#we did 5 hours total of shooting to make a one minute and twenty-something second long movie trailer

[wekillitwithfire]

i want to make movies

[myhockeyworld87]

What Happens in Vegas...Doesn’t Always Stay There - Jacob Markstrom - Part 1

Word Count: 4,885

POV: Reader

Warnings: NSFW, Language, Smut, Drinking (all the good stuff)

Notes: Well here it is the new fic that’s been in my head. I tossed around a couple different guys for this, but some of you suggested Marky and well looks like it stuck. Trying to do this a little different and keep this in an all read POV, so we shall see how that works. I don’t see this being super long maybe between 5 or 6 parts. Hope you guys enjoy. As always feedback is welcome. Happy Reading!

They say that New York is the city that never sleeps but whoever 'they' is, well, they got it wrong. It has to be Vegas. Lights are always flashing whether you were indoors or out, the jangly sound of slot machines can be heard at all hours and the seven deadly sins seem to be on full display twenty-four hours a day. It's no wonder their tagline for years was 'What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.' If only that were true.

You wish you could blame someone else but you can't. Vegas was all your idea. As maid of honor, it fell to you to plan your best friend's bachelorette party, and in your mind, there was only one spot, Vegas. Now, you were second-guessing your choice as your head was pounding like there were a thousand drummers who decided to perform at the Super Bowl halftime show, only in your brain. There was only one thought that made it through the marching band playing in your head. What the hell happened last night?

 Maybe you should start off small, like where were you first, considering that the little drummer boy was now doing backflips in your head. You were definitely in bed, which was evident as you could feel the mattress underneath you. You could also feel the duvet comforter covering your body, but there was something else. Something a bit heavier, almost as if a weighted blanket was covering your stomach and your breast, but it wasn't that. It was an arm slung across your midsection and a very large hand cupping your one boob. God, you hoped it was still attached to a body. You should really take a peek. It would be the only decent thing to do.

 As you gradually lifted one eyelid open, the first thing you noticed was that you were not in your hotel room, as the wall looked completely different. No reason to panic, you told yourself. Everything would come back to you as soon as this god blessed pounding ceased. Peering the other eye open, you got back to business at seeing if there was a body attached to the arm currently trapping you to the bed. Carefully, you turned your head to the side to see a very large and very naked man firmly attached to the aforementioned arm. He was gorgeous as he lay there sleeping ever so peacefully. You drank in his features, kind of like you downed drink after drink last night. His brown hair had this golden hue to it that made your fingers want to reach out and touch it, though you refrained. Then there was the beard covering his face, not too much and not too little, and now that you were thinking about it; you definitely felt some of that beard burn on your thighs. If you could only remember last night. The only logical thing to do was to go back to the start of this, back to a time when you were sober.

 It started months ago when your best friend Kennedy got engaged. You honestly didn't see it coming that fast. She'd only been dating Ryan for a little less than a year, but he asked and she said yes, and when she asked you to be her maid of honor you screamed and laughed and cried, and told her you couldn't wait to plan her bachelorette party. Everyone knew the bridal shower was only for boring stuffy old aunts so that they could buy her the latest air fryer or new dish pattern. The bachelorette party was where all the fun was, and what better place to have it than Las Vegas.

 Of course, everyone agreed with you. The only wrench in the plan was that Kennedy decided to up her wedding date and make it a nine-month engagement. That barely left time to find a dress let alone plan the most outrageous bachelorette party of the century. You would've said decade but twenty-twenty was fastly approaching. Thankfully, you had connections. Night one was more sedate since you all were just arriving at the MGM hotel at different times; eleven of you in total when Ryan's sister decided to join at the last minute. You booked a private room at Lago in the Bellagio for all of you to enjoy.

 It was the second night, that was the piece de resistance. A limo picked you all up and took you over to Excalibur to see the legendary Australian group, Thunder from Down Under. I mean what was Vegas without seeing a male stripper or two. The next day, a private bungalow was waiting for you at Wet Republic in the MGM Hotel. One would've thought the night watching men strip naked would've been your undoing but apparently, it all started poolside.

 "I seriously can't believe he pulled you up on stage and proceeded to dry hump you up there," Kelsey rehashed.

 "Really, Kels?" Kennedy said downing another mimosa. "How could you not see that happening? (Y/N) has known Nate for a couple years. I mean he did get us front row tickets." This was all true. Nate, the emcee for Thunder from Down Under and you were friends, had been since your firm had done their calendar shoot two years ago. He had generously given you prime seating to the show that night and also set you up with a few other perks for the trip. "The only thing I'm surprised at, is that this one," she bumped you with her hip, spilling both hers and your mimosas. "Didn't end up going home with him last night."

 "Oh my god, Kenny you did not just say that." She may be the bride and your best friend but really, she was pushing the line.

 "Come on, it's not like it hasn't happened before."

 At least four pairs of eyes turned towards you, Ryan's sister Gretchen being one of them. "Ok, admittedly, I slept with him, once." Both Kennedy and Kelsey gave you that look. "Ok, maybe it was twice, but he has a girlfriend now, and we are just friends."

 "I'll give you that," Jade spoke up in your defense and suddenly she was going to earn the title of new best friend, not that the lines weren't blurred in your little group as you were all sort of best friends. "But what about Edward, the one with the turtle tattoo on his hip."

 "You were so looking at more than his hip." Eva teased while Jade simply hid behind her champagne glass. "But yeah (Y/N), he was totally hitting on you."

 "He was not."

 "Oh, he was," Kennedy added her two cents. "And as the bride I take offense, they should've been hitting on me."

 "Wait, why would they hit on you?" Jade sputtered. "You're taken bitch." Of course, bitch was said in the most loving way.

 "I'm not dead."

 "No, but I'm sure my brother wouldn't appreciate it." Leave it to Gretchen to be the mood killer. "I think I'm going to go take a nap. I'll meet you at the pool later."

 She headed out the door, and honestly, you were ecstatic about it, for she was too judgmental for your liking.  "Wait, Gretch, that's not what I meant."

 "Leave her go, maybe a nap would do her good." They were Jade's words but your sentiments. "Now back to why (Y/N) did not take that beautiful man up on his offer last night."

 "There was no offer," you insisted.

 "Come on (Y/N), there was an offer. There's always an offer. Remember when you were doing promo for that Batman flick." You tried to shut Kennedy up with a death glare, but she continued to prattle on. "We all know you ended up doing the nasty with Superman."

 "WHAT?!?!" Yeah, that definitely came out of the other nine people's mouths in the room.

 "Thanks, Ken. No one knew that but you."

 "Oops, my bad." She had the grace to at least be embarrassed about the whole thing.

 "You mean you slept with that guy, the British one, tall, all muscular, extremely good looking. Damn it what's his name." You could see Eva wracking her brain for his name and you just didn't want to go there.

 "Hen…"

 "Yes, him," you admitted, stopping Jade before she could finish his name. "Can we please change the subject?"

 "Why, when we are all living vicariously through you," Kelsey added. "Especially poor Kennedy, who is now committed to spending the rest of her life with one man."

 "Geez, you make it sound like a death sentence. I love Ryan and I'm perfectly fine spending the rest of my days with him."

 You had to suppress an eye roll. Not because you didn't think that Ryan and Kennedy weren't in love. If you were being honest, you just thought they were rushing things a bit. The problem was telling your best friend that; you tried in the past and never succeeded. "We know you're in love Kenny." And then because you couldn't stop yourself, you added. "It's just are you sure you want to be tied down so young? We still have our whole life to live."

 "Jesus, (Y/N). We all know you're not ready for marriage and what comes with it, but we can't all be you with your fancy job in LA, meeting celebrities all the time. Some of us have real lives and want to settle down and have a family."

 "Kenny, that's not what I meant." The last thing you wanted to do was argue with her at her bachelorette party. "I only want you to be happy."

 "You have a funny way of showing it." The air in the room took on a chill and not from the air conditioning. If you didn't do something soon this party was going to go downhill.

 "Oh, would you look at the time," Jade chimed in. "We should probably be heading down to the pool." Everyone grabbed their stuff, Kennedy giving you the cold shoulder as you made your way out of the hotel suite. Jade came up and wrapped an arm around you. "She'll be fine. She's just on edge after the whole Gretchen thing. We'll give her a few shots and you two will be good as new."

 "I hope so." Unfortunately, things weren't fine. Kennedy seemed to avoid you and your attempt to make things right, even after a few shots. That didn't stop you from taking a few more. You had a strict one drink to one water rule, that you threw out the door today. Downing shots like it was your job. It was probably an hour later when you were in one of the private pools, with a few of the girls that a large group of very attractive men walked in. They were definitely different from Nate and the guys from Thunder, and at first, you thought it was some fraternity get together with how young some of them looked, but at second glance there were some gentlemen that were your age or older.

 "They've gotta be baseball players," Eva whispered over after they took up residence in the three bungalows next to you.

 "Nah, none of them have a dad bod." Jade was right, they were too fit to be in the MLB. You'd been around enough major leaguers to know while some were incredibly in shape, some were not. That didn't seem to be the case with this group.

 "I'm gonna rule out NFL as well," you told the girls. "None of these guys look like they're an offensive guard. Those guys are huge." You noticed a few of them staring at the six of you that were in the smaller pool reserved only for the bungalows. Grabbing another shot, this had to be your fourth in just sixty minutes, you downed the drink really starting to feel its effects.

 "Looks like we may just find out here," Jade said, nodding to let you know some of the guys were headed your way.

 "Ladies, care if we join you?" One of the men asked, you had to admit he was extremely handsome but also gave off an air that he had more than a few notches in his bedpost.

 A couple of the girls nodded, but when no one said anything, you found yourself saying, "Come on in."

 "So, what brings you to Vegas?" This from a different guy, who had quite a number of tattoos covering his arms, and you had to admit that the ink just made him more attractive, that and his height. He was well over six feet tall and you didn't mind looking up to see his face as he took the seat next to you.

 "Bachelorette party," Jade blurted out and you saw a few eyebrows raise.

 "Tell me you're not the bride?" His breath was warm or maybe it was the sun, either way, you definitely felt a warmth in your belly that wasn't there moments ago.

 "I am definitely not the bride." Shit that sounded desperate. "Though I am the maid of honor, at least I hope I still am." You looked inside the bungalow to see Kennedy in deep conversation with Gretchen.

 "Hmm, sounds like there's a story there. Care to tell me? I'm Jacob by the way, though the guys call me Marky."

 He held out his hand, the one that didn't have a beer in it, and you took it. "(Y/N), and I'll tell you though it's rather dull, on one condition." He quirked a brow at you. "You tell me what sport you play."

 He chuckled. "What makes you think I play a sport? Maybe I'm an investment banker."

 "Well, first there's your accent, though I suppose you could pull off investment banker with that. Second, you are all…how shall I say this…physically fit. A quality most athletes have and considering the number of you; I doubt this is some kind of investment banker convention."

 "Ok, I'll give you that, though we could be bodybuilders or…" the lights on the billboard on the strip changed to a Thunder From Down Under ad and you saw a light bulb in his head go off. "Or male strippers." Shit, you almost spit your drink out on that one. "What, too much a stretch? Maybe it's your lucky day." He started to sway his hips in the pool, one of his friends joining him while you and Jade tried to contain your laughter.

 "Nah, it's already been (Y/N)'s lucky day with them. She knows them all rather intimately."

 "Jade!" you yelled at your friend, or ex-friend, though you weren't in a position to be losing anymore at the moment.

 "Oops." She at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Alcohol made everyone do some crazy things and Jade was no exception to the rule.

 "Intimately huh?" Jacob asked as you splashed water on Jade causing her to shriek and hide behind Jacob's friend who you learned was someone named Erik. "Have I lost the competition before it even starts?"

 "There's no competition."

 "So, you're single then?"

 "Yes, though you still haven't answered my question." As soon as Jacob heard you say yes, he slid a little closer to you.

 "What was that question again?" He said with laughter in his eyes and before you could get annoyed with him, though you doubted that would happen, he added. "I remember, just giving you a hard time. Anyhow, we play hockey."

 "Oh, nice. Like professional level? Or are there minors in that sport?" You really weren't one hundred percent sure. You'd taken in a game here and there but not really paid any particular attention to it.

 "We're in the NHL, playing for Vancouver. Just came out to do a little team bonding before the season starts. So, are we going to talk about this intimate encounter or why you think your maid of honor duties are getting revoked?"

 "I think I need another drink to talk about either of them."

 Jacob flagged down one of the personal waitresses for the area, requesting a couple of shots and drinks for you both, and you had to admit you liked the way he worked. "Now that that's taken care of…"

 You blew out a frustrated breath, more with yourself than anything else. "I said something stupid right before we came down here." He kept silent, his eyes totally focused on you and what you were saying. A refreshing change from some of the men you spoke to. "I just think she's rushing into things. They've only known each other a year and we are too young to get married. She's only twenty-five, we have our whole lives ahead of us. You know?" He simply nodded his agreement before you continued. "I want to see the world, go places, and do things before I'm strapped down to one man forever. Not to mention being tied down with kids. How can Kenny not want that too?"

 "I totally agree. I've gotten to see a lot with hockey but there's no way I want to be tied down just yet."

 "Exactly, you totally get me." Your drinks arrived then and Jacob took one shot and handed it to you before taking the other.

 "Well, I say we toast to being young and free with no commitments."

 "I'll drink to that." He clinked his glass to yours and the two of you downed the drinks. It seemed like the DJ noticed the change in your mood, as the music got louder and the energy seemed to kick up a notch. You got up and started to dance in the pool; the other girls joining in. It wasn't long before you felt Jacob behind you. His hips grinding into your backside, as his large hands encircled your waist.

 Drinks flowed freely the entire day, and if you were being honest, you couldn't remember a time you'd been that drunk before the sun had even set. You were laughing and dancing, and quite literally having the time of your life; your maid of honor duties completely forgotten at this point. Gretchen came up to you at some point and told you that she, Kennedy, and Kelsey were heading up and would catch up with the rest of you later. Everyone else was having too much fun with the Canucks to want to leave.

 A few more drinks and an hour later, the party was winding down. Most of your friends had headed up to their room to pass out, only a few stayed behind. Jacob had somehow maneuvered you into one of the bungalows that was empty. You shared a few kisses here and there out in the pool area, but now that you were out of view of prying eyes things were getting a bit more heated. Jacob's hands were on your ass, as his tongue was down your throat; not that yours wasn't doing the same thing to him. He moaned into your mouth, the sound going straight to your core. Your bikini bottom was no longer wet from the water of the pool, but the press of Jacob's cock against it.

 You both stumbled back, landing down on the large daybed in the bungalow, though somehow Jacob's reflexes softened your fall. His hands went straight to your breasts, kneading the flesh there. He was just about to untie the string of your bikini top when someone walked in. "Jesus, Marky! Take it upstairs would you!" You squinted trying to make out who it was but at this point not remembering anyone's name besides the man that was on top of you.

 "Oh, shit…thought I was in my room." It was funny, you thought the same thing. "Sorry, Jay."

 "His name is Jay? Like the letter?" you mumbled as Jacob helped you off the couch. "What comes after J?" Fuck you were drunk and when you were drunk you tended to ramble. You once actually talked to a damn parking meter because you thought it was a person, and you were pretty sure you could talk to one now if there was one around.

 "Doesn't matter, babe," Jacob said kissing your lips. "Wanna head up to my room?"

 You had to go up on your tiptoes to loop your arms around his neck. "Yes, I do." He planted a kiss on your lips then cupped your ass cheeks causing you to jump a bit.

 "Let's go," he finally said breaking the kiss. You had enough sense to grab your things and tell your friends not to worry that you'd catch up with them tomorrow. They all winked and nodded or at least that's what it looked like in your head because that's when things started to get hazy. You had vague recollections of making your way through the casino, stopping here and there. Part of you thought that the two of you even stopped to play roulette only so you could have another drink.

 You did remember tumbling through the door of Jacob's suite. His lips were on yours and neither of you were paying attention as he unlocked it. Thankfully his quick reflexes caught you; apparently, even when drunk, goalies couldn't lose some of those natural instincts.

 His hands, you remember them being everywhere on your body, and how incredible they made you feel. His calloused touch lit a fire inside you, that had nothing to do with the alcohol. He rid you of your white swim cover-up easily, flinging the garment across the room, and then his lips were all over your body. It was easy to recall the way he made you feel, as he softly bit down on your nipple through the fabric of your bikini. You'd craved this all afternoon. It had been a couple months since you'd been with a man and Jacob was everything you'd been waiting for.

 You ripped off his shirt. Your hands immediately going to his chest and roaming down his tattooed arms. He was all muscle, hard and lean everywhere, but when you slid your hand down inside his swim trunks to his cock; oh, it was hard all right, but lean was not a word you'd used to describe it. You were barely able to wrap your fingers around his girth, and as you stroked him, you realized God had not only blessed him with height but length as well. The man was made to star in a porno, you thought as you shoved his trunks down.

 Somehow, during that time Jacob had managed to get your bikini top off, though you supposed with its simple string ties it wasn't a hard feat to manage. You dropped to your knees, licking your lips before taking your tongue and swirling it around the head of Jacob's cock. "Det kanns sa bra min vackra prinsessa (that feels so good my beautiful princess)." Jacob's mumblings had you pulling back and looking up at him. "Don't stop, baby." This time you knew what he said as you slowly sucked him into your mouth. There was no way that you could take him all in, so you pumped the rest of him with your fist. You hollowed out your cheeks as you sucked him inside, using every trick in the book you knew. Jacob muttered more in Swedish to you, things you had no clue as to what they meant, but judging by his reaction they were things he was enjoying very much. He threaded his hands through your hair, pulling it back so you could look up at him with big doe eyes. "Jesus," he swore, his hips bucking into your mouth at the sight of you with his cock in it, looking like that. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out shouting," Tillrackligt, enough. I think you're trying to kill me, princess."

 There was something about the way he called you princess. It wasn't anything you'd been called before and most times you'd preferred babe or baby, but the way the word rolled off his tongue did things to your insides.

 Jacob helped you off the ground, his lips ghosting over yours before picking you up and tossing you onto the bed. His large form handled you easily, arranging your body just the way he wanted to before slipping off your bikini bottoms. His large hands worked their way from your ankles to your calves, all the way up to your thighs; spreading your legs as he went. "So beautiful." He traced his fingers lightly over your pussy lips and you quivered in anticipation of what was to come. One long finger slid between your folds all the way up to your clit, once, then twice, and then once again. "So wet, prinsessa, and all because of me."

 "Mmm, yes, Jacob." He dipped that same finger inside you then. The digit slipping in easily and so he added another. Then his mouth was there. Tongue flicking over your clit in a way that made you squirm with pleasure. "Oh yes," you moaned, caught up in the pleasure that was coursing through your veins. "Just like that." Your hips lifted up on their own accord, seeking more of what this giant of a man was doing to you. Jacob never let up, making a come-hither motion with his fingers and you found yourself unraveling around him; legs shaking, breath panting as your orgasm overtook you.

 “So pretty when you cum, prinsessa.” He pulled his fingers from your pussy then brought them to your lips. You opened without any thought, licking your juices off of them. Before you could get them clean, Jacob’s mouth joined yours, kissing you while you sucked on his index and middle fingers. Your tongues mingled together, as Jacob positioned himself between your thighs. The head of his cock nudged between your folds and you sighed into his mouth at just that first touch. Slowly, he filled your pussy, until he bottomed out. Only then did he release your lips. “Fuck you feel so good.”

 Jacob loved the feel of you clenching around him. It felt like he was in heaven. Part of him didn’t even want to move that’s how good your body felt, but then you shifted your hips up just a hair bit and he had to suck in a breath at the pleasure that went straight to his groin for fear he would spend inside you right then and there. He willed his body under control and only then started to move.

 With every snap of Jacob’s hips, a wave of pleasure crashed over you. Your nails raked down his back, probably leaving marks, but it seemed to only spur him on. “Yes, Prinsessa,” he moaned out, as you bent your knees allowing him to go deeper. You moaned as he hit that treasured spot that had you seeing stars. “You like that?” Another moan was his answer, as he continued to fuck you.

 That peculiar feeling started to wash over you. Your pussy fluttering around Jacob’s cock as the orgasm finally broke. Back arching, legs trembling, you were moaning out his name as the climax seemed to continue, as Jacob drove wildly into you. As you came down off your high, Jacob found his. With a few erratic thrusts, he was spending deep inside you with a loud groan. He slumped forward, his sweety forehead resting on yours. “Det dar var otroligt.” You looked at him curiously, your brain not working at all but also knowing he was speaking something in Swedish to you. He smiled, a glorious one that you found yourself getting lost in and you found yourself returning it. “I said that was amazing.”

 “Yes, it was,” you breathed out. Jacob rolled you both onto your sides, tucking you into his. It wasn’t long before both of you were passing out.

 Now here you were, finally putting most of the pieces together from last night. You looked back over at the sleeping man, who had given you such pleasure even in your inebriated state. He really was gorgeous. You honestly wouldn’t mind going for round two, after a couple of Tylenol, of course. Speaking of which you needed to get up and see if you had any in your bag. If only you could move him without waking him. You carefully took your right arm and went to move his left which was slung across you, but then something caught your eye. There on his ring finger was a ring. Oh, it wasn’t just any ring, it was a wedding ring! You knew he didn’t have it on when you were in the pool. You were not the type of woman to go hitting on a married man, let alone sleep with him.

 You pulled your other arm out from underneath him, fully intending to grab your stuff and get the hell out of there when you noticed a bright and shiny diamond on your ring finger. There was also a matching wedding band. Then like a tsunami hitting the beach of a small island a memory came flooding back to you of the two of you entering the hotel chapel. This man wasn’t married to just anyone, he was married to you!  

.

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 5

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Maybe some cursing, talk of drinking

A/N:  Surprise! Coming back a day earlier than planned. This fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome.

Catch up with Chapter 4

**

Oh boy were you hungover. After you finished that fifth beer, David brought you back to your hotel where you promptly passed out on your bed, makeup and all. The fact that you were so drunk, kind of helped you with the embarrassment of the slipped comment about your lack of a sex life. From what you remembered, it seemed like your quick reply had done the trick. At least you hoped it had. You remembered Monica chucking a pillow at you at some point in the middle of the night. She mumbled something about you snoring like a chainsaw. You were drunk and it could not be helped. There would be no more drinking for you.

Call time to set was three in the afternoon and you took advantage of the precious hours by sleeping until noon. After a shower and all-day breakfast from McDonald's, you felt human again.

Outdoor shooting would start tonight once it got dark, which this time of year meant another hour or two at the most.

**

You made your way to the studio via the studio shuttle. It was empty this time of day which you appreciated. You dressed in a sweater, jeans, and jacket. You had on a pair of winter boots, but brought a bag that held your trusty sneakers to wear when inside.

The one thing you weren’t a fan of with the new office set up was the lack of an enclosed room. The volume in the building was loud. Not school gymnasium loud, but loud enough for that you were finding it hard to concentrate. Everyone was excited. New location, outdoor shoots, whatever it was, no one wanted to be quiet about it. Even though the sleeping in and shower helped, you were still a tad hungover so you just wanted everyone to either move to a new location or go to their cubical and shut up. That wasn’t happening.

Monica came barging into your cube about an hour later. Okay, she didn’t barge in, technically. There’s no door. Kind of hard not to barge in.

“Can you believe this place? I’m going to hit my ten thousand steps within three hours each day. Way bigger than Cali,” she said taking a seat on the edge of the desk.

She was right of course. It was a series of massive warehouses where they shot a lot of action-packed movies and television shows. Those films often required a lot of space with massive sets. This movie wasn’t that and your team would not need all of the space, but it didn’t mean you didn’t have to trudge your way from one warehouse to another.

“You need better shoes,” you said motioning your hand to her pointy slip-ons. While they were cute, you would be crying at the end of the day wearing those. “Those aren’t going to work with this place. Unless of course, you hide out in your cubical all day.” A small smile peeked out from behind your lips.

“I would normally agree with you, but if I have to wear boots whenever we are outside, I’m wearing my cute shoes where I can,” Monica said, sending a wink your way.

**

The sun had set and you found yourself back on the shuttle with Monica and about ten others. Only Keanu and Chris were filming tonight and as far as you knew, they were being driven in a separate vehicle to the location.

“Are you still hungover?” Monica asked. She sat directly across the aisle from you on the shuttle. Since there weren’t many people on the bus, you each got your own row.

“Not drinking with you people again. I can tell you that,” you said with a shake of your head.

“Even if Chris is there? That’s some eye candy if I ever saw some,” she said wiggling her eyebrows. “Wonder if he’s single?”

“You’re horrible,” you giggle out.

“Hey! Not all of us have a fiancé. Not like it matters anyway.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Maggie thinks he’s hot and have you seen that girl? I stand no chance. Keanu has a girlfriend,” she said with a shrug.

Interesting. So, Maggie thinks Chris is hot. But really, who doesn’t think that man is hot.

“I’m pretty sure it’s frowned upon to date the actors anyway.”

“Who said anything about dating?” she replied with a wink.

“You are horrible. I stand by that.”

**

The temperature had dropped by about twenty degrees and you were feeling like such a rookie. You grew up in the Northern Midwest for goodness sake and you failed to bring a hat or gloves with you. This was not ideal for outdoor filming where you needed to hold on to a script and pen for hours. Apparently, you were doing so with bare hands.  

Much of the first hour was spent helping with stage setup. You didn’t have to help unload the props, but it was certainly aiding you with the keeping warm factor. You eagerly carried box after box and then helped coordinate stage design.

Keanu and Chris arrived about twenty minutes later in separate vehicles which you found odd. They were filming together tonight and seemed to get a long as far as you could tell all through the shoot in Los Angeles. Chris and you were friends, but you didn’t feel comfortable enough to pry into that quite yet.

**

There’s a log cabin façade set up in a heavily wooded area made to look like a two-story cabin built in the 1950s. Once you open the door, it’s nothing more than plywood sides that only go back maybe 20 feet. Just the entryway or what can be seen by the camera is designed to look like a house. All internal shots of the “cabin” were shot back at the studio. Unfortunately, the “cabin” wasn’t any warmer than the outside temperature. Your plans to hide in the house between shots was crushed within minutes.

As the guys filmed their first take, you stood next to Hugh, the director with Monica on your other side as your backup since none of the actors she was working with were filming tonight. The first take was cut with Hugh calling for a reset. You spent the next ten minutes jogging in place to keep warm. The script was dropped to the ground with your hands burrowed into your coat’s pockets. Chris gave you an amused look as his face was being powdered by his makeup artist. You sent him a wink and continued on your jog to nowhere.

Take two and three were called and by this point you could no longer stand still. Not wanting to make a lot of noise while the film is rolling, you opted to dance in place. Billie Eilish’s All the Good Girls Go to Hell is playing in your head. You wiggle to the beat, careful not to let your feet shuffle. It helps, but just a little.

“Let’s just get one more and we’ll move on,” Hugh calls out.

“Can someone tell Y/N to stop dancin’ over there? It’s mighty distracting,” Chris yelled.

If you weren’t already frozen solid, you’re pretty sure your face would resemble fire at this point.

Keanu turns around to face you and gives you a bit of a smirk.

“I’m cold!” you said loud enough for everyone near you to hear. “You don’t like my dance moves?”

“You’re distracting. Hugh, tell her she’s distracting,” Chris responded with a chuckle.

“Y/N, stop distracting Chris,” Hugh repeated nonchalantly.

“Aren’t you from Minnesota? Why aren’t you dressed warmly?” Chris asked, coming to stand next to you.

“I lost my mind this afternoon,” you said with a shrug.

**

After one more take, Hugh called it and ordered the next scene to be set up. You and Monica made your way to the food tent that conveniently had heaters blowing inside.

“This is like heaven. Who needs the sandy beaches of Aruba when we’ve got this wonderful tent in paradise?” You plop your butt down at a table ignoring the food and lean back in the chair, arms hanging like dead weight at your sides. “Go on without me. You can have Keanu and Chris. I’m just going to stay here forever where it’s warm,” you sighed happily.

“So dramatic,” Monica replied, grabbing two cups of coffee and depositing one on the table in front of you. “Two sugars and two creams?”

“One stevia or Splenda, whichever is there. Three creams.” You slip off your coat figuring you’ll only be colder once you leave the tent if you leave it on.

Monica drops the containers and packet in front of you, taking a seat next to you stirring in her own add ins.

“How much time do you think we have? I’d like to defrost a bit longer if we can.”

“Probably another ten. Drink up,” she replied holding up her own paper cup.

Downing your hot beverage that did little to warm you up. You got up and put your coat back on, zipping it up as far as it would go. Something warm and heavy was placed over your shoulders suddenly. Looking down, you could see it was a dark brown wool coat. You spun around to see Chris standing there, soft grin on his face.

“Keep it. Just make sure you give it back to wardrobe before we leave.”

“Don’t you need it for the next scene?” you asked furrowing your brow.

Chris shook his head no. “Next scene has me in that denim jacket with the white wool lining. It’ll be my turn to freeze.”

You gave him a thankful smile while buttoning up the coat over your own. “Thank you. Really. Didn’t realize you hated my dancing this much, but I do appreciate it.”

“Didn’t say I hated it. Said you were a distraction.” He runs his hands up and down your coat covered arms in his attempt to warm you up. The goosebumps that erupt are luckily hidden by the layers, but you can’t help but pray he doesn’t hear the increased beat of your heart. “You’re gonna get sick if you don’t layer up.”

You can’t seem to speak so you just hum in response.

**

Somewhere between the second or third take, your helping with costuming. The Polaroid pictures from the interior shoot aren’t agreeing with the way Keanu’s hair is now. It could be the way his hat is hanging, but you grab his stylist to assist.

“Yeah, that’s so much better,” you said after his hair is moved behind his ear no more than an inch.

“You certainly are particular,” Keanu said with a chuckle.

“S’always a pet peeve of mine when watching a movie if it doesn’t match exactly. Call it over kill if you will, but I call it doing my job,” you replied with a smirk.

“Warm enough over there Frosty?” Chris asked from a chair while he waited for you to be done.

“Yes! Thanks to you,” you responded back.

“This Chris’ coat?” Keanu asked.

“Yeah. Well, technically William’s coat.”

Keanu hummed in response before turning away to stand on his mark.

**

After filming wrapped for the night, you made your way to the wardrobe tent, catching Chris as he was leaving.

“Returning William’s coat?”

“Yep. Told you I would.”

“Here. I’ll take it in. M’sure you want to get back to the hotel,” he said, holding out his hand.

Quickly unbuttoning it, you pulled it off missing the warmth immediately. Chris took it, holding it over his chest with his arms crossed over it.

“Damn, did I miss this coat over the last two hours.” He ducked his head down for a second and then looked back at you. “Smells good.”

You let out a cross between a gasp and a laugh. “Did you just smell the coat?”

He bit at his lip and looked away. “Wasn’t trying to. Caught a whiff of it and had to investigate further. Just smells nice is all.”

“Okay Evans,” you said slowly. “Have a good night. Gotta catch that shuttle before they leave me.”

“Ye-yeah. Alright. See you tomorrow Y/N.”

“Night, Chris.”

**

You were positive it wasn’t half a night in the freezing cold that did you in. It was probably the travel, along with the stress of being away. No matter how you spun it, you were sick. Head congested, sore throat, the occasional chill while you were indoors. Yeah, you were sick. Monica turned out to be a germaphobe and you hadn’t seen that coming. It started as soon as you two were awake. She noticed the change in your voice.

“It’s just dry in here. Stupid winter. I just need some water,” you played it off not willing to accept your fate as well.

“Yeah okay. I know I saw a few water bottles in the mini fridge,” she replied.

You grabbed one and brought it into the bathroom with you. Taking a few chugs from the bottle, you set it on the counter then hopped into the shower hoping the hot steam would kick you into gear. It didn’t.

Maggie was shooting tonight along with Joe and Daisy. Chris and Keanu had the night off although you thought they maybe had some dialogue they were re-recording this afternoon. You were set to be Maggie’s backup tonight but really you wanted to do was go back to bed.

The two of you made your way to conference room B for the breakfast buffet they set up for your group each morning. It wasn’t much, but it was free and available from seven to ten each morning and you managed to wake up early enough to check it out. Grabbing a plate and filling it with a muffin, scrambled eggs, and two sausage thinks, you joined Monica at a table with a couple of other crew members.

Your throat started to tickle just a bit after your first bite of eggs. Taking a sip of orange juice did nothing to ease that feeling. You coughed into your napkin much to Monica’s horror.

“Too much pepper,” you replied.

She rolled her eyes but carried on eating her own breakfast until you coughed again. She stood up and moved a seat a few chairs away.

“Just a precaution,” she said with a shrug.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Reaching back into your pocket you quickly pulled it out.

Chris: You de-thaw yet?

Y/N: My shoes are soaked from the melted ice

Y/N: I slept great. That cold took a lot out of me. Thanks again for coming to my rescue.

Chris: 😎

Chris: No big deal

Y/N: Well, I appreciate it and will be better prepared tonight.

Chris: Captain’s orders

You shook your head at his comment.

Y/N: Wow. He went there.

Chris: Yeah. Yeah. Let me know if you have time to grab food later. Little harder for me to grab desserts here and bring them to your office.

Y/N: I’ll let you know.

The tickle was back and you couldn’t help but cough to clear it. Getting up from your seat, you averted Monica’s eyes as you dumped your plate and opened the door to leave.

“Better not be sick, Y/L/N!” she called out just as you stepped through the door.

I’m not sick. There’s no way. It’s just in my head.

Making a quick stop at the hotel gift shop, you paid double the amount you would pay at Target for vitamin C drops and Cold Eeze. These were for in case you were coming down with something. Not that you were or anything.

Back in your room, you applied moisturizer and light makeup. You hoped that trying to go on  with your day as normal would make you feel normal. By the time you got to the bathroom to do your hair, Monica came back to the room.

“How are you feeling?” she asked.

“I’m okay,” you replied putting the final touches on your hair.

“Just okay? That sounds specious.”

You let out a quick chuckle. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m just getting my bag. Maybe open a window. Let some of the germs out,” she said sticking her tongue out at you.

“I’ll see you there in a bit,” you said as she opened the door.

Except you didn’t. Somewhere between digging out your mittens, hat, and scarf that you apparently put back in your suitcase, along with returning a few missed calls from your family, you were tired. Deciding to lay down for just twenty minutes, turned into a couple of hours. The sound of pounding on your door was what woke you. Bolting up right in bed, you reached for your phone, seeing that it was already one in the afternoon. You had two missed calls from Chris along with a few text messages from him, Monica, and David.

“Coming,” your voice coming out hoarse. Your hand gently touched your neck as you swallowed, noticing it was slightly swollen and tender.

Swinging open the door, Chris stood in front of it, tired look on his face. His hands immediately going to his waist.

“Okay. You’re alive,” he said, bobbing his head as he said it. You giving a confused look in response. Chris nodded his head again, turned and started to walk away.

Keeping the door propped because you didn’t have on shoes or your room key on hand, you leaned out the door. “Chris! Come back! Please don’t make me yell.”

He stopped walking and turned back to face you. The same tired look was still on his face as he made his way back to you, stopping once he was in front of the door once again.

“I was--we were worried about you,” he sighed out. “When you didn’t respond to my text or call, I stopped by your cube and you weren’t there. Monica said you should have been there no later than eleven because you were on your way shortly after she was.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Then when you didn’t respond to Monica or David, we got concerned.”

“I’m sorry. I was just really tired and fell asleep too long,” you said softly, stepping back into the room and motioning for him to come in. “I didn’t mean to make you guys worry.”

Chris followed into the room, flicking on a light before taking a seat on Monica’s bed.

“It’s fine,” he sighed again. “Just didn’t know if something happened since you didn’t show up at the studio or answer your phone.”

“Don’t tell Monica, but I’m sick. I think that’s why I slept longer than I intended to. I’m sorry you came all the way out here,” you said, taking a seat next to him.

“I’m sorry you’re sick. That sucks.”

“It does,” you said getting up. “Should probably keep my distance. Don’t need the talent getting sick,” you said, giving him a wink.

“Good one. I’ll let it slide since you’re sick.” You grabbed your bag, checking to see that your worn script was still in it. “Where are you going? You’re sick, missy.”

“Missy? Really? It’s called life doesn’t pause just because of me,” you said slipping on your coat and putting your hat on.

Chris gabbed his phone from his pocket, clicking it a few times and bringing it to his ear.

“Hey,” he said. “Yeah, I found her. She’s sick and was sleeping when I got here. Trying to convince her to rest up… Yeah, she’s stubborn… What? No. No. I’ll take care of it. You don’t need to do that… I’m sure. I’ll get it sorted…Yeah, I’ll see you later… I’ll tell her… Bye Monica.”

“What are you telling me?” you asked as soon as he dropped his phone to the bed.

“You have the night off.” You were about to protest but Chris put his hand up. “Not my choice. She said she can handle it tonight and rather not have you breathing on her,” he chuckled prompting you to roll your eyes. “She said to rest up.” You nodded and started to unzip your coat. “Keep your coat on! You’re not staying here tonight.”

“Chris, I’m not hospital sick. I can stay in my own room,” you protested, hands instantly going to your hips.

He shook his head. “Monica was going to bunk up with someone else, but I told her I’d find you somewhere else to stay since she wouldn’t be back until late. You’re coming with me.” He stood up, grabbing your scarf from the desk and wrapping it around your neck.

“Where are we going?” you asked.

“You’re staying with me and before you say anything, it’s fine.”

“Chris…”

“Y/N…” he responded in the same tired tone. “It’s a three-bedroom condo. I have the room and no you won’t be in my way.”

“Okay…Let me just grab some things.”

Chris sat back down on Monica’s bed while you grabbed your carry-on, throwing in some pajamas, a change of clothes for tomorrow, your hairbrush, and makeup bag from the bathroom.

“Alright. Let’s go see how the other half lives,” you said with a smirk.

“Such a smaht-ass,” Chris said with a shake of his head.

“And that’s why we’re…”

“…we’re friends,” he cut you off. “Yeah. Yeah. Let’s get a move on sicko. Cahs waitin’ downstairs.”

This is totally normal. Doesn’t look inappropriate at all. What the studio doesn’t know won’t hurt anyone.

**

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[connordavidscamera]

Maybe Love | Connor Brashier

A/n: another ConWhore gc attack. Also, this is for the anon on my other account that just needed a CONcept.

Summary: Connor thinks he’s falling in love

Warning: fluff

Word Count: 1.1k

***

“What’s got you so smiley?”

“Hmm?” I hum, not looking up from my phone, typing a quick text before sparing Sam a glance. “Sorry, what?”

“Who are you texting?”

“Y/n. She wants to come over tonight.”

He nods, “And when am I gonna get to meet this so-called girlfriend?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s too soon.”

“You’ve been dating four months. Don’t you think it’s time she meets your best friend?”

“No, I don’t. You know too much about me.”

“So?”

“So, you could scare her away.”

“And that’s a bad thing because?”

I sigh and look down at my phone where another message from her lights up my screen. “I think I’m in love with her, Sam.” I run my fingers through my hair, putting my phone on the table in front of me. “And that’s so goddamn terrifying. What if she doesn’t love me back?”

“She does.”

“How could you possibly know that? I haven’t even introduced you two yet.”

Sam shrugs, “I just know. I mean, who else would listen to you go on for hours about lighting and angles and dimension if they weren’t? You said she went out in twenty degree weather just to do a photo shoot for you. And didn’t you say she called to check on you every day when you were feeling sick on those last couple weeks of tour?”

“Yeah, but-“

“I’m not in love with you. I told you that was tough and to suck it up. Hell, from what you’ve told me, sounds like she was ready to jump on a plane just to give you fucking soup.”

I can’t help but laugh because she did just that. I told her not to, that it wasn’t necessary, I’d take some medicine and I’d be fine. But she wouldn’t take no for an answer and she was on a plane later that night. And when I saw her at the airport, Brian hot on my heels because he wanted to be the first one to meet her, she smiled wide, but it only lasted a second before worry took over her expression.

Her hands hold both sides of my face. “Are you okay? Have you been getting sleep? You look tired. Let’s get you to bed, okay? I managed to sneak some medicine in my carry on. You’re gonna be good as new in no time.”

I take her hands in mine with a soft smile. “I’m okay, baby. Promise. You really didn’t have to come all the way out here.”

“But I did. And I’m not leaving until you’re better.” She places a gentle kiss on the tip of my nose before starting to pull away from me. But I pull her back, wrapping her in a hug.

“Okay, baby. I brought Brian with me. And I know he’s gonna say something stupid. Just… please don’t make a decision yet.”

“Decision about what? You?”

I nod and she shakes her head. “Bub, I already made up my mind about you. And I am very sorry to say that you’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.” She runs her fingers through my hair which is total mess on top of my head. I fall into her touch.

“Why are you apologizing? I like the sound of that.”

Y/n kisses my forehead. “Yeah? I do too.”

Sam waves his hand in front of my face. “Connor? Hello! You still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. Um… I have to call her real quick. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay…”

I push myself off the couch and go to shut myself in his room, my phone to my ear.

“Hey, blue eyes. What’s up?”

“Sam wants to meet you.”

“Okay. Is that a problem?”

“Well… no. It’s just that,’ I sigh, “he and I have been friends basically my entire life. And he knows next to everything about me. He could say some stuff that could change your mind about me.”

She sighs on the other end, “Connor, do you remember when I told you Brian would play no part in my decision, no matter how stupid he was?”

“Yeah.”

“And remember how things turned out just fine then?”

“Yes,” I say, my shoulders sagging.

“Then what makes you think Sam is any different?”

“I don’t know. He’s pretty dumb though.”

“But he’s not my bub. You are. The only way I’m leaving is if you tell me you can’t do this anymore.”

“I’ll never say that.”

“Then I guess you’re stuck with me forever.”

I smile at the thought, “I think I can live with that.”

When I walk out of his room, Sam looks up. “Everything okay?”

“You and Olivia want to go on a double date tonight?”

He smiles at me, “I’ll call her right now.”

While he’s talking to his girl, I can’t help but think about mine and how completely lost I am in her. I could spend every minute of every day with her and it wouldn’t be enough. I’ve never felt this way with anyone else – never. It’s scary loving someone this much. But it’s also the best feeling in the world and I think I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with this girl, even if we’ve only been together four months.

---

“What do you think about getting a dog?” I ask her as we lay in bed that night, our clothes scattered around the room.

“A dog… hmm. Well, I think you’ll have to settle down a little before you get one. Because when you travel someone else is gonna have to take care of them, and you don’t want to do that when you’re literally gone for months at a time.”

“No, I don’t mean me. I mean us.”

“Us?” she looks up at me.

“Yeah, us.”

“Well that’s another problem. Our apartments don’t allow pets.”

“Okay. So lets say we get a house?”

“And then a dog?”

“Yeah, maybe we could manage to have a wedding somewhere in there, too.”

She smiles down at me. “And a wedding. If I didn’t know any better, Brashier, I’d say you were telling me you want to get married to me.”

“Well, I thought that was obvious,” I poke her side and she laughs that perfect laugh. I take the hand that comes to hit my chest – her left one. I bring it to my lips and kiss her ring finger before caressing it with my thumb. “Gonna put a ring on your finger, y/n/n. I can promise you that.”

“Okay,” she whispers, laying her head back on my chest.

“So, what do you say? You want a dog when we get married?”

She nods. “Yeah. I do.”

I run my thumb down her spine and back up for a few moments before I speak again. “Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m in love with you.”

I can feel her smile while she continues to lay on me. “I kinda picked up on that… I’m in love with you too.” She kisses my bare chest and I let out a relieved sigh. We’re one step closer.

***

I hope you enjoyed! Like, reblog, and leave feedback!!

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[brightcinnamonroll]

Day 5 & 6

Poisoned & Betrayed.

(5 & 6 trigger warning for: revenge killing, morphine overdose, but not death)

---

“I can’t believe you crashed Gil’s rental car. That’s the second car you’ve totaled this year.”

“Yeah, well… I wasn’t about to let you get shot.”

Dani smiled, despite herself. “Yeah, and look what it got you. A broken rib and a fractured leg. You’re gonna be in the ER till morning.”

Malcolm angled his head to look at his leg and thought back to the moment in question.

They were investigating a series of bodies washed up on the Hudson shore. Three men, all in their thirties, no priors or obvious connection to one another. Except they had all died of an overdose with ligature marks on their wrists and ankles, indicating they’d been restrained prior to death.

Further examination revealed they had been involved in a fraternity hazing gone wrong years ago. A lot of money had been paid over the years to the family of the victim, but it looked like not everyone was satisfied or could be bought. Clearly, someone wanted revenge.

They traced the cover up and found the family members of the victim dispersed throughout the country. Apparently, the tragedy had been enough for the parents to divorce and the siblings to lose contact. But there was still one older brother in the area and he had motive and plausible cause. Tenants in the suspect’s apartment complex noted a strange smell coming from his space and watched him leave and come home at odd hours.

Gil argued the odor might be another body and organized his team.

Gil and JT would investigate the apartment and Dani would wait downstairs for the suspect to return. And Malcolm… 

would wait in the car.

As dissatisfied as Malcolm was with this arrangement, it proved to be the right decision. Because eventually their suspect returned in a very sour mood. He pulled his car up to the sidewalk where Dani was waiting and began asking questions. From his vantage point parked down the road, Malcolm couldn’t hear what they were saying, but he watched in horror as the conversation escalated and the man drew a gun on the detective.

Jumping into action, Malcolm climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine, throwing the car into drive and pressing down on the gas pedal. Hard. Admittedly, he might have blacked out a bit after that, because when he finally came to, he was fighting with an airbag and broken glass on the dashboard. Dani was checking him over for cuts and bruises and Gil and JT had their guns drawn on the suspect. Twenty minutes later he was being checked into the ER.

Malcolm quirked his lips into a smile, despite the situation. It wasn’t ideal but he was glad to see Dani was safe. 

“You know, you could just say thank you?”

Malcolm watched her, waiting for her to yell at him for being so reckless. Instead she smiled, turned silently and walked to the door.

“Thanks… for being so stupid.”

Malcolm stifled a laugh and thought to himself, There it is.

Alone in his room, Malcolm lifted his head and angled it toward his leg. It was resting in a sling, tied to the ceiling of his room. He’d been afforded a little extra privacy in one of their four-wall rooms, the standard being three and a curtain. He was very appreciative of that, since he knew Dani was right. By the time they finished their preliminary examination and administered the first few scans of his broken rib, four hours had already passed and it would be morning before he was released. 

That was alright. It gave him time to think. After all, there was one thing he didn’t understand about their case. They’d found the bodies, they knew who killed them, but how? An overdose sure, but where did the killer get the morphine? Was there an accomplice? All the other siblings had an alibi.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at his door.

“Hi, I’m here to check your IV,” the nurse informed Malcolm and shut to door behind her.

Malcolm offered her his arm and shifted his weight to become more comfortable, but the pain in his ribs shot up through his abdomen and he winced at the pain. The nurse noticed his discomfort and placed a hand on his shoulder to ease him back down.

“Try not to move too much until we fix that rib of yours.”

Malcolm tried to ignore the discomfort and instead tried to focus on his thoughts. But as time passed, he found it increasingly difficult to do so. His eyes started to itch with sleep and he turned his head to watch the nurse.

“What did you put in my IV?”

“Just some morphine to help with the pain, Mr. Bright. Don’t worry.”

He blinked his weary eyes and shook his head, “No, nothing to make me tired, please. I don’t want to fall asleep.”

“I promise it’s just standard procedure. You’re going to need something until we can administer the anesthesia for your surgery.”

“No, I… how much did you give me?” He was starting to feel woozy.

“5 mg is the starting dose.”

Malcolm felt a cold sweat on his brow. He wasn’t cold a moment ago… He reached for the blanket on his bed, but stopped short. His arms felt like lead and he was starting to worry something might be seriously wrong with him.

“It, uh, doesn’t feel 5.”

The nurse ignored him, instead leaning over Malcolm to pull out the restraints meant for unruly patients. “That’s because I gave you 30.” She punctuated the sentence with a swift pull on his cuffs to test their strength. Malcolm didn’t put up much of a fight despite being restrained. He found it hard to focus on what was going on, let alone resist.

“Why?”

“Because if I start at 30 mg, I can gradually increase it to 200 mg and soon you’ll slip into a coma and eventually stop breathing.”

Malcolm must not have heard her correctly. Did she say stop breathing?

“…What? Why are you doing this?”

She sat in the chair opposite his hospital bed and glanced at the door. He followed her eyes and felt the cold sweat increase. She wanted to get him alone, but why?

“I’ve read about you in the paper. You’re pretty smart. I’m surprised you haven’t put it together already, but I guess I can’t blame you. The morphine can cause a lot of confusion. Or melancholy, or euphoria depending on the person. Frankly, I think it’s the most humane way to kill someone.”

Despite his confusion Malcolm forced himself to focus. Why she wanted him dead might very well save his life. He’d talked his way out of worse situations. If he could just keep her talking, she wouldn’t be able to increase his dosage and hopefully Dani would come back to check on him.

Then it clicked in his brain. “It was you, wasn’t it? You were the supplier.”

Her eyebrows shot up, impressed. “That’s right.”

“But why?”

“Because he was my boyfriend, and they killed his brother. When I found out they were paying him to stay quiet, I knew it wasn’t right. They had to pay for what they did.”

“So why kill me?”

“Because you have to pay for what you did.”

Malcolm was starting to feel nauseous. “I’m going to throw up.”

“Yeah, the morphine will do that to you..”

They sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity after that. Malcolm was exhausted but fighting every second to stay awake. He didn’t want to take his eyes off the nurse, worried she might increase the dosage or he’d slip into a coma. He tried counting the seconds on the clock, each tick occupying his thoughts until Dani came back.

Evidently, the nurse hadn’t counted on Malcolm fighting the morphine as much as he was. She looked frustrated as she got up from the chair and started messing with the machines. Malcolm turned his head weakly and begged her with a pained expression to please stop.

“Oh. I’m sorry. Are they taking him into surgery already? I didn’t think they were doing that until later.”

Malcolm snapped his attention back to the door, where Dani had entered unexpectantly. He silently cheered her arrival, even if he was too tired to say anything.

“Yes, we’re prepping him for surgery. You need to leave,” the nurse tried to show her the door, putting a hand on Dani’s back and turning her around. But Dani wasn’t so easily fooled.

“Why is he restrained?”

“Standard procedure.”

Dani wrenched herself from the nurse’s hold. “I don’t think so. Bright, are you alright?” Worried for his wellbeing, she approached the bed but was stopped short in her tracks as the nurse pulled her back, hand twisted at the base of her scalp.

Dani cried out in surprise and reflexively pulled her gun, only to have it knocked to the floor. The two grappled on the tile floor, throwing punches and reaching for some aide. Malcolm hoped the commotion would be enough to get someone else’s attention, but time passed slowly.

Malcolm watched Dani land a punch to the nurse’s throat and she gasped for air. With her opponent in a stupor, Dani scrambled for her gun and aimed it with serious threat.

“I will shoot you,” he huffed, still dazed from the quick encounter. The nurse sat back against the wall in defeat.

“Bright? Are you okay?” Malcolm didn’t answer. Dani stood and kept careful aim at the nurse, never taking her eyes off the woman for even a second. She slowly approached the bed and felt for his pulse. Slow as it was, she felt her own pulse quicken.

“I need a doctor in here! Security!” she yelled. She spared Malcolm a quick glance. “It’s going to be okay Malcolm. I promise.”

All the doubt he’d been holding on to the last hour melted at her reassurance. He closed his eyes, confident in his partner when he heard a crowd rush into his room.

He was going to be okay.

[red-pill-blue-pill]

The best of the class. Ruska Roma. John Wick.

A/N: Hello once again. I erased this by mistake (yes, I’m THAT person) and I had to rewrite most of it. I don’t remember what I wrote the first time but I tried to write it as similar as I could. I also changed this to a second person point of view since people liked it better (yes, the second part is still in third person). Anyway, I hope I don’t delete any other fic cause I’m going to throw myself out the window if I do. Enjoy 💖(again).

Word Count: 4929 

Part 2.

Sore muscles. Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop. Twirl. Jump. No time to rest.

Ruska Roma had put their highest hopes in you and that meant practicing until you couldn’t walk and your feet were covered in blisters. You owed them. Being lost in the streets of Romania was the toughest experience you ever had to endure so when the Director took you under her wing when you were seven, gratefulness was the only thing you could feel. This was your way to pay it back.

“Stop!” the Director screamed in the empty theater, her harsh voice echoing in the air making the twirling dancers come to a halt. You all fell to the floor with a thump, relieved that the practice was finally over. “Terrible. Tomorrow I want it perfect.” her thick accent brought back terrible memories that no one dared to recall. Her footsteps were muffled by the carpeted floors as she exited the big space.

“Tomorrow?” Katya exclaimed. “Impossible. I can’t barely walk!” A chorus of agreements echoed between the other girls onstage. You and Katya had known each other since you were seven years old. You were brought in at the same time and you became best friends almost instantly. Now you were twenty one years old and it still felt like the first day. “C’mon, if we put our feet in hot and then cold water the pain will die down for a few hours and we’ll be able to practice.” You tried to lighten up her mood but she shot you a look that warned to you shut up.

“Okay okay. We’ll stretch and I’ll massage your legs. How does that sound, you moody bitch?” You helped Katya stand up and you grabbed your gym bags. “That sounds great.” she answered laughing and walking towards the backstage area.

The door opened and the darkness of the room flooded their eyes that needed a couple of minutes to adjust. There were girls sitting everywhere. Your group was the last one to dance which meant you had no free space to stretch and clean up after practice because there were girls talking, changing clothes and pulling out their toe nails. A not so pleasing sight that matched the smell. The air was thick with sweat and if someone who wasn't used to it came to visit, vomit was assured.

You kicked out some younger girls that were talking about stupid stuff. This wasn’t the place to chit-chat about your love life. Katya placed her gym bag on the floor right next to the chair you were sitting on. “Remember when we were like that? Those were good times.” she said as she unrolled the bandage around her ankles that kept them from spraining. You looked at the young girls as they left, the last one not missing the opportunity to turn around and shoot you a scowling look.

“They sure were.” Your teen years were the best of your lives. Hormones jumping around and eyes searching for cute boys to flirt with; mouths for gossiping after kissing a couple of them, for laugh fits born in the midst of thrilling situations. Ignorance is a precious gift with expiration date that you had tried to get the most out of. Being in the Ruska Roma meant little freedom but you managed anyway. Sometimes you looked back with regretful eyes, the possibility of not seizing it enough nagging at the back of your mind. Now you had other things to worry about. Soon you would leave this place and all you had was everything they had taught you: perseverance, patience, strength. You would be sent to a wealthy family to take care of obscure affairs, or maybe to a dancing company to dance all around the world. You didn’t really care as long as your life was sorted out and that meant being the best at everything you did.

You went upstairs, your quick footsteps echoed through the huge rooms. In some of them young boys were learning how to wrestle for the first time, some faces were already swollen and it wasn’t surprising; you learned the hard way or you didn’t learn at all. In others the oldest ones were fighting viciously, trying to earn their own spot at the Director’s rank of favorites.

Katya elbowed your side softly to get your attention. “Look who’s got his eyes fixed on you.” she shot a cheeky smile while you looked around the room, your eyes catching his. He was standing on the side with the other “students” that watched the fights. He was one of the best fighters in the Ruska Roma. His hair was damp with sweat and his eyes had something feral in them, a lion watching its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to attack, his cocky grin letting you know he was capable of eating you for dinner the moment he set his mind to it.

You blushed furiously and averted your eyes, looking down at the floor instead and quickening the pace of your steps. Katya followed close behind smiling widely. Once you closed the door to the corridor that led to the dorms, Katya squealed excitedly. “Did you see that?! Jardani was totally checking you out!”

You shushed her “Shut up! Someone might hear you.” the blush returning to your cheeks

“Dude, if Jardani checked me out I would want everyone to know about it.” Katya giggled while walking up to her dorm’s door. “I mean have you seen his face?”

You walked to your door. A shiver ran down your spine as she thought of his stare and the way his jaw clenched when your eyes interlocked. He was a very good looking boy, one of the most handsome ones in the Ruska Roma. Every single girl was obsessed with him. You were positive at least 6 in 10 had had wet dreams about him. Why was he interested in you? I mean, you had walked past each other in the halls for at least a thousand times and not a single “hello” had exited your mouths. Why now?

“You owe me a massage!” Katya yelled from her dorm and you huffed as you closed the door shut, you needed to rest. You lied on the bed and closed your eyes. Jardani. Your eyes shot open. Jardani. Your brain said matter of factly. A groan escaped your lips as you pulled the pillow over your head.

-

The shooting range was empty. It was your favorite training. You could blow some steam off and clear your mind while shooting viciously at a piece of paper. Sounded good. You were one of the best when it came to gun fighting. Your shots were precise and calculated, your hands as steady as steel. It was mesmerizing.

The shots, and every outside sound, were muffled by the headset you were wearing. It was only you and the gun. Or at least that's what you thought.

The last round of shots had just been fired. The bullet holes were concentrated around the head of the person's silhouette drawn on the target. You smiled proudly as the rack brought it forward, extending your arms eagerly to grab the paper. You needed to get the hell out of there, you were already late to dance practice and the Director did not tolerate the lack of punctuality.

You removed the headset from your head and put the safety back so you could put the gun back in your bag. A pair of hands started clapping behind you and you knew right away who it was. Of course, who else could have sneaked here while I was shooting?

"That was really impressive." His deep voice knocked the air out of your lungs for a couple of seconds and you debated whether to turn around or pretend he wasn't even there.

The politeness in you won the battle and you slowly turned to face him, a small blush creeping on you cheeks. "Thank you, I try." He was leaning against the wall, his hands on his front pockets, his hair was combed back allowing you to take a good look at his beautiful face that had the same cocky grin. His hazel eyes looked at you and glinted with mischief, and a mix of fear, thrill and arousal ran through your spine. But you had no time for this. Not for boys, not even for Jardani.

"How come you're here on your break?" He asked as he followed you. You had walked past him clearly in a rush but he didn't care. He knew what he wanted and nothing could stop him.

"Helps me relax and I'm good at it." You stated with no interest. You knew you could come across as rude but the only thing on your mind was not making the Director even more upset than she already was. He was about to open his mouth again but you interrupted "Listen, I don't have time right now I'm sorry." He stared at you while silence settled between the two of you. You felt naked under his gaze, you were certain he could read your thoughts. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

"I'll wait for you to finish dancing practice." He shot you his most charming smile trying to convince you. His sudden insistence was starting to get irritating. It was even more than "insistence", it was waiting for you after practice. Everyone would see (see what?), everyone would know (know what?). The thought of him leading you on to make fun of you made itself clearer. You were the wrong person to mess up with and you were going to make that very clear.

"Okay, cut the crap. What's this?" He was taken aback by your question.

"What's what?"

"All this sudden interest in me. We've seen each other around for like a thousand times." You were already late but it didn't matter anymore.

He thought for a moment before answering "How about I tell you tonight while we have dinner?" You snorted at his words. At dinner? The Ruska Roma was very strict. Dinner's at 8 pm, and by 9:30 pm everyone had to be in their dorms tucked into bed so they could wake up at 5:30 am. If one of the guards caught a student breaking the curfew the punishment was said to be unbearable.

"I'll take care of it. Meet me in the dorm's entrance at 7:45 pm?"

You hesitated. If they caught you it would probably ruin your perfect record, you had never done something like this before. You were 21 and had never broken the rules which was pretty sad if you gave it a second thought. The Ruska had gave you everything you had but also taken away the best years of your life.

Fuck it. You could always not show up if you backed away.

"Okay." You turned around catching a glimpse of the triumphant grin that Jardani had on his face and ran off to practice.

--

It went worst than you thought. The Director was indeed pissed when you ran onstage in the middle of a song and her anger grew each second that passed. Your mind was filled with that night's plans, with Jardani and with enough anxiety to make you mess up every pirouette. It was physically impossible for you to clear your mind and the Director could see it.

"Enough!" she waved her hand in the air and stood up walking towards the stage. "Go away." Every girl ran off the stage "Not you Y/n."

Katya turned around to look at you as she ran off the stage, a worried expression lacing her face. You swallowed hard, your mind racing a thousand thoughts per second. Does she know about tonight? Is she going to give me an ultimatum? You walked up to her with your head hanging low.

"What's wrong with you? You're a mess lately." The Director's gaze softened when she looked at you. You were her best student and not only when it came to dancing. Your fighting skills were impeccable and your shooting record was the highest of the whole Ruska Roma. If you started fucking up now it would be impossible to assign you to a family or dance company, you wouldn't have a future.

You looked up at her, your voice quivering slightly. "I'm sorry, it's been a hard week." You felt ashamed and disappointed on yourself. This was unacceptable for you.

She sighed and shook her head lightly. “It’s okay. Tomorrow I want it perfect. Go rest before dinner.”

Your eyes welled up with tears of relief and shame. “Thank you director.” You said before turning on your heels and running off to the backstage area.

Katya was waiting and she ran towards you with a worried expression as she saw you close the door. “What did she say? Is everything okay?” she said as her eyes widened with each word.

You smiled lightly as you walked past her. “Yes, she just wanted to make sure I was okay.”

“And are you? You’ve been in wonderland these past couple of days.” she followed you close, dodging the girls that lied on the floor while they stretched.

“Yes, I am perfectly fine. It’s nothing.” you went to open the door that led to the corridors of your dorm but she put her hand on top of yours as you reached for the doorknob.

“Where are you going? You never miss stretching.” she raised an eyebrow when she saw your face blushing furiously. It took a couple of seconds or her to connect the dots. Her mouth opened in surprise. “You’re going to see him aren’t you?” you nodded slowly.

”Oh my god!” she squealed as silently as she could. Making everyone turn their heads towards you two.

You fake smiled and grabbed her shoulder to turn her around, hiding your face as you talked. “Yes. Please don’t make a scene. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.” you whispered and she smiled cheekily

“No wonder why you’ve been so distracted. He’s got you under his spell.” she laughed and you opened the door, tired of hearing her comments, you knew she was right, as much as you wanted to deny it.

“Have fun!” she said just before you closed it and rushed to your room.

-

You turned to the clock that hung on your wall. 7:40. The anxiety was overwhelming you, even more after the talk with the Director. You knew she worried about you and you were about to betray that trust it took you years to build. The “backing off” sign was shining as bright as ever. Three minutes. Who were you trying to deceive? You were all dressed up with your make up on point. You wanted this more than anything even if the feeling of guilt was burning a hole in your stomach. Two minutes. You sneaked out of your room and walked through the corridor, your heart thumping on your chest as you got closer and closer to the door.

The wooden floor creaked under your steps and you cursed under your breath. You opened the door and closed it trying to make as little sound as you could. You took a quick glance around the room. No sight of Jardani. A sudden fear of being stood up and laughed at took over your mind. You mentally scolded yourself for being so naive. Footsteps echoed through the adjacent room. You heartbeat sped up. The rational part of your brain wanted for them to belong to a guard who would tell you to go to the dinning room and end this nonsense. You would never talk to Jardani again, problem solved. No more distractions, no more anxiety. But the irrational part longed to see Jardani's face and, deep down, the thought of not seeing him made your heart break a little.

When you saw him come around the corner you let out a sigh of relief. A big smile made its way through his face. His hair was combed backwards, the same as when you saw him in the shooting range. His white shirt tightened around his arms and put on display before your eyes his muscled chest and broad shoulders. It was tucked inside his blue jeans. He looked straight out a 60's movie.

You snapped out of your trance knowing you were staring a bit too much and he was completely aware. "Let's go please." You whispered trying to hurry him up.

He smiled cockily. "aren't we eager?" He said but before you could answer he grabbed your hand and pulled you along with him "Come on."

You walked silently through the building, dodging the guards and sneaking into the first floor to jump out the window. He jumped first and held his hand out to help you land safely on the ground. You smiled at him and thanked him softly.

"There's a park two streets away, let's go." He said as he started to walk, you following him suit. It was only now that you noticed he had a backpack. The thought of him kidnapping or murdering you had never crossed your mind. It would be the perfect occasion though. Only Katya knew you were out the Ruska Roma but she didn't know where. You could fight him. He was one of the best and strongest fighters but you had mastered the technique and could match his expertise.

"Here we are." He stopped and swung his backpack off his shoulder. He kneeled on the floor and opened the zip to get out a picnic blanket and laid it on the grass. He also pulled put a couple of chinese take away containers and a big bottle of water.

You were in awe. Not only was he risking getting caught right now, he had sneaked out to get the food and then sneaked back in to meet you. You heart warmed at the thought and all that dread you felt towards him before melted away.

"Are you going to stand there all night or are you sitting here with me?" He asked patting the free stop next to him on the blanket. You rolled your eyes and sat down next to him. The golden hour sun shone on your faces. His long lashes casted shadows over his cheekbones and the light stubble that covered his chin and jaw stood out. His brown coffee eyes seemed lighter. He was so beautiful you couldn't hold his gaze for more than a couple of seconds.

"Alright, tell me. Have I suddenly become irresistible?" You asked before stuffing your face with noodles. It had been a while since you had eaten something that good.

"What?" He asked quirking an eyebrow.

You shot him a knowing look and he sighed.

"Look, I saw you, thought you were cute and asked you out. It's not that deep."

He shrugged his shoulders and took a big gulp of water.

You snorted at his response "Jardani, c'mon, we have seen eachother a thousand times. I know there's more to it."

He turned to look at you and his gaze softened. “You can look at people without actually seeing them.” he paused for a couple of seconds, thinking how to put his words together. ”Everyone talked about how you were the best in Ruska Roma and when you walked past wrestling class and I looked at you properly I thought you were really cute. So now we’re here.”

You chucked lightly and swallowed the food in your mouth. “Yeah right.”

“Oh my god. If I knew you were this stubborn I would never have asked you out. What is it now?” he said while rolling his eyes.

“I saw how you were staring at me.” you said in a burst of confidence. You were rarely the one to display vanity but this was an actual fact. He looked at you waiting for you to finish “Your eyes were… almost feral, filled with lust.”

“Did it turn you on?” he asked with a stoic expression on his face.

Your eyes widened and your face grew hot at his sudden question. You hand slapped his arm harshly. It would be embarrassing to confess something like that to someone like him, so filled with self-importance and in full knowledge of what his looks did to the ladies. “Jardani!” you screamed as he laughed at your flustered face.

“I’m just messing with you.”

Dusk was starting to set in, darkness flooded the sky and stars made their appearance. The food was long finished and you just stared at the sky, shoulders brushing slightly every time any of you moved a little bit. You tried your best not to get carried away. He was intoxicating and you needed to remain as rational as possible. You couldn’t face more distractions right now.

“I really like this.” you murmured without even thinking.

“What?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the night sky.

“Being outside, freedom feels good once in a while.” you said chuckling at your own words. You knew freedom was unreachable in your life but it comforted you to think that maybe you had experienced it at least once.

He didn’t say anything, he just leaned more into you, his arm flush against yours. The feeling of his skin on yours sent electric jolts down your spine. Your brain was clouded with confusion and you struggled to keep your tough façade. You thought about anything that could keep your mind out of this situation but the sound of his breathing always broke your concentration. That was the first time you noticed his scent. He smelled of mint and deodorant. Clean, fresh.

He lied on the blanket while letting out a loud sigh. You breathed in slowly, thankful for the loss of contact between you two, it was taking all you had to not jump his bones right there. Just as your relief came it went away as his hand rested on the small of your back, drawing small circles with his thumb. You heart threatened to jump right out our mouth and you were positive he could feel it.

You kept your back turned to him, trying to ignore his presence as much as you could. This was being some kind of test from the gods. A very mean one. You couldn’t even remember the last time you got laid, hell you couldn’t even remember the last time someone laid their hands on you. You were completely touch starved and your oversensitive skin reacting to his touch was sweet torture.

He squeezed lightly your skin “Lay down with me.” he whispered, his voice was like honey, cloying for your unaccustomed ears. Your mind rushed, trying to think of an excuse but nothing came so you just gave in and braced yourself for what was to come.

You lied down, his arm was against yours again. Your eyes scanned his profile. It was unbelievable how someone could look so good with such little effort. His gaze was lost in the vastness of the sky, his lips pursed lightly. You could only think about how badly you wanted to kiss him, to feel his soft lips on yours.

A sigh left your parted mouth as you looked back into the darkness.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked as if he was reading your mind.

“Nothing.” Your face grew red at the unspoken thoughts.

“You were thinking about kissing me, weren’t you?” he turned to look at you with a soft smile on his lips.

He was truly a smooth talker. You could tell he had a lot of experience in the flirting field. The way the words rolled off his tongue, how he knew when to whisper, when to lower his voice. He knew how to get you weak on the knees. And what was more important he knew how girls thought of him.

“Oh my god are you always like this?” you tried to hide the embarrassment in your voice with a laugh.

He joined you with a chuckle. “What do you mean? I’m lovely.”

“Yeah, sure.” You laughed even harder. “I’m actually having a good time, the company could be better but I’m not complaining.” you said when you managed to calm down.

“Me too. It’s been a while since I had last done this.”

The smile that was plastered on your face faltered a little. A pang of jealousy in your heart. Were you jealous? For a boy you just met? Well, that was new.

“Oh, so you do this often?” you asked trying not to sound too upset.

“Are you jealous?” he smiled cheekily. “I’ve done this a fair amount of times but never with someone like you.”

You could see him looking at you from the corner of your eye. You breathed in slowly. “What am I like?” You turned your head to meet his eyes, there it was, that feral look once again, that look that made you wet your panties. You said it. Jardani made you wet your panties.

He stayed silent for a couple of seconds, his hand reaching out to cup the side of your face. “A good girl.” it was barely above a whisper but you heard it as clear as if he had screamed it.

You closed your eyes, overwhelmed by the combination of touch and words, and let out a shaky breath. You were going to combust at any given moment. He ran his thumb over your lips, his eyes studying your flustered face. He knew the effect he had on you and was taking complete advantage. It was a delight for him to see you completely at his mercy.

It was getting hard to control yourself, your brain had hung the “on vacation” sign and the feeling of his breathing on your face was making it even more difficult. A sudden rush of lust ran through your body and you couldn’t help but to take his thumb into your mouth. His breath hitched at the unexpected action and you opened your eyes to meet his darkened gaze, watching you closely as sucked on his finger, running your tongue up and down before releasing it with a light pop.

His eyes pierced through yours and it felt as if he was trying to look beyond them. His thumb rested on your lips and you couldn’t help but let out a soft moan “Jardani.”

“Tell me baby, what do you want?” He tried to keep his voice as steady as he could. His breathing was ragged as he waited for your reply, almost impossible to hold himself back.

“Kiss me.”

Before you knew it his lips were on yours. Teeth clashed and tongues met in a heated kiss that surpassed your expectations. Even though it was rough and full of lust you felt how soft his lips were and how good he tasted. His hands grabbed your hips and pulled you to straddle him while yours were tangled in his soft hair. When you broke the kiss you stared at each other, trying to steady your altered breathings.

Laughter erupted as you thought about what you had just done. His eyes gleamed with curiosity, and his ruffled hair added a touch of innocence that made him look like a guy that was making out with a girl for the first time. He was genuinely confused by you not-so-good-anymore attitude. You looked wild, sexy. The small beads of sweat that rested on your neck and forehead glinted under the moonlight.

You leaned down again to kiss him softly as his hands travelled down to your ass, squeezing it through your jeans. You rolled your hips against his crotch in response, eliciting a loud moan against your mouth. You hands rested on his chest, occasionally scratching him through his t-shirt.

“How about we go back?” he asked in between small pecks making you smile.

You pulled away, biting lightly his lower lip, and rested your forehead against his. You obviously knew where this was leading to but you couldn’t care less. Some steamy hot sex with the Jardani was everything you needed right now to blow some steam off and relax a little.

You nodded and got up, helping him up to his feet and swiftly picking up all the picnic stuff. You had no time to waste. He put away the take away food containers and put the blanket back into his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder and holding his hand out for your to take it.

When he enveloped your small hand with his he pulled you against his chest and kissed you again. You rested your free hand on his chest and you felt his heartbeat thumping against your palm. When you broke the kiss you looked up at him and chuckled lightly before starting to walk back to the Ruska Roma.

“What?” he asked with an amused expression plastered on his face while he let you drag him along as you walked.

“It’s stupid. It’s just, when I saw you at wrestling class you looked so wild and feral, like a lion waiting for his prey, and I had the feeling that you could eat me for dinner if you wanted to.” you said brushing it off and chuckling again.

He spun you around and looked right into your eyes, his mouth curving upwards lightly. “Baby, I’ve already had dinner. You’re dessert.” he clashed his mouth against yours again, this time in a domineering manner, letting you know who was in charge.

[what-is-your-plan-today]

Stark Spangled Banner Ch 2: The Contest

Summary: Life at SHIELD isn’t always missions and seriousness, as a good natured shooting contest between Katie and Clint shows! The question is, as the two dead-shots face off, who will be the winner? Steve has utter faith in his best friend, but will he win the bet? Either way, both are left contemplating their feelings towards one another and realise they run much deeper than either could ever have imagined them doing.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

Warnings: Bad language (no smut, yet, but will be down the line) Bit of angst, two idiots struggling with feelings

March 2013

A shooting contest between two Avengers was always going to draw big attention, so it was hardly surprising, therefore, that SHIELD agents were running a book. Clint was odds on favourite to win, but Steve had so far refused to take part, that is until 10 minutes or so before the contest was supposed to start. He was stood outside the shooting range, eyes focussed on Katie and Clint as they both stood in there, checking their equipment, a crowd steadily gathering behind him.

 “I know she’s good, but she really doesn’t stand a chance.” Natasha said as she stood at his side. Her matter-of-fact tone caused something in his chest to stir, the lack of faith everyone bar Evans and Lawson from the lab seemed to be displaying in Katie riled him and he turned to Natasha.

“Twenty bucks says she does it.” he stuck his hand out.

She raised an eyebrow at him, before shaking his hand “Alright Rogers, you’re on.”

His hands returned to his belt buckle and both Katie and Clint signalled they were ready.

Evans went into the room, it was soundproof unless you pushed the button to listen in, which Rumlow did, of course.

"No pushing or shoving of your opponent because that’s just a shitty thing to do…” Evans said, his Texan drawl loud as his hand scratched at his ginger beard “No fancy arrows Hawkeye, just the normal rounds.”

“What’s normal about any of this?” Katie mumbled, earning her a smirk off Clint.

“Perfect kill shots are an extra half-point. 20 minute time limit is in force. If you’re tied on score then we’ll go to the number of kill shots made.” Evans looked at them and they both nodded, Katie licking her lips. “Now. To your starting positions…and…” he held his right hand up, 3 fingers extended “May the odds be ever in your favour…”

Steve had no idea what that was a reference too, but he heard the rest of the people around him snigger. Katie threw her head back in a laugh as Clint mimicked Evan’s hand gesture as the other Sniper left the room.

The two opponents stepped up to the line that marked off the beginning of the course, which was constructed out of crates and various other objects. Katie cracked her neck side to side as Clint tested the tension in the bow string one last time before turning his head to meet Katie’s gaze. She put her gun back into its thigh holster and turned to her old SO.

“May the best woman win…” she said with a smirk, fist bumping him with her right hand as she felt the blood pounding in her ears. Then, with a simultaneous nod, the two of them shot forward.

Steve felt a surge of pride as he watched Katie leaping from obstacle to obstacle, landing shot after shot. After she landed the 4th he heard Natasha hiss through her teeth.

“Ok, so maybe she has a little chance…”

Steve didn’t reply, simply watched, silently willing her on.

As the minutes ticked on, the two continued, both making leaps, dropping into rolls, and ducking behind corners. Katie took another shot, and paused for a split second, if she was counting correctly there were two more to go and 5 minutes left on the clock. She looked up for her next target and saw Clint was blocking her way, knelt down, aiming at his own. Katie knew the sensible thing to do would be to wait, but then she was a Stark, being sensible wasn’t one of her main attributes. With a smirk she re-holstered her gun and sprinted as fast as she could, launching herself forward into a perfect front flip, catapulting right over the top of Clint before she immediately slid onto a knee and brought the handgun back up, aiming at the target.

Outside the room there was a lot of cheering and cat calls at her display of acrobatics.

Katie moved to her final target, back against a large crate, aimed but then missed and Steve closed his eyes- that would cost her.

“Shit!” she exclaimed, doubling over to catch her breath as Clint walked over to her, pulling her into a hug.

“Sharp shooting Nova!” he grinned, ruffling at her hair. Both of them turned as the doors open and a few agents walked in, back slapping them both as Evans collected the targets and went to tally up the points.

“That was impressive!” Steve said, crossing the room smiling “both of you.”

“Not bad Stark.” Nat added, appraisingly

“Thanks.” she said, taking a drink of the bottle of water Clint handed to her. She was red faced, sweating but absolutely thrilled, pumped full of adrenaline. She placed her hands on her hips and took a deep breath.

“Ok and we have the results!” Evans said and Clint threw his arm round Katie as hers slid round his waist.  “Barton hit each target, giving him 10 plus 4 kill shots, taking him to 12. Stark you missed one giving you 9 and 3 kill shots, taking you to 10.5…”

“Damned it!” Katie groaned, shaking Clint’s hand as the various cheers and complaints went up as people started to cash in their bets.

“You’re fired…” Steve heard a familiar voice say. Spinning round, he saw Fury handing over a fifty to an agent whose name escaped him and Steve bit back a smile. The Director had bet on Katie. That one mistake had been costly.

“Cough up Rogers…” Nat said, holding out her hand. He turned to her, sighing and fished in his pocket for a twenty, handing it to her.

“You bet on me?” Katie looked at him, surprised.

“Course I did, sweetheart.” he said immediately.

 “Yeah I didn’t, sorry Stark.” Nat said, taking the twenty off him “Clint’s never lost a challenge yet.”

“He nearly did.” Steve said, looking at his friend proudly before he glanced back at Natasha. “Was worth the bet to see you get so twitchy Romanoff… “

“I wasn’t twitchy…” She said, as Clit looked at her.

“Seriously?”  he frowned.

“I’ll admit at one point I thought Stark might have just shaded it…” Nat narrowed her eyes at Steve who simply shrugged, hands dropping to the front of his belt buckle.

“To be fair, there was one point where I thought that too.” Clint smiled, and Katie felt a surge of pride in her chest as he replaced the arrows into his quiver. “Did good Nova, I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Clint.” she smiled at him.

“So, who fancies a drink?” Barton looked around, clapping his hands together.

“I’m game.” Katie said, emptying her magazine, already stripping down her weapon.

Natasha nodded and then Steve realised they were all looking at him. He hesitated, he really did need to train as he hadn’t had a decent run that morning and he’d be restless all evening otherwise, but after that…why not?

"I gotta work out first but if you tell me where you’re going I'll join you when I'm done.” he said.

“Take a day off!” Nat drawled, examining her nails. He was about to reply but Katie got there first.

“If he doesn’t work out he’s a right crank! And no one likes a Cranky Cap…”

“You know what Stark…” he started but she simply stuck her tongue out at him causing him to roll his eyes, fighting to keep the smile off his face.

“Why don’t we try the new sports bar on the high-street, what’s it called again?” Clint suggested.

“Home Run?” Nat asked.

“Yeah that’s it.” he nodded “Couple of doors down from the Burger joint.”

“I’ll find it.” Steve said as Clint nodded, making for the door, Natasha following.  Katie turned to Steve, smiling at him as he surveyed the room.

"You did a good job," he nodded to the obstacle course “Did it take you back to fighting Aliens?”

"Not quite the same, you know? No returning gunfire… no life-or-death stakes… no Captain America cushioning my fall when we got blown out of a bank window," she teased. He laughed, as she started to back up towards the door. "I won't take up your workout time. See you at the bar?"

“You never take up my time, doll.” He smiled back, honestly before he felt the flush rise up his neck. What a dumbass thing to say. “See you later." he nodded.

With that she took her leave, tugging her hair out the ponytail as she left, allowing the gentle waves to cascade down her back.

********

Half an hour or so, after a Katie had showered and changed, the 3 Avengers were making the 20 minute or so walk to the bar downtown.

“You know I still can’t believe I got to within a point and a half of you.” Katie nudged Clint.

“Me neither actually.” Natasha asked “I thought it was gonna be a whitewash.”

“Oh ye of little faith…” Katie said, mock hurt lacing her voice.

“Tell you who did have faith, other than Rogers… Fury.” Nat said grinning.

“Hang on…the boss bet against me?” Clint stopped “Damned.”

“Don’t take it personally…” Katie shrugged as they reached the bar. Clint opened the door to let the girls step in first and then he joined them, looking around at the new surroundings. It was low lit but piled with sports memorabilia which they paused to have a look at on their way to the bar. Drinks purchased, they headed to a plush, leather seated booth and settled down.

They fell into an easy chat, and then the inevitable teasing about Rumlow fancying Katie started up and she groaned. Clint and Nat enjoyed ribbing her about him and she had to admit, he wasn’t subtle to be fair. He’d asked her out 3 times now and she’d politely declined but it didn’t stop her friends from enjoying teasing her about it. Clint and Nat took turns in trying to highlight Rumlow’s more endearing qualities. They managed a sum total of 3 when Clint leaned back in his chair and shrugged.

“I’m out…” he grinned as Katie laughed, raising her glass to her mouth to drain the last of her beer.

“Yeah, he’s not relationship materiel…” Nat shrugged

“But you could just fuck him, get what you need and kick him out before breakfast.” Clint suggested causing Katie to choke down her mouthful of European lager and pick up the beer mat nearest her.

Steve chose that exact moment to walk into the bar. He watched as the beer mat hit Clint straight between the eyes, and Katie threw her head back in pure, unadulterated laughter. Something in his chest stirred as he watched her, that wonderful smile and laugh filling her face. He enjoyed seeing her so relaxed.

“Hey…” he greeted them as they all looked up. “You guys need another drink?”

“Cheers Cap, 3 beers…” Clint motioned round the table and Steve headed off to the bar. Katie watched him go, eye trained on his ass which looked remarkably fine in those dark denims...then, realising what she was doing and who she was with, she let out silent groan as she turned back to see Clint and Nat exchanging a glance, a glance between two people who had just discovered the best secret ever and she knew she’d been caught.  

“What?” she shrugged “Girl can look, right?”

Neither of them said anything just kept smirking to themselves in that infuriating way until Steve returned, setting down the 4 pints which he easily held in his hands and slid into the spare seat next to Katie.

“I’m in the mood for another challenge.” Clint leaned forward, his eyebrows raising up and down as he spoke.

“Like what?” Katie folded her arms

“Which one of you…” he said, waving his finger between her and Nat “…can down a pint fastest?”

“That’s not a contest…” Katie looked at Nat, smirking. “We all know it’s me.”

The red head quirked an eyebrow, “I’m game if you are.”

Katie shrugged as Clint chuckled and pounded his hand on the table. “Alright then, Ladies…on your marks…”

As soon as Clint had done counting down Katie raised the glass to her mouth and chugged, draining it in 4 seconds flat before turning it upside down on top of her head. Natasha wasn’t even half way through hers before she groaned and set her glass down, trying to supress a burp.

Steve couldn’t help but look at her, his mouth falling open.

"What?” she laughed, shrugging as the Captain exchanged a look with Clint “I spent 3 years at University, drinking with boys…”

“Yeah well I’ll stick to Vodka…” Nat said, shaking her head “Fancy that as a challenge?”

“Not a chance.” Katie said, “Although Cap could…”

“He could, but he won’t” Steve said sternly shooting her a look “Because it wouldn’t be fair…”

Katie rolled her eyes pouting.

“You do know I’m Russian, right.” Nat said, leaning back “I was practically weaned on the stuff…”

“Yes, I know that, but I can't get drunk." Steve shrugged “my metabolism burns it off too fast.”

“Cap…” Clint sighed, shaking his head “That might just be the saddest thing I have ever heard.”

“Even sadder than when you heard you were shipping off to guard Thor’s hammer?” Nat asked

Clint considered this for a moment “Hmmmm. Maybe the same level of sadness at learning I was about to head to Butt-fuck America for an undefined amount of time, yes.”

Steve choked into his beer. Besides him Katie laughed.

"That's a bit harsh," he said as Clint snorted and shook his head.

"Cap. I'm serious. It was legit in the middle of the fucking desert. Nothing for miles."

“What happened to that one eyed puppy we found?” Katie asked suddenly.

“Err, I took him to some friends.” Clint said “Their kids love him, he’s living the best life.”

Katie and Natasha shared a smile, both understood Friends to mean his family and his own kids.

“Still eating Pizza?” Katie asked.

“Pizza?” Steve asked, frowning. “Who feeds a dog pizza?”

“Well he was a bit like you in that respect. Do anything for a double pepperoni with extra cheese.” Katie nudged him with her elbow

“As long as its New York style…” Steve drained his glass, matter of factly.

“Admit it, you enjoyed it when it took you to Second City” Katie eyed him.

“You been to Seconds?” Clint asked, “Thought you swore you wouldn’t go back after that waiter said he wanted to give you a real slice of Chicago to talk about?”

Natasha snorted “Wish I’d seen that.”

“Trust me…”Clint said, “You don’t. Nova went from zero to full metal jacket in 3 seconds flat. Dragged him over the counter and everything…”

“You didn’t?” Steve glanced at her, although he knew she probably had.

“Look… we had just got back from a week’s stake out in Saudi Arabia…” Katie sighed, shrugging as Clint and Natasha laughed “I was tired and fending off the advances of some greasy, 40 something year old man politely really wasn’t top of my list…”

“Why not? You do it every day to Rumlow” Nat smirked.

At the mention of his name Steve felt his eyes narrow. He hated the way the STRIKE leader blatantly eyed Katie up at every given chance. It was disrespectful.

“Don’t start that again” Katie rolled her eyes.

“He’s not a bad looking guy.” Nat persisted “You could do worse…”

“You like him so much you fuck him!” Katie’s voice was snappy. Romanoff leaned back in her chair, eyeing her over half full glass, smirking.

“Touched a nerve, Stark?”

“No, you’re just talking crap, as usual.” she shot back, standing up. “My round…”

Steve moved so that she could get out and watched her head to the bar.

“Think we need to lay off the whole Rumlow thing…” Clint snorted, turning Nat. “She’s clearly not interested.”

“Tell that to Rumlow” Nat shrugged snorted.

“Well you can’t blame him, she’s a good looking girl.” Clint shrugged

“Yeah but she’s obviously looking for someone a little less…”

“Of an ass hat?” Clint cut in making Steve snort.

“I was gonna say a little more of a gentleman but…if the cap fits…” Nat shrugged and her eyes flashed to Steve and he knew instantly she had aimed that comment at him. Steve sighed and shook his head, shooting her a glare which she shrugged off, in her usual nonchalant way.

But he couldn’t shake it out of his mind. Did she know something he didn’t?

****

A few hours later Clint and Nat decided they’d had enough and left to grab a taxi. When Clint was in town he always stayed with Nat, prompting Steve to wonder if there was anything going on beyond the platonic friendship. He pondered it for a moment, deciding to just ask the question.

 “Is there something going on there?” he nodded to the pair as they left.

“No.” Katie said, shaking her head “Absolutely not.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Ok, I’ll tell you, but don’t be pissed I haven’t told you before…” she said, pausing “Clint…he’s married, has 2 kids.”

“What?” Steve choked on his beer.

“They have a place…somewhere, I don’t know exactly but it’s off SHIELD’s books and no one knows bar me, Nat and Fury…”

“Huh…” Steve said, pondering for a moment.

“Look, sorry I didn’t tell you but…”

“It’s ok.” He smiled. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a little bit disappointed she hadn’t told him before, but he understood, she was loyal to a fault. “I get it, he’s your friend.”

“Yeah I know but he’s not my best friend…” she batted her eyelids at him.

“Hmmm, stop buttering me up.”

“Has it worked?”

“Yes.” He said, draining his glass and she grinned “Same again?”

They had a couple more before Katie decided she was one pint away from being drunk and Steve found himself a little bit disappointed she wanted to leave. He was enjoying spending the time with her. It felt different to their usual trips out, she’d been more relaxed than he had seen her in a long time, enjoying the gentle touches she made to his arm and leg when she was teasing him.

“You know, you shouldn’t have told Nat you can’t get drunk and whooped her ass at a vodka necking contest.” she said, linking her arm into his as they headed to the taxi rank.

“Now that would have been dishonest” he smirked. “Surely you’re not saying I should use my enhancement to my advantage in such a situation?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.” she nodded.

He laughed, sticking his arm out to hail a cab.

“But then you’re a very honest kinda guy…” she said.

“I have my moments” he turned to face her

“Nah ah, you can’t lie for shit!” she grinned at him.

“No, I can’t lie to you for shit, sweetheart” He said, rolling his eyes “You know me too well.”

“Hmmm, true.” she said, nodding in agreement. The car stopped at the curb and Steve opened the door for her.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Steve asked, not particularly happy she was cabbing back alone, it was times like this he wished he had a car. “I can walk back for my bike…”

“I can handle myself…I’m a trained killer remember?” she said, raising her hands and making gun signs at him with her fingers. He shook his head, smiling.

“You’re an idiot.” He snorted a laugh.

“But you love me!” she grinned, standing on her toes to give him a peck on the cheek. “g’night soldier.”

“Call me when you’re home.” He instructed “And if I ain’t heard from you in 20…” he raised his voice so the cab driver could hear.

She shook her head, smiling as she climbed into the taxi and waved as it pulled off.

*****

It wasn’t long before she was home. She kicked off her boots, flopped down onto her bed and pulled out her phone, better do as Captain Badass said or knowing him he’d turn up and kick the door in.

“So I’m home Old timer…” she said, when he answered and from his sigh she knew he would be rolling his eyes.

“Less of the old” he said, the clinking of cutlery and plates rattling in the background.

“What you doing?” she asked.

“Making food.”

“You can’t cook.” she snorted.

“Yes I can.”

“So why have you never cooked for me?” she asked indignantly, feeling somewhat annoyed that she always did the cooking for the two of them.

“Because you’re better at it.” He said simply “And I've made you grilled cheese before. And soup. Now drink some water and go to sleep.”

“God you’re so bossy.” she grumbled. “Captain Badass…”

“Someone has to be, you’re a law unto yourself.”

“Yah but admit it, I’m awesome.”

“I know you are, I’ve told you before. But if I say it again will you do what I said?”

“Maybe, probably…definitely maybe” she said, shrugging to herself.

“Then you’re awesome. Goodnight doll.”

“Night Stevie.”

On that he cut the call, placing his phone down on the counter as he thought back over the day, waiting for his food to heat. For the first time in a long time he actually felt completely at ease. Ease with his life both in and out of work.

Up until a few weeks ago it had still felt slightly confusing, and it still did with the STRIKE team sometimes. At first he had been tentative, not trying to step on Rumlow’s toes but that had quickly subsided and the two of them had fallen into a pretty good working relationship. As much as Rumlow could rile him, he knew that the man was good at his job, and Steve was good at his. He was the tactician, Rumlow organised the troops. But sometimes, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Sometimes he feels interest, but it was often coloured by the lingering disillusionment that they were merely humouring him as the blue eyed all American hero he had been painted to be.

But never once had he felt like that with Katie.

And then his apartment seemed to blur in front of him, causing him to realise this went way beyond some daft crush. He was really falling in deep. The heat travelled up his chest into his neck and he felt his palms become sweaty. He dropped his arms to wipe them on his jeans as the fizzy feeling left his body, but stayed by him, swirling around until he could practically hear it. This really, really wouldn’t do. She was his friend, a work colleague…the daughter of one of his friends from the 40s…and then there was Peggy.

Not for the first time Steve delved into the reasons he'd been drawn to Katie, comparing her to Peggy. Both women had strong personalities, an unwavering sense of justice and ethics, a deep well of compassion, loyalty, and the air of authority that put more than one man in his place, including himself. They were both incredibly beautiful, filled with passion, devotion and ambition…

Abandoning his food, his appetite lost completely he threw the remains into the bin and headed into his bedroom, intending to do what he did best when it came to women. 

Stick his head in the sand and hope to God it all went away.

Meanwhile, Katie was going through her own bedtime routine, shedding her clothes and pulling on a pair of pyjamas before collapsing into her pillow, thinking about what a good day it had been. She hadn’t disgraced herself at the contest, had a good evening in the pub afterwards, and to top it off Fury and Steve had actually backed her in said contest.

At the thought of Steve she smiled to herself. It was kind of nice to have him looking out for her, even if he was a bossy bastard about drinking water. Which reminded her, she needed some. Heading to the kitchen she grabbed a glass, filled it, and then made her way back to bed, this time snuggling down under the covers.

And it wasn’t just the way he cared, it was the way he was so comfortable with her. The gentle touches to her arm and lower back, the fact he called her doll or sweetheart. The smile that he flashed her that could light up his entire face, and those eyes…those god damned beautiful eyes that could drown her in seconds…

Her stomach was suddenly crawling with those damned butterflies, the same ones she had been feeling on or off around him now since Thanksgiving. And they fluttered from her stomach to her chest. It was getting harder and harder to ignore them now, she had feelings for Captain fucking America. Her dad’s friend, her best friend...

Groaning, she rolled over and shoved her head into the pillows. She was utterly fucked.

Tags @the-omni-princess​

[oculusius]

Desk Jockey

“I want that report on my desk at 6 AM tomorrow or your ass is on the street.”

I look up from my keyboard, from the sickeningly modern, blank desk to the even worse face of my branch manager. Picture what you’d expect the person saying this to look like, and you’re probably right. Tall, dark hair combed back, slicked back with just enough gel to not be disgusting. Attractive, but only conventionally, because it hides his fetid interior. The rotten, wriggling insides of the kind of guy who relishes other’s misery, especially when he’s snorting high grade blow on the weekends. Though he’d probably prefer orphan’s tears (But that’s a story for another time).

I’ll do my best, you fucking cretin.

I mumble out some garbled excuse. I won’t even tell you what I said because I forget, or rather, it was so insignificant that I never committed it to memory in the first place. “Sorry Eric,” (He’s one of the ‘hip’ bosses that makes us call him by his first name), “Won’t happen again”, Please don’t take my healthcare away I will literally suck your dick to keep it. He shakes his head and walks away. We’re the last ones in the office, one of the tallest buildings in our shitty, Midwestern town; all glass and steel like some gaudy San Francisco startup. The only lights still on are in the lobby; besides that the only other illumination is from the sickeningly crisp glow emanating from my monitor. As soon as the elevator doors close behind Eric, I grasp my hair in my hands; it’s drenched in sweat and I’m balding already, despite being in my late twenties. Flakes of dandruff are appearing on my scalp, but by the time I get home from work I’m too damn tired to remember to get that special shampoo. Stress related? Probably. Did I have time to fix it? Fuck no.

I swear to God you motherfucker I’ll name you when I eat a fucking bullet you shit fuck…

Stop. The more rational voice in my head. Finish this shit in the next—5 hours? Shit, it’s already 1 AM! I’ll smash bottles and get proper wasted when I’m finished. And when the following day is over, seeing as I’d probably be pulling an all-nighter. Fuck. I take two caffeine pills from the nondescript tin in my top drawer.

Alright. I need to get the excel sheet from that old email inbox the intern left when he quit (not that I blame him). To do that, I need to go through my inbox and find that time I CC’ed him about scheduling that conference call. But to get into my inbox, I need to reset my password because company policy is to change passwords every 3 weeks, and it can’t be a past password…

Alright. One step at a time.

 It’s two hours later. I found the file, finally. I feel like I crossed the fucking Rubicon with no limbs to get here. Now, to get the shit I need from it and send it to Eric. I hope he chokes on it. While bleeding. From every orifice, and then some. I open the file, and I’ve never been so goddamn happy to see the sickening green of excel. Document recovery—what’s that? Fuck it, I’ll deal with it later. I ctrl f the account name. Beads of sweat are dripping off my forehead. Outside, it’s still the vaguely pinkish black of night in any big city. I might actually get some sleep tonight…

WHY IS THERE A FUCKING HYPERLINK HERE?

Oh boy, this better not cost me my job. I get sent to a greyish webpage, the kind of soulless portal that screams ‘high finance’. A nondescript login page for “Kleene-Rosser Accounts Management LLC”. I roll my eyes. Management occasionally threw us these shitty platforms because their friends from way back developed them, and they wanted to help them out. Because God forbid we use Citibank.

There’s no login, but there’s a support number on the bottom of the page. Maybe if I call, they can help me? It’s worth a shot. I mean, I had nothing but time, and if it actually worked and saved my job, I would fly all the way to India or some shit to kiss that phone technician on the lips. Alright. God, when I was an undergrad did I ever imagine this would be my waking life (or lack thereof?) I should’ve joined the military. Better to be blown up overseas then mentally scarred over here.

4-887-612-393: 24/7 Live Support

I call from my office phone, in the hopes that it’ll lend credence to the claim that I fucking need this login. The phone rings for what seems like half an hour, but I can tell from the clock on the wall that it hasn’t been a single, godforsaken minute. Maybe I’d died and gone to purgatory? Seemed believable enough—although, I wasn’t sure what I’d done in a past life to deserve this. Maybe I was a Mongol slavedriver, and…

“Hello, this is ZenDesk, my name is Robert. How may I help you today?” My crisis of existential spiraling instantly, mercifully, shatters. I put on a cheery voice.

“Hi, I work at [company name]. I really need to find something for my boss, and in this accounts payable excel file, it says that I’m supposed to login to a ‘Kleene-Rosser Accounts Management?’ I have all my company info if you need it, I was just never told we used this firm before.”

A beat passes. I hope he heard the desperation in my voice, because if I had a guardian angel, it’d be on the other end of that phone line. Why did I tell him I never heard of this place? He doesn’t care! He isn’t paid to care!

“Of course, sir. Just a moment please. What’s your name sir?”

That thin veneer of politeness again.

“Uh, Keith Sanders. I also have my company email, if you can send the password there…”

“OK sir, what’s the address?”

I spell it out for him. My fingers are digging into the faux-leather of the chair. I’m starting to sweat. If this doesn’t work, I’m fucking hosed…

I tell him the address, and soon I have the URL to reset the Kleene-Rosser password. Surprisingly, my company email works for the username. Lucky guess I suppose? I thank him, truly from the bottom of my heart, and wait for the page to load.

According to the web page, the site was some kind of file storage service. Besides a few nondescript tabs on the top leading to “Home”, “Support”, etc. there’s nothing but a grey background set behind a very basic file directory.

[company_name]/Accounts/Accounts_Payable/2019/May/.

There it is! So deceptively close. 05.19.19.xcl

When I try to open it, I hear the most awful of noises: the Windows 10 error sound, impossibly loud. File corrupted. WHAT THE FUCK? HOW DO YOU CORRUPT A FUCKING EXCEL FILE? SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS SIDEWAYS?

I dig my fingertips into my temples. I can feel the faint outline of an engorged vein on the side of my head. I imagine it, an angry, vibrant purple, the shooting representation of my immense, earth-shattering frustration.

It was as if every cog in the infernal machine that was my work place was designed specifically to drive me fucking bananas. Like my life was some cosmic joke to see how much I would endure before going postal, or at least smashing my monitor. Jump out an office window, strapped with speakers blaring “FUCK THIS PLACE” over and over again, even when they’re scraping me off the pavement with a comically large spatula. Every little thing piled atop one another to form the worst shit tsunami eternally suspended above my head. Every wriggling, squealing fucking cell in my brain…

Alright, let’s think of solutions. Eric wanted the file, and if it was corrupted, I’d just tell him the truth: that it’s how I found it. Man, why did I drive myself up the wall earlier? So stupid… I log into my email. Actually, I don’t. As soon as I hit enter in the URL bar, I get that fucking google “no internet” error dinosaur. At this point, I try to keep rolling with the punches. Alright, network diagnostics, here we go. After what feels like centuries, after windows resets the router, etc. I finally get an answer. Sort of. An error code. I had two hours left before I was unemployed. I take another caffeine pill and keep going, determined to see this shit through to the end.

Hidden on the fifth page of the search results is my answer. It’s on an obscure, early 2000s web forum that had a grand total of 2 users online, probably bots. A post from a literal decade ago has my same issue, and one of the commenters mentions he had the same thing. Apparently, it’s a hardware issue with the router. Despite being woefully underqualified to deal with IT issues, I have no other choice. No fucking way Eric will believe that the internet cut out 2 hours before my deadline. I find the tech support number, and pray that the information is up to date and that they won’t have to send a technician out to fix it.

As the phone rings, I ponder my situation. I was unlucky enough to find what I needed right as the Wi-Fi died, and it was probably one of those issues that fixes itself in an hour anyway. There it is again; I can almost see the shadowy gears of the universe working against me, trying to crush my psyche beneath their teeth into bits of mental scrap. When I finally get a response, I’m caught off guard. This guy seems American. His voice is a bit hoarse, and I picture him as the fat comic book guy from the Simpsons, gut and all.

“----- tech support. How can I help you?”

I don’t like the way his voice trails off every word, leaving a breathy wisp behind like the tail of a comet. It makes me want to shudder.

“Yeah, uh—“

My mind blanks for a minute. I’ve been derailed, and it takes an agonizing few seconds for me to decide what I want to say.

“I was trying to email my boss, and—“again with the unnecessary details “I got this error code, and I saw online that it was an issue with the router.”

“Uh huh.” He sounds skeptical. And disapproving. I imagine he’s wrinkled that gob of cartilage clinging to his face he calls a nose. “What’s the model number?” He finally asks.

I read off the name, and he laughs. He fucking laughs. Is my suffering amusing him? Arousing him?

I have a clearer image of this guy now. Pervading my mind, filling the gaps in my brain, covering my synaptic gaps with fucking cement. He’s grossly overweight, in some dark room somewhere. He smells like BO and he is sweaty milky beads off his forehead that are landing into his keyboard and congealing. The scent is odious, like a corpse coated in mayonnaise and left in a tomb for five millennia, except it’s still wet.

“Sir?” That subtle tone of annoyance again. “Do you understand me, sir?”

“Uh, yeah, sorry. Would you mind repeating that? I was just—talking to someone.” Idiot he can tell you weren’t.

I write down his instructions, but first he pontificates about some issue with a chip in the router or some shit. Apparently I have to call the manufacturer? And they can help me dust it off or some such?

He’s fleshy and sickeningly soft, like a malformed, hairless puppy. That shirt’s been pasted to his damp stomach longer than you’ve been on Earth. It’s just a crude impersonation of the kind of people that run this industry. And you’re just his plaything, to be antagonized and fucked with until…

As soon as my attention is re-centered, I say “Alright thanks bye” without even knowing what he was rambling about before. He laughs. No, cackles. I can practically smell the stale coffee and tobacco on his breath. I slam the receiver down. It was starting to stick to my face with sweat and I really wanted to switch to my cell anyway. Peeling it away was orgasmic.

I examine the napkin I had scribbled on. I’d written it down in a haze, and it almost felt like I was reading someone else’s handwriting. Was that a 5, or a 6, or what? Doesn’t matter. I plug in the numbers, to some obscure fucking company I know nothing about. There’s like 12 digits, not like any number I’ve ever dialed. Unbeknownst to me, I was about to make the worst fucking mistake of my life, worse than taking on that debt to go to college or that time I puked on grandma’s casket at the funeral. Light years away, I imagine, some metaphysical blade was eagerly, sexually, preparing to scoop out my insides and flay them across time and space, flicking its imaginary tongue back and forth in anticipation.

I had expected that infuriating error code, but instead, I feel it. All of it. The other side is cold, and every hair on my body stands right on edge.

“Hello?”

The phone’s definitely connected.

“Hello?!”

This time it seems to echo. I’d opened a door, a beaming ray of light into a place that hasn’t been graced by it in eons.

“Is this Infolink appliances?” I gulp suddenly. My throat is impossibly dry. Everything that made me me, my identity, my memories, my interests… were spilling out into space, into an impossible void far blacker than even the darkest of nights. Please. Like my brain was a plastic bag full of air, but now it’s been punctured. It’s getting sucked out like a breached spaceship, and my body is curling around the now torturous void. I am a husk.

I drop the phone on the ground, and the screen cracks. But I’m far beyond caring about that screen now. The spiritual, inky black is billowing out of the phone like an endless wave going out in every direction. And there’s something else. A raucous laughter, and sneering, they’re laughing so hard somewhere backstage that their mouths, or whatever they call those fucking gullets, are overflowing with sickening white foam with streaks of yellow bile. Dark silhouettes that have been eagerly waiting this whole time for this horrible climax. I’d played my part. Everything else was out of my hands now.

[benhardyorbust]

The Trip of a Lifetime PT 8

Recap: You had just graduated from college, but you had one last trip to go on for one of your classes. You were going to London with your intercultural media communication class for two weeks. The first night you matched with a boy named Ben on Bumble. The second night of your trip you go on a date with him and go home with him. After seeing Ben at a nightclub with another girl, and confronting him about it, you’ve decided to still go to Paris with him for the weekend. 

1372 words 

Read part 7 here

*beep beep beep* 

You roll over and check your phone, it’s 4:30 AM. You have one text message from Ben. 

“I’ll be there to pick you up at 5″

You groan, it’s so early. You get out of bed, brush your teeth, pull your hair into a loose ponytail, slip on some leggings and a hoodie and make yourself a cup of coffee while you wait for Ben. 

You don’t really know how this is going to go, you haven’t seen Ben since you confronted him about being with that other girl at the club. Will this be awkward? What is he going to say? 

You look down at your phone, Ben texted you. 

“Ready when you are, love”

You grab your carry on suit case you packed for Paris and go down the elevator. Ben is sitting in the lobby waiting for you. He smiles and stands up when he sees you. 

“Good morning, love,” he says as he takes your luggage in one hand and your hand in the other. He kisses the top of your head, you love when he does that. 

“You’re very chipper this morning,” you say as you start to talk to his car. 

“I’m just excited that we are going on this trip together,” he says. 

“Me too,” you say, smiling up at him. 

“You look beautiful this morning,” he says. 

“Oh please, I just woke up ten minutes ago and didn’t even brush my hair,” you say, playfully hitting him. 

“You always look beautiful, y/n,” he says as he opens the passenger side door.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you respond. 

“I know,” Ben says back, laughing. He drives away from the hotel and towards the airport. 

This isn’t awkward at all, you think. Yet. Hopefully the rest of the trip is this normal.

“So, what do you have in store for us on this trip?”

“Well, we are going to Paris,” Ben says, looking over at you laughing. Your heart literally melts when he smiles at you. 

“No way, really? I had nooo idea,” you say back sarcastically. 

You both laugh at each other. 

“Everything I have planned is a surprise! I really wanted to make this trip special for you,” he says. 

“Well, I can’t wait to see what you came up with.” 

You arrive at the airport and you both get out of the car and head inside. 

“Okay, we have 45 minutes to get through everything and on the plane,” he says. “Think we can do it?” 

“Oh, I know we can. We’ve done more in less time,” you say winking at him. You turn and walk into the airport with your luggage. 

Ben chases after you, like a puppy to his owner. You just love to tease him. 

~~~ 

You and Ben manage to get to the terminal with plenty of time to spare. Only a few fans stopped him while you two were in security and getting some breakfast. Apparently he had planned time for that to happen. Actors. 

You look down at your ticket and see it’s first class. 

“Wow, first class! You sprung for the nice seats!” you say. 

“Only the best for Ben Hardy!” 

“You are, ridiculous!” 

“And you love it!” 

You roll your eyes at him, “suuuure”

You both get on the plane and settle in. 

“How long is this flight? I didn’t even bother to look” you say. 

“Around an hour,” Ben says. 

“Oh wow! That’s not bad at all! The last flight I was on was roughly 12 hours,” you say laughing. 

The plane takes off and you start to get kind of bored. Ben is dozing off but you can’t sleep. You have an idea. 

You tap Ben to wake him up. 

“Meet me in the bathroom in five minutes,” you say, with a devilish grin. You walk to the bathroom closest to your side of the plane.

He immediately is wide awake. He watches you walk away with lust. 

Exactly five minutes later there’s a soft knock on the door. You open it just wide enough for him to slip in and then close it before anyone sees. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever experienced a longer five minutes,” Ben says. 

“We don’t have much time, shut up and kiss me,” you say. 

Ben pulls you in for a kiss, but right before he kisses you, he whispers, “We’ve done more in less time.” 

He starts to kiss you, like you haven’t seen each other in months. It’s almost as if he’s hungry for you. 

You start to whisper in his ear while he kisses down your neck.

“You are... so hot” you say in between breaths. “I.... missed .... your .... touch”

You reach down and start to undo the tie on his sweat pants, which he looks so hot in by the way. You pull them down quickly and continue to kiss him.

He looks up at you and grins while he bites his lip. 

He picks up you up, puts you down on the sink counter and pulls down your leggings. 

~~~

You both go back to your seats one at a time. You were only gone maybe a total of fifteen minutes, no one suspected a thing, or at least you think. You don’t really care. That was the sexiest thing you’ve probably ever done.

When Ben sits back down you tuck your arm in his and whisper “not a bad way to kill some time. And join the mile high club too.” 

You both laugh softly.

“Not a bad way at all, love,” he says as he lightly kisses your lips. “There is more where that came from.” 

My god, you think. This man has a SPELL on me or something. I was ready to rip his head off twenty-four hours ago, and now you just had sex with him on an air plane? What is happening. You can’t wait until you land so you can tell Brooke about this. 

You lay your head on his shoulder and fall asleep like that. You feel safe in his arms. 

~~~

Almost as quickly as you fell asleep, it is time to get up. 

“Bienvenue à Paris!” the flight attendant says as the plane touches down. 

As you open your eyes you look up at Ben. He is looking at you smiling. You smile back and he pecks you on the forehead. He makes you so happy. 

You both make your way off the plane and into the airport. There, he sees a few fans and takes pictures with them. There are also a few people just taking pictures of the two of you together. 

You lean towards him to whisper  “Why are they taking pictures of us?”

“Probably to post online about how “this is the mystery girl Ben was talking about” or something like that. What do you say, shall we give them a show?”

Before you can say anything, Ben has pulled you in for a kiss. It’s soft and sweet and lasts just long enough for everyone to get their pictures. You pull away from the kiss and laugh. 

“They are going to go nuts over that!” you say. “How long do you think before they find my Instagram?” 

“I give them two hours,” he says laughing. 

“Well they are all going to be disappointed when they see I’m just a girl from Nebraska with 900 followers,” you say laughing. 

“They can be disappointed all they want, I’m the one shagging you,” he says laughing and giving you a light slap on your butt. 

You look at him, gasp and laugh. 

“Ben! They can probably hear you!” 

“Let them! What is there to hide? We are in love and the whole world should know!” 

“Okay, calm down lover boy. We don’t need to go telling the whole world about us yet, especially since my parents don’t know yet.” 

“How old did you say your brother was?”

“18, why?”

“I’m sure he will see those pictures within the next day or so, and probably tell your parents for you. Done and done.” 

“Wait! Do you think we will end up on E!?? I’ve always wanted to be on E! in one of those “who is that girl” segments!” 

“Considering the interview I did the other day was with them, probably,” he says laughing. 

“Oh, my mom will definitely see that, she will be so proud!” you say laughing. “I feel like I’m in the Lizzie McGuire Movie.” 

“How so?”

“I’ve met a famous, foreign man on my two week school trip to another country and somehow managed to fall in love with him...” you say as you trail off. “But hopefully it doesn’t end the same way the movie does.” 

“How does it end? I’ve never seen it.” 

“Basically the pop star she meets ends up being the scammer of the century and she kisses her best friend. I love Brooke and all but not like that,” you say as you laugh. 

“Oh shoot! You foiled my plan!” he says, laughing. 

You playfully hit him and laugh along. 

“I have a feeling we are going to have fun on this little get away,” he says. 

“I have a feeling we are going to have some fun when we get to our hotel,” you say, winking at him as you get in the cab. 

Part 9

[feelingsdusk-writes]

The life and times of Hatake Kakashi, the long-suffering jōnin-sensei

Kakashi is being trolled. He doesn’t know how that can be, but he knows with utmost certainty that he’s being trolled somehow.

It started when he went to pick his hopefully (not) future team on a beautiful Monday morning -Er… afternoon? He was really late after all… Oops?- and he got greeted by an eraser to the head and his three blank faced (not) cute future mini baby ninja.

““How sad,” duck-butt hair, Uchiha Sasuke, says.

“Maybe he’s hurt or something?” pinky, Haruno Sakura, says with wide open baby deer eyes. “So sorry, sensei!”

(Kakashi is pretty sure she’s not.)

“Still sad,” Sasuke sneers.

“See why I told you no kunai?” She frowns at blondie… whom is completely out of it and actually snoring face down in his desk.

“Wha-” said blondie, Uzumaki Naruto, blurts out as he startles awake when she slaps him on the back of his head. “Oh, it… worked? How sad.”

“Naruto!” she scolds him horrified, shooting a worried look at Kakashi.

(Again, Kakashi is pretty sure she’s neither horrified nor worried.)

“Exactly,” Sasuke agrees, ignoring her.

“My first impression of you…” Kakashi finally speaks, earning their full attention. “How should I put this?” He feigns thinking about it for a second. “I hate you. I’ll meet you at the rooftop in a minute.”

“I think my heart just broke,” he hears Sasuke deadpan he hears Sasuke deadpan as his shunshin carries him away in a whirl of leaves.

They take forever to get to the rooftop. So much so, in fact, that Kakashi considers looking for them, but they show up before he makes up his mind.

“Ah, sorry sensei,” Sakura apologizes demurely. “We got waylaid on our way.”

“Waylaid?”

“Secret mission for the good of Konoha! That cockroach couldn’t go on living!” Naruto exclaims boisterously.

“Cockroach.”

“A really big one,” Sakura explains earnestly.

Sasuke, who has remained blank faced and silent since they reached the rooftop, simply nods.

“Right,” Kakashi says, inwardly questioning how the hell did these idiots pass the initial cut. Then he remembers that nowadays they only have to pass a couple of exams and moves on. It’s not like he will have to bear much more with them anyways, because after tomorrow’s test they will be toast. “Ok, why don’t you introduce yourselves?”

“An introduction?” Sakura inquires unsure. “What should we say?”

“Your likes, dislikes, dreams and hobbies,” Kakashi explains. “Mah, something like that.”

“Ano sa, ano sa,” Naruto intervenes. “Why don’t you go first, sensei?”

“Me?” Both Naruto and Sakura nod in unison while Sasuke remains silent and seemingly uninterested. For a second Kakashi has the strong feeling that he’s being teased somehow but he can’t quite put the finger on why he does. “My name is Hatake Kakashi. I have no intentions of telling you my likes and dislikes. As for my dream… I have few hobbies.”

They share a grin. Well, Sasuke smirks, but still, color Kakashi confused.

“My name is Uzumaki Naruto,” the blond plunges in before he can dwell on it. “I love ramen and…” He blushes and grins. Sakura giggles and Sasuke looks heavenward as if asking for patience. “I hate the three minutes that it takes the cup of ramen to be ready and cockroaches. My hobby is eating, training and experimenting.” Both Sakura and Sasuke visibly shudder at the last one. Interesting. “My dream is to become Ho-” Sakura coughs something that sounds suspiciously like council and Kakashi would swear that Sasuke murmurs paperwork. Naruto pales dramatically. “-nored and respected in this village and someone that can protect his precious people.”

“Next?” Kakashi motions smoothly as if he hasn’t noticed anything.

“I’m Haruno Sakura,” she chirps sweeter than candy. Kakashi can already feel the cavities forming. “I love relaxing with a cup of tea and some sweets, training and …” She blushes and fidgets. Naruto giggles and Sasuke looks heavenward again. “I hate idiots and cockroaches. My hobby is baking and cooking in general.” Both boys shudder dramatically, becoming pale as chalk, and she rolls her eyes. “My dream is to protect my precious people.”

“Next.”

“My name is Uchiha Sasuke. I like some things,” the peanut gallery giggles and Sasuke looks heavenward for the third time, “and dislike a lot more, especially cockroaches. My hobby is…” He rolls his eyes and the other two giggle again. “My dream is to restore my clan’s honor and to fulfill my duty to my family.”

Kakashi was supposed to get the bookworm fangirl, the prankster hokage-wannabe and the acerbic avenger and he feels cheated because he only got one half of the deal. Either the academy instructors are shit at information gathering or he’s being trolled by three kids.

“Well, you three have very different personalities. I like it!” Kakashi announces after a second of awkward silence. “Tomorrow we go on a mission.” No reaction. “But before that we will do some survival training, because out of the twenty-seven academy graduates, only nine will remain.” Still no reaction besides a nod. Kakashi gives it up as a loss and pouts inwardly because they have taken the only fun this whole situation has. “We’ll meet at 5 A.M. Come prepared and don’t have breakfast or you’ll regret it.”

So it started this morning (afternoon) and it continues now. Normally one of the beauties of being forced to evaluate hopeful genins is to scare them the day before. But not only they didn’t even react to his announcement of their genin title still being pending, but they are sleeping like rocks.

Kakashi is really confused.

Then he remembers he didn’t actually tell them where they would be meeting tomorrow and he shrugs. It will be as good a time as any other to test their tracking skills… and perseverance, of course, because he isn’t planning to get there until several hours later.

(Serves the cheeky brats right.)

—

They are waiting for him at the correct training ground and for a moment Kakashi thinks that maybe he did tell them where to meet? But no, he has a pretty good memory and he’s sure he didn’t. But then again, he always does this test here, with the memorial stone right at hand in case the impossible happens and he passes a team so…

He sighs. They really are taking all the fun from this, dammit, and for a moment he considers going to a different ground, but in the end he decides against it.

He observes them for a moment before showing himself, though. Sakura is talking to Sasuke, voice soft and relaxed, and he occasionally answers back, equally soft. No sight of fawning or fangirlsm on her part at all or of higher-than-thou attitude on his part. Naruto is dozing between them and neither of them seems to mind. For a moment Kakashi thinks that it may be because they want some peace that they can’t have when the hyperactive blond is up and running, but then Naruto slides down and his head comes to rest upon Sasuke’s shoulder and neither the Uchiha or Sakura bat an eye.

All right, that’s it. Either the information gathering of the academy is shit or they have been acting up until now. Kakashi is inclined towards the former after the Mizuki incident, because those kids aren’t being subtle at all and they have to know that he’s bound to show up eventually and he’ll see them. He decides here and now to forget about the reports he has about them and to start from zero in his assessment.

“Good morning, everyone!” he chirps finally deciding to show himself and eager to get this farce over so he can get on with his life. He doesn’t care if it’s the last Uchiha or not, he won’t pass them if they don’t deserve it. The Council can go hang themselves for all he cares. “Ready to start?”

“If after three hours we aren’t ready to start we deserve to be killed,” Sasuke deadpans. Then he looks towards Naruto. “Oi, dobe, time to wake up.”

“Wait, Sasuke-kun,” Sakura interjects softly before looking at Kakashi. “Are we actually going to start, sensei? I’d hate to wake him just for the sake of it.”

Ouch, Kakashi thinks, that was even sharper than Sasuke’s indirect comeback and she said it with such an angelic face that for a moment Kakashi had doubts of it being an intentional jab at all.

(Who is he kidding? It is. It totally is.)

“We’re going to actually start indeed, Sakura-chan,” he tells her plastering a fake smile in his face.

“Ah, ok,” she smiles at him unperturbed. “Ramen.”

“WHERE,” Naruto exclaims jerking awake and then tears up when there’s no ramen in sight. “That was so cruel, Sakura-chan!”

“Effective,” Kakashi mutters.

“Always,” she nods flashing a victory sign at him and Sasuke snorts. Naruto continues wailing in the background.

“Let’s get moving, shall we?” Kakashi motions to them towards a clearing. “Here are the rules,” he starts dangling the two bells in front of them before tying them up to his waist. “You have to get these from me before this alarm sounds. If you fail, you go back to the Academy, if you get them, you pass. Simple, right?”

“Sensei, you forgot one bell. There’s only two,” Sakura points out helpfully.

(Sasuke blinks and Naruto fidgets. Kakashi is pretty sure he’s missing something.)

“Only two of you will pass, Sakura-chan,” Kakashi explains, voice milder than milk, and then waits for the sweet outburst.

It never comes and he doesn’t even know why he’s even surprised at this point. They frown, they look at each other, they tilt their heads consideringly and then go back to looking at him. Then Sakura holds up her hand.

“Yes, Sakura-chan?”

“Um, sensei,” she fidgets. “Can I ask a question?”

“Sure.”

“How do these numbers work? It doesn’t really make sense… Because you said yesterday that only nine out of the twenty-seven would pass? And that means that two people of each team should fail? And I mean, what if only one person gets the bell? And-”

—

“Team 7?”

“Pass.”

—

“Report.”

“Mah, for starters, they accidentally broke the clock because Naruto’s accuracy under duress is… well, not very good. Sakura seized the opportunity and pointed out that since the alarm wouldn’t sound, they had all the time in the world to complete the mission.”

“Smart.”

“Hmm,” Kakashi nods. “That good impression was lost afterwards, though. If it wasn’t ridiculous, I would have bet that they were competing for the honor of being tied to the pole.” Or more like Sakura and Naruto were and Sasuke had to join in because he hated losing at anything and couldn’t help himself. “Naruto won.”

“Yare, yare,” Sarutobi groans rubbing his face exasperated.

“I was going to fail them right then and there, because neither Sakura or Sasuke made a move to feed him after I forbid them to do so, but when I was about to, I noticed that Naruto had a rice grain near his mouth. I don’t know how or when, but they fed him.” Kakashi had been near the whole time and he hadn’t seen a thing. Sure, he had been reading the whole time and having his own lunch, but… “In any case, I let them try again and they finally worked together so I let Sakura get the bells. When I told them to choose…”

Sakura blinks and looks at the bells in her hands. They look at each other, they look at Kakashi. Then she comes to him, extends the hand with both bells and when he takes them, she goes back to her teammates. The three of them bow down in unison.

“Thank you for today, Hatake-san,” they chorus before turning to leave.

“I’m still hungry.”

“You’re always hungry, Naruto.”

“I’m a growing boy, Sakura-chan! Ramen?”

“We had ramen yesterday, dobe.”

“So what? Ramen is a complete meal. It has protein, carbohydrates…”

“Yakiniku-Q.”

“Teme!”

“Dobe, it’s my turn.”

“Ok, ok! Yakiniku-Q, dammit. But tomorrow-”

“It’s my turn and I want to try Shushuya.”

“Sakura-chaaan!”

“Oi, you three.”

“Yes, Hatake-san?”

“Huh,” Sarutobi manages to get out.

“Huh, indeed,” Kakashi agrees and wonders if it’s too late to become a missing nin.

—

For two weeks, everything is relatively normal. They meet at training ground 3, Kakashi is really late and his cheeky little genin are sassy in return. They train for a while before taking on a D-Rank mission, they file the report and then go home. Rinse and repeat.

They have very interesting dynamics, Kakashi comes to find out. Sakura plays the cute innocent little girl, Naruto the boisterous idiot and Sasuke the haughty genius, and all of them do it masterfully. In reality all of them are manipulative and devious little shits to some degree or another and really protective of each other. If something happens to one of them, the other two will subtly (and/or creatively) intervene while the offended one rolls their eyes exasperatedly but fondly at the same time.

Kami help him, but he’s starting to like them, Kakashi thinks as he eyes them over the rim of his book. Just as he does so, Naruto grins deviously at Sasuke, whom just blinks in response which an equally devious glint in his eyes. Their employer’s kid appears again to ogle at Sakura where she’s bent over to reach a particularly stubborn weed that just refuses to be plucked. Before Kakashi can do anything to make the little twerp scamper, his face falls into frown and he starts absently scratching himself. He starts softly and then it evolves into a frantic scratching before he disappears inside the house again calling for his dad. Naruto and Sasuke smirk subtly and Sakura is none the wiser. After a little bit, when she apparently notices her stalker hasn’t showed up again, she looks at the boys suspiciously (both look at her as if butter won’t melt in their mouths) and then rolls her eyes.

Yes, Kakashi’s starting to like them all right.

Much later, after finishing their mission and on their way to the Hokage Tower to submit their report, a hawk flies over them a few times in circles and then leaves towards the commercial district. Kakashi frowns and edges the kids into a faster pace. He leaves them submitting their report (they have proved their capacity to do so unsupervised) and takes the stairs towards the Hokage’s office.

Turns out elder Shimura Danzō is dead.

“Poisoned,” the ANBU commander explains to the whole room. All former ANBU operatives have been recalled. There are people in this room whose face Kakashi is seeing for the first time despite having worked with them more than once. “There are no leads on that front, but there are more pressing matters to attend at this point.”

Kakashi has a feeling that he’s not going to like what comes out of the man’s mouth next.

(He doesn’t.)

—

It’s dark when he finally leaves the Hokage Tower. Despite having been released from service not long ago, Kakashi is sporting his mask once again because the truth is that one never stops being an ANBU (not even after retirement).

He’s been given half an hour to settle his things before undertaking a month (possibly two) long S-Rank mission with an entire platoon and as much as he’d love to have the cheeky little brats thinking he’s testing their tracking skills again (ahhhh, those were a fun couple of days) it may be pushing it a little too far in this case, so he has to inform them and at least set some kind of schedule so they don’t fall behind. It may be cruel, but the best he can do with so little forewarning is to give them a letter for Gai so that they can train at least two or three days a week with a proper sensei.

(If he comes back to see his cute little monsters clad in green spandex he will kill Gai.)

But to actually give them that letter he has to find them first. Sakura wasn’t at home and when he tried Naruto’s apartment he found it completely empty. That only leaves Sasuke and if he’s missing too, he’s going to have to leave Pakkun with both the explanation and the letter and leave.

He finally gets to the Uchiha district and to the house Sasuke is inhabiting. Last time he was here was before he tested them to become genin and it hasn’t changed much. From the rooftop of the house he wonders if he should go through the front door or just knock on the window. Before he can make up his mind, the window just below opens and Naruto’s sleepy voice comes out.

“Senseiii,” he lets out through a yawn, “stop being a creep and get inside already so I can go back to bed.”

“Mah, Naruto-kun,” Kakashi croons after letting himself fall to the windowsill, “you shouldn’t be so careless, I could have been an enemy.”

“Ehhh? But, sensei, I knew it was you,” Naruto whines rubbing his eyes.

“Mmhm,” Kakashi hums. He looks inside briefly and he spots a big futon. Sasuke is curled like a kitten around Sakura, both of them deep asleep. Well, at least that answers the question about where both Naruto and Sakura went, and if what he sees is any indication, this is a regular occurrence, so next time he’ll come here directly. “I’ll be gone on a mission for at least a month, Naruto-kun. Maybe two if things get complicated. In the meantime, you won’t be able to take missions since you don’t have a jōnin with you, but I expect you to keep training, understood?” He smiles threateningly for good measure and Naruto nods grimacing. “If you need any guidance, look in training ground 10 for Maito Gai and give him this.” He hands him the hastily scribbled letter and Naruto takes it hesitantly. If the shudder that shakes him is any indication, the blond already knows who Gai is. Kakashi’s lips twitch in amusement. “Ja ne, then. Be good or don’t get caught.”

“Wait, sensei!” Kakashi turns again to look at his student, only to see him leave the room running.

While he was talking to Naruto, both Sakura and Sasuke have woken up and are staring blearily from the futon. She disentangles from Sasuke and crawls to grab something from her backpack. She crawls towards Kakashi and without even getting from the floor she hands him a box. After he takes it, she lets herself fall to the floor and just curls there, dozing. Sasuke rolls his eyes and gets up with a sigh. He grabs a tantō and gives it to Kakashi before bending to pick up Sakura with a grunt and carrying her back to the futon.

Kakashi studies the tantō curiously. It looks like a conductive blade, which is good to start with, but it also has seals carved on the handle. Nice. As for the box, he opens it to find what looks to be homemade soldier pills. Also nice… if they actually work. He hears Naruto come back just as he closes the lid and he looks up.

“Here,” the blond says passing him a box that smells heavenly. Kakashi’s belly chooses that moment to remind him that he hasn’t had anything substantial since lunch and Naruto grins. “Don’t worry, Sasuke made them.” An aggravated grumble comes from the futon and Kakashi smiles amusedly. “Take care, sensei, and kick some ass.”

Kakashi really, really likes his cheeky little brats.

—

It’s a horrible month and seventeen days. Out of all the missions Kakashi has taken in his entire shinobi career, this ranks high on his top ten of the let’s-not-repeat-this-again list and his whole platoon agrees. It’s a shame that for the sake of appearances Danzō’s deeds will be forever kept secret, because more than one of them would like to cut his body into tiny little pieces just for the pleasure of seeing his blood run (now that he’s already dead and his screams can’t be heard).

The brats’ presents were more handy than he’ll ever be able to let them know. The soldier pills Sakura gave him tasted, by popular consensus, like something that crawled out of a rat’s arse to roll around pig’s shit before being peed on by a dog, but they were incredibly effective (the best he’s ever had and with none of the aftereffects) after you managed to stomach them down and he doesn’t have even one left. As for the tantō, that thing is magnificent. It conducts lightning inclined chakra like a dream and the seals on the handle make it so that the chakra escapes the blade slower than any other conductive weapon he’s ever had. It took a while to get used to the potency (he nearly fried Genma and Raidō… twice) but once he had it down? It was amazing and useful in a life-saving way.

He never thought he’d say this, but he missed his cheeky little brats and is looking forward to seeing them again.

Hopefully not clad in green spandex.

Kakashi shudders.

—

Kakashi is going to kill his brats.

Gai hasn’t heard of them, they are nowhere to be found and he has to learn from Anko of all people that apparently they took his order to train or else way too seriously because they have been doing survival training since he left in training ground 44.

“Damn, Hatake,” Anko crows admiringly. “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

“Mmmm?” Kakashi simply hums because he doesn’t know what the hell she’s talking about.

“You’re growing them up to be little monsters, aren’t you?” Anko continues. “I’ve never seen fresh genins survive the Forest of Death! What the hell are you feeding them?”

Say what.

“WHAT? THAT WASN’T VERY YOUTHFUL OF YOU, MY ETERNAL RIVAL!” Gai shouts horrified.

“Mah, some hardship is good for the spirit, Gai.”

“Exactly!” Anko laughs maniacally. “They were still alive a week ago, by the way.”

He’s going to kill them.

If they aren’t already dead, he’s going to kill them.

“Do you think it’s edible?” Naruto is asking just as he finds them, pointing at a spider that’s bigger than Kakashi that he assumes they have just taken down. The three of them are filthy and covered in scratches and half-healed wounds.

“Ugh, so gross, Naruto!”

“Tch, dobe.”

“What, teme! I’m hungry!”

“You’re always hungry!”

“Why are we doing this again?”

“Because we want to make Kakashi-sensei proud?”

They totally know Kakashi is here.

“Ah, my cute little genin!” he exclaims showing himself and the three of them turn, feigning surprise. “How should I put this…”

“Kakashi-sensei, you’re back!” they exclaim happily.

“… I’m going to kill you.”

“Uh-”

“Run.”

They look at each other, they look at Kakashi and they look at each other again.

They run.

—

Jiraiya-sama and Tsunade-sama appear and close themselves with the Hokage in the man’s office for three hours straight. Sandaime-sama is seen smoking furiously at all hours after that meeting.

Kakashi wonders about it but knows better than to ask.

—

Over the next month he trains them until they drop in exhaustion and they also take two D-Rank missions a day until they catch up with what they would have done if Kakashi hadn’t been sent out on a mission. Secretly he’s pretty proud with how they take their punishment for their Forest of Death escapade, but he doesn’t actually say it directly. Instead, he lets them take a C-Rank.

A C-Rank that turns into a A-Rank halfway through.

“Report,’ Sarutobi says frowning.

“We encountered Kiri missing nins Gōzu and Meizu on our way to the land of waves. Team 7 performed admirably but the demon brothers fled the scene before we could take them down,” Kakashi reports dutifully. “Then we encountered another Kiri missing nin, Momochi Zabuza, and we engaged in a fight. Again, Team 7 worked together to defeat him. Before we could take him down, though, what we thought to be a hunter-nin did it and took the body away. I was suffering chakra exhaustion and lost consciousness then.” Kakashi needs to restart his serious training again, dammit, because that was embarrassing. “When I woke up I realized that the false hunter-nin had hit non-vital points and that Momochi was most probably alive.”

“So you were attacked again.”

“No. Momochi refused to engage, as well as the other missing nins. He claimed that Gatō (his employer) was dead so their contract was null and void and they left.”

“Huh.”

“Huh, indeed,” Kakashi agrees. “We did get attacked by the rest of Gatō’s mercenaries, but between Naruto and my kage bunshins we drew them off.”

“And they named the bridge The Great Naruto Bridge?”

“Well,” Kakashi sighs, “apart from driving the mercenaries off, he did use the clones to help them finish the bridge faster.”

“Right.”

Kakashi is pretty sure he has missed something and he has the sudden urge to drop his brats in the Forest of Death (this time knowingly) for the next month because he remembers them waving happily at the leaving missing nins.

—

The chūnin exams come and Kakashi nominates his team. It seems to serve as incentive for Kurenai and Asuma to nominate their teams too but he pays it no mind.

(He’s too busy betting on his team’s favor. He’s going to make a fortune.)

“Keep your head clear and you’ll do great,” he tells them simply. “No torturing the examiners either. Remember they can fail you just because you pissed them off.”

They pout.

Cheeky little brats.

Kakashi leaves chuckling and joins the peanut gallery in the observation room. Bets are still running and when Anko assures him she bet for his team of little monsters he beams at her.

The first thing Naruto does is to hug the kazekage’s son, to his siblings' horror. Kakashi inwardly groans and the rest of the shinobi present look at him.

“The promotion of a good relationship with our allies is key,” he says simply and Anko explodes in laughter while Gai starts shouting about the springtime of youth.

It doesn’t get better from there.

In the first exam, instead of trying to copy or answer the questions, they use the time to take out the competition. Meanwhile, Naruto doodles happily (Kakashi spots Ibiki’s caricature), Sakura paints her nails and Sasuke sharpens his kunai. When the time for the last question comes and Ibiki starts playing his mind games, Sasuke is the one to speak out to call out the bullshit in the most sarcastic way he can find. It’s even beautiful, really. Sakura and Naruto seem surprised at first (and knowing them as he does, Kakashi is pretty sure this was another of their stupid competitions like when they fought to see who got tied to the pole) but then they fight to not break out laughing.

In the second exam, they ally themselves to Suna. It’s a little bloodier than Kakashi would have liked but it gets the job done. Sandaime-sama has faced worse political nightmares than two entire teams being annihilated in an exam so Kakashi is sure that he will be able to deal with Otogakure without any problems.

They also pass the preliminaries just fine. As they leave, Naruto convinces the Suna team to go to Ichiraku’s and try their ramen.

He debates what to do for the month before the final exam and then decides to just train them to the best of his abilities. Also, Jiraiya-sama and Tsunade-sama are still in town, so maybe he can convince them somehow to help. He manages and they do help. Kakashi is a little terrified about the results.

Needless to say, after the third exam is done, he finds himself with three newly minted chūnin.

Well, that was fast, Kakashi thinks with a twinge of sadness.

(He needn’t worry, though, because the brats won’t ever leave him alone, just like strange and unexplainable happenings won’t leave him alone either.)

—

Much time, redemption and a war later, with a world-wide shinobi alliance and as Rokudaime hokage after Tsunade left the post, Kakashi thinks. He reflects about all the unexplainable things that have happened since he became a jōnin-sensei and about their timing and he thinks huh.

“Done for the day, Hokage-sama?” Shikamaru questions when they cross paths.

“Yes, I’m having an early day. You should too, Shikamaru-kun.”

“Mah, I still have some things to finish.”

“Any urgent ones?”

“Not exactly, but-”

“Then you’re done for today. Hokage’s orders.” Kakashi smiles. “Go cloud watching.”

“Hah,” Shikamaru snorts. “I haven’t done that in a while…”

“Enjoy.”

“Thanks, Hokage-sama.”

Kakashi leaves and takes the roofs towards the Uchiha district. When he arrives, he doesn’t even bother with the front door and slips through the window.

He finds Naruto lying on in his back on the futon, holding a comic book over his face. Sakura is sitting on his stomach painting her nails black and Sasuke is in front of her with her feet in his lap, painting her toenails. There are various plates of snacks within reach and they occasionally reach to take a bite.

“Hi, Kakashi-sensei,” they chorus happily but not taking their attention off of what they’re doing.

“Question time,” Kakashi chirps. “Have my cheeky little brats been time travelling?”

“Took you long enough,” Naruto grins, his eyes darting minutely towards Kakashi before returning to the page.

“How sad,” Sasuke says without even looking from Sakura’s toenails.

“Naruto, Sasuke!” she reprimands them without looking from her nails either. “So sorry, sensei.”

(No, she’s not.)

Kakashi lets out a long-suffering sigh, comes near to sit on the floor and grabs a plate. Then he unceremoniously pulls down his mask because he figures that since they have never shown any interest in finding what’s underneath, they must have seen his face already.

Gasps ensue.

[thedistantstorm]

A Steelponcho Dawning - Part 17

A Dawning romance featuring the Commander and the Clan Steward, their feelings for each other coming to a head during the first Dawning celebration following the Red War, featuring Lord Saladin, city food, a little bit of smut, and a whole lot of pining. Continues from: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16.

Only one more after this, friends. We’re almost there.

They can't catch a break for long. They're just in sight of the Tower, exhausted from a day of shaking hands, touring wreckage, and meeting with FOTC, the militia, and scouts to try and better manage the ailing Farm, when Zavala's ghost receives an urgent request from Deputy Commander Sloane. Fireteams lost in the Arcology. Need backup. Send the Guardian and their Fireteam.

It doesn't matter that it's late, duty calls. Zavala takes off with a determined stride the second they land without so much as a backwards glance. Suraya is beat and sees herself home.

She suffers from terrible nightmares when she tries to sleep. Fire and burning, dying but screaming people beyond recognition, up in flames. She's sure it has to do with the lingering scent of death and jet fuel from the Farm, and being the type to push away everything bad until she has a moment to relax.

Of course, when she checks in with him at an hour he scolds her for (You should be sleeping, Suraya.), he tells her that the Hive has disconnected them from the rescue Fireteam they've sent for the other several Fireteams. He is worried, and he doesn't know what will happen.

She assures him that their Guardian will save the day, they always do.

Except, when they do, they barely save themselves and their team. The other four teams are dead for good, pointless sacrifices to the Hive. Suraya has seen the Hive before. She dislikes them more than Cabal, feels they are infinitely more creepy.

They are lucky enough to have the first majority of the following day free, if for no other reason than that they are supposed to be preparing the official revisions for the Farm's budget and preparing statements of need and estimation of losses. There are tons of hand written reports to go through. They will literally be buried in paperwork through the end of the Dawning at least, for the Farm alone. Suraya doesn't feel nearly as bad about taking the morning off to catch up on sleep or check up on wayward Commanders.

It’s around o’five thirty when the message comes through that he’s done with the strike. It’s twenty minutes later that she meets him at his door, keying in the code he’d given her as he comes around the corner. The look on his face is stoic enough, but his eyes give away everything.

She holds his door open, saying nothing. There’s nothing to say. She’d been listening in for the last hour and a half - using a frequency trick she’d learned from Amanda. Seems their girls nights were good for something, after all. Suraya had learned quite a bit about how to get Tower intel easily from the Shipwright, who was almost always in the know or never far behind.

The Commander enters silently. “Let me freshen up,” He requests. “Then we can return to my office and get what we need to get started-” She collides with his back, arms snaking under his armored arms to lock around his front. He sighs, sagging into her, just a little.

If the armor pressing into her face is uncomfortable, she doesn’t comment and only holds tight. “We need sleep. We can discuss it this afternoon.”

“We don’t always have the luxury,” He grumbles back. “Those Fireteams-”

“It isn’t your fault,” She reminds him. “We can’t control all of it. Isn’t that what you told me?”

“This is different, Suraya.”

She shakes her head, nose smooshing against plasteel. “It’s not. Whether it’s one person or one hundred. We can’t control it all, try as we might. We can only make sure it doesn’t happen again.” She exhales against him. “I know you’ve told me that. Recently.”

When her arms release him, she comes around to his front and smiles a sad little smile up into his tired eyes. He leans forward, lips brushing her forehead. “You are far too good for me,” He whispers. “Have it your way.”

“I will,” She says, with a cheeky pull of her lips when he pulls away. “But you’re wrong about that first part. I think we deserve each other.”

He looks at her, eyes wide. “Suraya, I-”

A hand touches the side of his face, gentle and soothing. “Go get cleaned up. You’re not allowed in bed all gross and smelly.”

He looks indignant at that, and Suraya is thrilled that she's managed to change the subject well enough. “I do not smell,” He grouses. The embarrassment is obvious on his face, but his words are laced with irritation. “And since when do you determine who is or is not allowed in my bed?”

She laughs. He doesn’t actually smell(that she can tell), she just knows it’s been over a day since he’s been out of his armor, and a shower would totally help him unwind. “I mean,” She looks at him with a narrowed gaze. “Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” She quips. “Pretty sure I’ve done more sleeping in your bed lately than you have. You should work on that.”

The eye roll he gives her is spectacular, but he does not argue.

-/

Zavala is the type of man who could spend over an hour in the shower, reflecting, planning, adapting to anything that could possibly come his way. This is none of those times, though he can feel his mind running through scenarios, hypotheticals that don’t actually matter any more. He cannot will his brain to shut off, to cease it’s unnecessary anxiety, grieve, and move past what happened.

No sense of playfulness or desire to see Suraya sweat drives what leaves him dressed in only sleep pants when he finally exits the washroom. She clearly was trying to get him to relax, and while his mind might not be willing to, his body is bone tired and makes him unwilling to take the extra steps.

The parallels of the situation are crystal clear. It was similar to the one she found herself in, days ago, on a much larger scale. Sometimes he wondered just how much they could all take. Would the day come where something would happen that would finally break them all apart? It was selfish, but he hopes he doesn’t live to see that day.

Sometimes, he - sometimes it was just so hard to keep hoping.

It seems she’s asleep when he comes to bed, his footfalls slow and heavy. He speaks quietly to his Ghost - telling her exactly what to wake him for, even though she knows - and turns back to the bed, only to find her propped up on an elbow, pulling back the blankets on his side.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

Her head shakes in a silent no, and he sighs when he slides between the sheets. It’s strange and new when she faces him to fall asleep. He’s used to spooning her - which is a strange enough thought in itself considering they’ve only done this a handful of times.

Try as he might, despite how limp and exhausted his body feels, he can’t fall asleep, his mind won’t rest. It feels like hours that he lays there, and no amount of focusing on his breathing - slow and steady, in, out - or attempting to clear his headspace will allow him to achieve that state of relaxation he needs.

A hand smooths over his brow. “Wanna talk about it?” Her voice is rough and sleep addled, but she scoots closer to him, so that her knees brush his own.

He opens his eyes, shaking his head into the pillow.

“Hmm,” She says, thinking about it aloud and forcing herself to wake up a touch. “Something else then,” Her eyes blink open, and she shuffles a little, waking herself back up. He opens his mouth to tell her to go back to sleep, but she smiles a little. “Tell me a secret,” She requests.

Glowing eyes open wide as his brows furrow. “A secret?”

She nods. “Or, anything you think I don’t know. I’ll go first. I hate spiders.”

The absurdity of it is unreal. This is what she wants to do? “Suraya, I’ll fall asleep eventually-”

“That’s not a secret,” Her head dips in a pillow-obscured frown. “I know that already.”

“I…” He sighs, giving in to her little game, "Enjoy beef stroganoff.”

She laughs. “I know a recipe. Play your cards right and I’ll cook it for you.” A beat later, she says, “When I was younger, Marc signed up for yoga to try and calm me down. He thought it would help keep my temper from getting the best of me.”

“Yoga?” His voice is incredulous. “Do you still-”

“Marc gave up after I tripped a girl in my class who told me I was too fat to be a yogi. Dev started taking me to the shooting range instead.” It’s his turn to laugh while she rolls her eyes. “Becoming a sniper taught me more patience than anything else ever could.”

When silence takes over, he offers, “I haven’t held a sniper rifle in decades. I’m not that patient.”

“Now that’s gotta be a lie. Surely you’ve held my rifle at least?” He’s shaking his head in the negative, and there’s a hint of a smile on his face. Good, she thinks, it’s working. 

“Really,” Zavala insists. “I need to be in the thick of it. Assault rifles are more my style.”

“See, I thought it was those glowing fists of yours.”

“I prefer the Ward of Dawn. I wish to protect. If that means destroying our enemies, so be it, but I do not believe in useless killing.”

“I know,” She breathes back. Her fingers trail up his arm and over his shoulder before heading back down.

“You owe me two,” He says, voice a low hum. Her hand continues to slide up and down, eventually coming to rest on his back. It nudges him closer to her, or maybe she shifts forward. He doesn’t really notice until his head is tucked under her chin, and even then, his eyes are starting to feel heavy.

“Hmm,” She says quietly. “First,” She breathes into his ear, “You are absolutely falling asleep.” It's a weak secret. When he doesn’t argue, she knows it won’t be long until he’s out. But then he shifts and puts an arm over her, pulling them flush together, his breathing warm and even against her collarbone.

“The second?” He asks in a sleepy slur, a few moments later.

She kisses his forehead and runs her hand up and down his back. “This one’s not much of a secret, either,” She whispers against his skin. “I want to be with you, for as long as you’ll have me.”

He doesn’t answer, and she’s sure he’s already asleep, but it feels like her heart is going to burst when he holds her just a little bit tighter.

[ayearofpike]

Thirst No. 3: The Eternal Dawn

Simon Pulse, 2010 478 pages, 26 chapters + epilogue ISBN 978-1-4424-1317-7 LOC: MLCS 2012/41874 (P) OCLC: 651759027 Released October 5, 2010 (per B&N)

When we last saw Sita, she was brain-traveling back in time to kill the first vampire before he was ever born, thus ending the line of eternal bloodsuckers forever. Little did we know that this was simply her way of writing herself out of Seymour’s life. She is very much still immortal. But Sita is learning that there is more to her family, both found and genetic, linked to an even older power that is bound to destroy her. That is, if the multinational trillionaire corporation that happened into some kind of crazy mind control doesn’t do it first.

Check out that fake boast on the cover: “long-awaited new book.” Um ... no? You ended the series, asshole, we weren’t long-awaiting SHIT. But we all know that the new expectations of the genre are that everything is a series, and so the publisher no doubt did more business by linking these books together even though there’d been no previous expectation for another Sita book before the reprinted bind-ups showed us Pike was at it again.

And there’s a lot going on in here too. The Eternal Dawn opens a door to a whole new world of vampire fighting with all the things it introduces. Sita, long a loner, now has a whole cadre of friends and assistants and hangers-on that connect her new world to the old world, and even to the ancient people that she’s just starting to learn about. Again, I get it: teens want to read about popular kids, or at least popular among a small select group. They don’t want a total loner, which actually has become troublesome in itself as school shootings become more regular and publicized and railed against. And also, we have a precedent of Team Vampire from those other popular sparkly vampire books that came out just before this. 

But this doesn’t really work for me. Sita has always been that strong solo artist who didn’t want to rope people into her fold, as much for their own safety as because they couldn’t do stuff as good as her. And yet by the end of this book there’s like eight people all living together. Yes, circumstances change, we’ll get to that, but for someone who read the original Sita books in 1995 and was expecting a story along the same lines, this part feels like a betrayal of her character.

Ugh, I’m already tired of writing about this book and this is only the introduction. Let’s see how fast I can power through the summary.

So for some reason Sita has relocated to Truman Village, Missouri. Well, we learn the reason pretty quickly: Teri Raine, a freshman runner at Truman College who has no idea that her ancestor is still alive and watching out for her. In fact, the first thing Sita does is straight murder a dude who’s raped other girls and now has his sights on Teri. But not just by draining him of blood, which she no longer needs after Kalika: she drinks enough to weaken his heartbeat and then crashes his car into a lake, where he drowns in terror. Holy fuck, Sita, you got even darker.

Back in town, she introduces herself to Teri as a budding writer who wants to hire her as a research assistant. She sets up a meeting with Teri at the club where her boyfriend is playing later that night. Then she goes home, where she feels suspiciously watched, and it turns out there’s a couple driving up to ask what she knows about IIC. This, it seems, is a huge multinational corporation with a penchant for privacy that has an extensive file on one Alisa Perne. Which ... come on, dude, it’s been twenty years, why are you still using the same alias? But these two are curious and suspicious, not just of Sita but also the company, where the woman happens to work even though she’s not totally sure what she actually does. But she does know that her boyfriend was looking into it, just before he mysteriously disappeared.

So Sita says she’ll stay in touch and then goes to her meeting, where she immediately gets all of the boners for Teri’s boyfriend. He’s super talented and totally hot and gives off this aura of worldliness and experience, all of which is like catnip to our eternal vampire. She hasn’t been intimate or even interested since Ray, or I guess Arturo technically. So all of this stuff that happened before was real, but up to this point Sita hasn’t really explained how it got written down or why she’s doing it herself now instead of using a muse like Seymour. She is, in fact, a published writer, and the story she shows her new ... kids? is Pike’s token acknowledgement of the vampire/werewolf dichotomy that you can’t ignore if you’re writing a vampire book in 2010. It’s enough to get Teri to agree that she’ll work with Sita, and they all shake hands and part ways.

But back at Sita’s house, shit is exploding. Like, she pulls up to the garage and bullets start hitting everything. She finds a weapon of her own and dashes out into the woods, where she encounters an unusually strong and skilled man with a Gatling gun. She disables him, but before she can learn who he is and why he’s after her he whispers something in ancient Egyptian and then is consumed by terrible fire. Is this related to the whole IIC mystery?

Who knows? First we gotta drool over Teri’s boyfriend in the pool. Sita wants to help him get this bread (or whatever the kids are saying) with his musical talent, but he isn’t ready for the spotlight. They talk a little more about Sita’s writing and the different pen names she employs, and now the boyfriend is starting to get some feelings that Sita is more than who she claims. Which, why wouldn’t he, she’s not exactly being subtle or cautious in throwing all her wealth at these random kids.

There’s a quick side trip to Fairfield, Iowa, to track down and extract information from the contract killer IIC hired to take out the employee’s boyfriend, and here I had to pause and do some Google Maps. According to the book, Sita flies to Cedar Rapids and then drives 90 minutes to Fairfield, but Truman College is in northeast Missouri. Does this make sense at all? No! There’s no such thing as “Truman Village” or “Truman College,” but there is a Truman State University in Kirksville ... which is already a 90-minute drive from Fairfield. In fact, to fly to Cedar Rapids from Kirksville, Sita would have to connect through St. Louis AND Chicago. How fuckin’ long does this impatient immortal want to travel? Does she not own a globe? There is a public municipal airport in Fairfield; it would have been more believable if Sita had literally flown herself. And guess what? I caught this easily avoidable flub because we’ve seen the hour-and-a-half drive from Cedar Rapids before. Not counting on someone with a master’s in English analyzing your shit, are you, Kev? Or, like ... a map?

But anyway, the killer gives up his next contract, which is a young Indian girl living in San Antonio. Sita flies there and meets the girl, who has been hideously scarred by having acid thrown in her face upon backing out of an arranged marriage. She copes with the pain and partial loss of eyesight by praying to Krishna, which resonates with Sita, obviously. The girl has contract work with IIC, basically answering weekly questions over the phone with yes or no, so it’s unclear to Sita why she’d be a target. But she arranges for the girl to be protected and then takes off for LA, where IIC is headquartered.

Once there, Sita waltzes right into the joint and asks to speak to the CEO. While she’s waiting, a creepy little girl in the waiting room smashes a vase, and Sita helps clean it up. But then she goes into the office, where she immediately feels oppressively observed, and also kind of intimidated that the boss isn’t scared. She (the boss) makes it clear that IIC did not send the fire killer, and Sita was pretty sure already, since the dude in Iowa wasn’t in the same league. She does offer to help Sita protect herself from this mysterious group if she joins up with IIC. But we already know Sita isn’t a joiner, unless it’s a group she can form herself with some random college kids who get her horny.

Instead, she goes to find the couple who tracked her down, but the dude is obviously dead. Well, not obviously, but someone with Sita’s senses can smell the amount of blood that’s been washed down the bathtub. She tracks down the woman and gets her the hell out of town, all the way to ... Barstow? An hour and a half? Seriously? Like, I get it that to someone from the city Barstow probably feels like a middle-of-nowhere armpit (and it is kind of an armpit). But haven’t we already learned that this company can reach people anywhere?

But then Sita leaves and waits to follow the boss home ... only she doesn’t go home for like two days. And when she does, she leaves everything unlocked. There’s another encounter with another creepy little girl, but then the boss is just sitting on the couch watching TV, easy pickings if Sita just wanted to take her out. Only she can’t. In fact, she suddenly finds herself unable to move, act, or even think on her own. The boss somehow manages to compel Sita to stick her gun in her mouth and pull the trigger. But at the last second, Sita thinks of Krishna and ends up shooting the TV. So whatever IIC is, it’s got power that isn’t easily resisted.

Sita ends up taking everybody back to her house in Missouri: the IIC employee, the scarred girl and her uncle, and of course Teri and her boyfriend. Easy pickings, right? Especially now that Teri is running in the NCAA championships, and the strongest performers will be considered for the Olympic team. So Sita, true to her pattern of non-involvement and letting things play out their own way

Just kidding. She totally meddles and gives Teri some blood to make her feel stronger and run faster, but not enough to actually turn her into a vampire. So she wins the championship, and now everybody is going to London for the Olympics.

But Sita’s not done making Club Vampire yet. She has to track down Seymour. Wait a second, didn’t he die? No! It turns out that he got the right medication to treat his AIDS in time, and now is a successful writer living in New York City. However, he’s never shown anybody the weird vampire series he wrote in high school and keeps locked in a desk drawer, so he’s freaked out that Sita knows so much about it. But he does pretty quickly believe her and tag along with the group.

So they go to London (yes, the entire fuckin’ squad) and Sita gives Teri more blood. The boyfriend knows that Sita’s doing something, and he’s highly against it and a little pissed, because Teri would never take a performance-enhancing drug but that’s essentially what this is. Sita gives her more blood, and Teri yells out the name of the original vampire in her sleep, which ... how would she possibly know that? But she turns it on right at the end of the race, winning the gold medal and earning an invitation to party with the president of the United States at his hotel.

And then Sita hears some heartbeats. Four of them, all strong and powerful like the fire killer’s. She knows she’s the target, and figures she’ll be safer if she goes to the president’s party and hides out behind the secret service detail. But the four assassins show up anyway, and Sita ends up going full Matrix, blowing away two at close range and then leaping the height of the ballroom to take out a third. The fourth manages to get away, and Sita has to hypnotize the agents into letting her go after her. The car chase takes Sita to a ferry dock, where she misses the boat and has to swim after it (with the help of some friendly dolphins). She sneaks up on the fourth killer and incapacitates her, then they get off the ferry and drive the killer’s car back across the English Channel.

Let me repeat that. Sita drives a car. Through the Chunnel. Back to England.

(Technically, you can take a car, but it’s like a train-ferry. You don’t actually DRIVE.)

She checks them into a cheap hotel room and sets about trying to extract information from this killer. Yes, they have a connection to the ancient Egyptian civilization that Sita saw before, but they’re not the same evil fourth-dimensional lizard aliens we’ve come to know and love. Their people, the Telar, go back much farther and older than even them. They’ve taken responsibility for the planet and the things living on it, but right now humanity has gotten too large and too hubristic, so the Telar wants to pare it down. They do know about vampires, because one of their number ended up marrying (guess who) Original Vampire like a thousand years ago. So they know about Sita, and have maybe due to blood purity fanaticism have been led to believe she’s even more dangerous than she actually is, which is why they’re trying to wipe her out.

It’s been a long-ass day, so both Sita and her assailant fall asleep. But Sita dreams of demons and evil, and wakes up once more out of control and ends up drinking all the blood of this poor immortal, in the most horrific way. It’s mostly left to our imagination, but when she comes to (thanks to the intervention of Seymour and the young Indian girl) she mentions the “mass of torn flesh” (292) on the bed and feels ill. And lucky for everyone! Teri and her boyfriend have followed Seymour to this random, how-the-shit-did-they-find-it hotel somewhere a solid two-hour drive from London, and they’re totally disgusted by what they see and the boyfriend tells Sita to kindly fuck off and never come back. 

What now? Sita can’t think of anything else but to find her prophet friend, the one who had Miracle Baby way back in the fourth book. The kid is I guess 17 now, and so engrossed in a video game that he won’t even talk to Sita. They’re living somewhere in the Greek islands now, and they drop in uninvited because the lady has taken pains to not tell Sita where she is now. Why is she so pissed? Well, she’s just as annoyed at Sita for trying to take the fate and the responsibility for all of mankind as the boyfriend was. (And actually, the events in this book are pissing me off kind of the same way.) But Sita wants some help and comfort and information, as best they’re willing to give it to her. She’s figured out that picking up the pieces of the glass vase gave IIC enough genetic information on her to be able to control her through their power system, and the prophet friend points out how the Indian girl can block this power. Which we’ve already seen. This is Sita’s protection. 

Still, she’s not willing to put a kid at risk when she follows her lead to Switzerland. Remember the Swiss fax number? Like, put two and two together, Sita. You can remember what someone you met once for ten minutes SMELLS like; you can certainly remember Original Vampire chasing you down from a whole COUNTRY. So she goes there and traces the dude to a hotel, where the owner says he’s been expecting a young blonde woman to ask about this former guest and points her to a secret vault that the guest said she’d be able to open. Inside is a book, in Original Vampire’s handwriting. It discusses how Krishna taught him about this ancient enemy, but stops short of explaining how to overcome it.

She makes a copy and then goes back to return it ... upon which she finds herself locked in a basement cell, the prisoner of the Telar. They’ve got an impressive torture device that taps directly into the pain center of a person’s brain, and they threaten to use it on Sita if she doesn’t tell them all of her dealings with IIC. That’s not a problem: Sita has no love lost for this company that has twice forced her to carry out her basest animal instincts against her will. But she stops short of telling them anything she knows about the ancient prophet or her current day reincarnation, so the torture begins. And again, she finds herself thinking of Krishna, and of Miracle Baby Teen, and finds she can control her brain even as overwhelming pain should be incapacitating her. 

So now the Telar leader doesn’t have control over her anymore, and he’s just about to kill her when everything starts blowing up again. It’s the Abomination, everyone says, which freaks the leader the fuck out. He takes off to warn the overarching bosses and instructs the remaining fighters to not let the Abomination leave this place alive. But they don’t stand a chance: this motherfucker has all of the lasers and straight murders EVERYONE except Sita. Guess who? It’s Teri’s boyfriend! Who it turns out was Original Vampire’s son with the Telar lady he married! No wonder he got Sita so horny. He knew how the Telar felt about vampires, but his dad was one, and he couldn’t just let Dad’s most ancient love die in some basement as a victim of immortal Nazis who also supposedly killed him for betraying the blood purity of their species.

He assault-helicopters them the hell out of town and then they take the whole clan to some abandoned mining town in Colorado, where he owns a safe house. And now Sita has to decide what to do, even though pretty much all the advice she’s gotten in this whole book is “do nothing unless you’re actually targeted.” I guess it’s hard to argue, though, that she’s not a massive target from both sides. She knows that IIC is using its wealth and power to manipulate world governments. She knows that the Telar intend to do the same and fabricate war so that humanity is pared down. And she knows that both powers are at odds. It seems pretty obvious which side is worse, but they’re not even given time to make that choice: the Telar are attacking.

Immortal Boyfriend has prepared for this kind of attack. He sends the mortals down into the mine, and he and Sita find a vantage point to repel the Telar forces. They dispatch pretty much the entire fighting force with a combination of guns, mines, and drones, but not before the Telar manage to release a toxin that makes even these immortals blister and cough. They make for the mine, but Sita hears some Telar nearby and takes one hostage to get the antidote, and he pretty much immediately joins Team Vampire to keep from dying. They go through the mine to Immortal Boyfriend’s other helicopter, but as they’re making their escape the bad guys target them. So it’s time to jump from another helicopter into another lake! Only it’s winter in the Colorado Rockies, and the nearest lake is frozen over, and Teri horrifically breaks her leg when she jumps and is about to die from blood loss.

Yeah. The whole reason Sita started this stupid club in the first place is almost finished, and very much does NOT want to be made over. She states it clearly. But Sita just can’t let her die.

We leap to the epilogue, where Seymour is preparing himself for a funeral. Everyone’s there: the Indian psychic (who has been healed by months of plastic surgery and a little bit of vampire blood), the seer buddy and Miracle Teen, the new Telar recruit, the evacuated IIC employee, Immortal Boyfriend ...

And Teri.

What the fuck? Whose funeral is this?

It turns out that yes, Sita did turn her goddamn descendant into a vampire against her goddamn will, and of course Immortal Boyfriend was even more pissed than before. So much, in fact, that IIC was able to train their system onto him. Sita was able to reason a little bit, but Seymour saw the writing on the wall and couldn’t just let this dear old friend he just met get shot with a frickin’ laser beam. So he charged the dude, and of course he stood no chance, but Sita dove in front of the gun before Immortal Boyfriend could fire it.

So here we are. And Seymour is the last one at the grave, paying his respects. But then Teri comes back. And she whispers into his ear that she is still here, that she is Sita inside Teri’s body.

Obviously now we have to fuckin’ read Thirst No. 4, right? And honestly, as annoyed as I am at how long this vampire story is getting dragged out, and at how much Sita is changing because of market pressures learning from time, this is still a better cliffhanger than “I went to prom with the vampire, somehow wearing a leg cast and one high heel, and thought about what everyone else hadn’t told me yet but I would be finding out in the next three books, so go buy them, everyone.” 

Still. This thing was hard to write, you guys. I will not give up with only five books to go, but seriously? I kind of want to.

[365-money-diary]

DAYS 15-21

DAY FIFTEEN [JAN 15]

8:40 AM - Wake up feeling sore AF. I should’ve stretched after playing, but I obviously didn’t. I also feel like my stomach didn’t eat itself from the inside out while I was sleeping so that’s nice too. Make a chemex and get to work.

10:00 AM - eat plant yogurt.

11:00 AM - eat a few carrots and a clementine.

12:30 PM - make a greek salad for lunch with a La Croix - this is the last of the salad ingredients until Thursday essentially. Shed a singular tear.

3:00 PM - I am a tiny bit hungry. Eat a piece of rye toast.

4:14 PM - I wanted to start working out 45 minutes ago ugh. OK here we go. The hour goes by a lot faster than I expected which is nice. Rinse off and cook an early dinner – Reubens and potatoes.

8:00 PM - I wanted to drink alcohol but I’m too full from dinner to even enjoy it. Heat up chamomile tea instead. I want to work on my blog but K wants to hang instead and I’m in no position to deny the closeness. We play some Mario Kart, watch 30 for 30 about BC and the mob, and turn in early.

DAY FIFTEEN TOTAL: $0

DAY SIXTEEN

8:30 AM - Make chemex and eat a clementine. My sister (S) asked me and my brother (B) to listen to a 20 minute session on the app Mined about codependency. I take a stab at it and get some good notes. 

10:00 AM - Landscaper is going to show up any second so I move my car and pick up dog poop. Text with S more about my cousin’s virtual baby shower tomorrow and go in on some cute stuff from PBKids. Total is $64.05 and she venmos me $32. $32.05

11:15 AM - I actually have a lot of stuff I need to do this weekend though right now I’m too annoyed at my neighbor to focus. Long story short – he has been wanting our dead grapefruit tree for like 6 months and keeps asking if he can cut it down. I said sure. But then he asked our landscaper to do it for him? It’s weird. I mostly don’t care because it’s gone, but the nerve he had to insert himself is wild. $120

12:00 PM - Make Tofu tacos for breakfast and make a to-do list of stuff I want to accomplish today. (post cauliflower leek soup, put away records, barre throw away things my mom has forced me to take out of her house over the years, wipe doors)

6:00 PM - Eat 2 rice cakes. I only manage to get the cauliflower leek soup up, put away the records, and throw away the stuff mom gave me. I think today ended up being a little bit overwhelming emotionally with the landscaper plus the codependency session so I’m kind of burnt. 

7:00 PM - Make pad thai for dinner. Can’t stop snacking on Swedish fish. Drink an old fashioned while K and I watch Night Stalker. Realize part way through that the reason I keep eating Swedish Fish is because something feels off. I fall asleep around 11:30 knowing it’s my blood pressure and that if it doesn’t fix over night I’ll get right to it in the morning.

DAY SIXTEEN TOTAL: $152.35

DAY SEVENTEEN

8:00 AM - Wake up feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus. Ugh. I’ve been struggling with an iron deficiency for a while and have it mostly fixed but I still have occasional days where my blood pressure really gives me issues. 

9:00 AM - Peel myself out of bed and drink some soy sauce. Sounds disgusting but sodium is the only thing that truly helps AND it works fast. Drink a chemex and a boat load of water. Work on posting the cauliflower leek soup

10:00 AM - S calls and I take a walk to chat. I’m still feeling really down from the blood pressure but I know walking will help. It’s actually really nice to get outside. I should do this again later tonight.

11:00 AM - More soy sauce, more water, more coffee. Have a good direction for where I want to go today. Just taking it one task at a time based on how I feel and granting myself the grace.

12:30 PM - Feel good enough to start moving which is great because once I can get over the initial fog with this blood pressure stuff, moving is what keeps me feeling better. Wipe down the doors and then attend a virtual baby shower for my cousin E. 

3:00 PM - Make broccoli fried rice for lunch. I prefer the cauliflower but the store was out of it. I feel like this broccoli stuff would taste great with some kind of cilantro hummus situation but that’ll be for another day I suppose.

3:30 PM - Back to cleaning! The bathrooms are always terrible and today is no exception. It’s always hard to tell if I even make progress because everything is white and the grout is stained orange. Give up after an hour and a half.

6:30 PM - Tag team folding a couple loads of laundry with K while we watch NBA. This week ends bittersweet for my fantasy team. He beat me in one but I’m in first place in the other. Officially 3-1 and 4-0.

8:00 PM - Eat leftover pad thai for dinner.

DAY SEVENTEEN TOTAL: $0

DAY EIGHTEEN

8:30 AM - Wake up feeling like I was hit by a smartcar, so a little better! Today is MLK day and I’m grateful for the extra day off. Make a Chemex, drink some soy sauce, and watch an episode of The Challenge. Pure barre charge comes thru. $15

9:30 AM - Get started on dusting the entire house. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve done this due to lack of Swiffer 360 dusters. It takes forever but honestly our house hasn’t looked this good in years. Swap out the lightbulbs in the bathrooms and the bedroom, shower, and eat a plant yogurt.

11:30 AM - Have a sibling zoom call with S&B I walk while we chat and it’s honestly really nice to get outside. 

1:30 PM - Start shooting my recipe for lasagna rollups. Eat a cup of cauliflower leek soup and a few pretzel rods while I cook. It takes a while but I think they turn out great.

4:00 PM - Eat a lasagna roll and watch an episode of The Challenge. I haven’t worked out in 400 years (read: yesterday and the day before.) and it’s low key killing me, so I suit up and do the thing.

6:00 PM - That was mildly painful. Low cal burn, couldn’t focus to save my life - new moves so lots of pausing during transitions. Oh well. At least I did it.

7:00 PM - Eat two more lasagna rolls for dinner. K and I watch Terrorism Close Calls and I drink a vodka + vanilla seltzer + orange peel.

DAY EIGHTEEN TOTAL: $15

DAY NINETEEN

8:30 AM - It’s appraisal day. Ugh. So excited to get this over with. Make a chemex and open my work stuff. I have a lot to do but have a feeling I won’t be able to concentrate very well until after the appraisal is over. On a nice note - I am feeling leaps and bounds better from yesterday and the day before. 

10:00 AM - Eat a plant yogurt and finish out the rest of my coffee. Meet with my teammates about an outstanding task and then do the random stuff around the house to prep for my appointment.

12:00 PM - Here goes nothing! K and I leave the house with KP and walk her around the block a few times until the appraisal is done. As much as I feel like my anxiety should be gone, it’s not. I think particularly because today is really busy with work. K and I hang out outside on our laptops for a bit to let the house air out before going back inside.

1:00 PM - Eat broccoli fried rice for lunch with a Polar seltzer. Snack on a pretzel rod and some Swedish Fish while it heats.

3:00 PM - Eat the last of the cauliflower leek soup and a few carrots.

5:30 PM - Make a nuun and do a barre live stream. My focus today is so much better but my cal burn is abysmal again. Rinse off and heat up lasagna rolls for dinner. Snack on Swedish Fish while they heat. I really wish I had wine right now because I can feel my body could use the extra help blood pressure-wise but I won’t get my alcohol delivery until Thursday. Sigh.

8:00 PM - Idk whats up but my body is asking for more food so I eat tortilla crumbs and salsa and some dark chocolate. Make vegan ham brine for seitan. Realize I’m out of liquid smoke and buy a 6 pack from Amazon. $15.37

9:30 PM - It’s official, this iron thing is killing me. Ugh. Now I know. I’ll be more conscientious of my supplements, I promise! Finish editing photos of Thousand Island Dressing, watch The Challenge and call it a day.

DAY NINETEEN TOTAL: $15.37

DAY TWENTY

8:30 AM - Still feeling off from iron. This is seriously the worst it’s been in MONTHS. Worst part - it takes 4 weeks for you to produce new blood cells so I can only assume this will happen again since there was a substantial gap in my supplementing.

9:00 AM - Make a chemex, prep the seitan ham dough and bake. I chat with Google support for an account I’m having problems with. The person’s name is Swastika. Feels like a bad omen for inauguration day. Eat 2 clementines and pretzel rod.

12:20 PM - Starving. Decide on Lasagna roll ups for lunch with a Polar. 

2:00 PM - Finish my work for the day. I have on my list of things to do that I want to test this orange spice bread for the blog.

3:00 PM - Spice bread in the oven. Do a round of dishes to prep for tonight’s grocery run. It doesn’t come out great and I eat two slices.

5:15 PM - Do a barre live stream and it goes really well. Super focused, super strong, super sweaty. One more class to go for the challenge this month! Rinse off and continue prepping the kitchen and do the final bake on the ham. 

7:05 PM - Ensue grocery madness. Incoming of onions, bananas, lemons, limes, bell peppers, cucumbers, cheese, cheeze, tortilla chips, tomatoes, dark chocolate, green beans, broccoli, jalapeños, low carb tortillas, bread, oranges, potatoes, cilantro, chickpeas, romaine, celery, clementines, spring mix, frozen burritos, apples, oat milk, tofu, soyrizo, brussels sprouts, eggs, grapes, frozen peas, vegan sour cream, taco seasoning, tomato paste, chipotle peppers in adobo sauce, corn, black beans, avocados, mushrooms, snap peas, pineapple, vegan mayo, carrots, rice noodles, seltzer, beets, cauliflower, parsley, pumpkin seeds, thyme, plant yogurt, garlic, riced broccoli, white rice, gf pretzels, micro arugula, & black olives. $327.69

8:15 PM It takes over an hour, but everything is washed and put away! Make air fried broccoli with miso butter and veggie sandwiches for dinner. 

9:00 PM - Make a crappy drink with flavored vodka. The only thing I have in my house is shooters left over from my sister’s bachelorette party. She’s now divorced if that gives you any idea of how long this stuff has been sitting around. More alcohol comes tomorrow at least! Eat a few Swedish fish.

9:30 PM - Play Mario Kart, watch The Challenge, and call it a night.

DAY TWENTY TOTAL: $327.69

DAY TWENTY-ONE

8:30 AM - Chemex and work. Alcohol is coming sometime this AM from my friend J who has a wholesale hookup. Much like everything else in the pandemic, I just buy in bulk. It’s easier that way!

10:30 AM - Eat a slice of orange spice bread for breakfast. It’s definitely growing on me but I think I need to adjust a few things before shooting/posting. J drops off my booze order. I got 2 crates of wine (24 bottles total), a bottle of bourbon, rye, mezcal, rum, and st. germaine. She says it was $400 but I pay her more. $450

11:00 AM - Start prepping chile de arbol salsa & stuff for this week’s salad - spring mix, roasted tofu with taco seasoning, avo, chipotle ranch dressing, cilantro, green onion, black beans, tomatoes and corn. YUM. Eat salad with a La Croix. 

3:00 PM - I get the appraisal back! My house came in at $390k. (I bought it for $245k) OMG! Eat a celebratory slice of orange bread.

6:45 PM - Finish class 15/15 for the barre challenge. 11 more months to go. hah! Rinse off, roast potatoes for veggie sandwiches. Pour a celebratory glass of wine. 

8:30 PM - Pour another half glass. What a week! End up going on a walk with K & KP which was really nice. I need to get out more. This weekend I will. Stay tuned. ~*~*~

DAY TWENTY-ONE TOTAL: $450

[one-deranged-son]

Tell Your Girlfriend to Fall Back

this plot is taken after Tell Your Homeboy to Fall Back

“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with him.”

Here’s the situation: it’s 9:00 p.m. and they’re on the rooftop of the station. It’s February and the air around them is biting in the ass. One of them is smoking, the other one is just staring at the city lights.

New York is a busy city, indeed.

“The forensic shows that 80% of his blood is DRUGS. He murdered some important dude from Russia and almost tipped this country into having another world war. His house is fucking loaded with illegal firearms, he’s literally on the FBI wanted list. And he made us skip Taco Night! Alan, for fuck’s sakes, we never miss Taco Night!”

Melvin Rickman huffs the smoke outta his lungs. He’s frustrated, dammit. He always smokes when he’s frustrated, and lately, he’s been smoking a lot. Like, a lot.

“Are you even listening?”

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Sorry? Oh my God, you have a serious problem with that Revelator dude. The hell you got in your hand anyway?”

Melvin also talks a lot when he’s frustrated. He talks about everything and he asks about everything.

Not that it mattered, though. That question actually makes Alan smile from ear to ear. He’s ecstatic, oh my god. He feels like he’s back to preschool and he feels giddy because his Dad just came home and brought a huge present because he’s being a good boy, oh my god. His heart is beating so fast, oh my god. He can’t believe this is happening.

Oh my god, this is really happening.

Alan looks up from the brown envelope and takes a deep breath. “But you have to promise me you won’t ever, EVER, tell anyone.”

Melvin frowns, but he nods.

“Officer Barrera made a copy of the Revelator case for me.”

“She WHAT?”

“I KNOW, isn’t she like, the coolest person ever exists?”

“Alan, no! You know it’s classified. It was the FBI shit and the only reason why we could process him was because our captain managed to pull some strings. If they see you with that, they’re going to put your head on the SPIKE.”

“Stop making Game of Thrones reference, you hated season 8.”

Melvin raises his hands in frustration and quickly takes a long drag of his cigarette. His cheeks are red, either it’s the cold or the fact that he’s angry right now, Alan doesn’t care.

“You know what I’m saying is true. You shouldn’t have that file,” Melvin sighs, and it almost sounds like he’s whining, but Alan isn’t going to surrender because of that.

“Dude, can’t you see? This is a chance for us to find where the Revelator is. We could even get a Medal of Valor to bring him to justice!” 

“He’s been on the FBI wanted list since before you were born! This lunatic practically started doing all of this since… I don’t know, the 80s? He had outlived half of the population already and the fact that he was caught yesterday? We’re just lucky, man. He’s something else.”

“See! You admit that he’s cool.”

“That’s not the point, Alan!”

Melvin breathes hard until his fingers are trembling. His nostrils are flaring and he refuses to look at him, but he didn’t say anything else. He just breathes in until the red across his cheeks calmed down, then he takes yet another looong drag from his cigarette.

Alan sighs.

“Look, I know this is a wild—”

“And dumb.”

“—and dumb, yes, thank you for that, but you always wanted to be a detective. This is your chance to prove them that you have it inside you. The captain would totally recommend you.”

Melvin’s eyes haven’t quite met his, but Alan can see that there’s a spark of interest in it. He looks at him and to the file, then in one swift movement, he throws his cigarette to the ground and steps on the dying butt.

“Tell me what we have.”

Alan smiles.

“Alright, I’ve read this in the bathroom during break and I just know you will love it,” Alan says as he carefully opens the file for Melvin to see.

“Shoot.”

“So, apparently, the Revelator is actually... two different people.”

“You’re shitting me.”

They’re in Alan’s apartment room right now. Melvin has a beer in his hand and he’s sitting on Alan’s couch.

Now here’s the guide to conduct a super-secret-slash-illegal meeting, based on Alan. First, pull down the blinds. You don’t want a sniper to know where you’re standing.

Second, dim the lights. So with the covers pulled down and the lights barely giving you away, your neighbor would probably think that you’re having sex and that is way better than getting caught smuggling a super-secret-slash-illegal file.

Third, turn the TV on. You don’t have to put it on the highest volume, just make sure people on your side could hear you and whoever trying to butt in hears Berlin speaking “Tranquilo, tranquilo,” instead of whatever you’re talking about.

And that’s fucking dumb, Melvin thinks, but he doesn’t wanna argue with a riled-up Alan.

“The Revelator in the 80s is different from the Revelator we have now,” riled-up Alan says, to which Melvin just stares dumbly and say, “What the fuck.”

What the fuck, man.

Anyway, it’s been an hour since Melvin nearly woke up the whole New York City from screaming too loud. And it’s been 30 minutes since they flopped on Alan’s couch with Allan giddy giggles as he pulls out the papers from the enclosed brown file to shove it down Melvin’s throat.

And as Melvin’s face goes sour and sour and even sour as time passes, Alan’s face glows brighter.

“Why are you smiling?!” Melvin throws his hand.

“Because it’s our lead! For the last decade, people thought that he’s some kind of… I don’t know, Jesus? Messiah? Look at his face.” Alan throws a picture of a man to the coffee table. “Tell me that you would believe anyone who said that he could turn water into wine.”

Alright, maybe Alan has a point. Dude actually looks like some white Jesus or something without his mask on. Shaggy brown hair and surprisingly awesome beard, the only thing that makes him so different is he got blue eyes, and when Melvin sees the picture when half of his face is covered by a mask, those eyes pierce right through him to the point he has to look away.

“So, this man over here is named John. No surname, mind you, he just wanna be called John based on the interrogation tape. He’s known as the Revelator and it was a reference from a song titled ‘John the Revelator’.” Alan shows a mugshot of John. His cheeks are blotched with dry blood and there’s some cut at the corner of his lips. He was staring right at him with the same blue eyes, but it was... hollow. Completely different from the picture where he got all his tac gears on.

Although to be fair, his jawline is more structured than Melvin’s life.

“Now this is John Monsoon, also known as the Revelator, BUT this man was found dead at a shootout in 1998.”

Alan tosses another picture to the coffee table. Melvin couldn’t exactly look at his face because the only picture they got was the autopsy picture, but John Monsoon has similar shaggy hair and beard.

“So… what happened?” he asks.

“Apparently, a man from the FBI witnessed four people during the shootout whereas the 80s Revelator worked with only two people.”

Alan tosses two more pictures. Two mugshots with one black man with a box fade hair and ginger with sunken eyes.

“That’s Cole Hedlund and Paul MacCullagh, sentenced for a death penalty in the same year as the shootout. They didn’t tell us anything about the fourth shooter, refusing to talk a single word even in the courtroom. But! An FBI agent was so certain that there was another person there.”

Alan hands another picture. Now this time is a white man in an FBI windbreaker and in that picture, he was smiling.

“That’s Todd Russel. He led the Revelator investigation in 2002 before the case went cold and Russel was found dead at the beginning of 2003.”

The next picture was Todd Russel, still in his FBI windbreaker, but he wasn’t smiling this time. He’s looking at the camera, brown eyes devoid of any emotion and there was red in his shirt. Red in his pants, red in his windbreaker, red all over his hands.

There’s red all over him.

Melvin’s stomach twist.

“Autopsy shows that he was already dead before he was crucified in his own home. His wife and 5-year-old son were found harmless and I guess they’re still on the witness protection program.”

“Alan,” Melvin places the picture on the table and sighs. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Alan’s eyes bulge. “Wait! Why?”

“Can’t you see?” Melvin is scared, holy shit, who is he fooling? He’s terrified.

He sees what this dude has done to a shit ton of people for the past twenty years. He killed people for breakfast and crucifies them for brunch. He burns their motherfucking house down for lunch then drains their bank account for dinner.

No sane person would want to mess around with that.

“He killed an FBI, shit, is ‘killed’ a right word? The man literally did the same thing as what the Romans did to Jesus. An FBI agent, Alan! And we’re just regular cops!”

“That’s why we should do it. The Revelator won’t even notice it because we aren’t on his radar! This is our chance, Melvin, seriously!”

Alan walks over to the couch and sits next to him, and for some time Melvin just stares at him with furrowed brows.

“Think about it, man. Think about it.”

The apartment room behind the police line is painted in gray; there are some cracks and holes in it. The floor is made of wood that creaks when they step on it, and there are some dishes in the sink and an empty bag of chips plus more empty ramen cups on the round dining table. Every single of them is covered in plastic.

Surprisingly, the place looks habitable and… mundane for a super-secret-plus-illegal vigilante hideout.

“You sure this is where the Revelator lives?”

Melvin closes the door slowly so as to not make a sound. He pauses for a moment when he sees how many combinations of locks are placed in it. Guess they were just lucky that the investigating team only uses a thin yellow tape to barricade it.

“I’m 100% sure. I read it in the files, this is where he plans… everything.”

Alan walks over to the broken window, the splinters of glass cracks beneath his feet. In that quiet minute, Melvin moves closer towards a hole in the floor and squats next to it. There are planks placed neatly right beside it and there’s nothing inside it when he aims his flashlight into it.

“The NYPD and FBI must’ve wiped this place clean. There’s probably no clue left behind,” he says, standing up from his position to look over Alan. The Revelator seems to stash all of his guns and drugs beneath the floor and, judging from all the mess, the investigating team must’ve checked the walls too. 

From behind him, Melvin looks at Alan while he stares at the broken window like he’s trying to make a sense of it, and it doesn’t, really. The Revelator jumped from the second floor through a literal hard glass and landed without a single scratch. That doesn’t make sense at all.

The fact that they tried to look for clues also doesn’t make a single fucking sense as well.

“We should probably go,” Melvin says.

“There must’ve been something else here.”

Alan walks away from the window and starts to search from room to room, and Melvin just stares. It’s weird, it just doesn’t make sense. Alan doesn’t have any reason to get so fussed over the Revelator and he wasn’t even that crazy about the medal from the very beginning. The fact that he’s willing to go all through the process of searching a needle in a haystack is just fucking obtuse.

So he decides to walk over to the kitchen area. The sink is leaking droplets of water and everything else is just evidence covered in plastic. He wears his latex glove and opens the fridge door; nothing. He checks the trash can; nothing. He opens every single cabinet to check if the FBI left anything for them; nothing.

Every corner of the room is wiped from all possible evidence, and this is just dumb. Melvin should’ve just realized that they’re reaching a dead-end from the moment they even decide to do this. It’s a dumb idea, and to think that this shit will boost his career up is just the same. This isn’t even legal.

“Alan, let’s just go. The other tenants are going to suspect us,” he half-whispers as he walks over to the other rooms.

The first room he steps into is empty except for a mattress with newspapers below it. Alan isn’t there.

The second room is filled with more stuff than the other. There’s actually a bed with covers with it rather than a single sheet of fabric. It isn’t painted in gray like the other part of the apartment. The room got a personality on it.

And then there’s a desk but it’s empty from a single object. There isn’t any single dust in it like it was meant to be filled with something.

“Uh, Alan?”

Melvin steps out of the room and moves on to the next room. Alan is standing in the room next door, one that looks fairly the same, but with different paint, or, to put it simply, a different ‘personality’ than the previous room.

Melvin gulps.

“Do you think the Revelator lives with… someone else?”

Alan turns around slowly, a paper in his hand and a serious scowl across his face. He nods.

“He has kids.”

The ride is filled with silence. Though, to be fair, Melvin wasn’t sure if it was because of the horror, or the shock.

“I’m sure that there’s at least two of them, but all we have now is Elisa Miller. I’m going to look it up.”

Alan holds the piece of paper and hands it to Melvin. It’s a part of an exam paper with the name Elisa Miller and a school name. The rest of the page is ripped away, it’s like the owner was rushing or trying to hide things or… he doesn’t know. Both? Maybe.

‘Shit, they’re probably trained for things like this,’ Melvin wonders. It’s common sense! If the Revelator has kids, then they’re probably highly trained in combat or, if they don’t, they know what to do when this kind of situation arises. He doesn’t know. There’s just no way his kids are ‘normal’. There’s just no way that their family is a functional one just like the family you see on a cheesy, American TV commercial.

The worst case is that they’re abused. Shit, Melvin feels like he’s going to throw up at the thought. The Revelator wasn’t known for his kindness or his fatherly nature, right? Fuck. He’s an insatiable monster with a fucked-up moral compass.

How can he have kids?

“I still can’t believe that the FBI missed that clue,” Alan snickers as he looks over to the school ground with his binoculars. It’s the same school as the one written on the ripped paper. This is the only lead they have.

Melvin frowns. “This isn’t a joke. Shouldn’t we give this to the FBI?”

“Sssh… They can have it later when we are done busting his ass to the jail. Hey, check this out, I think that’s the one.”

Alan hands the binoculars to Melvin and points out towards the direction of a girl. She has medium-length hair with light tips and a permanent scowl, apparently, or maybe it’s just the sun. Melvin was just guessing.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, lemme check it again on the database.” Alan unlocks his phone and types on the screen. “Elisa Miller, adopted from a church in downtown New York by a man named… Jim? Wow, Jim Parker. Jesus, how many aliases does this man have?” Alan frowns as he scrolls through his phone.

Elisa Miller walks alone towards the school gate with earphones shoved in her ears when two boys, one Asian and the other is African-American, walks towards her, smiling and probably calling her name.

“Try checking out if Jim Parker adopts another kid.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Um… there’s another one named Brown. Peter Brown. He’s a Korean descent, raised at the same church.”

“So the Revelator does have kids…” Melvin mutters softly as his eyes tail Elisa Miller and Peter Brown. In some way, Melvin knows that the Revelator isn’t going to be there to pick them up as the three teens start to walk heading towards a nearby station.

“Any other info?” Melvin asks as he gives the binoculars to Alan, he takes Alan’s phone in exchange.

“From what I read, no. Jim Parker only adopts two kids and they came from the same Catholic orphanage. I look it up, there’s a database for a man named Robert Brown that we could interrogat—I mean, talk with, later.” Alan takes his eyes off the teenagers and looks at Melvin.

Elisa Miller and Peter Brown, along with the unknown teen, talks about something from afar. They’re moving away, but not at an alarming pace. They don’t look like they notice their presence, but even from here, Melvin knows that they’re being alert, judging by the amount of time they look over their shoulders.

“Where do you think they’re going?” Melvin looks at Alan, he has his eyes firmly locked to them.

“To where they are staying right now,” Alan answers, then nods firmly at him. Now there’s the sign he knows too well. Melvin starts the engine and tails them slowly; keeping an appropriate amount of distance so nobody will notice them. At some point, he nearly thought that they would get caught. They don’t know anything about the teens besides their name and probably some legal information recorded by the States, but what he does know is that they’re the ‘same’. The Revelator and his kids, they both have the same, piercing eyes, and that expression fades away when they talk to each other or stop being so damn alarmed. Maybe they don’t even realize what they’re doing, and that brings him to even more questions.

How much do these kids know about the Revelator? Do they help him? Holy, is the Revelator making another team just like what the 80s Revelator did?

“Melvin, hey, get it together buddy. They’re taking the subway.” Alan snaps his fingers in front of Melvin’s face. “Come on.”

Alan goes out of the car first, then Melvin follows him without skipping a beat. The subway is crowded and it’s just the perfect place to blend in. Elisa Miller and Peter Brown part way with the other teen and hop into one of the cars, Melvin and Alan, on the other hand, take the one right next to it.

The ride is slow and nobody speaks a word. It’s still crowded inside. Elisa Miller sits and Peter Brown stands in front of her. They didn’t talk at all.

“Do you think he’ll be there?” Alan asks, eyeing the teens through the glass window, and Melvin just shrugs. He doesn’t know what to expect, really. His goddamn heart is currently beating sooo damn fast. He’s excited and scared, like, how could he not? He doesn’t know what he will do if they really meet the Revelator. Fight? That’s really not a good thing to do when you’re facing an international vigilante even if there are two of them. Malvin saw what the Revelator did towards a group of cops. He remembers it all too well how they got him cornered in an abandoned church and how long the shootout lasted. One person, obviously injured and not in their best state of mind, versus a whole squad, and that one person nearly managed to run away.

And what if they run? That’s worse. Oh, man. The Revelator would track them. He just can’t think of a good ending for this.

Melvin feels the sweat running down his spine. He doesn’t know what the Revelator will do when he meets them, that’s even worse.

“They stop here. Let’s go.”

His heartbeat is spiking up, goddamn. They’re going back in the same direction of the Revelator’s super-secret-plus-illegal hideout, but this time, that dumb nickname doesn’t bring any smile to his face. He’s fucking tense, and so is Alan. He notices that his partner has been biting his fingernails on their way and he only does that whenever he’s nervous. And now they’re reaching another dead end when the teens get into their apartment complex. Melvin knows damn well that they couldn’t get inside because the other tenants will notice them and ruin their entire stealth mission, but they’re so close. So fucking close.

“Alan, we can’t.”

Melvin grabs Alan's wrist. They can’t take another step, they’d be found. Alan frowns at him like he’s losing his mind, but he doesn’t argue. He stays quiet and bites his fingers. From the look on his face, Melvin realizes that he’s thinking hard. Alan’s eyes roam over the surroundings. Damn right, Melvin knows he isn’t gonna give up and as much as he appreciates his partner’s spirit, sometimes he wishes that Alan would stand back.

“We are so close,” Alan whispers, and Melvin agrees.

Alan points over to a building. It’s abandoned and there’s a sign that shows that they’re going to tear it down. He doesn’t tell Melvin when he jumps over the low metal gate and into the building. With quick precision, he turns his flashlight, and Melvin follows.

“Where are we heading?”

“Third floor. We might be able to see them from here.”

And Alan was right. They can see the Revelator’s room exactly from their spot. With his binoculars, Alan gets the first exclusive look at the broken window of the Revelator’s apartment from where he lays on his stomach. Melvin gets the first shift of the watchman. With his guns loaded, he stays near the only exit they have. 

“Did you see anything?”

“Negative,” Alan answers. His voice nearly echoing around the hollow concrete room. The place is a total mess, really. It’s not empty of furniture, but it does feel like the developer doesn’t even bother to finish the construction. There’s probably some homeless dude staying here judging from the interior. Gray wall, gray floor, all of it made of concrete. There are gaping holes in the walls where the windows are supposed to be placed, and there’s a worn-out mattress at the corner of the room with the springs coming all over the soft cushion placed on top of outdated newspapers, just like the Revelator’s room.

Melvin’s hearts drop to his stomach.

“Alan,” he whispers, palms sweating and trembling.

“Ssh, shut up!”

“Alan,” he whispers again, this time nearly yelling. He looks around the room to find another exit. There’s none. The only place where they could exit the building is through the creaking stairs or from the window, which is entirely impossible because they are not the Revelator who could jump through three stories building and still be able to run like he doesn’t feel a single, fucking, pain.

“I think I saw a movement. Holy shit, we might just be right all along!”

“ALAN!”

“Dude, what the—”

“I think this is the Revelator’s hideout.”

They freeze.

It’s quiet.

“Damn right it is.”

Alan screams.

ㅤㅤㅤEverything turns to black.

ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤ

“Oh my God, oh my fucking God. Stay out of him you sick fuck oh my God, MELVIN!”

‘Alan, you forgot to give me blankets.’

That was Melvin’s first thought.

It’s cold, it’s fucking cold out here and he’s uncomfortable. His head hurt like there’s someone trying to drill a hole into it, and his entire body is sore, all his muscles trying to stretch and move and just, basically, trying to ease the pain.

It’s fucking cold here.

“Melvin.”

The whisper is the first thing that he registers. It’s small, it’s out of breath… it sounds… pained?

Alan.

“Alan,” Melvin word’s slurs.

It’s cold, it’s hella cold, and his vision is blurry. The air smells tangy and sour, but the room is bright. It’s oddly bright, why? Harsh white light flashing his eyes, blinding his already blurry eyes. He tries to focus, tries to control his breathing. It’s cold, holy fuck. Why is it so cold?

“Took you a while.”

Melvin raises his head, struggling to find where the voice was coming from. It’s no use, everything is blurry. The light isn’t doing anything good to his eyes.

“Get the fuck away from him!” that’s Alan again, shit, he sounds in pain. Melvin tries to shake the blur away, he wants to see Alan. He wants to see him—no. He needs to see him.

There’s a low chuckle. “Ya might wanna keep it down a bit, sweetheart. Yer going to need all those air for later,” the voice says, and he feels a soft touch under his chin, “ain’t that right, Melvin?”

His vision is still blurry when a rough hand caresses his skin, but he can already feel his senses getting back to him. First, it was his skin: once he couldn’t feel his legs, now he could feel the cold floor even better. Second, it was his ears: once the sound was muffled, now it is crystal clear.  He knows that voice, he heard it all over and over and over again in Alan’s apartment room. When the blinds were pulled down and the lights were dimmed, when the TV was playing the Masters Tournament in Fox Sports, he heard that voice before. “No, no, Melvin. Rewind. Rewind it again. Look at his face, what is he doing?” Alan had said back then, and Melvin thought that the idea was dumb, but now it’s just pure terror.

He can’t even try to pull away.

“Shit, kid. Did I hit ya too hard?” the voice says again, and Melvin has to bite his inner cheek and holds his breath for a moment. Third, it was his eyes: once everything is blurry, now his nightmare is manifesting in front of him.

He wishes that it would stay blurry.

Because now he’s looking at the same blue eyes just like the one he saw three days ago. When the blinds were pulled down and the lights were dimmed, when the TV was playing a documentary of lion cubs on NatGeo Wild, he’d seen those eyes before. He’s looking at the same piercing gaze like the one given by the teens. He’s looking at the same monster as he did back then.

“Melvin, eh? Heard a lot about ya, ’m sorry for hitting your head too hard.”

Alan sneers. “G—get the f—”

　　One click.

　　He hears the load of a gun.

“Stay.”

Melvin snaps his eyes wide and searches frantically towards Alan’s voice. He’s still in shock, but he can see his partner in the corner of the room—a closed space with white walls and shelves with boxes in it. It’s cramped and it’s cold. The floor, the wall, the air. Everything’s cold.

Alan’s hands are free. Alan’s legs are free.

Alan’s stomach is bleeding.

“Alan—”

Melvin scrambles his way towards him, but he’s stopped right on track. Shit. His head hurts so bad and he’s stuck in his place. He could feel his muscles tensing behind him, his wrist securely tied to a metal shelf by a rope. The metal is cold, and it hurts. It hurts and it’s cold, it’s cold and it hurts. Holy fucking shit, Alan.

“Ssh…” The gentle hands return to his cheek. It’s cold, cold like the rest of the room, cold like the pale blue eyes that looked more like it has always been gray this whole time.

“Your partner is bleeding to death, you can’t panic,” the voice says again. His tone is flat and his voice is low, but then he hears a chuckle. There’s blood at the corner of his lips, there are cuts and bruises across his face. There’s terror coming from those eyes, the manic gleam glinting under the harsh, white lamp.

“N–no—”

“Melvin, darling, I’m joking. He‘s fine, I stitch him up.” The cold hand tilts his head. “Come on Alan, tell him.”

Alan looks at Melvin and to the source of the voice. There’s a bob in his adam’s apple, but when he looks back at Melvin, Alan nods like he means it.

“Good boy,” the voice says again. The cold hands disappear, and when the voice’s owner steps back, Melvin has to hold his breath.

Standing in all black is the Revelator himself. He doesn’t wear his mask, his entire face, from those sharp jaws and hooded eyes, all the bruises and cuts standing in front of him. There’s a Glock in his hand, but Melvin knows the man enough to realize that it isn’t the only weapon he has. There’s gonna be an extra gun tucked somewhere in his pants, some combat knife under his tactical vest. There’s always something he hides.

It’s the Revelator.

“Thought you wanna meet me, Melvin Rickman.” The Revelator smirks. “Or do you prefer, ‘Melvin Russell’?”

Melvin’s guts twist like it has never been before. He hears Alan muttering something from afar, but he couldn’t tell. His heartbeat is racing like shit, and he couldn’t breathe.

The Revelator looks at Alan and smiles wider. “You didn’t know, did ya?”

Melvin knows that Alan is looking at him, but Melvin couldn’t look back.

“You didn’t really think that your partner is willing to go all out for some stupid medal, did you?” the Revelator says again. He sounds calm, too calm for his own good. Too calm for someone like him. Is this thing a normal routine for him? Just another Saturday of blackmailing people! What a fun activity.

The Revelator snickers and looks back at Melvin. “You ain’t fooling anyone, sweetheart.”

Melvin chokes.

“How did you—”

The Revelator shush him before he could even continue his words. He’s so gentle, it’s making him sick. He doesn’t even know which one is better, believing that the Revelator is a fucked-up sadist who skins his victim alive or realizing that he’s actually a gentle fucker who uses too many endearments.

He wants to puke.

“Now, I hear that you guys are looking for me.” The Revelator drags a chair and sits on it. With his legs crossed on top of a knee, he pulls out a combat knife from one of his boots and starts juggling with it between his fingers. ‘Every move is calculated, but not necessarily planned.’ The letters from the file resounding inside his head. Back then, it didn’t make any sense, but now it does. It’s coming together now. Every time Melvin thinks that the knife is going to slip, he just picks it back and continues with the same, steady pace. The knife play isn’t a show of control, no, it isn’t. The Revelator isn’t trying to prove his capability, Melvin knows that he’s just bored. He knows that the Revelator thinks he’s way above that already to prove himself.

‘Every move is calculated, but not necessarily planned,’  he thinks again.

So does the Revelator know that this would happen? Did he calculate this? Did he know that there’s a chance for two young cops with barely one year worth of experience will try to snoop around? Have they been in the equation? If yes, since when?

Did the Revelator already know that this would happen the moment he nails Todd Russel in front of him?

“That’s Todd Russel. He led the Revelator investigation in 2002 before the case went cold and Russel was found dead at the beginning of 2003.”

Yeah, he knew that long ago. He knows.

Melvin is there the whole time.

He wants to puke. So bad.

“You find another side that you don’t know, good for you,” the Revelator says, “and I respect that. Not a lot of people could find some good lead easily.”

The Revelator drags his chair closer to Melvin, then he leans back. It’s the same pose all over again. His head is tilted to a side, just like what he did during the previous interrogation with Detective Nashton, but this time he’s flipping a kali knife in one hand and he has one foot crossed over a knee. Melvin wonders if he’s going to sit like this if not because of the cuffs back then.

“So, imma give ya punks a special time to interview me. Oh no, don’t get excited too easily. I only accept three questions,” he continues. The Revelator tilts his head to the other side and smiles at Alan. And it’s so sweet, sweet and gentle just like everything he does. Sweet and gentle like the way he touches his cheeks a moment ago, sweet and gentle, just, so different from the way he dresses. So different from what the file told them.

“W-who are you working for?” Alan tries to make his voice as menacing from the corner of the room, but he’s breathing heavily, puffs of white smoke coming from his lips. His face is pale from any colors, be it from the blood loss or the cold, Melvin just wanna run at him and hold him close. 

The Revelator stops his knife flipping and covers his mouth. “You can’t be serious,” he says, holding his laughter back, and Alan just stares at him wide-eyed, completely baffled at the response.

“It’s in the file, isn’t it? I saw it in your room. You should’ve kept it in a better place besides the bottom of your drawer, kid.” The Revelator smiles at Alan, then he glances at Melvin for a brief moment and wink. What the fuck.

It shouldn’t be surprising anymore, but Melvin couldn’t help the violent contraction inside his stomach. He stifles a groan, it hurts so bad and he’s fucking stressed. The Revelator already knows his real name, his real identity, then what else does he know? How many things does he know about them? He finds Alan’s place, and he might’ve already had Melvin’s address in his intel from a long time ago.

How many things does he know about them?

“You…” Melvin breathes in harshly, struggling to control his heartbeat. The Revelator eyes him with his sharp gaze. The gray irises—Melvin is completely sure that it was gray by now—swallowing his pupil until it left only a speck of black.

“Did your kids… know?”

The Revelator stays quiet, the curve of his lips turned flat, and there isn’t any sharpness inside his eyes anymore. There’s nothing there, nothing to indicate any sense of distress or anything else. No hostility, no emotion. Nothing.

It’s like staring into the void and hoping that it will give you something, but no. No matter how long you look at it, there’s just nothing there.

Does it mean he hit the right spot?

“Well,” the Revelator looks away, and when his gaze returned, the same sharpness returned. There goes back the confident look on his face, the same gentle smile that doesn’t suit the bloodlust coming from his eyes.

“There are… a lot of things a parent hides from their children,” he begins, “maybe you’ll understand better when you’re older. There are sacrifices you gotta make, you know, some dirty things you have to do for love. Honestly, I thought you, of all people, would understand it better.”

Melvin looks away. “How can I? You killed Todd Russel.”

“Yes, Melvin, sorry,” the Revelator rubs the bridge of his nose, “but your Daddy broke his promise to me.”

Melvin bites his tongue. They’re playing a mind game, he finally realizes. The Revelator doesn’t want to answer anything, at least, not in a way. With every question they ask, there’s a truth, then there’s also a threat ready to just jump back and tackle them. It’s a sick thought and Melvin hates it. He hates that the Revelator has the upper hand no matter what he does. He runs away from the police, survived a chase, and the fact that the room is fucking cold doesn’t help a thing. Now Alan is coughing and it’s cold and oh my fucking God, how long have they been here?

“One more question,” the Revelator says, and he smiles again. It’s sickening. It’s sickening how even fate picks his favorite.

Melvin looks at Alan. He’s so pale.

“What promise did Todd Rus—that, Dad, broke?” Melvin half-whispers, and the Revelator chuckles.

“The same promise I’m making with ya.”

There’s a loud sound of metal hitting a tile. The blade glinting under the harsh white light.

“I’m gonna let you kids live your life a bit longer, just enough so you guys could cut off the sexual tension and start dating each other and have some glorious sex. I’m letting y’all do it, I even booked two plane tickets to the Bahamas for you. I’m letting y’all do it, as long as you let me live my goddamn life. You ain’t coming anywhere near me, near my kids, near my fucking apartment or my fucking boss or my fucking friends, ‘cause if you fucking do,” the Revelator stands up and walks to him, “then I’ll fucking come at you, kid. I will fucking send swarms of flies upon thee and upon thy goddamn servants, and upon thy people, and into thy houses. And yer houses shall be loaded shit of flies and also the ground whereon they are but maybe I ain’t talking ‘bout some weak-ass flies. Listen to me, sweetheart, maybe I’m talking about something else. Something’ exploding that you won’t ever forget, something that you will always, always pop out in your goddamn head whenever you close your eyes. Something, something similar like the one I give to yer Daddy.”

The Revelator stands tall and steps on the knife he throws. In one single movement, he slides it in Alan’s direction and starts walking away towards the exit. It’s a metal door and the only thing holding it from closing completely is a single, dumb red brick.

“You know me, Russel. You don’t wanna mess with me.”

The Revelator walks away and shuts the door tight.

It’s quiet for a moment. He feels his heart sinks to the floor.

“Melvin—”

Melvin turns his gaze away from the metal door. Alan is still there, his face is still pale, and there’s still some smoke coming from his mouth.

“Shit, Alan!”

Melvin struggles to slip away from the knots, but it’s no use. The ropes are tight around his hands. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“Well,” Alan’s eyes are hazy and he looks so fucking tired, but he flashes a smile. “He shot me in the leg and stabbed my abdomen, but I’m good.” Alan laughs like he is reminiscing a cute memory from his childhood days.

“You sick fucker, how can you still—alright, shut up, I’m going to find a way to get out of this… wh-what are you doing?”

Alan drags himself towards Melvin’s direction with the knife in his hand. He realizes it’s the combat knife, the same knife that the Revelator juggles, and the same knife that was thrown into his feet a while ago.

“Oh, shut up. He gave us this,” Alan cuts the rope with the knife, his breath panting heavily as he struggles to keep his hand steady. Melvin’s heart aches. “For... this.”

The ropes around him break loose and Melvin sighs heavily when he feels the tension leaving his shoulder. Alan slumps back to the nearest wall and shuts his eyes.

“God, Alan, what the fuck—”

“He stitched me up.”

“What?”

“The Revelator.” Alan pulls his shirt up to show a bandage. There is dried blood on his stomach and bruises covering the rest of him, but the dressing looks… neat. “He stitched it. My legs too, he takes the bullet out by himself,” Alan says, his eyes don’t quite meeting Melvin’s.

Melvin stares wide-eyed. “B-but why?”

“I don’t know, Melvin. I really don’t know.”

Alan sighs and tries to sit upright. He can’t, he slumps back again with a moan. “When he hit you on the head, I was so mad and I… I just came at him with empty hands. Then he stabbed me and shot me in the leg, and I was... dying. I thought I was gonna die and you’re going to see me covered with my own blood and I started to beg.” Alan is now completely avoiding his eyes. “He stares at me like he doesn’t care, then he hits me in the face, and when I wake up, my wounds are clean.”

“Alan that’s…”

“It’s weird. I know. He… he doesn’t make any sense at all.”

Melvin stares at him for a moment until Alan finally looks at him. In some way, he doesn’t know what to say. The thought of not having Alan in his life anymore sounds bleak. It looks bleak. It feels bleak. He doesn’t want that.

Melvin holds Alan’s wrist. “We’re taking you to the hospital,” he says. Then he quickly stands up even when he feels like tumbling down again, even when his head starts screaming “sit the FUCK down” and his legs feel like jelly. He limps his way towards the door and tries to open it by the safety release handle. It doesn't budge. He rings the safety bell, there’s no answer.

Melvin pants. He’s doing everything too fast to the point he forgets that they’re stuck in a closed space with a temperature of -10° F and low oxygen level. Fuck, his heart is beating too fast and he’s about to hyperventilate. “We’re stuck,” he whispers, but Alan doesn’t look like he gives a fuck. He rolls his eyes and looks at Melvin, deadpan. “Yea, genius. Just get back here now and warm me up.”

Melvin shakes his head. “No, no. We can’t give up. There must be, there must be something we could do.”

“No, Melvin. There isn’t. The only thing we can do now is wait until someone found us and that’s the hard part because it’s cold, Melvin. Don’t you feel cold?”

Melvin nods.

“It’s a walk-in freezer, Rickman, and if we don’t,” Alan coughs, “if we don’t keep ourselves warm, there’s no telling how we could survive that wait.”

Melvin stares at Alan again. Once again, the fear found him. It makes his brain go numb and his legs all jittery. There’s this urge to just scream and throw himself on the door, but he knows better than to do that.

He looks from shelves to shelves to find something—anything. Anything that could keep them warm for some unknown time. Anything that could cover both of them for the night. There’s nothing, and he’s scared. He’s fucking scared. He’s so scared that he might start to cry right now.

“It’s really cold, don’t you think?” Alan jokes, but Melvin doesn’t crack a single laugh. Melvin stops looking and sits next to his partner instead. “We’re gonna get out of here,” Melvin says, his hands founding its way around Alan’s cold body. “We’re gonna get out of here.”

They stay like that for what seems to be eternity. Alan’s body grows colder and his breathing gets heavier, and so does Melvin’s. He doesn’t know how many hours have passed since the Revelator left the room. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes feel like hours. And he just wants to cry, fuck, he wanna cry so bad because it hurts. Melvin looks so pale and out of it, and he’s scared. He’s scared. He’s out-gunned. They’ve stuck together for so long and they always won. They’ve been together from the beginning and they will always be until the end. Alan has saved Melvin over and over and over again, but right now, when Alan needed him the most, he couldn’t do anything about it.

“When we get out of here,” Alan smiles at him, but it doesn’t really reach his eyes, “wanna have some dinner together?”

Melvin hugs him tighter and nods. Yes, that sounds great. They’re going to get dinner when they’re out of here. They’re not going to miss any Taco Nights and they’re going to watch the Yankees together. They’re going to do a lot of things when they get out.

If only. If only they get o—

“NYPD GET YOUR HANDS IN THE AIR!”

The metal door opens forcefully and a swarm of people in tac gears rushes into the room. Melvin tenses in his place and hugs Alan even tighter. It’s Sergeant Jones.

“Huh, Collins and Rickman. I should’ve… what the fuck, we need a medic!”

The tac teams look around the room as Sergeant Jones walks towards them with heavy steps. “H-how did you…?”

“There’s an anonymous call to the precinct saying there’s a hostage situation. We tracked the phone and it comes to this address. The FBI is waiting outside,” he continues as he kneels in front of them. The tac teams leave the freezer to make a room for the medic. Two men quickly come to lift Alan’s limp body to the stretcher, and another one quickly wraps a blanket around Melvin’s own freezing self.

“Why is the FBI here?” Melvin asks as Sergeant Jones hoists him up. The older sergeant and the other medic help him walk outside the room.

“You know who called, Rickman?” The Sergeant’s eyes are sharp at him. Melvin shakes his head.

“It’s the Revelator.”

“Is he gonna be alright?” Melvin asks as he looks at Melvin. He’s sleeping right now, the blinds are pulled down and the lights are dimmed, but the TV isn’t playing any random show and there isn’t anything to hide now. Not anymore.

“Doctor said that he’s lucky,” Sergeant Jones says with his thick Brooklyn drawl. “He lost a lot of blood, but his sutures are neat. I can’t believe the fucking Revelator actually did that. What the hell happened, Rickman? You know what, don’t tell me. Save the answer for the Captain later.”

Melvin doesn’t reply, he’s still looking at Alan. “Don’t be so bummed, kid. Nobody is going to lose their job.”

He smiles. “I’m thinking of quitting, Sergeant.”

Sergeant Jones’ eyes go wide.

“Alright, I know that was crazy, but take your time to think about it.”

Melvin looks at him for a moment, but that’s all he does. He says nothing and just stares at Alan’s peaceful form.

“What are you gonna do after this, kid?”

He looks at the Sergeant.

“Dinner, I guess.”

[bidisasterevanbuckley]

hi i haven’t written in just over a year. this is hoping i can finish this!!

this isn’t titles yet either whoops

Edit: Titled now!!

Caught in the Middle (1/?)

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Stan was already regretting agreeing to go on this stupid date. Richie managed to talk him into it, claiming seeing stan inside all the time has begun to leave him restless. “Bird watching doesn’t count!!” Stan couldn’t supress the eyeroll at the memory or his overdramtic friend. 

“Thanks for convincing me to go on this date! I hate it!” he it send without a second thought. 

His date has now disappeared again. He’s been gone for now ten minutes and to say the least Stan is getting irritible. Looking like a loser at a nice, dressy restaurant, sitting all alone, was not on is to do list.  Once it his the twenty minute mark Stan was done. Fifteen minutes was too much to have given as is, being left alone for twenty feels like a spit in the face. For once Stan is putting Richies advice to work. It sucks, bail immediately. Stan retrieved his pen and his birdwatching notebook writing out a note. He’s not sitting around any longer.

“If you weren’t actually interested you could have said something earlier. That’d be better than sitting here feeling like and idiot! Thanks! -Stan Uris”

“P.S. Pay your bill.”

Eating take out on the couch with Richie would be so much better than this date. Take out on the couch with his best friend classifies more as a date than this. Especially now that Richie has picked up on Stans table manners.  He managed to flag down the waitress to give her a tip and thank her again for being so patient with him. He took a deep breath before heading to the bar to get a bottle of water and walk home. Yet another unplanned event for his day was running into a well dressed man.

He could definitely be a young business man. An attractive business man. The little fantasy playing in his head had a little record scratch moment. “You here alone, beautiful?” Of course lame pick-up lines come back.

Stan couldn’t stop the word vomit. “No but the person I’m here with his disappeared for now,” stan sighed as he checked his watch “an entire half hour.” He felt his cheek begin to burn as the man eyebrows shot up.

“Thier luh-loss. At face vuh-value, i think you’re a beautiful creature. I wouldn’t in-intentionally sabbatoge the chance to get to nuh-know you.” His ears felt warm now, watching the man nonchalantly swipe his beer up from the bar.

“That sounds fake, but okay.” Stan was now running on false sense of confidence. Placing his water bottle down on the bar grabbing at his small notebook and pen. “I’ve got to run before diasater date decides to finally sow back up. But if you really meant that, call me sometime, yeah?” Stan grabbed is water, turned on his heel and headed for the door, he peaked back to see a smirk on the mans lips. Richie will be so proud of him, bailed on a date and gave a man is phone number, unheard of. Richie later repremended him, “You didn’t even wait for his name? Who are you?” – Denial. Stan was in denial. is had been a total of 5 days. Mystery boy has yet to call him. He can check that as fact. He’s answered ever phone call from numbers he didn’t know. At first Ricie would poke fun at Stans eagerness, but that wore away after a couple days.  He thought he was subtle gathering all Stans comforts. Yet he can’t be subtle, around anyone really, but he’s worse around Stan. He missed the ligt of pure joy that his best friend held after the awful date, talking about this mystery boy.

He was in the middle of his lunch break when his phone started ringing again. Stan heaved a sigh as he debated picking it up. One more blow to the last of his dignity wouldn’t matter at this point. This hit would go to his pride.

“Hello”

“Stan Uris?”

“This is him. Who am I speaking to?”

“This is Bill!”

“I’m sorry, who?”

“I never got the chance to give you me nuh-name after you split from the restaurant. But i for sure hi-hit on you hindering your escape.”

Stan couldn’t stop the smile that broke across his face “Mystery man has a name. Y'know people call two days after if they’re interested not five.”

“Think i could take you out as an apology?”

“Let me know time and place?”

“Same place we met. You duh-deserve a good date there. I’ll text you the spuh-specifics.”

“I’m free at 6 we can talk then, I’ve gotta get back to work. Bye, Bill.”

“I’ll be counting on it, Stan. We’ll talk soon.”

This is what being on top of the world feels like. Stan just knows. He’s smiling hard enough for his dimples to hurt. Quickly shooting off a text to Richie that he finally called. – When Stan finally stepped out into the fresh air the evening help he felt ecited nerves drumming under his skin as he checked his phone. 

“If you’re free for the night, you know where i’m at. Tell the host you’re here for Denbrough. -Bill” Stan took a screenshot to send to Richie as a response to his “When did you get cooler than me” which has now been followed by “GET @ HIM URIS” – The host gave him a confused look at the request for Denbrough, but still led him back deeper into the restaurant. He recieved some looks as Bill came into sight, a fiery red head leaving his table with a loud laugh. Bills eyes lock on his and he couldn’t stop the soft smile that broke through the nerves. “Glad you could make it, Stanley.” The goosebumps that danced across Stans skin hearing his name fall from those pink lips will be a thing he excludes from Richie later.

“Stanleys too formal, please just call me Stan.” Bills eyes followed carefully as Stan got comfortable. Taking pride in the pink that tinted his ears now.

“Well Stan, I huh-hope you’re hungry. I don’t want you buh-bailing on a shitty date again.” Bill had this glint in is eyes, and Stan wishes he could see that all the time.

“As long as you and the waiter are patient, I think this will be wonderful.” Stan was willing himself to stop wile he was ahead. “OCD doesn’t go away” He was already chomping down on his lip as he peaked up at Bill for his reaction. He seemed unfazed by the comment, flipping through his menu.

“If our waiter grows impatient I’ll request a duh-different one.” He spoke so matter of factly, “Please speak up if anything I do makes you uncomfortabe.” Stan heartbeat definitely sped up.

“I-Thanks, Bill. That means a lot to me.” The full dimpled smile could steal anyones heart. – Long after they had ate, they were still talking, now over a bottle of wine. A little looser and in Stans case a lot more giggly. The both had alight flush on their cheeks leaning over the table, now joking about their friends. Stan mentioned his mess of a best friends that shouldn’t work so well. Bill countered with his firecracker, Bev. Wo was there earlier as Stan had shown up. Thier cozy little babble fest was broken up but Stans phone buzzing on the tbale bring his attention to the time. He was shocked to say the least they had not been secluded for 3 hours wihtout realizing it. Richie had simply texted “Hey hot shot, you coming home?”

Bill had laughed and called for the check. “That’s our cue isn’t it” Stan was ready to suggest against it but the day started to catch up with him. Once they had gotten into the cold air of the night Bill offered Stan a ride, gently leading him to his waiting car by the small of his back. “It wouldn’t be right if I didn’t make sure you got home safe.” Stan for what feels like the hunderth time that night was rendered speechless by this mans chivalry.

Once cozy in the back seat, Stan made sure to text Richie he was in fact on is way home and gave Bills driver the address to their apparetment complex. Before finally directing his full attention back to Bill. “Congrats on being my best date ever.” That goofy-toothy grin was on his face, he already knew. “Thanks for this, Bil.” He could feel butterflies in his tummy at the warmth of Bills hand touching is on the seat inbetween them.

“Does that mean I get a chance at a suh-second date?” Bills cheeks were pink now. Stan gave him a soft smile.

“I’d love that.” Stan had to bite his lip to avoid smiling to big. It would hurt later for ow much he’d done it within the night. The car had come to a stop infront of is complex, he almost didn’t want to go. “Guess this is my stop. Text me, okay?”

He’s a little surprised to hear Bill get out of the car too, followed by a hand meeting the small of his back once again. He melting into the warm touch as the entered the lobby. His doorman nodding at him, finger over the panic button until he recieves a nod back. “Glad to know you have a duh-doorman.” Bills voice was soft as he leaned closer to Stan. “I’ll be in contact.” With a soft kiss to his cheek Bill was parting from him already headed out the door. “I’ll see you soon.” The cheeky bastard threw a wink back at Stan who stood dumbfounded with a hand on his cheek for a minute. Richie is going to have a ball with this one. — Bill had kept his word about being in contact, they talk everyday even if it’s just for a; I’m busy, I’ll talk when I can; text. That was the joy in Stan life that felt off hilter lately. 

Stan felt like he was being watched. When he went to work. His early walks in the park to do some bird watching. Sometimes in his own bedroom. Richie, started going with him in his early morning adventures. In an attempt to make sure he’s okay. But now Richie felt the paranoia of being watched. It had gotten bad enough they’re sharing a bed everynight. Which is what they’ve done when seeking comfort ever sincde they were kids.

The line is drawn when Richie calls him crying. Swearing a man has been following him for blocks taking pictures. Locked away in a public bathroom to try and escape it. He put Richie on hold to call Bill to cancel thier coffee date as he was running to where his best friend is hiding.

“Take care of him, Stan! Let me nuh-know what’s going on!” Bill worry sounded genuine. When Stan saw him next he’s ready to lay a thankful kiss on him. Richie and Stan help hands the entire way home. Stan triple checked thier door was locked before he could sleep that night. –

[customessaypaper213]

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