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briyourmotherdown · 2 years ago

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cool water ★ part I

James Hetfield x fem!reader

★ everyone is running from something ★

Words: 6.7k

Warnings: i know nothing about arizona and it shows. VERY incorrect timeline. mentions of rehab and alcoholism. james is a moody prick. 18+ in the future but part I is PG minus some swearing.

A/N: so i'm asking you all, please, PLEASE be kind to me because this is the first fic i've written in well over a year and the first metallica one I've ever posted. this is so unbelievably self indulgent it's insane. title named after a marty robbins song because that's where this whole idea stemmed from. i tried not to use y/n because i know some people hate that jhskjfhkjhfthftdhftkj. also i really really hope the fact that rehab is in here isn't a trigger or upsetting to anyone!!! it just makes sense for the plot. it's also very inspired by the some kind of monster documentary. this will probably be a shorter fit made up of a few parts but it may take a while since i'm literally about to graduate uni and i'm drawing in assignments. anyways i hope you enjoy <3

parts: (1), (2)

★

A few states over, a little over a thousand miles and a few days long trek away, lies a life– packed crudely into a beat up Subaru with too many miles on the metre to go about adding another thousand. The air conditioning unit cracked out one state back, leaving only the rolled down windows to offer any sort of reprieve against the Western American summer heat. The unknown lies in the interstate ahead, yellow lines and road signs guiding you closer to your next destination. Only the front windows are open, the rear windows obstructed by precariously stacked belongings in unsealed cardboard boxes and garbage bags balanced against the glass. To roll them down would mean losing a good chunk of your clothing.

A map is sprawled out open on the passenger seat, red lines and circles marking the last stretch of your journey into Yuma County, Arizona. Golden light pours over countless acres of sprawling farmland ahead of you, the setting sun glaring into your eyes beneath your sin visor as you drive with one hand on the wheel and the other propping your head up against the open window. Your yellow Subaru is the only vehicle for miles, alone on the barren road as the sky fades into an inky blue. It’s eerie, being this alone. Eerie as you turn down yet another country lane, rolling the windows up. Eerie as you make sure the doors are locked and the gas tank full. Eerie for a girl who’d only left the city twenty-four hours prior, where such silence and solitude was such a rarity that you never stopped to consider what it felt like to actually be completely alone.

The night is still when you reach a stop sign, the hiss of crickets and cicadas audible even from inside the car. There’s no breeze that rustles the trees, nor a cloud to taint the clarity of the starry night sky. You feel as though you should be quiet and hold your breath, goosebumps raising on your skin. They only begin to subside when your headlights illuminate a sign reading Palo Verde Ranch.

Tires kick up dust as you roll down the tree-lined passage, inching closer and closer to where you will spend the next summer, checking the map one more time and breathing a sigh of relief when the trees part way to an opening. The ranch and lodgings look the same as the pictures in the brochure you were given, apart from being shrouded in a heavy darkness from the night. The porch lights are on, along with a few lamp posts circled by moths and mosquitoes. Pulling into an empty space next to a pick-up, you kill the engine and rest your head back against the headrest. The roar of the crickets seem even louder as you sit silently in the driver’s seat.

With a few final taps on your steering wheel with your fingers, you heave yourself from sitting position and stretch your aching legs, lifting your arms above your head before grabbing your suitcase from the backseat and forgoing the rest until tomorrow. It’s far too dark to go about it now. Boots crunch on gravelly dirt as you make your way to the lodging house, reading the brochure once more to check where the key is kept. It lays underneath a small terracotta pot, placed upside down and completely indiscrete. It makes you smile to yourself when you lift it up to examine it against the porch light– a small, metal cactus keychain hanging from it. You smack a mosquito from your arm as you unlock the door.

With a creak, the door opens up into the lodging house, though to you it seems more like a bungalow that had been converted into some sort of bed and breakfast. There’s a small kitchen to your left, under-cabinet lights casting an amber glow over the linoleum countertop and laminate floors. You take note of the humming refrigerator before turning to your right to examine a quaint sitting area, equipped with a floral printed sofa straight from the 1970s and a chestnut bookshelf housing a sparse assortment of books and magazines. It reminds you slightly of a waiting room– pretending to be lived in as to put you at ease.

Straight ahead lies the hallway, two doors on the left-hand side and three on the right, one of which has been left ajar. Upon further inspection, with slow, easy steps, you come to realise that it’s the bathroom, nose scrunching up slightly at the prospect of having to share one bathroom with multiple other people. On every door is a hand painted number, accented by flowers painted on in pastel colours. Very Bohemian, you note, eyeing the beaded curtain that hangs in the windowsill of the window at the end of the hall. Dim light spills from underneath doors three and four, but the other two remain dark.

Your room number is two.

Opening the door, you flick the light switch on before closing it behind you, a small puff of air escaping from between your lips as you take in the room. It’s cozy– genuinely, unlike the sitting room from before. It nearly reminds you of the room you’d grown up in, or, at least spent the earliest years of your childhood in. A golden oak bed sits against the wall in one corner of the room next to the window, fitted in cream and pale green floral patterned sheets. There’s a dresser-vanity and a wardrobe of the same golden oak, and a small nightstand next to the bed. On it beneath the small tiffany lamp lies an unopened note and a small plush teddy bear.

Tears fog your eyes as you sit on the edge of the bed and drop your suitcase at your feet. It feels so familiar– like a distant memory of a time in your life where things weren’t so turned upside down. A time when you weren’t running from something. Clutching the teddy bear against your chest, you open the note– a sweet, handwritten one from the owner of the land, welcoming you to your home for the summer. It tells you of breakfast in the main house at 10am, that there are fresh towels in the wardrobe, and that the vanity drawers tend to be a bit fiddly.

With a watery sigh, you blink up at the ceiling to clear your cloudy vision, flopping backwards onto the bed.

★

James knew that he needed a distraction.

He knew better than to be around all the same people and places from how he was before. Breathing the same California air he knew and once loved now feels too thick in his lungs, like some sort of poisonous gas.

He knew better than to be around reminders.

Due to his therapist’s orders, James was to go somewhere different for a little while. In his words, to “relax, be at one with nature”. He had spread a pile of pamphlets across his desk, closing his eyes and laying his pointer finger down on the first one it came in contact with. Arizona didn’t seem to appeal to James’ bandmates as much as it did to his therapist. They had a hard enough time communicating as is, too many alcohol-fueled yelling matches only worsened by the unmade upcoming album that loomed over their shoulders. James wasn’t sure how he could make the album to begin with, not while he was walking this tightrope. If he was constantly teetering on the edge, how could he be a productive member of the band?

Part of him didn’t want to go. Running away from it all felt cowardly, as though he’s weak for not being able to handle what once was so normal. A few drinks at the bar with friends turned into something else, something monumental. Gigs, rehearsals, afterparties, bar to bar to bar to bar. People who once gave him comfort now only serve as reminders of how he has ended up.

His PA booked his flight and had his truck sent to meet him at the airport. His intentions were clear– he would spend a few months working on the ranch away from anything that might tempt him, and then he would return home in autumn and attempt to clean up the mess he had left behind. The mess in question haunted him on his flight, tension aching behind his eyes as he rubbed at them. Divorce papers. A band that might hate him, left hanging and waiting for him to get his shit together so that they can release another album. Loose ends, after loose ends. Mouth set in a straight line, he realises he’s clenching his fists, blunt nails pressing into his palms.

Settling in was fairly easy. There was only one suitcase to unpack, clothes folded neatly into the dresser and notebook placed haphazardly on the nightstand– blank paged and unopened. For a few days it was only him in the lodging house, resting and rising in silence, eating a bowl of cereal by the kitchen window before heading out to work on the ranch with Wayne, the owner’s husband. Wayne is a shorter man, or at least much shorter than James, with salt and pepper hair he keeps hidden beneath a straw hat, and a laugh that often turns into a smoker’s cough if your joke is good enough. Wayne is friendly and a hard-worker, unafraid to put James to work too.

A few days later, a couple more lodgers began filtering in, two men who based on their accents, come from the south. They didn't spare James a second glance, and James gratefully did the same in return. There was no need for making friends.

When you arrived it shook up his routine. He now had to wait for his morning showers, entering only after you had spent far longer than he would’ve liked, only to be met with fogged up mirrors and the scent of vanilla and jasmine. He could hear music playing gently through the thin walls, some shit from the 70s that he wasn’t into, and he’d have to put up with the way you’d softly hum along. Truthfully, he avoided bumping into you at all costs. There was no concern of seeing you at breakfast or dinner– he skipped them in favour of some cheap crappy microwave meal– and he worked more on the ranch with Wayne while you settled into tending the vegetable garden.

Avoiding you seemed like a waste of time, however, because you didn’t notice him anyway. You always seemed too lost in your own head, focussed entirely on pulling weeds to notice him walking back and forth by you, carrying bags of feed. He didn’t offer a greeting, or even his name, but then again neither did you, and he was more than happy to keep his distance.

Your name only came up one day as James was sitting with Wayne. They’d both spent hours of the morning tending to the stables in the intense heat, James doing most of the heavy-lifting, and took refuge under the shade of a large tree. After collecting a few random chopped logs and sticks, James took out his pocketknife and began carving. Wayne spoke of plans to make his wife a wooden sculpture of a cactus for their front porch, with James silently shucking away at the wood to bring it to a sharp point.

In the distance you’re harvesting crops from the vegetable garden, wearing denim cutoffs and a t-shirt with the sleeves torn off. From here James thinks he can spot the image of Garfield printed on the front. He stares for longer than he should, eyes trailing down the expanse of your bare legs, and admittedly, over your behind when you turn and lean down to grab a shovel.

Wayne breaks through the intensity of his gaze by saying a name, the glass shattering when James averts his eyes and returns to sharpening the wooden shiv with care. His finger slips against the grain and he winces, plucking the splinter from his thumb, “That girl. She’s here from Seattle.”

He remains silent, lip twitching with a hint of annoyance at the older man’s intrusion. Yet he lets your name settle in his mouth, silently testing the way it feels on his tongue. Aware that he was caught, he keeps his eyes trained intensely on his craft to avoid Wayne’s gaze.

“Pretty, ain’t she?” Wayne muses, stripping bark from an ash log and looking at you in the distance as you pick weeds from the cauliflower beds, “We don’t usually get people like her out here,” he turns to James, simpering, “Don’t usually get rockstars ‘neither.”

He turns away to continue stripping the log and James uses the moment to steal another look at you. The sun beats down on your back and you wipe sweat from your brow with your bare forearm, pushing a few loose hairs back that had fallen from your ponytail. There’s a half empty sack of compost on the ground by your feet that stains the tips of your gloved hands. You look tired, standing back from the garden bed to study your handiwork before tilting your head all the way back to soak up the sun, hands on your hips. When you turn and glance in James’ direction, squinting your eyes through the heat mirage, he averts his gaze, once again all too aware of Wayne and the way the man lifts his hand to wave dramatically at you.

He doesn’t look up to see if you wave back.

He sees you again that late afternoon, in the same way he always sees you— in small vignettes, in short scenes that make him think momentarily that you might just be a figment of his imagination. He sees you walking past him with a crate full of lettuce, too focused on not dropping any from the heaped pile to pay him any notice. He sees you when he walks by the wire fence, where you’re being walked through the steps of feeding the chickens in the coop. He sees you now, entering the same house he’s staying in, the same one he’s walking to, only a few paces behind.

But still, you seem to pay him no mind, as if he’s a ghost. He thinks he might be one if it weren’t for the acknowledgment of Wayne and his wife, Marie. The other workers don’t much like him, interpreting his silence as him being a stuck up rockstar. He wonders if it’s for any reason that you don’t notice him. Does he skulk around too quietly? Sure, he’s not been the most conversational since he’s been here, but he’s sure you would’ve at least noticed him.

It really bugs him.

For a man whose profession is to be seen and to be heard, he typically really likes fading into the shadows in his everyday life. There had been too many days of butting heads with Lars, too many arguments with his ex, too many paparazzi, too many expectations of him. He was only one man, and he knew he was too fucked up to be a role model for anyones kids. Before he entered rehab, he enjoyed the anonymity of a small town bar and the way no one knew who he was there. If they did, they didn’t care, clinking pints with him over the bar as if he was just another one of them. And even though Wayne and Marie do talk to him and put him to work, they still treat him like all the others staying on the farm for the season. And he does enjoy the fact that Wayne and Marie seem to pay him no mind, as well as the other workers.

But when he really thinks about it, he doesn’t like slipping into the shadows as much as he thought he did. Perhaps it’s his ego talking, but he at least likes being acknowledged.

It was as if you didn’t even know he was there.

It bugs him as he opens the door behind you after you’d let it close, watching you saunter down the hall and into the room only a door away from his own, not offering a glance as you shut it behind you. It bugs him as he makes his way into his own room, sitting at the edge of the bed and rubbing his hands over his tired face. It bugs him even more when he hears your door open and close again, squeaking on its hinges, followed by the click of the bathroom door and the rush of the shower turning on.

You claimed the shower before he could, as you always seem to do. Only today he had worked hard, back sore and legs aching with strain. Annoyance twitches at his lip but he tries to brush it off, taking deep breaths, groaning lowly as he lays back onto the bed. The day's work sits heavily in his bones and he shifts uncomfortably. He feels grimy, a layer of sweat having dried on his skin, sticking the Arizona desert sand to the hairs on his arms. He grimaces and tries to brush some off.

Minutes pass while he waits for you to finish in the bathroom, then more, and after thirty minutes he’s grown more and more impatient with you, rising from the bed and storming into the hallway. He doesn’t take any time to notice that the shower has stopped running, the blood rushing too loudly through his ears, and as he’s about to aggressively rap his knuckles against the door, it swings open. You jump back with a start when you see him, his fist raised and face twisted in irritation.

Momentarily, he’s stunned, face contorting into an expression that matches your own as his eyes trail over your form– wet hair against your shoulders and fresh skin dewey with what he assumes is lotion. You’re gripping your towel tightly in one hand, the other clutching a toiletry bag.

As he lowers his hand, he realises that this is the first time you’re noticing his existence. Wide eyes glimmer up at him shyly, lips parted from the shock of opening the door to a man standing angrily directly on the other side.

With that realisation comes another—actually, two realisations that took him possibly too long to register– the fact that you’re almost naked, and he’s blocking your way out of the bathroom. Embarrassment nips viciously at the back of his neck, tinting the tips of his ears pink as he takes a step back.

James has never been good with embarrassment. His ego always gets in the way or gets him into trouble. Sure, it has won him many arguments, much to the chagrin of his opponents, but it has also gained him the title of an egotistical asshole to many people. Whenever James becomes embarrassed, the outcome is always the same– confrontational, cruel, unnecessary words he doesn’t really intend to say bubble up in his throat before he has any chance to stop them.

“Knowing that there’s only one bathroom, you should be more aware of how fucking long you take.”

He snaps his mouth shut the second the words are out, lips pressing together in a firm line. You raise your eyebrows at him, taken aback at the gruff rudeness of his tone.

You want to say something. Some witty comeback or even something to match his hostility, but your tongue struggles to find any words. Words have never come easily to you in the first place, always choosing to be quiet unless you’re around people you know, but they especially don’t come when you’re half naked and an angry, 6’1” man is towering over you.

All you can muster is a small, “I’m sorry.” as you push past him and retreat to your room.

James is paralysed in his spot, the increasingly familiar scent of vanilla and jasmine wafting over him from the bathroom as you walk away, listening to the door slam behind you. He’s not sure how long he stays standing in place, fists clenched at his sides with frustration directed at both you and himself. With a defeated sigh, he locks himself into the bathroom, turning on the shower. Once he’s stepped in he wastes no time in pressing his forehead against the cool tile, cursing himself for not being able to hold his tongue.

James really wants to spend the evening the same way he’d been doing, skipping dinner and smoking a cigar out on the front steps, but Marie had taken notice and when she bumped into him earlier in the day, had all but forced him into promising to come to dinner tonight. It didn’t sound appealing at all. It felt like fucking summer camp, having to sit around a big table with everyone staying at the ranch and talk about your day and the work everyones’ been doing. He’d quite honestly rather starve.

It didn’t help that he assumed you would be there.

He had made up his mind that he disliked you. The annoyance of the way you’d practically ignored him for a week seems to only have increased with the duration of your shower. It was like you had no consideration for anyone else and didn’t look past the tip of your nose. He didn’t want to eat at the same table as you for that reason, is what he told himself. Not because he saw you in your towel and was so unnecessarily rude to you, no– James doesn’t do embarrassed.

He’s taken a nap directly after his shower, waking up even groggier and in an even worse mood, throwing on clean clothes and making his way down to the main house where Marie would be making dinner. The front door is already open when he gets there, and he takes an already exasperated breath before entering,

The smell that meets him is already mouthwatering, as much as he hates to admit it, and for a moment it makes him question why he’d skipped out on dinner for the past week. Wayne greets him as he walks in, already sitting around a large wooden table with a few men he recognises from around the ranch. Wayne has a cigar attached to his mouth, bobbing as he talks.

“James!” He exclaims, raising his hands in the air to greet him warmly, “Come on in, you should meet my guys.”

James nods curtly, having already met them in passing and discovered they didn’t much like him. But he puts up with it for Wayne’s sake, standing over the table but not sitting down, nodding in acknowledgment as he introduces everybody. They seem nice enough, greeting him with smiles, apart from two men at the end of the table who don’t so much as return James’ nod. They’re Dylan and Wes, the other two lodgers in the house. They offer him forced smiles, but James can see that the second Wayne turns his head to speak to someone else, they narrow their eyes in his direction. For a moment he wonders if you’d met them– if they treated you in the same way or if you hadn’t even noticed them in the same way you did him.

With that thought, Marie comes bounding in, wielding a wooden spoon in one hand, “James!” she grins, “I’m so pleased you came,”

She diverts her attention to Wayne, smacking him on the shoulder with the wooden spoon and scolding him in Spanish. The cigar between the man’s lips threatens to fall, but miraculously remains sturdy as he says something back, a sheepish expression on his face.

Marie rolls her eyes and turns back to James, “You, help me in the kitchen because my bum of a husband apparently has better things to do.”

Any other time James may have cringed at the idea– he’s not the best chef– but now, as he turns to glance at Dylan and Wes who stare at him with a look of contempt, he takes the out and follows Marie into the kitchen.

The moment he enters, his eyes land on you where you stand chopping vegetables at the butcher’s block island. You’re not looking at him yet, too focussed on dicing a tomato, and he takes a second to look at you. Your hair has dried, thrown back into a ponytail while you’re cooking, and you wear a white cotton sundress with thin straps that contrast against your skin. It’s different to how he’s seen you dressed, in denim cut-offs and cowboy boots, and for a moment he’s halted in the doorway to watch you.

“Could you shuck this corn?” Marie asks James, and your eyes finally snap up to look at him, trailing over his attire before you quickly go back to chopping.

He clears his throat with a small sure, taking his place across from you at the butcher’s block. You don’t dare to look up at him again, hoping that he doesn’t see the blush that tints the tops of your cheeks.

“You’re both very quiet, you know that?” Marie laughs, stirring a pot both metaphorically and literally, “Come on! Talk to each other.”

A short silence follows, painful and uncomfortable and it makes your skin crawl, clearing your throat and daring to glance at James. You break the silence by offering your name, extending some sort of peace offering.

He doesn’t seem to extend the olive branch in return. uttering a gruff, “James,” as he shucks another ear of corn.

You nod, You’d hoped that he’d say more to make you feel less nervous, hands shaking slightly as you hold the knife. You knew his name already– Marie had told you a few days ago when she caught you staring at him while he repaired the broken gate near the stables– shirtless. He had been sweating, lugging planks of wood from the shed on the other side of the lot, tattoos and bare skin glowing. Marie had snorted at your pink cheeks and made a smart comment about how he could fix your gate– whatever that meant. You’d been stealing glances at him since, averting your gaze quickly whenever he would begin to turn his head.

You soon became aware of his dislike for you, and other than the earlier shower incident, you can’t think of why. You tried to stay out of his way as much as possible, which wasn't hard considering he hadn’t showed up to dinners so far, and always kept to himself except for when he was working with Wayne.

It really bugs you.

You sigh when he doesn’t say anything else, glancing at Marie who’s back is to you as she leans over a large pot of stew, hoping that the heat of your gaze might burn just enough for her to turn around and save you. No dice.

“I–” You begin, “The gate looks really good.”

Instant regret rushes over you as a look of confusion paints his features, brows furrowed. You rush to explain, “The- the one by the stables, I saw you fixing it. It looks really good. I haven’t had to scale the fence to get through since.”

You embellish your compliment with a breathy laugh, audibly nervous, cursing yourself at your ability to make things so much worse. He didn’t return the laugh, and in fact, it seems that somehow your compliment had soured his expression even further.

“Thanks.” He deadpans, averting his gaze from yours and back to the corn.

You sigh, chopping another tomato.

Meanwhile James is internally kicking his own ass, unsure of why he can’t be fucking normal, intending to say one thing and actually saying another. He watches you from his place across the counter, the concerned furrow of your brow, pinched in the middle, to your nimble fingers diligently doing what Marie had instructed you to do. He feels a flash of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he misunderstood you. After all, you had noticed him– the gate was proof of that. Maybe he wasn’t as invisible to you as he thought he was. But that still leaves one question unanswered– if you noticed him, why did you intentionally ignore him? It’s silly and it’s childish, but it’s enough for him to continue on with his negative opinion of you.

Time goes by wordlessly between you both, Marie instead taking the time to explain everything she was doing in detail, sure to send both of you home at the end of the night with the recipe for Birria engraved in your brains. Time passes this way until the table has been set and the food is ready, Marie ushering you both out of the kitchen and to the dining table.

The only three empty seats are lumped together, one of which is at Wayne’s side. It would be rude to sit where you know his wife would be sitting, so you take the next one with a small frown, waiting for James to take the one next to you. You’re aware that he’s not happy with the arrangement, and for a moment you wonder if he would take Marie’s chair, but he doesn’t and instead fills the vacant spot on your other side. The table is tightly packed, and due to James’ frame, he has to keep his shoulders pinched together slightly to avoid rubbing them against yours. It’s nearly insulting, watching the amount of effort the man puts into not touching you, rolling your eyes to yourself as you eat the food Marie (and you and James, but mostly Marie) had prepared.

“So…,”

The mention of your name has your head snapping up, paused with your fork halfway raised to your mouth to look around at who had said your name. Your eyes fall on Dylan, who’s sat at the table directly across from you. You’d only met him once before and hadn’t really been able to form much of an opinion on him. He’s around your age, maybe a bit younger around twenty-three, with shaggy brown hair he let fall over his blue eyes and a smile that had a tinge of something you couldn’t quite put your finger on. He had helped you reach a pair of garden shears from the top shelf of the shed, and all you’d talked about within that span of two minutes was your names and where you were from.

“Hm?” You hum in acknowledgment.

“You mentioned you’d stayed in Europe for a while, what was that like?”

You recognise the invitation of small talk, and you’d be thankful for it if it were just the two of you, but as everyone’s eyes settle on you for your response, you feel a little put on the spot.

“Uh, yeah, it was really cool,” you swallow, “Beautiful architecture.”

It’s a lame comment, and you're aware of it, but you're not sure of what else to say at the moment. Dylan nods slowly, eying you up and down in a way that makes you squirm nervously.

Wayne comes to your rescue, “James, have you been to Europe? I imagine y’have.”

The man beside you freezes, and he’s close enough that you can feel the tension, shifting in his chair. His bicep rubs against yours for the first time and you inhale quietly.

“Yeah,” he sniffs, “Been a few times.”

“You been there on tour, I imagine?”

This piques your interest, eyes flitting to look at James profile. His jaw is clenched as he nods, “That’s correct.”

“On tour?” You ask.

He turns to you, and the intensity of his eyes this close up almost makes you regret asking. He nods, “My band tours here and there.”

“Ha! Understatement,” Wes snorts from across the table, southern accent strong through his laugh, “Mr. Big Shot over here has toured a whole lot more than just ‘here n’ there.”

He holds his fingers up in air quotes to emphasise his words, and you’re left confused. Mr. Big Shot? You thought James looked slightly familiar, but couldn’t place from where, so you’d just brushed it off as nothing. You turn to look at him again, studying his face and racking your brain to think of where you might have seen him before. It would make sense for him to be in a famous band, but which one? And why would someone in said famous band be out here in the middle of nowhere?

“What band?” You ask, ignoring Wes.

James looks uncomfortable, “Uh, Metallica.”

It’s as if bells go off in your head, piecing it all together and finally realising where you've seen him before. It wasn’t just one place you’d seen his face, but many. He’d been everywhere, on MTV, on the front covers of magazines on the newsstands back home, on billboards– dare you say Wes wasn’t too far off by calling him a Big Shot.

“Oh,” is all that comes out despite the revelation– despite the fact that you’re now painfully aware of how famous he is. Your pre-existing nerves have only worsened with this newfound information, struggling to get a bite of your food down, wincing.

James, however, takes your lack of response and pained expression the wrong way and gets on the defensive, scoffing into his glass of water before slamming it down. The entire table goes quiet, and he doesn’t miss the way you flinch at his action, momentarily pausing to meet your gaze. Your eyes are wide as they lock with his, confusion written all over your face.

He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up, “If you’ll excuse me.”

You watch his back as he retreats through the front door, letting it slam behind him. You flinch again and turn to look at Marie, who’s sitting next to her husband with a distraught look on her face. Sighing, you stand up and place your napkin on the table.

“Dinner was absolutely wonderful, Marie, please excuse me.”

Marie flashes you a sympathetic glance as you walk to the door, and despite their chittering you don’t care to look at the expressions worn by Dylan and Wes. Instead, you make your way out of the house and down the front steps. The evening has finally matured into darkness, the pathway to the lodge lit only by lamp posts and strings of fairy lights that Marie had just put up earlier today. You’re not sure where to look for James, or even if you should be looking in the first place. If you truly are the cause of his bad mood, surely you’d be the last person able to talk some sense into him; but curiosity eats away at you, the need to fix whatever you’ve done gnawing at your stomach.

It doesn't take too long to find him, sitting on the front steps of the lodge, mostly shrouded in shadows except for the orange cast of the fairy lights.

“Hey,” you offer carefully, slowing your pace as you near him.

You debate whether or not to sit next to him on the stairs, thinking it might piss him off if you do, but awkwardly rocking on your heels feels even worse. You take a seat next to him with a light huff, making sure to keep your arms from brushing against his like at the dinner table. He’s smoking a cigar, the burning tobacco lighting up his face ever so slightly on each inhale. Though he doesn’t verbally acknowledge your greeting, he doesn't leave either. As if he’s waiting for you to say something worth his while.

“I’m sorry, you know,” you offer softly, “I’m not quite sure what I did to upset you, but whatever it was, I’m sorry.”

He remains quiet, the sounds of the crickets and cicadas deafening. You exhale a sigh of defeat, tilting your head up to glance at the vast array of stars in the clear sky, counting the brightest stars until you lose your place.

James isn’t quite sure what to say. The longer he’s left to sit with his thoughts, the more he doesn’t understand what you’ve done to bug him so much. There’s been an explanation for every misunderstanding so far, leaving no reasons for his disdain, yet for some reason he just feels immensely frustrated by you. It’s something he feels under his skin, fizzing in his blood uncomfortably. He’s starting to wonder if it’s even got anything to do with you to begin with, or if this entire trip out to the desert has backfired and he’s got too much time and space to think about his life. Stress eats away at him, bubbling up slowly.

“I’m sorry about hogging the shower,” you ramble, “I didn’t realise you were waiting for it and I just got kinda…kinda lost in thought, I’ll hurry up next time.”

Nothing. It’s radio silence on his end, the air so thick that you feel it clouding your lungs along with the smoke from his cigar. You can’t stop your mouth from running, ”And it’s really cool that you’re in Metallica, I um, I don’t really know much about you guys but-”

“You can stop,” he interrupts, the stress bubbling over, your face flaring with heat you’re glad he can’t see in the lighting. ”I don’t really care, honestly.”

He looks at you for the first time in the last five minutes, emotions flat and guarded, and for the first time since you’d met him, you feel your own anger rise up in your stomach instead of nerves– frustration, annoyance, fatigued with his attitude.

“Look,” you stand up, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this, but I’d appreciate it if you'd stop being a total dick.”

He puts out his cigar, standing up to tower over you, not letting you have the upperhand of being taller than him. He opens his mouth to speak but you don’t let him.

“All day, you’ve been awful to me, and we just met. I don’t get it, what’s your problem?”

He scoffs, “I have a whole fuckin’ list of problems, sweetheart, don’t feel special.”

You stare, dumbfounded, arms crossed over your chest, “Yeah? And what about it?” you challenge, eyes narrowed, “Why do you think I’m here, huh? We’ve all got our shit, we’ve all got things we’re running away from, what makes you think you can treat me like shit for no reason? Because if this is how it’s going to be all summer then I’m already real fucking tired of it.”

Cicadas are the only thing you receieve in return, the chirping filling the empty space between you and James. There’s nothing. There’s no apology to speak of, not even any retaliation. His face is void of emotion, hands dug into his pockets as he stands and stares.

His stare is intense and unmoving, but there’s something hidden behind it. It’s almost a sort of hollowness, as if this is something he’s been through a billion times before. It almost makes you falter, trying your hardest to search his eyes for any clues as to what he may be thinking. But his eyes are still those of a stranger’s, and you can’t place exactly what it is that he’s thinking. Shaking your head, you finally back down, taking a step back.

“I came here to apologise, and I did. I have nothing else to say,” you turn to the lodge and step towards the stairs, “But Marie didn’t deserve that shit you pulled tonight. I think she at least deserves an apology.”

The words hang between you in the night, heavy and oppressive. There’s a moment where your fingertips hesitate over the doorknob, casting one last look in James’ direction in hopes that he would say something. But he’s remained stoic, gaze set hard towards where you’re standing, hands shoved into his pockets. Shaking your head again, you step inside, leaving him in the dark.

Only when you’re gone does he rub his hands over his face and swear under his breath. With a sigh that holds the weight of the world, he takes begrudging steps back towards Marie and Wayne’s house.

★

A/N: god pls bear with how slow and badly written this felt. anyways i hope you enjoyed jsdhgkjshdkjhgsdjg

#james hetfield x reader #james hetfield #metallica #metallica x reader #reader #x reader #fic #metallica fanfiction #i was supposed to be writing an essay #i did this instead #anyways stream marty robbins gunfighter ballads and trail songs

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dielukedie-subaru · 1 year ago

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Since there has been some interest in my current intake, here is it broke down. I have tried numerous setups but this custom OEM+ version is the best and passes stupid SMOG visual check.

I also intensely studied the 2.5RS forums and looked at dyno charts showing that this IS the best when combined with a 2.25" cat back exhaust and equal length headers. Trust me!

This was a lot work as well as trial and error and willingness to start over again and redo it again several times. I think this was also the lightest combo if you trying to reduce weight.

One of a kind custom intake for the naturally aspirated Subaru EJ25D....

First up is you need the intake tract/duct and hoses from an earlier model Subaru Impreza or any Subaru that has this intake tube vs the stock version with the "torque box" behind the throttle body. Junkyard is your best buddy.

I had expensive high performance mandrel bent blah blah blah intakes which I constantly struggled with keeping the metal tubing cool (I used a laser temp gauge). This plastic is basically the same but rarely gets too hot to touch. So, actually a cold air intake if you keep reading.

Since the entire manifold needed to come out, I painted it wrinkle red and polished the runners and throttle inlet.

The reason I removed the manifold was to install stainless studs to make installing the 10mm thick teflon spacers and 2 sets of gaskets easier. Similar to 8mm Grimmspeed phenolic (previously installed) but thicker. This mod makes a big difference, the entire manifold now stays cool. No more engine block heat soak, only ambient engine bay heat.

"For every 5 degree reduction in temperature, increases power by 1%"

You have to extend the EGR tube and possibly grind your ignition coil pack mounts lower. Because the entire manifold assembly will be sitting ~12mm higher.

I was fortunate enough to work with the gasket maker. So he made 10mm teflon intake manifold spacers and a matching prototype 10mm throttle body spacer! Again 2 gaskets to ensure no leaks. Not sure if these were ever made available afterwards since I was the first car.

This spacer combo increased plenum volume as well as helped to keep heat transfer drastically reduced.

Using my custom ported, polished and knife edged throttle body that I did myself with the coolant hose permanently bypassed and the cruise control bits removed. Keep in mind you will need longer bolts if you use a spacer here. Definitely improved throttle response after just the throttle body swap.

I scored this GC8 v3 factory resonator/cold air intake inlet from the UK. It's what goes with those fender plugs. Grabs cold air from inside the fender behind the corner light up high, so no chance of sucking up water. FWIW, You really shouldn't just delete the "snorkus", seriously, it's just gonna mess up your MAF sensor.

I was also able to make the resonator from a SVX work in the 04 Outback with some persuasion. It too takes air from the same location but the box was hard to cram in the fender.

The intake tract will work with whatever air filter box but in order to use the EUDM WRX intake inlet/resonator you will need the matching filter housing box from an earlier model or have to drill a new mounting hole. You will need both halves!

BEST panel filter on the market IS made by Grimmspeed! Don't waste your money on any other filter! I also added a Filter Wears waterproof inlet cover/pre-filter to the resonator just incase of water spray. The factory option fender plug fills that hole.

And I'm not sure if this was an upgrade or not but here is the JDM JECS MAF I am also using. Used DEI gold heat reflective tape to keep it cool and extend the life. Possibly more consistent/accurate readings?

The only other things installed are a Weapon R catch can to the PVC, which DOES keep some crap out of the intake tract and off the throttle body but probably no real performance advantage. Plus a heat/flame resistant "sock", same as around my fluid reservoirs, over the bendy/flexible bit of the intake tract just after the MAF. That area is prone to splitting/cracking with heat and age!

Now for treasure at the end of the rainbow! I am actually gonna give you nerds the mother fucking part numbers! These can be life savers when searching for parts.

*You might have to make or reuse your PVC, crankcase, IAC valve hoses. So grab whatever is attached if your at the junkyard or hit up the auto parts store.

•Subaru PN's:

Intake duct/tract (EJ22): 14457AA111

Air filter housing/box: A53FA02 (upper) & A53FA01 (lower)

Fender resonator/snorkus (UK WRX): A21FA03 or A32FA01 or A21FA00

Fender plug: 46059FA000

•Grimmspeed PN's:

Dry-Con Air Filter: 060092

Intake manifold spacers (8mm phenolic): 015001

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crows-and-cookies · 2 years ago

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Man people are always like 'wow your car is so vintage! That's so cool!' because it's an old Subaru. like my guy. My dude. The check engine light has been on for 3 years and I just failed my emissions test. People reported me for 2 years for having out of state plates. One time it was insinuated by a cop that I stole the car. It has two vin numbers because it was in a car crash before we bought it and they replaced the drivers side door. The alarm will go off if you try to unlock it with the key on that door. When I would park in the rich people neighborhoods everyone stared, like I was casing out their houses. The entire underside is rusting out. One of my side mirrors is a different color. This is the only car I have and the only way to get to work.

Don't gentrify my poverty.

#fucking pay me more #gentrification #poverty #poor

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convenience-auto-service · 2 months ago

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Subaru Repair in Ann Arbor: Trust Convenience Auto Service for All Your Subaru Needs

If you're a Subaru owner in Ann Arbor, finding the right Subaru repair shop is essential for maintaining the performance and longevity of your vehicle. At Convenience Auto Service, we specialize in providing top-notch Subaru repair services that are specifically tailored to meet the needs of Subaru drivers in the Ann Arbor area.

Whether you're dealing with routine maintenance or a more complex issue, our Subaru certified mechanics are here to help. From minor repairs to major overhauls, you can trust us to get the job done right.

Why Choose Subaru-Specific Repair Services in Ann Arbor?

Subarus are known for their unique engineering, including the Boxer engine and all-wheel-drive systems. These specialized features require the expertise of mechanics who understand Subaru vehicles inside and out. At Convenience Auto Service, our team includes Subaru specialists who have the experience and training to handle all aspects of Subaru auto repair.

Unlike general mechanics, a dedicated Subaru mechanic shop knows the intricacies of your car and can provide more accurate diagnostics, faster repairs, and better performance results.

Find the Best Subaru Repair Shop in Ann Arbor

When searching for the best Subaru repair shops near me in Ann Arbor, Convenience Auto Service stands out for its dedicated team of Subaru specialists. Our Subaru certified mechanics have undergone specific training to work on Subaru vehicles, ensuring that your car receives expert care at every visit. We use Subaru-approved tools and techniques to diagnose and fix issues quickly and efficiently.

Whether you're in need of routine maintenance, such as oil changes or brake repairs, or more complex services like engine diagnostics or transmission repair, we’re the Subaru auto repair shop Ann Arbor drivers trust.

Why Work with a Certified Subaru Mechanic?

A certified Subaru mechanic has the specialized knowledge to handle your car’s unique systems. When you bring your car to Convenience Auto Service, our Subaru certified mechanics provide thorough inspections and high-quality repairs, ensuring that your vehicle continues to perform at its best. This means your Subaru will be serviced according to manufacturer standards, using genuine parts and expert techniques.

Additionally, by working with a certified Subaru mechanic at our shop, you can ensure that your vehicle's warranty stays intact, as we follow all Subaru repair guidelines.

Services Offered at Our Subaru Mechanic Shop in Ann Arbor

At Convenience Auto Service, we offer a full range of Subaru auto repair services, ensuring that every part of your vehicle receives the attention it needs. Our services include:

Head gasket repairs

Brake system repair and maintenance

Timing belt replacement

Suspension and steering repair

Oil changes and tune-ups

Check engine light diagnostics

Our Subaru specialist shop in Ann Arbor is equipped with the latest tools and technology to handle even the most complex repairs, and we pride ourselves on providing excellent customer service. We’re dedicated to keeping your Subaru on the road, performing at its best.

Independent Subaru Mechanic in Ann Arbor: Why It Matters

Visiting an independent Subaru mechanic has several benefits. At Convenience Auto Service, we offer the same level of expertise you'd find at a dealership, but with the added advantages of competitive pricing and personalized attention. Our team of Subaru specialists takes the time to understand your vehicle and provide customized service that meets your specific needs.

As an independent Subaru repair shop, we’re able to provide flexible scheduling, more affordable rates, and tailored service, making us the preferred choice for many Subaru owners in the Ann Arbor area.

What to Look for in a Subaru Auto Repair Shop

Choosing the right Subaru auto repair shop is essential to keeping your car in optimal condition. Here’s what to look for:

Subaru Specialization: Make sure the shop has experience working on Subaru vehicles. Our Subaru shops in Ann Arbor focus exclusively on Subaru models, giving us an edge in understanding and fixing common Subaru issues.

Certified Mechanics: Always choose a Subaru certified mechanic for your vehicle repairs. At Convenience Auto Service, we only employ certified experts who have undergone rigorous training.

Positive Reviews: Check reviews from other Subaru owners in the Ann Arbor area to ensure you’re choosing a reputable shop.

Transparency: A good Subaru mechanic will always be upfront about costs, repair timelines, and the work needed.

Trust Convenience Auto Service for Subaru Repair in Ann Arbor

Whether you're looking for routine maintenance or specialized Subaru auto repair, Convenience Auto Service is here for all your needs. We pride ourselves on being one of the top Subaru repair shops in Ann Arbor, providing high-quality service with a focus on customer satisfaction. Our team of Subaru certified mechanics is dedicated to keeping your Subaru in peak condition, ensuring safe and reliable performance on every drive.

#auto repair #subaru repair #autos #cars #subaru

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unitedasllcas · 3 months ago

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Affordable Used SUVs in Richmond: What to Look For🚗💸

Finding an affordable used SUV in Richmond can be a rewarding experience, but it requires careful consideration and attention to detail. With so many options available, it’s essential to know what to look for to ensure you’re getting the best value for your money. Whether you’re searching for a family-friendly vehicle or an SUV for weekend adventures, this guide will help you navigate the process and find the perfect used SUV that fits your budget.

1. Determine Your Budget 💰

Before you start browsing used SUVs in Richmond, it’s important to set a clear budget. Knowing how much you can afford will help you narrow down your options and avoid the temptation of overspending.

Consider All Costs 📋: When setting your budget, consider not just the purchase price of the SUV but also other costs such as insurance, taxes, registration, and maintenance. It’s also wise to set aside some money for potential repairs, as even well-maintained used vehicles may need some attention.

Financing Options 💳: If you plan to finance your used SUV, shop around for the best interest rates and loan terms. Many dealerships in Richmond offer financing options, but it’s also worth checking with your bank or credit union to see if they can offer a better deal. Remember to factor in your monthly payments when determining what you can afford.

2. Research the Best Used SUV Models 📚

Richmond’s used car market offers a wide variety of SUV models, each with its own strengths and weaknesses. Some SUVs are known for their reliability and low maintenance costs, making them ideal for budget-conscious buyers.

Top Affordable Used SUVs 🏆:

Honda CR-V 🚙: Known for its reliability and fuel efficiency, the Honda CR-V is a popular choice among used SUV buyers. It offers a comfortable ride, ample cargo space, and a reputation for longevity, making it a great value for the price.

Toyota RAV4 🌍: Another reliable option, the Toyota RAV4 combines a smooth ride with strong safety ratings. It’s also known for its low cost of ownership, thanks to its efficient fuel consumption and minimal repair needs.

Ford Escape 🛣️: The Ford Escape offers a blend of performance and practicality, with a range of engine options and available features. It’s a versatile choice for those who want a bit more power without sacrificing affordability.

Subaru Forester 🌲: If you’re looking for an SUV with all-wheel drive, the Subaru Forester is a great option. It’s known for its ruggedness, safety features, and ability to handle various road conditions, making it ideal for Richmond’s changing seasons.

Hyundai Tucson 📦: The Hyundai Tucson is a compact SUV that offers a comfortable interior, good fuel economy, and a long list of standard features. It’s also backed by a strong warranty, which can add peace of mind when buying used.

Reliability Ratings and Reviews 🌟: Research reliability ratings and owner reviews for the SUV models you’re considering. Websites like Kelley Blue Book, Edmunds, and Consumer Reports provide valuable insights into how different models perform over time. Look for SUVs with a strong track record of reliability, as this can save you money on repairs and maintenance in the long run.

3. Inspect the Vehicle’s Condition 🔍

Once you’ve identified a few models that fit your budget, it’s time to start inspecting vehicles in person. The condition of the SUV is critical, especially when buying used, as it will impact its longevity and overall value.

Check the Exterior 🛻: Begin by inspecting the exterior of the SUV for any signs of damage, rust, or poor repair work. Look for:

Paint and Body Condition 🎨: Check for scratches, dents, and mismatched paint, which could indicate previous accidents or poor maintenance.

Tire Wear 🛞: Ensure the tires have even wear and sufficient tread depth. Uneven tire wear could signal alignment issues or suspension problems.

Lights and Glass 💡: Test all lights (headlights, brake lights, turn signals) and inspect the windows and mirrors for cracks or chips.

Examine the Interior 🛋️: The interior of the SUV should be clean, comfortable, and free of major defects. Pay attention to:

Seats and Upholstery 🪑: Check for rips, stains, or excessive wear on the seats and upholstery. Leather seats should not be cracked or heavily worn.

Dashboard and Electronics 🎛️: Test all the electronic components, including the air conditioning, infotainment system, and power windows. Make sure there are no warning lights on the dashboard.

Cargo Space 📦: Ensure there is enough cargo space to meet your needs and that the rear seats fold down easily if you require additional room.

Under the Hood 🛠️: A thorough inspection under the hood can reveal a lot about the vehicle’s mechanical condition.

Engine Condition 🔧: Look for any signs of leaks, corrosion, or excessive dirt. Check the oil level and color, as well as the condition of the belts and hoses.

Fluids 💧: Ensure that all fluids (oil, transmission fluid, coolant, brake fluid) are at proper levels and appear clean. Low or dirty fluids could indicate neglect.

Battery 🔋: Check the battery terminals for corrosion and ensure the battery is securely mounted.

4. Take a Test Drive 🚗

A test drive is an essential step in evaluating a used SUV. It allows you to assess how the vehicle performs in real-world conditions and whether it meets your driving needs.

How to Test Drive an SUV 🛣️:

Start the Engine 🏁: Listen for any unusual noises when starting the engine, such as knocking or ticking sounds. The engine should start smoothly and run without excessive vibration.

Brakes and Steering 🚦: Test the brakes to ensure they respond quickly and smoothly without any grinding or squealing. Pay attention to the steering—there should be no excessive play, and the SUV should track straight without pulling to one side.

Acceleration and Handling 🛤️: Take the SUV on various types of roads, including highways and city streets. The vehicle should accelerate smoothly, handle corners confidently, and provide a comfortable ride.

Noise and Comfort 🎧: Turn off the radio during the test drive and listen for any unusual noises, such as rattles or squeaks. Also, assess the overall comfort of the ride, including seat support and visibility.

5. Review the Vehicle History Report 📝

Before finalizing your purchase, request a vehicle history report through services like Carfax or AutoCheck. This report provides valuable information about the SUV’s past, including:

Accident History 🚑: Any reported accidents, their severity, and the extent of repairs.

Ownership Records 🏡: The number of previous owners and whether the vehicle was used for personal or commercial purposes.

Maintenance Records 🛠️: A record of routine maintenance and repairs, which can give you insight into how well the vehicle was cared for.

Title Status 🚔: Ensure the SUV has a clean title with no liens or salvage records.

6. Negotiate the Price and Close the Deal 💸

Once you’ve found the right SUV and reviewed its condition and history, it’s time to negotiate the price. Use your research on market values and any issues you discovered during the inspection to negotiate a fair price.

Tips for Successful Negotiation 🤝:

Be Prepared 📚: Know the fair market value of the SUV and be ready to back up your offer with data.

Stay Calm and Polite 😊: Negotiation is a conversation, not a confrontation. Be respectful and patient.

Be Willing to Walk Away 🚶: If the seller isn’t willing to meet your price, don’t be afraid to walk away. There are plenty of other vehicles available.

Conclusion 🎯

Finding an affordable used SUV in Richmond is entirely possible with the right approach. By setting a budget, researching reliable models, thoroughly inspecting the vehicle, and negotiating wisely, you can drive away in an SUV that offers great value and reliability. With Richmond’s diverse market and competitive pricing, you’re sure to find the perfect SUV to meet your needs. 🚙✨

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mofave2390 · 9 months ago

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brake repair

When it comes to a wide range of services for all automobile types, including hybrids and European models like BMW, Mercedes, Mini, VW, and Audi as well as Asian brands like Honda, Toyota, Lexus, and Subaru, Legend Motor Sports is the go-to auto repair shop in Colorado Springs, CO. From tire alignments, engine maintenance, and repairs to diagnostics, brake repairs, and oil changes, our skilled staff is prepared to tackle any task. We're also skilled at fixing electrical problems, check engine lights, and emissions difficulties. Count on us to provide excellent service and meticulous attention to detail to keep your car operating properly.

#brake repair

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subaruofsterling · 1 year ago

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Maintaining And Extending The Life Of Your Used Car From Sterling

When you invest in a pre-owned car from Sterling's Used Inventory, you're not just getting a reliable vehicle, but also the opportunity to extend its lifespan with proper maintenance and care. Your used car can provide you with years of dependable service if you follow some essential maintenance tips.

One of the first steps to ensuring your pre-owned car from Sterling continues to run smoothly is to regularly check the owner's manual. Each car model has unique maintenance requirements, and the manual will provide you with valuable information about when to change the oil, replace filters, and perform other crucial tasks.

Sterling's website (Subaru of Sterling) is a fantastic resource for car owners. You can find information on their service department, where they offer expert maintenance and repair services. Their certified technicians understand your vehicle's needs and can provide quality service to keep it in top shape.

Regular oil changes are vital for engine health, and Sterling's service department can assist with this routine maintenance task. The website might also have special offers or discounts on services, which can help you save money while keeping your vehicle in excellent condition.

Tire maintenance is another critical aspect of extending your car's life. The website might have information about tire rotation and alignment services offered at Sterling. Well-maintained tires not only improve safety but also increase fuel efficiency and extend the life of your vehicle.

Regularly checking and topping off fluids like coolant, transmission fluid, and brake fluid can prevent costly damage and extend the life of your Pre Owned Car Sterling. The Sterling website may provide insights into the importance of these fluid checks and their service department's capabilities.

Additionally, keeping an eye on your car's battery health is crucial. Sterling's website might offer information on battery testing and replacement services. A well-maintained battery ensures that your vehicle starts reliably, especially during harsh weather conditions.

If you notice any unusual sounds, odors, or dashboard warning lights, don't ignore them. Visit Sterling's service department promptly to diagnose and address any issues. The website could have a section on common car problems and their solutions, offering valuable insights into potential issues and their remedies.

Regular maintenance, as well as addressing minor issues promptly, can prevent them from turning into major problems, helping you extend the life of your used car. Sterling's website likely has a blog or resources section where you can find articles and tips on vehicle maintenance.

In conclusion, buying a pre owned car from Sterling's Used Inventory Sterling is a wise choice. By following the manufacturer's recommendations and utilizing the services offered by Sterling's experienced technicians, you can ensure that your car continues to serve you reliably for years to come. Check out their website for valuable information, service options, and resources to help you maintain and extend the life of your vehicle. Your used car from Sterling is an investment, and proper maintenance is the key to making the most of that investment.

#Pre Owned Car Sterling

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negative-citadel · 1 year ago

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Omg. I wasn't expecting to be tagged, but I'm so honored. <3

5 Things that make me happy?

I'm gonna sound really basic and I'm sorry I think I've copied a lot of people...but here it goes LOL

Rollercoasters & Theme Parks in General

What can I say? I love operating rides, I love riding them, I love researching & figuring out how & why they do what they do. I'm a massive safety enthusiast and I LOVE seeing rides in motion. I love operating them the most but I LOVE riding them. I must sound like a dumb thoosie but... I am LOL. I love every aspect, the history - the sounds of the chainlift & safety dog going CLANK CLANK CLANK, seeing my (younger) riders experience their first rollercoaster... ALL OF IT. I love every second I'm in an amusement park. Even on the worst, most busy days - there's always something so comforting about being around these beautiful structures built for amusement. <3 I probably sound so dumb rn lol

2. Cars

I'm a basic man, okay? I love my old Japanese cars. I fell in love with my first car (a 99 Subaru Legacy) and I've been madly crazy in love for older vehicles since. I love working in auto paint. I love explaining to people how auto body repair works. I love listening to my Forester's engine purr when I press the gas pedal. I love the loud, obnoxious Subaru WRX's & Civic's I see running down the road. LIL OLD MIATAS WITH FLIP UP LIGHTS STEAL MY HEART. Literally any car with flip up lights, oml.

THIS IS BASICALLY A REPEAT OF #1 BUT I AM A SIMPLETON, IM SORRY.

3. Fanfiction & Fandoms (ty DBH fandom)

I LOVE writing. I am too shy to post my stuff here but if you are interested in my GARBAGE writing - my ao3 is the same username. When I'm anxious - I write and usually feel better. Depressed? PACKAGE THEM EMOTIONS INTO A DUMB FIC & SHIP IT! I'll always feel much better once I see the amazing & sweet comments the DBH fandom leaves on my fics. I've been in a lot of fandoms throughout the years, but I am SOOOO grateful for this one. Ya'll are so sweet and I wish I wasn't so shy so I could make some friends lol. Every morning, I check my email for comments and kudos and it makes me psychically jump with joy to see people actually like my content.

4. Animals! (Mostly Dogs, but I love all animals)

Who doesn't love pets? I rescued a lil mutt named Lily and she is my ENTIRE WORLD aside from Barney (my car lmao). I LOVE HER WITH ALL OF MY HEART. She's silly, adorable... And most importantly - her favorite hobby is to sleep and cuddle. <3 Before Lily, I did not get much exercise but this dog motivates me to take 3 walks per day. :) I just love doggies in general, but I love, love, love Lily with my entire heart.

5. My Amazing Friends Online!

I admittedly don't have friends irl. SO. I'm extremely grateful for all the amazing people I have met online. <3 You guys are the absolute best. I love to hear what my friends are up to. I love to play games together. It's just a great time altogether.

I don't wanna bother too many people with tags... SO sorry to put you on the spot, but @woffpls - I'd love to hear 5 things that make you happy.

When you get this respond with five things that make you happy!!! Then send to the last ten people you got notifications from :)

aww i love this babe =] you're gonna get it right back cuz you're in my notifs 👀

My dog, she is such a sweetie, and although she is V V independant, she knows just when I need her and comes for a cuddle

my friends on tumblr :) seriously I look forward to talking to y'all every day. you have added so much joy and love to my life

Creating! whether that's writing or making upcycled crafts/art I just love being able to get messy and express :D

4. My fandoms/hyperfixations. Seriously I'm obsessed with tv/movies/comics/video games and the communities attached to them. its really cool to be able to exist in a time where we can all come together and scream about out blorbos and make a bunch of art/additions to the fandom to make it ours as much as it is the creators.

5. My found family. My partner, and our collection of fellow depressed, adhd/autistic queers has been crucial to not only my development but my survival <3 its been a very strange existence

@sweeteatercat @kittywolves @malware-wolf @heiko-goes-detroit @treeffles @a-book-of-lost-things @winter-seabass @tentoriumcerebelli @destroya2005 @pushbuttonkitty

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carotechautomotive · 2 years ago

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Lit-up “AT OIL TEMP” light on the dash of a car indicates that the automatic transmission fluid temperature has exceeded the tolerable point. If you don’t address the issue on time, your transmission will act up in the middle of nowhere. Therefore, if your Subaru Forester "AT OIL TEMP" light is flashing, get it tested by a certified car mechanic.

https://www.pinterest.com/pin/1100356121430225928

#subaru forester #car check engine light #car service center #car mechanic

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middleearthpixie · 3 years ago

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Durin's Garage AU ~ Good Trouble - Chapter Eight

Durin’s Garage AU - Good Trouble

Modern Spin on The Hobbit

Summary: When your car breaks down, there is only one garage in town - Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs. And sometimes, they do more than just tune your engine, check your oil, and top off your fluids…

Everyone in town knows Durin’s Garage and Engine Repairs is THE place to go when your car needs work, and everyone knows that Dwalin Fundinson is to be avoided outside of the garage. He’s an ace mechanic, but trouble otherwise.

After kicking himself for what happened that morning, Dwalin finds himself on the receiving end of an invitation from another woman, while you’re also kicking yourself and dealing with a crazy night at the pub.

Pairing: Modern!Dwalin x reader

Warning: A bit of soul searching, a minivan mom interested in Dwalin doing more than fixing her minivan, and some makeup sex

Word Count: 4,832

Previous chapters here and AO3

Tag List: @tschrist1 @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass@kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @ocfairygodmother @exhausted-humxn-being @shalinizhara @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knitastically@notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy

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The radio played softly, and Dwalin paid little attention to the AC/DC song even as he tapped out the beat on the steering wheel. He felt like such a fool. What was he thinking, blurting out his feelings that way? Mahal, he couldn’t be any more the idiot if he tried. He regretted the words the moment he saw your expression change, the moment he saw the curtains drop behind your eyes.

Someone hurt you, and did so badly and now he’d scared you off as well, and he wanted to dickpunch himself for doing it at all. What the fuck was he thinking? He’d risked it as it was by offering to let you stay with him. And now he goes and says I love you.

“Fucking moron,” he grumbled, downshifting to ease to a stop at the last traffic light before leaving town. He glanced to his right and his gut kinked at the sight of your Jeep in its usual parking space. He was supposed to heading out to Route Fourteen, where a minivan mom had broken down, but he really just wanted to swing the truck into the Dunraven’s lot and come find you.

His phone rang. Thorin. Wonderful. His phone sat atop the dash on a magnetic holder and he stretched to hit accept and then speaker. “What?”

“Damn, hello to you, too,” Thorin growled. “Where are you? Honda mom on Fourteen has called twice about having to wait for you.”

“Ye only gave me the ticket twenty minutes ago and I was at the other end of town jumpstarting a Subaru. Give me a chance to get there and tell Honda Mom to cool her tits.”

“I think I’ll let you deliver that message.” Thorin paused. “You okay? You’re grouchier than usual. New girlfriend keep you up too late?”

Dwalin scowled as the light went green. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Uh-oh… trouble in paradise already?”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“Just go get Honda Mom, okay? We’ll talk later.”

“I am and I’m not. In that order.” Dwalin hit disconnect and eased on the clutch to get the truck moving again. Traffic thinned as the highway split into three lanes and about a mile outside of town, he spotted the pale gold Honda Odyssey on the side of the road, hazards flashing manically.

He eased off onto the shoulder ahead of it, and climbed down from the cab, calling, “Dwalin Fundinson from Durin’s Garage. Ye called for a tow?”

The driver’s side door opened and a blonde climbed down. “Took you long enough.”

“My apologies, ma’am, but I was at the northern end of town with another customer when the call came through. What happened?”

“Smoke. Lots and lots of smoke. And no matter how hard I stepped on the gas, my van didn't want to go over twenty-five.”

“What color smoke and from which end?” He moved around to take the flares and triangles from the tool case, set them up, then walked over to her car to see them out.

“White and from the back.”

“When did it happen?”

As he drew closer, she eyed him and it was the same look most lone women gave him—a bit of interest, a lot of apprehension. Normally, it didn't bother him. Today, he almost wanted to growl at her, just to see her jump. Damn it. Today was supposed to be one of those days where nothing fazed him because he’d started off his day having amazing sex with an equally amazing woman. He certainly hadn’t planned on fighting with that same amazing woman moments later.

Shit.

Fucking moron.

“Mommy? I have to pee.”

Dwalin turned to see a little blonde girl poking her head out through the driver’s side window. A kid. Wonderful. Kids made him uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable, actually. This one met his stare and her eyes widened as she said, “Who are you?”

“I’m Dwalin. Who are ye?”

“Emily. Are you gonna fix Mommy’s car?”

“Maybe.” He looked back at Honda Mom. “When did ye notice the smoke?”

“When I pulled out of the lot at the Promenade Mall on Dale Street.” She looked over at her daughter. “Hopefully we’ll be home soon, honey.”

“Mommy, I really have to go.”

“I know, sweetie.” Honda Mom turned back to him. “Do you think it’s something you can fix?”

“I don’t know.” He looked over at Emily, and then back to her and tried to make his voice a little less gruff. “I can look now, or I can take it back to the shop. It’s about a ten minute ride from here and she can use the bathroom when we get there.”

Honda Mom looked only slightly less fearful. “I suppose we should just go back to the garage. Oh, damn it, I hope it isn’t anything major.”

“Ye and yer daughter can ride up in the cab with me,” he gestured to the flatbed, “so why don’t ye get settled while I hook this up?”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He looked over at Emily. “Can ye do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Can ye get out on the other side of the van? I don’t want ye getting hit out here.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

“But wait for yer mother.” He turned back to Honda Mom. “The cab is unlocked. But I don’t have a car seat.”

“She’s actually out of a car seat now, believe it or not.” She skirted the van’s nose to get here daughter out of the van and into the truck, while he hooked the cables to the van, then climbed up into the driver’s seat to put the transmission in neutral. As he did, he looked down to see the parking brake was engaged, so he disengaged it, and then set about getting it towed up onto the flatbed. He extinguished the flares, stowed the triangles, and strode back to his truck.

When he climbed back up, it was to see Emily on her mother’s lap, watching him intently. “You’re kinda scary, Mr. Dwalin.”

“Am I?” He looked from her to her mother and back. “Why?”

“Well… you look… mean…”

“Emily!” Honda Mom gasped. “That isn’t nice.”

“It’s quite all right,” he told her. “I look mean to a lot of people. But,” he depressed the clutch and shifted into first, “I’m not really mean, now, am I?”

“You have a lot of tattoos,” Emily pointed out. “Did they hurt?”

“Some did. Some? Not so much.” He eased off the clutch and onto the gas and as they bumped their way back out onto the road, he added, “Did ye ever get a shot?”

She nodded. “I hate shots.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “me, too. But… getting a tattoo actually hurts less than getting a shot.”

“No way.”

He nodded again. “I swear it’s the truth.”

Emily studied him, pursing her lips. “Are you a biker? Is that why you have all of those tattoos?”

He chuckled. “I am not a biker. This is what I do. This and I fix cars.” He glanced into the sideview mirror to change lanes as the U-turn loomed ahead.

“Will you fix ours?”

“I will if no one else needs a tow, yes.”

“Good.” Emily bobbed her head. “I like you. I like your tattoos and I like that your truck smells like Christmas trees.”

He grinned, his gaze going to the pine-scented tree air freshener swinging from the rearview mirror. “I can’t smell it anymore. My nose has gone numb to it.”

“Well, it smells like Christmas and I love Christmas.”

“Yeah? Me, too.”

Honda mom ruffled Emily’s hair. “You’re being a chatterbox, Em.”

“It’s okay,” Dwalin glanced at her, “I don’t mind. She sounds wise beyond her years.” To Emily, he said, “How old are ye?”

“Six.”

“Ye sound much older than six, ye know. A wise old soul.”

“That’s what Mommy says, too. And Gram.” She settled against her mother. “Mommy and I were Christmas shopping.”

“That reminds me,” he said, swinging the truck into the northbound lane carefully, “I really should start mine.”

“Do you have kids to buy for, Mr. Dwalin?”

“No, Miss Emily, I have no children.”

“You should.”

“Emily!”

He laughed softly. “Again, it’s okay.” He smiled at Emily. “I would, but I’m not married, which makes it a little more difficult.”

“Mommy isn’t married any more, either. You should marry her and then you can buy me Christmas presents because I’ll bee your stepdaughter and that’s close enough to being your child.”

“Emily! Oh, Mr. Dwalin, I’m so sorry.” Honda Mom’s cheeks were bright red as she put her hand over her daughter’s mouth. “You need to be quiet now, little bit. And stop trying to find Mommy a boyfriend.”

She turned to him again. “I don’t know why she does this.”

“It’s okay. It happens.” He managed to smile at Emily. “Sorry, Miss Emily.”

She sighed and shrugged. “Oh, well.”

Mercifully, they reached Durn’s Garage without any more uncomfortable moments and as she climbed out of the truck cab, Honda Mom smiled up at him. “You know, if you’d like, I’m supposed to be going to an exhibit opening at the Sternhagen tomorrow night and I would love some company.”

He almost grinned at the image of him showing up at an art gallery opening. He stand out beyond standing out. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m seeing someone, so thank ye, but no.”

“It was worth a shot.” She shrugged as Emily hopped down and made a beeline for the garage’s office. “Oh, I’d better snag her.”

“The restroom is at the end of the hallway,” he called as she went racing after her daughter.

“Did I hear right?” Kíli came around the opposite side of the truck, grinning. “Honda Mom asked you out?”

His face grew warm, so he turned to climb back up into the cab to engage the hydraulics. “What of it?”

“Just making sure I heard right, is all.”

He climbed back down. “I’m not in the mood, Junior.”

“Junior?” Kíli shook his head. “Damn, Thorin was right, you are a grouch today. What happened?”

“Never you mind,” he growled, circling around to the Honda’s driver’s side, where he climbed in and turned over the ignition. As he did, he glanced into the rearview mirror to see if there was any smoke.

Nothing.

“Wait a minute,” Kíli climbed up onto the flatbed itself and leaned against the van’s rear door support. “Did she really ask you out?”

“Why do ye sound so shocked?”

“I don’t.”

“Yeah,” Dwalin leveled him with a long look, “ye do.”

Kíli grinned. “What did you tell her?”

“None of yer business, Junior.” He nodded toward the flatbed cab. “Make yerself useful and feed out the line, will ye?”

“Damn,” Kíli muttered, shaking his head. “You need to get laid, man. You’re downright bitchy.”

“I did get laid,” Dwalin grumbled when he was sure Kíli was out of ear shot, “and I promptly fucked it up.”

The hydraulics groaned to life and he carefully inched the minivan down the ramp. He parked it, set the emergency brake, and then got out to unhook everything. Kíli came back to help him. “She’s cute.”

“I don’t care how cute she is,” he replied as Kíli climbed up into the driver’s seat. “I’m not interested. Now, bring it into the middle bay and I’ll—”

“Dwalin!” Thorin called as he came out of the third of the three garage bays. “I need you to go back out.”

“Oh, Christ, are ye kidding me? What for this time?”

“Flat tire. Simple change and you’ll be on your way.”

He sighed. “I’m clocking out, so I’ll do it on my way.”

“Over on Klockner. Three hundred block. Green Infiniti. Kíli,” Thorin turned to his nephew, “Honda Mom will need either a ride or a cab. Find out.”

Kíli grinned. “She asked Smiley out. Maybe she can just hop on the back of his bike.”

Neither Thorin nor Dwalin smiled. Dwalin just ignored him, climbing up into the flatbed cab to move the truck into its parking space around the back of the building, then crossed to his Harley. He unclipped the helmet to tug it on, then threw his leg over the seat to balance it.

As he went to start it, Honda Mom came around the side of the building and lit a cigarette. She looked over at him, exhaled, and for a moment, he thought she was going to cross over to him, so he hit the throttle, lifted his feet, and zoomed out of the parking lot.

You tried to keep your mind on what you were doing, since Bobby would have your head if you made too many mistakes, but it wasn’t easy. All afternoon, you kept looking over at the door, hoping Dwalin would come in. Expecting him to come in. Terrified that he’d come in.

And that was it, he terrified you. Not simply because he blurted out he loved you while caught up in post-sex euphoria, but because of how you felt about him. This was all so new to you. Not just him, but the way he treated you. You weren’t used to men who treated you as well as he did. No, the men in your past were polished and elegant on the outside, but real jerkoffs on the inside.

Dwalin was the opposite. He was rough and hard on the outside, but an utter and absolute gentleman on the inside. And you’d freaked out over that and now look where it got you. Damn it…

The Christmas party in the private room was in full swing by eight, and you just wanted to go home. But then again, you weren’t sure which home to go to. Did you go back to your apartment or did you go back to his? Normally, when a boyfriend stormed off, that was it. You came out to find a bag of your stuff tossed into your car, or stuffed in your mailbox when you came home. Talking things out was not usually how they played out and more often than not, you were the one storming off because you’d walked in on something you weren’t supposed to ever know about.

But this was all new and utterly foreign territory for you. Every time the door opened, your heart leaped, only to sink into your shoes when it was anyone but Dwalin. And by ten o’clock, you’d given up on the thought of him coming in. You wondered if you’d find any of your things in a plastic bag, hanging from one of the Jeep’s sideview mirrors when you got off work.

“Marlena,” you set the last Sam Adams Boston Lager on the tray, “you’re all set.”

“Thanks, hon.” She hefted the tray. “Are you okay? You look a little… lost.”

“I’m fine. Just a lot on my mind, is all.”

“Are you sure? You wanna get a beer after shift and talk?”

“Thanks, but I think I’m just going to go home and collapse.”

“If you’re sure.”

“Marlena!” Bobby called from the far end of the bar. “People are waiting for you.”

“Sorry.” She rolled her eyes and made her way toward the private room.

As she did, Bobby came over to you. “You okay? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

“I’m fine. Just tired, is all.” You forced a smile as two men sank onto barstools across from you. “What can I get you boys?”

Each ordered a dry martini and from the time you set them on the bar until almost closing, you ran like a maniac. Finally, when your shift was over, you didn't even look back as you punched out and stepped out into the frigid winter air. A hint of snow lingered in the air and you debated about just going back to your apartment.

You unlocked the Jeep and ten minutes later, were parked alongside a sleek black Corvette Stingray that made your nipples contract and your heart feel heavy at the same time.

Dwalin loved you. And while he said it at a moment when his endorphins were tearing ass through his body to wreak all kinds of havoc on him, he still said it and you had the feeling he didn't say those words to many people. You were so afraid of getting hurt again, that you threw up the walls to shut him out without even considering that maybe this time, you wouldn’t be hurt. You were such a coward at times, as you sat there, just staring at that ‘Vette, just staring at how the parking lot lights gleamed off the flawless, glossy black body.

“You can’t just sit here, you know,” you muttered. Besides, it was getting colder by the second since you’d killed the engine, so you took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and eased down from the Jeep.

This time, you hesitated at his door because you were afraid that when you stepped into his apartment, he’d be there to ask for his key back, to tell you to leave. He’d said you could stay until you found another place, but that didn't mean he hadn’t changed his mind.

Still, you didn't want Steve or Meg to see you again, so you held your breath as you unlocked the door and as quietly as you could, stepped into his apartment.

It was dark and quiet. Well, it was almost three-thirty in the morning. You certainly didn't expect Dwalin to sit up and wait for you. Especially now. You closed the door behind you, flipped the deadbolt, slid the chain on, and kicked off your shoes to leave on the mat just inside the door.

“I thought maybe ye’d decided to go back to yer place.”

You jumped at Dwalin’s unexpected whisper and spun about with a gasp. “Jesus! Don’t do that!”

“Sorry.” He emerged from the darkness clad only boxer briefs, but he didn't look as if he’d been asleep. “I called the Dunraven looking for ye.”

“What?”

“I was worried when ye didn't come home earlier.”

“Honestly?” You set your keys and wristlet on the breakfast bar. “I didn’t know if you’d want me here.”

He met your gaze, his eyes heavy-lidded, and your heart skipped a beat when he said, “I wasn’t sure ye wanted to be here.”

“I’m sorry,” you said softly, shaking your head as you just stared at him. You wanted to just throw yourself into his arms and tell him how you felt, but damn it, you didn't want him to push you away.

“Don’t be sorry. Ye were honest with me and that’s not something a lot of women can say.” He ran a hand over his head. “So, now that I know yer okay, I’m going to get some sleep. I put fresh sheets on the bed for ye, and I’ll be quiet in the morning. I have to be in for seven, so… good night.”

You pressed your lips together as he turned to go into the living room. You wanted to just reach for him, to slip up behind him and press your lips against his broad back, to sweep a kiss over his shoulder blade.

So you did.

You closed the space between the two of you and eased your arms about his waist, trying not to notice how he stiffened at your touch. “What are ye doing?” he murmured, though he didn't try to pull away.

You brushed your lips along his left shoulder blade. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking stupid, Dwalin, freaking out over something I really wanted to hear.”

“What?”

You let your fingertips just gently sweep over him, through the soft, springy hair spread down over his stomach. “Did you mean what you said?”

“Did I mean that I love ye?”

“Yes. Did you?”

“Do ye think I say it without meaning it?”

You heard the tightness in his voice and drew in a deep breath. You would get one chance at this and one chance only. “No… but I know sometimes afterglow is a powerful thing.”

He slowly turned toward you and you didn't need light to see his scowl. “I’m not some fucking fifteen year old kid who’s too stupid to know the difference between love and lust.”

“No, I know, but…” You pressed your lips together before you said anything else stupid, gathered your thoughts, and pressed on, “I’m such an ass. I really am. And I’ve been thinking about what you said all day and each time I did, I just wanted to smack myself because I hurt you and I don’t ever want to do that, Dwalin. And you’re—you’re just so different from the other guys I’ve been in relationships with and I know it’s not fair to you to be afraid that you’ll do what they did, but I am and I’m sorry.”

“What do ye think I’m going to do?” His voice was low and soft, without any heat in it, and your heart sped up when he curved his massive hands again your cheeks.

“I… I…”

“Mesmel,” his voice was a velvety purr, his thumbs brushing lightly along your cheeks, “I love ye, whether ye want me to or not. And maybe ye think I’ve said it too soon, but trust me, I’ve seen enough to know that life is short, and nothing is promised and if it feels right, it is right and this feels right to me.”

As he spoke, he brushed your lips with a kiss, gentle at first, but then with more feeling. You slid your arms about his waist as his kiss deepened. His fingers stretched up into your hair, his lips parting, his tongue easing between your lips to caress yours. You melted against him, your head doing a slow spin as he released your face to bring his hands to the bottom of your Dunraven Pub tee shirt. He whisked it up, over your head, and before seizing your lips again, whispered, “I love ye.”

He lifted you then, easily, as if you weighed nothing, and as you wrapped your arms about his neck, his arms tightened about you. Your head fell back as he swept a hot kiss over your chin and down along your neck, and with each pass of his lips against your now-overheated skin, you shivered. Those kisses sent heat streaking through you, made you forget that your feet hurt and your legs were tired and that you’d been hit on enough to make you want to junk punch the next guy who offered up a cheesy line. None of it mattered. Not one bit. All that mattered was the man holding you now, kissing his way down into the shadow between your breasts.

The muscles in his shoulders bulged beneath your hands as he shifted just enough to bring you into contact with him and you curled your legs about his waist. The firm ridge of his erection ground into you, and he caught your gasp easily as he arched against you once more.

He bent and pressed you down onto the sofa, and as he covered you, your legs parted and he settled easily between them. Then, he drew back enough to hook a finger against the front clasp of your bra, and a moment later, it parted and he bent to your right breast.

You bit down on your bottom lip at how gentle he was. There was no sign of the fire that had raged within him only moments ago, but it had tempered as he kissed along the curve of your breast and down over your stomach. His lips were gentle. His tongue barely touched you. And when he popped the button on your Levi’s and tugged them down?

He was gentle.

Your eyes closed of their own at the first sweep of his tongue through your folds, along your aching, aroused flesh. He moved slowly, teasingly, in no hurry as he brought you closer to that edge. With each slow caress, the knots inside you tightened. Your core did a slow bubbling melt as you slid one hand into his hair and the other clutched the pillow beneath your head.

Ribbons of white heat unfurled through you. Your hips slowly rolled to meet each delectable stroke, and when he hit the spot, you sucked in a sharp breath and almost yanked the pillow out from beneath your head.

Dwalin remained patient and slow, even as you squirmed beneath him, desperate for him to shatter you. He held you out over the abyss for what seemed like a lifetime, those tingling knots twisting tighter and tighter, every nerve firing, your entire body feeling as if you would go up in flames at any moment.

Then he shifted. Applied more pressure. More speed.

“Oh!” The knots all burst at once, fire flashing thorough you as he sent you over the edge. And when he brought you back, you were a breathless puddle of goo beneath him, head spinning, heart racing, the need to have him nearly crushing you.

He shed his briefs and as he came up between your thighs, he slid inside you and offered up a powerful thrust, one that had you bending your legs to wrap about his hips as you rose to meet him.

He caught your hands in his, linking your fingers and pressed your hands into the cushion on either side of your head. A sinfully seductive smile played at his lips as he teased you with those slow, incredibly deep thrusts that sent sparks showering over you.

“Amrâlimê,” he growled, moving faster now. “You feel so very good…”

You tried to speak, but your mind was blank. Pleasure scorched you from the inside out as he surged hard and fast and a moment later, arched hard, ground up against you, and you came together, clinging to him as he erupted inside you, your name a husky purr on his lips.

The wave ebbed. He sank against you and pressed a gentle kiss into the inner curve of your left breast as he sighed softly and went still.

“Were you really worried about me?” you whispered, tracing your index finger along the intricate ink on his scalp.

“I was, aye. I thought maybe another frat boy was giving ye trouble.”

“No, just a busy Christmas party that refused to end.”

He lifted his head. “I’m sorry if I scared ye. It’s just… I don’t play games. When something is right, it’s right and I say what I think.”

“I know.” You met his gaze, moving that forefinger to trace now along his beard. “And I’m sorry, too. I should have handled it better, but I didn't expect you to say that. I didn't expect you to…”

“To what?”

You sighed softly and shrugged. “To love me, I guess.”

“Why?”

He shifted, easing from you but he didn't move off you. And that was just fine. You rather liked the feel of him like this, as if he surrounded you. He made you feel delicate and cherished and as you slid her arms about his middle and lightly dragged your fingernails down along his back, he shivered against you.

“I don’t know why… you’re too good to me? Women think you’re probably rough and gruff and cold and unemotional, but then you show a completely different side.”

“I’m not made of stone, ye know.” He shifted to stretch out beside you, which was dicey on the sofa, and gathered you against him. “I’m just a man, same as any other man.”

“Not exactly the same.” You tucked your head against his chest, tracing a small circle about his left nipple now. “And you should probably get some sleep. You have an early day, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be fine.” He kissed the top of your head. “Ye know, I got asked out today by a Honda Mom whose minivan broke down.”

“What?”

“Yeah. She asked me to go to an art opening at the Sternhagen tonight.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“Because she hit on me.”

“Yeah, and?”

“And what? I just told ye, she asked me out.”

You smiled. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her I had a girlfriend, what do ye think I said?”

“Well, earlier, I don’t know if you still thought of me that way. You did offer to sleep out here, remember?”

“I was a jackass. This sofa sucks for sleeping on. Ye can sleep out here.”

“Nah. I’ll make sharing your bed with me worth your while.”