#asset division

[void-botanist]

Thinking about Avis and Sorian doing asset division:

“What about my old sports stuff?” Avis asked. “It should all be at my parents’ house. I only brought my stuff here.” “Do you even use it?” she asked while she made a note of that. He should have known by her tone that she didn’t actually care and she didn’t really want to know, but he still said, “Yeah, Horatio and Celia will play with me sometimes. They’re not as good as you were.” “As I am,” she corrected, trying not to clench her fingers on the marker. He didn’t deserve to bother her. “Right,” he said, and even though his inflection didn’t hold even a shadow of a challenge to her frankly unsubstantiated statement, she still wanted to stab him.

she might be overreacting a little

Soravis taglist: @vacantgodling @athenswrites @kk7-rbs

[biancabelairs]

i am once again asking if aew is aware that saraya is not a babyface lmao

[thistransient]

While I was away, my friend who's down south for a month left his fan for me to borrow. Previously I had either been using my aircon extremely sparingly (only when over 30C at night) or laying on the floor sweating like god intended. The fan's arrival, however, immediately initiated an unprecedented new era of slothfulness. Where at least before there was some motive to go in search of cooler climes (the library, the park at night), now it was entirely realistic to hang out at home, sprawled in front of the device forever. The evils of technology made manifest!

Or so I thought. After a week of this, my paranoia over the one (1) query from the immigration officer was festering, and I was growing cognisant of the fact that I didn't actually want to live out my days in a tiny dark apartment, prostrated at the altar of the artificial breeze. (Or it could also be that I simply don't want to spend the rest of my life in a subtropical heat wave...) I was getting real moody about my prospects, or lack thereof. Today I decided to finally have a go at actually finishing the preliminary test for an editing company whose listing I've come across a couple times (and usually quit halfway through because imagining reading this sort of stuff for 8 hours a day seemed guaranteed to drive me batty). But recently my bff who used to have me proofread his undergrad papers started using ChatGPT to write them, leaving me bereft of grammatical errors to savage (and also the dinners he would trade for my diligent efforts).

So I almost immediately received an email prompting me to move to the next stage, HOWEVER for visa sponsorship apparently the gov't requires either a graduate degree OR a bachelors + 2 years of relevant work experience. No teaching. If blogging and editing for friends counted as experience, I would be golden. Or rather, if I could establish a paper trail for said experience...

[mejomonster]

So many of the controls mentioned that slave owners did in the colonies to prevent revolt and encourage division and intensify racism are what republican politicians still do today.

[townpostin]

Saraikela-Kharsawan Gears Up for CM Hemant Soren's Visit on Sep 10

Officials inspect venue for ‘Aapki Yojana, Aapki Sarkar Aapke Dwar’ program Jharkhand Chief Minister to distribute assets and approval letters on September 10, 2024. SARAIKELA-KHARSAWAN – A comprehensive inspection was conducted at Kaju Maidan in Dobo, Chandil block, in advance of the public welfare event hosted by the Chief Minister. On September 10, 2024, Chief Minister Hemant Soren of…

[harleyrrojar]

Expert Asset Division Lawyer in Frisco

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[aameliajones]

What's the Difference Between Property Division and Community Property? What is the difference between “property division” and “community property” in a divorce? When you're reviewing the divorce settlement, all property and assets owned by the married parties will be looked at to see if, how and what will be divided. Visit: https://scrogginslawgroup.com/

[legallotus]

Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck Divorce: Legal Implications and Asset Battles

Explore the divorce rumors surrounding Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck, the legal implications of divorcing without a prenup, and a comparison to Florida law.

Jennifer Lopez and Ben Affleck are reportedly facing significant relationship issues, with rumors suggesting that a formal divorce filing is imminent. Recent reports indicate that Affleck has moved out of their shared residence, and the couple is navigating the complexities of a high-profile separation. This situation provides a unique opportunity to explore the legal implications of their…

[shadow4-1]

I'm just imagining having spent the night with a lover who isn't in the 141, only to wake up the next morning and there's in intervention waiting for you in the rec room.

Like, at first you're just confused. But when Price opens his mouth to ask you about how you slept...you have a bit of a meltdown. Why does it matter? Why is everyone staring at you? What's going on?

Soap grabs the collar of your t-shirt and pulls it down so everyone can get a look at the dark hickies dotting your neck. You slap his hand away, tears in your eyes.

"So all of you can do whatever you want? Sneak bitches on base and fuck around at all the bars we pass through! But I'm not allowed to do anything with someone I actually like?!"

It hurts. It feels like you're being stripped bare in front of them.

Price sighs, his gaze softens. It's obvious he doesn't want to have this conversation but something you've done has given him no choice. Soap just stands a few feet away, chest puffed out, eyeing you with a strange annoyance. You know if you try to leave he'll stop you.

"You are...not in the same position as us." Price tries and winces. He's obviously not putting his thoughts into soft enough words, but he continues. "You are...it is our responsibility to keep you safe."

"Safe? You're trying to keep me safe?" Your voice is raised higher than you've ever raised it at Price. "Safe by what? Fighting off all the guys at the bars? Safe by spreading lies about me to all of the PMCs and the other Task Forces?"

Price just closed his eyes and set his jaw. He had to know about the subterfuge you'd been experiencing for well over a couple years now. Everyone in the room was guilty as charged.

"You're and asset. And you're also a liability." Ghost speaks up, eyes narrowed, stance way too relaxed against the metal folding chair he sits in. "Do you remember what happened to the 7th Division?"

Saliva pools in your mouth, a sudden queasiness filling your stomach. Yeah, of course you remembered. Their beloved medic had been kidnapped by a group of angry drug lords using a mercenary group as their muscle. The 7th Division had gone in guns blazing to get their member back and well...they'd been wiped out. And their star medic they'd sacrificed everything for? She'd been brainwashed and inducted into the very agency that stole her away.

KORTAC

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" You mutter. "Please tell me you're not."

"We can't have you fraternizing with anyone." Price states smoothly. "As our medic, you have a responsibility to us, your team. We can't have you getting caught up in something bigger."

"I understand what you're saying, but can't you see how ridiculous this is?" You try to reason. "I'm human, I have- god this is embarrassing. I h-have wants and...needs, just like you guys."

The silence is loud. You can't meet anyone's gaze. Price steps closer to you, swallowing hard. His next few words are spoken softly, conspiratorially.

"All of your needs will be taken care of. We will never let you suffer by yourself."

Price cocks his head to the men before you both. All of them straighten beneath his gaze. Price places a hand on the small of your back.

"Whatever it takes." He commands them. "I better not hear or see anything. Do I make myself clear?"

A trio of "yessirs" bounce off the white walls. Price just smiles and nods. He pats your back.

"There we go. You'll be fine." He sighs. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to talk to your guest."

Your eyes widen, your throat drops into your stomach.

"Wait!"

"We've got ye, Bonnie. You n' all yer needs."

Six hands are on you from several different angles. Their massive frames block out the fluorescent lights.

"Ah, where are you goin'?" Gaz chuckles, his arm wraps around your belly.

You try to run after Price but the rec room door is slammed shut and locked. You try to push the closest man away, but he just grins down at you.

[luveline]

—you meet Spencer again after losing out on the BAU job. he comforts you while you do your best not to flirt. bombshell!reader, 0.9k

You lose out on the BAU job to Elle Greenaway. It drives you crazy.

You work just as hard as Elle does, you’re professional no matter what Jason Gideon has to say about you, and you know you could do it. You have just as many successes as Elle does.

It makes you feel sick. You tried so, so hard.

I’m sorry, Hotch had said, and at least you’d had his support. He was kind enough to tell you in person. I can’t make the decision without Gideon, and if he thinks you aren’t right for it right now, we’ll have to wait.

Wait. As though Jason Gideon was ever going to change his mind about you.

You open your purse and take out the barrel of your sheer lipstick. Your compact is next. You hold the mirror up and angle your face in the sun, popping the lid off of the lipstick, and pressing its flat end to your bottom lip. The line you draw is perfectly precise. Your hand barely trembles.

You drop the mirror down and rub your lips together slowly. No matter what falls out of your control, you can present yourself to your liking. You can be immaculate. You—

“Hi.”

You look up from your rumination, startled. You’d been thinking so hard someone actually got the run up on you.

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head gently toward your shoulder.

Dr. Spencer Reid stands a polite three feet away from you. He’s suddenly changed. The last time you met him he was wearing his long hair in a side part. Now it’s split down the middle, just a touch shorter at the sides, and he’s wearing glasses.

(He’s wearing glasses!)

You’d thought he was pretty before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” you say, tempted to call him baby, maybe sweetheart. He’s a sweet looking boy. His sweater vest makes you wanna hold his hand. “Thank you for asking. Why are you asking?”

You talk to him with no derision nor malice, just curiosity.

He frowns. It gives his eyes a sad shine. “I know you wanted the open position. You would’ve been great at it.”

“You think so?” you ask, surprised.

“I’ve seen some of your write ups. We’ve used your summaries in one of our profiles, do you… remember that?”

You send Hotch anything he wants to see.

“I don’t know why Gideon doesn’t like you… He’s so rarely wrong about people, but you’re…” He licks his lips nervously. “You’re– you’re smart. You’re inquisitive. I think you would be an asset to the team, and it’s a shame you didn’t get your chance.”

You’re making him nervous and it isn’t your intention. You put your hands in your lap and stop giving him the look, swapping your amicable smile for a proper friendly one. “Thank you. Is it okay if I call you Spencer? Dr. Spencer Reid is a lot to say at once.”

He laughs, still nervous. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Spencer, thank you for caring so much, but I’m okay. I think I might still have a chance one day, but with Elle gone, the sex crimes division is going to need me.” You lift your chin. If he’s sought you out to tell you he’s sorry, your premonitions about him when you met a few weeks ago were correct. He’s as kind as he is pretty. “I love your glasses. Are they for reading?”

“I always wore glasses when I was a kid, and then I started working here, and I thought it might make me seem less… childish, if I wore contacts, but they’re the worst.”

You laugh happily. He says it in such a pained voice. “The glasses suit you so much,” you say, shoving your things into your bag and standing. “Did you wanna go for coffee? I need a pick me up before I go back to the office.”

Spencer touches his wrist. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” you ask, again, without a drop of malice. You’re not stupid, Spencer has all the nervousness of someone who’s been mistreated before, and heartily, and it’s easy to be soft with him not solely because of it, but because he seems so sweet. You could happily be his friend. “Do you like coffee? We could get those hot donuts from the cafeteria, have you tried those?”

You close the little gap between you both and raise your hand carefully to his face. Gentle, you try to pull a stray hair from the hinge of his glasses leg without snapping it.

“You can tell me all the stuff I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Spencer says.

“Come on, there has to be something.”

His mouth gives him away. “It’s not that you’re doing it wrong, you’re just– you– you’re not looking at things the…” Your fingertip brushes his cheek as you drop your hand. “…Right way, sometimes.”

“I wanted your recommendations.” You bump his elbow with yours. “I’ll buy you a coffee and you can write me a list. Cool?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Cool.”

You’re thinking it’ll be the start of a good friendship. You and Dr. Reid make quite a pair.

[summitlaws]

We Are Asset Division Lawyers, Child Abuse Lawyers, Lawyer For Financial Agreement And Many More At Queensland, Sydney And Brisbane. You Can Contact Us For More Details

[virescent-v]

Subconsciously Green-Eyed

Summary: Jealousy? Emily's never heard of it.

A/N: So...I tried to challenge myself to do a 500 word drabble. I didn't make it. LMAO. But lucky for ya'll you get two fics from me within 24 hours! There's no warnings to this one; there's no smut.

Word Count: 983

Emily cast her glance back and forth across the table. It wasn’t unlike her team to joke and lighten the mood during debriefs, but something about this instance was getting under her skin. 

She eyeballed the table, looking intently at each person present trying to figure out what was bothering her. It was the usual group of people; Tara, Penelope, JJ, Luke, and Dave. But there was also a new addition to the table. 

A young, attractive agent from New York. A bright mind in the Cyber Division office, if she were to go by what your section chief said. You were down in DC helping out on the case they were currently working on. Everyone on the team was besotted with you already after only having known you for two days. 

You were a bright light in the otherwise bleak office. You were average in height, but loud in personality. Your optimism rivaled that of Penelope, as did your technological savviness, and your humor meshed well with both Tara and Luke. You were confident and extroverted without being cocky and knowledgeable without being a know-it-all. 

Everyone was captivated by you, trying to work closely with you over the past couple of days. You had knowledge that seeped into various topics that made you an asset at the round table. More importantly, you were creative with directions to take the case that opened up a few different leads that impressed everyone, including Emily. 

As Emily continued surveying the table, you were in the middle of a funny story from your first New York case and everyone around it had their eyes on you. You were leaning lightly into Penelope’s personal space, your hand on her arm, sharing a quick giggle at something techy. You made sure to make eye contact with everyone around the table, keeping everyone’s attention on you. It felt natural, the way you worked the small crowd, and Emily could tell that each member was enamored with you. 

She noticed that Tara and Luke’s eyes were more heavily focused on you than the others, something dark and gleaming. Watching them watch you, their eyes trailing sneakily but lazily over your body, Emily could feel something swelling inside of her. Something unnamed, something she hadn’t felt before. 

As she was internally cataloging whatever feelings were swirling inside her, she didn’t notice the room clear out leaving only herself and you. 

You noticed Emily’s distraction during the past few minutes, especially as the team made their way out and she stayed behind. Her gaze was directed at the table top, but it looked befuddled, distant. 

“Agent Prentiss?” When you didn’t receive any response, you timidly walked around the table and gently put your hand on her arm. You spoke quietly, not wanting to scare her out of her reverie. “Emily?” 

Regardless of your trying to be soft spoken, Emily still startled, jumping a little. “Wha- oh. Sorry, I was in another world.” 

You laughed lightly, breaking the tension a bit. “I could tell. Is everything okay?” 

Emily cleared her throat, still unsure of how to name the emotions rippling inside her. “Oh, ye-yeah. It’s nothing. Just a lot on my mind.” She looked around, finally registering that the team had left. “Are you enjoying DC?” 

You tilted your head a little at her, your eyes softening. “I am. It’s a nice change of pace from New York,” you stepped a little closer to the section chief. “I really like the team. Everyone’s, uh, great.” 

Emily had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Go figure you enjoyed the attention of her agents. She figured you probably noticed the glances that some of them were throwing your way, your personality clinging to the admiration. “I can tell,” she said with just a hint of something venomous. 

Your head tilted a little further as you scrutinized her. You were not as proficient in profiling, but you weren’t blind. You leaned back on the table and crossed your arms over your chest, regarding Emily with a hint of amusement. “Agent Prentiss, are you jealous of my newly budding relationships with your team?” 

“Jeal-? Jealous? No, no. Why, why would I be jealous?” 

Emily felt her face flush, confused by the emotions rushing through her. Was it jealousy? But why would she be jealous of her team showing you attention? 

“It doesn’t take a profiler to spot jealousy.” You walked closer to her, close enough that you could feel her body heat. “You’re stuttering over your words when you’re normally very well spoken. Your hands are clenched at your sides right now.” You trailed your hands over Emily’s hands, loosening them. You trailed your hands up her arms, keeping your eyes on Emily and her reactions. 

As your hands brushed her shoulders, Emily’s breath caught. “I can feel your muscles, you’re pretty tense right now.” Your hands continued north, brushing the underside of her jaw. “You’ve been clenching your teeth and frowning with narrowed eyes since you noticed Luke and Tara checking me out.” You trailed your thumb over her lower lip, which she had pulled between her teeth at your movements. “So, yeah, I’m not a profiler, Agent Prentiss, but all signs point to jealousy,” you said, arching your eyebrow. 

Emily slowly released a breath, gently closing her eyes in a way to relax herself. “Maybe I am jealous,” she whispered. 

You watched as Emily steeled herself, confidence lighting up her eyes. You grinned fondly as you gently shook your head, opening your body language as Emily prepared herself. 

“I think,” she started, her hands landing on your hips. “To avoid all further jealousy, I should beat Tara and Luke to the punch.” She took a deep breath. “Want to get dinner with me tonight?” 

You couldn’t suppress the teasing smile that broke out across your face. “Why, Agent Prentiss, I thought you’d never ask.” 

[rynwritesreid]

Mind Games~Spencer Reid

Chapter one~Genius 2.O

Chapter summary: You have just graduated from the FBI’s academy and a new member of the BAU’s team. Throughout your time at the academy you had heard so many great stories about the legendary Dr Reid and couldn’t wait to work along side him. However, Dr Reid is not your biggest fan and doesn’t know how to cope with someone being smarter than him.

Chapter warnings: Mention of a case (no details though) Fem! Reader. Angst. Spencer is mean in this and hates reader (though that will change in chapter four).

A/N: This series was requested, and it’s probably going to be the only time I do a requested series “A series where reader works at bau and she's as smart if not smarter then Reid and somehow you pick they end up in a relationship with dom Spencer”. I hope everyone enjoys it, and yes there will be smut in the near future ;).

~mind games masterlist~

~Join the taglist for mind games~

While you were in the academy, you heard all the stories about the genius who worked in BAU called Dr Spencer Reid. He is a man of such high intelligence, with three PH. Ds, an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory, one who was well known to show of how smart he is and one who did not easily back down. He is the stuff if legends.

 

You, well you, are also the stuff of legends. You didn’t believe in telling people your IQ score, because you didn’t think it really mattered, but it was high, higher than Spencer’s. You had a photographic memory, which many people often compared to Spencer’s one, but you would have to tell them the difference between an eidetic memory and a photographic memory.

 

You watched all your peers around you talk about what division of the FBI they were applying for, many were going for counterterrorism and financial crimes, but you had your eyes on the BAU. You knew all about how it was a close nit family, how Hotch and Rossi were like fathers to the entire group. You wanted nothing more than to be a part of that team, that family.

 

And so, with a determination fuelled by your own exceptional intellect and a burning desire to join the ranks of the BAU, you set out on a path that would lead you down a road less travelled. While your peers were focusing on their chosen divisions, you dedicated every waking moment to studying the minds of criminals, honing your profiling skills, and pushing the limits of your own mental faculties.

 

Your name was everywhere with in bureau, you were being called the newest genius, one who was going to make a name for herself, and one who was going to take the FBI by storm.

 

Unit Chief Agent Hotchner had heard whispers of your brilliance echoing through the halls of the FBI. He had seen your name pop up on his colleagues' reports, accompanied by glowing praise and commendations. Curiosity piqued, he decided to dig a little deeper, intrigued by the prospect of a new prodigy joining their ranks.

 

Hotchner delved into your background, poring over your academic achievements and accolades. He was astounded by the breadth of your knowledge and the depth of your understanding in various fields. Your impressive IQ score and photographic memory only added to his intrigue. It became clear to him that you possessed a unique blend of intellect and intuition that would be an invaluable asset to the BAU.

 

He knew he had to have you in the BAU, he knew that you, Reid, and Garcia would be an unstoppable force. So, when he saw your application to join his team, he knew you were going to get the job.

 

So, when you got the call, telling you your application had been successful, you couldn’t quite believe that you had landed your dream job.

 *

It was your first day, Hotch was showing you around, who’s desk belong to who, where your desk was. It felt surreal, being in this building, been employed by the FBI, knowing you were going to be working alongside Dr Spencer Reid. 

As Hotch led you through the bustling bullpen, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling within you. The stories you had heard about Dr. Spencer Reid made him almost mythical in your mind, and now you were about to meet him in person.

Finally, Hotch stopped in front of a neatly organized desk and gestured for you to take a seat. "This will be your workspace," he said, his voice steady and commanding. "Make yourself at home."

You settled into the chair, taking a moment to soak in the atmosphere of the room. Each member of the team had their own unique personality reflected in their workspace. Penelope Garcia's desk was adorned with colourful trinkets and gadgets, her vibrant energy apparent even in her absence. 

Spencer’s desk though, it was almost bare, there were a few files and books, but nothing fun, nothing that showed what his personality was like. You couldn't help but be intrigued by the stark contrast between Spencer's desk and the others. It seemed to reflect his focused and analytical nature, an embodiment of his dedication to the work they did at the BAU. As you settled into your chair, your eyes wandered over the shelves filled with books on various subjects - psychology, criminology, philosophy. Each book seemed well-loved and well-worn, evidence of Spencer's insatiable thirst for knowledge.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice that someone had entered the bullpen until Hotch's voice broke through the silence. "Spencer, I'd like you to meet our newest addition," he said, gesturing toward you. 

You stood up, you almost felt star struck, but Spencer didn’t seem to care. He glanced at you with his piercing gaze, his eyes scanning your face as if studying every detail. There was an intensity in his expression that sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn't help but feel a mixture of apprehension and fascination in his presence.

"Hello," you managed to say, your voice filled with a nervous tremor. "It's an honour to meet you, Dr. Reid."

Spencer nodded, a slight tilt of the head that conveyed acknowledgement rather than warmth. "Likewise," he replied curtly, his attention already shifting back to the stack of files in his hands.

You couldn't help but feel a slight pang of disappointment at Spencer's aloofness. You had built up this image in your mind of the legendary Dr. Reid, someone who would be eager to share knowledge and engage in stimulating conversations. But here he was, seemingly indifferent to your presence.

Everyone else seemed to love you though, Derek had made a few flirtatious comments, Emily, JJ, and Garcia had invited you to go grab some drinks with them, Hotch and Rossi had told you good coping mechanisms, but Spencer seemed to be annoyed any time you spoke, or laughed, or really did anything. Everyone told you that’s just how he is when he doesn’t know you, but it still hurt.

You were determined to prove yourself to Spencer, to earn his respect and break through the cold exterior he seemed to present. You knew that gaining his trust and acceptance would not come easily, but you were ready to put in the effort.

*

Though the days turned into weeks and then into months, Spencer's demeanour towards you remained unchanged. He continued to keep his distance, always engrossed in his work, rarely acknowledging your presence unless absolutely necessary. It hurt, but you refused to let it deter you from your goal.

You poured yourself into each case, determined to prove your worth to the team. You spent countless hours analysing crime scenes, studying victimology, and delving deep into the minds of the perpetrators. Your keen intuition and sharp analytical skills began catching the attention of your colleagues.

You thought this might change Spencer’s mind about you, but it seemed to make him hate you. JJ had told that Spencer was used to being the smartest, everyone praising him, but you seemed to be smarter than him and that wasn’t something he was used too. But you couldn’t and you wouldn’t change who you are just to make someone feel better about themselves. 

But the tension between you and Spencer continued to simmer beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment. It was as if there was an unspoken competition, an invisible battle of intellects that neither of you were willing to back down from.

Despite the strained relationship, the BAU team continued to function like a well-oiled machine. Cases were solved, perpetrators were apprehended, and lives were saved. But there was always that lingering tension between you and Spencer, like an unresolved chord in an otherwise harmonious symphony.

One particularly gruelling case tested the limits of everyone's mental and emotional resilience. The team had been chasing a prolific serial killer who seemed to always be one step ahead. Sleepless nights and relentless hours of research had taken a toll on everyone, yourself included.

You were at your breaking point, not knowing why you couldn’t solve this case, and Spencer’s attitude problem with you was the cherry on top of the cake. You knew you had to say something to him, because you knew you couldn’t carry on like this.

Taking a deep breath, you approached Spencer's desk after everyone else had left for the night. His eyes were glued to the computer screen, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. This was your chance to address the tension that had been building between you.

"Spencer," you began, your voice firm but gentle. "We need to talk."

He glanced up at you, his expression guarded but curious. "What about?" he asked, his tone tinged with a hint of scepticism.

“You have an issue with me, and I know you are used to being the smartest person in any room you walk in to, everyone looking up to you as a God. But maybe you should get use to someone been on the same level as you”. 

Spencer's eyebrows furrowed, a mix of surprise and irritation crossing his features. "I don't have an issue with you," he retorted, his voice laced with defensiveness.

You took a step closer, determined to make him see the truth. "You do, Spencer. Ever since I joined the team, you've treated me like an annoyance, like I'm intruding on your territory. But I'm not here to compete with you or undermine your intelligence. I'm here to work together, to bring justice to those who deserve it."

“God, you think you’re better than everyone else don’t you, Y/N. You’re not, you act like everyone should worship the ground you walk on. I bet you were top of your class in the academy, got straight A’s all throughout your school life, but that doesn’t matter now. You are not as clever as you think you are.”

Spencer's words cut deep, slicing through the tension between you with a sharpness that left you momentarily speechless.

“That’s what you think about me? You think I believe I am better than everyone, but I don’t. But I know you do, your outbursts are common knowledge Spencer, or that fact you love to rub it everyone’s faces that you have a doctorate.” You basically shouted this at him.

Spencer's steely gaze locked onto yours, his face a mask of disbelief mixed with anger. "You don't know anything about me," he snapped, his voice dripping with venom.

You felt tears starting to form in your eyes, you knew you couldn’t be around him any longer tonight. Turning on your heel, you made a swift exit from the bullpen, unable to bear the weight of the confrontation any longer. The familiar corridors of the BAU headquarters blurred as tears welled up in your eyes, threatening to spill over. You couldn't help but feel a sense of defeat, the weight of Spencer's words heavy on your shoulders.

As you found solace in a quiet corner of the building, your tears streamed down your face, mingling with the frustration, and hurt that consumed you. The confrontation with Spencer had left you feeling vulnerable and doubting your place on the team. It was hard to fathom how someone you once idolized could turn out to be so cold and dismissive.

There was a small part of you that wished you had never applied for this job, or you had been rejected. You didn’t want to quit, you wanted to prove Spencer wrong, but you knew you couldn’t do that with the state you are in. But this wasn’t over, and you would do everything you could to solve this case, and make Spencer like you, or at least be kinder to you.

~Taglist~

@bitchassbecky691 @iluvreid @drspencerreidsthings @amatheuni@i-heart-mgg @Liidiaaag@wyntersstuff@brilliantreid @donttrustlove@btsiguess-kpop @bellesmith628 @lunaticgurly @Oureternalbond@somethingsmart123

[queers-gambit]

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.

prompt: The Boss passes away, and at the reading of his Last Will and Testament, your lover, Bucky, is named successor - not his older (adopted) brother, John. tension breaks at the funeral.

pairing: Mafia Bucky Barnes x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Marvel

word count: 4k+

note: author wants to remind everyone that there are 1,000 different ways to host a funeral; to celebrate a life.

warnings: Mafia AU, cursing, mention of deceased family member, depictions of violence, greed, spoiled brat behavior (not by reader or Buck, you'll see), entitlement, does author ever edit? where is this fic going? author lost sight of the plot but fuck it!

"The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.; read on May 16th, after being last revised on January 3rd, - being of assured sound body, mind, and soul - is to divide assets and bequeath inheritance," the lawyer with thinning hair announced to the room, his baritone voice sending vibrations to the glasses of water set before him.

You tightened your hand in Bucky's flesh one, sharing a small glance together as his mother commandeered all attention by sniffling loudly from the middle of the room. It was a lively sort of office; a high rise with floor-to-ceiling windows, painted a light, pale yellow that glowed in sunlight, a long mahogany conference table, plush, leather rolling chairs, and an array of flavored waters to choose from. Both sparkling and flat.

It felt wrong to be there, totally unreal.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was read from behind a pair of thick-framed glasses by a portly man in a tacky, summer khaki suit. Mr. Happy had been the Barnes' lawyer for years now, someone The Boss, James Sr., trusted without a doubt. He was the only man trusted to see this division to the end and without conflict, fearing it'd upset Mr. Barnes' soul should his family begin feuding over material items.

"First, to my beloved wife, Mary Beth, who I know will succeed me in death. I to her leave our beach house, the penthouse on Fifth, every car in mine and her name is to be transferred solely into her name, the building, apartment leases in Manhattan so she might continue being landlord and earn a monthly, sizable income. In addition," Happy glanced at Mary Beth, "I bequeath a lump sum of 25% of my savings."

Everyone seemed to think this was acceptable, nodding in agreement as Mary Beth sobbed loudly into a crumpled, saturated tissue. However, Happy paused as he scanned over the document nervously. His throat cleared, informing that John was to get his own share - yet there was no mention of the organization's leadership and the entire room filled with tension. Finally, Happy sighed through his reading of Bucky's inheritance as you took a sip of coffee; revealing he had been chosen as Mr. James Barnes, Sr.'s successor.

Coffee sprayed out of your nose to splatter on the table, making you gag and cough instantly; Bucky patting your back in support as he turned rigid with confusing tension. Mary Beth Barnes gasped dramatically, insisting that couldn't be right.

"What!?" John raged, shooting out of his leather chair so fast, it toppled over. "That's impossible! That should not be possible!"

"I assure you, Mr. Barnes, it's - "

"Bullshit!" John snapped, snatching a copy of The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr..

Happy sighed, "Your father did not leave you the business, John, he left it to Bucky, instead."

"How the fuck - !?" Nobody moved as John read for himself what the legal documents said. He grit his teeth and tossed the padded file to the lawyer, glaring at his family. "So," he seethed, "Father's decided to name Bucky over me."

"What does all this mean!?" Mary Beth asked tearfully.

He smirked, "You two couldn't get pregnant. You tried, tried, tried, but just couldn't, so, you adopted me. But just 3 months after I came home, you were giving birth to Bucky - and even better, you gave him Father's name! My whole life, you've all tried to erase me because the adoption was final and there was nowhere to dump me, but then Father started teaching me about the business. He knew I was the eldest - and succession respects birth order!"

"I didn't ask for this," Bucky snapped, his hand flat on your back as you had stopped choking finally but he didn't want to lift his hand from your inviting warmth.

"No? That why you're the one benefitting from everything?" John sneered.

"Benefitting? From our father dying? I understand you feel scorned, but Father made his decision," Bucky reminded. "And I'm sorry he made you feel as if you were guaranteed this job, but this is how it works. Someone's appointed."

"If you were decent, you'd refuse so I could step in and take my place. You know I'm the better fit!"

Happy shook his head, "That's not how this works, kid."

"Excuse me?" John seethed, turning to the lawyer.

"Bucky can't just refuse and you accept," Happy explained. "If the chosen inheritor refuses, then there's a trial to elect a new Boss. You'd have to plead your case to everyone."

John huffed and turned to Bucky, demanding, "Well?"

"I'm not refusing what Father wanted," Bucky decided, making you freeze. "And I'm not useless, John, I know how to do this job."

He scoffed, "Whatever."

"Hang on a second," you whispered, grabbing Bucky's wrist to lean into his side, barely muttering, "baby, are you sure?" He nodded at you, not quite picking up on the question you asked between the lines.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., had been officially read, and after naming Bucky successor, tore apart a fragile family that was barely knit together with frayed string. He knew his decision would cause disruption, yet Senior Barnes made a decision best based on the needs of the organization - not his sons.

Now that John had stormed off, Happy read the rest of the document to ensure there were as little questions as possible; everyone aware of the temper John harnessed - thinking this was his final trigger that made him snap. After hearing the division of assets, you all parted ways with Happy, who promised he'd be in contact with Bucky soon before telling Mary Beth the money would hit her account in a day.

25% of Senior Barnes' savings to Mary Beth. 25% to John. 50% left for Bucky to operate an ever-profiting business.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. had torn apart a mother and (adopted) son; two brothers; and while you didn't want to add to the stress Bucky must've felt, you couldn't hold back. When alone in the car, you lashed out at Bucky - demanding to know how he could make such an important decision without at least consulting you.

"We're together, Bucky, and this is a partnership! One person doesn't get to do everything, we make big-time, life-changing decisions together since it's not just your life you're shaking up!"

"This has nothing to do with you!" Bucky snapped back.

"It's everything to do with me!" You argued. "You're not the only one in this relationship, so you don't get to make unilateral decisions!"

"It's not your job, it's not your family - "

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" You snarled. "Few weeks ago, it was, 'oh, baby, I'm gonna marry you one day. I can't live without you,' and now it's not my family...? What? Not my business? Not my concern?"

"It's up to me to deal with."

"Why couldn't you of just asked for a minute to think?" You asked in a defeated tone. "You could've used a minute or two to talk to me about it before jumping the gun."

"What would you've said?"

"That we could try it out and then if you didn't like it, let it go to trial..."

He nodded, "Not half a bad idea."

"But you didn't think to include me!"

"It's not your life!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself, it's our life. Okay? Like it or not, this is our life we're talking about. Fucking clue me in next time, you irrational fuck."

Bucky took a long breath, "All right, fine, fair enough. I should've included you. I'll do better in the future."

You huffed, crossing your arms, "I doubt it."

Due to the nature of your stress, you didn't push Bucky farther that night. He seemed distracted, and even when you got back to your penthouse apartment, he was sullen and quiet. You spent two hours in bed, alone, tossing and turning, before finally getting up to look for your lover. He was found on the balcony, dried tear tracks left on his cheeks; mutely opening his arm to welcome you onto his lap. Bucky needed you now more than ever, his tears starting again as the funeral now loomed over you all.

Two days later, The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr. was contested on May 18th by... John Walker? Who the fuck...?

"Hi, Happy," you greeted the lawyer at your hotel door, opening it to let him enter.

"Thanks, doll," he smiled. "Where's Mr. Barnes?"

"In here," you lead him to the sitting room, trying to ignore how everyone now called Bucky "Boss" or "Mr. Barnes". When you arrived, the three of you sat to listen to the lawyer speak about whatever he had called an emergency meeting about.

"Who the hell is John Walker?" You wondered softly. "Some rip-off John Wick?

"John, it's John," Happy snickered. "It's John - he's legally changed his adopted name to his birth name. From Barnes to Walker."

"When?"

"Yesterday. Today, he contested the will."

"Fuck's sake," you sighed.

"This inheritance is iron-clad," Happy assured, "but it's enough disruption to shake the men in the organization. Apparently, John's procured a plethora of followers - all ready to march behind him."

"He has fucking supporters?" Bucky mumbled in angry disbelief.

"Enough to make a small dent in our numbers..."

"Can I ask?" You interrupted. "What's John's issue? Why's he so angry?"

Happy glanced at Bucky and saw there was no answer on his lips, so, he told you, "Years ago, Mrs. Barnes struggled to carry children to-term. Eventually, they were told it wouldn't happen, so, they decided to adopt. It took about a year for them to adopt John, but Mary Beth was surprisingly pregnant - gave birth three months after they adopted John, who was about two at the time and understood he had to share the attention of his new parents. That's where the competition started..."

"So, John's mad...?"

"He's the eldest," Happy shrugged. "But Senior Barnes named his firstborn son..."

"What a slap in the face," you frowned, feeling sad for John. "To learn after his father died that... What? He didn't think John was really his son? Was really family?"

Happy nodded, "He was clear when he stated his firstborn son... They were in a feud when Senior Barnes made this revision."

"So, he was just angry - "

"More than that," Happy frowned. "Have you spoken Mr. Stark yet?"

"Tony? Not yet," Bucky answered.

"He's your father's investment banker, works with your father's accountant. John had an unhealthy habit of asking for more and more money to be bailed out. When your father tried to cut him off, he started stealing the money, leading their blow-out."

You blinked in shock.

Bucky just hummed and nodded, deep in thought. "Perhaps it's time to change the banker," he muttered.

"Tony's good," Happy assured, "but John knows how to manipulate people. Your father never wanted to see it, but when John burned through money, he got frustrated."

"Okay," you waved, "new motion. No more business talk until we lay Mr. Barnes to rest, okay? Just let us bury the man, then y'all can plot and plan and do whatever."

"Mr. Barnes - this, Mr. Barnes," he pointed at Bucky, " - has informed me you'll be present going forward...?"

"He did?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, of course, but I'm still asking for a pause," you eased, trying to play down how off-guard you felt. "Let's get through the funeral and we can figure out what to do moving forward."

Bucky agreed and showed Happy out; returning to you not a minute later with his hands on his hips. You cocked your head in question and he answered, "He got rid of the Barnes name..."

"He did."

"He's contesting the will."

"He is."

"He's got supporters in the organization."

"He does."

Bucky took a long breath, telling you, "I'm gonna need your help getting through this, doll."

"That's what I'm here for," you promised.

It was strange, seeing your lover assimilate into such an intense role. You were grateful he had an ON / OFF switch with you, being the kind, sweet, soft-hearted, tender man you fell in love with in private, but the cold, calculating maniac when acting in his newly appointed job. It was intriguing to watch; always content to play dutiful wife when he requested your presence.

You had gone to law school, and because of that, you knew how to take lightning fast notes, so, he liked you being present at his meetings. It was only three days since reading The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., and in the time, Bucky truly took control. He weeded out most of those who supported John over him, "removing" them from their position in the org., trying to set a precedence for the other men who meant to follow him. He wore suits everyday now, had two different phones, and assigned personal security to you and him.

However, come the 21st, everything came to something of a grinding halt at the funeral. It was a simple set-up: the morning started with a mass, then they'd congregate for a viewing, lastly, transport the body to the grave site. You wore black, like everyone else, and kept a hand on Bucky the entire time - knowing his anxiety made him skittish and prone to his fight or flight reaction. He was quiet, stoic, busying himself by keeping a hand on your form; be it your waist, hip, hand, around your shoulders. To save him from any awkward encounters, you accepted people's grievances with kindness.

The mass was pleasant enough. Short, simple, to the point; offering the death rite prayers Mr. Barnes had designated in his final documents. After that, Bucky kept busy by helping load the casket into the hearse to transport him to the funeral home while you intercepted any conversation. Once at the funeral home, you helped bring in all the floral arrangements as Bucky comforted his mother, no sign of trouble yet.

However, right in the middle of the some 600-person strong memorial, there came a small commotion. You flinched when you saw your security guards hit the floor, John emerging from the stunned crowd with a few men flanking his sides. "Well, ain't this real heart-warmin'," he smirked, eyeing the attending patrons. "Funny seein' you here, Tony, 'cause you always hated Old Man Barnes. You, too, Clint," he pointed out different attendants, "'cause I remember you sayin' you wished you hit The Boss with your car that one Christmas party. Mhm, and you, Natasha, so good to see you here after all the stress you and your little gang caused Father."

"John," Bucky grit, but your hands kept him anchored in place.

"Mhm," John eyed you both, "always restrained by your bitch, huh?"

"What're you doing here?" You deflected. "Why make a scene?"

"Ain't no other way to get y'alls attention," he spread his arms in gusto. "I see you haven't responded to my contention."

"Why would I?" Bucky shot back, taking a more relaxed stance as his arm slung around your shoulders. "It's just the woes of a spoiled brat not getting what he assumes are his dues. Didn't you steal enough from Father when he was alive? What's this? You wanna try again to fuck him up in death by stealing the position he left me?"

John's tongue licked over his teeth, "Strong words."

"You're one to talk. Look, for what it's worth, I am sorry you were short handed, but it's not something we can change. You made a mistake, I get that, but it was Father's money you fucked with, that you stole, and you proved untrustworthy. Why the fuck do you think he'd leave the business to you? Listen, I'd love for you to come into the org officially, but not if you're contesting Father's wishes."

"I'm owed more than I was given," John snapped. "Years I endured his wrath and ruin, years I posed as his perfect and diligent son. To find out now, after his death, that I am not even viewed as family...? I didn't ask to be born, I didn't ask for my parents to die, I didn't ask for your mother to have fertility difficulties, I didn't ask to be adopted, and yet it all happened, but he still, until the end, kept me at arms length. I'm owed more than I was given since he stated in legal documents that I am not his son!"

"This is not the time or place," Bucky warned. "Don't fucking do this."

"No? When, then? Why do it later? When I can get through your security now? You know, you're a tough guy to get close to what with all the security you've hired recently," John smirked, opening his arms in bravado, "and yet, here I am."

"When we are not at our father's funeral, we will talk."

"No," John smirked, shaking his head, "we do this now. Here, and now, at your father's funeral."

You yelped when Bucky shoved you down, ducking swiftly himself to avoid John's swinging fist; launching his own attack, and the entire funeral home erupting in chaos. You gasped when hands grabbed your waist and hauled up - yelping in shock when you recognized Steve's tattoos as he shoved through the crowd.

"What the fuck!?" You demanded when set down on the side of the room.

"Boss' orders," he explained, keeping an eye out on the kerfuffle. "Shit - stay fuckin' here!" He barked, turning for the crowd and disappearing. You felt your panic brewing to a new height as you couldn't see Bucky... In fact, you couldn't see any of the regular men you were used to.

A gun fired, you ducked down.

People screamed, a stampede erupting to empty the funeral home as fast as possible as another shot sounded. You were about to follow the mass of people when Sam became visible, obviously struggling to get to you through the throngs of rushing people.

"C'mere, honey," Sam panted, grabbing hold of you and keeping you close.

"What's going on!?" You begged, a third shot echoing, making the last of the people scream in terror and run faster - pushing people out of their way.

"John's come to play," Sam grit, people bumping into him as he did his best to stand as a pillar to keep you safe. "C'mon," he heaved, leading you towards a side door, opening it to reveal Bucky's mother, Mary Beth, and a few other women - gently pushing you inside and shutting the locked door.

"Fucker," you grumbled, trying to open the locked handle. You sighed, hands on your hips, listening to the commotion outside the door and turning to glare at Mary Beth. "Did you know?"

"Know what?" She asked stiffly.

"That your husband resented John because he was adopted?"

She blinked and lowered her head in thought, releasing a deep, long sigh. "I didn't think it was this bad, I honestly thought things were getting better."

"James wrote John out of the will and now Bucky's the one paying for it," you snapped. "How did you not see this coming?"

"John's always been a good boy - "

"You mean a Mama's Boy. But surely you have to realize, a boy needs both his parents. Especially if he can feel the one parent fostering resentment."

The door rattled and you turned for it, the swinging wood revealing your boyfriend's deranged person. He surveyed the room, a heavy glare on his face, blood and bruising visible through his snarl, and when he locked onto your form, he surged forward, breathing, "Sweetheart."

His hands instantly slid over your cheeks, looking frantic as he took in your appearance - searching for any sign of injury. "I'm okay," you promised him, holding his wrists, "but you're not. Fuck's sake, Buck, you're bleeding."

He scoffed, "John wore rings."

"Pussy boy."

"C'mere," he stooped to scoop you in his arms, "gettin' you home."

"Bucky," you whined lightly.

He readjusted you so you were koala hugging his torso, huddling your head into his neck and insisting, "Don't look. Don't look, baby, don't fucking look."

But you did.

Tears filled your eyes when you identified two dead bodies on the bloody floor, and trailing behind you both, Bucky's footprints - in blood. You tightened your hold on him and whimpered.

The fire crackled and coughed ash into the air, a comfortable warmth emitting into the otherwise chilly room. Ice cubes sloshed in crystal, the smell of book leather and stale cologne perfumed the air, and four minds all raced with different thoughts.

Bucky, still bruised and sporting cuts on his face, clenched his jaw as he weighed options in his head. Across from him, on a matching leather loveseat, Sam sat beside Steve, handing the blonde a refilled glass of his desired alcohol. You were pressed to your lover's side, everyone replaying the events of this evening.

Sam and Steve filled you in on what went down, Bucky not making a single sound as his men spoke. The details made you feel lightheaded but you wanted to know, and now, more than before, you understood your new reality. Sam told you the names of the two men killed, names you didn't recognize, before wrapping the story up by explaining there were getaway cars waiting outside for John and his men. You spared a glance at Bucky, then asked the two men across from you, "So, what now?"

Silence.

"Now..." Bucky grit his teeth, speaking lowly and evenly, "I do the job I was given. No successful leader ever wanted their position of influence and power, being a reason I know John's the wrong fit for this job. If I step down, he'll slither in..." He nodded, "Time to be the boss, finally."

Your heart cemented and throat constricted, only able to listen to Sam and Steve agree with Buck, then instantly start planning their next move - not wanting to wait til morning.

The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr., was meant to be something clean, peaceful, and fair, and yet, it was anything but. A family without their patriarch, two confused sons sans a father, millions of dollars worth of inheritance left to be fought over, a wife off the deep end and a mother unavailable to the world; a feud brewing and sides being chose.

It wasn't supposed to come to this, James Barnes, Sr., wasn't a vindictive man. He didn't anticipate this kind of reaction, he just wanted to do something "right" without contest. He was incredibly wrong, though he'd never know it; leaving a mess in his wake that Bucky was responsible to clean.

You listened to the men devise the beginnings of a plan before whispering to Bucky you were going to sleep. After bidding Sam and Steve a goodnight, you left Senior Barnes' home study - you and Bucky moving in basically after The Last Will and Testament of James Barnes, Sr.. It was a gorgeous home, lost in time; inviting guests into her many halls; to discover all her secrets.

You found the bedroom you and Bucky had claimed, trying not to overwhelm yourself with reality. Truth was, you loved Bucky more than life but you started dating years ago - when he was a different man. When his father's wishes were different. Where different circumstances seemed plausible to your future together. However, this wasn't what you signed up for; and never did you (or Bucky) anticipate for him to be named heir.

You went to bed that night frazzled, rattled, alone, cold, and with severe heart palpitations; wishing to God your man would back down, but knew it was foolish to waste hope on the inevitable.

So, you fell asleep wondering if life with this "new" Bucky was worth living... Did you truly want to be with a man with such a dangerous job? A job that caused a crowd-fight at a funeral before creating need for more funerals? A job that would steal his time, money, effort, attention... A job that would affect you both in ways you couldn't begin to fathom?

Was loving Bucky worth this kind of conflict?

Of course, he was!

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[legallotus]

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