#coating nuts and bolts

[cryptotheism]

The Bear: "Okay here, got another question from a caller...ahem. Howdy girls, love the show. I gotta ask. What rigs do you personally run?"

Lilly: "Well I run a-"

"Hold it Lil. Before you yap everyone's ears off, I got an idea. I know what you like. You know what I like. How's about I describe your rig, and you describe mine?"

"Oh but I wanna yap! It's the radio Bear, people tune in for the yappin."

"You can yap! Just not about your Mako. And just to torture ya, I'm gonna go first."

"Fine! Fine! You better make me look good though!"

"Lil here runs a Pointer&Short Mako S-610. For those that don't know, only about 3000 of these things exist. They were a sleek custom job for some fancy courier service that went belly up about a century ago. I don't even wanna know how much it's cost Lil to restore this thing-"

"The parts are all original-"

"Aht aht aht, it's my turn. But yeah, the parts are all original. Original hand-machined bioceramic plating. Original glossy red paint. Original custom fins and gilding. This thing even has custom vinyl upholstery. This nut learned upholstery for this rig."

"Tell em about the coat."

"The coat? Oh right. So, the Mako's bioceramic is an older formula. It's heavier than the modern stuff, heals slower, and it scars. But Lil's? Not a scratch on the damn thing. She moisturizes it folks. She moisturizes her rig."

"Damn right I do! You tell me a machine that pretty doesn't deserve it! And hey when's my go?"

"Oh by all means take the floor."

"The bear drives an Atlas P2. Now, some of you out there are thinkin' 'thats it? My dad has an AP2' Well you ever wonder why your dad has an AP2? There's a good reason for it."

"It is not a Dad Rig."

"Bearie, it's a Dad Rig. Just embrace it. Listen, three words. Ease of modification. There is not a single part in the AP2 that ain't cheap, available, and standard. It is the canvas upon which my lovely gearheaded obsessive of a co-host will paint."

"You're makin me sound like a weirdo!"

"Bearie I haven't even started."

"Now listen here!-"

"Nope! My turn! Listen, Bear here likes to futz. She would call it optimizing, or tinkering. But I call it futzing. I think she's tuned up every last damn nut and bolt in this thing. The AP2 is a general purpose work rig. But I think I could do brain surgery in this Rig."

"Well maybe not brain surgery.-"

"Will you shut up!" [The microphone picks up a playful batting noise.] It's a gorgeous piece of engineering. Brilliant! But you know what color she painted it?"

"Oh come on-"

"Grey! She painted the damn thing grey! Her co-host is a lifelong expert on bodywork detailing, and this bitch paints her rig grey!"

"Alright alright settle down! That's gonna do it for this episode of screw loose!"

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Bite my lip just for the taste

nonnie request here

Blurb: Eddie isn’t only good with his hands. He worships the ground you gracefully walk on and he is determined to satisfy you in every way that he can. Your pleasure is his pleasure and thanks to your mutual friend Steve, he might just have a chance to give you what you deserve.

Pairing: Older!Mechanic!Eddie x Reader

Warnings: 18+, lust at first sight, rough!dom!Eddie (careful what you wish for, right?), oral (m receiving), p in v sex, sloppy kisses, naked bodies and underwear description, reader referred to as girl, pet names, praise kink, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), alcohol, characters are of ages 25+ and 30+

-

divider by @cafekitsune

Not only was Eddie Munson phenomenal with his hands when it came to mending cars and tinkering around with bolts and nuts… but he knew a trick or two with his strong muscular tongue and his long skilled fingers; and they weren’t associated with playing guitar or singing a epic chorus.

Eddie knew how to fuck— and he was fucking great at it.

But he couldn’t just come out straight with it and tell you that— he had to ease into it. It was like a dark lustrous dance of longing and need and he didn’t mind if he were in it for the long run.

Eddie wanted you but he knew that perfection took time.

It all began on a sweltering summers day. The metal head was very well educated on how car batteries and engines reacted to intense heat— but no amount of study could have prepared him for the way your car trundled into his garage.

Wiping the sweat from his thick brow he watched how you swung open the door with a tired groan and a chesty grumble. Full of merciless rage as you rattled your hands against the metal plating of the evidently old vehicle. Swearing like a sailor on a sinking ship, “Piece of shit!! I hope they crush you!”

Eddie couldn’t control the way his jaw nearly hit the dusty courtyard floor as your heeled foot struck against the cars front tire multiple times. Your rage wasn’t what surprised Eddie— he was accustomed to watching customers let out their pent up rage onto their dying automobiles. But what stunned him was you. You presented yourself in a way that made Eddie question why you decided to bring your car all the way down to this side of town when you clearly could afford to go elsewhere.

Not to toot his own horn, but Eddie was one of the best mechanics this town had to offer. However, he did hold a reputation that much of the community did not agree with. He had a look that made people uncomfortable— that made them run away.

But not you.

You charged toward him fiercely and determined. You made Eddie shrink in his boots.

“Hi, I’m looking for Eddie? Eddie Munson? I’m told this is his place.” Your sugar coated tongue had Eddie’s mind reeling. The contrast of your actions and your personality made him want to laugh aloud— but he managed to keep his humour to himself. For now. You hoop your keys around your index finger, swirling the metal so they would clank and chime against one another.

“You’re looking at him, princess,” He wipes his large oil covered hands against the dark denim of his jeans, toying with the chunky silver rings that graced his fingers as he drank you in further— having a better view of you now, “How can I help?” He briefly glances over to your car, his two front teeth puncturing his bottom lip as he recalls the way you were attacking it just moments earlier.

“My friend Steve said if anyone can fix this hunk of shit then it would be you.” You offer Eddie a tight lipped smile, your hands resting comfortably on your hips as you also gaze back over at the rust bucket your father gifted you 4 years prior, “She isn’t much to look at, but she meant a lot to my old man so… I sort of have to keep her around, Y’know?” You roll your eyes comically and Eddie hums in acknowledgment, crossing his heavily tattooed arms over his plump chest that is clad in a tarnish white tank top.

“I get it.” He grins and winks at you, walking over to where you had abandoned your prized possession, “I hope Harrington put a good word in for me, his car would’ve been scrapped last year if it weren’t for my talent.”

“He said you were the best… alongside some other things that I best not mention if you wanna keep your friendship with him on good terms.”

Eddie laughs as he leans against the bonnet of your car, his wandering eyes flickering from your skirt that is stretched across the fullness of your thighs and up to your face and all over again. He couldn’t seem to pull his attention away from you.

“It’s unlocked, if you’d like to have a look inside.” You gesture toward the hood of the car which the metal head is leisurely draped on and Eddie’s cheeks warm at the inkling that he was caught gawking at you.

“Yeah, I’ll pop it open. It might just be the heat…”

It was now your turn to rake your eyes over Eddie’s frame as he peers into the organs of your nearly dead vehicle. He was only older than you by a couple of years and yet he seemed much more experienced in life than you did. The tattoos against his pale skin had you nibbling on the plush flesh of your bottom lip. His jeans hung loosely on his hips, held up by a studded black leather belt and above the hem you could see the waistband of his boxer briefs peering out at you.

One thing Steve had failed to mention to you before your arrival was how smoking hot Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson was. If you had known sooner, you would’ve dressed up a bit more— maybe you would’ve gotten changed out of your PA office attire.

But still, your tight fitted blouse and shiny black heels would just have to suffice.

“What are you doing right now?” Boldly you move around to meet Eddie’s line of vision. His eyebrows knit together in slight confusion and he flicks his fingers toward the open hood of the car, “No, I mean, after this. What are you doing? Do you.. have plans? Maybe going home to a girlfriend, perhaps?” You weren’t very subtle, but screw it! You saw the hunger in his eyes when you first showed up— he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him and you hadn’t been taken care of in a long time.

You were needy. Desperate. And Eddie may as well have been served up to you on a silver platter!

“Plans? Oh uh… no. Not at all. I uh… I was going to go home and have some shitty wine,” His pink lips perk up into a toothy smile, a knowing smile, and you bite the inside of your cheek to suppress your own, “Does that maybe interest you? You don’t seem like a shitty wine girl.”

You shrug your shoulders and a transparent smugness settles deep into the apples of your cheeks, “I like shitty wine.”

“The good thing about being your own boss is that you can finish whenever you want.” He slaps the bonnet of the car shut and dusts his large hands against one another, “How about I look at this tomorrow and we can take my car back to mine? Or would you like to check out my ass for a bit longer?” He slyly winks at you and your face tilts toward the ground as you make a feeble attempt to conceal the blazing fire that was torturing your skin.

“Hmmm that depends— can you guarantee that you’re not some psycho and that I won’t end up on the front page of the paper tomorrow?” For someone whose body may as well be a ferness with how hot it is, you sure are making Eddie work for what you both want. Something about him made you brave, but it also made you… timid. Quiet… obedient.

And boy oh boy, Eddie was enjoying every second of the power he had over you.

“How about I let you drive? You have the keys… you have the control.” His husky voice drops an octave as he takes a few steady strides toward you. His gaze penetrates yours and his dangerous eyes have an addictive allure. Captivating and intimidating. Revealing little but knowing much… it was exciting. He excites you.

“That could work…” your voice betrays your facade of confidence and Eddie grins wider at the soft falter in your tone. He could read you like a book. Your inviting body language, the blown darkness in the centre of your glossy eyes and the way you don’t back away from him as he stalks even closer to you. You were his prey… and he was the hunter set on a target.

One of Eddie’s rough calloused hands gently takes yours. He positions your palm flat out toward the sky so he could drop his keys onto it all while his focus on your face remains unwavering, “The keys to the castle.”

“Fitting, since you called me a princess earlier.”

“Maybe I orchestrated this from the beginning?” An entertained eyebrow perks up behind his stringy damp bangs.

“Is that so?” The sound of your hushed voice echoes back at you and your lips part longingly at Eddie’s close proximity. He is close enough to kiss— tasty enough to devour. A banquet of all of the most desirable and finer things in life.

“I saw you in those heels and with those legs… I couldn’t resist. They don’t call me a Eddie the freak Munson for no reason, princess.” There is a clip to his voice, a new intensity piercing through his words like a pin to a voodoo doll.

“You might just have to show me how freaky you really are then, Mr. freak…”

-

Eddie was right. The wine did taste like shit.

You were currently draped across Eddie’s large sofa, the soft suede fabric welcomed the mould of your body as you sunk into airy cushions and you sipped hesitantly from your stemmed glass. Smearing your dark lipstick across the pristine rim as you did.

Eddie was perched on a chair across from you which was cut from the same material as the couch. His feet were planted to the floor and his legs were spread wide; like a King on his throne. There was a coffee table separating the two of you and part of you questioned why he was so far away.

You and Eddie locked eyes, a welcoming and long stare. It was comfortable, patient but growing. Neither of you looked away, but none of you made the first move, either.

Eddie was assessing you. He was trying to figure out how this would go. How it would play out. Who was going to be the dominant one and who was going to submit?

You wanted it to be him. You wanted him to know that you needed your decisions made for you tonight.

You bring your glass of wine back to your mouth, taking a small drink and proceeding to lick and bite your lip afterwards. An unspoken invitation that Eddie silently accepts.

The warm light that glows from the table lamp next to you illuminates Eddie in a gorgeous orange hue, darkening his tattoos and brightening the metal around his fingers and his neck. You envision how he would look above you— glistening in sweat with his necklace shimmering as it dangles atop of your face. The image nearly causes you to whine aloud.

Nearly.

You surveyed your surroundings, “This is a nice place you have— very cozy.” You place your wine glass on a coaster, coming back to snuggle into the pillows of the sofa and Eddie hums, pleased.

“It’s no bachelor pad but it’s home.” He tilts his nearly empty glass toward you and a mischievous smile toys with the edges of his lips, “Thank you.”

He finishes his drink with one swift movement before he is leaving his post from across from you. You watch him with blown eyes, eyes that are bright and eager. He settles his lean and sturdy physique against the door frame that leads into his kitchen space.

Your heart rate quickens with anticipation and your hips squirm beneath you as you try and remain confident under his abysmal and sinful demeanour.

You were overly aware of the lewd events hurtling toward you and the excitement of it causes your face to flush with colour.

“I’ve never fucked a girl in heels before… I think you should keep them on.” He prowls toward you, his body language animalistic and focused.

He’s been wanting to pounce on you from the moment you stepped foot through the door— but Eddie is a gentleman and gentlemen take their time.

Eddie was in front of you now. His eyes such a deep shade of chocolate brown that they seemed to swallow the light rather than reflect it. They were adorned by long dark eyelashes that you were envious of and strong clean eyebrows that framed the chiselled structure of his face. He looked like a painting. Like he wasn’t real.

“I… I can keep them on.” Your face tilts toward your feet as you try to remind yourself of the appearance of the shoes that you chose to wear that day however Eddie is quick to tensely grab you by the flesh of your cheeks and snatch your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me.” His voice is a hushed purr as his nose teeters on the edge of brushing yours, “I wanna see your pretty face.”

His grip remains tight and it forces your lips into a cute pout which Eddie coos at, “I wanna kiss you. Is that okay?” You nod your head feverishly. Without wasting a single second your lips finally met, tinged with impatience. His lips were magnificent, full and defined and soft. His tongue tastes of alcohol and mint and you moan at the contact of his wet tongue wrestling against yours. His teeth nip at your bottom lip and your eyes are lidded as your fingers touch the exposed skin of his shoulders with a feathery graze; causing goosebumps to arise on Eddie’s inked skin.

“I need to know that you want this…” He breathes heavy laboured breaths, “That you want me to take control. I like it rough, baby, so we need to have a safe word… okay? Safe word is Cherries. You got that?” His domineering mask slips for a quarter of a moment as his black hues sweeten. You nod again, your mind clouded with lust and desperation.

“Repeat it back to me.”

“Cherries is the safe word.”

“Clever girl.” Without a beat Eddie is dragging you up and onto your feet. You are wobbly on your legs for a moment but you are fast to regain composure. As Eddie goes to lead you through to his bedroom you stop, your body set alight.

“Eddie can I… can I taste you first?” You are a blushing mess as the words drool from your lips. You hadn’t stopped thinking about it since you seen him man spreading in front of you in his armchair earlier. You wanted to dip down between his thighs and make his cock twitch with need, “Please.”

The metal head looked bewildered for a moment however he quickly welcomed the request. How could he possibly deny such a sweet girl when she asked him so politely?

He walks the both of you over to the comfortable chair, sitting himself down and allowing his hands to have free roam of your ass and hips, “Ask me as nicely as that and I’d give you anything you want, princess.” The pet name was now tainted with naughty intention as it rolled off of his slick tongue and your knees weaken at the sight of him gazing up at you.

It was nice to be able to study a man features without any shame or embarrassment. You were so used to stealing glances at attractive men but the visual feast sitting in front of you was enjoyed without any guilt.

You offer Eddie an intoxicated smile as his eyes venture over your face, your neck, your breasts and your exposed legs. You weren’t worried about the way your body looked— there was something so calming about Eddie that struck a match of confidence within you and he seemed to like what he was looking at.

“Such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” He rips down your skirt from around your waist, letting it pool around your ankles and leaving you stood in the pile of bunched fabric. His hands work quickly on your blouse and Eddie growls at the sight of you. Nothing to you but your matching lace underwear set and your heels.

Your nipples peak at the change of temperature in the room and the sly man pinches them with the tips of his slender fingers, rolling the buds mercilessly and smirking devilishly as he does. The action causes a soft whine to emit from your throat and Eddie’s lips perk into a grin at the sound. He was obsessed with you.

“Kneel.”

And you do. The bones of your knees meet the floor with a pathetic thud and Eddie smooths the palm of his hand across the softness of your hair; enticing you that he will be gentle at first but he yanks the strands seconds later, causing you to yelp.

“Open up. I wanna see if I’ll fit.”

Bracing yourself with your hands on his jean clad knees you unhinge your jaw, opening wide as Eddie slots two of his fingers onto your tongue and they slide deep in the crevasse of your mouth. They tickle the back of your throat and your thighs clench together at the thought of him fucking of your face.

“It’ll be a tight squeeze, but I’m sure you can handle it. Right, hon?”

“Yes. I can take it. Please…” You babble around his digits.

There you are again with your manners and your begging bambi eyes. It awakens something within Eddie— something that had been sitting dormant but has now stirred from its slumber. A darkness. A line he had never crossed but he was so close to it now. He wanted to own you. He wanted you to belong to him… to be his and only his.

“Go on then, baby. He’s waiting.” He winks at you and your adrenaline shaken hands find the zipper of his jeans. Eddie’s thick bulge strains against the stiff denim and you chew on your bottom lip furiously as his long and full shaft springs from his boxer briefs.

Your mouth salivates at the sight and you look to him for permission, which Eddie gives, before you are popping his throbbing tip into the hot cave of your mouth. A vibration travels down Eddie’s cock and reaches his balls as you moan around him. He felt so good— so natural to have him in your mouth. Like sucking on your favourite treat.

“Fuck— that feels so good.” Dark curls spill onto the back cushion of the chair and Eddie’s hands fist your hair into a ponytail, guiding your slobbering mouth up and down the length of his aching cock.

Your mind was blank of anything except for Eddie’s body and the way he felt inside of you. He hadn’t even penetrated you yet and your panties were dampening with slick more and more with every passing bob of your head.

“Shit—“ Eddie seethes through clenched teeth, his hips rocking up to meet your sloppy movements and he punctuates each thrust with a rewarding moan. “I need to feel you.” It was abrupt, the way he ripped your mouth away from him— but you understood. You needed to feel him too. You hadn’t felt this desperate for anyone before; this sultry and seductive. This needy and submissive. You didn’t want this night to end.

You cant contain the soft pants that leave your throat, a mixture of excitement and arousal as you climbed onto straddle Eddie’s thighs. His body felt hard and masculine beneath your touch and you shivered at the way he laid a harsh spank to the meaty flesh of your ass.

“As innocent as you look, you really are just a dirty little slut, huh?” He slaps you again, this time harder than the last and you nearly collapse against his chest. Eddie laughs mockingly, forcing you to sit upright as his fingers plunge down into the soaking fabric of your panties.

You gasp, your already primed body becoming slippier as his fingers thrust softly into you— testing the waters.

“Such a wet pussy, all for me…” His fingers twitch inside of you and you release a sound which can only be described as a moan combined with a helpless whine. With his free hand Eddie rips your breasts from the confines of your bra, allowing the skin to spill free.

His tongue bathed your breast while he used his teeth, giving you peppered bites that shot pleasure through your body like a lightning bolt. He drew your coiled nipple into his mouth and he let his teeth roughly drag over the tip. You moaned loudly. He leaves your breast and looks up into your face.

“Tell me how badly you want my cock.” His voice is a clipped and cool demand.

“I want you to fill me up so bad. I need it, Eddie. Please… fuck, I want it more than anything.” Your hips grind against his fingers and your words must’ve struck Eddie in a pleasant way because before your brain has any time to catch up to his ever changing movements, his fingers are pulling your panties off to one side and his cock is teasing and toying with your dripping hole.

The eye contact between the pair of you was intense as Eddie’s entire length slowly slid inside of you. Your breathing catches in your throat at the stretch of him. Before long, Eddie settles inside of you and your eyes remain shackled to one another. Sex with a stranger shouldn’t be this intimate— so you screw your eyes shut.

Big mistake.

“Open your fucking eyes,” He snarls, his hand grabbing your throat harshly as he pulls your body down toward his, “I want you to watch me as I fuck you.” Your eyelids snap open and Eddie’s features are slack but intimidating as he looks at you. The feeling of being brutally and totally full was almost too much for you to stand. Too much for you to handle. He pulls back from you and begins to thrust.

“Wait—“ You plead and your hands find Eddie’s chest as you support yourself on top of him, “I just need a moment to adjust… you’re so big.” You squirm at the pulsing of your walls around Eddie’s shaft and he grins egotistically up at you.

“Perfect thing to say.”

He repositions his grip onto the back of your thighs, slowly readjusting himself beneath you and easing himself in and out.

“Okay,” you breathe with a soft nod, “You can fuck me now.”

Eddie sensed that your body was ready for his size and he then started to brutishly slam his body into yours. Unbelievably erotic sounds hit your ears as you feel and hear his hips slapping against yours. Sticky skin meeting sticky skin.

“Feels like someone is fisting my dick.”

“Wettest little pussy I’ve ever fucked, yknow that?”

“Shit, I could cum from just the sight of you.”

“Listen to that, baby. You hear how much your pussy is loving my cock?”

“Keep those stunning fucking eyes on me.”

Eddie’s deep grunts and moans mixed with his dirty commentary only heightened the erotica. You’re gentle to take his hand into yours, timidly welcoming two of his fingers back into your mouth as you bound up and down to meet the crack of his hips against yours. Eddie’s eyes gloss over from the view of you above him and his thrusts get snappier and more intentional. Harsher. Quicker. Deeper.

As his cock fucks your sweet hole, his fingers are busy fucking your mouth as well. He took note of how much you liked to have him in your mouth— no matter what part of his body that may be. Eddie got an inkling that this would be the first of many nights together. And he wasn’t mad at the idea— he was actually thrilled by it. It spurred him on.

“Rub your clit for me, sweet girl.” It was as if you were in a trance and the only thing you were able to do was obey Eddie’s every beckon and call. Your finger tips find your sensitive bundle of nerves and you sigh out in complete bliss at the euphoria that shocks up every vertebrae of your spine.

“That’s it, baby. I want you to cum so fucking hard. I’m getting so close— want you to cream all over my cock.”

The speed in which your fingers circled your clit increases and your eyes fight to stay open. You could feel the desperation punctuated in every one of Eddie’s quickened thrusts and you feel that familiar build coming to build in your tummy.

“Fuck— I’m gonna cum. Keep rubbing that clit, baby. You’re being such a good girl for me.” His tired pants fill the air and your mind whizzes and bubbles as you whine out loudly.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, of fuck!” Your mouth gapes open wide, mirroring the sweaty sex symbol below you and your eyes widen as your orgasm floods your every cell. Shaking your body from head to toe. You feel Eddie’s cock swell inside of you— causing your high to continue

“Shit!!” A yell breaks past Eddie’s swollen lips as his orgasm hits. You watch as his face contours as he cums inside of you. His eyes squint shut and his mouth is pulled into a grimace. The veins on his forearms bulk and tense. It was the sexiest thing you had ever fucking seen.

Your heart paced rabidly in your chest as you both breathed heavily, trying to control the heaving of your chests as you both came down. You’re relying on Eddie’s body to keep you from collapsing and Eddie is wise to this. His strong arms wrap around your body as he pulls himself out of you, bringing you to rest on his chest.

Too tired and sated to do anything else, you press yourself against Eddie’s bare and empty sack, grinding lightly down onto the tender flesh of his balls and the noise that leaves Eddie’s throat is indescribable.

You shoot up to look at him and it’s now your turn to smirk and it’s Eddie’s turn to flush a shade of bright red.

“Ignore that.” He coughs to clear his oesophagus, followed by a light hearted chuckle as you come to lay back against his limp body and a knowingness fills your mind.

This wasn’t just going to be a one night stand… and this wasn’t the last time you were going to be laying on top of Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson.

This was just the sweaty, sexy beginning.

-

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[ebodebo]

Nuts And Bolts

—mechanic!ghost with psychologist!reader…MDNI

Stepping out of your office and onto the town's bustling streets, you admire the Christmas decorations the city has set up. But, it does nothing to settle your soured mood.

Simon and you had gotten into an argument the previous night, and you haven’t heard or seen him since. You assumed he went to his car garage to let off some steam, but, as his wife, why the hell were you left to wonder about your husband’s whereabouts?

To set the scene, it had been an ordinary night. You had gotten off work before Simon, so you thought you would prepare a nice dinner with a glass of red wine.

Simon swings open the door as you season some vegetables, dawning an unpleasant expression. You turned to face him, raising a brow.

“What’s the matter?” You ask, setting your tongs down to walk over to him. He simply shakes his head and heads straight for your shared bedroom.

You tilt your head and head straight towards the bedroom after him, unable to let him writhe in his agony alone.

“Simon.” You stand in the doorway, observing him as he sits on the edge of the bed. He doesn’t so much as spare you a glance, making you worry.

You make your way to him and sit on the edge of the bed next to him. “You want to talk about what you’re feeling?” You insist, making him finally look at you.

“Stop it.” He firmly states. Your eyes widen at his tone.

“What?” You ask, keeping your tone soft to avoid antagonizing him.

“You’re tryin’ to do that shit again.” He scowls, standing up to walk back through the bedroom door. You quickly follow suit as he continues.

“Trynna’ pick my brain.” He walks over to the liquor cabinet and grabs a bottle of whiskey.

“Like I’m a fuckin’ patient.”

“No. I—” You intently pause, thinking. “Okay, you seem upset, stressed even.” You watch him grab a glass and pour some whiskey into it.

“Alcohol isn’t a good way to cope.” You say, adopting your signature calm voice you use on your patients.

He laughs dryly, even though the burning amber liquid coated his throat.

“And, there you go again.” He sighed, looking up at you.

“I’m trying to help you, Simon.” You insist, reaching out to gently grab his forearm, though he quickly retracts from your touch.

He lets out another dry chuckle before setting down his glass and walking to the coat rack to grab his coat. You attempt to question his whereabouts, but he fills in the space first.

“I don’t need a shrink. I need my wife.”

And, with that, he left. Leaving you to stare helplessly at the front door, not knowing where you went wrong and not knowing where to go from there.

You recounted yesterday’s events in your mind all day today, even during patient sessions. You always left your personal matters at the door, but this was different because you were genuinely dumbfounded.

Even walking out of work, you still thought about the whole ordeal. However, your thoughts were absolved when you saw the familiar mechanic shop sign out of the corner of your eye. They would be closed about now, but, knowing Simon, he would still be there.

You walk into the garage part to see a body under a truck, working on it. You delicately press the little bell, you insisted he get, on the desk closest to the doors.

“We’re closed.” God, it had only been a day, but you missed his voice.

“Even for me?” You question, feeling a little shy. He paused his movements before scooting himself out from under the truck. Your eyes shamelessly glazed over his body, looking at what he was wearing: an old white shirt covered in grease and gray sweatpants with oil marks.

“No, not for you.” He stated, the corner of his mouth quirking up as he grabbed an old rag to wipe his hands clean.

You gave him a half-smile. “Been working overtime, I see?” You try to keep your tone playful, but judging by how he slightly frowns, you can tell your voice has defiled you.

“We should talk.” He stated, with almost a cringe on his face. You nod and sit on a chair adjacent to him as he leans on the hood of the truck he was working on.

“I’m sorry.” He sighs out, clearly disappointed in himself. “Was havin’ a shitty day and brought it onto you.” You look up at him and give him a frown.

“I’m sorry, too.” He snaps his eyes to yours, a puzzled expression taking over his face.

“For what?” You gently tug on your bottom lip before answering.

“For treating you like a patient and not my husband. It’s not fair to you.” You sigh, avoiding his gaze.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” He lightly demands. You bring your head up and bring your eyes to lock with his.

“This isn’t your fault. I was bein’ a dick.” He walks over to you and reaches for your hand, which you grasp. He guides you from the chair so you’re standing before him, looking up at him.

“Are you gonna come home?” You softly question as he stares into your eyes, mentally kicking himself for making them look so sullen.

“Wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else.” He says, bringing his hand up to sweep a stray piece of your hair away from your face, leaning down to kiss your lips sweetly. You could feel your skin sizzle from only a slight touch, internally sighing as he pulled away to speak.

“Should get goin’ then.” He says, walking over to the truck's hood and gently slamming it shut. “Johnny’s gonna come check the exhaust.”

“When’s he coming?” You absentmindedly ask as you watch Simon slip off his white shirt, observing his toned body.

“Eh, half an hour.” He casually says, turning away from you to walk over to the cabinet to grab a clean white shirt.

“So, we’re alone?” You question, bringing your hands up to untie the front of your blouse.

“Uh, huh.” He agrees, still rummaging through the cabinets, back towards you. You hum a sign of approval as you open your blouse, then move to unclip your bra, your breasts spilling out as soon as you do.

He finally finds a clean shirt and turns toward you, eyes widening as he sees you, chest bare. Your pulse quickens as he stares, unsure of his thoughts. When he doesn’t speak for a moment, you start to lose the confidence you had garnered.

“Is it too much?” You shyly ask, starting to feel insecure. He can’t speak; his mouth has gone dry at the sight of you. He drops the shirt in his hand and walks over to you, bringing his hand up to trace the curve of your breast.

“Fuck.” He manages to get out as your breathing becomes more ragged and your pupils dilate at the sensation.

“It’s never too much.” He answers your earlier question, cupping the bottom of your breast, making you sigh. You bring your hands up to grip his shoulders as he caresses your breast.

He leans to press a hot kiss onto your lips as he rolls your nipple between his pointer and thumb, making you moan into his mouth. He roughly grips the back of your thighs and picks you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he hauls you over to the hood of the truck.

He hikes up your skirt and hurriedly connects his lips back to yours before kissing down your neck, gently sucking on the tender skin, making you whine. He sinks to his knees in front of you, bringing one hand up to grab ahold of your calf, raising it slightly so he can slip the heel off your foot.

Once he gets one heel off, his other hand drifts to your other foot, slipping the heel off as he plants kisses up your ankle, and calf, stopping at your mid-thigh before nipping at the pantyhose encasing your cunt with his teeth, making a tiny hole. He slightly raises his hands and uses his pointers to split the pantyhose further.

“Hey! Those were Falke.” You urge, referring to the German-made, almost three-hundred dollar silk tights he had soiled.

“I’ll buy you more.” He amends, gripping the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers, slipping them down simultaneously. His cock immediately shot up, so visibly hard. You brought your hands to gently pump him up and down as his hands went to massage your tender breasts.

He groans at the contact, gripping your breast a little firmer. You moan at that contact, pulling his cock a little firmer.

“You’re killin’ me, baby.” He chokes out, gripping the back of your neck as he roughly kisses your lips. With your hands still on his cock, you gently pull him closer by it, making him hiss as you guide it to your slit.

“I need you in me.” You whine as he brings his hand to twirl in your hair. In one swift motion, he thrusts into you. You both groan at the swift contact, even throwing your heads back.

His movements continue; over and over again, he thrusts into you, making you dig your nails into his skin, desperate for stability. You knew you wouldn't last long and could tell Simon wouldn't either. It has been only been a God-damned day, and you ached for him. Nothing but him would suffice your craving.

“So, fuckin’ good, baby. So, fuckin’ good.” He gruffly repeated, making you clamp around him tighter until you felt that familiar all-consuming euphoria you had so ached for.

As you reached your peak, Simon followed suit, coming with your name on the tip of his tongue. You were both panting, even after both of your orgasms subsided. You looked up at him as he tied your blouse back so your breasts were concealed, bra be damned.

“You did good.” You praised as he reached down to pick up your abandoned skirt from the floor.

“Yeah?” He lightly laughed out, finding humor in your statement.

“Yeah.” You nod as he grips your waist and pulls you off the hood of the car.

“Can you walk?” He questions, his hands still on your waist to help steady you as he carefully slips on your skirt.

“No. Might need you to carry me.” You sigh as you bring your hand up to fake an anguished expression.

“Uh, huh.” He rolls his eyes, though they contain no actual annoyance, as he goes to pick you up bridal style.

“Let’s get you home, Drama.”

a/n: this is the pipeline i’m here for

ur honor i’m just a girl

reblogs & comments are encouraged!

[teaboot]

How many things that they got at the hardware store can you name

soda machine, gum, yard nicknacks, snacks at the counter, lighters, keychains, key blanks, air conditioners, aluminum sheeting, awls, dremmel heads, dremmel, sander, sandpaper, metal polish, shammies , hammer, screwdriver, leather wipes, car wax, wood polish, wood wax, wood, copper, pipes, linoleum, paint, primer, sealant, caulk, caulking gun, drywall, spackle, brushes, nuts, bolts, screws, washers, nails, staples, staple guns, carpet tacks, eye hooks, locks, knobs, doorknobs, hinges, baseboard, seeds, sheeting, shovel, spade, rake, gloves, goggles, coveralls, coats, reflective vests, headlights, butane, propane, nozzles, hoses, rubber tubing, shower heads, faucets, light switches, outlets, wire, lightbulbs, wire stripper, pliers, electrical tape, soldier, soldiering iron, weed whacker, paracord, rope, stakes, bags, bug spray, chip board, saw, knives, wall screws

[crushribbons]

thanks, peg J

summary: Dr. Michael Robinavitch needs help building a shelf.

cw: 2.7k words, fluff, my actual husband is an actual doctor i should probably know more/anything about how hospitals work, vague age gap (reader/oc is in her 30's), vague to graphic depictions of injury/illness, fem!OC/reader.

a/n: paging dr. daddy :) <3

(gif cred)

She pulled her stethoscope off her neck. “Oof. Sounds like a ball of a Friday night. Is it from Ikea?”

“The Ivar,” Robby specified with a nod and shrug. He looked back down at the patient list from their shift, which couldn’t have been ending at a more merciful time. The last man she had examined had spat on her. And what else should she expect?; she’d diagnosed his pain as a small kidney stone passing through his urethra and written a prescription that would all but eliminate the discomfort. If that wasn’t deserving of a loogie to the face, she didn’t know what else would be. Robby let out a sigh that sounded exactly like the exhaustion tugging her eyelids down. 

Nurse Dana swept by them, her fleece jacket already three-quarters of the way on. “Don’t take too long on those autographs, kids, or night shift will just let you keep right on rolling.” 

A raspy little laugh slipped past Dr. Robby’s lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled the way they always did on the rare occasions someone could tug a genuine smile out of him. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if the lack of breakfast and the bag of Ritz crackers she’d scarfed down for lunch were the only things making her light-headed. 

“Yes, ma’am,” he called after Dana. The charge nurse raised her hand without turning around and wiggled her fingers at them while darting out the double doors that led to the waiting room and exit before anyone could stop her. Robby turned back to the doctor next to him and handed her the clipboard he’d just finished signing about two hundred times. 

Her hand grazed his, and the level of attention she paid to how warm and rough his fingers felt made her grit her jaw in frustration. It was her first year as an attending, how could she be letting something as ridiculous as a workplace crush get to her? She realized it had been a while since she’d spoken, and that Robby was pulling his own coat and backpack from underneath his desk. 

“Need any help chasing down the million nuts and bolts that are guaranteed to burst out of the little bag when you open it?” she offered jokingly. Robby’s eyes flicked to her too fast. She felt her hairline heat up, worried she’d overstepped. 

None of the attendings did anything outside of work together; the work hours were long enough to get their fill of each other without feeling the need to add alcohol or food to the mix. Some of the students and residents would occasionally hit bars after their shifts, and though she had no desire to join them, it made her miss the relative lack of responsibility of med school. Dr. Robinavitch, in particular, never broached the topic of his personal life at work, so she tried to do the same. There were too many patients to see and too much to accomplish to bother checking if the attractive ER chief with the puppy-dog eyes had plans for the weekend. No matter how much she wanted to.

He let out another chuckle, though this one was without humor. "Don't tell me you got nothing better to do than that," he said. "On a Friday night."

"I'm, uh, still finding my way around Pittsburgh." It was true. Her residency in California had spoiled her, and she found the stark greyness of Pennsylvania off-putting. She rarely ventured from her apartment for anything other than work and necessary grocery shopping.

He regarded her for a few seconds. His gaze felt heavier than it should have, as if she had some symptom that didn't line up with her lab results. She remembered what Dr. Santos had muttered to her on her first day at the Pitt when she'd caught the new doctor staring a little too long at Robby typing his notes.

"I know. He's crazy hot, right?" Trinity had pinched her elbow and embarrassment had made her stutter nonsensically. Then, to top off the humiliation, Trinity had started swaying her shoulders side to side and singing under her breath, "I will be your father figure, put your tiny hand in mine..." The younger woman was known for being abrasive, but, shit, she was a perceptive little fucker, too.

"I'd be a fool to turn down help wrangling Ivar. Ikea furniture is my Achilles heel," Robby was saying when she snapped back to the present. He seemed hesitant. He couldn't tell whether she'd been joking or not, and, frankly, she couldn't either. "But I couldn't ask you to–"

"You'd be doing me a favor," she cut in quickly. He would, in more ways than one. "If I sit on my couch with my cat for one more weekend, I think they're gonna start letting me collect Social Security."

A genuine laugh! Her stomach flipped upside down at the sight and the sound. Both were warm and inviting and made her want to kiss each of the individual lines on his weathered face. "Then by all means, please."

Oh, wait. Was this happening? Was it, actually? Nerves gnawed at her while she finished handing off the patient list to the night shift. What was it? A date? A friend helping another friend put a shelf together? A coworker helping another, older and more senior coworker who intimidated the hell out of her put a shelf together?

As Robby departed through the same double doors Dana had dashed through, he turned and pointed significantly at his phone, and she pulled hers from her pocket to see that he had texted her his address. Nothing else, just the address, dashed out in Robby’s usual efficient and minimalistic tone. He hadn’t even included the city and zip, but he didn’t need to. Living further than 15 minutes away from the hospital seemed like something a less dedicated physician might consider, but she knew that Robby didn’t really live at the address he’d sent her, anyway. He lived in all the exam rooms and hallways surrounding her, their sanitized scent pricking at her nose one last time before she stepped into the waiting room and the few remaining rays of sunlight waiting to greet her outside.

The door opened on her second knock, or, more accurately, before she could even finish it. Goddammit. She should have taken more time to consider what an off-duty Dr. Robby might look like. 

“Hey,” he said, a genial smile lighting up his tired face.

“H–mm, hi,” she replied. She tried to hide a swallow.

Robby stood aside and let her pass through the front door of the aged but charming brownstone. The long hallway was lined with dark wooden panels that creaked when she walked over them. She tried not to feel him following behind her, the scent of some musky shampoo or body wash drifting off him. She also showered directly after a shift. Too much hospital.

A line of hooks held various jackets and sling bags, and a haphazard pile of worn sneakers sat beneath them. “I gotta get a rack for those, or something,” Robby muttered from behind her, noticing her sightline.

“You should see mine. The floor of my closet is a nightmare.”

She walked into the living room and couldn’t help the grin that spread across her face. It was sparsely but cozily finished, an overstuffed couch and matching loveseat positioned atop a plush rug that hugged her feet taking up most of the space. And, of course, a veritable disaster of boards, planks, plastic bags, and ripped cardboard in the middle of all of it.

“Yikes.”

“Thank you, again, for helping me with this,” he said, and came to stand beside her. “Why is it that I can perform a trach in my sleep, but the assembly of Swedish furniture is my downfall?” He scratched the back of his neck, the white t-shirt he was wearing showing off far too much of what was usually hidden beneath a few layers of thermals, scrubs, and hoodies. Her hairline started to feel hot again. 

She cleared her throat and made her way over to the pile of shelf. “For what med school costs, they really should be teaching us the essentials like this stuff, too!” He didn’t respond, making her look up at him. He was watching her again, with that sort-of-absent-but-always-thoughtful x-ray vision. She wished he’d stop.

“You really got none of the cynicism and all of the optimism out of your residency, didn’t you?”

She flushed and looked back down at the ground, unsure if he was making fun of her. “It being basically on the ocean didn’t hurt. Lots to be optimistic about in northern Cali, it’s so beautiful.”

Robby shook his Midwest-born-and-bred head. “Damn hippy.” His voice was gruff, but his dark eyes were sparkling and she felt some of the tension in her shoulders dissipate in a giggle. He crossed the room and through an arch that led to the kitchen. “I ordered some Chinese for dinner, hope that’s alright,” he called back to her.

The tension returned tenfold and her heart began doing somersaults in her chest. Dinner? This included dinner now? Sure, it was time for dinner, but she hadn’t wanted to be so presumptuous as to suggest adding food to this friendly favor she was performing. Robby returned laden with white paper takeout boxes and a handful of napkins and chopsticks. “Like lo mein?” he asked. She nodded.

“Yes, but you really didn’t have to get anything for me! That’s so nice,” she gushed, trying to reign in the attraction to this man and behave as if he was just any other rugged, kind, intelligent guy she might come in contact with. She was so screwed. 

He pressed the box of lo mein into her hand with a pair of chopsticks. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for helping with this,” he shrugged. “Hopefully, you still have an appetite after that bike accident from this morning.” The memory of the young man’s torso torn open and spilling out onto the operating table sent a nauseous wave from her head to her stomach, but she quickly compartmentalized it, as she’d learned to do long ago.

“Why do people even buy motorcycles,” she muttered rhetorically.

“Uh, because they love visiting you so very much,” he returned with a wink that made her miss her mouth with the chopsticks.

Two hours later, the shelf was only two-feet tall and missing three of the nine screws it had required so far.

“Peg L, peg L, peg L,” Robby said through gritted teeth, “where the fuck is peg L?”

She held the instructions centimeters away from her face, hoping the proximity would illuminate its solutions somehow. “Peg L goes into plank K. We just placed plank H.” He stopped running his hands along the carpet to search for the missing peg L and looked up at her with a speck of encroaching insanity peeking through. 

“I’m out of order?”

“Miiiike,” she laugh-groaned. “Did you already use peg G? We need J right now!” When he didn’t answer, she glanced up from the “simple” instruction packet. A sleepy kind of flush appeared on his face, and he pulled the reading glasses off to massage the bridge of his nose and–hide it? Then, he sighed.

“God, no one’s called me just…Mike in forever.” It was a complete sentence, a complete statement, a complete story, and he was done talking about it, but it made a million questions bubble up in the back of her throat. She ignored them.

“You’re at work too much,” she almost whispered. Why she was no longer scared of stepping over some professional, coworker boundary, she wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the way he had accepted her help with such a domestic task, or the fact that they were seeing each other in something other than scrubs for the first time (the loose, perfectly worn-in jeans he was wearing would surely be appearing in her dreams that night), or maybe it was because their legs had been pressed together for the last half hour as they tried to decipher the mysteries of Ivar. Whatever it was, Robby–Mike, felt it, too. He stared into her eyes before averting them to the floor and mumbling,

“Yeah. I know.” He put the glasses back on. “So, peg J.”

“C’mere, ya little Swedish asshole,” she agreed, and they resumed pawing around the rug to try and find the screws that, as predicted, had spilled from the package as soon as Robby had ripped it. She tried to avoid brushing against his hand as well as she could, until her fingers bumped into a tiny piece of metal, and she snatched the screw from the ground. Carefully consulting the instructions, she looked from the page, to the screw, to the page, before shouting, “Oh my God, I found it!” 

His hands were cradling either side of her face in a second, and then he was kissing her. The part of her brain that handled compartmentalization clocked in at lightning speed and swept all her confusion into the bin so she could focus on nothing except his beard scratching her, his warm hands cupping her jaw. Well, well before she had gotten her fill of him, he pulled back and blurted, “Awesome! Good job, let’s put it in.” He plucked the screw out of her hand like the conversation had just been on pause, scooting over on his knees to the feeble half-shelf.

She sat in complete shock until Robby, without turning to face her, said, “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

“Mike.”

“You just looked–and I, it’s been…I’m really sorry.”

“Mike.”

He was attempting to twist the screw into place with his fingers so he didn’t have to come get the screwdriver from beside her. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again. If you want to take it to HR…”

That was enough to jumpstart her brain again, and she burst into laughter, forcing him to finally spin around.

“HR? Really?” She made a phone out of her pinky, fist, and thumb and held it to her ear. “Hello, Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center Department of Human Resources? Yes, I’d like to file a report against one of your doctors.” She was having a hard time stifling her laughter. “Dr. Michael Robinavitch. Yes, the hottie from the ER, that’s correct. He really laid one on me—"

It was Robby's turn to cut her off, and he did so by rolling his eyes and snatching the instructions out of her other hand. "Hey!" She dove after them but decided instead to drag him in by the collar of his shirt for another kiss. They both held each other tightly, Robby's hands wandering, respectfully, under the hem of her shirt. When she tugged a handful of his hair, he grunted in annoyance.

"Watch it. Don't have much of that left."

"You've got a lot for an old man." She regretted it as soon as she said it, even though he had already alluded to it. His head dropped and apologies bubbled up and out of her lips, assurances that that's not how she'd meant it, that he was the most attractive man she'd met at the Pitt, but he waved them off.

His glasses were sliding down his nose again. He cleared his throat and pushed them back up. "Are you okay with it, then? I mean, I know I'm not..." Her heart ached when he trailed off, nervously scratching the back of his neck again.

"Very ok," she whispered. She reached for his hand and took it. He was fiddling with a screw that she plucked out and tossed to the side. "I'm 31, you know, Senior Elder Doctor Robinavitch."

Robby smiled, clearly in spite of himself. He tucked a piece of hair that had fallen into her eyes behind her ear. For a minute, they just sat and looked at each other, matching each other's lazy smiles. "That's it. Didn't want to have to do this, but you're fired."

"Okay now I want to take this to HR."

masterlist

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲 | 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶A deleted scene from chapter twelve where receptionist!reader acts like a bimbo in front of Eddie just to rile him up. Written very tongue-in-cheek at the beginning.✶

NSFW — sexual themes, handjob, unresolved sexual tension, 18+

↳ start the story here to catch up!

[wc: 2.1k]

Heeding your checklist of chores, you idled at the workbench against the far corner of the wall. There were a few of the usual things you organized: placing nuts and bolts in drawers, facing products with their labels out, tidying small boxes, folding the end of the paper towel roll so it didn’t unfurl itself in the turbulent path of the oscillating fan. You bent over to toss cellophane wrappers into the waste paper bin, and took your time musing if the liner should be changed despite the little amount of balled up paper weighing down the bottom. Standing, you swept off the unsanded tabletop with your hands, and worked a crusty rag over an oil streak, making a mental note to call the laundry service to swing by a day early.

As you stepped away, you knocked a pencil to the floor. Its bright yellow body was impossible to miss, along with its excruciatingly long hexagonal roll carried by your elbow to the very edge, but you managed. You knelt to your hands and knees to retrieve the writing utensil, inspecting its broken tip. The graphite was missing completely, leaving behind an empty hole where it once was. An unfortunate accident. You rotated it a few times looking for other flaws—an honorable way to spend your time.

“You doin’ this on purpose?” gruffed out an annoyed voice behind you.

No need to check, you heard the amused twist at the corner of his lips. His left canine was probably on show, too. Not in a hurry to confirm, you gripped the pencil in your fist, and leaned forward, stretching in search of the missing lead before it was stomped into dust and potentially transferred from someone’s boot sole into a wealthy client’s car. You were thinking of them, really.

The floor was a rewarding oasis in the noonday sun baking through the warehouse windows. Your flat splayed hands and knuckles worked over the grit of dirt to inch your pursuit closer to the wall, drinking in the chill of the epoxy coated concrete cooling you down better than a 50 cent clear plastic cup of Kool Aid at a kid’s misspelled lemonaide stand. Though, the unforgiving flooring bit into your joints, and indented your knees with the netting of your pantyhose. But Eddie’s study did not sway to your shoe slipping off your heel. No, he was a gentleman. And as a gentleman, he praised the wealth of curves you put on display.

He used the heels of his heavy boots to drag himself from under a Mustang, thumping up beside you, wheels on the creeper rolling along the slick floor.

The lower you dipped your chest, the higher your skirt hem tickled the back of your thighs. In total innocence—truly giving your best effort to find the missing pencil tip—you tilted your hips to unimaginable degrees, presenting your ass to the point even your lower back side-eyed your act.

Smooth backs of fingers lifted the hem more. Eddie curled his index under your skirt, and assisted it to the crease of your cheek, following the change in nylon with his rough thumbprint as it wove denser around your thighs to hold you in. Tummy Control, it was advertised as. To a man who had seldom encounters with women, this meant very little to him, as did the change in texture. Though, curiously, he rubbed at it with interest.

“You’re something else, you know that?” But his voice was too playful to shame you, hardly traipsing through his throat to chastise. “I’m out here working my ass off, and you’re struttin’ around the garage in this lil’ piece.” The little piece in question was your corporate approved pencil skirt from a long forgotten temp job when your apartment lost two roommates in a breakup, and rent was past due.

Pandering to your audience of one, you shuffled two of the tiniest inches backwards, and steadied your hand on his outstretched leg. You bent at the hips, filling his large palm with a handful of your ass, and he admired you in a brush of fingertips near the innermost valley of your thigh, licking a divine chill up your spine. Playing along, you pretended to just notice him, assuming a sinless gasp, and following it with many airheaded inflections, “Oh! Didn’t see you there, handsome. Am I distracting you?”

The standing fan swung its head in your direction, sweeping Eddie’s bangs off his forehead in a brief burst.

You’d been on hundreds of dates, and not once had you been so deeply complimented by someone’s gaze.

Eddie dwelled in the distraction. He stroked his thumb over the fat, and traced his pinky along the hypersensitive crease before the swell which had your muscles tightening in a squirm. He was so close to the middle seam of the pantyhose. Perhaps he knew this as well, but didn’t care—he was just happy to be touching you. Laid out in the neon orange creeper, sun glancing off the packed garage, casting a glow across his puffy face. Sleepy eyes, messy hair, unbearably adorable grin—the type of candid expression showing how honored he was to look at you, so forthcoming and open. A trap, if there ever was one, luring you into picturing him twisted amongst your bedding on a late morning.

As he tracked his gaze over your backside, an aching reminder moseyed its way into his consciousness. Setting into a glare, he forced his way through any pleasantness lingering in his chest to tell you plainly, “Sweetheart, you’re fucking torturing me here.” You giggled, and he broke, falling victim to the squinch at his crow’s feet.

“You think I’m not torturing myself, too?”

“Dunno.” He craned his head back to check underneath the car for where each pair of boots were moving, and you peeped through the driver’s side window to keep tabs on the seated customers in the lobby. Once you both ensured there was no danger of being caught, he turned his attention to you fully. “You’re not wearing my favorite pair, so I couldn’t tell.” In case you weren’t sure, he wrung his hand around your leg, and drummed his fingers where there should be an easily accessible hole in your tights, where he could drag his fingers through your slick truth. His sorry features were tainted with remorse when your plush thighs weren't spilling out from the nylon; however, he drew his eyebrows in mock sympathy, and traced the area. “Could make these my new favorite pair, though.”

You about melted into a puddle of dumbstruck glee at his first foray into initiating dirty talk. “Yeah?” you stressed the word like he would—big smile and all. You raised the placement of your grip on his leg up, further, still going until the inside of your thumb threatened to assist what laid fat and heavy towards his hip. Car exhaust, pungent motor oil, and fumes swam in your head. Mind dizzy, you skimmed your nails over his heavy sack pressed tight against the seam of his coveralls. An implied line was drawn along your heat by his featherlight touch. You leaned over him, real close, chest over chest, knees spread because his hand encouraged you to do so. Mouth to mouth, considering kissing the dirt from his lips. “Wanna rip ‘em, and have me on top while you’re on this thing?”

Eddie moaned, and it wasn’t shy in the loud garage. “Want it so fucking bad, baby.”

A single ding from the bell atop your desk drew your attention.

Bodies paused, you both existed in the indecision of what to do. Eddie’s forehead wrinkled from his high brows driving his attention backwards, peering under the car again. The other employees of David’s Auto Repair shuffled around a Studebaker. There was no one inside to help the customer. What a shame.

Eddie lowered his chin in long clockticks, seeking you behind his heavy lashes and heavier gaze. His nose met the side of yours in an unrefined graze, dragging his chapped lips wherever he felt your smile. He kissed you hungry. Needy, desperate to fit the magnitude of his palm at the back of your head, and dirty your mouth with noses mashed together. He wanted you messy, he wanted you catching your balance on the creeper for the same reason his held sigh became your next breath, taking a pinch of your pantyhose over your pussy and twisting it around his fist to demonstrate his annoyance, as if the dull ache of your bottom lip against his teeth wasn’t illustrative enough. The peak of your whine and his approving hum tethered the snap of your tights and the squeeze he left on your thigh. Filthy warmth blanketed the top of your hand. Stifling hot, calluses running rough over your knuckles as he cupped your palm over his hard length, and curled your fingers around himself, kicking his hips up to really stretch the limits of your grip. Together, he guided you in a few teasing pumps along the base, ego growing at the pretty sound hitched in your throat.

“Hey, Ed!” Mr. Moore’s yell burst the bubble you two surrounded yourselves in. “C’mere, ‘nd look at this.”

It wasn’t an emergency. It could wait. There were enough mechanics on duty, they could figure out what they were gawking at, or admiring, or whatever it was they were doing. That was the justification behind your shared look with Eddie, and the tension holding you two apart faded within seconds. If anything it spurred you on. You raked your fingers through his hair, mussing the roots at the crown of his head, covering the side of his body with yours, stroking his cock. The consequences didn’t matter. He increased the pressure and showed you how he liked it when you looped your thumb and index around the edge of his fat tip and pumped him faster—

Ding, ding, ding.

The kiss slowed from the distraction, but you tried to keep going, staying in the moment with Eddie’s praise burning your cheeks. He was eager, he was close. He was whispering, “Feels fucking good when you—yeah—like that,” when you added the twist of your wrist to the end of motion.

“Ed!” Mr. Moore’s voice ruined the moment. “Where’d he… And wasn’t she at her desk a second ago?”

Ding, ding ding!

Your foreheads crashed together in a defeated groan.

Eddie sagged completely limp on the creeper. “Why do you do this to me?” He dropped his arms in a big shrug, kicking his legs out flat, throbbing hard in your palm. You curbed the urge to keep going and dragged your fingers away.

“Hey, you’re the one who started this,” you sniffed, sitting back to fan your face in effort to make yourself presentable while he considered rolling under the car for the next eternity to hide his blazing red cheeks.

“I was a good worker before you came along,” he argued, pointing at you with a nail outlined in grime. He did it with such vigor his shoulders curled off the creeper, sitting up to give you a real good talkin’ to. “I never did this sorta shit with anyone before you showed up. You’re bad for me. You drive me crazy.” Not an ounce of anger dared enter his tone, not even having strength to control his smile from going lopsided, dimpling, nose scrunching in a badly contained laugh. Never would he want you to think he was mad at you, even as a joke. He was soft like that.

Eddie broke first, and that’s all you needed to kiss him against the black Mustang door, thud on the metal deadened by his nervous hand coming up to brush his curls flat.

“You drive me crazy too,” you promised against his lips. “Now, try not to cum your pants when I bend over to get this trash, and have fun explaining to the guys why you can’t stand up for the next few minutes.” You cocked your head, and smacked your tongue in a hard, “‘Kay?”

He glared at your smugness. Glared at your backside, too. Scowled at his grip formed around the swollen length rising so obvious no matter how he fixed his legs, and surrendered to the humiliation of laying back on the creeper, summoning enough dignity to roll himself to the other side where a gaggle of boots scuffed the ground in search for him, and give some excuse that he was very busy fixing something and wouldn’t be available for the foreseeable future.

originally thursday's section in chapter twelve was split into three separate scenes. i was almost finished writing the first two when i took the section in a different direction and mashed all the important elements into the scene in the breakroom which did make the cut. truthfully i had only written to eddie's line of "wanting it so badly" and they would've gotten interrupted at that point (before any touching), but since this isn't exactly canon, i went ahead and had fun and made it a little spicier.

you might also recognize some imagery, lines of prose, or descriptions i salvaged from this piece and put into the final one!

[farthest-harbor]

Hey, I heard you have Nick Valentine HCs?

I really like to hear them! 😄

It can be anything, just go ahead. What is the first one, which comes into your mind?

I love you for asking, thank you!

Here are a few:

All the patches on is coat he mended himself. It's one of the ways he fills the lonely hours when everyone else is sleeping, It's something human Nick never learned to do, but our Nick taught himself after his first few scuffles in the post-war world.

His metal hand doesn't have any sense of touch. I think his skin is probably full of minute wires that function as nerves, so when he lost the skin on his hand, he lost feeling in it. Now he has to rely on his vision to confirm that his hand is moving the way he wants it to. It took him a long time to get used to but he's mastered it now.

He doesn't like to take off his hat around strangers. I think he's a little self-conscious about the fact that he can't grow any hair. I think human Nick had a full head of hair and synth Nick can't help but compare himself. He'll take his hat off in the agency around Ellie, or around Sole if they get close with him, but if anyone he's not close with steps in the room, the hat goes back on.

He totally wears suspenders under that trench coat. 'Nuff said.

I think he carries around a small repair kit in his coat with a couple small tools and some spare wire/screws/bolts/electrical tape but it's only enough for minor temporary repairs. He uses this kit for quick patch jobs when he gets hurt on a case, just to hold him over till ge hets back home and can do a full repair.

He's an excellent dancer. Human Nick went dancing pretty often and synth Nick inherited some of that "muscle" memory. He's got rhythm and an elegant, sophisticated style. He's a little rusty at it, though, because he doesn't go out dancing on his own, and he's got no partner to practice with. Perhaps sole could take him out to the Third Rail sometime so he can show off his skills...

He's been subtly trying to get Ellie and Travis together for years. He thinks they'd be sweet together, and has encouraged Ellie to talk to Travis a few times. Nothing ever seems to come of it, but Nick hasn't given up yet.

You know his file cabinets are a hot mess. It drives Ellie nuts when he puts files back out of order, since she always tries to rearrange them alphabetically. When she brings it up to him, he just shrugs and smiles and tells her that he put it back in the correct year, so it's no big deal.

Obviously, he doesn't need to shower or bathe, and doing so would probably ruin all his processors. If he gets dusty/dirty on a job, he'll wipe his face and hands down with a wet rag when he gets home.

While the cigarettes do nothing for him chemically or physically, the ritual of lighting one and smoking it brings him comfort when he's stressed. An old habit from human Nick. It does leave a slight sooty residue on some of his internal parts and probably clogs a few fans/vents, but he just patiently cleans them with a rag during his repairs sessions. It's worth it to him for the comfort of smoking.

Although he's friendly to Piper, he doesn't actually like her that much. He thinks her newspaper is pretty disreputable, more spreading rumors than actual news, and her inflammatory articles about synths and the Institute have drastically escalated the hostility he's faced living in Diamond City. Still, he empathizes with Piper and the fears people have about synths, so he keeps his mouth shut. She still gets on his nerves sometimes, though.

I have so many more, but I'll stop here for now. I am quite thoroughly obsessed with this guy, so if anyone wants to hear more hcs about him, or hcs about some specific aspect of his character, my asks are always open. I could talk about this guy for hours.

[thecaffeinatedwitch]

The Science Behind the Law of Assumption: Is It Backed by Psychology?

The Law of Assumption sounds almost magical, doesn’t it? Think it, assume it’s yours, and poof—your desires come to life. But let’s bring it down to earth for a moment: is there any real science behind this idea? Spoiler alert: yes, there is. While it’s not wrapped in cosmic glitter, psychology offers some solid evidence for how changing your assumptions can genuinely transform your reality.

So, let’s dive into the psychological nuts and bolts behind the Law of Assumption—and maybe crack a smile along the way.

Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT): A Fancy Way of Saying “Change Your Thoughts, Change Your Life”

CBT is a superstar in the psychology world. At its core, it’s based on the idea that your thoughts shape your feelings and actions. Sound familiar? It’s essentially the Law of Assumption in a lab coat.

Here’s how it works:

Negative Thought Loop: You think, “I’ll never be good at this,” which makes you feel anxious and unmotivated. Naturally, you avoid the task, and voilà—you prove your own assumption right.

Positive Thought Shift: In CBT, you challenge that belief: “What if I can do this?” That little mental shift changes your actions and eventually your results.

The Law of Assumption takes this principle a step further by saying, “Don’t just question your limiting beliefs—replace them entirely with assumptions of success.”

Example: Instead of “What if I could be confident?” assume, “I am confident.” Yes, it might feel awkward at first, but just like a new pair of shoes, it’ll feel natural the more you wear it.

The Placebo Effect: Proof That Belief Changes Reality

Doctors have known for ages that the placebo effect is real—and honestly, kind of mind-blowing. If you believe a sugar pill is medicine, your body can actually heal as if you’ve taken the real thing.

Think about that for a second. Your belief literally changes your body’s chemistry. Now apply that same concept to your life: if you assume success, love, or abundance is already yours, your brain and body start working in ways that align with that belief.

The Science-y Bit: Your brain releases neurotransmitters and hormones based on your thoughts. Assume positivity, and your brain produces feel-good chemicals like dopamine. That positivity influences your actions, which influences your outcomes. Boom—belief becomes reality.

Example: Assume you’re a charismatic speaker. Your confidence increases, and you speak with ease. People respond positively, reinforcing your assumption. Suddenly, you are that charismatic speaker.

Neuroplasticity: Your Brain, the Ultimate Shape-Shifter

Neuroplasticity is your brain’s ability to rewire itself based on repeated thoughts and experiences. It’s like Play-Doh—but, you know, way more sophisticated.

When you consistently affirm a new assumption, like “I am successful,” your brain builds neural pathways to support that belief. The more you repeat it, the stronger those pathways become, until it’s your brain’s default setting.

Think of it like this:

Repeating “I am successful” is like carving a trail in the woods.

At first, it’s slow-going, and you have to hack through some underbrush (a.k.a. your old limiting beliefs).

But the more you walk that path, the clearer and easier it gets. Eventually, it’s the brain equivalent of a six-lane highway.

Changing Beliefs = Changing Behavior = Changing Reality

Here’s where the science and the Law of Assumption truly align. When you change your internal beliefs, you naturally start to act differently. Those actions create new opportunities, relationships, and results in your life.

Example: If you assume, “I am deserving of love,” you’re more likely to set boundaries, seek healthy relationships, and radiate confidence. These behaviors attract the kind of love you’ve been looking for, and—voilà—you’ve manifested it.

But What About the Doubters?

Now, I hear you: “This sounds a bit too good to be true.” Fair enough. Change doesn’t happen overnight, and you can’t just sprinkle affirmations on your problems like fairy dust. The magic lies in consistency and persistence.

Think of it like working out: you don’t hit the gym once and wake up with six-pack abs. (If only, right?) You repeat the process until the results show. The same goes for your mindset.

So, The Law of Assumption isn’t just fluffy self-help jargon—it’s rooted in solid psychological principles like CBT, the placebo effect, and neuroplasticity. Sure, it might feel a little weird to assume you’re a millionaire when your bank account says otherwise. But science backs you up: your thoughts shape your reality, and with practice, your brain will believe what you tell it.

So, go ahead. Assume you’re living your best life. And if anyone raises an eyebrow, just smile and say, “It’s science.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @steddieangstyaugust.

Different Lessons

Day #6: "Who did this?" | Word Count: 3300 | Rating: T | CW: Death of a Parental Figure, Grief & Loss, Language, Smoking | Tags: Future Fic, Established Long-Term Steddie, Hurt/Comfort, Beloved Uncle Wayne, Life Goes On, Even If You Don't Know How

It's all still here. 

Eddie stands there, hand resting on the light switch, and he doesn't know why that surprises him so much. Of course it's all still here. Where else would it go? If he didn't move any of it, and Steve didn't move any of it, well, Wayne definitely didn't. 

Not now. Not ever again. 

Eddie looks around the large shop down the gravel road, beyond the house. He didn't understand why they were building it. Not at first. Wayne worked like a dog for decades in that goddamn factory. Why would he want to continue to work in a shop during retirement? How could that possibly be fun? But Steve assured Eddie that this was different.

Making, creating, building for the love of it, was, in fact, different from manual labor for a paycheck.

They kind of looked the same to Eddie, but if Steve and Wayne both said so, well, who was Eddie to argue?

So, the land was cleared. Leveled. And a quonset building went up. Metal, rounded, and fucking huge. With big, handmade wooden barn doors installed. And a smaller, regular-sized door next to it that Eddie was tasked with painting. He was pretty sure that was just to keep him out of the way, but he chose red and painted it, and standing here looking at it today, he realizes it could use a fresh coat. 

Wayne and Steve built the barn doors themselves. Wayne taught Steve as they worked, patient and willing to answer all of his questions, as Eddie sat on the workbench, taunting them. Being annoying, he's sure. But the doors still got made, and now they're gorgeous, sanded, stained and finished. 

It took all of them to hang them. Wayne and Steve, Eddie. Gareth, Jeff and Goodie. Everybody working together to ease them onto the tracks, hoping like hell that they'd fit and work for fuck's sake once they were up there, after all that trouble.

They did fit. And they still glide like goddamn butter, so much so that Eddie can't believe Wayne and Steve made them with their own hands.

Everything in here has Wayne's fingerprints all over it. The machinery he rigged to work just the way he wanted. The coffee mugs that never seemed to make it back to the house. Now being used as pencil holders, or sorters for nuts, bolts and screws.

It's home, in here. Sure, the house up the road is home, too. But this feels different than that. 

This was Wayne's space. All his own. 

Eddie isn't religious, but this is his sanctuary now.

Because the shop is exactly the same as it was the day Wayne died in it. His last coffee mug is still on the window ledge. Liquid long evaporated, only the dark stains inside the porcelain proving that it was once there, once used. 

That Wayne was once there, using it. 

His cheaters are on the counter. And the bench. And a pair hanging from the coveralls pocket. Cheap drugstore reading glasses he needed to see anything up close. Eddie would tease, and Wayne would reassure Eddie that his day was coming.

It hasn't, not yet, but if it does, apparently he has a stockpile of glasses to choose from.

Eddie looks around, and it looks like Wayne'll be right back. Like he stepped out, just for a minute. 

Not forever. 

Eddie knows he won't be back, he knows, but it still feels like he'll come back any day now. Like it's all just waiting for his inevitable return. 

Like Eddie is still waiting for his return, because anything else is unfathomable. He can't be gone. Not when Wayne's stuff is all right here, just where he left it.

But no. He is gone, and there's not even any ghosts lingering, just his stuff. This is just a shrine that was accidentally left behind in his departure. 

The motor of the bass boat is up on a worktop, half broken down, torn apart. He doesn't know how to fix that, and he supposes Steve doesn't either. Is it destined to just sit there, just like that? In limbo? Forever?

That boat was a splurge, a want, not a need, and Eddie was happy Wayne decided to get something that he wanted, just for himself. 

After a lifetime of sacrificing for Eddie, Eddie just wanted to pay him back in any way he could. 

A boat, a home, anything at all. 

Eddie damn well knows the town likes to whisper behind their backs. Like Eddie is aimless, shiftless. The weird, queer freak that was incapable of flying the coop. Incapable of growing up. 

The one that somehow brought the Harrington boy down with him.

That they were flitting around, no jobs, living off the old man. 

That's not true, of course. 

Yeah, they were traveling around the world, fixing problems that came from beneath. Whispered secrets, unknown horrors, with very few explanations.

Experts in a field Eddie wished they knew nothing about. 

Hawkins has forgotten. Eddie hasn't been allowed to, not ever.

But maybe they were right, in some ways. Eddie still doesn't feel grown up. But they acted like his relationship was somehow less, just because Wayne was living under the same roof. 

But it was more. 

Eddie knows that. Having these extended years with Wayne, extra years that Eddie hadn't been promised, was good for all of them. 

Eddie loved having him here any time they came home. And he thinks Steve did, too. 

Wayne stayed with the house while they worked, sometimes going job to job for months at a time. Living out of suitcases. But he was always waiting here for them to return. Home. 

Wayne was home. 

And now Eddie's home has left him. 

Eddie misses him desperately. There's a gaping, bleeding hole in his heart, and in their home. 

Wayne's last pack of cigarettes sits on the wooden worktop, six of twenty remaining. Eddie has counted, and re-counted, without moving them. They're right next to a notepad and pen, and Eddie wonders if this was the last thing Wayne ever wrote. It means nothing to Eddie, just shorthand chicken scratches, measurements for something, a rough design plan, maybe? It doesn't matter. Except it does matter to Eddie. They're important because they were Wayne's thoughts, put to paper for a later date that would never come.

Eddie reaches up and runs his hands along the worn coveralls, hanging on a hook. One of several identical pairs. He died in another, that and his work boots.

Dying in your work boots and your worn coveralls isn't a bad way to go, all things considered. That's what Wayne always said.

There are worse things in life than death.

And:

I'll die with my boots on.

Both premonitions, it turns out, and painfully true. 

Steve and Eddie on the road, a message from Gareth waiting at the next checkpoint, telling them to come home. Now.

There are worse things in life than sudden, swift death. Here and gone. No suffering. One breath you're fine, and the next you're just not here anymore. Eddie's experienced both. His mother's long, drawn out death. The anticipation, the suffering, the anxiety.

And now, the opposite. 

Even if Eddie wasn't here. Even if he missed it. Even if Wayne died alone, with Eddie and Steve several states away. Eddie'll still take that option, if he gets to choose. He'll go like Wayne. Just blinking out, no fanfare. Wayne's death, exactly how he lived. Quiet, alone, and independent as fuck up until the exact moment he headed off into the sunset.

Eddie doesn't know where Wayne is now. 

Probably nowhere, Eddie thinks. Besides the ground.

Steve thinks otherwise. Steve's an optimist, though. 

Eddie often wonders what the fuck that's like? He's just too self-sabotagin' for that ever to be true for him. They go into jobs the same way, Eddie pessimistic and looking at all the bad. He wants to hear the worst of it. But Steve's beside him, ever optimistic, looking at the good. At the hope.

They make a good team, a good balance. Always have.

This was meant to be their house. Wayne was just keeping it company until they were ready to settle down. That was the excuse to get his stubborn ass into it, anyway. 

Eddie's ready now. There's no place like home is fucking true. The rest of the world holds no luster for him now, not anymore. The shine dulled and tarnished.

But, home?

At home, it's all still here.

And Eddie's just filling the spaces around it all. Around everything Wayne left behind. Absorbing it into himself. Into his bones. Wayne's stuff getting pushed to the back of the medicine cabinet. His clothes shuffled to the back of the closet. 

But still here.

There's room enough for all of it.

The phone rings. The red one. Eddie doesn't answer. He's not leaving home, not yet. Maybe never again. 

He's really sorry that the rest of the world has problems that maybe they could help fix.

Right now, Eddie can only try to fix himself. 

Eddie hears the saw. On, then off, then on again. The high-pitched whine of it.

When he rounds the side of the house, those beautiful barn doors are thrown wide open. Steve's leaning over a table, noting measurements. Scribbling with a pencil, one of the big rectangle ones, that won't roll away.

Referencing back and forth to another set of papers. 

He's got on a backwards cap, one of Wayne's from the wall inside, Eddie's pretty sure. 

Ear protection. Eye protection.

Carhartt overalls, and a plaid shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Eddie's sure it's one of Wayne's that worked its way up from the back of the closet. 

Things are starting to get moved, here and there. Used again. Time marching on.

If Wayne could see Steve now, he'd be proud. Eddie knows it. Even if once, he was sure Wayne thought Steve was a goddamn yuppie like the rest of Harringtons. But Wayne learned just how goddamn tough Steve is, fast. Eddie slung over a shoulder, Steve marching him back from hell. Alive. Somehow.

And that's all it took. Wayne loved Steve, and over time, loved him just as much as he loved Eddie, Eddie's pretty sure. 

He misses Wayne, and he knows Steve does, too.

They both feel closer to him here.

Eddie thought he'd have more time. A lot more. He should have listened more, learned more. He should have helped build those doors. 

But he didn't. Wayne taught him different lessons. How to play the guitar. How to do the nightly crossword. How to survive.

Wayne taught Steve others. 

And where Eddie's done it in the house, Steve's filled the spaces around the things left behind in the shop. 

Eddie puts down the lemonade, poured into a familiar mug, right next to the pack of cigarettes that are gathering more sawdust, and waits. Doesn't want to startle Steve, though, if Eddie knows Steve, he already knows Eddie's there.

It's his job to not be snuck up on. 

Eddie notices the boat motor has been moved. 

The sawing stops, and Steve comes over to him.

"Who did this?" Eddie asks. "What are you doing with it?"

"I moved it. Goodie's coming tomorrow. Thinks he can fix it," Steve answers, then he's downing a big swallow of lemonade. It's just from the canister, but made extra strong, just like Wayne taught him. 

Goodie is good with motorcycle engines. Eddie doesn't know if that translates to boat motors or not. But what can it hurt to let him try? It's just been sitting here, waiting for Wayne to pick up where he left off, which is never gonna happen.

The next night, Goodie and Steve are leaning over it, heads together. They've been tinkering all day. Thinking they've got it, putting it into a five gallon bucket of water to test run, and then shaking their heads when it refuses to fire up.

Eddie watches it all through the big, open doors. Gareth is poking at the firepit. Jeff cooking on the grill. Kids and spouses hanging out, playing or talking.

His family is here, just. It's not everyone, there's still a missing piece. And there always will be, now. It's a hurt that settles deep in his chest, and he knows he'll have to carry it there forever right next to the loss of his mother.

He hears the motor rev to life and Steve and Goodie are screaming in delight that they finally fucking did it, and Eddie smiles. 

Maybe they'll take the boat out this weekend. 

Eddie uncovers the boat, and it's another time capsule under the tarp, one he hadn't considered existing. Fishing poles, still baited with hooks and lures. Empty cans, dead leaves.

Another pack of cigarettes. He laughs, and pockets them. One shrine is enough. These? Maybe these he'll smoke. 

They take off across the lake, getting up to speed. The wind is rushing through Eddie's hair, and when they slow to turn, Eddie cups his hands, and lights one of Wayne's cigarettes. 

Breathing deep. 

Then, coughing. 

It's stale, and tastes bitter.

Thankfully, Steve and Goodie can't hear him, as he tries to expel it all in an unattractive fashion. 

He hasn't smoked in years, and his lungs are protesting. He laughs, and just holds it in his hand, and enjoys the ride. 

Gareth and Jeff are on the shore, waiting their turn, but are also the rescue crew if the motor fails mid-lake. 

Eddie can swim to shore, has done it once before in this lake, but would really rather not repeat the experience. 

The motor sings, and when they pull up to the dock, Steve and him get out, letting Goodie take the others out on the water. 

"Smoking again, are you?" Steve asks. But there's no judgment. Steve never judges him, somehow. Even Eddie judges himself. That Steve doesn't is a miracle. 

"Not well," he admits, sliding the pack back into his shirt pocket. Where he just might carry them from now on. Over his heart. 

One pack watching over Steve in the shop, one pack watching over him, everywhere else. 

"Boat's running good," Eddie offers and Steve smiles. 

Steve drapes his arms over Eddie's shoulders, leaning up against him, hands resting on Eddie's chest. Over his heart, hugging him from behind. 

Steve tells him all about the motor. What they fixed. What they can still fine-tune. 

Then.

"I miss him," Steve says. 

And yeah. That's the long and short of it. 

"Me too." 

Winter comes, and Eddie glances out the kitchen window, spotting Wayne splitting wood. 

The thought is fleeting, painful, and it sucker punches him when he hadn't seen it coming. He grips the edge of the sink, fingers digging in, as he doubles over, trying not to cry. 

When he looks again, it's not Wayne at all. 

It's Steve. 

Ax in hand, the heavy Carhartt coat on his back. Eddie's not sure if it's actually Wayne's coat, or just something that he associates with Wayne so strongly, that it feels like it's his. 

When Steve hauls the logs in later, Eddie holds the door open for him.

After he's done, Steve shrugs out of the coat, face red from the cold. 

Eddie just stares at him. 

When did Steve grow up? They were just kids a second a go, Eddie's sure of it. But Steve's going gray at his temples, and he's not old, but he is all grown up. 

That means Eddie must be, too. 

Wayne's gone. His mother's gone. Fuck knows about his dad. 

He suddenly realizes he's the older generation, and the thought of that is suffocating. He still feels like he needs to look for real adults, and now there's nobody left to turn to for guidance. 

Steve is an adult. 

So, Eddie pretends he is, too. 

The red phone rings again. And again. 

Steve finally unplugs it from the jack, and unscrews it from the wall, shoving it into the closet, on top of a box of Wayne's old boots. 

They can always plug it back in. 

Just. Not today. 

Today, the guys are coming over to jam. They've been doing that more and more since Eddie's been home. 

They will never be anything except what they are. A middle-aged Midwestern garage band. Comprised of a relucant monster hunter. A lawyer. A mechanic. A loan officer. 

Best friends. Still. All these decades later. 

Steve is in the shop, the heater red hot, and Eddie had dragged down Wayne's easy chair from the house with Gareth's help the other day, so now he can sit in front of the heater and read while Steve works. He rocks gently, his foot pushing off of the dirty floor to keep him in constant motion.

He feels better moving, always has, and this rocking soothes that part of him well. Especially since his whole life has come to a standstill. 

All the noise Steve's making is a comfort, familiar. It's a hug. A hello. 

An echo, still ringing through the night. 

Eddie can dig in the back of the closet, too. Tonight, he's wearing a heavy, buffalo check flannel coat. It's worn on the sleeves and collar, but Eddie swears it still smells of cigarettes and Wayne's cologne. 

His cologne is still in the bathroom in the house, his cigarettes are still on the table, out here. 

Still six in the pack. 

He's everywhere, and nowhere, all at the same time.

Steve comes over holding up a piece of wood, holding it up, showing it off. 

Eddie's not sure what it'll be, but he smiles encouragingly. 

Steve smiles back and then leans down, kissing him. It's quiet, this life they've decided to live. Too quiet, sometimes. But Eddie's happy.

He wasn't sure he would be again, but here he is, with Steve. 

At home.

It's peaceful.

And this becomes their new routine. Eddie sits, Steve works, and the winter wind blows against the shop. 

Tonight, Eddie must have dozed off, because he jumps when Steve touches his arms. 

"C'mere. It's done," Steve says. 

"What's done?" Eddie asks, but he takes Steve's offered hands, getting pulled to standing. 

In the back there's something with a drop cloth thrown over it. 

Steve is giddy, and it's contagious, "What is it?" 

"For you, I think. If you want it," Steve says, as he yanks the sheet off. 

It's a cabinet. A hutch. Like for storing the fancy dishes. 

Okay. 

"It's pretty," Eddie says, because it is. "Who did this? You? Wayne?"

Steve squats down and plugs it in, "Both of us."

When it comes to life, backlit and beautiful, there are heavy hooks inside instead of shelves. 

"For your guitars," Steve says, grinning. "It took me a few tries to decipher his plans. I got some things wrong. And I probably did things differently than he would hav-" 

Eddie cuts him off, kissing him. Hands grasping Steve's back. Holding him tight. 

When Eddie pulls back, he knows he has tears in his eyes. He doesn't care. 

"You really did this?" 

"Well. It was Wayne's idea, I just interpreted the plans I found," Steve says, and Eddie pulls him close again. Clinging to him. 

He loves it. He never expected to get something from both of them, not ever again. 

"Thank you," Eddie says, and he's talking to Steve. 

And to Wayne. 

Wherever he is, or isn't. 

Eddie may never get that answer, despite solving so many mysteries for other people. 

But, right now? It doesn't feel that mysterious at all. 

He's still here. 

In the shop. In all the things that live here in their home. In Steve.

In Eddie's heart. 

In all of it.

Always. 

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieangstyaugust and follow along with the fun angst! 😭

Notes: I saw this tiktok the other day and cried. Then it manifested itself here, because the truth of it needed to be jotted down. Also inspired by Bass Boat by Zach Bryan. And his Pink Skies, too. It's been my sad song album this past month.

[fixdex-fastening-technology]

👍 Wedge anchor All production processes are inside our factory

[ladylooch]

Bones - Part 18 [Mack x David]

A/N: I love so much about this, but the way the opening part of this one lives rent free in my head at all times, since I wrote it. Mack, get it girl 👏🏻 I want all that David is packing in this one.

Word Count: 4.6k

June

Outside the window in front of her, Mack watches as her husband rolls back up to the barn with his truck. A cold mist drizzles down from the sky, coating everything in dampness. The dirt is mud beneath his boots as he starts to unload posts and extra fencing from the back of his truck. He wears his worn leather work gloves to protect his hands. A local mechanic shop’s hoodie is on his big upper body. His hood is up, cover his black hair from the rainy morning.

Mack takes another long sip of her coffee, tilting her head to the side. She takes in his full ass in his blue, Carhartt jeans. The bulge from his can of tobacco has worn a white circle into the denim on his left side. His muscles scrunch and bulge as he gathers the remaining materials in his hands before disappearing into the barn. 

Farmer David has her heart and mind this morning. 

The coffee pot beeps beside of her and hisses out hot steam as it ends a brewing cycle. Mack grabs David’s thermos, pouring in the black liquid to prepare to bring it to him. He snuck out this morning while she was still sleeping, but she is dying to have coffee with him on this rainy, cold Saturday.

With the thermos in hand, Mack heads over to the closet, getting out her leather boots so her socks stay dry from the rain. She skips a rain jacket, instead grabbing a Rangers hoodie, and tossing it over her shoulders. On her head, she places a Budweiser hat David got her as a joke. She double checks Nicky is still sleeping on her monitor app, then quietly exits the house. David is still hidden inside the barn. She walks in with her hands stuffed into her sweatshirt pocket, thermos pinched against her ribs. 

Clanking of metal and tools sounds close to the front of the green tractor he is now working on. He’s been up for hours, fixing fence, feeding animals, and now instead of being done with the mandatory things and calling it a day, her hard working man is on to the next task. She gets closer, seeing him bent inside. His huge shoulder muscles strain against the blue fabric on them. One foot is slightly lifted off the ground, mud hanging off of it, while a worn, oil rag is tucked into his back pocket by his tobacco tin. 

Mack walks to the front, setting his thermos on the work bench and taking in the view. He starts muttering to himself, grunting as he twists a tool harder around a bolt… or maybe it’s a nut. Mack doesn’t really know. But the angle and force tightens his muscles further and suddenly she has to check her lips for drool. 

“That should do it.” He murmurs to himself. He puts a few fingers on it, wiggling, then tightens it a smidge more before backing out from under the hood. “Hi honey.” He says without looking over at her.

“How do you know I’m here?”

“I can smell your perfume.” He responds, not taking his eyes off the engine. “Otherwise, you would have surprised me.” He licks his lips, then does one last small twist with his tool on another bolt. “You up already eh?” He steps towards her as he wipes his hands on the towel in his back pocket. “It’s barely 7.”

“Yeah I know. And it’s a Saturday.”

He raises his eyebrows at her. 

“Why does it matter that it’s the weekend?” He tosses the used towel onto the work bench, then wraps his arms around her hips. He pulls her into his chest. It’s slightly damp from the misty rain but Mack doesn’t mind. Beneath that dampness is the furnace she was missing when she awoke this morning. She runs her hands up his chest to his shoulders, anchoring herself there for a kiss. His tongue curves over her bottom lip, eating her up in a way that makes Mack spacey.

“It’s a problem that you’re out here working so hard and not in bed with me.”

“What would I be doing in there that’s better than this?” He asks cheekily.

“Working hard on something else.” Mack smirks up at him, accepting his next kiss with more enthusiasm, bringing up the heat between them.

The rain starts to pick up outside, hitting the metal roof with heavier pings. Mack looks up at the new roof David replaced with the farm hands last summer. It used to leak like crazy during storms but the new steel shields them. A soft roll of thunder sounds out and Mack grins.

“Hmm?” He asks her about her look. She hooks her hands around his neck and pulls his face down to hers.

“Tell me you’re going to make all my rom-com dreams come true right now.”

“Mrs. Mackenzie, did you come out here to get laid?”

“Yes.” He laughs, head tilted back as his stomach tightens and shoulders shake from the effort.

“I can’t stop thinking about the story you, Cody, and Felix were talking about earlier this summer. About how despite what they think, you’ve never had sex in this barn.”

Felix and Cody hadn’t been able to believe it. Apparently David and his high school girlfriend were known for sneaking off to get busy. David had been adamant it never happened. 

“My dad would have whooped my ass if he caught me doing anything by his John Deere.” David had said at the time, rubbing at his mustache and smirking a little too hard.

“Yeah? What about it?”

“I think you’re a liar.” She confesses, rolling her hand down his chest to cup him over the zipper of his jeans. He protrudes stiffly as he presses his hips into her palm.

“Mmmm, I’m not lying, honey. No one in here. Ever.” 

“Not even a titty grab?”

“Well…” He trails off, then brings a hand under her breast. He makes a C with his fingers, cupping the right one. His thumb strokes across the center where her nipple protrudes from the cold. “Now I have.” He whispers against her lips. His tongue plays with hers as he urges her head fully back so he can consume her mouth better.

“No head?”

David scoffs, eyes closing as if in torment.

“No, but I fucking tried. I’ll admit that.” Mack giggles, smiling broadly. 

“Should I make your dreams come true?” She whispers seductively. 

“I love you too much to let you get on your knees in this barn, honey.” He chuckles. He smoothes her fly away hairs back from her forehead, then looks over at the work bench. He cocks an eyebrow at her. She gives him a look of approval back. His arms fall back to her waist, scooping her up into his arms.

David brings Mack over to the work bench. To her left, he begins to clear a better spot off, then leaves the barn, murmuring that he will be back. He returns with a blanket in his hands, the one he had used to cover her when she gave birth to Nicky almost a year ago.  He lays it down for a different purpose now, then he lifts her up onto it.

“I’ve always imagined this with you….” He jokes, pretending to be bashful like it really is a movie. Bashful isn’t something David can play convincingly. Instead he comes across confident in his pursuit. Mack falls a bit back onto the blanket, giggling as her hands support her weight. David unbuttons her jeans, then works them down her thighs and off her legs completely.

“Oh Farmer Davey. This night has been so special to me. Please… make love to me.” She bats her lashes at him.

“You’re better than a movie, honey.” He whispers, cupping her face. It’s so sincere, Mack actually blushes.

David steps between her open legs. Mack watches him undo his jeans, bottom lip tucked between her teeth. It’s a sight to behold. Strong fingers working at the metal enclosures. The way he tucks his thumbs into the waistband of his clothes to work them off his hips. How he widens his stance to keep them at mid thigh, then gathers his cock confidently into his hand. Mack can feel her eyes melt like chocolate. His big palm wraps around his shaft, stroking twice before he steps forward to run his swollen head through her wet folds. 

“C’mere.” He murmurs, reaching for her neck. He pulls her to kiss him as he pushes in that first, tight inch. Mack gasps into his mouth, then bites down on his bottom lip as he keeps going. 

“Mmm.” She moans, turning the bite into a nibble. Goosebumps cover her body, tightening her nipples beneath her shirt. Her fingers grip his neck, then thread through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

“So good, honey.” He whispers into her mouth. 

His hips pump in and out slowly, working her up into a pace that they both want to be at. The coil in Mack’s core begins to tighten. She rolls her hips down into him, chasing for more until he gives it to her. The fronts of his thighs hit the work bench, jiggling tools and metal cans of nuts, nails, and screws. It’s loud and echos each of his thrusts through the barn. The rain picks up, another roll of thunder washes over the farm, and then a low, growly groan rocks from David’s chest. 

“Look so pretty with my cock inside you, baby. Spread out just for me…” David tugs her closer to the edge of the work bench, switching up the angle to brush against her velvet button. Mack whimpers. David holds her hips down to stop her helping. Her head lists backwards, rolling off her shoulder so her throat is exposed for him. He brings a hand up, stroking down the thick column as it expands and shrinks from each breath into her lungs. 

Mack feels electrically alive as her orgasm rocks through her. David works her through it, gritting his teeth together to save his for their next position. 

“You gonna bend over for me now? Let me really give you what you came out here for, hmm?” He requests as he pulls her off the work bench.

He lets her feet drop back to the ground, then eats her up with his gaze as she turns seductively. She bucks her bare ass back into his wet cock. She leans forward, crossing her arms, then laying her cheek on them like the good girl he wants her to be. Her bottom lip rolls into her mouth again as he pushes in. Her eyelashes flutter, and a squeaky exhale falls from her parted lips. 

She loves this feeling, like he’s going to fuck his way through her body. It’s so deep and intense, even when he’s going slow, letting her adjust to the new depth he is reaching. David glides an arm across her hips, leaning more forward. His chest stays connect to her back, only his hips working in and out of her. He presses all the way forward, getting as deep as he can, balls rubbing against her clit. He works his hips in a circular motion that has Mack holding her breath. 

“Fuck.” She finally exhales in a gasp. “Th-that’s good. Really good.” She inhales deeply, then lets it out in a fast moan. 

“Yeah? You love this cock, huh honey?” He holds her there, letting her savor it, turning her face to the side so he can devour her mouth. Then he begins to build back up into slow but powerful thrusts. He takes his time with her now, really pushing the limits of her with their bodies pressing together. One of his hands glides from her waist to her shoulder where her neck meets it. His fingers fold over towards her chest, thumb brushing at the curled hairs at the back of her neck, rubbing circles. 

“Your pussy’s s’good. So wet. All for me. Got her trained so well.” He praises.

Sharp staccato breaths begin spilling from Mack. She drops her head back to her crossed arms, trying to resist the buckling her knees want to do. David can sense it, holding her tighter across her hips. The hand on her neck circles around to her throat, easing her head back to his shoulder. His grip tightens on her throat, then he pounds into her with no holding back. Mack grips his forearm, fingernails digging in as he gives her everything he’s got left. The demanding thrusts take her under fast. Her whole body spasms through her orgasm. Mack yells out his name, groaning before the intensity steals her voice completely.

“Fuck yes.” David moans spilling his load into her with four final bucks. Mack feels his cum pooling together, then dripping out of her immediately as he pulls out. His cock spasms against her ass as he gathers her in his arms to kiss her deeply over her shoulder. His mustache tickles her nose as sweet, soft pecks work their way along her entire mouth. “Mmm, this with you, anytime, honey.” 

A chill moves through Mack as David steps back. He works himself back into his clothes, then grabs hers. Delicately, he threads her feet back into both items of clothing, then slides them up her legs. Mack falls back against his shoulder as he works the zipper and button back into place. Her eyes are closed, complete mush on his chest.

“My baby is tired.” He murmurs, ghosting a hand over her hair. He kisses her temple tenderly. 

“Yeah. But our baby is about to wake up. Come have breakfast with us?”

“Okay.” He agrees quietly. 

With both of them fully clothed again, Mack and David head out of the barn, holding hands. Felix is pulling back into the driveway, which makes Mack realize how close they were to getting caught. Like teenagers. She hides her giggle in David’s arm as Felix rolls the window down.

“Hey, you need help?”

“No I’m heading in. Might be back out later, but everything that needs to get done is done for the day.” 

“Alright. See you tomorrow.” He waves then continues on to his house. 

“Five minutes earlier and damn would he have had a show.”

“We can never do that again.” Mack shakes her head. David gasps as they walk up the front porch steps.

“Honey, no. You can’t give barn sex and then take it away.” He extends his hand out towards the barn. Mack shakes her head at him again. His hand drops to his thigh in a dramatic slap. Mack kisses his cheek in reassurance. He grabs the door, holding it open for her. He watches her ass as she walks into the entry way, kicking off her boots. David keeps his out on the front porch then jumps into the house to avoid his socks getting wet. 

A soft cry sounds from their son’s room. David looks towards it, beaming with joy that his baby is up.

“I got him.” He tells her.

Mack goes to the kitchen to start working on breakfast for their little man. Today is a single egg, some banana and a bottle of whole milk. 

“I know, I miss her too when I sleep.” She hears her husband murmur as he comes down the hall. “But then I get to see her every morning and it’s the best part of the day.” 

Mack look over her shoulder, smiling at her boys. Nicky’s black hair is wild and staticky, which makes her laugh. The little boy lights up like a summer sunrise when he sees his mama. He reaches for Mack who gathers him into her chest, smooching all over his cheeks. She pays extra attention to his huge dimples. 

“Good morning!!!” She coos to their happy baby. “Aren’t you just the most handsome boy in the whole world? Look at you!” She pokes his belly, making him break out into giggles. David pinches at his sides, escalating the giggles until the three of them are laughing so hard their cheeks hurt. 

David’s hand glides across Mack’s shoulders, holding her close. His face turns into her hair and he kisses her.

“Thank you, honey. You made us the perfect baby.” 

Mack grins.

He gives her way too much credit for that. 

But he is right. Their baby is perfect.

She can’t wait to celebrate one year of him soon.

- - - & - - -

July

“Honey?” Mack hears her husband call into the house where she is at the kitchen counter. Her and her mom are just finishing cutting up a ton of fruit for Nicky’s first birthday party.

“Yeah, babe?” She calls back to him.

“Can you come look at this to make sure it’s what you’re thinking before Cody leaves to wash up?”

“Sure.” Mack wipes her hands on a hand towel, then looks at her mom. “Are you good?”

“Yes. Go.” She nods, continuing to cube the watermelon.

“I’ll help mom finish.” Lucie says as they pass each other in the doorway.

“Thank you.” Mack smiles, then heads towards her husband. He holds the door open for her as Mack slides her feet into her Birkenstocks. She steps onto the porch then gasps in excitement. “Oh my gosh! Ah!” Mack claps excitedly. “It looks so good!”

For their son’s first birthday, the theme had to be farm animals. After the barn got a fresh coat of vibrant red paint a few weeks ago, Mack knew they should have the barn as the center of the party. With that, she had an idea of getting a ton of balloons and dotting them in an arch all over the entrance of the barn. The balloons have reds, blues, and cow print patterns on them, creating a fun and festive glow. They won’t have any food inside the barn, but the gathering tables are set out in front of it while Nicky’s high chair is sitting in the shaded area by the arch.

“It looks great.” She brings her clasped hands in front of her mouth. “I’m so in love with it.” 

“Good.” David smirks, squeezing her shoulder. He brushes her neck with a few thumb swipes then steps forward. “We are good, Code.” 

“Thank you!” Mack yells to him. He tosses her a wave, then heads towards his truck after speaking to David briefly.

“Ooooo, that looks great!” Sophie pops her head out, inspecting the work. “Nicky is going to be so excited when he wakes up from his nap.”

“Hopefully not for another hour though.” Mack insists. Any earlier and they will have a cranky birthday boy on their hands.

In that hour, the food is stationed all throughout the kitchen, dining room and part of the living room area. With the bugs and wind, putting it outside was not an option. Instead, the porch is lined with coolers filled with drinks. People start arriving as Nicky is waking up from his nap. David goes into his room, waking him up in a quiet space and changing him into his farmer outfit. 

“Look who’s up, mama.” David says as he comes into the kitchen with Nicky. He is dressed in little Oshkosh overalls and a plain white shirt. On his upper lip is the stick on mustache Connor brought last year. Mack laughs, clapping her hands and then leaning forward to smooch her husband. 

“That’s cute, babe.” 

“He doesn’t like the straw hat, but is okay with this one.” David rubs at the denim bucket hat on their son’s head.

“That’s okay! He looks so adorable.”

“Gimme.” Sophie demands, taking her nephew from David. “Let’s go see your party, Nicky!” 

Mack and David trail after Sophie as she brings their baby around all the different stations. She ooos and awes over the food with him including the rice Krispy treats that she calls hay bales. His smash cake is also on the dessert table and he tries to reach for it.

“No, no. Not yet!” She chuckles. “We need everyone to be around for that.” Instead, Sophie gives him a bite of watermelon to gum on. 

Sophie wanders outside, showing him the tables with various colored table clothes, the different games for the various kids who are coming to celebrate, and of course, the balloon arch.

“Now say thank you uncle Cody for the balloon arch!” Sophie cheers, holding up Nicky’s fist so he can fist bump. Cody does, careful of the condensation covered beer bottle in his fist. 

“Anything for you, little dude.”

“Hey, does he need sunscreen?” Mack asks her husband, covering her eyes as the cloud moves past the sun.

“No, I put it on.”

“Okay.” Mack nods.

“There is nothing else to do but have fun, honey.” David says into her hair. Mack nods. He is right; it’s time to enjoy the celebration. 

For the next few hours, Mack’s hands feel weirdly empty, even with the High Noon in her grasp. Everything is taken care of by her husband, her sisters, her parents, or Lorena. It’s weird to be sitting down, socializing and not up hustling after the baby or cleaning something. Weird, but not bad at all. 

Mack brings the can of her drink up, rolling her eyes as her brother in law talks about her birth story like he was there.

“I feel like you don’t talk about this enough.” Connor shakes his head, opening up a juice box for Winnie. “Like that was so bad *he mouths* ass. Like… Nicky will be a legend for years to come.”

“I’m just glad I survived.” Mack chuckles, shaking her head. Although that’s actually valid and maybe not as funny as she is brushing it off to be. 

“I offered to recreate the drive early this morning with her.” David says pointing to the East where they barely made it a few miles last year. Everyone laughs. 

“Maybe next year.” Mack shrugs. 

It would be fun to recreate that drive with her husband some day. To reflect and have appreciation for everything they did that night to safely bring their son into the world together. But it’s only been a year and the birth trauma is a little fresh for Mack still. With that in mind, she changes the subject.

“Are we ready for some cake?” 

“Yes!!!!!!!!!!” Winnie yells. Mack chuckles.

“What, the five hay bales you had weren’t enough?”

“No. It’s not the same as cake. It’s just cereal and marshmallows. I could have that for breakfast.”

“True.” Mack nods. “Do you want to help me? I need a helper for plates and napkins and forks.”

“Yeah!” Winnie takes off towards the house.

“Daddy, can you help me with the big cake?” Mack asks her husband.

“Mhm.” He stands up immediately and they walk hand in hand to the porch.

Once inside, Winnie gathers up all the items from the bags on the table and hauls them outside. Mack smiles, watching Lucie help her get everything settled outside. In his grandpa’s arms, Nicky tries to reach for a balloon on the arch. Large hands come to Mack’s hips at the dessert table as she carefully picks up Nicky’s cake. 

“The other cake is in the fridge.” Mack tells her husband. He doesn’t listen. Instead, he winds his hands along her stomach, pulling her back until they press together.

“I’m so in love with you, honey.” Mack whimpers and leans deeper into his chest. His arms tighten, one going across her chest to hold her shoulder. He is careful of the cake as he kisses her cheek. “Seriously. So obsessed with you and our boy.” 

“I love you.” She sighs to him. He steps back, then his boots thump against the floor as he heads to grab the cake from the fridge. Together, they walk back outside. Kids of various ages run around their legs, so excited for a piece of sugar. 

“I want that piece! That one!” Winnie yells, putting her fingers into it to mark it.

“Hey, hey!” Connor grabs her hand, bringing it out of the cake. “We don’t put our fingers in people’s food. Or by knives.” He holds Winnie in place while David cuts the rest of the pieces. Everyone is given a piece and then Mack brings the smash cake over to their baby. 

“Are you ready?” She asks, laughing at literally everyone with their phones up.

“Y’all are more than welcome to take videos and pictures, but please help us protect our boy and keep them off social media.” David reminds everyone of their parental rule. He nods at Mack once he feels people understand how serious he is and she sets it down. David wraps an arm around her waist, smiling as Nicky carefully inspects the cake. He brings the white, butter cream frosting to his lips then starts to bounce excitedly in his high chair at the taste.

The crowd giggles and cheers as he pulls out a fist full of cake and frosting. Mack can’t help but tear up. Her bottom lip quivers between her teeth and she exhales heavily in her husband’s arms. She is so in love with that baby. What a gift it’s been the last year to be his mom and raise a baby with the love of her life. 

Mack sniffs, reaching up to wipe the tears off her cheeks. She can remember everything about a year ago today. The discomfort. The contractions building quickly. The panic in her voice when she asked David if they were going to make it to the hospital. Then the way her husband came through as a real life super hero for them. He was calm, steady, unwavering as he did what had to be done. Mack squeezes his forearm in recognition, so thankful for the man she made that little boy with.

After the festivities die down, Mack and David take advantage of numerous baby sitters in the house and head out to the sunflower patch they have replanted year after year to keep their proposal site fresh. They each have a beer with them, David brings a blanket, and they curl up on the bench he made years ago now. 

“I can’t believe how fast this year has gone.” Mack sighs, looking at the streaks of the sunset across the sky.

“I know. He is so big. How is he already cruising on those legs so fast?”

“I don’t know. We need to do better baby proofing here.”

“Yeah.” David agrees. “It’s hard cause there is so much more stuff he can get into now. I feel like we need those alerts on the door for next summer that ding when the door opens.”

“Oh for sure.” Mack nods enthusiastically. “When you were out with Cody, before his nap, he was grabbing all the pictures from the tables and throwing them. Literally, throwing them.”

“He is gonna be a little terror and I love it.” 

“The next one better be a girl.”

“Next one, eh?” He grins at her. 

“I would do this again with you, babe.” She says quietly, pressing her smile into his bicep.

“Soon?”

“Let’s get through this season. Next summer we can talk. When we have a two year old.” Mack instantly tears up. “I hate that it goes as fast as they say.”

“Me too, baby. That’s why we will just have to keep adding to this pack.”

“That’s not the solution.” She rolls her eyes. 

“I know. I just want a ton of babies with you. Our life is so full and incredible.”

Mack smiles. 

She could do 100 more years of this life with him.

Read more Mack and David here.

[thesorcerersapprenticeu]

Chapter 8: Crushed

Summary:

The moment has come, the beginning of the trauma, and that's all anyone needs to say. Well, well, well! A D-D-D-D double update! Feel free to check out the chapter of my "Hold on" story, at least anyone who might be interested.

Notes:

I don't want to say too much, after all I've had far too much to do, but here it is. The beginning of all evil, the bearer of all trauma, and all because of you and Powder. Enjoy reading, and feel free to leave a comment and Kudos!

---

You had already forgotten that the people from above, from Piltover, always called Zaun a shithole. Not exactly forgotten, you just tucked it away somewhere in the back of your mind, along with the rest of your life's information, before you were down here with Vander and the others.

However, you often remembered them, your real family. You always asked yourself "What are they doing today?", your siblings and your parents. Maybe they've become scientists, your siblings, and are now doing research at the Academy or somewhere else.

But you didn't care whether your parents ever really looked for you.

Normally you would not care, you are quite sensitive and had hoped for it at the beginning. The Undercity was cruel at first, dangerous and even the air was a risk for you. In the early days you probably would have planned an escape, but there was something.

You were not alone.

Powder and Vi, Claggor and Mylo, they were just as hopeless cases as you that Vander had taken in. You and the sisters spent the first few nights in the same room, while you were turned to the wall, playing dead, Vi kept trying to strike up a conversation.

You only answered when Powder tried. You don't know exactly why, but you had a bond with her because she was like you.

But although you got on better and better with everyone, you never really stopped thinking about Piltover. The mistakes of your past still haunt you like a shadow, every step a memory and every breath a mistake.

And what was going on now?

Vi. Was. Way.

While you're sitting in bed in the basement with Powder, she with the Bunny in her hand and you with a book, Claggor and Mylo seem to be planning something. They're running around in a panic, putting things on the table and literally screaming. You hear something about "enforcers" and an "attack".

But it probably wouldn't come to that anyway. While you continue to relax and try to compare your spellbook with the notebook from the Academy of this Jayce Talis, something happens.

"Well, if the enforcers hit tonight, we'll be ready..."

Your gaze goes across the room, along Powder's silhouette, hugging the Bunny tightly and listening to them. Then it hits the table with weapons on it.

Surely they'll never be able to fight the Enforcers with that? Especially because of the armor, you need something stronger.

 You look at the table again as your hand seemingly automatically picks up the Enforcer gadget in your coat pocket. What lies on the table in front of Mylo and Claggor, and their hope against the Enforcers, is almost embarrassing.

Vanders gauntlets, a wooden bat, a glass bottle, a key? Mylos lockpick? And a small array of nuts and bolts?

"Dibs on the Bat." Says Claggor as he points to the table.

You won't win a single battle with that! They're not seriously going to pull that off, are they? And anyway, where is Vi?

"No no no no, I found it."

"But I called it."

"I found it"

"Respect the dibs, I called it already."

While the two of them continue their unnecessary discussion, you are more worried about Powder and Vi. As you watch, Powder tries to hold back tears with her beautiful blue eyes, something you've been doing for the last two hours. She gently strokes the bunny's head and looks in your direction, your eyes increasingly deciding to let a few tears flow.

Where is Vi? Has something happened to her? Was she perhaps taken by the Enforcers? Damn! Normally she always comes back!

Suddenly, out of nowhere, the door is ripped open. Your mind can barely follow as Powder jumps out of bed and runs over, blocking your view. It was Vi, you're very sure of it.

""Where's the -" She's cut off as powder charges into her, holding her tightly. She had a huge smile on her face as she hugged her sister. Actually, you would have run right in with Powder, hugging Vi and feeling safe. But something is wrong.

Why is she alone? Where is Vander? Where did she come from, and why does she have that look on her face?

Vi appeared distressed, worried and fearful all at the same time. She trembles slightly and you can literally see the shiver following her. Something must have happened to affect even a strong person like her. It looked like she had scars in her eyes, scars that reflect the trauma that happened, and that's what's important now.

Vi takes a deep breath, and as you analyze it, she does her best not to cry in front of Powder. She shakes her head slightly, and walks over to the table where the 'weapons' are. But unlike Mylo and Claggor, you saw right away that she was damn serious. It was that look again, where it looked like she had a fire in her eyes that wouldn't stop at anything or anyone. Your suspicions were confirmed even more when she suddenly reaches for Vander's Gauntlets, which also caught Mylo's attention.

"Hey. Those are Vander's. Slown Down- What's going on?"

The room is dead quiet, not even the wind can be heard. Your own thoughts circulate around Mylo's question, Vi's strange behavior must have a reason after all, but what reason was so bad that she would reach for Vander's gun.

You look to Powder, unlike you, she seems to have understood something. The look of sadness and worry in her eyes tells you that Vi probably doesn't want to talk about it, so it's pretty damn bad.

Vi looks up, and you immediately notice that despite her seriousness, the fire in her eyes was no longer there. She answers in a low voice, looking down slightly and almost frightened.

"Benzo's dead"

What? I must have misheard. Benzo? Vander's friend Benzo? Why? How? Who?

The tension is at an all-time high, nobody can believe what they have just heard. No one is looking at anyone, no one is talking, no one is breathing and no one is moving even a little bit. It's surreal to think that just a moment ago there was such a warlike, loud atmosphere here.

Claggor, who seems to be wondering the same thing as you, breaks the tension like a hot knife through butter. But not as sad and distraught as you or Powder, no, he answers Furious.

"Dead?"

"They took Vander."

While Vi looks away, apparently out of frustration at not having been able to help, Mylo now also gets involved.

"Who took Vander?"

Vi shakes her head, it looks like she wants to do it alone, either she has a score to settle or there's a lot more to it than that.

"I don't know, but I need to help him."

Mylo responds directly to her statement without wasting a second. It's as if he hadn't even heard her, but one thing was apparently clear to everyone:

"We're going with you."

Vi, looks around. One look at the weapons, another at you, and especially one at you. Her gaze softens for a moment as she looks from you to Powder, but then something seems to come back to her. Her gaze becomes serious, almost set and already fighting.

"Whatever killed Benzo...was like noting I've ever seen. It tore him apart"

Impossible. Not even Vander could tear a man like Benzo apart, that much strength would be beyond his body. Unless the person doesn't count as human, maybe something like a drug to go beyond the human limit?

But who would create such a drug? Or more importantly, why? Why did they kill Benzo but take Vander? Do they want Vander...

You follow Powder's gaze on Vi's fist as you continue to think, slowly the pieces of the puzzle fall into place and the decision seems clear: another riot. Led by Vander back then, this one to be led by monsters or fully drugged humans? And probably also by Vander, but this time even more dangerous than then.

Claggor, standing behind her, places his hand on her back in a comforting manner. He also looks quickly around the room, especially at Mylo, and starts talking.

"You're not doing this alone, Vi."

Mylo, who quickly stands next to them, wraps one of his arms around Vi and continues to cheer her up.

"He's our father too. And our friend. Do you know where they took him?"

They continue talking, but too quietly for you to hear properly. You quickly wipe away your tears with your sleeve and put your two books in the pockets of your coat. At the same time you keep a strong grip on the enforcer gadget, you would certainly need it, after all it has already proven once how useful it is with the rotation.

Powder runs past you, at a small crate that was filled to the brim with inventions. She quickly grabs out a couple, as many as she can carry, and walks slowly in Vi's direction.

Vi doesn't look at her, as reaches down and takes one of Vander's gauntlets, puts it in a bag with a few other weapons and swings it over her shoulder,

"The old cannery, near the docks. He said..."

She doesn't finish the sentence, walks slowly in your direction and you panic. Her serious look as she slowly walks to your bedside scares you about the whole situation. You slowly realize the gravity of the situation, with Benzo's death and Vander's imprisonment, everything will now come to an end.

Vi doesn't look down at you, she kneels down and looks you in the eye. She looks at you, the little frightened boy, in such a way that you feel the calmness behind her behavior; the pure patience to solve the whole situation without leaving problems behind. What would you do for good? Could you do anything at all with your rather tiny power?

"Y/N...I know you want to help...prove yourself." Her voice is soft as it meets your ears, as are her eyes and features, all of which are comfortingly soothing. But you don't understand what exactly she's hinting at until a few seconds later.

Why doesn't she want me around? Does she see me like Mylo, just as a burden? Or am I not worth saving Vander? Why? Why Vi?

"I -

"And Powder...I'm gonna need you to sit this one out." She sighs, but no matter how calmly Vi says it, the meaning remains the same.

Powder's entire expression falls, you see how she breathes faster and barely holds the inventions. It's all about to collapse. Then Powder takes a furious stance, raises her eyebrows and responds according to her feelings.

"What?!"

"You're not coming. "

"I'm not afraid! "

"It's too dangerous. "

"But families stick together. You said it yourself."

"I know what I said."

"But-!" Powder stops her angry replies for a moment, turning to the bed and dropping her eyes to your form. She sees you, looking not only sad, but disappointed, as well as her. For a moment she sees your tears, threatening to flow because of the realization, but you say nothing, which pushes her further. "We Want to Fight! We can help, Me and Y/N-

"You're NOT Ready!"

Silence fills the room again. As a shock runs through you and Powder at Vi's statement, Vi takes a step towards her. You can't process it, it feels like time has stopped for a moment, the fact that Vi thinks neither you nor Powder can do anything to help hurts more than anything. It was like back then with your parents and siblings.

"You and Y/N, you're all I have left. I can't lose you"

Then why are you leaving us alone?

It hurt, a deep ache in your heart that runs through your whole body and makes your bones brittle. You notice the tears slowly streaming down your cold face, leaving a feeling of warmth that seems too short and too foreign.

You get up, walk closer to Vi and stand right next to Powder, who looks at you with tears in her eyes. But somewhere inside both of you was the urge to prove yourself, to finally show them that you're not just dead weight.

Vi takes her hand off Powder's cheek, where she has just been wiping tears, which has only made it worse. She reaches into the bag and pulls out a flare, which she gives to Powder with the instruction:

"Here. If they for you both, take this and run. Wherever you are, light it up and I'll find you. I promise."

Powder's hands reach for the object, she turns to you and you both look down at Vi's promise. She puts her forehead against her sisters. They embrace for a moment, one with tears in her eyes and the other with a look of pure determination.

Then, to you. She goes down again, wraps her arms around your back and hugs you like a cuddly toy. You hug Vi too, continue to cry quietly and don't really want to let go. But before she lets you go, you look at Powder again, which Vi sees, and whispers something in your ear.

"Protect her."

With that, she leaves, Claggor and Mylo behind her and right by the stairs. As she closes the door, she takes one final glance through the small gap, looking at it as if her heart would break. You and Powder are literally devastated with tears in your eyes as you look at her.

But that's exactly what they have to do to protect you.

And with a final glance, she is gone.

<hr> </hr>

Everyone was gone, only you and Powder were left in the room. Like pets left behind without use, you were to stay there while the others freed Vander, without you.

That's so unfair. Why are they all going without us? Why always the two of us?

Powder was sitting up in bed again, but was completely upset. Tears streaming down her cheeks, a suitcase was open next to her, with Vi's Bunny doll sitting inside, the Crystals in the doll's arms.

Powder's whole life had just been turned upside down, her sister was away with her bigger 'brothers'. And she was here, with you, but completely useless according to the others. Just as useless you two always were on the jobs Vi picked up somewhere, just as useless when there were heavy things to carry, just as useless as when Benzo died and just as useless as when Vander was taken away.

We can help in other ways, can't we? While they somehow distract the people holding Vander captive, we can free him. We can help... We can...

Your thoughts are circling around each other, while you haven't moved a bit. You look like a mental patient, still standing in the exact same spot as the last time Vi looked through the door. The only difference now was your head, which was much lower than before, and your face.

Your face was absolutely blank. A serious look, huge eyes that showed nothing but anger and fear and an aura that you had never had before in your life.

The Situation is breaking you down to your core, breaking your character in the worst possible way to annihilate the toxic traits you have. Your stubbornness, fear of weakness and self-destructive behavior were always going to catch up to you, sometime.

It is our fault. It is our fault, because we are weak, because we couldn't defend Vander, because even though Vander was Captured, he is still stronger than me and Powder combined. Can we ever help?

Powder keeps crying, and even though it hurts like hell to hear her like that, you won't be able to do anything about it anyway, why should you? you're weaker than anything else in this damn world.

A monkey's head suddenly flies across the room, bounces off the wall and hits the floor, where the situation slowly gets your attention. Still, the monkey toy doesn't stop and clapping is cymbals together as it spun in a circle. Powder screams louder, but you don't stop her, your mind is in too much of a storm right now for that.

You can still hear her crying, screaming and whispering. She seems overwhelmed, her own sister has rejected her, it was the worst thing she's ever had to endure. She stands up quickly as you slowly look in her direction, grabbing the suitcase and holding it over her head.

Normally you would either say something or think something when you see it, but your mind is completely blank.

The monkey stops, and the only thing you hear in the room is Powder's ragged breathing. Then she drops to her knees, drops the suitcase and watches the Little Blue Crystals fall out. Your eyes follow the Little Crystals as memories from the apartment come flooding back. The magic you felt back then and the huge power of the gems.

The Explosion Crystals? She still has them?

Apparently the memories wash over Powder, the Crystals on the floor spark out something minimally like electricity, and she has grown huge eyes. The crying stops, the sudden breathing stops, and the only thing that remains is a path. The path that will now change everything.

She turns around, meets your eyes with hers and hastily begins to speak.

"We-!" She stops for a moment, bends down and packs the Crystals into her small hip pocket. Then she runs a hand skeptically through her hair, which was now in front of her face and completely disorganized. "We can help them!"

What is she up to? Does she want to follow them? What are we supposed to do with the Crystals to help them? Wouldn't they destroy the whole cannery?

"If we bind these to the monkey, we can send him to the bad guys and..." She takes a deep breath, lets her cheeks swell and holds her hands in front of her face. Then she moves slightly closer to you, your eyes still focused on her face. "Boom."

"Are you...sure about that?" You were afraid, the previous anger was gone and it left you feeling empty. But you couldn't think logically about the power of the crystals right now. "What if they hit us?"

"That won't happen! " It was funny to think that she was crying a minute ago, but now she seems so full of energy. "Come on we can do that...just you and me."

Maybe it was the warm feeling in your stomach that made you turn the corner and join in. Or maybe it was the feeling of having to prove yourself that was suddenly in the foreground for both of you, especially after Vi left you here.

"Protect her"

You feel lightly at the pockets of your cloak: your spellbook, the notebook from the apartment and the Enforcer Rotation Gadget. Everything you needed was there.

And with one look into Powder's eyes, you could see that the previous sad, abandoned look had changed. There was a fire in her eyes, a blue that seemed just like her Sapphire colored eyes...Pure Determination. But here, where it was all or nothing, it was a Dark Determination that put everything at stake.

With that you nod.

"Okay...Let's go then!"

And with that, you were on your way to pure ruin, which will change everything forever.

<hr> </hr>

Powder knew exactly where the Cannery was. But to get there, you had to take the path she suggested, not the normal one. There seemed to be something like a warehouse right next to it, but how you got there... You had to crawl through a tunnel.

But it was the safest way, well, safe in the sense of no people. But if you look at the huge walls you crawl past, everything seems useless in terms of safety. A bad feeling slowly lines up in your stomach, something, something bad is going to happen.

Powder continues to crawl in front of you while she keeps one hand on the waist bag, you keep one on the Rotation Enforcer gadget for safety.

While it goes on, however, your mind is already thinking ahead, for all purposes.

They will definitely encounter opponents, and then they will have to fight. Although, Vi will be able to fight them, even if it depends a lot on the crowd and the opponent. Mylo, meanwhile, will free Vander, and Claggor is there to help.

You look forward, and at the same moment Powder looks back at you, and you can't help but smile a little. But still, the fire in her eyes is like Vi's, and that means that somehow everything will be alright.

And then we both come along, flatten the bad guys with our homemade bomb and save the day. No, we'll just save everyone! We'll prove to Vander and Vi that we're worth existing! We're here just like you, we're neither useless nor unimportant!

You can't avoid it: It all feels like the calm before the storm. The last time you were considered so unimportant was with your physical parents, and that ended with you running off and meeting Vander at the bridge. But here? Vander was trapped, people with a lot of power are trying to bring everything down and you have to survive somehow.

That's where the bad feeling in my stomach came from.

"All good Y/N?" Powder asks, with her head forward and a slow view out of the tunnel.

"...Yeah...All good." You answer, quietly and with a guilty conscience that you're not getting it for her, from your bad feeling.

So there you both were, outside, peeking through a window that was blocked by a pair of wooden planks. Powder scans the area while you try not to fall off the small stone step that was by the window because of your poor sense of balance.

You look through the window, and gasps. Vi is facing a man twice her height and width, it looks like an unwinnable fight, and right now that means you and Powder need to act as fast as possible.

The cool air that just touches every freed part of your skin. Your heartbeat, which is pounding through your whole body and stopping in your ears. The adrenaline pumping through your body and making all your limbs fidget.

A small rustle catches your attention, which at first seems like a shock that makes your eyes widen and your legs twitch, but it was harmless. Powder reaches into her pocket and pulls out one of her inventions:

The monkey doll, which is now transformed into your weapon.

Deckard, unknown to you, tops outside, bumps into the door where the others were and startles you. Powder startles, as do you, and slowly becomes jittery. It's getting harder to breathe, and it feels like the climax of your life is about to come.

Powder takes two of the crystals and puts them in gizmo's, the monkey's, container. She closes it quickly and looks behind, the monkey's trajectory seems to become clear. The two of you, in a moment of tension, put your heads together, feeling the warmth of hers, and she whispers something to the monkey.

"You have to Work...For us, okay?" Powder says, in a soft voice that gives you goose bumps and red spots on your cheeks.

She holds her forehead against it for a brief moment before she winds up her intention. She grabs the monkey through the window, taps it on the head and lets it run off with clapping cymbals. Your panic rises; if anything goes wrong, lives will end and yours probably will too.

Come on little monkey, just work.

While the Monkey walks, the cymbals clap and leave a sound. The crystals begin to crack and spark as they become more and more unstable with each hit.

The explosion will be damn strong, one stone was already enough in the apartment to take the whole building down, but we need one to save everyone.

Deckard stops his attack against the door, and turns to the monkey. His face holds a confused expression as he slowly looks down at the object. As you hide many meters away, panic slowly rises within you.

Because...

The bomb did not explode.

Something must have gone wrong.

You panic, turn backwards and look through the window. You couldn't see the monkey, but that only fueled your panic and the adrenaline in your blood. But the monkey wasn't far away, you would only have to take a few steps and you could detonate it manually.

Why didn't the monkey ignite? It should have exploded immediately when the cymbals banged because of the movement.

In that moment, you make a millisecond decision that changes everything and everyone.

"I'm sorry Powder."

You don't give her time to react, it would have been too painful for your heart and you wouldn't have been able to bear it. A quick foot on the floor and you throw yourself into the window, hear Powder's voice behind you and turn up.

And there you were for a second, straight out in front of Deckard. You literally jumped out of the corner, and his gaze met you immediately. Hungry veins drenched with Lillan fluid point in your direction as your eyes meet his.

You and Deckard, who remained focused on the enemy that faced them. But no matter how quickly he would have tried to react in this situation, you were far quicker:

You yank your right arm out of your coat pocket and pull out the Enforcer gadget, time seems to stand still as your eyes scan the whole situation once more, for the last time.

In front of you, right on the ground, is Powder's monkey bomb, which you now have to activate manually. A few meters in front of you Deckard, a monster disguised as a human, who was pumped full of drugs and would tear you apart in a second. But for everyone else present, the realization came a moment too late, putting you in the position of death.

With an outstretched right arm, you throw your self-named 'Steel Ball' at the Little Monkey Bomb with full force. For a moment, everyone looks from afar, even the people you didn't recognize at first: Silco and Sevika. As if the rest of the situation had become completely uninteresting, everyone looked at the little boy and the seemingly floating steel ball, which was flying towards the monkey at breakneck speed.

Your mind was completely blank, not a single thought dared to question your determination. But still, rooted somewhere in your mind was the knowledge of what was about to happen.

But unfortunately, the realization came a moment later to Deckard. And still a few moments later to the others. But it was too late.

But in the whole situation, you were already so far gone that there would never be a person who would understand your thought flow.

Even if I desperately tried to run away, the explosion would hit me anyway. So I can stop right here and take them all with me.

An Apology Is A Promise To Do Things Differently Next Time, And To Keep The Promise...

"Protect her"

I'm sorry Vi.

Everything simply exploded.

Your 'Steel Ball' didn't even get to pop on impact and let out the Thin Steel Wires. The monkey exploded within a fraction of a millisecond; the whole warehouse shakes, it flies into the air and the fire rises up into the sky, leaving a noticeable blue color and smoke.

Powder was launched from her position but... she wasn't scared. She had nothing to fear, she proved herself. And thus begins her love of explosions and the feeling of always having to prove herself to others.

Deckard was there one moment and gone the next, the explosion absolutely shredded him and threw him away. With that, the explosion made its way to Silco, but before it could wound him directly, Sevika shoved him back through a doorway and took the brunt of the explosion for him.

The Shimmer stockpile ignited into flames as the explosion made contact. The fire traveled down through the entire factory and made its way into a room where a scientist was consecrating. He barely had time to react before the fire engulfed him completely.

The blast entered the room where all of the others were. When one of the shards hit the ceiling, the blast knocked Claggor's goggles off and sent a splatter of his blood with it. He was thrown into the wall and died instantly, a nightmare for him, but a dream for the others.

A metal pipe stabbed Mylo's shoulder, sending him into the wall as well, but he wasn't dead. He looked over and saw his friend's body, but he couldn't find him alive. He tried to pry the pipe out of his shoulder but stopped when he heard the unforgettable sound of cracking. He looked up and could only watch as the concrete slabs fell on top of him. He didn't survive.

As Powder fell through the air, time slowed. She reached out and gently touched a particle of magic with her finger.

She was happy.

She proved herself.

And she was even prouder that you did the same.

Vander was lying on his front with a large stone slab on top of him, that had fallen from the ceiling along with the concrete that had fallen upon Mylo. The explosion had forced the door from its position and knocked Vi over, the door resting firmly on top of her unmoving figure.

Vander woke up slowly, grunting in pain as his whole body was riddled with pain. He looks around as best he can to take in his surroundings. That's when he sees the sights he wished he hadn't. He saw the limp arm of Mylo hanging out of the rubble. Then Claggor's goggles in the middle of the floor, cracked and bloodied.

But everyone was only hit by the shockwave, not like you. The direct explosion, the released energy was released from one second to the next and created a detonation that was unsurpassed.

And that's exactly where you were.

But your luck at that moment was second to none:

Your Steel Ball was swung over you by the shockwave, protecting you from all the building pieces falling on you. He jumps up, letting the steel wires radiate out and stopping many of them before they all hit you and kill you outright. But of course he can't stop everything.

A long and pointed wooden plank goes along the steel wires, but is not held in place. As you are burned by the explosion and pushed away, you land on your stomach, back up. At first you don't feel the pain at all, it doesn't feel like a plank of wood is stabbing through your ribs and intestines, tangling in them, hoping to rip them out miserably.

But of course that's not all: a few of the large piles of stones hit the steel wire and destroy your shield, saving your pathetic life from death. However, unfortunately for you, a large, sturdy stone falls straight down at high speed and buries your right arm.

But that's not all, in addition to the unbearable pain, because your brain can't create more adrenaline, there are the remaining stones that bury you alive. With a huge weight they press your weak little body to the ground and deny you any movement you could possibly think of.

So there you were, after everything you've been through so far: Buried alive, with a completely crushed arm and two spellbooks in the pockets of your cloak. Blood draining from your body. Oxygen slowly running out. Hope already extinguished. All were indicators of the condition you had only read about in books until now:

Death.

Normally you would be screaming now, for help or anything that your blood-filled lungs would allow. All your thoughts would end logically and with full hope that "someone will come and save me". But now? Most of the others were injured or dead. Because of you and Powder.

So you just stop thinking, breathing or simply living. You wouldn't be able to cope with the disappointment that you are any other way. Because of one thing you finally wanted to do right, so many have been hurt and died.

A little blood makes its way out of your mouth, even though you have already given up, you lift your head as far as you can and simply let the substance flow out. The red, warm, metal-tasting substance reads out of your mouth and stains the ground beneath you red. But through watery eyes you see the entire floor beneath you is red, not just through your mouth, but through your intestines and your crushed arm.

"Silco!"

What was it exactly, did you just hear a voice? Or are you already in a near-death experience and just needed a little push to the other side? But you think for a moment, it sounded like Vander, but deeper and more like a monster. But with this brief thought, the pain you are slowly feeling at full height and the feeling of failure, you give up.

But not quite.

You could hear another voice a few moments later, but only softly and interrupted by your loud heartbeats. It must have been Powder's, the only voice that sounded happy in this situation. With the last of your strength, which you thought had left you some time ago, you smile.

"Because you're a Jinx! DO YOU HEAR ME?! MYLO WAS RIGHT!"

The last power in your body gave its all to listen in, just before the end came. Everything else became quieter, the burning of the fire, the sound of the wind, your breathing and simply everything.

"No. No. No. No. Violet, please!"

The moment you stopped absolutely on your life, you missed something. On the one hand, the quiet weeping of Powder, but on the other hand...

Did you miss the blue light shining out from under the stone where your right arm is buried? You didn't see the piece of a corpse that came closer and closer to your arm either, but everything has its time.

And with that you speak your last words... At least before your rebirth as "The Sorcerer's Apprentice".

Powder... I'm sorry... I'm really sorry... I wanted to believe... I really wanted to believe that I could do something for once... Goodbye. Powder... goodbye.

---

Notes:

Holy shit, what a chapter! The end of a life will always come, whether before or through illness. But this death is already quite hard for someone like you, but it's only the consequence of your actions. Thanks for reading, as I said, leave kudos and a comment on this terrifying chapter!

[hirocimacruiser]

Article from when coloured wheels were just starting to become popular.

See It's sure to become popular from now on!

I definitely want this! A striking item

super illustrated book

Report photo: Tadashi Nagata Muramasa

model:Chinatsu No

Color wheel coming through!!!

The shape and performance of the wheels seem to have been settled upon, but the next step is to focus on the color. The new generation aluminum wheels are perfect with their "transparent anodized color" and "separate color schemes for the rim and disc"!

DESMOND

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TAKECHI PROJECT

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TAKECHI PROJECT

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The forged one-piece structure is lightweight and strong. The center disc is available in seven colors. The center lock system (optional 3,500 yen) with a red or blue anodized finish makes it stand out even more.

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Super Fresh Super Picture Book

Vivid thing

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CRIMSON RACING SPARCO NS-II

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Blue, red, and puff anodized rim. Mulberry, gold, gunmetal, white, yellow, and red discs are available at 37,000 to 39,000 yen (color is 500 yen). Crimson 1906 154-3234

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Forged 1 piece

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[firerose18991]

Prince! Itadori x Black femReader prt 2

Info: fluff, adventure, multi part fic

Written with black curvy/chubby readers in mind but all are welcome

Wrd cnt: 1.69k

Prt 1

As you and Yuji contemplated your impending fates a commotion was building outside the tent.

“FIRE!” A booming voice whipped through the camp.

You jumped up from the stool you sat on, the smoke was already starting to fill the air in the tent.

“Grab your shirt.” You called to him, and pulled him out by his wrist.

When you reached the outside of the white tent, now sullied from the ashen air beginning to coat all of the camp, you saw the chaos. You spotted the head nurse directing a trailer from the camp on the barren hill down into the lush forest beneath.

“Nurse! What's happening?” You ran up, Yuji in tow.

“The Barbarians! They're storming the camp!”. She ran up to take Yuji's other hand. “You need to flee and meet with your army. We can't protect you here.”

“But the camp is neutral, are they killing their own people?” Yuji resisted the nurses' pulls towards the escape route, though it mostly looked like her tugging a brick wall.

“If they have a target like you they would've lost those men anyway. Most of them are the ones you injured in your battle.” Yuji was taken aback.

Since he'd been injured only sparse battles have occurred which only lasted a few hours at most. He was the target of the Barbarians all along. With the line of succession open his territory would be vulnerable. Nevertheless he wasn't going to hide like a coward among the sick and injured. He finally had the time to put his shirt back on. It hung loosely around his muscular frame.

“Do you know where my sword and steed are being held?” He turned to you.

His kind amber eyes still held their warmth but focused on you to give an answer urgently.

“You can't possibly-” the head nurse started.

“The stables are by the edge of camp, close to the lake.” You pointed the way and he bolted off.

“(Y/N)!” the Nurse yelled at you as he ran off. “He’s in no condition-”

“If anyone is going to keep the encampment safe it will be him. Let’s focus on setting up a place for triage further in the forest. After all this everyone will need it.”

You helped usher the remaining patients down the slippery hills of the forest to a natural basin near another river outlet closer to Yuji’s kingdom. The screams of those fighting over the ashes of the old campsite echoed to where you had found yourselves. Your heart ached thinking of Yuji fighting, maybe being heavily outnumbered and you wondered if you’d done the right thing by sending him off.

You busied yourself by the end of the first day purifying drinking water and gathering ingredients for healing potions. Some of the patients had sustained burns and you had to quickly find natural remedies in a forest you had barely gotten to know. Others worked on using their magic to create temporary rock and mud huts for patients. When you’d found just about all you could make sense of in the forest’s herbs you headed back and sat on the river bank. The fight raged on even into the night. That gave you some hope the Yuji was still out there fighting. Enough to get you through the next day.

In the morning you were the first up. Catching fish in the river and pounding wild nuts and berries into edible porridge. You’d made a large fire to cook and were careful to cast a smoke concealment spell. The head nurse woke up to you using a giant stick to stir the massive amount of porridge and fish roasting on the sides. You looked like you’d thoroughly lost your mind.

But the smell drew everyone from their huts and away from their miserable night rest. Once everyone had eaten their fill patient daily care was still at the forefront. You directed your fellow nurses to plants with antiseptic properties whose leaves could be used as bandages for the time being and crafted potions with yesterday’s work. And in the night you repeated the same as the morning. You’d brought all the nurses up to speed and everyone fell into their roles once again. The battle could still be heard. When particularly devastating attacks occurred you’d see mass flocks of birds scattering overhead to escape the atrocities. But as long as it continued your people would remain.

The third day was uneventful and fatiguing for all at the camp. In their down time a lot of the nurses watched you pace back and forth working like someone had lit you on fire. The head nurse had to pry you off a tree you’d attempted to climb to get more leaves. But in your sleep deprived state you missed a foothold and fell down. She coaxed you into a mud hut to get some rest which is where you stayed even through dinner. At some point you’d managed to fall asleep and woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of crickets and fire crackling. For a moment you allowed yourself to take in the natural ambiance before you shot up from the ground. The fighting had ended.

“Oh gods.” you whispered to yourself as you clumsily pushed your fatigued body off the ground and out of the hut.

You stumbled out to the haunting forest. The battle was done but you couldn't be sure who won. Part of you nearly began to mourn Yuji until you were startled from your thoughts by the sound of sloshing mud and leaves drawing closer from the forest. You clasped your hand to your face and hid around the corner of the hut, if need be you would wake the others and try quietly to get away.

As the heavy steps grew closer you began to make out the figure of a lone man. The moonlight only illuminated him in slivers at a time. Once it brushed upon his bloodied face and you saw the pink hair peakout through dried blood you stepped out from your hiding spot.

“Yuji” you gasped, stepping toward the bush he was slowly making his way over. His head was bowed from exhaustion. It was a miracle he made it to your camp with his injuries. You caught him just as he tripped out into the basin front. A small part of you wanted to be mad at him for taking on such a foolhardy battle, the other was mad at yourself for letting him. But that was all overshadowed by the immense joy you felt from him having returned in one piece.

You looked up as you heard more zombie-like steps creeping through the forest towards you. You hugged Yuji's now sleeping form against yourself, not sure of what you could do. Soon soldiers wearing the crest of the Itadori kingdom began emerging from the forest. Each as bloodied and bruised as their prince. You finally placed yuji down gently when you saw commander Nobara stumble through with the last set of soldiers. You caught her as well and placed her down gently before going to get the other healers of your clan.

Everyone worked through the night to pull the soldiers through. With healers stretched thin the head nurse walked over to you wordlessly and handed you a wand. Something only the most recognized and talented of your clan get the honor of wielding. You quietly rejoiced as you walked over to the remaining horde of soldiers that needed attending to.

When dawn broke the streaks of blood from soldiers marching to their last salvation were illuminated. The camp was lively with those who’d only endured extreme exhaustion and doctors rushing to care for those in more critical cases. Once you took care of your most critical patients you whisked through the camp looking for Yuji, the head nurse had decided to take him under her care as he wasn’t at 100% to begin with. As you approached her tent you heard hushed voices.

“Excuse me.” You spoke softly before entering the tent. You looked around to see Yuji sitting in bed, some dried blood still stained his skin. And the head nurse brewing a pain reliever. “Sorry I just came to see how he was doing.” You were hoarse from exhaustion.

“Glad I'm not the only one who looks like hell.” He smiled, thoroughly wrapped in plant fiber bandages and propped on pillows.

“The leader of your enemy has been defeated, but some of his men still remain at this camp. It is not our place to get involved in these matters.” The head nurse spoke to both of you.

“I completely understand, I would never ask your people to compromise their values for my sake. I believe a short prison sentence after they've healed will be enough to satisfy me.” He really sounded like he'd been on the throne his whole life.

“Yes well that may take a while”

“After dealing with my own injuries I've learned to be patient.” Yuji's grin turned into a wince.

The head nurse shooed his hand that instinctively went to his injury and used her wand to lessen the pain.

“(Y/N) the medicine.” She nodded to you.

You made your way over to her work station and waved the supplementary wand that still hadn't been taken away over the pot to complete the medicine. It glowed like gold in the dingy wooden pot. You brought it over to where Yuji was fighting a coughing fit, for fear of displacing his ribs. Once he got some of the medicine down he wearily settled back into the pillows.

“Hopefully this time I leave him in your care he'll make a full recovery.” She winked and left the tent to the two of you.

<<<prev

[halothenthehorns]

Chapter 5: LEO SLEEPS WITH GHOSTS

They all met up in the attic. There was a miniature glass jar of fire here that Annabeth promised wasn’t going to burn down the house. No lid, it was recently cleaned of the holiday cookies and shaped like two bears hugging each other with star patterns in their coats. Percy had watched in vague concern as she’d scooped it out of the one in the amphitheater without even wearing protective gloves and then smiled as it burned a few different colors walking back to him. He just hoped he wouldn’t set the Big House on fire in some cosmic retribution by borrowing some.

The tables of clutter from the hero’s treasures were still scattered around and haunted them all as a constant reminder how much Alex had wanted one of each. Magnus may or may not have accidentally cursed himself within an hour, it was still being debated.

It was warm though, and spacious. The floor felt as if it were heating their rears, they each had their own beanbag or mat with plenty of blankets. Sun was pouring in through the window with only an occasional snowflake to remind them all they could be freezing their butts off if they wanted, but the coziness wouldn’t allow it.

Annabeth was sitting in front of Thalia, who was absently braiding her hair for her. Percy was sitting next to Jason and still razzing him about their last sword fight, who was half-heartedly playing along as he kept watching Hazel like he expected her to do a flip.

She was sitting quietly by Nico though, watching Leo like he was the long lost Oracle Mummy, despite the fact he was being calm, for him. He had a pile of markers stacked as tall as he was and was drawing something immense over half a dozen sheafs of paper with an entire blank stack to go. He’d rummaged through the boxes like a snoop and found a blanket he probably shouldn’t be touching and was sprawled out on it. Rustic, sun faded grey with little bolts and nuts and gears all over it. It was probably going to strangle him in his sleep or place some crazy curse on him to like spinach, but for now it was warm and he didn’t care.

Will came up last, still shaking snow from his hair with a fuzzy yellow blanket that had orange bubbles tossed over his shoulder and the satchel of books from Chiron to see them all. He went over to Annabeth and Percy first, asking them kindly, “you guys ready?”

Annabeth nodded, her eyes out the window but her resolve as strong as ever to do this for Percy. Percy nodded much more reluctantly. Magnus and Alex had been here since the beginning, willingly or not, and it felt wrong to be starting this again with no expectation of them returning no matter what an elf and dwarf tried to pull.

Of course a long lost sister Nico had resurrected to make friends with Jason helped somehow set the dower mood off anything was possible. Not that Nico had announced her as such, though who he was trying to fool was anyone's guess. They didn’t particularly look alike, gold flecks in her amber eyes instead and an odd tendency to keep tucking her hands in and out of her pockets when she got too close to the cursed jewelry table where nothing actually went missing, but otherwise she seemed strangely quiet sitting underneath Nico’s blanket he’d brought up from his cabin for her. It was black with little ghosts patterned all over it, which seemed like either a friendly gesture or a warning label. Nobody was quite sure.

She hadn’t spoken much yet, but the brief tour Nico had given her the night before of everything at the camp had been taken with a calmness as if the world of magic wasn’t so strange and different from the one she’d left of the 1930’s. She’d had a particular fondness of the stables and Nico had to all but drag her out of there to show the cabin she’d be sleeping in. His own. 

He’d only been there for the erection of the outside, but was not the slightest bit impressed with the decor someone had picked on the inside. The vampire coffins were definitely someone’s idea of a joke he did not find funny.

When he’d asked Will that morning and he’d confessed he thought it was cool and his own idea, Nico vowed not to kill him and wondered if this was their first fight.

“Rachel decided not to join us?” Thalia asked Percy with some disappointment, still pulling her own blanket from her magical backpack without looking up. She’d thought that’s why Percy had taken breakfast with her up in the caves.

“She said she gets enough out of the future without getting kidnapped for extra credit, let alone bombarded with it,” Percy shrugged. “She said she had some other ideas possessing her that she wanted to paint, she’d be in her cave if we needed her and might pop in on occasion just to remind us she could.”

“Sounds about right,” Annabeth chuckled, a bit faintly, but it was the first laugh of the day. Somehow a promising noise that it would be allowed going forward despite the changes.

“Did you ask if she got any hunches about going to see Hera?” Jason asked, looking out the window too in a restless way unlike his usual self. He umphed in surprise as a blanket landed on his head.

“I did,” Percy agreed, “she said she hasn’t felt anything like that since coming here. I think we might have just, passed over that part?” He sounded completely vexed at what he was saying.

Jason pulled the blanket off and studied it in surprise, looking over at his sister. She just grinned and shrugged like it was no big deal and went back to focusing. It was dark navy blue with a crackling white pattern all over it like shards of broken glass…or lightning forking across the sky he realized as he ran his finger over the soft material. He tucked it tight against his chest and hoped the Hunters hadn’t given her to much grief as Thalia threw her own over her beanbag for now and went back to Annabeth’s braid. It, like everything the hunters owned, was silver of course, but had little arrow patterns all over in a crisscross pattern.

Hazel and Leo only had a vague idea what they were talking about. Both had been offered to read Jason’s book up to the point they were at, but both had declined. Leo had proclaimed he’d take his turn when necessary and not before or after. Hazel had just promised Nico she’d catch up in her quiet voice.

Will set the bag down in the middle by the fire and went to go sit in the windowsill, tipping his face back into the sun with a look of relief even for the faint light trickling in from the bitter cold clouds parting unwillingly.

There was a long, awkward silence as they all looked at each other to see who was going to read first. It was not lost on Annabeth that they were really waiting for her. The firelit flickered between blue and red so fast, it looked like purple strobe lights as she fought to concentrate.

 Magnus had been the last one to hold this thing, making half hearted comments about not wanting to have left that place at all. Alex would have claimed his turn next with joy and probably stopped every sentence to try and convince them all what the best chapter title would have been. And/or tried to eat the rainbow fire by now.

But they weren’t here. And someone had to start.

So Annabeth cradled the book for a moment and took a deep breath before opening it.

“It starts with, um, Leo,” she looked around at him as if expecting him to do something.

Leo frowned, not exactly pleased, but what was he supposed to do? Tell Jason and Percy what to do? Ha! He liked his head attached, and he’d seen those two laughing as they nearly killed each other with swords.

“Typical,” Percy said into the continued awkward silence. “The second we get used to something, it changes! How many people do you get sharing your story?” He demanded of Jason, envy still obvious in his tone.

“Get to?” Jason rolled his eyes, clearly nothing but good fun in him ‘snapping’ back at Percy to cover his honest disappointment. “I’d love it if it would just show Chiron torturing me for information about my home already!”

“You should be,” Thalia agreed with a chuckle, still twining Annabeth’s hair delicately through her fingers. “He only brings out the good banana flavored candy for people he’s torturing, none of that artificial flavored stuff.”

Typical, Leo agreed as he went back to his drawing among their halfhearted laughter, ignoring Hazel’s eyes still staying on him at all times in her creepy, determined stare like she was waiting for a private show. Nobody wanted to be in his head more than he wanted to plaster his inner thoughts out loud.

Whatever, it wasn’t like he had that much to hide, except for the skeletons in his closet he was sure the book on Jason’s life would skip over. He was just here because they’d picked him up like a stray puppy. If they were expecting him to jump up and turn his thoughts into one of his good shows of entertainment for them without even expecting a tip, they had another thing coming.

LEO’S TOUR WAS GOING GREAT UNTIL he learned about the dragon.

Leo froze, his golden marker poised to draw the undercarriage of his ship. He hadn’t even gotten to the dragon figurehead yet. They waited for him again, he could tell that’s what that silence was and all the eyes on him again. He was used to that. So he just shrugged and went back to it.

There was a ghost ranting in the back of Annabeth’s ear, her cousin demanding how many dragon’s this place could hold and which one was going to eat them all next. It wasn’t really funny, but she almost smiled for a moment at Percy mock assuring Magnus the surplus of dragons was under control. Mostly.

The archer dude, Will Solace, seemed pretty cool. 

“Aw, thank you,” Will grinned in surprise. “Nobody’s ever called me the archer dude before.”

That got some snickers for some private joke, but Leo was too distracted with the vague feeling of deja vu just behind his eyes. Okay, yeah, this was extremely weird having something that had happened to him days ago with Nyssa, his half sister, be told to them with a completely different person in place.

“Are you calling Will the dragon, or did you have a bad experience with Peleus?” Nico asked, a strange look on his face as he sized Leo up. He and Nico were about the same height, but Nico had the creepiest eyes Leo had ever seen and had no clue what he could have done to displease him and would be happy to never do it again.

“Neither,” he said quickly, keeping his attention on his project.

Everything was amazing…practice fights with explosives? … The woods were stocked with dangerous monsters? Nice!

Annabeth and Will laughed in appreciation, it was always nice to hear their home sounded that amazing to someone other than Clarisse from time to time.

…he hoped that didn’t mean he was cousins with all these ladies.

“And you critiqued my touring skills!” Annabeth gave Will a huff. “At least I told Piper something more relevant than Arts And Crafts and Blowtorches!”

“You broke her poor heart and gave her a knife,” Will shrugged. “I’m making sure he at least gets as much of the lay of the land as he can!”

“Both of you need to leave this to the professionals and give the satyrs more to do,” Thalia cut in as she finished with her hair and gave it a little tug, making her swat her away with a grin. 

“None of you guinnesses answered the question,” Nico rolled his eyes, before telling Leo as much as his sister, “dating is normal, don’t do it with someone you share a cabin with.” Will was not so secretly interested in that answer as he pursed up his lips. They’d only kissed once…

“Not on my to do list,” Hazel said quickly, her cheeks were clearly going to be stained red quite easily faster than even Leo could manage with one of those marker weapons.

“Good to know,” Leo grinned and shot Thalia a look. She gave him a withering stare in return and made his heart skip a beat with love.

“Don’t even think about it,” Thalia sniffed, “the Hunters of Artemis-”

“Yes, yes, vows of chastity, come on guys,” Percy finally sighed, clearly not happy being the voice of reason, but Jason was starting to get anxious and watching the book with the kind of growing concentration that would make lightning shoot out of his forehead eventually or something. He’d had to wait ten times longer than Percy had for even the vague reference of his life and still wasn’t exactly close to an answer even with all their side quests from the gods themselves. “We offered to give Hazel and Leo a rundown at breakfast, they refused, we’re not going to play catch up every five minutes are we?”

“Look at you, finish one lap of getting your memories back and having no patience for anyone else,” Will frowned in disapproval.

“It’s fine,” Hazel said hastily.

Leo had turned back to his drawing by then, though his eyes kept going to Thalia from time to time all the same.

…wanted to check out those underwater girls. They were worth drowning for.

“They’ll happily help you with that if you want,” Percy rolled his eyes in a way that made Leo feel like he wasn’t kidding and had to fish a few idiots besides him out. “They forget people have to hold their breath,” he promised and reinforced at the end.

…“Do I get a sword?” Will glanced at him like he found the idea disturbing.

Nobody bothered to ask why. Leo wielded those markers around like deadly weapons enough without putting something bigger and pointer in his hands. He swapped between colors so fast, there was already a rainbow of smudges between the wild fingers.

 “You’ll probably make your own, seeing as how you’re in Cabin Nine.”

“Not even a tour through the gift shop?” Jason snorted, giving Will a stern shake of his head. “Sorry, I’m siding with Annabeth right now.”

“This is not a competition for best tour guide,” Percy was already sighing in defeat, knowing it was going to play out otherwise.

“You’re right, it won’t be a competition at all,” Annabeth smirked.

Will laughed, and it sounded like a challenge anyways. 

The others sighed, but somehow, it felt like a breath of tension leaving the room too. The more they kept talking, the more they kept hearing the ghosts in the back of their mind of who Alex and Magnus would have sided with, but constantly thinking that wasn't making the silence any better.

…“Festus? Sounds like the god of cowboys.”

Will laughed way too hard at that. Leo grinned in surprise at someone actually getting the joke as the guy caught his breath and said, “sorry.”

“For what?” Leo demanded. “Always nice to meet a fellow Gunsmoker.” He didn’t think Will would laugh quite as much if he met Festus, but it was still nice to see.

“A what?” Hazel asked, mystified, though her brother seemed just as baffled. 

“An old cowboy show,” Will told them all. “Oh, so am I,” Will smiled, seeing Leo grin right back, the first friendly expression he’d had for the day, to Jason’s relief. It was clear Leo had thought they were all nuts inviting him up to their secret book club, Jason had half expected him not to come with the way he’d looked at Jason as a complete stranger the other day when asked.

 “Houston.” Leo said.

“Austin, but I wasn’t there very long,” Will sounded apologetic like it was his fault he couldn’t reminisce about NASA with him.

“Neither was I,” Leo assured. 

“Gunsmoke is this old cowboy show-” Will began to explain to Nico and Hazel while shooting excited looks at Leo to chime in if he missed anything important.

“And Percy’s from New York, can’t believe he’s gone a whole five seconds without mentioning it,” Nico interrupted in exasperation. Will gave him a little wink to assure he could hear the jealousy, and it was unfounded. He’d still happily take Nico to the range with a gun later whether Leo wanted to come or not.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m with him, still not looking to brag about all of our backgrounds,” Percy agreed.

…The god of fire, seriously? Considering what had happened to his mom, that seemed like a sick joke.

Leo’s marker flew across the room and beamed Thalia in the middle of her forehead giving her a brown freckle there she’d never wanted. 

He barely noticed as his eyes settled on the book with a disturbing stillness.

Okay, he’d been wrong about this stupid magic book using him as a punching bag gag!? Hinting at that was no joke!

“Leo,” Annabeth gave him the big gray eyes, and they all knew she was about to give him The Speech. The gods suck and did this to us, this is a gift not to be ignored, sorry for invading your personal headspace and life blahblahblah; but Leo already caved with one look at her before she could get started. He’d set Coach Hedges pants on fire and somehow was rewarded being at this cool place, and Nyssa had even assured him it would be neigh on impossible to burn this place down, he wouldn’t be the first to try at any rate.

“Just-” he started, then stopped lamely. He got up to get his marker back, and Thalia gave it back to him with a surprising gentleness in her face that somehow only made her look more hot and more unattainable.

Jason caught his eye on the way back, and he couldn’t imagine what it must feel like to not even know what happened to your mom, relying on a book, relying on someone else’s permission to get yourself back.

He’d never done a single useful thing in his life. Here it didn’t seem a bad place to start. “Just make sure you read my good side princess,” he finally said with a delightful grin that was sure to melt Annabeth’s heart.

She snorted and kept reading.

…Since Cabin Nine’s last head counselor died—”

“Died? Like, painfully?”

“There aren’t a lot of other ways to die around here,” Nico told him way too casually.

“Fun,” Leo managed while not choking on the word.

… where are my home dawgs? Shouldn’t they be giving me the VIP tour?”

“Trust me, you’d regret the VIP treatment real quick,” Percy scoffed. “You get told to leave within the week and go save the world.”

“Says the guy who has his own cabin. I knew you had to earn that perk  with more than just tossing water around,” Leo chuckled. Nyssa hadn’t given him a very extensive list of Percy’s many long achievements, and half of them he hadn’t understood anyways, but he got the idea. He was talking to the big dawg. 

He didn’t seem that impressive really. Just another guy, leaning back in a blue beanbag with wild hair and quick to smile. 

… um, you’ll see why.” Will forged on before Leo could ask anything else.

Will winced, having always felt a tad guilty in the back of his mind with no way to check on Jake even though he knew Chiron or his own siblings were just as capable of keeping an eye on him. He’d still gone to see him first thing this morning and there had at least been some improvement over the past few days, he could smile without pain at least.

“Curses and death,” Leo said to himself. “This just gets better and better.”

“If you think that’s better wait till you find out about the maiming and violent torture,” Thalia smirked.

“That’s only when you get involved Thals,” Percy rolled his eyes.

She could not get any hotter than when she smirked like that and tapped her knife. Leo really was a goner and doomed, so right on theme anyways.

… spotted his old babysitter…. not the person he’d see at a demigod camp.

Annabeth stuttered herself into silence again, and if Leo only knew how rare a thing that was to do to her, let alone twice, he would have been preening like a bird.

He was too busy still back studying the details of his ship. He’d already decided to come to terms with the fact they were going to hear he was a murderer and Percy and Jason would argue how to kill him first and Thalia would just cut his head off first anyways; this was nothing in comparison.

… She looked ancient, but no different than Leo remembered.

“H-Hestia?” Percy asked hesitantly, but it felt stupid saying it. Despite her being the first maternal goddess to come to mind who might pop in to see a demigod child, this description was harsh, all wrong.

He got silence for an answer. Nobody to mess with him, nobody to anti-up a joke. Thalia was just as disturbed as he was to try as they looked at Leo like a freak show. Apparently having crazy old baby sitters wasn’t as common as setting things on fire around here.

Good to know. “Nyssa said there were lots of ghosts hanging around this place, I suggested it was just the ghost of Christmas Past in drag, honestly guys, if you can’t tell me, just let it go.” Keep moving forward, just keep them going back to important things like Jason and they’d forget all about him.

“Right,” Annabeth agreed, which at least was an end to that. For now. She kept to herself Percy’s guess would have been sound in some ways, Callida was Greek or even Spanish for, ‘most beautiful; heated, with warmth’, but no more believed herself this was a manifestation of the gentle Hestia. 

… How many old ladies do you see over there?”

“There’s actually none running around here Will, how could you get her confused?” Percy agreed.

“We’re going to have to deduct points from your tour guide score for this,” Jason smirked.

Will gasped dramatically and tried to protest, but Annabeth was too invested in this strange mystery to let them keep playing around.

…when he looked back toward the big white cabin, Tía Callida was gone.

Percy licked his lips nervously, his next thought being Leo was stalked by the Furies, or something similar enough. Old hags who passed easily as people, clearly some minion of a god who already wanted the poor guy dead.

He kept it to himself though, watching Annabeth to see if she’d already worked it all out.

…and that wasn’t good, because Tía Callida had tried to kill him.

“Which cabin did you see her under?” Annabeth asked shrewdly.

“The big white one, at the end,” he repeated.

This answer didn’t seem to please her, which Leo knew was a bad thing, and not because he was hoping she’d notice him. Annabeth was wicked scary.

…at least, not crazier than he really was.

“I don’t think you’re crazy,” Will promised. “It’s far from the craziest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You are among your people with that, here’s your home dawgs,” Percy chuckled and waved at himself.

“Nice,” Leo grinned, “how many times have you set yourself on fire?”

“Pfft,” Percy rolled his eyes. “Like, seven, but three of those didn’t involve monsters.” Then he winced and turned to glare at Jason, who was already opening his mouth with a smirk. “I’ll toss you in those flames Jace, don’t start with me!”

Jason just laughed, clearly thinking nothing of the threat, and Leo found himself smiling as he turned away. Okay, this could be fun.

 “Let’s go see Cabin Nine,” Leo said. “I’m in the mood for a good curse.”

“Well then, aren’t you in the perfect place,” Jason said, an odd sour note to his voice.

Leo’s eyes again flickered to all the junk in here with interest- 

“Don’t encourage him,” Annabeth groaned.

“Jason, whatever he accidentally kills himself with, I will be using you to fix him just for that,” Will promised.

“I meant,” he waved at the Camp beyond but let it go, apparently not in the mood for blood sacrifices and resurrections. Ah well, maybe some other time.

No more talk was said of Tia Callida, but Leo knew it wouldn’t stay that way.

…It opened with brass gears turning and hydraulic pistons blowing smoke.

Hazel was blinking at that strange assortment of words like someone had switched books on her. Fancy bank vault, got it, but what?

She kept herself quiet and in Nico’s shadow though. These guys seemed friendly enough, and nobody had batted an eye aside from Leo himself at all the strange hints to his past, but that was nothing compared to hers. She at least was grateful to be up here, as far away from the ground as possible. A part of her still expected the earth to open up and pull her back in the moment she wasn’t paying attention, though Nico had assured her and Will last night he had it under control and that wasn’t going to happen.

Leo whistled. “They got a steampunk theme going on, huh?”

“What?” She couldn’t help herself that time though, Leo was still grinning that Sammy grin of excitement just hearing about his cabin again.

“It, it’s,” Nico stumbled and looked over at Will for help. Her brother had promised she wouldn’t stick out too much here for not knowing what a cellphone was, but she suddenly didn’t believe him as much with all the strange looks she got.

“A subgenre of science fantasy, focusing on technology that was steam powered,” Annabeth began babbling in excitement, but her shrewd eyes were on Hazel like she was prying the secrets right out of her already. Nico straightened up and glared at her, stopping Annabeth from asking after any of it, for now.

“Right,” Hazel agreed, quickly closing her mouth and wished she hadn’t said anything. She knew maybe three of those words and none of it cleared up her confusion.

“Relax Hazel, I met Leo less than an hour ago and I’m already exhausted keeping up with him,” Will said kindly, and Annabeth shrugged and moved on, clearly unconvinced. The only reason she was letting it go was so the girl could assimilate like Leo, have a chance to breathe and get a hint of normal camp life. Then she’d ask the girl from another time what it must have been like seeing radios and cars from one era to the next with just a quick nap.

Hazel still gave an apologetic look to Nico, but he smiled without concern and shrugged, so clearly she hadn’t done anything too bad.

…A fire pole came down, though the cabin didn’t appear to have a second floor. 

Will suppressed his deep annoyance at that revelation. It was a poorly kept secret that Cabin 9 kept all their best projects hidden away outside of the forge, though nobody had quite weaseled out where. He’d once tried to help Connor and Travis figure it out, the two claiming it was just so they could hopefully have some kids sleep there instead of tripping over them all day, but it had never gone anywhere. It had never occurred to them to start digging underneath the Hephaestus cabin! Probably for the better, the labyrinth would be a joke compared to how that might have ended.

…he could almost imagine he was back in his mom’s machine shop…She would’ve loved this place.

Percy had never been jealous of anybody else’s immortal parent, he’d come to a good medium with his dad at any rate. He took a breath though and felt a little jealous of all that, but more because he could have some fun playing with it all rather than putting it together. Beckendorf had been more than happy to come to him with the latest weed whacker to test it out, knowing Percy probably wouldn’t die if a wire exploded from not being sautered right or something to that effect.

Leo being here was a good thing though, he could feel it in his gut. He didn’t know why, or how, but he hoped Leo’s zany little attitude would be the key to help the cabin get back in the right swing of things so he could be their test dummy again at least.

…Don’t dwell on things. It was the only way to stay ahead of the sadness.

Leo got a good mix of pity and understanding looks for that, but neither was to his taste because it didn’t come with Thalia throwing her arms around him and promising to love him and only him forever, so he just flipped his drawing over and began listing out all the schematics. Thankfully his handwriting was small, if erratic, because there was going to be a lot.

…What’s the god of fire want with a weed whacker?”

A voice in the shadows said, “You’d be surprised.”

“That war on tomatoes is apparently on the rise, you and Piper should make a killer team,” Will grinned, before remembering Leo hadn’t read the last chapter to get the joke.

He seemed happy to play along all the same as he asked, “Piper the daughter of that plant god? Are we getting zombie celery for dinner?”

“No, and no,” Annabeth cut in with exhaustion.

…He looked like the Pillsbury Doughboy after a beat-down.

Jason snorted with laughter, then tried to poorly cover it as a sneeze. Leo at least grinned in appreciation, though nobody else had found it particularly funny when they’d seen him in person.

“At least the dragon didn’t manage to cook him, he would have gotten all out of shape and been the Pillsbury Doughnut,” Leo couldn’t resist.

Percy's laugh sounded like it was smacked out of him and he muttered something about Blackjack, but Annabeth kept reading loudly over the bleak humor to stop anything else.

…The guy cracked a smile, then winced like it hurt to move his face.

“At least somebody tried to make him smile, I do tend to forget that part,” Will lied kindly.

“Nurse Leo, at your service with smiley stickers,” Leo shook his head as he said it though to make it very clear he was not actually volunteering.

 Leo wondered what had happened to him, but he was afraid to ask.

He wouldn’t like the answer either, Will fought off a wince with practice of how to control the bad news off his face he’d need someday. Dragons were never a great answer to any question.

“Couldn’t your ambrosia and nectar stuff just, fix that?” Hazel asked in concern.

“We can’t give it to him in large doses,” Will kindly reminded. “You’re hearing about this three days after it happened, when we’ve been nursing him on the godly food enough he’s conscious. We’ll keep giving him a little every day. I came and checked on him this morning and he was walking around on his own with only two casts now.”

…I’m the head counselor for now.”

“For now?” Leo asked.

Will Solace cleared his throat. “So where is everybody, Jake?”

“Subtle as a brick to the face my friend,” Jason rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I could use a lesson or two on changing the subject from you, master of directness,” Will sniffed.

“Don’t over think it Leo,” Percy ignored them. “Jake’s been through a lot, never wanted to lead the cabin to begin with.” He’d blamed himself a lot for the curse, talking about how he hadn’t done enough for Beckendorf during the battle like all that didn’t rest on Percy’s shoulders and he’d been useless to try helping them with all this.

…“They’re working on, you know, that problem.”

“Oh.” Will changed the subject. “So, you got a spare bed for Leo?”

Jason laughed hard, and Will sighed with no comeback that time.

…Don’t talk to me about ghosts, doughboy.

“There’s a chapter title somewhere in there about ghosts and the Pillsbury guy Alex would enjoy,” Percy said with a wistful grin.

“I think the fact that Leo’s clearly used to sleeping with ghosts is good enough to be getting on with,” Nico said with flat disinterest. He knew he was a hypocrite for it, having spent all that time looking for a ghost only to dismiss Percy continuing to bring the two up, but gods did it just keep causing a sick feeling in him every time.

…I’ll give you the best bed in the cabin—Beckendorf’s.”

Annabeth’s voice shook with memories and horrors, of Silena screaming and Percy coming over that hill with Connor still letting them all know another friend wasn’t coming back. “That’s a great honor Leo,” she told him quietly.

“Yeah, I got that,” Leo sighed, already close to running out of room and blindly reaching for another page, the previous three of which were scratched out with wrong parts or calculations. Jake hadn’t been subtle about wanting to give up his position to whoever wanted it, and he and Nyssa had been going back and forth on what to do with the dragon so much he was sure his half-siblings thought him an upstart brat coming in telling them what to do.

But he caught the look on Percy’s face, being studied, sized up like so many kids who decided he was easy pickings and tried to tip him upside down and take whatever fell out of his pockets.

Percy nodded to himself though and gave his very obvious girlfriend a friendly smile and nod to keep going. It was oddly accepting. He was positive he didn’t have Percy Jackson’s whole hearted approval, but it didn’t feel like he was going to be threatened with pressure to live up to some hero over this choice made for him either.

…Leo jumped right in and lay with arms behind his head. “I can handle this.”

“Well guys, I don’t think he’s afraid of ghosts,” Nico said mildly.

“Can’t touch this,” Leo said in a sing-song voice as if this were a great brag. He gave Thalia a wink, but she wasn’t even looking.

… Will Solace protested. “You guys have private underground rooms?”

“Thank you!” Percy gestured at Will as he looked at Leo in a way that would have been terrifying if Percy really wasn’t trying to hold back a laugh. “First Piper, now this!?”

“I didn’t know about them either,” Annabeth seemed much more casual about the secrets still to be undiscovered about her home, and she’d been here longer than anyone. 

It seemed to appease him enough Leo stopped getting the stank eye from the most powerful not-god in camp anyways.

…“We got lots of secrets, Will. You Apollo guys can’t have all the fun. 

“But we try so hard,” Will heaved a tragic sigh.

“Think the Hermes kids still got you beat, they have the most minds to brainstorm, even more than them,” Thalia gestured at Annabeth.

“I’m surprised you don’t have a brother named Jack, considering your dad could be a contender for jack of all trades, master of none,” Annabeth smirked at Will.

“This is slander upon my brethren,” Will sighed. “Where’s Conner when I need him to be my shield for all the bad rep around here.”

“Probably replacing all the toilet paper with saran-wrap or something. Want me to go fetch him?” Nico offered.

“Nah, he’d just throw me under the bus next,” Will sighed for the great tragedy all this clearly was, but the jokes did help to ease away the nightmare image of the last time he’d seen his dad.

…Leo imagined saw blades coming through the mattress, or maybe a grenade sewn inside the pillows. “He didn’t, like, die in this bed, did he?”

“I mean, one does not discount the other in this case,” Thaila offered in a completely unhelpful tone of voice.

“I’ve found a good socket wrench, but no grenade’s yet,” Leo assured her he wasn’t going anywhere. 

“Let me know if you found his famous roll of duct tape, he always promised he could fix anything with that,” Annabeth sighed.

“What’s duct tape?” They heard Hazel try to whisper to Nico.

He whispered something back about being sticky as Annabeth loudly kept reading while Leo studied the last strange girl. She was slim and beautiful, with the sweetest smile on her face most of the time, but he was half convinced the way she kept staring at him was closer to how he’d look at Tia Callida than as anything interesting.

…“The Titan War, which has nothing to do with this very fine bed?”

“The Titans,” Will said, like Leo was an idiot. 

“Sorry,” Will winced, he tried to avoid doing that, but being surrounded with those memories always made him a little sharper than an arrow.

“I forgive alternate reality you, still working on you you,” Leo rolled his eyes. Nyssa and Jake had caught him up on this well enough.

…Their armies almost destroyed us. A lot of demigods died to stop them.”

“You know Will, I’ll give you back some tour guide points though for actually answering that so well, unlike some people,” Percy told him to break out of Annabeth’s ragged breath at the end. They’d relived that more than enough for one lifetime, thank you.

Will smiled in delight and Annabeth mock gasped and called him a traitor as he knew they would.

…he’d been on the run from another foster home. A truancy officer caught him in New Mexico,

Will swallowed the question of where he’d been heading. He’d assume back to Texas, but with the not so subtle hint his mom was dead, it might have just been, away. Leo had clearly opted for focusing all of his limited attention on his project without offering more, and he could respect that.

 the court sentenced him to the nearest correctional facility— Wilderness School. “I was busy.”

Percy seemed mildly cheered by that depressing information dump. “It’s nice to hear I wasn’t the center of everyone’s tragedy.”

“Next time you want to make freak storms happen and get me out of the next place, I’ll call you,” Leo assured.

“Don’t worry Leo, no volcano’s erupting to chase you out of here, promise,” Percy said. And Leo found it oddly comforting, and believed him.

…imagining a dead counselor sitting there —another ghost who wasn’t going to leave Leo alone.

“Cheerful, you’re clearly in great company Jason,” Thalia sighed. She obviously did not approve of him as future husband material, a bummer.

Jason didn’t seem to mind though, he’d spent the entire time sizing Leo up, and now as he took the book, he didn’t skip right past the next section as if he were the useless tag-along he’d assumed he’d be here.

HOOPJOHOOPJOHOOPJO

Alsox4, just to establish a new thing going forward for you guys, if a chapter’s less than ten pages in my docs while editing, you bet your butt we’re doing double updates throughout the week! Some of these are so insanely short and there’s a lot to get through! Maybe less than fifteen pages, on Thursday’s, if I’m having a good week.

Alsox5, in order of it being Valentine’s Day, I am here to ask because it’s been pointed out to me I haven’t yet, what pairings would you want to see in this? I adhere to the canon only pairings for these reading series so as not to alienate my readers, but have neglected to actually ask what pairings you’d want to see? I really would love to have Jason/ Leo in this; as technically it’s only fudging canon because Leo hasn’t met Calypso yet and it’s not like they're officially together when he rescues her at the end of the series… (and I will not be doing ToA while also acknowledging Piper/ Jason are a broken-up thing and won’t bother getting them together in this because of those events.)

But don’t think I’m getting crazy ideas about Everybody in this. Tell me your thoughts? You have until the end of Lost Hero, because if you guys want to see Valgrace, it’ll be quite fun and interesting to really start implementing around Son of Neptune for, certain reason’s I’m sure you can guess…

[thingsidrawgohere]

Now, let's talk about the making of this thing. It was a Problem but one I clearly made for myself.

I knew I wanted to bolt the book shut from the start- which meant I was looking into hardware very early. I know what you're thinking. Posts, obvs. I've used them before but I wanted something more dramatic. Eventually, I found these 't-nuts' (no comment) and you can see how I built a hollow in the boards for them to sit. The connector bolts had a flat head and thus I used them- after cutting them to size. And after sanding the black coating to the stainless underneath (good luck finding a 'silver' connector bolt- but it looks sweet).

For the cover, obviously, god, obviously, the viewer's reflection narrowing to their own face. Modern Life Horseshit, specifically My Feelings Horseshit, blah blah. But! I also found great joy in the fact that this motherfucker holds every scuff, fingerprint, and ding. (If a counter drops out- the R. It'll be the R- then it falls out. This project is about letting be and letting git.) This is the only book I've ever had to windex.

It took a very, Very long time to find a metallic paper that could be laser-cut both well and without producing toxic vapors. Fun. Glue could easily be wiped off but it took a fold like soup. And it was much more complicated with the second "repetition" being raised in a hollow that required a backing of a different, much thinner metallic paper that would not fold at all. I was going for a hall of mirrors thing but I did not hit it. I'll file the idea away for something else.

Now to the fuck-up parade. Obvs, the text block spine. I have no idea what happened. I think when I was trimming on my hardcore guillotine, I had it cattywampus and that pulled the tail edge out of plumb. Very cross. But I like the velvet endbands, even if they are invisible. I should restarted there.

And then also, the spine. There's was a Huge gap between the block and boards. Again, I'm not sure what happened. I checked the measurements and they all squared out so I think it was my hinges. This is a fairly small book with very thick boards so I think that was the issue. Cut apart the cover and rejiggered the spine (twice). Which meant my nice, tidy wrapping looks like dogshit.

But Now, I could see the gap between the spine board and text block spine. That was due to my own stupid. When I measured for the t-nut placement, I set the block at the edge of the back board. Rookie- because the block should overhang, ever so slightly, flush against the spine board. I added more velvet to hide the gap (maybe 2 or 3mm). Disappointed and messy and pissed but LeArNiNg.

I do not have a printer worth using. And thus I have some printed pages I'm not very happy with. I choose to not POD this one for added privacy. A little silly but I'm trying. So this is as best as I can do at present. Done is better. And frankly, it's my next of kin's problem.

Perhaps the greatest fuck-up of all, I wrote 15k of Sonic fic/Internet cultural mock-dissertation. And in case it needs said, not a good dissertation. I am not a Sonic person so I hope the real heads allow me grace cuz, cousin, I went to the Dark Places for this gag. I know the ache of Tommy the Turtle now. I can't ever unlearn that. I had a great time; would recommend.

I think, over all, the book is an absolute failure of construction. There's three different points wherein I should have just started over. I hate. Hate this book. But a success of exorism.

Thank you for participating.