#not officer as in cop but officer like a cubicle job uses it

[abimee]

Kranky in her job attire (the dolly dress was a rouse to blend in because it looks really weird for a raggedy-ann type doll to be wearing an office suit in 2008)

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony's Stupid Daily Blog (855): Sat 20th Jul 2024

While I was taking a piss in the toilet cubicle at work this morning I saw that there was an advert on the cubicle door and by advert I don't mean "I FUCK YOUR MUM WHILE YOU WATCH" I mean a job advertisement. It was an apprenticeship to learn how to fix the robots that carry the big pillars with all the packages in them across the factory floor. At first I thought that this would be a cool new skill to learn (Or in my case it would be the first skill I have ever learned) but the more I thought about it I realised this would not be for me because I have limited use of my right hand thanks to my ulnar nerve operation from fifteen years ago which come to think of it would be a great way of fooling people into thinking that I could have been a heart surgeon too. If I were to tell people that I was well on the way to becoming a world class heart surgeon but tragically had to abandon this magnanimous career path then showed them my hand they would be unlikely to doubt my authenticity when they see the wasted muscles unless they were completely cynical dicks. Imagine if you were in need of a heart operation and you when the anesthetic wore off the surgeon said "The operation was a success I've fixed your rectum so the flatulence won't be as pungent any more" and when you told him that you needed emergency surgery the surgeon gasped and said "Oh my word there's been some sort of horrible mix up. I'm the world's most famous FART surgeon, not HEART surgeon. That's why people should always text me not ring me. This is the fourth time this has happened!". So while learning how to fix the robots would be a lucrative career move sadly it looks like it's not to be which is a bit of a shame because when the robots eventually take over they will have to spare the lives of some of the humans with mechanical expertise in order to fix them when they break down. However unlike humans, robots won't prioritise giving jobs to the good looking candidates so this would be one job my nice juicy arse wouldn't be able to secure me. As you can probably tell from this torrent of drivel you've just stifled your vomit in order to get through fuck all of any interest happened today. Tonight was the debut of a new ITV comedy called "Piglets" which has caused a bit of a stir in recent weeks because it concerns incompetent police officers and the real police consider this to be incredibly offensive to them. No doubt they must feel similarly slighted whenever they see Chief Wiggum or any of the Brooklyn 99 crew on the TV because any fictional police officer who isn't portrayed as being a heroic, resourceful genius is clearly a sign that the creator of siad character doesn't respect the police force and wishes they were all dead. Personally I think if the creators of this show want to avoid angering the police any further they should just make all the episodes about the fictional cops dealing with shoplifters because then the real police probably won't even bother watching (unless the items stolen in the show are worth over £200 of course)

[wrestlingoneshot]

A LOVER OF A SERIAL KILLER (PT.1)

Pairing: Ryan Erzahler/Dylan Lenivy

Trigger Warning: Violence, Murder, Blood, Torture

"Erzahler! To my office!"

Ryan lifted up his head from his cubicle after working on the computer. He stood up as his boss called him into her office. Ryan made his way confidently as he sat in front of his boss.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"We have another murder story." She said as she placed a folder in front of him. Ryan sighed and opened the folder.

"Tell me it's another case tied to the Phantom Killer."

"I'm afraid so. And since you been on this story since it started, it's all yours. I trust you to get the scoop."

Ryan sighed. He didn't like to deal with stories of murders, but if this help to catch this cold blooded killer, he'll do it. "Where is the location?"

"2314 Ashbright Road."

"Wow, uptown? That close to the rich folks?"

"I dunno. That's where you come in, Erzahler."

Ryan stood up and nods. Without any other word, he took the folder, went to get his press pass and leaves to the scene.

It was a long two hour drive to closer uptown. A quiet rural neighborhood that usually no trouble this heavy. There were attempted burglary or porch pirates but nothing like murder. Ryan drove up to there the scene of the crime is. The police, ambulance and the tape surrounded the home. Ryan, parked and got out and made his way towards the house. Two cops at the front of the house stops Ryan before he crossed the tape.

"Sorry sir. The crime scene is off limits." One cop said.

Ryan held up his badge. "Ryan Erzahler, Daily Journal. I have been summoned here."

"I'm sorry sir, but orders were not to allow--"

"Ease up fellas. He's allowed."

The two cops and Ryan turned to the Chief of Police. Ryan smiled at the familiar face. "Chief Ka. Always a pleasure."

Chief Kaitlyn Ka nods at Ryan, then turned to her officers. "I summoned him. Good job boys, but he's allowed. Mr. Erzahler would you please.."

The two cops lifted the tape and Ryan went under to follow the chief. After they were away from earshot of the other two cops, Ryan followed Kaitlyn through the house.

"Thanks, Kait."

"No need to thank me. That's why I called you here. You're the only journalist that I can trust." Kaitlyn said.

"Glad to be of service."

Kaitlyn and Ryan both went down the basement as the forensic team and investigators was surrounded the body. A body that was leaning on a chair, eyes rolled up to the back of his head.

"Ok Emma, whatcha got?"

Emma was checking a folder before she handed it off to Kaitlyn. "Laura just sent us this." Emma looked over to Ryan. "Hey, Ry. Good to see ya."

Ryan nods. "Hey, Em."

"Guys, I know it's great to see each other at the worst time, but lets keep it professional." Kaitlyn said. She watched them agreed. "So, what do we know about our John Doe?" Kaitlyn reads the chart.

"Well, so far we know his name is Tanner Cromwell. He's 32. Married. No kids. Owner of Cromwell Pharmaceuticals. You know your typical daddy's boy who inherited the parents fortune and business. That's all we know so far." Emma explained.

Kaitlyn nods. Ryan watched as Max goes and takes pictures of the scene. "Max?"

Max got startled as he almost dropped his camera as his name is heard. "Whaaa!" He turned to Kaitlyn, Ryan and Emma stared at him. "Ah oh! Ryan! Hello. How have you been?"

"Cut the formality. What did you find?" Kaitlyn said.

"Oh! S--sorry ma'am!" Max stood up and went over to Kaitlyn and showed her the photos he took with his camera. "There is like small puncture wounds on each arm."

"Soooo..this could be a death by injection?" Kaitlyn asked.

"Most likely. Could it be overdose?" Ryan asked.

"Not sure if it's overdose or poisoning. We won't know until we get an autopsy report from Abi." Emma said.

Max jumps again as his phone rings. He walked away to answer. "Max here.....uh-huh....is that right?....Oh Laura you're just amazing babe.....I'll tell her....alright....love you too....bye." Max hung up and face the group. "Yeah so, got more info about Tanner here."

"So? Spill." Kaitlyn said.

"So, our little friend here does have an active warrant on him for domestic violence. Apparently, he been beating his wife. He also been arrested for disturbing the peace and battery for assaulting his wife in public. Get this, he was scheduled for a divorce court hearing next week."

"Huh. So what it sounds like is the wife could had got her revenge." Emma said.

"Could she really had done this?" Ryan asked.

"It's possible. She is married to a pharmaceutical owner. She could easily went to the warehouse and got the drugs and stiffed this bastard." Emma said.

"Listen, I don't want any rumors to go out before we finished a complete investigation." Kaitlyn said with authority in her voice. "I want to schedule a questioning to the wife. Call a transport so we can get the body to Abi to see if there is some clues left on the body." Emma and Max nods to Kaitlyn. Kaitlyn looks at Ryan who was staring at the body. "Ryan?"

"Do you honestly believe that the wife could do this?" Ryan asked. "I know she sounds suspicious, but how could she even get to do this? Judging by the size of him, she would had struggled."

"I know this seem farfetched, but anything is possible. I'm not going to overlook the wife. She does have a motive. I'm not saying she is guilty, but I don't want to leave things unturned."

Ryan nods. "I get that, but Kait...." Ryan turns to her. "This got the Phantom killer all over it."

Kaitlyn's face shown her concern. "Ryan, are you sure?"

"I--I dunno, but it's the pattern. I mean this guy has a criminal record for being an abuser...and now he's dead. Months ago, Charles Briggs, got a record for child neglect and found dead in his bathtub. Then William Tate..."

"...Who got a record from raping two teenaged boys." Kaitlyn finished for him. "Holy shit Ryan. You maybe right."

"Everybody so far been males who got a record for some kind of abuse." Ryan said.

"Wait! But that news anchor, Bradley Young. He didn't have a record. The only thing he did was that false story report he did. Yet, he apologized that his journalists team screwed up."

"That's confusing me too. He didn't fit the pattern, but still found dead." Ryan sighed. "I got to get started on this report."

"Hey.." Kaitlyn touched Ryan's shoulder. "I know this is stressing you out."

"Understatement of the year."

"But we will stop whoever this person is." Kaitlyn said.

"I know. Just don't haggle the wife too hard. I really believe she is innocent in this." Ryan said.

"Ry, I get where you are coming from. But, I have to do my job. I make no promises, but I will keep it in consideration." Kaitlyn said sternly.

"That's better than nothing." Ryan said as he watched the transport team enters. "I'm heading out."

"Thanks Ryan." Kaitlyn said. "And remember, no rumors."

Ryan nods as he leaves the house.

It was a nice day and Ryan decided not to go back to his office to work. It was a nice day out so a nice lunch in the park sounds nice. Good thing he brought his lap top. He found a nice picnic table near the water by a tree. Nice breeze from the shade, it was perfect for Ryan. After booting up his lap top, Ryan started working on his article. Ryan took off his glasses and rubs his eyes out of stress. Doing these murder stories is starting to get to him. Ryan decided to take a small break to enjoy the scenery. He didn't noticed a new body appeared in front of him.

The man was tall, maybe 6 foot even, decided to sit at the bench that isn't to far from Ryan. Ryan studied him a bit by watching his hair blow in the wind, his face stoned in a deep thought and it seems like the other male sensed Ryan as he turned and locked eyes at him. They spent a few moments just staring at each other. Ryan never felt this feeling before just by looking at someone. But this guy, he was different. The guy must had felt the same way since he started smiling towards Ryan. Ryan snapped out of his trance and watched the man smile at him. That smile, so innocent and warm. Ryan, wide eyes, went back into his lap top. Ryan blushed as he pretended not to notice the man. After a few moments, Ryan thought the man left so he took another peek over. At to his concern, the guy was still staring at him. Ryan felt his cheek burn in embarrassment. The guy was attractive and he's looking at him. The guy gave Ryan a small wave at him. Ryan gave the man a nervous smirk and a nod before going back to his work. He had hoped that the man left and forget the whole interaction. But Ryan failed to realized that the guy stood up and made his way towards Ryan.

"......Excuse me?"

Ryan took a silent inhale. That voice. That voice so very angelic. Ryan tries not to get lost in that voice.

"I hope you're not ignoring me after you stared at me for a while. That would be kinda rude."

Ryan's head snaps towards the voice. He slightly gasps to himself. It was that man who he stared at. From afar, the man was attractive, but up close, he was downright beautiful.

"So, I think it's fair that I could at least get your name after you undressed me with your eyes."

Ryan scoffed at the statement. "Is that what it is?"

"I mean, why else you stared at me?"

Ryan isn't going to let this stranger know that he did found him to be easy on the eyes. "You were in my way of my scenery. Nobody told you to sit in front of my view."

The male laughed. "Ouch! That wounded me."

Ryan couldn't help but to chuckle a bit. His laugh was cute.

"...May I sit down?"

"It's a free country."

"Mmmmmm...but is it really?"

Ryan shook his head. "Just sit down"

"Don't mind if I do!" The man sat in front of Ryan. Ryan went back into his work as the both men fell into a nice comfortable silence. "So, are you going to tell me your name?"

Ryan looked at the man. "Well, how about you tell me yours first?"

"How is that fair? You started this first by looking at me."

"And you looked back." Ryan retorted.

The man couldn't help but to smile. Ryan challenging him like that was a thrill. "I can tell I will like you. But since you are too stubborn, fine. My name is Dylan. Dylan Lenivy." Dylan smiled. "Now...yours?"

Ryan huffed in a chuckle. "Alright. Ryan Erzahler."

Dylan laughed. "Ryan? You serious?"

Ryan frowned in confusion and a bit anger. "What do you mean? Yes, my name is Ryan." Ryan heard the man laughed again. "I fail to see what is so funny."

Dylan's laugh died down. "I'm sorry but holy shit. Dude, don't you see? Dylan, Ryan...both of our names end with a AN. It's like we're meant to be."

Ryan looked at Dylan dumbfounded. "....Are you deadass serious right now? We're meant to be because our names ends with AN?"

"Don't you think it's a calling?"

"Are you an idiot?" Ryan asked.

"Wow! You keep wounding me like this, you might have to buy me dinner." Dylan smirked.

"You think so?"

"Well, duh! I do think so."

Ryan shook his head. Dylan just kept smiling at Ryan. Dylan found Ryan to be very attractive. He also like how Ryan easily could challenge him back. Dylan watched Ryan working on something. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Work."

"Oh. What are you working on?" Dylan said as he tried to take a peek at Ryan's lap top.

Ryan quickly closed his computer. "Um, this is personal business thank you!"

Dylan held his hands up in defense. "Sorry, my dude. I didn't mean to pry. I was just...interested."

"Yeah. Sure"

Dylan bit his lip as he didn't like Ryan was annoyed with him. "I apologize. How about I make it up to you by you asking me out for dinner?"

Ryan had to listen to that in his head again. "Wait...you want to make it up to me by you wanting me to ask you if you want to go out to dinner with me?"

"I accept! It's about time." Dylan laughed. "But I would also like your phone number. So you can call me when the best time to meet up."

Ryan looked so lost and confused. Before he could process Dylan's response, Dylan took Ryan's phone and easily programmed his number in his phone. Dylan calls his own phone to Ryan's to have Ryan's number in his phone. "There!"

Ryan blinked out of his confusion and looked down at his phone in the new contact. He looked back at Dylan who is now standing up.

"I'm glad to meet you, Ryan. I'll let you get back to work. I got some other arrangement to be. I'm looking forward to that date. Just to let you know, I'm not cheap." Dylan smiled at Ryan and started to walk away. "Laterz, handsome."

Ryan blinked as Dylan walked away. Ryan just processed everything that just happened. Did he just scored at date? Ryan couldn't help himself to ask..

"What the fuck just happened?"

[ok-anon]

Timeless (Loki x fem!Reader) Chapter 1

Based off of the recent Loki series on Disney+, Reader uses (she/her) pronouns!

Loki discovers that Mobius has a secret, and one he is very protective over. While he is consistently battling the TVA for his freedom, he discovers she is something else worth fighting for.

a/n: This is hopefully going to be a multi-part series, but please give me opinions/comments/suggestions as I'm super motivated by the feedback! I really hope y'all enjoy it. My Loki cardboard cutout from high school would be proud.

pairing: loki x fem!reader (she/her)

word count: 1.4k

Drawing pointed shoulder blades together in an attempt to release some of the aching bundles of muscle in his back, Loki, God of Mischief wondered if it wasn’t only time that worked differently here in the TVA. He hadn’t remembered feeling the dull pain caused by the toil of a 9 to 5 working job in his bones before, and his tedious work under Mobius had only just reached a month. Or at least...he thought it had been a month. Maybe it had only been a week...or possibly an hour. Nevertheless his physical and mental being felt the exhaust of years of labor. Consistent anxiety of extermination after witnessing one’s own fateful end does that to a person. Or god. Do gods even exist? The power of being an all-powerful ruler felt like child’s play after witnessing the control of the TVA. No other true power seemed to exist.

So what did that leave him to be. He has been a god. A prince. A stolen relic. A villain. And now, a variant. A cosmic mistake. Pale fingers unconsciously trembled holding what seemed like the millionth TVA report paper until the words blurred past readability. Letting out a heavy sigh, the paper was released to float down to the standard issue desk, shaking fingers moving to bury in inky black hair. This might be hell. He might’ve died back in Tony Stark’s palace by choking on cologne fumes, and this is his forever punishment. Before he could further ponder why Asgard’s infinite texts never mentioned damnation to feature a barely padded desk chair, a far too joyous punisher cleared his throat.

“Trying to read reports telepathically, I like your style. I always thought you had to be looking at the words.” Mobius. Loki didn’t need to open his eyes to see the silver haired prick that was his only tool in staying alive another minute. His chipper, good-cop attitude was demolishing every fibre of Loki’s resolve not to beg for pruning for his so called “crimes against the timeline.”

“I have been reading.” Loki quipped, his sharp gaze finally targeting the agent towering over his seated form. As much as the asgardian wished to continue his indignance, the pounding of his brain led his resolve to crumble. “Simply...resting.”

Mobius answered with an understanding nod, lips pursed as his eyes darted around to the other cubicles. He was trying to see if anyone was watching, a mental battle obviously occurring before jerking his head towards one of the various doors leading from the office. “Well, never accuse me of being an abusive employer. Come on, a nap never hurts.”

Despite a snide comment surrounding the idea of “I’m not napping like a child,” Loki’s body acted on auto pilot as his feet carried him behind Mobius towards a path they had not taken before out of the common working space. The TVA was built more like a labyrinth than a functioning place of regulation. Never-ending corridors of the same monotone grey, beige, and migraine-inducing orange twisted and turned until Loki was sure they were walking in circles. Until Mobius entered a hallway offshoot that had one identifying factor, a silver plaque with “Agent Mobius M. Mobius” next to a door that appeared to be no different than the plethora that decorated the previous walls.

As if reading his thoughts, “Comment on the name, and you’ll find yourself eyebrows deep in paperwork” left the agent’s mouth as he dug around in his pocket for a bundle of keys...Loki then realized that the dozens of differently sized keys were actually on a small ring, but there were so many they simply looked like a ball of differently formed metal. As Mobius habitually pulled a smaller gold key from the mass, he slipped it into the door’s slot to twist. As Loki took a step to begin following his mentor inside the room he was stopped by a hand in his chest.

“Wait. I need to...just wait.” Loki didn’t have time to read the expression on the agent’s face before he ducked his head past the door to look around what was on the other side. It only took a moment before the warmly smiling Mobius returned to face Loki, fully opening the door to reveal it’s holdings.

A moderately sized room, containing a meticulously tidied desk, a window overlooking the busy outside landscape, and a cot covered in a thin blanket. The same type of cot that Loki had been resting on in a holding area for variants, constantly being monitored by minute men ready to strike. Other than a generic painting of abstract art donning, a singular door was positioned on the adjacent wall to the entrance. Being a higher positioned official, it was obvious that Mobius had achieved a place of work outside of the communal areas. Loki’s analyzing gaze landed on the agent who was pulling back the sheet on the cot, revealing an equally thin pillow as he prepped the area for an occupant.

“Now you...can rest here for a moment as I continue to work. Your brain wouldn’t be of any use to me if you’re too tired to function.” Mobius gestured to the bed with an open hand. “I just need to emphasize this...If you ever listen to a single thing I say, for the love of the time keepers. Don’t touch anything. Nothing on my desk, nothing in the drawers, and do not touch this door.”

Loki’s eyes instinctually darted to the, more than likely locked, barricade that had previously not piqued his interest. As not to make the agent retract his offer of a moment of sleep, his eyes returned to Mobius as he offered a curt nod. Assessing the variant that stood before him, he couldn’t help but let out a soft curse, praying he wouldn’t regret this.

“If you’re not back in a while, I’ll come find you. Just get some sleep, refresh yourself and we’ll get on it.” Mobius passed by Loki in the tiny space, walking towards the exit of the office. He paused in the doorframe, momentarily debating his decision before urging himself forward, the door shutting behind him.

Despite the myriad of questions and the possibility of finding essential information towards his eventual escape from the TVA, even catching sight of the uncomfortable cot carried his weary body to a lying position. Weeks, days, or whatever it had been without allowing himself to eat or sleep properly finally took its toll as his eyelids were pulled down to enclose him in darkness.

-------

The clamor of a slammed door caused Loki’s gaze to abruptly focus on the above ceiling. He couldn’t have been sleeping long, but who’s to say in this hellscape. He sat up quickly, instinctually ready to strike and was met with the same empty room he had fallen asleep to. As his startled heart rate began too slow, he began to question what had awoken him. Was it Mobius? Had he come to see if he was still here? That wouldn’t make sense, because why would he leave so rapidly? A TVA agent? None of the possibilities answered his pondering, as his eyes trained on something in the room that had changed. A mug, lilac in color, brightly stood out against the dull carpet which it lay on it’s side. Brown liquid leaked out, staining the floor slightly. This was not present when Loki had entered the office, Mobius’ neatness not matching the haphazardly dropped chalice that rested directly next to the forbidden door. Loki silently crept off of his resting place to crouch next to the object, his fingertips lightly gracing over the ceramic surface of the intrusive item. Warm. It was warm, like it had been filled with hot liquid or resting in the hands of someone for an extended period of time. Either way, it was recent. Incredibly so. Loki’s eyes drifted upwards towards the seam of the door, as his mind began to race. Did someone come from here? Impossible, he would’ve heard them. As much as it seemed to have appeared from thin air, magic didn’t exist in the TVA. Before he could think much longer, footsteps began to approach the office. Loki arose to a standing position, prepared to look unassuming as he stepped away from the offensive object. As expected, Mobius soon appeared from the hallway holding two TVA brand paper cups and a smile on his face.

“Ha-Hey sleeping beauty! Glad to see you’re alert and ready for more.”

[rose-stardew-imagines]

Bright Stars and Ravenous Shadows 🌌

Trigger Warning! This story will include sexual assault, drinking, smoking, crude language, murder and gore. Please do not read if those topics bother you! Hope you all enjoy.

Chapter One: One Laid in Ashes

The constant buzzing was going to drive her insane. The large, bright computer screen burned itself into her eyes, the same flickering documents every day. Over the 5 years she worked for Joja, it was always the same, no matter what "promotion" they gave her. The pay was always dismal, not nearly worth the hours she was forced to stay in the office.

Vivian lifted her head off her desk, her long violet hair spilling over onto her keyboard. She looked up at the time on the screen, six more hours. It was unlikely she would even get out by then, if her supervisor had anything to say about it. It wasn't the first time he had given her extra work just to keep his, "star worker" around longer. The feeling of his eyes on her made her stomach turn, but she couldn't afford to lose the job...so she kept her mouth shut.

She pushed herself back off the desk, her chair sliding back until it hit the cubicle wall. She needed a break, go out and have a smoke, something to calm the headache slowly brewing in her skull. She cracked her back as she stood, walking down the aisle and swiping her keycard by the doorway, checking herself out for her one paid break Joja "graciously" gave her and the other dozens of employees that were stacked in the building like sardines.

She tucked herself in the corner of the elevator, staying as far away from the others as she could and keeping her gaze stuck to the floor. The second it landed on the ground floor she stepped out, rushing out to the back of the building, pushing the metal door open with her shoulder as she fished through her pockets for her cigarettes.

The cool air flowed through her air and brushed against her cheeks as she stepped out into the night. She closed her eyes as she tilted her head back, lighting her cigarette and taking a long drag, the smoke spilling from her lips into the air above. Vivian liked Zuzu city well enough, the lights and the stars made for a pretty combination, but the streets and it's people were toxic. Knives behind every back, everybody only cared for themselves and what they could gain. What sick pleasure they could gain, or the money that could fill their pockets. She lived here her entire life, yet she learned that simple truth from a young age. It was just the way of the city.

Her cigarette dropped from her fingers, stomping on it a few times before turning on her heel back towards the building. Popping her earbuds in and humming along to the quiet rock music, her eyes flickering up to faces of those she walked past. There was no use in trying to meet any of her coworkers, there was far too many. In her first few months she started getting close to a couple of people, but over the years they just left.

"Where did you run off to Ashford?" She spun herself around, frozen in the doorway to her cubicle. Her supervisor, Michael, stood in the aisle. Leaning against the wall with a cocky smirk. His dirty chestnut hair was strung across his face, almost sticking to his forehead.

"My break. Where else." She glared at the man, slowly stepping back into her cubicle. "I need to get back to work." As she turned away to go back to her desk she heard his quick footsteps towards her, and his hand gripping onto her shoulder. Vivian's whole body tensed, as she felt herself being forcefully turned around, her back pressed against the wall. She pressed against his shoulders, gritting her teeth as her heart began to race.

"I think..." one of his hands roamed down to her waist, firmly gripping her hip with a smile, his breath shaky. "You should head of with me." Her stomach sank, and she struggled against his grip, pulling his clammy hand off of her.

"Don't you dare touch me." She hissed, her hands heating up as she twisted them into fists. "Get the hell away from me." Her skin felt hot, as if lava was pouring through her viens. Burning her body like a pyre.

He quickly brought his hand up to her mouth, clasping over it while his other one slid under her shirt. His touch making her feel ill, gross. Her heart pounded in her ears, racing faster and faster as she screamed in her head, struggling more and more under his grasp. She couldn't let this happen, she wouldn't. Who knows how far he would go, what he would do to her.

Enough.

Fire ignited in her palms as she shoved the man back, he flew back in the cubicle, his body slamming into her desk, breaking it in half under his weight. The fire curled and crackled around her, pouring off of her like water. She slowly walked towards Michael, the carpet beneath her feet scorching, leaving dark footprints among the growing flames. She stood over his trembling form, his wide tear-filled eyes looking up at her. She smirked, he looked pathetic.

"I warned you." She sung with chuckle, spinning on her heel and looking over her shoulder with a grin, flames curling in her palm as she held it out towards him. The fire alarm blaring above her head. "You asked for this." The flames flew out towards him, consuming the room in a blazing inferno.

She quickly walked down the aisle, the blaze already spread to most of the floor. A thick smoke coating the air around her, blocking her vision partially. She picked up her pace to a run, shoving open the stairway door and running to the roof. She had to get out, disappear. If the cops investigated the cause, watched the cameras, they might figure out that it's her. She would be arrested, no matter her reasons. She couldn't survive in jail...the high percent jails were hell on earth. She couldn't let that happen.

She broke through the roof door and gasped as the cold air stung her lungs. Sirens and lights blared below her, making her ears ring. She cursed under her breath, ducking down to the ground and looking over the ledge at the neighboring buildings. The closest one was far, but maybe she could make it if she ran, grabbed onto the edge and pulled herself up. Nobody should have seen her, the road was on the complete other side of the building. She shook her head quickly and pulled herself up, her feet slamming onto the building as she sprinted across. She jumped off the edge, her heart skipping a beat as she felt weightless, rolling across the roof of the building, knocking all of the wind out of her lungs.

Vivian laid on her back, gasping for air and staring up at the smoky sky. She laughed bitterly, running her shaky hands up through her hair, closing her eyes with a grin. She was alive. She made it....and she killed a man. A vice wrapped around her heart, gripping it so tightly she felt hot tears prick behind her eyes. She killed him...there's no way he could have gotten out of that alive. The sound of the Joja office crumbling behind her only supported her thoughts.

She sat up, pulling herself off the ground and fishing through her pockets for her phone. She quickly dialed a number, bringing it up to her ear as she climbed down the fire escape of the building.

"Troy? Hi. I need a lift. Now."

[knockknockchicagopd]

A serie with Antonio Dawson. Chapter I.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1.3k

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to the author.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @anotherfan07 @ocetevasgirl @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13 @mcgreads. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

Neither of you complained when Voight asked you to be undercover as a couple, for a simple mission. Someone gave the tip-off of dirty cops dressed like plainclothes who used to deal drugs in clubs. Antonio and you should have to fake to be a drunk couple making out in the bathroom, where the deals used to be closed. He knows you work to perfection together and, out of the District, you're close friends, so it wasn't a problem for you.

Once Kevin and Ruzek have checked the camera installed in one of Antonio's buttons and you two have the earpieces, ready for the action, your partner offers you a fist to crash it with yours.

“Ready to be my girlfriend for a night?”

Raising both eyebrows, you look at him from top to bottom containing a laugh.

“What? Any girl would like it. I'ma good guy”. Pretending to sound offended, he squints at you.

“Do you really want me to break your heart?” You ask then, making reference that every woman he has been with, has left him.

“Low blow”.

“Still being the only one who stays”.

“That's why you're my best pal, and not my girlfriend”.

“Aw, you're afraid of losing me?” Making fun of him, you pull his cheeks shaking his head.

“Don't do that”. He chuckles pushing you away, before offering you his hand. “Ready, princesa?”

“Let's go”.

Stepping out from the VIP zone and going downstairs, you mingle with the people on the dance floor. The music is too loud for you, feeling a little annoyed, while letting Antonio bring you to the bar so you can have a look at your surroundings. You have seen the pictures of the cops, but it's too dark to focus on the faces around you. Although, this is why the Unit is outside checking the club through the cameras, isn't it? Technically, you only have to wait for Voight's alert to go to the bathroom.

Almost bending over the bar with both arms rested on, you wait for the bartender to be attended, feeling Antonio placing himself behind you and landing his hands on your hips. Kissing your bare shoulder, he puts his chin over it watching the people behind your positions through the mirror in front of you.

“Anything?” You whisper loud enough to be heard only by him.

“Not yet”.

“What can I serve you?” The bartender pushes you out of your thoughts about Antonio's fingers caressing your waist, showing him a soft smile.

“Two beers, please”. You reply leaning on your tiptoes for a second.

While your partner pays the drinks, you grab them turning around to continue watching the assistants, without looking too suspicious. With an arm on your shoulders and a beer less in your hands, Antonio guides you to a corner of the club from where you can have a better look of it. Being undercover is one of the things that you like the most about your job, but you're not going to lie; starting to feel a little uncomfortable with the situation of exceeding the limit between him and you. At first, you didn't care. Antonio and you are very cuddly with each other, but knowing that your Unit is monitoring every second makes it somewhat awkward.

Having a sip from your beer, you turn at him placing your hands on his shoulders, feigning that you're just having a good time dancing on a given night. It isn't the first time you hang out alone, but not in this manner, and you sure he can feel it.

“Relax”. Antonio murmurs into your ear, pushing you close to move his body in sync with yours.

“I'm relaxed”. You lie chuckling and licking your bottom lip, tossing your head back looking for his incredulous eyes. “I am!”

“Sure”. He teases you by pinching your nose and making you laugh louder.

“After the mission, we're gonna book you a hotel room, no worries”. Jay's voice makes your cheek burn in shame, as your partner chokes on his beer.

“Intelligence pays”. Now, it's your boss who is speaking almost causing you a heart attack.

Antonio puckers his lips as if he's agreeing, drawing a funny gesture on his face.

“Breakfast in bed?”

“You can't eat breakfast, if you don't have tee—”.

“Cops at your six. Black jeans, brown jackets. Military boots”. Adam informs, knowing it's time to go to the bathroom.

Leaving the beers away on a coffee table, Antonio tangles his hands with yours to guide you through the crowd, straight to the place you've installed another camera to record the mission. As you come closer, the pressure in your chest becomes heavier, and you can feel him nervous by the way his fingers move around yours. Taking a last look of the plainclothes officers, you walk into the bathroom.

At your right there are four cubicles, in front of the sinks and the mirrors. All emptied. Antonio makes you a sign with his chin before continuing to the marble counter, between the second and the third sink. Sitting on and placing your purse by a side, your partner settles himself between your legs and puts his hand on your lower back.

“I'm too sober for this shit”.

“Stop complaining, you're enjoying it”. He scoffs clicking his tongue.

“Yeah… sure I'm the only one…”

“Alert. They're coming in three… two… one…” Before Jay can say zero, the door gets opened.

You don't see them, rushing to crash your mouth on Antonio's. From the very first moment, your lips move in total sync as if they were dancing passionately, when you feel the click in your guts. His arms pushes you somewhat closer, shortening the distance between your bodies with the same necessity it's running under your skin. There's no way back, and you two know it.

“Get outta here. Now”. You hear, breaking the kiss breathlessly to turn at your partners from another district, accompanied by two unknown guys.

“Man, I've paid for her five drinks. I ain't going anywhere till this bitch sucks my dick”.

You can't believe his words, nor the tone of voice he's using, letting go a nervous laugh palming his chest and pushing him away softly to put down on your heels.

“No worries, boys. Do your thing, and we'll do ours”.

Grabbing Antonio's shirt in a fist, you take him to the cubicle in front of you trying to feign to be drunk enough, closing the door behind your backs. You can't help but cross your arms over your chest, tilting your head with both eyebrows frowned.

“It was part of the plan”. Antonio tries to excuse himself, just moving his lips without uttering any noise to not arouse suspicion. “Sorry”.

“You called me bitch”.

The man waves his hands desperately to make you understand, earning a snort from you before starting to hear the deal happening some feet away from you. A simple one. Heroin and money. You can't even believe they can be this stupid, making you roll your eyes under Antonio's attentive and funny look.

“Shouldn't you be on your knees?”

Squinting as you lick your lips, with that kind of gesture that warns him that maybe he's going to be punched on the face, your partner lifts up both hands to defend his innocence again containing a laugh.

“Oh, fuck… You're so good”. You fake a loud moan, having so much fun when you see Antonio taking a step back, starting to blush.

It has been so real he's scared. Raising both eyebrows, you can't help but draw a petty smile on your mouth. The reddening of his cheeks enraptured you for a second, till you hear how the deal is closed, being the go-ahead to complete your mission. Grabbing the gun inside your purse and throwing it to the floor, you suddenly open the door in position and pointing at them.

“Chicago P.D.! Don't move! Hands on the head! Put your hands on the head!” You shout stepping out from the cubicle, followed by Antonio ready to help you containing them till the squad arrives.

[inthecityofgoodabode]

June 2021: The Long Wet Work Week

It was kind of a dreary week. My queen had to return to the office this week instead of working from home. I liked her being in the house all day while I was working from home too & her not having to drive to & from work was a relief because you know... cops, Republicans, miscellaneous bigots... is that enough? The company she works for is 100% IT & sales so there is no legitimate reason for any of their employees to return to the office except that if they don’t, pasty pointy haired managers won’t be able to wander around peering into cubicles to see people doing actual work so they can fantasize they are captains of industry instead of pathetic middle managers with no real hope for advancement. They’re middle aged duffle bag boys dreaming of being kingpins who can’t admit they’re past their prime & that capitalism lied to them about meritocracy, paying your dues & putting in your hours. On top of that, it rained every day which kept us from going to Plot 420 which needed serious weeding the last time we were there plus we have seedlings ready to transplant there. 

Spooky cloud line that came out of the south: 

Roly polies are terrestrial crustaceans. That makes me wonder if they would be tasty if they were at least the size of shrimp or crayfish. Would what plant detritus you feed them affect the flavor the same way that bee honey made from specific flowers affects the flavor? Can you imagine it? Our “land langostino” are raised on only the finest open pollinated & organically grow spirea: 

People often wonder what mosquitoes are good for. Well, the males are pollinators: 

The females are blood sucking disease vectors who are falling down on their job of keeping the human population under control so they don’t do anything stupid like, I don’t know, rendering the planet they were created for uninhabitable: 

Wow! My Google-fu was strong today. This is a tortoise beetle: 

Extreme sports - slug edition. These bee balm are about three feet tall & wave in even the slightest breeze. Judging by the slime trails on every blossom, it is apparently an extreme sport for slugs to ride around on them at night: 

This bumblebee had so much pollen on it that it looked like Tony Montana in Scarface: 

Anansi - weaver & trickster. It is odd to me that Anansi is portrayed in folklore as masculine when, in nature, it is the female spider that is truly the cunning trickster while the male is basically a dick with legs who, at best, has a 50/50 chance of not being eaten after mating:   

What a difference a day makes: 

[iffeelscouldkill]

TSCOSI Matrix AU

A/N: *offers up* Matrix AU?

Call trans opt: received. 3-6-91 13:24:18 REC:Log>

“Yeah?”

“Everything in place?”

“You weren’t meant to be relieving me.”

Trace program: running

“I felt like taking a shift.”

“I think you like it. Watching her.”

“Piss off, Ricky.”

“We’re going to kill her. You know that, right? It’s what we do.”

“We don’t kill people. Not if we can help it.”

“You really believe that?”

“Do you have a point here?”

“Just making polite small-talk.”

“…Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“Are you sure this line is clean?”

“Yeah, of course I’m sure.”

“…I’m gonna go.”

---

They had the hotel room surrounded.

The door was made out of scratched-up chrome, identical to every other lining the long hallway. Only the number above it distinguished it from the rest: 303.

The squadron of officers assembled, guns at the ready. At a nod from the commanding officer, one of the men placed a small device on the lock that fried its internal circuitry. The lock gave a beep to signal that it was open, and the officers slammed into the room.

“Freeze! Police! Hands on your head!”

Inside, the room was empty except for a single occupant, sat on a chair with her back to the door. She was dressed head to toe in black leather, a pair of heavy combat boots on her feet. She made no move to comply with the command, or even acknowledge their presence.

The officers advanced slowly. This was a wanted terrorist, and despite how harmless she appeared on the outside, they’d been briefed to treat her with extreme caution.

“Do it! Do it now!” barked the commanding officer.

Slowly, the woman got to her feet and raised her hands in the air.

---

On the street outside the rundown hotel where the notorious fugitive “Arkady Patel” had been cornered, a dark car drew up and two identically suited figures got out.

“Lieutenant,” said one of them, severely. “Our division gave you some very specific orders.”

The lieutenant on duty immediately bristled. He hated being talked down to by these goons. No-one seemed to know exactly what it was that their ‘division’ did, but they walked around like they owned the place and they seemed to be everywhere. All of them looked the exact same. And if you criticised them too loudly within their hearing – which also seemed to be “everywhere” – you could get reassigned or even find yourself jobless without warning.

If it was going to happen to him, he would at least give them a piece of his mind first.

“Listen here. I don’t know what it is you Inter-Government Response thugs think you can do here, but this is my jurisdiction. I’m just doing my job.”

“The orders were for your protection,” Lead Goon said, with that creepy, deliberate enunciation.

“Protection? I sent two units,” the lieutenant, whose name was Johnson, scoffed. “They’re bringing her down now.”

“No, Lieutenant,” the IGR goon replied calmly. “Your men are already dead.”

---

This was an exaggeration. Despite what her reputation might have suggested, Arkady Patel wasn’t one for excessive violence or force. Of course, when she was being rushed by five heavily-armed cops she couldn’t guarantee that things weren’t going to get ugly, but half the time that wasn’t even her doing. People were just idiots.

As the first officer approached her she whirled around, quickly breaking his arm and then slamming her foot into his face, sending him staggering backwards into one of his colleagues. She took the opportunity to draw her gun and fired several quick shots, hitting each of the officers’ gun hands with precision and making them drop or fumble their weapons. One of them got a shot off, and she saw the bullet make its slow-motion approach. Arkady ducked it easily and then kicked upwards at the man’s chin, causing his head to snap back.

She moved among the remaining officers with what would seem to them like preternatural speed, delivering swift blows to their windpipes, incapacitating and disabling. She grabbed a chair that was sitting off to the side and swung it into one of the officers, then used it as the pivot for an upwards flip to avoid an attack. Soaring in a perfect arc downwards, Arkady landed with both booted feet on the chest of the man who had been behind her, then lashed out and pistol-whipped the final man across the face.

Silence reigned.

Looking around at the motionless bodies sprawled on the floor, Arkady uttered the first word she’d spoken since the door was kicked down.

“Shit.”

Bringing one hand up to her ear, Arkady activated her comm. “Sana, the line was traced. I don’t know how.”

“I know,” came Sana’s voice in her ear, grim. “They cut the hard line. There’s no time – you need to get to another exit.”

“Agents?”

“Three of them.”

“Goddamnit,” Arkady cursed.

“You can make it, Kady,” Sana said in her Captain voice, strong and sure. Arkady almost wished that voice didn’t work on her, but she felt her breathing ease a little in spite of herself. “There’s a store you can use; second cubicle from the end has an active connection. It’s at the intersection of Rosalind and Jemison Street, opposite the security consultancy.”

Arkady barked a laugh. She couldn’t help it. “Nice.”

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Sana said. “Go.”

Arkady was already moving. The quickest way to reach the intersection Sana had described would be across the rooftops. She strode to the window and, with no time for finesse, jammed a knife into the lock, severing its wiring. The lock emitted a high-pitched beeping that signalled an alarm was about to go off. But it wasn’t like they didn’t already know she was here. Arkady climbed onto the window ledge, bracing herself against the frame, ignoring the phantom tug of Matrix gravity with practiced ease.

Two grav tubes for emergency access to the various floors of the building ran alongside the window: one up, one down. There was a hatch that was supposed to only open to authorised personnel. It was more sophisticated than the window lock, so Arkady used precious seconds on a different approach: using her comm, she played a range of different frequencies until she found one that imitated the sonic key the hatch had been programmed to respond to.

She heard the clatter of boots in the corridor outside. Agents – and more cops. There wasn’t a way to prevent them from knowing her escape route, but she could at least get a head start. Arkady pried open the grav tube hatch, and risked a brief glance over her shoulder. Two identical IGR Agents, followed by about half a dozen cops, rounded the corner and saw her through the open hotel room door; she shoved off the window frame and into the grav tube as they raised their guns to fire.

Arkady twisted upwards in the grav tube, eyes on the patch of night sky she could see at the top of it. Suddenly she heard a crackle, followed by the smell of burning plastic, and cursed. The goddamn fucking Agents were using fucking lasers. And they’d burned a hole in the grav tube, disrupting the pull. Arkady could already feel the upward force weakening, but she ignored it, concentrating on the feeling of flying upwards.

None of it’s real, she reminded herself, thinking of her early experiments in the simulator, the way she’d learned to soar through the air in defiance of physics. It’s all just programming. You can hack it.

The tube slanted forwards and Arkady braced herself for her exit onto the rooftop, turning her forward momentum into a roll and then jumping up and sprinting towards the edge of the roof. She only had a few seconds’ head start on her pursuers, but without access to the grav tube, they would have to take the emergency stairs up. Sure enough, Arkady could hear the clanging of the metal stairs, the Agents no doubt leading the way with their enhanced speed. She fixed her eye on the building she needed to get to. It was a small jump from here to the next building, and from there – a bigger jump.

Arkady accelerated towards the edge of the rooftop and jumped just as the Agents�� boots sounded on the concrete. They were close, so close and her mind kept trying to dwell on it, to sink into panic and visions of what might happen if they caught her, but she refused to let it. She landed on the next roof over, knees bent, and ran for the other side. This roof had some kind of goddamn ornamental garden on it with shrubs and benches, forcing her to weave around the obstacles. There was another crackling sound, and Arkady dove behind a fake bush just in time; the laser bolt singed the leaves off the bush and travelled until it hit a satellite receiver, which burst into flames.

Laser gunfire was Arkady’s weakness; she could easily duck and avoid regular bullets, but laser bolts were so fast as to be almost instantaneous – faster than she could move, even in the Matrix. The Agents knew that. One of them was still coming, and Arkady fired a couple of shots from behind the bush before diving back into the open, deliberately picking the route most filled with obstacles to throw off the Agents, leaping over benches and pot plants. The edge of the roof was getting closer now, and beyond that, the void between it and the next building over. Further than a normal human bound by the laws of physics could jump. Arkady had cleared jumps like this easily dozens of times before, but in the back of her mind there was always that nagging voice, wondering if this was the time that gravity would reach out and claw her back down.

She shook it away, focused on the memory of Sana’s voice saying, “You can make it, Kady.” Arkady jumped.

There was a suspended one, two seconds of the wind rushing past her and then she was coming down hard on the rooftop, rolling forwards, then quickly throwing herself around the side of a protruding structure that might have been an observation point or the exit for a rooftop elevator access. She needed to get down to street level, but an elevator was not the way to do it. The odds of finding another grav tube were slim, but an outside stairwell – and not all buildings had them – would be too exposed. Every second here she wasted in indecision was another second the Agents had to catch up with her.

She heard the heavy thud of boots landing on the rooftop and knew she’d lost her lead. Arkady could hear the shouts of disbelief from the cops in the distance, no doubt from seeing the Agent fly over that gap. They wouldn’t bother chasing her any longer; but they’d never been the real threat. This showdown had always been between her and the Agents.

Arkady quieted her breathing and listened for the tell-tale sound of footsteps approaching. There’d been two Agents leading the pack of cops, but only one of them was on the rooftop with her. Had the other one peeled off to join its friend at street level? Were they staking out her possible avenues of approach, cutting off her escape route? But whatever was waiting for her on the ground, it couldn’t be worse than staying up here to be hunted and eventually fried with a laser bolt. And that was honestly the best-case scenario for what they might do to her.

Arkady’s foot nudged something that glinted – a piece of broken metal. She silently stooped to pick it up, and considered keeping it as a weapon before she alighted on a better usage. Would the Agent fall for that? Only one way to find out.

Arkady flung the piece of debris away from her with all her strength and saw a laser bolt leap out to incinerate it as she ran hard in the other direction, towards the edge of the building. She’d thought of a way down that they wouldn’t expect. But she’d never done anything like it before, even in the Matrix, and the odds were pretty good that it would end with her splattered on the concrete.

No time to second-guess. Putting one hand down on the rooftop, Arkady vaulted over the edge and into the open. She anchored her hand in place through sheer force of will – it’s not real; you can hack it – and used the momentum to swing herself down, arcing through the air and driving her feet through a windowpane in the building’s top floor. The window shattered; Arkady landed on the floor in a crouch, half-expecting the crackle of laser gunfire to follow her, but there was nothing

Did they see where she went? Were they setting a trap for her at the exit? She had no way of knowing. Part of her wanted to call Sana and ask if she had any intel, but – the Captain had other things to worry about. And she’d trusted that Arkady would be able to handle this.

Arkady moved quickly and quietly through the building, which was a deserted office block; all of the doors opened easily, no card access required if you were leaving. And there was no night security – only security cams, which would pick her up as a dark shape in the shadows. Come the morning, they’d never be able to trace her.

Arkady slipped out of a side exit and stood for a second in the shadow of the building, getting her bearings. The intersection of Jemison and Rosalind was just ahead; she could just make out the sign outside the security consultancy, which meant—

There was a movement in the shadows across the street, an Agent materialising from nowhere – Arkady bolted, and realised too late that she was reacting to a window reflection. She ducked as the Agent shot at her, feeling the heat from the laser wash over her – that was way too close­ – and firing blindly backwards at it as she careened towards the intersection. She could hear one set of footsteps, two, three – two more Agents were closing in on her from left and right. Breath searing in her throat, Arkady veered at the last minute through the door of the store she needed to get to, crashing through the entrance. She could barely stop to look at the signs, running blindly towards her target – there was a crackle, and Arkady ducked behind a counter, dived and rolled.

She’d landed weird. Her shoulder hurt. There was no time – Arkady staggered upright, and finally saw it – a sign for the dressing rooms. She flung herself towards the doorway and ran desperately down the row of cubicles, looking for the one that was lit up – where was it, it had to be here – there.

Arkady threw herself through the curtain and put a hand to the mirror just as the lasers incinerated the fabric behind her. She could feel the Matrix dissolving around her, giving way to hard reality. In that space between the two worlds, she had enough time for a single thought: How the hell did they trace us?

---

The Agents stepped into the wreckage of the dressing room cubicle, looking at the smoking hole in the mirror where their adversary had disappeared not a half second before.

“She got out,” said one, whose name was Agent Baumann.

“It doesn’t matter,” said another, whose name was Agent Goodman.

“The informant is real,” added the third Agent, whose name was Agent Cross.

“Yes,” agreed Agent Goodman.

“We have the name of their next target,” continued Agent Baumann.

“The name is Violet Liu.”

---

A/N: My abiding love for Starship Iris and cyberpunk continues xD Believe it or not, I started writing this a full year ago - I was on a Matrix kick, and as I watched the film I suddenly thought... a dashing crew of daring rogues fighting against The Man: who does that sound like? Honestly, the parallels are just too easy to draw. I decided that I wanted to write a version of the opening sequence with TSCOSI characters, but for some reason I never finished.

Coming back to the doc for the first time the day before yesterday, I saw that it was last edited 8th August 2020... it felt like a sign. (Also HOLY SHIT IT’S BEEN A YEAR, WTF). So happy anniversary, WIP doc: your present is publication!

[ask-a-w]

After All These Years

Author’s Note: I got really inspired to write this after seeing Leon in a suit in the trailer of the new RE CGI movie “Resident Evil Infinite Darkness”. Enjoy.

Yes, I’m still around and still doing okay. I hope everyone stays safe and healthy during this crazy pandemic. 

FF.net

AO3

----------

Unaware of the alluring gazes imposed on him, Leon Scott Kennedy speedily strolled down the office corridor towards his cubicle. His day was packed with meetings and since the current hot topic was biowarfare, the blonde government agent was highly sought after for his expertise. While he was more than happy to share, it was starting to wear him down. He thought this issue ended when Raccoon City was annihilated. Oh, how naive he was. Bioweapons were popping up like weeds in various continents. On top of that, he had assessments to study for which would aid him in progressing higher up the ranks. It was a miracle that he had not collapsed from exhaustion.  

To no surprise, there was a folder that was not there this morning on his desk. It was a common occurrence. Leon chose to ignore it for the moment. 

Unbuttoning his suit jacket, he removed it from his torso in a split second and draped it on the back of his chair. Some of the females in the shared office space swooned dreamily, imagining the well-toned muscles underneath the white long sleeved shirt Leon was garbed in. Everyone here knew the story of the rookie cop from Raccoon City. Not only was he a capable and formidable agent so far, his handsome good looks and manners completed the package. It was a pity he was so unaware of his attractiveness and was always buried in work. 

The blonde took a swig from his flask of coffee and winced at the bitterness. It worked to wake him up from the mind numbing back-to-back meetings. Alcohol would have been his first preference but it was unprofessional to drink on the job. The blonde could not remember if he had lunch. Did the agency cater food that day? Glancing at his watch, he saw he had a couple of hours left before the end of work. There was still time to kill. 

Looking down at the folder, Leon took a seat and read the short note affixed to the cover. 

Agent Kennedy, if you have any new information pertaining to the subject, please feel free to contribute. 

Opening the first page, the title was a report on Albert Wesker. He was not familiar with the man but knew the Redfield siblings had close encounters with him. Wesker had dealings with Umbrella which was tied to Raccoon City and it inevitably led back to Leon who was one of the few survivors of the outbreak. 

Perusing the first few pages, it detailed Wesker’s known history so far and sightings over the past few years. The ex-scientist was elusive and dangerous so any intel they had on him was precious. 

The next few pages documented known associates of Wesker. The names listed failed to kindle any interest in him. 

The higher ups are clearly wasting their time. They should be approaching the BSAA instead. A couple of their members knew Wesker personally. 

Leon thought to himself. He could have been using his time to do something more productive. Still, he continued to read the report out of courtesy. 

Rumoured to be in Wesker’s inner circle, Ada Wong has been-

The blonde stopped and felt his heart skip a beat. He held his breath as he re-read the sentence again. 

Ada Wong. 

She was alive?! Was it the same woman that gripped his heart years ago? He quickly flipped to the next page to find the last seen photo. It was a tad grainy but there was no question on the shape of her face and hair style. That was definitely her. 

Relief flooded his veins. So, she did escape the wretched city. She did not die after giving him the rocket launcher. His fingers unconsciously traced the outline of her face as he grinned to himself. 

Ada still looked as beautiful as ever. Leon could see that she had a small smile in the photo. The way her lips curved up slightly made her appear so coy and mysterious. He briefly wondered how she was doing. Was she eating and sleeping well? Did she fully recuperate from the injury the tyrant gave her? Oh, how he longed to see her again. 

Then, Leon snapped out of his senses. What was he thinking?! Ada was working with Wesker, of all people. 

It somehow made sense now. How a supposed civilian like her was able to handle a gun with ease and be cool under fire when the city was going to hell. Was she using him that night in Raccoon? Is that why she had not contacted him at all? Because she was concerned about her own objective and had never cared for him. 

But, Ada did help him out. Professed her feelings for him after the tyrant hurt her.  It could not have been a complete farce... 

Eyebrows furrowed as he continued to read her profile. She was mostly involved in thefts of bioweapons. No matter how much Leon tried to spin it in her favour, Ada did not appear to be innocent. 

Feeling curious, he fired up his work issued encrypted laptop, determined to get more answers within the database. The report was streamlined but the database held a lot more. He eagerly absorbed every bit of information they had about her. 

His phone rang and he answered it without looking at the display, “Kennedy here.”

A female voice replied him, “Leon... I’ve been waiting for forty-five minutes.”

Alarmed, Leon glanced at his watch and realised work had ended quite a while ago. He was so engrossed with Ada that he lost track of time and failed to notice it was dark outside. The weekend had already begun too. 

“I’m so sorry, I’ll leave right now.”

His date sighed. “It’s the second time this week that you forgot about our date. This isn’t working out between us. Clearly, you’re prioritising work.”

The call ended before Leon had a chance to reply and he felt so ashamed of himself. His parents raised him to be better than this. 

One of his neighbours lost a bet and had to set him up on a blind date with a friend. They did hit it off on the first date and it went fairly well. Alas, they never went on a second date as he kept forgetting about it... Maybe it was for the best that he did not enter into a relationship while he was working for the government. 

Sighing, he shut down his laptop and locked it away in his desk along with the report. He picked up his jacket and headed for the parking lot to begin the commute home. 

———

Leon shivered as he got out of the car in the basement of his apartment complex. It seemed winter was going to make an early appearance this year. He quickly hustled into the elevator which was thankfully empty. He did not want to engage in any awkward small talk on why he missed his date...

When the elevator reached his floor, the blonde peered around the corridor and stealthily padded to his unit. Careful to not make his keys jangle, he held onto the unused ones tightly in his palm and opened the door as quietly as he could. 

The blonde could hear someone unlocking their door further down the corridor and he ducked into his apartment, shutting the door behind him with a click. Mission accomplished. He will entertain his neighbours some other time. 

After a refreshing hot shower, Leon whipped up a bowl of instant ramen and sat by the counter as he watched the news on TV. The only thing of interest was a pharmaceutical truck having its shipment of medications stolen. Otherwise, the driver was unharmed. 

Phone beeped and a message came in followed by a few more…

[txt] I din noe u r such a cad Kenndy! 

[txt] I tot u were diff from other guys

[txt] Guess I m wrong

[txt] Thx 4 breaking her heart

Leon frowned and lost his appetite at the string of texts from his neighbour. In a moment of irritation, the phone was switched off and roughly slammed against the table. He had already felt awful about it and now others were dragged into the situation. There were already plans to make a proper apology once he had cooled off but now, he was reluctant to do so. 

Raking a hand through his damp hair, he rummaged through the pantry and found a bottle of whiskey. Drinking always made him feel better. 

He poured out shot after shot and downed them with practiced ease, feeling the warmth spread through his torso on this chilly night. 

Women...

His thoughts lingered on his lacklustre love life. He knew from the beginning that the volatile nature of his job would make relationships difficult. Still, he wanted to try to have a semblance of a “normal” life. Alas, the past few years taught him it would be better off to stay single. 

Other than Ada, no one else had come close to worming his way into his heart. Like it or not, Ada was someone Leon could not let go. His thoughts lingered on her once more before realising he had dropped his glass into his bowl of noodles. 

Fishing out the now oily shot glass, he could smell the alcoholic scent wafting from the soup. Curiosity got the better of him and he took a sip. It was actually not bad! 

Leon was hungry anyway and his appetite returned with a fervour as he ate his dinner. With his belly full and soul contented for now, he loaded his utensils into the dishwasher before lazing on the sofa. He lazily skimped through the channels on the screen... 

While his eyes stared at the images, his mind drifted somewhere else. Back to the woman in red from Raccoon City. He could almost feel her warm, gentle touch again when she bandaged him. And he remembered her soft lips when they kissed each other goodbye that fateful day. He really did miss her after all these years. 

It was hours later that he awoke with a start on his sofa. He had fallen asleep and it was long past midnight. Switching off the TV, he stretched his stiff muscles and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. 

As Leon walked back to his bedroom to draw the curtains shut, he thought he saw a most peculiar sight outside his window. Right across from him was another apartment complex and he swore someone was on the roof staring straight at him. It lasted for a few seconds as he looked at the silhouette. He blinked and the figure was gone. Thinking that the alcohol was making him hallucinate, he drew the curtains and flopped down on the bed. 

Sleep took him easily and he dreamt of the silhouette morphing into a familiar figure in red. 

———

Head pounded a little from the hangover but Leon shrugged it off after downing a couple of glasses of water. He stared into his decently stocked fridge and decided that he did not feel like cooking breakfast today. 

Donning an outfit appropriate for the chilly weather, he quietly made his way down the corridor to the elevator without incident. The coffee shop was nearby so he ignored his car and stepped out into the streets. The wind nipped the blonde’s face and he shivered, wrapping the loose scarf around his neck a couple more rounds to keep out the cold. 

Just a few more minutes... Leon thought to himself as he sped up his pace. The weather was probably keeping the crowd indoors as he spotted a handful of people in the streets. When he turned the corner, he felt a wave of relief wash over him as the shop was now in sight. 

The blonde entered the welcoming warmth of the shop and immediately felt invigorated. He placed an order for a big steaming cup of joe and a breakfast plate before settling into a counter seat by the window. 

The shop across the street had just opened for the day and while it was the coffee shop’s “rival”, it claimed to sell organic and environmentally conscious food items. The menu might not appeal to everyone but it had its own share of fans. In Leon’s opinion, it tasted a little too “grass-y” to him and he did not go back after the first visit. 

A few moments later, Leon retrieved his order from the counter and tucked into his hearty breakfast. The greasy eggs and sausages settled into his stomach and he felt sated. Picking up his coffee, he took a sip of the warm liquid and looked out the window. 

There was a very familiar figure in red seated outside the organic shop. She was all bundled up in her burgundy trenchcoat and a matching scarf. It looked very much like Ada.

Leon scoffed at himself. The hangover must have been super strong if he was seeing things again like last night. Trying out his strategy from yesterday, he blinked slowly, hoping that the mirage would go away. Instead, the red figure remained in his line of sight. He looked down at his breakfast instead. Maybe the illusion would disappear once he looked up.

The blonde sliced a bit of sausage and took a bite before glancing out the window once more. The figure was real. Intrigued, he scrutinised her closely and did a double take. It was definitely Ada Wong in the flesh. He could not believe his eyes. 

Her body was angled slightly away from him as she too, was partaking in a warm beverage. She did not seem to notice him at all as Leon gaped at her with his meal forgotten on the table. The government agent knew he should be leaving his seat to arrest her but something compelled him to just continue to admire her from a distance. The picture in the report did not do her any justice, she was still as gorgeous as the day he met her. Maybe looking a little less harrowed since she was not being chased by monsters. 

Ada’s fingers were tapping the side of her cup rhythmically as she sipped her drink. Tap-tap-tap-tap, she paused followed by two more taps. Leon raised an eyebrow at this interesting quirk she was displaying. Was the drink too hot for her to hold? 

More taps continued as it looked like she was draining her cup. Ada wiped her lips gracefully with a napkin and she turned her head in his direction. Hazel eyes appeared to meet his and it looked like she was giving him a smile too. 

Then, a bus drove past, obscuring his view of her. When the vehicle pulled away, she was gone. 

Leon’s eyes widened as he gasped out loud, attracting the attention of the other patrons inside the shop. He gave them a sheepish wave of dismissal as he looked at his plate. He was not imagining things, right? Was he still hungover from last night? He did see Ada, didn’t he? 

Replaying the memory in his head, everything clicked as he recalled her tapping. The pauses and number of times included. She was sending him a message in Morse code! He quickly deciphered it and felt angry at himself for not doing anything. 

Hi Leon

She knew he was there, after all!

There was nothing else he could do now except to finish his breakfast. Leon was hopeful though, that it was a sign he could see her again...

———

Unbeknownst to the blonde, Ada gave one last lingering look at Leon before walking off. She had finished her assignment the day before, intercepting a shipment of illicit compounds from a pharmaceutical truck for Wesker. She chose not to think about how she was stealing items from one “bad guy” for another “bad guy”. As long as she got paid and got closer to her objective. 

She finally rewarded herself by being near Leon’s apartment since she was in the city. Ada had acquired his address and contact details a while ago but did not act on it, for fear that someone knew that he was her weakness. 

Yesterday had been a long day and the glimpse of him was worth it when he stood at his bedroom window. The sight invigorated her soul.  She could tell from his body language that he was puzzled why someone was on a roof though and she darted away as quickly as she saw the handsome man. 

It was a stroke of luck that Leon was in the same vicinity as her this morning. She was due to catch a flight in a few hours and decided to grab a healthy bite when she saw Leon enter the coffee shop across the street. She formulated a plan right then and there to catch his attention.

Ada could feel Leon’s eyes on her the whole time and she knew that he thought he was being discreet. Oh, how wrong he was. A well-trained spy would know when they were being watched and she let him look at her to his heart’s content. 

A pity that he did not notice the message she tapped with her fingers until it was too late. Maybe some other time. With that, she got into her rental car and headed straight for the airport. 

———

“Agent Kennedy, please come into my office,” his supervisor approached him about a month later. The older man wore a somewhat grave expression on his face and Leon was concerned if he was going to lose his job. 

The blonde followed his supervisor into the room and was gestured to pick up a phone on the table. As Leon did so, he heard the caller address him on the other end, “Hello, Agent Kennedy.”

It was familiar voice... one that had frequently been heard and seen on TV for the past four years. Leon straightened his back unconsciously. “How can I help, Mr. President?”

“I trust that you know what I’m about to say is confidential... My daughter has been kidnapped. I need your expertise.”

[rora-s]

The Derivative  Chapter 9: Wormholes

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 8 

“Apparently there’s large performance differentials between same caliber bullets from different manufacturers” Amita told Charlie walking over to him with a piece of paper with the information. 

“Based on what?” Uncle C questioned looking the paper over. 

“Lead composition, gunpowder packing” Amita shrugged, sitting back down in her seat. 

“Just what I need more variables” Charlie muttered. 

“I could help you run through the equations if you want” I offered leaning forward on the couch. 

“No you’re not helping” Charlie objected turning back to his chalkboard “if Don even found out you were in here we’d both be in trouble” 

I rolled my eyes and turned back to my book. Just then there was a knock at the door to the solarium and Larry meandered in. “oh, some assistance in my brazen attack on the Lorenz invariance?” 

“No, drag coefficient models” Charlie informed. 

“Drag co- drag on what?” Larry questioned. Walking from Charlie to Amita.

“Bullets” the woman answered. 

“Bullets as in ballistic trajectories defined by the Einstein Equivalence Principle, related to the Lorenz frame?” Larry questioned over her shoulder pointedly. 

“As in, bullets that kill people” Amita replied. 

“Oh” Larry muttered with slight disgust in his voice as he turned to join me sitting on the couch. 

“There seems to be some disagreements over the sniper’s expertise” Amita explained looking to Charlie. 

“Well, I’d say the public’s decided on the question.” Larry explained “I have an aunt who lives two blocks from the first shooting. She’s afraid to go out on her front lawn now.” he gestured out the window. 

“Why don’t you tell your aunt that statistically she has a better chance of being mauled by a bear” Charlie explained exasperatedly. 

“Actually, statistics would favor the bear being mauled by my aunt but…” Larry joked and we all shared a small laugh. “This fear, this extends beyond the reach of statistics Charles.” Larry explained sinking into the couch. “No this is about arbitrary inescapable death. No, times like these, you just wind up speculating on paths not taken, jobs left undone.” 

“Larry I- I’m trying to get those equations done for you as soon as I can,” Charlie defended. 

“No, no, no.” Larry objected sitting up “at that moment, I was actually thinking of a far more prosaic legacy. Someone to carry on the Fleinhardt standard” 

We all looked at the physicist in surprise. “I didn’t know you wanted kids, Larry” Charlie voiced. 

“Well children are wormholes” Larry declared. 

“Wormholes?” Amita questioned. 

“As the only minor in the room can I protest that classification?” I asked the man who sat next to me fiddling with a small bowl “or at least get an explanation?” 

“Yeah. They’re portals into the unreachable future and unattainable past.” he somewhat clarified “No, as things stand now they exist only in the theoretical realm so..” 

“Well, I can see where you might have some trouble selling a woman on the idea of carrying you wormhole” Amita stated and we all chuckled again. 

____________

There’s isn’t anything quite as annoying as sitting at the kitchen table trying to get a look at the work your Uncle is doing for the FBI that you know you can help with but aren’t allowed to. This is where I was as I sat at the dining table Charlie working and Larry getting himself another cup of coffee. 

“You know,” the physicist spoke up from the kitchen, “I have had almost no attendance at my morning classes. It’s like everyone’s afraid to set foot outside” 

“Not everybody” Charlie objected as Larry came in and sat a cup of water down for the mathematician. 

“Just the general populous” I commented. 

“Yeah. In times like these, an empty house is not a home” Larry said taking a seat at the table. “Evaluating my immediate prospects for a conventional nuclear family, I’ve just now begun to consider adoption.” 

“How long have you been considering it?” Charlie inquired. 

“Three days,” Larry offered. 

“Give it a few more days.” Charlie advised. 

“Yeah” Larry agreed “but consider Don. He had no prior notion or plan for raising a young adult and yet here he is doing just fine.” 

“That would convey the notion that my father is doing more than just monitoring me and providing me sustenance” I muttered. 

“I suppose there is something to be said about a mentoring learning curve” Larry murmured. Then looked at Charlie’s work “so what? You found a pattern yet?” 

“More like a pattern of patternlessness.” Charlie informed. 

“Is patternlessness even a word?” I asked. 

“Well it is now” Charlie stated. 

“Hey, there’s an interesting metaphysical notion.” Larry voiced. 

“What, whether patternlessness is a word?” I asked. 

“No the interesting part it plays in this case.” Larry explained “perhaps a human element remains to be inserted” 

Charlie groaned in annoyance. “You sound like this, uh, Agent Edgerton guy. He’s a sniper instructor that Don brought in from Quantico he thinks I should be out shooting rifles.” 

“Well, why aren’t you?” Larry inquired. 

“That would be cool” I agreed. 

“It’s a poor allocation of my time” Charlie objected “in the time it takes to shoot X number of rifles, I can access ten or twenty or a hundred times that amount of data” 

“No, no, no, no. there’s data and there’s hands-on experience” Larry pointed out. “These are two different beasts. That’s why you’ve got blackboards and laboratories.” 

“Well you study the universe, and you’ve never been to outer space.” Charlie countered. 

“Yeah, but if I had the opportunity, do you think for a moment I’d hesitate?” Larry said. 

Charlie sighed. “I think it’d be cool to shoot a rifle,” I voiced. 

Charlie gave me a look “you know It’s those kinds of statements that make Don worried about you” 

___________

“Why’d I have to come along?” I muttered. 

“Because if you hung around Larry and Charlie any longer you’d end up helping them on this crazy case and we both know it” Alan stated as we got on the elevator in the FBI office. 

“So your solution is to bring me to the heart of where the case is being handled.” I pointed out. 

“Point made but this is the side of it you definitely can’t help on” Alan commented. I nodded in agreement getting the point. 

The elevator opened and Don greeted us. “Hey guys” he smiled. 

“Hey Donnie” Alan smiled as we headed out of the elevator and into the FBI office. I’d never been here before and it was a cool place. People were all over the place in cubicles. There were meeting rooms with glass walls and doors and on one side a tall stack of file boxes. 

“Thanks for bringing lunch all the way down here.” Don told us as he led us through the office “Come on, this way.” 

“Oh well, you know, the drive was a pleasure.” Gramps explained. “Traffic on the 10 has never been thinner since, uh, well, since it’s been the 10” 

“Yeah, it’s like all LA’s in lockdown, huh? Little eerie” Don commented. “Right in here” we were ushered into a little break room. Alan sat the bag of food on the table and started setting things out. “You guys want a water?” Don asked, leaning by a mini fridge. 

“Yes please” Alan said politely. 

“Sure” I shrugged watching the people through the glass. 

Don set out three waters before taking his seat at the table. Alan got up to grab some napkins. “Hey kid, why don’t you sit down?” Don suggested. 

“Yeah” I agreed, coming over and sitting across from him where Alan had put my sandwich. “Everyone’s really busy out there huh?” 

“Yeah sniper’s a big case and it’s not the only one we have open right now so a lot going on” Don explained as Alan came back over. 

“So, how, uh, how are you and Charlie managing this case?” the elderly man asked. 

“Well, I mean, he’s frustrated; I’m frustrated.” Don shook his head raising his sandwich up to his face “I mean, we’re having a rough time on this” 

“Is that why he’s been running out of the house late at night?” Alan inquired as we ate. 

Don nodded “we got an agent on him all the time” he assured. 

“I mean, I know he’s been helping you out and that he comes down to your office a lot, and I- I think that’s great. But, but now you got him going out on crime scenes.” Alan explained “I mean, there's this guy shooting people out there.”

Don made a face and I could see the argument coming. I quickly spoke up to leave the room “uh where’s the bathroom here?” 

Don look to me “uh out down the hall to the left and then take a right” he gestured. 

“Thanks” I replied, getting up and shuffling out of the room. Glancing back I could see the conversation continuing in my absence. Don and Alan had a strong relationship this I could tell from the beginning. However, Alan was always worried about his sons especially on the FBI side of things. It was a worry I never fully understood but then again this was my first time with male role models so maybe it was just a guy thing to constantly worry about what you can’t control. 

___________________

3rd POV. 

Once Abby had left the room Don turned back to his father “Dad. you really think I would put Charlie in danger?” 

“No,” Alan objected “you know what I really think?” 

“What?” 

“I think you have to understand that Charlie can never say no to you,” Alan explained. Don let out an exasperated breath putting down his sandwich “I mean, I mean. All you have to do is to ask him something and he’s there for you.” 

“Yeah, and I’m there for him.” Don insisted. 

Alan sighed “look, he’s not a cop. Now, come on, I mean, he’s better off with chalk in his hand than a gun.” 

“You know, you got to stop this; he is a grown man, and he’s capable of-” 

“Who still seeks the approval of his older brother” Alan cut Don off. “Whether his older brother likes it or not. And- and more than that Abby, Abby is just like him I had to bring her out here with me just to keep her from trying to help anymore on this sniper math of his.” 

“Abby’s fine alright” Don objected “she just needs to learn to leave that stuff alone” 

“Yeah, and who’s job is it to teach her?” Alan pointed out. 

Don sighed and was about to reply when his phone went off he pulled it out to answer, muttering an excuse me. Meanwhile Abby returned hesitantly but determined the argument was over as she saw her father on the phone. 

“Gotta go” the agent declared gathering his food and getting to his feet “another shooting” 

“Oh my god” Alan muttered. 

“Yeah, I promise I won’t call Charlie till we roll the tanks out.” Don stated stopping in the doorway. “And I want you two to stay here until I call you, okay?” Alan nodded in understanding “all right, thanks for the sandwich” 

With that Don was heading off into the bullpen. “I barely got to say two words to him” Abby muttered, sitting down with her food. 

“Well, I suppose when duty calls” Alan sighed, turning and watching his granddaughter eat. 

__________________

Abby POV.

I left off a loud sigh as Larry and my grandfather began their chess game. “Come on Abby, you like chess,” Alan said. 

“I like playing chess, not watching it,” I replied, turning the page of my book. 

“Well how about you play winner” Gramps suggested and I shrugged in reply. “And would you mind sitting like a normal person we are in public” I raised my hands in an annoyed gesture as I sat sideways in my chair, my legs dangling over the arms rest of one side. Alan gave me a stern look and I sighed shifting in my seat. “Thank you”

“Yeah, yeah” I sighed slouching in my chair and turning another page of my book. 

“Oh. The Ruy Lopez opening” Alan commented on Larry’s move. “I see I’m dealing with a classicist here.” 

“Look, I warned you I was a little rusty” Larry pointed out with a slight laugh to his voice. “My game is also a little undeveloped.” 

“You know I had to stop playing with Charlie when he was eight years old.” Alan explained. 

“Yeah, more precociousness in the biography of professor Charles Eppes.” Larry sighed “yeah you know, among mathematicians, isn’t that just such a cliche, the playing chess?” 

“I didn’t mind losing” Alan explained leaning forward in his seat “it was that bored expression on his face, like he was playing out of courtesy. That’s what got to me” 

“That’s why I keep my poker face up when I challenge you” I muttered, not looking up from my book. “It’s just common courtesy” 

“Oh is that so?” Alan asked and I could hear the amusement in his tone as I smirked. “Perhaps you should remember who your ride home is then” we both chuckled lightly amused. 

“Oh yeah? Well, try Scrabble” Larry suggested ignoring my and my grandfather’s banter. “He’s a horrible speller” 

“Really?” Alan inquired. 

“Oh, he’s horrible,” Larry insisted. 

“I didn’t know that” Gramps sighed leaning back in his chair again. “You know quite a bit about my son.” 

“I don’t know” Larry murmured “I know he’s been a delight. You know, observing him all these years. You know, a star pupil’s ascension to such extraordinary heights I mean, yeah, that’s perhaps the most rewarding aspect of being a teacher.” 

“Come one, we both know you’ve been a lot more than just a teacher to Charlie” Alan pointed out. 

I glanced up to see a small smile grace Larry’s features “well, thank you for saying that.” 

I caught sight of the board and scoffed turning back to my book as Alan spoke again moving one of his bishop “oh, by the way, uh you’re now in check” 

“Oh you distracted me” Larry exclaimed, sitting up as Alan chuckled to himself. 

“Smooth Larry” I murmured. 

___________

“Here I found a tarp” I called tossing the bundled fabric at my uncle. 

“I just didn’t think that I was in immediate danger until I was” Uncle Charlie continued to explain the story I had coaxed out of him when he came back minorly distressed from the scene where the serial sniper was stopped. 

“Well yeah no one expects to die when their life has never been threatened before. Unless they’re paranoid” I muttered. 

“You seem far more calm with this then I would think” Charlie muttered as I climbed down the step ladder and we went to go outside. 

“Well I have experience around guns” I mumbled as we stepped back into the yard and was grateful to see my father there to draw away Charlie’s attention. 

“You told him?” Charlie asked. 

“Yeah about the gun range” Don muttered with a pointed look “that you shot a rifle. He shot a rifle, did a great job” Don rambled slightly. 

“I fired the rifle,” Charlie parroted. 

“Yeah, see i’m perfectly fine” Alan pointed out, wiping his hands with a rag “I didn’t fall off the ladder, I didn’t collapse. I certainly hope you got that out of your system now.” he muttered the last line at his youngest. 

“Definitely” Charlie agreed. 

I scoffed slightly and struggled to suppress my laughter at knowing the full knowledge of what happened as Gramps went to talk to Don about the stain they were putting on the house. Uncle C gave me a slight shove at my poorly suppressed amusement and I bent to help him spread the tarps. 

Chapter 10 ->

[inyournightmares97]

Ultimatum (Part 4)

Park Jinyoung is a master negotiator. He’s used to preying on people’s weaknesses and manipulating them to get his way. So he can’t understand you; a lawyer who sees the world in black and white, as either good or bad. Conflict is inevitable.

But if the two of you can just set aside your differences, perhaps you can perform miracles together.

Word Count: 4.1k+

Warnings: Angst, office!au, enemies to lovers!au. Some language.

Part 1: In Which You Win

Part 2: In Which He Wins

Part 3: In Which the Common Enemy Appears

Part 4: In Which You Work Together

Part 5: In Which Nobody Wins 

Part 6: In Which Everybody Wins

Park 7: In Which Love Wins

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Park Jinyoung brought his stuff to your table and sat down across from you. 

“What are you doing?” you asked him, raising an eyebrow. 

“Plugging in my laptop,” he replied. He bent over to reach the power outlets on the floor and you had to turn your eyes away from his shapely posterior. Did he need to wear such snug pants? Jinyoung straightened up and smiled at you. “I was using it during the presentation so the battery is drained. The company should get us better laptops.”

You cleared your throat. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Huh?”

“Why are you here? This is where Legal sits.”

His pretty lips formed a pout. “What do you mean? This is an open-seating work-space.  Don’t you remember what the CEO told us when he removed the private offices and cubicles? Open seating offices encourage creativity and collaboration. We can sit anywhere.”

“Exactly. You can sit anywhere. Do you really need to sit here?”

“Is my handsome face distracting you?” Jinyoung asked smugly. “I can understand. Women have a hard time concentrating around me. Should I sit with my back facing you? Perhaps you’d enjoy that more? I have been told my rear view is rather flattering.”

“Please shut up.”

Jinyoung chuckled and leaned back in his chair. “Relax. I had a chat with the CEO's secretary. She’s squeezing us in for a meeting with the CEO at 6 pm tomorrow. That gives us…” he turned his wrist to look at his watch. “About 24 hours to prepare a negotiation that will save half the jobs in this company. I doubt we can afford to waste the time it takes whenever I have to walk over here and discuss something with you. So let’s work together and save time.”

“Fine,” you muttered. 

 “Good. So, how’s it going so far?” he asked. 

You sighed. “Honestly? Not great. The CEO can’t force us to go to Busan but if he gives us a chance between either going or resigning then there’s not much we can do to stop it. It’s constructive dismissal in a way, but it’s not a watertight case. It would take an amazing lawyer to win this in court. We can’t afford it. I might have to bluff my way through this meeting.”

Jinyoung rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Hmm That’s okay. We don’t actually need strong grounds to sue. We just need him to believe we have strong grounds to sue.”

“Do you think he can be fooled?”

“Trust me, the CEO doesn’t know anything about the law. We’ll be fine.”

“What if he asks someone?”

Jinyoung shook his head. “No way. The CEO isn’t supposed to consult personal lawyers with respect to official decisions. Even if he was to consult a specialist labour lawyer he would have to go through your department to do it. It’s company policy that the legal team handles all legal matters, including soliciting opinions from external lawyers for company issues.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “Park Jinyoung, did you just quote company policy at me?”

“Hey. I have read the stupid thing,” he muttered. 

"If you say so."

Jinyoung finished booting up his laptop and you watched with mild interest as he extracted a pair of thick framed reading glasses from his bag. The glasses covered his dark, mischievous eyes and Jinyoung’s face suddenly looked softer and kinder. 

He chewed on his lower lip while he grabbed a notepad and began scribbling down some numbers. For a few minutes, Jinyoung did nothing but look at his laptop and do calculations. Whenever he was stuck he set the pen down and fiddled absent-mindedly with his cuff sleeves until something struck him. Then he picked up the pen and resumed writing with renewed vigour. 

Park Jinyoung concentrating was weirdly mesmerizing. You felt a shiver down your spine. 

He looked up and caught you staring at him. 

“What are you looking at?” he wondered. 

You coughed. 

“I just-um… what are you working on? What’s your negotiation strategy?” you asked. 

Jinyoung turned his notepad to show you his calculations, although it was of little use. You hadn’t studied business. He pushed his glasses up his nose. 

“I think the reason the CEO is pushing this because it would be cheaper for the company to have us working from Busan,” Jinyoung explained. He gestured to a bunch of numbers on the sheet. “I asked Bambam from Accounting to give me the company’s cost accounts. I want to know exactly how much money the Busan transfer saves. Things like renting office space, operations, etc. What if we all agree to give up our bonuses for the year? I want to know if that could save the company the same amount.”

You blinked. You hadn’t even thought about why the CEO was forcing you all to go to Busan. It was an interesting line of thought, but one that you weren’t sure would help. 

Jinyoung smiled. “Don’t worry. This is a solid strategy. It’s how I negotiate deals. We can’t just focus on what we want. That’s a narrow-minded approach. The important thing is to get past the opponent’s positions and fulfill their interests.”

“What does that mean?”

Jinyoung shook his head in disappointment. “Positions and interests? How are you unaware of the basics of negotiation?”

You folded your arms across your chest indignantly. That wasn’t fair. How were you supposed to know something that you had never studied and was outside your field of expertise? 

“Name one sitting Supreme Court judge, Jinyoung. One. I dare you.”

Jinyoung sighed. “Okay, fair enough. Listen carefully. A position is a stand someone takes. For example; our CEOs current position is to force everyone to go to Busan or quit. But if you look behind the surface of a position there’s an underlying interest. I believe his interest is to cut costs for the company. If we can fulfill his interest directly, then there’s no need to fight him on the position. I’m trying to solve his problem instead of accepting his demands. Does that make sense to you?”

“Yeah,” you admitted reluctantly. It was actually a rather intelligent way to go about solving the problem. 

“Lawyers usually argue on positions, so I can understand why this might be unfamiliar to you. But there’s no need for us to negotiate the transfer to Busan. What we need to do is find a way to save the CEO the money he wants. Then he won’t even need to transfer us.”

“You’re trying to create a win-win situation.”

Jinyoung smirked. “I always look for a win-win situation. Everyone leaves the room happy and there are no hard feelings. Ultimatums are the worst. They make the other person hostile and bring in unpleasant emotions. Never issue an ultimatum unless you’re ready to face the consequences.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, you’ve told me this before.”

“It's a good rule!”

“But you still want me to issue the CEO an ultimatum? I'm threatening to sue the company. There's hardly any bigger ultimatum than that,” you pointed out. 

Jinyoung waved a hand in the air carelessly. “Doesn’t matter. Remember the Good Cop, Bad Cop strategy? Your ultimatum isn't our real proposal. It only exists to make my proposal look better in comparison.”

“I can’t believe I’m trusting you with this,” you mumbled. 

“Relax. I will take full responsibility if something goes wrong.”

“Full responsibility? What are you going to do? Find us all new jobs?” you demanded incredulously. 

Jinyoung blinked. “What? No. I can’t do that.”

“Then how do you intend to take responsibility?”

“I was thinking more along the lines of… I’ll let you tell everyone at work that it was my fault?” Jinyoung suggested hopefully. He noticed the murderous expression on your face and chuckled. “Never mind. I won’t joke around now. We have a lot of work to do. Do you want some coffee? I’ll go get us some coffee. Do you take sugar?”

You sighed. “No sugar.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling. Have you heard of enjoying the pleasures in life?”

“Oh fuck off, Jinyoung.”

------------------------------------------

The two of you worked late into the evening. The sky began to darken and the office slowly emptied out as co-workers gradually left for the day. There was silence, other than the occasional sound of you flipping pages and Jinyoung typing into his calculator. 

That was when you came to a realization. 

Park Jinyoung’s presence was kind of comforting.

Maybe it was because you’d never really worked with Jinyoung before. The two of you interacted on a regular basis only to get in each other’s way. You had spent so much time and energy hating Jinyoung’s manipulative tactics that you never considered what it would be like if he used them for you instead of against you. Now that you were working on the same side things felt different. 

Park Jinyoung was the sort of man to get what he wanted using any means whatsoever. He stopped at nothing. It could be annoying and manipulative but for the people counting on him, he could also seem…

Dependable? 

“How much longer are you guys going to be here?” Yugyeom asked as he came up to your desk. It was getting late and he’d been sitting a few seats away and staring pointedly at his watch for a while now. He yawned loudly and then stretched his long limbs. “It’s time to get off work…”

You blinked at him. “You go ahead. I need to look into a few more things.”

“Yeah. I’m still working too,” Jinyoung replied. 

Yugyeom made a face at Jinyoung. “Nobody asked you,” he mumbled. Then he turned to you with a softer tone. “Are you sure it’s okay if I leave? Maybe you’ll need my help with something? I don’t mind staying late but you’re both working in complete silence and I don’t know how to help...”

“Go home, Yugyeom.”

“Okay. Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure.”

You heard Yugyeom pack up his belongings and reluctantly leave the office. It was empty now. The sky outside was dark and there was nobody left except for you and Jinyoung. You paused and observed the handsome man sitting across from you. His eyebrows were furrowed as he chewed the end of his pen and stared at his laptop screen. 

“Jinyoung?”

He continued chewing the pen. “Hmm?”

“Are you hungry?”

His dark eyes rose to meet yours. 

“Yes.”

——————————————————————————

Jinyoung wasted nearly fifteen minutes of your time arguing over what to order for dinner until you finally gave up and placed separate orders from different restaurants. The two of you went into the deserted break room to eat once your food arrived. 

“Can we practice what we’re going to say to the CEO tomorrow?” you asked hesitantly. 

Jinyoung nodded as he stuffed his mouth full of noodles. His cheeks bulged out like a squirrel’s before he swallowed. “Sure. Why, though?”

“I just want to make sure I don’t mess up.”

He grinned. “Oh wow. Is our big scary lawyer lady nervous? Is this the same woman who barged into the CEO’s office this morning and issued him the ultimatum that screwed us all over?” he teased. 

You glared at him. Was this the time for joking? You were in no mood to play cat and mouse with Jinyoung. The meeting was getting closer and your overall situation wasn’t much better than it had been this morning. 

“Jinyoung, please.”

His smile dropped when he saw the worry on your face. “Okay, fine. I won’t irritate you.”

“Thank you. Just for tonight.”

“Can I ask you something, though?” Jinyoung asked. He tilted his head as he observed you with his dark eyes. “You’re not acting like yourself today. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t have barged into the CEOs office so hastily and you wouldn’t have agreed to work with me or accept my way of doing things. I know you.”

You flushed. “Well, I mean, potentially losing your job is scary to anyone-”

Jinyoung shook his head. He wasn’t buying it. “No. It can’t just be that. You graduated from an amazing law school. You have a great resume and great work experience. You’ve worked at other places before. You could get another job in less than a month if you tried. What do you enjoy so much about working here?” 

“It’s not that I enjoy it, I just-”

“Just?”

You frowned at him. “I don’t know. What do you enjoy so much about working here?”

“This is where I first became successful,” Jinyoung replied without hesitation. He poked at his noodles and his expression softened. “Nothing was really working out for me before I came here. But the CEO hired me personally and he gave me opportunities to prove myself. He’s going to let me make pitches to our investors soon. I think if I hang around in this company for a while, I could get promoted to top management. In five or six years, I could head Sales or even get a better position in Finance. I would lose out on all that if I quit now.”

You stared at him. “Wow.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I just didn’t think you’d be so honest.”

Jinyoung chuckled. “Hey. I only lie when it benefits me. I don’t walk around telling lies randomly. They’re a pain to keep track of, you know.”

“Fascinating.”

“So? Your turn. You’re clearly desperate to keep your job and you’re even more desperate not to go to Busan. Why?”

You were silent for a moment. You didn’t want to think about this too much, you had barely had time to process it since you were hit with the news this morning. You just knew that the thought scared you. 

“I just don’t want to leave my family behind,” you explained vaguely. 

“What does that-”

Your phone rang. You glanced at the caller ID and your eyes widened in surprise. “Sorry, I need to take this,” you apologized. It was your mother’s care home. You moved to a corner of the break room and answered the phone. “Hello?.... Yeah, I know, I came by this morning but the doctor wasn’t available to talk to me… now? I’m still at work right now… yeah, I get that but I work full time, I can’t just come down instantly whenever you call…”

Jinyoung walked up to you and tapped your shoulder. “Do you need to go somewhere?”

You shook your head awkwardly while clutching your phone. “N-no…”

“I’ll drive you. Come on.”

——————————————————————————————————-

Jinyoung’s car smelled really nice. 

You weren’t sure why you found that specific detail attractive, but you did. To be honest, you had never imagined a situation where you would be sitting in the front passenger seat of Jinyoung’s SUV and side-eyeing him while he drove you around late at night. You expected him to be nosy and ask where you were going and why, but he didn’t. 

Instead, Jinyoung tuned into a nighttime radio station and the both of you sat in silence while the radio jockey droned on about memories of first love and nostalgia. 

“Do you like listening to this stuff?” you asked him. 

Jinyoung glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Sure. I can be a sentimental guy.”

You rolled your eyes. “Wow.”

“Why is that so surprising? You’re the one who lacks human emotion and wants to follow her stupid rulebook all the time. Well you know what? Human beings are emotional creatures. We don’t react to logic, we react to feelings.You should try them sometime.” he told you. 

You stared at him incredulously.  

“I can’t believe I’m getting a lesson on feelings from the guy who blackmailed my subordinate into signing a document that should never have been signed, putting both of your jobs at risk,” you retorted. Did this man even think before he spoke? “You’re such a hypocrite, Jinyoung. I never know what to believe when it comes to you.”

Jinyoung smirked. “Do you want to know the truth?”

“If you insist.”

“The agreement I submitted to the client was one without Yugyeom’s signature on it. He’s in the clear.”

You stared at him. “What?”

“Having Legal sign off on the agreement is only an internal requirement according to our company policy. The client’s lawyer didn’t notice the problem. I just made Yugyeom believe that he’d signed it. Otherwise, you would have gone and told the CEO before the press conference. I needed you guys to keep quiet.”

“You submitted a contract that Yugyeom didn’t sign?”

“Yup,” Jinyoung replied. He glanced at you, lips curling into a smug smile. “So you can tell the kid to relax. Even if everything is revealed later, he won’t be in trouble. I’ll be the one who has to justify why I executed a contract without the approval of the Legal team.”

You stared at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you.”

“I know. I’m the master of deception, aren’t I?” Jinyoung asked proudly. “I took a big risk by telling you this. Are you going to rat me out to the CEO now?”

You sighed and shook your head. “You’re in luck. I’m not feeling particularly loyal to our CEO today.”

Jinyoung’s smile fell and he nodded solemnly. “He’s being a real dick about this one. But don’t worry. He’s not completely unreasonable. We’ll find some way out of this mess, I promise. It’s not impossible.”

“We just haven’t figured out his bottom line yet.”

Jinyoung turned to you with a surprised smile. “What? How do you know what a bottom line is?” 

“I-I just heard Hana talking about it, she keeps coming over to Yugyeom’s desk every day and gushing about how much she learns from you,” you explained reluctantly. 

“I knew that kid had potential.”

You rolled your eyes. “Anyway. The CEO is making all these demands and issuing us these ultimatums but there has to be something that he’s not prepared to lose either, right? Something we can do that could make him think- okay, maybe I’m losing more by insisting on the Busan transfers than I’m gaining? He knows we’re scared of losing our jobs. But we don’t know what he’s afraid to lose. Maybe he’s counting on at least some of us getting scared and moving to Busan. Maybe it will become a hassle for him if every single one of us quits. What do you think?”

Jinyoung was silent. 

“I-I don’t know.”

“You can’t think of anything?”

Jinyoung shrugged as he pulled into the parking lot of your mother’s care home. The GPS announced that you had arrived at your destination and you sighed, taking off your seat-belt. “Sorry. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. I just need to have a quick chat with the doctor.”

Jinyoung nodded. “Take your time.”

“Thanks.”

————————————————————————————————

You hurried into the care home. A number of elderly people were sitting in the lounge area, some watching television and others sitting around a table of cards. You spotted your mother in an armchair reading a book through her reading glasses and smiled. 

“Hi!” one of the nurses greeted you. “Are you here to see the doctor?”

“Yes. Is he still here?” 

“He’s upstairs, come with me.”

You followed the nurse upstairs to meet the doctor; you normally wouldn’t have rushed over here so late at night but considering the events of this morning and the possibility of you losing your job, you needed to know if your mother was fit to travel. The doctor was looking over some charts and he greeted you in a friendly manner. 

“Well, here’s our favorite lawyer! How have you been?”

“I’m okay, thanks,” you replied with a smile. “I wanted to talk to you. Is everything okay with my mother? How’s her breathing problem?”

The doctor nodded. “It’s getting better. She might need to stay on the oxygen for a while but it’s definitely improving. She needs some rest and care. Is there anything specific you wanted to know?”

You bit your lip. “Yeah. I might- um, my work is asking me to move to Busan. Is there any chance that  I could take her with me? Would that work out?” you asked doubtfully. The doctor’s eyes widened and he shook his head immediately. 

“I’m sorry, but that’s not a good idea. I don’t think she has the physical strength to deal with a move or shifting to a new care home. She’s settled in well here. Maybe you can take her out on short trips for a day or two as long as she doesn’t have to physically exert herself. But shifting cities would only do her harm, both physically and mentally,” he replied firmly. 

You gave him a hesitant smile. “Right. Yeah, I knew that. I just wanted to, um…”

The doctor gave you a comforting pat on the shoulder. “You’ll figure things out.”

“I will. Thank you, Doctor.”

“You’re welcome.”

You went back downstairs, hands trembling. You had still been harbouring a bit of hope but now it was completely crushed. If things didn’t work out with the CEO tomorrow then you would have to start sending out applications and searching for a new job. It wasn’t going to be easy. Finding a job that was nearby and still paid enough for you to cover the costs of your mother’s medical care was going to be…

It was going to be a nightmare. 

Fuck. 

“Did you get a chance to talk to the doctor?” the nurse asked you kindly when you came back downstairs. 

You nodded. “I did, thanks.”

“Now I get why you were reluctant to come on the phone,” she added with a giggle. “You were with your boyfriend, huh? He’s really handsome. How did you manage to snag a guy like him?”

You flinched. “What?”

Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean that you’re not attractive! You totally are-”

You ignored the flustered nurse and hurried into the lounge area. Your mother was still sitting in her armchair, but kneeling beside her on the carpet was Park Jinyoung. He was holding her book, the sleeves of his dress-shirt rolled up, as he read something aloud to her with a cheerful smile on his lips. Fuck. The nurse was right. Park Jinyoung was incredibly attractive but he was also incredibly not-supposed-to-be-here.

“Jinyoung,” you called out as you approached. “What are you doing?”

Jinyoung looked up at you with an innocent smile. “Oh, hey! I got tired of waiting in the car so I came over to meet your mother. She has great taste in books! I have a couple by the same author at home but I’ve never read this one-”

You cleared your throat.

Your mother smiled up at you. “What did the doctor say, darling?”

“He says you’re getting better and that you just need to rest,” you told her. She didn’t need to hear about the troubles you were having at work, she had enough to deal with. You squeezed her hand lightly. “I need to get going, mom, I have a lot of work. I’ll come by and see you tomorrow night, okay?”

Jinyoung grinned. “I’ll come too! I can bring you a copy of-”

“No you won’t,” you told him firmly. “Let’s go.”

Jinyoung turned to your mother and made a face. “Has she always been this grumpy? How did you deal with her when she was younger?” he asked while your mother chuckled. You reached out and grabbed Jinyoung’s sleeve to pull him away. 

“We’re leaving, Jinyoung.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with a roll of his eyes. He followed you out of the care home and got back into his car with a small smile on his face. He was still smirking even as he pulled out of the parking lot and you could feel your anger building. 

“What is so amusing?” you demanded. 

Jinyoung shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell me what you’re laughing about, Park Jinyoung, or I swear to god-”

Jinyoung laughed. “Okay, okay, I’ll tell you. Your Mom uses a baby picture of you as a bookmark and I saw it,” he told you. You instantly flushed red. Fuck. You knew what picture that was. It was the one where you were two years old and wearing a horrible princess dress as you snuggled with a large teddy bear. 

“Fuck. Okay, fine, let’s not-”

“You were a really ugly baby,” he said with a laugh. 

God. Why did you put up with this man again? You resisted the urge to punch him in the face. 

“Thank you.”

“It’s okay. You’re pretty now,” Jinyoung told you with a smile. His dark eyes twinkled mischievously as he looked at you. “You’re kind of annoying and you act like a grumpy school teacher who's never been laid, but you’re pretty.”

“Please just drive.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[cagestark]

-Defender-

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six

Read here on AO3.

Warnings: homelessness, poor!peter. Adult!Peter. Mean!Avengers. Not Steve Rogers friendly. Also, in this AU I’ve taken it upon myself to change some aspects of Spider-Man (not too many, no worries). Enjoy. 

-

The first time he meets the spider-kid, it is after hours on the eighty-second floor of the main building of Stark Tower.

But the kid is on the wrong side of the glass.

“FRIDAY, run that by me again,” Tony says. He’s in his pajamas—a pair of hastily pulled on pants with not even boxers underneath, donned only when FRI sounded the alarm. The holographic video plays in front of him, but what it shows him makes no sense. It isn’t even possible. “What exactly am I seeing?”

“Fifteen minutes ago sensors on the first floor were triggered, suggesting a human presence. On closer examination, the intruder seems to be scaling the side of the building using grip enhancements that I can’t identify.”

“Okay, but is he doing what I think he’s doing?”

“Do you think he appears to be washing the windows, boss? Because all signs point to such.”

As they speak, the figure (barefoot—barefoot and more than eighty floors above Manhattan) dressed head-to-toe in black including a dark balaclava that obscures their features, pulls a squeegee from where it is secured to a multi-purpose belt around their waist. They wipe the glass clean in long, smooth strokes, flicking the water and soap off behind them. The way they move across the glass gives him goosebumps, makes him shiver with terror and awe.

He takes the elevator down from the Penthouse, passing the Avengers’ floor where the others are sleeping peacefully (God knows he doesn’t want to wake any of them up). There’s no indication that this person is a threat—and if they were a threat, this is hardly a dastardly plan.

The eighty-third floor is dark and quiet. It’s an accounting floor where they work to manage his assets and the company’s assets. He passes cubicles on his left and right, and though he visits this floor maybe once a month or less, he feels at home here. The entire building is home to him, and he knows it the way Steve and Bucky knew their tiny homes in Brooklyn, the way Clint knows the farm his wife maintains.

The south wall is entirely glass. Tony stands back in the shadows to watch as the dark figure crawls from east to west. They become preoccupied when they realize that their bare feet are leaving smudges on the glass, and their floundering is—well, it’s almost cute.

Tony approaches that glass cautiously, unwilling to startle person and send them plummeting to their death. When they pass by, squeegee pressed to the glass, the freeze with their face just inches from Tony’s. The balaclava has goggles on over it to obscure the person’s eyes, but Tony doesn’t need to see those eyes to know they are wide with alarm.

Grabbing a paper and pen from a nearby cubicle, he writes a quick message and presses it to the glass.

MEET ME ON THE ROOF.

They stare at the paper for so long that Tony begins to question their literacy. But then they attach the squeegee back to their belt and lift the bottom half of the balaclava. They reveal a cut, angular jaw and thin lips. Leaning in, they come so close to the glass that Tony thinks they’re going to kiss right where Tony’s mouth is—but instead they heave a silent breath, and in the fog of it, write with one bare finger: NO.

“Are you kidding me, right now?” Tony mutters. He uncaps the pen again, holding it in his teeth, and writes on the other side of the paper. TRESPASSING!

They breathe again, write: BUSY. Then they squeegee over the words and continue on like they aren’t dangling 1200 feet above Manhattan.

“Boss?” FRIDAY says. “I believe I’ve pegged the identity of our intruder. It wasn’t until he wrote on the glass that I was able to get a decent map of his fingerprints; all other readings keep coming back inconclusive. His name is Peter Parker. He was hired by Stark Industries in early August as a member of the maintenance department. Twenty years old, native of Queens, emergency contact is one May Parker, also of Queens—”

“Thank you for solving the mystery, Velma, any ideas on why he’s acting like an oversized microfiber cloth on my building’s glass at the devil’s hour?

“Jinkies, Shaggy, I’m an intelligent digital assistant, not a mind reader.”

“Shaggy? You’re grounded, baby. I’m a Fred guy all the way.”

“If anything, boss, you’re most similar to Daphne. But according to Mr. Parker’s recently opened emails, the maintenance department was mandated just yesterday to wash the windows on the main, north, and south towers. It appears Mr. Parker is getting a head—and unorthodox—start.”

“This maniac works for me?” Tony mutters. He follows along the window while the kid cleans, though he loses him when Parker crosses around the corner of the building and disappears onto the west side. “How the hell is he sticking to the window, FRI?”

“I can’t tell, boss. Diagnostics can’t find anything between his hands and the windows, but whenever he is sticking, the characteristics of his fingerprints change. It appears he grows scopulae.”

“Scopulae? As in, spider hair?” Tony stands at the window for several long minutes, lost in thought. At last, he heads back towards the elevator, shivering in the air conditioning. Instead of asking FRIDAY to take him to the floor Parker is currently cleaning (Floor 69, as of now), he tells her to take him back up to the penthouse. If the kid’s enhanced, then he’s safer on climbing the walls than anyone else Tony knows.

Not to mention, the windows are fucking spotless.

-

Peter is up to his eyes in the HVAC unit of zone 3 in the Stark Tower main building when his ears pick up the sound of the elevator door opening on the other side of the floor. With a building as tall as Stark Tower, heating and cooling takes division of the building into several zones with their own separate units. Zone three is for floors twenty-four through thirty-six—and twenty-four in particular, where the HVAC home base is, is a marketing floor. People here come and go without noticing him, walking briskly and talking on their phones. The elevators open and close all day long, but something about this particular incoming occupant has the office going silent.

The hairs raise all over Peter’s arms and legs. Danger? he wonders. But then he hears the murmuring of voices, a name said over and over in reverence: Mr. Stark. Tony Stark.

Tony Stark. The man who had caught Peter scaling the side of his supertall last night. Emblazoned in Peter’s memory is the image of the man coming out of the darkness on the other side of the glass, wearing nothing but some low-slung pajama pants. And who knew that Tony Stark, forty-plus years old still had the remnants of a six pack? Peter had been distracted for the rest of the night, even almost losing his grip around floor 21. Which wouldn’t have killed him (probably) but would have been very shocking to anyone walking down below on the street.

And now the man is on Peter’s floor? Well. It doesn’t take a genius to know what’s coming.

“Fuck,” Peter mutters. He immediately starts packing away his tools, tucking his hat down lower on his forehead to obscure his brow. His senses activate accidentally and suddenly a wrench is stuck to his hand and he shakes and shakes but for the life of him, it won’t come off—

“Well, hello.”

The wrench goes flying out of Peter’s hand, and Tony Stark barely manages to dodge it as it careens by him, hitting the wall and denting the plaster. They stare at each other, eyes wide, neither of them expecting such a thing to have happened and not being entirely sure how to proceed. The man is even more handsome in the light, eyes like the whiskey he drinks, hair immaculate and threaded with grays around the temples, lips full and curving into a smile. Fuck, Peter has had a crush on this guy since his Uncle Ben took him to a Stark Expo more than a decade ago. Seeing him in the flesh is almost too much to handle.

“Sorry,” Peter mutters, going to pick up the wrench.

“Don’t be. You’d be surprised how often I get that reaction.” He sticks out a hand, and Peter’s got no fucking clue what Tony wants him to do with it until the older man wiggles his fingers. For a business guy by day (and a suited superhero by night), Stark’s hands are calloused and strong. He looks Peter in the eye, gaze soft and unassuming, like he isn’t the most powerful man in the business world, like Peter isn’t some gum he’s tracked in on his shoe.

“I’m sorry for the wall, too,” Peter says. “I’ll fix that.”

“No, you won’t.”

Peter’s shoulders hunch. Of course, he won’t. Stark’s going to fire him. Peter will be back to shelter hopping and picking pockets until he finds another job. At least now he might have some references from coworkers who all seem to have taken to Peter, the youngest of their troop. The quiet woman Sam saves him a seat every lunch hour in the breakroom, and Carlito has started asking his wife to pack him two sandwiches so he can give one to Peter. Everyone has been so nice.

Peter should have known it wouldn’t last.

“You’ll be much too busy, I imagine,” Stark says. He takes the toolbox from Peter, like Peter is some dainty girl who can’t carry her own books to class, or something. Like a gentleman might. Peter is keenly aware of everyone’s gaze on them while the older man escorts him to the elevator. It must look ridiculous: Peter in his dirty work clothes, sneakers taped together, walking beside Tony Stark.

“Are you calling the cops on me?” Peter asks when the elevator door closes. He can tell that it’s moving upwards and not downwards, though—

“Why would I do that?” Stark asks. He’s wearing tinted glasses, and it’s a crime, because he’s so fucking pretty Peter would kill to see his face without them.

“Because of last night.”

Stark’s face smooths out. “I wasn’t sure if we were going to pretend like I didn’t know it was you—but I guess this makes it all a lot easier on my part. No, I’m not calling the cops on you.”

The elevator opens on the most lux penthouse Peter has ever seen: modern decore with glass tables and marble countertops and windows that show Manhattan below them like a toy city that Peter could step out and crush if he so felt like. The wood floors are polished and gleaming under Peter’s disgusting tennis shoes, and he’s never felt more out of place and more at home all at once.

“Thirsty? Hungry? I’ve got leftovers, if you don’t mind my germs. If you do mind my germs, I can order in for you. What do you like? Any food allergies?” Stark’s head pops up from where it had disappeared into the refrigerator. With narrowed eyes, he assesses Peter’s silence.

“Water would be—that’d be cool.”

“Sparkling? Distilled? Alkaline?”

“Uh—tap?”

“Excuse me, tap?” Stark shuts the door with a thud. “Now I am calling the cops. Seriously. You? Sit.”

Peter sits at the stool tucked beneath the island countertop. The marble cools his heated palms when he presses them against it. Despite his words, the man does not make any move to call anyone. He moves a Styrofoam dish to the microwave and heats up something that smells lovely, like marinara and basil. He cracks open a bottle of water and places it in front of Peter. It’s the crispest, most tasteless water he’s ever had. Probably harvested from mountainous glaciers or something.

At last Stark joins him on the other side of the island, sitting the dish of—yes, pasta—between them. He hands Peter a fork. “Dig in, kid,” he says. “I don’t have cooties.”

What the fuck, Peter thinks as he shares pasta with Tony Stark. Unbidden to his mind comes a scene from some Disney movie, when the two dogs share the piece of spaghetti and it makes them kiss. Just the idea of it has Peter staring resolutely at the wall of cabinets, chewing mechanically, hoping his face isn’t as red as it feels.

“Shall we talk shop while we eat?” Stark asks, dabbing at his mouth with a napkin.

Peter shrugs. He has no idea why he’s here. No idea what shop this man could possibly have to talk about with the likes of him.

“You’ve got mad skills,” he says at last. Stark lays his phone flat on the table and from it comes a holographic projection. Peter watches himself in 3-D scale the side of Stark Tower. Yeah, he looks pretty cool—except for the squeegee. That’s kind of dorky. “How are you doing that?”

“It’s—a long story,” Peter says, rubbing his thumb against the prongs of his fork. Society has made a lot of advancements regarding its treatment of enhanced humans, but there’s still a minority of people who are afraid in their ignorance. It was on the news last week when Peter was killing time in a McDonalds before he could arrive at work to Stark Tower: an enhanced teenager was murdered by some concerned townsfolk who believed she was destroying the crops with her weather-controlling capabilities.

He can feel Stark’s gaze on him. It makes him bristle, makes his shoulders hunch. Peter doesn’t do well with authority—that is, most authority seems to just use and abuse Peter. He’s suddenly keenly aware of how vulnerable he is right now: a twenty-year-old with no family, no friends to come looking for him, in the penthouse of the most powerful man in the world who has perfect blackmail material on him. Peter’s palms start to sweat, and he wipes them on his pants.

“Are you going to hurt me?” Peter asks, voice low and quiet. He can’t look. But he has to know—has to prepare himself.

Stark stands, abruptly. “No—Parker. Peter. Look at me.”

Peter does, his jaw clenched and eyes flat. He might be scared, but he’s no coward. Only, Stark doesn’t look anything like a man who is about to hurt him. His mouth is downturned in the softest expression of tragedy that Peter’s ever seen. “I’ve just realized,” Stark says. “This won’t do. I need Burger King.”

“Sorry, what?”

“Burger King. Don’t you know that I’m an eccentric billionaire, doomed to give in to my every whim? And my whims want a Whopper. Come on. Grab your metaphorical coat—or your literal coat. Should we stop by the maintenance floor?” Stark strolls to a closet and rifles through it, pulling out a long, dark, very expensive looking coat. Peter can almost feel it under his fingers, it must be so soft. “Kid? Are you hearing me?”

“I don’t have a coat.”

“Alright, take one of mine. Let’s go. My stomach waits for no one.”

When Peter tries to step onto the elevator behind Stark without grabbing a coat, the man insists on going back in and finding one for him. The billionaire puts him in a half dozen coats made of the soften Italian wools and genuine cashmeres, before settling on one that’s very similar to Mr. Stark’s, only with a collar that Peter can pulls up around his throat to keep the wind away. It smells clean, but faintly of cologne, like the man has worn it out recently and put it away without washing it. Thank God the coat is thick enough to hide the semi he sports.

They end up hiding in a booth in the back of a Burger King two blocks away, both of them with Whoppers and Large Fries and Cokes. Peter inhales his—an enhanced appetite, not to mention the general lack of food he suffers from on a typical day’s basis—but Tony keeps up, holding his own. He takes out his phone and sits it on the table again, tapping several buttons, and suddenly Peter’s head throbs a little, senses spiking.

“Is that bothering you? I’m using it to scramble anything we say from being overheard by anyone around us, but we can do it the old-fashioned way if we must—you know. Whispering.”

“It’s fine—that’s, that’s amazing.”

Stark blinks. “I—thanks. I made it.”

“I figured—how does it work? Can you tell me?”

And the man humors him. Actually humors him, explaining in laymen’s terms even though he might be surprised at the level of conversation Peter could keep up with. When Peter asks a question, the other man grins showing neat, white teeth that Peter would give anything to run his tongue along.

“You’ve been really nice,” Peter says when their food is gone and cups nothing but ice. It’s an understatement, because this is the nicest anyone has treated Peter in a long, long time, and the way Stark talks and looks at him isn’t condescending or pitying. It’s like he sees Peter as a human. “But why am I here? So, you know. About me. What are you going to do?”

“Nothing,” Stark says. “It’s not illegal to be enhanced. And while it is illegal to trespass, mostly it’s very unsafe to do it more than a quarter mile above the ground, so I do ask that anymore night time adventures aren’t spent scaling my building.”

“Okay,” Peter agrees. “I just wanted to make it easier for the other guys. They really look out for me. I didn’t want to make them have to work so hard, when I could do it so easily.”

“That’s very generous of you, Peter. May I call you Peter?”

Peter shrugs.

“I’ll take that as a yes—and you can call me Tony, okay kid? I’m not here to call the cops or to fire you. As a matter of fact, I want to offer you a job. Tentatively.”

“You want to promote me?” Peter asks, brow furrowing.

“It’s hardly a promotion. The hours are longer. The pay is—well, under the table. There’s danger too. Potentially mortal peril.

“Tell me, Peter, what do you know about the Avengers?”

[spicykoreantatertots]

Intro: Persona

Pairing: Namjoon x Female Reader

Word Count: 1159 (oops)

Rating: PG

Genres: SFW

Summary:  When your life is in danger, an unlikely hero comes to the rescue.

Warnings: Mention of gun violence and falling from heights.

A/N: This is part of my new drabble series that I’m doing for ficswithluv’s Bulletproof Bingo! 24 drabbles in 12 days so I can get that blackout before the deadline. See my challenge post here and the master list here! Message or send an ask to be on the taglist!

This has not been beta read, please be kind! 💜

~~~~~~~

Living in a world where a lucky few have super powers has it’s up and it has it’s down. 

Some of the upsides are that the heroes can keep the world safe from various dangers and threats. Crime is kept at bay. Monsters and creatures are usually defeated before they can do much damage. There are healers, finders, and even people who can make ice cream appear from thin air. 

One of the downsides is that sometimes you end up trapped in a cage dangling from your 50 foot office building above rush hour traffic. And by sometimes you mean right now. This is happening right now. 

You just had to ditch work early today. As you were leaving your office building, some Generic Bad Guy put a gun in your face and kidnapped you. He built some contraption that juts out from the top of the building, so not only are you dangling high in the air, you’re also too far from the building to climb into a window. And now your life’s in peril. 

The cops have finally showed up though, and they’ve stopped the traffic. So now when you fall, at least you won’t get pulverized by cars. You’ve been standing in this cage for the better part of an hour, but you’re too afraid to make any moves. You don’t know how well the “villain” secured you to the building. 

Suddenly, the cage starts swaying side to side. Maybe they’ve figured out how to rescue you. Angling your face to get a better view, you see a man. Slowly climbing down the chain. 

“What are you doing?!” You shout up at him. He doesn’t respond, maybe he doesn’t hear you. But in just a few seconds he’s sitting on top of the cage. “Uh... Hello?”

“Hi!” He cheers, his face appearing in front of you, upside down. He’s wearing a hot pink mask. Lilac hair and two huge dimples on either side of his face. 

“Oh good. A hero.” You let out a sigh of relief. “Can you please get me down from here?” You ask. 

“I’ll try!” He laughs. Laughs. As though this isn’t a life threatening situation for both of you. 

“You’ll try?” You question him. He reaches down with gloved hands and starts breaking the thick metal bars on the cage. He manages to rip one completely off and it plummets to the ground below, landing with a loud clunk. “If you have super strength, why didn’t you just pull the cage up?!” 

“I don’t have super strength.” He says calmly, focused on breaking you out of the cage. His dark brown eyes determined.

“Then how are you doing that?!” Your shouting keeps getting higher and higher in pitch the more exasperated you are. “What is your power?”

“Don’t laugh.” He says, looking over at you momentarily. 

“Don’t laugh?” What is this guy’s deal?

“I can break just about anything.”

“You can break anything?”

“Just about.”

“And... you’re a hero?”

“Yes.”

“Not a villain?” 

“No.”

“Okay...”

“Okay.” He says with finality. He has broken enough bars for you to climb out, but if he doesn’t have super strength, how is he going to prevent you from falling?

He reaches down and offers his hand to help you climb out. 

“You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna shimmy back up that chain with you.” You scoff, crossing your arms.

“We’re not climbing. We’re jumping”

“JUMPING?!” You scream, completely outraged.

“Listen, I told you I can break just about anything. I can break our fall.” You’re sure he’s about to start laughing again, but instead he holds out his arm for you. “You’re just gonna have to trust me.” 

Against every part of your brain that says this is a bad idea, you can’t help but feel safe with him. Something in his eyes and the way he speaks with such self assurance.

After another moment of thought, you take his hand. In one swift motion, he pulls you up and close to his body. The cage is swinging under the shift of weight. You cling to his waist tightly. 

“I thought you didn’t have super strength.” You’re looking up at him now, he’s quite a bit taller than you. 

“Just because I don’t have super strength doesn’t mean I’m not strong.” He comments, then flexes one of his biceps. Eyes wide, you can’t hold back the gasp that embarrassingly escapes your mouth. Now that you can see his whole body, you can tell he is definitely strong. He’s wearing fitted black clothes, black boots, and black gloves. The bright pink mask is a little odd, but he makes it work. 

“It’s probably best if you close your eyes. Can I pick you up?” He asks politely and then he scoops you up into his arms. “Ready?” 

You shut your eyes and nod and he jumps. It’s worse than you thought, the feeling of your heart dropping straight into your stomach. You can’t hear anything over the roar of the air that’s whipping your hair all around. But after about two seconds the wind dies down, your guts catch up with your body.

You aren’t falling anymore. When you open your eyes, he is smiling down at you. When you look down, you’re only about a foot off the ground and slowly, his feet make contact with the concrete. 

“You’re safe now.” He leans down to release your legs and you try to get your bearings back on the ground. The crowd that gathered starts cheering and a medic approaches you. 

You turn to give your hero a proper thank you, but, in true hero fashion he’s already gone. You see his figure walking away and you want to chase after him, but the medic insists you get evaluated. 

~~~~~~~

The next day at work, you are the talk of the water cooler. Everyone gossips about everything that happened to you, but all you can think about is finding your hero. 

You’re typing away on your computer in your little cubicle, searching for heroes with the power to break things. It’s apparently more common that you realized. Most people put their talents to use in the wrecking industry. Building demolition, renovation jobs, or junk yards.

“Y/N?” Oh shit, it’s your boss. You quickly exit out of all your none work browsers, hoping she didn’t see. “This is Kim Namjoon, he’s joining your department. You’ll probably have to show him the ropes while he’s getting started.”

You stand quickly to greet your new co-worker. A tall fit man wearing a nice suit and glasses. He’s got dark eyes and a set of dimples that you would recognize anywhere. His unobstructed face is even more handsome than you imagined. A smile spreads across your face. 

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Kim.” You extend your hand to him and he shakes it, giving you a knowing smile. 

You can’t help but wonder if his power includes breaking hearts too...

~~~~~~~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. Check out my masterlist here and the series masterlist here. I’m always looking for betas and friends so send me a message! :)

I only managed to get one drabble up today, but there will be three tomorrow to make up for it. I feel like this could be such a cool and fun story, but it’s hard to cram it into a small number of words. 

[stuckonjbbarnes]

Who the Hell?? {Formerly a One Shot}

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 1792

Warnings: Fluff-R-Us

Summary: When you got accepted into the NYPD, desk work was the last thing you wanted to do. Checking in and out people’s personal effects, day in and day out, was monotonous at best. To say you were over it, would’ve been the understatement of the century. That was until the Winter Soldier came to town.

A/N: By popular demand...I’ll be writing more for this. I dunno how much or when but...stay tuned.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  ~ ~

”Hello officer, I’ve come to collect my things.” Glancing up from your riveting game of Spider Solitaire, you have to do a double take.

The most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen is right in front of you. He looks a little stressed and you put on your best “I love my job” smile.

“Sure thing, sweetheart. Name?”

“Uh.” He seems a little confused. “I’m...It’s  Sebastian Stan.”

“Okay Mr. Stan. Give me one sec.” It doesn’t click until you’re in the locker bay, matching up his items. 

He’s Sebastian Stan...like THE Sebastian Stan. AKA Carter Baisen from Gossip Girl...the ex-husband in I,Tonya... the antagonist of one of your favorite terrible movies, The Covenant... Sebastian Stan. After checking the list thoroughly, you bring his items to the front.

“I...Uh. Can you just um make sure everything is there?” You attempt to remain calm. But a whole man was standing right in front of you and oh my god his eyes were even bluer in person...what the fuck?!

“Of course, Officer Y/L/N.” You try to focus on the task at hand but my god...a handsome celebrity is in your precinct.

“It’s all here...thank you, officer.” He smiles and you try not to fully swoon.

“Call me Y/N, please.” You try to mimic his smile. “And you’re welcome...it’s sort of my job Mr.Stan.”

“Have a good night.” Oh I will. You think watching him walk away.

You were suddenly so thankful for your shitty job. You chalk it up to being in the right place at right time. You got to meet Sebastian Stan and he was a total sweetheart. But what was he doing at the station to begin with? Not even a week later, you’re back behind the computer. This time renaming folders for fun, after taking over for shift change.

“Hello again.” You startle, not having heard any footsteps. The blue eyed man is half-smiling half-grimacing at you.

“Oh hi sweetheart...er Sebastian...I mean Mr. Stan!” You stutter out and mentally curse yourself for botching it that badly. “Back so soon?”

“Seems that way.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Honestly, I don’t know why I’m here.”

“Let me go get your things.” You offer a sympathetic smile, practically sprinting once you’re out of sight.

You return minutes later, repeating the same process as last time. Sebastian begins to pick up his phone but pauses, looking at you for a long while. You can feel your cheeks heating under his gaze.

“Y/N. You’re a cop.” He says.

“According to the badge...” You joke, unsure where this is going.

“Is there any way you can find out why I keep getting called down here?” 

You know what he’s asking could be risky. If he was suspected of a crime, not only would you be feeding him information, you could also lose your badge. But before your brain can make the right call, his phone is in your hand and your contact information is saved.

“I...I could get in trouble.” You push his phone into his hand, glancing at the camera in the corner. “Have a good evening, Mr.Stan. Stay out of trouble.”

Minutes later, your phone buzzes. Might be Sebastian: Hey it’s Sebastian...from earlier. Holy shit. You actually have Sebastian Stan’s number...no biggie. You quickly send Hi, still at work. Gonna get to the bottom of this. But have to be careful. He sends a quick thank you and you get back to collecting and retrieving people’s stuff for the remainder of the shift. 

Before leaving for the night you decide to head by the cubicles to gather some intel. But as you're walking, the big monitor playing 24/7 news catches your eye. Unmistakably, Sebastian is on the screen but he’s in all leather with a weird mask and longish hair, brandishing a semi automatic on a highway. The lower third reads James “Bucky” Barnes- Fugitive at Large. 

It’s gotta be a weird coincidence. But there’s no chance that that isn’t Sebastian. You’d recognize those eyes anywhere. You leave the precinct and quickly make your way home, typing a text as you deadbolt your door. Mr.Stan? Yes? Are you at home right now? Of course..it's nearly 2am. Do me a favor and check the News... Tell me that’s not you.

                                            ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I just don't understand." Sebastian groans, holding his hands over his face. "Who the hell is Bucky?"

"There's got to be something you're not telling me." You take another drink of your water, watching him carefully.

The two of you decided to meet at The Playwright Tavern, just off Broadway. For the last twenty minutes you'd been trying to get to the bottom of the Bucky Barnes case and whether or not Sebastian was involved. It didn't seem likely. But they look identical and how well do actually know Sebastian Stan?

"Listen, I don't even know how to fight!" His voice raises but he lowers it again, as eyes land on you two, "Okay...that's a lie. I'm trained to do fight sequences...but I've never stopped traffic to shoot at people on the highway..I swear!"

"I don't even kill spiders in my apartment, Y/N...you think I could kill people?!"

He's being sincere, you can tell. But none of this makes sense. The server drops off the check and you handle it, pushing Sebastian's hand back lightly. He lets you pay and you go your separate ways, with a promise to try to figure out what's going on.

                                          ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

A couple days later, you get to the precinct and head down to evidence for your usual shift. You're met by your Captain, who instructs you to go observe an interrogation as they are finishing up training newer officers for evidence. You shrug because it's happened before and head back up to the second floor. There, you're ushered into an observation room and you're immediately drawn to the window. They're interrogating Sebastian... again.

"Please sir, I'm so tired. This is the third time I've been called in. Am I under arrest or not?" Sebastian looks drained and you immediately wish you could rescue him.

You don't really listen to what Officer Grant is saying and slip out of the room, needing to do some work instead of daydreaming about rescuing Sebastian Stan from interrogation. Back downstairs, you sit behind the computer and crack your knuckles. The trainees had filed out right when you got back and your Captain gave you a nod before disappearing. You heard the steps before you saw him. But after your previous meetings, you'd know Sebastian from anyone.

"Hello Mr.Stan." You offer him a smile when he gets to your window.

"No sweetheart today?" He jokes, looking a little less drained. "I'm wounded Y/N. At least call me Sebastian."

You head to the locker, pulling out his belongings and carefully carrying them up front.

"You know, we really gotta stop meeting like this Sebastian." You try out his name, sliding his things through the window.

"What can I say? I just can't seem to stay away from you, Y/N."

Keeping your hands as steady as you can, you slide the form to him so he can sign off. This man was killing you so slowly with his nonchalant flirting. You do your best to slow your heart rate back down as he slides the paper back to you.

"You could at least take me to dinner once in a while." You blurt, unsure where this confidence suddenly came from.

"I'll keep that in mind." He smiles, a dazzling grin and gathers his stuff and turns to leave, adding "See you later, Y/N."

"Bye Seb–!" You call as he's nearly up the stairs.

                                         ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The next few days pass by with radio silence both from Sebastian (who you were pretty sure you had a moment with) and from the station with news of Bucky Barnes (honestly kind of a relief). You're at it again, playing Spider Solitaire when a cough catches your attention. You jump, seeing Sebastian at the glass. How was he able to sneak up on you half the time? It kind of made you want to die, how much he affects you.

"Long time no see, Sebastian." You turn, looking at him expectantly. "I don't think I remember seeing your stuff entered earlier..."

"I'm not here for the investigation." He looks about as flustered as you feel. "I wanted to see about that dinner?"

"You came all the way here to ask me out?" To say you were surprised would be an understatement. Don't celebrities date supermodels or each other? 

"...I did." He looks ready to throw up and you realize he's more anxious than he let on. It's the cutest thing you've ever seen.

"Well I guess I can make time...but only because you're my favorite Sebastian." You see the color returning to his face and try your best to steady your own heartbeat.

"Is your schedule free for tonight at 7?" He asks and if there wasn't glass in the way, you might jump into his arms and leave with him right this second.

"Actually I'm busy."

"Oh..I–"

"Yeah I kind of have a date with this guy Sebastian." You cut him off and he actually looks disappointed...which might've been sad if he wasn't such a dork.

"You know a lot of Sebastian's, huh?" He asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I only know one." Dawning crosses his face.

"Oh. Is that how we're playing this, brat?" He beams at you after rolling his eyes.

You smile back and he pushes away from the window. "I'll see you tonight, Seb."

"Seb?" He laughs and all you want is for him to do it again. "I'll see you later Y/N."

After work, you head into the alley, rushing home to change. In your rush, you ran straight into a wall of muscle. Looking up, you laugh a little and brush yourself off. 

"What are you doing out here? I thought I was meeting you at the restaurant." You smile at Sebastian but he just stares. "Sebastian?"

"Who the hell is Sebastian?" He asks.

This man is slightly buffer than Sebastian and his hair is much longer...although their faces are identical. He's still staring, clearly flustered and you realize this is James Barnes. He doesn't seem like the super-soldier everyone is terrified of. Honestly he looks far more terrified than he should be and then he sprints away, leaving you dumbstruck.

"HOLY SHIT...there really are two of them." You rush home to change and quickly head to the restaurant. Just wait until Sebastian heard about this. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Permanent Taglist: @sebbbystaaan​ @valkyriesryde​ @mermaidxatxheart​ @stibbsx​

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: Everybody Loves You

Link to song: Everybody Loves You by Charlotte Lawrence

Synopsis: An interrogation, and an overall shit night.

TW: Mentions of abuse and self harm. Please, if you’re sensitive to these topics, read with caution.

Ao3 Link

Chapter 20: Everybody Loves You

“The footage shows you being taken away from Spring Corporations by Cassian Noctis. By the looks of it you were sedated, and he carried you down to the parking garage where the getaway car was waiting to transport you. He was aided by Alis Cedarwood, who helped him with the locks and security codes.”

The stainless steel table beneath my forearms was just as cold as the festering emptiness in my bones. I didn’t even look up to detective Hanson as I croaked, “And did you scan the footage twenty minutes before that? When my fiancee was dragging me away from the elevator as I tried to escape?”

“The rest of the footage was blank. Only Mr. Ivy and his associates leaving while you stayed in your office.”

I snorted. Everything felt distorted, like reality was caving in on itself. “Of course he did.”

“Tamlin filed a missing person’s report. He’s been trying to find you for over two weeks now.”

I flinched at the sound of his name.

“Oh, I know. He tracked me through my phone and tried to break into Cassian Noctis’s condo. I had to hide away from him.”

“You were kidnapped, Mrs. Ivy. It’s okay that you’re in shock.”

“I’m not in shock, and don’t you dare fucking call me that. He is not my husband, and I was not kidnapped.”

Detective Hanson sighed and sat down across from me, opening up the beige file on the table. My picture was in it, along with a pile of annotated documents I couldn’t read from where I sat. The man was older, in his fifties maybe, with salt and pepper hair and hard lines marking his face. His blue eyes were void of any emotion as he asked, “Then please, explain. If you weren’t kidnapped, then why haven’t you contacted us before? Why let this drag on for so long?”

“I haven’t contacted you because tonight was the first time I heard he’d filed a missing person’s report. After he nearly broke into Cassian’s apartment, I thought maybe he would’ve—but never heard anything since. I just wanted to leave him and be done with it.”

“You wanted to leave him.”

A statement more than a question, and I only nodded my head.

“Why?”

I could’ve written an entire damn thesis on why I wanted to leave him, needed to leave him, but I only said, “Call in Morrigan Noctis.”

He only lifted a brow, and made a beckoning signal above his shoulder to the mirror—which I knew was a one-way glass window on the outside. We sat in silence for the few minutes it took before the door opened, and in came Mor, her eyes instantly finding mine and filled with worry.

“Close the door.”

It shut behind her with a creaking noise. I did not look at either of them when I breathed, “Show him the pictures.”

The pictures of my destruction. The ones Mor knew would be useful one day, despite everything that screamed in my head during those agonizing moments not to do it. Hesitantly, she pulled out her phone and tapped around until it sat on the table.

I could see the outline of a bruise on my ribs, and I bit my lip, averting my eyes. I couldn’t look at them. I refused to go back into those moments of pure horror.

Detective Hanson swiped through the photos, a cold, glinting look in his eyes. When he reached the end, he looked up to me and said, “Tamlin Ivy did this to you?”

The sound of his name reverberated through me. I did not stutter or hesitate as I replied, “Yes.”

“You may leave now, Ms. Noctis. Send those photos to the officer at the door.”

Mor gave a nod of her head, looked once more at me with pure strength and determination in her eyes. I was grateful for that look, and tried to feel even an ounce of the those conveyed emotions.

Once the door shut softly behind her, Detective Hanson said, “Just to be clear, the statement you’re giving is that you left Spring Corporations willingly.”

“Yes.”

“This wasn’t a kidnapping, you weren’t blackmailed—”

“No,” I seethed, “I am not being fucking blackmailed.”

“Look, Ms. Archeron, I’m trying to do my job. You were engaged to Tamlin Ivy, CEO of Spring Corporations, then found with one of the heads of Night Industries after being supposedly missing for two weeks. I wouldn’t put it past either companies to pull some kind of sick stunt for the purpose of their feud.” It was common knowledge that the two hated each other—almost like a game they’d been playing with the city of Prythian as their audience all these years. Hanson splayed his hands across the file, and held my gaze as he said, “The only thing that concerns me here are the facts. The fact was they provided me with video footage that lead me believe you’d been taken against your will. But now with the pictures Ms. Morrigan just brought up, I’m inclined to believe you.” His eyes fluttered across the file before him, and he added, “It’s not a crime to cut ties with someone. The people you left may not understand, may want answers—but you don’t owe them anything. It is your life, and it is your right to exercise your free will. Your privacy will be respected, Feyre, I can promise you that.”

Relief settled in my stomach and I closed my eyes, grateful tears stinging at my throat. “Thank you.”

“Do you want to press charges against Mr. Ivy? For the assault?”

“No,” I shook my head, “I just want to go home. I need to go home.”

“I just need you to sign a few things first then you’ll be on your way, Feyre.”

I looked down at the sheet and pen he placed in front of me and began to scrawl in my personal information. Address, phone number, email, signature and initials.

Hanson did a once over of the papers, then, for the first and only time during our interaction, gave me a warm smile. “You’re free to go.”

***

Hanson and I walked back down the bright hallway, away from the interrogation room, through the office cubicles around the police station. The officers were either on phone calls, filling out paperwork or speaking to people seated beside their desks. Despite the loud room, we continued on to the double doors beyond where the main space was, filled with civilians and cops alike.

The rupture of noise hit me as we approached the doors. My brows furrowed, and I looked to Hanson, who only heaved a sigh before pushing open against the handle.

In that moment, two pairs of eyes shot to me. Rhys’s, filled with relief—and fear.

The second pair, the ones I’d learned to love, adore and fear, looked at me with disbelief.

They morphed into something other than rage. Something more potent, more vile, more abhorrent than I’d ever seen. Even from across the room, his gaze burned through me, and I felt myself disintegrating into a pile of ashes at my feet.

I completely froze. Ice held my feet planted on the tile floor beneath me, and all I could do was stare at him while the terror crept up my spine and threatened to snap me in half.

Move, my mind whispered. Don’t give him this. Do not give him this.

I’d given him too much already. I’d given him every piece of my fucking soul only to find it scattered across the barren battlefield of our love. Here I was, still picking up the pieces.

Two officers continued to hold him back as I slipped into my coat, scarf and slid the glasses back over my eyes. In order to put one foot in front of the other, in order to keep shoving breaths in and out of my lungs, I thought only of the bed waiting for me at home, knowing I would plunge into oblivion, and stay there for a long, long while.

***

The lights were still on inside the house when we got back.

I hadn’t said a word. I didn’t think I could. Not after the hurricane that swept through the night; not after seeing his face, feeling him so close to me again.

Rhys… despite it all, his face remained concentrated. Impassive. The only blip of emotion was relief, relief and concern as we both finally settled back in the car after trying to fly through the crowd of reporters. I prayed they didn’t get any good shots.

We barely made it to the kitchen before the door opened once more behind us. I flinched, expecting to see his face again, but it was Cassian who strode through the main hallway, his eyes meeting mine for only a second before his arms were wrapped around me.

“I’m so sor—” Cassian tried to murmur in my ear, but I shook my head against his chest.

“No,” I mumbled, “I’m sorry, Cassian. You shouldn’t have gotten tangled up in this. It’s my fault.”

“It is nobody’s fault except that Tool’s. Do not blame yourselves for a second.” Mor chimed in as she breezed past us, heading for the fridge. She pulled out a piece of chocolate and took a bite out of the bar. Pulling away from Cassian, I spotted the look of annoyance on Rhys’s face as the two made themselves at home.

Rhys said, “You know, we could really use a calm evening after all that bullshit.”

“But I’m out of booze,” Cassian pouted. Rhys rolled his eyes, but nodded his head, and Cassian looked like a damn Cheshire Cat as he made his way over to Rhys’s liquor cabinet.

The front door opened once more and in strode Amren and Azriel. The woman took one look at me, a charged, electric moment after what’d gone down last night, and I merely nodded. She did so once, a dip of her chin in return, and that was that. She didn’t seem like the ‘talk it over’ type.

“That was close. That was really fucking close, Rhysand, and I don’t trust this at all.” Amren quipped before hopping up on the counter.

“I know,” the dark haired main sighed, “we should’ve been on top of that.”

“Hybern probably kept it quiet for a reason to take us by surprise. We know he has his fangs in the Prythian Police Department.” Azriel added quietly from beside me.

I stared at Cassian who was pouring himself a half-glass of scotch. My mouth was dry after speaking with detective Hanson, and all I wanted right now was a fucking drink. Suriel’s warning sounded in my head and I knew I shouldn’t, but it was so tempting and my patience had thinned after all that’d happened tonight.

“What’s our next move?” Mor wondered as she made her way through the chocolate bar.

Amren said, “We need more information. Anything we can get on these guys—their goals, their next target…”

“We all know what he wants,” Cassian said as he took a sip of his drink. “He wants Illyria.”

“And Ivy wants Feyre.” Azriel added. I tried as best as I could to not let my mind settle on what he just said. Azriel’s voice was smooth as shadows. He seemed to blend into the background, even now as he leaned against the kitchen counter beside the fridge.

Their voices piled up amongst each other as they argued where to go next, who to find, old files to dig through—but I was only watching Rhys as his eyes seemed to search his kitchen island. It was like a puzzle laid out before him, like a scattering of stars in the sky, and he was connecting the dots to form a constellation.

“The Bone Carver,” Rhys suddenly said.

Eyes snapped up, and my brow furrowed. How more fucking ominous could he be?

“The Bone Carver. He knows everything about anything illegal. We should set up a meeting.”

“How the hell are we going to do that?” Amren snapped.

Rhys only looked to them and said, “I’ve got old friends at the penitentiary. I’ll give them a call tomorrow.”

“It’s a long shot, Rhys,” Mor countered.

He shrugged his shoulders, a thin, and his mouth formed a thin, sad line on his face. “What else do we have?”

Cassian sighed. “I’m sure as hell not going.”

“No. But I know someone who might need a first assignment on the job.” Rhys winked at me.

My breath hitched in my throat. No, the Bone Carver did not sound like a friendly face to meet.

“By the Gods. You’re going to scare her away before we’ve even had the chance to go to brunch,” Mor whined, then paraded over to the family room. The others trailed along behind her, bantering about some football game at U of P the other day, but Rhys and I remained in the kitchen for a few moments longer.

Fury, it was pure lethal fury on his face as those cops struggled to hold him back—

“I need a drink,” I finally muttered as I opened up his liquor cabinet as quietly as I could.

“Feyre—” Rhys warned from behind me as I pulled out a bottle of tequila.

“I’ve had a really fucking shit night, Rhys,” I said quietly as I took a stray glass from the counter. He was quiet as I filled it halfway with tequila, took a sip, then went over to the sink to fill the rest up with water. “And I know I shouldn’t be drinking, I know it’s not a good way to cope, but my only other way of dealing with this right now is locking myself in the bathroom with something sharp. So, please, just let me drink.”

Rhys didn’t say a word as I brought the glass to my lips and began downing it. It stung my throat, it burnt my stomach and made me want to heave all over the kitchen, but I sucked it down like it was fucking ambrosia, because the only thing I saw in my mind was red bathwater and swollen welts.

When I looked to Rhys, his face was devastated. “What do you mean?”

I didn’t answer him before I went upstairs and locked myself in my room.

***

The house was quiet as I traipsed over to the bathroom.

It was the middle of the night. I’d woken up curled in my bed on top of the sheets, not even bothering to kick my shoes off. The tequila had knocked me out cold, but I still felt it in my stomach, making me sluggish and lethargic. Water. I needed water.

Hunched over the sink, I gulped down a few mouthfuls from the faucet before turning it off. When I lifted my head up and stared at myself in the mirror, I saw a woman staring back at me.

A woman I wouldn’t recognize if I saw her walking down main street.

I needed something. Every cabinet I dug through was empty or just stocked with necessities: soap, toilet paper, an old bottle of sunscreen—

Nothing here. Nothing useful for me.

But there was this living ball of white, paralyzing panic in my chest, and I knew the only relief I could offer it was a sharp-edged blade. My fingers gripped the counter top, a choked breath rattling from my throat, and my feet nearly stumbled towards the bathtub. Shaking, my legs quietly cleared the ledge until I could squat down and finally rest back against the head of the tub, my feet extending before me.

I looked to the side and found a sponge. It wasn’t much, but it distracted my fingers as I rode out the wave, the nagging urge and itch in my skin, and squeezed the sponge tightly in my right fist. Open, close. Open, close. It was the only thing my mind could focus on.

I didn’t even hear the door open. But when my eyes opened, Rhys was there, standing at the threshold of the bathroom, a question mark on his face.

“What.”

“You’re awake,” Rhys said as he crossed over and stood beside me, hands in his pockets. He still wore the same jeans and polo sweater from our walk this afternoon, and his dark hair looked tousled, like he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. As though he’d been staying awake all night, just in case I’d wake up. Guilt found its home within my chest, and I looked away from him, unable to meet his eyes.

All I could focus on, though, was my hand clenched on the sponge at my side. Open. Close. Open. Close.

My thighs burned, itching against the material of my sweatpants.

“Just needed some water.”

“What are you doing in the tub, Feyre.” The look in his features, the concern and troubled worry—

I squeezed my eyes shut at the tightness in my chest. I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t keep fucking falling apart whenever someone showed me a hint of kindness. Had I been deprived of this basic human sentiment for so long that my body careened every time it appeared?

I focused on the sponge. Open. Close. Open. Close—

Rhys stepped into the porcelain tub before me, as he had all those nights ago when I’d been here washing the blood off my hands. My feet retracted and I curled up, trying to cave in on myself.

Open. Close. Open. Close.

“Number,” he murmured.

When I lifted my head to face him, tears crinkled in the corner of my eyes, and my voice wasn’t itself—it was hollow, empty, as I said, “Zero.”

“Feyre.” His voice stumbled on those two syllables.

“Tonight, when I saw him, when I had to show them those pictures, I felt like a zero. Nothing. Exactly what he turned me into.” I could only stare at my thighs, covered by the thin cotton fabric, as though I could right through it to the cuts below. “Exactly what I felt that night on the ledge, and I didn’t want to let myself fall into that fucking trap again. So I drank, and I didn’t care, because the alternative…”

Open. Close.

“This is the alternative,” I breathed, “this. Right here.”

“Tell me.” His voice was filled with despair. “Help me understand.”

Open. Close.

Tears streamed down my face.

“I got into a really bad car accident two years ago,” I explained, “and I killed someone.”

I didn’t think he was breathing. The house was completely silent, save for the rush of cars from the city beyond.

“He…” I choked as I nearly said his name. “He got me out of it. With the police and everything. The charges just went away, and we carried on like nothing ever happened.

“But I kept seeing that woman.” The images flooded my mind from that night, being stuck beneath the car and the smoke consuming me, the mangled metal surrounding me— “I kept seeing her face in my nightmares. I killed somebody. Not like James and Isaac, not because the situation was them or me—I killed her because I wasn’t paying attention to the road, and I didn’t see the red light. Everything after that just fell apart.

“I dropped out of school. I moved into the apartment. I was pissing away my life just staying at home and doing absolutely nothing. And every night, I’d see her in my nightmares.”

Rhys’s hand, carefully, gently, settled on the cold skin of my shin. His warmth leeched past the fabric covering my leg. A sign, no matter how small or insignificant, of support.

“I didn’t know how to deal with it.” My eyes finally trailed up to meet his.

Open. Close.

“I started cutting myself. Don’t,” I choked on the word, not believing that I’d finally said it out loud, “don’t ask me how or why, it just made sense for some reason. Because I hated myself, and I was spinning out of control, and it was the only time that I could fucking feel something after I’d gone so numb.”

His voice as quiet and smooth as midnight, he asked, “For how long?”

“A year. Until he found me one day in the bathtub and thought I was bleeding out.” I didn’t need to specify who it was, because I’d be damned if I ever fucking said his name again. I shook my head, unable to make the horror in his eyes disappear that moment he saw me. “I didn’t hear him knocking.”

“Did you ever see anyone about it?”

“I went to the ER and got stitches, and we never really spoke about it again.” I shrugged my shoulders. “I didn’t want to.” A bubble of hysteric laughter crept up my throat as I stared down at myself. “And now here I am, doing everything I can not to go downstairs and grab a kitchen knife.” I inhaled, and it felt like it was the first breath I’d taken in minutes.

“You need to tell Suriel about this.”

“I know,” I whispered softly. “It’s like there’s so many thoughts trapped in my mind and I don’t have the strength to let them out.”

“You do, Feyre,” Rhys leaned towards me until I felt his fingers on mine, gently prying away the sponge from my hands and setting it down on the ledge above the tub. “You may not see it, but you’re a lot stronger than you think.” His hand found mine once again, and he laced our fingers together.

“It’s going to take a while before I figure that out.” My eyes met his as we crouched there in his tub in the dark. He only tilted his head to the side, a small, hopeful smile on his lips.

“I know.” He squeezed my hand. “But I’m gonna be right here the entire time.”

___________________________________________________________

A little note about this chapter.

So, this was exhausting to write. The ending still isn't satisfying for me, and I actually wanted to erase all the mentions of self-harm in this fic because when I looked back on it, I thought it didn't fit. But I'm going to keep it there because I need to. If you've read my other fic, you know I write a lot about self-harm, and to be completely honest, it's because it helps me. As someone who's dealt with these issues in the past, writing about it is like a therapy for me where I can voice everything that I wished I could've when I had the chance. My main concern is that readers think I'm just using it as a tool for character development or as a petty plot point. It's really not that at all. It's for me. If you don't like it or don't agree with it, I'm not going to apologize for what I do to help myself. Because it really does help me, and I hope that if you are currently struggled or have struggled with self-harm in the past that it can hopefully help you to. Also, I don't want it to seem like I'm romanticizing self-harm. It's not something cool or beautiful or whatever, it actually just feels really shameful and embarrassing. But please, if you feel like I may be crossing any sort of lines in any way, or if you just want a friend to talk to, feel free to message me because I'm all ears.

Hope you're all safe and healthy. And, as always, if ever you're feeling down, just know that there are people out there to help you. The situation we're in is really fucking awful right now, and I just want to let you know that even if you're not being personally affected by the virus, it's okay to feel depressed. It's okay to feel anxious. What we're experiencing right now is unprecedented, and just because we're socially distant doesn't mean we aren't able to reach out to each other. Sending you all my love. Stay safe.

[smartguyreviewed]

2x2 - Working Guy

Originial air date: September 17, 1997

Did anyone have an actual job when they were teens? I remember how embarassing it was for me, a high schooler in the mid-aughts, to tote around resumes in my little manila folder and then be told to either apply online or have some snooty white asshole at Eddie Bauer all but dismiss me because he was clearly racist. The only jobs I really “held” included being an election judge twice, once during that totally insignificant 2008 presidential race and the other being a summer camp counselor at the church I went to. 

Those little jobs sucked but I chose them. The students of Piedemont High were not that lucky. 

The setting for this episode is the work experience program that shows students what it’s like to have a job. I have a lot of questions. I’m sure some of these students fared better than me back then and already have jobs, so wouldn’t this make no sense? Would they have two jobs? Are all of these jobs suitable for minors? Why does Piedmont fund such strange things?

Mo, as usual, (or depending on the plot of the episode) only cares about the perks of whatever he’s doing. With the band, it’s the girls. With this program, it’s being able to leave school after lunch. Wait, what? They’re having the students skip multiple classes for this? Is this part of a class or an elective? I wonder because this seems like it takes up a lot of time.

TJ is more excited about working in the industry of his choice, but if that was the case, he’d already have a job assigned to him as opposed to having to pick what’s on the board, making it first come, first serve. This is dumb and I can’t believe I have this many questions about a fictional high school. Anyways, TJ is short so he can only grab what he can reach and it’s not what he wants at all because he has a menial blue collar job.

Meanwhile, at the crib, Floyd is pissed because his basketball buddy who is a doctor apparently has cancelled their game because he has to do surgery. Floyd is only petty every once in a while so I’ll let him have this one. Then Marcus comes in wearing a suit and even though we’ve definitely seen him dressed up before, the audience goes wild. I hate canned audience reactions! He says not to hate him because he’s wearing Armani. 

I first thought Marcus was joking because it looks like a Sears original to me, but apparently he took Floyd’s credit card and had a ball buying clothes for his fancy schmancy job. Okay, I have more questions. Marcus had to buy a whole suit and shoes to enter his predominately white workspace. Is Piedmont paying for things the students need to even work at their job? What if you’re a natural black woman and you have to get your hair straightened if you have Marcus’s job? This is all for a part time job during school hours, so will these hours count towards credit since you’re not in class? I am so confused. 

Floyd is surprisingly okay with Marcus running up his card because his next question is asking if he can help Floyd get ready for his game. Marcus jokes that he’s going to be drinking with the guys after work. Floyd doesn’t press further and says he’ll practice alone until Yvette offers. Marcus and Floyd have a nice kii at this because duh, Yvette’s a girl and girls don’t play basketball. I love how all the Henderson men (including Mo) are sexist in their own ways. This isn’t the first time Floyd disregards his daughter when it comes to doing “manly” things and Marcus and TJ bond over their hatred of Yvette when her feminine ways don’t align with their default male ways. 

TJ comes in and doesn’t want to talk because he’s embarassed to have this job that was forced on him. Marcus adds insult to injury by informing him that he’s working at Marcus’s job.

Speaking of Marcus, this dude just doesn’t quit. He begins sexually harassing one of the women who works there, inquiring about what she does. She has to explain to him what a DVD is, immediately dating this show. Luckily, she has sense and shoots down his attempts. Sis can’t even do her job without some horny little high school boy bothering her. This program is stupid, by the way.

TJ enters, wearing his blue collar work uniform and ringing a bell. After fending off the usual “aww he’s so cute” remarks, he’s led into the office that needs the grub. The buffoons working there can’t seem to figure out whatever physics equation makes the DVDs run and of course, TJ is effortlessly able to offer a suggestion. He gets poached from this stupid temp position to help them out.

Floyd and Yvette are practicing in the garage when Marcus and Mo show up to gloat about their temporary yet important positions. Marcus has his own office. I would hate to be the person who worked there for years, sacrificed weekends, holidays and their sanity to get a promotion and their name on a door, only to watch a punk ass intern from high school get it instead. Mo is somehow working for a judge but I’m not sure for how long because this briefcase that was foolishly given to him contains a document that should have already been mailed off to William Renquist. Mo quickly dashes from that scene to deliver the mailpiece. Marcus makes an extremely dark joke that i didn’t even catch at first about someone getting the electric chair due to Mo’s carelessness. I’m sorry but I bellowed at that. However, I question how many lawsuits will be filed against Piedmont after this program is over.

TJ comes home and announces that he quit his blue collar job and is now working as a special consultant for research and development at DVD Electronic. That’s the name of the company? It’s so bland and generic that i sounds like an Amazon seller of used books and shit. Floyd is confused but TJ gets hired by a large company every other week so it’s whatever.

At work, we see TJ has his own office. Remember that person I would hate to be? They have to watch a fucking 10 year old get it instead. Maybe they did a mass firing or something because they seem to have plenty of rooms to just give to people. Of course, TJ likes the new digs. After his friendly secretary introduces him to his space, the resident hater shows up. I guess the person I was describing earlier is this white man, because man is he salty about having to share a cubicle when he started. White man is now attempting to get into TJ’s head and asks that he pitch all ideas to him first. How TJ, who is probably a psycho or sociopath didn’t see through this as a ruse for him to profit off his black ass ideas is beyond me. Or maybe TJ is faking dumb so that when he does reveal white man’s treachery, it’s more believeable? 

Marcus barges in and the white man is two seconds away from calling the cops before Marcus lets him know they’re related. But white man thinks him calling TJ his brother is a “black” thing until TJ says they are related albeit with similar genetic coding. I assume this is an obvious reference to Marcus being darker than him? Funny because I just wonder if Floyd’s wife was dark or if they both have a dark skinned parents and it just so happened to manifest in Marcus and no one else? Or maybe Marcus is actually his half-son? Let me stop. 

After the white man leaves, Marcus correctly assumes he is a piece of shit but TJ disagrees. He then gets a call to join a meeting. The head boss who is stationed in Zurich makes it a point to consider that TJ’s work study day ends at 5--wait, so they’re away from school for that long?--but quickly ignores that tidbit when some meeting gets pushed to 6. Of course, TJ shouldn’t be here unsupervised and out this late but we’re gonna ignore that even if the logistics of the Piedmont Work Study Program still boggle my mind.

So yeah, TJ is stuck at work and being asked about one of his ideas, the big boss says that the white man told him to filter all ideas through him. The white man is clearly displeased with TJ snitching but the boss man ends up making TJ the new head of the project. That’s how you use your privilege, even if it is child endangerment! The hating white man (whose name is Dick Ferrett by the way) comments to another coworker that TJ is toast. How dare this little black bastard be better than him?

Meanwhile, at home, Floyd is nursing an Yvette inflicted wound from when they were practicing basketball. TJ comes home acting like a middle aged adult, complaining about work and how bad traffic was. When Floyd notices how TJ is being affected by this job, he suggests that he quit. TJ whines for a little bit and Floyd relents. What the fuck Floyd, drag him by his collar and make him sit down! TJ promises to make Floyd’s game which means he won’t be able to make it because of work.

The next day, TJ is at work and discussing things with his secretary. The hating white man is just itching to fuck up TJ’s day and it shows. You might not be wondering who replaced TJ as the chow wagon boy but it turns out that it was Mo. Yes, instead of being fired from this program that he had no business being in to begin with, he was demoted to TJ’s job.

TJ is about to leave for the day when hating ass white man comes and dumps a bunch of work on TJ’s desk. See? Told you he wouldn’t be able to make Floyd’s game! Luckily, his secretary is going to film it for him.

Back at work, TJ is falling asleep trying to carry these stooges to a victory and the hating ass white man is actually calling TJ names. They even go back and forth for a moment. Floyd finally decides that enough is enough and he’s bogarted his way through security to get TJ because I’m sure it’s midnight at this point. TJ tells Floyd he must be mad that the game was missed. Floyd says he isn’t mad although the other guys’ kids showed up. Aww Flody. Parents have feelings, too.

The head white boss offers Floyd to hire TJ permanently but Floyd declines. TJ is able to get the hating ass white man fired before he leaves, in a move that is definitely petty but deserved. Fuck that guy, exploiting a gifted black child like that.

TJ is mad at Floyd according to a conversation between Yvette and himself. He thinks TJ is going to be mad at him forever but he comes downstairs and asks to play dominos with him. Aww. This is quickly ruined as per the usual. We all know TJ only abruptly forgives and forgets when he has an ulterior motive. This time, he’s going behind Floyd’s back to keep working with DVD Electronics. Floyd comes in during a session. I’m assuming he got his ass whooped after this but we just fade to black before an arms-folded Floyd can dole out any punishment. Eh, guess we’ll find out in the next episode. Ha. No we won’t.

Stuff I noticed:

- DVD Electronics video chat has a pretty stellar, crisp quality for 90s internet.

- Mo rewore this shirt from a prior episode. I really like when characters rewear clothes. It’s much more realistic than characters who seem to always have money for new outfits no matter how broke they claim to be.

- When TJ is bringing in the food, there’s an audience member who yells “You go, girl!” I have heard this woman in the audience of a Boy Meets World episode and another show that I can’t recall, but further proves that canned laughter is creepy and needs to be banned everywhere.