#I sent over two help emails but there has been no response to those yet...

[intotheelliwoods]

happy day 3 of tumblr not allowing me to post comics everybody🎉

[guster-animations]

KR Gotchard Producers Roundtable PART 2

producer minato gave me a hard time with this one. if you see any problems, please tell me in reblogs/dms/asks/whatever

TOKU TRANSLATION MASTERPOST HERE

this was done for the henshindex wiki! join today!

Kamen Rider Gotchard TV Series Finale Commemoration Toei Producers Special Symposium (Second Edition)

“Kamen Rider Gotchard” will soon reach its climax!

With that, we are delivering a Toei producer symposium like usual, split into three parts. Furthermore, the first and second volumes will be released one week before the final episode airs. The three-part talk totaled up to over 30,000 words. The participants are, of course, Producer Yosuke Minato and Assistant Producers Daigo Matsuura and Kaho Miyashima. In this second volume, we mainly discussed the inside story on the first half of the battle…!

Act 5: 1st-2nd Cool Summarization

TTFC: I can say that Gotchard is the result of you young producers sincerely bringing answers to the views of “adults”.

Minato: That was when I suddenly realized that the big veteran Keiichi Hasegawa is on our side. That was amazing. It’s not a bad thing to be young. I thought that his aging halted 30 years ago because of changing from art staff to scriptwriter.

[Footnote: After being an assistant director and on art staff, Keiichi Hasegawa made his debut as a screenwriter in Tsuburaya Productions’ “Ultraman Tiga” (1996). He was also involved in “Tiga” as filming set staff until the middle part of the show.]

Hasegawa already has a fair amount of achievements, and it seems like his core is that his surroundings don’t change what he says. However, at the same time, he is also flexible. While communicating during preparatory meetings, he can switch over to going “Oh, it’s this way!” with ideas. That flexibility was very helpful.

Harashima: For me, episode 5 was my first time being in charge of casting the guest actors. That was the pro wrestling episode of all things… (Laughs). But this one also had many guest characters, and I thought whether I did well would be pretty essential, so even though I consulted with Director (Katsuya) Watanabe, I pulled it off in my own way. Even so, it was very troublesome to find who I would ask to play the role of “Koichiro Asahi”.

[Footnote: Masanori Machida, who appeared in “Gotchard”, is a big veteran of the acting industry, boasting of an over 60-year career since childhood. His appearances in tokusatsu works are also numerous; in “Ninja Hattori-kun + Ninja Kaiju Jippou” (1967), he was also responsible for Hattori-kun’s suit actors (multiple times). It’s actually been 43 years since he last appeared in the Kamen Rider Series. Koichiro Asahi re-appeared afterwards in episode 47 too!]

We were able to get Masanori Machida to appear, and after seeing the footage, Hasegawa sent me an email saying, “That was an incredible casting choice”. I made sure to save that email to look at when I’m having a hard time.

Minato: That’s true, you were in charge of episode 5, and then episode 6 too. Shogo Amo was a good choice for Boruto Namarizaki.

Harashima: I didn’t know Mr. Amo had appeared in “Mashin Sentai Kiramager” (2020) and “Avataro Sentai Donbrothers” too (Laughs). And yet both of those appearances were for episodes directed by Watanabe’s team. Not knowing that, when I asked Director Watanabe, “How about this person?”, he said, “That’s Amo!”. I immediately said, “Sure. Let’s ask him.”

Matsuura: Amo was good in “Kiramager” and “Drive”, but he was even better as Boruto Namarizaki this time. He gave a performance that made it hard to believe he was the same actor as in his last two works. At the same time that I thought, “Wow, he’s still a great actor,” Director Watanabe could tell that Boruto would be performed well if it were Amo.

Minato: I think that episode’s script from Hasegawa was good too. Bolt was truly a heel (bad guy) typical of Hasegawa works. Moreover, I’d wanted to see Hasegawa and Director Watanabe working together for myself. They were together for a year in “Donbrothers” and I really wanted Director Watanabe to participate in Gotchard, so one of my aims was to have him work with Hasegawa. That was realized in episodes 5-6, 13-15, and the endgame episodes 44-45. The first one, episodes 5-6, was especially interesting during the script phase, but those were episodes that I think were “changed” in such a way because of the guest casting, the synergy, and even more so, the direction. It had an effect.

Matsuura: It complements itself a little, one cool episode… The structure up to maybe the Kyoto arc was decided before the show started airing. The scripts for those were mostly finished too. Since we had calculated which forms would appear in what order and the like, we weren’t making that part of the show while looking at how the audience reacted. We wanted to do it that way from the start. We were making each episode having already decided what would be done and seen in it. Though there was trouble because there were a fair amount of things we should have done or weren’t easy to explain.

Matsuura: In the early days, episode 4 was profoundly memorable to me. That was the first one where we fully depicted the relationship between Hotaro and Rinne. I wondered if it would be easier for everyone to enjoy “Gotchard” if they watched this episode. But, on the other hand, I was worried if the path we took properly conveyed Hotaro’s goodness. Hotaro is the type of protagonist who makes sure to “listen” to the thoughts of others more than he shares something himself. We also included the point of “a supportive protagonist” and “passivity”. Personally, I think we need more people like him in this day and age… It was for exactly that reason that I wondered if he would be hard for present-day viewers to relate to. In other words, he’s not “easily understood”, isn’t it flashy? At that point, we were already coming to like how Hotaro was, but I worried about if audiences would feel the same way about him. The next pro wrestling episode… I think WrestlerG’s episode (episode 5) was full of showiness, and that was structurally good.

Minato: (Hiroki) Uchida finally had time to write in episodes 7-8, and moreover, that was the first two-episode arc, so we aimed to gamble with Uchida’s specialty style. It’s a story of the protagonist and a young guest character coming together.

Matsuura: Then, 9 and 10 was a school trip arc filmed in Kyoto. That was Director (Ryuta) Tasaki’s second time going up to the mound after the first two episodes of the show.

Minato: Myself, I strongly wanted to make Gotchard also a school drama, so at an early stage, I decided to “do these (episodes 9 and 10) on the Kyoto location as a school trip”. That’s why I basically left episodes 5 and 6 to Harashima, and 7 and 8 to Matsuura; I was focusing on helping with preparations for the location shoot. Then we had to make the scripts for those episodes… Hasegawa specializes in dark stories, and if we did that, it would go in that profound direction. At that time, the person who said during meetings that the appeal of “Gotchard” is its cheerfulness was Matsuura.

Matsuura: The back-and-forth exchanges around that had a structure to them. But my thoughts regarding Hasegawa, who I’ve socialized with for a year, were only “Keiichi, I’m sorry about this” (Laughs). “Gotchard” was our first time working together, but naturally, I knew his name before then. Now, I respect him a hundred times more than I did then. Well, it’s not that I didn’t respect him before (Laughs). I said it before, but even though he’s a big veteran, the way he thinks is young. I don’t know if “young” words are appropriate or what, but he always listened to what a youngster like me had to say, and he would adopt the ideas if he thought they were good. He would say, “I seeeee!” with genuine excitement… I have no idea if he’s always been like that (Laughs). He’s accumulated various experiences, and I know what he’s like now, but the Hasegawa I spent a year with was truly someone I can respect. That’s why a person like me could always talk nonstop about my cocky views without hesitation. I’m very grateful for that. I was also able to give many opinions in the script meeting for the Kyoto location episode too.

Minato: Because Hasegawa and Uchida’s unique characteristics are different, as the side that orders materials, there were parts where it was easy to go, “Hasegawa would fit here,” or “Uchida would be good for this one”. Then Akiko Inoue joined, but she also liked to write scripts that have personality. When ordering for Inoue, I deeply wanted to know her writing style, and I only came across an “Akiko Inoue Script Episode” from “GeGeGe no Kitaro (Series 6)” (2018-2020) that she had participated in.

[Footnote: In series 6 (97 episodes), Akiko Inoue was involved from episode 6 and onwards, and authored fourteen episodes in total. Incidentally, responsible for episode 1 of series 5 among others, Keiichi Hasegawa also participated in series 6, starting with episode 56 in the second year of broadcasting. He has written nine episodes for the franchise.]

Then, whichever episode she did would be very interesting. She’s very good at making use of the writing styles for people and societies, and yet, she also depicts things that are like human love flowing down. Of course, since it was “Kitaro”, the original work itself is amazing, but I also felt the power of her own writing. What I first asked her to do was Majade’s TV debut episode (episode 19) where what she would do had been decided, so there wasn’t much room left for Inoue to write with freedom, but from the next moment I asked her to do something, around episodes 22-23, she quickly showed her personality. I only ordered her with the information that “a Chemy called Zukyumpire appearing” and “a story where good intentions about love go wrong would be nice”, but she did more than I asked her (Laughs). After that, we were surprised again by Inoue with episodes 36 and 36, but what I really felt a reaction to in the beginning was 22 and 23.

Matsuura: I kept saying from the side, “Zukyumpire in live action is difficult, so can’t we do it another way?”, but a person named Akiko Inoue and a person standing here named Harashima conspired together, and I definitely couldn’t try to stop (Laughs).

Minato: Oh, come on, everyone and their energy was amazing in that episode. Even though we think about production in various ways for the difficult work, I expected that we could more or less compromise and say “It’s good if we make it this far!”, but the filming site really won’t give up either (Laughs).

Matsuura: For example, when Zukyumpire possessed Sabimaru, Sabimaru would always become a different emotion, and try to sing the song with “Everyone’s heart I zukyun, zukyun…” I was proposing that it would end up structured like a Super Sentai “filler episode”. It was interesting for the audience to see a Sabimaru that was different from normal, too. However, the young lady Akiko (laughs) didn’t give up there.

Minato: She was very particular about the idea of “Zukyumpire himself intentionally appearing as a human”.

Matsuura: While midway through it, I thought, “Well, it’s good that I’m not in charge (of the casting) myself”, and said afterwards for Harashima to do her best. No, of course I’m kidding.

Harashima: Firstly, Akiko’s pilot was interesting. That and another thing—when I looked at “Gotchard’s” audience analysis data at that time, it was sufficiently reaching the original audience of the C-group (Children/Kids group, ages 4-12), but more than that, the T-group (Teenager group, ages 13-19) and F1-group (females aged 20-34) were looking a little weak. Here, I thought about how I could bring about a character that seems to appeal to the said groups. I’m really glad we got Taro Yamanaka to appear.

Minato: Yamanaka was decided. and I told Director (Kyohei) Yamaguchi that we should push Zukyumpire and Yamanaka in this episode. So, if you rewatch episodes 22 and 23, there are many scenes we shot inside the Oizumi filming site to cut costs (Laughs).

TTFC: But Zukyumpire was right after Kamen Rider Valvarad’s debut arc (episodes 20-21), so when I think about it again, January and February were putting up a big offense.

Minato: Also as a connection between past and present, Mr. Minato became an enemy, the base called the Alchemy Academy was taken, and the “Kitchen Ichinose Alliance” was active for a while… I had decided that for that series of events, episodes 26-27 would be directed by Tasaki’s team, after episodes 23-24’s (Takayuki) Shibasaki group. I made the season with a lot of excitement.

TTFC: Then, from the spring break period, the episodes broadcast up to early April were a lot of “breather” episodes.

Minato: When we welcomed in Director (Kiyotaka) Taguchi, it was right during that (episodes 28-29).

Act 6: “The Dark Sisters” Secret Story

TTFC: With this, Director Taguchi has now taken part in all of Japan’s “Three Big Tokusatsu Series” (Ultraman, Kamen Rider, and Super Sentai) as a director.

Minato: Actually, I approached Director Taguchi before I did Akiko Inoue. With various conflicts, I knew we wouldn’t have enough directors at some point. So I foresaw that development. Rotating directors isn’t a mechanical process; If we did that, it would be too much. For every director of a story, I would think in the same way as I do for casting guest members, and pick them based on the contents of the episodes. So while looking for what timing would suit Director Taguchi to come in, Director Taguchi himself was pretty busy, and it was hard to find a good spot in his schedule. If his schedule was more open, I might have asked him to do a pair of single digit episodes early on. I was contacting the director frequently, and what I thought he “might be good in” was episodes 28-29. It was also an episode that was just after a big development had ended. When I called the director, I first asked, “What kind of things do you want to do?”. I remember that I started by talking about “which Chemies remained”. And then it became “The Great Yokai War” (Laughs).

Matsuura: I thought with Director Taguchi that the image of monster movies and the work of “Kingdom of Light” was still strong, but when I call on him, he seems to like “GeGeGe no Kitaro” and the works of Mr. (Shigeru) Mizuki too. And since Akiko Inoue happened to have written for “Kitaro”, they got excited about doing a “ghost” story arc (Laughs).

Minato: Well, he had directed with Toei before in “Mashin Sentai Kiramager”, so I thought that he should direct in a different way from “Kiramager” since this is the Kamen Rider series. So, Otojiro Sato, “Gotchard’s” second assistant director… he also had experience filming for the Ultraman series, so we asked for his “favorite Taguchi work”. He had liked “The Love” (episode 6) from “Ultrazone” (2011).

[Footnote: A love story connecting Alien Zalab (Voice: Tomokazu Seki) and the widowed woman Omoya (Mitsuko Oka). A sudden and distinct episode to be broadcast in the short-story-focused “Ultrazone”.]

TTFC: He has great taste…

Minato: I watched because I hadn’t seen it, and it turned out to be really good. I discovered that atmospheric dramas like this are the director’s specialty, and I think that reflected on the story of episodes 28-29 too. Toshie Negishi also appeared then, in the role of Renge’s grandmother.

Matsuura: Ms. Negishi was the role of the protagonist’s grandmother in “Ultraman Arc” (2024). Actually, her shoots for “Arc” came before “Gotchard”.

TTFC: That’s been a pattern recently.

Matsuura: There was no aim to have this be “Gotchard’s” specialty. There are benefits to filming early (Laughs). The child actor Soto Osagaki, who we got to appear as a guest actor in the Saboneedle episodes (episodes 7-8), was filmed in the V-Cinext “Kamen Rider Geats: Jyamato Awaking” before, but his role in “Gotchard” ended up airing first as well (Laughs). Ayane Kinoshita from the next episodes, the Kyoto location ones (9-10) was the same way. TTFC’s “Ninja Sentai Kakuranger Part 3: Mid-Life Crisis” was filmed first, but before that even went up on streaming, we got her to come back for more “Gotchard” episodes (9-10, 44-45) (Laughs).

TTFC: Director Taguchi came back to help with Sabimaru’s focus episodes, 42-43, and results-wise it seems like he became the “director in charge of the older students [Renge and Sabimaru]”…

Minato: But episodes 28-29 weren’t originally intended to be Renge focus episodes. It’d been decided that it would have a “grandma character”, but not whose grandma it would be. We’d already had focus episodes for Rinne and Hotaro, so it was a difficult point, and then it became “wouldn’t Renge fit?”. And then there were talks of her grandma living in Kansai since Renge uses the Kansai dialect (Laughs). At any rate, the episodes turned out good, so when we asked him to do two more afterwards, it was easy to say, “Please do Sabimaru this time.” In the beginning, the aim in appointing Director Taguchi was from a place of wanting to expand the work’s worldview, so I think there was good synergy with him focusing on Renge and Sabimaru.

TTFC: Since we did the older students’ episodes, I want to touch on the Dark Sisters; weren’t they created because Hasegawa was in charge?

Minato: That’s right. At first, since it’s “a story where they search for Chemies”, we didn’t want clear enemies to be there yet, so there was a period where we were fumbling around for something in that direction. But when Hasegawa formally joined and looked over the plan, I received a comment that “it’ll become hard to understand which way the story is facing”. So I started to think about the creation of an enemy for Hasegawa. What appeared from there was “the Dark Sisters”, but because only three people would appear as enemies at the start, I thought, “this is a new approach”. So, at that time, Hasegawa fit very well with the drama “Dr. Chocolate” (2023)…

[Footnote: Created by Yasushi Akimoto. Ryo Aoki [played Kento/Espada in KR Saber] played a regular cast member who is a police detective, and Kokoro Aoshima [played Tsumuri in KR Geats] was a guest actor in episode 6. A favorite even with TTFC, Akira Shinomiya [played comedians in various KR media] was a guest actor in episode 3 while participating as a “comedy duo”.]

The premise is that its heroine is a ten-year-old genius surgeon. It was Hasegawa’s idea from the start that the eldest sister of the “Dark Sisters”, Atropos, would be played by a child actor. So when it became time to look for Atropos in auditions, I was able to come across a talented person named Itono Okita. The third daughter, Lachesis, is the incredible Alisa Sakamaki, who we met at auditions for the main cast members. Lachesis’ presence was one that I thought was valuable, so I asked her. The middle daughter, Clotho, was a brutish character, so a person who could fight is the best option. When speaking with Director Tasaki, he said, “What about Kanon Miyahara?”. Now the names had already been decided. Especially at the start, it felt like I would wonder when they would die (in the show) every time I read a script, but Hasegawa, at a point where there is a “creator” of the Dark Sisters, was always saying, “All of them will survive until the endgame!”. On the other hand, I was constantly worrying, “What will happen in the endgame?”. “However it’s done, it will look pitiful. We can’t avoid that.”

TTFC: In the midst of that, to have Lachesis and Spanner, Atropos and Rinne, and Clotho and Hotaro team up, the “teamwork” between the three sisters and three Riders was born.

Minato: The three sisters weren’t just Hasegawa; Uchida and Inoue, as well as all the directors, depicted them well. Right, I was saying to Director (Koichi) Sakamoto that “We’ll definitely ask you when the schedule is free” from an early stage, but his first words regarding that were, “Please let me film Kanon (Miyahara)!” (Laughs).

TTFC: That was definitely implemented in episodes 32-33.

Minato: That’s correct. It was decided to have Kamen Rider Legend finally appear in the TV series, and it became that we asked him to make the buildup to that more exciting. I asked Uchida to do the script, and it was an episode where he really got to shine. Clotho got more action scenes compared to the other sisters, but hadn’t been delved into as a character that much. Uchida was able to come up with a situation where the two of them, as “rivals”, are able to cooperate for a moment, while firmly summarizing the small connections between Hotaro and Clotho up to that episode.

TTFC: I think it’s because of Uchida cooperating with you from the planning stage, Minato.

Minato: Uchida gave me comments from the standpoint of series structure for the episode scripts that Hasegawa and Inoue wrote. Like, “Couldn’t this part be connected to this one in a previous episode in this way?”. He gave useful suggestions within the minimum necessary scope while never erasing the personality of Hasegawa and Inoue’s writing, so it was always helpful. I think the fact that Hasegawa and Inoue had as much freedom as possible to write with probably caused Uchida trouble. The early-on episodes 7-8 and the endgame episodes 42-43 might have been when the “Uchida World” could expand. But because episodes 7 and 8 had so many components put into it, 42 and 43 too, there was an aspect of Uchida World and Taguchi World’s Gotchanko, so with the process of letting Director Taguchi do what he wanted, he had to adjust a fair amount of things…

Act 7: A Well-rounded “Adult” Cast

TTFC: With Kanji Ishimaru (Fuga Kudo), Yoko Minamino (Tamami Ichinose), Saki Fukuda (Kyoka Edami), and Kenta Kamakari (Glion), everyone in the “adult cast” is magnificent.

Harashima: Ishimaru and Minamino had a sense of stability, of security. They were there until the end, and I am very grateful for that. Saki Fukuda herself liked tokusatsu works herself, and she would say, “It’s fun!” whenever I went to meet her. She was an important person for Spanner while performing too, but I think it was good for (Yasunari) Fujibayashi to be able to act alongside her. From Fukuda’s standpoint, there were many times she was together with young cast members other than Fujibayashi, but it seems like she put a lot of work into helping him. Fukuda didn’t say it herself whatsoever; however, we should put care into the things that can’t be seen, and I’m grateful for it from the bottom of my heart. There was also a “Mr. Minato and…?” scene at the end of the summer movie, and it was wonderful. Being an “older sister adult” character, there are places where she overlaps with Sumiko Kozawa from “Kamen Rider Agito” (2001).

Minato: I think that was a little of my inspiration at the start.

Matsuura: Well, I should have her eat barbecue and gulp down beer from a mug, then (Laughs).

Minato: No, it’s because she was asking for parsley at the ramen cart (Laughs). But, “Gotchard” became a work with many female regular cast members. That wasn’t intended at all, and moreover, I have a feeling that there aren’t too many women in the audience.

Matsuura: The Dark Sisters are certainly raising the numbers (Laughs). But really, there was nothing that made me uncomfortable, and it’s just the trend of the times. Now, it’s the aforementioned last moment of the summer movie, but for Fukuda, even in the TV series, she had been thinking, “Kyoka and Minato could perhaps…”, so when there was a chance, she brought that nuanced acting into it. Even so, (Rikuto) Kumaki is more stubborn and doesn’t get on at all. I don’t think he realizes that (Laughs). The truth is that, and the fact that he played with so much force in Director Tasaki’s summer festival scene. Kumaki himself is a very warm and cozy person.

Minato: That’s true. I hoped for it to be like “Avataro Sentai Donbrothers” (2022)’s Tsuyoshi Kijino… (Hirofumi) Suzuki (plays Kijino), where we would get him to show his immense “acting ability” as a character from the Alchemy Academy, and stimulate the growth of the new cast members, but Kumaki wasn’t “that type”, not in a bad way. He would just enjoy being with everyone if those members were around (Laughs). But, I’m glad it’s that way. If anything, I think a good balance was struck when Fukuda joined later on, and it became an incredible team over the year. Now for Kamakari; Glion.

Matsuura: Kenken (Kamakari) helped a lot too. I think this is a hot topic right now, but in scenes like the one where Glion comes to “Kitchen Ichinose” in episode 49, when I read the scripts for them, I already thought, “I want to see this!”. And because Kamakari recognized that this was a highlight of the show, it became a truly good scene. I think that scene was created specifically because he was Glion. At the same time, wouldn’t he have not been performed that way without Kamakari?

[katareyoudrilling]

Hi Kat

'Shared Document' has its Fan Fiction Birthday on 28th August 🎂

Happy birthday!

Tell us something about that fic, anything you like, and we'll help blow out the candles and wish it many happy returns!

You can save this ask until the actual date or reply whenever you like.

Omg, really?? It’s been two years??

It feels longer ago, honestly lol

To celebrate Shared Document’s birthday, I’ll tell the true story that inspired it…

In early 2021, I had just started writing smut and just started falling for the one and only Pedro Pascal. We were still a year away from me joining tumblr. Also, I was in my second year as treasurer for my kid’s elementary school PTA (don’t worry, we weren’t *that* kind of PTA)

One day, I’m just minding my business when I get an email from another PTA board member. The email says “Katie, what’s this?” followed by a couple of sentences from something I was writing.

I’m sure you can all imagine the full body panic that took over me. I immediately wrote her back explaining that I had taken up “creative writing” over the pandemic and it was from something I wrote (the sentences weren’t explicit but it was pretty clear what type of thing they were from). I apologized profusely and said how I had no idea how I could have emailed that to her.

She responded back that it was ok and not to worry, but that I hadn’t emailed it her… I had put those sentences in a shared google doc she had sent out the night before

☠️☠️☠️

Cue hyperventilating.

Here’s what happened— she was getting everyone in a leadership role with the PTA to fill out our job descriptions in a Google sheet so that we could start recruiting volunteers for the next school year. I had quickly filled in my responsibilities and remember doing some cut/pasting and the doc being weird about it. Turns out I had cut those sentences from my fic earlier in the day and had accidentally pasted them in the doc.

I was MORTIFIED. She had deleted it from the doc but I was able to see who had been in the document during the time it was there… and it wasn’t just me. No one ever said anything, but I was panicked for a while. She ended up moving out of our district that summer and I haven’t seen her since, which is a shame, I really liked her. She did say that she would like to read more, so I sent her Reunion later that year when I finished it and she enjoyed it.

I was able to laugh about the whole incident pretty quickly and knew it would make a great story one day. Fast forward to spring of 2022– I am finishing my time on the PTA board, we have resumed in-person meetings, and I have been on tumblr for a few months. Four of us go out for drinks after a PTA meeting and start talking pandemic hobbies. I revealed mine. They all wanted to read my stuff but I wasn’t sure they were ready for it. (I didn’t tell the shared document story until I was officially done with the PTA and then only to a few people. It definitely got a good laugh and some dropped jaws when I did)

My writing is an open secret now among my extended friend group. My closest friends (2 of which were at that table when I shared my pandemic hobby. That night was in many ways the start of our friendship) have read some of my stuff and so have some who weren’t there that night.

The third at the table wanted to read but he is a dad and I told him I wouldn’t send smut to another woman’s husband lol, but if he had his wife ask me, I would send it to her and she could decide. That hasn’t happened yet lol. She and I are getting to be friends now and I can’t imagine him admitting to her that he knew about my hobby years ago and wanted to read it. He told me he tried to find my tumblr, but as you all know finding anything on tumblr is a fools errand. He’s never going to find and I don’t think he’s tried since right after that night.

I wanted to use the story as the base of a fic but really struggled with how to do it until one day I had the idea that became Shared Document! The story is a funny one for me, but reader gets a much more satisfying ending 😏

Thanks for helping me celebrate!

[miraculousystuff]

Corey Curse Aftermath Pt 9

Small time skip, like 3 days*

As the anti-bullying classes went on, everybody but Alya seemed to understand exactly what impact they had on Marinette. Almost all of them rebuilt tentative if not profound friendships with her once more, All except for Alya, who still doted on Lila. But that all changed at the parent teacher meeting Miss Fournier hosted. Everyone’s parents except Lila’s showed up. “Are we waiting on anyone?” Miss Fournier began, and noticed Lila’s mother was nowhere to be seen. Then, suddenly, a tall, green eyed brunette woman that looked to be in her 40s stormed through the door. “Lila Rossi. Why is this the first I’m hearing about bullying? You told me the court case was about all your vacation days?” the woman, who was presumably Lila’s mother, yelled. Lila’s eyes widened in response. “Mom? I made sure to throw that letter away_” she was cut off by her mother “Yes, and I found it in the trash. Imagine my surprise when I found out my daughter has been bullying a poor girl for this entire year!” she continued yelling, and Mr Damocles had to quite literally usher them out of the building. Needless to say, that was the last they saw of her. “For most of you, this meeting will be brief. As you know from the emails I have sent, most of your children have improved greatly due to the anti-bullying classes, especially Nino, Kim and Alix. Therefore, they are being dismissed from them early, and will no longer have to attend. Juleka, Rose and Nathaniel will also be dismissed from them once the week is over. For the rest of your children, keep working hard and they should hopefully be dismissed by the end of two weeks. You are free to go.” she stated, and everyone slowly began filing out, but Miss Fournier spoke up again. “Mrs and Miss Cesaire, do you mind waiting for a moment please?” They nodded as everyone left and the room was only with Alya, Alya’s mom and Nora. “I regret to inform  you that Alya is not doing well in these classes at all. She refuses to believe Marinette is innocent and blames it on her, as well as consistently torments the other students who have now built relationships with Marinette.” Alya turned pale as her sister and mother turned to her in anger. “Alya Cesaire, care to explain?” her mother thundered. “Mom, I can explain-” she was cut off by Nora. “Sis, there is no way you believe a liar over your best friend-” “She’s not my best friend.”

“Anyway, she sacrificed a lot for you. She babysat for you, helped you with the ladyblog, hell she got interviews from ladybug herself or you. How can you honestly say that she had done horrible things?”

Alya’s jaw dropped in shock as Nora’s words ran through her mind. Barely thinking, she ran out of the room, looking for those familiar blue pigtails- no, just blue hair. She spotted it and ran towards her, before stopping short as she stared. Marinette was laughing, with Adrien. Not stuttering, or falling, just having a good time. Her hair was out, her nose was scrunched up, her eyes twinkling. She looked so happy, so…free. She felt so scarily familiar but different at the same time, like she was a ghost of her past self. As Adrien walked away, she shook off her inhibitions and walked to her. “Marinette-” She was interrupted by her. “If you’ve come to insult me-” Alya flinched at the fact that now, as soon as she approached Marinette, the bluenette assumed it was to insult her. “N-no. I want to apologise. You don’t have to forgive me. Hell, the fact that you are listening to me is enough. But I need you to know that I’m sorry, for everything that I did to you.” Marinette gaped slightly. “Alya, you have no idea how much that means to me. I-I can’t accept your apology. Not yet. But, this is a start. To peace and maybe…” she trailed off. “Maybe a new friendship.” Alya filled in, and Marinette smiled, and it felt so nice, so normal that she smiled even wider. “You know what, let's restart this whole thing.” she said, then stuck out her hand. “Hi, I’m Marinette Dupain Cheng. I live down the street in the bakery and have a massive crush on Adrien but don’t know it yet.” Alya laughed before taking her hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Alya Cesaire, I run the Ladyblog and am one of the worst best friends ever.” she said, almost half sad, but Marinette pulled her into a hug. “Oh good. That’s what I like about you.” They laughed, just like old times, the achingly familiar feeling as if to forget what happened. And while it would never truly be forgotten, maybe, just maybe, it could be overlooked.

The end

[frankchurchillsaysrelax]

would you give me your self or turn and run

part one of three.

When Colin was little his father had a subscription to National Geographic. Colin used to love laying on the floor of his father’s study looking at the photos and being whisked away by his father's voice telling stories of new places, places outside of England with new people who were so different and yet so similar to them. His father had told him that one day Colin could visit anywhere in the world he fancied, he promised he would take him to some of his favorite places. When he died, so did that dream. His mother also canceled the subscription. 

So, Colin spent his early teens perusing outdated issues and reading the articles for himself, recalling the bits his father would embellish and which parts he had left out. When he is sixteen his mother sends them all out to be recycled and he throws a tantrum as if he were still that little boy in his father’s study listening to his endlessly fascinating stories of the new places and new people he wished to explore. Travel was his first love and it ended in heartbreak. 

Penelope is the one who encourages him to rekindle it. Once just his little sister Eloise’s best friend, Penelope, cherished by his family, had become his friend too even at just fourteen years old. Her quick wit and kind smile made her a joy to be around at all the functions their mothers were constantly dragging them to. They are at his eighteenth birthday party and he is complaining for the hundredth time about having no plans for his gap year when she says, “Why don’t you travel? You used to love those old Nat Geos.” 

He hadn’t realized that anyone noticed, but of course, if anyone would it would be Pen. She’s quieter than his family, but it only makes her more perceptive, more observant of the world around her which gave her an enviable ease of navigating it. 

“I can’t just leave and travel,” he says but does not sound resolved at all. 

“Why not?” she counters, shrugging her shoulders like it was nothing, a challenging glint in her eyes. “You have the money and the time, you’re eighteen now. What’s stopping you from exploring the world, Colin Bridgerton?”

He spends the rest of the night flirting with Pen’s cousin Marina who was in town for a visit, but the whole time her words echo louder and louder in his mind. What’s stopping you? 

So that is what he does, but he doesn’t stop after the year is up. He keeps going, buys a map and marks it up with all the places he’s been and all of the places he has yet to go. There’s no order or pattern to his wandering, he simply goes wherever he feels called to next. He volunteers where he can and bums around wherever he isn’t useful. He sleeps with women he’ll never see again and interviews old couples in broken attempts at their language about the history of their small villages, taking notes in a beat up old composition notebook to read over later. He’s never felt so free in his life. He answers to no one but himself. He only wishes his father was there. 

The first email is sent sixteen months into his grand tour in the middle of the night as soon as he reads Eloise’s texts. 

Eloise: Pen’s dad is dead 

Eloise: Drunk driver 

Eloise: Single car accident

He opens his laptop right away, squinting at the too bright screen and still half asleep. He writes a short message and hits send before he can second guess it.

Pen, I’ve just heard what happened. I’m so sorry. That sounds banal, I know, but it’s true none the same. If you need anything, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask. I know you never ask for help when you need it but this time please do. I remember what it feels like. -Colin

Her response comes two days later. 

Colin, thank you, it’s very kind of you to think of me. Do you know what’s funny? I don’t even feel sad most of the time. I know that’s horrible to say and I couldn’t say it to anyone else, least of all Eloise who is being so supportive through all of this, but somehow typing it to you feels right. I don’t know what you know of my family but I’ve never been very close to my father. It doesn’t feel real that he’s gone yet, but maybe once that sinks in I’ll be able to cry. I guess it’s not really that funny after all. I’m sorry, that’s probably way more than you wanted to know. Thank you again for reaching out. I hope you are enjoying Sorrento. Best, Penelope

He had always known the Featheringtons weren’t as close knit as his own family. Penelope’s father had been a high functioning alcoholic who avoided social gatherings at any chance while her mother was a social climber trying her best to present a perfect family image. Her sisters were vapid dolls that were dressed up by their mother and shown off to the world. How shy, sweet, witty Penelope could be cut from the same cloth was beyond him. Still, he couldn’t imagine feeling nothing at the loss of a parent. There must be more to the Featherington dynamic than meets the eye and Colin feels nosy and intrusive for wanting Penelope to confide all of her secrets with him. 

Pen, it’s ok to feel whatever you’re feeling even if it’s not what’s expected of you. If you feel like you can’t talk to Eloise (though I’m sure she would understand as well) you can always talk to me. I may not be around much anymore but I still consider you a friend. Sorrento is lovely with its painted houses and perfect views of the sea. They have lemons the size of your head. Literally, your head Penelope, I don’t understand who needs that much lemon? I’ve rented a car and take trips anywhere I can get to in a day. Driving the Amalfi Coast at sunset is like driving along the horizon itself, scary and thrilling all at once and ridiculously beautiful. You should see it someday for yourself. -Colin

And so begins their correspondence. He writes to her nearly every week, far more often than most of his siblings, and tells her all about the places he visits, describing the sights, sounds, and smells he encounters, giving far too much detail about foods he tastes. 

… I met an elephant today. You’ve never felt so small in your life, both in physical size but also in your connection to nature. That we are able to share this earth with such magnificent creatures makes humanity seem insignificant…

…Carnival is bigger and brighter than any music festival or sporting event you’ve ever seen. I’ve never experienced such a kaleidoscope of colors, surrounding you and swirling together to create a burst of rainbows beaming around you all at once. The sight is only rivaled by the cacophony of sounds. If you stand in the street with your eyes closed you can isolate the voices and music that otherwise creates a buzzing hum in your ears…

…I’ve tasted the food of the Gods. No mortal meal will ever be enough for me again. (Don’t tell my mum I said that.) My tongue is vibrating, taste buds I didn’t even know I have brought to life by the blend of spices…

In turn, she writes back mostly with gossip that his family doesn’t fill him in on; from the obscure, that Marina is marrying her childhood sweetheart (the one she was very much with when she flirted with him on his birthday) to the vastly important, that Eloise has a boyfriend. He asks for all of the details on that little tidbit. She rarely talks of her own life and he has to pull it from her, curious as to what is going on with her as she prepares for her GCSEs or how she is getting on with her family. 

…Mum has bought me another yellow dress for the charity gala next week. I look like a lemon drop. Eloise is bringing Theo, his first high society event. I feel bad, it’s like we’re feeding him to the wolves, but you know Eloise, if anyone says something even the slightest bit snide she’ll put them in their place…

…I think I want to go into publishing. I don’t know, does that seem silly? I just love books, I always have. I love words and the way people weave a story from them like a tapestry. I think I’d enjoy being part of that process, creating something beautiful from something so many people take for granted: our words…

His first real return home, apart from the odd weekend here or there spent solely with his family, is nearly three years after he first left. He’s home for two weeks in preparation for Daphne's wedding. He can hardly believe that his little sister, one year his junior but still worthy of the moniker, is getting married, and to a friend of Anthony no less. Watching them together his first night back, he can’t stop himself from privately bemoaning how much he has missed. It leaves an ache in his gut seeing how much Greg and Hyacinth have grown since his last visit, how his mother has redecorated nearly the entire first floor of their house, how beautiful certain people have become. 

They are having a small welcome home dinner for him which was meant to be a surprise until Benedict spilled the beans, and he had invited Penelope himself. She was more than likely already on the guest list but he had wanted her to know he wanted her there. He sees her out of the corner of his eye, her bright red hair grabbing his attention from his conversation with his older brothers. 

It suddenly hits him that three years have passed for her as well and the young teenager he had said goodbye to was nearly the same age he had been when he left. The last of her baby fat has been shed, leaving soft curves highlighted by the long, flowing summer dress she is wearing. Her hair is longer, nearly reaching her waist, and the light from the chandelier she stands under is reflected in the soft ringlets giving her a golden halo. 

“Pen!” he shouts perhaps a little louder than necessary, interrupting whatever Anthony had been saying and attracting more than one set of eyes in his direction. Penelope’s are one of those pairs, shining bright blue even from across the room as she smiles warmly in his direction. He’s drawn to her and she meets him halfway. He holds his arms open for her to step into and after the smallest hint of hesitation, she does so. She’s as short as ever and he squeezes her tight, holding on for perhaps a few seconds longer than he’d meant to. Her hair smells like jasmine reminding him of a wedding he’d been invited to while he was living in Jakarta. When they part, Penelope tilts her head back with a wide smile that leaves sparkles in her eyes.

“Welcome home,” she says and even her voice, though still cheery and comforting, is different. Unless his memory is playing tricks on him. 

…I am on a completely different time zone and my sleep schedule is absolutely fucked. Daph has us helping with all the final minutia for the wedding, which is fine, just maybe not on her timetable. It’s currently four a.m. and I’m hand calligraphing name tags for the reception dinner. Meanwhile, you’re just across the square but I haven’t seen you since Saturday. How are you getting out of this…

The wedding is a grand affair. It feels like half of London has been invited and between his mother and Simon’s godmother, Lady Danbury, he’s sure that there is some truth in that estimate. They marry in a church more stately than the church they grew up attending, somewhere to accommodate such a large number, and the reception takes place in the gardens of his new brother-in-law, Simon’s, family estate. Colin wanders them in the new suit his mother forced him to buy searching for a mass of red hair. He found the three other Featherington ladies easily enough and had successfully dodged them but the one he sought was more elusive.

He finds her on the edge of the dance floor watching the other guests enjoy themselves while absently swaying in her safe spot. She had a tendency, he’s noticed, of standing on the sidelines, not just physically but in her emails as well, always holding something back. He hasn’t had a chance to properly speak with her since he arrived home and he has found himself missing their conversations. He is eager to speak to her in person.

“Hey, Pen,” he whispers directly next to her ear, his breath causing the wisps of hair surrounding her face to brush against her cheek. He relishes the way she startles, jumping straight in the air.

“Colin, don’t do that,” she scolds, but she is smiling. She’s wearing yellow again which he knows she hates, the pale color often clashing with her hair. The dress itself is nice; off the shoulder and floor length, hugging the curves of her waist and then fanning out into a fuller skirt. Her curls are tamed and partially pulled back with a pink ribbon, the rest falling over her bared shoulders. She looks pretty and he tells her so. 

“Thanks,” she says, glancing down at herself. Then, awkwardly, “so do you.”

“Thanks.” They stare at each other, neither knowing what words come next in this little play they’re performing. He had thought that their easy camaraderie through writing would translate to an actual conversation but instead, he feels stuck.

“How did your maths test go?” he asks just for something to say. She looks surprised that he remembers even though it’s only been three weeks since she mentioned it. Her surprised features pinch into a wince and he laughs for it is answer enough.

She shakes her head at him, an unruly curl falling in her face. She pushes it back and he tracks the movement with his eyes, a burst of affection overtaking him at the familiarity of the gesture, and just like that the tension is broken letting them speak openly. He asks what she’s reading (she’s on a gothic horror kick right now) and she wonders where he will travel to next (Greece and then on to Romania to help an old school friend with setting up his new foundation). They people watch like they used to, trading comments on what they know of the other attendants. 

Colin notices immediately when Penelope lights up at the change in song, some upbeat pop number he doesn’t recognize but that sounds like a million other songs he has heard before. Her foot starts tapping along to the music and Colin makes a decision. “Shall we?” He grabs her hand, tugging gently as he nods towards the dance floor in question.

“Oh, no,” she says, shaking her head emphatically. “I’m not much of a dancer.” Well, that’s a blatant lie, he’s seen her and Eloise dance together countless times over the years, always acting silly and enjoying themselves when it was just the two of them. 

Still holding her hand he says, “I doubt you’re worse than him,” pointing his chin in the direction of a bloke who was really getting into the song, his dance moves consisting mostly of exaggerated pelvic thrusts and fist pumping. Penelope giggles and he tugs on her hand again, this time meeting less resistance. She follows him onto the dance floor looking nervously around at the people who are paying them no mind. He uses their joined hands to twirl her in place startling a breathless laugh from her. She joins him then in dancing to the beat and soon loses herself in the music. At the bridge, the whole floor starts jumping causing a thundering echo of footsteps as cheers ring through the air. Her hair sweeps off her shoulders revealing flushed skin that travels up her neck and onto her cheeks and her smile is radiant as the song ends and moves on to another. 

They stay on the dance floor for some time. Long enough for the sun to set and the sky to grow from vivid oranges and pinks to an inky deep blue, the stars peeking out from their daily nap. Simon and Daphne make a brief appearance to much applause. Daph looks beautiful, the perfect bride in her fine lace dress with baby’s breath in her hair, and her new husband stares at her like there is no one else in the universe. It is a perfect night and it feels like home.

…I was standing in the middle of the ruins of Delphi when I was hit with a wave of homesickness. I can’t tell you what caused it, all I know is that suddenly all I wanted was to be back with my family. Or maybe I just wanted you all to be here with me. It was nice to be home for a while but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t get a thrill as soon as I stepped on that plane…

…Do you think I should be doing more with my life? Be honest. I mean, Fife has set up this whole non-profit, Anthony made partner at 28 which is unheard of, and Ben is getting his first proper gallery show next month. What have I done except spend money hopping from one city to another? I’m nothing. Never mind me Pen, I’m drunk...

He sends the rambling pity party masquerading as a normal email even though he probably shouldn’t. He doesn’t expect a response but as always, she surprises him.

Colin, you asked for honesty and that is what you’re going to get. I think what you’re doing is amazing. Most people never leave their hometown except maybe to go to a beach somewhere or a long line of museums, but you’re out there expanding your worldview, helping people. You immerse yourself in whatever new place you settle. I have your emails as proof if you don’t believe me. The way you write about every experience is beautiful and I can tell that you are making the most out of each one. You are truly living and not just bumming around aimlessly or taking the next expected steps like the rest of us. Also, you are only twenty one, Colin. You needn’t be comparing yourself to your brothers (or anyone else for that matter) who are older than you and at a different stage in their life. You have time. -Pen

The next time he’s home is for a funeral. Well, actually it is another wedding reception but seeing as Anthony eloped without anyone knowing he was seriously dating anyone, Colin’s mother hasn’t ruled out the possibility of murder. 

He arrives late, straight off the plane after a nine hour flight. The world spins slower, changing gravity’s pull and making everything feel heavier from his feet to the air in his lungs. The first person he sees is Benedict who immediately offers to fetch him a drink which he doesn’t say no to. The second is Penelope. 

“Col, you made it!” she says joyously, reaching out to give him a hug. He leans on her a little more than necessary as he tiredly reciprocates. “Did you just get in?”

“Yeah, came straight here. My bag is in the lobby.” He offers her a real smile, feeling more energized just from her sunny presence.

She laughs and looks him over from head to toe, taking in his dark joggers and wrinkled button down, the patchiness of his beard and undoubtedly translucent pallor of his tanned skin. Her nose scrunches up. “You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” he snarks though with little heat as he knows she’s right. “Figured I’d give Anthony a bit of reprieve from mum’s wrath. Wedding present and all that.” 

She throws her head back in laughter and it sounds like a lullaby, soothing his weary edges. “So, have you met the lovely Kate yet?” 

“No,” he sighs, “but Daph says she’s wonderful.” Kate, the sister of Anthony’s blind date who’d shown up as backup only to leave with Ant’s phone number. 

“Oh, she is! And Anthony is completely different around her. He smiles,” she whispers with raised eyebrows, “and he’s all loved up. I think it’s sweet.”

Colin finds he can’t wait to see it. His brother had sounded different on the phone for the last few months but Colin had just assumed he’d been doing well at work. The thought of their eldest brother, the perpetual bachelor, falling in love and getting married was too much for him and his siblings to wrap their heads around. They’d been texting each other daily trying to decide if the whole thing was an elaborate scheme. 

“Speaking of loved up, is Connor here?” Penelope has been seeing a guy from Uni for a short while now. He has limited details parsed over several emails: Irish, kind, rugby player.

“No, he had to work,” Penelope says almost dismissively. “He couldn’t get off on such short notice.”

“Too bad, I’d have liked to meet him.” He doesn’t know why that feels like a lie, the words sticking to the insides of his dry mouth.

“Maybe next time.” With how rarely he visits, Colin wonders if she’ll still be seeing him next time he is home, if it is that serious, but wisely says nothing.

…Eloise says she told you. I’m so proud of her. I could tell she had been struggling with something for a while now and I hated seeing her hurting so. Luckily, Theo is the sweetest man and they’ve stayed friends. I talked to him at dinner last week and I think he’s always known, or at least suspected, that she’s gay. I can only imagine what it must be like to love someone for years while knowing they’ll never feel the same…

…What is happening with my family? First Daphne then Anthony and now Benedict? And mum is asking me when I’m going to come home and settle down. I’ve never even been in love, haven’t had a girlfriend in years, and now she wants to marry me off. Is there something in the air? The water? Whatever it is, keep it away from me. Did he really not recognize her twice? And they call me the oblivious one…

Augie is the cutest baby he’s ever seen and he’s not even exaggerating. He doesn’t let go of his nephew for at least an hour after Daphne introduces them, the baby falling asleep in his arms. His mother takes her grandson from him eventually and he wanders out to the terrace to find his older brothers. It’s a full house, everyone having descended upon their childhood home for Sunday brunch and he hasn’t had a chance to catch up with either of them yet. 

“So when are you coming home for real, brother?” He should have stayed with the baby. 

“Not you too,” he groans. “Mum is already on my case and I’ll tell you what I told her: I have no plans to permanently move back to London.”

“You’ve been doing this travel thing for seven years,” Ben says seriously. “Don’t you think it’s time to get a job?”

“Says the artist!” Colin scoffs. He doesn’t need a job any more than Benedict does, each of them able to live comfortably off of their trust funds if they so choose. He feels wounded at the implication that he isn’t doing anything with his life, the sentiment hitting too close to every one of his insecurities.

“Maybe meet a nice girl and settle down?” Anthony teases with a shit-eating grin on his face. He’s never wanted to punch someone more in his life.

“I know plenty of nice girls. None that I can’t see myself settling down with.” He is so over this conversation.

Benedict and Anthony share a look, communicating something silently. Anthony must lose whatever competition they’re having because suddenly he asks, “Not even, Penelope?”

Colin blinks owlishly at them. “Penelope? As in Penelope Featherington?” They can’t be serious. Pen is his friend, a good friend, but there’s never been anything more than that between them. 

“Yes,” Anthony continues, crossing his arms and leveling him with an austere expression that bores through him to his very soul, “you two have gotten quite close over the years. We know all about your letter writing.”

“Emails,” he corrects, still completely lost at the direction this conversation has taken. Letter writing sounds far too old fashioned and romantic. He feels exposed, parts of himself he’s not sure are true on display. 

“Whenever you’re home you spend an awful lot of time together.” Benedict looks positively gleeful. “You can’t say you’ve never thought about it,” he accuses.

“I haven’t,” Colin swears, fiercely. It’s the truth. “Pen is…well, she’s Pen.” He feels a bit helpless. He contemplates how high the jump off the terrace would be. 

“She’s also a beautiful young woman that you care a great deal for,” Anthony pesters leaving Colin feeling hot and itchy like he’s having some kind of allergic reaction.

He erupts. “For God’s sake, I’m not going to marry Penelope Featherington.” Her name on his tongue tastes sour for the first time. The very thought causes an odd fluttering in his stomach and he has to latch onto the back of a chair to keep himself tethered to reality.

Benedict goes to say something else but freezes, his gaze fixed on something over Colin’s shoulder with a worried look on his face. When Colin turns to look at the doors behind him there is nothing there.

…I haven’t heard from you in a while. I’m sure you’re busy what with it being your last year of school and all but I miss you. Your emails are something I look forward to every week and their absence has been loud. I’m not saying this to guilt you into writing to me, I just wanted to let you know how precious you and your letters are to me…

[ptergwen]

web of lies

take a leap. if you start to fall, the net will appear to catch you.

photographer!peter x journalist!reader || masterlist

w/c: 7.1k

warnings: swearing, one drinking mention, descriptions of anxiety, and angst if ya squint

summary: peter can’t stop holding your hands, betty and ned are the modern day bonnie and clyde, ned is a terrible guy in the chair, the osborn’s are up to something, and mj hates you all

a/n: y’all i’m super excited about this series like i haven’t had an idea i’ve really loved in months? so it’s good to be back !!! there are tons of things i have planned and i can’t wait to share them with all of you hehe i really hope you enjoy part one <3 happy reading

to be honest, which is what you do best, you’ve had a thing for peter parker your whole time at the daily bugle. you actually almost told him once.

a couple months ago, peter walked you home on a night you worked overtime. he’d came in last minute to leave some pictures on your boss’s desk. no one else but you was there, hunched at your computer in the dim office lighting. peter was pleasantly surprised to see you, yet concerned for your well-being. you had to put your finishing touches on a story.

he didn’t feel comfortable letting you travel alone at that hour. so, he went with you when you were ready. his company was more than welcomed. you told peter about your article while you two sat on the subway. he’d listened intently, your head resting on his shoulder and his arm around you. he made sure you got to your apartment building alright as well.

“hey, peter?” you’d asked, halfway up the steps. he was waiting until you were inside and safe to leave. “hm? you good?” he’d smiled sort of expectantly. “yeah. i... i wanted to say...”

your words got caught in your throat when he gave you the softest puppy eyes you’ve ever seen. you couldn’t do it. for some reason, you were too scared to confess how you felt. “thanks again for walking me home,” you’d settled on. he’d seemed disappointed that was what you wanted to tell him. nevertheless, he said not to worry about it before taking off.

that one moment perfectly captures it all; how yours and peter’s narrative plays itself out.

—

“we’ve got an update on hydra v. the people!”

“those freaky giraffes escaped the zoo... again.”

“shoot one more spitball and it’ll be your last.”

“does anyone have an aspirin?”

welcome to the daily bugle, where the chaos never ends and the calm never starts. you’ll find new york’s finest writers, publishers, and creatives of all kind right here. that would include you. you’re one of the top journalists in the whole building, according to mr. norman osborn. he’s the brilliant and slightly insane man who runs this place.

although it’s rare for someone in your field, you were hired straight out of college. norman read a few pieces you’d written and loved them so much that he offered you a job. full time, full benefits, no questions asked. there was something special about the way you wove your words together. your writing had its own voice. a strong voice, one the paper was severely lacking.

you’ve been with the bugle for just over a year now. it’s not the quiet, nine to five gig you were initially expecting it to be. you’re each very unique individuals in your office, and there’s never a dull moment because of it. your coworkers can be found hosting debates on the riskiest topics or tackling each other for blueberry muffins, and that’s just a regular tuesday. the place is stranger than strange. but, it’s become home.

thanks to mr. osborn being so accommodating, you actually settled in rather quickly. another big help has been the friends you’ve made. your first was michelle jones, who prefers to be called mj. she’s a fellow journalist with a wickedly dark humor that trickles into her writing. if you had to describe her in one word, it would be blunt. mj is as real as it gets, and also eternally loyal. she keeps her circle small, so you’re honored you get to be in it.

mj sits right next to you, which means you’re always talking through your days. that’s due in part to the way your office is set up. there aren’t any cubicles, tables and swirly chairs taking up their space instead. norman heard it was more progressive, probably from his son harry.

harry is about your age, only a couple of years older. he hangs around quite a lot, but doesn’t do much with his time besides that. according to norman, he’s still seeking out his passion. he’s banking on him finding a suitable career at the bugle. he’d like to pass this all on to harry some day, hopefully sooner than later. either way, you don’t mind having harry here. he’s super funny and friendly with everyone.

there’s also ned leeds, who’s an editor and reviews most of your pieces. he’s sweeter than candy, even when he’s ripping your grammar to shreds. on the rare occasions you’re not discussing breaking news, you two talk about movies. ned is a film buff and gives you the best recommendations. you’re convinced he was a critic in his past life.

last but so from least is peter parker. he only works for the bugle part time, since he’s still in school. you both graduated from your respective colleges the same year. peter wants to get his masters degree, though. he’s a photographer who’s aspiring to be a cinematographer. him and ned have their passion for the industry in common, and that’s what makes them such great friends.

you learned this and more from the times you and peter have partnered up on stories. he’s one of your best friends not only at the bugle, but in your entire life. the many long nights you’ve spent collaborating have brought you close to each other. they consist of drinking and deep talks, along with some actual work. he takes the pictures, you do the writing. you’ve been told you make a lovely pair.

peter says it himself, too. you’d like to believe he means it as more than coworkers. he’s so caring, and smart, and pure, and peter. yeah, you like him an awful lot. you can hardly stand the feeling of it sometimes.

the fact that you you haven’t come clean already is ridiculous.

“goddamn. not again,” you mutter out. “em, you better come look at this. it’s bad.” mj wheels over to you in her chair with a puzzled look. her eyes follow yours, landing on your computer. “leeds just sent this? to everyone?” she questions, your reply a short hum. you’re both staring daggers at the email your screen displays.

ned is responsible for assigning each journalist their own topics to cover. he’s been lacking a bit recently, having you write up think pieces on fluffy things. in other words, stuff that no one cares about. he asked you to compare oat milk and almond milk just last week. you’d hoped this week would be better, but here you are.

“this is ass. who does he think we are, buzzfeed?” mj scoffs at her own words. the daily bugle prides itself on being a reliable news source, on paper and tv. you’re starting to stoop down to the low level of your competitors. “he assigned me some tiktok dance trend. i’m not writing a single word about that app.” she sets her elbows down on the table, head in her hands.

“aw, why not? grandma mj isn’t down with the kids?” you tease and click out of the upsetting email. “i don’t write for kids,” mj deadpans. she pushes her glasses up on her nose. “what’d you get?” “the evolution of memes,” you gloomily reply. you’re surprised norman has been approving these topics. then again, ned is the head editor. he can do whatever he wants regardless of approval.

mj glares over at the kitchen, where betty brant currently resides. she’s making two hot chocolates instead of her usual one. “i blame her,” mj mumbles to you. your eyebrows furrow. “dude, what? betty is an angel. she doesn’t even work in editing.” betty is the bugle’s highest rated anchorwoman. her and her news team are on people’s televisions every night.

“no, but she has been spending a generous amount of time with leeds,” mj grumbles. she’s admittedly very nosy. the upside is that she tells you any juicy office drama there is. “my theory is betty’s making him give us crap stories so she can report the good ones.” she glances over at you to see what you think. “no way. that can’t be allowed... or legal,” you laugh back.

as if on cue, ned appears next to betty in the kitchen. he takes the extra hot coco that’s piled high with whipped cream. betty tucks a sheet of paper into his suit pocket and kisses his cheek, then he’s gone. you can only gasp as you watch this unfold. what has she done to poor, clueless ned?

“not such an angel anymore, huh?” mj smirks in satisfaction. “suddenly, she has red horns and a pitchfork,” you bitterly agree with your tongue in your cheek. betty waves to you two on her way back to broadcasting. mj gives her a fake nice finger wave, you ignoring her. “we can’t sit back and let this happen, em. we have to do something,” you decide. “let’s tell norman.”

uninterested, mj takes off her glasses and starts to clean them. “like he’ll believe us. yeah, golden girl betty brant is sabotaging the writer’s room,” she rewords her previous statement to put its stupidity in perspective. you throw your hands up. “she is, though! we literally watched it happen!” mj puts her freshly wiped glasses back on and sighs.

“i doubt norman would care, y/n. every newspaper to ever exist is corrupt somehow.” your pessimistic old pal has a point. however, you’re not so willing to accept it. “why can’t we be the first one that isn’t?” you offer a small smile. mj snickers, wheeling back to her own computer. “those are words of the innocent.” she’s already tapping her fingers across the keyboard.

“i thought you weren’t doing the tiktok piece,” you say under your breath. you’re slightly pissed mj turned you down, since she’s the reason you know about betty’s meddling. “i’m not,” mj answers sharply. “i’m gonna email quentin and ask if we can change our topics. happy?” quentin beck is another editor in the building. he’s not bad, but he is intimidating. no one typically goes to him as their first option.

“i’m thrilled,” you confirm and grin at mj to emphasize it. “thanks for stepping up. you’re forgiven.” “i didn’t realize i had to be sorry,” mj notes, this time in a playful manor. she shakes her head as she begins writing. “you and your morals.”

what you value most in your career is honesty, under any circumstances. of course, the other daily bugle writers are the same. norman strictly prohibits clickbait and crazy headlines because that isn’t real news. you leave that to companies like buzzfeed. you’re honest in the sense that you say whatever has to be said, what everyone else is too afraid to. you’ll speak your truth no matter who tries to stop you.

it didn’t used to be that way. there’s some childhood trauma that remains deep in the back of your mind. you’ve left that behind you now, having over a decade to cope with it. hey, they say the past is in the past. what’s important is your takeaway, that you would never let yourself or anyone else be silenced from there on out. never again.

quentin ends up giving you the okay to write different stories. he lets you and mj choose choose your own because he’s got “better things to do” and you’re “big girls.” what a peach he is. mj goes with how capitalism is continuing to provoke global warming. she has something to say about every major world issue, and you admire the hell out of her for it.

you’re a bit stuck when it’s time to write your article. it’s terribly ironic because you pushed for this. you aren’t too worried, though. the city is crawling with material, so you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually. lucky for you, some much needed inspiration comes skipping out of the elevator.

“morning, peter,” you hear liz greet him at the front desk. she’s your floor’s receptionist. her wisdom and patience keep this place going. “hi, liz. how’s it going?” he asks. “things have been quiet... mostly. can i do anything for you?” liz peers up at him. peter sports a shy smile. “uh, yeah. mr. osborn wanted to see me?” “right. hang on.” she nods, dialing his office phone number.

it’s endearing how peter calls him mr. osborn, seeing as the rest of you go with norman. he’s probably the politest guy you’ve ever met.

grinning, liz puts down the phone. “you can go in whenever you’re ready. good luck!” peter laughs nervously and turns to leave. “thanks, you too.” his face falls when he realizes his mistake. “wait, i- i didn’t mean to say that. that was stupid. you’re not-“ “it’s fine, peter,” liz reassures him. his anxiety makes him trip over his words sometimes. that, and he’s a bit dorky in general. you find it rather adorable.

you also wonder what exactly he needs good luck for. he’s not even supposed to be working today, so your curiosity as to what’s going on has been piqued.

“um, i’m gonna go now. bye!” peter rushes off, his face tinted pink from the embarrassing encounter. you’re hoping he’ll stop and talk with you for a little while, but he heads straight to norman’s office. your whole body deflates at that. mj notices from her peripherals.

“what’s the matter? missing your hubby?” she coos, her words dripping in sarcasm. “no,” you lie. “i’m... i don’t know what to write about.” ok, there’s some truth. mj gives you a couple pats on the shoulder. “ask parker for help. you two work... well together. don’t you?” this must be the zillionth time you’ve heard that.

“we do,” you murmur and glance at norman’s closed door. peter is hidden behind it. “i just don’t wanna bug him. he has finals soon, and whatever norman is putting him up to. it’s my job, anyway.” mj pokes your arm. “those sound like excuses to me,” she concludes, still jabbing at you childishly. “you really just don’t wanna tell him you like-“

“can you keep it down?” you hiss, yanking your arm back. “he’s literally right over there.” peter stands up and shakes norman’s hand. you catch it through the blinds on his window. “y/n, you were drooling over his mere presence only minutes ago,” mj prefaces, a smile pulling at her lips. “you can handle three little words. i like you, that’s it. spit it out already.”

you’ll never admit this to mj, but she’s right. you lost your momentum after your first failed attempt to say the three little words. you’re still not sure what stopped you. you’d shared the details of that faithful night with her, and she’s been pushing you to try again since.

the door to norman’s office opens, and out walks peter. he’s beaming after their conversation, which seems like a good sign. harry passes peter on his way in to pay his dad a visit. he claps him on the shoulder, peter happily accepting before continuing his stride back into the main office. it takes a moment to register that he’s coming towards you.

you quickly set your focus back on your computer so he doesn’t think you’ve been watching him. even though, you definitely have.

“y/n!” peter calls your name. he’s on the opposite side of your table, in front of you. “peter!” you match his tone. “i was just dropping by. i thought i’d say hey while i’m here.” he’s still grinning. “what’re you doing?” he looks cute as ever in an oversized and cream colored sweater. his curls are slicked back with a tad too much product, cheeks rosy. you gaze up at him when he rests his arms on the table.

“pretending to be productive,” mj answers for you, pressing her lips together. peter cocks his head to the side. “pretending?” “ignore her. she’s being a shit stirrer today,” you explain. “like every other day,” he jokes, earning a laugh from you. mj just tuts and keeps writing. “talk about me like i’m not here,” she mumbles to herself, then gets back into her article.

“anyways, i thought you didn’t work today?” you ask to take the attention off yourself. also, because you’re curious. “oh! get this.” peter perks up even more, if that’s possible. he has energy like no other. “you know alex in broadcasting? betty’s camera guy?” “what about him?” you wonder. “he called in sick earlier this morning, with the flu or something.” he’s oddly excited to announce this. that prompts you to make a funny face.

biting back another smile, peter elaborates. “mr. osborn needed someone to fill in for him, so he picked me. i’ll be here all week.” it makes sense, since peter knows how to work a camera and does so wonderfully. you give him a celebratory push at his chest. “peter, that’s amazing! this is the perfect way to transition from pictures to film, right?” he’s nearing his finals at school, which consist of more movie-like projects. the news will be great practice.

then, he’s off to hollywood. you’ll put that out of your mind for now.

“exactly! i think it’ll be a good place to start. the pay isn’t bad either.” peter wiggles his eyebrows at you, you giggling once again. you do a lot of that when he’s around. that’s going to be more often now. “plus, i get to see you. everyone wins.” he squeezes your hand that was just on him. your heart begins to thump. “except alex,” you challenge, playing with his fingers. “but, for real. i’m happy you get to do this and that we’ll be spending more time together.”

“thanks, y/n/n. me too.” peter grins and leans over, taking a peek at your computer screen. there’s a blank word document on it. “you never told me what you’re up to,” he chuckles. “guess mj was right... nothing.” “i’m always right,” she chimes in from next to you. you look between the two of them with a scowl. “i haven’t found my story yet. i don’t know, this never happens.” peter nods as you share your dilemma. “no good ideas are coming to me,” you murmur.

“they will. you have a way of attracting things.” he licks his lower lip, your heart completely stopping this time. “well, i gotta go set up for rise and shine with betty brant.” he waves his hand like he’s presenting his words. that’s what betty calls her morning news segment. “be careful with her. she’s being really sketchy these days,” you warn peter, mj grunting in agreement.

confused, peter purses his lips. “really? ned says she’s a sweetheart. they’ve been going out for a while.” mj pops her head up and adjusts her glasses. “did ned also tell you she’s bribing him to give her all of our scoops?” she’s asking rhetorically because she already knows the answer. of course he didn’t. “it’s one thing to not like her. you’re just making things up now,” peter huffs.

mj kicks your foot under the table. “i told you no one would believe us. not even peter gullible parker.” “it’s benjamin,” he corrects her. “whatever,” she brushes it off, resuming her work.

peter does tend to be sort of naive, to only see the good in things when there’s plenty of bad. you’re the same in that way, unless you hang around mj for too long.

“is that true? betty’s stealing your stories?” peter turns to you and asks. you gesture to your screen. “i don’t have one, so you do the math.” he hums sympathetically. he’ll listen to you, never mj. “i’m sorry. thanks for telling me, y/n. i’ll watch out for her.” he bends his fingers to look like goggles, putting them around his eyes. you sigh lightheartedly.

“are you twenty two years old or twelve?” mj remarks, but not without a comeback from peter. “you’re, like, eighty five. worry about that.” they’ve had this type of banter for as long as you’ve known them. it’s equal parts amusing and exhausting. “don’t be late on your first day.” you snap peter out of it with a knowing smile. he returns it.

“i hope something crazy happens so you can write about it.” he’s walking backwards now, towards the elevator. “see you later, pete,” is all you say back, yet another laugh threatening to escape you. “see you. bye, michelle,” peter says just to bug her. “it’s mj,” she groans without looking up. he shrugs. “not so fun, is it?”

after peter is gone, you try to get back into work. or rather, you try to start your work. what he said about you having a way of attracting things keeps ringing in your head. was he flirting? no, he couldn’t have been. peter parker doesn’t flirt. words aren’t his strong suit, and you have countless memories that prove this to be true. earlier with liz, for example.

you’re probably reading way into this. peter was simply doing what any good friend would do and gave you advice.

it’s late in the afternoon when anything worth mentioning happens again. peter is still with betty, as far as you know. they’re probably preparing for the nighttime news now. all you’ve done since seeing him is nibble on snacks and bug mj, who’s almost done with her story despite your distractions. this is really bad, considering your deadline to submit is at the end of today.

you’ve never missed a deadline.

mj emails her work to quentin while you repeatedly bang your head on the table. she hits send before deciding to entertain you. “whatcha doing over there?” she cautiously prompts, powering off her computer. “trying to get an idea. i’m desperate, if you couldn’t tell.” your voice is muffled. “i could.” mj grabs your shoulders and pulls you back so you’re sitting up. you childishly pout.

“y/n, the only thing that’s gonna give you is brain damage,” mj says sternly, then softens her tone. “why don’t you ask for an extension? norman gives me them all the time.” whining, you slump down in your chair again. “yeah, but you’re you! we do things differently, have different expectations put on us.” she’s back to cold mj after you say that. “alright. at least i did something today besides pine over that little-“

mj’s insult for peter is interrupted by harry. “ladies, what’s shaking?” he comes up to you two with a the hint of smirk on his face. you manage a nod to acknowledge him. “oh, hey... harry,” mj unenthusiastically replies. she’s the one person who isn’t really a fan of him. “not much. y/n was just having a tantrum.” “she was not,” you dismiss her. “it’s work stuff. you know your dad.”

harry clicks his tongue in a teasing way. “yep, the grind never stops in this joint. boss man is...” he does the sign for cuckoo with his finger. you laugh a little at that. “in a good way,” you add on. mj only watches you two, blinking blankly. harry gives you a definitive pat on the back. “before i forget, he wants to see you.” that gets mj talking. “norman?” she questions. “your dad?” you choke out at the same time.

“who else? he said you two have to talk.” harry flashes you a weary smile. “have fun in there, old sport.” you’re too busy biting the skin off your bottom lip to respond. “mhm... she will,” mj speaks on your behalf. even she sounds worried. saluting you both, harry leaves to go pester your other colleagues. you’re completely and totally fucked.

“that’s it for me!” you grin sarcastically, freaked out by harry. “i’m fired, aren’t i? i’m definitely about to get fired, and it’s all because-“ “relax!” mj cuts off your rambling. she reaches down and grasps at your wrists. “get it together, y/l/n. you’re the best we have, okay? you aren’t going anywhere.” your grin becomes a frown. “then why does norman wanna talk to me? and, why don’t i have a story?”

mj always has the answers, but this time is the execption. she lets out a breath. “i don’t know. you’ll go find out and tell me what happens.” there’s no use protesting. you’re going to have to face whatever you’re about to at some point. “ok,” you give in, defeated. “i’ll be back soon, i hope.”

the walk to norman’s office feels like a walk of shame. mj can do nothing but sit back and observe it. if this ends the way you think it will, you’ll be collecting your things and won’t ever return. norman is a kind man, and he’s usually pretty understanding. he doesn’t mind the workplace shenanigans as long as you get your job done. unfortunately, you haven’t today.

you hear your boss’s booming voice when you approach his door. inhaling deep, you knock on it, and the room goes silent. “come in,” norman responds after a few seconds. mustering up a smile, you open the door to be met with your doom. “hi, am i interrupting something?” you check. “not at all! you’re just the person i wanted to see. sit, sit,” he beckons you over. he’s not using his angry voice, so maybe you’re in the clear. you enter the room as told.

you’re shocked to see a terrified peter is already in one of the chairs. he visibly relaxes a bit now that you’re here. what the hell is happening? whatever you were expecting, this was the last thing.

taking the armchair next to peter, you sit facing norman’s desk. you nudge his arm to get his attention. his big brown eyes lock with yours. “what’s going on?” you whisper. “no idea,” peter whispers back. the two of you turn to norman again when he claps his hands. he’s plopped down into his cushy leather seat.

“so,” he begins, gaze flicking from peter to you. “you kids know why you’re here?” “is it because i missed my deadline?” you blurt out. you’re once again a nervous wreck. peter doesn’t speak, just winces. “not that. although, i did hear from ned that you turned down his assignment.” norman flicks at a post-it on his desk. “i asked quentin for one instead. me and mj,” you explain, peter’s eyes going wide.

“you talked to quentin? that guy’s bad news,” he murmurs to you. “how so?” norman questions, since it’s his employee. “he- he, um,” peter clears his throat before answering, “he’s super critical, you know? hates all my pictures.” “i love your pictures,” you assure him, the corners of his lips turning up. “your style is so cool. yeah, though. quentin’s pretty bitter.”

considering this, norman drums his fingers on the desk. “i’ll look into that. but, that isn’t why you’re here. i’m letting you off the hook this time.” your whole demeanor changes and a huge weight lifts off of you. “really? you are?” “i have a scoop of my own that i want you to cover,” he continues, peter bumping your knee happily. a toothy grin takes over your face.

“since peter will be sticking around for a while, i want him to join you.” norman waits a beat in case you have any questions. it’s been a minute since you last worked together. peter laughs in disbelief. “you want me to take over for alex and do this?” norman nods proudly. “y/n will need the extra hands, if you have them.” “yes, sir. i do,” peter immediately confirms. “my last class is next thursday, so i have the time.”

“wait, so you’re almost done? that’s awesome!” you bump peter’s knee this time. “yup, all that’s left is finals... and studying.” he mindlessly takes your hand, lacing your fingers together. you’re enjoying his gentle touches. “thank you so much, norman. seriously, i appreciate this a lot,” you tell him and mean it. “hey, no problem,” he chuckles at your eagerness. you grip peter’s hand tighter.

“what’s the story?” “ah, yes. the most important part,” norman starts, peter sharing an excited look with you. “how familiar are you two with spider-man?” his excitement fades at the question posed. it’s unbeknownst to you, caught up in the moment. “uh, same as everyone else, i guess,” you casually reply. “how come?” “he’s your subject.” norman points at you both. “you’re gonna study him over these next few months.”

peter’s hand goes limp in yours, and he gulps hard, throat feeling dry. “you mean, like, an exposé?” “no, no. there will be no exposing,” norman clarifies. “i’m sure he wears the mask for a reason.” that settles peter only slightly. you’re not sure why he’s so tense all of a sudden. “what’s our aim here, then?” you steer the conversation.

“see what new york’s favorite hero gets up to every day, how his life is beyond the crime fighting,” norman further describes your task. peter exhales a shaky breath, shifting away from you in his seat. the golden sun hits his face and reveals a bead of sweat dripping down it. you stare at his figure in worry. “you okay, peter?” “fine. i’m just... hot,” he murmurs back. his sweater does look pretty heavy, so you concede.

getting back to norman’s story, you grimace at the idea. “do you really think people will want to read that? for lack of a better term, it sounds kind of...” you pause. “basic.” “i thought the same thing at first,” he surprisingly agrees with you. “harry pitched the idea to me this morning. you won’t believe it! the other night, he caught spider-man hanging outside his window.”

“harry... harry saw him?” peter squeaks out. he uses the wool material that feels like it’s swallowing him to dab at his forehead. “he stopped on his balcony. must have been pretty late, the kid’s a night owl,” norman says about his son. your face lights up as you listen to him. “he took some shots of spidey in action, when he swung off. i saw a few. they were pretty great.” he’s grinning at his son’s success.

“maybe he’ll get into photography with you, pete,” norman suggests. peter gives him a weak smile in return. “we’d be happy to have him.” he usually has a lot more to say about his career than that. his behavior is starting to genuinely concern you. “anyway,” norman gets back on topic, “it got me thinking. how much do we really know about this guy? we’re supposed to blindly put our trust in him?”

you’re beginning to see the appeal now. you’ve written your share of pieces on the avengers and their methods, tackling the same questions norman just asked you. spider-man shouldn’t be overlooked, especially when he operates so close to your home. this could be another revolutionary superhero story in the making. and, you get to bring peter along for the ride.

“you know what? this has a lot of potential,” you smile at norman, then peter. he has his phone in his lap, fingers flying across the screen. it must be something important. you’ll discuss with norman while he takes care of that. “we could make it a weekly thing, about spider-man’s adventures. find out what we can about the man behind the mask...” peter shoots up in his seat. “without taking it off,” you finish, putting his mind at ease.

“see, i knew you were gonna love it! it was a blessing in disguise, you missing that deadline.” norman bangs his fist on the table with a hearty laugh. “what do you say, peter? you still in?” peter slips his phone back in his pocket. his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. “oh, of course. i can’t wait to work with you, y/n/n,” he speaks in a monotone voice, adding on, “again.”

something is definitely bothering him, and it isn’t the weather.

“i gotta go. betty needs me upstairs, so,” peter moves to get up, his body stiff. you assume that’s who he was texting. “thank you again, mr. osborn.” he’s rushing out of the room just like that, until you call after him. “um, don’t you wanna set a time to meet up? so we can get started?” you reasonably ask. “i... i really gotta go. find me later,” peter tells you, giving you both a tight lipped smile and running off.

“the dynamic duo is back!” norman announces to you. you’re disappointed you can’t share that sentiment with peter.

he’s absolutely booking it down the stairs, not bothering to wait for the next elevator. this is bad. this is a nightmare.

peter went from having one of his best days in a while to the worst in not even a full round of work. today started off fine, and got better when norman promoted him. it got way better when you came along. he saw your smile that makes his insides tingle, heard your laugh that’s the prettiest sound to grace his ears, held your hand that he never wants let go.

things went a bit downhill after that. betty was pushy and yelled at him a lot, demanding he only film her good angles for the segment. you and mj weren’t wrong when you told him to be careful.

later on when he saw you again, everything was okay. he was physically shaking as brad told him mr. osborn requested to see him. brad is mr. osborn’s assistant. a try-hard for sure, but good at his job. why did mr. osborn call him in? did betty complain already?

they’d been sitting in mostly silence, save for small talk until you came knocking on the door. simply being next to you was enough to ground peter and his racing thoughts. it was enough, then it wasn’t.

the whole day had gone to shit after he found out you were going to be writing stories about his alter ego. not only that, but he was helping. during the pitch, he’d texted ned to meet him in the bathroom. he was really anxious and needed a friend who understood why.

ned accidentally found out peter is spider-man last year. it’s a long story that involves peter hiding from some bad guys in the building and ned shrieking so loud the lights flickered. they’re cool now that peter talked things through with him. his secret has been kept, from what he knows.

pushing open the men’s bathroom door, peter is a mixture of sweat and ragged breaths. he’s panting from his fast descent down the staircase. he takes in his disheveled appearance using one of the mirrors. his styled hair is now damp and undone, hands trembling and palms sweaty, chest heaving. here’s his daily reminder that anxiety is not cute. as if he didn’t know.

his stupid, gigantic freaking sweater is only making things worse. it’s suffocating him. no one else is in here, so peter pulls it over his head and tosses it to the ground. he’s got a t-shirt on underneath that happens to be black. what a convenient day for him to wear the hottest material there is.

peter splashes his face with some cold water next to try and cool himself down. that doesn’t do much for him. his face still feels like it’s on fire, but now it’s wet. he takes his hands through his mop of curls, backing away from the sink.

“fuck. fuck, fuck, fuck,” peter repeats to himself. he’s silent for a moment, then rage overcomes him. he kicks open a bathroom stall. “shit! i can’t do this. what am i supposed to-“

the door creeks open, so peter shuts up in case it isn’t ned. it thankfully is, and he wears a deep frown at the sight of his best friend. “dude, what happened? you look...” “terrible. i know,” peter finishes for him. he tugs at his locks in another attempt to tame them. ned approaches him carefully. “you’re not, like, dying... are you? because betty was telling me you have to-“ “of course you were with betty,” peter exhales in frustration. “no, ned. i’m not dying.”

in ned’s defense, the text he received was very alarming. all peter wrote was, ‘EMERGENCY. SOS.’

“i mean, yeah. it was my break.” ned sits on the ledge by the window, close to peter. “you do the same with y/n.” the mention of your name upsets peter all over again. he hides his face in his hands as ned watches. “if you’re not dying, then what’s the problem?” ned finally asks. “me and y/n...” peter removes his hands from his face, meeting ned’s worried eyes. “mr. osborn wants us to do a project together.”

“uh, peter? you’ve been saying how much you miss her forever, dude! you’re not excited?” ned snorts at him. he means well, but he has no clue what he’s talking about. “no. it’s supposed to be about spider-man,” peter answers angrily. this isn’t the support he was hoping for. realizing the severity of the situation, ned gets serious.

“oh... but, you’re still doing it?” he questions. “i didn’t have a choice,” peter scoffs out. “i can’t let either of them down.” “you’ll expose yourself!” ned escalates things further. “it’s not like that. we’re gonna follow spider-man around and post updates on him,” peter says, technically in the third person. he’s given an are you insane? look from ned.

“you are spider-man! and, no offense, but you’re not so good at hiding it,” ned refers to himself finding out. “how are you gonna be in two places at once?” damnit, peter hadn’t thought about that yet. he can’t be taking pictures of spider-man and swinging from building to building simultaneously. “i- i’ll figure it out,” peter stammers, unconvincingly.

ned looks him over in a disapproving way. “jeez. you’re really putting your life on the line for this girl-“ “woman,” peter interjects, not loving ned’s attitude towards you. “have some respect.” unfazed, ned gets up from the windowsill. “speaking of women, remember betty? you’re still on the clock,” he changes the subject. peter nearly forgot he has to go film her segment.

“i’ll head up to her now,” peter gives in. he scoops up his discarded sweater, not bothering to check his appearance again. ned follows behind him to the door. “we wrote her script together, you know,” he gladly informs peter, who already knows from you. “not really a flex,” peter mumbles his response. “peter, lighten up.” ned hits at his shoulder. the two of them exit the bathroom.

“you’ll figure this out later. i can always help.” he shoots him a sugary sweet smile. “thanks, ned. for talking with me and everything.” peter doesn’t smile back. they do a quick bro handshake, then they’re going their separate ways. “have a good show, dude!” ned yells back, to which he doesn’t get a response. peter doesn’t have it in him.

he allows himself to take the elevator back up to broadcasting. he’s so drained from the several anxiety attacks he endured. while peter waists for the elevator, he contemplates all the issues he’d better solve. it’s a relief to hear it ding because it brings him back to earth. that doesn’t last long because both you and betty are there when the door opens.

you’d each had the same idea, to find peter. unlike betty, your intentions were good. you asked liz if she saw peter leave. she told you he went downstairs, so you did also. betty was already in the elevator when it got to your stop. she was looking for him because, you guessed it, he had to record the news. the small space was filled with tension as you and betty occupied it.

“perfect. we’re going right back up,” betty beams, motioning for peter with her index finger. “hop in!” “coming,” peter does as told, going to stand between you and betty. she presses the button for your floor and theirs. the doors close. “pete?” you speak up, voice soft. “you kinda ran off earlier. i thought you were with betty.” “clearly, he wasn’t,” betty sneers.

you’re less concerned with her and more with peter. the sweater he looked so huggable in is now folded in his arms, his face splotchy and jaw clenched. he must have gotten triggered by something back in norman’s office.

“are you sure you’re okay? you... you can talk to me about it.” you take a step closer to peter, your doe eyes searching for his. he meets them with a tiny smile. at least, it’s real this time. “i’ll be fine, y/n/n. ‘s nice that you came to check on me, though.” “don’t mention it.” your arms loop around his neck and bring him into a hug. peter hugs you back by your middle, chin resting on your shoulder, breathing out in relief.

you keep your hands on his shoulders when you pull back. his stay on your sides, a lopsided grin now crossing his features. “spider-man...” you quirk an eyebrow. “how are you feeling about that?” “should be cool,” peter somehow maintains himself. “i’m mostly looking forward to doing it with you.”

listening in, betty joins the conversation. “what’s happening with spider-man? anything i should know?” her hand reaches into her bag and emerges with a notepad. does she ever think of her own content? “she’s nothing if not persistent,” you grumble to peter. chuckling, he pulls you into his chest. if he didn’t hold you back, you would’ve pounced on her.

“we’re gonna do a piece on him,” peter tells her. “you can’t copy or steal this one because it’s already been approved,” you contribute, smiling smugly as peter holds you tighter. betty is taken aback. “are you accusing me of stealing? who said i-“ “ned ratted on you... sorry,” peter says in a sing song voice. squealing, you jump away from him. “he did? we were right?”

“mj’s never wrong,” he reiterates. “mj knew about this? oh my god, i can’t believe her!” betty stomps her foot. “we got you on candid camera.” you make a clicking noise with your mouth. peter mimes taking a picture to back you up. “alright, alright. i won’t do it again,” betty mumbles, turning away from you two in annoyance.

“finally!” you hold up your hand for a high five, which peter gives you. “we really do make the best team,” he hums. your fingers intertwine with peter’s, and he lays his palm flat against yours. he prays extremely hard you don’t notice that it’s sweaty. you do, but you couldn’t care less.

“i was wondering when you’d wanna start our... research?” peter asks you, his lip between his teeth. “you were saying something earlier. maybe we could make a schedule.” “how elaborate of us that would be,” you tease. that earns a breathy laugh from peter. with a knowing smile, you put your free hand back on his shoulder.

“what are you doing tonight?”

-

peter parker taglist

@saturnpeter @tpwk-grande @itstaskeen @missyouhollnd @becicamina @dummiesshort @zspideyy @watchitimreadinghere @my-patronus-is-mabel-pines @dpaccione @karispotters11 @theofficialzivadavid @thehumanistsdiary @kelieah @aayaissaa @petersgroupie @annab-nana @tayyx @swtltlmrvlgrl @magicalxdaydream @haoluvver @kjune113 @captainamirica @marvel-dork98 @emmastarz @killingbxys @viriditie @misshale21 @veryholland @liliswifts @tommydarlings @rebelemilu @peterspideysense @cr-uelsummer @dreamy-clousds @quaksonhehe @quxxnxfhxll @blackbat2020 @babyblue19 @falconxbarnes @zachary-s @dirtytissuebox @dracoswhore007 @heavenlyholland @thsquad @etheralholland @dhtomholland @awh-lilies @tomshufflepuff @multifamdomfan12

-

if i forgot you please lmk!

[dawl-and-dapple]

rating: general word count: 1443

Essek and Jester being sweet, based on the non-sexual intimacy prompt 'escorting the other to a doctor/ therapist appointment' given by @mllekurtz

***

Can you drive me to the dentist next week pretty please?

It’s been almost a year since Essek had first been asked to give one of his friends a lift. The requests had slowed somewhat since Caleb finally got himself his own car two months ago, but he is not yet necessarily free from this particular duty. Now he receives a text asking to be driven out of town most often when Caleb is occupied with work, sick, or inebriated.

These texts used to make him wince. After some time they made him smile. These days, they tend to catch him a little off-guard.

Is Caleb not available? he responds.

No, Jester texts back, he’s got an appointment too. Are you gonna be busy?

No, I will be available. I’ll drive you.

Thank you!! I’ll meet you outside the school like usual!! Love you so much!!!!

Essek puts away his phone. He remembers where Jester’s dentist is from the last time she had him drive there. There’s a nice café two blocks away where he could wait out her appointment, reading and enjoying a cup of tea, before driving her home again. He puts his mind to picking out which book to bring.

Five days later, when Essek arrives in the small car park across from the art college, he’s twenty minutes early. He occupies himself by methodically checking his emails, texts, then social media.

Caleb has sent him a photo of Frumpkin playing with his television’s cables. Essek asks if he’s forgotten about his therapy appointment. Caleb responds with a photo taken through a windscreen of a city road, blocked with traffic as far as the eye can see, and a text reading, I wish I had.

Someone knocks on Essek’s window.

“Hey!” Jester’s nose presses up against the glass. “You got here early,” she says, muffled. “You should have let me know.”

“I am not going to encourage you to leave class early, Jester.” He opens the passenger door.

“Boo.” Jester flops into the seat and begins buckling herself in as Essek starts the engine. “We could have hung out a little! We’ve all been so busy since the summer and I miss you, you know. I wanna know how you’ve been! Do you wanna talk about work? Probably not. How about, um, how’s the new flat? I heard Caduceus helped you settle in.”

“I have been well,” Essek says as he pulls out of the car park. “You remember that miniature flower bed you helped me build on my windowsill? I have been growing a little basil plant there.”

“Oh! Have you used the leaves to make anything?”

Essek winces. Of the scant few recipes he could reliably prepare, most are from his home. He’d failed to find a Xhorhasian supermarket in the area after moving and had taken it as a strong sign to try working with what he’d been given. But his lack of experience cooking anything at all made adapting that much harder.

“The cooking part...I am working on that. I will be asking for Caduceus’ guidance again.”

“I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it,” Jester says airily while digging through the small collection of audiobooks and music discs in the door compartment. “How long have you had these? Caleb’s car doesn't even have a CD player. Oh, I bet Caleb could help!” She grins at his reflection in the internal mirror. “He can make some very tasty Zemnian meals, you know.”

“I do know. I believe I’ve eaten one or two prepared by him at a dinner party with the others.”

“You should ask him to teach you the recipes.”

“I might. What did you get up to today? Painting? Sculpting?”

Jester smirks. She answers him, goes on to talk about her current project (a ten-foot-tall collage of hundreds of vintage pinup photographs, though Essek cannot parse the meaning of it). Essek gets the distinct impression that she’s barely holding herself back from needling him more.

As they reach the edge of the city, the traffic slows. A heavy sense of doom overcomes Essek, while Jester flips through the radio channels.

Someone behind Essek honks. He grits his teeth.

“Oh, the traffic here is pretty bad, huh.”

Essek flexes his hands around the steering wheel. “Yes, it seems so.”

Jester turns the radio off. “Do you have to be anywhere after this?”

“No,” he replies. The car comes to a dead halt. “I do not.”

Jester bounces in her seat as if she might be able to peer over the roofs of the dozens of gridlocked cars ahead of them. “Oh man,” she says. “I’d get there faster if I walked.” She goes quiet. After a heartbeat she smiles and turns towards Essek. “Hey Essek? Do you have any sexy audiobooks?”

“What?”

“Like, do you have a CD in here of someone reading a porn book out loud.”

“No, why would I have–?”

“That’s okay, I can plug my phone into the dashboard.”

“Please, Jester.”

“Okay!” She laughs, tucking her phone back into her jacket pocket. “What CDs do you have? All the titles are in Undercommon...”

“Most are audio documentaries. There are two about special relativity, one about magnetism, and one on the life of a particular astrophysicist. There’s also a rock album in there somewhere; my brother gave it to me as a joke.”

Jester snorts.

“I am very boring, aren't I?”

“No!” Jester suddenly grabs his shoulder and shoves him around in his seat, which would have worried him were they moving at any velocity at all. “You’re not! Essek, you’re very fun and interesting.”

Essek smiles as he’s shaken from side to side, keeping his eyes on the traffic jam ahead. “I am very fun and interesting,” he repeats.

She finally stops shoving at his shoulder. “I should get you some new fun CDs for your car. I don’t even know where to buy CDs these days, but I'll get you some.”

“Can you promise there will be no more than one pornographic item in this collection?” he asks, raising his brow at Jester in the mirror.

“Oh, sure.”

“Then, as they say, go wild.”

“Neat. Hey! I know we’ve all been super busy lately but I bet we can do, like, a dinner party or something. Just one evening. Yasha got back into town this week and Veth says Luc has been spending most weekends at his friends’ houses so she can come over. Maybe a Saturday night?” She’s pulled out her phone already. “We can just hang out in my and Fjord’s flat for a while. Or yours!”

“I do not think I have enough space for nine.”

“But would you be free?”

He thinks. “Next weekend, yes.”

Jester pumps her fist in the air. “Awesome! I’ll text the others.”

The traffic moves ever so slightly. Essek watches the cars ahead of him like a cat watching a bird.

“Beau might be the busiest but I bet she’ll want to come. Oh, Caleb can cook something with Caduceus! One of those meals you liked.”

“Uh, maybe.”

“Maybe you can show him a recipe you know too. Try that sometime.”

“Hm.” The car in front finally budges. Essek inches forward.

“I bet he’d love that, Essek.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I know you don't think you’re a good cook, but I remember that rice meal you made when I came over last spring and it was good!”

Now they’re driving again, if at no more than five mph. Essek grips the wheel.

“Make that meal, put on a good movie, wear something cute — that black top with the long sleeves I think ��� and it’ll be smooth sailing. Trust me, Fjord was no match for the tried and true Lavorre Technique.”

“Hm.”

“And then maybe you can finally talk to him about your big fat crush on Cay-leb.”

The car directly ahead halts. Essek swears and steps on the brake. He stares at Jester. “Pardon?”

She just grins at him.

“I was not listening. Sorry.”

“Oh that’s okay,” she croons, “But guess what…”

Essek is familiar with this tone. It doesn't scare him as much as it used to; he’s developed somewhat of a pavlovian response to her mischief in spite of his initial displeasure. As her grin widens, Essek feels a mirrored anticipatory smile spread across his face.

“You’re stuck in here with me,” she sings, waving her index fingers side-to-side with each word, “and we’re stuck in here together, and I wanna know the truth. So…” She leans forward. “Don’t you like him?”

Essek, face hot, but still smiling, reaches for the radio fast enough to fumble the air conditioning.

[shutupanddance]

To Debate, or Not To Debate

This story was developed by @sopanngon​ and I, and written by me.

Tagging @girloncorneliastreet​

- Your role is in the West Wing’s communications department, writing all the things that no one else wants to write. Memos about the National Zoo, apologies for tours gone wrong, etc. You love your job, but you have one problem: your massive crush on Josh Lyman. And the fact that he’s dating Amy Gardner.

- Josh knows who you are, especially because you’re friends with Donna, but you’re quiet and you tend to keep to yourself. So he doesn’t talk to you a lot. He thinks you’re cute, but that’s about it.

- It isn’t until one day, when Sam has gone psychotic, and Toby is too busy screaming at people to get any work done, that your writing ability comes to light.

- The President needs a speech prepared for a group of soldiers who have just come back from deployment, but his go-to speech writers are losing their minds. Leo recommends you.

- Josh shows up late to the party after some meetings on the Hill, and he arrives just as the speech is starting. He’s blown out of the water. It’s the most poetic, most beautiful thing he’s ever heard. When it’s over, everyone rushes over to Sam to offer their congratulations. He just shakes his head and points to you, who are standing off to the side of the crowds, looking like a deer caught in headlights.

- Josh waits until everyone is back in the West Wing, and people have stopped assaulting you with compliments, to find you.

- You’re hunkered down in your office with a massive hoodie on and some soft music playing, looking a little frazzled.

- He says a soft “hey”, and you look up to see your crush standing there with a smile on his face.

“That speech was amazing. You did a really good job.”

You barely manage a “thanks”.

He says “Yeah.” And then disappears.

- Now if there’s one thing Josh can do, it’s recognize talent and push people into where they’re supposed to be. He wants to find you a better job, but every time he tries to casually bring up the subject of finding you a place where you can really shine, you shut him down pretty quickly. Josh isn’t ready to give up yet, though.

- He discovers one day that not only are you a great writer, but you’re also good with the spoken word.  - Amy had just broken up with him, having gotten tired of the work-life juggling act. Josh is pretty beat-up about it.  - Everyone in the White House knows what happened, so he’s gotten lots of pitiful looks. He just wants to move on, though.

- It’s late and he’s working through some last-minute stuff when he hears a super soft knock at the doorway. You’re standing there.

“Hi!” He says, sitting up in his chair. You’ve never come to his office to talk before. You smile.

“Can I come in?”

He nods and you enter on quiet feet, settling into the chair across from him.

“Are you okay?” You ask and he lets out a rough “yeah” but he can tell you’re not buying it. So you talk it out with him in your slow, quiet manner, and by the time you leave, he feels a million times better. He’s not even sure how you did it.  - Now, Josh knows you’ve got a voice, and he wants you to use it. He wants to see if you can debate. Whenever he gets the chance, he tries to get you to argue with him. About taxes, oil, abortion, whatever. But every time he disagrees with you, you simply say “That’s an interesting way of looking at things!” And move on. For whatever reason, you’re not taking the bait. But Josh knows that if you can argue, you could become senior staff. And he wants that.

- But then, he finds it. A paper you wrote in college about how new age capitalism restricts the flow of movement on the social ladder, rather than letting people shuffle around like it’s supposed to. Your paper is so well-written, well-researched, and passionate that Josh thinks he’s found your buttons.

- The issue of tax-deductible tuition comes up and you’re eager to help out. You’re working alone in your office when Josh comes in to talk about the issue, and he casually makes a statement about how if parents can’t afford the tuition, they should be finding better jobs. You go berserk.

- Josh is immediately infatuated with you. You debate him until he’s been ground into dust. There’s no question who won this, even with him trying his best. He’s got this massive grin on his face while you’re yelling, but suddenly, your voice cracks. And tears start falling.

- He’s really not sure what to do so he grabs you a tissue and tells you to sit down. You settle into your couch and sob quietly, hands clenched over your face. Josh rubs your back. Once you’re done, you apologize, but he’s more concerned about what caused the tears.

- You explain that you really hate arguing. Like, really really hate it. And you like him so much and didn’t want to yell at him. He’s shocked.

“You can yell at me! I can take it, believe me.” He says.

“I know. But I still hate doing it.”

- Josh feels bad for trying to get you to argue with him now. He cups his hand on your shoulder and gently pulls you in, until you’re resting on his chest, and he’s reclined into the couch. Your breathing begins to even. He wraps his other arm around your waist, squeezing gently, and you snuggle into his neck.

- After this, Josh doesn’t try to push your buttons again. But he finds that, after your crying episode, if he wants an opinion from you, all he has to do is ask. You won’t argue with him, but you’ll calmly and quietly explain your point of view, and he can do with it what he wants. A strong friendship forms.

- Because Josh is so combative, you often end up going in after a meeting to clean things up with whoever he just yelled at. Donna has you help him write nicer emails, which usually includes him typing insults, you smacking his head, then the text disappearing and a new line being written in more “diplomatic” terms. Because of how close the two of you are becoming, there are times when you’ll be in the Oval Office preparing a statement, working on a bill, etc.

- The problem with that is you still hate arguing. So you tend to keep to yourself during these meetings.

- It’s one day, when your work is stacking up massively, while you’re in the Oval with a couple of the Joint Chiefs, that the President asks for your opinion on contacting the Saudi embassy about something. You give your suggestion, but Nancy McNalley doesn’t agree, and begins to argue. You want to shut up, but the President asks for you to defend your point, so soon you’re caught up in a debate about foreign relations.

- You miraculously make it to your office before breaking down. You want to curl up in a ball and sleep, but you have way too much work to do. Often helping the Senior Staff with their work is great until they all need your assistance at once.

- But Donna knocks softly on your door.

“Hey, Josh sent me to help you with your work.”

- That night, by the time you get home, you feel a lot better. And the desk clerk in your complex says that there are some flowers here for you?

A beautiful bouquet with daisies, roses, and a few white tulips. There’s a note.

I heard about your meeting in the Oval today. I hope you put Donna to good use.

Feel better.

Yours,

Josh

- People figure out pretty fast that Josh is suddenly listening to another voice besides his own. As soon as they figure out it’s you, congressmen and senators and those running for office find their way to your door. Though you’re usually not a fan of attention, you enjoy hearing what they have to say. If you agree, you bring it up with Josh. He might give some noncommittal answer, but he almost always does what you recommend, whether he realizes it or not.

- And Josh will fight and fight for you. When Sam leaves, he pushes Leo to give you more responsibility in the communications department. While Toby handles the more political events, you’re perfect for when the President needs to sound poetic.

- Leo also figures out that Josh is much calmer and quieter around you. Partially, it’s that you relax him, but also it’s because he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable. So if Josh is running a meeting into the ground, you get called in to sit in the corner and eat whatever food is on the table. It gives him a reality-check, and you’re really good at smoothing relationships over once he shuts up.

- Josh finds that eating lunch with you is a great way to get his thoughts together. You’re a really good listener, and you’re always in the food for free food.

- CJ calls it your daily “lunch date”. Donna picks that up.

“Hi, I need to see Mr. Lyman?”

“I’m sorry, he’s on his lunch date right now.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Looking for a Place to Happen 2

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), age gap, general stupidity, some violence and threats

This is dark!biker!Sam Wilson x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s lots happening in Birch and you find it all too amusing.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, Little Bones, and Fully Completely

Note: Here’s chapter two. Think I’ll probably slow down writing. Appreciate y’all.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 2: I follow every little whiff

💀💀💀

You gave yourself a day off that week. Rather, the desolation of Birch allowed you an excuse to get away from your desk. An internet outage across the town had you up and wandering the main road just after noon. Your grandmother refused to join you so she was left to her true crime novel and the weekday droning of talk show hosts.

After a peek in the book shop where you picked out some used thrillers for your nan and a guilty splurge on one of Babs' pies to add to the surprise, you stopped by the diner and had some soup to warm up from the unrelenting cold. You played around on your phone as you blindly slurped from your spoon. With no available connection, you swapped candies to achieve a score high enough to get to the next round.

After another loss, you put your screen down and added some pepper to the tomato soup. You leaned your chin in your hand and peered across the road. The Asp was just diagonal from The Chipped Saucer and from your seat by the window you could see the comings and goings of the dingy bar.

You chuckled to yourself as you remembered the hundreds of comments on your video. You weren't entirely surprised that the internet cheered at the sight of a woman beating up a man in broad daylight, you'd seen much worse on the web. But many were curious and asked about how it started and about the small town alluded to in the caption.

You picked up your phone and flipped open the camera. You pointed it through the glass as one of the many bikers strutted out of the bar and down the street. You knew him, like most in town, he was the leader's right hand man. Steve Rogers. He had an odd gait, rigid with long strides, and you remember Kelly used to make fun of him when you walked home from school. That felt like forever ago.

You ended the video and dropped your phone again. You'd send it to Kelly when the outage was over. It would be a good laugh. Plus, you hadn't heard from her much since she moved to the city.

You finished your soup and paid. You went out into the street and cut around to the backstreets. You made your way back to your nans and found Pippin scratching at the front door. You stopped and scooped him up before you let yourself in.

"Don't like the snow, do ya?" You set him down and he whipped his tail before skittering off, "hey nan, I got you some stuff."

"You spend too much," she grumbled as you hung your coat and grabbed her treats.

"Only on you," you sang as you entered the front room, "sugarless blueberry pie, your fave, and some books about murder and all that freaky stuff you love."

"Hmm," she watched you put the pie and books down on the coffee table, "suppose the pie will go good with tea."

"Ah, and I suppose I'll be making that tea?" You returned.

"My arthritis…" she pouted but her grin came through.

"Yeah, yeah," you snickered as you went to the kitchen to put on the kettle, "we going black today or something lighter?"

"Put on some of the pekoe," she called back, "make a whole pot."

"Will do, ma'am," you trilled and basked in her annoyed mutter.

💀

When the internet came back, you sent of an email to inform the agency of the interruption and promised to meet your deadlines. Then you puttered around and added a caption to the video before you sent it off to Kelly; 'why he walk like that tho'. She sent a series of crying emojis back and told you to post it.

'Nah, it's a dumb joke.' You typed back.

'Saw ur last vid, ppl will eat it up,' she insisted.

'Well, got nothing else to put up. The account’s dying since no one cares about my writing.'

'DO IT.' Her words sealed your resolve and you uploaded the video with some dramatic music in the background.

The response was almost instantaneous. Several comments saying they were happy to see more and others being for another video. 'We all wanna see inside this fucked up town' one added and several latched on. Ignoring the questions of where this was, you gave a thin promise of future small town thug content. 

You turned back to your work email and opened up your draft for your next gig. You couldn't help but smile as you went over your work. You might have just found your niche.

💀

You knew your nan would lose it if she knew you were snooping around the club, so you didn’t tell her. You went down, made her breakfast, went back upstairs to do your work, then tiptoed out in the late afternoon to poke around town for something to upload. Birch was so dull when you lived there but to those outside, it was a novelty you were all too eager to provide.

You got more videos of the bikers; some revving their bikes, others arguing, but there was nothing overly usable. You were getting bored of it until the man himself walked out of the bar. You record the man’s glower expression as he marched down the sidewalk and turned off just down the way.

‘His name is Bucket… wtf?!’ you keyed in and snorted as you waited for it to load to your account.

Still, there was nothing special going on, like always in Birch, and your grandmother was bound to get suspicious if you kept sneaking around. You went back and hid your phone before she could bitch about it. You cooked her dinner and sat with her as your thoughts swung between work and your TikTok.

You went to bed but couldn’t sleep. You ended up watching YouTube on your phone as the windows shook with the night winds. It wasn’t until the darkness began to glow that you were roused from the cocoon of your comforter. You looked out and saw smoke coming from the main road.

You didn’t think before you pulled on your jeans and shoved your feet into your slipper, unconcerned about them soaking through as you barreled down the stairs, the sleeves of your hoodie only half on. The back door bounced behind you and you crunched down into the snow and clamored past the row of lifeless houses. 

You were out of breath as you got to the end of the path and rounded the diner to gape over at the burning garage. You got closer as the line of bikers stood in their leather with breath puffing before them in the frigid night. You stepped back into the shadow of the brick façade of the realty office and swiped your camera open.

Your hands shook and you struggled to steady the image on the screen as the mechanic woman raged in only her tee shirt. You didn’t quite understand what was going on; only that her garage was up in smoke and then men were doing nothing to smother it. She swung at the dark haired man and spat at several others; “cowards”... “fuck all of you!”

You gulped and held your breath as she was dragged away by the large redheaded henchman of the slender outsider. She fought for a moment before she was flung over his shoulder and the biker followed their leader back to The Asp. You sidled in between the building and hid until the voices faded into the wind.

Well, that would be a hell of a video. It might even go viral.

💀

Your phone did not stop. You almost felt bad as you saw the screen limn the edges of your cell as you left it face down on the little table beside the couch. Your nan sat in her rocking chair talking away on her corded phone to Linette from down the road. You suspected that every other person in town was gossiping about the same thing; the fire.

You finished your coffee and rubbed your eyes as you checked the time and ignored the pulsing notifications. It was too much to keep up with.

Your grandmother hung up and sighed, “can’t believe it. You hear?”

“Hear what?” you pretended ignorance.

“That old garage burned down. The one with the lady,” she said, “pity. When I was a girl, that place was a salon. Ma used to take us there to get our hair cut. The barber would give us wrapped candies and pretend to cut himself with his scissors.”

“Oh? It burned down?” you weren’t sure you were very convincing but you also could just say you saw it happen.

“Yep, no one really can say. You know, maybe she was welding or some rag caught, but I bet my money on those bikers,” she sneered.

“Good thing you’re poor,” you kidded, “and why the bikers?”

“Oh, well, you know Kimmy, Linette’s girl, works down at the diner and she saw that mechanic arguing with one of those strangers, the ones dealing with the club men. Well, it’s no coincidence that trouble follows those leather jackets around,” she rocked as she nodded knowingly, “oh, one of the boys I knew back in the day, he was found burnt up with his bike. They said the tank blew… well, I saw it and that tank was pristine.”

“Nan,” you gasped, “you… Jesus.”

“Well, things don’t change in Birch, we just get older,” she continued, “when you’re young, everything seems new but then you age and it’s all just the same.”

“Wow, how… inspiring,” you said dryly.

“Girlie, you gotta be careful,” she intoned, “that fire, that’s a lesson to all the women in this town. To everyone. You don’t cross the Commandos.”

“I don’t think anyone--”

“That’s another thing, there has never been a shortage of stupid people, not now not then,” she girded, “those women who get tied up in that club, their lives are already done.”

You frowned and hid your phone in your pocket as you stood. You rubbed your neck and picked up your empty mug, “I should get started.”

“Mmm,” she said as she dialed the phone again, “I wonder if Fran knows yet.” 

💀

You were being really fucking stupid but peer pressure was not a logical thing. Even through a screen, you found it hard to resist the goads. So there you were, your phone in your hand as you live-streamed your walk down to The Asp. The data costs alone would make you regret it but you were caught up in the hype of you fifteen second of internet fame.

“Alright,” you stopped across the street and gave a view of the moniker with Cleopatra sultrily looking down at you, “this is it… I just gotta play it cool…” you turned the lens towards you and smiled nervously, “hopefully that dude at the front doesn’t stop me.”

Comments flicked up the bottom of the screen so fast and smilies and hearts floated up the side around your face. You crossed the screen as you turned your phone against your coat and approached the bar door. The large biker butted out his smoke and you bared your teeth nervously. He didn’t stop you as he rolled his shoulders and coughed.

You entered to the noise of classic rock and low voices, the clink of glasses and tap of chalk on marble. You glanced around and quickly swept your phone around to give a view of the patrons. You hurried over to the bar and climbed up on a stool.

“You need a drink?” the woman behind the bar scowled. She looked worn out even with her lips painted bright pink and her eyes clouded with blue shadow.

“Uh, sure, can I… can I get one pint of everything you have on tap?” you asked as you set your phone down and shrugged out of your coat. You draped it over the next stool and reposition your phone as you flipped the cam and used the built in stand on the case to angle yourself onto the screen.

“Sure,” she narrowed her eyes and glanced past you.

You swung your feet as you waited for her to pour the five pints; some with too much foam and the others with no head at all. You took the first and held it up for the camera.

“A classic, BudLight,” you held it up to the light, “no head and…” you sipped, “flat.” You plunked it down and coughed as you grabbed the next, “this is a raddler?” you looked at the tap for confirmation, “grapefruit… smells like piss…” you had a sip, “tastes like it too.”

You chuckled to yourself and asked for a water. You made a show of swishing it around in your mouth before you moved onto the third beer.

“Had to cleanse the palate,” you joked, “now… lots of foam on this one, dark. You know, I’m pretty surprised they have Guinness here but let’s see…” you tasted it and crinkled your nose, “that’s it. Exactly like toilet water!”

You read some of the comments telling you to check the bottles for bugs and laughed. Suddenly you were yanked off the stool by the back of your shirt and your phone was swiped up by another man as the first restrained you. You struggled against his thick arm as it hooked around your neck and the leader of their crew stared at the screen of your cell.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he snarled as he hit the screen with his thumb but the stream kept going. He dropped the phone to the floor and stomped it instead.

“This is the bitch posting about us online,” the man at your back growled. It was Steve, the one with the weird walk.

“I doubt either of you know how to use a computer,” you scoffed, “hey, let me go.”

“And why would we do that when you’re snitching to the whole world, sweetheart?” Bucky kicked your phone away as he crossed his arms.

“Actually, I’m--” you grasped Steve’s arm as it threatened to get tighter, “--promoting your trash business. I was just having a tasting, if you had just asked--”

“Shut up!” Bucky stepped closer and brought your legs up and stopped him as you planted your feet against his stomach.

“Hey,” a woman’s voice came from behind the bar as the waitress shoved aside her empty tray, “hey, she’s just a kid.”

“Bullshit,” Bucky huffed, “she looks full-grown to me.”

“So what are you gonna do?” she said, “she’s young. You can’t--”

“Don’t tell me what I can’t do,” he snapped.

“She’s right,” another voice intoned and that man, Sam, came up beside them with a pool cue in hand, “she’s just goofing around.”

“She’s a rat,” Steve insisted.

“You’re being dramatic. It’s called a meme and you do walk a little strange,” he chuckled, “no one’s gonna follow her breadcrumbs back to this shithole anyway.”

Bucky considered Sam and then looked at Steve. He poked his cheek with his tongue and sucked his teeth.

“So… you vouching for her?” Bucky asked.

“She won’t cause any more trouble, promise,” Sam said, “I’ll make sure of it.”

“You better,” Bucky snapped his fingers and you were released, “get her out of here.” 

[writing-in-april]

Dear Diana,

Spencer Reid x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Spencer can’t stop gushing about how much he loves you to his mom. What happens when he leaves it in a place where someone can find it before he sends it off?

A/N: | Original Request |This took way longer then I would’ve liked, but I’m really really happy with how it came out. It also kind of spawned a non-linear series I’m starting called Spencer Reid & Letters. I loved this request so much 🥰 @spencers-dria came up with the amazing title for this fic that really helped me get the ball rolling, thank you ☺️ I’ve got another fic out tomorrow as well!! Requests are open and thank you for reading!

Warnings: Spencer being guilty about not visiting his mom as much & Secret Relationship (Because their relationship hasn’t been going on for very long)

Main Masterlist Word count: 1.7k

Letters may be regarded by most as a form of communication that has been rendered obsolete by the sands of time. But, there was something different about writing a letter rather than sending a simple email, shooting a text, or even calling someone. The act of writing out your thoughts so carefully crafted for the intended individual before being sealed away and sent off, made every word just that much more special.

Spencer and you both put letters on a pedestal of importance, you both cherished when words were written down in ink and given a sort of permanence in the world. You knew that Spencer wrote a letter to his mom everyday, to Diana, the woman who had raised the genius you loved even after just a few short months of dating. Diana was held in such high regard by Spencer, once he had opened up to you about her condition and you had assured him the stories about her immediately started flowing.

He was writing one of those lovely letters to her now you observed as you sat across from your own desk. You had been able to observe Spencer writing his letters a few times before even before you two had started dating, the one he was writing right now was decidedly different. As his pen scurried across the paper in a fast pace you wondered if maybe he was writing someone else of importance. When he wrote his letters to Diana they were normally carefully curated works of art, using any time he had to craft the perfect words to tell her about his day. He once told you he did this because of his guilt from not going to visit her as often as he’d like, which only made you want to tell him that even though you had never met her that she was in no doubt proud of her only son.

You furrowed your eyebrows at his frantic writing while taking a sip of your own coffee, one that was almost just as full of sugar as Spencer’s. The thought that maybe he was writing to Ethan crossed your mind, they hadn’t talked in quite a while. You were still wondering about what the letter contained, hoping mostly that it wasn’t anything concerning or serious that was causing him to frantically write. However, the large stack of paperwork still unfinished stole back your attention for the moment

——

The letter came back to the front of your mind when Morgan got up to peer over at what Spencer had been writing after he got up to go get a fresh cup of coffee. You immediately stood up to protest, you didn’t want him prying into Spencer’s privacy. But, before you could move your feet fast enough to make the small distance from your desk to Spencer's, Morgan was already right in front of you.

“You and Spencer? You- and Pretty Boy?” You sputtered at his words, unable to come up with an immediate response that would deflect his line of questioning. How had he found out?

Looking down slightly you noticed the letter that Spencer had been penning before he had gotten up to make his coffee, he must have put something into his letter for Diana that had Morgan connect the dots. The way you floundered when Morgan questioned you was definitely extremely suspicious to him, but you decided to object to his ‘assumptions’. However, you were quickly cut off by Morgan starting to read and excerpt from the stolen letter,

“Normally, I would never go to the park to go to a picnic, but there’s something about Y/N that makes all the statistics about germs fall from my head. The time we spent there had been like being stuck in an idyllic paradise, though I’m convinced it would’ve been perfect no matter where we had gone, as long as Y/N was there. Mom, I think I’m falling in love with them.”

The words made your stomach dance with butterflies, you yourself had told Spencer that you were falling in love with him the week prior. You hadn’t been offended at all when Spencer couldn’t quite find the words to reciprocate right away, only saying a quiet me too when he thought you had been asleep. That alone had meant so much to you, you knew that the fact that he was starting to open up to you meant a lot for him and you didn’t want to push him at all.

“It- It hasn’t been very long…” There was no way you could deny what Morgan had read outloud, unless you wanted to call Spencer a liar, which he definitely wasn’t. The date that he had been writing about was just as he had described, it had been perfect in every way.

“How long? Morgan looked smug at your confirmation, almost like he had seen this coming. But, you knew just by how his voice sounded when he had first questioned you that he had been surprised.

“We just hadn’t gotten around to telling you all yet.” You hadn’t wanted to confirm exactly how long it had been going on, not wanting to make it anymore of a big deal then it already was.

“How long?” He pried again, not discouraged at all despite your obvious deflection.

“What’s going on?” Ah, Spencer was back. You cursed a little under your breath, you had wanted to do this on your own terms. Even Hotch didn’t know yet and you both were technically supposed to already disclose it with HR.

“The thing I love most about Y/N- Well, I can’t really pick. I love everything about them.” You cringed when Morgan started reading again. You were definitely happy about what Spencer had written, but you would have rather explained the situation to Spencer yourself. Morgan then rolled up the letter, then smacking it on Spencer’s head before asking again, “How long?”

“Four months, we wanted to wait a bit before telling everyone else.” Spencer piped up shyly, taking a big gulp of his coffee after he had spoken to partially hide his blushing features.

“Four months?!” Now it was his turn to sputter, though his disbelief quickly disappeared and was replaced with a burning question. “Can I tell Garcia?”

You looked sideways at Spencer silently asking with your eyes if it was for Morgan to share his ‘findings’ with the rest of the team. The rosey blush on his cheeks deepened a bit more as he nodded in agreement. His flushed cheeks were probably due to the anticipation of the relentless teasing we would now get from the team, but you knew they’d be doing it out of love for you both. You then confirmed bashfully,

“You can tell Garcia, Morgan.”

“She won’t believe me unless she has proof.” He wiggled his eyebrows at you both, subtly asking permission to show the letter Spencer had written. Sighing deeply you were about to say no when another voice interjected.

“You can show her.” Surprising you Spencer spoke, agreeing to let Morgan show Garcia the letter, though his cheeks looked impossibly red at this point. Morgan was awash with glee at his words and immediately turned to go towards Garcia’s bat cave.

“Hey- Garcia! Look at this letter Pretty Boy was writing!” You knew once Penelope got a hold of it there was no way it wasn’t spreading to the rest of the team, and probably the whole building. But, you didn’t mind, even though the contents of the letter still made you blush hard. You still couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that Spencer had said all those things about you and- the fact that he wanted to share every word with everyone.

“Why did you agree to let him show her? I don’t mind at all, I just-” You blurted out loud to him then trailing off when your words started to lose their confidence. Again, you didn’t mind if the team knew, you just didn’t think Spencer would want to be so open so soon. Spencer made his way back to his desk, new cup of coffee in hand, totally unfazed by your words.

“I decided I want everyone to know exactly how I feel about you.” You looked over at him with wide eyes, stunned into silence by his simple words that made your heart flutter and swell. When he noticed that you were still processing his words he turned around from his pursuit to his desk to press a kiss to your forehead before going back to work.

—-

Later that day in your apartment after work, you sat down to write a letter of your own. The letters you wrote were always composed at the same place, the desk that sat in your apartment was almost solely used for said letters, which was unlike Spencer who wrote them on any surface he could (As long as it was clean).

After Morgan’s discovery, the rest of your work day had been filled with questions bombarded at you by everyone that the letter had been spread to. Instead of focusing on that and excitedly answering questions that were thrown at you, your mind was fixated on something else. You couldn’t stop thinking about who the discovered letter had been intended for in the first place, Spencer’s mom. The fact that Spencer had wanted to share all of his feelings about you to Diana made your heart burst.

The letter you had sat down to write was intended for her as well, you wanted her to know your own feelings for Spencer and to assure her that you would take care of him. At first all the words that you could use to describe your feelings for Spencer seemed impossible to be able to write down, but you decided to take a cue from Spencer. Instead of carefully crafting every word you were going to say to her you just began to furiously write.

Dear Diana,

—

Tag list (Message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky

Spencer Reid/CM

@calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss

Spencer Reid & Letters Series: (Group of Unlinked fluff fics about Spencer and Letters)

@sierraraeck @90spumkin

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Sick Days

A/N: Another Steve AU for you guys. Also, I just hit 100 followers (like after I began writing this) which is crazy so thank you all! I’ll probably do one of those follower milestone things, I just have to figure out what. Thank you again my lovelies, I love you all! Pairing: CEO!Steve Rogers x F!Chubby!Reader (Or skinny reader, you can really fluctuate to your body type.) Word count: 2,486 Warnings: Some slight angst against side characters, swearing.

"Where’s Y/N?” His voice boomed to his various employees, the important ones all across the glass table in the large conference room. The sunlight beaming in through floor to glass windows was interrupted with shadows of the New York skyline, or at least the few buildings that were as high if not higher than the one that occupied Rogers Industries. Everyone fell completely still, completely quiet.

“Um, she texted me this morning, saying she was very sick, Mr. Rogers.” One of his associates very quietly replied.

“She’s sick?” He asked, sighing deeply, turning around and marching out of the room. He flew past the various hallways, every employee immediately moving out of their way for him in confusion and fear. Making his way to his office on the top floor, he slammed the grand doors grabbing his phone and immediately dialing your number. 

“Steve?” You answered after the third ring. Your voice was crackly, he could hear your sniffly nose from the other end, “I’m sorry I didn’t call I-” “Hey, hey, baby.” He cooed, immediately understanding you were actually sick, “No need to justify. How are you feeling?” His voice grew soft and tender, his face dropping from tensions with anger to now tensions with concern.

“Like death.” You responded, to which he sighed, “I haven’t been able to get out of bed, I have a fever of 102, I can’t eat, I couldn’t sleep last night I-” “Okay, okay, alright.” He interrupted you, thinking for a moment. “I need you to head over to my place-” “No, Steve.” You interrupted, “I am not going over to your apartment, excuse me, penthouse, in this condition.”

“Yes, you are.” He fought back.

“Steve, how am I even supposed to get out of bed?” You tried to reason, “It hurts to even pee.”

“Then I’ll pick you up. Literally.” “Steve, no.” You concluded, “Your day is already probably messed up because I’m not there to answer calls and deal with stupid people and help you with whatever you need. I don’t need your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you, I’m worried about you. And no my day is not messed up.” “Yet,” You began.

“Okay, yet.” He admitted, “No one is as good of an assistant as you are. I have four people, two of whom have PhDs, trying to juggle your job. I don’t know how you do it.”

“I don’t know either,” You lightly laughed, to the best of your abilities.

“How about I come over after work then?” He settled, “I’ll bring you some food, anything you want, okay?” You hummed over the phone.

“Sounds great.” You replied, “I love you, Stevie.” You smiled lightly.

“Love you too.” He smiled as well, hanging up.

You had been Steve’s assistant for 10 years. It was funny at first, he was an unknown man starting his own company at 24, you were fresh in college at 18 and needed a job. So, after seeing your work ethic and how smart you were, he decided to hire you, finding you as the perfect fit.

You has been his constant companion for those 10 years, traveling with him all the time, attending meetings, you were always by his side. There was a silent relationship between the two of you. Both of you knew some form of chemistry existed, but never acknowledged it. Until Steve finally asked you out only four months ago.

He had finally grown mature enough to throw away his playboy-type persona. He didn’t want women just to be there, and for them to be attracted to him for his money. Though he was one of the most handsome bachelors for women to lay their eyes on. No, he wanted a true life partner.

And you had been with him since the get-go, when sometimes he couldn’t even pay you one week because everything was so tight. But you stuck with him every second of the way, and he knew if you would go out with him it wasn’t because of his money, but because of him.

Sure, you weren’t as fit as many of the girls he had dated in the past. And maybe the media wouldn’t categorize you as a “beauty”. But you were the most gorgeous woman to him. You were mature, kind, smart, organized. He bragged about you to his closest friends from the beginning, before you even began dating, categorizing you as an “intellectual”, a compliment you would brush off not wanting to boost your ego.

“Jackie,” He called one of his associates who was an acting assistant of the day.

“Yes, Mr. Rogers?” She asked over the phone.

“I need you to get all of these things, preferably from that diner off Broadway and Warren. I need it ready in exactly 20 minutes, back to me in 30.” He began, “I’ve sent them over to you. Get it done. Now.” He hung up, residing back to his usual work.

Only a minute later his office phone was ringing. “Hello?” He answered, partially annoyed considering this has now disrupted his response to a passive aggressive email sent by a nobody at a partnering company.

“Mr. Rogers, they said it wouldn’t be ready for 45-” “Did I say 45 minutes?” He interrupted, aggravation filling his voice.

“No I just-”

“I don’t have 45 minutes. You’re now down to 28 minutes before the food should be placed on my fucking desk and ready to go.” “Mr. Rogers there’s nothing I can do-” “Maybe you can be assertive next time, Jackie, or you’ll be out of a job in a second. Figure it out.” He slammed the phone back on the desk with a loud bang, grunting and rubbing his hand over his face. Leaning back he reflected on your words. “Yet”. If you were the one in charge of that, the food would have been on his desk in 20 minutes, not ready in 45.

It didn’t only annoy him that clearly his associates had no ability to think outside of the little boxes they had placed themselves in, but he was talking about you. Although no one at the office, or in the company, knew you two were dating, anyone who got in the way of you would be fired in a hot second. In a moment he could have them standing outside his skyscraper, box in hands sobbing if they even attempted to bother you. You were not only the most precious asset to his company, you were the most precious thing in his life.

He continued his work, not worry too much about how everything was going outside of his office. If anyone fucked up, he would fire them. Easy as that. Once again, his gratitude for you grew greater and greater as he got a text from you.

Please don’t say you’re going to hard on people. I know you’re kind of an ass of a boss, but at least go a little easy on them today. Xo, Y/N

He couldn’t help but smile a little bit. Damn right he was an ass of a boss, and he prided himself on it. As he began responding, Jackie rushed in, looking both winded and scared. “Here you are, Mr. Rogers.” She placed the three bags full of food on his desk.

“You’re three minutes late.” He sat up, looking over the bags, “If I wasn’t in a good mood you would be fired. I’ll let you off on this one.” He sighed, she stood there and took a deep sigh.

“T-thank you, Mr. Rogers.” She nervously walked out.

Trying not to, babe :). Try to be nice to yourself, too, you deserve it. Xo, Steve

He responded, smiling as he sent it, counting down the minutes to be home with you, cooing you and comforting you. He wanted nothing more than to just sit with you all day and watch TV shows, hearing your snarky and stupid commentary. He loved every moment of it.

He removed his mind from his favorite topic, you, and decided to try and focus on some work, as a distraction from the fact he couldn’t be right there with you. Scrolling through stupid emails and paperwork only made his need to be with you all that much worst, his watch not moving fast enough for his liking. With a frustrated sigh he took matters into his own hands.

Stuffing his work in his workbag, he grabbed his phone, getting up and storming out of his office with the take out bags. Everyone looked up at him, confusion and worry ridden all over their faces. He never left early, let alone an hour early.

“Um, Mr. Rogers,” One of his associates perked up, trailing behind him a bit.

“What.” He snapped, not changing his gaze from straight ahead.

“You have that meeting in an hour with Mr. Wilson, where are you going-” Steve stopped in his tracks, turning around to face the boy behind him with a grimace look. “Where I am going is none of your business. And reschedule the meeting with him, he’ll understanding.” And just like that, the man took off again, leaving out the doors and to his car. Slamming his door, he messily started the ignition, holding the leather steering wheel to his Audi, knuckles turning white with annoyance.

His face was blank as he sped through New York traffic, aggressively beeping at all the idiots in his way. He knew you would be scolding the shit out of him right now if you were in the passenger seat, letting him know that you thought he should go back to driving school. He would just lightly smile at your spunk, loving it ever so much.

Speeding into your parking garage underground, he managed to finally find a spot, cursing himself out numerous times for not being there earlier to save one of these now filled spaces. He grabbed his keys and bags with speed, clumsily hanging onto everything, only determined to get to you.

He made his way up the elevator from the parking garage to floor 34, where you were. The elevator was far too slow, in his opinion. He had been meaning to get you a new apartment recently, not that your apartment wasn’t safe or anything. It just wasn’t nice or good enough for you, in his opinion. Granted, nothing in this world would be good enough for you in his eyes. You deserved every damn thing.

He walked out of the elevator, perseverance painted across his face. Finally, he made it to the far end of the carpeted hallway, grabbing your key off of his key ring and placed it in, taking a sigh when it opened. “Baby?” He called, his entire mood changing in a second at the smell and sight of your home. When there was no response, he quietly shut the door, locking it, placing the bags of food on the counter.

Taking his work shoes off along with his jacket and tie, he crept into your room. There you were, an angel from the heavens in his sight, scrunched up in your own warmth under your large comforter, your favorite blanket sprawled out over you. He smiled to himself, unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt and removing his cuffs.

Climbing into bed next to you as easily as he could, in hopes he wouldn’t stir you, he placed his large arm over your body, shorter than his, and moved himself closer to you, providing warmth. You moved a bit with a light groan, “Stevie?” You asked, still half asleep, but moving over and closer to his warmth so now you were now the little spoon.

“Hey, baby doll.” He whispered with a smile, kissing the top of you head. “Go back to sleep, m’kay? You need rest.” You shook your head with a yawn, opening your eyes to see the man you loved, a smile growing across your face.

“You woke me up.” You slightly laughed.

“’M sorry.” He smiled back, taking your messy, natural, unbrushed hair in his fingers and brushing out some of the small tangles.

“It’s okay.” You moved even closer to him so every inch of your side was touching his warmth.

“Have you eaten anything today?” He asked next, with a sweet, calming voice. You shook your head into his shoulder, “Okay,” He muttered, “I brought you some food.” “Stevie I’m not that hungry-”

“I got you chicken tenders.” He countered. You sighed in defeat.

“Fine.” You replied, rolling over just a bit to let him go get it. He got the memo, getting up and quickly retrieving the take out boxes.

“Here ya go, babe.” He smiled, helping you sit up, and giving the box to you.

You graciously accepted the food, opening it and taking a bite, sighing with a smile. “Best boyfriend ever.” You smiled, taking another bite and leaning your head on his shoulder. “So,” You began, “How was the office today?” He scoffed, “A nightmare.” You chuckled.

“Of course it was.”

“I had four people playing my assistants today, and not a single one could send an email to Stark or Barnes, my two most prominent allies in this business. It’s ridiculous-” “Steve,” You interrupted, “I already sent those emails today.” “For real?” He turned to you, his face turning serious, “You have a fever of 102, can barely move, and you sent two emails?” “And faxed over some paper work, and scheduled a few of your meetings for next month, and got your next travel itinerary set.” You responded.

“Jeez,” He sighed, at a complete lose for words, “You are one of a kind, you know that? Literally the most incredible person at that company, or most companies for that matter.” You lightly smiled.

“No need to flatter me, I was doing my job.” You blew it off.

“Your job today was to rest and relax.” “Steven,” You looked up at him, “You’re forgetting who I am. I’m not relaxing until my work is done,” You continued, “Now that it is, I say we watch some TV for the rest of the night. Game of Thrones or Westworld?” You asked next. He just looked at you confused, “Westworld it is.” You replied, grabbing your remote on your bedside. “Now c’mon, you need to relax too. I can feel how tense you are from here.”

“Fine.” He replied, reluctantly loosening his shoulders a bit.

“There you go babe,” You smiled, sniffling a bit due to your current condition right after, “Just relax a little. We’re not at work, no stupid people.” He lightly laughed. Using his hand, he took your chin and moved your head to look at his face.

“I’m the luckiest guy in the world, you know that?” You smiled and maneuvered your head to his shoulder again.

“Not nearly as lucky as I am to have you, Mr. Rogers.”

[saturnsummer]

i don't mind forever.

AU: When Sol is handed a case, she doesn't realise how big the case gets. Luckily for her, her best friend is here. (AU of lawyers at Hankuk Law Firm.)

notes: all credits go to @thenerdywriter !! she gave me this prompt just days after i joined tumblr, and i’ve been working on and off on it ever since. my first au series, so please go easy on me! i know i’m practically killing myself for doing two series at once, but i’ll deal with it later. as always, big love to everyone! any grammar mistakes and all will be taken fully responsible by me!

ao3 link

words: 4035 words

one.

Sol scrunches her hair in frustration. She twists her long, wavy light brown hair in a bun, fixing it with a jab of her white, long chopstick hairpin. She adjusts her bangs for good measure and resumes with her report. She reaches over to her coffee mug, only to find it empty. Great, it’s the third coffee she had today, and it wasn’t even lunch. Hearing her colleagues nagging on drinking too much coffee in her head, she stands from her desk and pushes the glass door of her office to the staff pantry. Her heels click against the marble floors as she strides across, filling her cup with iced water before retreating back.

It would have been a normal day at the Hankuk Law firm, but it wasn’t when she had such a pressing case.

It's been weeks. A client of hers has pressed charges against Lee Man Ho, claiming that he scammed her life savings. Lee Manho was a convict that was charged for raping multiple women and on several occasions, sexual harassment. He had been on good behaviour after his release for a couple of years, with no complaints and no news. Only now did his name resurface. He was snarky in his speech, manipulative and quick with his tongue, but most of all had a sinister smile that sent shivers.

Sol, being Sol, couldn’t say no to the poor woman. How could she? She experienced her fair share of poverty from growing up in a single-parent family that made enough to get by. She sympathised with her feelings, knowing just how stressed this poor mother must be when she can no longer afford to pay rent for her home, even less so the necessities for her toddler kids. Because, too many times, Sol was found broke and skipping meals so she could have her younger sister, Byeol, be fed instead.

With the help of the local police, she found more victims to be scammed, all similar in their scenario. Manho would call under the alias of a financial aid consultant, sometimes an insurance agent or bank teller. Then, he would extract their bank numbers from them, effectively draining their money away. By the time they victims tried to call back, the number would be out of order, or picked up by another voice, evident that he used another number to cover up his.

None of his victims had anything in common. Some were rich, some were poor. Some were female, some were male. And Manho had long disappeared in the wind the moment he got out of jail. He was said to be sighted once and when the police placed eyes on him, they lost him that same day.

His digital footprint was an utter headache as well. The police had other things to matter, and figuring out his digital footprint was the least of their concerns when they had important murders and urgent matters to solve.

But two could play this game.

Seungjae was a good friend of Sol’s. They were close acquaintances in school and kept in close contact. He, unlike Sol, was a whiz with computer codes and had his fair share of hacking experience. She remembers how he would hack into the system during school events and broadcast short music videos on the school televisions during breaks. Despite their age gap, he was always courteous, nice and kind hearted in helping others.

Seungjae eventually found a job with the police force, using his skills to legally hack criminal networks and dark nets. He was essentially part of a task force that identified suspicious activities like mass radicalisation, fake news and essentially tracking down internet hackers. It was a no-brainer that Sol would approach him, even though she knew that he could only legally hack under his work orders, not for personal favours.

Well it’s best she at least try.

She called Seungjae, who was fortunately free, and agreed to meet at a cafe. The sun was out, warming them from the autumn breeze that chilled them. Sol grabbed her coat and placed a post-it on her door, informing her colleagues of her business. Sol, while dressed in a warm coat, was undoubtedly freezing from the breeze. If only she could go back to law school, where she wore jeans and sweatshirts all day. Instead, she had a light blue long sleeved blouse, a knee length pencil skirt and a midnight blue blazer, and her only coat she had weakly shielding her from the cold.

“Sol A, what gives me the feeling that you aren’t calling for the purpose of catching up, but for a favour?” Seungjae asks as soon as his ice coffee arrives. Sol is amused at his habit, that he still calls her Sol A to differentiate her from Sol B, her colleague just working next door to her. But in response, she gives a small frown.

“Oppa, please? You have to help me with this. This case is driving me nuts!” She says in frustration as she stirs her ice tea. “Look, he’s off the grid, like properly off. I can’t even track his number or his email accounts. When the police placed plainclothes on him, he was like a ninja and they lost him within the first hour.”

Seungjae’s frown deepens. He knows of people who are good on the internet, but for an ex-convict to be running this alone? Furthermore, a convict who had no criminal record of scamming, conning and IT based crimes? There was definitely more to this.

“Sol A, do you think that he’s working alone?” Seungjae asks, stopping Sol in her speech. She tilts her head, the way she does normally when she puts the puzzle pieces in order. From her bag, she takes out a notebook and scribbles down the facts, then pushes it to the centre of the table.

“Okay, so we know that Lee Manho was convicted of rape and sexual harassment long time ago. Now, he’s running scams, and has no known background of coding or conning people, yet somehow the money appears in his bank account and it disappears the next moment.” Sol states as she circles her notes with a pencil and Seungjae nods.

“I think… I think you’re right, oppa. He’s definitely not working alone. And he could just be the middleman bringing the cash from one place to another.” Sol breaths out, realising how big the case has gotten. She’s not just going after Lee Manho, but she’s going after an entire team.

“You said that you can’t track his whereabouts, people he communicates with and where the money is going to?” SeungJae asks. Sol nods.

“Looks like someone is covering up the transfers and his tracks.” Seungjae concludes. Seungjae furrows his eyebrows. Sol recognises his thinking face and tries to plea once more.

“Please, oppa? You helped me check out and verify Yeseul’s boyfriend, which saved her life! Please, oppa…” Sol pleads with him. Seungjae knew how much Sol was going to dedicate to this, and besides, he was legally going to hack. He was fighting for those who couldn’t fight. What difference would it make? It felt wrong to ignore such a desperate plea.

“Fine. But you have to let me use a laptop that isn’t mine. I can’t have my superiors know I’m hacking into a case that wasn’t submitted to me again. God, Yeseul’s ex-boyfriend case got me a bloody earful from the captain.” He finally agrees, getting up from his seat and grabbing his coat. Sol lets out a relieved sigh and picks her coat too.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“Save it for later, when I’m done hacking. Let’s head back to your office for now.” He says and walks to the door. At that moment, Sol’s phone rings, and she picks up, knowing who will call at this time of the day. If it’s lunch, it has to either be Yeseul or Joon Hwi.

“Are you joining us for lunch, sunbae?” Sol takes a moment to close her eyes in frustration. This man is going to drive her insane.

“Yeah. Are you all ordering?”

“That’s right. Extra pickles?”

“Always. Add one more jjampong and kkampungi, too.” The receiving end goes silent.

“Who’s joining?” Sol gives a knowing smile as she unlocks her car.

“An old friend of ours.”

-----

“Wah, it’s been a long time since Seungjae-hyung could eat with us!” BokGi says, as he passes out the chopsticks and Yebeom unpacks the meals. Seungjae only gives a small smile while helping out with the food.

Despite the cold weather, the odd group of friends found pleasure in eating outdoors as opposed to their office pantry. It was too noisy some days, too quiet on some, and knowing how chaotic the group can get during lunch, it only made sense to have their meals downstairs at some benches. Besides, they could use a break from being stuck in their offices all day and look at trees changing their colours to shades of red, oranges and brown.

“Thank your noona here, for convincing me to come.” He says as he nods his head over to Sol, who is busy unpacking her pickles and noodles. Joon Hwi gives a smile as he stares at the delight on her face when she sees those yellow pickles on a plastic saucer.

“Hyung, what are you here for?” Joon Hwi asks, as he unpacks his noodles.

“This lady here has enlisted my help once again for a case she is working on. But it has to be off the books. Thus, my presence here instead of my cubicle back at my headquarters.” Sol chokes and she quickly takes a sip of her tea.

“Oppa, why do you make me sound so law breaking…” Sol grumbles. Yeseul, sitting next to her only gives a small smile and squeezes her hand.

“Seungjae-oppa did help me bring Yeongchang to jail. So I would consider his work, whether under his boss orders or not, to be lawful.” Yeseul quips quietly. The table grows silent for a moment, knowing how this topic took a mental toll out of them, but Yeseul was hit the hardest.

When Yeseul first started dating Yeongchang, everyone didn’t mind it. Only when Sol witnessed how Yeseul would be frightened to pick up his call and spotting bruises on her arms did she get Seungjae to dig into his personal life. Lo and behold, not only was he abusive, he was seeing two other women and they were treated badly, if not, worse.

Yeseul’s heart broke, this being her first love and the man she envisioned marrying. But with her friends' support, she took it upon herself to press charges on him, for the women he tortured and for herself. Representing herself and the women that he had failed to protect and taken advantage of, it wasn’t easy for her, having been so blind in love and still harbouring feelings.

The group stood by and silently supported. They accompanied her trials, no matter how busy they were. Sol remembers Jiho running from one courtroom to another on one occasion when he had to immediately attend a court hearing for a client he was defending. Sol had Yeseul stay over at her apartment during the entire situation, while Yeseul searched for an apartment nearby after moving out of his house. Even Sol B, who was usually cold, bought her meals and stayed to eat when the girls spent late nights in silence and drinking.

Finally, the judge ruled that Yeongchang was to be charged in jail. For the sexual, mental and physical abuse of these women, including Yeseul. It has been months since then and time can only tell how much she has healed. The rest can only give their silent support and be there for her.

“I didn’t mean to make the mood bad. Come, let’s eat. Also, what is the case about, unnie?” Yeseul quickly breaks into a smile, an attempt to let everyone know she’s okay. Sol gives a brief description of her case to everyone while she slurps her noodles and pickles.

“This is going to be difficult. If you guys are right, you might be dealing with something bigger than just Lee Manho.” Sol B states and Sol gives a nodded reply.

“Please don’t tell Superior Kim or Superior Yang about this. I really need to break this case and Seungjae-oppa is my only way to.” Sol informs her group. They give half hearted murmurs, not wanting to be meddled into Sol’s affairs. Well, all but one.

“Yah, why didn’t you come find me? I have my own contacts in the police as well.” Joon Hwi asks, a slight frown on his face. From anyone else looking, it would have been easy to miss. But for Sol, she knew that he was upset, interpreting his complaints as “Why didn’t you come and tell me about this first?”

“Because, Mr. Second Round Judicial Exam Pass, you have been too busy! Do I really need to remind you to eat every damm moment? You drive me crazy some days!” Sol argues. They launch into a light hearted argument, as the rest of the lunch group watches with equal fervour as they eat their meals.

“Guys, stop arguing, my ears hurt.” Jiho said, his tone in slight annoyance as he dove straight into the kkampungi and tangsuyuk. Sol finally gave up fighting, earning a teasing smirk from Joon Hwi. They continued their noisy meal, chatting and catching up with Seungjae. Seungjae gives them some updates of his pregnant wife and some interesting cases.

After their meal, they separated their trash neatly. The sun now hides away in the clouds, leaving little warmth against the chilly breeze of autumn. Sol brushes her coat and rubs her hands and arms. If only she could afford a better one than this old coat she’s been using since her first year in university.

Joon Hwi notices her trying to warm up against the cold and takes his coat from the chair, layering it on her. He honestly didn’t feel cold, but he knows he has always been the stronger one to resist against the cold. For Sol, it must be freezing.

“Take mine.” He simply says, taking the packs of plastic from Sol. If Sol had a hint of blush, he pretended to not notice.

“Oh, thanks.” She said as she took wipes from her bag and wiped down the mess on the benches and tables. “But I don’t need it. We’re heading back to the office anyway.” She shrugs his coat off and drapes it over her arm, returning it to him. He pushes it to her, and leans in closer to her.

“Help me carry it, so I don’t have to, sunbae.” He teases with a smirk, sending Sol in a fit of frustrated squeaks, chasing him as best as she can in her heels. Sol knows Joon Hwi gets a thing out of his teasing, and sends him annoyed glares as she continues to clear the tables. Jiho manages to sigh and Sol B rolls her eyes as she dumps the trash in the bins.

The group grabs their bags as they head back into the office, where Sol checks Seungjae in as a visitor at the reception. The receptionist hands him a blue lanyard with a visitor pass as Sol leads him to the elevators. Jiho and Bokgi are off to meet clients, and Sol B is headed to court for a hearing. Yeseul stops at another floor to her office with Yebeom, who needs to pick up some reports from a colleague.

Joon Hwi follows Sol to her office with Seungjae, despite his office being upstairs. Sol grabs her personal laptop from her bag, which is separate from her desktop computer and passes it to Seungjae, who takes a seat opposite her and starts programming the computer to begin hacking.

“What, did you just let him use your personal laptop?” Joon Hwi asks in concern as he takes a seat on a spare chair.

“Let him do it. Don’t you have your reports to do?” Sol asks as she turns to her own reports before typing in her findings for the new Lee Manho case. Joon Hwi doesn’t reply, and Sol sends an annoyed glance. He’s not going to leave unless he knows all the information of this case.

“Okay, I got it.” Seungjae says after a series of clicks and turns the screen to show Sol what he has found. Sol leans into a chart of bank transfers.

"From what I can tell, it seems like the money enters his bank account and is transferred to an offshore account. I can't trace where the money goes from there anymore." Seungjae explains as he uses the cursor to show them. "I can't tell who owns the account either. If I could take a guess, it's probably the mastermind of this."

"Wait, look. Lee Manho is getting paid a constant amount every single time before a large sum comes in and leaves." Joon Hwi points. Sol grabs her printed papers as she matches the amounts that her clients have given here. They match exactly to the large sums, but have no relation to the constant amount that he gets every scam.

"He's getting paid to scam? Tch, God, I hate this crook." Sol says through gritted teeth. Joon Hwi sighs and observes the anger rising in Sol. He places a hand on top of her clenched fist for comfort and her fist stops clenching as she sighs in response.

"Sol A, I can't track his location with your laptop. It's not exactly ideal, since it can be tracked back." Seungjae says, eyes darting while continuously typing. Joon Hwi could sense the disappointment in Sol's face, but it can't be helped. It was too dangerous from her location and IP address.

"Oppa, thank you for helping. I owe you one." Sol says as Seungjae scrubs her laptop clean from hacking traces. Seungjae returns her laptop and stands up. "You should go back, oppa. You've been gone too long."

"I'll keep you updated." He says as Sol guides him out of the office. Once she shuts the door, she pulls the hairpin from her hair and crunches her hair in frustration. She has the information on where the money is going, but it's no use when she can't find out where he is. Joon Hwi takes a seat opposite her.

"Don't stress." He says softly, and Sol bites her lip in frustration.

"Don't stress? How can I not? The police aren't giving me any information on him, delaying his location tracking! I can't even find him! How am I supposed to get evidence to charge him, if he can't even appear to show up to court?" Sol angrily spills, her hands flailing. Joon Hwi sighs but grabs a hold of her wrist.

"Don't get swayed by your emotions." Joon Hwi firmly says, sparingly into Sol's anger-filled eyes. She pulls her wrist back, taking a deep breath before gathering her hair up again.

"Fine." She grumbles. "Get out of my office, Prosecutor Han. Don't you have work?" This earns a soft smile from Joon Hwi. As he heads to the door, he turns back before he leaves.

"Don't... Don't do anything stupid or impulsive, you hear me?"

Sol clicks her tongue and gives a half-hearted nod. She turns back to her report and updates her findings and tries to diffuse the thought of asking Seungjae to hack with her laptop to find Man Ho's location.

For Kang Sol A, such thoughts don't leave easily.

-----

"You sure?" Seungjae asks, seated in Sol's car. Sol takes a deep breath in and nods.

It was a few days after Seungjae visited the office. Sol called the police as much as she could, but they always left her on the line or just said "we're working on it." Thus, Sol told Seungjae to meet her at a park, before driving to a random alley and passing him her laptop.

"Yeah, I'll take my chances." She replied. Seungjae sighs and begins typing away.

"You know you're putting yourself at risk?" He asks, eyes never leaving the screen.

"I'll put myself at risk for the justice of my clients." She says firmly. A few minutes pass as Sol stares out of the car and watches the bright moon and the clouds floating by in misty swirls.

"Got it." Sol turns her attention to Seungjae. On the screen is a map and a blinking red dot of Manho’s location. Sol reads the map and puts her car back in drive before turning out of the alley.

"Woah, do you know where you are going?" Seungjae asks, grabbing onto the overhead handle for support and his hand securing the laptop.

"Seungjae-oppa, don't tell anyone about this, okay? Especially not Joon Hwi." Sol ignores his question as she speeds up the car, turning into a drop-off point of a train station.

"Sol A, you're-"

"Sorry, oppa. But I need to find him. I can't sit and wait for the police anymore. I promise you, I'll be safe." Sol says. Seungjae couldn't say no. He knows how stubborn Sol is, how when she decides on something, she will commit to it wholeheartedly.

"If he's armed, you could get yourself in danger." Seungjae exasperatedly sighs. It was too big a risk to see the junior he treats as a little sister put herself at risk.

"I'll be fine. Look, you're on my speed dial. You know that I can handle myself. There's a reason why I took years of self-defence classes." Sol tells him. Seungjae nods his head unwillingly.

"You better call me after you're done." He says as he opens the door and gets out of the car. "Please, please stay safe." Sol nods and gives a small smile.

"Thank you, oppa." Sol drives away immediately, leaving Seungjae to pinch his nose bridge in frustration and concern. Silently, as he boards the train, he prays for Sol's safety.

-----

Sol knows the area well. As she parks her car at a carpark, she checks to make sure Manho is still at the bar. The blinking dot stays stagnant at the bar, not moving ever since she dropped Seungjae off. Getting out, she tightens her coat around her and thanks herself for the long trousers she's wearing. At least she isn't wearing a skirt, if she needs to beat someone up.

Entering the bar, she naturally takes a slow walk around. But hidden by the corner of the bar tables sit a lone man, with a cap, dressed in black button up and holding a glass of golden whiskey. She knew that was her target.

Taking a seat next to him, she orders a glass of soda water from the bartender. Man Ho chuckles next to her as he sets his glass down. Turning his head, he faces Sol with sly eyes, lips curled at the corner.

"Prosecutor Kang, you're quick." She hears him say and a chill goes down her spine. She lets her eyes meet the cold stare of Manho.

"Oh, you think I don't know you? You're the one after me more than the police are for the past weeks." Man Ho sinisterly says, a sick grin on his face. Sol grits her teeth and takes a deep breath to soothe her anger.

"Why are you doing this? You think it's fun?Watching my clients suffer?" Sol says through her gritted teeth. He only scoffs.

"My, my. Don't want you getting agitated now, don't we? We just started." He says, sipping from his glass again.

"Answer my question." She says with force. Man Ho sips on his glass, swirling the golden brown liquid against the large square cubes of ice as he exhales.

As the words fall from his mouth, Sol grows as cold as the glass in her hand. Her hands slightly shake as she hitches her breath. When her shaky eyes turn to Manho’s, his eyes are sly with a mocking grin. No, he can’t know.

"You’re just as feisty as your sister, aren’t you?”

[soulmate-game]

Bio Dad Bruce Wayne Month 2020

Day 5: Overprotection

Disclaimer: Dick was adopted when he was 12 in this fic. Just for math’s sake.

—*—*—*—*—*

“What.”

Damian stared at his father, face carefully blank. Bruce grimaced, shifting.

“I said, you have a half sister. Biological.”

Four sets of eyes bored into him, from all of his sons. They were gathered not in the Batcave for once, but just one of the sitting rooms in the Manor.

“... and what, Father, does that have to do with the French class visiting Gotham?” Damian asked again, posture steadily growing stiffer and more and more stone like. He was trying hard to suppress emotions, but not even he was quite sure what those emotions were yet. Anger? Fear? Resentment? Probably. He might have detected some excitement there too, deep, deep down. Bruce took a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for this.

“Well. I’ve kept up with her life, but last time I checked she had no idea that she was adopted. When her birth mother died, it was right around the time I adopted Dick. She was still an infant, and I knew I was not equipped to handle taking care of a baby—“

“Father,” Damian interrupted again. “You sent her off. Have her up for adoption,” he said slowly, as if realizing that that would have been his fate had his father known about his existence earlier, as well. It was almost ironic, considering how Bruce seemed to have a problem with adopting other children nowadays. Bruce nodded.

“She was adopted by a couple in France. Paris, to be exact. I’ve kept up to date, asking them to just send me a letter or email once or twice a year about the general stuff she’s been up to. Nothing too invasive. A few pictures. And last time I asked them, they said that she had no idea about being adopted or that I was her father,” Bruce sighed again, running a hand over his face. “But I think she does.”

“Why?” Jason asked, confused as everyone else to the change in subject. Except Tim and Damian, who seemed to be quickly connecting the dots.

“Oh boy,” Tim breathed. Bruce just nodded.

“Her name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She is the one who organized the trip for her class to come here, to Gotham. She is the one who entered and won our international internship competition, and turned that into an excuse to get her entire class to come here for two weeks. To get to know the place she will be living for her internship next year, after she graduates Lycee, France’s version of highschool essentially.”

Tim winced. He had been in charge of the internship competition, and Bruce had given him free reign. He had chosen the winner without even thinking to run it by his adoptive father.

“Bruce—“ Tim tried, but the man just held up a hand.

“I don’t blame you. I haven’t been paying too much attention to her life, and I didn’t expect her to do something like this. But we know now that, if she does know and this isn’t a giant coincidence,”

“Unlikely,” Dick agreed, wincing. “Possible, but unlikely.”

Bruce huffed in agreement. “Then, we know she is very resourceful, determined, and has skills that impressed Tim enough to choose her out of tens of thousands of contest participants worldwide.”

“The minimum requirement for a Wayne,” Damian finally managed to bite out, still coping with this proverbial slap in the face but doing his best to handle it. He was seventeen damn it, and had come a long way from who he used to be. He could handle this. He could. He would.

Bruce rolled his eyes, and then leaned forward with his hands braced on the table. “Okay. So now we need to make plans.”

“Plans?” Jason asked, frowning. “For how you’re gonna tell her without getting your faces plastered over every tabloid in the city right?”

“No,” the older man shook his head. “Plans to keep her alive, unharmed, and unaffiliated with us until she leaves. I will not be making any public appearances unless absolutely necessary, so trips to the Tower are out of the question—“

“Are you…” Jason’s eyes were wide. “Trying to keep her out of our Shitshow? Because yeah, kudos to you even if it took you way too long to learn, but if she went through all this trouble to come here then it's probably too late.”

Dick nodded. “If she’s anything like you and Damian, there’s no way she’ll back off easy. Avoiding her will only make it worse on you, and probably the rest of us too.”

Damian stared straight into his father's eyes, glare sharp and searching. “What is this about, Father? You have not worried this much about any of us—“

“Because none of you were as naive!” He barked, quickly catching himself and taking a breath. “You all had a way you could benefit from this life. A way I could help you. But Marinette has both of the parents she has known her whole life, they treat her wonderfully. They care. She’s never had to worry about constantly moving, or fighting, or going hungry. The only deaths she has ever experienced have been from afar and due to natural causes. She designs as a hobby and has no problem with socializing or handling emotions in a healthy way— introducing her to our life holds no benefit for her. The only thing it can give her is unnecessary danger and risk and secrets.”

“Yeah, well. I guess Batman doesn’t know everything, does he?” A new voice startled them all from the doorway, making everyone's head whip over to see who had managed the near-impossible and snuck up on all of them.

Standing there, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed, was a short part-Asian woman in her late teens. Her midnight black hair was cascading down her back in one thick braid, tied off at the end with an indigo ribbon. Her eyes were a piercing cobalt blue, matching those of Bruce perfectly. Her jaw was clenched, and the infamous Bat-glare coming from her was directed right at the person who made the expression infamous in the first place.

“Marinette,” Bruce breathed, shoulders squaring. “Your plane isn’t supposed to arrive until tomorrow.”

“It won’t,” she agreed. “I took a portal here. You see, my extensive research into Batman’s known habits and tactics, which I started after I figured out about your alter ego last year, informed me that you tend to go to the extremes to protect people you deem incapable of protecting themselves, and are also prone to idiotic self-sacrificing behavior in the form of purposely making yourself look like an ass.”

Jason chuckled. “She’s got you down to a T, B,” he quipped with a grin despite the caution still in his eyes. “But let’s back up a bit, little Spitfire. What’s this about a portal?”

Marinette pushed off the doorframe, walking closer to the scattered group. Tim and Jason were spread across one sofa, Damian on the other with Dick, and Bruce was occupying an armchair. Marinette just walked until she stood where she could easily be seen by everyone, but also had nobody at her back.

“The portal is part of a bigger story. Like, the fact that father dearest wanted to protect me so badly that he placed the JLE in Paris, but didn’t realize that relations with that branch were so bad that the JLE never informed him or the JLA about getting kicked out of France and reassigning themselves to Italy. Bruce never kept a close enough eye on the city, because he wanted to keep emotional distance, and therefore was completely blind to when a supervillain showed up and terrorized Paris for almost five years,” she continued, her glare never leaving Bruce’s face.

“I found out about being adopted when I was eight. I found out who my biological father was when I was thirteen. Last year, I finally put in the work to connect Bruce Wayne to Batman. And yeah, I never told Maman and Papan, because they have never completely understood me. They wouldn’t have understood that I was fine with having no contact with you, back then. That my snooping had nothing to do with being unhappy with them as my parents. They would have immediately assumed they were inadequate when I am merely curious by nature. But then I ended up being chosen to be one of the child heroes that fought said domestic terrorist that showed up five years ago. And I sure as hell couldn't tell them that a magical artifact showed up on my desk one day and that the god inhabiting it told me to fight the monsters the villain made and just, just go with it. I couldn’t tell them when I went from being one of two Parisian heroes to being the leader of a team. I couldn’t tell them when my elderly mentor, unable to fight by our side but who had at least provided emotional support and knowledge, passed away and gave me his title and responsibilities. I’m sick and tired of being protected, Monsieur Wayne,” Marinette didn’t seem to notice the tears that had begun to fall.

“I’m sick of it. I know you were trying to keep me safe, but I fought a war I wasn’t prepared for. I died, thousands of times. But my own powers and the powers I have my partners brought me back to life. Over and over. I don’t need protection, damn it. I don’t need you to distance yourself, because you're the only fucking person I can call a parent who might understand,” she held out a hand, her scowl turning into a gentle smile. “I have so much I need to talk about. Before I drown under all these secrets. Please. I’ll go back through another portal before my parents notice I’m gone, but I’ll be back in town tomorrow when my plane lands. Just. Please, don’t push me away. That’s all I ask. I want to get to know you, all of you. I… I need family who understands.”

“Thousands.” Bruce repeated, all of them still recovering from Marinette’s very sudden, info-dumping speech. “You died… thousands of times?”

Marinette laughed, but it was a sad sound. No mirth there. “I gave my friend a magical artifact that reverses time, and the artifact that gives me my own powers can reverse any damage from a fight I use it in. Even death. Sending untrained teenagers to fight a villain three times their age makes some kind of failsafe like that kind of necessary.”

“Fuck,” Jason cursed under his breath. “Well. You’re welcome to join the living Zombie club,” he offered. The girl snorted, giving him a watery grin in thanks.

“I’m sure you know about my stance on powers and metas,” Bruce decided to say, wincing immediately after. That wasn’t what he meant to say. At all. He earned another brief glare for it.

“I’m not a meta, and I only have powers when I use the artifact to transform, thereby borrowing powers from the miniature god that the artifact houses. Think of it like doctor fate, but my gods are actually not parasites and my powers are much more… specialized. I had to learn combat on my own, and I was able to train in my sleep with the past users of this artifact. That includes people like Fa Mulan, Joan of Arc, and someone you actually know— Hippolyta. I’ve mastered more fighting styles by now than I care to remember, and I’ve done gymnastics since I was three. I don’t know if my parents told you that in their letters. I even won the gold in the nationwide France gymnastics competition two years ago. I assure you, I don’t rely on my powers nearly as much as you might think.”

Bruce swallowed. “I can… greet you when your class arrives.”

Marinette grinned. “Well, that’s a start.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Idk what happened, I don’t know if I like this at all but oh well. I’m posting it anyway. Maybe one of you will like it. I… couldn’t really find any other way to do this so oh well. Also, I think Mulan was a past Dragon..? But I put her as a Ladybug because I Can.

@momothefemur @ladybug-182 @starlightshield @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @sam-i-am-0222 @bluesimani @ruelukas22 @acoolspacegirl @iamablinkmarvelarmy @meme991001

[wannabe-fic-writer]

All Over Again - Chapter 2

Summary: What was lost can be found. 

Warning: 18+ Smut, Language, Violence. This chapter gets a little science nerdy!

Ch. 1

* * * * * *

“How did you do it?” 

Looking up from the red glowing gun, your eyebrows pinch together as you look at the man stepping into your lab. His eyes, like always, flick around to take in your equipment. All your weapons lining the walls. 

You lay the sword down,“ what did I do exactly?”

Tony leans on the counter across from you,“ Luthor Corp just bought six shares of Stark Industries and sent multiple emails detailing possible partnered projects.” His eyebrows rise,“ I’ve been trying to go into business with Luthor Corp for years now.” 

“Congrats?” You narrow your eyes at him,“ still not seeing where I come in at.” 

Your hands glow red as you run them along the side of the rifle, effectively removing it’s glow and energy charge. 

“Side note, if you could come do your glowy magic thing on my new reactor, that’d be great.” You save your comments on that for later.“ Anyway, Pepper told me that you made quite the impression on Miss Luthor. I have a hunch her new found interest in my company is because of you.” 

“Probably not. We never talked about Stark Industries. We talked about a lot but never the company.” 

Frowning, he tilts his head to the side,“ it was an investment dinner, the purpose was to-” he sighs,“ nevermind that. You’re going to National City tomorrow correct?”

“I really don’t want to play company rep Tony. We’re just working on a project of hers.” 

Which you found out the day after the investment dinner. 

You’d contacted Lena about going out there. She confirmed your guess that she wanted to get your take and help on the power core. For the past two days you’ve been getting a few things done, mainly stuff that needs your immediate attention, so you wouldn’t be leaving anything undone. 

After some pleading from Tony you tell him you’ll consider giving Stark Industries a little good press with Lena but you make no promises. Then finishing up your work and leaving the lab. 

Sighing, you roll your shoulders, feeling how tired you are. Doing almost a week's worth of work in two days isn’t the most healthy thing. 

“Hey, you okay?” 

E/c finds deep green and you nod,“ fine.” The smile you try to give turns out to be a grimace. 

Natasha watches you,“ you sure, you look pretty tired. I know you’ve been-”

“Romanoff, I’m fine.” 

The redhead sighs. She quickly pulls a blank expression and moves to stand directly in front of you,“ how long are you going to act like this with me?” 

“Like what?”

“Indifferent Y/n. Every time we talk you give me some off handed generic response like we haven’t known each other for nine years. Three of which we dated.” 

You narrow your eyes at her,“ all three you spent keeping secrets. And then left me for said secrets immediately after. I’m not indifferent towards you Natasha I’m fucking hurt.” You don’t mean to snap but you can’t help it. 

Since your break up Natasha has moved on and has tried to interact with you like everything was fine. Like she hadn’t broken your heart. Better yet, as if she was scared you’d hurt her. 

Getting to the end of the hallway, you turn to her,“ you know what’s funny? Had you just told me, beforehand, that there was something between you and Doctor Banner, I would’ve understood. Because the worst part was being blindsided.” 

“Y/n I’m sorry.” If you were close enough you could see the regret in her eyes, might’ve been able to hear her heartbreak. 

You nod,“ I know. You told me.”

Avoiding the ex-assassin has become a bit of an everyday thing now. So much so that you almost don’t have to put any effort into doing it before you have to leave. You spend a little time training with Sam and Bucky, walking them both through their new supercharged weapons. You coordinate with Steve on the mission you’re being assigned after you get back. 

You also take a moment to research Miss Luthor and Luthor Corp. Alongside finding the controversial opinions on the company and the woman running it. You ended up, not surprised, but impressed with her work.

And of course you spend some time with Wanda. Said woman not leaving your side at all, even as you go to bed. She occupies the empty side of your bed through the night and truthfully you’re grateful for the company. 

When you wake up, you make quick work of showering, getting dressed, and starting to pack. Wanda doesn’t move a muscle, much more content with reveling in the warmth you’d left behind, while trying to get you to not go. 

“I won’t even be gone long, back by tomorrow for sure.” You push a set of shirts in your bag. 

Wanda groans loudly and cuddles further into your fluffy blanket,“ but I just got back and you promised to take me to see Harrison.”

You chuckle lowly,“ it’s Hamilton, Wan. And I’m still gonna take you, just a little later. Think of it as an anticipation builder.”

“Don’t you think I have enough anticipation.”

Shaking your head, you zip up your overnight bag, and sit down beside the young woman,“ come on Wan, it’s not like I’m leaving you alone.” 

“Basically you are. Steve and Bucky never leave each other’s sides and Sam follows them around always, and Natasha has Bruce!” She exclaims, only to jolt up when she realizes what she’s said.“ I’m sorry.”

You do your best to laugh it off,“ it’s fine really. Natasha does have Bruce.” You quickly change the subject before that familiar ache returns,“ why don’t you take Clint up on his offer to stay with them for a while?”

Wanda looks down, playing with her fingers,“ I’m not ready to do that just yet.” Those eyes then lock with yours,“ besides I can’t leave you.”

“Hey,” you pull her into your side,“ you know I’m always here for you right?” She nods. Deciding not to leave on a somber note, you joke,“ except for tomorrow, so endure Miss Maximoff, and text me.” Standing up, you press a very chaste kiss to her forehead, and then leave out with a wink. 

“Headed out Y/Ln?” 

You nod to Steve, holding up your bag in emphasis,“ yeah, I’ll only be gone a day you know.” He nods.“ Oh and Rogers, do me a favor and keep an eye on Wanda yeah?”

While she’s doing significantly better after everything, you know she still has her moments. When they hit they hit hard and feeling/being alone doesn’t help. It’s one of the many reasons Clint invited her to go stay with his family for a while. But Wanda has reservations about that for reasons she hadn’t yet told you.

After getting Steve’s agreement to do so, you leave. 

To you, the worst part of traveling is all the little stupid stuff in between. You loved driving, hated traffic. Flying was calming and you loved looking at the clouds sail by, you hated TSA, baggage claim, and boarding. 

Luckily National City is merely five hours away and the second you land you feel the difference in NYC and NC. While both are skyscraper filled, fast paced, cities. There’s something about National City that seems freer. People are nicer, the sun shines brighter, the air smells cleaner. 

Perhaps it’s just being on the West Coast.

Being the woman she is, Lena has a car service for you, the driver waiting with your name on a white board. You confirm your identity and follow the woman out to the car. On the drive to Luthor Corp, you take in the sights of National City.

Lots of skyscrapers but still a surprising amount of greenery. Eventually you approach your destination, the tall glass building branding the large Luthor Corp logo. 

“Thank you.” You nod to the driver, slipping a tip her way, and getting out of the car. 

Stepping inside the building, your eyes take in the sunlit interior as you approach the front desk. The young receptionist asks what he can help you with and you respond that you’re here for Lena Luthor and he asks for your name. 

In the end you’re told to wait as she’s in a meeting, so you pass the time by texting Wanda, replying to the dozen texts Tony had sent. You tell him you’ll do it if he can get you decent Hamilton tickets and he agrees instantly. 

“Y/n,” her voice, while still new to your ears, is easily recognizable,“ I’m so sorry for making you wait.” 

You’re waving her off in an instant,“ it’s fine, I’m no greater than anyone else, I can wait.”

She chuckles, nodding in understanding, and silently pleased with your humility. A number of people would’ve demanded they go in immediately. 

From there she directs you toward the elevator. As you walk the people walking around look to Lena in seeming amazement. 

“It seems your employees are also fans, rightfully so.” You tease honestly. 

“They’re a part of a small group believe me. I have more opposition than you could imagine.” 

Raising an eyebrow, you shrug,“ a powerful woman is intimidating, especially one as brilliant and compassionate as you Miss Luthor.” 

A light blush fans her cheeks and her eyes watch you on the elevator,“ if I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to flatter me.”

“I’m being honest with you Lena, it just so happens that your truth is pleasing to hear.” The elevator dings, letting you both off to a floor of labs, some walled off by glass and others concrete. You look around, some machines and equipment familiar to you and others you don’t recognize. 

Lena guides you down the halls to a room at the very end. It’s dark inside at first and then a purple light rises. Repeatedly it shines and then dims and you walk closer in amazement. 

Octagonal, metal, plates surround the rock like material in the center, each plate connected by thick wires. The purple light emits from the rock. Lena flicks the lights on and it powers up the monitors and the core. 

Still watching in fascination, you walk around the core, remaining a few decent feet away. A very low hum sounds from it and you can practically feel the power of it. 

“Wow.” Lena smiles at your amazement.“ I imagine you had to build a stabilizer before you could move it.” You look up at her.

“I did. It was in a ship when I found it so I reutilized the ship's engine.” 

Eyes wide, you smile softly,“ instead of the engine pulling energy from the core-”

She nods,“ it pushed the energy back into it.” 

“How did you stop it from overloading?” 

“Reworked the wiring to continuously transport the energy so there was never an overwhelming amount in the core at one point in time.” 

You look back at the core, noticing that is also how she’s currently keeping it from overloading.“ Remember when I said you’re brilliant?” She nods.“ That was an understatement.”

With another laugh and a bashful blush, she brings you over to her monitoring equipment. 

The next few hours pass with the two of you working on it. Lena loved the idea of turning the one power core into multiple ones which would require harvesting pieces of it. But it’s not like they make Alien Rock saws or anything on earth. 

You’d have to invent a tool strong enough to cut through it without it disrupting or agitating the energy. 

It’s well past the late hours of the night when hunger sets in for both of you. Lena insists you join her for dinner. After locking up her office, the two of you go to a restaurant that she sings praises for. 

The maitre’d is quick to seat you both, your waiter bringing water, and asking if you’d like anything else to drink. Lena orders wine and you get an old fashioned like usual. 

“So outside of being well versed in science,” Lena starts,“ what other talents do you have?” 

“I can make a great cup of coffee.” You joke, the woman laughing.“ No um, I’m a weapons specialist. It goes hand in hand with science and my powers. Mental materialization allows me to create just about any weapon with my mind, of course it doesn’t last forever. For the most part I enhance the weapons the team already has though I’ve invented a weapon or two.”

Brown eyebrows raise,“ invented?” Intrigue enters her eyes and you’ve already become accustomed to it.

You nod,“ at the time my team and I were facing a threat we never had before. It required a special type of weapon and of course it didn’t exist.”

“Alien?”

Before you can reply, the waiter returns. They set down your drinks and take your orders, both of you smiling politely before they walk away. 

Looking back at Lena, you sip your drink, and respond,“ yes. It took a lot of trial and error, messing around with their own weapons to finally get it. I ended up using the alien technology to build the weapons.”

“And you say I’m the brilliant one.” A smirk plays at her lips over the rim of her wine glass.

It’s then that you replay your own words in your head being hit with a startling realization!

“Lena!” You exclaim. Green eyes widen slightly, eyebrows raising simultaneously.“ A laser saw. We’ve been trying to come up with a material strong enough to cut through it instead of using its own energy to do so.”

She understands quickly, a disbelieving chuckle leaves her lips,“ oh my god, you’re right. Of course we’d have to neutralize the core before cutting it. That amount of energy against itself could cause a cascade of energy failures or something much worse.”

“You figured out how to stabilize it with it’s own engine and now you’ve got me,” she smiles amusedly,“ I’m sure two scientists of our caliber could work something out.”

Lena agrees. Then insisting you two talk about anything other than the work. 

As much as she loves her work, she’s been intrigued by you since your first meeting. With this being a much more casual setting than the investment dinner and her lab, she wants to get to know you. 

She’s learned how intelligent you are, even if that’s just the tip of your iceberg, but she’s dying to know more. And she does.

Over dinner you both get to know each other better. Lena’s disdain for her last name but need to clear it is something she, almost subconsciously, divulges. You’re not exactly surprised to hear that she went to MIT, in fact you would’ve been shocked if she went anywhere else. 

While she avoids going in depth about her family, she does make mention of being close to her brother when they were younger and loving her father endlessly. Her sincere compassion is a trait she seemed to have always had despite the briefly mentioned opposition she faced over being so.  

Her taking over the company after her brother was for a number of reasons the main one being that she wanted to prove herself. Luthor doesn’t mean evil, not always anyway. You’re led to believe that while many don’t agree, there’s proof through Lena’s work that she isn’t a bad person. 

In turn you tell her about your time as an Avenger. All of it started back when your father worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. Being the dedicated man that he was, he often brought his work home, and being the daddy’s girl that you were, you lingered around and watched as he worked.

You’d picked up on a lot of things from him involving the weapons. By the time you were 16 you knew most guns inside and out from standard pistols to compact grenade launchers. 

After high school you went to Stanford and majored in Mechanical Engineering, getting the opportunity to intern at the one and only Stark industries. Upon graduation you had taken an actual job at the company. Some time later you were approached by Fury to assist Stark in building the Particle Accelerator to save himself and take down Ivan.

Tony took a liking to you during your time working together and afterwards was more than happy to work closer with you, especially since you still worked for Stark Industries. Those connections lead you to being picked up by Fury every once and a while with S.H.I.E.L.D business. Until S.H.I.E.L.D fell, your last mission with them being Sokovia.

Eventually, despite the very late hour, Lena’s phone starts to buzz almost incessantly. With a small,“ excuse me,” she picks it up, reading the messages she received. 

“Are you up to a few more drinks?” She asks with a soft smile and you find yourself unable to say no under the gaze of her green eyes. 

She settles the check, relenting and letting you leave the tip, before you’re both in her car and driving to a different location. This place is a lot less upscale than the last. Funnily enough you find it a lot more comfortable than the restaurant. 

You follow beside Lena, who approaches a table surrounded by a decent sized group of people. They all smile brightly at the CEO, a blonde hugging her excitedly. Then all eyes fall to you. Before Lena can even introduce you, a voice speaks. 

“Oooohhhh my god!” A man about your height nearly vibrates with excitement in his seat. Brown eyes widen and he bites his lip.“ You’re Artemis, the Avenger!”

It’s impossible to not chuckle at his enthusiasm.“ I am, but without the getup you can call me Y/n,” you reach a hand out to shake his.

“Y/n, yeah of course.” He shrugs with an understanding nod. 

Going around the group of people, you shake hands and learn names. After Winn, sits Kara Danvers(Lena’s best friend as she introduces), Kara’s sister Alex(definitely an agent of some sort), J’onn(also an agent), and James Olsen. 

While they all seem fairly nice, you can see Alex’s and J’onn’s studying expressions. They watch you cautiously and you don’t blame them. Winn and Kara are the more open ones, excited to meet you and engaging in a seeming nonstop conversation. And James, well you aren’t sure about him yet but he seems okay. 

Alex takes a swig from her beer, elbows leaning on the table top,“ what brings you to National City?” 

“Lena actually.” All eyes widen, eyebrows rising as well.“ In a strictly platonic and professional way.”

The CEO beside you chuckles softly, hand resting on your bicep,“ Y/n’s assisting me with a project of mine upon my request.” 

“What kind of project?” The auburn haired woman asks.

Something in her tone tells you that she’s skeptical, almost untrusting of the woman at your side. Whatever history is there is a little rocky, you can’t place why but it is. And even though you don’t know anyone here all that well, you’d hate for everyone’s seeming enjoyable night to take a sour turn.

“For now it’s merely a test for a new energy source. If it’s not clean energy or it’s unstable it won’t go further than this.” 

The woman seems satisfied with your answer, at least a little, and nods. Lena sending you a smile in thanks. 

“So, what kind of drink recommendations can a tourist like me get?” 

With your simple, easygoing question, conversations start back up. Each person gives you a drink recommendation and you take it, trying each one. Some you don’t like but most of them are great, and strong.

By the end of the night there isn’t a single person who isn’t laughing. The effects of the alcohol you’ve consumed hit you and while you aren’t wasted, it definitely makes things lighter for you. 

“Alright, I think it’s time I get this one back to her hotel so she can get home tomorrow.” Lena lightly pats your shoulder.

“Awe booo!” Kara and Winn say at the same time, the latter much more intoxicated than the former.

You pout, looking at Lena,“ don’t you want to hear about the anti-gravity gun Winn is working on?” 

“It’s handheld.” He adds in a whisper.

The brunette chuckles,“ I’m sure Winn would be more than happy to tell you about it some other time.” 

Sighing you nod,“ fine. She’s right, I have a flight later.” You rise up, the support of the table a great assistance,“ it was a great pleasure to meet all of you, had a lot of fun.” 

Kara’s big blue eyes find yours,“ you’re going to visit again right?”

“Not sure when but I will definitely be coming back.” 

With a goodbye to everyone, you and Winn slapping hands and nearly missing, and you and Kara high fiving perfectly, you leave. 

For the third time tonight you’re in Lena’s car. She leans back into her seat after telling her driver where to take you. It’s a fairly quiet ride back to the hotel, you drinking from the water Lena gets from the center console, and her occasionally looking over at you. 

She took great delight in watching you interact with her friends, especially with the amount of alcohol you’d consumed. Drunk wasn’t the proper state to describe you as but the intake definitely had you a lot more talkative and energetic than Lena has seen, though that’s only been twice. 

Telling her driver to keep the car running, she accompanies you up to your room. She’d hate if anything happened to you before a friendship could even begin. 

You swipe the card over the door sensor and push it open, turning to lean against the frame and address Lena.“ Thanks for today.”

“The whole day?” She chuckles.

“Yes ma’am. I loved every bit of it. Your friends are awesome and I’m really excited to see how the power core works out.” 

A little smile pulls at her lips,“ well I may have started this by myself but you’re definitely a part of it now. So let me know the next time you’re able to come back.”

“Really?” Your eyebrows pinch together. Compared to how much was done when you’d arrived everything you did felt like adding two measly cents. 

Honestly speaking, you’d genuinely loved every second of working on the power core with her. As much as you love saving the world as an Avenger, there was a newfound excitement and intrigue in you while you worked on this. It could save lives in a way you can’t as an Avenger. 

“Only if you want to.” The CEO says, slight hesitation hidden behind her teasing smirk. 

“I’d love to.”

* * * * * *

Taglist: @username23345 @depressed-bi-bitch @fayhar @trikruismybitch @aznblossom

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Two

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2921

Warnings: bad language words, blink and you’ll miss the angst, just some fluff

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

You awoke with a start, feeling as if you were late for work or something important and forgot to set your alarm. Your heart beat an erratic tattoo against your ribcage. Scrambling for your cell phone, you blindly reached across the side table near your bed in a panic. Unplugging the phone, you brought the device an ungodly closeness to your face. It was only 6:17. On Saturday.

Your pulse throbbed behind your eyeballs, and a strange stickiness coated the inside of your mouth. Did you drink that much last night?

How could you not? Timmons was a fair boss, and you enjoyed your job, but that dude loved the sound of his own voice.

The quarterly business dinners were mandatory for all employees, even for the P.A.s. Typically, they weren’t so bad, but last night, Timmons felt the need to toot his own horn for landing a massive contract with Stark Industries slash The Avengers. He went on and on about how great it was for the firm.

He was like a giant kid in a candy store with his ramblings. ‘We will be promoting the face of The Avengers and everything that goes with it,’ he spouted off like the firm was god’s gift to public relations.

You groaned at the reminder of last night’s presentation. The contract wasn’t even in effect yet, and you were sick of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Timmons could be a real buzz kill.

Rolling to your back, you brought your phone up to tap the screen to read the emails you received overnight. On display was a text from 11:04 by someone named James. It read: “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Your mind went back to last night again, trying to recall who this James was. He must be significant if you plugged his contact information into your phone already. Had you met someone last night?

Drawing a blank, you clicked on the text bubble to pull up the thread. Briefly scanning through the numerous texts, everything came rushing back. In an attempt to text your sister, Robyn, you mistakenly texted this mysterious, James.

You felt like an utter buffoon when you learned he wasn’t Robyn. You always did have a way with the cute boys. Probably why you were single. You groaned out loud as you read on.

You im safely inside my apartment. Pretty sure no one followed me home

James Did you triple check the lock on the front door?

You yes dad yeesh

James There are a lot of bad people out there. Just want to make sure you’re safe.

You sounds like you watch the news too much but its sweet of u to care

James I know from experience.

You r u the bad guy or have u been the one mugged?

James Let’s just say I have friends that have dealt with the bad things of the world.

You right i almost forgot ur a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie

James Did you ever send your sister a text?

You shit thanks for reminding me i have such a crazy story to tell her

James Only good things, I hope.

You oh yeah all the good things an enigmatic yet handsome stranger cares more about my safety than any of my ex-boyfriends ever did.

James My ma raised me right.

You id say

James_ I hate to cut this short, but I think you need your rest. Especially if you’re meeting your sister tomorrow._

You i dont want to agree but ur probably right

You whats ur name btw?

James My name? Why? Do you plan to continue texting me after tonight?

You duh ur fun to talk to

James Oh.

You or not its cool if u dont want to

James It’s James.

You nice to meet u james im (y/n)

James Nice to meet you as well.

You my sister just texted me back and were still meeting at 9 i should go 

You goodnite james

James Goodnight, (Y/N).

Oh. My. God. Had you seriously drunk-flirted with a stranger and offered to keep texting him? You had no shame with a few drinks in you.

You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly.

What did you know of this James? He had a New York area phone number. Check. He could have been a real dick about your mistake but wasn’t. Understanding. Check. He worried about you getting home safely in your inebriated state. Caring. Check. Not too forthcoming with the nine to five. Secretive. Check. His mouth looked so soft and plush, and his eyes were made to drown in. Gorgeous. Check.

A heat simmered beneath your skin as you recounted the shortlist you’d made. Were you lusting over someone you’d exchanged less than forty texts with? Had you somehow woken back up in high school?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you stared at the screen displaying the message thread. Were you really considering this? You nodded your head to answer your own question. Where was the harm in a little shameless flirting? If worse came to worst, you could always block him.

With your mind made up, you began typing into your phone, constructing an apology.

You Good morning! First off, I want to apologize for the way I behaved over text last night.

You Though, I do like to imbibe in the occasional drink or two, I am, by no means, a lush.

You Please take everything I said with a grain of salt. Apparently, I get loose-lipped and cheeky with free wine. 😐

You Again, I’m sorry and understand if you wanted to cease our correspondence for my behavior.

You blew out a breath and tossed your phone aside. It was up to fate now and a stranger named James.

You laid in your bed for several minutes staring at the ceiling, contemplating between whether to send a ‘haha just kidding’ text and what the weather would be like, so you could forego shaving your legs in the shower today.

Your phone chimed during the pondering of hair removal, indicating a new text. You knew it was James proclaiming you a freak and to forget his number, but secretly, you hoped it was Robyn canceling today.

Seizing the phone from your mattress top, your heart’s beat increased with each second you went without looking at the screen. Finding the courage, you flipped the device over to read the message.

James Quite the formal apology, Ms. Professor.

You smiled at the text. It didn’t tell you to pound sand or eat shit. No, it was teasing and in jest. You sighed in relief.

You Cease our correspondence too much?

James No, no it was perfect if this was 1863, and you were breaking up with me via telegraph.

You Stop!

James Exactly! ‘Never speak to me again!’ Stop. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Stop.

A belly laugh disrupted the tranquil air of your bedroom. You quickly thumbed out a reply once you caught your breath.

You You’re incorrigible.

James I’m glad to see you are using proper capitalization and punctuation this morning.

You Ha!

You When you are buzzed and/or tipsy, capitals and periods be damned. Like you’re so perfect when you’re drunk.

James We all have our flaws.

Was he implying he was a sloppy texter when drunk, too? You shrugged it off as him being cryptic again.

You What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? I didn’t wake you, did I?

You were suddenly stricken with guilt. You should have waited for a more reasonable hour to send out rapid-fire apology texts. Not at 6:36 in the morning. You didn’t want last night’s behavior hanging over you, though. Better to clear the air now than later. You could always ask for forgiveness again if you had disturbed his sleep.

James I had just gotten back from my run when I saw your texts. I have training this morning.

You Oh, right. For your hush-hush, super top secret mission/quidditch game.

You You ever gonna tell me what you really do?

James_ Maybe. Someday._

How far away was someday? Was he planning to text you until you both died or until he got bored? How did texting relationships even work?

You Or is it one of those situations where if you told me you’d have to kill me?

James 😈

You There you go again--being all mysterious.

James Keep ‘em guessing and coming back for more.

You Has that strategy worked well for you in the past?

James Got you to text me again this morning, didn’t it?

You scoffed at what he had suggested. He was correct, but your stubborn streak would deny everything.

You The only reason I texted you this morning was to apologize for acting like a drunken fool last night.

And to squash the curiosity burning in your veins. But he didn’t need to know that.

James Oh.

The reply caused you to furrow your brow and your stomach to drop. You regretted not adding more levity to your last text. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you were drawn to him.

You I appreciate that the selfie you sent wasn’t a dick pic. And you genuinely seemed to care about me getting home safely. Thank you.

You And maybe- a teeny, tiny bit- is honestly interested in getting to know you better.

You waited on pins and needles for his text, watching the pulsing ellipsis on your screen. Was he just humoring you?

James Hook. Line. Sinker.

Reading his response generated a flush from your jaw to your hairline. You growled in embarrassment. You fell for the oldest trick in the book. He baited you for a compassionate answer, and you delivered beautifully. Hook, line, and sinker, indeed.

You You’re an ass. I take everything back.

James Don’t be mad. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but you played into my trap wonderfully.

James If it makes you feel any better, all kidding aside, I want to get to know you better too.

James I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night and woke up with one this morning.

James Because of you, (Y/N).

A flutter broke apart in your chest. You hadn’t time-traveled back to high school; no, this was junior high territory.

You You’re lucky you’re so damn charming, James.

James Doll, you have no idea.

The subway ride into Manhattan usually gave you the chance to get a little reading in since it took nearly fifty minutes from Queens. Not today, though. You spent the entirety of the train ride texting back and forth with James. It was mundane stuff, but you were getting a grasp of who James was as a person.

You Favorite color?

James Black. You?

You Blue.

You Favorite ice cream flavor?

James Chocolate. Yours?

You Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.

James I didn’t realize we were getting specific.

You We weren’t, but that’s my favorite.

You Favorite movie?

James I like the classics- The Wizard of Oz, It’s A Wonderful Life, Frankenstein.

You I have too many to list, so don’t ask.

You Okay. Lightning round because I’m almost to my stop.

James Where are you going again?

You paused your reply for a brief second, wondering if you should divulge your destination. You’d known James less than twenty-four hours; although, it felt like weeks after this morning. Where was the harm in telling him where you were meeting your sister? There were nearly nine million people in this city. There was no way you’d ever bump into each other.

You A bakery in the Upper East Side called Two Little Red Hens. Ever been?

James Don’t think I have.

You Well, since you like chocolate, they have a fantastic cake called Brooklyn Blackout. Super rich but delicious.

James Sounds right up my alley.

You Cats or dogs?

James I’m gone too much, so cats.

The answer piqued your interest. Maybe he was an athlete. Wouldn’t it be practice and not training, though? Or he’s FBI or CIA.

You Socks on or off for sleeping?

James Off.

You Silver or gold?

James Silver.

You Morning, noon, or night?

James Night.

You How do you take your coffee?

James Room for sugar and creamer.

You Boxers or briefs?

James Boxer briefs.

You laughed out loud, looking around the subway car to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Per usual, they weren’t.

You Touché.

As soon as the train stopped, you gathered your purse close to your body and made for the exit. You followed the crowd of fellow passengers through the turnstile and ascended the stairs onto street level.

The morning sunlight caressed your skin like a warm blanket. The humidity wasn’t too bad, yet, but the threat of afternoon thunderstorms still hung in the air.

Even with the reasonably early hour, the sidewalk was stuffed with people, carrying to-go coffee cups or shopping bags. You fought for your little spot of real estate on the grimy concrete.

Stopping at a red traffic light, waiting to cross, you typed out another question for James.

You Pineapple on pizza--yay or nay?

The light changed as you finished, and the throng of pedestrians around you guided you across the street. You spotted Robyn outside the bakery as your phone dinged with a new text alert.

“Wow, I’m surprised you made it on time,” Robyn said as you hugged hello.

You looked at the clock on your phone. 8:58. “You and me both, sister.” Glancing back at your phone’s screen, you giggled.

James What kind of monster puts pineapple on their pizza??

“What’s so funny?” Robyn asked as you accompanied her through the bakery’s door.

With a grin on your face, you punched out a quick reply:

You Well, it was nice knowing you, James. It was a swell friendship while it lasted--a whole 11 ½ hours.

Robyn elbowed you softly in the ribs with a look on her face, seeking an explanation.

“Ow,” you grunted. “What?”

“You tell me. I half expected a zombie to walk through the doors today after your text last night. Not Suzie Sunshine.”

You both edged closer to the counter as the line in front of you dwindled.

James Say it ain’t so, doll! Pineapple on pizza? Really??

You let out a low chortle as you skimmed the text. You glimpsed up at Robyn as you shuffled forward in line again. “Believe me, I’m pretty hungover,” you replied, shoving your phone in your back pocket. “It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you everything when we sit.”

Robyn stared at you warily, still trying to figure out what had come over you. “Okay,” she conceded, stepping to the register to order.

With each of you supplied with an iced coffee and a peach ginger scone, you found an empty table by a window along 2nd Avenue and proceeded to tell Robyn about James.

When you stopped to catch your breath, remembering the whirlwind the last twelve hours had been, you peered at your sister for her reaction.

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. She shook her head in disbelief. “(Y/N), what where you thinking?”

Your brow pinched in confusion. Was she actually scolding you? You crossed your arms over your chest. “I was thinking about how my big sister is always telling me to meet new people and how it’s time I thought about settling down.”

“Not like this it’s not,” she hissed. “This is how your body parts end up in someone’s freezer!”

You choked on the piece of scone you shoved in your mouth before she started ridiculing you. After coughing to clear your airway and taking a sip of your iced coffee, you leered at Robyn. “Oh, my god! Dramatic much? Have you been binge-watching Dateline again? Jesus Christ, Robyn, he’s harmless,” you countered.

“You think you’ll be so careful, but you’ll let one little detail slip, and he’ll find you,” Robyn said before taking a pull from her coffee.

“You mean, like, how I was meeting you at Two Little Red Hens at nine o’clock?”

Robyn’s mouth popped open in an O. “What the hell, (Y/N)?” she stage-whispered. “Are you trying to get yourself kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking?”

“Please,” you drew out in one long syllable. “He doesn’t know what I look like. How would he snatch me?”

“He could look you up on Facebook.”

“Without a last name?” You shook your head, no.

“What about a reverse search on your number?” Robyn asked, pushing the plate holding her scone away. “That’s a thing.”

“Perhaps, but it seems like a lot of effort for a mistake I made. It wasn’t like he was seeking me or anyone else out.”

Robyn huffed out a breath and folded her arms in exasperation. Always the protective big sister. You could tell you were breaking her down, though.

“C’ mon, Robbie. It’s all in innocent fun. I’m not saying I’m hoping he’ll turn out to be Mr. Right, but the banter is fun,” you remarked. “James is charming and witty and nice to talk to.”

Robyn shook her head once more, frowning. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You reached across the table for her hand and squeezed gently. “Me too.” You smiled slyly, remembering last night’s dinner and Timmons gushing about The Avengers. “If not, I know how to get ahold of a couple of centenarians who know chivalry isn’t dead.”

Chapter One | Chapter Three

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[agwitow]

Alpha Wolves

content warning: swearing, mild violence

Marcus yawned, his jaw cracking, and shook out his pants. It had been a long night, helping two pups with their first change. They were already packed into their parents’ SUVs, fast asleep, and on the way to their homes. In a few months they would be good to join a pack. It wasn’t always as simple with new shifters, but those two each had a parent who was one as well. Even at eight and ten, they knew a fair amount of what it meant to be a lycanthrope.

Dressed in sweats and a light cotton long-sleeved shirt, he ran a hand over his jaw and sighed. Full moon changes always made his hair grow. Even though he’d been clean-shaven before the change, he had what felt like two-days of growth now. Shaggy hair didn’t bother him nearly as much as a beard did, though by the end of the three days he’d need to get that trimmed as well.

He padded barefoot into the little cabin that served as his base of operations while helping new shifters and started a pot of coffee brewing. He hated the stuff, but it would be at least a couple hours before he could head home to sleep, so he needed something to keep him awake.

While it percolated, he checked his phone. Three emails from work, two from the pack, and some spam. He’d just opened the first email when the phone rang.

“Porter Consulting.”

“Mr. Porter, it’s Deputy Palerma from the EKSD,” a male with a pleasant tenor said.

East Keddol was a small town several miles from Hapburgh, the city Marcus lived and worked in. It was in the interesting position of being almost perfectly between Hapburgh pack territory and Redview pack territory. Surprisingly few places fell into the odd in-between spaces between packs, and, as far as he knew, no one had developed any specific protocols for dealing with them.

“How can I help you today, Deputy?”

“We have a shifter—twenty-three-year-old male—who attacked his friends when he shifted for the first time. Miss Davidson recommended I call you.”

Kaelyn Davidson did for the Redview pack what Marcus did for the Hapburgh one. She was, if he remembered correctly, also a month or two out from giving birth. Handling an adult shifter who’d already hurt people was probably not high on her list of ways to spend her time.

“I see. Is your new shifter awake?”

“No. We had to hit him with a tranq to be able to bring him in. He’s changed back, but hasn’t woken up yet.”

Marcus snorted. Safety Departments were, mostly, better than the old police system, but sometimes they were still a little too trigger happy. At least it was a tranquilizer dart instead of a clip of bullets. “I’ll send someone to pick him up. He’s going to wake up before they get there, and he’s going to be cranky and hungry.”

“I’ve taken the class on shifters, Mr. Porter,” Deputy Palerma said, sounding offended. “There is a post-shift recovery kit in the fridge.”

He stifled a sighed. “If that’s all you have, that’s fine, but it would be better if the new shifter could get freshly made food. Eggs, nuts, oats, cottage cheese or Greek yogurt, and pumpkin seeds are best. Avoid meat, if possible, especially red meat.”

“I thought shifters need protein the morning after?”

“We do, and the foods I listed are all high protein items. New shifters can find meats to be… an issue at first. As I’m not able to speak with your young man at present, it’s better to be cautious.”

There was a moment of silence on the line before Palerma said, “Alright. Who will be coming, and when should we expect them?”

“It’ll depend on who is free.”

“Can’t you just tell someone to do it? You’re the alpha, aren’t you?”

Marcus had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning. That damn study from the 40s. “That’s not quite how things work. All pack members have proper ID.”

“Fine,” he said, the word ending with an annoyed click of his tongue.

“Thank you. Someone will be there between 10:30 and noon.”

Once they’d said their farewells, Marcus sent out a quick message through the pack’s group chat.

New shifter, East Keddol holding, possible alpha complex. Any takers?

He set the phone down and poured himself a cup of coffee, adding enough cream and sugar to make it mostly palatable, before settling on a stool at the tiny kitchen’s bar-height table. He’d drunk half the cup before a chime indicated he’d gotten a response. Two more chimes rang out before he’d picked the phone back up.

Eddie: I’m free but never handled an alpha complex b4 wdin2k?

Ksenia: lol take a muzzle

Julianne: y can’t the Reds take em?

Marcus rubbed the bridge of his nose, sighed, and replied: Kaelyn’s 8 mo. Pregnant. Take the green SUV, put him in the back, and keep the divider up.

Eddie: is it that dangerous?

Thomas: alpha-complexers are just assholes

Julianne: TOM! There are CHILDREN in this chat

Thomas: no regrets!

Marcus temporarily turned notifications off for the group chat, replied to the most important of the work emails, set up reminders for the other two, then headed for the cabin’s futon. By the time he’d make it to his apartment in the city, he’d barely have any time to sleep before he’d need to head back out to meet the new shifter. So he’d nap on the futon and feel stiff for most of the afternoon.

#

A little after 2pm, the rumbling and crunch of a vehicle coming up the gravel drive to the cabin announced the arrival of Eddie and the new shifter. Marcus set aside his laptop and headed out to the porch to greet them. He was still barefoot and wearing sweats and the long-sleeved shirt, but he’d run a trimmer through the beard so he felt less like a back-woods mountain man.

The car had barely come to a complete stop before the back door opened and a young man stepped out with a glower. He was around average height, with enough muscle mass to indicate he worked out at least somewhat regularly. Dark blond hair hung to his shoulders and a thick beard wrapped his jaw—though whether that was a stylistic choice or the moon driven change accelerating his hair growth even more than it did for Marcus was unclear.

“You Marcus?” the young man demanded.

He raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and leaned against one of the porch supports. “I am. And you are?”

“Joseph.”

He nodded and shifted his gaze to Eddie, who’d stepped around to the front of the SUV. “How was the drive?”

Eddie shrugged, his gaze darting to Joseph and then away. “S’okay. Wouldn’t want to do it again, though.”

“Don’t blame you. Thanks for doing it, though. See you next week for a run, okay?”

His shoulders relaxed and he smiled. “Of course. Later, Marcus.”

Joseph scoffed. “Like he would be any good.”

Marcus shook his head and stepped down off the porch. He was a little shorter than the new shifter, though broader in the shoulders and with more muscle mass. “You will respect each and every member of our pack, or you’ll be sent to Palstead Institution. It is not a pleasant introduction to being a shifter.”

“Whatever, man. Just give me whatever stupid speech you’ve got so I can challenge you.”

“There will be no ‘challenging’ here.”

“Fuck that. I ain’t no submissive bitch.”

“What you do or don’t do in the bedroom has no relevance to this situation.”

Red flooded Joseph’s face a moment before he took a swing at Marcus. He’d obviously had a little bit of training, but the movement was still too big to be truly effective.

Marcus side-stepped and twisted a little so that he had more leverage as he placed a palm against Joseph’s arm and pushed. It wasn’t a big push, but the kid had overextended himself and it knocked him off balance enough to make him stumble. He took a step back and waited for the next attack he knew would be coming.

Joseph didn’t disappoint. He came up swinging wildly, rushing toward him as if he couldn’t decide whether to beat his face in or tackle him to the ground.

Marcus calmly deflected each blow, leading Joseph in a circle as he side-stepped and backed away from the attacks. Less than a minute later, Jospeh was panting and struggling to even come close to landing any blows.

“Have you finished with your temper tantrum, yet?” Marcus asked.

Joseph glared at him but stopped, bending over with hands on knees as he panted.

“You seem to be under the misunderstanding that pack members fight each other. Different packs rarely even fight each other.”

“How…how do you know who’s alpha, then?”

“There is no ‘alpha.’ Not the way you’re thinking, anyway.”

“What?”

Marcus sighed and took a seat on the ground. The grass was soft and, thanks to a sunny morning, contained no hint of dampness. After a moment’s hesitation, Joseph slumped down as well. “Pack is family. Would you pick a fight with your dad to try and take over the family?”

“No…”

He shrugged. “Picking a fight with a pack member makes about as much sense. We each have a role to play, and that role is based on our skills and personality and knowledge. Not on who we’re able to beat up.”

“Aren’t we wolves? At least partly?”

“Yes. And that’s how wolves behave.”

Joseph stared at him blankly.

He sighed again. “Come inside. I’ll make you a tuna sandwich and you can read one of the brochures.”

Joseph followed him inside, silent, but with a simmering edge of anger beneath his exhaustion. Once the full moon was over and the forced changes weren’t sapping his energy, he would be a real pain in the ass if Marcus couldn’t nip the problem in the bud.

“Here,” he said, picking up a glossy tri-fold and handing it over. “Have a seat. Read. I’ll make the sandwiches.”

He settled onto a stool, shoulders hunched and brows drawn. “Why Alpha-Dog Theory is BS,” he read. “Seriously?”

“Mhm,” Marcus replied. “Some of the pack wanted to title it It’s Not Your Inner Wolf, You’re Just an Asshole, but that seemed a bit confrontational.”

“… Oh.”

“Mhm.”

(Moon-Bound - part 2)

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