#I suck at getting shit done so throw some job opportunities out the window. I'm so bad at writing stories I can't cut it as a writer

[brainfilehasstoppedworking]

Teacher: If you don't get anything in to your boss on time, guess what? You'll be fired!

Me: Crazy. Guess who's staying unemployed for the rest of her adulthood?

[patchoulimademoiselle]

Guilty. (Part 1.)

Part One.

Steve Rogers (Lawyer AU) x Reader Insert. 

Word count: 3.8k

Warnings: Work place romance, smoking, self destructive habits, language, adult themes. (No smut just yet lol.) 

Masterlist. 

Part One: 

Your cell phone rings, a sound that pulls a loud groan from the back of your throat, the sandwich in your hand thrown down onto your desk as you blindly dig through your purse for it, eyes sharp as you stare at the girl sitting across from you, Wanda. "It's my boss," Your tone is clipped as you look down, "Stay quiet."

You sigh, push your hair from your face as if he could see how relaxed you were moments ago, muster up a second wind of energy, and rise to your feet as you take the call. "Steve, finished so soon?"

"Cut the shit, Y/n." He's speaking over the plastic straw between his teeth, sipping on an iced coffee no doubt. "I know you're goofing off with that stupid assistant of yours."

You're lucky he isn't on speaker, and you walk quickly out of Wanda's ear shot. "Be nice! She's new, just like I was."

He hums, the sound of his dress shoes clicking against pavement and cars driving past tells you he's walking. "But you were never dull, never as dense. You wouldn't still work for me otherwise."

You, an assistant, were gifted your own assistant. The work load you take on under Rogers overwhelms the responsibility you still have at the firm, and so they decided to assign someone under you, unheard of and argued among the people above you, but Steve thought it was a good idea. All he saw was dollar signs, you moving up with your reputation and gifting him a chance to charge more for both of your services in the court room.

But Wanda was young, too young to understand the importance of the work she does here, too hung up on boys and partying to see her job as anything other than a job.

"You didn't call me to talk about this." You push open the doors to the balcony in his office, stepping outside for fresh air.

"No, I didn't. I'm done with my client, I'm sending you my location."

He doesn't give you a chance to protest, hanging up the call, a text message coming through seconds later. You groan, heeled foot tapping on the pavement as you weigh your options. You had expected to have at least another two hours free to train Wanda, but that had just been stolen from right under your nose.

You count your steps back to your desk, a nervous tick you picked up in law school, plopping back down to finish your sandwich, roasted turkey breast with all the trimming.

"Wanda," You speak over half chewed food, manners gone out the window in your rush to find an excuse to slip away. "I've been called out, something important has come up with a new client." Her eyes snap up to you from the stack of papers in front of her. "I'll be back as soon as I can, just stay by your phone and I'll let you know what's going on."

She looks nervous, never left here in your office alone before, and you feel bad, remembering how it felt to be new in such a large place. This was a building full of people with their heads in their asses, established lawyers with years of experience under their belts. She was prey among wolves, protected only by your presence, and now you were leaving her.

"Don't leave this office unless it's to use the bathroom." You say. "Don't be loud, don't speak to anyone, keep your head down and stay out of trouble."

All things you wish Steve had told you, all things you had to learn on your own. It's hard being a woman studying law, you're automatically ruled out simply for being a woman.

You offer her a gentle smile, reaching into your wallet and pulling out a twenty dollar bill. "Door Dash some food if you want, or waste it in the vending machine, just remember to take a break and hydrate yourself."

She looks doe eyed, "Thank you." She says, and you're tempted to just bring her along and shove her into the back seat of your car, tell her to stay quiet and to not repeat anything she might hear.

But Steve would throw a fit, you can see it now, a ghost of a smile coats your lips as you leave her behind, stuffing the last of your sandwich into your mouth as you scoop up your purse.

You're tired, Steve called you in early this morning to get some work done before your assistant was scheduled to come in. A new case was dropped on his desk, and you made arrangements for him to meet with his new client immediately. He took a cab, slightly annoyed that you weren't free to take him there, but there was no excuse now, not with your assistant busy at work, you could slip away for a little while to do the second part of your job, assist big shot lawyer Steve Rogers.

The address he gave you was a coffee shop, but naturally he's walked a good block away from it by now, bored and restless in the city of New York waiting around for you, and you honk your horn when you see him walking, phone pressed to his ear.

He gets in, tossing his brief case in the back seat, pressing his phone to his chest. "Find some food? I could go for a burger."

Steve is very particular about what he eats, especially all American classics. He's craving something greasy probably, a nice greasy sloppy burger with salty fries and a thick shake. You're slightly pissed that you ate already, because eating again will ruin your appetite for dinner, but you wouldn't turn down the opportunity for good food, especially if Steve is going to be paying.

He wraps up his phone call just as you swing by Five Guys, parallel parking across the street from the diner. He stares at you for a moment, eyes squinted and glaring until you pull a face at him. "What?" You ask, shifting in your seat.

"This case is being paid for by the state, our client has no money." He says, "He's suing because of wage violations."

You shrug, settling back into your seat, not understanding his tone or expression. "So? This is easy for you."

"It's against Stark Industries."

You frown, eyebrows knit. "Oh shit."

"Yeah," His chuckle is almost nervous, pushing the car door open to get out. "Shit."

You walk across the street together, and you make a show of clinging to his arm for support. He glares down at you, but let's you, baby blue's almost welcoming your touch as he helps you across the street. Then he's shrugging you off and ushering you inside the diner.

"I'll pay," He says. "But the next one is on you."

You kiss his cheek in thanks, whispering your order in his ear and then ducking off into the ladies room, running wet fingers through your hair and swiping on a new coat of smudge proof lipstick.

Your relationship with Steve Rogers is a complicated one. There's chemistry, obvious chemistry that often leaves you flustered, just like this, but he refuses to do anything about it. In fact, you've talked about it before, the backs of your thighs pressed to his desk top as he kissed you, telling you that he couldn't, wouldn't go any farther because if his career has taught him anything at all it's that you don't shit where you eat. If word got out that you two were an item, you would be torn to shreds in the court room, all credibility out of the window, and he would be forced to fire you to save his reputation.

But it's still there, lingering in the way he looks at you and talks to you. That fire is still there, and one day it was going to consume you both.

You undo a couple buttons on your shirt and untuck it from your skirt, rolling up your sleeves and letting go for a moment, the heels you wear suffocate your feet, so you slip out of them, carrying them back out into the seating area to find Steve. He's sitting in a booth next to the window, glaring sharply at you as you walk over, your food waiting for you.

"You look like a slut."

You laugh, snatching up your milkshake as you sit, sucking the thick liquid through a straw. "No, I look like I'm not stressed out for once." You nod to him him for emphasis, his forehead wrinkled. "You should try it."

He's wearing his suit jacket still, which he quickly shrugs off and places beside him. He rolls up his sleeves as well, plucking a fry from his plate as he alternates sleeves, eyes never leaving you as he copies your current state, reaching up to undo his tie and unbutton the top of his shirt.

"Better?" He sweeps a hand through his hair, reaching for his own shake, and it makes you smile.

The sun hits his face just right, lashes looking elongated against his cheeks each time he blinks, the direct sunlight revealing a hint of green hidden in his eyes.

"Much," You reach for your burger, needing to distract yourself. "Now tell me about this guy."

"Barnes." He says, clearing his throat, talking around a mouth full of chocolate shake. "James Barnes. He's owed two weeks of pay and Stark Industries is refusing to pay it, something about the prosthetic he wears being a violation of his working contract."

"That's bullshit."

"Sure, but Stark has good lawyers." He says, fingers pinching up a bunch of fries. "He'll find a loop hole."

"So what are we going to do?" You ask, juice from your burger coats your fingers, and your chin, hands too full to wipe the mess away.

Steve regards you for a moment, takes you in as the mess you are, and his touch is gentle as he reaches over with a napkin to wipe your face. "You are going to sit in your office and dig up everything you can on Stark Industries and James Barnes. I'm going to do a bit of field work, find out who his lawyers are and how dirty they're willing to play it."

You hum, mouth full. "This is good."

He rolls his eyes, dropping the napkin and going for his own food. "I can tell, you've made a mess of yourself." There's a husk to his voice that's far too suggestive, and you do all you can to ignore it.

A part of you is worried about the case. You're never seen Steve so worked up about one before. Tony Stark is known for burning lawyers to get his way, and he pays much more than the state could ever afford to pay you to take a case. But you're determined to help out as much as you can, the case is a simple one and will go in your favor on it's own, but these kinds of people don't play far, which is why it's important to figure out what tactics they will use in the court room.

You sit there for about an hour, eating until you can't, bickering and tossing an occasional fry to get your point across. All in all Steve Rogers is good company. Some people will never get to know that, his reputation precedes him, scaring away anyone who dares to get close. But you know better. You know that there's some kind of gentleness in his hard glares, you know that he cares even despite the cold tone of his voice, his eyes warm and kind even if his jaw is set in anger.

He cares about you, more than he would ever say out loud, and you're lucky to be good at reading him. You would never know otherwise.

When you get back to the firm, Wanda is where you left her, fresh Subway on the corner of your desk, and Steve grumbles as he makes his way back into his own office, which you glare at him for. She's done a majority of her work, filing, and you feel bad to add another task to her list, but you're on a case after all, and there is urgency.

"Wanda, be a dear on fax me everything we have recorded on Stark Industries." You say, dropping your bag and once again slipping out of your heels. "Check all records, I want everything, no matter how minor."

She nods, tapping the stack of papers in front of her. "What about this?"

You shrug. "It will be there. Save it for tomorrow, you can go home after you do this last thing for me."

You can see the way her eyes light up, and you smile to yourself as she gets up to do as you asked. You settle at your desk and power on your computer, waiting for her to send the information over. In the mean time you straighten up, adding to your pile of items to shred, something else you can have Wanda do tomorrow, collecting spoiled food from the mini fridge in the corner, tossing out piling up take out trash and organizing your desk.

Steve hears the commotion, pulling open the dividing doors between your offices, and pokes his head in. "Sent her home?"

"Soon." You say, "Need me for something?"

"Not really, I just don't care to babysit."

His attitude about your assistant is understandable. Steve works in a particular way, and you've since been accustomed to making things work. Wanda only slows him down. Well, at least that's how he sees it, because she slows you down, which then slows him down. But you were new once too, just as slow an annoying as he finds Wanda, and you understand how it feels to be the new girl. She's young and a bit naive, but helpful, and you won't let Steve Rogers scare her away.

"Stop being rude," You snap. "She's trying, and she hasn't made a single mistake yet." You sigh, exhaustion setting in as you pinch your eyes. "I'm going to pull an all nighter, dig up some dirt for you."

He drums his fingers on the door, pushing it open wider. "I have some dirt to dig up on my own as well. I also need to schedule a meeting with someone, I'll be here a while."

It reminds you of when you were newer, eager to please, you would sprawl out on the floor of his office with your cheap laptop and notepad, the two of you fueled up on garbage coffee and staying up all night to prep for a case. It doesn't feel that way anymore, there is no enthusiasm because there are no risks. Steve is one of the best in the country, he's never lost a case, and you've proven yourself by being at his side for so long. But this is different. You're going up against someone with power, someone loved by the people. The risk is mild, but very much there, and it has you both anxious and on the edge of your seats again.

“I'll fish out my laptop and we can work together?" You offer, unsure of what he'll say. But his subtle nod back into his office is answer enough for you, and you watch as he spins on his heels.

"Dinner is on you."

You huff, rubbing your face, mentally preparing you for the night ahead. "Of course it is."

You send Wanda home, double checking the faxes she's sent up from records, every case Stark Industries has ever had displayed before your eyes, and you tell her to come in as soon as she can tomorrow morning.

You won't be getting any sleep tonight, so you do all you can to make yourself comfortable, fishing a pair of leggings out of the trunk of your car to change into, and ordering takeout for you and Steve to eat while you work. You power up your laptop, pushing your desk through the dividing doors to line with his, working across from each other to put together some counter argument for any bullshit Stark and his people manage to come up with.

The hidden elements you find are shocking, police officers paid to go on trial and lie, lawyers who were burned for trying to go up against Stark, judges fired and discredited for being tipped off, all real cases that the media hasn't covered. Stark has his toes dipped into every industry there is, including the media, any and all press about either him or his company is filtered through his payroll. You greedily take notes, writing down names and dates, and a few details and citations to type up later into official statements.

Steve seems to be having a hard time though, his coffee cup once again empty, his fingers laced together in his hair, eyes staring blankly at the computer screen in front of him. He's trying to get dirt on Stark's lawyers, find out who is working with who, and who he can trust to get information from. But everyone has been sworn to secrecy, tipped off and paid to stay quiet. If Steve dives down the wrong path, it can trigger a chain reaction that will make it's way back to Stark, and all the work done to build a solid case against him will be for nothing.

"Steve?" Your pen taps as you wait for his eyes to meet yours. "Smoke break?"

He nods, rising far too quickly from his seat, and you follow after him, fishing a pack of cigarettes from your purse and a lighter for him.

Smoking isn't something you condone. In fact, you find it disgusting. But the nicotine rush does help you concentrate, it helps him far more than it helps you. The coffee has been enough, especially since you've had three cups of it. But after living this way for so long, after wiring your brain to work under extreme conditions, sometimes it takes the extreme to get the gears turning. For Steve, smoking is considered and extreme.

He takes it from you with a gentle thank you, fingertips brushing yours as you both step out onto the balcony. He lights a cigarette quickly, taking it between his lips, and the way he visibly relaxes scares you a bit.

You can't help it, fingers reaching to grab the collar of his shirt. The moon hits his skin just right, his eyes seeming to twinkle as he glances down at you, cigarette tucked between his fingers as he reaches up to grab your chin, pulling you into a sweet kiss.

He tastes like sugar, his lips warm as they press against your own, and your eyes flutter close at the sensation. It's scandalous, two coworkers sneaking a kiss on the balcony of the law firm they work out, concealed in darkness, but still not safe from the consequences of getting caught. It drives you further, makes you moan in his mouth as his grip adjusts to your throat, holding you in place, drawing it out of you.

Then just like that he's pulling away, forehead wresting against yours as he takes a deep breath to control himself. It's unspoken, but understood. You can't.

"Maybe we should wrap up in a few hours." You suggest, eyeing his wrist watch. "A bit of sleep will do you good."

He snorts, and you have your answer. "Leave if you want."

You both know you won't, so you share a cigarette on the balcony at three in the morning, lips tingling with the ghost feeling of his lips on yours, waiting for the sun to rise and the caffeine to leave your system so that you can refuel.

The smoke break works, Steve is lively as ever for the next couple of hours, putting together his to do list for the day, and you type up your findings for him. When the sun comes up, you go your separate ways. You go home to freshen up, and he heads out on his long trail of hunting. You text Wanda, asking when she'll be able to come in. She tells you that the metro won't be at her stop for a couple of hours, and you offer to pick her up instead. She doesn't refuse.

You shower, change clothes, style your hair, skipping out on breakfast in hopes that Wanda will want to grab something on the way.

The address she gives you is near the college campus, no doubt a dorm she shares with other people. Her hair is a little frizzy, her dress wrinkled, you notice immediately that she hadn't been prepared to come in, but you don't mention it. Instead you ask her where she wants to get breakfast, and in true college kid fashion, "Starbucks" is what she requests.

You both get muffins and coffee, and she thanks you, once again for treating her to a meal. She's starting to warm up to you, smiling more, unafraid to speak her mind. "Can I ask you something?" Her lips are wrapped around the green straw, plush and pink, and you realize how pretty she actually is, even with no effort really put into her appearance today.

"Sure." You shrug, eyes on the road ahead of you as you drive to the law firm.

"Are you and Steve dating?"

The question nearly makes you crash, you sputter for a response, cheeks flushing and breath leaving your lungs. She smiles. "It's just that the way he acts when I'm around-"

"Don't worry about him." You cut her off. "He's just old and cranky."

She smiles, but shakes her head. "I don't mind it, I've had worse. But I've noticed how protective he is over you and over his work. It seems to be the only thing he cares about."

Her words surprise you a bit, because you didn't think about it that way. You saw his mistreatment of her to be simply that, another big guy picking on a little guy. You didn't think for a second that he was just trying to protect you.

"That doesn't make it right." Is all you can say.

"I can handle myself, Y/n." She says, reminding you of a younger version on yourself. "It's the case you're taking on that you need to worry about."

For once, you see Wanda for who she really is. Not a shy timid girl who hides behind good behavior, but a law student, smart and witty, knowing when to hide behind a facade and when to actually speak her mind.

She knows something, if not about the case, then about Steve Rogers, and given the far away look in her eyes, she isn't a girl you should underestimate.

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

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[fonulyn]

hi :) do you have any advice for new teachers? i suddenly got my first teaching position and i'm kind of freaking out O_O

ohhhh congratulations!! :D ah and try to take deep breaths and calm down, I’m sure you’ll do great! 

the advice kind of would depend on how old kids you’re teaching (if kids at all?) because it’s quite different working with the little ones and with the teenagers, so. personally I find the smaller children a little intimidating and I’m glad I work with 13-19 year olds, because I can handle them much better :’D

but in general what I find is the most important thing about being a teacher is being fair to everyone. it’s impossible to actually like everyone you teach, especially if you work with teenagers when there’s always one of two who try their best to piss you off. but you’ve still got to treat them all the same, and give everyone the same opportunities for guidance and help. they’re kids. i’m the adult. i’ve got to see past the spitting on floors and yelling at me how math sucks.

and usually the kids will notice you’re being fair and not playing favorites and they’ll respect that. 

another thing i’ve learned is that often even when you feel like screaming and stomping your foot and throwing things, the best thing can be to smile and brush it off with a joke. like... pick your battles? don’t make a huge deal out of everything, so then when you do make a big deal out of an actually important issue it then actually sticks with them. i’m not gonna yell at them for making a paper airplane out of their exam, because it’s not a huge deal. but i am going to give them a stern talking to about for example offensive and homophobic language. because i think it’s a more important life lesson for them in the end. 

most kids are really good kids. they might act tough, and act out, but in the end they’re good kids. and i love working with them. that moment when you actually get through to someone who has done nothing but give you troubles, even for a second? amazing.

some teachers have their teacher-me and private-me and that is absolutely legit, that’s valid, if you feel like you need the separation then it’s your choice. personally for me, i can’t make that distinction. i find it easiest to be myself. be as honest and as genuine as possible. it doesn’t mean i’m gonna open up about everything, god no. but like. they see when you’re particularly tired, so admitting to it usually is the better call than trying to pretend you’re not. 

i’ve gone into the classroom with red rimmed eyes after crying, and all I got was “O_O are you okay???” when i was afraid they’d make fun of me. usually when they sense it’s serious, they won’t make it worse. 

but like this is where your personality comes into play a lot? I know colleagues who are amazing teachers but who are very strict in the classroom and they need to focus on the subject at hand all the time. wherein me? i go off on a tangent all the time, we’ll talk about things that definitely weren’t in the lesson plan at all. i can laugh at myself, and i don’t mind if they laugh at me as long as it’s all in good fun and not mean. 

and if they piss me off i can honestly tell them that c’mon, you’re being little shits right now, can’t you see how there’s smoke coming out of my ears :’D usually it gets a laugh and they do behave better.

idk i just really love this job?? i’m getting all teary-eyed here thinking about all the amazing students i’ve had :’D

OH AND one thing i learned like two years into teaching; you don’t always need to have every answer at hand immediately! i used to stress about it a lot, and felt that it made me less respectable and less of a teacher if i couldn’t answer every single question they asked. i even tried to make up an answer on the spot sometimes, until i talked with my dad (who was a teacher too lmao, as was my mom), and he was all “you’re still the one who knows the most about this in the room. they won’t mind if you need to google something.”

and you know what? they won’t! nowadays if they ask me what the price for a gram of gold is I can say “i do not know. i will look it up!” and then i will inform them when i’ve acquired that knowledge. if it’s a quick search i can do it while they’re working on some assignments or whatever, if it’s a more complex topic i’ll tell them “we’ll talk about this tomorrow” and they always accept it. they always just nod and when we get back to it they’re glad they got the info they wanted.

it’s okay not to know everything. and it’s okay to admit to your flaws. in the end they will remember the countless things you did tell them without looking them up and a few “oh man i have no idea!”s in between won’t do anything. except maybe make you look more human, idk? 

and it’s good to be flexible if you can. if something you planned out for a lesson isn’t working, it’s always good to have a plan b. i once tried a different approach during a chem lesson but they hated it so we stopped halfway through and just played hangman with names of chemical compounds for a bit and it was good.

sometimes they just need an adult to be present so they can rant about something that bothers them, and if some physics has to be set aside for that? fine. we can learn newton’s third law tomorrow if today you need to talk about how our government is handling immigration.

and one important thing: go easy on yourself, okay?

not every lesson is a great lesson. sometimes it’s enough that you got them to do anything at all. sometimes nothing you plan will work out. sometimes there are lessons when everything goes wrong, no one learns anything, and all those great plans you made just flew out of the window. but it happens. move on. the next lesson will be better! the next day will look up. 

i had this one group of 14-year-olds once, and there were two kids who hated me. it took us literally three months where every single lesson was a struggle. but after that it got better. by the end of the semester, there were some absolutely great lessons too. once i had a lesson so bad i cried for fifteen minutes straight afterwards bc nothing worked out. but you know what? the next lesson for the same group was great. 

i love this job. it’s amazing. i wouldn’t want to do anything else. but there are bad days and it’s fine. it happens. don’t beat yourself up for it. talk to someone about it, or come tell me about it if it helps ;) but then move on and it’ll get better. you’re not a bad teacher if you have a bad lesson or a few.

and the good lessons? when you see how someone finally gets a particularly difficult topic? when a kid who has panicked every math lesson suddenly gets something right and gives you the biggest smile? when someone who thought they’d never pass a single math course gets through them all? i don’t think there’s anything as rewarding as that. 

and the lessons when you get to laugh with them, work with them, everything goes as you planned and they’re excited about the topic and you get to actually enjoy every second of the lesson? that’s. that’s why i do this, seriously. those lessons feel like they’re not work at all. and there are surprisingly many of them. 

have i mentioned i love this job?? because i do. 

i’m sorry i rambled so much i ...don’t know if any of this is actually good or useful advice for you?? but feel free to drop me a message anytime if you need some support!! you’ve got this! :D