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mothgrudge · 11 months

Text

reminiscing

(wow some “official” writing this is surprising)

wip: main family

character(s): nazam “naz” & anzu takuma (mentions of yarrah, mashiro, and mai)

tw(s): deadname mention, eating disorder, suicidal thoughts/ideation, body dysmorphia

a short walk through memory lane from naz’s perspective of life before he and anzu got together. there is a happy ending here we promise 😭💙

general to know: anzu was adopted by red and tsubame takuma when he was in high school from his abusive/neglectful parents—making mai and mashiro his adopted siblings. the story begins when anzu is still with his family and time skips around throughout he and naz’s life.

(also this is in 2nd person! naz is the narrator ‘you’ refers to anzu :3)

We first met in elementary school. First grade.

My older sister dropped me off. You came by yourself.

Both of us sat at the back of the classroom.

During recess you didn’t talk to anyone. You stayed by yourself in the sandbox and I stayed by myself in the classroom, with my book. I didn’t focus on it. I focused on watching you drag your shovel through the sand and stare longingly after the other children playing. You put your head down. So did I.

I think that was where it started.

People left me alone because I was quiet. I was weird. I always scored high on math tests and read computer textbooks I stole from my sister when we weren’t working on class projects. I stared the teacher down until she moved on from asking me to read aloud. She tried asking my parents about the books I read, and my father insisted I didn’t know how to read, it was her job to teach me. She asked me to read a sentence. I didn’t say a word. My father took it as proof. She seemed disappointed in me.

People bothered you because you were quiet. You came to school sometimes with bruises, and created your own through many fights on the playground. The teacher tried to call your parents in, and sometimes I would stall going home to see if they’d show up.

They didn’t.

The first time we spoke was a group project in 5th grade. I’d been watching you for a few years, but I was too shy to talk to you. You didn’t seem like you wanted to be bothered with the project anyway. I resigned myself to doing all the work in your stead, if it meant the teacher would stop pulling you aside to talk about ‘your grades.’ But you looked at me, with a look I’d never really seen before.

“What’s your name?” You asked. I hesitated. “... Naz… ara… Nazara.” I hated my name. “Nazara.” You repeated. I loved it. “Anzu. You ever go by Naz?”

I hadn’t, until you asked. And then that was the only thing I ever let anyone call me.

After the project we didn’t interact much. When I came into class, you’d give me a small quirk of your lips I suspected was a smile, but you always kept your head down and in response so did I. I didn’t smile much— I still don’t— but I always tried to make eye contact when I saw you come in late. You got into more fights, I read more computer books, and moved my interest towards differential equations and physics theorems, all books I stole from Yarrah. There wasn’t really any reason I should’ve understood it, but I did. I hid the books from our teachers. Once, you hid one for me. One of your usual offenders walked by and pushed my book into the middle of the floor during quiet time. I knew it was on purpose. You were getting stronger, he needed others to pick on. It was testing the waters. To see how weak I was. The thump of it on the floor was deafening. Everyone turned to look. Our teacher came over, and frozen, I stared at her. You saw my panic. You kicked the book under the bookshelf and hid it from view.

“What’s going on?” She asked. I said nothing. You said nothing. The bully said nothing. She clicked her tongue, and walked away.

You got into a fight with that bully at recess. I wish I would’ve stepped up to wipe your bloody nose.

💙💙💙💙

Middle school is when things started to change. Not between us. But for me.

We moved that summer to a town a few miles over. I never got to say goodbye. But the thought of never seeing you again made me throw up everything I ate. I did it in secret. No one knew. Yarrah caught me once, but I told her I just wasn’t feeling good. She told me to get more sun. I said I would. But the whole summer I spent glued to our family computer. I used my father’s card to buy myself spare parts, and he never noticed. I finished my first home-built PC by the time the first week of my new school should’ve been.

But turns out my parents never enrolled me. They were out of the country, and I guess they forgot. I took it upon myself to enroll myself at our old neighborhood middle school. Where I thought you would go. It was a walk to get there. Six and a half miles. I woke up at 4am every morning to get there. I walked alone. I didn’t eat. My reward was seeing you that first day I finally came to school, sitting at the back of the classroom, with your hood up and phone in hand. The tight feeling in my chest finally subsided.

“Naz,” You greeted me when I sat in the back desk next to you. “I didn’t know you had this class.”

“My parents enrolled me late.” I whispered. You hummed, understanding.

At lunch I went to the library and took a nap. I dragged myself awake at the bell. This became my routine.

💙💙💙💙

I grew skinnier. My hair began to thin out. I started wearing a beanie to school, and big bulky sweaters to hide my thin arms. I hid out every gym, behind the bleachers so they couldn’t see me. But I got to see you. You were getting taller now, and your shoulders got more broad. There was a day in gym that you all played dodgeball, and seeing you throw, I thought about being in your arms.

I threw up again after class.

We had one group project together in seventh grade, and you greeted me every day when you came to class with a small nod. That was enough, I thought. I made it be. I didn’t feel like I deserved anything more— with how I looked, with how I felt. I hated Nazara more and more with every passing day. The worst of it came on field trip day.

To the aquarium. I forged my parents signature, and I was sure you forged yours too. I sat in the back of the bus, and I thought you would too. I was almost excited. I wasn’t expecting someone to cheerfully call, “Anzu!” when you stepped on the bus.

You looked just as surprised too.

The person who called had pink hair. Their skin was pretty and dark brown. They looked bright and full of life, and their energy was contagious. You couldn’t see anywhere else to sit. You dropped down next to them near the front of the bus.

I stayed alone in the back, fidgeting with the hem of my shirt.

I don’t remember passing out.

💙💙💙💙

“Nazara. Stop being difficult.” The social worker frowned at me. I stared back at him impassively. “If someone has been neglecting you at home, we need to know that.” I didn’t say anything. After my week long coma after passing out on the bus, the doctors had been trying desperately to get something out of me. They wouldn’t believe me if I told them I did it to myself. I didn’t want to be Nazara. I didn’t want to be anything.

The social worker knew he wasn’t getting through to me. He sighed, and stood up. “Please try to eat at least something today, Nazara.”

He left.

💙💙💙💙

I hope you would become good friends with Mashiro. I hoped you would be happier.

💙💙💙💙

“Your child has fucking anorexia, and all you can care about is your business trip!” I heard Yarrah yelling at my father over the phone. It was a few weeks after I was discharged from the hospital. They diagnosed me, enrolled me in therapy sessions, and had a social worker come by every week to see how I was doing. But the diagnosis didn’t help. It felt like things were better when I ignored it. When I walked six miles to school, when I saw you in class, when I pretended that the budding shapes on my chest and the thinness of my arms weren’t there.

I put my pillow over my face. I wanted to shut everything out.

💙💙💙💙

You came by once. Out of the blue. I don’t think you meant to.

It had been… three years at this point. I should’ve been in 10th grade, with you. My neighborhood was in the same zone as the local high school, I could’ve ridden the bus instead of walking all that way to you. I think it’d been a year since I’d really been outside. I stayed in my room, in my empty house. I took my medicine. I had zoom calls with my therapist. I read computer engineering books. I built PCs, then took them apart. I bought things on Amazon with my dad’s money. I talked on and off with Yarrah. I never answered the door. Ever. I tried once. After I was pulled out of middle school. The postman’s disgusted look was all I needed to never try again.

But I’m not sure what compelled me today.

Maybe I was excited about my package coming, a new motherboard for my latest build. Maybe, I was starting to gain weight again after learning about being transgender. Maybe, for once, I felt good.

Maybe it was fate.

I crossed the darkened hall, I opened the door. I came face to face with a bright, beaming, pink face.

“Hi! My name’s Mashiro Takuma! This is—”

“—Anzu.” You said. You looked awkward, but maybe fond. “We’re helping my sister look for her lost cat. She got out the other day.” Mashiro handed me a flyer, and I studied it carefully. MEDUSA it read in bold letters, with the picture of a sleek, tiny legged black cat. It had big green eyes, that stared up at me from the flyer innocently. “Have you seen her at all?”

“I don’t leave the house much.” I said, shrugging.

“Oh…” Mashiro’s energy wilted. I felt my face pull into a frown. “My sister gets around town a lot, though.” I tried to amend. “When she comes home from work, I’ll ask her.” His beam: restored. You smiled behind him, mouthing ‘thank you.’ I tried to smile back.

“Well, if she’s heard anything, you can contact me here.” Mashiro directed my eyes to the bottom of the flyer where a host of contact numbers were recorded. There was a Red Takuma, Tsubame Takuma, Mashiro Takuma and Anzu. No last name. I nodded slowly. I carefully tucked the flyer under my arm.

“All of her favorite foods and some tips on coaxing her inside are on the back, so if you see her, please, do your best!” Mashiro gave me a cheerful thumbs up, and I laughed. Softly. I couldn’t remember when the last time I laughed was.

“I’ll try.” I promised. And then with a wave, the two of you were off. I held the door open until I saw you all disappear around the bend of the next street, then slowly let the door fall shut. I stared down at the flyer from the safety of my room. I didn’t wait. I called Yarrah. Turns out she had seen the cat. She was friendly, and hiding behind the building she worked at. It was easy enough to take her in.

I didn’t go when she returned Medusa to you all. I was still too scared to face the world.

💙💙💙💙

May. You and Mashiro should be graduating now.

I stared out of the window of Yarrah’s apartment, my head pillowed in far too many cushions. The surgery went well. I was discharged yesterday. I looked down at the bandages and gauze that protected my vulnerably flat chest. Even if everything was sore, and a bit tight, my chest felt light, physically and metaphorically.

“Naz!” Yarrah burst into the room, bringing something warm and good smelling with her. Soup, probably. Maybe curry. She rested it down in front of me, ruffling my hair. “Make sure you finish at least half.”

“I’ll try.” I meant it. “Once this heals up, we’re gonna take you to get your name change, okay?”

“Thank you Ra. … I mean it.”

“I’m your sister.” She shrugged. “It’s what I do.” We already went over the argument a million times that she didn’t have to, I could see the flames in her eyes, ready to pounce if I tried it. I ceded, bowing my head. “Thank you.” I said instead, quietly. She left only a few minutes after. Running down to the store, I think. I closed my eyes. I dreamed of you.

💙💙💙💙

I stopped by a grocery store, just to grab something quick. I had a long stretch of contract requirements I needed to get on tonight, or my boss would have my ass. But I was slowly learning to fuel myself while I did it.

I wasn’t expecting to see you there.

You’d grown. So much. You were two or three heads taller than me, more filled out than before. The hoodie you wore fit snug around your arms, your jeans were tight and fit well. Your eyes were bright; brighter than I ever remembered seeing them when we were young. A pair of blue beats rested around your neck and you had a sleek phone pressed against your ear.

“— tell Mai I’m almost done getting the ingredients.” You were saying. “I can’t find the red velvet cake they want.” I glanced at my basket. The last slice of red velvet cake stared up at me.

Talk to them. My brain said.

I can’t.

“Shiro, don’t you start whining too!” You laughed. That was the first time I really heard your laugh up close and my heart burst.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon. Ja!” You ended the call just as I turned on my heel, leaving the cake next to your basket. Even if that was all I could do… it was enough. It would be enough.

“Oh, hey, you don’t have to do that.” I felt a hand rest on my shoulder; with nails painted black and silver rings adorning it’s long fingers. My heart jackhammered against my chest.

“It’s fine.” I cleared my throat. “I probably wouldn’t finish it anyway.” I racked my brain from what I remembered. “And that’s Mai’s favorite, right?”

“Yeah, but how did you…”

I glanced at you over my shoulder and your words died in your throat.

I smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Naz?”

My heart nearly stopped. I stared at you, wide-eyed. I never… never thought…

Your face lit up in a grin.

“Is that you? Wow, it’s been awhile. How have you been?”

“I… I’ve been…” I searched for words, still trying to shake off my shock. I angled my body to face you completely.

“I’ve been okay— better, than before I guess.” I chuckled, dryly. “You look good though, Anzu.” My tongue felt too big for my mouth. When was the last time I talked this much? To my therapist maybe. “I feel good.” Your voice went soft, warm. My chest bloomed. “I’m so glad.” I said back.

A silence drifted over us, an inevitable one. We never spoke much when we were young, and then I vanished. I wasn’t supposing there was much left to talk about. “I hope they enjoy the cake—“

“Can we meet up sometime?” You said, fast. Your expression was almost panicked, as though you were afraid of something. Of me saying no? Never to you. Ever.

“Sure,” I tried for flippant, but my voice was too fond. “But um.” I gestured vaguely towards myself. “It’s Nazam. Now. Um.” My voice got caught in my throat. I cleared it. “Not Nazara.” I wasn’t sure if you’d catch my meaning. You did. You smiled in relief.

“Nazam.” You repeated. You took my hands in yours. “Nazam. It suits you” I ducked my head, feeling my cheeks begin to flush. I coughed softly. “W-When did you want to meet?”

💙💙💙💙

I traced my fingers across the scatter of tattoos on your arms. The dawn had barely begun to peak over the horizon, and everything in our house was still covered in boxes. The only thing we’d bothered to unpack was maybe a quarter of our room, the bed at the very least so we could have somewhere to sleep. You murmured something, then turned towards me, pulling me tight against your chest.

“You up?” You murmured.

“Unfortunately.” I whispered back. You pressed your lips soft against my head.

“Go back to sleep, clover. We can unpack your precious gadgets tomorrow.”

“I guess I can survive until then.” I chuckled, and your soft, sleep-laden laugh rumbled against my cheek. I traced my fingers over your lips.

“I love you, Anz.” Soft. Even with your eyes closed, you smiled. “I love you too, Naz.”

The hole in my ribs finally closed. I buried into you and let your breathing soothe me back to sleep.

#main family #writing #these two make us extremely emo i hope y’all feel the same way #nazam takuma #anzu takuma

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dracomort · 1 year

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Is there a reason why you dislike Red, White and Royal Blue?

Honestly, I read it and enjoyed most of it, but the ending I hated. But that's just me, I like fluff, but that ending was something else...

What is your gripe with the book?

RWRB fans keep scrolling. I'll try to keep it nice (post-writing edit: this was not kept nice) but I really disliked this book. I am also NOT AN AMERICAN and I think that makes the biggest impact on enjoyment of this book. If it were a romcom between a random American boy and British boy then I could critique it on its writing merit alone, but the choice of the author to engage with politics in such a brainless manner is really symptomatic of the cancer that is modern American liberalism.

Disclaimer: I did not finish this book. It's one of the only books I've ever DNF'd. I paid real monnies to buy the ebook. This waste of $15 is probably why I'm so bitter.

With RWRB it really comes down to four Ps:

Premise, pacing, prose

This is perhaps on me, but when you look at the blurb: "photos of a confrontation with his longtime nemesis Prince Henry at a royal wedding leak to the tabloids and threaten American/British relations. The plan for damage control: staging a fake friendship between the First Son and the Prince."

See now, to me, that premise reads as—fake friendship, enemies/rivals to lovers, where they slowly come to understand what they like about each other. From a narrative pacing perspective, I would expect to see this click for our protagonists at the midpoint or perhaps the climax. Certainly not them having a conversation and resolving all their differences within the first 10% of the book (hospital broom cupboard). It's been a couple years since I (attempted to) read this book, so correct me if I'm wrong, but I strongly feel that they went from hating each other—with no substance to that hate beyond a petty misunderstanding—to resolving their differences, to kissing and fucking, within the first 20% of the book. What is this pacing??

After that I realised that this book should've been pitched with a forbidden love/Romeo & Juliet premise, because clearly that was what the author was going for. I don't necessarily have an issue with that. It's just disappointing to me because it was misleading and I wasted my money on a book that's actual premise doesn't interest me in the slightest. I read romance primarily for the internal conflict within the relationship, not the external conflict, though having both is fab (e.g. Captive Prince).

I'm not quite sure anything happens in this book. The protagonists are 'enemies' for maybe 10 pages and then fuck for the rest of it?? I skipped pages and pages and pages of 'banter' between Alex and those girls, and politics that read like it'd been penned by a 12 year old, and somehow managed to miss nothing. I've never read a book where I could skip so many pages with it having so little material impact on my understanding of the narrative.

I also found the prose and dialogue very... 'aliens guess at the way humans speak based on a diet of nothing but mediocre social media themed fanfiction'. And I say this as a fic writer myself. There's a bunch of female characters that serve no purpose other that to cheerlead the main couple and be wholesome, flawless, quippy and supportive, because that's feminism, baby. I can't speak at length about the characters because I dropped the book pretty early on.

2. POLITICS

RWRB is very much a product of its time and its author's nationality. That it was written and published during the Trump administration is no surprise. I think, just as Cinderella (2021) will be a perfect specimen for future study of the hot mess that is 2020s liberal feminism, RWRB will serve the same for 'left-wing' democrat politics for the 2016-xx political landscape. It's an AU where a while, blonde female presidential candidate wins the election and leaked emails have no effect on the outcome of said election. Jee, I sure wonder who she's meant to be 🙄

I understand that this book was intended as a light-hearted romcom, a silly romance for readers to turn off their brains and enjoy the wholesomeness. But clearly I am not the target audience as I am incapable of turning off my brain under any circumstance, especially not when reading a book. I am also not a romance reader, nor much of a genre fiction reader. Again, not the target audience. I also do not think you get to introduce politics as one of the most prominent themes and then not have your book critiqued on its handling of that subject matter.

I am far too much of a political cynic to read about this wholesome good working-class American political family that hold all the right views and have no flaws. I was disappointed but not surprised as soon as I realised this was really gonna go for the pro-democrat lens. I'm too foreign to view that party as anything more than middling centrists and outright antagonists on the global stage. Perhaps some people enjoy reading books that put them in a fantasy lala land where everything is good and just in the world, but I think this sort of passive idealism is exactly why the USA is a conservative hellscape in the first place.

A goodreads review that articulates my thoughts well: "This is the most idealized, grotesque, good-versus-evil look at politics I have EVER SEEN. In this book, the Democrats are a rainbow-wearing gloriously diverse coalition of kumbaya-singing angels, and everyone else is a villain we won’t talk about. Democrats are 100% motivated purely by the love of Doing The Right Thing, and they have never done anything wrong, ever, in their lives. The American people love them implicitly and will turn historically red states blue just to show them that. It’s not only sickening, it’s damaging. DO NOT IDEALIZE POLITICIANS."

And even moving away from politics to just address the wealth and privilege of these characters who fly back and forth over the pond on private jets to see each other... like, I don't have an issue with rich MCs (tbh Henry should be exactly my fave type), but I do have an issue with the desperate, self-aware attempts the author makes to keep things 'progressive'. Yeah, sure the characters lampshade their privilege. But these themes are not engaged with in any meaningful way, to the point where I wish they'd been excluded entirely. If you're going to write a book about the top 0.000001%'s issues, at least be unapologetic about it. If you keep mentioning privilege but do nothing about it then it feels hollow and insincere. I have nothing but contempt for philanthropy, so don't get me started on that.

Bonus: (not a P but) Anglophilia

As a foreigner from a culture closer to the UK than the US, the British fetishism vibes were pretty hilarious. I am certainly not gonna call it 'problematic' (I hate that word regardless). It's just cringe and excruciating to read. No one talks like that! No one. Not even the Prince of England.

Edit: this goodreads reviewer really gets it

#i don't like to talk politics on this blog but let it be known i think both major american political parties are conservative af #who decided to publish this president!hillary au sdfghjkl #i'm sorry i'm a hater #asks #anon #the sorry attempt at politics that this book makes is honestly sickening #anti rwrb

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bookaddict24-7 · 1 year

Text

REVIEWS OF THE WEEK!

Books I’ve read so far in 2023!

Friend me on Goodreads here to follow my more up to date reading journey for the year!

___

164. The Fall of Five by Pittacus Lore--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This series continues to be addicting. Even though I had a gazillion other library books to read, I was always thinking about this one and how much I wanted to read it. With the title of the next book being an obvious revenge story, I knew this one was going to punch me right in the feels.

I was right and oh man, my heart.

I knew something was off with this one and its characters. Some things were just too coincidental for them to not lead up to a wild twist and cliffhanger, and just like the past books, this delivered. I would say this one is the most emotional one of the lot (for now) and the most complex one. We're starting to deal with the even greater consequences of the war these kids are fighting and how dirty war itself can be. I foresee this book and its heartbreaking ending being the story that will tip this series into overdrive. I absolutely can't wait to read the next book.

One star off because I have read about the dirty origins of this series.

___

165. I Survived the Japanese Tsunami by Lauren Tarshis--⭐️⭐️⭐️

While I still think these books are amazing for younger readers, I find that some of them are a lot simpler than others. I don't know why this one felt like one of those stories that just flew by and I didn't really catalogue what I was reading.

I remember seeing the news stories about the tsunami as it hit and the aftereffects of the tragedy as the days, weeks, and months passed. I don't know what I was expected from this, but I kind of wanted more? It felt like I blinked and the book was done, aha.

But with that being said, I AM glad this was written! I think kids should be reading these books, if not for the adventures of these fictional kids growing up, but to learn more empathy for these young survivors!

___

166. The Twenty-Three by Linwood Barclay--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Chaos. Absolute chaos.

This book was unputdownable from the moment I started it to the moment it ended. This was the book I was waiting to get to in this series because it was the eventual meet-up of everything that had happened in books one and two. All of those little clues, red herrings, and cliffhangers led to this book and I was 100% here for it.

I can't say too much because I don't want to spoil anything, but I loved the twists in this and surprises. I never expected that person to be the 23 killer and it was perfectly executed.

If Barclay ever writes in this town again, I will devour it. I read book four first and I'm kind of glad I did because it felt like a wholly new series. If you love a good mystery that spans three books, but also a series that always has something going on until the very end, then you might like this one!

One of the things I love about Barclay's writing is that he introduces all of these characters and situations and when they all meet at the end, you never would have guessed how those characters connected. I can't wait to read more books like this from him.

___

167. The Final Gambit by Jennifer Lynn Barnes--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

A solid conclusion to the initial trilogy arc!

Such a smart conclusion and I can totally understand the hype behind this now. We learned a lot more about the characters in this one and what makes them click. We also get to see the MC come fully into her own to the point where anyone might mistake her for a Hawthorne.

I'm glad I got to read these with the next one out already because I'm so curious about what the MC proposes in the epilogue!

___

168. How Can I Help You by Laura Sims--⭐️⭐️⭐️

I was unsure about this book from the beginning. To the point where I read the mixed reviews to see whether I should DNF the book or not. While I don't regret not DNFing, I also feel meh about it all.

I think it was interesting reading the story from the perspective of someone who was clearly a murderer but saw herself as more of an angel of death-type (like the kind who think they're doing a kindness in killing their patients). I also enjoyed watching her mental collapse as she became more and more paranoid if the new staff member.

A staff member that I, to be honest, was a bit confused by. Only because she was so enthralled by this killer, but I guess there ARE those out there who are heavily intrigued by the dark deeds of others, especially if those histories tend to help that person's personal goals.

Both characters were incredibly unreliable and unlikeable. The conclusion, while fitting, I found to be a bit too quick. One moment one thing was happening and then the next, all things fell down. I do wish there was more to it. One of the things I did like about this book was the cat and mouse type of mood this book set and I found that was squashed at the end.

Read this if you love librarian settings in books that feature morally grey characters with a penchant for death. Overall, though, be aware that (for me) this was a bit of a meh read.

___

169. I Survived the Attack of the Grizzlies, 1967 by Lauren Tarshis--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I really enjoyed this one!

I had no idea about the events of 1967 and I'm glad that I got to learn more about it. I also liked the focus on the dangers of polluting and leaving the forest the way you left it--without any of your garbage left behind.

Much like many of the other books in this series, the MC is dealing with the grief of losing a parent. This storyline is weaved into the tale of the strangely behaving bears. In a way, it was an extra layer of distress that the young mc had to overcome. So, while the reader can learn a bit about history, the importance of taking care of the environment, and the internal turmoil that can come when grieving the lost of someone important to you. For that latter bit alone, I wish these were around when I was a kid.

Highly recommend this one, it's probably one of my favourites of this series.

___

170. The Secret of the Old Clock by Carolyn Keene--⭐️⭐️⭐️

This isn't my first NANCY DREW book, so I kind of knew what to expect. It was a simple and fun mystery, but I was also a little bored? Maybe I need to read more of the books in this series. Especially since I know that this is just the beginning.

I DID love the sass that Nancy experienced and how she fought back against it. The conclusion to this book was also satisfying, especially after all of the strife the characters experienced.

Also, in a weird way, this was an interesting view into the time of when this book was published. Will definitely read more.

___

171. The Brothers Hawthorne by Jennifer Lynn Barnes--⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

I received a copy from the publisher for an interview with the publisher on Indigo's Instagram. This did not affect my rating in any way.

I really enjoyed the initial trilogy of this series and was surprised to read that this one was from the perspective of two of the brothers, rather than still from Avery's POV. I really enjoyed the change because it allowed me to see the world through their eyes. It also, to me, made the storyline feel more complete, now that we have a more rounded insight into how the boys think when faced with puzzles and riddles.

I loved meeting some of the new characters in this one and how they played into the overarching story. Some added humour to the story, and other just showcased how they were truly related to one of the boys. I also really enjoyed being able to see the relationship between Avery and the brother she chooses, I think it'll be a great exploration of her choice for those who might have not agreed by the end of THE FINAL GAMBIT.

I'm excited to see how this all plays out, since this appears to be a new arc for these characters!

___

Have you read any of these books? Let me know your thoughts!

___

Happy reading!

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yourlunarspice · 1 year

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Hiiii! Hope you're doing well! 💫

For the writing asks...

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

4. What detail in [Heaven and Earth Between Us] are you really proud of?

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

I'm doing great, thanks for asking, Kiya! I just had my one-year anniversary with my boyfriend, so I've been super happy since then! I hope you're doing well too!

I got a little carried away with my answers, so I'm putting them under a Read More 😅

Tags Contain Spoilers (69)

Not Beta Read (23)

Kidnapping (21)

Bakugou Katsuki Swears A Lot (17)

Angry Bakugou Katsuki (13)

Lol, I think they mostly are accurate. The 'Not Beta Read' tag isn't applicable anymore, since I share pretty much everything with my beta reader. I'm a big fan of kidnapping in whumpy stories, especially if unconsciousness (knocked out, fainted, drugged, etc.) plays a role. It just tickles all the right parts in my brain. And whenever I write Bakugou, I try to keep him as in-character as possible (my beta reader has told me that I swear more and get angry more easily whenever I write anything substantial in Bakugou's perspective). I just try to get into the mindset of whatever perspective I'm writing for, because I've found the writing comes easier that way.

4. What detail in [Heaven and Earth Between Us] are you really proud of?

Spoilers ahead!

I'm really proud of that entire fic, to be honest! I spent a lot of time brainstorming all the different minutiae in this world, from the celestial rules (about each god's powers, limitations, etc.) to the names and their meanings and even to the playlist I made for it.

But I think the detail I'm most proud of would be each god's divine form. Toshihiro’Máni's divine form was inspired by these gifs (although I can't for the life of me remember where they're from). I tried to stay true to the human character's design as well as incorporated aspects from the gifs. The end result was:

His eyes began to glow silvery white as his skin darkened to an indigo blue, reminiscent of the night sky. Wings extended from his shoulder blades, his feathers every shade of purple, blue, and black anyone could dream of.

His hair grew until it created a halo around his head, waving slowly despite the lack of wind.

Crystals grew from his skin, reflecting the moonlight in all its glory.

I didn't have anything to reference for Katsu-Misæ's divine form, but I tried to imagine how a sun god would look, especially if he was very angry. I ended up liking his design least out of all the gods, but I still like it:

His skin darkened to a fiery orange as his eyes glowed blood-red. His teeth sharpened into fine points while his hair began to burn with an ethereal flame.

I imagined Dabi's divine form as super menacing, but I had fun with it. Basically, he was just a huge skeleton with blood-red hair and eyes glowing black, which I think anyone would be terrified of, lol

They both were engulfed in blue fire that felt so cold it burned. The man’s skin, white and purple alike, blackened before shedding, revealing pearly-white bone. His hair turned blood-red and his eyes darkened until they seemed to glow black.

Finally, we come to Kageki'xəyal (I've been pronouncing his name as kag-ehkee-SHEY-all, but that's probably wrong). I wanted to incorporate aspects of Monoma's Quirk, and debated between him being the god of shadows or god of reflections before finally settling on the former. My beta reader sent me a picture I used as the basis for his divine form. I am low-key in love with his design

The whites had darkened into an inky black, a stark contrast to his gray irises. His skin had darkened as well, settling into a slate gray, while his hair was shockingly white. His UA uniform had been replaced with a long, flowing robe made of pure shadow, fringed with dark purple and indigo. Gripped in his hand was a dark cane, the top of which was a reflective ball shielded by two black spikes.

I had a lot of fun with his new name, too. 'Kageki' comes from the Japanese elements for 'shadow' and 'hope', while 'Xəyal' literally means 'phantom', making his name Phantom Shadow, as a sort of callback to his hero name. He only has a cane bc I thought it'd look cool (and it's totally in-character for Monoma to want to twirl it around while he's acting super extra).

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

This is such a broad questionnnn! For the AUs I write, either they're mostly canon compliant (example 1, example 2, example 3) or they're wildly deviating from canon (example 1, example 2, example 3) ((Heaven falls into both categories)). As for reading, I'm always a sucker for Soulmate AUs, but it's so overdone. Another really specific AU idea I love is switched minds or personalities, especially if the affected parties try to keep it a secret from everyone.

Thanks again for the asks, Kiya! Sorry about the metric ton of information I just dumped on you 😅

From this ask game

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tiffanylamps · 2 years

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For ao3 wrapped: 18,28,29 :)

Hey!! Thank you so much for sending me this ask! 😊 (I only write Beyond Evil fics, so everything will be related to that fandom)

The ao3 ask game

18) The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? I would say probably... Lee Dong Sik. I always fear that I'm going to write him in a way that seems more like a caricature than an actual depiction of his character. I do really enjoy writing from his perspective, as I feel there's a lot of depth to the way he views the world, and some of my favourite things I have written have been told from his perspective. I just want to do it right, and as of right now, I don't believe I have.

28) Favorite work you wrote this year? oooh, this is a tough one. The one that first comes to mind is my self-indulgent karaoke fic, courage to make love known. I don't think it's necessarily the "best" thing I've ever written but I really enjoyed putting it together. Plus, it's just a bunch of silly nonsense and that's super fun to write sometimes (as I tend to focus more on angsty, more emotional stories). 29) Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? Oh no, another really tough one. Ahhhhh. I can't choose just one, so I'll give you a selection

The faraway melody of pitter-patter rain morphs lazily, changing in tone and tempo as the hazy sleep-conscious fog in Joo Won's mind dissipates. His body is a burdening mass of unnecessary weight: limbs mid-rigor mortis from a dreamless sleep that has left him disorientated and aching, stitched to the mattress with invisible red thread. But he knows where he is as soon as he stretches his muscles like a cat after a day-long nap: toes splayed and knees clicking. His head rolls back, allowing his cheek to find the all-too-soft fabric of a pillow that is too fluffy and too big to be his own.

Ah. He knows this pillow. He knows the entire set.

He twists, uncoordinated with eyes closed like a newborn pup seeking out the life-giving milk of its mother. His chest finds the bed sheet and before he has the clarity of mind to stop himself, he cradles the pillow with arms on the verge of pins and needles, burying his face amongst the polyester stuffing. He allows himself a lungful of peace. Just a lungful. A deep and steady intake of autumn air and whatever diffuser Dong Sik has been using as of late. Not unlike a bagpipe, it inflates him with life and song, and he traps it within his lungs in secret, succumbing to its wonder. He feels oddly full.

His eyes look off to the distance and his eyes fall far away. He is incandescent; his heart sending mystic messages to its other half, like children whispering secrets through a tin can telephone. It’s a shame that his other half is currently steaming drunk and unable to receive his messages.

It started as the drips of melting ice and throughout the years it has swelled into streams, rivers and levees, crashing down like waterfalls, but only shown through tears and promises. She’s sure that if he doesn’t speak of it, one day, it’ll become a sea, overwhelming him with waves and tsunamis.

Joo Won feels sick like a projector with a film reel twisted up and jammed, seconds away from catching alight. He tries to be strong, he really does but he can’t stop himself from crumbling down. His chest is a lonesome chasm of torment and guilt, putrid and rotting away. He clutches onto it: maybe if he tears away the filth, he can be good enough - less selfish - for his partner. How can he ever face himself again, when he pushed the best man he’s ever met to-?

After an awkward adjustment of limbs, the blanket barely covering them both, Joo Won lays with his head on his favourite chest, listening to his favourite heart drum the beat of their wedding song. Dong Sik kisses his forehead, wiping tears away and keeping him closer than ever. Joo Won knows they have a lot to discuss, and he knows they will. But right now, the sun is rising and he's in the arms of the man he loves, knowing for certain that he's loved in return. He's on the verge of sleep when he mumbles, “I’d take your name.”

His chin is lifted by gentle fingers, and they comb through his hair as an invitation to explain. “In England and other countries, it’s customary for one spouse to take their partner’s surname. If I could, legally or illegally, I would take your family name.”

Fireflies only live during the summer; Dong Sik had once whispered against his shoulder when they were young and stupid, during a night that never seemed to end. He whispered it with a smile tugging at the corner of his swollen lips; lips Jung Je had made swollen with his own. He remembers how Dong Sik softened with a boyish laugh as Jung Je kissed him again instead of replying. He remembers the smile he captured, the laugh he felt against his tongue, a lie he captured with his teeth and kept chewing on for countless summers.

But summer has ended a long time ago, he knows that now, and winter is truly here. Jung Je wipes the moisture from his cheeks and turns on the ignition. He got Dong Sik’s summers, what a fool he has been for wanting his autumn years too. Someone beat him to it.

Or worse yet, perhaps they were never his, to begin with. Dong Sik was never his.

Love, I spent an evening outside your door, chipping away at the paint, wishing that this is just a nightmare. But the touch burns with that ice-cold death, knowing a part of me is forever empty without you. I am always with you and without you. My memories are dried chrysanthemum petals wedged in between the pages of our yearbook. Twenty years is all you were given. Twenty years is all I took.

Joo Won fixed his collar again. He’s been told numerous times that he’s vain, and it was probably true. He was meticulous: bleached teeth, designer socks, silk bed sheets, Egyptian cotton net curtains, and gold leaf eye cream. He is a fuck-off wristwatch, a share in stocks, a non-existent handshake; real platinum.

He has perfectly manicured nails, a selection of embroidered ties, and a beautiful face without a smile. The kid with a private university dorm room. A dedicated bar inside his studio flat overflowing with sophisticated wine and perfectly aged spirits accompanied by crystal drinking glasses. His class at university was asked: Who is most likely to succeed? Everyone agreed: Han Joo Won. Him, of course. You know who his father is.

As a result of his sequestered life, he had become a fantasy: a façade, a prince at a masquerade ball with an empty dance card.

Once upon a time, he was the kid that memorised every word to foreign hymns. He studied sheet music until the ink bled. He shot awake at night from tainted memories of a begrudged second place in a spelling bee. He was a hangnail snagging on a Prada suit, a smudge on Muzik reading glasses. He was mascara tears running down painted cheeks.

Dust dances and twirls between sunray and shadow. The afternoon heat has mellowed into a finer thing: a pleasant concoction of crickets and the early evening songbirds' tune. There are dishes on the counter and boxes by the door, a light is on in the bathroom, and it is quiet as if there is no one home at all. The still lake on the other side of the sliding doors perfectly mirrors the painted sky, like a bathtub of golden honey, waiting for a finger to take a dip.

Anyway, yeah, there's more but I won't bore you with it. Out of the selection, the last one is the only excerpt from an unpublished piece/wip, so you get a cheeky sneak peek haha. I hope this was of interest to you! Thank you again for sending me this ask 😊

#ask game #ask answered #thank you <3 #writing

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paalove · 10 days

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I want to ask ♡ SMALL THINGS for all of your ofts fics but I'll show restrain and only ask it for Together we have the callous heart, Till the tears run red, and the "who called the cops" series as a whole.

(kinda want to ask ⇆ SLIDING DOORS to put Boeing in Till the tears run red too but everything might catch fire)

ask game - over a week late oopsie sowwwy, thank you VERY much for being the only one to send me an ask!!

♡ SMALL THINGS: pick a fic and I’ll tell you my favorite minor detail from it!

together we have the callous heart

The pouting is getting predictable.

ray is easy for sand to understand!

ray is easy for sand.

(ray is easy!)

hehe i love writing early sandray and the way they just click together 💖

till the tears run red (and stain the sheets upon your bed)

of the chapters i have actually posted yet it's THIS:

Nick.

“Nick,” he says, catching Nick’s sleeve.

Eyes wide and not blinking, Nick gapes at him like a fish and says, “Ton, what-“

“Get Sand.”

“Huh-“

“Ray needs him. In his car. Shut up.”

boston is in resenting-and-wallowing mode and then he's in EMERGENCY mode so yes this is a moment when boston is prioritising the realisation that ray is In A Bad Way over his own hurt and anger, but also he is very much seeing nick as A Solution. wow i wonder if boston has any flaws that might exarcerbate this subconscious perception he has!!

it's so fake this world of ours (aka: who called the cops on the halloween party? four perspectives)

"But Top didn’t, and now Mew’s searching for a new way to be, listening to what Ray thinks is best when Ray is grasping and crawling and pathetic, always has been, not able to stop drinking where Mew has always, always been strong enough to stop, stronger than Top but giving him strength too…

It’s all Top’s fault."

top pov before he has even slightly admitted mew is capable of wrongdoing is wildly fun. i like this part because i can swing between Everything Is Ray's Fault and Everything Is Top's Fault, and where are the lines between those two opinions, anyway? this is something i really love doing with limited pov and writing this fic actually made me start liking top haha

⇆ SLIDING DOORS: pick a character from one fic to drop into another!

hahahaha so the thing is if boeing comes in early? say, around the time of the party? well.

if boeing came back at sand the way he does in canon, but without sand having A Boyfriend! Look At Ray, He's A 🥰💖Boyfriend💖🥰 Now? sand considers it.

especially if he comes back NOW, with ray being with mew and sand being so fucking heartsore over it.

so, worst ending: that happens, and boeing scoops up a sand to play with for a bit before all that explodes, and meanwhile nick cannot find sand at the party to go retrieve ray. so probably boston and nick have to go get ray together, after, and ray might have boston, yeah, but this is the most alone he's been in a long, long time - ray has a fucking horrible time (and so does sand, but its worse because its separate).

better ending - boeing disrupts mew's plan entirely, taking the place of... realistically ray. this fixes several things! making it less interesting. if i were to write this story i would go with the worst ending.

best ending - boeing arrives late and ends up fucking boston a little early.

#robfic #ilyyyy

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respectthefishuwu · 10 months

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A skeleton has always been so detached in its shape from the idea of human that I had always perceived it as a foreign entity. I understand logically that it is a human remains as the hardest part of our being it lasts longer than our flesh. I can feel it inside me, can touch the skin where it is closer to the surface, I hear it clack and click sometimes, my teeth are bare for me to see them. Yet still I don’t think I ever really correlated it as something that really used to be part of a human when I saw it. Of course a modern person living in the west to add does not have many chances to see a skeleton in person. We most usually see photos, in films or drawings. I myself had a skeleton one to one sized model in middle school, affectionately called “Kostek” (from Polish “kości” i. e. “bones”) a victim of many of our pranks. Later in high school I would witness depictions of skulls in art history class, Netherland baroque still lifes still reside in my mind. As our teacher would tell us the message of unavoidable death and flowing time to the one experiencing the painting. I would look at them in admiration, the skill and mastery of the artist speaking to me, a youngster in training. But the message of the long dead master would not reach me. The skull, the hourglass were merely interesting objects to study in my eye.

In the first grade of high school I believe, when we were studying human figure our first assignment was the skull. We were to study the bone structure in preparation for a fleshed out human. We would study the shape of bone, the sharpness of the jaw, eyebrows curve, how the back was chiselled. I studied the profile predominantly as that was the perspective from my station I occupied in our drawing and painting classroom during my four year stay. I sketched and observed the angle at which the nose met the forehead, the sad grimace of eye sockets cast in shadow, the wide smile forever frozen in time. And although I knew we were studying it in preparation for the human figure, firstly it would be a gypsum bust and later at last one of my classmates would pose, yet even so it was just an object, a shape, a being of space for me.

Few years back I visited an old chapel, or a shrine perhaps would be a better way to describe it. I believe when I was still in middle school but of that I am not sure nor do I recall where it was. The only thing I remember for sure is that it was a one day trip during a broader vacation. The day was bright with scorching Sun washing everything in a dazzling shine wherever its rays would touch. Put simply, the perfect day to explore old sanctuaries made of a cooling stone. The shrine I think was from times of plague in the 17th century. Its entire interior was made of skulls. Countless human skulls would surround you upon entering. That image is still vivid in my mind. Old polished ecru bone, bright but delicate on the sun fatigued eyes. Unusual but fascinating experience to say the least.

Right now I am listening to “Hurt” by Nine Inch Nails covered by Hildegard von Blingin’. The song is quiet with a sorrowful yet calm tone and of course as it is Hildegard von Blingin’ cover the song and music is rewritten to imitate mediaeval style, lyrics changed in an early modern English manner to still be understood by the modern listener. A truly romantic tune.

The video accompanying the song has lyrics change on the screen along the performer’s singing, written in a lean font reminiscent of an old quill pen writing. Beside them there is a figure in the style of drawings found in mediaeval breviaries. The figure is that of a king in chainmail tunic atop his gown, crown helm placed on his head, red cloak engulfing him, sword held up in his right hand with his left one placed beneath his heart. Truly a picture of a mediaeval king, what have I found so peculiar about that image? Because that is in fact why I started writing all of this in the first place.

Please watch it if you had not already:

https://youtu.be/g4UZRYShjYU?si=kuwHhC5dhMATIrY5

As the video progresses together with the song, the depiction of our king begins to change. At his feet appear human skulls, at first faded they subtly come into view stronger as time passes. One of them holds a tibia in its jaws, another one grins almost mockingly. Upon closer inspection there are changes to our king as well. Traces of blood stain his chainmail tunic, his eyes become clouded falling deeper into their sockets, his nose darkens until it is gone, only a dark hole left behind, skeletal grin overtakes kings stoic demeanour. His helm covered in rime, the hem of his gown torn.

“What have I become?

My sweetest friend”

the lyrics call out once more,

“Everyone I love fades away in the end

And thou couldst have it all

My empire of dirt

I will let thee down

I will make thee hurt”

The skulls surrounding the king fade into the view firmly now as the song nears to the end.

While watching the video I jumped between my open tabs as I usually do when listening to music, a static video like that doesn’t really lose its message when not watched continuously I presumed. I was distracted, I jumped back to the tab open with the cover and as I saw the skull at king's feet and for but a speck of second I saw a person in one of them. It was a brief visualisation but something in me was stirred, I felt somehow sad. It is just a drawing of a skull but like any other skull it used to be a person, alive, breathing, warm. My mind wandered back to the shrine I described earlier, the walls filled with people, warm humans with sorrows and joys, all around me upon my entry. All of their lives bygone and forgotten, even my memories of their bones faded, as preserved as they are. En passant I rapidly searched for any other times I had some type of contact with a skeleton. Each personified suddenly, each an image of a human now lost to time. None of them just inanimate objects of interesting shape anymore.

And that exactly, that overwhelming dread and happiness of passing, humanity in its purest form, pooled behind my eyes, tightening my throat pushed me to write.

That little drawing of a skull with tibia in its jaws and its grinning friend on the opposite side.

#a skeleton and the detached idea of human #hildegard von blingin #hurt by nine inche nails #bardcore #a spontaneous 2 and a half long page essay #I wish I could write my assignments like that #skeleton #evening thoughts #memento mori #i guess #dread of passing #blessing of it #girl behaviour tbh #embracing my feminine side fr #the human experience i tell ya

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bells-of-black-sunday · 10 months

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🎮 — favorite video game(s)?

Munday | Still Accepting

🎮 — favorite video game(s)?

You may expect it to be the games I write aka D.bd and L.eague, but: A. I have trauma over l.eague due to a very toxic person in my life, that I unfortunately still live with, who would yell and scream at me over every mistake I made in that game and take it offline too making it so can only really play it with close friends anymore and B. I really want to get back into d.bd eventually, but I just don't care for the matchmaking I still miss the old ranking system. I still play it with irl friends occausionally.

BUT My favorite videogames are Red Dead 2, B.ugsnax, H.ades, S.am and M.ax seasons 1 and 2, and R.emnant From The Ashes 1 and 2. (ig for m.obas u can put S.mite there too)

Red Dead and Bugsnax are for the story and gameplay, they're both absolutely incredible games and I honestly like Bugsnax more than Red Dead at times? I've 100% Bugsnax and I haven't done that with Red Dead so. B.ugsnax I sitll feel like is really slept on, since I haven't seen anyone who played it on release play the free update that added so many more snax and a lot of fun story especially with S.norpu and C.handlo.

S.am and M.ax is just fun and like peak early 2000s point and click, I love all the stupid characters and I almost at one point added Jurgen to my muse list as a joke. It's such a fun franchise (until u get to the third season than it's really bad and they somehow fucked up the controls for a point and click game). I'd highly recommend checking them out.

Remnant is jut really fun to play with friends? It's a souls-like fps I guess kind of looter shooter, but it feels more set up like an rpg with it's trait points, armor, and a lot of different weapons. I love the world and the character designs, they're all really fcking good. Still haven't beaten 2 with my friends (we're still working on killing the final boss then doing the dlc), but we're slowly working on it.

Now- if we're counting S.mite as my go to m.oba being a favorite, I genuinely prefer it over l.eague tbh? And not just because trauma, I held that opinions before all that shit happened. I really like its 3rd person perspective and I just feel like the kits are a lot more fun and interactive? I play a lot more gods than I ever did in l.eague and that's not because I was only allowed to play support while playing l.eague, l.eague has a lot of supports, but I just like the S.mite support skits better.

That and S.mite has actual game modes you're not forced into a.ram or 5v5s, those modes exist of course (and their 5v5s have way more objectives than l.eague), you have 3v3s that me and my friends play ranked or you can play team death match or even something as fun as s.lash where its two giant creatures beating the shit out of each other and you have to escort them.

And while we didn't have as many rotating game modes this year and that's always a bummer, there was a lot last year like S.mite had 2v2v2v2v2s way before L.eague ever announced them and it was a more fun concept of trying to be the first team to hit 30k gold. You had m.ario k.art but it was s.mite gods, boss rushes for the holidays that was genuinely hard, normal 2v2s, their version of u.rf ofc w/o it being random because honestly fuck a.ru.rf its so annoying when you get stuck with chars that are boring af in a setting like that.

And then while the S.mite seasons didn't do shit for me or my friends, because we don't play c.onquest we had 5 this year and each changed up the map in pretty big ways and I've heard that people really found it fun and it changed up the pace of games quite a bit. That and S.mite just has a lot more body diversity, skin tones, voices, etc. than L.eague does and while some gods are very old, there's no god where I'm like "yeah that looks fucking awful" like I am with some l.eague champs.

And for all those monster fuckers, they do not shy away from monster designs unlike L.eague. There's a lot of really cool monster chars, like when C.haron came out I remember lamenting to Egg about how L.eague had released a rlly fcking boring and safe design while Smite dropped fucking C.haron. I also just think S.mite has a better way of showing mastery too with the border stars, (you get one per 1000 mastery) you can really tell who doesn't touch grass when you can't even count the stars anymore. (affectionate) I really enjoy S.mite even if it gives me depression by shoving the #1 N.emesis player on NA into my games every week.

#ooc #cw; abuse mention #I more so enjoy l.eague for the world than the game anymore tbh #also hi sry for this fcking NOVEL

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winterandwords · 11 months

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Happy STS, Winter! What’s the story that has influenced your writing craft the most? Whether it made some element of storytelling ‘click’ for you, or served as an example of how not to do things, which story has taught you the most?

Thanks for the ask!

I just answered another ask about literary influences and I realise if I was a straight white man my answers to both of these questions would probably be seen as massive red flags 🤣

So. Catcher in the Rye by JD Salinger. Holy fucking shit. I read it for the first time when I was maybe 12 and I've read it more times than I can count since then.

It was the first time I ever read a story that was just like "this is some stuff that happens in this guy's life" (see also Less Than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis a little later). I don't mean that's all the meaning there was in the story, but maybe because of the age I was when I read it, most of the books I'd encountered before that had been very conventionally structured and had been Stories™

Catcher is aggressively introspective, the MC is in no way a heroic character or a force for good (or a force for anything really), it's not a happy story, there's no great moral lesson in it, it's meandering and low-key frustrating and the whole focus is on this one person's fucked up experiences and painfully lonely and damaged perspective as part of a life that would be seen from the outside as very "it's alright for you".

It made me realise that I could tell stories that were almost entirely character-focused, where the characters were deeply flawed and broken, and there was no convenient resolution. It's very much of its time and hasn't influenced my style at all, but it was one of the books that taught me how much wider the scope of writing could be than what I'd previously realised.

#answered asks #sts #storyteller saturday #writeblr tags

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ily-tothecore · 2 years

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byler fic recs - all completed

i'm tearing you asunder by smoosnoom (moonsooms) - honestly one of the softest fics ever, it's so sweet and i literally couldn't breathe during some scenes. set towards the end of season 4 and onwards, will is acting quite distant with mike (which is fair) and mike can't understand why their relationship is still so tense if he's apologised, it gets to the point where mike breaks and asks why will keeps leaving him, they have a super angsty and cute moment and from then on it's just mike putting all of his energy into his relationship with will. it has an incredibly romantic ending, 100% recommend. please read this.

help me hold onto you by scorchstorm - this fic has one of my favourite byler confession scenes ever. i re read the scene an insane amount of times before i even scrolled to the next part because it was so sweet, and one of my favourite things in the world is a 'fight turned love confession'. i also quite enjoyed another work by this author, it's called 'break their bounds', you should all definitely give it a read.

the red envelope and the unmarked mixtape by midnighteverlark - a two fic series that starts off with will writing down everything he feels for mike in a letter, a letter which mike was never meant to read, but does. mike has a crisis, will freaks out, they drift and come together again. the sequel is about them figuring out the ropes of their relationship and growing together, it's really sweet, the sequel is definitely my favourite. would definitely read again.

jealousy (turning saints into the sea) by wasabi8ooo - this is a short and sweet fic about mike being jealous when will flirts with a boy at a gas station. it's pretty funny and i really enjoyed it, would read again. i think it's one of those fun fics that you can always just go back to when you need something soft and want to have a laugh.

a game of truths by romeowrites - a really sweet fic that focuses on the relationship between will and mike throughout the years, starting with the words "tell me something you've never told me before." it's a super cute story and it's got some solid humour in there too. i'd read it again.

everything changes, what a shame by andiwriteordie - this fic does a really good job at allowing us to see more of how mike's life was going after will and el had left. it gives us an impressive inner monologue for mike and also gives us a glimpse at what his relationship with eddie could've been like. it then continues on showing us mike's perspective of the events of season 4 (if byler had been made canon by then) and i really enjoyed it, it was really sweet but also quite intense? i loved how natural the development was between mike and will and how we got to see mike's inner struggles as he comes to terms with his feelings for his best friend. highly recommend.

click here for part two of my byler recs :)

#byler #byler fic #byler fanfiction #byler fic rec #will byers #mike wheeler #mike and will #will and mike #will byers/mike wheeler #read on ao3 #ao3fic #ao3 works #ao3 #archive of our own #fic rec #fic recommendation #stranger things #stranger things 4

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arcade-writing · 2 years

Note

WAIT YOU DO TRANS CHARACTERS??? I need more trans!Silco content in my life 😭

Maybe he finally feels comfortable enough to share his first time with male!reader? Idk, you could write anything and I'd read it lol

Aww shucks~ hope I've made it worth the wait!

Trans silco is perfect! You really gonna tell me that man is cis? No way

This is set during the pre-time skip. Silcos empire has been made but he's not at the level of power he is when we see him in the show.

A follow up smut to this ask: here

First time

🍋 NSFW

pairing: trans!Silco X Male!reader

Warning: AFAB body & some language for Silco, penetration, Creampie, slight virginity kink from reader, oral on silco, vibrators, prepping, goofy interactions between acts

Your relationship with silco was interesting. He saught you out for advise or to look after jinx. To keep him company when he was stressed. But as time went on and you two grew closer - one thing lead to another and your view of each other changed.

First it was just, employer and employee. You were ranked up and made his assistant. Jinxes babysitter after seeing you two become close. The lines began to blur. You were family. He began to cherish you. Trust you with things he didn't trust with others. He cared for your opinion above others. You made him weak.

He loved you.

But you didn't know that. You loved him too but thought he'd want to be professional. Despite the drifting touches and gentle moments. You kept your longing to yourself.

Silco had a meeting today. He was out for the entire evening. You were left to clean up the work he had left. Paperwork needing signatures, the bar had to be managed and you need to check the menu. The boss was growing bored of the usual mixes and wanted someone else's perspective.

You looked down at the list jinx gave you before she scurried back to the depths of her room. She overhead your conversation earlier and wanted to give her suggestions on new drinks.

They were... unique. But what would the last drop be without chaos in every corner. You handed the list over to the bartender and he poured you small glasses of each drink. Using his knowledge to tweak them so they'd actually be drinkable.

You took a gulp out of each. Each one left your tongue sizzling. You couldn't tell if you hated them or loved them. You took another sip and was still left unsure. They were perfect!

"Add them to the menu, we can have a special night - monkey mania or something cheesy like that."

You waved your hand, skulling down your favourite of the bunch. Yep, you still couldn't tell.

"Oh and...expect Jinx to come by with new cups, she was very excited about this."

You tapped the counter with a knowing smile. Before Perking up. "Hand me the scotch, won't ya, Thieram."

He placed the bottle on the counter, ready to pour. Your face dropped as you rolled your eyes.

"The good scotch."

Thieram gave you a knowing look. Raising his brow. "You don't think it went well?"

"It never goes well if Finn is involved, that's why I'm here." You grinned.

He handed you two freshly cleaned glasses, pouring a generous amount in each. You thanked him as you slid a tray over, placing the drinks on before snatching the entire bottle.

"Have some faith, (Y/N)." He barked out with a laugh of disbelief.

You just shook your head. Taking the tray up to silcos office. You placed his cigars by them before putting on his favourite vinyl. Refusing to start it until Silco arrived. You drew the curtains just enough for light to peak through. Switching on a few lights on a dim setting. Dusting off and fluffing each pillow.

You clicked your fingers. "Where's the lighter?" You checked your own pockets before searching any of his left over jackets and coats.

You couldn't find a thing. You rolled up your sleeves as you began snooping into his desk. Your cheeks going red as you found a golden vibrator in one. You slammed it shut as you continued your search.

with a sigh of relief you finally found it. Keeping it in your hand as you lifted the tray with the other. Steadying in on your palm as you waited in the middle of the room.

It wasn't long before you heard the familiar trudging footsteps coming up the stairs. You took in a deep breath as you tried to soothe your racing mind. Forcing back the mental picture of Silco pleasuring himself with the vibrator you found. Espically now that he was about to open the door.

"You're already here."

Your boss lowered his knife. He had a feeling it was you but you can never be too careful in his line of business.

"I had a hunch." You shrugged. Panicking as you almost dropped the tray.

Silco sighed as he went straight for his seat. Leaning back in his chair, you trailed after him. Lowering the tray so he could reach his cigar, you flicked on the lighter and lit it for him.

Moving the papers out of the way you played down the tray. You walked over, playing his favourite record with a smile. Returning back to his side as you stood with your hands behind your back.

"I've finished everything off and have piled it by date the contract was received, you'll just need to look over it and give it your signature."

"Thank you." Relief clear in his voice as he let out a drag. When he noticed you weren't moving, he sighed. "Sit."

It was an order. Not an offer. You pulled the nearby footstool from under his desk, sitting down next to him. It was humourous but you held back your snickers. Seeing as you were taller than the man so even at this low seat you were a fairly good height.

Silco took a large gulp of his drink. Rubbing his temples after as he slid the drink over to you. You refilled his glass before taking a swig of yours.

"What happened."

He let out a groan as he chewed at the end of his cigar. Getting frustrated at the mere thought of that meeting. As if the room was suddenly too hot from his flaring anger he hastily took off his suit vest. Holding it with a snarl over his chairs arm.

"The usual, no respect or competence from any of them, Finn making a performance of his own stupidity to win their favour."

"Did it work?"

"of course not." He barked out an amused scoff.

"and here I thought it went awful - sounds like normal business."

"But they did agree to his meaningless suggestions, now plans have been delayed but that's to be expected."

"Yikes." You poured a little extra in his glasses before skulling yours.

He chuckled as he took a long sip. He crushed his cigar before turning to you. His eyes softened as he wiped away the pencil smudge on your cheek. No doubt you got it whilst doing your tasks.

"Silco... would you--" the words died in your throat. Heat rising to your cheeks as your heart thumped in your ears.

Oh god how strong was that drink? Or were you just more of a light weight than you realized. Your brain was hazy as you rubbed your hands up from his knees to his thighs.

"Do you want me to relieve your stress?"

Silco was caught off guard by your question. Stiffening under your touch as you stared up at him. A longing in your eyes he only noticed in moments like these. Where you sat together and talked as equals. He tried to ignore it. Dismiss it. Claim it to be wishful thinking but here you were.

"How would you do that?" His voice was dripped with curiousity, disbelief hanging on the edge of his words.

"However you wanted me to, it's your stress not mine." You chuckled, trying to lighten the mood.

"Is that mouth of yours only for show or can you actually put it to work?"

The implication went straight to your dick. Your smile twitching as you tried to hold it back. You forced the chair to move, making silco sit right Infront of you as you pushed his legs open.

"Tell me how I do after, who knows I could be god awful." You teased.

Unpopping his trouser buttons, Huffing as you had to unbuckle his belt before you could properly pull down the front. Those damn pants. You're never letting him wear these again. What even is this?

With his help you pulled his trousers down to ankles. He hummed disapproving as he stepped on your thigh. It took a moment to figure out what was wrong before it clicked. You carefully unlaced his shoes before slipping them off, one by one. Taking his trousers off too. Leaving him in his shirt.

There were many secrets Silco kept. His body was not one of those. Sure, he was private about it but anyone in his close circle knew. He was not ashamed of it. Simply, he found no need to share it with the world. He is a man. That was it.

Your hands trailed up his bare thighs as you reached for his briefs. Pausing to give him time to reconsider but he just shook his head.

"I thought you wanted to help me?" He mocked. "Are you nervous?"

"Just giving you space to decline."

You pulled them down and placed them along with his trousers. Which were folded next to his shoes.

There it was. A sight of real beauty. You savoured every second you could to look at him. Watching his twitching brow as he shifted his hips. Giving you better access as you lowered your head. Maintaining eye contact as you licked up the wet slick from his folds. You moaned against him, the vibrations going straight to his cock as you sucked on it.

Silco groaned as his hands found their way on your head. Gripping you closer as you sucked and kissed his sensative sex. Your eyes rolling as he grinded against your mouth.

"Ah- good pet."

The nickname only made you more eager. Lapping him up as your tongue dragged up him. Rogue swirling around his clit as your fingers rubbed his folds.

Each noise he made drove you closer to completely loosing yourself. You didn't even realize you closed your eyes as you focused on devouring his wet cunt. Grabbing his hips to press him more against your mouth as you slurped and licked.

You kept prodding at his hole as you greedily ate him out. Gathering up his slick as lubricant. Pushing one finger in as you thrusted it in with a slow steady pace. His legs twitched and shifted. Wrapping around your head loosely as he used your back as a way to keep him propped up.

He was unable to speak. Just moaning as he jerked his hips up. He saw white as his climax crashed over him. Feeling sensative as you gave small kisses to his clit.

"How was I? You asked, mouth glistening from your feast. Leaning back to get a better look at him.

"I'll need you to do that more often." He sighed out. Catching his breath.

"Oh? Was I really that good?"

You were grinning. Utterly smug and chest puffed out with pride. You helped him move his legs from your shoulders. Rubbing them up and down as he sat there. Relaxed and smiling.

"Don't let it get to your head too much, I doubt that brain of yours can handle it."

You let out a fake offended gasp. Clutching your chest as you loudly sniffed. "Wounded - truely."

Silcos eye landed on the prominent bulge in your pants. Smirking as he pressed his foot down on it. You let out a strangled moan as he rubbed it. You gripped his leg as you grinded against his foot. Needing relief more than you thought.

"You talk too much, pet, since you did such a good job-" he leaned back spreading his wet folds with long slender fingers. Your eyes immediately snapped to it.

"I'll let you put it inside."

You immediately tried to scramble up. Rushing to get your pants off as your dick took over your brain. All you could think about was feeling him clench around you. How warm and wet he'll feel. You needed it so bad.

Silco watched with clear amusement. Using it to his advantage to hide his nerves. Whilst he was no blushing maiden, he's had plenty of experience. He's never had someone inside him. He didn't trust anyone enough. But he trusted you. He wanted you.

You picked him up from his seat, propping him up on his desk as you moved everything to the side. Trying not to break anything as you finally kicked off your pants. Your shoes flying off too.

You lined yourself up to his entrance, tracing circles into his hip as you moved forward.

"Wait-" Silco pushed on your shoulder. You immediately stopped as you looked at him.

Was he already regretting this? Did you do something wrong?

"I've never had anyone inside me before."

"You're a virgin?!" Genuine surprise was in your voice. How?! He was him! He was so handsome!

"I used toys, that privilege was reserved for me only."

Fair. You nodded, showing you understood. You tried to calm down your racing heart as another grin tugged on your lips.

"But no one's ever fucked you before?"

"No." He shook his head.

You looked down at his sex. Mind was screaming at you to ruin him. To think, no one has ever fucked him. You'll be the first. First to fuck that delicious pu-

You cut yourself out of your perverted thoughts. Your face was burning as you nodded to yourself.

If he's never had anything other than toys then prep will most definitely be needed. You were prepared to finger him until he was ready but you wanted to give him the extra effort. To go beyond the basics.

You opened the drawer, taking out the vibrator much to his surprise. Just as he was about to ask you how you knew you shushed him. Turning it on as it had a light vibration. You placed it on his clit as you drew light circles. He shivered at the action. Slowly dragging it up and down his sex before pressing it to his hole.

You slowly pushed it in, pressing it to the next mode where it picked up in speed. The vibrations traveling up to his aching clit. You rolled in with your finger as you fucked the vibrator into him slowly. He hissed as it stretched him. He was wet enough he could take it but it still needed abit of a nudge.

As soon as it was inside you began to fuck him with it. Wet sounds coming from his pussy as your hand moved faster. Aiming for quick and deep as you stretched him out.

With attention on his cock and being fucked he was growing more sensitive. Absolutely Dripping as he gripped your arm. Steadying himself as he threw his head back. A loud moan echoing through the room as the vibrations grew more fierce. Now on the third setting.

"Fuck me-!" He demanded. Gritting his teeth as he tried to force back the familiar sensation. His release coming quicker than he desired.

You slowed down your movements as you turned off the vibrator. Linging yourself back up with his entrance before you stopped. Scanning him up and down. Before silco could ask you suddenly flipped him over. Pushing his chair closer to the desk. Pressing his ass to your cock as he had one leg propped up on the desk and the other just balanced on the chair.

You finally pushed yourself in. practically drooling at how snug he felt around your shaft. Clenching around you as you thrusted in deeper. Doing exactly as what you did with the vibrator. Easing in until there was less resistance.

It wasn't until the last few inches were in did he start grinding back. Trying to take you in fully as he let out a moan. His brain needing one thing and he was losing paitence.

"Go on , fuck me."

You let out a shaky breath as you pulled out enough. Just leaving the tip in before thrusting back in. Hitting right past the stubborn ring of muscle and exactly where he needed. From this angle he could feel how deep you were thrusting into him. Hitting a spot even he couldn't.

Silco leaned on the desk as he gripped the edge of it. Barely able to prop himself up as you grabbed his hips.

Your moans mixing together as you watched your cock sink into him. Everytime you came out you could see how wet he was.

"You really like this, huh? Like me fucking your pretty little hole."

Your ears were burning. Oh god what were you saying.

"All this power and yet here you are." You pounded into him with one hard thrust. "Letting some nobody fuck you like this."

"You're not some nobody." He gritted out. His words mixing with his Groans. There was still a slight ache but the pleasure was too much to focus on that. It felt too good to stop.

"You're mine."

Your brain suddenly went blank as you stared down at him. Your eyes meeting. A dark possessive fire in his eye as he looked back at you. It was if something posses you. You were moving faster than you thought you could. No longer sparing him as you chased your every desire.

To feel him be stuffed with your cock moaning for you. To please him. To make him come undone. To make him yours. You were his and he needed to be yours.

The words 'your mine' repeating in your head making you whimper.

"Just like that." He breathed out. Enjoying the rougher treatment. Feeling your nails dig into his flesh.

"I fucking love you, I love how good you feel - how you take me- made for me."

The words came out your mouth before you could even process them. Silco clawed at your wrists as he moaned desperately. Neither of you caring for volume.

"You're so perfect for me, pet." His words came out shaky as he felt his sensative he was becoming. "There's no one I trust more than you."

You hooked your arm under his waist, pulling him up as you jerked your hips up. He was bouncing on your dick as he held onto the desk. He reached out with one hand for you tie. Pulling you closer to him as his lips messily met yours. Barely able to kiss from your position but you both tried none of the less.

It was sloppy. Teeth getting in the way. Tongues just getting inside the others mouth as you moaned. It was passionate. Messy. But that's how you liked it. That's how Silco was. Under all his classy looks and composed facade. That who he was. You couldn't ask for anything different.

"Thank you." You kept thanking him as you felt yourself getting closer.

Why were you thinking him? Too many reasons to count. you couldn't think of a single one in that moment. Just focusing on how wet he was and his noises.

"I'm gonna-" you stuttered out.

"Do it." He gasped out. "inside."

You thrusted deep and hard as hot ropes of cum filled him up. He shivered as your released prompted his own. Overstimulation hitting him as you slowly fucked him through both of your highs.

As soon as you slipped out you helped him down from his desk. Picking him up and taking him the much more comfy sofa. Laying him down as you pulled out a Handkerchief from your pocket. Cleaning him up before doing so with yourself.

His hair was a mess. Drool was running down his chin. Shirt crinkled and folded up to show his stomach. His makeup smudged from sweat and when he his face was pressed against his desk.

You sighed dreamily. Running your hands through his dark hair, spotting more grey hairs. Silco hummed as he grasped your wrist.

"Did I do good?" You asked. Voice soft as you watched him kiss your palm.

"Better than good." He locked eyes with you. Smiling, loopy and relaxed.

You adjusted his position. Laying behind him as you held him close to your chest. Kissing his shoulder as you buried your face into it. Neither of caring for the future. Just blissful and shimmering in the afterglow.

#league of legends #arcane league of legends #arcane netflix #arcane #arcane silco #silco x reader #silco #lol silco #silco x you

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sapphosvioletts · 3 years

Text

Love You More

Natasha Romanoff x Autistic Daughter

Summary:

Just a little moment of Natasha and taking care of her daughter and letting her stim with her hair <3

Word count: 983

Note: Not every autistic person experiences autism the same. I'm autistic and I am writing from my perspective of how I personally experience autism, but not everyone feels the same as me or has the same perspective as I do.

- the reader is adopted, they are not biologically related. I want my writing to be inclusive to everyone, which is why i am specifying this incase it isn't directly said in the fic

.oOo

I wake up to the sound of Natasha's laugh coming from the living room. I groan and pull the covers over my head as my eyes open to the bright morning sun. After letting my eyes adjust I finally sit up, rubbing my eyes tiredly.

I don't mind being woken up this morning, Natasha's laugh is always something I'll cherish, and it is a warm way to wake up. Her voice is soothing and velvety, and her laugh is one that never fails to make others smile. That laugh is reserved for very few people and I'll forever be thankful I'm lucky enough to be one of the few.

I get up and pad down the hallway, my sleep shirt, which is actually Natasha's, falls down past my shorts and almost engulfs me. I peek my head into the living room and find Steve sitting on the couches.

I furrow my eyebrows and come all the way out into the living room, looking for my mom. Steve smiles when he sees me, "Good morning!" He says happily. I give him a smile in return, appreciating his enthusiasm that he always somehow seems to have in the mornings.

I then see red hair pop up into my eyesight, swishing around until the familiar face is visible. Natasha smiles at me and invites me over. Although I'm relieved that I found her, I'm still slightly confused.

She's sitting on the floor, her back to the couch. She has her work spread out on the coffee table with a mug of coffee. I sit on the couch behind her, causing her to lean back into the couch, tilting her head back as well. She smiles up at me as I laugh from the weird angle of her head looking back, bursting into laughter herself.

She straightens back up and goes back to her work. I lay down on the couch on my back, my hands tapping my stomach and my heels kicking the couch. I hear the tv being turned on and I see Steve flicking through the channels.

While I'm staring up at the ceiling, waiting for Steve to find something to watch, I feel something placed on my stomach. I look down and find one of my fidget toys. I smile at Natasha, who is already consumed by her work again and not paying attention, but I know it was her. I fidget with the toy for a while, watching whatever show Steve turned on and listening to the keys clicking from Nat's laptop.

A little while later, there is a very, very loud knocking sound. I jump and my hands come up to cover my ears instinctively. I feel my heart race in my chest and my body shakes. Natasha, having felt me jump, immediately turns around and gives her full attention to me.

"Hey, it was just from the the tv honey" she tells me, knowing I was confused where the noise came from. All I can do is nod and my hands slowly come down from my ears as I take deep breaths.

Natasha rubs my back and patiently waits for me, wanting to make sure I'm okay. She understands with my sensory issues how much noises, especially sudden noises can effect me. She never rushes me to calm down or gets annoyed, she is always patient.

"Are you okay? Do you need something?" She asks softly. I think for a moment about speaking, but I'm really not up for being verbal at the moment. I point to my ears and hope she understands, which thankfully she does. "Earbuds?" I nod and she gets up, kissing the top of my head before going to grab my earbuds.

Steve gives me a small smile, not paying too much attention to us to give me some privacy. Natasha quickly comes back and hands me my earbuds, which I quickly connect to my phone and turn on some music.

"Do you need anything else?" She kneels by the couch and rubs circles on my leg. I reach a hand up to her hair and start twirling it around my finger. She smiles and chuckles, knowing what I'm trying to ask for.

With another kiss to the top of my hair, she turns back around and sits down on the floor. I smile as she scoots further back so I can reach her, moving the coffee table closer as well. She knows me so well, which comes in very handy during times when I'm nonverbal. Instead of pushing me to talk, she gives me other ways to communicate, which usually aren't even needed given how well she knows me.

Once she's settled my hand immediately goes to her soft, silky hair. I run my fingers through it over and over, relaxing with the repetition and feeling of it. She goes back to her work while letting me stim with her hair, but a small smile traces her lips this time.

After a while of work, the hand in her hair never stopping its movements, Natasha leans back and sighs. She sees my eyes shut, my face relaxed and content. She can tell I'm not asleep by my hand in her hair, as well as my bouncing foot and tapping fingers.

She reaches back and takes hold of my other hand. My eyes open in surprise, but I quickly relax again. Natasha squeezes my hand in both of hers tightly, knowing that pressure calms me. I smile at the feeling and let my eyes fall shut again.

My fingers find her wrist and tap three times, our silent way of saying "I love you". I feel Natasha's head lean onto the couch next to me and one of her hands come up to rest on my cheek. Her thumb swipes back and forth over my smiling cheek and she mumbles an "I love you more" back.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x teen!reader #autistic!reader #autistic reader #natasha romanoff x daughter!reader #natasha romanoff x daughter #avengers x reader #avengers x teen!reader #natasha romanoff x autistic!reader #natasha romanoff x autistic reader #avengers x autistic!reader #avengers x autistic reader #natasha romanoff imagine #avangers imagine #marvel imagine #teen!reader #daughter!reader #reader insert

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ptergwen · 3 years

Text

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

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if i forgot you please lmk!

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