#to go alone to this rock climbing gym and smile at a few strangers

[toosicktoocare]

emergency contact

pt 1 of 2 and also found on ao3!

(i promise i’m not ignoring my prompts- this idea just kinda popped into my head)

“Hi, may I speak with Mr. Evan Buckley?”

Frowning, Buck pulls the phone away from his ear. He doesn’t know the number; however, the area code is local, so he can probably rule out a scam call. At least, he thinks, the woman on the other line sounds very much real and not a robotic recording about to lead in with a cruise ship he didn’t sign up for.

“Uh, yeah. This is Buck—I mean Evan. This is Evan Buckley.” He clears his throat. He can hear a lot of background noise—a lot of muffled speaking, intercoms crackling. He’s heard it before, but he’s struggling to equate the noise to a particular memory, only having a small rock of dread burrowing low in his stomach to go by.

“Hi, Mr. Buckley. I’m Nurse Johns at LA General. I have you listed as the second emergency contact for Christopher Diaz.”

Buck’s stomach bottoms out, leaving him nauseous, weightless, and far too cold despite the LA sun beating in through his window and warming his bed. He shivers and forces himself upright in bed, muscles rigid, jaw a tense, jutted line.

“His father,” Buck starts into the phone, shaky, “Eddie—Edmundo Diaz—”

“—didn’t answer. You’re next on the list. Sir, if this is incorrect, I’ll need to move on to the next person—”

“—no!” Buck jerks to his feet, nudging abandoned clothes around with his foot until he finds a pair of gym shorts. “I’m… His father’s on a shift with the LAFD. Is Chris okay? What’s going on?” Composure, he thinks, is out the window. Then again, he’s never been capable of the whole ‘cool, calm, and collected’ thing when it comes to Chris. He snags the same shirt he tossed to the floor when he climbed into bed this morning after his 24-hour, a short-sleeved, blue shirt, and slips it over of his head, careful of his phone.

“Sir, I can’t disclose that over the phone.”

“Right,” Buck mutters, nodding more to himself. “I’m on my way now. Tell Chris—tell him Bucky’s on the way, okay?” He ends the call, taking the steps down from his loft two at a time. He’s only faintly aware that he’s shaking, and the rock of dread’s grown triple in size and sits heavily against his gut. He fumbles with his keys, pockets his wallet, and just remembers to slip on a pair of sandals. If he weren’t moving against a rush of fear, he’d take the time to give a mental ‘look who’s laughing now’ to everyone who’s made fun of the sandals in the last two months since he purchased them, but, the fear is a cold hand that’s pulling on him, disrupting his thoughts, chiseling against his composure.

He doesn’t dwell. He races out of his apartment, and in seconds, he’s in his jeep and whipping out of his parking spot. He knows LA well, knows the traffic patterns, and he’s unfortunately hitting lunch rush, which, he thinks, is probably similar to some twisted second layer of hell. He wishes, more than anything in this second, that he had an engine, that he could dominate the road with the power of a siren, but his jeep will have to suffice. Still, his grip on his steering wheel is tight, his knuckles fading white, when he hits the first of many red lights.

He uses hands-free to call Eddie, not surprised to get his voicemail after only two rings.

“Eddie! Chris is in the hospital—They didn’t give me any details, and I’m on my way now. They called you first. I’m next on the list?” Buck pauses briefly on that, gets lost in that fact, but then he shakes his head. “Look, he’s at LA General—just get there when you can, okay?”

He ends the calls, somehow feeling even worse, and then he tries Bobby. Logically, he knows that if Eddie’s not answering, Bobby probably won’t either. Still, when he’s teetering on the edge of panic, Bobby can talk him down, can ease him safely back to the present.  

“Buck?”

Buck’s foot slips a little too hard on the gas, and he sucks in a sharp breath. “Bobby? Bobby! Where’s Eddie?”

“Currently? He’s probably making his way back to a second story window, hopefully with one of the victims of an expansive house fire.” A pause. “What’s going on, Buck?”

Buck peers around, swallows back a groan at the cars on every side of him. “Look, can you get Eddie to LA General ASAP?”

“You’re at LA General? Are you hurt?”

“No! I mean, I will be, but it’s not me—it’s Christopher. Bobby, I don’t…” Buck sighs, drags a free hand down his face. He can feel his lungs constricting. The pressure of panic’s a bitch.

“They didn’t say anything over the phone. They tried Eddie first, and then they called me. I’m—”

“—Buck, take a breath. I’ll get Eddie there as soon as possible. You be careful driving there, okay? Keep us updated.”

Buck comes back down to earth with a low breath that’s been trapped in his lungs. “Thanks, Bobby,” he says, and he means it, pushing his gratitude hard into the two words. The call ends, and Buck forces his focus onto the road, onto making it to the hospital in one piece because Christopher needs him.

***

Concussion.

It’s the only word Buck keeps coming back to. He’s being led down hallways that are too bright, too loud, and annoyingly familiar, and the nurse is explaining that Christopher took a tumble at school and is currently being monitored for a possible concussion. Buck nods when appropriate, offers a few non-verbal affirmatives, and then he’s stopping before two large, glass windows, and behind them, Chris is sitting in bed chatting with another nurse. His hand finds the glass, fingers spread out, anxiety spread even to his palms.

“You’re welcome to go in. We’ve told him you’re coming.”

Buck nods absently. He’s going to go in—of course, he’s going to go in. He just needs to take a single second to fully capture the image of Christopher alive and breathing in his mind, an image that can break through the muddle, clear his head, bring breath back to his lungs.

“Mr. Buckley?”

“Sorry,” Buck mutters, nodding. He turns when the nurse opens the door for him, and he wills away any and all fear etched deep in his face the second he crosses over into the room.

“Bucky!”

“Chris!” Buck’s no stranger to concussions, so though animated, he keeps his voice soft, and he walks toward the end of the bed, glancing at the clipboard. “How’re you feeling, bud?” He asks, satisfied to see that the doctor’s notes are promising.

“My head hurts.”

“I bet it does,” Buck mutters, sympathetic, and he drops onto the edge of the bed, one hand resting atop Christopher’s covered knee. “What happened?”

“Me and Caleb were playing firefighter, and I fell down a step.”

Buck sucks in a sharp breath, holds it in his lungs to brace for the familiar wave of guilt that’s soon to tangle in his breath, jab past his rib cage to his lungs. “Is that so?” He settles for, breathless, and Christopher’s face falls, his eyes dropping to his lap.

“Don’t tell dad. He’ll get mad.”

“Chris—”

“—Mr. Buckley, I presume?”

Buck’s never been more thankful for a doctor to walk in for he wasn’t sure how to unpackage Christopher’s quiet plea in a way that wouldn’t be considered as overstepping Eddie’s parental authority but also in a way that wouldn’t have Christopher demanding he leave.

“Uh, yeah—It’s Buck.”

“Okay, Buck. Want the good news?”

“Will it be followed by bad news?” Buck asks, one brow arched, stomach twisting. “Because his father—”

“—no bad news today,” the doctor interrupts, and Buck huffs out a quiet sigh of relief and gives Christopher’s knee a squeeze. He gives a nod, and the doctor plucks the clipboard up.

“Christopher’s been cleared of a concussion. He’s got a few scrapes and bruises, and his head will probably hurt for a few more hours, but otherwise, he’s fine. I’ll leave a note at the front desk to begin the discharge papers. He should be out within the hour.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Buck mutters, and he nods when the doctor and nurses exit, giving him space to breathe; though, he’s not sure how much he can actually breath encompassed in four, blinding walls that bring back a pressing dark cloud of memories.

“Buck?”

Buck blinks slowly, peels his gaze from the door to see Christopher smiling softly at him, poking at his side.

“Can you lay with me?”

Buck eyes the small bed, mentally works round the best way to squeeze in, to maximize Christopher’s comfort, and he slips his sandals off and climbs onto the bed, impossibly gentle when he adjusts Chris. When he’s got Christopher against his chest, he sighs, and Christopher sighs with him, content, safe.

***

“That’s the last of them, Cap,” Eddie coughs lightly, tugs his helmet off. His lungs burn faintly from smoke inhalation. It’s not bad by any means, but he’s dabbling with the idea of having Hen look him over anyway.  

“Should I help with fire…” Eddie’s words trail off when the 122 pulls up onto the scene, their members already hopping out of the engine and working the hose. “Was backup necessary?” He glances back over his shoulder. Sure, the fire’s large, but he doesn’t think it’s classified as a level high enough to warrant local support.

“Are you okay?”

Eddie whips back around, squints at Bobby. “Yeah, why?”

“Let me clarify: are you okay to leave the scene right this second, or do you need to a look-over now?”

Eddie’s still struggling to read Bobby’s tone for it’s always frighteningly composed, even in the face of emergency. “I’m okay now.” He nods slowly, and then Bobby’s turning on his heel and wordlessly gesturing him toward the engine.

He slips into the back, pausing to see Bobby sitting in the back with him, stationed across from him.

“Cap, what—”

“—have a seat.”

Eddie sits slowly, slips his headphones on, and then the engine’s roaring to life beneath him and pulling away from the scene. He’s alone with Bobby because Hen and Chimney left earlier with a patient, and he can’t shake the feeling that he’s in trouble for something. He replays his actions at the house fire, yet he can’t find an error that would warrant a private conversation with Bobby.

“Buck called,” Bobby finally says, and Eddie drags his gaze from the cars moving onto the road shoulders, now finally tuning in to the fact that the sirens are wailing overhead still, the engine demanding the street with the shrill sounds and flashing lights. The sirens shouldn’t be on unless…

“Is he okay?”

“Buck’s fine. The hospital called him because Christopher was brought in. They tried you, and he was next on the emergency contact list.”

There’s dread, Eddie thinks. Dread when he rides up to a call and gathers the first, initial assessment of the situation. And then there’s bone-deep, crippling fear—fear that twists in his gut, pools into his lungs, walls around his heart. It drains the blood from his face, freezes his muscles, steals his breath, and buries his mind in a series of what if scenarios that range from grim to downright terrifying.

“Eddie, breathe.”

He does, but only because his mind is trained to respond on command to Bobby’s voice. The breath he sucks in his short and cold, and he finally reaches in his pocket for his phone. He’s got four missed calls, three voicemails, and a series of texts from Buck, all fairly close in time to the other.

He goes through the texts—he won’t be able to hear the voicemails right now, and he really doesn’t think he’ll be able to stomach Buck’s panicked, broken voice.

[From: Buck] Chris is okay. He fell at school and hit his head

[From: Buck] no concussion. Doc said he can be discharged within the hour

[From: Buck] I’ve checked him over. There’s a bruise on his side I want to keep an eye on but otherwise he’s okay

[From: Buck] we should talk about why he fell

[From: Buck] but not until later! Sorry that last text sounded weird…

[From: Buck] discharge in 20 minutes. I’ll bring him back to yours if you aren’t able to come yet. I still have the spare key you gave me

He’s blinks around the tears pooling in his eyes, swallows thickly. “Buck said he’s okay. He fell at school.” He’s aware his voice is shaking, and then Bobby claps him on the knee.

“That’s a good thing.”

It is, Eddie thinks, swiping the back of his hand over his eyes. He works on his breathing, controlling it, counting breaths, but when they pull up to the hospital, the fear comes back, muted now, but still there, always there.

He hops out of the engine, Bobby not far behind, and in just seconds, a nurse is guiding them back. When he reaches the door and looks beyond the glass to see Christopher curled up against Buck’s chest, he breathes, deeply and fully, for the first time since he pulled himself up into the engine. Relief, he thinks, is the singular image of the two most important people in his life safe and together.

***

“Christopher!”

Buck whips his gaze from his phone where he’s got a story pulled up to read to Christopher, and he slowly turns Chris over just as Eddie rounds the bed and pulls Chris to his chest tightly. He notes, to himself, that Eddie’s in full turnout gear, that he’s got soot smudges on his face, that his jaw is a set, unwavering line jutting against his skin.

“Daddy!”

“¿Estás bien, hijo?”

“Sí.”

Buck wordlessly slips from the bed, toes his feet into his sandals. He crosses his arms and backs away from the scene, feeling all too overwhelmed, suddenly suffocated despite the brush of relief before him, and then Eddie’s looking toward him, frowning, eyes unreadable, and Buck offers a small smile.

“The discharge papers,” he motions toward a stack of papers on the end of the hospital bed. “I’ll bring my jeep around.”

“Wait, Buck—”

Buck slips out of the room, eyes cast to the ground, and he bumps right into someone, his hand coming up to fist around the turnout jacket and his head dropping against a shoulder.

“You okay, Buck?”

There are so many ways Buck wants to say no, but the one that’s most alarming, one that’s been a nagging twinge in his lungs, is the one he opts for. “I don’t think I can breathe.” His voice is breathless, and then Bobby’s guiding him with a hand to his back toward the nearest exit. The second he bursts through the double doors, he sucks in a sharp gasp that breaks way to a few coughs, and he’s being gently eased onto the edge of the sidewalk.

“Easy, Buck. Breathe with me, okay?”

Buck meets Bobby’s eyes, nods, and drags his gaze down to Bobby’s chest, watching the steady rise and fall, mimicking it, until the fog clouding his brain breaks, leaving him far too tired. His shoulders slump, and Bobby claps a hand to his shoulder.

“What’s going on?”

“I didn’t know…” Buck sighs, dropping his face into his palms. He can hear his therapist’s voice reminding him that he’ll feel better if he’s more open with others. “I’m really overwhelmed right now.” He can feel Bobby’s hand tighten around his shoulder, a wordless sign to continue. “Just… Getting that call that Chris is in the hospital really freaked me out. I know he’s fine, but just… He’s the last person I ever want to see in a hospital bed.”

“Now you know how I feel every time I get a call that you’re in the hospital.”

“Bobby,” Buck groans, lifting his head to match Bobby’s smile.

“You look tired—I don’t imagine you got much sleep before the call?”

“A few hours,” Buck admits, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Not sure I’ll get back to sleep anytime soon. I’m exhausted, but it’s definitely going to take some time for the adrenaline to die down.”

“Do you need me to take Eddie and Chris back?”

“Nah,” Buck drags himself up to his feet, yawning. “I’m going to need to physically see Christopher safe in bed before I can even think about unwinding.” He can see one of the engines not far off in the parking lot, and he laughs quietly. “Though, I bet Chris would love to be back in the truck.” He frowns at Bobby’s turnover gear. “Did you leave right after a call?”

“I requested the 122 to come in for backup.”

Nodding absently, Buck looks back toward the doors they came from, and he crosses his arms, fingers digging into the skin. He knows that he’s taken all necessary steps when faced with an abrupt situation, yet he can’t shake the underlining burn in his stomach that he overstepped, that he didn’t get here fast enough, that he should have added a step, or even removed one, when getting here.

“You did good today, Buck.”

His shoulders slump, tension falling with them, and he huffs out a low sigh.

“Thanks, Bobby.”

***

“You keep looking at him like he’s going to disappear.”

Buck jumps; he didn’t hear the shower cut off, nor did he hear Eddie slip into Christopher’s room behind him.

“I keep thinking he might,” Buck whispers, and Eddie tugs at his arm, urging him up from the chair he’s got pulled up to Christopher’s bed. He lets Eddie guide him from the room, but when Eddie tries to ease him onto the couch, he digs his heels into the floor, and Eddie turns to him, brows furrowed.

“Buck—”

“—when were you planning on telling me I’m second on Christopher’s list of emergency contacts?”

Buck doesn’t miss the deep, calculated sigh Eddie breathes, and he opts to remain standing when Eddie sinks down onto the couch, only watching wordlessly as Eddie runs fingers through his damp hair.

“It was Chris’s idea.”

Buck blinks slowly. “What?”

“After the tsunami. When we were leaving the hospital, he mentioned how you saved him. He said he wanted you to be the person who comes to save him again.” Eddie pauses, rubs smally at the shirt fabric just above his chest. “I resisted at first—I told Christopher we couldn’t ask something that big of you, but I’ve seen countless times since then how far you’ll go for him, so I called and had you added second on the list.”

Eddie takes in a low breath, and Buck’s mutely envious because he can’t do the same.

“If I can’t get to him, it needs to be you.”

Buck’s struggling to pick something to focus on. His heart wants to chase the heat of Eddie’s words, yet the guilt, as it always is, is an overpowering force that leaves him shaking his head, backing up until the back of his leg hits the coffee table.

“It can’t be me.” He watches Eddie’s face fall, but Eddie still nods, understanding even now.

“I get it. I should have asked first. I know it’s a big responsibility—”

“—what?” Buck shakes his head again, crosses his arms. “It’s not the responsibility. You know I would do absolutely anything for that kid. It’s the fact that it’s my fault he ended up in the hospital today.”

Eddie cocks his head to the side, lips in a firm line, and Buck knows this look well—it’s Eddie’s way of signaling for Buck to continue, knowing well that Buck will finish on his own, that he doesn’t need verbal prompts to guide him toward his point.

“He was playing firefighter with one of his friends at school, and he fell down a step.”

The silence that follows feels thick enough to clog Buck’s lungs. He wants to sit—his legs are shaking, but if he sits, he can’t flee as fast, and he just knows Eddie’s going to ask him to leave, to not come back. And, Buck thinks, Eddie should. Eddie should yell at him for filling Christopher’s mind with stories from work, for encouraging this imaginative behavior that dropped him onto a hospital bed.

“Is that it?” Eddie says instead, calm, and Buck frowns, jaw opening and closing, struggling for words.

“I mean, I’m waiting for the part where you tell me how this is your fault,” Eddie clarifies, and Buck sinks onto the coffee table at this, not trusting his legs to hold him upright.

“Eddie, I’m constantly telling him stories from work, glorifying the job, painting all of these verbal, detailed images that fill his mind and plant ideas.”

“And you think I don’t?”

“Eddie—”

“—Buck, we have the same job. If Chris asks me what I did at work, I tell him. I spare him the calls that don’t go in our favor, but otherwise, I tell him.”

Buck blinks slowly, mind operating around 30% capacity, and Eddie leans forward, cupping a hand to Buck’s knee.

“No one’s at fault. Kid’s got one hell of an imagination.”

“Wait, hold on. You’re not mad?” Buck expected yelling. He expected to get kicked out of Eddie’s house, and yet, Eddie’s calm before him, relaxed, a little tired around the edges, but he’s showing no signs that he’s seconds from blowing up.

“There’s nothing to be mad about.”

Buck can only blink at Eddie. He’s faintly aware that his eyes are watering, and then Eddie’s pulling him back up by the arm.

“Okay, we all know by now that you get sappy when you’re tired.”

Buck stops in the doorway when Eddie steps into the bedroom, watching as Eddie pulls back the covers and motions toward the bed. He shakes his head, one hand gripping tightly at the doorframe.

“Eddie, I’m not taking your bed. You should be with Chris. I’ll go—”

“—Chris will want you here when he wakes up. Plus, it doesn’t take but basic math to realize you’re working on only four hours of sleep after a 24, so you’d be doing everyone a favor by shutting up and getting in the damn bed.”

“Eddie.”

“Buck.”

Buck holds Eddie’s gaze, breaking it after a few, heavy moments with a weighted sigh. He shuffles toward the bed, kicking off his sandals and climbing in on the side farthest from the door, knowing that the side closest to the door is reserved for Eddie, to accommodate Eddie’s needs to be the first to act if something happens.

The bed is heaven against his sore body, and the second his head hits the pillow, he’s struggling to keep his eyes open. The adrenaline is fully fleeing now, leaving him exhausted to the core in more ways than one. He blinks slowly, watching as Eddie climbs into the other side of the bed, sighing loudly, and he rolls toward Eddie, studying the way Eddie gingerly rubs at his chest for the second time.

“You give your oxygen mask to someone during the house fire?” Buck asks around a yawn, and Eddie nods.

“It wasn’t for long.”

“You didn’t get checked over.” It’s not a question; Buck knows, based on the sight of Eddie arriving at the hospital looking rough for wear and donned in full gear, but Eddie still responds.

“No, but I’m fine.”

Buck forces himself up on one elbow, frown deep, brows furrowed. “You should get checked out now. I can call Hen—”

“—did you forget I was a field medic?” Eddie arches a brow, and Buck sinks back against the pillow.

“No, you always find a time to remind me. You can’t check yourself over, though.”

“And how many times have you ignored a fractured rib because you ‘checked yourself over?’” Eddie fires back, and Buck groans, draping an arm over his eyes.

They fall silent, and Buck’s body is urging him to give in to the fatigue draping over him. Still, he can’t fully settle. The adrenaline of the last hour and a half is a flame that’s almost completely burned out. Still, it flickers smally, and he rolls onto his side, watching Eddie.

“The bruise on Christopher’s side. We should—”

“—I looked, and we iced it until he fell asleep. Now, please shut up and sleep.”

[laketaj24]

Marked

Author’s Note: Hey! This piece was requested, and I decided to make it a few parts. So here is the first, and this part is based on one of my favorite songs, Slow Dancing in a Parking Lot. I really like hometown, slow country ass romances lol. So this is what I am giving you! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Happy Reading! (My taglists and requests are open!)

Warnings: Public Sex, Fluff, Language, Dubcon, OMEGAVERSE

Pairings: Alpha!Henry Cavill x Omega!Reader

M A S T E R L I S T

“Hi.” You waved at your new neighbor. The small family of four seen you a total of seven times and still had not introduced themselves once. Where was the small-town charm you’d seen in all those movies?

The man looked to you first, tall and muscled he waved. “Good morning!”

“Morning!” You yipped, finally, some interaction. “Your family is beautiful.” Those were the only words that you could think of besides saying something about the weather.

“Thank you, how are you liking Longview?”

“Love it.” You lied. It had been two weeks, you’d left the house a total of three times and each time you got lost. “It’s beautiful here.”

The drizzle of rain started overhead, it always rained in Washington, maybe that’s why you stayed in all those days without hesitation. It was sunnier in Southern California, and there was always something to do, here it was the opposite.

“That’s wonderful,” he yelled before ducking into his blue minivan. Your neighbor waved quickly as he backed out of his driveway and onto the road.

The family next door was the only one for about five miles, besides the one across the street, and he never really made an appearance other than coming home from work. You liked to people watch, it was easy to do when there were only two houses to watch. You made your way back into the house, nursing the warm cup of coffee.

When you moved here, you were no stranger to the place. Summers had been spent here with your uncle, sometimes holidays, and upon his death, you inherited the house that gave you some of your fondest memories. Building a life here was what you were intended to do, and you didn’t really have a choice, it had all fell apart everywhere else you went. This inheritance was your one get of jail free card, and it came right on time.

Longview didn’t hold much, two grocery stores on each side of the town, one bookstore, three churches, and one bar called the Sly Tree. These things you’d remembered because they held an interest and you had planned to visit them all. Tonight it was Sly Tree.

 The yellow crop top looked good against your honey-colored skin and with the slight inch of your mid-drift showing it gave the illusion that you were a good girl who’d come to play, or at least that's what you wanted it to mean. Who knew if they took it that way, you sat at the bar. There were a few more people in the place, but none that piqued your interest. The bartender tapped your glass. “Refill?”

“I can’t.” you shook your head, there was no hope of you getting home safely with another drink in your system. “But thank you.”

“You moved into Harper’s old place?”

“Yes, he was muy uncle.”

“Good guy, he always came in here on Sunday’s spreading lies about wolves.” The bartender was friendly enough, the cute smile and wide eyes caught your attention, but he was young.

“He told me about those damn wolves.” You giggled. They were all around the property. Hence the reason you opted to not have a dog, coming home to a missing dog was not your intention.

“crazy man, good, though.” He handed you a sprite. “Drink this.”

“Thank you... what’s your name?”

“Cody.”

“Nice to meet you, Cody, is there anything fun to do around here?”

“A few towns over, maybe.” He shrugged a matter of fact and exhaled. “Hunting is pretty cool, though? You should come in one day?”

“I’m certain she doesn’t mean killing deer.” The smooth voice came from the right of you, the familiar face of your quiet neighbor actually brought some light to your life. Maybe you wouldn’t have to feel alone after all.

“Hey.”

“Hey, neighbor,” he smirked. “A beer, please.”

You’d never talked to him, only observed from afar, and there was much to observe. He was tall, strapping with broad shoulders, a body that made you think unsavory things and, unlike the family man across the yard, unattached. “So, you do know that I’m there?”

“How could I not?”

“You never speak.”

“Haven’t had the opportunity.”

“Opportunities have been available, Cavill.” You said his last name thinking of the gray mailbox it was engraved in.

“Hmmm.” He placed the bottle cap of the beer on the table and took a swig of the beer. “You like to hide in that house of yours, I didn’t want to bother you.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“I’m Henry, and if I am not mistaken, you’re Y/N.” Henry swiveled in his chair to face you. “Your uncle spoke highly of you.”

“That’s good to know.”

“So, you’re in a bar on a Wednesday at eight, cabin fever must’ve set in?”

“It did.”

His car smelled of cedar, and you loved it. You sunk back in the passenger seat and kicked your feet up on his dashboard. The small city passed by, and for once in your unsettled roused life, you felt at ease. There was only one red light but about five intersections that lead you in a circle.

“Where are you from?” Henry asked with his arm hanging out of the window, his fingers waving as the window passed through them. “Technically, I’m from Georgia, but I lived in California for almost four years.”

“So. Cal?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I didn’t.” he laughed. “But I’ve always wanted to use that abbreviation.”

“Good sentence, no one calls it that by the way.”

“Then how was it a good sentence.”

“I just didn’t want to diss you all the way.”

“Ah, the courtesy country girl, I lucked out.”

“Thank you.” You bit your lip. “You go to the gym often?”

“Never.” Henry laughed. “I run and lift trees.”

“All this comes from that?” It was impossible not to touch his arms, they looked terrific through the tight-fitting grey shirt.

“Five years of it, yes.”

“I guess I lucked out.” You whispered with a small grin on your face. “Where are we headed?”

“Right over there.” He pointed to the grocery store parking lot, and the car headed that way. You had never been parking, but you’d heard of it just not in a place this obvious.

“There are no lights in that parking lot.” You chuckled. “Choosing dim-lit places like this on purpose?”

“Definitely.” the half cocky answer was coated with sarcasm. Henry didn’t seem like that type. He parked the car and turned the music down. “Now, you tell me one of your favorite songs.”

“Does it have to be fast?”

“It’s totally up to you.”

“I’m drawing a blank here,” I said after a few seconds.

“I’ll pick one, you keep thinking.” He strolled through his phone, and then the slow music came through the speakers. henry climbed out of the truck, walked over to your side, and opened the door. “Dance?” He asked.

“I suck at it.”

“Good, I don’t have to whip out my Footloose moves.” He winked as he helped you from the truck into his hands. Sweet guys like him never seemed to come your way, not in Georgia, California, or any of the other places you’d been. He was novel.

He moved as if he actually could dance, pulling you against his chest and swaying playfully to the music. The song was lulling, complementing the atmosphere of the night.

“So, where’s your girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend?”

“Someone as perfect as you have to be in a longterm relationship contemplating marriage.”

He laughed, shaking his head, his eyes flickering amber in the light for a moment and then back to their normal state. Henry’s fingers intertwined in yours. “I have no one, and if I did... I am certain you’d of seen her by now.”

“Just checking.”

“What else do you want to know?”

“What can you tell me?”

“I drink every Saturday night. I get in lost in the color brown, it’s the prettiest color... Trees, dirt all beauties often overlooked, but they’re the most important ones. I sleep with the air on me. I wake up super early, walk to the river and piss every morning. I like to sing in the shower, but I suck at it. I like you.” The vomit of words was the most alluring thing you’d heard since you came here. Henry twirled you around and pulled you back to him.

“You tell every girl you take home these same lines?”

“Just one.”

“You’re smooth with your lines Henry...”

“I can still break out my footloose moves if you want?”

“No need to...” You smiled. “This is better.”

“Good. I haven’t stretched just yet.”

You shouldn’t have kissed him, your hands shouldn’t be gripping his curls, and you definitely shouldn’t be hoisting yourself upon him, but here you were doing all of it and importantly enjoying it. Your tongue lightly swiped his lips before it was met with his and a small groan. Five hours ago, you met him. You didn’t know his last name or if even shared your beliefs, but you wanted to fuck him.

“How are the public indecency charges around here?” You whispered.

“I haven’t been charged with that one yet.” He carried you to the passenger’s seat.

“There’s a first for everything.”

“I know the sheriff.” he laughed. “I think I can get us out of it.”

Everything was rushed, but it didn’t stop you from deepening the kiss and tugging on his belt buckle.

“You sure you want this?”

You press your palms into the leather seat, and he pulls your pants down to your ankles. “I haven’t been sure of anything else.” You giggle as you rock your hips against him, grinding your mound against his hardened cock. He pushed your panties aside, rubbing the head of his cock against your lips and hoisted you up.

“You’re already wet for me, sweetheart.” he pushed inside of you, throbbing and suppressing a carnal growl.

You sunk your teeth into his shoulder when he pulled you down on his cock and began to fuck you. Then his eyes met yours, and they glowed in the dim light of the parking lot, it was surreal animalistic. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since you moved in...” He fucked harder, bouncing your tits in your bra. “How I wanted to fuck you and make you mine...” he grunted.

Your head fell back in ecstasy, and he rubbed his nose down your face before his tongue licked down your chest.

“Your fucking scent.” He growled, rutting into you. “You don’t even know what you are... sweetheart.”

“What am I?” You whispered.

“Mine.” Henry’s teeth bit into your skin, and you squealed. “Omega.”

His eyes shifted again in the light, and his teeth were still in your flesh.

“Omega?”

Your uncle used to talk of omegas, again when he was drunk... You pull away from him, but he continues to fuck you. “Henry.” You moaned. “Fuck! Henry!” You feel him swell inside of you.

Henry’s bitemark was fresh on your chest as was this inflamed urge to ride him harder, your body willed as if it could not stop. “Feel it.” He commanded. “Your body knows you’re mine too.”

“Ohh, fuck!” He grew bigger, swelling as he thrust faster and then locking into you. “Don’t cu-.”

Henry’s hand clamped down over your mouth, and he shuttered, your body shuttering, joining his climax. The warmth of his cum was soothing, fucking made you want to cum again. “Get dressed.” he kissed your lips. “Now.”

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[everlarkficexchange]

On the Hunt

Author: @hutchhitched

Prompt 39: Katniss has been bumping into the same stranger (Peeta) for months. When they get stuck in an unfortunate situation together, she decides to be the first to say hello. [submitted by @eiramrelyat / @taylerwrites]

Ratings/Warnings: T

The first time Katniss sees him, he takes her breath away. It’s from afar. He probably doesn’t even catch a glimpse of her, but her whole world tilts off its axis.

She’s not sure why he stands out to her. There’s nothing particularly unique about him. He’s not short or tall or big or small. He’s not drop-dead gorgeous or ugly like a troll. He doesn’t move like an athlete or sparkle with the magic of a performer. He appears normal in every sense of the word, but that doesn’t mean she can’t see how special he really is. At least she thinks he might be—if she had a chance to actually speak to him.

That doesn’t happen, though. She’s too far away when she sees him picking up a loaf of bread, and she can’t seem to move once he’s left her line of sight. She stays frozen in the freezer section (the irony!) for several minutes. Hopefully, everyone else thinks she’s considering her options in breakfast burritos, but she’s actually involved in an out of body experience that follows the young man from the back of the store to the registers, out the door, and into the parking lot where he must load his groceries into his car and drive away. His life is no different, but hers will never be the same.

It has to be because she’s lonely. It’s been a very long time since she’s been in a relationship. In fact, it’s been so long since she’s kissed a man, she kind of wonders if she’s forgotten how to do it. Katniss has never been that popular, but she’s enjoyed her fair share of attention. She tries really hard not to spiral out in the freezer section, but Christ on a cracker! Something about that specimen of manhood has made her question her life’s choices. Why hasn’t she run into him before now? Clearly, she’s been living wrong.

Except, she hasn’t. She’s done absolutely everything she knows to do to be a good person. She supports her little sister and sends money to her mother who needs every speck of help she can get. She has a best friend who’s been by her side since they both lost their fathers when they were barely teenagers. She helps out at a shelter and donates money to the food bank because she knows way too well how hunger can impact a person’s life. In other words, there’s no reason her weekly grocery trip should result in an upheaval to her world. It’s simply not fair, and she plans to file a complaint to who it is that runs fate and destiny. She has a bone to pick.

Somehow, she finds everything on her list and heads to the front of the store. When she gets there, she unloads her groceries and watches as the cashier scans each item. Digging into her wallet, she’s stunned to find she only has a twenty and the total keeps rising. Mortified, she watches as the number climbs to $34.15.

“I don’t have… I mean, can you take off the…”

Trying to figure out what she can live without until her next paycheck, she surveys the food and toiletries. Almost in tears, she stammers for a few seconds before the cashier speaks.

“Don’t worry. Another patron paid it forward. He left a twenty and asked that I use it if anyone needed help. Looks like you could use some.”

“I— I couldn’t. It’s not right.”

“The guy seemed pretty adamant that I only offer it to someone who could use a break. It seems like that could be you today.”

Katniss nodded slowly. “Do you have any idea who it is? I’d like to thank them.”

The cashier shook her head. “Young guy. Stocky, medium height, ashy blonde hair, blue eyes. Very polite. Named Peter, I think. Something like that.”

It’s got to be him. The description’s too similar to be a coincidence. It seems the guy that froze her in place with his looks is as kind and compassionate as he is special. Now, he’s even more intimidating.

She nods her thanks and takes the change and her purchases. The five in her pocket gives her a little joy, but the feeling of not having money still bothers her. Maybe it’s time to get a credit card. She’s been warned off them for so long that she never applied for one, but now, it might be something she should do. Maybe. It makes her nervous to think she could get in financial trouble with it. She’s been poor her entire life. It might be too tempting to resist.

When she makes it back to her apartment, her attempt to unpack her groceries is interrupted frequently by long pauses in which she fantasizes about finding the guy who’s rocked her world and given her daydreams about all the ways she needs to thank him (appropriately and not so much) for the rest of her life. It’s not unrealistic at all. Totally doable, she decides. After all, how hard can it be to find him again? They live in the same town.

****

The answer to that question is that it’s very hard. Difficult isn’t even the word to describe the problem she has in trying to find the Boy With the Bread, which is what she calls him even though he’s definitely an adult. The person she saw from afar was all man if the stretch of his shirt across broad shoulders was any indication. Still, the alliteration makes her smile, so she continues to refer to him as such.

It shouldn’t take so long, but it does. Months pass, and she wonders if she’s made it all up and imagined the creature that changed her life. She keeps her eyes open in public, scans the local news and social media sites, and seriously considers setting up an online dating site just to see if he’s looking for someone. She’s getting desperate, but then fate smiles on her again.

She’s sitting in a coffee shop, something she hardly ever does, when he walks in the door. She doesn’t normally have time for such a mundane, normal activity that other people her age seem to enjoy all the time. She’s usually working during the day, and she has no desire to consume copious amounts of caffeine after 5 pm when she gets off work. Today, though, she has time. She’s taken a half day to run errands and go to the dentist, and she needs the jolt the espresso will give her to survive her reduced shift.

He ducks through the doorway just as she’s taken a sip of her hot beverage, and she almost chokes on the liquid. He shakes the umbrella he’s holding just outside the door and shoves a riot of blonde curls off his forehead that have shrunken up and frizzed from the rain. It’s adorable.

He’s wearing an emerald Henley and faded jeans that hug all the right places. The sight of him freezes her in place, but that doesn’t stop her from tracking him as moves past her. She’s close enough to see his eyes are blue before he marches across the café and approaches a man sitting alone in the corner. They clasp hands and grin at each other, and the vision in green heads to the counter to order.

She’s dumbfounded. Here he is again after so long, and she can’t think of a single thing to say to him or how in the world to actually approach him without making her look absolutely insane. She racks her brain trying to think of an intelligent topic, but she’s jolted from that when the barista walks to the end of the bar and calls a name.

“Peeta! Chai Latte.”

That’s his name, she realizes, and it’s like the sun’s broken through thick, heavy clouds. It’s just unusual enough to fit him and still feel familiar. He smiles at the woman behind the bar and takes the cup from her. He ordered chai, and she files that information away for future reference. He might not like coffee, which seems important.

She’s pondering a trip to the bathroom just so she has an excuse to pass by him when she suddenly understands that he’s leaving. He and his friend are talking as they walk to the door, and she catches the sound of his voice.

“—we can change that, the numbers will—”

His words are swallowed by the rush of traffic outside, but that silky tone she hardly had a chance to listen to has already taken up residence in the part of her brain that creates unrealistic fantasies. She daydreams for longer than she should. In fact, it’s only the vibration of her phone against the table that reminds her she has to get to her job. What a chance encounter, but now she has a name to go with that face.

****

She’s tried to find him again. She’s googled and returned to the coffee shop when she’s had a spare minute or two. She’s asked around and continues to check dating sites. Nothing. She’s found absolutely nothing. Without a last name, she has very little idea how to find out anything else. Frustrated, she goes about her daily life with a weight on her shoulders that shouldn’t be there. He’s a stranger she’s glimpsed only a couple of times.

Frustrated and full of pent-up energy, she joins a gym. There’s nothing quite like working up a good sweat to ease tension and kickstart her brain, so she spends her free time running the track, lifting, and participating in every hot yoga class the establishment offers. After a month, she’s leaner and stronger than ever, but she hasn’t managed to come up with any ideas that might help her find the guy she desperately wants to thank for saving her when she wasn’t sure how she’d eat for a week.

She’s two laps into her normal ten when she glances down from the elevated track and spots a pickup game of three on three basketball on the far court. Three blonde men face off against three with dark hair, one of whom looks remarkably like her best friend Gale Hawthorne, who she hasn’t seen since he left town for a job almost a year ago. As she jogs closer to the court, she realizes it is him teamed up with his brothers. The blonde men look like siblings, too, but she doesn’t spare them much of a glance. She’s got more laps to go, and she doesn’t want to draw any attention to herself. Gale didn’t bother to tell her that he’s in town, and she’s a little miffed by that.

It’s another three passes by the court before it hits her that the blonde men look familiar. She puts on a burst of speed to get back to where she can see the men closeup and almost trips over her own feet when she spies him. It’s the guy. THE guy. The cashier had said Peter, and the barista had called him Peeta. She stops in her tracks and grabs the railing when someone bumps into her from behind.

“Watch it!” he yells as the jogger passes her. “You’re not supposed to stop on the track!”

She dismisses him with a wave and sprints to the nearest stairwell. If she can just catch them… She bounds down the stairs, three at a time, and bursts into a bustling walkway. She dodges and shoves her way free and streaks around the corner to find—

“Catnip! What are you doing here?”

“Gale!” Sweat drips down her forehead and stings her eyes. Cringing, she swipes her hand across her face and tries not to cry. “Where are—? I thought you were playing basketball.”

He throws her a bewildered look and nods like she’s lost it a little. “We were.”

“You’re done?”

“Yeah? We’d been at it for a while. Are you… Have you been watching me?”

Katniss rolls her eyes, although that’s not really very fair. She had noticed him. It’s not like that’s not the case. “Who were you playing with? I saw Vic and Rory, but the blonde guys… Who, er, who were they?”

The expression on his face would be priceless if she weren’t so desperate to find out the information. He looks like he’s swallowed something very, very distasteful, and she tries hard not to snort with laughter.

“Why?”

She takes in his narrowed eyes and realizes she’s going to have to lie to get what she wants. Part of the reason they haven’t been as close since he left town is due to his sudden confessions of feelings toward her. She’d let him down easy, but things have been strained since then. There’s no need to rub that in his face when all she wants is to find out about Peeta. With a straight face and innocent eyes, she explains, “I think one of them door dinged my car a couple of weeks ago. The gym won’t give out membership information, but if you know who they are… Well, I’d be really grateful, Gale.”

He falls for it when she bats her eyelashes at him. She should feel terrible, but all’s fair in love and basketball. Of all people, Gale should want her to be happy, no matter if that means she’s interested in someone else or not. She’s no damsel in distress, unless she can’t pay for her groceries or something. However, her simpering works, and that’s really what she needs.

“Mellark is the last name. They all have bread names. It’s weird.”

She rolls the name around in her head for a bit. Peeta Mellark. It’s a nice solid name, and now she has more information to help her figure out how to find him. Almost giddy with victory, she stretches up on her tiptoes and kisses Gale’s cheek in gratitude. Backing away before he can reciprocate, she hears him as the distance widens between them.

“Do you want to grab dinner sometime? Maybe?”

“Sorry, Gale! Got to go. Really good to see you!”

With that, she turns her back and slips down the hall to the women’s locker room. She doesn’t bother to shower before grabbing her bag and heading to her car. She’s barely closed the door before she’s on her phone and typing in the name Peeta Mellark. She has a thank you to deliver.

****

Surprisingly, it’s not much easier to find him now that she knows his full name. She unveils a lot of information about his family, but not him. Apparently, they own a few local bakeries that she tries out and loves. Still, Peeta’s family is not the same thing as Peeta, who is remarkably absent from social media and with no online presence. She’s willing to admit, she got cocky, and now she can’t figure out how to recover from it.

“Where the hell is he?” she mutters as she comes up empty. Again.

Frustrated, she runs over all the data she’s gathered about him. He’s kind, compassionate, and thoughtful; all of those qualities were on display at the grocery store. He drinks tea and has a very good-looking friend who he talks to about numbers; that she learned at the coffee shop. He’s athletic and has two brothers he likes well enough to exercise with them; that information, and his last name, came from the gym. It should be enough to go on. It’s not.

She’s at home on her couch and paying bills when it suddenly hits her that she may never see this guy again. Peeta Mellark seems to be a figment of her imagination for all the good it’s done to try to find him. That and the small number in her bank account are both so unpleasant that she decides she’s going to have to break down and do something she’s been avoiding and delaying for a very long time. She’s going to have to open a line of credit. She’ll only use it for emergencies, but she can’t rely on the kindness of strangers to bail her out the next time she doesn’t have money for groceries, let alone car maintenance or an unforeseen medical crisis. It’s been months since Peeta saved her, but the humiliation of not being able to take care of herself still hasn’t faded. Before she can change her mind, she grabs her purse and heads to the bank. The time is now.

“Can I help you?” A bubbly blonde teller named Delly asks, and Katniss takes a deep breath to fortify herself.

“I’d like to open a line of credit. Can I talk to someone about that?”

“Sure!” she practically squeals. “Let me just call someone to help you.”

She’s led down the hallway and past a few desks to a small office. Once ushered inside, she sits and raises her eyes to view the person across from her.

“Oh…”

The man before her is stunning—green eyes, bronze hair, a swimmer’s build. It’s the guy’s—Peeta’s—friend, the one he was with at the coffee shop.

“Ms. Everdeen. I’m Finnick Odair. Want some sugar?” he asks and nudges a candy bowl toward her.

“No, I’m fi—.”

“Hey, Finn. Can you— Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you were with a customer.”

She jerks at the sound of his voice. Peeta Mellark is standing in the doorway, and her heart is in her throat. She has a sudden flashback of the coffee shop, when the two of them walked past her discussing numbers… Now, it all makes sense. They work at a bank together. Of course they do. Peeta turns to leave, and she calls out.

“Wait! Stay with me.”

She claps her hands over her mouth and wills herself not to blush, but it’s no use. She’s just asked a perfect stranger to stay with her, and her invitation sounds much more intimate than she means it to. He must think she’s insane. Maybe she actually is. She pushes down a sudden urge to flee the situation and escape to the safety of her apartment.

This is out of her wheelhouse. Shy, introverted, and intensely private, Katniss worries the end of her braid and bites her lip. Every instinct she has tells her to run, but the temptation of him before her is too great. Rising, she crosses to him and holds out her hand.

“Hi. My name is Katniss. You saved my life once, and I’ve been on the hunt to find you for months. Thank you.”

Peeta and his friend exchange looks, and she fights the urge to shrivel back into herself. Finally, he looks directly at her and takes her palm in his. With a smile so disarming she nearly faints, he answers.

“Peeta Mellark. It’s nice to meet you.”

The touch of his hand on hers melts her insides. She dreads when she finally has to let go, but maybe she won’t have to. With a shy smile, she cocks out her hip and looks up at him through long lashes. Her flirting may be a disaster, but it’s all she’s got.

“It’s so nice to meet you, too.”

The flicker in his eyes makes her knees weak. An hour later, she’s left the bank with a line of credit, a phone number, and a dinner date. The hunt is finally over.

[mikotyzini]

Feat of Strength (Oneshot)

Pairing: Bumblebee Words: 2670

Another patreon reward - and this one was a lot of fun!  Although they all seem to be really fun so far...

Happy 4th of July to those celebrating it!

“What time is it?”  Without waiting for a response, Blake looked at the clock on her scroll and sighed.  “l should go now…”

“Sure I can’t come with you?” Yang offered, sensing Blake’s unwillingness to leave.  “I’ll be the hot human to your feisty Faunus?”

When Blake relaxed into a smile, Yang labeled the comment a success.  Anything was a success if it made Blake happy, even if it was only for a few seconds.  That’s why Yang spent most of her day doing and saying stupid things - to make Blake happy.

“I’m sure they’d love that,” Blake replied, shaking her head at the idea.  “But it shouldn’t take long.  I’ll meet you here in an hour?”

“Sure, no problem!”  Even though Yang hated letting go of Blake’s hand, she didn’t mind the temporary time apart.  Blake had an important meeting...thing...that her dad was dragging her too.  Something about being introduced to...some important leader guy…

It was really hard for Yang to listen when her heart pounded with fear - which was what it did every second Blake’s dad was around.  The end result?  She had no idea what Blake was being dragged off to see, do, or hear.

“I’ll hang around here,” Yang added, waving a hand towards the spectacular park they’d spent the last hour walking through.  “You know, talk to the locals - get a feel for things.”

Whatever reticence Blake felt seemed to ease, and she put on one of those smiles Yang loved to see.

“Ok...” Blake finally agreed, giving Yang one last heart-melting smile.  “Stay out of trouble.”

Yang laughed at the words of wisdom.

“Me?  What kind of trouble could I possibly get into?”  When Blake raised a brow, Yang waved her hands.  “Alright, alright.  I could get in a lot of trouble, but I’ll be on my best behavior!”

Satisfied with the response, Blake leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Yang’s lips.  

“Thank you,” Blake whispered, knowing full well what she was doing to Yang’s heart from their proximity.  But she pulled back and walked away - throwing one last glance over her shoulder before crossing the street and heading into the building across from the park.

A sigh of longing slipped past Yang’s lips, and it was several minutes before she realized she was grinning like an idiot.  Not that it was a bad thing to grin like an idiot - she did it all the time when Blake was involved.  Shaking her head, Yang decided to kill time by walking further into the park to explore the areas they hadn’t seen yet.

So far, she loved the parks in Menagerie.  They weren’t your typical parks with flat paths, trees, and open spaces.  They were more like...wildlife adventure parks - complete with the most intense jungle gyms she’d ever seen.  

It was a workout, that was for sure.  Different areas had different themes - some filled with boulders to climb, some filled with knee-high grass that looked like a pasture, and some thickly-wooded areas with trees that were way too tall.

And there were Faunus everywhere - climbing the trees, scaling the boulders, or using the sandy paths.  Everyone was having a good time, which meant the vibe was really good.  It was good in Menagerie, in general.  

If Blake decided this was where she wanted to live, Yang wouldn’t have an issue with that.  Not that she assumed that Blake wanted her to stick around or anything!  But...things were really good between them.  Maybe it was presumptuous to think that far into the future, but she couldn’t help it. She saw Blake in her future.  And she couldn’t see Blake without seeing, you know, a place to live.

Whistling several different tunes to herself (an entire AchieveMen album, actually), Yang spent a fair amount of time just walking, thinking, and people watching.  She reached the far end of the park before making her way slowly back the way she’d come, but when she neared the starting point, she noticed something...interesting.

Basically everything in Menagerie was interesting, but this was even more interesting.  Of course she had to check it out, so her feet led her off the rocky path and towards a group of Faunus standing near the side of a giant boulder.

The boulder itself was enough to warrant inspection - it was really big.  But it was the Faunus who stole the show.  It looked like they were holding some type of competition to climb one side of the rock.  It was quite the event, too!  Off to one side, spectators cheered and groaned while competitors tried to climb with their bare hands.  Some made good progress; others failed spectacularly.  

For every Faunus attempting the climb, there was an official watching.  At least, she guessed they were officials from their big yellow hats, clipboards, and stopwatches.

Sooo...she had a few minutes to spare...and she liked competitions, especially ones that dealt with strength.  Walking over to the event, she joined the crowd of spectators and caught the attention of a zebra Faunus wearing one of the big yellow hats.

“Excuse me,” she asked, throwing on a polite smile when he turned her way.  “What’s going on?”

“It’s a feat of strength!” he explained with a toothy grin.  “These young men are proving their capability in front of their loved ones.  If they succeed, they receive a reward beyond their wildest dreams!”

Feat of strength?  A reward beyond her wildest dreams?

“Uh, can I try?”  When Yang pointed towards the boulder - which was more like a sheer rock wall from this close - the man looked at her in surprise.

“Do you have a partner?”

“Oh, uh, yeah I do.”  Glancing over her shoulder towards the building Blake was currently sitting in, Yang turned back with a smile.  “She’ll be here soon.  Do I have to wait for her?”

“Technically not,” the man replied, his lips pursed in thought.  “If you’re ok with her not being here, then you’re free to try!  We just need your information first.”

With a smile, he handed her a clipboard with a single form on it - a basic contest entry deal.  Her name, her partner’s name, race, age, gender, and then sign the bottom.  

Thankfully, they were letting her participate without a partner physically present!  Although she did want to prove her strength to Blake...but they’d probably let her do it again when Blake got here.  That made this a practice run.

“Here you go!” she said, signing the bottom of the page and handing it back to the man.  After taking a few seconds to make sure everything was filled out, he waved her towards the boulder.

“Then may your endeavor begin!” he said, picking a spot with no current contestants and fondly patting the rock beside him.  “You have ten seconds to reach the top once you touch the rock.”

Yang giggled at the rhyme, but her residing official was all-business now that his stopwatch was in his hand.

Hearing a loud round of cheers, she looked up and saw a bear Faunus raising both arms in triumph from atop the boulder before hurrying down and rushing over to give his sweetheart a big kiss.

“Awww so cute!”  Smiling at the affection, Yang turned back to the boulder and swung her arms back and forth in preparation.  

Ten seconds, massive rock wall, basically zero handholds to be found.  This was awesome.  Menagerie was the best.

“There’s no other rules, right?” she asked.  “I just need to get to the top in ten seconds?”

“That’s correct.  How you get there is your journey, and your journey alone.”

Yang wanted to tell him that he sounded like a weird inspirational poster, but decided against possibly insulting him.  Instead, she looked up at her destination.

The biggest issue was that the rock had very few grooves to use as handholds.  But...that wasn’t an issue for her. She’d just make her own handholds.

Jumping as high as she could, she used her left hand and punched a hole into the side of the rock.  Latching on, she quickly put her right hand in the newly-created handhold and strained her muscles to launch her even further off the ground - again using her left hand to latch onto the smooth rock.  

From the ground, the rock looked super tall.  In actuality, it took only four massive bursts of strength to make it to the top.

Hearing cheers, she raised her arms above her head in success and laughed.  That was only like five seconds of exertion, but it was a lot of fun! She could probably make it in only three lunges, but she’d played it safe so she didn’t embarrass herself in front of strangers.  Next time though!

Spotting Blake just about the enter the park, Yang jumped down from the boulder and landed in a crouch that cushioned her fall.  Her favorite zebra official was the first one to congratulate her.

“Well done!” he said, giving her hand a hearty shake.  “I’m sure your partner will be very pleased with that display of strength!”

“She tends to be.”  Grinning, Yang caught Blake’s eye and waved her over before turning back to the man.  “So...about that prize?”

“Right, of course.  Is your partner here yet?”

“She’s right over there.”  When Yang pointed over the man’s shoulder, he spun around to look at Blake.

“Wonderful!  I’ll be right back.”

The man hurried away, and Yang grinned as Blake walked over to her.  Did she say walked over?  More like sprinted over to her.

“Yang, what are you doing?”

“Just did a feat of strength!” Yang replied, flexing her arms.  “Climbed up that boulder in like five seconds, now I get a prize!  I hope it’s a vacation or something.”

Normally, Blake laughed at Yang’s jokes, but she didn’t laugh this time.  Instead, her eyes swept around the boulder-climbing competition before landing back on Yang.

“Please tell me you didn’t sign up.”

“Uh...”  Yang wasn’t sure why Blake looked concerned, but her excitement was quickly depleting.  “I mean...I kinda had to?  They wouldn’t let me try otherwise…”

“Who did you put as your partner?” Blake asked, sounding far too worried about what that obvious answer might be.

“You!  Of course.”  Laughing at Blake’s concern, Yang shook her head.  “Who else would I put down?”

Stunned by the response, Blake’s mouth fell open - but the zebra Faunus returned before she could say anything.

“Congratulations, you two!” he said, shaking Blake’s hand before pressing the clipboard into her hands.  “l just need your signature to finalize the certificate.”

“Oh, awesome!”  Yang grinned while Blake read the form.  “Like a gift certificate?  Where to?”

It seemed like a simple question, but the man looked at Yang in confusion.  Meanwhile, Blake bit her lip, then signed the form and pressed it back into his hands.

“Excuse us,” she said, pushing Yang away from the crowd of people.

“Wait - where are we going?” Yang asked, stumbling to the side until she got her legs straightened out and followed Blake a short distance away.  “We need to get our gift certificate!”

Shaking her head, Blake gave Yang a serious look.

“Yang, this is a marriage ceremony.”

“Uh, what?”  

She heard Blake wrong, because there’s no way she said -

“A marriage ceremony.”

Ok, so that’s what Blake said, but clearly she was just pulling a prank.  So Yang laughed.

“Good one, Blake,” she said, still chuckling.  “Why would climbing a boulder be involved in getting married?”

“It’s to prove the strength of your love,” Blake answered, her face serious enough that Yang began to doubt that it was a joke.  

“Wait, are you serious?”

“Yes.  There’s a group of Faunus that subscribe to...unconventional marriage practices.  But they’re still legal marriages.  You signed a consent to marriage - then you completed the marriage task.”

It sounded like Blake knew what she was talking about.  Of course she knew what she was talking about.  She knew much more about Faunus than Yang did.  Which meant…

“Holy...crap,” Yang said, her eyes widening while she started to panic.  “Well can’t we like...undo it or something??”

“You can, but I don’t think you want to do that.”

“Why not?”  

“Because it’s painful and permanently scarring.”

Yang cringed at the response.  

“Why wouldn’t they put that warning in big, bold letters then??” she whined, throwing her arms in the air.  “‘FYI - this is a marriage, and totally undoable!’”

“Excuse me -”

Turning to the side, Yang found her friendly zebra official from earlier - who was still friendly but a little less forthcoming that she would’ve hoped.

“I have your marriage certificate here,” he said, extending the piece of paper to them.  When Yang numbly accepted it, he gave them both a big smile. “Congratulations to both of you!”

With that, he hurried back to the competition - which was apparently less of a competition and more of a life-altering event.

“Now he uses the word…” Yang grumbled before looking down at the piece of paper in her hand and thinking about something rather important.  “Oh god...your dad’s gonna kill me.”

Thinking about that statement for a little too long, Blake’s eyes glinted in humor.

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” Blake replied with a sly smile to go along with those eyes.

“l like that idea,” Yang quickly said, nodding vigorously.  “Because what he does know will hurt me.”

“Guess it’s our secret then.”

Breathing a small sigh of relief, Yang thought that was one less problem to worry about.  But the biggest one was...standing right in front of her.

“How are you so cool about this?” Yang asked.  “I mean, I know you’re always super cool about everything - but you’re not flipping out at all.  We just got freaking married!”

When Yang waved the certificate in the air, Blake’s eyes flicked to it before catching Yang’s gaze once more.

“Does it really change anything?”

Yang’s heart swelled with love from the simple question and the open affection in Blake’s eyes.

“No,” she answered with a smile, knowing that the answer was true.  Married or not, this didn’t change how she felt about Blake.  In fact, Blake’s response to the situation kind of made Yang love her even more…

Looking at the piece of paper in her hands, Yang smiled - until her eyes caught on something important.

“Wait.  This says the marriage isn’t valid until both parties sign.”  Holding up the page, Yang pointed to the last sentence.  “Did you see this?  If you hadn’t signed, it wouldn’t be valid!”

Looking at the certificate, Blake narrowed her eyes in thought before turning away.

“Must’ve missed that,” she said, smiling as she offered her hand to Yang.  “Want to go celebrate?”

When Blake gave her one of those looks, Yang’s heart beat faster.

“l hope you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking,” she said, taking Blake’s hand as they left the park together.

“I’m thinking...what do most newlyweds do on their wedding night?”

Stopping in her tracks, Yang pulled Blake back to her and quickly scooped her feet out from under her.  Laughing in surprise, Blake still allowed Yang to hold her bridal style - those amber eyes looking up at her in amusement.

“Pretty sure this is one of the things,” Yang said, before leaning down to place a kiss on Blake’s lips.  Pulling away, Yang smiled while Blake pushed a strand of hair behind her ear.  

“And that’s another,” Blake whispered.

“Now about that last part…”  Without setting Blake down, Yang set off at a quick trot for the hotel they’d been staying at ever since arriving in Menagerie.

“Yang, it’s like ten blocks from here -”

“And I just completed a feat of strength for you!” Yang replied, hugging Blake closer while jogging across the street.  “Pretty sure I can handle one more!”

When Blake laughed, Yang smiled.  Maybe she’d just done something stupid, but Blake was happy - so it was a success.

[gutterdreams]

Wrapped Up PT 3

Disclaimer: I don’t own Stranger Things. Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Lite smut, language. 

PART ONE & PART TWO

The hot water and level two jets felt blissful against your body as the half moon watched over you and Steve. It was the only spectator to a properly private night together. Steve was feeling confident enough to chalk it up as a date even if he still would rather talk you out on a “real” one where he knocked on your door first and drove you two to a second destination. Since you hadn't participated in any sport outside of gym class every other day at school, you had no idea why the hot tub felt so heavenly on your aching muscles. Juggling two guys at once was the only true physical education you were getting.

Steve's hands were politely on your bare back, constantly playing with the straps of your bathing suit, hooking a  finger underneath only for you to hike it back up over your shoulder. His mouth only left your for the occasional inhale of fresh air and then they came right back like it was his job to massage your mouth with his and he was being paid by the minute. Your knees rubbed against his side, the lower half of you both submersed in the water, but you moved your face away from his in order to push hairs fallen from your hair clip out of your face.

His hands moved down instinctively to your hips while you readjusted. Sometimes, Steve felt resentful that his parents were home so rarely, but right now, he was enjoying having the entire place to himself. He was already planning to take you upstairs, help you take off your bathing suit, and finally move things from stolen glances to fully having you to himself. At first, it just started out as flirting that helped pass the time, but it moved naturally into a school yard crush that he was sort of embarrassed about, but now he knew the taste of your tongue, the way you shivered when his fingertips moved one by one up your spine, and there was no turning back.

“Come back here...” He hadn't had your chest pressed to his in a grand total of forty seconds and he was feeling parched. Steve reached his hands out from under the water and reached them both to the sides of your face in an effort to pull you in for more. By chance, your eyes just happened to catch a number '5' on the face of his watch and you jolted away, you had been just an inch away from his inviting kiss and eager touch. You took his right wrist and brought it closer to your face to check the time.

It was 9:45 PM. You had plans to hang out with Billy at your place in fifteen minutes. Your eyes bulged out of your face the way Steve's had when you came outside in your bathing suit as he was starting up the jacuzzi.

“I have to go.” You slid off of him and waded through the water, wasting no time getting out and nearly slipping as your feet met the cold wood of the hot tub steps.

“What? Do you have a curfew?” Confused, Steve's eyes pulled his full face to follow you. “Do you want to call your house?”

“No!” Way to hastily, you refused while wrapping yourself up in one of the striped towels he brought out from the cupboard. Your clothes were in the downstairs bathroom still.

Steve questioned you silently, moonlight highlighting how bizarre he found your response to be. Then it hit him. You didn't want him to drive you because of Billy. It wasn't as if you were cheating on your grandparents with him. There was only one person you two were constantly hiding from. Steve didn't want to put any pressure on you to leave your boyfriend that he often considered to be a terrible excuse of a human. Steve knew that he was the one to instigate this whole mess, but it was beginning to annoy him – how he couldn't have you completely. He shared you like a swing set with the kid at the playground that ate his own snot. If it had been exciting at first, Steve now found it boring. He wanted to give you an ultimatum, but held back.

“Just leave your suit in the sink, I'll get it to you.” With the sound of defeat like gravel between his teeth, he offered from the center of the jacuzzi.

Feeling horrible, a knot twisted three times over in your stomach, you rushed to the edge of his hot tub and drew him in with the aching regret in your eyes, “I had a really perfect night with you.” Truthfully, you told him and then leaned in closely to suck on his lips, pulling him in so sweetly that his whole torso rose out of the warm water.

“Then, why don't you stay?” He pressed hie forehead to yours and asked, looking down at the minimal space between both of your wet chests, yours barely covered in his towel. “Tell Billy something came up.”

“I promised him - “

“You also promised him you wouldn't cheat and...”

Right away, you pulled away from contact with Steve, but not before sliding your eyes upward and making sure he saw how disappointed his words made you. While  he might have been telling the truth, it didn't make it feel any less awful on your heart. It wasn't as if you didn't care for Billy and his words made it sound like you didn't, as if he was just some stupid puppet to you that you used for sex and movie tickets.

“You don't know enough about mine and Billy's relationship to make comments like that.” Starting to dry off, rubbing the towel that had been around you against your legs, you scolded him with a stern, but cotton-like voice.

“I know that he must not satisfy you.” Steve said without thinking. “Or, I don't know, you can't be happy with him, not when you smile every time you see me the way you do, not if you're lying to him so you can kiss me, not if you're - “

“Steve, you kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.” He was not about to take on all the blame. It took two to make this web a tangled mess. “I know you want to be with me, [Y/N]. You're with him because it's comfortable, because it's easier than upsetting him - “

“I love Billy.”

“Really? I can't feel that when you're grinding up against me all night.”

“Steve, I really don't have time to have this conversation.” You took your hair down and turned around to march into his house, struggling to open the glass sliding door that separated the backyard from the rest of his house.

“Here.” Sighing, Steve started to climb out of the tub and walked over to help you in. As soon as he pulled the door open, you crossed the threshold, but he leaned in to keep making his points from earlier, “If you didn't have to see Billy tonight, would you stay here with me?” His eyes were begging for you to answer, his heart pressed up uncomfortably against his chest as he waited. Your face looked torn as if he was stretching the sides in opposite directions.

“I really have to go.” Instead of answering him with 'I don't know', you murmured and rushed to the bathroom. On your way, you saw the time on the clock up on his kitchen wall. You had nine minutes.

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

You saw Billy's car sticking out like a sore thumb right in front of your house. It might as well have been a clown car as it seemed to greet you as you turned into your driveway in your grandfather's car. You wasted no time getting out from behind the wheel and running to the front door. You expected to see Billy alone, rocking unamused on the porch swing that your grandpa made long before you were alive, but it was bare. You pushed the door open and saw Billy instantly, mullet tossing to the left as his head whipped around on the couch to see you.

He stood up slowly and started to walk away from the living room and his Cola can that was provided by your grandma to kiss you as you knocked off your shoes.

“I'm so sorry, I'm late.” The time on your grandfather's dashboard was off by hours, but you knew it was past ten. Billy just shook his head as if it was no big deal and leaned in to kiss you, your mouth accepting it with Steve's flavor still somewhere on your gums. His hands pulled you in from your t-shirt before both feet were out of their shoes.

“It’s alright. You’re alright. I know that car is on it's last legs.” He had offered to tune it up, but your grandpa was a man of very few words, always just brushing a hand in the air when Billy mentioned it. The two men, while both stubborn and quiet, clicked from the get-go. Your grandfather saw a boy who needed guidance and warmth as soon as he met your boyfriend and Billy saw a father figure. When your grandpa corralled Billy into the garage for a 'heart to heart' one afternoon after smelling alcohol all over him the night before, Billy had rolled his eyes and prepared himself to have to tell the old guy off, but instead they both came back with their arms on one another's backs, grins from one side of their face to the other. “Your grandma let me in. She made me a turkey sandwich.” He loved how they looked after him and wished he could stay there, but his Dad would never allow it. “Why is your hair wet?” His hand moved from your hip as he took a step back and examined you. You looked stressed from bursting through the door. Billy nodded at your locks and then drew a hand down the back of your head, catching the feeling of cold wet hair against his fingertips.

Your mind was racing, but it was just passing field after bare field. It was like cruising through Hawkins after school. You couldn't find a lie to tell anywhere. You could barely come up with real words to say.

“Um, I just...it's a long story.” Moving your head from one shoulder to the other in an effort to dry your hair quickly, you told him and moved deeper into your house. You knew it was not a good enough answer. Billy sat back down on the couch and you fell right beside him out of habit. It was like when butter melted on toast that wasn't even warm. “I got glue in it. We were making posters. I was trying to wash it out.”

“Where?” His bold brows frowned over his eyes as he looked you over, flustered cheeks and pruned fingers.

“Steve's house.” It didn't feel right to lie again.

“You were at Harrington's?” He hadn't been cross before when you kept him waiting ten minutes and he wasn't even moved by your reason for wet hair, but just hearing Steve's name and Billy's head fell back against the couch and his eyes shut as if they were weighed down like it was what he heard was just too painful.

“He is the senior representative.” It was always your reason for why you two had to spend time together. It wasn't good enough for Billy though and it never had been.

“I think Harrington has a raging hard on for you.” He came right out and said it, head up and eyes open. Billy first looked at the black screen of the turned off television, pursing his lips together as he remembered watching Steve talk to you through his windshield. Ever since Carol dropped the bug in his ear about Steve looking at you all the time and carrying your books, Billy found himself looking for signs that he never would have bothered to spot before. He had noticed Steve waving at you from classroom doors a handful of times and it burned like salt in a fresh wound whenever you waved back. He saw Steve looking forward to see you under Billy's arm on the bleachers throughout an assembly. He watched as Steve gave you a textbook out of nowhere in the middle of the halls, making up an excuse for why you needed it and not leaving until Billy stepped right in between you two and physically moved Steve away with a palm to the shoulder. Now, no matter what he did, Billy couldn't not see the crush Carol and Tommy pointed out to him. Even if Steve denied it or took up with someone completely opposite of you, Billy wouldn't buy it. “I don't like you going to his place. If you guys have to be on student council together, fine, but make it here, or in the middle of the road, somewhere public.” It was a demand. He wasn't just running an idea by you or expressing himself. Billy was calling the shot, his eyes slanting down to watch as you fumbled with your previously soaked fingers over your lap.

“Other people are on student council. It's not just us.” Like you had been caught drinking underage by a parent, you mumbled.

Billy was a second away from picking a fight. It would have been easy to reach over and crush the half empty soda can in his fist and then whip it against the TV set, but he grit his teeth and counted to ten in his head. When in your grandparent's house, he minded himself because he never wanted them to kick him out. This was his safe place.

“Let's just watch the movie.” He shifted closer to you on the couch and ran a hand down your head before bringing you into his side by the shoulder. “I don't want to think about you and Steve hanging out.” Steve's stupid smirk as he greeted you was hanging up in Billy's mind like an obscene tapestry. There was no show interesting enough to erase it, no playboy spread obscene enough to cover over, and no mental image of you that ripped it down. His insecurities mocked him from within.

Even with uncomfortable tension in his bones and a hidden sadness moving through him like food coloring drops in water, Billy would rather stay on your grandparent's couch than trying to distract himself with burning lungs and Anthrax's latest album, than staying put on his twin bed with Neil grunting into Susan on the other side of the wall and his dry thumbs picking at hangnails. He didn't know if he hated his own life so much that being warm in your house or better or if even being in a rough spot with you was better than being anywhere else. Billy didn't think about it too much, he just pat your shoulder rhythmically while you flipped through the TV looking for a movie that wasn't too far in yet.

You had both seen The Warriors before, so it was innate to move slowly against one another until Billy was on his back, both feet up on an arm of the couch while you were held tight to his body by the hips and your slumberous lips. Even in theaters, you two always wound up as tangled limbs and loose stomachs against each other. It was instinctive and made sense. Billy's hands roamed from your hips, one inching up your spine beneath your shirt while the other rocked you back and forth over him, making it plain that he wanted to move on from the couch and the clothes. He knew you had felt his erection from his already skintight jeans and now he was certain. The ball was in your court. If you wanted to go further, and he felt you would, you would make it plain back. It was a nonverbal conversation you two had been having with one another since you took up together.

“Yeah.” Breathy like a reflective exhale, you pulled away from his face to nod in agreement. With everything going on, the way you were running around behind his back with Steve, you felt a longing to be close to Billy, to remind you why you two came together in the first place, to bridge the gap that had formed somewhere along the way. You hoped by being close to him, it would all fall back into place and spending time with Steve or the way he looked at you would no longer seem as incredible as it did.

“Yeah.” Billy confirmed back and arched his back by pressing both shoulders into the floral couch cushion. He waited for you to get up off him and lead the way to your bedroom or the bathroom or wherever you wanted to be with him. He wasn't surprised in the slightest when you were walking to the door with a ceramic version of your first initial. After shutting off the TV, Billy followed behind closely, one hand reaching around your waist as you walked into the dark bedroom. Once the door was shut, he wasted no time removing his jacket and shirt, watching in between taking off the fabrics as you did the same. You kept your silk almost peach in color underwear on and stood still as he came at you quick, hastily, palms rushing fast and rough up your back and then sliding you down onto your made bed along with his body. This is where Billy felt best: he was in control.

Billy only leaned back as both your hands reached for the band of his briefs, pushing at the band in a greedy fashion. He grinned forward, over your white metal headboard, and felt your warm fingers rid him of his last piece of clothes. They were delicate and, perhaps, he melted into the feeling. He liked the idea that someone soft could see past his razor sharp edges and steel wool exterior, that a lamb could want to lay down with a lion. Billy's eyes shut as you sat forward, a solid grip on his hard-on, his breath slow while his heart rushed.

“Oh, Steve.” You murmured against his chest after pressing a kiss right above his pelvic bone.

Out of reflex, Billy moaned at the feelings of your mouth and hands teasing him, but his eyes shot open and his own grip took your wrists and threw them off of him. He jumped off your body and his stare stirred through your confused gaze. You hadn't realized what you had accidentally done yet.

“What happen?” Sitting up on the back of your palms, holding balance firmly on your mattress, you asked in the dark with the moon helping both your stares adjust.

“Did you just call me fucking Harrington?” He hissed at you, betrayal alive in his voice. “You said Steve!”

“What?” Bringing your face together like a wet dish cloth ready to be wrung out, you began to deny your mishap with dedication. “No, I didn't. I said 'please'. I said 'please', like I really want you, please, please, please.”

Billy didn't seem to be coming down any. He was huffing like a wolf in front of a straw house, craving a pork dinner. You sat up straighter and scooted to the bed's edge, reaching for his hands that had innately become fists from the first pang of anger.

“Billy, you're driving yourself crazy.” On purpose, you made your voice thick and pure like honey, like blood, and it seemed to bring him back to you even if his whole body was running at a hot temperature. He took your offered hands in his and brought them to his chest, laying them out so your fingers were straight on his abdomen. His heart was racing a mile a minute. Billy could go from relaxed to ready to fight in a nanosecond, but it wasn't easy on his mind or his constantly wound up body. To come back from that switch added an extra step, another challenge. “Please, please, please...” You kept saying until it sounded the same to Billy.

Eventually, you felt his hands come to the back of your head, playing with  your hair and then gently putting you to his stomach along with the hands he loved so much.

“It just sounded like...” Billy spoke in the dark, his voice grainy and unclear. His mind was still in the moment where he was convinced he head you say another man's name.

“Never, baby, never.” You lied and were surprised at how effortless it was. “You're the only one.”

@stevesharrlngtons @penguinlover15 @stephaniecats @daddyslittlemunster @desertsivan1995 @ineedacureforme @kaliforniacoastalteens @rosenelliott@mistressofmanyfandoms @makedreamsbiggerthanreality @galaxyplanttt @themonsterhobo @flirtygerty @fireismysaftey

[cheneyq]

Body Language - (Billy + Reader) Part 1

THIS IS A SERIES!! I’LL BE UPDATING WHEN I GET A CHANCE!!

Parts - 

Short Description – Sara bumps into the bad-boy at school, makes new friends and gets invited to a party.

Pairing - Billy + reader

Warnings - Swearing + Sexual remarks and scenes (Smut, not in this part) + Violence + There are Season two spoilers, so if you have not yet seen season two, don’t get mad, this is the !!!!SPOILER WARNING!!!!

(A/n) - Send me a message to tell me if it is good or comment on here. I am adding my old tag list, if you're not a Billy fan please comment and ask to be removed. If you like it you can comment and I'll add you. This started as a request and I turned it into a mini series.

Words –  1938

I DO REQUESTS!!!!! - Fandoms mainly include: Stranger things + Supernatural + Dexter + Vampire Diaries + The Originals + Teen Wolf + Tru Blood etc. (I do A lot more, just didn’t want to type everyone.)

"How could you be more of a dork than you already are?" Jonathan asks his younger sister, Sara, who rolled her eyes and climbs out of her brother’s car. "Maybe it runs in the family." She slapped back, not giving her brother a chance to say anything else as she walks off towards the old school building.

Suddenly a loud engine roaring attracted her attention and she turned her head to the side just in time to see Billy climb out of his car, looking handsome as always. Her heart fluttered, and she forced herself to look in front of her and ignore the attractive Cali boy whom she's been infatuated with for maybe a month now. Something she would never admit to anybody.

She smiled brightly at the sight of her best friend in front of her locker, his face buried in a science book he held up. "Hey Sean." She greeted, opening her locker and removing some of her books she'll need for her first few periods. His only response was a subtle grunt. "What are you reading?" She questioned only to be shushed by him, his blue eyes met hers.

"No distractions, Sara. A little birdie informed me that we might have a surprise pop quiz in science today." She frowned at him, "Then why are you standing in front of my locker?" Sean cracked a smile and side hugged the girl, "I wanted to at least see your face before I enter the hell zone." Sara smiled and turned to walk with her friend in the other direction, but instead she collided with something hard

"What the fuck, watch where you're going." She looked up from her fallen books on the floor into Billy's magnificent eyes. She didn't even stutter. "Maybe you should look where you're going, asshole." She scoffed. Not backing down. She might have a slight crush on his face, but she was no fan of his horrible personality.

"Excuse me?" He asked, raising a dark eyebrow. "Did I stutter?" She said and crossed her arms over her chest. Billy looked at a loss for words. He opened his mouth to say something, but she raised one finger and shushed him. "Rather not. You've already wasted a lot of my time,-" she bent down and picked up the two books on the floor "-I'd appreciate it if you didn't waste anymore."

Sean struggled to keep his laugh to himself as Sara stepped around a speechless Billy and Sean followed. "What was that?" Sean laughed. Sara blushed, "I don't know. Just didn't feel like dealing with more asshole guys today, Jonathan was more than enough." She admitted and stopped in front of her homeroom door. Sean didn't question her, just gave her a quick hug and walked off to his own.

The day slowly passed, and Sara found herself seeing Billy everywhere she went. In classes, in the hallways, in the Cafeteria. EVERYWHERE. And it started to bother her. Especially since every time her eyes landed on the boy, he was already looking at her.

Sara sighed as she slowly took her sweater off exposing her band shirt she rocked underneath it. A few girls caught a glimpse of it and snickered and whispered among themselves. Sara ignored it, she knew she didn't fit in with the rest of the crowd and that she was a loser or a 'nerd' like they would call her. But she didn't let that get her down. At least she was her own person and knew what she wanted and how to stand up for what she believes.

"No wonder she only has one friend." Monique whispered to her group of slaves and they burst out laughing like it was the funniest thing ever. Sara ignored them and pulled her gym shorts on quickly before they could make fun of her undergarments.

She placed everything in her locker and quickly locked it so the asshole girls couldn't get in there and mess with her shit again.

Sara grunted when the coach informed the class that they will start off by doing laps, as you may think, she wasn't exactly an athletic girl.

She started with the rest of the class and soon fell embarrassingly far behind the rest of the student body. Her face was on fire and sweat dripped down when suddenly she heard footsteps from behind her, someone was about to pass her. Embarrassment flooded through her as she tried to push herself to go faster but the footsteps got closer, faster.

Within seconds someone was casually running next to her. She looked to the side to see the one and only Billy running next to her, looking majestic as fuck with his hair bouncing around his head. "I really want to punch you in the face right now." She huffed and heard the boy next to her laugh, but he stayed running next to her until the teacher blew his whistle indicating that they can stop.

Sara fell down immediately and huffed, sprawling out like a starfish. "You're okay, right?" The boy questioned and she just raised her hand, holding her thumb up.

"What are you doing running with her?" Someone asked and you groaned as you sat up slowly. Folding your aching legs underneath you. You looked up as Monique forced her body as close to Billy's body as possible. You rolled your eyes out of instinct.

"She looked lonely." Billy stated with a shrug, of course he'd be fucking around with someone as shallow as Monique.

"Oh, she is always lonely. It's not fun being at the bottom of the social ladder, is it?" Monique hissed at you. For once you didn't have anything to say so you just stood up and walked to the other side of the gym as far away from the assholes as possible. You kinda wished you had this class with Sean.

"Okay everyone, partner up. We're doing some routines today!" Coach shouted and you awkwardly rubbed your arm, looking around as everyone found someone to partner with and you were left alone.

"Wanna partner up?" Someone asked you and you turned quickly, startled. Steve was standing there smiling at you, you didn't really have a choice. It's not like people were fighting for your presence as a gym partner.

"Sure." You smiled and nodded your head. "I'm Steve" he said and stuck his hand out, "I know, we've met." You said with a blank face as you shook his hand with direct eye contact. Steve blushed and looked uncomfortable. You watched as his hand reached up and his fingers danced through the mop of hair. "Sara, by the way. Without an H." You smiled, trying to be kinder. Steve visibly relaxed.

You were having a great time with Steve, smiling at things he said and comments he made about his 'ex' best friend Tommy. H. You were in the middle of laughing loudly, doing wall-squats against each others backs when you looked over and saw Billy staring at you and Steve while clearly not listening to what Monique was telling him at all.

"Byers, Harrington! Do you want to do more laps!?" Coach yelled at Steve and yourself who were busy talking intently about how boring English class was. "Sorry coach." You and Steve both said at the same time. "Yeah, you're a distraction." Billy pipped in loudly gazing at you from the other side of the gym. The way he looked at you made your skin tingle and heat spread out through your entire body. He winked at you then looked away.

You were actually disappointed when the bell rang indicating it's time to go home. "Well, I had fun, Harrington." You said and saluted him before walking away. Steve just laughed as he watched you go. Your entire face was blood red, not because of the exercises, but by the fact that you just saluted another human being who isn't one of your brothers or your only friend, Sean.

You found an open stall and quickly got dressed, deciding to shower at home. You left the locker room quickly and made your way to your locker to get everything you need when you saw Steve and Nancy walk towards you. "Sara without an H!" Steve greeted, "This is my girlfriend Nancy, and we were just talking." While Steve introduced you, you smiled at Nancy and shook her hand. "That you should totally join us at the party tonight." He said with a huge smile, his arm lightly dangling from Nancy’s shoulder.

"Oh, thanks! But I don't do parties." You said back, thankful for the invite. "It would be fun, you can even drive with us. And all the alcohol you want." Nancy insisted, smiling brightly. You couldn't help but think it was fake. "Can I bring someone?" You asked and both of them nodded. "Then sure, what time would you pick us up?" "Eight?" Nancy said and looked up at Steve for approval, Steve nodded.

You said your goodbyes and stopped at your locker, your stomach turning at the thought of going to your first party. You got everything you needed then walked outside, the warm sun feeling great on your skin.

"Byers!" Someone called and you turned your head, seeing Billy leaning against his car, cigarette hanging from his lips. Your eyes moved back towards your brother’s car and saw that he was not yet there, so you walked over to Billy.

"What?" You asked, trying not to stare at his exposed chest, rather resting your eyes on his damp locks from the shower a few minutes ago.

He slowly took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew the smoke out. "What are you doing tonight?" He questioned, catching you off guard. "What?" You stumbled, trying hard to recompose yourself.

Billy smiled. "Do you want to meet at the party tonight?" You frowned. "Meet who?" You asked, instantly regretting it, your cheeks heating up. "Me." Billy smiled and pushed away from the car, standing a few inches away from you, his tongue flicked over his bottom lip and you couldn't help but stare at his mouth as he came closer to you. The smell of nicotine attacking your nostrils. It was a welcoming smell, because your mom smoked.

Your breath got caught in your throat when his chest slightly brushed against yours. Suddenly Billy pulled away and smirked at you. Flustered, you scowled at him. "For a second there I thought something was wrong with you." Billy commented and leaned back against his car. "Now I see you want me just as badly as the rest of the girls at school here."

You were shocked as you watched him take another drag from his cigarette, then he dropped it to the floor and then stepped on it with the front of his shoe.

Anger rushed through your body as you stared at his cocky face. "Just because I was flustered for a second by your weird godly features does not mean I want you. You might be good looking, but that does not make up for your shitty, boring, regular ass personality." You spat, stepping closer towards him while you spoke. His jaw clenched.

And just like that you turned and walked towards your brother’s car. Where, luckily, he was not there yet. You leaned against your side when you heard the Camaro's engine roar to life and speed off.

You might not have seen it, but Billy stared at you like he's never stared at anyone before as you walked away from him, where you just slightly bruised his ego.

Tag List: @wontst0ptilwesurrender @moonysmemes @thinemineours @agirlwholovesfandoms @allkindfangirl @negroneon @0-lost-in-stereo-0 @fightmeandmy100fandoms @tiarrasmith @plantmumma @sebbysbucky @love-your-little-thingss @klassxies @lilo-1398 @captainspangles16 @weasley---twins @jhonnysodyssey @allybeario @gwendolyngonzalez @thehakunamatara @myshakespeareandarling @oldwanderingsoul @theecoolestgeek @writevanna @anamcg317 @tothetardissterek @lydiaforstiles @frickin-bats @afroditesx  @mooniessuniverse @klassxies @teenwolfimagination @shaerose98 @tiarrasmithxoxo-blog-blog-b-blog @top-spookey-dj @wishyouhadstayed @diamond-girl513  @redvelvetwithacherryontop @serendipity-moments @reclusive-chicken-nugget @yepthatsame @lahey-the-loving-wolf @cupcaitlyn96

[ptersparkers]

What a Surprise (Peter x Reader)

Summary: You and Peter both go to Midtown High and he’s got the biggest crush on you. What Peter doesn’t know is that you harbour the same feelings and Tony Stark is your not-so-related uncle.

Add yourself to my taglist!

***

Peter tried to keep his crush on you on the down low, he really did, but Ned and Michelle could see right through him. 

“You're staring again,” Ned whispered into Peter’s ear during fourth period history. You were scribbling down notes on a fresh sheet of paper and Peter couldn’t help but notice how you liked to colour code everything. 

“What?” Peter replied, snapping his gaze from you to Ned. “No I’m not.” Ned rolled his eyes. “You know, if you keep doing that, your eyes will fall out of your sockets.” This prompted Ned to roll his eyes again. 

“I’m serious, man. Why don’t you go and talk to her?” 

“I’ll make a fool out of myself.” 

“But you're Spider-Man,” Ned argued. “Everyone’s talking about you. You have so many fangirls who would kill to go on a date with you.” Peter swatted Ned’s shoulder. 

“She doesn’t know me as you know who. I want her to like me as Peter Parker,” Peter said, followed with a sigh. 

“Alright, class,” the teacher said, bringing Ned and Peter’s attention away from you. “With the slips of paper you received this morning, I want you to find your partner. You’ll have the same topic, and the report, and power point presentation will be due in exactly two weeks. You’ll have some time in class to work on it. Chop, chop!” Ned huffed when he saw Peter had a different topic than he did. 

Peter looked at different people and thought this pairing idea was stupid, until he found out you had the same topic he did. Peter did backflips in his head because this meant he got to spend more time with you. 

“Hey, Peter,” you said once you found your partner. 

“Hey, Y/N. Let’s get started?” he asked. You smiled and set your stuff down at a desk and began researching. Peter thought it was cute that you had to keep pushing up your glasses, which was obviously too big for your face, but he thought it was cute anyways. 

He knew you from freshman year. You had just moved to Queens and didn’t have any friends. You and Peter weren’t exactly friends, but you weren’t exactly strangers. A couple projects here and there granted you guys acquaintances. He loved that you weren’t snobby like most girls. He liked the fact that you never wanted to be like the other people and never succumbed to peer pressure. He like that you were the quiet type, always sticking your nose in a book if you weren’t talking to your friends. Peter liked you the way you were and desperately wanted to get to know you better, further than just a name-to-name basis.

This project was worth a hefty percentage of your grades, so the two you spent a lot of time together crafting the perfect presentation. You came to Peter’s house often, getting to know him more. Your uncle, Tony Stark, had teased you about seeing you with a boy, and you always blushed every time he mentioned “the boy you’re supposedly studying with.” 

“Peter, are you sure I can stay?” you asked when May left the apartment. 

“It’s fine. She trusts us, so she has no problem leaving us alone,” Peter replied, uncapping his highlighter. You shrugged and began typing on your computer. 

“So, what do you think about Spider-Man?” you asked casually. Peter’s ears perked and he looked at you. 

“W-What? Why do you ask?” 

“No reason. He’s everywhere lately. I’ve never had the chance to see him in action. He was spotted just last night, actually.”

“Really? Where?” 

“Around the sandwich shop you like. He stopped a bank robbery,” you said. 

“Oh. Sounds cool,” Peter said, trying to play it cool. He took a deep breath.

“I think he’s really cool. You know, always saving people from the small crimes. He takes care of the little guy,” you said, grinning to yourself. Peter grinned as well and blushed. 

Another hour passed by at it was nearing three in the afternoon. 

“I should get home,” you said while packing your belongings. “I have martial arts training in an hour.” 

“You fight?” Peter asked. 

“Not really. It’s more of self protection, if anything.” 

“Oh. Sounds nice. Let me walk you out.” Peter followed you to the front door and opened it for you. 

“Same time tomorrow?” you asked. 

“Same time tomorrow. I’ll be sure to make loads of coffee for you,” said Peter. You laughed and waved at him, waiting for Happy to arrive at Peter’s doorstep. He was there in no time and you climbed into the back seat. 

“Hey, Happy,” you greeted. 

“Hey, squirt. Natasha’s already at the compound so you can start your training earlier, if you'd like.” You shrugged. You both drove in silence for a few minutes before he put on a classic rock radio station and you both found yourself singing along. Happy opened the door for you once you reached home and waved goodbye to you as you entered the compound from the garage. 

After changing into workout clothes, you put your hair in a ponytail and met Natasha in the gym. 

“Hey, Nat,” you said with a smile.

“You’ve been awfully cheery for the the past week,” she noted. 

“Am I not allowed to be happy?” 

“Is it a good test grade? Did Tony buy you a car? Are you seeing a boy?” You blushed at the last comment. “So it is a boy. Tell me what he's like while we spar.” The two of you stood face to face and threw a few punches at each other. 

“He’s so smart. Wicked smart. It’s unbelievable that he didn’t skip a grade. Plus, he’s really nice and not one of the mean kids at school, like Flash.” You dodged one of Natasha’s punches and swung your leg underneath hers, to which she jumped. 

“He’s kind of quiet, like me. I don’t really talk to him, though. I guess we only started talking because of the project. I’ve been over at his place to finish it.” 

“You’ve already been to his house? You work really fast,” Natasha joked. You moved your body so that you could tackle Natasha and pin her down, your eyes looking down at hers. 

“It’s really not like that, Natasha.” With a mutual agreement, you both decided that was enough sparring for the day and you grabbed your water bottle. “It’s only for this project. I don't even think he wants to talk to me after. I’m so awkward and bad with boys.” 

Natasha patted you on the shoulder. “Don’t think about it too hard. I know I don’t have the best track record when it comes to men, but just know that he’s a dumbass if he stops talking to you.” 

Steve and Bucky entered the gym and Steve cocked an eyebrow. 

“Who is this ‘he’ we’re talking about?” You groaned and tried to exit the gym, but Bucky stood in front of you and crossed his arms.

“He’s no one,” you tried to argue.

“Do I need to beat someone up?” Bucky asked, looking at Steve. “I think we need to beat this boy up if he’s making our girl mad.” You rolled your eyes and looked at Steve. 

“Steve, Bucky, it’s nothing. I’ll let you know if I want you two to beat someone up for me, but don’t beat up this guy. He’s really sweet.” 

“All men are sweet until they get what they want,” Steve argued. You sighed. 

“Aren’t you a man? Aren’t you literally the most honest person in this country? So it’s really not every guy I talk to.” Steve opened his mouth to argue but closed it after having trouble finding an argument. 

“Be safe, okay? You know you can always call us and you know we’ll be there in a flash,” Bucky said. You nodded and awkwardly patted him on the bicep, desperately trying to end the conversation. 

An alarm sounded throughout the tower, indicating someone was trying to break in. Everyone looked at each other for a split second before you silently agreed that you would split ways, Steve and Bucky being hitters, and you and Natasha working at the computers to try to lock out the intruders. You both reached the main office where most of the computers are kept and took a seat. 

“I’m looking at the camera feed. It looks like most of the intruders are downstairs, but there are some who have reached the floor directly above us,” you warned Natasha. 

“Tony, did you hear that?” Natasha asked, noticing Tony was on communications. 

“Yeah, I heard. Spidey, swing!” Tony yelled. 

You furiously typed at the keyboard, writing every code and algorithm you could think of to shut the doors, lock the windows, and use any external weapons to keep the intruders out of the building. You yelped when the window in front of you crashed. A couple men had been pushed in by Spider-Man, who swung in shortly after. Natasha looked at you and warned you to stay low. You did as she told you and sucked under the desk, peeking in between the cracks. 

Natasha joined the fight. She and Spider-Man were busy fighting the intruders that they hadn’t realized you were there. You were intrigued by Spider-Man, however. You’d never seen him in action and Tony didn’t want to make him an official Avenger yet, so you never got around to get to know him. He wasn’t as experienced as Natasha, but he used his strength and speed to his advantage. His web shooters seemed to have a never-ending supply and he didn’t seem to get tired of punching this guy over and over again. After a few moments, Natasha had knocked the guy she was fighting out cold and Spider-Man was struggling because the man he was fighting had him in a chokehold. Without a second thought, you stood from the desk and grabbed the guy with all your might before punching him, knocking him out. 

“You okay?” Natasha asked you once she turned around. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you okay?” You asked Spider-Man. 

“Y/N?” he asked. You raised an eyebrow. 

“How do you know my name?” 

The alarm system turned off and FRIDAY informed the three of you that the threat had been taken care of. You ran down to meet everyone in the compound and ran to Tony, who was still in his suit. 

“Kid, I’m so glad you’re okay,” he said, keeping you in a tight embrace. Your phone rang and you glanced at the caller ID, and noticed it was Pepper who was calling. 

“Pepper, I’m fine,” you said. “Everyone’s okay. Just, get back to the tower, okay?” 

“Okay. I’m glad you're okay. I had a heart attack and I’m not really sure I got over that.” You laughed and hung up the phone, putting it in your back pocket. You looked over at Steve who had a cut on his forehead. 

“Let me get the first aid kit,” you said, reaching for the white box on the wall. The rest of the team sat around the couch to discuss what had happened while you worked on Steve’s forehead. Spider-Man kept his mask on and seemed to be staring at you while you worked on Steve. 

“Why’s the kid staring at you?” Steve asked. 

“Heck if I know,” you replied. 

“Y/N, if I could have your attention,” Tony said. You stopped and turned around. 

“You haven’t formally met Spider-Man yet, and I think after today’s events, you should. This is Peter. He goes to your school, actually.” The masked man unveiled himself and you looked at him in disbelief. 

“Peter?” He sheepishly nodded and pursed his lips. 

“So this is the Peter you’ve been telling me about,” Tony said. You shot him a warning look and he put his hands up in surrender. You left Steve alone, to which he protested, but Natasha finished what you had started. 

“Why didn’t you tell me Tony was your uncle?” Peter asked. 

“Well, he’s not really my uncle, but at the same time, he is. I mean, I think everyone would want to be friends with me because I’m rich,” you said. 

“And you had no idea that I was Spider-Man?” 

“I had no idea you were Spider-Man.” 

“So, you talk about me a lot, huh?” Peter teased. You blushed. 

“Well, I mean, I just -” 

“I’ve liked you for a while now,” he admitted. “I never really got the courage to get to know you better, but would you like to go out for dinner some time?” You smiled and nodded. 

“I’d like that very much, Peter,” you replied. Peter was happy you didn’t refer to him as Spider-Man. 

“Hey, kid, if you break her heart, you can say goodbye to the suit,” Tony warned. You shushed Tony and led Peter to the couch where you both got to know each other, leaving the rest of the team to both be disgusted by young love, but happy that their girl found someone to share her adventures with. 

[praphit]

Top BA's of 2017

Party people! It is time once again! to celebrate those who have been kicking that booty all year long. I'm talking about the Top BA's of the year! 　

Here's last year's list

These are the people who in real life would/should probably require serious counseling and or prison time due to their psychotic behavior, BUT, in our minds and fantasies , they have what we all inspire to have and always want more of... BADASSERY! 　

Same rules as always

1) Must be relevant!

2) Must have mad skeeulz!

3) Must be willing to bend or break the rules when necessary (so people like my main man Tom Brady, though he is relevant and has discovered the secret to never-ending success, domiance, and vitality... which is marrying a supermodel, being rich, and being white... I don't think we'd label him as "badass". "Great!" "Lucky!" - but not "badass". You get the point).

Big love to last year's #1 - Black Panther! He'll probably be back up here in 2018 with all he's got going on.

I think there's more black people in this movie than all of the movies that have come out this year (#hollywoodsowhite... but anyway:)

Now, before we get started, here are some Honorable Mentions: 　

The Rock - always an honorable mention (this year for Instagram and Jumanji), but never quite makes it on the list. Perhaps his suggested run at the white house might change that.

Mayweather & McGregor - a bit of a joke, but badass in their promo and in the fact that this thing even happened and was a success!

Star Wars: The Last Jedi (in general) - the force is kinda cheating though isn't?? - that's the only thing keeping any of them off the list. It's like steroids in a way.

All of the brave women (and some men) who have come forward so far and have called out perverted, powerful leaders in Hollywood. #metoo has been so impactful. It's an empowering time in women's rights.

Jesus - no not The Christ; having Him on this list would be unfair, cuz He'd always be #1. I mean Jesus from The Walking Dead. Still too pretty to make the list though. I really hope he gets turned into a zombie, but they let him walk about... being "Zombie Jesus" - that would make me smile so big. Kaepernick, mainly for his hair.

And Pennywise the Clown ("IT") - though he mainly picks on children. Step yo adult killer game up and you'll be on the list. 　

And with that! WE BEGIN! The Top BA's of 2017 are...

#10 - The Hulk

He's always on this list! - that speaks to his popularity and to his badassery, due to the fact that he was merely a sidekick in Thor 3. If he had his own movie (done with more talent and story around him this time) he'd surely be #1, and maybe even win an Oscar (it could happen, right?? Would you want to upset the big guy at the Oscars??).

Of course he's so distracted; running and lusting after that ScarJo lady... granted, that's our collective problem isn't it?? 　

#9 - Batman

Usually he's higher on the list. This time around, he's so old... and a little bit pudgy, you know?? - in the face?? - he's still fit and all, but he's probably been visiting the bar more than the gym.

And as they say, Father Time defeats us all in the end. Still though, he's badass enough to bring a team of super powered people together and make him their leader (even though it's debatable if they even need him), man enough to swoon Wonder Woman even though she could probably render him unconscious with a hefty sneeze, plus the city of Gotham still fears his old ass.

"Batman: The Senoir Years" they'll bring George Clooney back to play him... ... let me stop making fun of him, before he finds me and shows me why he's #9 on this list. 　

#8  - Eleven 　

She looks like she has been hanging around all of the wrong people lately. A moody, emo teen with super powers and a growing hatred towards the government. She just needs the right training to climb higher on the list. Where's Professor Xavier??

Well... unless he too gets caught up in the Harvey Weinstein storm. Can you imagine? - let's not imagine. 　

#7 -   Arya Stark

If this were a top ten scary people list, she'd be towards the top! She can best most people in combat who are two to three times her size. Plus, more pertinently, she cuts peoples faces off, and wears them as masks!

THINK ABOUT WHAT I JUST SAID!

I don't know about y'all, but when I was a teen, I was into girls, hiphop, and video games. I wasn't slicing folks up... I guess that's a win for my parents. 　

#6 - John Wick

Chapter 1 - they killed his dog, and he shot up half the city

Chapter 2 - they took his car, and he shot up the other half of the city For the good of humanity, people need to leave this man alone. But, for the good of badass entertainment (that's a good title, I wish that were a thing), please keep messing with this man.

Lord help us if he ever moves to my hometown (Baltimore), where people are guaranteed to ruin your day. He might literal burn this place down to the ground. He'd do it stylish and badass though! 　

Now let's take a break from all of this talk of violence, and bask in the cuteness of puppies.

Aww, right??! I'm going to get one soon; maybe a bunch! I think there's some study out there that suggests puppies are the cure for anger management problems. Perhaps everyone on this list just needs a puppy.

Seriously though... picture me holding a pug:) Is the world ready for that cuteness? - time will tell. 　

Now back to violence! 　

#5 -  Thor 　

Once way too pretty and lame to be on this list, but in Thor 3 my man gets a makeover. He started off the movie in a place that looks like one would think Hell would look, and he beats a super demon type character, and then snatches him away as a trophy. Imagine somebody walking onto a Hollywood set, beating up The Rock, and simply dragging him off. A person so badass that not only can The Rock not stop him, but security, cops, SWAT... nobody can stop him; we just have to let it happen.

Then, Thor lives some life, goes through some shit! - loses his dad, loses his hammer, loses his pretty hair, loses an eye, loses his home, gets his ass kicked by his sister (and normally he'd lose badass points for getting beat up by Cate Blanchett... that's like an mma fighter getting beat up by a soccer mom... you can't live that down BUT Cate happens to be the goddess of death! - I always suspected that! That's like a soccer mom possessed by ten demons!) - but that doesn't keep him down.

After all of that drama, Thor bounces back to not only save the day, not only save his people, but takes charge as well. BAD ASS! 　

#4 -  Logan

We already knew that Wolvy is badass! But, this year we got this badass mutant man in his first (and maybe his last) rated R flick. Despite seeing his badassery without censorship, he's not this high on the list due to his fighting skills. Similiar to Thor, he's on this list due to how he has endured! When we see Logan in the beginning of the movie, he's driving around annoying (possibly drunk) teens as a limo driver. We're talking about a man who has battled against Magneto, battled against the Dark Phoenix, saved the world... THE WORLD! - and has now been reduced to a chauffeur for drunk teens.

He has endured that awful first "Wolverine" movie.

And most of all, he has endured the future... and the future is not bright! Prof. X's dream is dead. With all that, we also have complex emotions going on. I ain't saying "Oscar", but this is one of my fave movies of the year:

Taking care of his recently found kid, looking after a group of kids (a lot of father's don't even want to spend time with THEIR kids, let alone a group of strangers). PLUS, the caretaker for a senile, out-of-control Xavier! - all of this while carving up bodies under that R rating. He was a badass nanny! 　

#3 - Wonder Woman 　

Let's face it.... WW was a joke back in the day. Chasing after criminals with no pants on, all glittery, with her boobs popping out - she was stripper. A super stripper, but still a stripper. They turned that bad joke into an awesome force of heroism. Not only is she the best thing going on in DC Comic movies right now, but she is debatably their best fighter.

There will certainly not be any sexual harassment going on in the Justice League (unless it's by WW). Anyone with wandering hands or eyes won't leave in good shape; we'll say that. If I had a choice between learning badass moves from an old, drunken, worn batman... or stylish, bold, strategic Wonder Woman? TODAY, i'd choose WW. 　

#2 - King Kong 　

Y'all forgot about this 2017 movie didn't you?? I reviewed Kong's movie earlier in the year. I talked about him ruling the island. If you think about it, he could be viewed as a representation of power men in Hollywood over the decades. Powerful, seemingly untouchable, fierce, and always chasing after some woman. But, let's not focus on the figurative:)

LITERALLY SPEAKING, he is an unstoppable force. If you're on Kong Island, he is your king. Remember how when Trump became president and people were like #notmypresident? - yeah, Kong is having none of that. He will fight and beat whomever he wants, he will bang whomever or whatever he wants, and no one can stop him. Sam L Jackson leading a force of gov't troops with big guns couldn't stop him!

Jesus (The Christ) said (paraphrase) that if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, that mountains will move for you. Kong can smash mountains pieces and throw them in any direction he pleases. Not only is Kong your king when you're in his presence, but he is your god! He will rescue you or smash you. He holds the power!

Isn't that kinda like the American Way? We want to conquer. We want to do it our way. We want the title "king". BOW BEFORE KING KONG OR I WILL SMASH YOU! "sigh" - what am I doing?? :) Let me hurry up and give Kong the #2 spot before I disgust myself and snatch it away. 　

Finally! #1 - After watching his recent Netflix series it was no contest for the top spot.

THE PUNISHER

Especially the last few episodes. He's not only shooting up EVERYBODY, but he's destroying people with sledgehammers, running people over, blowing people up, decapitating people, taking those heads and filling them with explosives, kicking said heads at his enemies, disfiguring people... I mean, there were moments I needed to look away.

I mean DAMN PUNISHER, they get the point... they won't do it again! He's like, "damn right they won't do it again." If it's a battle between The Punisher and King Kong, I'm going Punisher. He would find a big gun to take him down, and do so in horrific fashion.

The funny thing is that techinically The Punisher is under the Disney umbrella. I'm picturing the Disney crew having fun at a party, laughing it up, and in walks The Punisher with a necklace of ears, holding a severed head (possibly of a DIsney character), and smoking a cigar. He sits down and tell Mickey to get him a beer, and that mouse had damn sure better do it!

BADASS! BADASS! BADASS! 　 　

[lonelypond]

CROSSROADS

Love Live, NicoMaki main pairing, New 1Kiss AU story, 7K 

1Kiss (NicoRinPana) has been on tour for 6 months, Nico and Maki’s 5th anniversary is approaching and Maki finds herself struggling with both school and the absence of Nico. So she gets talked into going out with some schoolmates, which only makes the situation worse. More intense than my usual 1Kiss style, but I wanted to figure out the Maki doctor-music equation. And There’s a playlist.

LOST

1Kiss had been on tour for six months. Maki stared at their website. Winking and cheering for their fans were the grinning, vibrant faces of the three people closest to her in the world. Also the three people furthest from her in the world currently. Currently. Currently dancing their way across Canada, then swinging down to the US, then back to Europe. Another three months. While Maki sat here, alone, in classes, bored, useless, dreaming about … Maki shoved her textbooks into the laptop and stood, stomping, nearly screaming. She’d tried connecting with Nico tonight, but no response. And she’d been … out … last night, when they usually had their weekly catch up on everything call.  One they’d never missed until yesterday.  Well, Nico had been available …

Maki stopped, hands tearing through her hair. So much was racing through her head, and she hated not telling Nico. But Nico wasn’t here, and how could she explain it. Even through the laptop, the past few weeks, she’d seen it in Nico’s eyes, how worn out Nico was from Maki’s loneliness, the aching, the worries, the pit that Maki saw in front of her instead of a future. And as far as Maki could tell, Nico didn’t ache, didn’t tremble on the edge of a precipice, no, Nico was busy, active, happy, achieving her goals, losing any discontent in dance and busyness, and letting sharp, well-dressed reporters take her out to expensive restaurants for interviews.

Her phone. Her mother. Not a conversation Maki wanted to have. And a text message. Not from Nico, from … oh, Maki hung her head. After last night, she should have a headache, but instead, there just seemed to be anger throbbing in her skull, she just wasn’t sure what or who it was directed at. And Nico was in Toronto, probably being feted by someone who actually took the time to listen to her.

A knock, polite, then a pause and more determined. Maki groaned and opened the door. A very stern Umi stood on the sill, golden eyes concerned, umbrella dripping. Of course, it was a rainy day, all things ended in grey.

“Umi.” Maki stepped aside; Umi removed her boots and followed Maki into the apartment.

“Have you been on your computer?” Umi asked.

“Not really. Why,” Maki collapsed on her couch in front of her computer, back to disinterested.

“Kotori was right,” Umi muttered.

Maki’s head snapped up. “What did she say.”

Umi frowned. “That you needed to be hit upside the head by a dose of reality.”

Maki laid back. “Is that like rain? Will it drip on my floor like you?”

Umi ignored Maki, crouching in front of the laptop and typing, then she dumped the laptop on Maki’s chest.

Maki focused. There she was, last night at the club, in full color, oh God, she really did wear that dress, Nico-chan would kill her, and there was Yasu, sitting next to her, head on Maki’s very bare shoulder, shot glasses lined up in front of the bar, and then again, there they were on the dance floor, with Mi and Eiko …

“They’re my classmates,” Maki explained.

“Studying hard, I see.” Umi found another page, which had a helpful written clue, “Nishikino heir takes over club for wild night with girlfriends.”

Maki sat up, placing the laptop back on the table, and spoke carefully. “Yasu was having trouble with her boyfriend. She needed a distraction and a sympathetic ear.”

Maki’s phone buzzed again. Her mother. She ignored it.

“I have a dear friend who is having trouble with a romantic partner as well.” Umi’s voice was sharp. “I talked to her last night because she was worried. And crying.” Umi sat next to Maki, “This is information I was forbidden to share with you,” Umi had a look worse than any sad puppy Rin had ever sent a pic of, “but you are also my friend.”

“Why did Nico-chan call you?” Maki felt a few old resentments simmer, even as she realized how ironic that might seem in this situation. But jealousy is a hard habit to break.

Umi never pulled any punches. “I believe she said she tried to call you.”

Maki’s phone vibrated again. Umi snatched it. “Possibly just as your mother is now.” Umi handed Maki the phone. Maki typed in her passcode.

“Mama, I can’t talk now. I’m sorry. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Maki listened for a moment. “No I’m not alone … no, not … Umi’s here.”

“What happened?” Umi poked.

Maki shrugged.

“Maki.”

Maki closed her eyes, willing the tears not to start. “It’s just too much.”

“What is?”

“School, Nico being away, seeing her talk to people, flirt with everyone, sing … do EXACTLY what she’s always wanted while I’m …”

Umi was relentless. “While you’re …”

“Here. I’m here. Stuck.” Maki stood and shoved the table with her shin. Umi recognized the temper flare and grabbed the laptop before Maki tossed it anywhere or put her bare foot through the screen.

“Ah.”

“You don’t understand,” Maki snarled.

Umi stood. “Honoka and Kotori spent two years in France.”

“It’s not the s …” Maki halted, still not entirely sure what the combination of Umi, Honoka and Kotori meant exactly. If Umi had been anyone else, she might have raised an eyebrow at Maki’s hesitation. As it was Umi, she just waited, solid and unquestioning until Maki continued, “I’m frustrated.”

“With Nico?” Umi prodded.

Maki shook her head and decided to grab a cold coffee from the fridge. Maybe that would cut off the headache that was actually starting. She couldn’t remember exactly what she’d drunk or said last night, she just had an empty, foreboding twist in her gut that Yasu now had more information about Maki and Nico than either of them would be comfortable with. What had possessed her?

Umi repeated her question. “Are you frustrated with Nico?”

Maki banged her head into the closed door of the refrigerator, and decided to just be raw, it was how she felt anyway, and she might have told someone who was practically a stranger yesterday so why not share with a friend. “With not being able to to feel her breathing, to touch …”

Umi was silent. Maki glanced to the side. Umi looked physically pained, but she whispered, “That’s what Nico said.”

Maki stood, shocked. “What do you mean?”

Umi couldn’t look Maki in the eye. “I asked Nico what she thought was wrong, and that’s what she said, that you were probably frustrated.”

Maki’s lip curled. “Because she isn’t …”

“Wrong.” Umi’s eyes were steady and warm but unyielding. “Do you know why Nico called me?”

Maki shrugged. Why care anymore.

“I’ve been helping her with meditation and designing workouts to deal with …” Umi twisted her hands, looking away again, “excess energy. We talk every couple of weeks. She seems to be enjoying rock climbing. Most hotel gyms have a wall.”

Maki’s jaw dropped. Nico had mentioned a while ago that Umi had helped her develop a workout program. Maki had puzzled over that for a few days, especially since 1Kiss had a personal trainer.

“Nico’s going to start learning kendo when she returns to Japan. She works very hard.” Umi sounded proud of her pupil. Maki was still processing.

“So neither of us is happy,” Maki concluded, after slowly working through Umi’s revelations.

Umi raised an eyebrow. “There is no single component to happiness.”

Maki popped the tab on the coffee and chugged it, the chill waking her up a little.

Maki’s phone rang. 1Kiss’s first Hot Chart topper, “Cute Girls Kiss.” Hanayo.

“That’s Hanayo.” Maki tossed the can aside.

Umi nodded, resting a hand on Maki’s shoulder. “I’ll be going. I am available if you need to talk.”

“Thanks, Umi,” Maki smiled, a little.

Umi nodded. “You are welcome, my friend. Take care.”

Maki grabbed her phone. Hanayo had called again after getting the voicemail.

“Hello.”

“Maki-chan!” Hanayo sounded relieved.

“I tried to call Nico-chan today,” Maki blurted out; Hanayo didn’t respond. “How is she?”

Maki heard Hanayo exhale, she imagined the lavender eyes looking concerned over glasses. “She’s mad. And confused and worried. Rin is trying to cheer her up. Rin and I are worried about both of you.”

Something about the gentleness is Hanayo’s tone triggered tears Maki had been holding in for she’d forgotten how long.

“Maki-chan?”

“Just don’t … ask … I’m sorry … I just … I can’t talk right now, Hanayo.”

There was a long silence. “Call Nico-chan.” And Hanayo ended the call.

Maki did. Some days, following simple directions was better than having to dive into a whirling, stormy, rock- and siren-strewn strait.

“Maki,” Nico’s very controlled voice lashed painfully across all the raw emotions digging tears down Maki’s cheeks. “Are you all right?”

“Y … yes.”

“Good.” Nico’s voice was so cold. “I don’t have time to talk right now. Try not to let photographers get shots of the next set of girls you have draped over you. The questions cut into our sound check.”

“Nico-chan …”

A knock, hard and persistent. Nico heard it. “Have a date?”

“No … of course not, I don’t know …” Maki looked confused, between the door and the phone.

“Answer the door, Maki-chan.” That was the tone Nico used when she thought Maki was being hopelessly inept. This minute Maki was proving her right. She went to the door.

“Mama?” Maki heard Nico chuckle in her ear as she stared at her mother, who looked stern.

Nico snorted. “Call me back when you’re not grounded,” and she ended the call. Maki’s mother swept into the room.

“Was that Nico?” Accusations hovered.

Maki nodded. Nothing was going to help with the headache. Certainly not anyone she knew. And who else would show up next. Cocoro?  Oh … Maki felt a bit pale.

“Maki?” Her mother put a hand around her daughter’s waist, noticing the sudden shakiness.

“I have to go to the Yazawas for dinner.”

Her mother’s smile was grim. “Well, at least you’ll stay sober.”

“Mama!”

“Care to explain yourself?”

Maki opted for a kitchen chair. Her mother sat across from her.

“It was a late study session. Yasu was having boyfriend troubles, I was …”

“Missing Nico.”

“Yes.”

Her mother put a hand over Maki’s. “You know that’s not a solution.”

“There isn’t a solution.” No one was giving Maki any time to think. And she didn’t want to.

“Do you have class?”

Her phone said she’d missed her exam. “No.”

“Do you want to talk about anything?”

“No.”

“Do you want a plane ticket to …” her mother hesitated.

“Toronto.” Maki finished the sentence without having to think about it, and then met her mother’s worried eyes. Was this some kind of a fever, this aching feeling of being without Nico, would it go away in time, was there a cure?

“Well?” There was no sympathy in her mother’s glance.

Maki put her head on the table; the tiles felt cool. Nico had vetoed Kotori’s choice of wood and made Maki buy a table with nature scenes brushstroked across ceramic tiles. She’d been surprised by Nico’s choice but loved it. “No.”

“What do you want?”

“I don’t know.”

Her mother patted her hair. “When were you last happy?”

Maki’s response was, once again, automatic. “Touring with Nico.”

“Do you just want to follow Nico around?” Her mother sounded curious, not disappointed. That was unexpected.

“No.” Maki raised her head, energy coming back, “It was … we explored, we sat next to each other on trains, looked up cool museums, stared at different stars, Nico told me everything about her days, she set up master classes for me in practically every city, we curled up on sofas together watching silly things, I played pia …” Maki felt energy charging. “There was music.”

“Right.” Her mother nodded, a suspicion confirmed. “Have you eaten?”

Maki shook her head.

“Get changed. Let’s go get some food in you.”

“Okay, Mama.” Almost meek.

Her mother hugged her daughter impulsively as soon as Maki stood, before she could flee.

“Mama!” Maki struggled.

But Nishikino-sama refused to release her daughter. “You need to talk to Nico.”

Maki chuckled a little. “She said to call after I was done being grounded.”

No amusement tinged her mother’s voice. “You’re not 16. Don’t act like it.”

Cocoro glared, Cocoa was still for the first time Maki had ever seen, and her question was subdued. ‘Is your new girlfriend prettier than Nico?”

Oh gods, Maki would have prefered to face Nico’s phalanx of paparazzi. Nico’s mom stood at the end of the hallway, arms crossed, waiting.

“N … no …” Cocoro and Cocoa continued to present an unyielding wall of Yazawa disdain. Maki straightened up. “They were only my classmates.” Maki held out a box of extremely expensive French pastries. “I brought dessert.”

The younger Yazawa sisters turned in unison and went into what used to be Nico’s room, closing the door before Maki could say anything else. Inside, it was still aggressively pink, although most of the pillows had migrated to Maki’s apartment. Their exit left Nico’s mom. And a very very heavy silence.

“I regret that Cocoa and Cocoro saw those pictures.”

“Wouldn’t it be wiser to regret being in that situation?” Deceptively mild, not a safe question to directly respond to, Maki knew.

“I intend to avoid similar situations in the future.”

“Good.” Nico’s mom tapped a foot, “My daughter is very upset. She thought better of you. So did I.”

Her own mother had said something similar. Maki had thought it herself, staring in the mirror, seeing a near stranger, before heading out for this dinner. She had once thought better of herself. She had once felt in control. There had once been cool breezes, and Spring days, not stormy, drenched emotional avalanches.

“Maki?” Nico’s mom sounded worried. Everyone sounded worried. Except Nico. Nico had sounded livid.

Honesty. Default to that. At least then everyone would know where she was. “It’s been hard.”

There was a small flare of sympathy mixed in a swell of sadness in bright crimson eyes.

“Nico’s been trying; I’ve been trying, but I don’t explain things very well. And I know she’s getting discouraged because I keep …” Maki palmed the wall, but not hard enough to disturb the girls inside Nico’s room. “I keep getting low.”

Another silence, but then Yazawa-sama came toward Maki, taking the box out of her hand, “Cotarou has a new game to show you. He’s been waiting.” A pause. “And Nico never gives up on anything she loves. You know that as well as anyone.”

Maki felt the tears again, but this time they were a cooling relief, not another fever symptom.

NO SLEEP FOR NICO

Maki tried again, a third time. Nico’s phone had gone to voicemail. Maki quickly did the time difference; thirteen hours behind, Nico had had to travel back to Toronto after a concert, she’d probably still be asleep.

And there it was, Nico’s voice, grumbling and sleepy. “Maki-chan, Nico needs sleep.”

Maki opened her mouth to say “I”m sorry” or “Are you mad” or anything, but nothing came out.

“Maki-chan? Are you there?” Nico yawned. “Is this a prank call?”

Maki still got nothing out, Nico’s sounded like she was going back to sleep. “If you want to talk, or cry, or break up, text Nico, please. Nico will read it when she’s awake.”

“N … No …” Maki yelped.

“You mean Nico. You have my number.”  And the call cut off.

Maki stared at her phone. Even for asleep Nico, a person Maki had probably too much experience talking to, that had been cold. Talking to Nico without Nico here was impossible. Nico was hard enough to read. And she was angry. And when Nico was angry, she shut down. And Maki just wanted to hug Nico and never let go. Sure, next week, Maki planned to fly to Canada, to meet Nico for their fifth anniversary. But at this rate, it would be a nonevent. Text something, anything to Nico, Nishikino, she ordered herself. Communicate.

M: (´･_･`) Sorry about the call; I just wanted to hear your voice. And talk to you. About being an idiot ((_　_* I love you, Nico-chan ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ) I miss you (⋟﹏⋞)

M: That’s about me being an idiot ●﹏●. Nico-chan is wonderful (★≧▽^))★☆

A reply text.

N: Call Rin if it’s an emergency. (｡v_v｡)

“Call Rin if it’s an emergency.” Maki stared at the screen. She was scared. Was that an emergency? Maki sat on her couch, staring … was there a song for this? Shuffle. Beverly “I Need Your Love” Universe getting in a gut punch on a bad night.  Might as well turn up the volume. Maki threw herself back into the couch, the ceiling her new target, trying to picture Nico, to remember what lying next to Nico felt like, what laughter was … why had she gone out last night? To get someone to pay attention? To get Nico to pay attention? Well, that had the opposite effect. Nico was throwing up walls. Or was Maki just bored … and dangerously, recklessly tired of the same nights, the same conversations, the same worries and aches. The repetitive solitude. Now she was crying again. Pointless. No one to notice the tears. And Nico across an ocean, growing colder.

Maki sat up as the song looped again.  Nico would be in Toronto for the next couple of days, 1Kiss was using it as their base as they toured that region. Time to get on a flight and see Nico. It had been too long.

BAD TIMING

Rin had told her this was a bad idea, twice. And texted her. ALL CAPS. Maki didn’t care. She’d left her luggage in her suite at The Hazelton, changed into a nearly see-through shirt she knew Nico found irresistible, threw a hoodie over it, tucked her tailored trousers into boots and flashed ID at security at the concert venue. Nico-chan’s dressing room, check. Now to wait. Rin had said this was their biggest crowd ever, made sense with Toronto’s rep as a diverse, multicultural hub. Maki had enjoyed visiting here once with her parents and looked forward to exploring it with Nico, if she could … Maki sat in front of the makeup mirrors and noticed a frame with a picture of herself, taken at the beach last year, that she didn’t recognize. Maybe that meant Nico hadn’t gone completely …

The door opened, and Maki recognized the exhausted sigh.

She stood. “Nico-chan!”

“W … w … what …” Nico spluttered. Her costume, what little of it there was, clung to her, sweat was dripping off the tip of her nose, her eyes were brilliant rubies held siege by tired red lines, and her lips … Maki couldn’t help staring. And then Nico was right in her face, finger shaking under Maki’s nose, and all Maki could feel was amazement that Nico was so close, smelled so good, and Maki stepped forward, a move Nico anticipated from a familiar glazed over look in the amethyst eyes. Nico dodged, and Maki stumbled.

“You can’t be here, Maki-chan. No one can be in Nico’s dressing room after a concert. Nico needs her space.” Nico’s jaw was so tight Maki was surprised not to hear teeth being ground down. “That’s how rumors start.”

Maki knew what that was a dig about as Nico muttered, “Nico is going to have a long talk with Rin and security.”

“I’m sorry, Nico-chan.”

Nico shook her head. “Nico doesn’t want apologies. Nico wants you to be somewhere else. Tokyo, where you’re supposed to be. Or in your apartment, when you’re supposed to be, talking to Nico.”

“I”m here now. Talk to me.” Maki felt like dropping to her knees, surely Nico must see the plea in her eyes.

“No.” Nico turned away.

Maki pulled the smaller woman into an embrace. “Scream at me if you want, Nico-chan.”

Nico froze in Maki’s arms, and as soon as the redhead gave up and released the embrace, she stepped back, arm slicing through the air between them.

“This is Nico’s biggest concert ever, best concert ever, audience crazy for Nico, and she can’t enjoy it because Maki is in Tokyo with women crawling all over her, except Maki’s in Toronto, NOT LISTENING TO NICO.”

Maki’s eyes were wide. She’d seen Nico angry before, but this Nico didn’t seem to have any warmth left at all. It was all cold, loud rage.

“N … Nico … I never … I’m s … Nico-chan …” Maki floundered, then found something to save the moment, “I just needed to see you.”

“Hmmpphh.” Nico glared, reaching behind her to tear off her mic pack, throwing it at Maki, then came her heels. “You need to see Nico, how much of Nico do you want to see …” And then her arms went up, and her shirt … Maki fled to the hall, chest tight, breathing impossible, brain stalled.

“Maki-chan?” Hanayo’s voice was a softness in the echoing confusion. She and Rin had a furtive aura, caught lurking.

Maki’s eyes looked lost. “Nico-chan hates me.”

“Yeah,” Rin agreed, Hanayo frowning at her. Then there was the sound of something slamming in Nico’s dressing room.

“Someone who hates you wouldn’t be that upset,” Hanayo offered, sliding her arm through Rin’s.

“So she’s mad?” This was galaxies beyond any previous rage level.

Rin and Hanayo exchanged a look and then Hanayo spoke. “She’s hurt. And scared. And worried. We all are. Nico looks forward to your call every week … and she thought something had happened to you. And then …”

Maki felt queasy. One impulsive decision, so many ripples, so much hurt. Another slam. Rin shook her head at Maki. “And Nico’s mad. Really really mad. So mad.”

“Want to wait in our dressing room?” Hanayo was ever kind. Maki appreciated the offer, but Nico was going to have to go through her to get anywhere else. They had to talk.

Maki sat next to the door, knees pulled up to her chest. “I’ll wait here.”

Hanayo nodded; Rin chopped her on the head. “Don’t be a jerk, Maki-chan. We love Nico-chan.”

“So do I.”

ATTENTION

Maki might have nodded off, but just for a moment. Nodded off, but never got comfortable. How could she get comfortable when Nico was on the other side of the door, as furious as Maki had ever seen, because Maki had shown up. Maki leaned back against the wall, stretching her arms, listening for Nico. And the door ripped open, and Nico stomped by and a duffle bag as large as the Idol thumped into Maki’s shins.

“Do you have a car? Nico is starved,” Nico hissed. Maki grabbed the duffle and raced after Nico. She took Nico’s arm and guided her to the door.

“It’s been waiting.”

The concierge had arranged a driver and a nicely sportif car that fit the Toronto downtown aesthetic. Maki figured Nico didn’t need a limo screaming “look at me.” Since 1Kiss had actually started having fans who came up to them on the streets in nearly every city they visited, Nico had become a little more appreciative of privacy protections.

Maki opened the car door, and Nico slid inside. She put Nico’s bag on the front seat and greeted the driver, “Back to the Hazelton, please.”

“Of course, Ms. Nishikino.”

Nico had her arms crossed over her chest, staring out the window and refusing to look at Maki. Maki slid an iPad across Nico’s lap and handed the Idol her phone. “There’s the menu. Order whatever you want, even if it’s not listed, and have them bring it up to the Bellair Suite.”

Nico turned, her eyes wide for a moment, then she “hmmpphed” and turned her attention to the menu.

“The desserts are excellent. And they’ll deliver breakfast if you want it.”

“Nico can read,” Nico grunted.

Maki pressed against the door, giving Nico space, and watched couples walking down the relaxed sidewalks, wondering if she and Nico would ever be that casual together again.

Nico placed her order, but Maki was too lost in thought to pay attention. What had brought her here? Why had she agreed to go out with Yasu? A reckless mood, the kind that surged when her outlook was dark, nothing was challenging her, and nobody was there to … Nico, when Nico wasn’t there to be Nico. Vexed, physical frustrations too closely mixed with this feeling she kept getting, that nothing was resonating and medical school was a labyrinth leading away from everything and everyone she loved. Her mother had pressed the “did she see her future at the hospital” question, and Maki had for the first time demurred. Not because she couldn’t see her future taking over the family business, but because she couldn’t sense a path forward into that future at all. She could easily see the white lab coat and the clean floors and the fluorescent lighting that would make her eyes twitch from too many late nights, but she couldn’t feel herself taking the step forward into that hallway, some echo behind her turning the present into stone she couldn’t carve her way free of.  

The car stopped. Nico hopped out. Maki pulled Nico’s bag out of the seat and swallowed, best to make no assumptions. “Thank you. Ms. Yazawa may require a ride back to her hotel.”

The driver nodded. “Just let the concierge know.”

Maki slung Nico’s bag over her shoulder. Nico was wearing a cute pink and black over-sized varsity jacket with a 1Kiss logo on the back and pink Chuck Taylors.

“I’m on the fourth floor.”

Nico followed silently, until they got to the room. When they got to the first sitting room and Nico saw through to the second, she whistled. “This is big enough for me, Hanayo-chin, Rin-chan, and the rest of the crew.”

“There’s only one bed,” Maki said automatically as she placed Nico’s duffle on a couch, and turned to see Nico’s eyes flash at her.

“Nico will take that car now.”

Maki felt herself flushing. “I … I didn’t … I know … I wouldn’t …”

“Good.” Nico sat on the end of a tan couch, staring wistfully out a window at the night sky.

“There’s a balcony, if you want to see the skyline. And a kitchenette. That’s why I picked this suite,” Maki explained rapidly.

“So you could cook?” Nico didn’t even turn to raise an eyebrow at Maki, but her tone was dubious enough to get the message across.

“N … no.” Maki stepped into the other room. “I’ll check on your food.”

Nico had ordered more than enough food for both of them, so they sat at the table, opposite each other, chewing slowly, no words to share. Nico really was starved, Maki thought, noticing as the color came back to Nico’s cheeks.

“Is this show more difficult than the last?” Maki wondered, forgetting for a moment there was a reason for the weight of silence between them.

Nico looked up from her cookies and milkshake, startled.

“I haven’t gotten to see a performance yet,” Maki admitted.

Nico’s lip was a snarl. “Right, Maki-chan was too busy being a diligent student to pay attention to how hard Nico works.”

Maki’s voice had a tremor. “You were a continent away while I had school. And my break is about to start.”

“From Nico?” Nico pushed the shake away and crumbled the cookie.

Maki felt like slamming her head into the table. “From school. Not from Nico.”

“It looked like a break from Nico to me.” Nico’s pace was matter of fact, her tone frigid.

Maki stood, discouraged by bashing uselessly at Nico’s emotional fortress, hands gesturing wildly in the air. Balcony. Door. Fresh air, she needed fresh air, and space, and a minute to think if they were going to have this talk with Nico in sniper mode. But Nico wouldn’t give her that minute.

Nico stood, her voice finally afire with the emotions she’d been tamping down. “Tell me, Maki-chan. Why? Were you that lonely?”

“No!” Maki yelled. “NO!” A moment, a huge breath, and then right back at Nico, throwing all her own emotions into a desperate parry. “I wasn’t lonely. I wasn’t attracted. I was just … I just …” she felt the damn tears starting again, “I was just lost, Nico-chan.”

“So you don’t call Nico AND you went out in your sexiest dress with not one but three women Nico doesn’t know. Did you find anything?” Nico was small, and coiled, and fierce, all the astounding Nico Ni energy and charisma hammered into a perilous, cutting edge.

Maki stepped out on the balcony, tempted to close the doors behind her and just scream. She deserved this, Nico had a right to ask all those questions, but it wasn’t anything about anybody else … it was about this feeling, this empty, this inability to express herself. She found the fingers of her left hand in front of her, slamming through the air as if she were seated at a piano.  A tune in her head. Ravel. Slamming through “The Left Hand.” The start. The darkness. She needed the release. And a piano, not a damn kitchenette. And she needed Nico.

Nico was in the door of the balcony, chic in black shorts and an off-the-shoulder white lace tunic, one hand on her hip, one resting against the doorframe. The picture was one Maki had been dreaming about for months. Nico was breathtaking. And heartbreaking. Maki couldn’t touch her. Couldn’t reach for her again. Maki couldn’t articulate her feelings, physical expressions were too inexact. Not touching Nico was too painful. Nico was so close, sharp angles and soft curves glowing in the light, silky hair blowing in the wind, her sweet, sweaty, fruity smell a pull, but her eyes had no welcome or warmth. All crimson challenge, a challenge Maki was no longer prepared to meet. A challenge Maki was no longer worthy of.

Maki glanced away from Nico’s intensity, arms wrapped tightly around her own torso, holding everything together for just another minute, until she could flee. “I’ll get another room. Or you can call for a car. I’m sorry I interrupted your night. It was good to see you.”

And tears. End scene. Rush past the woman you can’t bear to either be near or apart from and then practically fall to your knees when she puts out a gentle hand to stop you.

“Maki-chan.” It was a demand. “Tell me.”

Maki had dipped to Nico’s eye level in her moment of collapse. The ruby gems were dark, a mix of emotions too intense for Maki to process behind their shadows. Nico’s hands were under Maki’s arms, and the small woman pulled her inside, to the couch. She settled Maki down and then sat catty-corner next to her, legs tucked under.

“Tell me,” Nico urged.

Maki rubbed her eyes. “My mom asked me if I just wanted to follow you around.” Maki’s eyes impressed on Nico the urgency and truth of her next statement. “I don’t.” A breath. “Well, I do want to be with you … but it wasn’t just that.’

Nico nodded, still listening. Maki pushed her hands into her the couch at her sides. One barely brushed Nico’s knee, but Nico remained steady. The weight on Maki’s heart lightened.  

“I hate school.” Maki just said it. Out loud. For the first time.

“Wh … what?” Nico shook herself, shocked.

Maki turned, and spoke louder. “I hate school.”

Nico tilted her head, cautious. “Does Maki-chan not want to be a doctor?”

Maki breathed out, rapidly and loudly. “I don’t know …”

Nico’s voice was gentle. “Did you tell your mom?”

Maki felt the tears again. “N … No.”

Nico hesitated. “Did you tell your ‘friends’ while Nico was worrying about you?”

Maki stared at Nico, surprised by the cynicism in Nico’s voice.

“N … no, Nico-chan. I don’t even remember anything I talked about. I just wanted … to not talk for once.”

“You looked like you were saying a lot,” Nico drew her hands together, pulling back.

That was it. Nico was never going to get past whatever she thought Maki had done. Maki propelled herself from the couch, heading for the door. She couldn’t go through this over and over, all night, throwing herself at Nico’s defenses. And then Nico caught her, arms as strong as Maki remembered, and Maki stopped, overtaken by sensation and hope.

“What do you want, Maki-chan?” Suddenly, Nico only sounded curious, her head pressed into Maki’s back as she tightened her embrace. Maki felt herself relax, just a start to the thaw. And then everything came out in a flood.

“You. Music. Freedom. Not stupid classes and stupid teachers and people who want to know all about me. And you. I just …” Maki couldn’t be still any longer.

Nico, arms still around Maki’s waist, walked Maki to the table. “Nico will make tea. Maki can keep talking. Nico will listen. Or Nico will not listen if Maki doesn’t want to talk.”

Maki let Nico sit her down. She was shaking. Nico kept her arms wrapped around Maki’s shoulders, whispering, “But I’ll be right here, Maki-chan. It’s okay. Nico loves you.”

“Nico-chan.” The sobs started, and Nico pulled Maki’s chair around so she could hold the hysterical redhead, continuing to murmur endearments into Maki’s hair.

Then there was calm. Nico was kneeling on the ground in front of Maki’s chair, forearms resting on Maki’s thighs. “Maki-chan,” she urged, her voice tender.

“I … I’m sorry.” Maki stared over Nico’s shoulder.

Nico giggled. “Maki-chan is cute even like this. Nico is just glad to be the one Maki is crying on.”

Maki grabbed Nico and pulled her onto her lap, hugging the air out of Nico.

“MAKI! Nico needs those ribs. I have a show tomorrow.”

Maki refused to let go, although she did ease her grip.

Nico put both hands on Maki’s cheeks and pulled her in for a lingering kiss before chirping cheerfully, “The Number One Idol in the Universe has a genius for a girlfriend. We can figure this out.”

Maki wasn’t really listening, her head buzzing and her lips tingling. Nico recognized the fugue state and stood up. “Maki-chan, Nico is making tea, Maki-chan is talking, telling Nico what’s been going on without Nico, then there will be more kissing.”

Maki grabbed Nico’s hand. “Promise, Nico-chan?”

Nico grinned, “Guaranteed.” Nico kissed the palm of her lover’s hand, and Maki took a deep breath as Nico started filling the electric kettle at the sink. “Go wash your face, Princess, you’ll feel better. Then Nico will rescue you again.”

Maki nodded. Cold water would help. And maybe the balcony. “Bring the tea outside?”

Nico saluted with a wink. “You got it, Maki-chan.”

RELEASE

Nico took longer than expected, but she also brought out the leftover doughnuts. “Eat something, Maki-chan.”

Maki didn’t really like the sweet, but food made her feel a little less shaky. “Thanks, Nico-chan.”

Nico nodded, her tone serious. “So now that you’re a fugitive from Tokyo, what are you going to do?”

Maki sniggered. “I am not a fugitive, Nico-chan.”

“Here you are, on another continent, hiding from school. And cute girls. Because you know Nico will protect you.” Nico leaned back against the balcony, hands on her hips, chest proudly puffed out.

Maki chuckled. Laughing was so much better than crying. “They aren’t cute. Nico-chan defines cute. But Nico-chan always does save me.”

Nico’s nod of acknowledgement was quick, and she pecked Maki on the cheek as a reward before sitting in the other chair. “You used to love school.”

Maki-chan shrugged. “School was something you had to do. It was okay. And then there was μ’s.”

Maki had such a sweet smile remembering μ’s that Nico fell in love with the hidden softness of an imposing, impossible-to-ignore stranger all over again. “Third year must have been tough, eh, Maki-chan?”

“I had cram school and exams to study for … it passed.” Maki lowered her head, trying not to sink back into memories of solitude and sadness. But then Nico’s voice threw her a lifeline.

“Do you want to be a doctor?”

Maki leaned back, staring intently into the sky as if to divine an answer from the stars. “I like the hospital. I grew up there. I want to help people.”

Nico’s comments were gentle, trail signs to help Maki find her way out of darkness. “Maki knows Nico helps people. Besides Maki-chan.”

Maki reached out a hand, squeezing Nico’s. “Nico-chan is the best, always wanting to make people happy.”

“You can too.”

“How, Nico-chan? Write songs for 1Kiss? Idol music makes people smile, it doesn’t actually heal them.” Maki did miss writing for Nico and 1Kiss occasionally, but she’d been happy to move on to new adventures when college had started.

No one should sound that weary at 20, Nico decided. No wonder Maki had tried and – being Maki – failed miserably at a wild night on the town. Hanayo had done better when she turned 20, Nico still shuddered at the memory of the look on Rin’s face when a drunk and dizzy Hanayo had bumped into one of her favorite Idols at an afterparty. Rin and Nico had been roommates for a few nights after that.

“First of all, Maki-chan,” Nico stood, perching on the balcony edge and facing Maki, “Nico’s smile and voice DO have healing powers. Don’t insult Nico. You know better.”

Maki muttered something, eyes half closed. Nico decided not to push the redhead on that point. She’d get an apology later. The thought made her grin, dangerously,  and Maki began to look wary.

“Isn’t dead guy music good for your brain?” Nico wondered. Maki knew the “dead guy music” reference was her fault, from what seemed like a very long time ago, but Nico had latched onto it far too strongly. “It always puts Nico to sleep.” Then Nico posed dramatically, finger in front of pursed lips. “But didn’t Nico read somewhere that music therapy helps depressed patients and stroke victims get better?”

“Classical music and music therapy are two different things. Too many people think music therapy is just entertainment and has no clinical value.”

“Can’t Maki-chan do both? Help people with songs instead of scalpels? Change people’s minds?”

Maki leaned forward, flummoxed. “I don’t know, Nico-chan. I never thought about it.”

“Well,” Nico stretched out her arms, lacing her fingers together, “Maki-chan can take some time to consider Nico’s insightful suggestion. Nico will be here to consult.”

Maki hmmmmed and nodded. Nico sat opposite, watching Maki’s amethyst eyes slowly regain their sparkle as ideas danced across them. Then she leapt, sitting across Maki, pushing the redhead back into her chair. “But for now, Nico-chan needs someone to carry her bag for the rest of the tour. Want a job?”

Maki grinned, her heart doing flips in her chest, her lips moving closer to Nico’s. “I’m terribly expensive.”

The sigh in response was dramatic, and, of course, perfectly suited the mood, “Nico knows.” Nico leaned in, one hand tracing a line down the front of Maki’s shirt. “And Maki knows Nico finds that shirt terribly tantalizing.”

Maki shivered as Nico’s hand roughly brushed across a breast. “Nico-chan’s vocabulary is impressive.”

Nico’s hand slid under the shirt, her mouth hovering near Maki’s ear. “Nico has had far too much time to think about Maki.” Nico’s fingers began deftly unbuttoning, as Maki found herself straining to get closer to Nico, but then both Nico’s hands were stroking lightning over Maki’s skin, and the stars were spinning, and Maki was collapsing back into the chair, Nico’s agile lips a sharp, spiking pleasure as they darted from lips to throat to shoulder and back.

“Nico-chan,” Maki gasped as Nico’s knee slid into the chair, Nico leaning her weight into a kiss that dissolved Maki into waves storming against Nico, who met every surge with renewed vigor. They were going to be on the ground soon, rolling up against the balcony wall, Maki knew, and she was going to be screaming Nico’s name so loud it could be heard over the crash of Niagara Falls, and then Nico pulled her up, and somehow Maki fell through three rooms into a bed and Nico was there, everywhere, hands and lips and legs and …

Nico-chan … Maki sat straight up, silky sheet draped over most of her, suddenly awake and fearful that none of tonight had happened. But she felt Nico, right there, solid, next to her, one eye open.

“Maki-chan?”

“Sorry. Just a bad dream.”

Nico nodded, patting the bed next to her. “Come back to sleep, Maki-chan. I missed holding you.”

Maki stared down at Nico, black hair across her eyes, half a sleepy smile. “I love you, Nico-chan.”

“I love you.” Nico reached up and pulled Maki down into a kiss.

Maki remembered something and hesitated. “Nico-chan?”

“Yes?”

“Umi and Honoka and Kotori … what exactly … Umi said …”

Nico looked more awake – and cautious. “Nico-chan will explain it when Maki is older.”

“Nico-chan,” Maki chided her lover.

“Nico needs her beauty sleep.” Nico closed her eyes.

Maki grabbed a pillow, trying to sound threatening. “Nico-chan.”

Maki thought Nico had fallen asleep again, but suddenly Nico’s arms were around her waist, and Maki found herself, once again, pushed into the bed, Nico’s eyes a fiery mix of mischief and thirst. “Fine, If Maki won’t let Nico sleep, Nico will do other things.”

“Nico-chan …” Maki couldn’t look away, breathless and melting again. And then Nico leaned in, kissing her, and that feeling came back, the flood of confidence and surety, as she and Nico crashed into each other, a crescendo of motion and inspiration and love.

[mysteryshelf]

BLOG TOUR - Duplicity

Welcome to

THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF!

  DISCLAIMER: This content has been provided to THE PULP AND MYSTERY SHELF by Partners in Crime Book Tours. No compensation was received. This information required by the Federal Trade Commission.

Duplicity

by Jane Haseldine

on Tour July 1-31, 2017

Synopsis:

In Jane Haseldine’s new novel of riveting suspense, Detroit newspaper reporter Julia Gooden is up against the city’s most devious criminal—and her own painful past. Julia Gooden knows how to juggle different lives. A successful crime reporter, she covers the grittiest stories in the city while raising her two young boys in the suburbs. But beneath that accomplished façade is another Julia, still consumed by a tragedy that unfolded thirty years ago when her nine-year-old brother disappeared without a trace.

Julia’s marriage, too, is a balancing act, as she tries to rekindle her relationship with her husband, Assistant District Attorney David Tanner, while maintaining professional boundaries. David is about to bring Nick Rossi to trial for crimes that include drug trafficking, illegal gambling, and bribery. But the story becomes much more urgent when a courthouse bomb claims several victims—including the prosecution’s key witness—and leaves David critically injured.

Though Julia is certain that Rossi orchestrated the attack, the case against him is collapsing, and his power and connections run high and wide. With the help of Detective Raymond Navarro of the Detroit PD, she starts following a trail of blackmail, payback, and political ambition, little imagining where it will lead. Julia has risked her career before, but this time innocent lives—including her children’s—hang in the balance, and justice may come too late to save what truly matters…

What Reviewers are Saying about Duplicity:

“Haseldine has a gift for atmosphere, setting, and suspense, and the many twists and turns will keep readers guessing.”—Library Journal

“Julia, introduced in The Last Time She Saw Him (2016), is ferociously bold and persistent as she deals with professional and personal adversity laced with duplicity in this action-packed, plot-driven mystery. This is hard-bitten crime fiction with changes ahead for its unrelenting series protagonist.”—Booklist

“Haseldine (The Last Time She Saw Him, 2016) uses her experience as a crime reporter to bring authenticity to this exciting and gritty tale.”—Kirkus Reviews

Book Details:

Genre: Mystery Published by: Kensington Publishing Publication Date: April 2017 Number of Pages: 352 ISBN: 149670407X (ISBN13: 9781496704078) Series: Julia Gooden Mystery #2 | Duplicity can be read as a stand alone novel Purchase Links: Amazon 🔗 | Barnes & Noble 🔗 | Goodreads 🔗

Read an excerpt:

Chapter 1

Glenlivet, light on the rocks. A cocktail waitress with bright fuchsia lipstick delivers the drink and motions her head in the direction of the aged fifty-something women two tables down. The recipient of the cocktail turns his head toward the hoots and low whistles from the likely recent divorcees who are ogling him like a lusty spectator sport.

“Want to join us, hon?” the ringleader asks and adjusts her leopard print halter-top to reveal an extra inch of orange, tanned cleavage. In case her intent wasn’t clear enough, the woman scoops a sugar cube from her champagne cocktail, places it between her teeth and starts sucking.

“No thank you,” the businessman answers coolly and places the unwanted drink back on the cocktail waitress’ tray.

He turns his back on the spurned women and locks in on a tall, willowy blond in a white dress that clings to her slender curves as she moves fluidly across the casino floor in his direction.

She pauses at his table, slides into the empty seat across from him and carefully tucks a leather briefcase between her legs.

The rowdy commotion from the neighboring table of women abruptly stops as they wordlessly concede, they’ve been bested by a thoroughbred.

The businessman slips an Italian charcoal grey suit coat over his tall and tightly muscled frame. He tips back the last few sips of the drink he ordered for himself ten minutes earlier and heads toward the lobby, not bothering to look back. He knows the blond will follow.

In the elevator, the mouth of a camera lens captures its occupants’ activities. The pair stand close, but just far enough apart so it doesn’t look obvious they are together, just two attractive strangers in an elevator heading up to their respected rooms. The blond stunner holds the briefcase in her left hand and takes a risk. She lifts her pinky finger up and brushes the back of the businessman’s hand for less than a second.

The elevator arrives on the VIP floor, the best the MGM Grand has to offer.

The blond bends down, slides a key out of the front pocket of the briefcase and opens the hotel room door. Inside, the man stands in front of the floor to ceiling windows. He takes a quick pan of downtown Detroit and then snaps the curtains shut. When it is safe, when they are alone, the blond, now anxious and wanting, drops the briefcase and goes directly for his zipper.

“Wait.” He takes the briefcase over to the bed, opens it, and fans the stack of bills across the mattress like a seasoned blackjack dealer some thirty stories below.

“Two million. You don’t trust me now?” the woman asks with a contrived pout.

He ignores the question until the cash has been fully accounted for.

“Come here,” he commands.

He starts to remove his coat, but she is already there.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers and cups her long, delicate fingers around his crotch.

He reciprocates by running his hand across the thin silk of her dress directly over her breast, and then squeezes until the blond lets out a gasp.

The blond easily submits when the man pushes her down hard on the bed, letting him believe he still has the upper hand, that he is the aggressor. She stares up at his beautiful face, his breath coming faster now as his body starts to move in a rapid, steady rhythm above her. She doesn’t mind when he closes his eyes. He wants her again, reestablishing her position of control, at least for now. That’s all that matters.

When they are finished, the businessman turns toward the wall in disgust.

“I knew you weren’t through with me yet,” she says. “You take all your hostility out on me in bed. You’re a rough boy, but I like it.”

He ignores her, gets up from the bed, still naked, and heads to the bathroom. The blond is useless to him now. She knows it but still holds on.

“The birthmark on your ass is so sweet. It looks like a crescent moon with a shooting star underneath,” she remarks. “Come back to bed and let me take a closer look.”

The man spins around, anger flashing in his eyes as if the blonde’s comment violated something personal.

“Shut up,” he says.

“No need to talk dirty to me. You know I’ll give you what you want, as long as you give me my share of the money.”

“When it’s over, you’ll get it. That’s the agreement.”

“How do I know you won’t screw me?”

“Because I’m not that guy. The money will be in a safe place.”

“I want access to it.”

“I don’t think so.”

The door to the bathroom slams shut and she is dismissed. Inside the shower, he scrubs every trace of the woman off his body, hoping she will be gone when he comes out. But the blond is still in bed. At least she is sleeping.

The businessman climbs back into his suit, grabs the briefcase and closes the hotel room door quietly behind him. The second elevator in the hallway opens and he disappears inside just as elevator one chimes its arrival to the VIP floor. Its single occupant emerges, a man, squat and thick but moving swiftly like a gymnast. He wears all black, a bulky windbreaker, sweatpants and a baseball cap as if he’s just come from the hotel gym. He lets himself into a room with a key he extracts from a bulky fanny pack that flanks his waist. Inside, he quickly assesses the scene, pulls a tiny camera out from its hiding place inside a fake antique clock on the dresser and tucks it into his coat pocket.

He then retrieves a razor blade and scarf from the pack and heads toward the bed where the blond is still sleeping.

The man moves silently as he eases his body onto the bed. He inches forward across the mattress and then straddles the blond with his hips, locking her in place until she is prone and pinned to the bed. Without opening her eyes, she smiles, thinking her lover has returned. She flicks her tongue across her lips and then opens her mouth expectantly.

“Shhh,” he whispers. “You pay now. We know what you did.”

The woman’s eyes fly open, and she tries to scream out her assailant’s name, but he cuffs one stubby hand across her mouth before she can utter a word. He lifts the razor from his pocket and begins to gently slide the unsharpened side of the blade down her stomach until it reaches the top of her public bone.

“Please!” she begs. “I’ll give you what you want.”

The razor stops short before it makes its final descent.

His breath is warm and steady against her ear. “How do you know what I want?”

“Money. I’ll give it to you.”

He pauses as though considering the request and flicks the dull side of the blade back and forth across her skin.

“God, please. You don’t want money then. Okay. Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”

He shakes his head and teases the sharp edge of the razor blade against her leg.

“Who is it?” he whispers as the razor makes a tiny, precise knick on the inside of her thigh, drawing a single drop of blood that trickles down her ivory skin like a crimson teardrop.

“The name. I’ll give you the name!” she pleads. “Sammy Biggs, the Butcher. He’s the one. I just found out, I swear. I didn’t betray you. He did. Now please! Let me go.”

The hired hand sighs deeply, as if savoring an indulgent pleasure, now finally satisfied. But not quite. Lessons must be learned and never forgotten. The man stuffs the scarf down the woman’s mouth to muffle the pain of her penance. It is engrained in his soul those who sin must atone. He clasps the razor blade between his thumb and middle finger and cuts the blonde’s left earlobe off in one clean slice.

“Hail Mary, full of grace,” he prays as he pulls out a locket from underneath his black T-shirt. He kisses a likeness of the face of the blessed Virgin Mary etched into the front of the gold necklace charm and stuffs his newly won keepsake from the blond into his pocket.

Chapter 2

Concrete, grey, cold, and quickly passing is the only thing Julia sees. The running started the previous summer when she was at the lake house, the place she mistakenly thought would be a sanctuary for her boys after the separation from her husband David.

The runs started as just one lap around the rocky coastal loop along Lake Huron. But when Julia migrated back to the Detroit suburbs for a second shot at her marriage, her runs progressed and three times a week turned into seven and the start times became earlier and earlier.

Five a.m. Julia conquers the stretch of her Rochester Hills comfortable suburban neighborhood within five minutes. She expands her perimeter to downtown and then all the way to the Auburn Hills border. Ten miles today. No negotiation.

Julia races through the darkness just starting to break and ignores everything she passes, the funky downtown stores, the tidy homes with daily papers waiting on the icy driveway blacktops and the Assembly of God church with its bulletin board warning “Sin: It Seemed Like A Good Idea At The Time.”

None of the scenery matters. The steady rhythm of her sneakers pounding against the concrete pushes Julia forward, getting her closer to some invisible finish line as she race her one constant opponent: herself.

Spring officially arrived in Michigan a week prior, but the depressing mounds of frozen grey snow from another cruel Midwestern winter obviously didn’t get the memo. Julia pushes herself harder and starts to sprint as she passes her oldest son Logan’s middle school, her half-mile mark to home, and breathes in deeply. The cold air stings as it goes down, but it’s worth it. Julia is certain she can smell the beginnings of the ground starting its impatient thaw and the bulbs, in a deep slumber since October, beginning to stir. Change is coming and she is ready for it.

A car drives by slowly, reaches the corner and then turns back around in her direction. Julia instinctively moves away from the curb and reaches down toward her waist pack. Instead of a water bottle, Julia packs protection, pepper spray and a folding knife with a three-inch blade. Paranoia always ran hard and deep after what happened to her brother when Julia was a little girl, compounded by twelve years covering the crime beat, not to mention a deranged religious fanatic who kidnapped her youngest son. For Julia, it all adds up to one thing: Trust no one.

The car slows to a crawl as it approaches a second time. A dark sedan, nondescript, probably a Ford model about five-years-old with tinted windows, Julia calculates as her hand sweeps inside her pack. She runs her fingers across the flat side of the knife’s blade as the car’s driver side window opens.

“Hey, Gooden, I thought that was you. If you’re going to jog in the dark, you better wear brighter colors or you’re going to get mowed down out here,” Detroit Police Detective Leroy Russell says. Julia recalls Russell lives somewhere in the Rochester Hills community, where his ex-wife is an assistant professor of journalism at Oakland University.

Julia finally exhales, her breath turning into a puff of white that disappears into the frigid late March morning. Now knowing she won’t have to engage in hand-to-hand combat, Julia fixes her gaze back on Russell whose trademark Mr. Clean buzz cut looks freshly-shaven. She feels the sting of adrenaline coursing through her body as the fear leaves her.

She begins to respond to Russell when the smell hits from the open car window. Julia makes out the distinct aroma of almost metabolized late-night, heavy drinking and Old Spice, the latter applied so liberally, it makes her eyes sting.

“How are you doing, Russell?” Julia asks. “Are you on the early shift?”

Russell reaches toward his glove compartment and extracts a green bottle of Excedrin which he pops open and then crushes four white tablets under his tongue.

“Retirement party last night for Sergeant Walter Shaw,” Russell explains. “I’m meeting Navarro for breakfast, so hopefully an order of scrambled eggs and home fries will soak it all up before a hangover hits.”

“You and Navarro are meeting up to discuss the Rossi trial,” Julia states, no question necessary. “I caught both your names on the prosecution’s witness list.”

“That’s right.”

Julia jogs in place without realizing it and strategizes how she can pump Russell for information for her story. The court part of the crime beat is her least favorite, despite the fact Julia is married to a lawyer. To her, courtrooms feel like tight little boxes where various versions of the truth run fast and loose amidst the big show, and the winner is often selected not by the culmination of the presented facts, but by which side puts on a better performance.

“I heard there’s going to be a surprise witness the prosecution is going to pull out at the last minute. Do you know anything about that? We can go off the record. You know I won’t burn you. I just need a name,” Julia pushes.

Russell reaches up and massages his right temple with his index finger.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Even if there is some last-minute witness, Judge Palmer probably won’t allow it if they aren’t on the list. Why are you asking anyway? You’ve got a much better source at home. You and David are back together, right?”

“We’re working on it. I can’t ask David though. It would be a conflict of interest. The D.A.’s office doesn’t want to get sued for leaking information to the press. Plus, David and I are pros. Neither of us would cross that line.”

“Come on. You can’t tell me you don’t pull some favors in the bedroom to get your husband to talk. Sex is a woman’s secret weapon. It always has been since the dawn of time. A sweet, firm ass has toppled many a mighty man. I’m more of a leg man, myself though,” Russell says as he gives Julia’s well-toned runner’s legs a nod of silent approval.

At thirty-seven, Julia has long mastered the fine art of the dodge and weave around unwanted advances. Unless the guy is completely out of line, Julia ignores the come-on like it never happened. The talent serves her well covering the cop beat, where egos and virility are often intertwined, enormous, and surprisingly fragile.

“Where are you and Navarro having breakfast?” she asks.

“Chanel’s in Greektown. You want to join us?”

Julia gives just a hint of a smile. Dodge and weave successful.

“Thanks for the invite. I’ll try.”

“All right, Gooden. Tell the assistant D.A. we’ll see him later. And be careful out here in the dark,” Russell answers and raps a red-chafed hand outside his driver side window before he disappears behind the tinted-glass.

Julia watches Russell’s car pull away and a small shiver runs down her back.

(Don’t ever take a ride from a stranger, Julia, or I swear, I’ll kick your butt).

The sudden childhood memory jolts her, and Julia starts to sprint as if she could race fast enough to outrun the passage of time and warn her younger self to lock the door the night her older brother Ben was taken.

Julia finally reaches home, nowhere left to run. She drops onto the front step, looks up at the first soft lights of dawn finally penetrating through night’s heavy cloak of darkness and chokes back a sob. She knows how to get through the pain. She always has. Julia pushes her emotions down deep and focuses on what she can control.

Her mind clicks off the pieces of the Rossi story she will have to assemble and file into some kind of compelling piece to run in the paper’s online edition before opening arguments. The facts will be the bones of her story: Nick Rossi’s illegal Detroit empire is believed to encompass hijacking and shipping stolen goods, mainly computers and electronics, illegal gambling and drug trafficking. Both the feds and the Detroit PD had been trying to nail him for years. Rossi finally got busted in a city police sting courtesy of hidden cameras placed in the VIP suites of the MGM Grand Hotel. Images on the tapes showed payoffs to the former Detroit mayor and a city councilman, in addition to drug trafficking and cash exchanges for high-stakes gambling bets.

Julia kicks at the frozen ground with the toe of her sneaker and assembles the color elements she will add as sidebars to the main article, the ones that will make the story real to the readers and ultimately make them care: the seventeen-year-old West Bloomfield high school track star who overdosed and died at a party after he graduated that night from ecstasy to heroin for the first and final time, courtesy of Rossi’s stash. Then there is the story of Rossi himself, only nine years old when he witnessed the rape and murder of his mother during a home invasion while the young Rossi bore silent witness as he hid inside a closet and watched the horror unfold through a crack in the door. Since Rossi’s dad had taken off before his son was born, the young Rossi moved in with his uncle, Salvatore Gallo, who ran a moderately successful dry cleaning business with a small bookie operation on the side. Julia and Salvatore Gallo have history, and Julia makes a mental note to herself to call Gallo before she gets to the courthouse to see if he’ll talk.

Julia’s cell phone buzzes inside her waist pack. She looks suspiciously at the phone. 6:15 a.m. Even as a reporter, no one calls that early unless it’s an emergency, and she knows David is still at the house with their boys, Logan and Will, who are sound asleep. She is about to hit the ignore button but stops at the last second when she recognizes the number. Gavin Boyles, the acting mayor’s chief of staff. The other piece of color she needs for the story.

“Gooden here. You’re lucky I’m up.”

“You told me you ran at dawn, so I figured I’d catch you before you got into the newsroom,” Boyles answers. “I checked online a few minutes ago, and I didn’t see your story posted yet.”

“It’ll be up later today. Do you have something for me?”

Boyles, a former TV news anchor before he became a flack, still has the oozing, ultra-smooth voice of a game show host. Julia met him ten years earlier at the scene of a major fire that obliterated a Detroit high-rise and eighteen of its residents who were trapped inside. Boyles showed up late and asked Julia if he could take a look at her notes and she could debrief him on the situation.

“Always working the story, that’s why you’re so good,” Boyles says.

“You’re too kind,” Julia answers and plays the pleasantry game while she waits for Boyles to cut through the bullshit.

“Are you including Mayor Anderson in the story?

“Acting Mayor Anderson?” Julia asks.

“Semantics. We’d prefer not to have Mayor Anderson’s name mentioned unless it pertains to how he is working tirelessly to turn the city around since former mayor Slidell’s indictment for his involvement in the Rossi case. If you write another story about how Slidell took bribes from Rossi to shut him up, you’re doing a disservice to the people of the city. Detroit has suffered enough, don’t you think? You could turn this into a positive story.”

“And how has Anderson turned the city around exactly?”

“Public perception. I want to share something with you. This is off the record for now, all right?”

“Of course,” Julia answers and wonders whether the call might not be a complete waste of her time after all.

“Mayor Anderson will be holding a press conference today announcing a strategic task force dedicated solely to promoting all things positive in Detroit, including a volunteer-driven beautification project to help improve blight. It was my idea. Detroit is trying to make its way back. The residents don’t need a rehashing of another corrupt city official story.”

“Politics isn’t my beat.”

“Neither is business, but your articles are hurting the casinos. Detroit got gutted after the auto industry crashed, and God knows we can’t afford to take any more hits. There’s a responsibility, a fine line, we journalists need to ethically tow.”

“I’m still a journalist. Last I checked, you weren’t.”

On the other end of the phone, Boyles blasts an obnoxious guffaw.

“Always blunt, aren’t you? The press conference is scheduled for 12:30 p.m. on the steps of city hall. I assume you’ll be available since the trial will break for lunch. Mayor Anderson specifically asked for you to be there.”

“Thank you for the invitation. I’ll run this by my managing editor and let her decide who to send. You know how this works. It’s not my call.”

“Got it. I’ll call Margie myself and put in the request. I’m surprised the paper is letting you cover the story when your husband is prosecuting it. Good for you though. You won’t have to work as hard this time.”

Julia grits her teeth and forces herself to still play nice. She may need Boyles in the future.

“I always work hard.”

“I just meant…”

Julia cuts off Boyles before he can finish. “Thanks for the call and the heads up on the press conference.”

Julia gives her phone the finger, the sentiment she’d really like to give Boyles directly. Instead, she shuts her phone off and heads into the warmth of her house that hits her like a blowtorch. She strips off her North Face jacket and then peels off her running pants and nylon shirt that stick to her clammy skin. She frees her curly, dark brown hair from its ponytail and pads softly down the hall as not to wake the boys. Inside the office, she leans over the desk and begins to search for her competitor’s coverage of the Rossi trial. She pulls up the Detroit News website and feels a tug in her stomach. In addition to a big picture preview story on the case, Julia knows the Detroit News reporter is writing a sidebar profile on David as first chair for the prosecution and his likely run for D.A. next year, a promise David made to himself after he gave up a lucrative private practice partnership six months earlier to become a public servant. Still standing, Julia bends down closer to the desk and begins to search whether the Detroit News found out about the surprise witness, or worse, if they got the name before she did.

***

Excerpt from Duplicity by Jane Haseldine. Copyright © 2017 by Jane Haseldine. Reproduced with permission from Jane Haseldine. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Jane Haseldine is a journalist, former crime reporter, columnist, newspaper editor, magazine writer, and deputy director of communications for a governor. Jane writes the Julia Gooden mystery series for Kensington Publishing.

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