#hauling skid steer

[rmspeltzfarm]

Putting new road with Skidsteer

[skeltnwrites]

Deck the Halls ⋆⁺❆₊꙳‧❅⋆࿔

With Eddie stuck in the hospital, the boys help you bring Christmas to him. 3k

a/n - for the amazing @littlexdeaths twelve days of promptmas! <3

“Mike, stop pulling so hard.” 

“You’re holding it too high!” 

Lucas scoffs. “It’s literally dragging on the floor.” 

“It’s literally not–” 

“Guys!” Your snow-slick boots squeal on the linoleum as you spin. “You’re gonna get us caught if you don’t stop arguing.” 

“But he–” 

“I wasn’t–”

“Both of you! Shut up!” 

The scowl Mike gives Lucas is met with equal disdain. But he rolls his eyes and heaves the Christmas tree in his arms up a notch. You resume down the hospital hallway, hauling the front end of the tree with four grumpy teenagers in tow. 

You can’t be that annoyed. Dustin, Lucas, Will, and Mike are all here with you of their own volition in this stuffy hospital very early on Christmas morning. And they all have a piece of your heart for doing so. 

You adjust your grip on the tree. No matter how you hold it, the bristles poke your waist, and the bark stamps itchy lines into your palms. But you remind yourself of Eddie. Of his hospital room with white walls, white sheets, white machines, white everything. And that’s just not right, not on Christmas. 

So you’re bringing the holiday spirit to Eddie this year. Between the five of you, there are three backpacks brimming with unused tinsel, lights, and ornaments, and a pine tree as tall as Lucas. 

You’d have decorated earlier if you could’ve. But Eddie procrastinated until Christmas Eve to fix the lights on your roof and in his haste, his heel skidded on a patch of ice, and he tumbled off the house in a rather cartoonish display. It wasn’t funny then, but you can laugh now knowing he’s passed out on painkillers and recovering just fine. Still, two broken ribs were enough to hold him for observation and visiting hours ended before you could scrounge anything festive together. So here you are, slinking through the emergency room past receptionists, nurses, and hospital security in the middle of the night. 

You raise a fist, prompting the boys to freeze. The click-clack of heels echoes from around the corner, growing louder by the step. “Back, back, back,” you order. 

Mike backpedals straight into Will’s chest and Dustin steps on Lucas’ foot. The tree lurches backward as they all grapple for balance. It’s a clumsy scuffle nowhere near quiet. If whoever’s there didn’t hear you before, they certainly have now. 

You try the nearest door handle and swing it open. By some miracle, the room’s unoccupied. 

The boys follow your lead, bags jingling loudly with each frantic step. They shove the tree through the doorway at an angle and a branch snags on the frame. 

“Wait– stop, stop!” Dustin whisper-yells. 

Mike rams it through again, a flurry of pine needles shaking loose and fluttering to the floor. 

“Stop,” you bark, “Turn it first.” 

They’re a smart bunch but they lack teamwork skills when you so desperately need it. Several pairs of hands fight to maneuver the tree in opposite directions. And all four of them squeeze through the doorway with it, snapping a branch in half and shaking another sheet of pine needles free. 

You sweep the tree remains inside with your foot– though there’s certainly still evidence in the hall– and pull the door closed behind you. The cheap window blinds crinkle as you steer them aside, just enough to see past the door. 

The heeled woman is either blind, deaf, or committed to minding her own business because she strolls by the door like it’s any other. You slump against the wall, turning to flash a thumbs up at the kids as soon as she’s out of view. You’re matched with a quartet of yawns, skipping from one frown to the next. 

“Almost there,” you encourage. It’s not a lie, per se, but it’s not very close to the truth either. This might be harder than you imagined. 

The elevator is too risky, so you take the stairs. But hauling a whole tree up four flights of stairs is no easy task. Mumbled complaints overlap and echo in the stairwell and by the top, your arms and legs are protesting just the same. 

The door whines as you crack it open, and you peer through the gap to scope out the area. There’s a nurse's station in the center of the floor manned by the same woman you’d seen earlier. Eddie’s room is on the opposite side; there’s virtually no way to sneak past without her seeing. 

You turn around, eyes locking with Dustins like they’re two bullseyes. 

He crosses his arms and cocks his head. He knows the look you're giving him and he doesn’t like it. “What?” 

“I need you to distract the nurse.” 

He says your name through a sigh, but before he can actually disagree, you yank him by the sleeve and thrust him through the doorway. 

The nurse’s head pops up from the desk immediately and Dustin shakes himself into character. 

“Help!” he shouts, promptly clearing his throat. “I need help– it’s my, my mother! You must help her,” he whips his head left and right. “Over here, in the elevator!” 

The nurse doesn’t move. She tries to speak but Dustin interrupts her.

“No! She won’t make it! Please– hurry!” 

The woman scrambles out of her seat and jogs after Dustin. He’s not very convincing, but he’s a better actor than the rest of you. And he’s very committed once he’s in it. Dustin’s cries persist, eventually distant enough that your adrenaline loosens its grip. You fling the door open, pinning it with your foot. The boys hustle through, following your pointer finger down the right corridor. You trot back ahead, escorting them right up to Eddie’s door. 

The sharp, sterile scent of disinfectant imbues the frigid air in his room. The machines are off so the quiet hangs heavy. It’s the opposite of warm in every sense possible. And the little bit of it still spilling in from the hall is quickly cinched as someone shuts the door. 

You grope around the darkness, staggering over to the inky shadow you recall to be a chair. Your fingertips brush the scratchy fabric, and you let your bag slip from your shoulder, landing softly on the seat. 

A splash of light from the window catches one side of Eddie’s face. His lashes kiss the hills of his cheeks and his mouth is hinged open, exhaling a string of soft snores. It’s very cute, though, the kids’ expressions don’t reflect the same fondness. 

“We don’t have all day,” Lucas mocks, parroting your exact words from earlier when you’d urged him to get in the van before all the heat escaped.  

Your gaze sours when it reaches the boys. “Shut up. Help me stand the tree up.” 

Lucas snickers, planting himself on the other side of the tree. You lift the trunk so Will can slide the base under and Mike goes prone on the floor to screw it in. 

“Hurry up,” Lucas complains. 

“I can’t see!” 

“Shhh!”

Will pulls a flashlight from his bag and points it at Mike’s hands. The final screws are tightened and the boys let go.  

You give the trunk an affirming shake before retracting your own hands. It remains upright, even after a few optimistic steps back. 

If you think decorating would be the easiest part of this mission, you’d be wrong. It’s much too dark to work, even after Will situates his flashlight so it’s highlighting most of the tree. And keeping quiet might be impossible when you’re forced to mediate petty teenage arguments every five minutes. 

Mike and Will are hunched over a wad of string lights on the floor, unknotting opposite ends when Lucas waves his much neater spool of lights. “Uhh, we can’t use those. I brought rainbow ones.” 

Will tuts at the other boy. “So? We can use both?” 

“No, it’ll look stupid.” 

Will beckons you over with a growing frown. You’d swear these kids never graduated middle school if you hadn’t gone to the ceremony. The older they get, the more they fight, it seems. But your patience is thinning with each wave of attitude you receive. You’d asked for their help as their friends, not their babysitters. 

“Use both,” you decide, hands pressed into your hips. 

“But it won’t match!”

“It’s fine, Lucas.” 

He rolls his eyes very blatantly at you. It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to drive him home then and there. 

But the sound of the door handle rattling steals your attention. It jerks up and down but the door doesn’t open; one of the kids must’ve locked it. Your heart springs up into your throat, your eyes swinging around the room for an escape plan. The lock will only buy you so much time and there’s no way to safely exit through the window and—

“It’s me!” Dustin shouts, popping into the window frame. His lips are nearly touching the glass and he’s fogging up the pane with his breath. 

“Jesus,” you mumble, clutching your chest as you march up to the door. 

Dustin scrambles in, chest heaving with a glare aimed right at you. “You would not believe how much stamina that woman has! I mean she just kept going. I thought, I lost her, and then–” 

You slap your palm across his mouth. “Shhh!”  

His wide eyes follow yours to Eddie. 

Eddie sighs, lips smacking as he straightens a leg across the sheets. You’ve never been so thankful to be dating such a deep sleeper. 

“Sorry,” Dustin whispers. 

You shove him further into the room. “Go. Be quiet.” 

Dustin grabs the tail end of the lights in Will’s hands. Together they wind the cord around the bottom half of the tree. Lucas dresses the top half in rainbow bulbs, still sulking as he works. 

You squat beside Mike to help him sort the ornament pile. One you brought quickly catches your eye. It’s a clay guitar pick Eddie made in middle school art class, an instant favorite of yours. You take it and hang it front and center, filling the gap in the middle of the tree where they ran out of lights. 

One by one, the tree is stocked with a rainbow of mismatched ornaments. There's something from each of their homes– family photos and elementary school crafts and trinkets of every size. It’s a wild assortment but a very special one too. 

Dustin is determined to hang the star– puts up a case that he was used as bait and thus deserves it– though, no one was going to argue against him in the first place. He climbs onto Mike’s back, arms stretching as far as they’ll go.

“God, you’re heavy.”  

“Stop complaining. Get me closer.”

“I’m trying.” 

Mike staggers closer and Dustin snatches a fistful of the top. The entire tree lurches toward him, ornaments clinking in his wake. 

“Wait– careful,” you urge.

Dustin lists dangerously forward, jamming the star through the bristles. 

From beside you, Will hums disapprovingly, “It’s crooked.”

Dustin’s tongue curls over his lip as he adjusts it. “Now?”

“Still crooked.”

"Now?"

Your hands hover out in front of you like a net but you are not as prepared to catch him as you look. “No, it’s fine. Just leave it.” 

Dustin releases the tip and the whole tree reels back. His arm shoots back out to steady it, but a handful of ornaments swing off and onto the floor. Miraculously, none shatter, but they bounce away in a ripple of clinking. 

Your focus jumps over to Eddie. He’s squinting vaguely in your direction, head tilted off his pillow with curls plastered to one cheek. 

A breathy chuckle reverberates through your chest. “Merry Christmas!” 

“Wha…”

The kids mimic you in their own broken choir of wishes but with half the enthusiasm you delivered. 

Eddie’s eyebrows weave into one crooked arch. He attempts, and quickly fails, to prop himself up on his elbows, making a sullen sort of sigh on the way down. 

You stride over to the bed, landing on the edge by his sheet-wrapped thigh. Your hand slips behind his shoulders and you offer a half smile. “Surprise?” 

He winces into a sit, a hand flying to his chest. Pain folds back into confusion as his eyes flicker across each face in the room. “I don’t… Why?” 

“So you can celebrate, silly.” You hook a finger under the hair stuck to his face and tuck it behind his ear. 

His lashes flutter closed as he melts into your palm, slowly bending until his forehead meets your shoulder. “Sorry, ‘m so tired.” 

Despite the overdramatic gagging going on behind you, you accept the embrace, running a ginger hand up his spine where his gown has billowed open. “Don’t be. Didn’t mean to wake ya. It’s early.” 

His nose sweeps a cold line across your collar. “How’d you get in? Place is like a prison,” he mumbles. “Already tried to escape.” 

“No, you didn’t,” you snort. 

“No,” he admits, lips turning against your shirt. “You snuck in? Snuck a whole Christmas tree in?”

You lean away just enough to nod, pride softening the edges of your grin.

“And you managed to do that with Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum times two.” 

“I’m sorry– Who face-planted off a roof again?” Dustin cracks. 

Your sudden laughter is corked with Eddie’s palm. He glares– or tries to anyway– but you know his tells. The way one corner of his mouth twitches through his frown. How he tilts his head when he’s secretly amused. “Don’t laugh at that,” he says, utterly unconvincing. 

The rest of your laugh is swallowed, but the levity doesn’t fade. You peel his fingers off, gently carrying them to your lap like they might be broken too. “It’s true. You did.” 

“Whatever.” 

“Don’t pout.” You tip your head, mirroring him on purpose. “Do you like it?” 

His gaze tapers back up to the scene behind you, eyes glowing with red, green, and gold. “No, I love it,” he says honestly. 

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. I can’t believe this. How’d I get so lucky? Hmm?” Eddie pinches your side, cutting off your giggle with a swift kiss. 

“God, gross!” 

You whip your head toward the source. “Lucas, you literally have a girlfriend.” 

“Yeah, but you’re kissing Eddie.”

“What? You don’t think Eddie’s pretty?” Your fingers clamp either side of his face, cheeks squishing into his puckered lips like a fish. 

Eddie stares blankly at Lucas, but the second his eyes bound to yours, you both burst into laughter. 

“Don’t make me laugh, babe. Fuck,” he hisses, doubled over in amusement and equal pain.

“Sorry, sorry,” you amend, hands gently sandwiching his. “Oh– Let me get your gift.” 

He’s curious but he still sulks as you leave, chasing the lost warmth as you slide off the bed. “A gift?” 

“Mhmm,” you say, unzipping the front pocket of your bag. You fish out a small box wrapped in glossy paper with a puffy, red bow. 

He gives it a good shake when you pass it to him and a knowing smirk at the noise it makes. 

“Open it.” You beckon the kids closer, taking your prior spot on the bed. “It’s from all of us.”

The paper falls away under Eddie’s eager hands, a smirk growing and growing until it suddenly falters. Pure shock washes over him as he gawks at the gift. A limited edition, glow-in-the-dark set of dice he’s been talking about for months. 

His eyes shoot between you and the dice several times before he asks, “Where’d you even get these? They sold out like immediately.”

You shrug, nonchalance slipping. “Know a guy.”

He rolls his eyes, giving your shoulder a good jostle. And his gaze shifts across every person in the room, thumb absentmindedly roving across the box's label. “Thank you, guys.” 

“They come with one condition,” Dustin says. 

“What’s that?”

“You have to resurrect Virehart the Vengeful.”

Eddie groans, burying his smile in his free hand and shaking his head. “I told you guys I’m not doing it.”

“Please, come on! That’s our only condition,” Will tries. 

“He literally had like two lines.” 

“And they were badass!” says Dustin. “A blade is only as sharp as the courage behind it,” he recites in a voice much deeper than his own. 

“Oh my God.” Eddie waves a dismissive hand. “Fine, fine.” 

The boys celebrate with a chain of cheers. Eddie steals your fingers back amidst all of the yelling, a doting little look in his eyes. Forget the dice, you’re the real gift to him. 

The fuss very promptly ends when someone clears their throat. You all turn in unison, finding the same nurse from earlier. She sighs, hands planted on her hips with a disapproving shake to her head. 

Eddie chuckles nervously. “Merry Christmas?” 

[spinningwebsandtales]

Imagine Max Saving You From A Group Of War Boys

Max Rockatansky X FemReader

Rating: M

Warnings: Blood, mentions of death, rotting bodies, stealing, vehicle accident, suggestive materials (reader is worried she'll be placed in Immortan Joe's harem), injuries

Word Count: 2.1k

(A/N:) I have had a heck of a time getting this bad boy finished. But I couldn't have got it done in more perfect timing with the Furiosa movie out in theaters! I'm going very soon and hopefully there will be more Max inspiration take place cause I love Fury Road! I rewatched it here recently and my love for Max has been kindled once more! So hopefully this helps feed my fellow Mad Max fangirls! Enjoy and until next time happy reading! ~Countess

To survive in the wastelands you have to do anything and be willing to suffer any consequences. You could always lay over and just die, letting the vermin that scuttled about in the sands, take care of the remains. Or you could stand and fight, taking whatever you need no matter who it's from. That's how you've survived for so long, scavenging, taking from unlucky fellow survivors that just so happen to be in your path. Food, water, clothing, guzzolene, anything of value it was all fair game. Your biggest score, was your car. Though you didn't take it from anyone living. Raiders had come across some poor sap, killing him and taking everything of value, except for his car. It had taken some doing but you found the key buried under the sand close to the rotting body of the man who had just found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. His loss became your gain. Now you could make it across in different areas of desert in less time. Though the need for guzzolene became a problem. So far you had had good luck being able to get it whenever you needed it. Though you knew for certain that eventually your luck would run out.

And run out it did. Unfortunately you had grown cocky with your string of wins. The tires of your car spun, throwing up clouds of sand as you tried to gain traction on the loose ground. You released the pedal, quickly shifting into all wheel drive. With a roar from the engine the car finally burst forward, pinning you back. The group of war boys behind you yelling as the chase was on. You hit the steering wheel cursing yourself for screwing up so severely, you'd be lucky to make it out alive. You had seen the war boys yards away and you knew they hauled all the equipment they needed, thanks to Immortan Joe. If you could score off of them, you'd be set for a month. But it hadn't been easy and though your skills was above average you didn't get to swipe one thing until they had swarmed you. Now you were trying everything to get away. Dodging lances and hooks that would kill you in an instant, you blinked back against the sand in your eyes. You hadn't had your car long enough to become an elite driver yet and they were gaining fast. Despair crushed your lungs as one war boy pulled up beside you. You darted away only to run into another war boy rig. The two drivers started to pull towards one another, pinning you in between them.

Your hands shook as you gripped the steering wheel harder. The war boys cackled and spit, toying with you before they ended you.

"Bring her to Immortan," they crowed. "Bring her to him! He'll take care of her!"

They all agreed and the two vehicles pulled away, leaving you free. With the pressure off the sides, your car slid fishtailing and you lost control instantly. The war boys only got louder as your car went airborne and crashed down on it's hood. Your face smashing against the steering wheel as your car began to roll over repeatedly. The last roll and you were ejected from the shattered windshield. The hot sand cushioned you, but it wasn't much as you skidded to a stop. Your chest wheezing as you tried to breathe. Your car destroyed and your life forfeit, any hope of living left you. The one thing that you wished to happen was the war boys finishing you here and now, you heard what Immortan Joe did to women he liked or wished to continue his line with. You blinked at the sand as several of the war boys raced towards you.

"Immortan Joe will be pleased with us," one sneered. "Steal from Immortan and pay the consequences."

You shook your head, trying to clear your sight. Apparently you had hit your head harder than you first realized as the illusion of a man walking towards you, refused to dissipate. No he only got closer and you surely knew the Grim Reaper was now on his way to bring about your end. You'd gladly take his hand if it meant that the suffering would end and you wouldn't have to face a fate worse than death.

"Eh what's that there?"

Okay maybe you weren't so crazy as the war boys were seeing the being too. His arm raised and gunfire had the war boys scattering while two of them fell beside you. A small flicker of hope kindled, unless you were trading an end brought by Immortan Joe's battle fodder for this stranger. Though if he wanted to end you, you were pretty positive that he would have ended you already. You were an easy target unlike the war boys that were scurrying around, trying their best to fight back. Screams and thuds surrounded you as the man only kept stepping forward. Not backing down or flinching at the bullets and explosions all coming towards him. When he was close enough for your hazy vision did you finally get a good look. With short hair and a stocky build, he was quite handsome for a desert dweller. Though he looked healthy it didn't mean that he had lived an easy life. A haunted look was in his eyes and his face would twitch every now again. Something was wrong with him, but beggars couldn't be choosers as he was saving your butt.

The last war boy fell to the sand, spraying blood from his wounds and you felt well enough to sit up. You whimpered at the pain shooting through your head but when the stranger knelt before you, you quickly bit back any more noises.

"Took a tumble," he mumbled.

"Just a little one," you agreed spitting a mouthful of blood out.

He rose back up looking through all the now abandoned vehicles and even searched through the wreckage of yours. You felt a little indignant as he took several items out of yours. Sure they were stolen goods, but you had pilfered them fair and square. You attempted getting up, your shaky legs barely keeping you up. Attempting a step, you stumbled and quickly caught yourself.

"That's my stuff in my car," you glared. Though you hoped that he would listen, there was no way you could fight him, if he wanted to.

He didn't reply just kept digging before he pulled out your worn pack. You protested loudly before he threw it at your feet. He still didn't say a word as he started searching through the war boy's vehicles and even going further and searching the war boy's pockets. When he decided that he had searched and grabbed everything of value, he handed you another bag and tank of guzzolene and jerked his head towards the direction that he had come from. You knew that if you wanted to survive the night you would need to follow him. He had proven himself trustworthy so far and your injuries were becoming worse, though your legs had finally steadied enough to walk.

On unsteady feet you remained close, the stranger not saying a word but waving at the air every little bit. Surely you didn't just survive the war boys only to be taken out by some mental man seeing ghosts? His car came into view, worn and beaten up, but sturdy and reliable looking. Tossing his gear in the back seat, he looked back and waved you forward.

"Why," you sighed, suddenly becoming dizzy. You wanted to ask why he rescued you? Why was he bringing you with him? But your adrenaline infused energy finally hit E and you collapsed to the ground.

"Don't go to sleep," he muttered suddenly at your side. Tapping at your cheek. "Wake up."

"Tired..."

He shook you harder, "Wake up."

You couldn't answer, losing the battle with the darkness overtaking your vision. And then you knew nothing else.

The rumbling of tires was all you could hear as you came in and out of consciousness. The sun was still so bright and the mystery man behind the wheel muttered to himself constantly. Promises dripping from his tongue and you licked your chapped lips before succumbing once more to the darkness.

You had no idea how much time had passed in your unconscious state, until at last your eyes opened and you were able to remain awake. A small fire crackling in the background provided a little bit of illumination in a small musty cave. Your body hurt and the ache in your head had your temples pounding a horrible drumbeat. Across the way your savior leaned up against the cave wall. His body lurched forward and his chest heaved as his eyes opened. You jerked, surprised by his sudden movement. He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes before his attention was drawn to you. He took a cup that sat by his leg and moved towards you.

"Drink," he muttered holding the dented tin cup to your lips. The water was warm and gritty from dirt but you didn't care as you gulped the entire contents down, but still your throat burned for more. Wordlessly he filled it back up and brought more of the precious resource to you.

"Why," you croaked when you finally had your fill.

He shrugged.

"There has to be a reason why you helped me?"

He shrugged again.

"Stubborn fool," you retorted. After a long, quiet, and awkward pause you finally spoke again, "Thank you."

This time he grunted.

Sitting up, it took a moment for the cave to stop spinning before you were able to see only one of him again. You scrounged around in your bag, searching for the bit of dried lizard you had kept. Finding it, you ripped it in half and offered him the larger piece. Sort of an offering of peace and that you could be a friend he could trust. He took it, before devouring it quickly.

"I wasn't going to take it from you," you laughed while ripping a bite off of yours. "Now that we have broke the proverbial bread, aka dried lizard maybe we can have an actual conversation now?"

Once again he shrugged and you really were fighting the urge to throw something at him.

"Gotta name at least," you asked, unwilling to give up. If he could be stubborn so could you.

He glanced around, his fingers tapping against the metal brace on his knee. Finally he sighed and turned dark eyes onto you.

"Max."

Finally a start. You gave him your name before sticking out your hand. Reluctantly he took it but he did shake your hand. Silence filled the cave again and you were beginning to feel exhausted again. You yawned gaining his attention.

"Get some rest," Max said his boots scuffing against the ground as he stood up. "We move in the morning."

Morning came so quickly, the fire had been doused and Max had packed up everything. The cave floor bare with no signs of someone staying there. You thought that you'd look around and he'd be gone, but his silhouette filled the cave entrance blocking out the majority of the harsh sun rays. Sitting up, you gained his attention and he nodded to his car.

"Can I ask why you're saving me now," you asked once in the passenger seat.

Max sighed, "Maybe I just want to redeem myself of all the times I failed."

His gaze towards you, looked sad, tired, and lost. Your heart broke and you could understand that ache buried within him. Why he seemed distant, but kind. This world had it's way of taking anything bright and lovely and tainting it in the worst way possible. Max started the engine and started to shift it into gear when your hand covered his.

"This world is ugly," your voice wavered causing Max to cock his head. "But that doesn't mean it has to make us ugly in the process. I've done things I regret, stealing, taking from others to survive. But I always want to reach out that helping hand when I can. Like you did for me. I owe you a lot now Max, maybe this was just a chance meeting or maybe it's meant for something more."

He nodded, shifting into gear and roaring off. The wheels churning dirt into a cloud. Honestly you both didn't know what was in store ahead, and it wasn't set in stone that you would remain with Max. But right now it felt right and you wanted to see where this path would take you. Maybe this was a chance of redemption for two hurt people to find their reason and place in a world gone mad.

[cs-fox]

FLARES | OC X GN!READER

AS requested by @ghostindeath !!

tweaked her a little from the foxhound series so she has more of a military esque personality…. and more resembles my oc ♥️

and she’s a Lieutenant now !! Private!reader

______________________________________________________________

Your new lieutenant was terrifying.

She walked around base silent as hell, a steely, dangerous look in her sleet-grey eyes. You didn’t know anyone - that is, all of the new recruits alongside you - who didn’t steer well clear of Fox.

But you didn’t have much choice when you were in the middle of a warzone.

You lay, gasping and writhing on the floor of some old shack that had been repurposed as the place a man dressed in all black had chosen to rip apart your guts in.

Blood flowed freely from the open wound on your stomach. Despite being mostly a superficial wound (your mind trying to over-dramatise the situation) it didn’t help your gag reflex from triggering. The warm and sticky russet fluid soaked through your shirt, gloves, and anything you tried to use to stem the ooze.

Your assailant had fled after you managed to shoot some bullets dangerously close to his head. Just as you were going to call for a medic, Fox skidded into the room, the torch on her weapon slicing through the dust clouding up from the floor.

‘Fuck - Lieutenant!’ you groaned.

She dropped to her knees beside you, ripping off the cap of a stimpack as she moved. You had no chance to protest as Fox jammed the needle into your thigh.

The effects were almost instant; you gasped, pupils shrinking as you surged upwards, but Fox’s iron grip kept you from moving.

She was obviously helping you, but it was hard to remember that fact when her freezing cold gaze was trained on your wound. Anyone would have thought she was trying to kill you with that stimpack.

As Fox was tying off the new binding , tight around your midriff, you saw movement out of the corner of your eye. Your Lieutenant grabbed the weapon holstered at your thigh - but she’d forgotten one crucial point. You sheathed your pistol on your left hip. Fox had pulled your flare gun on the man brandishing an AK-47.

God save you - she didn’t care.

You squeezed your eyes shut as a bright, scarlet flash screeched through the room, and when you dared to open them again, you saw a grimy-faced Fox kicking a mangled mess of smoking, bleeding flesh in the shape of a man clutching a gun to the side, before returning to her place at your side.

‘Alright, Private?’

‘Y-yeah,’ you squeaked, and she hauled you to your feet.

‘Let’s move.’

______________________________________________________________

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Here Comes The Sun

Billy Hargrove x AFAB! Reader

I didn't intend for the Billy one-shots I've posted so far to link up, I just really enjoyed the juxtaposition of the 'Sunshine' reader to his (let's be honest with ourselves) less than stellar personality. But evidently I'm hashing them into a series with a random timeline. Presenting the night you and Billy met.

Warnings: Mentions of domestic violence, mentions of abusive parent, explicit language, sex references, under-age drinking (under 21), smoking.

_______________________________________________

Billy is wasted.

It had been his sole purpose for the evening, spurred into self-destruct mode by yet another fight with his father, face stinging with the reminder of respect and responsibility.

He knew there was a party going on, gunning his Camaro through the winding, backwater, shithole roads of Hawkins, pulling up with a skidding flair to a boarded up building called ‘Benny’s Burgers’. The steady thumping bass emanating from inside was literal music to his ears, no plan except get drunk, maybe get his dick wet and forget about his shit life for a few hours.

Beer, vodka, tequila, it was all the same, burning his throat and stomach with numbing relief. Sweat poured off of him, chain smoking until he felt light-headed, some girl was sucking on his neck but she was faceless, nameless, he didn’t care, didn’t want to know.

He did a keg-stand, the cheers and shouts around him meant nothing, he didn’t need the praise of slack-jawed hicks. He staggered and lurched outside, away from the crowds, dizzy from the kegger. Get some air Billy, you fucking pussy he snarled at himself, punching his chest. 

He drops heavily to sit on the damp grass, trying to light another cigarette but the lighter keeps drifting away from where he needs it to be.

“Piece of shit.” He mumbles, throwing the zippo away, letting himself fall backwards to lay flat, chest heaving. 

_______________________________________________

He doesn’t remember passing out, dazedly brought round by something, no, someone tapping his face lightly.

“Hey - you ok?” The voice is soft, gentle.

Billy opens his eyes, vision bleary and hazed around the edges, your face floats in front of him, you seem concerned.

“‘Mfine.” He slurs, blinking rapidly trying to bring everything into focus.

“You sure about that?” You ask disbelievingly, cocking an eyebrow at his current state. He somehow pushes himself up into a sitting position, you’re kneeling down next to him not seeming to mind the wet grass on your bare legs.

“Heeyy - you’re cute, name’s Billy.” Billy smiles, trying to turn on the charm, thinking about the part of the evening where he could get his dick wet.

“Y/n, and you are very drunk.” You laugh, the sound echoing off the trees.

“I’m not as d-drunk as the other people.” He gestures haphazardly to the building, which now he really looked, seemed oddly quiet and empty.

“Uh - pretty much everyone has gone home, it’s like 4am, you must have been passed out for a while.” You place a delicate hand on his knee, patting it sympathetically, a small smile playing about your lips.

“Fu-ck.” Billy hiccups, he hauls himself up on bandy legs stumbling immediately, you step forward on instinct wrapping an arm about his waist to steady him, his muscular frame heavy. “S’ why’re you still here?” He asks, not remembering seeing you at the party, because he definitely would have remembered you.

“My friend called me to pick her up.” You sigh, pointing towards your car, he can see a blonde girl slumped in the rear passenger seat. “Can I give you a ride home?” You offer gently.

Billy shakes his head, the momentum throwing him into a dizzy lurch again, you press your other hand to his chest bracing him securely.

“No - I can’t go home.” He mumbles

“Well I’m certainly not letting you drive anywhere.” You insist, steering him towards your vehicle.

“My dad’ll kill me.” He sighs with a mirthless laugh, ignoring the sudden burn in his eyes and the hiss of ‘fucking cry-baby’ in his head.

You chuckle, helping him to perch on the bonnet of your car, hands hovering in case he slips.

“You’re just a little drunk I'm sure your dad wo-”

“No - no you don’t understand - he’ll k-kill me.” Billy says seriously, but the words still sound a little mashed together, he notices your concerned frown again and it makes his heart feel tight.

“Ok not home, but I’m not leaving you out here by yourself either.” You say firmly, hands on your hips, foot tapping against the gravel of the parking lot. “You gonna murder me in my sleep if I take you home with me?” You ask, eyes narrowed, finger pointing at his chest accusingly but there’s the hint of a smile playing about your pretty lips.

“Murder y-? Y/n, I don’t think I could find my dick to take a piss right now.” Billy says honestly, and you let out a bell-like laugh.

“I’m holding you to that Billy.” You warned teasingly. “Get in, I need to drop Sleeping Beauty home first.” You say nodding towards your friend who is snoring heavily, face smushed up against the rear window.

_______________________________________________

Billy drifts in and out of a doze as you drive, the window rolled down just in case, cold night air feeling nice on his hot face, you were singing along under your breath to some tape but he wasn’t really registering the words, maybe something about an octopus or some shit. 

“Billy, I’m gonna take Cassidy inside ok?” You say gently, tapping him on the shoulder, jerking him back to the present, he nods sleepily, sinking further into the seat. Despite his drunken state, he still watches you carefully as you half carry your wasted friend up the steps and into her house, he probably should have gone to help but he definitely would be more of a hindrance in his condition. 

He jolts at the sound of the car door opening, and the engine starting, having drifted off again.

“She ‘k?” He asks, rubbing at his eyes.

“Who? Cass? Yeah she’ll be fine, apart from the hangover.” You laugh. “We’ll be home in like ten minutes, I live just a little off of Brantford, you?”

“Cherry.”

You both lapse into a comfortable silence, Billy is close to nodding off again when the volume of music increases slightly, rousing him once more.

“Sorry,” You say, smiling sheepishly, withdrawing your hand from the dial “it’s my favourite.”

‘-Little darlin’, it’s been a long, cold lonely winter

Little darlin’, it feels like years since it’s been here -’

Something stirs in Billy’s sluggish memory as you carry on singing softly, it’s The Beatles, the tape you’re listening to, he knows that now but there’s something else.

“Mom -.” He breathes, the word escaping his mouth before he can stop it, you glance at him curiously as he sits up straighter cranking the volume up again to listen properly.

‘-Little darlin’, it seems like years since it’s been here

Here comes the sun

Here come the sun-’

“- and I say, it’s alright…” You both finish off the lyric together, Billy blinking hard, willing the tears away.

“Wouldn’t have you pegged as a Beatles fan.” You say gently.

“This was my mom’s favourite song - I’d forgotten.” Billy says roughly, sniffing hard, memories of distant sunlit days, the sound of her shimmering laughter and the cresting of the ocean against the sandy shore crashing down over him like he was caught in a swell.

“Where is she? Your Mom?” You ask cautiously.

“Away from all the shit.” Billy says simply, effectively ending the conversation.

“You want me to turn it off?” You reach for the dial, but Billy catches your hand.

“Leave it on - please.” The please is whispered, the word moving unfamiliarly in his mouth, you give a small nod, neither of you dropping the hand of the other.

You pull in front of a modest house, not unlike his own as the song comes to a close, shutting off the engine, sending him a slightly nervous smile.

“Still good on the not murdering me front?” You ask, and he laughs, feeling a little bereft when you drop his hand to get out of the car.

“Scouts honour.” He hums, following you up the path on slightly steadier feet.

“I highly doubt that you were ever in the scouts.” You laugh.

“Looks can be deceiving sunshine.” 

He notices the way you flush slightly and how your fingers fumble with your key in the lock, in response to the nickname, and decides he likes it a lot. 

“My parents are pretty heavy sleepers, we just need to be careful on the stairs, they creak a bit” You whisper, toeing off your sneakers, taking Billy’s hand once more and leading him up the stairs, both of you stifling giggles when the tenth step groans and the snores of presumably your father kick up a notch.

You point Billy in the direction of the bathroom, and then wordlessly step into your room leaving the door open for him.

Clearly your parents have an en-suite as this obviously serves as your bathroom, soft, sweet peach like perfume hanging in the air, makeup littering the counter, he chuckles at the Aquanet perched on the sink. Billy takes a much needed piss, sighing in relief, he notes he must like you because he’s bothered to wipe the seat across knowing his aim is still dogshit from the alcohol. Washing his hands at the sink, the unforgiving bathroom light and mirror lays it all bare, bloodshot eyes, the curls of his forehead damp with sweat, the shiner on his cheek courtesy of Neil blooming purple. He splashes cool water over his face and neck in an attempt to wash some of the clamminess away, jumping slightly at the soft knock on the door. You’re on the other side when he opens it, in an oversized Mickey Mouse nightie that rests just above your knees, you look fucking adorable and he feels his heart tighten again.

“Hi, I just wanna brush my teeth.” You say softly.

“Uh - sure, yeah - go ahead.” He murmurs, skin feeling electrified when your arms brush as you move past.

“I won’t be long, make yourself comfortable.” You whisper. 

Your room is softly lit by a small pink shaded lamp, the walls a lilac with green ivy leaves around the border, they almost look hand painted and Billy wonders if you did it yourself. He takes in the general clutter with a smile, a battered but very loved looking Snoopy stuffie sat on a wicker basket chair, polaroid photos of you and your friends over the years stuck to the wall above your bed in the shape of a heart.

“You could have got in the bed you know, can’t sleep standing up, well, unless you’re a Zebra.” Your voice cuts through the silence, carefully closing the door, smiling softly at Billy. 

“I didn’t know which side you preferred.” He says awkwardly, internally wondering when he became a fourteen year old boy again.

You breeze past unbothered, settling on the left side, pulling the comforter down for him on the right. This is weird right? Sharing a bed with a literal stranger, not that he’s never done that before, but this feels different, intimate. 

“I can take the floor you know, you don’t have to -”

“Billy, would you just get in please, so we can go to sleep.” You press, turning the light off with one last expectant glance in his direction. Billy takes his jeans off as they’re still damp from the wet grass, before sliding under the covers, body taut and on alert keeping himself to the furthest edge of the bed.

“Do I smell?” You ask quietly but he can tell you’re teasing, he feels you shift onto your side so you’re facing him. “Billy, I know we only met like an hour ago, but if you ever need a place to stay - away from the shit - you only need to ask.” Voice completely sincere.

He rolls over to face you in the dark, hand searching for yours in unspoken thanks, he expects you to pull away but you only return his grip, thumb tracing along his own.

“Goodnight Billy.” You whisper.

“Goodnight sunshine.”

[zephfair]

Ronan/Adam Meet-Cute AU Rated Teen

Based on this fantastic idea

WARNING TAGS: motor vehicle crash but no blood and no serious injuries, flooding, language. Fluff, ofc.

It was a dark and stormy night, and Ronan didn’t like it one bit. He didn’t mind the dark, and he wasn’t afraid of storms, but it made the drive home to the Barns feel even longer. Normally he’d be driving at least 15 over the posted speed limit, but the heavy rain made it hard to see even with his wipers on high, and his high beams didn’t illuminate much more than shiny asphalt.

But he always bragged he could make the drive home from Declan’s in his sleep, and this was as close to having his eyes closed as was safe.

So he was surprised when a single headlight appeared in his rear-view mirror and stayed there, mile after mile. Maybe the most shocking thing was that the vehicle with one only headlight kept up with him, staying about the same distance back even through the twistiest turns of the two-lane back roads that Ronan preferred over the interstate.

Ronan kept one eye on it in boredom as he drew closer to Singers Falls, but he was forced to concentrate on his own driving when he crested a hill and realized instead of the lazy little stream and narrow bridge at the bottom, there was only a rushing flow of muddy brown water. The rain from the storm had been strong enough to make the stream overflow its banks and flood the bridge and road.

He had a split second to decide what to do, but he knew it probably wouldn’t be very deep and so disregarded all safety advice and drove right through it.

The waves of water that splashed around the BMW proved he’d been right and that the bridge still held. But as he steered out of it, he glanced back at the headlight that plunged into the water but instead of coming out the other side, suddenly veered off, shook erratically, then went dark.

“Oh shit,” Ronan said and slammed on his brakes which sent his car into a skid that took all his focus for several long seconds. He got it under control and stopped, right in the middle of the road. There was no light at all in his rear-view.

“Fuck,” he sighed and did a messy three-point turn. Surely the driver had just skidded off the road and was probably fine. Of course, they were. And if they were stuck, they would have a cell phone to call for assistance. They didn’t need his help.

Unless, they did. Ronan wasn’t sure he could go home until he knew what had happened. He approached slowly and his stomach sank when he couldn’t see the other car at all.

A sharp streak of lightning gave him a split second of bright vision, let him make sure that there was no car or truck bobbing in the stream, at least, and he didn’t see any vehicle on the bank. So where the hell was it?

Ronan stopped his BMW where he could keep his headlights on where he thought the vehicle should’ve been. There was maybe a glint of metal and a lump that looked out of place.

He struggled out of his car into the downpour, swearing and leaning back in to rummage until he found a flashlight in the door’s pocket. It didn’t illuminate much either but the scene was slowly becoming clearer.

He swore again when he realized the one headlight hadn’t been a sign of a car with one burnt out bulb; no, it had been a motorcycle that some insane fool was driving at high speeds through a dark Virginia thunderstorm.

Ronan spun around, looking frantically for where the rider could’ve been thrown off.

Then he saw him. The rider was several yards from the bike, and, thankfully, also from the swiftly running flood water. But he was lying motionless on his front in the mud, his helmet down in a mound of it. With his backpack still in place, he reminded Ronan of a sad turtle flattened on the highway.

Ronan really didn’t want to find another dead body. He didn’t want the years of nightmares. He did not want to find this dude’s battered and bleeding body. But it didn’t look like he had a choice.

He shuffled up slowly and swore then hauled back his boot and nudged the dude right in the unprotected ribs, but gently.

“Hey, man, you dead?” was probably not the best thing to say but whatever.

To Ronan’s huge and unexpected relief, the body jerked.

“Oh thank Christ, you’re alive. Do you need some help?”

The body flailed its arms and legs, looking like it was trying to make upside down snow angels in the mud. But it didn’t try to rise.

There were angry muffled noises coming from the helmet, and when Ronan squatted down alongside, another flail of the hand struck his leg then gestured toward the helmet.

“What the fuck? Is your neck broke?” Ronan didn’t know what to do. He’d always heard you shouldn’t move an injured person for fear of hurting them worse.

Then the body moved both hands to its helmet, kicked its legs like a child throwing a temper tantrum, and emitted a muffled scream.

“Oh shit, are you stuck?” Ronan finally understood. The helmet was heavy and was probably encased in the thick mud from the flooding, and the poor rider couldn’t get the angle or force to get it unstuck, and maybe water was coming in and…

Ronan grabbed the helmet and tugged it and the head inside up. As soon as the helmet was free, the rider jerked to his other side and rolled over, pulling himself to sit up. His gloves seemed too bulky to get the helmet unfastened, so Ronan reached out and helped.

Mud and water poured out of the helmet as the guy gasped for air as he maneuvered it off. There was just enough light from Ronan’s forgotten flashlight to illuminate what he immediately thought was a pretty face, the face of an angel. If an angel could be pissed off, swearing, drenched, and covered in mud.

“Do you need an ambulance?” Ronan finally asked when the guy stopped his swearing. “Anything broken? Concussion?”

He shook his wet head and took a few more deep breaths. “No, I think I’m just bruised all over. It doesn’t even feel like road rash. I think the mud and water broke my fall.”

“Nearly broke you. What were you thinking, taking a motorcycle through a flood like that?”

The guy’s chin came up and he met Ronan’s eyes in stubbornness. “I didn’t see it was flooded until it was too late. I was just following some asshole who must have driven right through that mess.”

“Yeah, I did. But I know the road and still almost lost it.”

The guy looked him over, never apologizing for calling him an asshole. “My bike,” he suddenly exclaimed and splashed around, trying to stand up.

Ronan grabbed his flashlight and reached out for the guy’s elbow as he stood, trying to steady him because he swayed and wasn’t putting all his weight on his right leg. The guy jerked away so Ronan stepped back.

“I think your bike’s over there,” Ronan swung the flashlight’s dim beam in the direction of the glint of metal he’d seen from the car headlights.

“Oh no,” the guy said and plunged forward through the mud and standing water.

Ronan followed him because why not, he was already drenched and up to his knees in mud. He tried to keep the flashlight pointed at the guy’s feet as he squelched along, fighting through the mud to pull up his sneakers.

“Oh no,” the guy said again as he bent over the bike on its side in the deep mud. The flowing current of the stream was inching closer to it.

“Is it okay?” Ronan gazed over his shoulder.

“Does it look okay?” the guy snapped. “Do you know what the mud and water will do to the engine? Shit!”

The guy grabbed the handlebars and pulled, but nothing happened.

“Do you want—”

“Don’t just stand there. Can you help me get my bike up?”

“Sure,” Ronan joined him, tugged on a handlebar, but nothing happened.

“Wait, we have to…” the guy pushed Ronan out of the way then showed him how he wanted Ronan to lift while he pushed, and they finally got the motorcycle out of the sucking mud.

A flash of lightning followed by a crack of thunder illuminated the scene. The guy was holding the bike handlebars to steady it, his eyes roving over the damaged motorcycle. It wasn’t a flashy crotch rocket or a chromed-up hog like a Harley. It just was a really nice bike somewhere in between. Ronan wondered how the sweet bike and the angry rider could manage to look so sexy under the circumstances.

“It’s fucked up,” the guy said. “Shit, what do I do now?”

He jolted when Ronan spoke, as if he’d forgotten he was even there. “Do you, uh, need a ride somewhere?”

The guy squinted at him as if the question was just too dumb. Ronan fought the urge to backtrack and kept his mouth shut.

“I can’t leave my bike here,” the guy finally said.

“I’ll call for a tow.”

“No, that’s too expensive,” the guy said quickly. “Shit, maybe, if we get it back on the road, it’ll start.”

Ronan held his tongue because he was no mechanic, but even he could tell that wouldn’t happen. But he helped the guy guide the bike away from the flooded stream toward the road. There was a drainage ditch along the road that was also full of water.

The guy cursed as they came to a stop. “This isn’t going to work,” he finally admitted.

“What if we hide your bike in the brush over there?” Ronan pointed to a stand of scraggly shrubs along a fence near the road but far enough from the stream and the ditch that it shouldn’t be reached by the flood. “Then I can give you a ride into town.”

“I’m headed to Henrietta,” the guy said.

Ronan shrugged. “Then you’re probably not gonna get there right now anyway.” He pointed to the distance. “You gotta take this road and go over another creek before the turn-off to Henrietta, and it always floods, way before this one does.”

“Then where are you headed?”

“Singers Falls,” Ronan said, easily brushing off the guy’s suspicions. “I turn off at the top of the hill and it’s all up and over until I get home.”

The guy swore under his breath.

“Look, why don’t you come home with me? Then when the flooding goes down, you can call someone to come meet you or I’ll just run you home to Henrietta.”

“I don’t live in Henrietta,” the guy was quick to say, even though Ronan had been catching hints of a local accent all along. “And my friends don’t know I’m coming. I don’t want to drag them out on a night like this.”

“Well, then come back to my place. You can get cleaned up, see if you’re injured and stay the night. These storms aren’t supposed to last much longer, so the roads will be fine by morning.”

The guy stood very still, looking Ronan up and down with the most judgmental look Ronan had ever garnered, and he’d visited Gansey in D.C. during Republican fund-raiser weekends while Ronan was still in his teenage punk anarchist phase.

“You’d just invite a stranger to stay at your place?”

Ronan shrugged. “Sure. I can protect myself if things go bad.”

“Well, what are the odds that both of us are serial killers,” the guy said dryly.

“Ha, ha,” Ronan said but kept a wary eye on him anyway.

“Fine. Help me get my bike over there?”

“No, I’m just going to stand out here since I’m already drenched through and watch you do it.”

Ronan couldn’t be sure in the dark but he thought the guy rolled his eyes. Once they’d gotten the motorcycle rolled into the shrubbery and pulled branches over it, Ronan led the way back to his car.

“Hey, I can’t get in there. I’m covered in mud,” the guy said as Ronan opened the passenger’s side door to clear his empty drink bottles and wrappers off the seat.

Ronan grunted in acknowledgment and went around to the trunk where he found an old blanket to spread over the seat.

“I’m still going to get it all wet,” the guy said, still stubbornly holding onto the door.

“I don’t fucking care. I’m going to get my seat wet too,” Ronan gave up and stomped around to get in the driver’s seat. Although the guy was really hot, he was starting to get on Ronan’s nerves. If he didn’t want to accept the help, then he could just stand out there in the rain and wait for someone else.

The guy must have come to that realization too, and the fact that not one vehicle had driven past in the entire time they’d been there. He finally slung his backpack off, threw it into the foot well, and dropped into the car.

Then he sighed, long and loud. “What a damn shitty night.”

“Well, hell, it’s been all sunshine and rainbows for me,” Ronan said, starting the car.

The guy snorted. “Since it looks like we’ll be getting to know each other, what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you Bald Asshole in my mind.”

“Thanks,” Ronan said, “I appreciate that. I’m Ronan. And you are?”

“Adam. Sorry I’m being a dick. But why were you speeding like a damn maniac when you knew that stream was going to be flooded? The bridge could’ve been washed out completely.”

“But it wasn’t,” Ronan said, as he drove a little slower than he normally would have since it was still raining heavily and hard to see. “I, uh, actually forgot that stream floods, and when I came over the hill, I didn’t want to slam on the brakes. Figured it was safer to drive on through.”

Adam shook his head. “Wish I’d had some warning. I was going too fast to stop too, but I saw your taillights already on the other side so I thought it was okay.”

“Who rides a motorcycle through a thunderstorm anyway?” Ronan tried to deflect some blame.

“They weren’t forecast when I left this morning,” Adam said stiffly. “It was supposed to be clear all night.”

“Well, it’s summer in Virginia. We can get a thunderstorm any time.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Adam said, and turned his face to look out the window.

Ronan rolled his eyes, but let the conversation die until they got to the intersection. It seemed to rouse Adam a little.

“Isn’t the road to Henrietta down there?” he pointed.

“Yep, about a mile down the hill, over the creek and through its flood plane.”

“And you’re sure it’ll be impassable?”

“I grew up in Singers Falls. We couldn’t get to town any time the rain was heavy.”

Adam sighed again and seemed to accept his fate was with Ronan.

The drive to Singers Falls wasn’t long from there, but Ronan kept all his attention on the road as it dipped and weaved through the hills where houses were few and far between. He was coming up on the lights of the one gas station in the area when he realized he didn’t have any food in the house. Well, not anything that he would serve to a guest.

He slowed and glanced over at Adam whose head resting against the window. Ronan looked again to see that Adam’s eyes were closed and his mouth was slightly open.

“Oh fuck no,” Ronan said and swerved into the parking lot, slamming to a stop.

Adam grunted as his head bounced off the window. “What the hell? Did you get us stuck in another flood?”

“Holy fuck,” Ronan clutched the steering wheel and tried to calm his racing heart. “I thought you were dead. Again.”

Adam yawned. “That implies that I was dead once already.”

Ronan growled impatiently, “You know what I mean, that I thought again you were dead, whatever.”

“I just dozed off. It’s been a long day.”

“Well, you shouldn’t go to sleep if you have a concussion.”

“I told you, I don’t have a concussion. And before you argue, yes, I’ve had a concussion before, so I know what it feels like.”

Ronan swore again. “Well, just don’t die until you’re on your own tomorrow. You’re hell on my nerves.”

That made Adam laugh at him, and it was such a delighted laugh that Ronan melted toward him again. “Are we at your place?”

“No,” Ronan suddenly remembered why he’d wanted to stop. “But I haven’t had dinner, and I’ve been away for the week at my brother’s so I don’t have much food at home. This place has good sandwiches. And six-packs.”

“I don’t drink,” Adam said. “And I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“You want to come in?” Ronan asked as he parked right outside the door of the gas station.

“Naw, just get me whatever.” Adam started to shimmy around, probably reaching for his wallet in his back pocket.

“I got it, don’t worry,” and Ronan jumped out of the car before Adam could argue.

Dinesh greeted him as always, asked how bad the roads were, shook his head over the mud Ronan’s boots dragged in.

“Sorry,” Ronan said sheepishly. “You want me to take them off and go in my socks?”

Dinesh just laughed, “I’m teasing you. You’re the only person I’ve had in here all night. I can sweep up after you’re gone.”

“Thanks, man,” Ronan said. “Can you make me two of the curried chicken salad sandwiches, large? And if you have any turkey, two of those too? With cheese?”

“Of course,” Dinesh said, already getting to work behind the counter while Ronan went to the coolers. He picked out six different bottles of soda then went back and grabbed four different juices and a carton of milk too. Dinesh was wrapping the sandwiches as he chose family bags of chips and pretzels and added them to the pile on the counter.

“You have some romantic company tonight? You need anything else from behind the counter here?” Dinesh gave him a knowing grin.

Ronan shrugged but he felt some color rise on his cheeks. It was distinctly weird to be asked about “romantic company” by a man who’d been feeding the Lynches since his parents had moved there from Ireland. “I just have a friend stuck here because the road to Henrietta will be flooded.”

“Ah,” Dinesh looked distinctly disappointed at Ronan’s lack of love-life, but not nearly as disappointed as Ronan himself.

He’d had the one fling in high school, an unhealthy relationship with a boyfriend who’d been toxic, and despite what his friend Gansey said, he had not hidden himself away on the family farm afterward. He just didn’t love meeting new people and he knew he’d not find a boyfriend so long as he didn’t meet new people, but Ronan was just hypocritical enough that he didn’t think about it.

He apologized again for the mud, pretended not to notice Dinesh adding a pack of mints to his bags, and ran back through the rain to the car.

Seeing Adam asleep this time didn’t send him into a panic, but he did watch his chest to make sure Adam was breathing before he exhaled in relief and started the car.

Adam stayed asleep the rest of the way to the Barns right up until Ronan eased to a stop in front of the farmhouse. Ronan looked him over by the dim glow of the dashboard lights. Even with the streaks of mud covering him, Ronan thought he was just about the prettiest man he’d ever seen. He had high cheekbones, a nice nose and thin lips that expressed all his emotions too clearly. He was nearly as tall as Ronan, but leaner, more wiry even with a bulky windbreaker on.

It was his hands that Ronan focused on last, curled loosely in his lap, but really nice. And from how capably he’d handled his motorcycle, they knew what to do too.

Then Ronan realized he was staring at a sleeping stranger like a psycho creeper, so he shook himself and gently prodded Adam’s shoulder.

“Hey, wake up. We’re here,” he said, voice a little gruffer than he’d planned.

Adam did a little stretch, abbreviated by a wince of pain. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced around then shut them again and sighed. “Shit. I hoped maybe it was all a nightmare.”

“Thanks, Sleeping Beauty. That’s a real shitty thing to say to the dude who saved your sorry ass.”

Adam leveled an unimpressed glare at him. “I’m sure you’re a real Prince Charming, but I’d’ve sooner not wrecked my bike and almost drowned in mud.”

“Well, we’re home now, so you can get cleaned up and eat and then be as pissy as you want, but at least you’ll be clean and dry.”

“Good point,” Adam agreed. “Lead on.”

They ran through the rain and Ronan fumbled his keys while Adam laughed at him. Once inside, Ronan moved through the downstairs turning on lights, calling over his shoulder to give Adam a running tour. Then he stuck his head back out of the kitchen when he sensed Adam wasn’t following him.

“You just gonna stand in the hall all night?”

Adam turned from staring at the family photos dotted around the walls. “I don’t wanna track mud all through the place. Your house?”

Ronan nodded and rejoined him. “It’s where I grew up. All mine now.”

Adam nodded back.

“So, do you want to eat first or take a shower?”

“Shower, God, yes please.”

Ronan chuckled at his enthusiasm for the first time all night and led him upstairs. He bustled to set out towels and point out where everything was while Adam stood there silently.

“Dude, you’re kind of freaking me out,” Ronan finally admitted. “Are you sure you don’t have some kind of brain injury?”

Adam grimaced. “No, I don’t have a brain injury. I’m just a little … overwhelmed. This isn’t what I was expecting when you said about your place.”

“What did you expect?”

“You’re about my age so I figured some kind of trashy dorm bachelor apartment crowded with roommates, not … this.”

“Sorry to disappoint you,” Ronan said wryly.

“Shut up, it’s not disappointing. Just surprising. Your house is really nice.”

“Well, fuck, man, if you think this is nice, just wait until you try the shower. You’re going to want to make love to the water pressure,” Ronan said, deflecting the compliment like a champ.

“Thanks for the warning,” Adam said, finally putting down his backpack on the bathroom floor.

“Do you need clean clothes or anything?”

“No, it should be… well…” Adam knelt down and opened the backpack then grimaced. He looked up at Ronan, whose heart clenched at the position, Adam on his knees so close to Ronan’s waist.

Adam’s eyes flickered downward just for an instant then met Ronan’s again. “I hate to impose any more, but this bag failed its waterproof test.”

“No problem. I’ll leave some things in the hall. Now get in there and enjoy the water.”

Adam climbed back to his feet with a groan. “Thanks. And I’ll be sure to keep things platonic with your water pressure.”

Ronan laughed a little breathlessly and escaped the close quarters of the bathroom. Get it together, Lynch. Don’t be a fuckin’ weirdo. The super-sexy guy is depending on you, he told himself as he gathered clean clothes from his room and left them outside the bathroom door.

The shower was already running, and he really did hope Adam was enjoying it.

He went back to his room where changing into a clean pair of jeans and T-shirt removed his mud damage, his skin already dried. Then he went back downstairs to lay out the sandwiches and snacks on the kitchen table and wait.

It seemed like Adam took forever, and just when Ronan was starting to worry that he’d suffered some kind of fainting spell and slipped and hit his head and was drowning in the bottom of Ronan’s own shower, the noise of the water cut off with the squeak of the one usual pipe.

Ronan breathed a little easier then. It wasn’t long before he heard soft footsteps down the stairs and realized that he was sitting at the head of the table, fingers steepled before his face, like some kind of movie villain waiting for a sacrificial victim, so he jumped up and had just hit his hip on the island, making him swear when Adam’s quiet laugh came from behind him.

“You were right about that water pressure. I think I’d like to propose to it,” Adam said.

Ronan snorted and rubbed his hip. “Too late. It’s already happily married to me. Although, we might be open to a threesome.”

He didn’t know why he’d said that, and he felt the color rise in his cheeks, but Adam just laughed again as Ronan turned to face him.

Ronan couldn’t say a word. Adam dressed in his own clothes was simply too much for his brain, and libido, to handle at the moment. Adam’s clean sandy hair was fluffy and soft, hanging over his forehead in a way that Ronan longed to brush back. Ronan’s black V-neck T-shirt clung to his shoulders, a little big there and bigger through the chest, but Ronan knew exactly how soft it would feel if he put his hands on Adam’s pecs. The gray sweatpants were loose the way Ronan liked them, and his feet were covered by a pair of athletic socks. In short, he looked like something out of one of Ronan’s wetter dreams.

“How much do I owe you for dinner?”

“Nothing,” Ronan said quickly adding when Adam pulled a stubborn look. “I was going to stop for myself anyway. And it was either this or hot dogs from the freezer with no buns. So, just shut up and eat.”

Adam started to argue again, but Ronan ignored his protestations to retrieve all the drinks he’d bought from the fridge. “Sit your ass down and eat,” he said again, and with a longing look at the food, Adam finally obeyed, but not before he mocked Ronan for buying so many bottles of beverages.

Ronan just shrugged and sat down, pointedly not watching Adam eat for fear that he might just want to jump him right then and there.

Ronan knew he sucked at small talk, but it didn’t seem like Adam was much for friendly bullshit either. They ate their way through the sandwiches and Adam polished off half a bag of pretzels while Ronan stuck to the Cool Ranch Doritos.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” Adam volunteered when they’d both finished.

“What fucking dishes? Two plates?”

Adam gestured to the counter beside the sink, but Ronan only snorted. “Those were dirty before I left for D.C.”

“Your housekeeping skills are lacking if you’d go away while leaving dirty dishes at home,” Adam said.

“You wanted me to live in some filthy bachelor apartment and now you critique my dishwashing?”

“Just sayin’,” Adam shrugged with a little smirk.

Ronan sighed and got up to pile their plates onto the other stack. “It seems like the rain is finally letting up. Do you want me to try and get you to Henrietta tonight?”

Adam tilted his head, like he was listening to see if he could hear the rain from inside the kitchen. “I mean, it’s not that late. But…” he broke off to yawn and then smile sheepishly. “I don’t know if I want to risk getting wet and having you drive that far to just find out the road’s still flooded.”

“You’re welcome to stay here, man. Both my brothers’ bedrooms are free and the beds are clean, so you can take your pick.”

“Would it be okay if I did my laundry? I think my clothes for tomorrow will be all right if I hang them up now, but that mud will stain what I had on tonight.”

“Yeah, sure, get ‘em and I’ll throw them in the washer.”

Adam hesitated by the door. “You might as well put yours in too. See if we can get all the mud out at once.”

“Sure,” Ronan said again, stunned by how easy he wanted to fall into domesticity with Adam.

Once they got the washer running, Adam insisted on helping with the dishes, so Ronan reluctantly dried as they worked. It meant he got to stand hip-to-hip with Adam and even bumped him once when Adam made fun of the way he stored his mugs and glasses.

“My cupboards, my rules,” Ronan said, snapping the tea towel at him limply. “Why do you have such strong opinions about housekeeping anyway?”

The question made Adam freeze for a second. “I don’t know,” he said slowly, his accent a little stronger for a moment. “There’s just something about this house that feels like things should be done...right.”

“Well, my mom would’ve agreed with you,” Ronan said. “But you’re kind of a dick.”

That jolted a laugh from Adam. “Believe it or not, I’ve been called that before.”

“I do believe it, but you’re only my second favorite dick,” Ronan said without thinking.

“Oh really?” Adam said, suddenly concentrating on scrubbing a cereal bowl. Ronan watched a ruddy red creep up his neck to his cheeks.

Then Ronan realized what he’d said. “I don’t mean dick dick. I mean, like, the name Dick. My best friend’s first name is Dick but he never uses it. Because of misunderstandings like that. So he’s my Dick but Gansey would rather ignore me than answer to that.”

The bowl clattered back into the dishpan. “Gansey? Your best friend’s name is Dick Gansey?”

“Yeah,” Ronan said, ready to get defensive.

“Not Richard Campbell Gansey the third?”

“Yeah,” Ronan said, now a little freaked out.

Adam turned, mouth hanging open, hands dripping on the floor. “There is no way that you know Gansey.”

Ronan crossed his arms over his chest and unintentionally made himself bigger. “How exactly do you know Gansey?”

“Gansey is my friend, my really good friend, at Harvard.”

“Oh my fucking God, you go to Harvard too?”

“Yes! But how the hell do you know him?!”

“Didn’t he ever mention his formative years at Aglionby Academy, Henrietta’s finest purveyor of the future assholes of America?”

“Well, yes, of course. We’ve talked about how we missed each other by miles when—” Adam cut himself off.

So Adam was from Henrietta, Ronan noted, but he didn’t let it distract him. “And didn’t he tell you about his feckless yet handsome best friend who quit Aglionby his senior year in order to move back to the family farm and take it over?”

Adam’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock. “You’re Lynch?!”

Ronan nodded slowly. “The one and only. Well, the only Ronan Lynch to Dick Gansey.”

“I don’t believe it,” Adam said.

Ronan wracked his brain for all the conversations Gansey had prattled on about Harvard, all the texts, the emails, and he finally came up with “Are you Parrish? The perfect, pleasing paragon who Gansey’s been trying to get to move in with him since his freshman year?”

“Holy shit, he never actually called me that, did he?”

“He probably did. But I never pay all that much attention when he’s going on about all you Harvard nerds.”

“No fucking way,” Adam breathed out, still staring at Ronan. “I don’t believe it.”

Ronan raised an eyebrow. “Out of all the bullshit that’s happened to you tonight, that’s the one thing you don’t believe?”

“No. I just mean… What are the odds? That the one person I’m following and who stopped to help me and who offered me a place to stay is the best friend of my best friend. That’s so … bizarre.”

“And the person who saved you from seeing if you could breathe mud,” Ronan reminded.

“Unbelievable,” Adam repeated and finally seemed to realize that he was still dripping dish water on the floor so he turned back to the sink.

“It is pretty unbelievable,” Ronan agreed, taking the beleaguered cereal bowl from Adam’s lax hand to rinse and dry it. “Maybe it was fate. Karma.”

“I don’t know what I did in another life to deserve this,” Adam murmured and Ronan stepped back.

“Okay, now who’s the asshole.”

“No, no I just mean,” Adam leaned on the sink and stared out the window into the darkness. Ronan stared over his shoulder at their reflections in the dark glass until Adam met his eyes. “I just mean, you could’ve been an ax murderer, but instead you saved me from drowning in mud, and you’re … you, and now you come with impeccable bona fides that’ve reassured me you’re not going to murder me while I sleep. It’s just pretty unreal.”

There was a long moment of silence while Ronan thought that all through. “What’d you mean, I’m me?”

Adam put his eyes down and started to concentrate on washing the rest of the silverware. Ronan nudged him gently in the back. “What exactly do you mean?”

Adam cleared his throat and rinsed the silverware. “I just mean, that you’re something else, Ronan. Lynch.”

“If it helps, I never thought Gansey had any friends like you, or I might have actually made it up to grand old Harvard to visit him.”

“Friends like me,” Adam parroted and gave up the pretense of the dishes, dumping the silverware into the drain board and turning to face Ronan. “What exactly do you mean?”

Ronan squared his shoulders and decided that he wasn’t going to wimp his way out of this. “I mean, that you’re very attractive. And if we’d met in another way, somewhere else, that I’d want to ask you out.”

Adam gulped hard enough that Ronan saw his Adam’s apple bob. “And if you had, I’d say yes. But why only if we’d met in another way?”

Ronan stepped closer, not quite boxing Adam in against the sink but carefully keeping his hands to himself. “Because it seems like a really asshole thing to do, to bring you home, make you dependent on me, and then ask you out. Feels like I’m cornering you.”

Adam gave him a charming, crooked grin. “You did spirit me away pretty quickly to your magical land, and now I’ve eaten your food so I’m not even sure if I can leave.”

Ronan grinned back, slowly and sincerely. It felt like a moment, a very loaded moment, a moment of potential that Ronan wondered if he was reading right because he really wanted to lean in and kiss Adam.

While he hesitated, eyes flickering from Adam’s dark blue eyes to Adam’s pink lips, Adam took the decision away from him. He tugged Ronan closer with a hand in his T-shirt, leaned up and kissed him.

Ronan closed his eyes and felt the soft warmth of Adam’s mouth against his, Adam kissing his top lip then his bottom, and Ronan leaned closer, wrapping his hands around Adam’s back to hold him, daring a quick lick to Adam’s bottom lip as Adam pulled back slowly.

They breathed together for a long moment, Ronan’s head curled down, his forehead resting against Adam’s. Then Adam let go of his T-shirt and Ronan said, “What are you going to tell Gansey about this?”

Adam’s huff of surprised laughter finally made Ronan open his eyes. Adam was staring into his with undisguised amusement.

“Do you tell Gansey about every person you kiss?”

Ronan shrugged and told the honest truth. “Actually, yeah.”

“Oh my God,” Adam laughed again. “Well, then, maybe I should give you something really interesting to add to that conversation.”

This kiss was hungry, Ronan thought right before all rational thought flew right out of his mind. Adam’s tongue was as warm as the rest of him, and Ronan’s hands clutched at Adam’s face, his neck, clung to his lower back, pulling them even closer together. Something about that must have made Adam happy because he moaned into Ronan’s mouth and hitched himself even nearer with his arms around Ronan.

Ronan couldn’t even remember who they were talking about when Adam finally broke the kiss and panted, “That’ll give you something to talk about.”

“Heugh,” Ronan said before capturing Adam’s mouth again, feeling Adam huff a little laugh before he returned the kiss.

But after a little more grinding, Ronan must have found one of Adam’s bruises as he pushed him back against the edge of the sink because he felt Adam’s entire body wince. He reluctantly pulled his mouth away, brushing his lips across Adam’s cheek then jaw, over to his ear.

“You hurting?” he whispered.

Adam shook his head against Ronan’s neck but then shrugged. “I think the adrenaline is starting to fade,” he admitted.

Ronan sighed because he, unfortunately, knew exactly how that felt and how the injuries would be starting to stiffen and hurt even more. “I think we’d better get you to bed.”

Adam started to grin, and Ronan felt his face flush red as he hurried to explain, “I mean, get you to your own bed. C’mon I’ll take you to Declan’s room and you can crash. Er, you already did that. Just...get some rest.”

Adam laughed out loud at him, but he seemed amused by Ronan’s clumsiness rather than put off by his earnestness. Adam squeezed Ronan’s upper arms where his hands had settled and leaned back up for a brief kiss. “I hate to cut this short, but I think you might have the right idea.”

“And Tylenol,” Ronan remembered, finally prying his hands off Adam and stepping back.

“That might be a good idea, too,” Adam made a face of discomfort as he pushed himself off the sink.

Ronan hurried to find the Tylenol bottle and a bottle of water from the fridge then led Adam upstairs. Declan’s room was still furnished but stripped bare of all his personal belongings. Still, Ronan kept bedding on the bed and Matthew’s for whenever one of them decided to visit.

He put the bottles on the nightstand and turned down the bed, shaking out a pillow even. When he looked up, Adam was standing in the doorway, not even pretending to hide a wide smile. “You’re quite the homemaker,” he said.

“Fuck off,” Ronan retorted although his warm cheeks stayed hot. “I just want you to be comfortable.”

“Thank you, Ronan. I’m sure I will be.”

Adam approached him slowly and Ronan watched as he sat down on the bed beside him.

“Do you want pajamas or—”

“I’m fine like this.” Adam reached over to cup Ronan’s face in his hand, one thumb brushing gently over his cheekbone.

“You are fine,” Ronan confided in a soft voice.

Adam shook his head then leaned over and kissed him. Ronan slid an arm around Adam’s waist and brought his other hand up to touch his face, his neck, down to his chest where the T-shirt was as soft as Ronan thought, but the muscle underneath was anything but.

This kiss was a perfect combination of hunger and need but also temperance and patience, Ronan thought muzzily. They weren’t going to end up in bed together tonight, but there was definitely something there in the future that would spark and ignite.

When Adam’s hand slipped away from his face, Ronan pulled back and watched him, eyes closed, swaying a little. Ronan dropped a kiss on his forehead. “Do you want me to tuck you in?”

“Ha, no, that’s a little too...parental for me,” Adam said.

Ronan got up and ruffled Adam’s hair which was as soft as it had looked. “Okay, sport, hop in bed, if you want me to tell you a story.”

“That is the least sexy thing that anyone has ever said to me,” Adam batted his hand away.

Ronan just grinned. “Good night, sleep tight, don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

“You would tell me if your home was infested with bugs, right?”

Ronan continued to grin as Adam rolled his eyes. “The only thing that’ll bite around here is me.” He leaned down to Adam’s ear and said, “And only if you ask nicely,” and accompanied it with a quick nip to Adam’s earlobe.

Mood lightened, Adam pushed Ronan back and pulled his legs up into the bed with a sigh. “Thanks, Ronan. I’ll be sure and tell Gansey I give you five stars as a host.”

Ronan snorted but lingered as Adam pulled up the covers and rustled around in the bed. “Do you want a wake up call at a certain time?”

“Oh shit,” Adam sat back up. “I can’t believe I almost forgot.”

“What you’re doing in Henrietta?”

“Yeah, dammit. I have to be in town for 9 a.m. And my phone is downstairs with my bag. And I forgot to put the laundry in the dryer,” Adam groaned.

But Ronan stopped him before he could get out of bed. “I got it. I can finish the laundry. If you let me, I’ll get your stuff out of your bag, too, and hang it up? And I can set an alarm for, what? Eight?”

“Seven, thank you. If you can’t drive me, I can call—”

“Nah, I got you. I’m not resting until I deliver you safely to Henrietta. I don’t trust anyone else at this point.”

Adam shook his head, but his smile betrayed him as he lay back down. “I’m going to a celebration for my old mentor. She’s finally getting her doctorate. They’re doing some daylong thing for her, and my coming was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Ronan said. When Adam suddenly held out his hand, Ronan took it, twining their fingers.

“Only, Persephone called me last night, wasn’t supposed to know I was coming, but she told me that the next time I drove to Henrietta, I was to be sure and take only the back roads in Virginia. No interstate, no highways, just the scenic route. Oh, and I was to make sure my cell phone was in a sealed plastic bag inside my backpack.”

“That’s weird,” Ronan said. “What, is she psychic?”

“Yeah, actually,” Adam answered in a voice that was getting heavier as his eyelids started to droop. “And what do you know? It worked. My phone survived just fine.”

“And so did you. Barely.”

“Thanks to you,” Adam’s voice was definitely dropping into sleep.

Ronan squeezed his hand then leaned down and kissed Adam’s bony knuckles. “Sleep sweet and pleasant dreams.”

Adam smiled up at him as he took his hand back and tucked it under the pillow. “It’s all been a pretty pleasant dream so far.”

As Ronan turned off the light and quietly closed the door, he shut his eyes and breathed out a silent prayer that the pleasant dream would never end.

**************

Adam looked down at the body, its back a literal work of art with a beloved tattoo and sculptured muscles beneath. Since his hands were full, Adam nudged his bare toes into the ribs of the body.

“Hey, man, you dead?” he asked.

Ronan grunted and turned his head enough to show one ice-blue eye glowering at him. “Feels like. Shit, when I said you could pick our honeymoon, I didn’t think you’d choose the seventh level of hell.”

Adam stopped to think for a moment. “You’ve cast us in with the sodomites?”

“Isn’t it appropriate, Mr. Adam Parrish-Lynch? Why do you think I chose that level?”

“Smartass.” Ronan only grinned and rolled over on the towel, accepted the large icy drink with grabby hands. Then Adam noticed, “You actually are pink. How can you burn through sunblock and a beach umbrella?”

“I’m sensitive and fair,” Ronan said before he slurped loudly. “The only reason I agreed to honeymoon on the literal surface of the sun was because you promised the villa would be air conditioned and I figured you’d be half naked all the time. Which is nice.”

“This is nice,” Adam sipped his own drink and dug his toes into the warm sand with a smile. He was tanning quite nicely. He figured he’d just have to keep Ronan out of the sun and full of icy booze for the rest of the week.

“You know what would be even nicer?”

“We are spending at least an hour on the beach before we go back to the villa for sex,” Adam informed him. His voice must have been louder than he intended because the nearest family to them turned scathing looks on him.

Ronan laughed as Adam winced in embarrassment. “You sure you don’t want to go back and hide from their judging stares?” Ronan asked, not even trying to drop his voice.

“No.” Adam did put his sunglasses on, though, as if they offered some protection. “I was promised a tropical beach so I intend to enjoy the sun and the sand.”

“And the water?” Ronan dropped his empty cup to the sand and stretched his arms high. Adam knew it was meant to draw his attention, and it worked. Then Ronan leaned in close and said lowly, “Let’s really offend that family and go make out in the ocean.”

Adam took another leisurely sip. “Nah, I’m fine here.”

Ronan nipped at his nearest ear and stuck his tongue inside which made Adam push at him until Ronan asked, “Have you ever got a handjob in the ocean?”

Adam pretended to consider while he finished his drink a little faster than he would normally. “No, I don’t believe I have. Are you offering?”

Ronan flickered his tongue at him and jerked his head toward the blue water that Adam knew was as warm as a bath. He sighed, even though he knew Ronan knew he was only pretending at being irritated. “Fine. If you insist. You’re my husband now, so I suppose I should try and make you happy.”

“You do make me happy. Ridiculously happy,” Ronan said, dropping all the teasing. He touched Adam’s cheek so Adam turned to face him, and then Ronan kissed him.

It made Adam’s toes curl still, even after a year of long-distance dating and another year of figuring out where they would live and fit in each others’ futures. It still made him feel strange, like an impostor, to know that Ronan saw their future that very first night they met. When Adam crashed, Ronan helped save him and took care of him. Ronan had always been firm and fast in his affections, while Adam wavered from time to time.

But when Ronan proposed, Adam knew he’d be a fool to walk away from a love like this. And now they were married and things would take a while to get used to, but even when Ronan had flashes of immaturity, he’d follow them with such sincerity that Adam was wooed all over again.

“Come on then,” Adam murmured against Ronan’s lips. “I believe my husband promised me a handjob.”

“In the ocean,” Ronan confirmed. He jumped to his feet and held out his hand, and Adam realized he’d be okay so long as Ronan was the one always offering a hand.

And it turned out that the ocean was very warm, but wrapping around his husband’s body—and his husband’s hands on him—were even hotter.

[coyotescribbles]

Like A House On Fire [Part 8]

Previously on...

-----

"Disrespectful little PEST-!"

Adze's furious screech preceded Z's reappearance, as the human came bolting through the doors, narrowly skidding out of the way of another piece of antenna debris before launching herself sideways to vault behind him.

And just a few steps behind her was Adze, optics blazing with fury. Catching the Trooper by the arm, Hatchet steered him away, but didn't let him go until he'd stopped digging his claws into the gravel. "What's the meaning of all this, then?"

"Your human has a mouth on her!"

Ah. "Yes, most of them do. It's part of their anatomy."

"You know what I mean!!"

He scoffed, turning Adze around and giving him a nudge back towards his assigned task. "I do know what you mean, and I'll deal with the matter. You go burn off that energy doing something useful."

Growling to himself, the Trooper directed one last glare towards Z, then stalked off to rejoin his brothers.

"…All in working order, Z?" Hatchet asked after a moment, glancing down to find the human huddled in a crouch with her arms wrapped around her knees and that now-familiar steely glare fixed on Adze. At his voice, though, she blinked and seemed to snap out of whatever trance held her.

"Ah, yeah, everything's fine. He's not the scariest thing I've ever outrun."

He studied her closely for a moment, then deliberately turned his attention elsewhere. She was already rattled, he didn't want to spook her further. "Your previous team… you don't seem especially broken up by their loss."

"Mmh." She half-shrugged, not giving any indication if she noticed the redirection; "they wouldn't've cared if it'd been my brains getting vaporized, so, no. We weren't much of a team, to be honest."

"So I gathered." Taking a step back, Hatchet knelt down beside her. "I think you will find that this unit isn't so dysfunctional. You can rely on your brothers here, little sister, but first you must be willing to work with them, and not needle them."

Her brow furrowed in a frown and she glanced away, but didn't argue; reaching out, he lightly rested his hand on her back.

(He also noted how she didn't tense up nearly as much as she had the first two times he'd touched her.)

"You came back here for a reason, Z. You were free to leave, and do as you pleased, but you came here. Why?"

"To be the 'instrument of my own wrath,' wasn't that how you put it?" She answered, her voice distant but her expression softening. "I've got a lot of wrath to give out, I guess."

"So I've seen," Hatchet chuffed softly. "It will be much easier to carry out that wrath if you could bring yourself to see your brothers as valued allies, rather than as obstacles, don't you think?"

Z's shoulders heaved in a weary sigh. "I know. I know I'm going to have to, it's just… hard. After everything."

Ducking her head, she growled wordlessly to herself - then exhaled sharply and stood so quickly she almost caught him by surprise. Dropping her gear and shedding her coat, she pushed her uniform's sleeves up, and strode purposefully across the gravel yard to where the Troopers were gathering up the disassembled scrap for disposal. Rising back to his own feet, Hatchet watched her single out Adze and nudge him with her elbow; whatever was said between the two was lost to him but, as Z proceeded to haul a piece of the debris to her shoulder and accompany Adze and Bolo towards the incinerator, he could see that the posturing between the two lacked the tension that had been present only a few minutes before.

She is uncertain, even frightened, but she is still brave. That will serve her well in the coming days.

And as he oversaw the final stage of the decommissioning, Hatchet found himself ruminating; he had dealt with many dissident humans over the course of his life, but none had been like Z. While all had been broken in one way or another by the carelessness of SEHC, her wounds were oddly unique, and every interaction with her only served to further convince him that she would be most effectively employed by keeping her close.

Because, while she was cagey and suspicious, she was still lucid and fearfully sharp - but she had also been left completely and utterly unmoored by her life experiences, and had clearly gotten used to keeping herself afloat by any means necessary.

She was quite good at it, all things considered, but it had grievously hampered her to have nothing solid to hold on to.

She was wasted on SEHC and the SEAF.

And so he would not send her back to them.

Z would learn what it was to have the unyielding support of brothers who were invested in her safety and success, and she would learn to rely on them as the relied on her, and she would flourish. Hatchet was sure of it, now even more than he'd previously been.

The SEAF had forged her into a blade, effective but crude.

He would refine her into a warrior.

The dim gray of the afternoon had darkened to a gloomy steel blue by the time the decommissioning process was finished, and the outpost was little more than an empty shell.

It was a lonely feeling, alleviated only by the presence of his brothers and sister as they assembled at the gate.

The sixteen of them were hardly a force to be reckoned with, but they would soon be rejoining other, larger outposts en route to the main base - and the front lines of yet another battle.

It's so very tiresome…

Z looked almost comically small, standing next to him where he brought up the rear of the column, but she carried herself with pride. Pride that didn't waver, he noted, when Guillotine faltered in his inspection with a disbelieving scoff - if anything, she almost looked smug.

"I told you she would come back," Hatchet rumbled softly, amused.

"And you're never wrong, I know," Gi replied with his characteristic curtness. "Don't let her fell behind, I won't hold the column up for her sake."

"Of course, Commissar."

"I don't think he likes me much," Z whispered once Guillotine had stalked away.

"He is very… particular about who he allows to see his good side," He replied, "but there is no better Commissar on this side of Cyberstan."

"What did he say?"

"Only that you should make sure not to fall behind."

"Oh, that's all? Sounds easy enough."

"It won't be."

The signal to move out came from the lead, and the column began its solemn procession - Guillotine and his four Troopers, followed by the two Berserkers, the six Troopers tasked with carrying the select pieces of hardware deemed too important to destroy, with Adze and Bolo flanking them, and then Hatchet.

And Z.

She followed along at his side, expression focused as she kept pace with him. With her rifle cradled in her arms, she looked every bit the soldier, despite her diminutive stature. If she had reminded him of a caged predator at the start of the day, now she reminded him of a stalking predator - and wasn't that what humans had evolved to be, after all? Persistence predators that walked their prey to death.

And wasn't that what we were made to be, as well?

For a time, they made their way through the fog in silence, with only the sounds of sand-muffled footsteps and servo motors to mark their passage. Steel blue evening gave way to indigo twilight which, in turn, faded to the inky black of night; the planet's moons hadn't yet risen, and only their optic lights illuminated the fog in shades of vivid crimson.

And, in little increments as the night progressed, he noticed Z starting to lag. By the time the moons had risen, she was half a dozen paces behind him and hadn't moved to catch up yet.

Even human stamina had its limits.

"Eh, hey," Hatchet paused and held his hand out to her, beckoning her closer; "come on, up."

She regarded the outstretched hand with something almost like wariness, then looked away again to hide a yawn, adjusting the rifle strap across her shoulders.

"I don't need to be carried," she scoffed, "I'm not a child."

"No," He acquiesced, "but you are tired, and you'll fall behind if you keep being stubborn. You recall what I said, about relying on us, yes?"

Z scowled, then sighed, and turned to clamber up and settle into the crook of his elbow - though she also made a show of sulking about it, crossing her arms over her chest and all but hiding her face in her coat.

"There, see? Not so bad, is it." He adjusted his pace to catch back up to the rest of the column. Then, "there is no shame in accepting help from your brothers, little sister."

"Yeah, well… that's not the lesson I learned, growing up…"

"I am sorry for that, and I hope you will let us show you a better way, going forward."

"…I'll try."

She fell silent after that, and Hatchet felt the tension slowly drain from her taut shoulders. Soon, the rest of her body followed suit, sagging against his side even as her breathing slowed and evened out.

If he could have smiled, he would have the moment a soft little snore reached his audio receivers.

What a strange, stubborn, wonderful little creature.

[steam-powered-chaos]

Chapter 1 (Frozen Storm)

Helio woke up, marking 4 months since the day he had lost his husband, because of his own stupid, stupid actions. No matter, he'd just have to continue on with his day, as he always did. He stretched with a yawn, almost tripping over an empty flask on the floor. Had he fallen asleep drinking again? Most likely, all he'd have to do is pick it up and refill it, even if he'd have to refill it around 3 more times just for the whole day. Maybe I should just start drinking them by the bottle... He thought to himself, stumbling out onto the deck. The crew glanced at him silently, before going back to their duties, used to the drunkenness of their captain by now. He shoved past them, going to the wheel of the ship, and promptly almost steered it into a nearby whirlpool.

"Captain!" His first mate, Sunny grabbed the wheel quickly, as Helio was gently guided away from the wheel of the ship, staring down blankly. She walked away, leaving someone else to steer, before marching the captain to his room. Helio swayed slightly, struggling to stand as Sunny stared at him in silent shame and disgust, as she sat him down on his chair gently, taking any bottles she found scattered. "Captain, this can't keep happening. This is the third time this week you almost put us in danger, and it's only Tuesday! You need to pull yourself together, Orion isn't coming back." The words stung, as if she had slapped him, but deep down, she was right. He knew she was right. So he went to stand up, but was quickly sat down again. "No. You're going to rest Captain, I don't like seeing you like this. Sleep until you sober up, ok?" He nodded silently. Helio didn't like to admit it, but he did appreciate how much she cared for him, even when she never had to. He truly didn't deserve Sunny, after all he put her through... but she was like a daughter to him.

She walked out the room, dimming the lamps, and Helio rolled over, pulling his coat, and his belt off, throwing them to land on a chair, as his gun clattered to the floor from its holster and skidded across the floor. It came to a sharp stop, as if someone had stopped it, so Helio sat up, looking around. His eyes adjusted to the dark, and he could see a shadowy figure standing in the darkened corner. The figure chuckled, a thin, high noise that sent a shiver down Helio's spine, as he quickly hauled himself to his feet, trying to grab his cutlass, but the figure quickly reached out, grabbing him by the arm. It's hand was wet, and cold, and Helio instinctively tried to pull away from it. "Calm yourself, my friend..." It spoke with a soft, dangerous tone. "I mean you no harm! I've come here to ask for a... favour, and I do believe that it will be very beneficial to you.." He stumbled back, eyes wide with fear, but quickly composed himself, staring at the figure with his eyes narrowing in suspicion. Helio was never one to trust someone so easily after all, and he cleared his throat quickly, hand on his pocket knife in case this stranger tries anything.

"...Who are you?" A reasonable enough first question to ask the mystery figure that broke into his sleeping quarters. It chuckled again "You don't need to know my name, Helio Frostheart, but I know you're grieving... grieving for your ex husband, yes?" Helio froze, his muscles stiffening in rage. How dare this stranger talk about Orion? He doesn't have the right to! He thought to himself, immediately beginning to close himself off. It laughed again at his reaction. "Hush... I came to you to offer my services! Surely you'd want him back, yes?" He couldn't conceal his astonishment, how would this figure even get his husband in the same town as him, let alone speak to him! But there was not a hint of sarcasm in it's thin, quiet voice, so Helio stayed quiet, listening to what it had to say, hope blooming. "And I would only require one thing from you, Helio."

A catch, of course there would be a catch, so he sighed, nodding, his eyes weary and his heart beginning to race with adrenaline.

"A mer, just one. I want it alive"

And the figure disappeared, leaving Helio alone.

[strid3rofthen0rth]

My buddy has an oil burning furnace in his shop. My uncle has used motor oil in bulk at his work. I have a truck that can haul a skid steer that can lift 50-gallon drums of oil.

So, after borrowing the skidder from a different friend, I made the milk run, delivering barrels of waste oil to my buddy's shop for winter heat.

And that's the story of how I picked up (literally) a free chicken coop... in need of shingles.

I also earned a bottle of Jameson for waste oil delivery. Enough effort for today. Football time.

[remarcely]

What Would Spider-Man Do?- Remarcely AO3 [MCU Spider-Man Fanfic]

A high-pitched ringing filled Neds ears as he slowly came to, hands fumbling on either side to pull himself up from where he was laying. He hissed, fingertips brushing against broken glass shards just hard enough to break the skin. He cracked his eyes open and neared on choking at the carnage around him.

They were still on the bus, though it can’t be said the bus was the right way up. It had skidded off the road on its side, the windows shattering down on the inside, and the now-ceiling above them was dented in. Ned could hear shouting and crashes not too far away. It was a safe bet to guess there had been collateral damage.

He hauled himself up and brushed the glass splinters from his clothes. Ned turned to find Peter and give him a hand up as well, but in the midst of their classmates he couldn’t find him. That was, until he heard a shout two rows down from him. Ned stumbled towards the crying- it was Chrissy, the newest member of the Decathlon team, it was supposed to be her first competition- to find three of his teammates crowded around Peter.

His head was bleeding. Hopefully it was worse than it looked, Ned had read about head wounds before, weren’t they supposed to bleed a whole bunch? Chrissy was half holding him up, keeping Peters head from touching what could only be described as a mound of bloody glass beneath him, and was frantically shaking him. He wasn’t responding, practically a ragdoll, and if it weren’t for their other classmates hurriedly checking his pulse, Ned likely would have been panicking too.

“He’s just knocked out,” Betty sighed in relief “Can anyone find a first aid kit? We’ve got to do something for the bleeding.”

“I think I have a travel one in my bag.” Abraham mumbled and staggered through the wreckage of the bus to find his backpack. A few other people went to help him, even Flash doing so without any prompting, and a silent agreement settled upon the group.

“Is anyone else hurt?” Betty called out, helping Chrissy carry Peter to a safer spot.

There was a groan at the back of the bus and Michelle waved her hand up from around one of the chairs “Oh fuck.” She stood up in a dazed state, wincing as she pulled a couple shards from her hair “What the hell hit us?”

She looked up at the now very open window frames on the now-ceiling and narrowed her eyes. MJ climbed onto the sides of the chairs, sneakers almost slipping on the fabric on her first step, and hauled herself up to look around.

It could only be described as a gigantic metal ball on even larger spider legs. It had one leg puncturing the bridge in front of them, another in the river, and the final few being shot at with laser beams by one Iron Man. He was the only hero on the scene, or at least the only one she could spot.

“What do you see?” Ned called up.

“Uh.” Michelle glanced down at him with wide eyes “Nothing good. Tin can is on the scene, he seems to be doing fine at keeping whatever that is away from where we are.” Her eyes moved past him to the very bloody unconscious Peter, Ned following her gaze.

“Yeah, I don’t think Spider-Man is going to be showing up to help anytime soon.” He mumbled under his breath.

“He saved my life.” Michelle stared at Peter, hand gripping the metal frame of the window with white knuckles “When we got hit, I was sat right there and he jumped out to shield me with his own body, like a fucking moron.”

“Found it!” Abe held the tiny green bag above his head, waving it about as he struggled back across the bus.

Betty reached out and took it, unzipping the bag to rummage around inside “Anyone have scissors?”

“Here.” Michelle fished them from her school bag, putting them in Bettys waiting hand “We need to get off the bus, can anyone find the teachers? The driver?”

“Uh, the driver hit the steering wheel in front of her but she’s breathing alright.” Flash called back from the front of the bus “I can’t see Mr Harrington. I think I need to cut the driver’s seatbelt, it’s all jammed.”

Ned took an unsteady breath and covered his face with his hands “Come on man,” He whispered quietly, more to himself than anything “What would Spider-Man do?”

“We fell onto the fucking door, damn it.” Abe groaned and stomped on the sliding doors in frustration.

“Let’s use the emergency hatch and the broken windows,” Ned spoke up and strode towards the hatch, clicking it open with a heave “Betty, you and Chrissy carry Peter out and find some cover. Flash and Abe, get the driver. MJ and I will grab our bags and look for Mr Harrington.”

For once not putting up an argument, everyone did as they were directed. Betty hooked her arms around Peters chest while Chrissy took the legs, shuffling to the exit. Abe pulled a Swiss army knife from his backpack- which he had for a concerning but very lucky reason- and cut through the seatbelt as Flash lifted the driver out of the seat in a surprising display of strength. MJ grabbed their bags, hooking the straps over one arm, and began chucking them out of the open window.

Ned ignored his own backpack, heading straight for Peters to find his phone. He struggled for a minute, unwinding the headphones Peter had wrapped around the sides, and let out a small sigh of relief when the phone switched on without a hitch. He tapped in the password and went to the contacts, finding ‘Mr Stark’ under favourited, ignoring the four missed calls and what he could only assume was a scathing voice message. Ned left the headphones in and dialled the number.

“Come on.” All bags and passengers evacuated, MJ had climbed onto the top of the bus and held down a hand for Ned.

He took it and the two of them stood on the side of the school bus, watching the fight from a not-so-safe distance. After one more ring, the call was answered with a tiny beep.

“Oh, now you pick up.” There was a loud sound through the phone and Ned watched as something exploded on the outside of the metal thing “Not a great time, kid.”

“Hi Mr Stark, I know we haven’t talked before but I’m Peters friend, Ned-”

“Uh huh, sure you are. Mind passing the phone over to Pete?”

“Um, Peters a little too unconscious to come to the phone right now.”

“He’s what?”

“Unconscious. He got hit on the head and it’s bleeding a whole ton.”

“Jesus Christ, call an ambulance! I’m busy right now.”

“I- uh- know. We were on a trip for a Decathlon competition and the bus got hit by the weird metal spider-ball thing. Peter must have sensed it with his tingle thing and took the brunt force or something.”

MJ cursed under her breath, pointing out the crumpled form of Mr Harrington a short distance from the bus, and jumped off the bus to go help.

“Shit. I guess that means no backup. You said you’re on the bus.” For a brief moment, Iron Man stopped in mid-air to look around “Yeah, I see you. Get far away from the bridge, I’ll call someone and have you all evacuated. You said Peter’s out?”

Ned turned to look down at Betty and Chrissy, carrying Peter between them “Oh yeah, big time.”

Mr Starks sigh came through a little computerised on the call and muttered “That kid, I swear.” He cleared his throat and continued in a louder voice “He should have his suit with him, take one of the web shooters and keep it on his wrist, that’ll measure most of his vitals. Keep out of the way, stick with your class, and don’t try playing hero. Capeesh?”

“Yes-” The call ended.

“He’s okay!” MJ shouted up from the ground, dragging Mr Harrington in the direction of their classmates “Get your ass down here before you hurt yourself.”

“Coming!” Ned moved to the roof of the bus and half-slid down the curve. He scooped up all of the bags and ran over to the group.

Flash darted back, helping MJ carry their teacher the rest of the way, and jerked his head at the fight “What is that thing?”

“Why would I know, Eugene?” She shot back, the two of them dumping Mr Harrington on the ground next to the group.

Betty turned to Mr Harrington, checking for any blood “He’s hit the back of his head, someone give me a torch to check his eyes.” Abe passed her his phone, the torch turned on, and crouched down to help look over their teacher.

Ned ignored them, moving to sit down by Peter. His head was bandaged and Betty had moved him into the recovery position. He sat and stared, for a few agonising seconds, as Peter didn’t move other than the slow rise and fall of his chest, before remembering himself. Ned rummaged through Peters bag again, using his body to hide it as he dug down for the Spider-Man suit. He fumbled around as he looked for the web shooters, finally finding one pinned beneath a maths folder, and unclipped it to slide up Peters sleeve.

“How is he?” MJ kicked Ned lightly with her shoe.

“He’s doing alright. Mr Stark said he was calling for backup.” He picked at his shoelaces. There was a red mark on the toe- blood- and he had no idea who it had come from.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” She muttered angrily under her breath.

“He said to stay put and out of the way.” Ned looked to his own bag on the pile and grabbed the strap, yanking it closer. Unzipping the main pocket, he found his miraculously unscathed laptop. He looked back to the Spider-Man suit “He also said not to play hero.”

“Hypocritical, coming from him.” Michelle scoffed and sat next to him “What are you going to do?”

Ned fumbled for the mask and a long wire from Peters bag. He connected the two, tucked the mask out of sight, and joined the wire to his laptop as it slowly booted up “Something stupid, probably. If I can access Karen, I can use her to get a better view on things up there. Then, if I can do that- well, that looks like a lot of machinery to me, someone has to control it.”

“Yeah. It’d be pretty stupid to still be inside it, too, so there’d have to be some sort of wireless connection to pilot it.” MJ nodded slowly, catching on.

“Exactly.” Ned muted his laptop, just in case, and pulled up Karens file. He opened up a text chat with the AI and in a few minutes had the nearest CCTV to the fight pulled up.

“Oh damn,” A voice spoke from over their shoulder and Ned hurriedly shoved Peters bag even further shut by putting his foot on top “That is one big mother fucker.”

“Uh-”

Abe leaned closer to get a better look and a few other team members glanced their way “You said you could hijack the signal?”

“Mhm.” Ned swallowed hard.

“You need a hand tracking it down?” Abe retrieved a small tablet from his own bag, which hadn’t been so lucky in the crash and had a crack reaching across the screen “There’s going to be a bunch of signals from Iron Mans drones and stuff, I can help you narrow it down no problem.”

Abe sat across from Ned on the concrete and pulled up some homemade software, fingers tapping at lightning speed through connections. In less than a minute, he had it, and passed the Tablet to Ned to get a better look.

Michelle watched the two tech nerds work away and took Peters phone again. She scrambled up and walked a good few paces away. ‘What would Spider-Man do?’ That’s what Ned had mumbled earlier, right? Well, Spider-Man would go to Mr Stark with his kickass plan, that’s what.

The phone ringed out again until it was answered.

“I’m a little busy right now Ted, so unless Peter’s awake-”

“The metal thing is being piloted from somewhere else, I’ve got two nerds tracking it down right now.” She interrupted him, eyes on the fight in the distance.

“Who- never mind. This thing is armoured to face anything, I doubt they added Bluetooth or some shit. Tell your friends they’re wasting their time.”

“It’s Michelle, and I very much doubt someone would be stupid enough to put themselves in there when they knew it would be target number one.” She rolled her eyes “We’ve already got the signal and Ned is hijacking it now. We can only see so well through the cameras, where’s a good place to land this thing without crushing half of Queens?”

MJ rambled through her words, taking a heavy breath when she was done. If her friends weren’t in danger or slowly bleeding, she might have even thought it was fun.

Mr Stark sighed through the phone “The water, preferably. Look, I don’t exactly want the control of this in a random kid’s hands.”

“Would you rather the person currently kicking your ass with it did?” Not waiting for a response, MJ pulled the phone away from her ear and turned to Ned “How well do you think you can move that thing without breaking any buildings?”

“Through my laptop? If I move slow, it should be fine, but the more time it takes the more chances its current pilot has to take control back.”

“Here!” Flash piped up, holding a game controller up in the air “Use this!” Of course, he’d brought along his gaming equipment.

“Flash, you wonderful idiot, that might just work.” Michelle breathed out a laugh and passed the controller to Ned “Ready?”

Ned looked down at the controller, tense “This isn’t exactly my forte, guys.”

“It is mine.” Chrissy, on shaky legs, wiped at her eyes with her sleeve. She held out a hand and slid a look of determination onto her face “Let me.”

MJ and Ned shared a look before they both nodded, allowing control to Chrissy. She turned to face the metal thing in the distance and took a few steps closer, standing next to Michelle, who had pulled the phone back to her ear.

“We’re ready. Ned, take it over.”

There was a click behind her and the metal beast froze in its path. Iron Mans suit hung in the air next to it, cautious.

“I’m hoping that’s you.”

“It is. Chrissy, move it towards the river and slowly lower it down, alright?”

The girl nodded. She moved the joysticks slowly and the metal spider moved up and down, side to side, and lifted each of its legs carefully before lowering them again.

“Are you making it fucking dance?”

“I’m getting used to the controls!” Chrissy hurried out a shaky response, having heard the very loud incredulous question through the phone. After another beat, she steadied herself “Alright, I think I’ve got it.”

The metal spider cautiously raised the leg puncturing the bridge and stuck on the mainland. It stepped further into the river with adjustments being passed down the line from Stark, to MJ and then to Chrissy. Everyone held their breath as the spider stood still in the river and slowly lowered itself until it was sat firmly in the water. The thing twitched, hissed, and slunk forward. Whoever had made it clearly hadn’t expected it to take a dunk in the river.

“Holy shit, I did it.” Chrissy muttered in surprise, thumbs flying back from the controls.

“Damn right you did.” MJ laughed and squeezed her shoulder. The girl flung around and hugged her tightly, quite to MJ’s surprise.

“Stay where you are. Once the clean-up crew gets here, I’ll pick up Peter myself. What you lot did was stupid and reckless but…” Stark sighed again and it seemed as if it physically pained him to continue “You did good. Just never do any of that again.” He hung up.

-

In the next ten minutes, an ambulance had arrived and the paramedics had gathered the kids to give them all a check over. Out of the group, it was the driver and Mr Harrington that were worse off, with Peter suspiciously fine if not for the fact he was still knocked out. They were loading the two adults into the ambulance when Iron Man touched down a few yards away, his suit hissing open and Tony Stark stepping out.

He nodded at the paramedics, who nodded out of instinct in shock, and strolled towards Peter. He was still laying on the ground, though Ned and MJ had moved to his side and rested his head on his own backpack “I’m assuming you’re Michelle and Ted?”

“Ned actually-”

“Yep,” MJ cut him off “That’s us. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Stark sent her a look and moved his attention back to Peter “Has he woken up yet?”

“No, but he’s pretty much healed.” Ned shrugged and fiddled with his sleeves “They want to keep him here until he does wake up and check for a concussion.”

“Hm.” Stark hummed and crouched down until they were all eye level “Quick thinking, using Karen. She sent along the pilots’ details to S.H.I.E.L.D, they’re dealing with them now.”

“T-Thank you, sir.” Ned stuttered and looked away.

“I shouldn’t have to tell you how stupid and dangerous that was, right?” Tony narrowed his eyes at them.

“We know.” MJ stared unblinkingly back.

“Jeez, no wonder you’re Peters friends.” Tony pinched his brow and took a deep breath “Your parents are probably on the way to pick you up, the news helicopters got pretty good shots of the bus. I’ll take Peter back with me, get him some proper medical attention.”

He clicked his fingers over his shoulder and the empty suit closed back up, moving forward. Tony stepped back inside and waved the kids out of the way, carefully lifting Peter up. Michelle passed him his backpack too, which he looped through one of his arms.

Ned gave them a small wave “Bye, Mr Stark.”

“Sure, kid. May we never meet again.”

The Iron Man suit rose up into the air and flew into the sky, leaving MJ and Ned to wait and ignore all questions from their classmates for the coming hour.

[krisssolutions]

Excavator Skeleton Buckets: The Ultimate Tool for Efficient Sorting

When it comes to excavation and material handling, efficiency is everything. No one wants to waste time sifting through debris manually or dealing with constant clogs in a standard bucket. That’s where the excavator skeleton bucket comes in—a game-changer for sorting, separating, and handling materials with ease. If you’re in construction, demolition, or landscaping, this bucket could be the upgrade you never knew you needed!

What Makes an Excavator Skeleton Bucket Special? 

Unlike standard buckets, a skeleton bucket is designed with gaps between its tines, allowing smaller debris to fall through while retaining larger materials. This simple yet effective design makes it ideal for sorting rocks, concrete, and other materials on-site. Instead of wasting time hauling everything away, you can separate reusable materials instantly! 

Why Choose a Skeleton Bucket Over a Standard One? 

You might be wondering—why not just use a regular bucket? Well, here’s why an excavator skeleton bucket is the better choice for many jobs: 

Faster sorting – No need for extra labour or equipment to separate materials. 

Reduced waste – Salvage valuable materials instead of dumping everything. 

Less strain on your excavator – Lighter than a solid bucket, reducing fuel costs. 

Versatile applications – Works great for landscaping, demolition, and recycling. 

If you’re in Australia and looking to boost your excavation game, pairing a skeleton bucket with other high-quality attachments—like the 5T rippers for sale in Australia—can take your efficiency even further. 

Ideal Jobs for an Excavator Skeleton Bucket:

So, where does this bucket really shine? Here are a few perfect applications: 

Landscaping – Easily separate soil from rocks when preparing a site. 

Demolition – Quickly remove concrete and separate it from debris. 

Recycling – Sort scrap materials effortlessly on-site. 

Agriculture – Sift through harvested materials with ease. 

For those managing farms, it’s also worth looking into tractor attachments in Australia, which can enhance productivity across various agricultural tasks. 

Pairing Skeleton Buckets with Other Attachments:

An excavator skeleton bucket is impressive on its own, but when paired with the right attachments, it becomes even more powerful. For tough digging jobs, adding a ripper attachment—such as one of the 5T rippers for sale in Australia—can help break up compacted ground before sifting materials.

Similarly, those using skid steers should explore skid steer attachments in Australia, such as grapple buckets or augers, to improve versatility on-site. And if you’re working on a farm or large property, don’t forget to check out tractor attachments in Australia for even more efficiency.

Conclusion:

If you’re looking for a way to boost efficiency, cut down on waste, and save time, an excavator skeleton bucket is a must-have. Whether you’re in construction, demolition, or landscaping, this tool makes material sorting a breeze. Pair it with the right attachments, and you’ll wonder how you ever worked without it!

Source: https://attachments-excavators.blogspot.com/2025/01/excavator-skeleton-buckets-ultimate.html

[whobuysconstructionequipment02]

Excavator Types and Their Applications

What are Excavator Types and Their Applications? An excavator is essential on your job site if you need to raise large volumes of earth. Excavators are earthmoving machines with buckets, arms, rotating cabs, and movable tracks. These components give this heavy equipment more digging strength and mobility, allowing it to do everything from digging trenches and breaking holes to hauling rubbish and excavating mines.

What are the functions of excavators? Excavators are used for a wide range of contractor and industrial applications, including mining, road construction, building construction, and demolition.

Excavators come in a variety of sizes and shapes; smaller machines are used for digging and drilling, while larger excavators have varied equipment for heavy-duty operations. When renting an excavator, think about its size and speed, as well as the working conditions, such as the amount of space available and the varieties of soil.

Crawlers, dragline excavators, suction excavators, skid steer excavators, and long reach excavators are the most common excavators. We’ll go over the many types of excavators and the jobs that each one is best suited for.

Crawler Excavators

Crawlers, unlike other huge excavators that operate on wheels, operate on two massive, endless tracks. They are commonly employed in mining and heavy-duty construction. These excavators, also known as compact excavators, employ hydraulic power mechanisms to lift large waste and soil.

Dragline Excavators

The dragline excavator is a larger excavator that uses a different method of excavation. A hoist rope system connects to a bucket via a hoist coupler on the apparatus. The bucket’s other side is attached to a dragline that connects the bucket to the cab.

The bucket is raised and lowered by the hoist rope, while the bucket is pulled toward the driver by the dragline.

Draglines are frequently assembled on-site due to their weight. This excavator’s innovative technique is widely utilized in large-scale civil engineering projects like as canal dredging.

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[motorcycleaccessories01]

KTM 890 Adventure R: Built for Your Next Big Adventure

Adventure bikes hold a special place in the hearts of motorcyclists who crave exploration and freedom. Among these, the KTM 890 Adventure R stands tall as a versatile, robust, and high-performance machine, specifically designed for riders seeking to conquer challenging terrains and enjoy long-haul journeys. Let’s dive into what makes this motorcycle an exceptional choice for your next big adventure.

A Brief Overview

The KTM 890 Adventure R is an evolution of its predecessor, the 790 Adventure R, and comes with notable upgrades that cater to performance, comfort, and reliability. With its off-road prowess and on-road comfort, this bike seamlessly blends versatility with cutting-edge technology. It’s the perfect companion for riders looking to push their limits, whether traversing rugged trails or cruising on highways.

Design and Build

From the first glance, the KTM 890 Adventure R exudes a rugged and purposeful design. Built for durability, the bike features a lightweight yet robust chassis, with a focus on maintaining a low center of gravity. This design enhances maneuverability, even in the most challenging off-road conditions.

The bike’s slim profile and ergonomic design ensure that riders can comfortably stand or sit while navigating different terrains. The adjustable handlebars, rally-style seat, and strategically placed foot pegs further enhance the rider’s control and comfort.

The bold graphics and signature orange accents make it unmistakably KTM, while the practical inclusion of a sturdy skid plate and handguards reinforces its off-road readiness. The windscreen and fairing are aerodynamically optimized to reduce wind resistance, offering a more comfortable ride on long journeys.

Performance and Engine

At the heart of the KTM 890 Adventure R is an 889cc parallel-twin engine that delivers an impressive 105 horsepower and 100 Nm of torque. This refined engine offers a perfect balance of power and efficiency, making it suitable for a variety of riding conditions.

The advanced electronics package, including ride-by-wire throttle, traction control, and multiple ride modes (Street, Off-road, Rain, and Rally), allows riders to tailor the bike’s performance to their specific needs. The Rally mode, in particular, is a standout feature, providing fine-tuned control over throttle response and slip settings for expert-level off-road riding.

The lightweight chromoly steel frame ensures stability at high speeds and precise handling on technical trails. Combined with the powerful engine, the KTM 890 Adventure R guarantees an exhilarating ride that’s as thrilling on dirt roads as it is on pavement.

Suspension and Handling

One of the most impressive aspects of the KTM 890 Adventure R is its suspension setup. The bike features WP XPLOR fully adjustable suspension, with a 48mm front fork and a rear shock absorber. This system provides exceptional damping performance, ensuring a smooth ride over uneven surfaces.

With 240mm of travel on both ends, the suspension is designed to tackle rough terrain with ease, making it ideal for adventure riders who frequently venture off the beaten path. The suspension can be adjusted to suit various riding styles, weights, and conditions, giving the rider unparalleled control and confidence.

The 21-inch front and 18-inch rear wheels, fitted with tubeless off-road tires, further enhance the bike’s capability on loose gravel, mud, and sand. The steering geometry and low seat height ensure that the bike remains nimble, even in technical off-road situations.

Technology and Features

KTM has equipped the 890 Adventure R with a host of advanced features that elevate the riding experience. The bike comes with a full-color TFT display that provides all essential information, including speed, RPM, fuel level, and navigation prompts. The display is easy to read in various lighting conditions and can be customized to show specific data based on rider preferences.

The bike’s electronics package includes cornering ABS and off-road ABS, which provide enhanced braking performance and safety on diverse surfaces. The Motorcycle Traction Control (MTC) system ensures optimal grip in challenging conditions, while the Quickshifter+ allows seamless gear changes without using the clutch.

The KTM MyRide app adds another layer of convenience, enabling riders to connect their smartphone to the bike for navigation, music, and call management. These tech-driven features make the 890 Adventure R a modern and connected adventure machine.

Comfort and Ergonomics

Long rides demand comfort, and the KTM 890 Adventure R doesn’t disappoint. The rally-style seat is designed for extended hours of riding, providing ample support and cushioning. The seat height is adjustable, catering to a wide range of rider preferences and body types.

The adjustable handlebars and foot pegs ensure an ergonomic riding position, whether you’re seated or standing. The bike’s windscreen effectively deflects wind, reducing fatigue during highway cruising.

Fuel capacity is another critical factor for adventure bikes, and the 890 Adventure R features a large 20-liter fuel tank. With its efficient engine, the bike offers an impressive range, minimizing the need for frequent refueling stops on long journeys.

Safety and Durability

Safety is paramount when exploring uncharted territories, and the KTM 890 Adventure R comes with an array of features to keep riders secure. The cornering ABS and off-road ABS systems provide reliable stopping power, even in low-traction scenarios. The bike’s sturdy build and high-quality components ensure durability, making it capable of withstanding the rigors of adventure riding.

Additionally, the bike is equipped with LED lighting, including a powerful headlight that ensures excellent visibility in low-light conditions. The reinforced skid plate and crash bars offer protection against impacts, further enhancing the bike’s resilience.

Why Choose the KTM 890 Adventure R?

The KTM 890 Adventure R stands out in the adventure motorcycle segment for its blend of performance, technology, and off-road capability. Here are a few reasons why it’s the ultimate choice for your next big adventure:

Unmatched Versatility: Whether you’re tackling technical trails or cruising on highways, the 890 Adventure R delivers exceptional performance across the board.

Advanced Technology: The bike’s cutting-edge electronics package ensures a safe, comfortable, and connected riding experience.

Off-Road Prowess: With its robust suspension, off-road tires, and Rally mode, the 890 Adventure R is built to conquer even the toughest terrains.

Durable Build: Designed to endure the challenges of adventure riding, the bike’s high-quality components and protective features ensure longevity.

Comfort for Long Rides: From its ergonomic design to its ample fuel range, the 890 Adventure R is tailored for extended journeys.

Conclusion

The KTM 890 Adventure R is more than just a motorcycle; it’s a gateway to exploring the world without limits. With its exceptional performance, advanced features, and rugged build, this bike is designed to inspire confidence and fuel your passion for adventure. Whether you’re a seasoned off-road enthusiast or a rider looking to embark on your first epic journey, the 890 Adventure R has everything you need to make every ride memorable.

[tires-calgary-2025]

🛞 Elevate Your Fleet with Commercial Tire Services in Calgary 🚛

KMJ TIRE 2025

In the world of business, time is money, and your fleet is the backbone of your operations. Whether you’re transporting goods across Alberta or managing equipment on a busy construction site, having reliable tires is critical. At KMJ TIRE, we specialize in commercial tire services in Calgary, offering top-tier solutions that keep your vehicles and equipment running at peak performance. 🌟

From forklift tires in Calgary to semi-truck tires and everything in between, our expertise ensures you’re always ready to tackle your next big project.

🛠️ Specialized Tire Solutions for Every Need 🚜

At KMJ TIRE, we cater to diverse industries by offering tires designed for specific applications. Here’s a breakdown of our specialized services:

🔧 Forklift Tires in Calgary

Forklifts are indispensable in warehouses and industrial environments, requiring durable tires to handle heavy loads. We offer:

Cushion Tires for indoor use, ideal for smooth surfaces.

Pneumatic Tires for outdoor applications, providing excellent traction.

Solid Tires for heavy-duty, maintenance-free performance.

Our forklift tires are engineered to keep your operations efficient and productive. 💪

🚜 Skid Steer Tires in Calgary

Skid steer loaders thrive in rugged environments, and so do our skid steer tires. Whether you’re in construction or agriculture, these tires offer:

Puncture Resistance for rough terrains.

Traction Control for wet, muddy, or uneven surfaces.

Durability to withstand high-impact jobs.

Stay ahead of the game with skid steer tires built for heavy-duty performance. 🌾

🚛 Semi-Truck Tires in Calgary

Long hauls demand tires that can go the distance. Our semi-truck tires deliver:

Fuel Efficiency to lower operational costs.

High Mileage Durability for extended road life.

All-Season Safety to handle Calgary’s unpredictable weather.

From icy highways to summer heat, our semi-truck tires ensure you stay safe and efficient. 🛣️

📦 Telehandler Tires in Calgary

Telehandlers work in demanding environments, from construction sites to farms. Our telehandler tires are designed to provide:

Superior Load Stability for safe handling of heavy materials.

Traction on Rough Terrains to minimize downtime.

Long-Lasting Performance to maximize your investment.

Handle the toughest jobs with confidence using our telehandler tires. 🏗️

🌟 Why Businesses Choose KMJ TIRE 🚀

✅ Decades of Expertise

With over 15 years in the industry, KMJ TIRE is Calgary’s go-to for commercial tire services. Our team understands the unique challenges your business faces and offers solutions tailored to meet your needs. 🛠️

✅ Premium Tire Brands

We partner with trusted names in the tire industry to ensure unmatched quality. Our lineup includes:

Michelin Tires 🏆

Toyo Tires 🚗

BFGoodrich Tires 🛻

Firestone Tires 🌟

Pirelli Tires 🏎️

No matter your equipment, we have the perfect tire to match.

✅ Mobile Tire Services 🚐

Downtime is the enemy of productivity, which is why our mobile tire service ensures you’re back on track fast. We come to your location to perform installations, repairs, and maintenance. 🌍

🔥 Comprehensive Fleet Support 🏆

At KMJ TIRE, we’re more than just a tire shop. We’re a partner in your success. Here’s what sets us apart:

1️⃣ Emergency Support

Unexpected issues? We offer 24/7 assistance to keep your business running smoothly.

2️⃣ Eco-Friendly Tire Recycling

We help you dispose of old tires responsibly, supporting sustainability efforts.

3️⃣ Fleet Management Expertise

From small fleets to large-scale operations, our team offers guidance to optimize performance and minimize costs.

🌐 Explore Additional Services

In addition to our comprehensive tire solutions, KMJ TIRE offers:

All-Weather Tires 🌧️

Winter Tires ❄️

Farm Tire Services 🚜

Oil Changes 🛢️

Seasonal Tire Changes 🌞🍁

🚀 Ready to Maximize Your Fleet’s Potential?

At KMJ TIRE, we pride ourselves on providing exceptional commercial tire services in Calgary. From forklift tires to telehandler tires, our solutions are designed to meet your unique challenges and keep your fleet moving efficiently.

📞 Contact us today or visit our About Us page to learn more. With KMJ TIRE, your success is always our priority. Let’s keep Calgary moving! 🚛💼

[best-winter-tire-service-calgary]

🔧 Top Questions Answered About Tires and Services at KMJ TIRE 🚗✨

Elevate Your Commercial Tire Solutions with KMJ TIRE

When it comes to commercial and industrial tire services, KMJ TIRE is Calgary’s trusted leader. From heavy-duty vehicles to specialized machinery, we deliver unmatched quality, precision, and durability for every operation.

Forklift Tires 🚧

Forklifts are the backbone of warehouse operations. We provide premium forklift tires designed for maximum load-bearing capacity, ensuring durability and performance on both smooth and rugged surfaces.

Industrial Equipment Tires 🏗️

For telehandlers, loaders, and cranes, our industrial tires guarantee stability, safety, and long-lasting performance in demanding environments. Trust KMJ TIRE for tires that work as hard as you do.

Skid Steer Tires 🛻

Skid steers tackle the toughest tasks, and they need tires that can keep up. Our skid steer tires are built to withstand heavy loads, rough terrain, and high-impact applications.

Farm Tires and Tractor Tires 🚜

Agricultural work requires durable and reliable tires. Our selection of farm and tractor tires is engineered for maximum traction and efficiency, helping you power through every season.

Commercial Tire Services Built for Efficiency

At KMJ TIRE, we know that downtime is the enemy of productivity. That’s why we offer additional services tailored to keep your business running smoothly:

Mobile Tire Service: On-site tire repairs, installations, and maintenance to minimize downtime and maximize efficiency.

Tire Installation: Precision mounting and balancing ensure your tires deliver optimal safety and performance from the start.

Fleet Management Services: Comprehensive tire care solutions for fleets of all sizes, reducing operating costs and extending tire lifespan.

Why KMJ TIRE Is Calgary’s Commercial Tire Leader

Industry Expertise: With over 16 years in the business, we understand the unique demands of commercial and industrial tires.

Premium Products: From Forklift Tires to Farm Tires, we source only the best brands to ensure durability and performance.

Customized Solutions: Every business is different, and we provide tailored tire solutions for every operation.

Ready to Keep Your Business Moving?

Don’t let subpar tires slow you down. Upgrade your fleet and equipment with KMJ TIRE, Calgary’s trusted partner for Commercial Tire Services. Whether you need on-site assistance with our Mobile Tire Service or expert advice on Farm Tires and Tractor Tires, we’ve got you covered.

Q&A Section

1. Where can I find the best tire shop in Calgary?

The Best Tire Shop in Calgary is KMJ TIRE, offering a wide selection of premium tires and expert services tailored to every vehicle’s needs.

2. Do you provide winter tires in Calgary?

Absolutely! We carry top-quality Winter Tires in Calgary to ensure your safety and confidence on icy roads during the harsh winter months.

3. What is tire studding, and is it available in Calgary?

Tire studding involves adding metal studs to your tires for better grip on icy surfaces. At KMJ TIRE, we offer Tire Studding in Calgary to keep you secure in extreme winter conditions.

4. What are all-weather tires, and are they suitable for Calgary?

All Weather Tires in Calgary are versatile options designed for year-round performance, handling moderate winter and summer conditions effectively.

5. Do you carry premium tire brands like Michelin and Toyo?

Yes, we stock top brands including Michelin Tires in Calgary and Toyo Tires in Calgary to ensure high performance and durability for your vehicle.

6. What tires do you recommend for heavy-duty vehicles like semi-trucks?

For commercial needs, our Semi Truck Tires in Calgary are built to handle heavy loads and long hauls with exceptional durability and efficiency.

7. Do you offer farm tires and oil change services?

Yes, we provide durable Farm Tires in Calgary for agricultural equipment and the Best Oil Change Service in Calgary to keep your vehicles running smoothly.

[mottleycivilseo]

Understanding Earth Moving Equipment: Key to Successful Civil Projects

When it comes to civil construction, having the right equipment is paramount. Earth moving equipment plays a crucial role in various aspects of construction, from site preparation to grading, excavation, and more. This blog will explore the different types of earth moving equipment, their functions, and why they are essential for any construction project.

Types of Earth Moving Equipment

Excavators: Excavators are versatile machines that can dig, lift, and move heavy materials. They are commonly used for trenching, site preparation, and demolition. With their ability to rotate 360 degrees, excavators can access hard-to-reach areas, making them invaluable on any job site.

Bulldozers: Known for their powerful blades, bulldozers are primarily used for pushing large quantities of soil, rubble, or other materials during construction. They are essential for grading and leveling land, making them a staple on any earth moving site.

Loaders: Loaders are designed to move materials from one location to another. They can lift heavy loads and are often used in conjunction with other equipment for transporting dirt, gravel, or asphalt during construction.

Dump Trucks: Essential for transporting loose materials, dump trucks are used to haul dirt, sand, and gravel away from the site. Their ability to quickly unload materials makes them an essential part of the earth moving process.

Graders: Graders are used to create a flat surface for the construction of roads and parking lots. Their long blade can be adjusted to achieve the desired grade, ensuring proper drainage and a smooth surface.

Compact Equipment: Smaller equipment like skid steers and mini excavators can maneuver in tight spaces, making them ideal for urban projects or sites with limited access. Despite their size, they are incredibly powerful and versatile.

Why Earth Moving Equipment is Essential

Using the right earth moving equipment can significantly enhance the efficiency and safety of your construction project. Here are a few reasons why investing in quality machinery is essential:

Efficiency: Advanced earth moving equipment can complete tasks much faster than manual labor. This efficiency helps keep projects on schedule and within budget.

Precision: Modern machinery offers greater precision in excavation and grading, which is crucial for meeting project specifications and avoiding costly errors.

Safety: Construction sites can be dangerous. Using heavy machinery helps reduce the risk of injury by automating many tasks that would otherwise require manual labor.

Versatility: Earth moving equipment can handle a variety of tasks, from excavation to material handling, making it an essential part of any civil construction project.

Conclusion

Earth moving equipment is the backbone of any successful construction project. Understanding the different types of machinery and their functions is crucial for project planning and execution. At Mottley Civil, we provide top-of-the-line earth moving equipment and services to meet all your construction needs. Explore our offerings to find the right solutions for your project today!

For more information about our services, visit Mottley Civil.