#Send email using MS Flow

[adoresmiles]

His. Concealed Obsession.

Chapter three.

Tags: @violetmuses @onlyrealjoy @unicorndelulu @neloOwesker @liatreads @sunrisesfromthewest @deja-r @leahnicole1219 @jacobscipioswoman

AN: Y’all I’m out here making my own gifs and it’s stressing me out lol but I hope you guys enjoy chapter three! Please give feedback on how you feel about the book. Love you guys 🫶🏽

The following day.

"Conseguiste las huellas de las manos del cristal?"

"We are in the process of laminating it now. The tracker was placed underneath her car before she left to meet up with her friend yesterday."

"Perfect, Catalina  did you get the background information on her and her family?"

"Yes , Ms Powers who full name is Kanani Souline Powers. She is the youngest daughter of Noelani Storm and Daniel Ramos Powers. Her mother is a Seasoned 9-1-1 operator , while her father is a captain on the swat team. Kanani is also the sister to Jaxon Tyree and Keith Makana Powers. Jaxon is the lieutenant for the Miami fire department and Keith is a detective."

"Realmente sabes cómo elegirlos"

"Shut it."

"Alongside with her brothers , Kanani was born in Honolulu Hawai'i . She graduated from University of Michigan with a masters degree in Aerospace. Wow ... she's extremely intelligent. Base off of her social media, her hobbies include cooking, dancing , shopping and spending time with her family and friends. She is currently working on opening up her own business."

"Tell me about her past. What's the deal with that?"

Armando asked the young female as she clicked away on her mouse. A mixture of pictures showed across the screen of Kanani,  her family and friends . From what he was being showed , he can see that she was raised in a big , blended and loving family. He learned that her father had a son within his previous marriage . Which made sense to why he was seeing  the slightest bit of difference between the three siblings.

"Well she was in a relationship with the judge son who put your mother away behind bars. He also has a history of domestic violence and multiple of charges. He does have two existing restraining orders against him one is from Kanani and the other his now ex girlfriend."

"When does the restraining order ends?"

"It expires in two days boss."

"Kill him in two days , but let's make it brutal"

"Are you sure about that? He's pretty well known around in Miami."

"I killed the neighbor, I killed the others and I shot my own father. Do you think I care about him being well known ?"

"Clearly not , you are still killing people even when your dad cleared your name. How would you think he will feel if he found out about you doing this to his coworker daughter?"

"Again , do it looks like I care about what him or anyone thinks ? No it doesn't , so as I mentioned before kill him in two days and this time you do it."

"So I have her hand print laminated down, you'll be able to have access to her house once we are able to test it. You just have to figure out when her next outing is going to be."

"That shouldn't be to hard , based off her calendar in her phone she has zero meetings. I checked her emails and nothing is scheduled, she's a sitting a duck. Her meeting that she had with Galena today went right through, isn't that right Gal?"

"She's smarter than what everyone thinks. Her store is going to be extremely valuable for us to use. The only thing is that her best friend will be be helping her run the store. We need our own people in there to make sure the drugs are coming in and out."

"So you and Catalina will find some people who has the similarities of Kanani and her best friend. Send them to the store for interviews and they should get hired on the spot. This is the only we can keep the money flowing in fast and in a discreet manner."

"Catalina and I can most definitely do that. Her best friend is tough to break down though, she doesn't do funny business. So we have to do this carefully and be on our toes with this. But other than that , we're locked in with her business. Plus there's going to be a celebration tomorrow for her accomplishments. I was invited to it the dinner and the after party."

"What after party?"

"Her family will be having a cookout at the park for her and then after she will be going out to celebrate."

"Interes-"

"Boss we got movement coming from inside Kanani home."

Catalina called out to him as she expanded the screen that displayed Kanani on it. Placing his arms over his chest , he watch as the young woman dance around her kitchen without a care in the world. Which either meant that she was cleaning or was simply in a good mood. It was something he picked up on since he started watching her. On certain days she would wake up at exactly nine in the morning to start cleaning or just to put on her favorite song and dance around her house.

At first he thought it was childish but after awhile he found it interesting in way. Watching her smile and laugh as she twirl around in her home always gave him peace. Knowing that she was happy made him happy. Seeing her at peace, made him feel at peace. Armando was dangerously infatuated with her and seeing and holding her in his harms the day prior made him realize that he couldn't allow her to get away.

"Wow I'll hate to admit this but she's definitely a looker. I see why you are obsessed with her man."

"She's off limits man."

"Kanani belongs to me , she's mine and I'll gladly put a bullet through fucking your head behind her."

"He didn't mean it Armando , he was just joking . We all know that Kanani is yours and only yours."

"Galena please get him out of here before ends up dead and on his parents front porch in a gift box."

"Let's go kid , you know your mouth is going to get your ass in trouble..."

"Hey Armando I think you want to check this out."

"What is it Catalina?"

"Did you drop something yesterday? Like an earring a chain or something?"

"Why?"

"Because if I'm mistaken your babygirl is wearing your chain as we speak and it seems like she has a visitor that is fine as fuck."

"ellos son nuestros padres. Her father and family is close friends with Marcus and Mike.”

“Do you think they’re talking about what happened yesterday?”

“No doubt that they are , turn the audio on Catalina.”

Armando leaned forward onto the table as his request was answered. A soft voice filled the room followed by deeper voices. He watched as the two men take turns to hug her. Seeing their hands on her rubbed him the wrong way. Armando didn’t want anyone else but only him touching her . He didn’t care if the man on her screen was her father or not, he didn’t want him touching her. At all.

Translation

"Conseguiste las huellas de las manos del cristal?: Did you get the hand prints from the glass?

"Realmente sabes cómo elegirlos" :  you really know how to choose them.

"ellos son nuestros padres": They are our parents.

[literaticat]

...and I got conned by #schmagent. learned it the hard way. Just that, they are good people and in a need to make a living. But posing as a literary agent and deceiving unsuspecting aspiring authors is unforgivable.

I missed the red flag when my work was directed to an editor and fee was quoted. After 2 months of editing work, I sent the manuscript to this #schmagent who sweet talked about how the publishing industry is going through rough times, blah, blahs and then slowly nudged the conversation towards publishers who they thought will be fit for my book since it is my debut as an author. The insult was casually thrown at me in this manner 'who knows you? they know my name at least' well... all this 8 months after they sat on my manuscript.

I am embarassed that some people have to eke out a living in this manner.

I am saying this because they never mentioned vanity publishers, or that they will not be representing my work to tradition publishers who pay some advance, or at least do not charge for publishing services.

What would you have done if you were in my shoes? Thank you in advance for your reply.

Ranga

I'm sorry that this happened. If I'm understanding it correctly, the "agent" (schmagent?) first directed you toward an editorial service that cost money, then only wanted to send your work to publishers who don't pay (or vanity publishers who charge money?) -- ugh.

Here's the thing: You aren't alone. It's very easy for an author to get conned, unfortunately -- That's why I am constantly banging on about Schmagents and Red Flags and all the rest of it! Because it happens ALL THE TIME. I get ads on my social media, email "opportunities" and even phone calls from schmagents and schmublishers -- and I'm not even a writer! So I am SURE that writers are targeted even more often.

Let's put it this way: An author has a big dream. They have always wanted to be published -- maybe they want that more than ANYTHING. Maybe they have an awesome idea, maybe they have worked on it for years, and have never managed to get to the next level, never gotten an agent's attention -- or never even known how to begin to try! Then they see an ad. "We'll publish your book!" or "Literary Agent seeking books like YOURS!" or "Go from great idea to PUBLISHED BOOK!"

-- Well hot damn! That's the answer to a prayer, right?

So they click the ad, or follow the link -- they "query" the "agent" or submit their ms to the "Publisher" -- and then they are asked for money for a processing fee, or a reading fee. Or they are advised to hire an "editor" to help polish their work -- perhaps an editor who, oh so conveniently, happens to be related to the "agent"! And maybe that author has never read the warnings, they are just new and hopeful and have a dim understanding of what an agent is even SUPPOSED to do, and it doesn't seem like THAT big a deal to pay somebody something -- we're all used to having to subscribe to things and pay for things, and a nominal fee might not seem out of line. Then when the editor comes into the picture, well, they are supposed to make your book better, "you get what you pay for", etc -- so the author goes along with that, too. And MAYBE they have misgivings or a spidey sense that something doesn't seem quite kosher, BUT, they've already invested some money and time, and they have this big dream still, so they want to see it through...

And then hundreds (or thousands) of dollars and months (or years) of time have passed... and they still don't have a book, or they DO have one but actually it is never in a bookstore, and/or they had to pay for it out of pocket. It sucks!

SO, what can you do? Be aware of the red flags, and raise awareness among newbies.

Self-publishing, "hybrid" publishing - even vanity publishing! - may have a time and place where they are the right option for an author. If you only want to have an heirloom book to share with your family, for example, maybe paying out of pocket to have a limited number of them beautifully made is the perfect thing for you to do. If you want to go on a self-publishing journey and you have a plan for how to sell your book and you are aware of the potential pitfalls -- GO FOR IT, lots of people find a lot of success that way!

But if you are trying to be published in the Trade market -- ie, books put out by publishers that are sold in bookstores -- remember the most important rule:

MONEY FLOWS TO THE WRITER.

A real agent will NEVER charge a "reading fee" or "processing fee" or "editorial fee" (OR refer you to a "editorial service" or similar that they get a kickback from) -- Agents are paid commission on works sold, not for services a la carte -- and we ONLY get paid when YOU get paid by a publisher. If an agent tries to charge you a fee - RUN.

A traditional publisher will NEVER ask you to pay for editorial services, printing, distribution, placement in stores, etc -- nor will they make you buy a certain number of copies of a book yourself. Publishers pay authors, not the other way around.

Anyone who tells you different is either badly misinformed, or actively trying to scam you.

[bytestars]

This is the first part of sending 2 Adobe Acrobat sign documents and a welcome letter to a client email address that was triggered from a SharePoint list. The data will be dynamically populated from the list to fields in the Acrobat sign document and the welcome letter.

It is not exactly what everybody might need, but has lots of tips to help you with your own Microsoft Automate flow projects and SharePoint. 1) The trigger. SharePoint - For a selected Item. Self explanatory :-) When you have rows in a SharePoint list. You would select the record and then click the automation tab your flow will appear.

2) SharePoint - Get Item. Gives you accesses to the list fields and potential data.

3) A date convertor component. Further on in the agreement, a DOB (date of birth - a date field) is needed. Dates come out in UTC format these components convert the formatting to your area or preference. A little more later on. 4) Another date convert. Name them to make easier for identification Top right - the 3 dots in a component.

5) Select an Adobe connector - "Create an agreement from a library template and send for signature."

The .pdf part

At this point, you need to create a .pdf file. (the form that the recipient receives). The .pdf file needs to be in your Adobe cloud files as a Template. The libraryDocumentId - (to identify which .pdf/file to send) is a bit tricky to get/determine. I could not find it anywhere (really poorly done on Adobe's part.) How hard could it be?, select the file and see properties or something. Anyway, if you search online the only results were found was to run commands through the API. I did not have access to the API at the time. I got it by logging into the adobe account and opening the .pdf with it open look at its URL of the agreement in the browser's address bar. The ID usually starts with CBJCH.

On creating forms to use as a pdf. You can use excel to design your forms and print to .pdf. I find the Adobe web based designer to be just awful with limited design abilities and frustrating snap to settings that can not be disabled. You can use MS Word or any software that can print to a .pdf printer (built-in on windows 10)

More about the Adobe component/connector

Signature type: ESIGN Means the primary interaction is to have the document signed by the recipient.

Participant Email - 1. Where/whom to send to. Can come from your SharePoint list - an email address field - as to where it would be sent. Select from the dynamic list.

Agreement Name - can be whatever you like.

Show advance options:

In the web based UI of Adobe you will be configuring your .pdf form. For example, you drag the signature block over on the form to where it should be positioned.

You can further customize your forms with custom and dynamic values from your SharePoint list. In Adobe, you would drag over a text block and position on your form. You will name that text block and make it read only (it will show the value in the text block that you made in Adobe. See the above image Form Field Name - 1

Form field value: choose your field from the Power Automate dynamic list. Redirect delay. After the recipient signs and clicks/taps submit, you can delay and then link to a website/resource. Dates and decimals: Any time you need these data types. You need to convert the output to your proper format. Using expressions or convert components. Furthermore, they don't like NULL values. If any of the date/decimals fields can be (possibly) NULL configure the component(s) run after settings. The setting will allow a NULL value and the flow will just continue - instead the flow would fail.

In the image below a NULL value warning even after the successful run was complete.

The complete flow.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Correspondence, Chapter 03

Pairing: HotchReid

Summary:  An AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email referred from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together -- until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. They know nothing about each other, but they don't really mind.

Rating: Mature/Explicit (eventually)

Chapter CW/notes: Mentions of alcohol, a very long conversation happens where Hotch is a little buzzed. Big, BIG focus on their age difference, and unintentional misinformation. Spencer has no idea Hotch thinks he’s older, or at least not OLD older, and gets a little panicky/clams up -- and yes I realize Hotch could just background check him and find it out but he respects the man enough to not do that. The chapter is linear, it just encompasses a lot of time passing so hopefully that’s not too confusing. Set in season 6, self beta’d.

Word Count: 5025

Masterpost Link

Ao3 Link

--

Chapter 03

--

Early September 2010

--

And so, it begins.

The dynamic shift, the vast change in how Hotch and Dr. Reid had been corresponding for the past few months. Evolving from something so professional and academic to something… looser. More freeing. More room for error, of course, but the risk turns out to be more than worth it for what they gain.

The texts are sporadic, at first. Short interactions, here and there, all stemming from that first, longer conversation about Jack. Hotch follows up the very next day, after he gets to talk to his son in the morning over pancakes. Jessica hovering nearby the whole time. She had apologized for her harsh words, and commended him after the fact how he’d approached Jack on the subject and led the little boy into a conversation rather than a lecture like his teachers had done. Because, as Spencer had mentioned -- there was no need for one. Jack already had the situation handled.

[]6/4, 12:39[] You were right. 

[]6/4, 12:39[] He invited the kid that was bullying him over for a playdate. Trying to win him over by killing him with kindness.

[]6/4, 12:43[] My kind of kid. 

[]6/4, 12:44[] You’ve taught him well, Hotch.

And that was it. That was all it took to kick off what turns into a frequent occurrence. Slowly, as time passes, their quick texts turn to conversations that naturally revert to work. It’s where they spend most of their time, after all, and what they had bonded over in the first place. But unlike in their emails, it isn’t just about the cases or profiles or statistics required to crack them. It’s much more opinionated than that, erratic in it’s content and frequency. Commentary on Hotch’s team, ideas on the cases they work, case studies and research projects and sometimes even just office gossip that somehow always makes its way to Hotch’s attention despite everyone trying to keep it from doing so.

Or just Dr. Reid observing their antics. This is the beginning of the tonal shift, and Hotch can’t help but think… it just might be a welcome one.

[]6/12, 10:03[] Your tech analyst always sends me rainbow font emails.

[]6/12, 10:07[] Yes, she’s doing that with everyone on the team. It’s Pride month and she’s being supportive.

[]6/12, 10:11[] She considers me a part of the team? How sweet of her.

[]6/12, 10:12[] You are, and as far as the bureau goes you might as well be.

[]6/12, 10:13[] I doubt I could sneak you into payroll, though.

[]6/12, 10:21[] I bet Ms. Garcia could.

[]6/12, 10:28[] Don’t. Say. Anything.

[]6/12, 10:29[] But yes, she could. 

It turns into a small reprieve, for Hotch, in the constant deluge of bureaucracy and violence that fills his work day. The single moment he allows a sliver of himself to appear through the cracks of his armor he has to wear to guard himself from it all. To be the stoic leader the team needs, the unmovable tree in the storm.

Only in his quick, typed under the table conversations he has with Spencer does he allow himself the slips of humor. Barely there traces of a smile. Finding the smallest spots of light in his dark days, in his work that can surround and consume to the point of suffocation. Hotch thrives in it, he always has -- while others have drowned. But he doesn’t mind finding this small self-indulgence. Making the decision for himself that he can joke and poke fun at his work and not feel guilty about it. That, for once, he can allow himself this.

Until one day, Spencer returns the favor -- and starts talking about his own work.

[]7/21, 16:17[] If I leave all of my Ph.D. applicants in a ditch in the desert, is that still murder?

[]7/21, 16:30[] Technically or hypothetically?

[]7/21, 16:34[] Different question, would you be my legal council if I snap and it happens anyway?

[]7/21, 16:37[] Of course.

[]7/21, 16:38[] But as your attorney, I have to advise you that we never had this conversation, and murder is wrong.

[]7/21, 16:40[] Hypothetically. 

Spencer takes a little longer to open up, but when he does it is through this window into an academic world Hotch had never planned or thought he would ever be privy to. He begins to reveal pieces of it, bit by bit, until Hotch starts to form a picture in his mind of what shape this professor’s life really takes. Making deductions based on his speech patterns, what goes on throughout his day, his word choices, and profiling the man through text message without even meaning to. 

He tries to put a stop to it as soon as he realizes this. Dr. Reid isn’t just a consultant anymore, he is his friend -- and Hotch will always do his utmost to not profile his friends. But it’s a little too late for some aspects that can’t help but stand out as time goes on. Such as the inkling that the other man probably isn’t senile with a cane and a stooped back, like Hotch had first thought. Certain parts of his day allude to someone who is a bit fresher to the academic scene -- instead of spending decades on a college campus. 

But Hotch sets that aside, to be scrutinized at a later date, and instead turns his focus into enjoying what Spencer has to offer him. As his friend. The stories he shares freely, now that they’ve spent all this time breaking down the barriers. He regales Hotch with his own daily problems, grievances, as well as the little bright spots that he just wants to share with Hotch so that it can lighten up his own days. Which were much more bleak, and crowded with danger and horrid things. 

Hotch lives for those messages.

[]7/28, 20:42[] So I have a godson.

[]7/28, 20:44[] He’s four, and he just came to visit last week with his mother. Have you and Jack ever done science experiments at home? 

[]7/28, 20:46[] Because I have some that are definite crowd pleasers. Do them right, you can call them ‘physics magic’. I can send you the instructions, it’s well worth it.

[]7/28, 20:47[] I’m not sure how helpful I would be in a scientific area, but I’m always willing to try.

[]7/28, 20:49[] I’d require video evidence of it, then. 

[]7/28, 20:50[] But they are so fun, I’d forgotten how much.

[]7/28, 20:51[] No children of your own?

[]7/28, 20:54[] Never found the right person, but I always spent so much time on my degrees that I hadn’t really thought about being a parent. 

[]7/28, 20:55[] My Godson really brought it to light, though. I love having him here.

[]7/28, 20:56[] I bet he loves when you come around, or when they get to visit you, too.

[]7/28, 20:59[] I work in a science lab, with lasers and telescopes bigger than my first apartment. My approval rating is pretty high when it comes to my godson. 

Although Hotch finds that he doesn’t always start these interactions, the ones that lead to topics outside of work, he also isn’t against them in the slightest. They begin to start messaging at all hours, because of this; first thing in the morning, during their lunch break, whenever something pops up -- what used to be jokes that would just be kept to themselves, turn to conversation starters. And that development shifts the dynamic even more.

[]8/11, 10:31[] Coffee shops always make me feel old, and like I’m a grad student all over again.

[]8/11, 10:38[] You don’t have a T.A. to run and get you coffee?

[]8/11, 10:41[] Of course you would send out for coffee.

[]8/11, 10:42[] Well my order is two steps, not sixteen.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Tyrant.

[]8/11, 10:43[] Pretentious.

They start to tease, banter, and poke fun at each other. Comradery, friendship, and the more it goes on the more it seems to spiral towards something else. Something new.

But it’s these small moments, messages, conversations that can last a minute or an hour, that make Hotch’s chest feel so much lighter as the weeks go by. Hints of a smile easing onto his face, smoothing out and softening the edges in a way they haven’t in a long time. Garnering some attention from the rest of the team, or whoever is in the vicinity that felt brave enough to mention it.

“Who are you talking to?”

“Who’s the lucky lady?”

“No one,” Hotch would answer, schooling himself and pocketing his phone. “Just a consultant on a case.”

-

This is how it goes… for months. 

They never speak on the phone. Never even hint at video calls. Never send pictures. (Although Spencer does make a mention once or twice about that promised video when Hotch finally gets around to attempting the ‘physics magic’ experiment he’d emailed him. Hotch secretly hopes that maybe, one day, Spencer will just get to show them in person. Instead of Hotch having to record it for anyone to witness.)

But they talk like clockwork. Play chess on the regular, allowing them to talk more fluently with a laptop to aid the flow of conversation. It starts with once a week, then twice a week, standing dates after hours that meld so seamlessly with their messages every workday. They keep it to the weekdays, at first, since Hotch is busy with Jack on the weekends. But that doesn’t last long. Suddenly, without warning -- it becomes every night as well. That shift is such an organic, natural progression, that it slips in without either of them making comment on it. A silent agreement, because mentioning it would mean admitting why they were pushing this in such a new direction. 

They just… missed talking to each other. Two days was too long. 

Now, it’s every day.

They text for hours; check in on each other at random throughout the day even when Hotch is on cases or Spencer is busy with his duties as the leading doctoral expert of Caltech. Times when they should be swamped, unavailable to anything other than their primary focus and work load, still littered with short messages. Before and after each flight, when Hotch gets back to his hotel at night, when Spencer has to lecture out of town and they just so happen to be passing each other during travel -- mere states away. So close, yet so far. It’s all the time, it’s constant, and it’s wonderful.

Spencer still helps with cases. Often, even more often than he ever helped the L.A. field office. But it’s not always through email, anymore. Sometimes it’s just easier for Hotch to shoot him a quick text. A detailed message in the middle of their everyday banter and dribble but no less out of place, knowing the good Doctor will answer him quickly. Time is of the essence when they are on a case, but they are always on retainer for each other. Waiting in the wings, ready to jump in with quick, snappy wit and bitten-back smiles, and Hotch feels so good. So light. Better than he has in years. 

Happy. 

Hotch is happy, finding a friend in Dr. Spencer Reid, even if sometimes that friendship seems to transcend layers he didn’t know were there. Developing into something else, something he hadn’t touched in a long, long time. 

Months pass. Months. Like a blur. Like they’ve only just started this thing that’s anticipatory and comfortable and flexible in its medium and that is so easy -- everything Hotch needs in his life -- that he can barely imagine what his days and nights were like before this. Before Spencer. 

But it’s months into this correspondence, this charged and bright thing, that he’s home late one night with a Scotch in one hand and a losing game of online chess long forgotten on his laptop screen. Lost in messaging Spencer, back to his phone instead of the chat feature of the chess game. Because texting is their comfort zone, now. He never thought it would be, had seen teenagers and adults attached to their phones like a lifeline and used to scoff about it, but he finally has begun to understand. 

Because here he is -- not even looking up when he takes a drink -- lost in his conversation with Spencer. Making each other laugh, in a way he hasn’t in so long. Loud and high and afraid he might wake Jack down the hall so he stifles it with another sip of his Scotch.

[]9/8, 21:12[] If Jack wakes up, you know that’s it for us. He’ll never go back to sleep.

[]9/8, 21:13[] Then stop laughing so loud. I honestly can’t imagine you laughing enough to wake him.

[]9/8, 21:14[] Usually I don’t. I never laugh like this, but I used to.

[]9/8, 21:16[] Mr. FBI isn’t allowed to laugh, I thought. Didn’t they beat that out of you at the academy?

[]9/8, 21:19[] I was able to retain a smidgen of humor, it’s well hidden. You just seem to bring it out more than others.

[]9/8, 21:20[] I’m flattered. 

[]9/8, 21:20[] You should be. 

[]9/8, 21:21[] If my team saw me crack a smile I’d probably be forced to get a CAT scan.

[]9/8, 21:23[] Do you need one? I have an M.A. in Cognitive Sciences, I’ll be your second opinion.

[]9/8, 21:24[] Probably, but I’ll live.

[]9/8, 21:25[] Very stiff upper lip of you. They teach you that at the academy, too?

[]9/8, 21:26[] No, that would be Scotland Yard. I liaised there for a while.

[]9/8, 21:28[] Wow, you get around. Have you been anywhere else on your global exploration?

[]9/8, 21:31[] Hardly that, I just go where the bureau tells me. I’ve already been bounced all over the country before landing at the BAU. All you can do is keep the ‘stiff upper lip’ and adapt.

[]9/8, 21:31[] “Keep Calm & Carry On”?

[]9/8, 21:33[] Garcia gave me that on a mug last Christmas. I still don’t know what it’s from.

[]9/8, 21:34[] Your age is showing. Get with the times, old man.

[]9/8, 21:35[] You’re one to talk.

[]9/8, 21:35[] What?

Hotch bites back a smile, thinking about how for months he had been so sure Spencer was this elderly professor in his 60’s or 70’s that just happened to find their conversations interesting. That was… very apparently wrong, Hotch can see that now, but he hadn’t had any evidence to the contrary for the entire time they corresponded those first few months. 

He could have done a background check on the professor at any time, is sure Garcia already has one saved in a file ready to send him at his first request, but it’s more fun this way. The not knowing, the learning about each other piece by careful piece. Even the smallest bits of information, such as age. 

He bet Spencer would get a kick out of his first impression of the man, though.

[]9/8, 21:37[] Oh come on, you know.

[]9/8, 21:39[] No, I actually don’t. Congratulations, you’ve stumped the super genius.

[]9/8, 21:39[] But really, what do you mean?

[]9/8, 21:42[] I always just assumed you are at least ten years my senior, maybe even fifteen. How are you more with the times than I am?

[]9/8, 21:43[] I work at a University. I am surrounded by hormones and the dribble of youth.

There’s a slightly lengthy pause after that exchange, enough Hotch starts to pay closer attention through the buzz of liquor settled over his skin pleasantly.

[]9/8, 21:49[] How old do you think I am?

[]9/8, 21:50[] I don’t know, is it rude if I answer?

Hotch is not laughing to himself, he promises. 

[]9/8, 21:52[] Why do you think I’m older?

[]9/8, 21:53[] This feels like a trap.

[]9/8, 21:53[] It’s not.

[]9/8, 21:56[] Well, honestly just from your academic achievements. Not everyone has that kind of time. And all your departments you run, you have to have a pretty level head and knack for maturity to keep that all in order. Especially doctorate students. 

[]9/8, 21:58[] Thank you, I think.

[]9/8, 22:00[] I bet you’re the coolest old man on campus, though, don’t get me wrong.

Hotch does outright laugh after he sends that, manages to keep it a little bit quieter, and commends himself on having the upperhand in the conversation for once as he stares at his phone for a few minutes, awaiting an answer. 

If he had to guess, Hotch supposes he’s held on to that stubborn image of Spencer being a stooped old professor out of habit. But the more the two have talked, after he'd gotten to know the man and his written verbal expressions and just the way his life runs day to day, it’s pretty easy to see that that is not correct. Spencer could be someone around Dave or Jason’s age, but more likely even younger than that -- closer to his own. 

And that… is an intriguing thought that sparks something in his chest. He smothers it with another sip of Scotch and realizes that it has been a solid five minutes of silence. With Spencer not even typing out a response.

[]9/8, 22:06[] Was it something I said?

[]9/8, 22:07[] No, I’m just… contemplating my answer.

[]9/8, 22:07[] Answer to what?

Hotch hasn’t drank that much, but he doesn’t believe he asked a question at all. He scrolls back through their conversation and doesn’t see one. Spencer has asked a good handful, though, all about Hotch’s perception of his age. 

Interesting.

[]9/8, 22:09[] Respond, not answer.

[]9/8, 22:10[] I’m all turned around now.

[]9/8, 22:12[] Flustered in your old age? Now I’m flattered. 

This is almost like flirting. Skirts the edges of it, and Hotch feels more emboldened to try the more Spencer tap-dances around what is obviously Hotch’s incorrect assumption of his age. He had had no idea Hotch thought he was older, that is apparent, and it’s throwing the other man for a loop for some reason Hotch can’t ascertain. 

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not old.

[]9/8, 22:15[] I’m not even older than you.

[]9/8, 22:16[] And how do you know that?

[]9/8, 22:17[] Just trust me on this.

[]9/8, 22:17[] Well, how old are you?

Another long, lengthy pause that Hotch waits for with baited breath. He knows that Spencer is there, that he’s staring at his phone and trying to decide the best way to answer without really answering anything. It’s only a matter of minutes, but that is a long time for them. When they are deep in a conversation like this.

Hotch isn’t laughing to himself anymore, but he’s more pleasantly confused than worried. He really has no idea what is making Spencer so hesitant.

[]9/8, 22:22[] Spencer?

[]9/8, 22:25[] I’m not going to tell you.

[]9/8, 22:26[] What, you want me to guess?

[]9/8, 22:28[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/8, 22:29[] That sounds like a challenge. How many guesses do I have?

[]9/8, 22:31[] None. Listen, I don’t want you to know. I shouldn’t have said anything.

[]9/8, 22:33[] I’m afraid it’s going to change your perception of me, and we’ll stop talking like this.

[]9/8, 22:34[] Just keep imagining me with wrinkles and a cane, I’m okay with that.

That drops the small smile right off his face.

Hotch is… surprised by this turn of events. What could be so shocking about this that Spencer thinks they would stop talking to each other? They’re corresponding every night. How could he possibly stop on a dime like that?

It doesn’t make any sense. And that’s not the alcohol talking.

[]9/8, 22:37[] I honestly don’t see how that would be possible.

[]9/8, 22:39[] I’m not going to stop talking to you just because you aren’t the senior professor I imagined running Caltech with an Iron Fist.

[]9/8, 22:40[] Now you’re projecting. 

[]9/8, 22:40[] You saying I’m too strict?

[]9/8, 22:41[] Tyrant, I think was the term I chose. 

[]9/8, 22:42[] Pretentious.

[]9/8, 22:44[] But Spencer, unless you are somehow underage with five Ph.D.’s, there’s no reason for us to stop talking. 

[]9/8, 22:47[] You would not believe how many people treat me like I'm underage, to this day. So that doesn’t inspire confidence.

Hotch pauses with his glass halfway back to his lips, only a few sips left in the glass. Staring at his phone and struggling to make sense of what Spencer is saying. Hotch had been trying to joke and tease with him, but now the word ‘underage’ feels like a glaring beacon of a word on his screen. 

He’s very suddenly more than a little nervous, even through the haze of alcohol. He is 45 years old, no matter what he keeps telling Spencer -- there is a limit to this being appropriate or not. What that limit is, he’d have to consider when he’s more sober, and it makes him feel like he should be reigning in the flirtatious notes that keep worming their way into the conversation. 

But it’s not actually possible for him to be that young, and everything he’s learned about the man indicates he’s closer to his own age. Was he in his 30’s? Even that felt too young for what Hotch had (subconsciously) profiled -- no, it has to be something else. 

No matter what, he didn’t want to keep getting Spencer worked up like this about it. His age hadn’t bothered Hotch before that night, so maybe if he drops it they can revert back to how they’d been spending their late evening hours before this turn in the conversation. 

[]9/8, 22:50[] But I’m NOT underage.

[]9/8, 22:51[] If that needed to be said.

[]9/8, 22:53[] Can you buy alcohol by yourself?

[]9/8, 22:54[] Yes.

[]9/8, 22:54[] See this is what I was afraid of.

[]9/8, 22:55[] Relax, I was trying to tease you. 

[]9/8, 22:57[] You don’t have to tell me, Spencer. I’ll just keep picturing Sean Connery, or John Steinbeck in the later years.

[]9/8, 22:59[] I see you have a type. 

[]9/8, 23:00[] Well, who do you picture when you think of me?

[]9/8, 23:01[] Hugo Weaving, Matrix era. Or Richard Feynman.

[]9/8, 23:02[] Well now I feel typecasted. Who’s Feynman?

[]9/8, 23:02[] An American Theoretical Physicist from the 40’s-60’s.

[]9/8, 23:03[] Ouch. How old do you think *I* am?

[]9/8, 23:04[] I’m afraid to answer that.

[]9/8, 23:04[] O.u.c.h.

[]9/8, 23:06[] You’ve been borderline flirting with me, and you just said you thought I was in my 60’s! What was I supposed to think?

[]9/8, 23:07[] If you’re looking in that age bracket, I’m sure I can get you the Biology Department Head’s number.

[]9/8, 23:07[] He’s 72 with rheumatoid arthritis. 

[]9/8, 23:08[] You are hysterical. So funny.

Hotch is smiling wide down at his phone again, feeling lighter and glad he got them back on track. 

But… 

He can’t help but think back to what he just tried to drop entirely. Blame the Scotch, or whatever drive to know that makes him dig down and root out information in cold cases in his spare time, Hotch doesn’t think he can let it go. Not when it was something Spencer hadn’t meant to be a secret in the first place. Not when, knowing that it has created misinformation between them unintentionally, results in Spencer shying away and hesitant to tell Hotch anything more about himself. 

Not when he’d said ‘flirting’, because that had been what Hotch was doing, and he can’t even describe how disappointing it would be to quit while he was ahead. When the build up has been so gradual and easy and everything he’d been looking for and could never seem to find.

Now, this slight disruption is sticking in his mind, sharp like a thorn in his side. Always there, making itself known, and he wonders if he is lucid enough to try and draw the information out of Spencer via interview tactics -- or if the brilliant man would see right through any of his attempts.

Probably. Who was he kidding? Spencer had more degrees and college hours under his belt than Hotch could manage in a lifetime. Best to do this the old fashioned way, then.

[]9/8, 23:10[] 38.

[]9/8, 23:11[] Oh. Really? That’s kind of young to be Unit Chief, congratulations.

[]9/8, 23:11[] No, not me. You. I’m guessing 38.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Oh.

[]9/8, 23:12[] Incorrect.

[]9/8, 23:13[] I don’t even get a hint?

[]9/8, 23:13[] Nope.

[]9/8, 23:15[] We’re not playing a game. I’m not telling you.

[]9/8, 23:15[] So you won’t guess my age, either?

[]9/18, 23:17[] Chicken.

[]9/8, 23:17[] 45.

Hotch near throws his phone across the room. Almost makes a quip about how reading his file is cheating -- but he knows Spencer just made a stupidly accurate ‘educated guess’ because he knows fucking everything. 

They really should just put him on the payroll. Hotch is being selfish keeping the man all to himself.

But God, is he enjoying it, too.

[]9/8, 23:19[] There’s no way you profiled that with that kind of accuracy. 

[]9/8, 23:20[] How do you do that?

[]9/8, 23:21[] Black magic.

[]9/8, 23:22[] I’ll get it out of you one day, I swear.

[]9/8, 23:23[] And as a man of your word, I believe that you truly believe that.

[]9/8, 23:23[] Full of jokes tonight, aren’t you?

[]9/8, 23:25[] I live to amuse. 

[]9/8, 23:25[] And make you smile.

[]9/8, 23:27[] You are one of the few that do.

With a careful pause, nothing left in his glass, a thought perched on the edges of his mind that is already watery with cognitive dissonance, Hotch starts typing before he’s even fully made the decision.

[]9/8, 23:30[] You really think my flirting is borderline? I was going for subtlety, but I must be rusty.

[]9/8, 23:32[] Actually, I just thought I was projecting.

[]9/8, 23:23[] You were married, I didn’t want to presume.

Oh. 

The consideration is touching, and sobering even in the dimness of his home office, but it draws the softest of smiles back to Hotch’s face when he begins to type out his answer.

[]9/8, 23:35[] Thank you, for thinking of me first.

[]9/8, 23:37[] But Haley and I separated a long time before she died. We were actually divorced before she went into WICSEC. I miss her every day. But I did try to date for a while, before that. 

[]9/8, 23:39[] No luck? I would have thought the FBI badge would at least garner some interest.

[]9/8, 23:40[] I’ve been told I’m intimidating.

[]9/8, 23:41[] I don’t think you are.

[]9/8, 23:42[] You will if you ever meet me. I’ve made underlings cry before without speaking a word.

[]9/8, 23:44[] The Hotchner stare. Have you coined that?

[]9/8, 23:45[] I should. It’s got a ring to it.

They banter and causally slip a few more… flirtatious comments in, and Hotch realizes it really isn’t that much different than before. That he had indeed been flirting with the man long before he knew his age. Which was odd, he didn’t typically go for older men and women. But now that he’s aware Spencer is younger than he thought, possibly even his own age (he swears he is, would put money on it if he could), somehow there’s more of a charge in their correspondence, a warmth and buzzing elation that has nothing to do with his Scotch. Especially now that it’s long gone.

It’s all Spencer, and how they compliment each other, and Hotch finds himself near giddy with that information.

He tries, towards the end of the night where it tips over into the early hours of the morning, to imagine an image of Spencer again -- and finds that he doesn’t even care to. He’s enamored with the man and his wit and the way he makes Hotch laugh without trying. How he looks, his age, it doesn’t matter. Not really. Not to Hotch.

But he is still curious why Spencer won’t reveal it. He can’t be that young.

[]9/9, 00:43[] You really won’t tell me?

[]9/9, 00:45[] Maybe one day. When I’m feeling brave.

[]9/9, 00:46[] Well, I’ll be there. Waiting. 

[]9/9, 00:46[] 32.

[]9/9, 00:47[] You’ll never guess.

[]9/9, 00:48[] There’s only so many numbers.

[]9/9, 00:50[] Goodnight, Hotch.

[9/9, 00:51] Goodnight, Spencer.

-

(tbc...)

-

Tagged List:  @spencehotchner @ssa-sarahsunshine @gothamapologist @reidology @marsjareau @dragon-snaps-fandom​ @emmyraebird @just-an-emo-rat​​​ @aaron-hotchner187 @dk18077 @more-heid-pls @fakin-it-til-i-make-it @merpancake

[entropy-game-dev]

Getting organised in 2021

Huh, me? No I mean you! You!

I'm sure many people are looking ahead to 2021, and, with the new year comes renewals of goals, habits, motivation and so forth. I'm not really about that, but I thought now would be an apt time to talk about what I've learnt over the past 2 years regarding project management and keeping motivated. 

Now, I want to preface this blog with my thoughts about the whole "productivity" thing. I make a huge, HUGE distinction between being productive at work and productive on your hobbies. The idea of productivity in the workplace can be used in a manipulative fashion, where one may work themselves to mental and physical exhaustion for the benefit of someone else. Considering most people reading this will probably be on a fixed wage (rather than commission-based), does it really make sense to push oneself harder without getting any immediate, tangible benefit from it?

So that’s my rant for the blog, I promise! Anyway, on the other hand we have productivity on your hobbies, which is a completely different matter. You get out exactly 100% of what you put into your hobby, and it'll benefit you in multiple ways. I don't think I need to sell this to you, as I'm sure most people, myself included, would love to be more productive on their own personal projects. In this blog, I'm going to be talking exclusively about this sort of productivity and how to improve it in a couple of different ways. Again, this is all stuff I've personally tried and tested, so while I am confident this approach will work for me, it may not necessarily work for you. But, you won't know until you try!! So if you're convinced and want to get motivated, read on!

I first want to talk about one's mindset, and then dive into the tools I use. The latter will provide a bit more context for the former, and in the end, the most powerful tool you have is your brain, so use it!

Training your brain

So, the biggest problem I find myself, and other people have, is how to tackle a project and starting a work session. One I start, I find it easy to get into the zone (and this comes back to the choice of tools that augment my workflow), so getting started and knowing what I'm doing is the main thing I have to tackle. 

On the broadest level, I work with a general plan that has been written up previously. This contains all the key points from start to finish, without worrying too much about the detail at this stage. There is some skill involved in identifying what constitutes a "key" point, but this all comes down to practice. For reference, if I estimate something will take a week or two to finish, that's a task. If something will take longer than that, it's more than likely several tasks, and rolling it up into one task will probably cause some decision paralysis. Anything smaller and your list will get too clogged up, and again, decision paralysis. Right, so that's your high level plan done. Cool, but not really going to help you on a day-to-day basis as this will be something to refer to between tasks.

Ok, so now you have a list of chronological tasks. Take the first one and start it. Oh, you don't know where to start? Don't worry, I'm with you. It's important to recognise the mental signs related to approaching a task. If I find myself hesitating or not looking forward to a particular task, it often means I haven't defined it well enough. That means breaking the task down into individual steps, until you're comfortable saying "yep, I can do this right now" with each dot point. Again, it'll take some practice (depending on your hobby) to visualise and write down each step, but it is definitely something that you get used to, and will save you so much time umming and aahing with your program of choice open, but not actually getting any work done. If you are finding that happens more often than not, it breaks your workflow and you can't get into the zone!

A few more general tips. It helps to be consistent with your work. Try to dedicate a regular time to your hobby and you'll find it a lot easier to get into the working mindset and the zone. Allow yourself some days off, but don't use the excuse of "not being motivated enough" as a reason to take time off. What would be better is, if you can't force yourself to, say, program, work on the art, or the sound, or design. But do it consistently! 

Be accountable as well. This means involving others as much as you can - as an example, say you want to discuss a design aspect with a friend and you'll find extra motivation to work on that aspect, and get it ready for someone else to read over. Just having that knowledge of another person looking at your work will bring it to a new level, trust me! You can also be held accountable to people you don't know! Part of the reason why I started this blog and my Twitter account was because I always have in the back of my mind while working, that it'll eventually make its way to my blog. 

Finally, if your hobby has one, make use of the community where possible - get involved and see if there are ready made templates or resources you can use. I know people like to do things without help, and I absolutely respect that, but I find that people have often gone through the same struggles as you, and will provide ways to make your life easier!

Tools of the trade

Ok so I've used a lot of different software and systems in my time, and by process of natural selection the ones that I still use today are the ones that have been most helpful for me! Here's a short list with both the specific thing I use, and in brackets, what I use it for. If you already use something similar that fill a similar role, then my suggestion is to stick with what you know:

ClickUp (Project management, checklists): This is where I keep a list of all my major tasks. You can have checklists nested in checklists which is amazing for planning, and can organise things into broad categories, and tons more. Any good project management software like Trello etc. should support this.

Google Drive (Cloud storage of other assets, easy sharing, MS office replacement): I use this to store anything that isn't code related, and to work on things simultaneously with other people. While this game is a mostly solo effort, I absolutely discuss and show a ton of stuff to my more experienced friends, who in turn provide very helpful feedback. It's much nicer and more organised than sending files through a messaging app or (heaven forbid) emails!

Bitbucket (Source control, cloud storage of code): If you code, you need this. I don't care how small your project is! Actually, smaller projects are better to learn from! Github is definitely used the most for source control, so if you like that more, use it!

Google Keep (Note taking, brain dumps): Ever had a genius idea right before bed? Same, and I use Google Keep to keep track of them. I could use Clickup in this instance but I find the app to be a bit clunky compared to Keep.

Notepad++ (Rapid notes, copypasting error messages): Notepad ++ is what I use mainly for copypasting error messages to look at later, but I also use it when I need to break down a sub-task down, or make a note to do something later without interrupting my flow. The fact that Notepad++ specificaly can have multiple tabs and will save your tabs automatically without you having to manually save it is amazing.

Good 'ol pen and paper (Scratchpad): For those REALLY hard problems that can't be solved in my head, I turn to pen and paper to get my thoughts organised. While I could use something like Notepad++, I find that being able to write and draw anywhere on the paper, and link things up with lines helps immensely to get a clear idea of things.

Summing up

Right, so, that's about it from me. If you have any questions or want me to elaborate on something I've mentioned here, feel free to leave a comment or an ask. In any case, I hope you’re feeling more motivated now, and all the best for your personal projects in 2021!

P.S. I've know I’ve been a bit quiet lately because I'm working on designing the five factions present in the demo - I can't reveal much lore about them (as those will be in logs you'll find in-game), but I will be showing off some more designs and gameplay mechanics in the near future, so look forward to it!

[comfy-whumpee]

Dinner And A Show

Part of the Ellis AU. @lonesome--hunter, @iaminamoodymoodtoday, @wildfaewhump, @ishouldblogmore, @lektricwhump @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi.

He was wearing an emerald-green silk shirt and black slacks. His shoes were polished and his hair was brushed and tied back. The ponytail was a little off centre, so that it lay over one shoulder and made a striking contrast with the shirt. He looked amazing – and the button-up sleeves hid all of his scars.

“You’re going to ace it,” Nic said as they fastened his cufflinks. “Just be confident, and don’t hesitate. Remember, this is work, not a real date. You just have to seem genuine.”

“Not a problem,” Ellis said. He briefly flashed a look of wide-eyed, guileless innocence, and Nic laughed. They laughed even as they remembered just how Ellis had come to possess that skill.

“Yeah, like that. You’ll be in control the whole time, honey.”

Ellis nodded, consulting his file one last time before setting it down on the floor. Alistair knelt there, hands holding the chain in his lap, head bent. He would be reading the file, Ellis’s strategy guide, the whole way through the outing, providing Ellis with the ability to check any detail he’d forgotten. No information would escape him. No surprises. He would be in control.

Nic kissed his cheek, and smiled. “Perfect. Go on, taxi’s waiting.”

They watched him go with a wistful smile. His back was straight and his head held high as he descended the stairs to leave. He’d never used to walk like that. He’d never been comfortable as the centre of attention. But then, they were starting to understand. The person he was day to day...wasn’t really him. He only came back to them in those private moments alone.

They hated what he was doing. They hated why he was doing it even more. He’d come out of it, one day.

For Ellis’s part, he was too busy thinking about the meeting. When he arrived, he was still thinking through information he could use. When he greeted her, he made sure his handshake was one she liked.

Handshake: Like she’s trying to crush your fingers and she wants you to do it back.

“Mr Engels,” she said, seeming impressed. “In the flesh.”

Ellis smiled sweetly. “That’s me. Pleasure, Ms Farringdon.”

She allowed him to lead her into the restaurant, and didn’t speak until they were seated. Only once the waiters were at a distance did she say, “I have heard rumours about you. You are... Different to the image I had.”

Ellis smiled a little less warmly now. He knew what the rumours about him were. Some of them, he had planted. “Let me guess. A terrifying crime lord, or Alistair’s sugar baby.”

“The latter,” she acknowledged. “They said you were... Pretty.”

He smiled again. Self-effacing, a touch embarrassed. “I’m glad you think so. But back to the pertinent topic. Why did you agree to meet me? I know you’re not on best terms with the original Engels.”

She looked to the side, prefacing her avoidance of the question. “I don’t recall any significant animosity between us.” Then her eyes returned to him and she smiled. “I was curious, of course. Alistair has worked alone for so long.”

“He has,” Ellis agreed neutrally. He looked down at the menu, considering.

Food: Hates seafood of all kinds. Hates hot food. Subtle flavours.

“I recommend the risotto,” he offered, as he selected the vegetarian ravioli for himself. “Mild flavour, delicate seasoning.”

She raised a sardonic eyebrow. “No starter?”

“Oh, naturally,” he said smoothly. “But the main course should be accounted for, when ordering the first.”

She hummed a brief chuckle. One slip, navigated successfully. He returned to looking at the drinks, until she spoke again.

“Why didn’t he come himself?”

Her tone was hardened around the edges, marked by her suspicion. There were rumours about him, yes, but she didn’t know that this was the person she’d expected to meet. He could have sent a decoy. He could be the decoy, for Alistair.

“Indisposed,” he said simply. None of her doubt was being expressed aloud, and he didn’t need to address it yet. “He sends his regards.”

She rolled her eyes. “Unlikely. He doesn’t like me.”

Alistair: ‘She’s a ruthless egomaniac who would kill her own mother for a tactical advantage.’

“He respects you,” he replied, setting his menu aside for the sake of signalling to their waiter that they were ready. “He did not think you should be subjected to dinner with him. Colleagues you may be, but friends, you are not.”

She considered that for a moment. He sat still under her blue eyes, reading his expression as best she could. He made sure to look simple, pleasant and honest, and while she wouldn’t truly believe that, the plausible deniability was useful.

She looked all the way to his shirt cuffs before looking back up. “Nice cufflinks.”

The formality was eroding. Ellis smiled, touching one. “Thank you. I hope you find dinner with me tolerable, if not pleasant.”

She propped her elbow on the table, chin resting across the back of her hand as she regarded him more intensely. Under his shirt the scars hid, and itched, and she kept looking.

Farringdon shook her head. “You don’t have to try so hard, cherub. Your partner and I have worked together enough in the past that you have some goodwill. Let’s just try to have fun.”

Ellis smiled properly, eyes bright with perfectly practised sincerity. “Let’s.”

-

Ellis closes his eyes with his hands poised over the keyboard.

Absolute silence in his home. Alistair is by the desk, waiting for an order. Nic is outside in the garden, reading under the porch. It’s raining, but Ellis had the office soundproofed a while ago. No sound in. No sound out.

He reaches for her.

Vision. Hearing. He connects himself up to her, taking in everything that she does. His hands start to move on the keyboard.

Computer, OS, email client, email address, every one that he can read down the side of her screen. Subject titles, as fast as he can type them, before she clicks off.

Email drafting. He transcribes in synchronicity with her, a second behind the movements of her body. He follows her pauses, her typos, her corrections, her edits. He is exactly as focused as she is, her words flowing onto her page and onto his without pause.

Email sent. Closed. More subject titles for what’s in her inbox. More in her sent items.

A video of horses. Even professional murderers have hobbies.

Then she checks it. Finally, she opens her phone and checks it, and he sees clearly the little GPS tracker she put on his bag when she thought he wasn’t looking - and he wasn’t, not with his own eyes, he practically handed her the opportunity. The bag is on a bus right now, and she closes the app, returning her attention to the computer.

A file. Title, date, last modified, author, and the content as fast as he can type it, which is faster than she can read it. Some distant thought recognises that the file is about him. He doesn’t pause. He will have her knowledge, all of her knowledge, and then he will know exactly what she thinks of him.

A notification on her phone pings and she looks down at it. Payment confirmation. He catches the banking app, the mobile network, the amount. She checks the GPS again, and sees its location.

She looks back at the profile of him and he types out the details of his own weekly routine without stopping to think about what it might mean until she gets up, and picks up a pre-packed bag, and takes one last look at her file and his photo and he watches her read the line about where he will be at this time of day, which he isn’t, because he’s watching her, and she heads out of the house.

She gets into her car, license plate noted, make, model, colour, landmarks around where she is driving from, street names, he can work out where she’s based later, and then she drives to his gym.

Before she gets out of the car, she checks her bag. He’s not surprised to see what’s inside.

In the pause as she looks, he writes a note to himself. Cancel gym membership.

He watches her move through the rooms in search of him. He watches her circle the property. He takes notes on how she enters and exits, how she avoids notice, the way she glances for cameras and speaks to those she passes as though she were a normal patron. He will learn from her, as he has learned from everyone in his life.

She leaves after half an hour of looking for him, bag still slung over her shoulder. She gets back into her car and pulls out a different phone. Dials a contact, and Ellis’s fingers fly to record the number.

“Hello.”

Ellis’s fingers stop.

“He wasn’t there.”

“Well, keep trying. You only have to find him once. I’m a patient man.”

The line disconnects.

Ellis opens his eyes. At the bottom of his garbled, rushed, typo-ridden document, there is a single word spelt with precision.

Harvey.

He takes a deep breath, and rests his wrists on the desk as the assassin drives home.

Harvey is trying to kill him.

[ranger-jedi-knight]

A New Hero Chap 14

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20887313/chapters/59619589 Taglist: ASK AND YOU SHALL BE PUT ON~~!!!!

Ok, so here’s the next chap! Sorry about the wait, life got....interesting to say the least. At long last tho, we have Mari n Co heading to Gotham finally! Cant wait for the small reunion later this chap!! I FORGOT THE TWEETS AGAIN DAMNIT!!!!!! I am SOOOO sorry i WILL remember to keep addin them on at the ends!!!

“Your brother wants me and Lana to what?” Alya asked looking over at Dick tired.

“Stay put. Easy!” Dick replied and Alya glared at him.

“Uh, huh. He wants, me a Detective to not leave the precinct, and Lana, a college student to not move even tho she has cleanses to go to?” she repeated and Dick pressed his lips together.

“Ok, when you put it like that-” he started but got cut off by Alya putting her hand over Dick’s.

“Damian isn’t even here. Why does he care what we do since your his brother who should get his butt over to the airport since his flight should be landing in 20 or so minutes and its already 9:50. Get your ass over to that airport to give your brother a hug,” Alya said glaring and Dick yelped. “Ya, give a call when your getting back since well, you’ll see,” she said gripping his shirt and pulling him close and DIck swallowed the lump in his throat, “that Babs ain’t the only one to kick your ass into shape.”

A smirk grew on Dick’s face at that. “Is that a promise?” he teased and Alya scoffed pushing him back.

“You had your chance buddy. Now get outta here before I make you regret being late to seeing Damian arrive,” she said and Dick gave a mock salute before scurrying off, grabbing his keys as he ran while their fellow cops laugh around them.

“Did he really have a chance?” A British African American FBI agent asked as he watched Dick leave, his accent still going strong even tho he’s been in New Jersey for the last 5 years.

“Eh, possibly, Xavier. I do have eyes you know,” she said and Xavier snorted as he straightened his stack of papers. “Once maybe, until you realize he’ll only have eyes for Babs,” she continued and Xavier nodded.

“You’ll find love, I’m sure of it. If Shrek can find love as an Ogre, so can you,” Xavier said and Alya made a fake offended sound in response.

“Are you saying I look like an Ogre?” she asked and Xavier raised his hands in defense. “Not at all!” he said and some people hummed at that.

“It really sounded like it~!” the precincts secretary, Mira, hummed out with a smirk and Xavier glared over at her.

“Don’t anger the Goddess! She’ll rain down on you the wrath of almighty Zeus himself!” a different cop, Sarah she thought, shouted causing Alya to snort.

“I ain’t no Goddess, silly!” she shouted over to them. The cop in question, it was Sarah she can recognize that golden blonde ponytail anywhere, stuck her head out the break room with a look.

“No, you are a Goddess. Especially in that flowing dress, you wore for the Halloween party Dick threw,” she called and Alya rolled her eyes as some nodded agreement.

“You guys are ridiculous, get back to work,” she called and that had everyone nodding agreement while Alya chuckled to herself as she went to her desk. Xavier followed and leaned against the desk with his hip.

“Sticking a pin in that ‘Is Alya Grayson a Goddess or Not’ conversation,” he said chuckling softly, “I do hope whatever it is Dick’s brother has planned for you is nice,” he said and Alya smiled at him while nodding slowly.

“So do I. Now, isn’t Agent Fornell waiting for those documents your holding?” she asked and Xavier nodded with a smile.

“That he is. Talk to you later then. Goodbye!” he said beaming as he walked backward, waving to everyone who returned it before he left the precinct.

Alya shook her head as she pulled her phone out and texted Lana: Als: Heads up, Damian apparently wants you and I to stay put where we r

Eagle-eye: whys that???? We rnt the closest

Als: who knows. Dick was just sending the message. idk, maybe Mari wants to hug us when she arrives?

Eagle-eye: maybe. I dont got time to theorize, got a test to do

Als: GL!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mari was bouncing between Damian and Xander as they boarded the plane finally after waiting for so long. They had to deal with morning traffic which took forever it felt like before they arrived an hour and a half arrive before their flight left making sure they didn’t have to worry about security taking forever. And the whole time Mari stared at the desk with her leg bouncing.

With 30 minutes to spare, Ms. Bustier arrived, the last one too. The other students had converged in the gate slowly at different times but with enough time to not worry. But Ms. Bustier arrived with less than 30 minutes to spare causing her class to worry.

Which to say the least?

Was awkward.

Alya and the others that didn’t know sat at one side of the gate looking at Mari and the people that knew awkwardly. They felt bad but knew they messed up.

BIG time.

Like MEGA BIG TIME that a simple apology wouldn’t work. It didn’t help that Mari’s friends didn’t let them thru. Kim, Nino, Chloe, Sabrina, Max, Lila, Xan, and Adrien all glared at them while Damian focused on Mari. Meanwhile, Alya, Alix, Mylene, Ivan, and Rose all tried figuring out what they could do to earn favor back from Mari. Juleka was the only one in the pure neutral middle ground. She skimmed the email and knew a movie was being filmed.

But didn’t know Lila was lying for sure.

She could guess. When Mari tried saying that and the disagreed she figured she’d stay quiet. She didn’t need anyone else trying to make her life hell. So Mari was neutral toward the girl as she hasn’t been present at that moment. So she was silently supporting the group and offering tidbits to help them realize that they need to change themselves before trying to regain Mari’s trust and friendship.

Only Time Will Tell.

They boarded the plane and sat back for the long flight. Most of them slept during the trip. Mari and Lila included. The two leaned against each other while Xan and Damian talked. Well, Damian talked. Which was odd. But it distracted Xan from the anxiety pooling in his gut as they flew.

After some time, and some crackers, the dread settled down. Damian told him everything that’s happened in Gotham since he left. Some he didn’t like hearing. But as Damian reminded him, everything was ok. No one is hurt.

Soon after Damian finished, Mari and Lila woke up. Lila smiled as she and Damian switched seats and she took Xan’s hand into hers. “It’ll be fine. They’re going to be so happy to see you,” she said quietly and Xan nodded.

“Even knowing what happened?” he asked and Lila hummed, tracing a finger along the back of his hand in nonsensical patterns.

“Ya, I think so. I think that they’re just going to be so happy that you survived everything and came back to them. From what it sounds like, if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be here today,” Lila whispered leaning her head against his shoulder. In return, Xan lightly leaned his head against her head with a sigh.

“Ya, that’s what Damian said too. I know it’s true, but my head just keeps pushing all these doubts,” he mumbled.

“That’s fair. It’s been 8 years since you’ve seen them. Lana watched you get hit. And then, seemingly right before her eyes, you disappear. People change with time. But, those bonds? They don’t typically change. I bet they still miss you as if it was just yesterday,” she replied and Xan nodded slowly, placing his other hand over their hands, squeezing her hands.

“Thank you,” he whispered as they relaxed in their seats and played a movie for the rest of the flight.

“I hope they enjoy the surprise,” Mari whispered and Damian gave a small nod at that.

“I have no doubt that they’ll love it,” he said and Mari smiled softly at that.

“Ya, and they have you to thank for that,” she said and Damian gave a shrug.

“You did most of the work and helped him get better,” he pointed out and Mari smiled as she pressed a kiss to his cheek, a faint blush on her cheeks from doing that, not seeing Damian’s faint blush either.

“Well, I wouldn’t have been able to help if you hadn’t helped him escape. You may not have stayed, but you certainly did help,” she said softly and Damian nodded slowly at that. He remembered it clearly. Even tho it happened over a year ago, it was clear to him.

Damian had turned the GPS off the batjet and flew to Nanda Parbat. He remembered the boy that his mother kidnapped and brought back to life. He remembered training with him a couple of times to let him know he wouldn’t tolerate anything but perfection. He didn’t know what happened to the boy older than him when he left. But then he learned and regretted everything.

Xander was the little brother to Dick’s partner Alya who disappeared. He learned from Issi that Xan, or better known as Whisper in the League, was alive still and there. She had wanted to help get him out since she helped care for him, but she couldn’t without getting caught or killed for real. But now he’d fix the mistake he made.

It was quite easy to sneak into the building. He made his way to where he remembered his bedroom was. He knocked out any guard he saw and pounded on the door. Xan was wearing his training gear when he opened the door. He didn’t recognize Damian as the angry 9-year-old that beat him up when he first arrived. He was wearing all black with a hood and mask on to hide his identity. “W-who are you?” Xan asked suspiciously as he picked up the sword he kept next to the door.

“Do you want to stay here?” Damian asked and Xan looked at him confused.

“Wha-?”

“Do you want to stay here or escape? I can get you out,” he said and Xan glanced around before nodding slowly.

“I want to go back home,” he said and Damian nodded as he then started tugging Xan out. Damian was shocked he was still able to recognize Xan after all this time and all the changes. He wasn’t the same short, scrawny 11-year-old. He had filled out and was taller than Damian by quite a few inches.

“I’ll get you home then,” he said leading them out. As they ran out in the snow, Damian was behind Xan making sure he didn’t get hit. Which was a miracle in the storm, slipping on hidden ice as they ran. But he had been. So the best bet was to get him to Mari and Fu who would help him heal. So when he reached the outskirts of Paris, he cloaked and flew to an alley near the fight and helped Xan out. “This is as far as I can get you. I’m sorry,” he whispered as Xan gripped his head falling to the ground with his backed pressed to the wall.

“I just wish I could have brought him home all the way,” he whispered and Mari took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze.

“You did what you could, Dami. He was hurt and needed help. If he had been taken directly to Gotham, who knows what would have happened,” she argued and Damian nodded slowly.

“Yes, I know. I just....when he recognized me when I saw the tat on his back. I....I wasn’t prepared to see the tat on his back and I forgot he was there still. So much happened since I got him out, I forgot he was with you. And he didn’t remember me helping him out. And I told him and he was happy. Even thou I didn’t get him out safely, he was happy,” he said at length and Mari once more squeezed his hand. “Well, that’s probably because he knew you did your best. You went back to get him out of that place unprompted. You could have left him there, but you didn’t. You got him out with only a head injury that made everything fuzzy. Give yourself credit, Dami,” Mari said and Damian gave her a small smile at the end of her little speech.

“Thank you,” he whispered and Mari beamed at him.

After some time, the plane landed and they went thru the sequence to leave. Mari smiled as she watched Dick hug Damian with his brothers behind him smirking at his mock displeasure. When Xan appeared talking to Lila, the entire Wayne Family froze in shock. “Y-you-!” Jason started shocked.

“Xander?” Dick asked, a heartbroken tone in his voice. Xan froze where he was and looked up at the family. He didn’t seem to be breathing as he nodded slowly. “Your alive,” he breathed out before making his way over and setting his hands on Xan’s shoulders. Dick started looking him over while the other two made their way over. He then pulled Xan in for a bone-crushing hug causing a surprise sound to leave Xan. “I’m so glad your alive,” he continued.

“Man, this is your surprise, Pixiepop?” Jason asked and Mari nodded with a smile. “They’re going to love it,” he said messing up both Xan’s and Mari’s hair.

“I hope so,” Mari said and Tim gave Mari a reassuring look.

“Mari, they are going to love this. Dont doubt yourself, you’ll see,” Tim said as the rest of the class left the plane.

“You got him?” Mari asked and the boys nodded as they followed everyone to baggage claim.

“Ya, just meet us at the precinct in 20 minutes. I wouldn’t want you to miss the surprise,” Dick replied and Mari smiled with a nod.

Mari-aculous @MDC_Designs The BIG SURPRISE is in 20 minutes~!! Cant wait to see their faces!!! #soexcited #sosoon #almostthere #surprises Dick @ FlyingGrayson Theyre going to LOVE it! Be prepared for lots of hugs Mari!!!

Ok, so here it is!!! The next chap!!! So this was takin while to push out that I decided I wanted to give the reunion scene a proper thing by giving it its own chap. Next chap we will see the Grayson Reunion!!!!! I cant wait for you guys to see it!!! until next time!! ~Love Willa<3<3<3

[monaisme]

Day 19: sleep deprivation

Day 19: sleep deprivation

To do:

1.  Call Queen Ramonda re: tech sharing program @515am

2.                                     re: Everett Ross (is he there?)

3.  Call Dickhead Ross re: SHIELD coverage @ Raft @ 7am

4.  **Tony- wound check/ Nano eval!!**

5.  Call U.N. re: Status of Accords @ 9am

6.                 re: securing Thor’s (?) ship

7.                 re: Asgardians status

8.                 re: Nebula status    

9.   Call Parker landlord re: lease/furniture storage

10. Book tech for press conference #3 BEFORE 10am

11. Check on Barton situation ???

12. Board meeting @ 11am

13. Call R&D re: $$/Parker Foundation?

14. Call WHO re: vaccination program status @ 1245pm

15.                 re: *food supply interruptions

16. Call President re: *food supply interruptions @230pm

17.                        re: Nebula status

18. Call Housekeeping re: Nebula quarters  

Pepper pressed her fingers to her eyes before trying to focus AGAIN on her list. The dimmed lights of the med bay and the sounds of the monitors attached to her husband made it almost impossible.

She thought back to four days ago—had it really been only four days.

When Tony had come down that ramp, it was like Afghanistan all over again—until she saw the desperation and grief on his face. And then he’d collapsed and everything was a flurry of activity.

She’d found out later from Nebula that the nanoparticles had served their purpose back on Titan. The wound had been sealed, but the infection had already taken root and was festering within him. With the malnourishment and dehydration on top of that, it was no wonder Tony was doing so poorly.  The IVs chock full of antibiotics, nutrients, sedatives, and all of the medications to prevent his blood pressure from rising and his kidneys and liver from failing hung from hooks at the head of the bed. The nasogastric tube would be a fixture for a bit, she knew. Tony would hate it when he woke up, but she’d put him straight and they’d keep going. The monitors, though, she took comfort in. She could see that his heart was beating; that air was flowing through is lungs—that he was alive and fighting.

She shook those thoughts away, because it was four days later and there were things to do. She was supposed to be on the other side of the compound, preparing for a phone call with the U.N. (See item #4) but Tony’s doctor would be here shortly to do a wound check (See item #3) and evaluate a few other nanoparticle related things that Tony would drool over, but, well... Pepper wasn’t worried about nanotech, she was worried about Tony. If things went well today, they would hopefully reduce some of the medications he was on so they could start waking him up. That decision, of course, depended mostly on the inflammation around the original site and some blood work results from last night.

Pepper prayed they’d agree to starting to wake him up today. She missed her fiancé so, so much. She took a moment to put her list back into her briefcase and settle back into the chair by his bedside. She took his thin hand in her own. “What do ya’ say, Tony? Is today going to be the day I get to see those Bambi-eyes of yours?”

Of course, he didn’t answer.

“Pepper?”

She jumped, throwing her hands to her chest, in an effort to calm her racing heart. “Oh!”

Dr. Cho was apologetic as she came further into the room. “I am so sorry, Pepper. I thought you heard me when I came in!”

Pepper waved the apology off with a laugh, “No! I’m sorry! I must have been daydreaming,” She said as she continued to wait for her heart to settle... it seemed though, that it didn’t want to.

Dr. Cho smiled at her sympathetically. “No one could blame you, Pepper. You look dead on your feet.” Then, as though only seeing her for the first time, Dr. Cho asked her, “How are you doing? I mean really, how are you doing?”

She laughed again, trying to sound okay, “I’m doing fine, thank you. I’m just trying to salvage what’s left of the world while Sleeping Beauty here keeps us all waiting.”

“Ouch. No Prince Charming for our Mr. Stark, I see?” Dr. Cho teased back as she began her assessment on the man.

Pepper shook her head. “Oh, no,” she stood up from her seat, “Leave it to the amazing Ms. Pepper Potts to save the world—one board meeting at time, thank you very much!” And she gave a mock final bow and stepped away from the bed.

Pepper looked up from her brief performance and saw how close she was to some of Tony’s equipment. Embarrassed, she stepped further away from the bed. “I’m sorry. I’m taking up the room you need.”

Dr. Cho shook her head. “You’re fine, Pepper. If I need room, I’ll ask.”

Pepper was sure she was about to ask another question when a knock on the door interrupted her.

The doctor smiled at the new addition to the room. “Dr. Rainert, I’m so glad you could come. Dr. Rainert,” she nodded to the man then gestured to Pepper. “I’d like to introduce you to Ms. Pepper Potts, Mr. Stark’s fiancée.”

Dr. Rainert gave a polite bow. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he announced and then got right down to business. “I am assuming you know why I’m here?”

Pepper nodded. “Of course, while Dr. Cho will be doing the actual wound check, you’ll be evaluating the affect of the nanoparticles on healing, scarring, and such, correct?”

He nodded to confirm. “I know it’s a stressful time for you, Ms. Potts, but Mr. Stark and I had been quite excited to see how this worked in a field setting and,” he seemed to be struggling to contain his enthusiasm even as his research partner lay unconscious in the bed beside him. “Well, this information will be most helpful going forward.”

It all felt a little ghoulish to her, but she wasn’t going to say it. She was there to support her fiancé and make sure he was getting better. Then she’d...

A buzz filled the room. It took Pepper a second the figure out that it was her cell phone. Blushing at the obvious faux-pas, she blurted a hurried apology, grabbed her phone and dashed out into the hall.

“Pepper Potts speaking,” she answered, fumbling with the phone before pressing it firmly to her ear.

“Pepper? It’s James.”

She cringed. ‘James’ meant that Rhodey was currently surrounded by mucky-mucks, which was strange because that call didn’t need to be made until, she glance at her watch, “Rhodey! It’s 9:30!”

“I know!” he exclaimed. “I was worried something was wrong with Tony when you didn’t call in. Is everything alright?”

Pepper lost herself for a second. She never lost track of time! Never!

“Pepper?”

“Oh! I’m so sorry!” She came back to herself and panicked. “Please extend apologies for my lateness to the others. I’ll grab my briefcase from the other room and head to my office, okay? I shouldn’t be more than five minutes. Promise!”

Rhodey sounded understanding, so she allowed herself to take a quick breath after letting him go and then rushed back into Tony’s room. She just needed to collect her briefcase, head back to work, and get the day back on track.

She came up short, however, when she caught a glimpse of Tony’s wound— exposed to her for the first time.

It definitely wasn’t what she’d been expecting and it took that realization for the room to spin, tilt, and then disappear from around her.

She was out before she hit the floor.

* * * * * *

Pepper woke with a start, and a headache.

“Pepper?”

Confused, she scanned the room, only barely relaxing when Rhodey stepped up to her bedside.

“Hey, Pepper, are you with me now?”

She nodded, but still didn’t understand, “What...?” her voice cracked so she cleared it and tried again. “What happened?”

He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “You, Ms. Potts, fainted.”

Pepper glared at him, “I did not...” She coughed from the dryness of her throat.

“Hang on, Pep. Let me just...” Rhodey stood to get her a glass of water from the stand beside her bed and then handed it to her. “Be careful,” he added as he watched her hands shake.

She took the glass and took a dainty sip. It was as she pulled the glass away that she saw the IV in her forearm. She straightened up and threw her arm out to show him, ignoring the sway as she made the movement. “No. I don’t need this.” Of course, she didn’t! She was fine. “You can take this out, right?”

“I could, but I won’t, Pep. Don’t be ridiculous,” he spoke calmly. “You passed out, and I’m here to make sure you stay right there and take care of yourself.” He gave the bed a poke, then sat back in his chair crossing his arms and making like he had the final word.

Pepper stared at him for a second, trying to determine just how far Rhodey would take his apparently self-appointed role. She looked down at her wrist and scowled. “Rhodey, where’s my watch?”

He smiled sweetly, “I have it in my pocket, along with your wedding band, if you must know. I’m keeping it safe and sound until you’re ready to leave.”

She rolled her eyes. “I can take them back now. I’m too busy for all of this so I’m just going to—“ She sat up fully and swung her legs over the edge of the bed opposite to Rhodey while looking at the clock on the wall.

Dammit! She’d already missed several phone calls with the United Nations and Tony would be upset if anything happened to the Parkers’ things while they were— (See items #5-9)

She made a plan on the fly. “If I leave now, I can call into my board meeting and send out a couple of emails to cover the calls that I missed out on...”

Rhodey came around to the other side of the bed and stood directly in front of her. “Pepper,” he put a hand on her knee, pretending he could stop her from standing up and walking out the door. “You have nothing to do for the foreseeable future.” He took a really good look at his good friend. “Really, Pep? You’ve gotta stop for a sec. When’s the last time you got a really good night’s sleep?”

She pointed an accusatory finger in his face. “Don’t Rhodey! You, of all people, know what it’s like to have to clean up after Tony—and I know this isn’t his fault, I know!” Her chin quivered. “There’s just so much to do and—“

He cut her off, “And there are people who are here to help you.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. “You know I’m not wired that way,” A few more escaped.

“Trust me. I know—and I’m pretty sure that’s why none of us understand how you ended up with that lughead in the next room.”

She smiled as she wiped away the tears, thinking of how lucky she was that he loved her, if she was being completely honest. And then she remembered. “Tony! Oh, no! I have to—I should be there and I’m here...“ Pepper weakly pushed Rhodey’s hand away so she could slide off the bed.  

“Pepper, don’t.”

Both Pepper and Rhodey froze as Dr. Cho came into the room.

She had been on her way to update Pepper about her and Tony from the looks of all the two clipboards in her hand, but tossed them aside and rushed forward when she saw that Pepper was getting upset. “Hey, hey, Pepper. It’s okay. Everyone is okay.” She stepped in front of Pepper, effectively bumping Rhodey to the sidelines. “Pepper? Do you hear me? Tony’s fine, I promise.”

Pepper’s breathing had definitely picked up so she nodded that ‘yes’ she’d heard and Tony was fine but still... “I need to be there, Dr. Cho! I was supposed to know what—what was going on and I’m such a—“

“No.” Dr. Cho took charge of the conversation. “I’ve just left Tony and he is absolutely on the mend. Dr. Rainert thinks that healing rates are perhaps even accelerated by the nanoparticles, but that just means the wound is healing faster.” She looked Pepper in the eye. “Are you hearing what I’m saying?”

Pepper nodded.

“Good. Now,” Dr. Cho, ever the consummate professional, gently manoeuvred Pepper back into the bed as she spoke. “You, Ms. Potts are exactly where you are supposed to be.” She grabbed a fresh blanket from the end of the bed, and with a precision borne of years of practice, covered Pepper up. “You need to be taking care of yourself, too.”

Pepper pulled her arms out from under the blanket and petulantly crossed her arms in front of her.

Rhodey gave a low whistle from the wall he’d stationed himself at. “You’re not gonna make this easy on anyone, are you, Pep?”

Pepper simply glared in answer.

“Well,” Dr. Cho clapped her hands together to bring their attention to her. “I’m actually going to need to talk to Ms. Potts about some test results now so, Rhodey, if I could get you to step out into the hallway for a few minutes, I’d be most appreciative.”

The defiance changed to fear in a flash. “No! He stays! Please?” She looked at her dear friend and held out a hand for him to take. “You’ll stay, right?”

He stepped closer, grabbing ahold of her hand in both of his. “All you have to do is ask, Pep.” 

She smiled in relief and took a deep breath. “Okay.” Pepper looked at Dr. Cho. “What’s going on?”

Dr. Cho took a second to retrieve the clipboards from where they’d been discarded on the floor and then pulled up a rolling stool to the side of the bed. “Well, I think it goes without saying that after seeing you this morning, I suspected that this would be a simple case of exhaustion and sleep deprivation.” She put Tony’s clipboard aside and flipped some pages on Pepper’s chart. “But with aliens and spaceships suddenly landing in our backyard and in light of recent events,” she paused to give weight to those events, “Well, I figured more blood work would be the better bet.” She was oddly nervous and smiling strangely as she spoke up, “And I don’t normally give this type of news but, you, Pepper Potts, are pregnant.”

It was a good thing she was already lying down.

Her mouth opened as though she were about to say something, but nothing came out. And she was going to say something, really! But then all she could think was ‘Morgan’—not her strange uncle, but their Morgan.

The silence stretched. Neither Rhodey nor Dr. Cho seemed willing to interrupt Pepper’s processing.

Eventually, Pepper did find words. “I have so much to do,” she breathed out.

“You have absolutely nothing to do for the next two weeks,” Dr. Cho contradicted her gently.

“Two weeks? But...”

“But nothing,” Dr. Cho continued. “I may not be an OB, but your blood pressure is high—really high. I have blood work that indicates some deficiencies that need to be addressed as soon as possible. To start, your iron and B12 levels are hovering dangerously close to low, which tells me that you’ve been powering through even before all of this insanity with coffee. Which brings me to,” she gestured to the IV bag. “You were dehydrated, too, so you know. It wasn’t the worst I’ve seen, but I’m guessing it’s been a particularly busy few days?”

She whispered, “Yes.”

Dr. Cho took hold of the hand closest to her. “You’re going to need to learn how to rest, Pepper.”

She shook her head ‘no’ as she worked herself up, “I can’t! Tony and---“

“And nothing. You’re good friend, Colonel Rhodes here is going to help me roll this bed next door to Tony’s room. Okay? And then we’re going to monitor your blood pressure for a bit—most likely till tomorrow.” She got up, quickly set up the blood pressure monitor beside Pepper’s bed, and wrapped the cuff around her arm.  “ There. We’ll get started with that now. That way, you can keep an eye on Tony while we keep an eye on both of you. Fair?”

Pepper looked from Dr. Cho to Rhodey, “Rhodey, you know I can’t,” she pleaded with him. “I can’t just walk away from everything. You know how much there is to do!”

Dr. Cho pressed a button, and the blood pressure cuff inflated. It was moments later that an alarm starting blaring through the room. She silenced it after a few, point making moments. Dr. Cho said nothing, just gave her a knowing look.

Rhodey, however, was looking unimpressed. “You know you’re not walking away! C’mon, Pepper. You’re a smart woman who has surrounded herself with smart people! You’re gonna have to learn how to delegate, and right quick, lady, ‘cause that’s my niece or nephew in there—and I already know you’d do anything for them... and that include keeping YOU healthy.”

Weakness washed over Pepper in that moment and she sunk back into the bed as she suddenly began to cry.

Dr. Cho quietly excused herself from the room.

“Hey, now. None of that, Pep.” Rhodey wiped some tears from her cheek. “Yeah, things are rough right now, but you’ve still got Tony! And you’ve got me when he’s being an idiot...”

She managed a huff of a laugh.

“Just rest your eyes for a bit, ‘kay?”

“But—“

“No buts, Pepper. First, Tony will kick my ass if I don’t take care of you the way he would if he were up and around.” He pulled the blanket up to her chin. “And second, you cannot convince me that there is not some ‘Pepper-certified’ list to end all lists floating around in that briefcase of yours for me to work off of.”

She moved to get up, but a gentle press to her shoulder had her resting back on the pillows.

“Trust me, Pepper. I’ve got this. It’s in your briefcase, right?”

“Yes.” She wasn’t sure if she was supposed to be embarrassed or not.

Rhodey looked her in the eye. “Pepper?”

She looked up at him with trusting eyes. “Just... please?” She was suddenly so damned tired.

“Go to sleep, Pepper,” Rhodey whispered. “When you wake up, you’ll be with Tony next door and I’ll have some books and magazines ready for you to devour, so you don’t get bored, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I promise you, Pepper, it’s going to be okay in the end.”

And as she fell into slumber, she hoped and prayed for all their sakes, that he was right.

* * * * * *

It was very early the next morning when Tony finally opened his eyes. Pepper was sitting up in the bed next to him, reading a magazine by the bar of light behind her, completely engrossed and missing out on the man awake beside her.

He sounded weak, but in true Tony fashion, the first whispered words out of his mouth were, “I know. I’d miss me, too, but you could have slept in your own bed.”

She smiled big, and slid out of her bed to be next to him. “Tony!” she whispered excitedly, “I’m so glad your awake.” She leaned over to give him a kiss and then looked up to check the door to the room.

He looked over too, wondering what he was missing, and almost asked when Pepper distracted him. “How are you feeling?” She still spoke quietly. “Do we need to call a doctor?”

He smiled lovingly at her and raised a hand to cup her cheek. “I’m fine. Tired.” His eyes were already starting to fall again. “Pep,” his smile turned sad. “I lost Peter.”

“I know, Tony.” She caressed his cheek.

She wasn’t even sure that he knew he’d started crying as the exhaustion pulled at him. “I don’t know how I’m...” he trailed off and sobbed. “I just don’t know if I’ll ever be happy again.”

Pepper’s heart shattered for the man she was going to marry—and then came back together for the child she now carried. “Tony, you’ll be happy again. I promise.”

He clumsily wiped at his wet cheeks, “You can’t know that,” he grumbled and tried to turn away from her.

She clasped his hand in hers and smiled. “I do know, Tony, because you gave me something that will give us both so much joy...”

He was obviously getting confused by her vaguery, so she simply leaned over and whispered into his ear. “I’m pregnant.”

He pulled back so he could look at her fully. She guessed that he didn’t quite believe her, especially after that day at the park. He must have seen something though, because he asked, “Really?”

She just nodded. “And we’re going to figure out how to be happy, both for the baby and for us... and part of figuring that out is getting our Peter back, right? We can’t be whole until little one has a big brother and a crazy Italian aunt, okay?”

He nodded emphatically, “Okay.”

A matronly looking nurse chose that moment to enter the room. “Ms. Potts, you’re not supposed to be out of bed, so let’s get you tucked back in before Dr. Cho decides to extend the BP study.”

She seemed friendly enough so Pepper worked the distraction angle, “But look!” She pointed to Tony. “He’s awake!”

The nurse was onto her and made sure that Pepper knew it. She address Tony first, “Good morning, Mr. Stark, I’m Jody, your wife’s nurse. Is there anything that you need before I help your wife?”

He seemed to still be stuck so he just shook his head ‘no.’

“Alright,” she smiled at him. “I’m going to get your nurse to you right away.” She reached up beside his head and pressed the call button, and then she turned to Pepper, “What is this? The fourth or fifth time since my shift started?” She pointed to the bed. “

She just shrugged and made her way back to her bed. “Are we talking ones that you know about?”

Jody just smiled. “Stay put so you can get out of that bed and visit with your husband properly, okay?”

An idea came to her mind, so Pepper nodded in agreement and waited for Jody and the whirlwind of medical staff to take care of Tony and go.

When the room finally emptied and Tony was ready to drop from exhaustion, she slid out of her bed for hopefully the last time. Tony chuckled as he watched her drag a blood pressure machine from her side of the room to his bed.

“You paid for really big med bay beds, babe. I’ve decided to come and visit,” she announced. He looked like he was going to try to shuffle over but she stopped him cold. “Don’t move. I’ll fit—for now.” And she situated herself beside Tony with ease. “There!”

If he’d been tired before, by the time Pepper had joined him in bed, he’d practically melted in contentedness. “We’ll talk about this when I’m ‘wake, right?” He asked.

“Of course, Tony.”

“And we’ll be happy ‘gain?

She smiled to herself and rested a hand on her belly. “Forever.”

 @febuwhump

[jojoreadwhat]

i'm the best book you'll never read / honey & smoke - m.h. x OFC story

Lucy's POV.

It's been a weekend and three days since Matty tried kissing me under the stars. His breath still a lingering scent that wouldn't subside, so close to my pale skin. Laced with the red wine shared between us and the minty menthol he had threw before hovering over me. Sending this racing chill through my body that was fitting with the warmth of the wine I had consumed. His dark chocolate eyes like daggers against my crystal blues, tracing my face like transparent paper. A scene that wouldn't leave, a scene I was wish I played into instead of pause.

The words replaying in the savory tone of Matty's thick accent, 'You're not one of them' his calloused index finger running over my forehead. Moving the little strand dancing across it. 'Not in the slightest.'  Watching as his rare lips, so defined and gloss-like. Curl into this unconventional smile that was so.. inviting.

I sighed to myself, opening my eyes to the window with the picture perfect scene. Lightly shaking my head to possible mistake I had made. His strange absence painting the bigger picture that all was not the truth, that I was different in that moment. Only because I wanted more grammar rather than the tongue tied language he wanted to perform.

It was best to keep it a subtle memory, keeping me at bay for all the wonders I was expected to see in London. Matty was just an introduction to it all, starting the carpet that would lead me to all I was hoping to find here. Experience.

I looked down at my leather bound in my lap, writing the finishings of my entry before reading the watch on my wrist. Today is my first day working in the university's library. I buckled the strap of my journal, throwing it into my bag before grabbing another coffee for the walk.

++

I walked to the west wing of campus to the building separated from the rest of it, I swear the library for this campus was bigger than two mansions. Three floors full of magic aligned each shelf. A different world for a different day of the week. The smell ventilating so much that I could catch it into a jar like you would sand on a foreign beach.  

I clocked in, placing my belongings into a locker in the back. I bent down to fix the buckle of my mary jane's, before I stood in front of a community mirror. Straightening out my navy and green plaid skirt, readjusting the black tulip hem shirt following the placing of my lanyard over my neck.

Taking a breath, before going to look for my supervisor, Matilda. Blonde long haired woman approaching her fifties. Blue eyes similar to mine and this angelic face that you only seen in those old Victorian paintings in museums. With a very laid back style, a different patterned skirt everytime I seen her during study hall. Loaded with different amounts of jewelry, and smelling of fresh eucalyptus.

She was marking books with little color tags on their linings. Separating them from different genres. I lightly tapped her because you know the rules of libraries, six inch voices. She spun around with a warming smile, kind of like the one my mom gave.

"Ah, Ms. Collins. It's your first day!" She exclaimed ever so quietly.  Placing her arm around my shoulders blades as she directed me. Her light embrace warming me heavily, "I've been looking forward to working with you."

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

Matty's POV.

I stood at the counter of Rocket Records as each strike of the clock moved and people browsed through the plastic wraps of wonders. I was in the mist of heading to uni when James called in a frantic. Ryan, the morning shift had an emergency to attend too. Taking me out of the terrible excuse of books and lectures. So I could stare at the girl a few rows in front.

Friday kept replaying in my head.

The way she danced to the strums of my guitar. The way her face squinted after her first sip of her drink. Her refreshed skin glistening against the neons as she came out of the ladies room. Her little hand in mine as I led her on the outskirts, buying cheap wine to watch the street lights and stars make align in her eyes. That laugh cascade over the sounds of the stale city, making it ever so bright in the night. The way she was so small laying slightly beneath me, how every bit of the details etched on her face. Were what she considered flawed, but to I so beautiful blended. Lastly how guarded her valuable heart was as her small hands barely amounted to the strong opinions running from her mouth.

I smirked in thought at the way her eyes widened when I didn't move my stance. Which them open from fear she was trying to have subside, to the curiosity of why I was still lying there. Showing that what I remarked back was the most truth I had ever spoken. She was not the red head in the bar when she seen her hands resting around me. Not the blonde that left my flat the day I found Lucy in my Creative Writings class. She was Lucy. Lucy Collins, a girl with lines to read and understand.

The little bell over the door had rang, my two friends and bandmates Ross and Adam peering from the sunny autumn breeze. Holding bags of clanking bottles and snacks as they rested them on the counter in front of me.

"It's Wednesday." I reminded. Very aware of the events taking place tonight.

Ross looked at me taken back on my greetings. "It's two days till Friday. We are just preparing." He replied, Adam chiming in beside him with a chuckle. I sighed to myself, taking the tagging gun and running along a pile.

"Is it a big one?" I asked, my mind flooding with papers due and studying to do. As much as I would be usually stoked for the midnight ride, I wasn't feeling it much.

Adam shook his head, "Preparing remember?" He remarked, resting his arms on the counter. "It's just enough for good food, good tunes and some nice company." He added, picking up a record.

"Plus, we think you should invite Lucy." Ross added once more, "She's quite the catch."

For my usual laid back, very unreadable expressions. I could feel the curl in my cheeks with only the truth filling the room. She's a definitely a catch. A catch so difficult to grasp.

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

Lucy's POV.

Matilda had directed to me the front desk, giving me light duty today because we were pretty swamped. It was the middle of the next week now and there was essays and exams due. I felt all the same pain, I had a double whammy of exams on Friday that I was dreading to bits.

I worked with the computer, helping my fellow classmates if we had books available or if they had been checked out. It was definitely a sucky job, I hated the feeling knowing you didn't get to a book in time. It was like getting to class late... And naked to top it off.

Eventually it had died down. Matilda was now at the desk with me, eating peanuts and checking library check out slips.

"So Ms. Collins. What are you studying?" She asked, during my interview it was cut short so she didn't get to ask about why this American was in London.

I helped check slips with her, "Literature. I write." I explained, I didn't really have a direction when it came to what type of writing I was studying. I took up creative writing and women studies as extras cause many books I read were along those lines. But honestly, I just wanted anything to everything about writing at my fingertips. Writing never had directions, just flows.

She seemed pleased, "My daughter is a writer too." She went on, looking just like her I bet, pretty long blonde hair, taking the world by storm.  Writing about experiences she had and was experiencing things as we spoke. Wearing a coat of many colors without any shame. That would be a level I'd like to reach after this.

"I bet you have great stories." She continued, I smiled at her positivity. She had no idea that I only had a first kiss in Junior high and talked to a homeless guy once or twice. All my experiences being so blah and that standing in this library. In a place so new, was more exciting than all of them combined. "I bet he knows that too." She added once more, my face immediately flustering into confusion.

She smiled at my questioning look of her mentions. "He was here a few days ago when you had picked up My Life On The Road." She explaining more specifically, "His eyes were all over you more than the book in his hands."

She went on to describing him but I didn't need more, instead I was beginning to feel more guilt than I already had. Totally judging him by his past when mine was just a sheet of lined paper. Jotted with scarce notes that never even made it to the market, just a list of things I never did.

++

Matilda set the alarm before locking the doors and saying goodnight. Day one of work had been surprisingly smooth than I expected. Leaving me now with enough energy of diving into textbooks and paperbacks of my own. Excited for the fresh bottle of pumpkin spice creamer in the fridge, the Coldplay record that was delivered to the house via email and the half eaten tub of apple crisp flavored ice cream. Waiting to be devoured in the freezer hidden behind the stack of frozen peas.

With the unlikely exciting things to be thrilled about for some when getting home. I retraced the familiar route to the tube that would lead me to my happy events of the night. The mixed aromas of firewood and the brisk winds tickling my nose, I went to slip in my headphones. Finishing from the middle of Moose Blood when the voice I kept hearing replay in my mind. Was now colliding against the autumn winds.

"Hey Blue." His voice sliding down my spine like ice.

Leaning against his car that was dark like the sky above. His hands in the green army jacket over the white and blue of his flannel, edging out all the tone of his build. His black infamous holed jeans meeting at the bottom where his vans were crossed. Casually playing the aesthetic he walked.

I walked towards to him, stopping two feet but only itching to get closer.

"How did you know I was here?" I asked with his absence from Creative Writing remained on my mind.

He smirked, probably mentally preparing for all the questions to roll off my tongue like a ball on the ground. "Abby told me that you were working." He replied, surprised that he went looking for me in the first place.

"Were you hoping I fetched your homework?" I remarked. My mind immediately regretting the bantering remark.

He shook his head, "No." looking down at his shoes. "I was hoping to catch you." Before his brown eyes met mine again, even with the indigo that surrounded us. They were so bright, golds so prominent like the moon dancing with stars.

"The boys and I are having a party tonight." He said, "I was hoping you could stop by."

My mind playing tricks splitting like a Gemini on a off day, one part wanting to cover my face with apple crisp ice cream. The other was Matty opening the door to the passenger seat of his car.

++

The party was smaller than I had thought about on the drive here. Just a handful of friends, good brews and fresh tunes.

Matty grabbed me a drink before grabbing my hand and pulling me to the dance floor. I was never much for parties or the way my hips move off beat. But for Matty's hands to lay on my waist as his wine breath danced along the skin of my neck. I was fabricating more ways in my head for this feeling to be more frequent. The past thoughts of earlier as I was dealing with guilt for Friday. Were beginning to feel sighs of reliefs with all the words Matty babbled and the laughs he caused to ripple against the music.

More people started coming in from the yard, changing the vibe and it was getting more difficult to listen to Matty talk. Finding the words that would fall so easily were being replaced by nods and smiles. Trying to hint a bit that it was beginning to be crowded and he was all I wanted to listen too.

"Let's go to my room." He slightly slurred without waiting for a response, his hand moving from the fabric resting on my waist. Now running along into my hand as he moved through the crowd till we reached stairs.

He turned the knob of a door covered in nonsense stickers of bands till we entered his room. The room loosely matched his door, posters in multiple different sizes overlapping, collages, and a tapestry of different faces he admired plaster on the walls. I looked around, Matty turning on a lamp on his nightstand before sitting on his bed. Silently watching me as I silently observed the things that hadn't fallen from his mouth.

I chuckled to myself as I counted a few more pictures of Prince than Michael Jackson. The first week of his friendliness and his one man protest of who was better coming to mind. "You really think Michael Jackson is better?" I recanted, pointing out some of the snippets of articles I had found. "Okay, maybe. But Prince definitely has killer style." He replied as I shook my head in amusement. Trailing my eyes to the colorful bookshelf with bold names seeping. Picking up Leaves of Grass by Walt Whitman. A book I had all intentions of picking up in the bookstore back home, but it never made it to the register.

The sound of a lighter clicking as Matty lit his menthol was followed with his towering figuration standing from his gray duvet covered bed.

"Ever read it?" He asked, the cigarette moving with every curl of his lip. Wrapping his fingers around it as he pulled it away to exhale. I shook my head, a look of surprise gracing his face. The English major failing to read a book that fallen between cracks and rolled up lists.

I watched as he brought the cigarette back to his perfectly formed lips, inhaling once before exhaling into a question. "Do you remember your first English class?" He began, middle school replaying in my mind, Ms. Lindsay's pretty floral dress, the posters aligning the walls with every author you could imagine. She was a big part of my decision of devoting my life into words, journals and novels.

Matty's voice breaking me from my memory, "Remember when they taught you to never judge a book by it's cover?" He added, I looked back down at the book that was falling to pieces, the cover was beginning to wear and the colors becoming stale. "Even if it's a over read story or just a plot you'll never fully understand?" Inhaling once again, "Or just a author with too much exposure?" I ran my fingers over it's folded pages, the old and fresh notes made in the indents.

All his questions beginning to connect like the lining of the book. Matty was a book, folded at it's edges, full of knowledge and secrets some old from past lives, some new. Over read like the one in my hands.

I looked up at Matty who was beginning to raise his hand to take another swing of his cigarette. I had other ideas when I gently grabbed his wrist before I reached up and met his lips with mine. He was taken back my sudden action, making two of us. I was nervous about what I had begun but it all subsided when his hands wrapped around my waist. Pulling me closer, tasting what I was about to guard myself from, like he was a banned book that I was going to go through all lengths to read.

[95liners3rdmember]

Worth It

Chapter Five: The Note 

Word Count: 3070

Chapter Four: Whelp...

After a very long and somewhat restful weekend, I’m on my way back into work. Over the weekend Hoseok, Jin and Jungkook made an appearance at my apartment to check up on me. Namjoon and Yoongi both made an effort by texting me, knowing that I really wanted to be left alone. Taehyung made a whole scene out of it though, he came bursting through the door with his boxy smile turned on and a bag of take out. Taehyung was actually very helpful with planning my sister’s flights. But I think the gesture that really threw me off was a text from an unknown number telling me that they hoped I’d feel better soon. My gut instinct tells me that it’s the one member that didn’t make his presence known. It was sweet of them and very thoughtful.

Early this morning, everyone left for Osaka which meant the minimal staff is left at the company. It’s going to be lonely for the next two weeks without them around but it gives me time to work at my own pace. There are a few things that I want to change before teaching everyone. I even want to brainstorm over the new solo songs.

Moving into an isolated practice room, I connect the camera to the tripod and connect it to the tv. But first I need to call my sister and walk through the plan for her plane ride.

Nat’s face brightens up the screen as she smiles widely. There’s music playing softly in the background and instantly I can tell that it’s a BTS song. She’s going to lose her mind when she finds out that in a few weeks she will be in the same room as them.

“Well hello dear elder sister. To what do I owe this call?”

“Weirdo. I’m just calling to tell you that I’ve emailed you a ticket this morning. Pack your bags, you’re coming to Seoul.”

“Are you SERIOUS?! I didn’t actually think you’d fly me out.”

“I aim to please. You’ll be staying for a week. But there are a few rules to go over. Those can wait till you get here though.”

“You are literally the best, hold on ...I can stay for a week?!”

The screen is paused as she looks at the tickets I sent her. The gut aching laugh I let out echoes around the room. If anyone were to walk by they would think I’m som crazy person. Dropping down on to the floor, mindful of the knee, I lay flat against the ground and hover the phone above me.

“I think Jimin doesn’t like me.”

It comes out of the blue and the entire vibe between us shift from lighthearted to serious. The smile that was on my face a few seconds ago fades and turns into a deep frown.

“I understand that I wasn’t supposed to make friends with them and get too close but I need to have some sort of relationship with each member. But I feel like Jimin honestly doesn’t trust me or my dancing ability.”

As the words flow out my heart clenches up and aches. Deep down I would love to be close friends with them. But considering who they are and their statuses, there’s no way that can really happen. The only reason why Namjoon and I have been able to keep our friendship is because of the distance. I know that we are going to bicker and disagree on a few things here and there since we will be seeing each other everyday. But him and I can work through it.

Jimin and I though ...that's another story.

“You’re worrying too much y/n. I know that deep down you wanted Jimin to be impressed and that you looked forward to working with him the most. Just give him some time and space. Maybe everything will be worked out when he comes back from tour.”

We stare at the screens in silence as the words sink in. I maybe did come off a little too bossy when I talked to him in the practice room, but I had good intentions. I’ve seen in the past when he overworked himself and I just want to make sure that doesn’t happen again.

“Plus he’s your bias so you’ve always ha-”

“Seriously! SHHH! We aren’t going to bring that up when you’re here either. And I wouldn’t say bias, more like someone I look up to.”

Nat wiggles her brows and I huff out in annoyance. If she acts like this here, then I’m screwed.

Saying a quick goodbye, I turn off my call and connect my phone to the speaker system. It’s on a random playlist that I created. Mostly made of BTS songs but a few other bands are thrown in there.

Dancing alone has always left me with the feeling of peace. I’m not having to worry about teaching someone else or keeping rhythm with another person. There’s no tension, my body can just relax and move with the music. It clears my head to where I don’t have to worry about anything besides the steps. Nothing outside of the closed door of the practice room matters.

It works at first but in all honesty I’m still trying to piece together a way to either apologize to Jimin or get him to warm up to me. The first two days seemed like we would get along just fine. I’m guessing I overstepped a boundary. But if that was Jimin that texted me, why didn’t he just use the number Taehyung gave me?

The other night we were getting along just fine too. But...ugh...Why am I having such a hard time with this? Better yet why am I letting it get to me so much?

Just as my foot lands on the floor my knee tweaks which causes me to shuffle and spin down to the ground. Here I was thinking it was completely healed. Looks like I’ll have to take the rest of the day easy and sit in my office. I know that they were supposed to be sending out emails of concept ideas for tour and stage layouts. Also, I need to get all of the backup dancers scheduled next month to teach them too.

Looks like I’m going to call it a day on dancing. I’ll have to take everyone’s advice about going slow and taking my time. Taking down all of the equipment doesn’t take long and before I know it I’m back at my office door. My hand rests on the handle but what stops me from entering is the note taped on the glass.

‘Ms. y/l/n please come to the front desk at your earliest convenience. Thank you.’

Strange. Quickly I open the door to set everything down and to change out of my tank top into a loose button up before leaving the room again.

The halls are quiet as I make my way down to the main lobby. With most of the staff gone, it seems strange being in the company. I can’t go and crash in Namjoon’s studio while he’s working to kill some time. Turning the corner I see a few other staff walking towards one of the break rooms, they wave hello and I returned the gesture with a wide smile. Even though I’m the newest addition to the BigHit team they all have been very nice and welcoming. At the front desk is a woman, she looks to be around my age or slightly older, who’s typing away at the computer in front of her.

“Hello, I was told to come down.”

“Oh hello y/n. I was wondering when I was going to meet you. Oh yes, there was a delivery here for you. We tried to take it to your office for you but we figured you were in the practice room and didn’t want to bother you.”

“A delivery?”

Why would I be getting something delivered here at the company? If my family were to send something they would at least give me a notice so I knew to look for it. Scrunching my brows I watch as she grabs out a white envelope and holds it out for me. Hesitantly I take it and examine the outside. There’s nothing written on it at all. No name or anything.

“Are you sure this is for me? It’s not addressed to anyone.”

The smile on her face falters for a moment, almost like she’s trying to figure out what to say. Quickly she recovers and smiles even wider.

“I’m sure it’s for you. Have a great day y/n! Maybe we could get lunch one day while bangtan is out on the road?”

“Oh… sure um…”

“Mina, I’m Mina. Just let me know when you’re free. I’ll see you soon.” She waves again and then turns her attention to the postman that snuck in during our conversation.

Walking slowly down the hallway, my fingers gently tear open the envelope and pull out a neatly folded letter. My heart stills and drops to my stomach as I read the writing slowly.

‘When I come back, I’d like to talk. I hope you feel better and don’t overdo yourself while we are gone.

Jimin’

That was completely unexpected. Tucking the paper back into the envelope, I feel myself start to get anxious. There’s no doubt in my mind that he wants to talk about what happened, but this could go one of two ways. Hopefully it goes the way I want it and we will be friendly. But the world works in mysterious ways sometimes.

Shortly after dinner I find myself lying on the couch in complete boredom. Today was a productive day at least, I managed to finish out the schedule for the next few months. The company also hired someone to assist me for when I teach the backup dancers. There’s a few dances where we will need them so the help is welcomed. Fake Love is coming along, next we are going to work on Idol and the Mic Drop remix.

The videographer told me that there was going to be a lot of shooting for those two and his concepts sound really impressive. It’s almost intimidating. There’s going to be a lot of work put into all of the music videos for the Love Yourself trilogy so I need to make sure that all of the members have the moves down and are comfortable doing them. We all are going to have to work hard but it will pay off.

Across the room my phone starts ringing, who could be calling me this hour? Rolling myself off the couch I shuffle to the countertop to grab the phone. I should’ve paid attention to who was calling.

“Hello…”

“Hi y/n…” A deep voice speaks out my name with a little accent behind it. To me the person sounds like someone who’s been drinking at dinner and it ready for bed.

My eyebrows scrunch together as I pull the phone away from my ear to look at the screen. It’s an unknown number, actually it’s the unknown number that texted me the other day while I was resting.

“Jimin?”

Why would he be calling me? From what he wrote, he wanted to wait until he came back to talk. In the background I can hear a few other voices, from what I can hear it sounds like Taehyung and Jungkook. The line is silent on his end for a long moment and just as I go to say something else he responds.

“Sorry. I should’ve called on my other phone.”

“Is everything okay?” Something in his tone makes me start to worry. The loud noises behind him vanish as the slamming of a door hits my ear. Wincing at the loud noise, I pull out a barstool so I can lean against the countertop.

“Did you get my note?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I just wanted to make sure that you did. Good night y/n, see you in a few weeks.”

The phone call goes dead and I’m left staring at the black screen. What was that all about? Quickly I dial Namjoon’s personal number and within two rings he answers with a concerned voice.

“Is everything alright?”

“I’m not sure. Have you spoken with Jimin in the past hour?”

“We all just got back from dinner. The maknae line stayed a little longer than I did. Why?”

“I just got a call from him. It was strange honestly. Has he been acting weird?”

There’s a deep chuckle and the sound of someone falling onto the bed. I can tell that he’s in deep thought as a long sigh escapes. My fingers fidget against the cold countertop and tap to a random beat.

“He’s been acting different ever since that day in the practice room. All weekend he kept away from all of us while he packed. During dinner Jimin was checking both of his phones too. Normally he has his personal phone hidden just in case we have to record anything. It’s safer that way.”

So Namjoon has noticed Jimin being different. My fingers stop tapping as he finishes his examination, placing my phone down I turn in on speaker. Getting up from my spot I walk to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of wine. After that phone call I need one.

“He left me a note at the company Joon.” My voice drops to a quiet tone as I take my seat again. Typically I steer clear of the nickname but since it’s just the two of us, it’s fine to drop the walls. Over the years we’ve been each other’s outlet when times were rough, when life wanted to throw a curveball big enough to destroy, and when we just couldn’t go to anyone else.

“Joon huh? It’s been awhile since you called me that. But he left you a note? That explains why he was late getting to the cars this morning. Do I want to know?”

“He wants to talk after the concerts. Also he hoped I would get better and not overwork myself.”

“Hmm… Jimin is a very caring person. Yoongi hyung and I notice the way he behaved the day you got hurt. He’s always the first to come running when someone’s hurt, Jimin was fighting against every natural instinct he has.”

“I think he was surprised at how headstrong you seem y/n. It’s not like you crossed the line or being unreasonable. Honestly if I would’ve introduced you two I wouldn't be surprised if you and Jimin haven’t become better friends than us. You two just need to talk when we all get back.”

Its times this these that I wish I had Namjoon’s wisdom and insight. Taking a long sip from the glass I look around my empty apartment and mentally kicked myself for not going with them. But that just makes their arrival even more anticipated.

“I guess I should trust you. Afterall you are Kim Namjoon, leader of BTS, IQ of 148.” Chuckling at my joke I finish off the small amount of wine left in the glass. The screen of my phone lights up again, Namjoon wants to FaceTime. Pressing the button, I prop my phone up against a random vase that was sitting on the counter. Namjoon is sitting at a makeshift desk with his laptop setup ready to produce. Always working, never resting.

“You know, it’s not too late to come down here.”

“Bang PD and I both agreed that it would be better if I waited until the home concerts. After all I don’t have the concert experience that everyone else has. The last thing I want to do is get in the way.”

The corner of his lip tugs in a knowing look. Holding my finger up, I move to make myself another glass as I pull my hair out from the messy bun. Namjoon is working on something when I return back to my seat, his jaw is sticking out as he focuses on the large screen.

“This reminds me of when I was trying so hard to learn Korean while you were working overtime to write songs.” I got him to crack a smile as his hands typed away.

“Glad I could be of some help.”

He’s distracted by whatever is going on on his end. Namjoon switches between typing on the keyboard and texting on another phone. Slumping down, I rest my chin in the palm of my hand before taking a lazy sip.

“I’m going to get off of here Joon. You’re trying to work and I have a feeling that you only FaceTimed me to keep me some type of company.”

That gets him to freeze all movement. Flashing him a quick smile I wave goodbye and end the call. The silence around me feels heavy. For the past week I’ve relied too much on the company of Namjoon and the others. Part of the reason I accepted this was so I could gain independence. So I could learn to live by myself, learn who I am and live the life I wanted.

Scanning through social media, I see the tweets of Armys sharing photos of the members from the airport. Armys saying how excited they are for the upcoming concerts. It makes my heart happy to see the love and support they all get. They’ve worked so hard but there’s also no doubt in my mind that there’s still a few more hurdles they have to leap. Hopefully I will be able to be by their side when that happens.

Taking the last sip of my wine, I wash the glass out quickly before turning all of the lights out on my way to my bedroom. Setting out my clothes for tomorrow I crawl into bed, my head fuzzy from the two rushed glasses of wine. Part of me wishes I could have a jam packed schedule tomorrow so time would fly by but in all reality I want time to skip forward. I want to talk with Jimin to clear the air and possibly start over. But that’s not how life works. For the next few weeks I’ll have to keep myself busy and try to distract myself to help time pass by.

[peachyteabuck]

ceo chronicles, pt i. ~ peggy carter

series summary: a set of fics based off of the main au of sugar baby/mommy or daddy dynamics and ceo aus. each fic involves a separate universe wherein each charcter is the ceo of a different company and you’re their sugar baby. sexy times ensue. 

fic summary: anyone as busy and important as peggy carter needs a good stress coping mechanism. ms. carter has tried everything from yoga to stress balls to acupuncture to cross stitch. none of them worked, until she found you. 

pairing: sugar baby!reader x ceo!peggy carter. takes place in modern times. 

words: 2,020

trigger warnings: harold, they’re lesbians. oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, dirty talk, d/s dynamics, anal, dirty talk, degradation, overstimulation

notes/other: there is not enough peggy carter smut on the internet, and i have taken upon myself to fill that gap. enjoy!

ask box / masterlist / commission info / ko-fi

The minute you step into the impeccably decorated office with its modern décor and light blue walls, you silently walk behind Peggy’s grand black desk and fall to your knees on the small plot of carpeting to her right. You know exactly where to go, you’ve been hers for so long there are even two indents for where your knees go in the plush, light grey material.

One of Peggy’s famous “mmm”s catches your attention, your spine straightening and shoulders pushing back. “Are you wearing the collar?” she asks, foregoing looking at you to write something on the large desk calendar that she’s fucked you on at least four times this quarter. While doesn’t so much as gaze at you, your eyes are trained directly on her - just as she likes it.

“Yes, Mistress,” you tell her. As you speak your throat bumps against the collar secured loosely around the base of your neck. The high neckline on the fluffy, white pink sweater you’re wearing hides it well to strangers and Peggy’s staff, but the diamond-encrusted leather is still very well known to you and the other woman in the room. The weight of it is enough to make you remember it’s there, but Peggy always likes readjusting it herself when she snaps the matching leash into place. All you want to do is run your fingers over the block letters as your heart races, it’s always calming; a reminder that you’re hers. It’s a nervous habit, to rub at where it rests under your strategically-chosen clothes. Somehow it makes you feel safe, untouchable. You never slip your finger into the silver O-ring, though, that’s Peggy’s only stipulation. Only she can attach leashes or chole you with it. Still, you pull down the top enough to reveal the small piece of metal, so your fingers can twitch as they trace its outer edges.

“Good, Pet,” she murmurs, still not looking your way. She sounds distracted, moment later typing out (what you assume is) an email at her average lightning speed. It doesn’t take long for the familiar two-tone notification that signals replies to sound, and within seconds of opening it she tsks at her screen. You can’t tell whether it’s at you or whoever she’s replying to, but that doesn’t matter. What matters is that Mistress is disappointed, and it is her Pet’s job to make her forget her troubles and feel better.  

“What is wrong, Mistress?” you ask, taking special care not to touch her as you scoot closer to her.

Peggy shrugs, rolling her eyes. “An asshole from the Barnes corporation, you know the one whose CEO wants a merger?” You nod, but her eyes remain locked on the screen. “Keeps readjusting the meeting times to discuss some of the NDAs his boss wants me to sign. It’s really pissing me off.”

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

“Oh,” she sighs, finally turning to you. Her famous red lips curl up into a genuine smile as she caresses your jaw with a soft hand. “It’s not your fault.”

You squirm, unsatisfied. “Is there anything I can do make you feel better, Mistress?”

Peggy’s grin, though sweet, also borders on sinister. Not one that you fear, necessarily, but one that still sends shivers down your spine. Without looking back, she calls for her assistant, who immediately appears.

“Yes, Ms. Carter?” He asks. His name is Steve, you’re told, and he’s a scrappy, hard-working kid who mostly got a job for the health insurance.

Now you capture her unwavering attention, her mischievous squint and devious smirk only focused on you. “Clear my schedule for the next hour.”

“Yes Ms. Carter,” Steve recites the usual response. “I’ll do that now.

Peggy bites her lip as she watches you squeeze your thighs together, the material of your leggings doing nothing to hide your arousal.  “Actually…make it two.”

The next few beats are silent, the both of you unsure of the next move. Peggy waiting to make sure you’re as desperate as she likes (which is very, very desperate), you to see what she wants from you this time. If she’s planning on something rough, she likes to ease into it. Today she seems just tired, stressed, looking for an outlet to release her frustrations on. Per usual, that outlet is you.

“Strip,” she commands, voice taunt. You do as you’re told, carefully taking off each item of clothing before folding and placing them on one of the chairs on the other side of the office before returning to your spot on the floor. “Good pet,” she praises, running her blood-red nails over your lips before pushing her thumb onto your tongue. You suck on it, swirling your tongue around the rough pad of her finger and the smooth, polished nail. As she lifts her hand you move with her, following her lead as she moves you between her legs.

You know what to do, know that she likes her shoes off and skirt pulled off to prevent the expensive item from wrinkling. Peggy obviously planned for this day to be long, as she’s just wearing a sweater that’s now creased from when it was tucked into her skirt. It’s her own version of “casual,” her own vision for a lazy day. The soft knit sometimes slips down her stomach and rubs against your forehead as you kiss over her black lace panties and push them aside to sink a finger into her heat.

“Such a good little kitten,” she sighs happily. Her eyes are closed, bottom lip between teeth. Each soft kiss you leave across her lips causes a small, gaspy moan to slip from her mouth. “God, you’re so good at this, aren’t you? Love being Mistress’ little slut, huh?”

You nod, tongue dipping in and out of her wetness. It’s easy to get her worked up, even when she’s as stressed as she is now. But that’s your job, isn’t it? To make sure Peggy’s able to be focused on her job and her company and her meetings and her business partners and making sure nobody tries to take her down because every fucking man in this world thinks she’s not tough or smart or good enough to be as powerful as she is combined with everything else she has to worry about that is always trying to make her work-pleasure scale out of balance. It’s your job to see that she’s always able to focus on the tasks in front and ahead of her.

You can tell she’s about to come when her thighs start squeezing around your head and her hand starts grabbing at the nape of your neck to push your forward. Peggy needs to stay quiet; the walls are thick, but her screams are famous for leaking through any material the world sets before her. Even as she bites down on her sleeve and digs her heels into the base of her spine, loud moans bounce off the walls. The small “Oh, fuck baby”s and “right there, pet”s keep you going, even when you’re trapped and become light-headed from the lack of oxygen. She reaches her orgasm with three fingers stuffed inside of her and your mouth latched to her clit, her legs tensing around you before melting at your sides. You don’t stop, though, as she grips at your hair and falls back in her chair. You won’t stop until Mistress tells you to.

Peggy ends up pushing you away with her foot, leaning over to grab a key that’s hidden in a secret compartment below her overflowing pen cup. Her hands shake from pleasure as she unlocks the drawer closest to the floor. From it she pulls a matte black strap on attached to a matching leather harness. Easily, she manhandles you into position, tugging the toy on with one and rubbing at your dripping folds with the other.

“So wet and ready for me, huh kitten?” She purrs as two fingers drip inside of you. You mewl, your own fingers gripping at the edge of the desk. “Always such well-behaved little slut.”

Peggy pulls your fingers out and positions herself at your entrance, giving you a fraction of a second to recognize her next move before she begins plowing into you with long, steady strokes. Within moments she’s got one foot on the table and one hand in your hair for a better angle, the slant of her body finding that special spot inside of you that makes you cry out in pleasure every time her hips press into your ass. Soon, almost too soon, you start begging to come, desperate for release. The sounds that leave your throat aren’t cute and high-pitched like before, they’re closer to deep, guttural sobs that surprise even Peggy as she bends down to coo in your ear.

“Such a greedy slut for Mistress’ cock, aren’t ya?” Her distinctive accent becomes thicker with every word, each met with an unmelodic squeak from you. “C’mon, tell Mistress how much you love her cock.”

You’re close, she knows this. She knows if you shift any of the brain power that’s going to not coming to speaking you won’t be able to walk by the time she’s done with you. Still, disobeying might be the worst outcome of all the others. At first the words are small and strangled, but soon enough they begin to flow from your mouth like water from a drain during a rainstorm. “Oh, god yes Mistress, yes I love your cock. I love the way you fuck me and use me, love the way you use me like the fuck doll I am, love the way I take all your stress away. Love being the plaything you call in when every man at work pisses you off, love knowing that when you want to fire all of them. Love knowing every Wednesday when you get paid means you get to spoil me and fuck me until I can’t walk or speak or- oh!”

Peggy’s slipped out of you, pressing a larger toy – a vibrator, you soon become aware – into your pussy. You’re about to asks why she stopped, if you can come, if she’s going to continue, but then you’re slack-jawed as she slips two lube-covered fingers into your tight asshole. “Figured you’d like that, huh baby girl?”

All you can is gulp as gasp, her thigh leveled to keep the thick toy in your cunt and her fingers slowly working you open. You don’t protest as she pushes you to the floor, can’t object to her stopping to move you into another position – this time on your back – as she slips the strap onto into your ass. You feel so stuffed; both your holes being fucked at once and Peggy rubbing at your clit. “C-can I cum, Mistress?” you beg, tears welling up in the corners of your eyes before falling down your cheeks. You’re sure the mascara Peggy bought you is running now, smeared just like your lip glosses and eyebrows.

She leaves a light kiss at your temple before whispering into your ear. “Cum all you want, kitten.”

Your orgasms come quickly, your body still convulsing from the pulses of the last when the next one hits. By the end you’re crying fat tears onto the wooden floor as your limbs shake and shudder involuntarily. Somewhere in the back of your mind you try to count how many orgasms you had, but you quickly lose count at six.

The air around you suddenly cools as Peggy pulls away, redressing herself before wrapping you in quilts that smell like her and dragging you onto the couch to sleep. Sometimes if the play was light she’d send you home, but with how tired and dehydrated and deep into substance you are she doesn’t want to leave you alone. She quickly texts to switch all her appointments to remote so she can keep an eye on you as you rest, wrapped in thick quilts as you fall asleep.

Everything okay? Steve texts back.

Peggy smiles at your sleeping form as she types her reply.

Yeah, everything’s perfect.

[katytheinspiredworkaholic]

Wip Wednesday

Untitled Fic (Correspondence)

Summary/Story so far: HotchReid, slow burn, AU where Reid never joined the FBI, but got roped into consulting for the LA field office while working and teaching at Caltech. Hotch gets his email from a fellow agent, and they start to work on cases together – until they start talking on a regular basis. Regular becomes frequent, frequent becomes constant. This goes on for months, their tentative friendship turning to flirtatious virtual dates, and now that Hotch knows how old Spencer actually is the barriers just continue to break down one by one. The next escalation? Stepping up from text messages... to a phone call. But it isn’t planned, or how either imagined it would be. In fact, it all begins because of a case...

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4)

(Set in late season 6/early season 7, unbeta’d, first draft)

(Without getting into spoilers I’m going to skim over the how and the why of Hotch knowing Spencer’s age now, just know it happens. It had to at some point, right? But they both still don’t know what the other looks like, or even heard each other speak... until now.)

-

Spencer doesn’t even see the caller ID flash across his phone screen. He's too busy with the security work he’s been buried in all morning. A project that the Attorney General sent to their department, specifically, and yet Spencer always gets roped into completing it on his own. Because ‘you can finish it faster than all of us combined, have at it tiger’, and while he may have the Ph.D.’s and titles to back up his academic positions, he’s still the newest and youngest member on the board. Seniority trumps intellect, yet again. He hates bureaucracy with a passion. But Spencer doesn’t even bother to look down at his phone when it rings, just reaches over for it blindly with a half-suffering sigh. Phone calls are always consultations, or requests from other universities, or students and faculty calling in for favors, or something else that isn’t as important to him whatsoever.

Not like Hotch is.

But Hotch is always a text. Spencer knows that text tone, his heart skips when it chimes, his ear is trained for it now. This morning, however, that’s not what happens. His phone rings, and he answers like he always does during office hours. Not even looking up from his work as he puts his phone to his ear.

“This is Dr. Reid.” 

There’s a heavy pause on the line, and Spencer is in the middle of writing out an equation that takes up half a page of his notebook. Too busy to notice it right away.

“... Dr. Reid, this is SSA Hot--” the man stops, clears his throat, voice pitching even lower in an attempt to quiet the conversation. Wherever he is at. “... it’s Hotch.” 

Spencer’s heart literally stops in his chest.

The deep bass, reverberating tones, ring in his ears like church bells and he doesn’t quite comprehend what is happening even as his mind whirls. Stalled, like a car engine that is being revved uselessly, to no avail. 

There’s no way…

“H-Hotch?” 

If he was in his right mind whatsoever, instead of stunned speechless, Spencer would have winced at the breathless sound he just let out.

“I didn’t -- I’m sorry, this wasn’t how I wanted our first phone conversation to go,” Hotch says, his voice clear and concise and smooth as water flowing over river stones. Just as cool, somehow, and yet there’s warmth in the layers underneath. They weave their way in after he apologizes, earnestly, like a small dam breaking in his cadence. He truly was sorry that he had sprung himself on Spencer like this, bringing them into a new light. Another barrier broken between them. “But I need your help.”

That shakes Spencer out of his mild panic. His irrational worry about how he sounds on the phone -- how young he sounds on the phone, because it’s far too late to do anything about that, now -- or how his voice cracks when he answers the older man. Still partially in shock, mind racing to righten itself, somehow.

“R-Right. Yes, of course. You’re still on your case, in Wyoming?” It all comes out in a rush as Spencer closes his notebook and stands up from his desk in a shot, immediately pacing along one of his floor-to-ceiling bookshelves in his office. Free hand raking through his hair to ground himself.

“Yes, the geographical profile is too complex for us to decipher and we don’t have time to cycle it through digitally. There’s a snow storm up here, we have next to no service. I can’t even get text messages or email out… just phone calls. Emergency phone calls.” There’s an authority to Hotch’s voice that just feels like it fits him, and his job, and how Spencer remembers their first emails sounding -- it’s nothing like how they text, how they message each other at all hours of the night and make each other laugh on different sides of the country. He finds he likes it, though, finds it soothing in a way that calms his rattled nerves the more he speaks, and gets Spencer to focus on the task at hand. Hotch’s team is on a case, people are dead, a killer is on the loose. Hotch needs his help. “It also means we can’t access anything from the home office at Quantico, so we’re stuck up a creek at the moment.”

“I’m faster than a computer, anyway, have Ms. Garcia send it all over to me as soon as she can,” Spencer tells him, putting his phone between his ear and shoulder as he scoops up his laptop and races out of his office. Making a beeline towards the conference room where he’ll have more room to work. Spencer is already logging into his email and closing the door with his foot for privacy when he juggles his phone to his hand. “I’m putting you on speaker, but it’s just me in here. I can start when I have everything.” He drops his cell to the table and leans over it as he sets up, clearing off the work space as quick as his frantic hands allow. 

But something stops him. Spencer pauses in his shuffling of papers left over from that morning’s meetings as a thought sticks in the forefront of his mind. Entirely inappropriate, considering the circumstances, but… face flushed red and eyes darting to the phone -- Hotch’s name there above the call time duration -- Spencer licks his lips nervously and asks, anyway. 

“... am I on speaker there?”

“Not yet, I was about to switch you over.”

“Wait! I just --” he pauses, flushing further at his outburst, and he knows his words have gone a little breathless and high and he’s embarrassed by it all but... he has to say it. The development is too shocking, too out of their realm of influence. If and when they had planned on moving up from texts to phone calls, it wouldn’t have gone like this, or have had this much urgency. It’s still the first time Spencer has ever heard Hotch speak, and he can’t ignore how groundbreaking that is. What it’s changing between them, even as they work on a case that requires all their attention.

“-- I really like the sound of your voice,” he admits, his own words quieted because he knows this isn’t the time or the place. “The decibels are soothing, which is so fascinating to me and I’m sure there’s a science behind it, I’ll have to look it up later. And…it’s close to how I pictured you might sound… but better?” God, Spencer never stumbles over words like this and he clears his throat as he tries to righten his composure to something a little less… awestruck. Focus. They have a case. “Will you -- can we talk tonight, too? Please.” 

“Of course,” Hotch says quietly, assuringly, and his voice rumbles through the speaker on the table. Spencer feels it like a shockwave, from shaking breath to numb fingertips. He’s glad he’s leaning against the table, when it happens, because he goes a little lightheaded from it. “You’re… just as I expected.” And there’s a tone there that says it like praise, and Spencer’s heart feels light as air. “We’ll talk more about it later,” Hotch promises, and suddenly Spencer can hear a door opening on the other end of the line and a click of sound as the police station background noise filters through the conference room. “You’re on speaker with my team,” Hotch says, his voice a little bit further away, but not any less stronger for it. “This is Dr. Spencer Reid at CalTech, he’s going to finish the geographical profile for us.”

(tbc...)

[springfieldpublishers-blog]

SPRINGFIELD PUBLISHERS AIM & SCOPE

Springfield Publishers is an international open access journal that publishes original research articles, making for the best peer-reviewed content worldwide. On this platform, we curate content that ranges from scientific manuscripts, peer-reviewed articles and perspectives, opinion essays and other academic research material.We believe that learning is for everyone, which is why the content published on our journal is completely free and can be accessed from anywhere in the world, on any device. We encourage our readers to learn about the current scientific discoveries, the stories behind them and the great minds building it.Budding from our love for science and solving the world's problems, we invite authors, academicians and other science affectionades to join our community and participate in our content and support our readership all over the world. Let’s strive to deliver original and authentic scientific content together!Our community consists of internationally acclaimed authors, reviewers, editors, scientists and other scientific academicians, who work tirelessly to uphold the publishing standards of our content and ensure it is of excellent quality, relevant to our audience and the current industry trends. Springfield Publishers logo Aim & Scope

At Springfield publishers, our aim is simple. We want to provide the best-in-class content from all faculties of science, that will lead to big discoveries and cures. Ultimately we hope to open the doors to a better world, through upliftment of public health, alternative resources, and a better life for our future generations.Our scope has no limits. We accept articles from across all fields of science, medicine, biotech, research and other scientific backgrounds, in all formats and forms. All we ask for, is that the content be original, authentic and not submitted for review elsewhere or published on any online or offline platform.Mission & VisionOur mission is to uplift the standards of the publishing by providing our community with quality and quantity of content. We hope that such depth and breadth of content will become catalysts for positive interactions in the scientific community that leads to great discoveries and change.Our vision, over the next few years, is to see our readership grow tenfold by ensuring that our Editorial Board engages with young and experienced science academicians to grow our content discovery, bring authentic stories of research and real-time insights to our publication.Join the community, be a published academician today! Send your manuscript to us through our online portal.

SPRINGFIELD PUBLISHERS AUTHOR GUIDELINES

Springfield Publisher welcomes authors from everywhere throughout the world to submit imaginative articles and research discoveries for publication. Authors may submit work with any scientific subject of expertise. Articles submitted to Publisher name undergo rigorous peer review to guarantee the highest quality. Stringent author rules additionally secure publication quality to enable scientific papers to arrive at the biggest group of spectators possible.Guidelines·         Authors ought to set up their original article in English and submit the outcome file to Managing Editor at Email. The source documents of the original article can be in either pdf or MS word for its acknowledgment·         There are no charges for article submission. Authors need to pay after publication of the article·         Authors can discover article processing charges of the Journals at Springfield Article handling charges page·         Authors can present their original manuscript on the web. Upon submission an affirmation will be produced for future reference, where authors can follow the article's status·         Submission of an original copy shows an implied understanding that the paper had not published in different journals beforehand and is free from potential irreconcilable situation and individual analysis·         Authors can withdraw their compositions inside 15 days from the date of submission and if there should withdraw after revision of the article, authors expected to pay least processing charges of $50.·         All submissions ought to be in English with look into content, a rundown of catchphrases and the author mailing address·         Article ought to be displayed in a brief way and with exact reports. Stay away from copyright infringement and discontinuity of the workOpen Access PolicyOpen Access Journals was founded with a mission to develop a reliable platform, free and unrestricted access to the data for everyone to read and download. This platform with a sole aim of providing the most trusted scientifically authentic information without restricting the access of published content.We believe that the Promotion of Open Access is crucial to encourage innovations, developments and flow of knowledge throughout the world. Creators/Authors/Innovators/Researchers can self-chronicle their Research Work and this is the version that has been accepted for publication recommended during submission, Double Blinded Peer Review process and in editor-author correspondences but has not undergone formatting and page-setting by the Publisher.Articles which are Published in our Publisher, all are accessible to Researchers/Students totally for nothing out of pocket. Access is made potential by a charge for production that is paid at the time of article acknowledgment, usually by an author’s institution or funder. Articles are published immediately in online, after having acceptance from the Corresponding Author and worldwide they can access through DOI number (Digital Object Identifier) which was standardized by the International Organization for Standardization, provided for each article published in our journal.Hence, all the readers can easily download, print, and read any published article in its entirety. Author preserve copyright of their work, but readers are free to reuse the material (providing proper citations are given).Plagiarism PolicyPlagiarism Policy is a good start for a journal quality, because if the PLAGIARISM was below 5- 30% then the manuscript will be rejected, and the manuscript is sent back to make revision of article. Every one of the articles must contain 75% one of a kind substance (ought not be duplicated from some other web sources). In the Results and end some portion of content the uniqueness must be 100%. The articles having underneath 75% are come back to the writers for amendment and requested resubmissions with sufficient uniqueness.Is PLAGIARISM important before PUBLISHING:Yes, we strictly fallow Plagiarism Policy before publishing, if the manuscript has less unique content the we will alert the same to the author(s) and will ask them to rewrite the content or to cite the references from where the content has been taken, because Whether intentional or unintentional, plagiarism is recognized as a serious academic offence.Acceptance/Rejected5- 70% Plagiarism: The manuscript will not be given an ID and the manuscript will be rejected without the review and the authors are advised to revise the manuscript and resubmit the manuscript. >75% Plagiarism: The manuscript will be accepted for further step of Double blinded peer review process and the manuscript ID will be given to author.Peer Review ProcessPeer review is said to evaluate the strength, quality and also the originality of articles for publication and it is an integral part of scientific publishing that confirms the rationality of the manuscript.A peer review helps the publisher decide whether a work should be accepted. The process of peer review involves in Double blinded review process which meansthat the reviewers of the paper won't get to know the identity of the authors, and the authors won't get to know the identity of the reviewer.Peer reviewers are experts who volunteer their time to help improve the manuscripts they review, and they are the part of journal Growth. A review is an efficient inspection of a document has been done by one or more people with the main aim of obtaining and eradicating errors early in the manuscript’s which was submitted by authors.Peer review process types·         Single blind·         Double blind·         Open reviewSingle Blind: Author’s don’t know who the reviewers are, but the reviewers are aware of the authors’ identity.Double blind: The journal editor does not reveal the reviewers’ credential to the authors and reviewer does not know the authors details.Open review: Authors and Reviewers both know about each other. open access publishers will follow the double-blind process to reducing the possibility of unfairness and fake review comments.The goal of the peer review is to ensure that any research conducted and published is of a high quality and that the published papers are valid and unbiased.For Detailed process of peer review download our flow chart here.Publication Ethics·         Moral norms for production exist to guarantee high-caliber scientific publications, open trust in scientific findings, and that individuals get kudos for their work and thoughts.·         Author must not utilize the words, figures, or thoughts of others without attribution. All sources must be referred to at the point they are utilized, and reuse of wording must be restricted and be ascribed or cited in the content.·   At the point when human experimentation is being reported, a explanation must be incorporated affirming that the work was done as per the proper institutional survey body and did with the moral measures.·         Original copy ought to incorporate a marked explanation of educated agree to distribute (in on the web) quiet portrayals, photos, and families from all people (guardians or lawful watchmen for minors) who can be distinguished in such composed depictions, photos, or families. Such people ought to be demonstrated the original copy before its accommodation.·         In the event that writers have utilized their own recently distributed work, or work that is as of now under survey, as the reason for a submitted original copy, they should refer to the past articles and demonstrate how their submitted composition contrasts from their past work. Reuse of the creators' own words outside the Methods ought to be ascribed or cited in the content. Reuse of the creators' very own figures or generous measures of wording may require consent from the copyright holder and the creators are answerable for getting this.·         Associated ruptures with our production morals approaches, either when distribution, just as worries about research morals, ought to be accounted and supervised by the Our Team.Processing FeePublishing is a self-supporting Publisher, all the manuscripts which are going to publish in our publishers are open access articles. Being an open access Journal, it does not receive payment for subscription as the articles are freely and permanently accessible over the internet. However, we request authors to pay handling fee for publishing after acceptance of our Eminent editorial board members/Reviewers. APC covers web hosting, internet charges, application advancement, employee salaries and so on. But we would like to clarify you that each journal in our publisher has a waiving policy depending on type of manuscripts and currency in a country.Author AdvantagesImproved Visibility We’re dedicated in promoting your research as widely as promoted by enthusiastic press team who work with global media to highlight research of interest to the scientific community. We also guarantee your research is easy to find and cite, making your thoughts and information accessible to other researchers, communities and associations around the world.Reputation We hold our peer review process to the highest of standards and are committed to it, fully. The Editorial Board of each journal determines their peer review policy, while upholding our general expectations. All our editors are backed by our in-house Research Reliability Group who advise on policy, decision-making, plagiarism and principles to make sure every outcome is as fair and clear as possible.Reliable Content Consistent quality and high demand make our publications trusted sources for researchers in organizations and academia. Our journals ensure nearly three times the patent citations of competing publishers, which gives authors a definite mark of trustworthiness within their field of interest.Efficient Publication Our emphasis on a web-based workflow, including electronic submission, has reduced the overall time taken, from submission to online publication and supports authors track the status of their articles throughout the review process. We publish articles, not issues, so there is no further wait added for the entire journal issue to be released.Coordinated Peer review All articles will undergo the journal’s standard self-regulating peer review process. Working alongside our in-house Editorial team, assigned Associate Editors (or Guest Editors, for themed collections) ensure a thorough and transparent process.Publication Recognition We honor the publication of articles with “a FREE digital certificate of publication”. It is a good opportunity for the authors to celebrate the efforts that they made to write and publish their scholarly work with this certificate of Publication Recognition.

SPRINGFIELD PUBLISHES EDITORIAL GUIDELINES

Being an editor, he/she should do their obligations with much devotion to improve the spirit of the journal. It is appropriate to supervise the journal strategies time to time and improving the publisher in keeping up the journal's quality towards serving established researchers.Rules to be pursued·         To improve the methods for journal forms, the editor has to look effectively for the perspectives on editorial board individuals, reviewers, authors·         Empower research into peer audit, innovative advances and re-evaluate journal forms in the light of new disclosures·         Article submitted for peer audit is an honored correspondence that ought to be treated in certainty, taking consideration to protect the authors and work·         An official conclusion regarding acknowledgment, adjustment and dismissal of an original manuscript rests just with the editor. There will be no progressions or obstruction of any kind in the choices of the Editorial Board.·         Editors ought to guarantee that every one of the articles are published by concerning the extent of the journal dependent on pertinence, respectability, logical quality, new information sources, potential intrigue, culmination, clearness and morals.To join as Editor drop your resume at “Online Portal” or send it as attachment to support@springfieldpublishers.com

Advantages as an Editor·

Following one year of proper method, Editor-in-Chief will be reported for each journal dependent on their dynamic support, mastery in the field, commitment towards the Journal and furthermore their commitments.·         We explore every one of the articles of the Editors that are published in our journals, in different long-range interpersonal communication bunches from our end, expanding perceivability for their works.·         Editors can be recognized as senior editor in the concerned journal dependent on their dynamic interest and furthermore dependent on their experience.SPRINGFIELD PUBLISHERS ASSOCIATE EDITOR GUIDELINESEvery Associate Editor of the Editorial Board assumes an imperative job in keeping up the journal measures and peer audit. Generously pursue the rules underneath for Associate Editor.Rules to be pursued·         Aid initiatives to instruct scientists and youthful researchers about publication morals.·         Associate Editors can audit submitted original articles dependent on their practical time, if time doesn't permit evaluating the composition Editors can recommend different reviewers.·         Associate Editor will care for any confidential information with respect to the undertaking. On the off chance that the author has utilized data of real people in any of his medical or scientific records, the Editorial Team must search for composed assent from the person for the record to meet all requirements for publishing.Publication board individuals are generally free to give their significant proposals for authoritative advancement for journals.Advantages as an Associate Editor·         We explore every one of the articles of the Editors that are published in our journals, in different long-range interpersonal communication bunches from our end, expanding perceivability for their works.·         Editors can be recognized as senior editor in the concerned journal dependent on their dynamic interest and furthermore dependent on their experience.·         Journals thinks about Editorials as a note to the youthful specialists and researchers.To join as Associate Editor drop your resume at “Online Portal” or send it as attachment to support@springfieldpublishers.com 

SPRINGFIELD PUBLISHERS REVIEWER GUIDELINES

The job of the reviewers alongside the support of Editorial Board Members is significant in making a decision about the quality of submitted articles through a peer review process. Springfield Publishers attempt an endeavor underwrite high caliber and novel distribution. In view of their research experience and ability, the Editorial Board Members are mentioned to review the submitted articles and research works, as they are capable for achieving peer audit process themselvesResponsibilities·         Reviewers ought not reveal the data in the composition except if it is published and should regard the classification.·         The data in the original article ought not be utilized by the reviewers for their very own advantages and should not impart to another association or person.·         Reviewers at Springfield Publishers are relied upon to acknowledge to review the composition just if they have ability in the concerned subject and are sure to give precise evaluation and suitable report.·         Companion Review Process ought not be affected by the nationality, root, religion, sex and so on of the authors for example there ought to be no discrimination while performing the peer review process.·         Reviewers ought to advise the Editor quickly on the off chance that they find that the original article isn't special and copyright infringement free.·         It ought to be quickly educated to the Editor if the reviewer finds that the original article previously been surveyed by them for some other journal.·         Reviewers are not permitted to contact the authors without the authorization of the Editor.·         Reviewers should answer to the Editor if there is any sort of unfortunate behavior in the original article. CONTACT WITH US Below are the other contact information of 

Springfield Publishers.24/7 Phone+1 (909) 844-1022

Our Address

2102 Business Center Drive, Suite 130, Irvine, California 92612, USA

Official 

Emailinfo@springfieldpublishers.com 

SPRINGFIELD PUBLISHERS EBOOKS Springfield Publishers is a professional blend of Journals and E-books."Our publishers" is a unique intellectual scope encouraging open exchange of knowledge by publishing E-books with open accessibility. We make every effort to deliver the best to the broadest view. Open access E-books covers different disciplines in every aspect of Science, Technology and Medicine. Our E-book collections always encourage high quality research among various disciplines. These have been produced to meet the requirements of students, researchers, established leaders, etc., in their fields.E-books are becoming potential key to obtain knowledge from various fields and Manufacturing book in printed version takes so long but digital version can speed up the process vastly. Each E-book comprises chapters which deliver latest information to readers. Springfield Publishers is an Open Access Online Publishers provides E-books with print copies to authors upon their request. We accept thesis books from Universities, Students, and Researchers.E-books will allow authors and readers to benefit from cutting edge digital publishing capabilities, rapid publication times, and enhanced reader experience as standard that users have come to expect from our online publishing platform. we are able to offer authors the opportunity to publish content in new and exciting ways with interactivity and user customization.Publishing E-books with us, you can count on all these benefits:·         ISBN Number(International Standard Book Number) it is used as a book identifier which is a unique ID restricted for all the published books through which we can access throughout the world.·         E-books are always handy and Easily accessible·         Eco-friendly·         One Device Many books like Hand Library·         Shareable Content·         E-books saves time and spaceOur publishers are the right platform for you E-book, as we strive for-·         Immediate Publishing·         Publishes E-book in Flipping Book and PDF format·         Provides with ISBN number for every article after publishing.·         Archives E-books permanently in our website- A unique self-archiving Policy.·         Provides Reprints if needed·         Earns more Royalty·         Easily Updates·         Offers high quality print on Screen·         Promotes in Social MediaWe not only publish books in online but also promote it through different media by using innovative tools.Springfield Publishers Open Access System does not compromise on quality. Our most stringent quality policy ensures high quality of books published eliminating any discrepancies. Offers high quality of E-books with PDF formats for readers of having their work available throughout the world.Open Access: On the discretion on authors, e-Books can be allowed for open access and downloadable content with potential to reach a larger audience of readers.Springfield Publishers honorably accepting E-books that are written by scholars and influences the learning practice around the world. E-books offer many potential benefits, to access when and where you want to read. It’s a great way to demonstrate knowledge in a creative way and is much more visually appealing than a white paper. The e-book has become the current standard form to have the research work available to the users. Our Springfield Publishers offers high quality of PDF formats for our scholars to have their work available to the world.Lightning quick glance at the required information can now find through e-books as, it’s the hand library available of the users upon one button. We deliver high quality e-print that is viewable on any screen. E-Books are the ones where every individual can afford, as they are freely available with Springfield Publishers. E-Books are embedded with a variety of multi-media elements which are not available with traditional books. Also, audio and video can be implanted to make reading comfortable while accessing the published articles.For submission and other queries contact us at support@springfieldpublishers.com VIDEO ARTICLES Our video manuscripts contain with high-quality photos and complete text procedures which facilitate scientific communicating and production. This covers novel procedures, advanced presentation of existing techniques. Throughout the earth, investigators use our videos as a point of reference in learning and recognizing key models and essential techniques. Video is a strong way to publicize research conclusions, and they have proven effect on manuscript handling metrics.Videos are designed to improving your profile and that of your efforts. Through this television, you can go beyond the limits of the written article to personally explain the importance and value of your work to the journal’s consultation.Video articles should boost a person who reads recognition and knowledge of an item through accessibility and contributing performance of the main results and decisions reported. To rise image and effect, you are clearly motivated to combine tape of yourself with other related material of interest-such as pictures, cartoons, video recording of a research or a laboratory tour.That requires videotapes are the best filmic aid for education. They generate more action through making sheet long data seem to be interesting and associated. Attaching a video to your article it enhances the reading capability of users.In What Manner to use video to publicize your examination?You can add videos in nearly all your manuscripts for promotion efforts.·         Allocate it on your community channels·         Add it on your own website magazine details·         Explain it in your research centers as PPTs·         Utilize it in seminars·         Send it to your students for more recognitionServices presents a qualified Video Design service that turns your results into a charming and accessible overview, perfect for sharing on websites and social media to extend the visibility of your examination.Hear our Magazines brings world latest idea of accessible video journal of study work at very ease and cost useful way. We are distribute deep evaluated open access electronic video journals in diverse fields of science, machinery, health, paintings, humanities and administration.Hear our journals gives a very develop proposal for scientists to make their research live and represent investigational image to the people. this helps to explain the work with their live shoot to all interview. By making this type of videos authors get the rapid experience among their research areas within short time.How to submit our video article?Subject of an Article: Author must submit their article on submission page with the content like Title, affiliation, body of the manuscript and references including with video.After successful dropping of your videoAuthor gets a verification email of successful submission of your video manuscript. Author can also trace any time to verify the progress of your article by our Tracking Procedure.For submission and other queries contact us at support@springfieldpublishers.comREPRINTS IN SPRINGFIELD PUBLISHERS Paper and electronic copies are an outstanding path to distribute and organize your study with partners at symposiums, with associates in your area, or for use in discourses or classes with learners. Once you have got the last page numbers, you can directly request efficiently printed color copies of your manuscript through completing the copies order form.We are providing our authors with PDF copies of their manuscripts at an affordable cost. When you access your PDF copies please follow the confirming your page numbers. Please note that the minimum order quantity is 50 copies.We are offering reprints in two formats:E-print: Electronic copies of article in PDF format and E-prints must be requested in numbers of at least 60. E-prints are print-approved and allow to use as a document purpose.Hard Copy: our journal delivers reprints with superior value & expressly created covers by the journal name & symbol on every page. Additionally, we provide customization option for cover Picture. Manuscript reprints from our papers are an excellent way to instruct your audience and boost your product message. Use our substance to give a useful and respected resource directly to your audienceWe provide two types of reprints:Hard-copy reprints-Copies of original journal articles and book chapters will be printed on high-quality paper. Reprints must be ordered in quantities of at least 50-100.Electronic reprints E-prints are highly encrypted, electronic copies of works in PDF format that you can easily print yourself, distribute via email, will be post on our website.Both formats may be created with official journal covers, company logos, copyrights to the author (subject to approval).How to order reprints or a copy of the issue in which your article appears?For most broadcast journals, you can order reprints and issue copies via the Author’s authorization using the licensing link sent to you at the start of the production process. If this is not the case, the procedure will be outlined on the journal website. If the journal is online-only, print copies of issues are not available.Paper reprints order formPaper reprints are an outstanding way to distribute and publicize your research: with peers at conferences, with colleagues in your field, or for use in lectures or lessons with students. Once you have received the final page numbers, you can order professionally printed color copies of your article by completing the reprints order form.Our paper reprints include:·         the unique logo and front cover page of the issue your article appeared in (it is also possible to request the inside front or inside back cover if you prefer)·         International delivery by courier·         We supply our authors with PDF reprints of their articles free of charge. To access your PDF reprints please follow the link in the email we sent you confirming your page numbers. If you would like to obtain printed reprints of your article, please complete the form on this page once you have received the final page numbers for your article.For pricing and other queries contact info@springfieldpublishers.com SPRINGFIELD PUBLISHERS MEMBERSHIP Springfield Publishers is happy to initiate the concept of Membership in Open Access for the benefit of scientific and technical researchers who publishes with lowest publication fee to encourage their knowledge across the world. Membership establish contacts and create a personal network of active professionals with similar responsibilities and anyone with an interest in scientific research can explore their ideas in the fields covered by our x journals.We offer different types of memberships for Researchers, Scientists, Professors & Students and the funds received from them will cover the APC. We aim to provide the largest pool of Open Access Journals. We are honored to be such a major role to spread knowledge worldwide.We are committed to continual innovation to better support the needs of our communities, ensuring the integrity of the research we publish, and championing the benefits of open research.Various Researchers of various fields around the globe are invited are invited to submit their novel contributions in the form of original manuscripts which will undergo quality check before being approved for publication. Springfield Publishers will publicize them world-wide web through different social media.Benefits of Membership with Springfield Publishers·         Time Saving: Eliminates administrative formalities.·         Cost Saving: We do provide you with cost efficient services.·         Special privileges and waivers on events and conferences organized by the Symbiosis Group.·         More exposure to the member organization·         Springfield Publishers will accept number of submissions from Registered Individual/Department/University/Society for entire one-year tenure period.When you are a part of Springfield Publishers, you'll be able to keep in touch with the latest scientific and technical advancements in the field you will be getting new resources, valuable opportunities, discounts that will help you advance your career in the right direction. Members are entitled to substantially reduced fees for publishing a paper in Springfield Publishers.Advantages·         Open Access publishing promotes knowledge transfers all around the global scientific community; users can discuss the articles in their research communities.·         In Open Access publishers, manuscripts are published relatively quickly, they are peer-reviewed by experts and quality will be maintained and author retains the copyright.·         Open Access includes the increased visibility and citability of publications and all the other advantages of digital use, such as availability anytime, anywhere, being easier to find using search engines.·         In one-word Open Access is a driving force to bring research work online to global scientific world.·         In essence the Membership proposal has the potential to support you in your endeavors. It gives you the advantage of relying on the experience of a reputed honored executive board member team which can guide you on the global best practices and innovative Ideas, which will exclusively benefit to you.·         We together as a committed team assure you that your future aspirations and visions will be safely nurtured. We also assure you that you will feel a sense of refreshing confidence and renewed spirit in your association with us, as we move ahead in our endeavor for a happy trusted fulfilling journey ahead.For pricing and other queries contact info@springfieldpublishers.com

[thefutureismina]

Mina disconnected from her last conference call of the day, grateful for a lighter afternoon and an opportunity to catch up on some emails. Taking a sip of coffee, Mina's thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door. "Yeah?" she called. 

Her assistant poked her head in the door. "Ms. Muto? Ms. Valentine is here to see you." 

Mina was surprised, Mai normally texted before she popped in. A glance at her phone indicated 3 missed messages from her. "Send her in!"

"Well at least one of us is a hard working woman." Taking a seat. "You look stressed, is everything alright? Tilting her head in concern gazing at Mina. She came to vent but suddenly felt selfish. She had sort of neglected everyone the last few days.

Mina gave her friend a small smile, turning one of the screens to show Mai the 20 unread emails in her inbox. At least half were flagged high priority, and were from Seto. "Never a dull moment when your boyfriend keeps you on retainer, and runs one of the largest tech and gaming companies in the world" she mused, shifting the screen back. "But what's up? I'm sorry I didn't get your texts until you got here."

Blankly staring at the emails. She had no idea what anybody of the text meant however it looked menacing. All the feeling of comfort left her, realizing her issue was so small. "I am sorry girl, I should not interrupted your work I'm sorry we'll get together later on how's that sound?" rising from the chair. "Besides I just wanted to see that pretty face in person." Trying to act natural, making her way to the door. 

Mina was not buying it one bit. She knew something was on her friend’s mind. "Mai, are you really going to leave without telling me the reason you actually stopped by?" Sitting back in her office chair now arms folded across her chest. 

Mai hesitated in the door way. "Well I was hoping to talk about you, Seto and I hanging out with Valon. He has never been to a theme park.. maybe Kaiba land? Has Seto ever actually taken the time to enjoy his creation?"

Mina thought for a minute. Mai had a point. "How long have we known him? Have you ever seen him relax when he's dealing with the company?" She asked, smirking at the blonde across from her. 

"You mean outside of the night he asked you out after the Battle City Finals?" Mai winked, then paused. "Actually, he was a hot mess that night too. No, I haven't." 

"There's your answer." Mina replied, grimacing as her email pinged again. Muting her computer, she looked back at Mai and considered her proposal. 'It makes sense to have us break him in, but who knows if I can get Seto to actually relax enough to not be a jerk' Mina thought. 

"So?" Mai asked, leaning forward in her seat. 

"With the expectation that Seto will 100% not relax no matter how much I beg and bribe?" Mina said, half smiling. Mai nodded. "Fine. Let's give him a buzz." Mina hit the top button on her desk phone and a moment later, Kaiba's voice filled the large office. 

"Hey" was all he said. 

"Hey, Mai's here. She has a favor to ask you..." Mina said, and Mai's eyes grew wide.

Positioning her self over the phone. She had the devil in her eyes as she spoke, smiling at Mina. "Oh Hi Seto darling" 

a heavy sigh from the other line. "What do you want Mai." 

"Have I ever told you how pleasant you are to deal with?" Eyes locked on Mina still. 

"Get on with it. You're wasting my time as usual."  

Letting out a sign she went on. "Okay Mr. Sunshine, how about you take Mina out on a double date with Valon and I. You know a REAL date. Not your planned laid up in bed dates that you only seem to know how to do." Calm and collect as her hand shot to Mina’s mouth. "A girl of her caliber needs to be shown off by her man is all I'm saying" winking at her irate friend. 

Sitting on the desk now using her body as a shield so Mina couldn't end the call. Regretting her decision to call Seto. ‘Of course Mai would do this.’ 

A long pause. "You have such a way with words Mai. I am going to let that slide this time. Mina, we will talk about this outside if work." Ending the call. 

She loved harassing him like a sister would. Partly because he knew if he was rude to her, Mai Mina would be upset and he wouldn't want that. "Well I guess I'll go see Atem and Yugi, I'm sure they will make plans with Valon and I. At least that's a start. Let me know how your talk goes!" Practically skipping to the door. 

"Hun, you know I enjoy my relationship right..?" Sitting back in the chair again with her fingers to her temples. ' He is going to be so annoyed.'

Roughly a half hour later, Roland poked his head in the door. "Ms. Muto? If you're ready to go, Mr. Kaiba has asked that you accompany him home this evening." 

Mina looked up from her desk and shook her head, still livid at Mai. "I appreciate it, Roland. But I drove the Porsche this morning, and I wanted to go to the gym for a bit. It's been a long day." 

Roland nodded and closed the door, leaving Mina alone with her thoughts. She didn't want to think about how Mai viewed her relationship with Seto. She knew the depth of his love for her... didn't she? Shaking her head, she stood from her desk and grabbed her gym bag, heading to the en suite bathroom to change. Maybe a quick run would help clear her head. Slipping on her Nikes, Mina grabbed her phone and headphones and headed out of her office to the gym on the 3rd floor. 

3 miles later, Mina slowed down the treadmill, utterly exhausted. The rap blasting from her running playlist was suddenly deafening, and she paused Biggie Smalls in the middle of the verse. It was then that she realized her mistake. 3 missed calls and 10 text messages from Seto, each growing more panicked than the last. The most recent text brought tears to her eyes. 

Mina, please, don't do this. Please come home. I'm sorry. I love you. 

'Oh no, what have I done' Mina gave herself a mental head slap and ran out of the gym, taking the stairs up to her office for her bag and keys. 

Mina didn't remember the drive home. The only thing she could think of was how badly she needed to be at the mansion, right that second. Pulling into the driveway, Roland met her at the gate. 

"I'll park the car, ma'am. You should go to him. He's in the kitchen." Roland's voice was imperceptibly calm, and it concerned her further. 

Letting herself in the front door, the house was eerily quiet. Frowning, she walked down the dimly lit hallway to the kitchen, and the sight that was before her made her gasp. Seto was on the floor, back pressed up against the island. Dried trails of tears lined his face, and he stared unblinking at the refrigerator. If she didn't see the slight rise in his chest, she would have thought he was dead. Slowly, Mina stepped into the kitchen, getting down on her knees as she crawled towards him. She stopped next to him, mimicking his position as she leaned her head against his shoulder and covered his hand with hers.

The two sat in silence for a few minutes before Seto's head rested against Mina's in a quiet acknowledgement of her presence. 

"I'm sorry" he whispered, his voice broken. 

"No, honey, this is my fault. I should have come home with you, I'm sorry. I just needed to blow off steam from work, it wasn't about you at all." Mina said, pulling away to look at him. Seto wouldn't meet her gaze, and it was breaking her heart. 

"You deserve better than this. Better than me. You should be with someone better." Seto insisted, tears forming in his eyes again. "Mai was right. I don't show you off, and you deserve to be shown off. You deserve to be with someone who can love you better than I can." A strangled sob left his throat before he could stop it. "I don't know how."

Mina looked at her hands before considering her next words. She looked up and saw the man of her dreams sitting broken on the floor of their kitchen. The sight brought tears to her eyes. 'My poor baby' she thought, reaching over to wipe at his tears as her own flowed freely down her cheeks. 

"What makes you think I want anything, or anyone for that matter, but you?" she asked, inching closer to him. "Seto, you're everything to me. Don't you get that by now? If I gave a darn about what anyone has to say about our relationship I wouldn't be sitting here right now. We aren't perfect, Seto. But every day, you wake up and choose to love me. And that's all I ask. Ok? I'm not going anywhere, I don't care what Mai says." 

Her hands reached for his and she held them tightly, waiting for his eyes to meet hers again. "Seto, love, please look at me. I need to know that you believe me." 

Seto looked up and saw the pleading look in Mina's eyes. Her clear peridot eyes were glassy from her tears, and she looked like she was in absolute agony. He felt himself nod and she pulled herself into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck as she rested her head against his chest. His own arms held her tight against him, and he felt himself relax slightly. He took a deep breath and nuzzled the top of her head, willing his heart to stop thudding so loudly so he could think. Mina still loved him. He hadn't lost his light. She was safe in his arms, and would stay that way. 

Mina leaned back slightly, her arms still around his neck as she smiled at him. "So you wanted to talk?" 

Seto nodded, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. "I think we should do that double date with Mai. I need to be better about taking you out. I know you say you like staying in, but I want you to know how much I love you. How I'm proud of you." 

"Seto, I already know this. And if you want to do the double date, great. But I don't want you to do it because you feel obligated or because you want Mai to shut up. I want you to want to do things with me. I love you, for you. For our cuddle and movie dates. For how you know exactly what button to push to get me in the mood. For how we fall asleep next to each other night after night and wake up more secure in who we are together than when we went to bed. You're my rock, Seto. My anchor, my home."

Mina leaned forward, kissing Seto softly at first, then had an idea. She gave a gentle tug on his lower lip, rolling her hips forward as she did so, then stood up and bolted from the kitchen up the stairs to their bedroom. The thunderous echo of Seto's feet following her left her grinning from ear to ear as her love picked her up and tossed her on the bed. 

Seto crawled on after her, his lips attaching to her neck as he curled up beside her, encasing her in his muscular arms. "I love you" he whispered against her skin, and she shivered as his warm breath past over newly exposed skin.

"Show me" Mina whispered. 

Seto didn't need to be told twice.

[oghoneytryst]

missing piece.

request: a sweet encounter between harry and y/n, a foreign and artistic contemporary dancer

or

where harry is in search of a muse and is running out of time

a/n: the only experience I have with dance is doing spotlight for dance shows so I apologize if anything is off. the request included specific characteristics but I wanted to avoid that so that everyone could enjoy, but still made sure y/n was foreign. thanks for reading <3

x the song i used was Talk Me Down by Troye Sivan x

Harry adores the summertime. It is something in the way the insects wander cynically on the victims of fresh and delicate skin; something in the way the schoolchildren skip across the concrete sidewalks with a step in their toes; something in the way the two lovers resting amongst the protruded roots of a healthy tree begin to frolic through the busy streets, hand-in-hand, in spite of London’s scorching heat...

It excites him. It is around this time, surrounded by these elements, where the inspiration stuck inside of his soul is usually eager to spill out, taking on the form of his well-recognized art.

Harry ponders on the leather seats of his luxurious sports car, a teasing sweat trailing down his plain and pricey t-shirt. It has only been a month or so since his legendary world tour came to a close. His friends have been caring enough to remind him that 30 days is not nearly enough time to have completely rested up from the constant months of traveling.

Regardless, he has been incapable of sitting still in the aftermath of the tour.

There has been no progress in his songwriting. Harry fears that he lacks the inspiration that is necessary for his second album, though his caring friends have also mentioned to him that he is in no rush to release anything new. He should not consider himself to be in a frustrating slump, but does so anyway, playing the role of his own worst critic while his mind becomes a rambled mess.

And yet, from Modena to Toronto, there is not a single muse in sight until he watches her move across that stage.

The hours-long program has fascinated Harry thus far.

Toddlers in bright and spiffy tutus have opened the show with their precious prancing across the stage. Harry senses relief in the lighthearted ambience that showers over the audience. He feels happy.

Teenage boys clad in only their nude tights take over mid-show, portraying their own expression of contemporary dance. Harry feels a strange and overwhelming sense of pride take control of him. His green eyes glisten with tears 

She appears during the closing piece of the show, and it is then he realizes that she is who captivates him entirely. She is who radiates brighter than the scorching sun and stands taller than the trunk of the lovers’ tree. It is her it is her it is her! 

His pezzo mancante. His pieza perdida, manke moso, peça faltante — whichever language he chooses to express it in does not matter. It is her who has brought the light back in his eyes and curiosity burns alive in his soul because he needs to know her name. 

“Right, well, I’ve got a cousin from me mum’s side, who’s got a friend, who owns a dance studio in London. She was lovely enough to send me an email about the summer show they’re putting on for today only and she insisted that I attend and bring along a friend.”

Harry leans forward in the driver’s seat to hide behind the steering wheel. This is not the first time that Nick has brought him somewhere without his knowledge of the destination. He only wishes that he could have been given a heads up before driving his car into the crowded parking lot and sticking out like a sore thumb.

“A dance show?” Harry questions, scanning over the creamy exterior of the auditorium.

“You’re going t’need these,” Grimmy advises, reaching into his tote to pull out an overused hat-and-sunglasses disguise. “Don’t want to steal away the attention from all the little girls, eh?”

In another life, Harry is not famous. Harry Styles is not a household name. He does not perform to sold out arenas, nor does he travel across the careless oceans. He does not have the privilege of crossing paths with incredible people and build connections with those who serve a great impact on his heavy heart and teach him many wisely lessons.

He does not do a great many things in another life that is far, far away.

Yet, it is in this one where he has discovered the world and all of its darling beauties. He has marveled at the runways of fashion shows; he has educated himself in abstract art galleries; he has cried during soul-gripping concerts that have taken place in venues he now has the honor of performing in himself.

So why it is that in all of his 24 years of life, he has never once been to a dance show?

‘I want to sleep next to you, but that’s all I wanna do right now...’

Harry recognizes the maturity of this final piece. Its dozen or so dancers are attentive to the cues of their music, long and whimsical skirts swaying with every synchronized movement. There is a range between them—tall to short, slim to plump, nervous to at ease—and he is impressed with how their distinctions complement each other and shape them into a single working entity.

 A minute into the song is when the dancers break away from their collective choreography to perform their own individual dynamics. Harry is awestruck by the mix of arches, lunges, contractions, and so forth. There are no two dancers who replicate the same movements at the same time and yet everything still looks so wonderfully put together.

‘If you don’t mind, I’ll walk that line, stuck in the bridge between us...’

These dancers then disappear in the blink of an eye. There is a gracefulness in the way they storm off behind the curtains, out of sight from the audience, leaving one of their own in the spotlight. 

She who remains is an illustrious fragment who portrays her emotions so elegantly through the flow of her dance. This is the first time that Harry sees her; he decides then that it is his favorite part of the show. 

“Maybe from this you can get the gears in your brain turnin’ again,” Nick tells him from their seats in the back row, waiting patiently for the show to start. “Find your muse or somethin’. Get to creatin’.”

“And if I don’t?” Harry retaliates with a cheeky grin.

“It’s still a lovely show, Harold.”

Harry is so intrigued by this woman. He finds it impossible to tear his eyes away from the stage in fear that he might miss even a second of her poise. The applause that erupts at her frozen, heavy-breathing figure is what escapes him from his trance. The music softly fades away as the auditorium turns to a mystical darkness.

Harry thinks to himself: that was not long enough. He has not satisfied himself enough with her artistry.

 The lights turn on. The audience are settling back into their seats and the stage reveals itself vacant of her presence. Harry begins to shortly panic. He skims through his glossy program to read over the limited information provided about that wonderful piece that he has experienced in this life only.

Talk Me Down – Contemporary Sunday Class, 2 pm with Ms. Y/n

“D’ya think I can meet her?” Harry asks Nick after the final bow with all of the teachers and students. His pale hands have gone red from the applause he has given in support of the lovely lady smiling off to the side. “That girl from the last dance, Ms. Y/n or somethin’ like that.” 

Nick grins knowingly at his friend, settling back into his seat while the rest of the audience shuffles out into the lobby with their colorful bouquets. “I think she’s more of a woman, Harry, but yeah, I’m sure that can be arranged. We’ll just have to wait until it cools down in here.”

15 minutes have never gone by slower. Harry had to force himself to sit impatiently in the backrow, smiling at the people who gave him a nice wave on their way out. He even took pictures with those who were courteous enough to ask.

“Junie! What a lovely show that was,” Nick greets the woman backstage, his cousin’s friend, who quite simply is his friend as well.

“Thank you so much for coming, darling. I hope you two enjoyed yourselves.”

“Absolutely,” Harry says, stretching his arms out to her for a welcoming hug. His vision sneakily wanders around the area, catching sight of wide-eyed, star struck females, yet none of them are her. “I must say, that last piece was absolutely amazing.” 

“Oh!” Junie exclaims, jolting out of Harry’s embrace. “Y/n’s class! D’you know what? I am so glad that she decided to move here. She’s proven to be such an important part of this journey.”

Harry repeats her name, “Y/n ... sounds lovely,” and nods to himself. He can already imagine his tongue getting used to those sweet syllables of hers, his lips giving the vibrations a little kiss on their way out.

“D’ya happen to know where she is?” Nick asks nonchalantly, throwing his arm around Junie’s shoulders. “I mean, Harry just adored that dance of hers. Absolutely adored. Perhaps even inspired him, or summat?”

“Thank you, Nicholas,” the younger man stops him, politely clasping his hands in front of him. He’s not one for violence, but he practically wants to slap that shit-eating grin off of his chiseled face.

Junie chuckles at their interaction. “Well, speak of the devil and she shall appear.”

The dance instructor nods her head in the direction behind Harry, and he can see the wiggle in her eyebrows before turning around with such quick desperation.

Speak of the angel and she shall appear. She shall walk through the double doors and crash upon your life without so much as a warning.

His heart drops down to his tummy, cradled by the ferns on his lower hips.

Y/n has taken it upon herself to change out of the costume that once hugged her body. She now suits a comfortable pair of sweats, the hem of a loose tank barely cascading over the thick waistband. There is a quickness in her mindless step, multitasking as she stuffs her belongings into the duffle bag draped over her shoulder. 

Harry hums contentedly and turns back to the pair. “Thank you, Junie,” he says, ignoring their teasing smirks as he begins to walk backwards. “It was lovely talking to you, but if you don’t mind—shit! 

Crash! The angel shall walk and crash upon your life, metaphorically and literally.

Harry covers his sinful lips, embarrassed that the mothers around him are probably scolding him for his foul language. He hears an item drop in the collision, and after he has balanced himself back on his own two feet, he turns around to apologize to the startled woman.

“Um...” Harry breathes out, shaking his head. Y/n looks even more alluring up close. “I’m ... ‘m sorry, y/n, I didn’t mean to—”

“No, no, it’s fine!”

“I shouldn’t have been walking—”

“It’s okay, I promise.”

“Jesus, ‘m so clumsy...”

Their sentences mix together, no single word being quite coherent to any pesky eavesdroppers. Harry has become exasperated with himself, spotting the frail book that has fallen from y/n’s hands. He does not hesitate to pick it up for her, a string of apologies continuously flowing from his lips.

Then he stops. He reads the title in blue.

BURNING IN WATER DROWNING IN FLAME. Charles Bukowski.

A poet from before his time that he has found himself infatuated in. A collection of written works that have inspired him since his discovery of them. These are some of the stanzas most precious to his heart, found in her possessions as well. 

“Can I ... can I have it back please?”

Harry raises his head to look at her. He doesn’t think it is possible to be even more intrigued with her existence, but the thick accent she swiftly carries makes it obvious to him that she is not from London, but rather someplace alien that he now has the desire to explore.

Her voice is what he imagines the clouds to sound like; he suddenly grows envious of the angels she kisses.

“Right, ‘f course,” he mumbles, smitten by the kind smile that paints her face when he returns her book. “That’s a good read there. Interesting choice.”

Y/n tilts her head. She looks down at the beaten copy, skimming through it as the pages flip against her thumb. “Thank you,” she says genuinely, “it helps me with my ideas.”

“Your ideas?” Harry raises an inquisitive eyebrow. “For your dances?”

Y/n nods, biting the inside of her cheek. “Yes. It is something about the words that ... motivate me. I don’t know how to explain it.”

“I know what y’mean,” Harry assures her. “Inspiration, right?” 

“Right...” she agrees, the two sharing a quiet laugh. “Um, can I ask how you know my name?”

Her question suddenly throws him off. Harry closes his eyes and curses himself for muttering out her name in the midst of his rambling.

“Uh ... it’s in the program,” he answers, raising the glossy booklet as evidence for her to see. “And Junie, she’s, she said it was you. I was just really blown away by your performance. Wonderful song choice, such incredible taste. I’m Harry, by the way.”

Y/n laughs, her shoulders pushing forward as she looks to the ground. He cannot think of a more melodious gift than her laugh 

“Thank you, Harry,” she says, dropping her poetry book into her duffle bag. She does not notice the way he swallows dryly when she says his name. “I love the song, too.”

There is a brief second in which a strange silence creeps up on the two. Harry doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like the awkward background noise of the dancers shuffling around them.

“Did you, um,” he starts, refusing to let the conversation die. “Did you choreograph that piece all by yourself? Junie said it was your class, so I was jus’ wonderin’. 

“I had some help from the students. They were the ones who thought of the solo at the end.”

“Wow, yes, the solo. It was certainly, uh, fantastic. I really, really enjoyed—” 

“Harry?” she abruptly interrupts him, causing his lips to seal in anticipation.

“Hmm?”

The squint in y/n’s eyes makes Harry nervous. He feels like a barcode by the way she scans him up and down. He takes the moment to observe his overall appearance with that of everyone else. The people around him are dressed head-to-toe in a loose-fitting, affordable clothing, whereas Harry has decided to sport a more expensive look: a white Saint Laurent t-shirt, yellow Adidas track pants, and creamy colored Gucci loafers.

This is the first time his clothes have ever made him feel self-conscious.

Y/n, however, does not comment on his designer clothing. She seems to not even notice it when mentioning to him, “You look familiar.” There is perplexity in the way her eyes scream why have I seen these features of his before? “Have I met you before, maybe somewhere else?”

Harry lets out a relieved chuckle and runs a hand through his bouncy curls. “Well, it’s funny that you ask...”

“Are you coming to the after party, y/n?”

Junie interrupts the innocent conversation that has been spread out for almost an hour. Most of the people that once filled the backstage area are now gone. Harry can’t recall when it had become just him and y/n, but he likes this idea of her. She makes his fear of time falter; she even makes him forget.

“It sounds fun,” y/n gushes, hugging her friend goodbye. “But I think I am just going to pass time at the studio, if that’s alright with you?”

“Boo!” Nick suddenly appears, earning a laugh from Junie as she gives the key to the dancer. “What about you?” he asks Harry, nudging him on the arm. “What are you goin’ to do?”

Harry shrugs, stuffing his hands warm inside his pockets. He doesn’t want to go to this so-called after party if y/n isn’t going, but he also doesn’t want to seem rude and reject their invitation.

“You can join me at the studio, Harry,” y/n speaks up, swinging the keychain around a single finger. “If you’re not doing anything else...”

“‘m so sorry, y/n,” Harry apologizes when they enter the studio. “Someone must’ve posted a picture or something,” he realizes, shaking his head at the paparazzi that swarmed them upon leaving the auditorium. “They’ve probably followed us all the way here.”

“Harry,” y/n murmurs with a grin. “It’s fine. They’ll go away eventually. Besides, it is a good way for the word to get out about the studio.”

Harry raises his head, playfully scoffing at the teasing smile she is giving him. “Oh, is that all I’m good for then?”

“Of course not! You’re also excellent company.”

“Sure, I had to see for myself where the magic happens.” Harry stretches his arms out to his side, circling around the area with the large mirror for a wall and breathing in the open space. “I bet it’s got really sick acoustics, huh?”

“A little.” Y/n shrugs. “I like it here, when no one else is around. It’s ... quiet. Gives me a space to think, to dance, sometimes both at the same time.”

“Sounds lovely,” Harry says, adoring the way she looks into the mirror and gives a little twirl after she speaks.

“Can I ask you something, Harry?” she says, changing the topic of conversation with the snap of her fingers. “What is your dream? Something that you desire, and it makes you happy?”

“My ... dream?” he questions, once again thrown off by her questions. She is inquisitive, which makes her all the more intriguing. “My dream, well ... ‘m livin’ it.” 

Y/n scoffs, lowering her arms until they make a slap against her sides. “Besides that,” she says, little space left between them when she walks over to him. “Something else. You accomplished that dream at such a young age, you must have another, right?”

Harry blinks in a pensive manner. He’s trying to control his heartbeat, but at this close proximity, he can practically inhale her soft scent. “Um, I just want ... people to be kind to each other. I think that would be nice. Other than that, I don’t know. Maybe ‘m still trying t’figure it out.”

“You have plenty of time. Something will inspire that dream of yours soon, Harry.”

“Alright.” He laughs, nodding in agreement. “And yours? What’s your dream, y/n?”

The room seems to illuminate when he asks her that question. Perhaps it is because of the way she beams when she thinks of her dream, but Harry can’t recall when that grin of hers had ever left her face. 

“I want to be like Junie,” she answers, but is quick to explain. “I want to open up a studio like this. Dance until I can’t dance anymore. It’s going to take a lot of work, but I think that’ll make me very happy. Don’t you think?” 

Harry is so smitten. The dimples beside his smirk is enough of a hint, and he finds himself crossing his arms across his chest to keep from pulling this imaginative woman any closer.

“Yeah,” he whispers, though he doesn’t think he is in the right position to decide what will make y/n happy or not. Still, he has to agree with her. She’s clearly got a passion. “Um, about the cameras outside, you are aware that it may be hours before they leave?”

“Wow ... okay then.” Y/n exhales, the air flowing past her pursed lips which makes them flap against each other in a silly manner. She pensively tilts her head from side to side, but gasps as she suggests, “Maybe I can show you some techniques in the meantime? If you want to, you don’t have to.”

“Y/n.” Harry reaches down, enveloping her left hand in both of his. “I would love to.”

Harry doesn’t know how long it has been before he’s driving y/n home. He has been caught up in the dances she has performed for him, telling him to follow her movements because “it’s not hard, Harry!” He has even sung her a couple songs, the acoustics in the room proving to be more than exceptional. In a mix of their constant giggles, they’re unsure about when exactly the paparazzi have left them in their privacy.

In fact, the only certainty that Harry has when he drives himself back home is the powerful array of words storming in his mind. He’s practically aching to write them down.