her roll her eyes. Of course, this is the type of thing Yang Xiao Long would own.

“Hey, I told you this was a trap, but I never said it was set to get us. We need to get out of here as fast as possible and no car is as fast as my dear Bumblebee. We’re going to speed out of here and watch the sky light up!”

“Of course you named the bike Bumblebee. I’m not sure it can fly if I'm being honest.”

“Cut the sass, kitten. You can either stay here complaining about the name or you can get on so we can get out of here.” Yang says adjusting her helmet before offering Blake the second one. “Besides, I think yellow and black go great together, don’t you think?”

Yang winks and Blake can’t help but blush. Her cold façade crumbles when the blonde is around and she can’t figure it out. She has worked for years to build walls that no one can crack, but then Yang was there and stole the first smile Blake gave to anyone in months.

Blake tries to hide the color of her cheeks putting the helmet in place before mounting the bike, her arms firmly wrapped around Yang’s waist while the blonde starts the engine.

“Hold on tight! This is going to be fun!”

“I seriously question your definition of fun.”

A second later they’re speeding out of there and dear god, Blake holds with all her force into Yang. She doesn’t dare to ask her to slow down because Blake can feel the heat before she sees the explosion on the bike’s mirrors or hears the “boom” to the point of feeling it in her own bones.

She looks back once they’re at a safe distance. She thinks about the past hours, the past months, the past years and how it all started. This is the end. This is where the road stops and Blake can hardly believe it. Adam Taurus should be dead because there’s no way he made it out of there in time. He’s dead and Blake thinks back at the first time she wished for this.

Blake allows herself a moment to think about that man and all the pain he caused. It wasn’t just about her and a failed relationship, but about the thousand of Faunus that he hurt, he destroyed and killed due to his personal views and ambitions. She loved him at some point, but her vision of him shattered. He wasn’t a tortured soul. He was evil, cruel and the villain of this story.

Blake is finally free from his hand and his lies. She’s able to see the light at the end of the tunnel for the first time in years. She takes a deep breath, even when the air smells like oil, gunpowder and the soft delicate scent of Yang’s luscious hair. She’s free thanks to Yang and her team. After so long, she found her own liberation.

Blake isn’t alone anymore and now, she’s not afraid.

“Dragon! Are you okay?” A third voice calls from the approaching red sports car.

“Hey, girls! We’re alright. Thanks for the backup. That went better than expected.”

“Correct, that was a great performance.”

Blake looks at the car to find silver and blue eyes staring curiously at her, although not unkindly.

“Thank you, for everything,” Blake says with a hesitant wave.

“Of course. Yang can be hot headed, but we all know that if someone needs help, we’re not just going to turn around and forget about the issue.”

Those words take Blake by surprise, but she nods in agreement. She tried to fight Adam for so long, but he was stronger than her and he knew her far too well. It was hard to fight a war alone and yet, she never gave up. There were many lives at stake and Blake had to keep fighting until Yang appeared.

Yang is something unexpected in more than a way. She’s like fire and sunshine mixed in one, like a sun mixed with a little hurricane. She’s strength, but also kindness and beauty. Her fighting style is like nothing that Blake has seen in her life, a perfect blend of explosiveness and accuracy that just a few can master. She’s able to defeat anyone on her way and she’s going to do it looking good in a tailored suit.

“Anyway, the name’s Rose. Ruby Rose. Of course, my code name is…”

“Red.” Blake finishes with a small playful smirk. “Your red hood is not a good disguise, but it’s practical if you want people to know what your code name is.”

For a brief moment, Blake wonders about the connection between Ruby and Yang since both girls think they are some kind of James Bond in a world where Agent 007 doesn’t exist.

“Oh, I like her.” Someone else says. “I’m Weiss by the way.”

“Aka; the ice queen.”

“Yang, that’s not true.”

“It would be heiress, actually.” Blake intercedes and three pairs of eyes lay on her. “Weiss Schnee, heiress of the Schnee Dust Company and the youngest CEO on the four kingdoms. I know what you did. Taking the company from your father and correcting his mistakes and bad decisions, it was very brave. I have to say I’m impressed.”

“Thank you,” Weiss answers, but her eyes follow Blake’s every movement. “Excuse me, but, who are you and how do you know about this? Those facts aren’t exactly public.”

“Let’s say that we were here for the same reason; getting Adam Taurus out of the way. He knew things about you and your company. And I, I’m Blake Belladonna; the new leader of the White Fang. If you’re looking for social equality and peace, you have an ally now.”

“That’s great!” Ruby exclaims excitedly.

“Maybe you should join us.” Yang offers.

“What exactly are you? If you’re not Charlie’s angels and Yang here claims to be James Bond.”

“Ha! I’m better than him.”

“We’re an organization that looks for global security menaces. We find and eliminate people like Adam Taurus, although we fight for those who can’t defend themselves. We try to keep the world safe even if no one knows our names. We’re called huntresses and we fight for everyone, human, poor, elders, kids and Faunus.”

“Are you looking for peace?”

“Exactly.”

Blake offers a small smile while taking off her bow to reveal her Faunus nature. They all nod at her and Ruby squeals something along the lines of “You’re so cute.”

“Alright then. I think we can give this a try.” Blake agrees.

“What’s the plan then?” Ruby asks once she’s over Blake’s cuteness.“Road trip?”

“Sure thing, Rubes!” Yang calls excitedly. “I race you both to the coast line! I’ll show you how fast my baby can go and you’ll regret buying that obnoxious machine!”

“How dare you?” Weiss replies already starting the car, the roar of the engine filling the night. “The nerve of assuming that old thing can beat a Schnee! Prepare yourself, Xiao Long!”

“Weiss, I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I didn’t survive this night just to die because both of you need to race to our deaths!”

“You’re not dying, Blakey. We’re going to win this thing. If I win, do I get a victory kiss?”

Blake really wants to argue, but they’re moving too fast for her to think properly. She’s holding into Yang again and this time, the blonde feels how sharp Blake’s nails are.

"Maybe."

“God damn it, kitty cat. This is going to be fun.” Yang thinks while speeding even more.

[funkymeihem-fiction]

The A-Mei-Zing Outback Adventure- Chapter 20

The scene grew more chaotic the closer they got. There was the smell of oxidizing metal and circuitry all around them, acrid black smoke poisoning the air from things that were never supposed to be burned. It did nothing to dissuade the horde of junkers. Large chunks of hull and sentry turrets had already been cracked loose in the initial attack, and each chunk of ruin was swarming with men and women, ripping away whatever they thought could be scavenged or trying to fight whoever else got too close to their claims. There were also several bodies laying on either side of the road, but they lay mostly forgotten, save for an occasional figure scavenging the parts from them as well. Mei tried to see if the corpses were anyone from Overwatch, but they seemed to be junkers, taken out by the pulse turrets or (judging by one of the more decapitated ones) flying metal debris. She had never seen anything like this. For some reason they reminded her of insects, as though someone had foolishly disturbed an ant’s nest or a hornet’s hive. The junkers had no organization at all and attacked quickly, en masse, and without mercy. They swarmed over scrap like it was fresh meat. And the people around them were merely the stragglers, with the main pack still dogging the heels of the Orca ship as it steadily lost altitude. Roadhog blew past them, engine still roaring and tires kicking up red dust behind them. “Crikey, the whole fuckin’ outback’s showed up for this one!” Junkrat exclaimed, his grenade launcher at the ready as they passed by two junkers fighting viciously over a downed turret gun. “Bet there’s more on the way, too! Oi, I think I know that guy!” He pointed at the either unconscious or dead figure of another male junker on the ground as they sped by. “Well, I never liked him anyway.”

They rounded the bend of the shallow canyons, and were greeted with the almost impressive sight of the junkers in full force. Chaos was reigning. There were hundreds of them, jockeying for position as they pressed their attack. The vehicles they had cobbled together were less cars or trucks than they were monstrosities of war. Missile launchers had been tacked onto the beds of lorries and hover-cars carried men bristling with weapons, while jeeps equipped with spiked javelins and harpoons, laden with chains and ropes, dragged themselves in the sand in an attempt to hobble their prey. There were shields and spikes in abundance, war paint and decals and racing stripes, and a disturbing amount of effigies, strapped across them in a mish-mash of of leather straps and feathers and bones, animal and human alike. It was impressively tribal. The Orca was doing an adequate job of defending itself from the onslaught, at least, but it wouldn’t last. Turrets were firing from its bottom and shield generators struggled to keep up with the damage, but they could do little about the metal harpoons that were already scattered in its metal underbelly, dragging the attached junker vehicles along or entire sections of its metal armor coming loose and crashing to ground, to immediately be overrun and infested with the scrap hunters. Mei had no idea what to do. The other junkers were ignoring them as simply one amongst their number for now, but she had no way to hail the ship or let them know she was even here. Roadhog was wisely keeping them a safe distance away, enough to pursue but avoiding the explosions and gunfire as he weaved in and out of the other pursuit vehicles. They would be arriving at the designated meeting spot soon, and it seemed like there might be one chance and one chance only to get aboard. They followed until the Orca slowed and came to a stop, turning as abruptly as the immense ship was able, its back to the cliffs as it turned to face the junker hordes. There was the whirring clank of more turrets getting into position, and then a shimmer as its shields refreshed and a door to its cargo bay opened. Mei thrust one arm forward, “There! There, they’re waiting for us! Let’s go!” It should have been simple. Get to the ship, get picked up by Overwatch agents and brought aboard. But every other junker in the vicinity had seen the same door open, and they surged forward as if a living wave, and the motorcycle was quickly crowded out by the larger vehicles all around it. Roadhog rumbled a low curse, then nodded down to his partner, who was grinning and starting to vibrate in his seat. “Rat. Clear ‘em.” This time, Mei made no move to stop them, one hand on her pistol as she huddled into the side of the sidecar, taking hold of Junkrat’s leg to help steady him as he reared up with his frag launcher at the ready, giggling wildly. “Never thought you’d ask, mate!” Mei shut her eyes as there were several large booms and waves of heat from nearby, with the shrieking of both metal and people deafening in her ears, nearly drowning out Junkrat’s maniacal laughter. The motorcycle started moving again. Junkrat kept firing, grenades flying amongst the clouds of choking dust and embers, tongue waving from his mouth and practically slavering amongst the chaos. The motorcycle came to an abrupt stop as it hit something in front of them, the entire thing jolting back and then forward, Mei having to wrap both arms around Junkrat’s legs to keep him from going flying as he landed with a crash atop her in the sidecar. Something rose from the smoke in front of them, a cobbled-together metal monstrosity lifting up on two legs, machine-gun arms clacking noisily, and its junker pilot grinning at them from inside its metal control cage. “Aw fuck me, I hate fightin’ mechs,” Junkrat groaned, before grabbing onto Mei and launching both of them out of the sidecar, nearly dropping her as he ducked and rolled to the side, narrowly missing a rain of machine-gun fire at his ankles. They both landed in the dirt, scrambling upright on either side of the mech as it turned to face Roadhog, who was dismounting his motorcycle and angrily pulling his gun. “Get to the ship!” Mei called to them both, pulling her pistol and going to dash forward. The mech thrust one arm out to block her, but there was another boom and it fell slightly to one side, as one of Junkrat’s sticky mines hit its mark. She made a move to try and duck under it, but the barrel-guns of its arm swung and effectively clotheslined her across the chest, sending her flying back where she’d come from and sliding painfully on the rocky ground. It opened fire and she tried to roll, but a round of bullets sprayed her gut, and she screamed as she felt something tear open and start bleeding, pressing her sticky shirt over the ragged wound even as Junkrat bellowed in anger and positioned himself in front of her, fumbling to reload his grenades. “Kkeojyeo! Geim-eul hamyeon igyeoyaji!” Something very large and pink and vaguely rabbit-shaped landed with a crash of metal against metal, as D.Va’s MEKA slammed full-force into the junker mech. The other mech might have been larger, but it was far from nimble, struggling to even turn as the MEKA practically danced around him, bullets flying as its boosters sent it in agile dodging motions to and fro. From inside its protective pilot shield, D.Va blew a bubble with her gum and popped it impatiently, finally jamming both guns into the other mech’s core and firing, sending the whole thing crashing down as the junker inside ejected free and went scrambling. “Aw yeah! That makes me four-time reigning Australia mech-fighting champion! GG E-Z!” She struck a pose, both metal arms punching forward dramatically, before turning to face them. “Jamie! I thought I saw your weird hair out here!” “Oi, my hair ain’t weird!…Okay, it’s kinda weird,” Junkrat grumbled. “Give us a lift, won’t ya? Mei’s hurt and don’t have any more ice left.” “Sorry, not that kind of MEKA! And you’d be shot right off, I’ve never seen so many people here to fight! I’ll radio the others to let them know you’re coming in!” There was the rattle of more gunfire as more pulse rounds slammed into the MEKA’s side, causing her to shriek within. “Apa! Oh, you’re in for it now!” With that, her boosters flared white-blue and she went careening off back into the melee. Junkrat scratched at his self-admittedly weird hair. “Well, she’s clearin’ a path at least! You all right, love? Can y’walk?” Mei took his hand, hauling herself upright. “I-I think so? Oh! Jamie, you’re bleeding too!” He blinked in apparent surprise, looking to where a hole in his arm was also streaming liquid red. “Oh! Hey, guess I am! Eh, she’ll be right, I can still shoot. Oi, let’s grab Roadie and- Aw shite, we got company.” Roadhog had seemed to have gotten into an entirely different kind of trouble, and he and the bike were surrounded by a group of scavengers. Mei lifted her pistol, but to her surprise, the enormous junker was almost unmoving, and though the people around him milled about and bristled their weapons, none of them had made an actual move to attack him yet. “That ain’t him. It’s someone pretending to be him,” She heard one insist. “Who the fuck’d pretend to be him?” “Isn’t he the one who killed DogEater’s entire gang?” “That was him? Ripped t’fucking pieces…” “Yeah. That’s the real Roadhog, nobody wears a mask like that except Roadhog. Uh…you take ‘im first, I’ll go behind...” “You take ‘im. I ain’t fucking with the pig man,” a smaller man replied, backing into a retreat. Roadhog said nothing, as usual. His wheezing breath remained steady, rattling in and out past the mask’s filters, blank lenses still set upon the junkers facing him. Naturally reluctant to face a well-known bruiser that was over seven feet of fat, muscle, and silent rage, the men jostled and pushed at one another, none of them wanting to be the one to initiate combat and make themselves his target. And when Roadhog slowly lifted his immense hook, the metal catching the sunlight and glinting sharply, the enemy junkers seemed to reach their limit and suddenly and quickly dispersed into all directions, trying to find easier targets. “Hhm…” Roadhog said. “Knew there was a reason I kept you around, mate,” Junkrat grinned. “Besides your winnin’ personality.” “Mm.” The trio continued to struggle forward amongst the chaos, trying to maneuver through. She thought she could see occasional glimpses of other agents from time to time…Pharah’s rockets occasionally flared in the sky, and D.Va’s gaudy pink made for an almost obnoxious moving target as she saw it diving to and fro amongst the red and brown dust of the junkers around her. And despite all the screaming and blasting, she definitely heard Reinhardt’s booming voice, challenging all and sundry to come and face him. The junkers were fighting each other almost as much as their targets, and she nearly lost sight of her companions several times, sometimes firing off warning shots at those who saw her much tinier size and obvious wounds as an opportunity. But even her bodyguards’ gigantism couldn’t hold all of them off, and more than once both Junkrat and Roadhog were pulled away from her at once to try and keep the others at bay. She continued to try and struggle through, darting into and then out of a brawling group of junkers who were getting closer and closer to the dropship, when she saw a familiar flash of red, white, and blue fabric. Her expression lit up, immediately dashing towards it.  Soldier 76 was holding off a crowd of foes at once, pulse rifle rattling as he stood in front of the Orca’s open doors. The junkers were getting bolder and bolder as minutes went by, to the point where he was physically having to push them back at times as the bolder ones tried to rush him. He had been forced into a slow but steady retreat, and could barely pause to even reload without retaliation. And he was making another attempt to reload when one of the junkers rushed him yet again. This one was a surprisingly tiny woman, covered in blood and dust and very faintly yelling “76! 76 it’s me!” over the din as she made a beeline towards him. He lunged forward before she could properly react, launching one strike directly into her sternum. He heard her words cut off and she staggered, the wind knocked out of her, and he went to finish the job, his arm around her throat and swinging her up into the air before going to smash her down into the ground so he could take the shot... Mei barely managed to let out a strangled cry of “C-Commander Morrison!” He stopped immediately, almost freezing mid-air. The back of her head slammed audibly into the ground and she uttered a little noise of pain that sounded familiar, her glasses clattering onto the ground beside her and one of the lenses cracking…Since when did junkers wear glasses like that? He kept his forearm in her throat, her chin pressed upward and pinned, but paused to actually look at her. She looked different now. Her face was thinner and her cheekbones looked more hollowed out. Her eyes were shadowed and tired and squinted to see without her eyewear. She wore a headscarf with a familiar little piggy face on it, but there was precious little hair beneath it. No wonder he’d mistaken her at first glance, but it was definitely… “Mei?” he asked in a bewildered tone, easing his arm off her neck. “Is that-” “Get offa her, you senile old cunt!” Junkrat hit them both like an incoming freight train, his entire gangly mass hitting Soldier dead-center and ripping him from atop Mei like a charging bull. She landed sprawled on her back, the air still knocked out of her. Junkrat had dragged his stunned target some feet away, his fists clenched in the namesake 76 jacket, and went to slam Soldier rather brutally into the ground several times, spitting curses and nearly foaming at the mouth. But Soldier 76 was a seasoned veteran who had dealt with more than an enraged junker in his time. He recovered and he retaliated, and the two quickly became a mess of wrestling limbs and jabbing fists as they fought, and their guns were entirely too close by for comfort. Mei’s head spun as she righted herself, sitting up and trying to yell at them. Her breath came out as a pathetic wheeze, her lungs still emptied as she inhaled and tried again, holding her chest. She tried to call out, trying to identify herself and order Junkrat and Soldier off each other, but only a few words made it out and it sounded more like she was trying to scold a misbehaving dog. “Jamie!…No! Down!” To her surprise, it worked. Junkrat managed to kick Soldier off of him, jamming a boot into the other man’s belly as he scrambled out of the melee, hurrying back to Mei’s side and helping her upright. Soldier stood as well, holding his gun warily at ease as he faced them both. “Mei-Ling? And…Agent Junkrat. Hm.” His gravelly voice showed a hint of clear displeasure. “Didn’t see that it was you.” “Who the bloody fuck else would it be!” Junkrat sneered, fingering the trigger of his grenade launcher even as Mei tried to keep him at bay. “That’s a fine howdoyado! We called you to rescue her, not to fuckin’ end the job!” “It’s fine! I should have identified louder, it’s my fault! I’m sorry, let’s not fight!” Mei protested, even as she pressed both hands to his chest and tried to push him back, leaving red smears across his shoulders. “You ain’t got nothin’ to be sorry for, love! It’s this drongo here-!” “I thought she was another junker,” Soldier growled, “I’ve never seen her like th-” Several bullets spattered into the rock above them and peppered them with dust, causing all three to duck and immediately forget their squabble. Soldier lifted his pulse rifle and immediately began firing back, backing away to help shepherd the two towards the ramp. A gloved hand reached up to flick at something on his tactical visor, which glowed vivid red as the holographic field displayed before him, locking onto his targets one by one as they came into view. Junkrat put aside his grudge at least long enough to help, slamming another case of grenades into his launcher’s feed as another round of frags went sailing into the air. “You get inside, find the doc. I’ll be back in just a tick. Oh, I’m gonna enjoy this,” Junkrat said, his grin widening and baring his teeth. Mei lifted a hand to stop him but he was already gone, bounding off into the chaos with no small amount of glee. Soldier followed after him not long after, still uselessly trying to order the junker about. Llimping and bloody, with no ammo left for her gun and her glasses cracked on one side, Mei finally headed up the ramp and into the rescue ship. It was a little strange to be back, back in the familiar belly of the vehicle where she’d deployed from so many times before, usually sitting as far away from the junkers as possible. She immediately slumped into her favorite chair, coughing a little and wishing she had a communicator to let the others know. She felt a little thrill of hope in the pit of her belly, though she wondered if that also might have been a side effect of the blood loss from her gut. “Hello? Is anybody else here?” she called. “Mei! Mei, love, is that you!” Tracer’s voice, cheerful but more than a little stressed, sounded up by the front. The little pilot clearly had her hands full, numerous buttons blinking and beeping urgent messages from all sides of her as she flicked some of them on and off, her gaze roaming constantly over various screens and gauges all over the control board. “It’s me, Lena! I’m so glad to see you again. I’d offer a hug…” She winced a little, still holding her hand to her side. When she looked down and peeled it away, her palm was smeared with red. “Oh! Maybe another time, don’t let me forget! A bit busy myself, here, or I’d greet you proper! But once we’re back-” The whole ship shuddered as there was another boom outside, and Tracer grasped a hold of the yoke, pulling it upward as she struggled to maintain control. “Oh bugger! Not sure how long we can keep this up! Athena, get everyone back on board so we can get out of here! If we can get out of here!” She no longer wore a communicator, but Mei could almost hear the soothing tones of Athena’s vocal systems in her head, relaying the orders of hasty retreat in her ever-polite manner. She slumped down into a seat, the one she usually took on their missions, tucked away in a corner. Snowball buzzed about happily before spotting its favorite charging station, settling onto the plug as its visor went dark. Mei smiled at it a little, glad at least someone was entirely happy about their return, before turning to watch as the other agents returned, one by one. Roadhog was wheeling the half-broken remains of his motorcycle up the ramp, resolutely ignoring Soldier 76’s bellowing to leave it behind as he provided cover fire. Pharah had been shot down and rather haphazardly tossed over the massive shoulders of Reinhardt as he backed slowly into the cargo area, shield upright. D.Va’s MEKA landed with a booming crash outside, metal feet clanking as she steered it inside. Then all eyes immediately turned when there was a shrieking whistle outside and an explosion, and Junkrat’s blurry form was spinning through the air and into the cargo bay, singed form leaving a trail of black smoke as he went skidding along the floor before coming to a stop with a painful-sounding thud against the far wall, his spindly legs bent nearly double over his head before slumping sprawled out and face down on the floor. “Jamison!” Mei called in alarm, starting to stagger upright. “I swear, Mr. Fawkes, the situations you get yourself into…” Mercy’s voice somehow always sounded so gentle, even when irritated. She cut an angelic figure as she appeared amidst the smoke and dust, valkyrie wings glowing and coming to a gliding landing next to the downed junker. A little check-over and a quick glow of her Caduceus Staff seemed to do the trick, and a moment later Junkrat was groaning and holding his rattled skull as he awkwardly rolled onto his back. “That was a good one, mate,” he wheezed, coughing up a black cloud as Roadhog’s huge fingers suddenly closed around his head, carelessly dragging him up and setting him back on his feet. Mercy rolled her eyes slightly before pausing, catching sight of the other junker that had mysteriously appeared on the other side of the ship. She approached with a hand raised, concern written all over her face. “Oh Mei-Ling…” she breathed out, going to gingerly place her fingers on her shoulder almost as if to check she was real. She’d seen her only briefly and rather blurrily, on that fuzzy old camera from their safehouse broadcast. But she looked so different in person. She didn’t even look like the same person, really, and the only clue it was her at all was the dimpling in her cheeks and a faint glint in her dark eyes that looked like the old Mei. “Dr. Ziegler. It’s good to see you again. Um…I think I might need some help?” Mei said, and peeled her hand away from her gut with an unpleasantly sticky noise. “Oh! Of course. Und, wo tut's jetzt weh?“ Mercy’s brows rose, quickly moving into action with the same grace as always. The staff lit up soothing yellow, and Mei relaxed immediately as its gentle glow enveloped her, eyes drifting shut almost in a daze. It was the first real healing her body had been able to do in months, and while normally the sensation of billions upon billions of glowing nanobot swarming her body, wounds knitting themselves shut and flesh sealing neatly under the skin was something Mei had always found a little eerie, it felt so wonderful that it rendered her into a stupor. She didn’t even notice Mercy’s increasingly worried expression, her eyes glued to the little display on her staff and her mouth moving in unheard muttering. “Ach Du meine Güte…I think perhaps we’d best move you to the med bay for now? Nothing to fret over, just, taking a few precautions. Reinhardt, if you wouldn’t mind helping me move-” “Oi, I’ll get her! C’mere, love!” Junkrat perked immediately from his seat, lifting both ash-covered hands to help. Mercy turned a stern gaze upon him, holding up a hand. “That will not be necessary, Mr. Fawkes. We are very thankful that you are all back and mostly in one piece, but I’m afraid that our investigation into the situation is still pending and Mei is…less medically sound than I previously thought. Until we can get a better handle on the whole thing, I’d like you and your partner to remain as you are. Reinhardt, if you would please take her to the bay table?” “That ain’t fuckin’ fair! I know what you’re doing!” Junkrat protested, pointing in an accusatory way towards the medic and the immense armored German man now gently lifting his charge. “You got no idea what’s happened to us and we don’t have to tell you a fuckin’ thing, so how about you and your monkey take your investigation an’ shove it right up your beautiful angelic-” “You vill not talk to Angela like that!” Reinhardt boomed aloud, angrily whirling upon the junker with Mei still in both arms. “Well, maybe you all shouldn’t be talking to him like that,” D.Va remarked a little snidely. “We’ve been fighting off crazy people in this crappy desert for a rescue mission, and now we finally do rescue Jamie and the others, and you immediately want to investigate him because, what, he kissed your friend?” Soldier 76 was already strapped in and waiting to go, his face in both palms. “This is why I always thought interdepartmental fraternization should have been banned.” “Please don’t fight,” Mei said weakly. “Hey!” Tracer’s voice suddenly blared over the intercom. “Would someone please just move the lady and get everyone strapped in, because I’m turning this old girl around and we’re still under attack here, just in case you’ve forgotten! Oh! Damnit! Brace yourselves!” The ship abruptly pitched to one side, causing everyone not strapped in to stumble and Junkrat to land square on his ass as his peg went out from under him. But at least it seemed to resolve the situation, as Reinhardt quickly righted himself and hastily moved Mei into the tiny ship med bay as Mercy bustled about her, strapping her into place and covering her with a blanket as she bustled about. Mei craned her neck from side to side, and was briefly glad of the straps when the ship lurched to and fro before struggling up into the air. She could hear the pinging of more bullets and javelins against the underside of the ship, one last desperate attempt by the attacking junkers to bring it back to ground, before the thrusters all activated at once and the Orca went surging forward, the G forces so strong that they sent Mei careening to one side on the table and Mercy dropped her staff to hold on to her chair’s handles with both hands. But soon the ship slowed to more manageable speeds and the doctor was fussing over her again, pressing and prodding her beneath the blanket and occasionally tapping things into her pad. “I’m sorry to cause such a fuss, Dr. Ziegler,” Mei said, even as the sounds of another argument started up from the room next door. “Junkrat and Roadhog are sick too, don’t forget to make sure they’re okay, please.” “It’s fine, I’ll be checking on them in just a moment. I can tell you’re fretting. Don’t worry. You haven’t done anything wrong, Mei…Well, other than cut communications when we still wanted to talk to you, but that was merely another little matter that just got a bit out of hand. It’s all merely a collection of things that got out of hand. I’ve already spoken to Winston about it, it is all being handled.” “I…noticed Winston isn’t here?” “Ah, no. Winston could unfortunately not attend. But I assure you he wanted to, and he was the first on the list until an emergency called him away. It’s nothing you’ve done, and you don’t need to worry. Now just try to relax, you might feel a pinching sensation…” “Okay,” Mei said a bit unhappily, not entirely sure she believed the good doctor. “You know, the junkers haven’t done anything wrong either. I know that during the call, things got a little- Owch!” “There’s that pinching sensation, dear.” “It’s like you said, Dr. Zeigler, it just got…a little out of hand. I wasn’t feeling myself. I’m more than happy to start my report right away! If you would just get me a tablet, I’m sure we’ll have a few hours where I can work and start to get everything cleared up.” “I would not be feeling myself either, with these levels of radiation sickness, weight loss, sun poisoning, and other afflictions..Not to mention fresh bullet wounds, and I understand you were mistakenly punched by one of our own? As much as I know you want to start getting organized, I must insist that the only thing you’re going to be doing right now is resting,” Mercy chided. “It’s amazing you’re doing as well as you are, considering your state. Now, take two of these-” She handed Mei two pills and a water, watching with a hawk-like gaze until she was sure Mei had taken them both. “-And try to concentrate on resting, if you must concentrate on anything.” “I’ll be fine. What about the others?” “If I believed that I could get either of the junkers to start taking their medicine and resting properly, I would do so. I have tried, believe me I have tried. The first time I tried to lock Junkrat into a private room with just a bed so he could begin recovery, he had apparently hidden a charge on his person and then blew the door controls…I think it might have been in his ear canal. I distinctly remember checking his mouth and nose and…other places… ” She coughed, abruptly turning her back and starting to fill a syringe with clear liquid. “That sounds like something he would do,” Mei admitted with a sigh, before shaking her head abruptly, “Wait, you mean you checked his-” “Most likely a technique he picked up in the various prisons he’s frequented,” Mercy said smoothly, sitting down next to her patient and motioning for her to look away before taking her arm and administering a careful injection. Mei winced and glanced away, waiting until the cool swab of cotton wiped over the spot. Mercy continued on, voice softening slightly. “I know you might think we are being hard on the junkers…your friends. But I have nothing against them and I assure you that I will do everything I can to make sure that both of them are as healthy and hale as I can. If we held a grudge against everyone who’s ever been imprisoned or on the wrong side of the law, I would have an awful lot of free time on my hands. But we still have protocol to follow, Mei, you know that.” “You don’t believe I really have Stockholm Syndrome, do you?” “I thought at first you might have been in trouble, I will admit. I was worried. We all were. We had no information about you, Junkrat, or Roadhog. You three had vanished off the face of the earth. Then you suddenly re-appeared from nowhere. There were signs of bondage on your wrists and you were clearly hurt and sick…” “I’m so sorry we worried you…” Mei couldn’t help but give a little half smile. “And don’t let Jamison hear the word bondage.” “Mei! Goodness, maybe you really have been spending too much time around the junkers.” “Sorry. But I tried to explain what happened, and then the moment I start talking about how they helped me, Winston suggested it was all just a trick of the mind? I just…That made me angry. I’m sorry, but I did, I got angry.” “It’s not so simply cut and dry as that. I believe that you faced unimaginable difficulties and bonded with the only two people around you that you could rely on. Such bonds can become very deep. We’ll have to wait on a full psychological profile after this, but…honestly, after the trauma you’ve faced, you becoming  close with Mr. Fawkes is near the very bottom of my list of concerns. And Winston was just-” She sighed a bit, patting Mei’s arm. “I don’t want to speak for him, but I hope you and he can clear things up with each other. He’s been frantic, searching for you these months, and I believe both of you were simply…shall we say, overwhelmed.” Mercy’s voice was getting further and further away as the medicine started to take hold, but Mei found herself agreeing with whatever it was she was saying. “I know, Doctor Ziegler…I just…This just isn’t how I thought things would go…according to plan…” she said, slurring a bit as she focused on the spinning ceiling. “Things rarely do,” the doctor’s voice replied distantly. She kept telling herself she was safe now. The rescue mission hadn’t exactly gone off without a hitch, but she was safe. Junkrat and Roadhog were safe. After everything they had gone through, it was over. They could head back to the base, start the long process of getting better, and maybe, just maybe, things could go smoothly from here? She gave a strange, reedy little laugh as she started to slip into unconsciousness, even causing the doctor to pause and check over her once more. Who was she kidding? Things never went smoothly for someone like her.

[jesusvasser]

The 2019 Audi A7 Sportback Goes to Lüderitz

LÜDERITZ, Namibia — The sat-nav says arrival time 12:53 a.m. The man from Audi advises us not to drive after dark because of wild animals. The photographer says let’s get on with it. My inner voice tells me to believe in the power of laser headlights and night vision, so let the impala and springbok play hide and seek if they want.

On the two-lane N7 highway between Citrusdal, South Africa, just north of Cape Town, to Vioolsdrif at the Namibian border, progress is a matter of attitude, aspiration, and ambition. In addition to being on high alert for any wildlife lurking in the bush, we’re also busy dodging underpaid and overly keen asphalt jockeys in charge of slowly disintegrating tour buses, mirrorless vans on a clock-beating mission, and grotesquely overloaded semis. But thanks to some 39 assistance systems and a switched-on driver who can’t spare a single digit to toy with the seductive, colorful touchscreens, the new 2019 Audi A7 cuts through it all with relative ease. When we hit Klawer, about a quarter of the way to Vioolsdrif, the estimated arrival time has lowered to 12:11 am. We’re making headway.

Our destination is the port of Lüderitz on the Namibian coast, founded in 1883 by settlers from Berlin, Dresden, and Cologne. The A7 Sportback 55 TFSI we’re in is fitted with every conceivable extra and then some. It even features double-glazed glass, multicolor ambient lighting, and intelligent wipers with washer jets focusing on the dirtiest spots. Back-seat magnates like The Donald would undoubtedly appreciate modern conveniences such as Twitter access and the pay TV module; owner-drivers are more likely to applaud the fully automatic parking assistance system, which takes the sting out of hungry curbs and tight entry and exit spirals.

Despite the puzzling 55 TFSI badge, the A7’s base powerplant remains Audi’s 3.0-liter turbo V-6, which now delivers 340 horsepower. It’s been thoroughly modified, feels livelier, and plays a catchier tune. The seven-speed S tronic automatic transmission is really on its toes in Sport mode. Eco efforts include a start-stop system that calls it a day below 15 mph, an efficiency program that cuts the engine between 30 and 100 mph under trailing throttle, and a green lift-off symbol in the instrument binnacle, which suggests that now is the time to take it easy.

It’s not only the 340 hp that gets things done but also the torque curve, which peaks at 369 lb-ft between 1,370 and 4,500 rpm—it is as flat as Cape Town’s famous Table Mountain. The Audi collects further brownie points for its ability to accelerate to 60 mph in an estimated 5.2 seconds, its brisk downshift action, ambitious redline that touches 7,000 rpm, and its aggressively spaced third through fifth gears.

Praise is also due to the air suspension that leans the car ever so slightly into the random gusts of crosswind.

Bureaucracy thrives at the border crossing that separates South Africa from Namibia. We’re in a hurry, but the squadron of uniformed state servants on both sides of the barbed wire evidently has all the time in the world. For no good reason at all, we waste almost an hour filling out forms, waiting for stamps, paying fees, and having the vehicle searched. As a result, our ETA has dropped back. No way are we giving in. So let’s fill up the Ara Blue-sprayed hatchback-coupe and get back after it. We’re going to need to rely on the technical improvements that set the new A7 apart from its predecessor: its piercing matrix-laser headlamps, recalibrated air suspension, and rear-wheel steering chief among them. Having fiddled with Drive Select for the past six hours, the preferred configuration locks the drivetrain in Dynamic while the algorithms looking after steering and chassis are left alone. Above 75 mph, the road-hugging sports pack lowers the ride height by another quarter inch or so.

The final leg of the night stage to Lüderitz goes down in the logbook as a real challenge and an eerie experience. What looks like London fog is actually a proper sandstorm, whipping tall, thin curtains across the road and drowning tire and engine noise in pelting spells that sound like a million needles pitting the paintwork to the primer. The curvy highway is littered with tumbleweed and occasional waves of rock-solid drift sand. It’s a baptism of fire for the A7’s rear-wheel steering, which enhances stability and maneuverability depending on how fast you’re going. Praise is also due to the air suspension, which leans the car ever so slightly into the random gusts of crosswind. Although the broad light cone cast by the matrix-laser wonderbeams could almost touch the horizon on a clear night, we’re limited to low-beams in this tempest.

Helping the cause is Audi’s latest, more fuel-efficient Quattro system—dubbed Ultra—effectively all-wheel drive on demand. Rear-wheel drive only activates to support takeoff traction, cornering grip, and handling bias. Acting progressively and imperceptibly, it engages and disconnects in milliseconds. For enhanced road holding and curb appeal, our test car was fitted with 20-inch wheels shod with 255/40 tires. In the previous A7, this setup in combination with the sport suspension would have smashed a set of false teeth to pieces. The second-generation model, however, has learned to ride more smoothly. Like every Audi, this one is still not pleased with transverse irritations, but it no longer absolutely hates potholes, manhole covers, and railroad crossings. The steel brakes deserve applause for prompt response and efficient deceleration, but it also earns a few scattered boos for elevated pedal pressure, which increases with every repeat high-speed action and is accompanied by a certain sponginess over the final 100 yards or so before the vehicle comes to a full stop.

“No, we don’t have Wi-Fi. Talk to each other!” This sign put up at Giesela’s breakfast station down by the sea is not only a mocking shot across the bow of the Facebook crowd but also confirms in writing that digitalization has not yet fully arrived in Lüderitz. Almost everything related to electricity does in fact move at a different pace in this part of Africa. Filling up the car takes around 10 minutes, the streetlights flicker at night like back in the postwar days, and paying with a credit card only works when a favorable internet wind blows.

We were constantly on guard for African wildlife hiding in the bush, and the new Audi A7’s laser headlights and night vision helped us keep a better eye out.

Architectural gems like Villa Goerke, which looks like something that was helicoptered out of Bavaria and dropped into the rugged desert, dot the landscape. Built in 1909 during the diamond rush, it is now a national historic monument. Then there’s Shark Island, an area that has become prime residential property but used to be a German labor camp where thousands died in the early 1900s. It is a lasting symbol of the numerous atrocities committed against indigenous peoples by the colonial powers.

The Germans, who had claimed large chunks of Africa in 1884’s Berlin Conference, were running the show here.

So although not all of the wounds from those dark days have fully healed, there is a special spirit that has developed among the locals, known as Buchters (Bucht is the German word for bay), who pride themselves on living life to the fullest. Many of them are trilingual, fluent in Afrikaans, German, and English.

The A7 is linguistically even more talented. It speaks more than 15 languages and understands every spoken and written word, although it needs a stable web connection to shine, which is as rare as an ice-cream vendor in this scorching part of the world. But even without car-to-infrastructure intelligence, real-time traffic information, and super-precise HERE maps, the in-dash mix of touchscreens, displays, and buttons is pure sensory overload—a potpourri of recurrent distraction and stubborn, smeary fingerprints. Make no mistake: This is a great-looking, beautifully made, and emphatically modern cockpit. But like in an Airbus A320, you almost need a co-pilot to make full use of the car’s diverse talents.

A short distance from Lüderitz is the ghost town of Kolmannskuppe, a series of buildings fighting a losing battle against sand and wind and time. Kolmannskuppe was built between 1908 and 1910 next to the country’s first diamond mine, which yielded more than 5 million carats of gemstone before World War I broke out. The Germans, who had claimed large chunks of Africa in 1884’s Berlin Conference, were running the show here and in Lüderitz. And what a show it must have been. The largely intact wood-paneled town hall houses a theater, cinema, library, bowling alley, restaurant, bar, and gymnasium.

Perhaps the biggest frivolity was the stone-walled saltwater swimming pool the size of a football stadium, which still caps the hill like an ancient helipad for the gods. A guide named William takes us through the buildings. “Goods were transported by horses, boats, and eventually by rail,” he says. “Round about that time, the diamond barons brought in the first motor cars. When a Mercedes or Rolls broke down, it was simply put away while a new one was ordered. Wealth was unreal in those days.” After a short 17-year boom, the miners moved on, and Kolmannskuppe was abandoned by 1956.

Today’s travelers on African roads don’t have the luxury of waiting months for a new car to replace the old one, let alone hours to fix more than one flat tire or a mechanical fault that grounds the vehicle in the middle of nowhere. Then there’s the worst-case scenario, getting in a crash, since the next hospital is more than likely a long drive or flight away. This creates a lingering inner conflict because on both sides of the Namibian tarmac are some of the best sand roads we’ve ever seen. Wiser men would ignore them. But with ESP turned off, it was slide time.

With exactly 13 minutes to spare, the car finally grinds to a halt at the barrier, brakes sizzling, exhaust crackling.

From one moment to the next, Quattro returns with a vengeance, pushing hard to support the struggling, spinning, scraping front wheels. It takes only a couple of corners to find the right rhythm, to make lift-off action bond with turn-in bite, to play the car with steering and throttle, throttle and steering. Drama can multiply in the even lower-grip zone between sand and gravel, where the car’s attitudes, gestures, and stances match a ballet dancer for elegance in motion.

The Lüderitz, Namibia, locals might not yet have fully embraced technology, but the 2019 Audi A7 provides plenty of it.

We leave Lüderitz midafternoon, forking off toward Rosh Pinah then heading for the border at Oranjemund. It’s a shorter yet slower route on twistier roads with older, sun-bleached surfaces. According to the guide book, the border crossing closes at 8 p.m., and there is no listed accommodation this side of South Africa, so time is once more of the essence. We fire up the afterburner, and two hours later, we know for a fact that the A7 55 TFSI tops out at more than 150 mph.

Even through increasingly tight radii, the car keeps carving with poise, prowess, and panache. There is a blind understanding between the steering angles of all four wheels, and the firm ride still shows mercy, holding the line with singing tires. With exactly 13 minutes to spare, the car finally grinds to a halt at the barrier, brakes sizzling, exhaust crackling. Gimme five, mate. And please ignore the sign on the customs building that reads, “From Feb. 1, 2018, this border is open 24/7.”

2019 Audi A7 Sportback Specifications

ON SALE Fall PRICE $70,000 (base) (est) ENGINE 3.0L DOHC 24-valve turbo V-6/340 hp @ 5,000-6,400 rpm,369 lb-ft @ 1,370-4,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 7-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD hatchback EPA MILEAGE N/A L x W x H 195.6 x 75.1 x 56.0 in WHEELBASE 115.2 in WEIGHT 4,001 lb from Performance Junk WP Feed 4 https://ift.tt/2kgMski via IFTTT

[jonathanbelloblog]

The 2019 Audi A7 Sportback Goes to Lüderitz

LÜDERITZ, Namibia — The sat-nav says arrival time 12:53 a.m. The man from Audi advises us not to drive after dark because of wild animals. The photographer says let’s get on with it. My inner voice tells me to believe in the power of laser headlights and night vision, so let the impala and springbok play hide and seek if they want.

On the two-lane N7 highway between Citrusdal, South Africa, just north of Cape Town, to Vioolsdrif at the Namibian border, progress is a matter of attitude, aspiration, and ambition. In addition to being on high alert for any wildlife lurking in the bush, we’re also busy dodging underpaid and overly keen asphalt jockeys in charge of slowly disintegrating tour buses, mirrorless vans on a clock-beating mission, and grotesquely overloaded semis. But thanks to some 39 assistance systems and a switched-on driver who can’t spare a single digit to toy with the seductive, colorful touchscreens, the new 2019 Audi A7 cuts through it all with relative ease. When we hit Klawer, about a quarter of the way to Vioolsdrif, the estimated arrival time has lowered to 12:11 am. We’re making headway.

Our destination is the port of Lüderitz on the Namibian coast, founded in 1883 by settlers from Berlin, Dresden, and Cologne. The A7 Sportback 55 TFSI we’re in is fitted with every conceivable extra and then some. It even features double-glazed glass, multicolor ambient lighting, and intelligent wipers with washer jets focusing on the dirtiest spots. Back-seat magnates like The Donald would undoubtedly appreciate modern conveniences such as Twitter access and the pay TV module; owner-drivers are more likely to applaud the fully automatic parking assistance system, which takes the sting out of hungry curbs and tight entry and exit spirals.

Despite the puzzling 55 TFSI badge, the A7’s base powerplant remains Audi’s 3.0-liter turbo V-6, which now delivers 340 horsepower. It’s been thoroughly modified, feels livelier, and plays a catchier tune. The seven-speed S tronic automatic transmission is really on its toes in Sport mode. Eco efforts include a start-stop system that calls it a day below 15 mph, an efficiency program that cuts the engine between 30 and 100 mph under trailing throttle, and a green lift-off symbol in the instrument binnacle, which suggests that now is the time to take it easy.

It’s not only the 340 hp that gets things done but also the torque curve, which peaks at 369 lb-ft between 1,370 and 4,500 rpm—it is as flat as Cape Town’s famous Table Mountain. The Audi collects further brownie points for its ability to accelerate to 60 mph in an estimated 5.2 seconds, its brisk downshift action, ambitious redline that touches 7,000 rpm, and its aggressively spaced third through fifth gears.

Praise is also due to the air suspension that leans the car ever so slightly into the random gusts of crosswind.

Bureaucracy thrives at the border crossing that separates South Africa from Namibia. We’re in a hurry, but the squadron of uniformed state servants on both sides of the barbed wire evidently has all the time in the world. For no good reason at all, we waste almost an hour filling out forms, waiting for stamps, paying fees, and having the vehicle searched. As a result, our ETA has dropped back. No way are we giving in. So let’s fill up the Ara Blue-sprayed hatchback-coupe and get back after it. We’re going to need to rely on the technical improvements that set the new A7 apart from its predecessor: its piercing matrix-laser headlamps, recalibrated air suspension, and rear-wheel steering chief among them. Having fiddled with Drive Select for the past six hours, the preferred configuration locks the drivetrain in Dynamic while the algorithms looking after steering and chassis are left alone. Above 75 mph, the road-hugging sports pack lowers the ride height by another quarter inch or so.

The final leg of the night stage to Lüderitz goes down in the logbook as a real challenge and an eerie experience. What looks like London fog is actually a proper sandstorm, whipping tall, thin curtains across the road and drowning tire and engine noise in pelting spells that sound like a million needles pitting the paintwork to the primer. The curvy highway is littered with tumbleweed and occasional waves of rock-solid drift sand. It’s a baptism of fire for the A7’s rear-wheel steering, which enhances stability and maneuverability depending on how fast you’re going. Praise is also due to the air suspension, which leans the car ever so slightly into the random gusts of crosswind. Although the broad light cone cast by the matrix-laser wonderbeams could almost touch the horizon on a clear night, we’re limited to low-beams in this tempest.

Helping the cause is Audi’s latest, more fuel-efficient Quattro system—dubbed Ultra—effectively all-wheel drive on demand. Rear-wheel drive only activates to support takeoff traction, cornering grip, and handling bias. Acting progressively and imperceptibly, it engages and disconnects in milliseconds. For enhanced road holding and curb appeal, our test car was fitted with 20-inch wheels shod with 255/40 tires. In the previous A7, this setup in combination with the sport suspension would have smashed a set of false teeth to pieces. The second-generation model, however, has learned to ride more smoothly. Like every Audi, this one is still not pleased with transverse irritations, but it no longer absolutely hates potholes, manhole covers, and railroad crossings. The steel brakes deserve applause for prompt response and efficient deceleration, but it also earns a few scattered boos for elevated pedal pressure, which increases with every repeat high-speed action and is accompanied by a certain sponginess over the final 100 yards or so before the vehicle comes to a full stop.

“No, we don’t have Wi-Fi. Talk to each other!” This sign put up at Giesela’s breakfast station down by the sea is not only a mocking shot across the bow of the Facebook crowd but also confirms in writing that digitalization has not yet fully arrived in Lüderitz. Almost everything related to electricity does in fact move at a different pace in this part of Africa. Filling up the car takes around 10 minutes, the streetlights flicker at night like back in the postwar days, and paying with a credit card only works when a favorable internet wind blows.

We were constantly on guard for African wildlife hiding in the bush, and the new Audi A7’s laser headlights and night vision helped us keep a better eye out.

Architectural gems like Villa Goerke, which looks like something that was helicoptered out of Bavaria and dropped into the rugged desert, dot the landscape. Built in 1909 during the diamond rush, it is now a national historic monument. Then there’s Shark Island, an area that has become prime residential property but used to be a German labor camp where thousands died in the early 1900s. It is a lasting symbol of the numerous atrocities committed against indigenous peoples by the colonial powers.

The Germans, who had claimed large chunks of Africa in 1884’s Berlin Conference, were running the show here.

So although not all of the wounds from those dark days have fully healed, there is a special spirit that has developed among the locals, known as Buchters (Bucht is the German word for bay), who pride themselves on living life to the fullest. Many of them are trilingual, fluent in Afrikaans, German, and English.

The A7 is linguistically even more talented. It speaks more than 15 languages and understands every spoken and written word, although it needs a stable web connection to shine, which is as rare as an ice-cream vendor in this scorching part of the world. But even without car-to-infrastructure intelligence, real-time traffic information, and super-precise HERE maps, the in-dash mix of touchscreens, displays, and buttons is pure sensory overload—a potpourri of recurrent distraction and stubborn, smeary fingerprints. Make no mistake: This is a great-looking, beautifully made, and emphatically modern cockpit. But like in an Airbus A320, you almost need a co-pilot to make full use of the car’s diverse talents.

A short distance from Lüderitz is the ghost town of Kolmannskuppe, a series of buildings fighting a losing battle against sand and wind and time. Kolmannskuppe was built between 1908 and 1910 next to the country’s first diamond mine, which yielded more than 5 million carats of gemstone before World War I broke out. The Germans, who had claimed large chunks of Africa in 1884’s Berlin Conference, were running the show here and in Lüderitz. And what a show it must have been. The largely intact wood-paneled town hall houses a theater, cinema, library, bowling alley, restaurant, bar, and gymnasium.

Perhaps the biggest frivolity was the stone-walled saltwater swimming pool the size of a football stadium, which still caps the hill like an ancient helipad for the gods. A guide named William takes us through the buildings. “Goods were transported by horses, boats, and eventually by rail,” he says. “Round about that time, the diamond barons brought in the first motor cars. When a Mercedes or Rolls broke down, it was simply put away while a new one was ordered. Wealth was unreal in those days.” After a short 17-year boom, the miners moved on, and Kolmannskuppe was abandoned by 1956.

Today’s travelers on African roads don’t have the luxury of waiting months for a new car to replace the old one, let alone hours to fix more than one flat tire or a mechanical fault that grounds the vehicle in the middle of nowhere. Then there’s the worst-case scenario, getting in a crash, since the next hospital is more than likely a long drive or flight away. This creates a lingering inner conflict because on both sides of the Namibian tarmac are some of the best sand roads we’ve ever seen. Wiser men would ignore them. But with ESP turned off, it was slide time.

With exactly 13 minutes to spare, the car finally grinds to a halt at the barrier, brakes sizzling, exhaust crackling.

From one moment to the next, Quattro returns with a vengeance, pushing hard to support the struggling, spinning, scraping front wheels. It takes only a couple of corners to find the right rhythm, to make lift-off action bond with turn-in bite, to play the car with steering and throttle, throttle and steering. Drama can multiply in the even lower-grip zone between sand and gravel, where the car’s attitudes, gestures, and stances match a ballet dancer for elegance in motion.

The Lüderitz, Namibia, locals might not yet have fully embraced technology, but the 2019 Audi A7 provides plenty of it.

We leave Lüderitz midafternoon, forking off toward Rosh Pinah then heading for the border at Oranjemund. It’s a shorter yet slower route on twistier roads with older, sun-bleached surfaces. According to the guide book, the border crossing closes at 8 p.m., and there is no listed accommodation this side of South Africa, so time is once more of the essence. We fire up the afterburner, and two hours later, we know for a fact that the A7 55 TFSI tops out at more than 150 mph.

Even through increasingly tight radii, the car keeps carving with poise, prowess, and panache. There is a blind understanding between the steering angles of all four wheels, and the firm ride still shows mercy, holding the line with singing tires. With exactly 13 minutes to spare, the car finally grinds to a halt at the barrier, brakes sizzling, exhaust crackling. Gimme five, mate. And please ignore the sign on the customs building that reads, “From Feb. 1, 2018, this border is open 24/7.”

2019 Audi A7 Sportback Specifications

ON SALE Fall PRICE $70,000 (base) (est) ENGINE 3.0L DOHC 24-valve turbo V-6/340 hp @ 5,000-6,400 rpm,369 lb-ft @ 1,370-4,500 rpm TRANSMISSION 7-speed automatic LAYOUT 4-door, 5-passenger, front-engine, AWD hatchback EPA MILEAGE N/A L x W x H 195.6 x 75.1 x 56.0 in WHEELBASE 115.2 in WEIGHT 4,001 lb from Performance Junk Blogger Feed 4 https://ift.tt/2kgMski via IFTTT